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Chain of Evidence

<h2>III</h2> <h3>JANET PEMBROKE</h3> Leaving the two doctors to their consultation I went back into the drawing-room. Although this room was the duplicate of our own living-room in the apartment across the hall, it presented quite a different appearance because of its richer furnishings. The simple tastes of my sister and myself did not incline us to velvet hangings and heavily upholstered furniture. Our whole room was lighter in effect, but the Pembroke drawing-room, while harmonious in coloring and design, was almost oppressive in its multitude of appointments. Tall pedestals supported large pieces of Chinese bronze. Embroidered screens made a background for high, carved chairs and inlaid tabourets. The rugs were antique and thick, the curtains conventionally draped and the pictures on the walls were paintings of value. I instinctively felt that all of this reflected the old uncle's taste, rather than that of Miss Pembroke, for, though I had not seen her often, her general appearance had a note of modernity quite different from the atmosphere of her home. I glanced at the girl as she sat beside Laura on the sofa. Though not a connoisseur in women's[Pg 31] clothes, I am yet not so absurdly ignorant as many men are. Miss Pembroke wore a simple house dress of soft material and of an old rose color. There was a big black satin bow effectively attached somewhere—I can't describe its location, but it had broad streamers that fell gracefully to the floor. The simply cut garment and the soft dull color suited the girl's pale white complexion and dark hair. She was doubtless of an unusual pallor that morning, which made the thick curls clustering round her brow, and the big brown eyes seem even darker than usual. It was late in October and a lighted gas log gave a comfortable warmth to the room. Miss Pembroke seemed to be quite herself again, though still somewhat dazed, apparently, by what had happened. She showed no inclination to talk, but her manner was quiet and composed as she asked me to be seated. I had no wish to intrude, but I thought there might be other ways in which I could serve her, so I sat down and waited. There was an indescribable something in her manner, or rather in her appearance, that puzzled me. I had thought her beautiful before, but in this time of sorrowful emergency there was a mysterious expression on her face that gave her an added charm. She was not pathetic or appealing in effect, but[Pg 32] seemed to be possessed of an energy and excitement which she determinedly suppressed. She showed no sign of grief at her uncle's death, but her calmness and self-control were unmistakably the result of a strong will power. Had she been broken-hearted, but for some reason determined that no one should know it, she would have acted this same way; but it also seemed to me that had she felt a secret sense of relief, even almost of gladness, at being released from the old man's tyranny, she must have acted much the same. Occasionally her composure was broken by a sudden, quick gesture or an abrupt, impulsive remark. "Charlotte," she said suddenly, "why do you stay here? You may as well go to the kitchen and go on with your work." The black girl rolled her eyes apprehensively toward Mr. Pembroke's room, as if a superstitious dread made her hesitate. "I don't like to go off my myse'f alone, Miss Janet," she said. "But you must, Charlotte," said Miss Pembroke nervously, but not unkindly; "you must go and clear away the breakfast things." "But yo' haven't had yo' breakfast, Miss Janet, honey." [Pg 33] "Never mind, Charlotte; I can't eat any breakfast. Clear it all away. I don't want anything." I was much impressed with the tense, drawn expression of the speaker's face, and the quick, sharp accents of her voice, as if she had almost reached the limit of her self-control. Here Laura interposed: "I'm sure, Miss Pembroke, you would feel better able to meet the day if you would eat something. Charlotte, if you will bring just a cup of coffee and a roll on a tray, I think Miss Pembroke will take some of it." "Yas'm," said Charlotte, and, falling, as nearly every one did, into the way of obeying Laura's suggestions, she went away. I endeavored to keep up the conversation by casual and unimportant remarks, and Laura ably assisted me, by responding to my observations. But though Miss Pembroke tried to join the conversation, it was impossible for her, and, as I had feared, her tense self-control gave way and she suddenly broke down in a fit of hysterical sobbing. Laura tried to soothe her, but had sense enough not to try to stop her crying. She let the nervous and overwrought girl give way to her tears which of themselves brought relief. "I didn't love him!" she exclaimed, her voice broken by sobs, "and that's why I feel so bad. I[Pg 34] tried to love him, but he wouldn't let me. I honestly tried—don't you believe I did?" She grasped Laura's hands as she spoke, and looked into her eyes. "Of course I believe it," replied Laura, heartily; "don't think about that now, Miss Pembroke. I'm sure you have nothing to reproach yourself for." "Oh, yes, I have. I'm a wicked girl! I ought to have been more patient with Uncle Robert. But he was so old and so cruel. He was my mother's uncle, you know, and he took me on sufferance—because he couldn't help himself—and he never let me forget it. He told me a dozen times a day that I was dependent on him for the bread I ate. And last evening we had a most awful quarrel! One of our very worst. Oh, I can't bear to remember it!" "Don't remember it, dear," said Laura, with her arm still around the quivering body of the girl; "don't think of it." "Think of it! I can never forget it. You see, he was determined that I should——" Apparently Miss Pembroke had been about to make a confidant of Laura, when she suddenly remembered my presence. She straightened up with a start, and seemed to recover not only her poise, but the hauteur which I had so often observed in her demeanor. [Pg 35] It was a relief to the situation when at that moment Charlotte, the maid, returned with a daintily-appointed breakfast tray. It was quite evident that the colored girl adored her young mistress. She hovered about her, arranging the tray on a small table at her side and looked at Miss Pembroke with an air of loving concern. "Do try and eat sumpin, Miss Janet, honey; do, now." "Thank you, Charlotte," and Miss Pembroke looked kindly at the girl; "I will try." With a little nod, she tacitly dismissed the maid, but Charlotte lingered. After a moment of hesitation, she volunteered a suggestion, which was evidently weighing on her mind. "Miss Janet, honey," she said, slowly, "ain' yo' gwine send fo' Master George?" "George!" exclaimed Janet Pembroke. "Why, how strange I hadn't thought of it! Of course we must send for George. I'll telephone at once. You may go, Charlotte." Again Charlotte left the room, and Miss Pembroke turned to Laura to explain. "George," she said, "is George Lawrence, my cousin. He is my only relative except—Uncle Robert. He used to live with us, but a few months ago he moved to bachelor apartments farther[Pg 36] downtown. If you will excuse me, I will telephone for him." The telephone was in a small adjoining room, which was really rather a large alcove off the drawing-room. This was apparently a sort of music-room here, while my corresponding alcove—for the apartment was, of course, a duplicate of our own—I used as my smoking-room. I heard Miss Pembroke, in a calm, clear voice, call up her cousin and ask him to come at once. She did not tell him what had happened. Then she hung up the receiver and returned to where we sat. "I don't see why I didn't think of George sooner," she said. "I ought to have sent for him the very first thing." "You were so dazed," I suggested, "that what would ordinarily be the most natural thing to do did not occur to you." "Yes," she said, catching at my suggestion almost eagerly—"yes, that must have been it. I was dazed, wasn't I?" "Indeed you were," said Laura soothingly. "You fainted quite away." "Oh, yes," returned the girl; "that was when Doctor Masterson told me that Uncle Robert was dead. It was such a shock. I couldn't believe it,[Pg 37] you know. Why, I never faint! I'm not that sort." "Even so," said Laura, "the sudden shock was quite enough to cause you to faint." The girl looked at her almost wistfully. "Yes, it was enough, wasn't it?" she said; "a shock like that would make anybody faint, wouldn't it? I just couldn't believe it. We—we never dreamed he would die suddenly. I wonder what George will say?" "Is there any one else that you would like to have notified?" I asked. "No," she said. "I have no other relatives at all. Of course we must tell Milly Waring, but I'll wait until after I see George." "But aside from relatives, Miss Pembroke," I said, "is there no one else who ought to be notified? Ought you not to advise your uncle's lawyer?" I was all unprepared for the effect this casual suggestion had upon the girl. Although she had recovered her composure almost entirely, it now seemed to desert her again. But instead of weeping her emotion was of a different nature; she seemed intensely angry. A red spot appeared in either pale cheek, and her dark eyes flashed fire. Her voice quivered when she spoke, but it sounded like the accents of suppressed rage. [Pg 38] "Uncle Robert's lawyer!" she exclaimed, in a tone of scorn; "he's the last person I want to send for!" The words of themselves were astonishing, but not nearly so much so as the scathing inflection with which they were uttered. "Then we won't send for him," said Laura, in her soothing way. "You shan't be troubled just now." Laura looked at me with a glance of deep reproach, which was, to say the least, unjust; for, as a lawyer, it seemed to me I had made a most rational suggestion. Moreover, my sister's change of base somewhat surprised me. She it had been who denounced Miss Pembroke as being deceitful, melodramatic and untrustworthy! Now, she was not only befriending the girl as only one woman can befriend another, but she was resenting a most common-sense suggestion on my part. But I was destined to learn that Janet Pembroke always did the unexpected. As suddenly as it had come, her flash of anger left her, and with a quiet, almost expressionless face, she turned to me, and said: "You are quite right, Mr. Landon. I am sure it is a case where my uncle's lawyer should be called in. He is Mr. Leroy—Graham Leroy—and I suppose I ought to tell him at once about my uncle." [Pg 39] "You don't like Mr. Leroy?" I said, impulsively. Had I paused to think, I should not have spoken thus personally. But Miss Pembroke answered simply: "No, I do not like Mr. Graham Leroy. But that does not make any difference. He has full charge of my uncle's financial affairs; and, too, he has long been his personal friend and adviser. So, I know it is right to send for him." She sighed, as if her decision were entirely because of what she considered her duty. It was absurd of me, to be sure, but I am always given to jumping at conclusions, and it flashed across me that Graham Leroy's interest in the Pembroke family extended farther than his professional relations with the old gentleman. I know him slightly, as a brother lawyer, and I knew that from a feminine point of view he was a most fascinating man. He was a bachelor, and though not young, was handsome, brilliant and exceedingly distinguished in effect. Moreover, flattering myself that I understood the contrariness of a woman's assertions in such matters, my mind leaped to the conviction that because Miss Pembroke had denounced him, she was in all probability in love with him. And then I sternly inquired of myself how it could possibly matter to me if she were. [Pg 40] But this stern and questioning attitude of myself to myself did not deceive me in the least. I knew perfectly well that I was already sufficiently interested in Janet Pembroke to resent the introduction of such a dangerous factor as Graham Leroy into the case. Being a lawyer, the absurdity of my own mental attitude was perfectly clear to me, but being a man, I didn't care if it was. Of course, my sentiments toward her were nothing more than admiration for her beauty and sympathy for her sorrow. If these were augmented by the elusive mystery that seemed to enwrap her, that was an argument in justification of my sudden interest in a comparative stranger. "Will you, Otis?" Laura was saying, and I collected my scattered wits with a start, as I said, "will I what?" "Will you telephone to Mr. Leroy?" she said, a little impatiently, and I knew she was repeating her question. "Of course," I said, jumping up and looking for the telephone book. "His number is on the card by the telephone," said Miss Pembroke, and in a few moments I had Leroy's call. But he was not in his office, so leaving word for him to come as soon as possible, I hung up the receiver. <hr class="chap" /> [Pg 41] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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