Read Online The Cases of Susan Dare by Mignon G. Eberhart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mignon G. Eberhart
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their feeling against Susan. She was the intruder, the instrument of the police, placed there by the law for the purpose of discovering evidence.
Their eyes were not pleasant.
Susan smoothed back her hair, and she was acutely aware of the small telegram of warning that ran along her nerves. One of them had murdered. She turned to Caroline.
“Then were you afraid that Marie would discover what you had been doing with your money?” she asked gently.
Caroline blinked and was immediately ready to reply, her momentary feeling against Susan disseminated by the small touch of kindness in Susan’s manner.
“No,” she said in a confidential way. “That wasn’t what I was afraid of.”
“Then was there something unusual about the house? Something that troubled you?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” said Caroline.
“What was it?” asked Susan, scarcely daring to breathe. If only Jessica would remain silent for another moment.
But Caroline was fluttering again.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. You see, it was all so queer, Marie holding out against us all, and we all—except Jessica sometimes—obeyed Marie. We’ve always obeyed Marie. Everything in the house has done that. Even Spider—the—the monkey, you know.”
Susan permitted her eyes to flicker toward Jessica. She stood immovable, watching David. Susan could not interpret that dark look, and she did not try. Instead she leaned over to Caroline, took her fluttering, ineffectual hands, and said, still gently: “Tell me exactly why you telephoned to Jim Byrne. What was it that happened in the morning—or maybe the night before—that made you afraid?”
“How did you know?” said Caroline. “It happened that night.”
“What was it?” said Susan so softly that it was scarcely more than a whisper.
But Caroline quite suddenly swerved.
“I wasn’t afraid of Marie,” she said. “But everyone obeyed Marie. Even the house always seemed more Marie’s house than—than Jessica’s. But I didn’t kill Marie.”
“Tell me,” repeated Susan. “What happened last night that was—queer?”
“Caroline,” said Jessica harshly, dragging herself back from some deep brooding gulf, “you’ve said enough.”
Susan ignored her and held Caroline’s feverishly bright eyes with her own. “ Tell me —”
“It was—Marie—” gasped Caroline.
“Marie—what did she do?” said Susan.
“She didn’t do anything,” said Caroline. “It was what she said. No, it wasn’t that exactly. It was—”
“If you insist upon talking, Caroline, you might at least try to be intelligible,” said Jessica coldly.
Could she get Jessica out of the room? thought Susan; probably not. And it was all too obvious that she was standing by, permitting Caroline to talk only so long as Caroline said nothing that she, Jessica, did not want her to say. Susan said quietly: “Did you hear Marie speak?”
“Yes, that was just it,” cried Caroline eagerly. “And it was so very queer. That is, of course we—that is, I—have often thought that Marie must be about the house much more than she pretended to be, in order to know all the things she knew. That is, she always knew everything that happened in the house. It—sometimes it was queer, you know, because it was like—like magic or something. It was quite,” said Caroline with an unexpected burst of imagery, “as if she had one of those astral body things, and it walked all around the house while Marie just sat there in her room.”
“Astral—body—things,” said Jessica deliberately. Caroline crimsoned and Jessica’s hands gestured outward as much as to say: “You see for yourself what a state she’s in.”
The old room was silent again. Susan’s heart was pounding, and again those small tocsins of warning were sounding in some subconscious realm. All those forces were silently, invisibly combating—struggling against each other. And somewhere amid them was the truth—quite tangible—altogether real.
“But
Their eyes were not pleasant.
Susan smoothed back her hair, and she was acutely aware of the small telegram of warning that ran along her nerves. One of them had murdered. She turned to Caroline.
“Then were you afraid that Marie would discover what you had been doing with your money?” she asked gently.
Caroline blinked and was immediately ready to reply, her momentary feeling against Susan disseminated by the small touch of kindness in Susan’s manner.
“No,” she said in a confidential way. “That wasn’t what I was afraid of.”
“Then was there something unusual about the house? Something that troubled you?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” said Caroline.
“What was it?” asked Susan, scarcely daring to breathe. If only Jessica would remain silent for another moment.
But Caroline was fluttering again.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. You see, it was all so queer, Marie holding out against us all, and we all—except Jessica sometimes—obeyed Marie. We’ve always obeyed Marie. Everything in the house has done that. Even Spider—the—the monkey, you know.”
Susan permitted her eyes to flicker toward Jessica. She stood immovable, watching David. Susan could not interpret that dark look, and she did not try. Instead she leaned over to Caroline, took her fluttering, ineffectual hands, and said, still gently: “Tell me exactly why you telephoned to Jim Byrne. What was it that happened in the morning—or maybe the night before—that made you afraid?”
“How did you know?” said Caroline. “It happened that night.”
“What was it?” said Susan so softly that it was scarcely more than a whisper.
But Caroline quite suddenly swerved.
“I wasn’t afraid of Marie,” she said. “But everyone obeyed Marie. Even the house always seemed more Marie’s house than—than Jessica’s. But I didn’t kill Marie.”
“Tell me,” repeated Susan. “What happened last night that was—queer?”
“Caroline,” said Jessica harshly, dragging herself back from some deep brooding gulf, “you’ve said enough.”
Susan ignored her and held Caroline’s feverishly bright eyes with her own. “ Tell me —”
“It was—Marie—” gasped Caroline.
“Marie—what did she do?” said Susan.
“She didn’t do anything,” said Caroline. “It was what she said. No, it wasn’t that exactly. It was—”
“If you insist upon talking, Caroline, you might at least try to be intelligible,” said Jessica coldly.
Could she get Jessica out of the room? thought Susan; probably not. And it was all too obvious that she was standing by, permitting Caroline to talk only so long as Caroline said nothing that she, Jessica, did not want her to say. Susan said quietly: “Did you hear Marie speak?”
“Yes, that was just it,” cried Caroline eagerly. “And it was so very queer. That is, of course we—that is, I—have often thought that Marie must be about the house much more than she pretended to be, in order to know all the things she knew. That is, she always knew everything that happened in the house. It—sometimes it was queer, you know, because it was like—like magic or something. It was quite,” said Caroline with an unexpected burst of imagery, “as if she had one of those astral body things, and it walked all around the house while Marie just sat there in her room.”
“Astral—body—things,” said Jessica deliberately. Caroline crimsoned and Jessica’s hands gestured outward as much as to say: “You see for yourself what a state she’s in.”
The old room was silent again. Susan’s heart was pounding, and again those small tocsins of warning were sounding in some subconscious realm. All those forces were silently, invisibly combating—struggling against each other. And somewhere amid them was the truth—quite tangible—altogether real.
“But
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