章节正文
"I do."
"Because?"
"Because it won't do you any good to have your name mixed up
with a thing like this."
"But it might do you some good."
I didn't answer for a minute after that. I sat in my chair, my
eyes bent on the floor. I counted the cracks between the chair
and the floor of the office where the Chief was busy with another
case. I counted them six times, back and forth, till my eyes were
clear and my voice was steady.
"You're awfully good," I said, looking up at him as he stood by
me. "You're the best fellow I ever knew. I didn't know men could
be so good to women. . . But you'd better go--please. It'll be
bad enough when the papers get hold of this, without having them
lump you in with a bad lot like me."
He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a quick little shake.
"Don't say that about yourself. You're not a bad lot."
"But--you saw the purse."
"Yes, I saw it. But it hasn't proved anything to me but this:
you're innocent, Nance, or you're crazy. If it's the first, I
want to stand by you, little girl. If it's the second--good God!
I've got to stand by you harder than ever."
Can you see me sitting there, Mag, in the bright, bare little
room, with its electric lights, still in my white dress and big
white hat, my pretty jacket fallen on the floor beside me?
I could feel the sharp blue eyes of that detective Morris feeding
on my miserable face. But I could feel, too, a warmth like wine
poured into me from that big fellow's voice.
I put my hand up to him and he took it.
"If I'm innocent and can prove it, Fred Obermuller, I'll get
even with you for--for this."
"Do you want to do something for me now?"
"Do I?"
"Well, if you want to help me, don't sit there looking like the
criminal ghost of the girl I know."
The blood rushed to my face. Nance Olden, a sniveling coward! Me,
showing the white feather--me, whimpering like a whipped
puppy--me--Nance Olden!
"You know," I smiled up at him, "I never did enjoy getting
caught."
"Hush! But that's better. . . . Tell me now--"
A buzzer sounded. The blue-eyed detective got up and came over to
me.
"Chief's ready," he said. "This way."
They stopped Obermuller at the door. But he pushed past them.
"I want to say just a word to you, Chief," he said. "You
remember me. I'm Obermuller, of the Vaudeville. If you'll send
those fellows out and let me speak to you just a moment, I'll
leave you alone with Miss Olden."
The Chief nodded to the blue-eyed detective, and he and the other
fellow went out and shut the door behind them.
"I want simply to call your attention to the absurdity and
unreasonableness of this thing," Obermuller said, leaning up
against the Chief's desk, while he threw out his left hand with
that big open gesture of his, "and to ask you to bear in mind,
no matter what appearances may be, that Miss Olden is the most
talented girl on the stage to-day; that in a very short time she
will be at the top; that just now she is not suffering for lack
of money; that she's not a high-roller, but a determined,
hard-working little grind, and that if she did feel like taking a
plunge, she knows that she could get all she wants from me
even--"
"Even if you can't pay salaries when they're due, Obermuller."
The Chief grinned under his white mustache.
"Even though the Trust is pushing me to the wall; going to such
lengths that they're liable criminally as well as civilly, if I
could only get my hands on proof of their rascality. It's true I
can't pay salaries always when they're due, but I can still raise
a few hundred to help a friend. And Miss Olden is a friend of
mine. If you can prove that she took this money, you prove only
that she's gone mad, but you don't--"
"All right, Obermuller. You're not the lawyer for the defense.
That'll come later--if it does come. I'll be glad to bear in mind
all you've said, and much that you haven't."
"Thank you. Good night. . . . I'll wait for you, Nance,
outside."
"I'm going to ask you a lot of questions, Miss Olden," the old
Chief said, when we were alone. "Sit here, please. Morris tells
me you've got more nerve than any woman that's ever come before
me, so I needn't bother to reassure you. You don't look like a
girl that's easily frightened. I have heard how you danced in the
lobby of the Manhattan, how you guyed him at your flat, and were
getting lunch and having a regular picnic of a time when--"
"When he found that purse."
"Exactly. Now, why did you do all that?"
"Why? Because I felt like it. I felt gay and excited and--"
"Not dreaming that that purse was sure to be found?"
"Not dreaming that there was such a purse in existence except
from the detective's say--so, and never fancying for an instant
that it would be found in my flat."
"Hm!" He looked at me from under his heavy, wrinkled old lids.
You don't get nice eyes from looking on the nasty things in this
world, Mag.
"Why," I cried, "what kind of a girl could cut up like that
when she was on the very edge of discovery?"
"A very smart girl--an actress; a good one; a clever thief who's
used to bluffing. Of course," he added softly, "you won't
misunderstand me. I'm simply suggesting the different kinds of
girl that could have done what you did. But, if you don't mind,
I'll do the questioning. Nance Olden," he turned suddenly on me,
his manner changed and threatening, "what has become of that
three hundred dollars?"
"Mr. Chief, you know just as much about that as I do."
I threw up my head and looked him full in the face. It was over
now--all the shivering and trembling and fearing. Nance Olden's
not a coward when she's fighting for her freedom; and fighting
alone without any sympathizing friend to weaken her.
He returned the look with interest.
"I may know more," he said insinuatingly.
"Possibly." I shrugged my shoulders.
No, it wasn't put on. There never yet was a man who bullied me
that didn't rouse the fighter in me. I swore to myself that this
old thief-catcher shouldn't rattle me.
"Doesn't it occur to you that under the circumstances a full
confession might be the very best thing for you? I shouldn't
wonder if these people would be inclined to be lenient with you
if you'd return the money. Doesn't it occur--"
"It might occur to me if I had anything to confess--about this
purse."
"How long since you've seen Mrs. Edward Ramsay?" He rushed the
question at me.
I jumped.
"How do you know I've ever seen her?"
"I do know you have."
"I don't believe you."
"Thank you; neither do I believe you, which is more to the
point. Come, answer the question: how long is it since you have
seen the lady?"
I looked at him. And then I looked at my glove, and slowly pulled
the fingers inside out, and then--then I giggled. Suddenly it
came to me--that silly, little insane dodge of mine in the
Bishop's carriage that day; the girl who had lost her name; and
the use all that affair might be to me if ever--
"I'll tell you if you'll let me think a minute," I said
sweetly. "It--it must be all of fifteen months."
"Ah! You see I did know that you've met the lady. If you're wise
you'll draw deductions as to other things I know that you don't
think I do. . . . And where did you see her?"
"In her own home."
"Called there," he sneered, "alone?"
"No," I said very gently. "I went there, to the best of my
recollection, with the Bishop--yes, it was the Bishop, Bishop Van
Wagenen."
"Indeed!"
I could see that he didn't believe a word I was saying, which
made me happily eager to tell him more.
"Yes, we drove up to the Square one afternoon in the Bishop's
carriage--the fat, plum-colored one, you know. We had tea
there--at least, I did. I was to have spent the night, but--"
"That's enough of that."
I chuckled. Yes, Mag Monahan, I was enjoying myself. I was having
a run for my money, even if it was the last run I was to have.
"So it's fifteen months since you've seen Mrs. Ramsay, eh?"
"Yes."
He turned on me with a roar.
"And yet it's only a week since you saw her at Mrs. Gates'."
"Oh, no."
"No? Take care!"
"That night at Mrs. Gates' it was dark, you know, in the front
room. I didn't see Mrs. Ramsay that night. I didn't know she was
there at all till--"
"Till?"
"Till later I was told."
"Who told you?"
"Her husband."
He threw down his pencil.
"Look here, this is no lark, young woman, and you needn't
trouble yourself to weave any more fairy tales. Mr. Ramsay is in
a--he's very ill. His own wife hasn't seen him since that night,
so you see you're lying uselessly."
"Really!" So Edward didn't go back to Mrs. Gates' that night.
Tut! tut! After his telephone message, too!
"Now, assuming your innocence of the theft, Miss Olden, what is
your theory; how do you account for the presence of that purse in
your flat?"
"Now, you've hit the part of it that really puzzles me. How do
you account for it; what is your theory?"
He got to his feet, pushing his chair back sharply.
"My theory, if you want to know it, is that you stole the purse;
that your friend Obermuller believes you did; that you got away
with the three hundred, or hid it away, and--"
"And what a stupid thief I must be, then, to leave the empty
purse under my lounge!"
"How do you know it was empty?" he demanded sharply.
"You said so. . . Well, you gave me to understand that it was,
then. What difference does it make? It would be a still stupider
thief who'd leave a full purse instead of an empty one under his
own lounge."
"Yes; and you're not stupid, Miss Olden."
"Thank you. I'm sorry I can't say as much for you."
I couldn't help it. He was such a stupid. The idea of telling me
that Fred Obermuller believed me guilty! The idea of thinking me
such a fool as to believe that! Such men as that make criminals.
They're so fat-witted you positively ache--they so tempt you to
pull the wool over their eyes. O Mag, if the Lord had only made
men cleverer, there'd be fewer Nancy Oldens.
The Chief blew a blast at his speaking-tube that made his purple
cheeks seem about to burst. My shoulders shook as I watched him,
he was so wrathy.
And I was still laughing when I followed the detective out into
the waiting-room, where Obermuller was pacing the floor. At the
"Because?"
"Because it won't do you any good to have your name mixed up
with a thing like this."
"But it might do you some good."
I didn't answer for a minute after that. I sat in my chair, my
eyes bent on the floor. I counted the cracks between the chair
and the floor of the office where the Chief was busy with another
case. I counted them six times, back and forth, till my eyes were
clear and my voice was steady.
"You're awfully good," I said, looking up at him as he stood by
me. "You're the best fellow I ever knew. I didn't know men could
be so good to women. . . But you'd better go--please. It'll be
bad enough when the papers get hold of this, without having them
lump you in with a bad lot like me."
He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a quick little shake.
"Don't say that about yourself. You're not a bad lot."
"But--you saw the purse."
"Yes, I saw it. But it hasn't proved anything to me but this:
you're innocent, Nance, or you're crazy. If it's the first, I
want to stand by you, little girl. If it's the second--good God!
I've got to stand by you harder than ever."
Can you see me sitting there, Mag, in the bright, bare little
room, with its electric lights, still in my white dress and big
white hat, my pretty jacket fallen on the floor beside me?
I could feel the sharp blue eyes of that detective Morris feeding
on my miserable face. But I could feel, too, a warmth like wine
poured into me from that big fellow's voice.
I put my hand up to him and he took it.
"If I'm innocent and can prove it, Fred Obermuller, I'll get
even with you for--for this."
"Do you want to do something for me now?"
"Do I?"
"Well, if you want to help me, don't sit there looking like the
criminal ghost of the girl I know."
The blood rushed to my face. Nance Olden, a sniveling coward! Me,
showing the white feather--me, whimpering like a whipped
puppy--me--Nance Olden!
"You know," I smiled up at him, "I never did enjoy getting
caught."
"Hush! But that's better. . . . Tell me now--"
A buzzer sounded. The blue-eyed detective got up and came over to
me.
"Chief's ready," he said. "This way."
They stopped Obermuller at the door. But he pushed past them.
"I want to say just a word to you, Chief," he said. "You
remember me. I'm Obermuller, of the Vaudeville. If you'll send
those fellows out and let me speak to you just a moment, I'll
leave you alone with Miss Olden."
The Chief nodded to the blue-eyed detective, and he and the other
fellow went out and shut the door behind them.
"I want simply to call your attention to the absurdity and
unreasonableness of this thing," Obermuller said, leaning up
against the Chief's desk, while he threw out his left hand with
that big open gesture of his, "and to ask you to bear in mind,
no matter what appearances may be, that Miss Olden is the most
talented girl on the stage to-day; that in a very short time she
will be at the top; that just now she is not suffering for lack
of money; that she's not a high-roller, but a determined,
hard-working little grind, and that if she did feel like taking a
plunge, she knows that she could get all she wants from me
even--"
"Even if you can't pay salaries when they're due, Obermuller."
The Chief grinned under his white mustache.
"Even though the Trust is pushing me to the wall; going to such
lengths that they're liable criminally as well as civilly, if I
could only get my hands on proof of their rascality. It's true I
can't pay salaries always when they're due, but I can still raise
a few hundred to help a friend. And Miss Olden is a friend of
mine. If you can prove that she took this money, you prove only
that she's gone mad, but you don't--"
"All right, Obermuller. You're not the lawyer for the defense.
That'll come later--if it does come. I'll be glad to bear in mind
all you've said, and much that you haven't."
"Thank you. Good night. . . . I'll wait for you, Nance,
outside."
"I'm going to ask you a lot of questions, Miss Olden," the old
Chief said, when we were alone. "Sit here, please. Morris tells
me you've got more nerve than any woman that's ever come before
me, so I needn't bother to reassure you. You don't look like a
girl that's easily frightened. I have heard how you danced in the
lobby of the Manhattan, how you guyed him at your flat, and were
getting lunch and having a regular picnic of a time when--"
"When he found that purse."
"Exactly. Now, why did you do all that?"
"Why? Because I felt like it. I felt gay and excited and--"
"Not dreaming that that purse was sure to be found?"
"Not dreaming that there was such a purse in existence except
from the detective's say--so, and never fancying for an instant
that it would be found in my flat."
"Hm!" He looked at me from under his heavy, wrinkled old lids.
You don't get nice eyes from looking on the nasty things in this
world, Mag.
"Why," I cried, "what kind of a girl could cut up like that
when she was on the very edge of discovery?"
"A very smart girl--an actress; a good one; a clever thief who's
used to bluffing. Of course," he added softly, "you won't
misunderstand me. I'm simply suggesting the different kinds of
girl that could have done what you did. But, if you don't mind,
I'll do the questioning. Nance Olden," he turned suddenly on me,
his manner changed and threatening, "what has become of that
three hundred dollars?"
"Mr. Chief, you know just as much about that as I do."
I threw up my head and looked him full in the face. It was over
now--all the shivering and trembling and fearing. Nance Olden's
not a coward when she's fighting for her freedom; and fighting
alone without any sympathizing friend to weaken her.
He returned the look with interest.
"I may know more," he said insinuatingly.
"Possibly." I shrugged my shoulders.
No, it wasn't put on. There never yet was a man who bullied me
that didn't rouse the fighter in me. I swore to myself that this
old thief-catcher shouldn't rattle me.
"Doesn't it occur to you that under the circumstances a full
confession might be the very best thing for you? I shouldn't
wonder if these people would be inclined to be lenient with you
if you'd return the money. Doesn't it occur--"
"It might occur to me if I had anything to confess--about this
purse."
"How long since you've seen Mrs. Edward Ramsay?" He rushed the
question at me.
I jumped.
"How do you know I've ever seen her?"
"I do know you have."
"I don't believe you."
"Thank you; neither do I believe you, which is more to the
point. Come, answer the question: how long is it since you have
seen the lady?"
I looked at him. And then I looked at my glove, and slowly pulled
the fingers inside out, and then--then I giggled. Suddenly it
came to me--that silly, little insane dodge of mine in the
Bishop's carriage that day; the girl who had lost her name; and
the use all that affair might be to me if ever--
"I'll tell you if you'll let me think a minute," I said
sweetly. "It--it must be all of fifteen months."
"Ah! You see I did know that you've met the lady. If you're wise
you'll draw deductions as to other things I know that you don't
think I do. . . . And where did you see her?"
"In her own home."
"Called there," he sneered, "alone?"
"No," I said very gently. "I went there, to the best of my
recollection, with the Bishop--yes, it was the Bishop, Bishop Van
Wagenen."
"Indeed!"
I could see that he didn't believe a word I was saying, which
made me happily eager to tell him more.
"Yes, we drove up to the Square one afternoon in the Bishop's
carriage--the fat, plum-colored one, you know. We had tea
there--at least, I did. I was to have spent the night, but--"
"That's enough of that."
I chuckled. Yes, Mag Monahan, I was enjoying myself. I was having
a run for my money, even if it was the last run I was to have.
"So it's fifteen months since you've seen Mrs. Ramsay, eh?"
"Yes."
He turned on me with a roar.
"And yet it's only a week since you saw her at Mrs. Gates'."
"Oh, no."
"No? Take care!"
"That night at Mrs. Gates' it was dark, you know, in the front
room. I didn't see Mrs. Ramsay that night. I didn't know she was
there at all till--"
"Till?"
"Till later I was told."
"Who told you?"
"Her husband."
He threw down his pencil.
"Look here, this is no lark, young woman, and you needn't
trouble yourself to weave any more fairy tales. Mr. Ramsay is in
a--he's very ill. His own wife hasn't seen him since that night,
so you see you're lying uselessly."
"Really!" So Edward didn't go back to Mrs. Gates' that night.
Tut! tut! After his telephone message, too!
"Now, assuming your innocence of the theft, Miss Olden, what is
your theory; how do you account for the presence of that purse in
your flat?"
"Now, you've hit the part of it that really puzzles me. How do
you account for it; what is your theory?"
He got to his feet, pushing his chair back sharply.
"My theory, if you want to know it, is that you stole the purse;
that your friend Obermuller believes you did; that you got away
with the three hundred, or hid it away, and--"
"And what a stupid thief I must be, then, to leave the empty
purse under my lounge!"
"How do you know it was empty?" he demanded sharply.
"You said so. . . Well, you gave me to understand that it was,
then. What difference does it make? It would be a still stupider
thief who'd leave a full purse instead of an empty one under his
own lounge."
"Yes; and you're not stupid, Miss Olden."
"Thank you. I'm sorry I can't say as much for you."
I couldn't help it. He was such a stupid. The idea of telling me
that Fred Obermuller believed me guilty! The idea of thinking me
such a fool as to believe that! Such men as that make criminals.
They're so fat-witted you positively ache--they so tempt you to
pull the wool over their eyes. O Mag, if the Lord had only made
men cleverer, there'd be fewer Nancy Oldens.
The Chief blew a blast at his speaking-tube that made his purple
cheeks seem about to burst. My shoulders shook as I watched him,
he was so wrathy.
And I was still laughing when I followed the detective out into
the waiting-room, where Obermuller was pacing the floor. At the
- innocent [´inəsənt]
a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词) - jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- detective [di´tektiv] n.侦探 a.侦探的 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- warmth [wɔ:mθ] n.温暖；热情；激动 (初中英语单词)
- gesture [´dʒestʃə] n.手势 v.打手势 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- lawyer [´lɔ:jə] n.律师；法学家 (初中英语单词)
- bother [´bɔðə] v.打扰 n.麻烦(事) (初中英语单词)
- existence [ig´zistəns] n.存在；生存；生活 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- coward [´kauəd] n.胆怯者 a.胆小的 (初中英语单词)
- rattle [´rætl] n.嘎吱声 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- bishop [´biʃəp] n.主教 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- stupid [´stju:pid] a.愚蠢的；糊涂的 (初中英语单词)
- awfully [´ɔ:fuli] ad.令人畏惧地 (高中英语单词)
- liable [´laiəbəl] a.易于...的；有责任的 (高中英语单词)
- reassure [,ri:ə´ʃuə] vt.使放心 (高中英语单词)
- picnic [´piknik] n.郊游 vi.(去)野餐 (高中英语单词)
- actress [´æktris] n.女演员 (高中英语单词)
- weaken [´wi:kən] v.(使)弱化；衰弱；稀薄 (高中英语单词)
- fighter [´faitə] n.战士；战斗机 (高中英语单词)
- insane [in´sein] a.患神经病的；疯狂的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- innocence [´inəsəns] n.无罪；天真 (高中英语单词)
- positively [´pɔzətivli] ad.确实；断然；绝对 (高中英语单词)
- absurdity [əb´sə:diti] n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 (英语四级单词)
- manhattan [mæn´hætən] n.曼哈顿 (英语四级单词)
- vaudeville [´vɔ:dəvil] n.滑稽通俗喜剧；杂耍 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
