The Avalanche by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton (ink book reader txt) 📖

I Had Some Trouble At The Convent. They're

A Close-Mouthed Lot, Nuns. But I Frightened Them. Told Them It Was A

Property Matter, And Unless They Answered My Questions Privately They'd

Have To Answer Them In Court. Then They Came Through."

 

"Well?"

 

Spaulding Lit His Cigar And Handed The Match To Ruyler, Who Ground It

Under His Heel.

 

"Just About Nineteen Years Ago A Frenchwoman, Giving Her Name As Madame

Dubois, Arrived One Day With A Child A Year Old And Asked The Nuns To

Take Care Of It, Promising A Fancy Payment. The Child Had Been On A Farm

With A Wet-Nurse (French Style), But Madame Dubois Wanted It To Learn

From The First To Speak Proper English And French, And To Live In A

Refined Atmosphere Generally From The Time It Was Able To Take Notice.

She Said She Was On The Stage And Had To Travel, So Was Not Able To Give

The Kid The Attention It Should Have, And The Doctor Had Told Her That

Traveling Was Bad For Kids That Age, Anyhow. Her Lawyers Would Pay The

Baby's Board On The First Of Every Month--"

 

"Who Were The Lawyers?"

 

"Lawton And Cross."

 

"I Thought So. Go On."

 

"The Nuns, Who, After All, Knew Their California, Thought They Smelt A

Rat, For The Woman Was Extraordinarily Handsome, Magnificently Dressed;

The Mother Superior--Who Is A Woman Of The World, All Right--Read The

Newspapers, And Had Never Seen The Name Of Dubois--And Knew That Only

Stars Drew Fat Salaries. She Asked Some Sharp Questions About The Father,

And The Woman Replied Readily That He Was A Scientific Man, An Inventor,

And--Well, It Was Natural, Was It Not? They Did Not Get On Very Well. He

Disliked The Stage, But She Had Been On It Before She Married Him, And

Dullness And Want Of Money For Her Own Needs And Her Child's Had Driven

Her Back. He Had Lived In Los Angeles For A Time, But Had Recently Gone

East To Take A High-Salaried Position. It Was With His Consent That She

Asked The Nuns To Take The Child--Possibly For Two Or Three Years. When

She Was A Famous Actress And Could Leave The Road, She Would Keep House

For Her Husband In New York, And Make A Home For The Child.

 

"The Mother Superior, By This Time, Had Made Up Her Mind That The Father

Wished The Child Removed From The Mother's Influence, And Although She

Took The Whole Yarn With A Bag Of Salt, The Child Was The Most Beautiful

She Had Ever Seen, And Obviously Healthy And Amiable. Moreover, The

Convent Was To Receive Two Hundred Dollars A Month--"

 

"What?"

 

"Exactly. Can You Beat It? The Mother Superior Made Up Her Mind It Was

Her Duty To Bring Up The Little Thing In The Way It Should Go. As The

Woman Was Leaving She Said Something About A Possible Reconciliation With

Her Family, Who Lived In France; They Had Not Written Her Since She Went

On The Stage. They Were Of A Respectability!--Of The Old Tradition! But

If They Came Round She Might Take The Child To Them, If Her Husband Would

Consent. She Should Like It To Be Brought Up In France--

 

"Here The Mother Superior Interrupted Her Sharply. Was Her Husband A

Frenchman? And She Answered, No Doubt Before She Thought, For These

People Always Forget Something, That No, He Was An American--Her Family,

Also, Detested Americans. The Mother Superior Once More Interrupted Her

Glibness. How, Then, Did He Have A French Name? Oh, But That Was Her

Stage Name--She Always Went By It And Had Given It Without Thinking. What

Was Her Husband's Name? After A Second's Hesitation She Stupidly Give The

Name Smith. I Can See The Mouth Of The Mother Superior As It Set In A

Grim Line. 'Very Well,' Said She, 'The Child's Name Is Helene Smith'; And

Although The Woman Made A Wry Face She Was Forced To Submit.

 

"The Child Remained There Four Years, And The Mother Superior Had Some

Reason To Believe That 'Madame Dubois' Spent A Good Part Of That Time In

San Francisco. She Came At Irregular Intervals To See The Child--Always

In Vacation, When There Were No Pupils In The Convent, And Always At

Night. The Mother Superior, However, Thought It Best To Make No

Investigations, For The Child Throve, They Were All Daffy About Her, And

The Money Came Promptly On The First Of Every Month. When The Mother Came

She Always Brought A Trunk Full Of Fine Underclothes, And Left The Money

For A New Uniform. Then, One Day, Madame Dubois Arrived In Widow's Weeds,

Said That Her Husband Was Dead, Leaving Her Quite Well Off, And That She

Was Returning To France."

 

"And Madame Delano's Story Is That He Died On The Way To Japan--If It Is

The Same Woman--"

 

"Haven't A Doubt Of It Myself. I Did A Little Cabling Before I Left Last

Night To A Man I Know In Paris To Find Out Just When Madame Delano

Returned With Her Child To Live With Her Family In Rouen. He Got Busy And

Here Is His Answer--Just Fifteen Years Ago Almost To The Minute."

 

"Then Who Was Her Husband?"

 

"There You've Got Me--So Far. He Was No 'Scientist, Who Later Accepted

A High-Salaried Position.' A Decent Chap Of That Sort Would Have

Written To His Child, Paid Her Board Himself, Most Likely Taken It Away

From The Mother--"

 

"But She May Have Kidnapped It--"

 

"People Are Too Easy Traced In This State--Especially That Sort. Nor Do

I Believe She Was An Actress. There Never Was Any Actress Of That

Name--Not So You'd Notice It, Anyhow, And That Woman Would Have Been

Known For Her Looks And Height Even If She Couldn't Act. Moreover, If

She Was An Actress There Would Be No Sense In Giving The Nuns A False

Name, Since She Had Admitted The Fact. No, It's My Guess That She Was

Something Worse."

 

"Well, I've Prepared Myself For Anything."

 

"I Figure Out That She Was The Mistress Of One Of Our Rich Highfliers,

And That When He Got Tired Of Her He Pensioned Her Off, And She Made Up

Her Mind To Reform On Account Of The Kid, And Went Back To Rouen, And

Proceeded To Identify Herself With Her Class By Growing Old And Shapeless

As Quickly As Possible. She Must Have Adopted The Name Delano In New York

Before She Bought Her Steamer Ticket, For Although I've Had A Man On The

Hunt, The Only Delanos Of That Time Were Eminently Respectable--"

 

"Why Are You Sure She Was Not A--Well--Woman Of The Town?"

 

"Because, There Again--There's No Dame Of That Time Either Of That Name

Or Looks--Neither Dubois Nor Delano. Of Course, They Come And Go, But

There's Every Reason To Think She Stayed Right On Here In S.F. Of

Course, I've Only Had Twenty-Four Hours--I'll Find Out In Another

Twenty-Four Just What Conspicuous Women Of Fifteen To Twenty Years Ago

Measure Up To What She Must Have Looked Like--I Got The Mother Superior

To Describe Her Minutely: Nearly Six Feet, Clear Dark Skin With A

Natural Red Color--No Make-Up; Very Small Features, But Well Made--Nose

And Mouth I'm Talking About. The Eyes Were A Good Size, Very Black With

Rather Thin Eyelashes. Lots Of Black Hair. Stunning Figure. Rather Large

Ears And Hands And Feet. She Always Dressed In Black, The Handsomest

Sort. They Generally Do."

 

"Well?" Asked Ruyler Through His Teeth. He Had No Doubt The Woman Was His

Mother-In-Law. "The Jameses? What Of Them?"

 

"That's The Snag. Rest Is Easy In Comparison. Innumerable Jameses Must

Have Died About That Time, To Say Nothing Of All The Way Along The Line,

But While Some Of The Records Were Saved In 1906, Most Went Up In Smoke.

Moreover, There's Just The Chance That He Didn't Die Here. But That's

Going On The Supposition That The Man Died When She Left California,

Which Don't Fit Our Theory. I Still Think He Died Not So Very Long Before

Her Return To California, And That She Probably Came To Collect A Legacy

He Had Left Her. Otherwise, I Should Think It's About The Last Place She

Would Have Come To. I Put A Man On The Job Before I Left Of Collecting

The Jameses Who've Died Since The Fire. Here They Are."

 

He Took A List From His Pocket And Read:

 

"James Hogg, Bookkeeper--Races, Of Course. James Fowler, Saloon-Keeper.

James Despard, Called 'Frenchy,' A Clever Crook Who Lived On

Blackmail--Said To Have A Gift For Getting Hold Of Secrets Of Men And

Women In High Society And Squeezing Them Good And Plenty--"

 

He Paused. "Of Course, That Might Be The Man. There Are Points. I'll Have

His Life Looked Into, But Somehow I Don't Believe It. I Have A Hunch The

Man Was A Higher-Up. The Sort Of Woman The Mother Superior Described Can

Get The Best, And They Take It. To Proceed: James Dillingworth, Lawyer,

Died In The Odor Of Sanctity, But You Never Can Tell; I'll Have Him

Investigated, Too. James Maston--I Haven't Had Time To Have Had The

Private Lives Of Any Of These Men Looked Into, But I Knew Some Of Them,

And Maston, Who Was A Journalist, Left A Wife And Three Children And Was

Little, If Any, Over Thirty. James Cobham, Broker--He Was Getting On To

Fifty, Left About A Million, Came Near Being Indicted During The Graft

Prosecutions, And Although His Wife Has Been In The Newspapers As A

Society Leader For The Last Twenty Years, And He Was One Of The Founders

Of Burlingame, And Then Was Active In Changing The Name Of The High Part

To Hillsboro When The Swells Felt They Couldn't Be Identified With The

Village Any Longer, And He Handed Out Wads The First Of Every Year To

Charity, There Are Stories That He Came Near Being Divorced By His

Haughty Wife About Fifteen Years Ago. Of Course, Those Men Don't Parade

Their Mistresses Openly Like They Did Thirty Years Ago--I Mean Men With

Any Social Position To Keep Up. But Now And Again The Wife Finds A Note,

Or Receives An Anonymous Letter, And Gets Busy. Then It's The Divorce

Court, Unless He Can Smooth Her Down, And Promises Reform. Cobham Seems

To Me The Likeliest Man, And I'm Going To Start A Thorough Investigation

To-Morrow. These Other Jameses Don't Hold Out Any Promise At

All--Grocers, Clerks, Butchers. It's The List In Hand I'll Go By, And If

Nothing Pans Out--Well, We'll Have To Take The Other Cue She Threw Out

And Try Los Angeles."

 

"Do You Know Anything About A Man Named Nicolas Doremus?" Asked

Ruyler Abruptly.

 

"The Society Chap? Nothing Much Except That He Don't Do Much Business On

The Street But Is Supposed To Be Pretty Lucky At Poker And Bridge. But He

Runs With The Crowd The Police Can't Or Don't Raid. I've Never Seen Or

Heard Of Him Anywhere He Shouldn't Be Except With Swell Slumming Or

Roadhouse Parties. He's Never Interested Me. If Society Can Stand That

Sort Of Bloodsucking Tailor's Model, I Guess I Can. Why Do You Ask? Got

Anything To Do With This Case?"

 

"I Have An Idea He Has Found Out The Truth And Is Blackmailing My Wife.

You Might Watch Him."

 

"Good Point. I Will. And If He's Found Out The Truth I Guess I Can."

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

I

 

Helene, As Ruyler Had Anticipated, Refused Positively To Accept Mrs.

Thornton's Invitation.

 

"Do You Think I'd Leave You--To Come Home To A Dreary House Every Night?

Even If I Don't See Much Of You, At Least You Know I'm There; And That If

You Have An Evening Off You Have Only To Say The Word And I'll Break Any

Engagement--You Have Always Known That!"

 

Ruyler Had Not, But She Looked So Eager And Sweet--She Was Lunching With

Him At The Palace Hotel On The Day Following His Interview With

Spaulding--That He Hastened To Assure Her Affectionately That The

Certainty Of His Wife's Desire For His Constant Companionship Was Both

His Torment And His Consolation.

 

Helene Continued Radiantly:

 

"Besides, Darling, Polly Roberts Is Staying On. Rex Can't Get Away Yet."

 

"Polly Roberts Is Not Nearly Good Enough For You. She Hasn't An Idea In

Her Head And Lives On