Paste Jewels by John Kendrick Bangs (best color ereader .TXT) π
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- Author: John Kendrick Bangs
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times he went below to the cellar, ostensibly to inspect his coal supply, really to observe the demeanor of Margaret, the cook. Barring an unusual pallor upon her cheek, she appeared to be as she always had been; but with the waitress it was different. Mary was evidently excited over something, but over what Thaddeus could not, of course, determine at that time. Later in the day, however, the cause of her perturbation came out, and Thaddeus's effort to keep Bessie from anxiety over the occurrence of the night before was rendered unavailing. It was at luncheon. The table was set in a most peculiar fashion. The only china upon it was from an old set which had been discarded a year previous to the time of this story, and Bessie naturally wanted to know why, and the waitress broke down.
"It's--it's all we have, ma'am," said she, her eyes filling with tears.
"All we have?" echoed Mrs. Perkins in surprise. "Why, what do you mean? Where is the other set?"
"I don't know," protested the waitress.
"You don't know?" said Thaddeus, taking the matter in hand. "Why don't you know? Isn't the china a part of your care?"
"Yes, sir," replied the maid, "but--it's gone, sir, and I don't know where."
"When did you miss it?" asked Thaddeus.
"Not until I came to set the table for lunch."
"Was it in its proper place at breakfast-time?"
"I didn't notice, sir. The breakfast dishes were all there, but I don't remember seeing the other plates. I didn't think to look."
"Then it wasn't a cat," said Bessie, sinking back into her chair; "we have been robbed."
"Well, it's the first time on record, I guess, that thieves have ever robbed a man of his china," said Thaddeus, calmly. "Have you looked for the plates?" he added, addressing the waitress.
"No, sir," she replied, simply. "Where could I look?"
"That's so--where?" said Bessie. "There isn't much use looking for dishes when they disappear like that. They aren't like whisk-brooms or button-hooks to be mislaid easily. We have been robbed; that's all there is about that."
"Oh, well," said Thaddeus, "let's eat lunch, and see about it afterwards."
This was quite easy to say, but to eat under the circumstances was too much for either of the young householders. The luncheon left the table practically untouched; and when it was over Thaddeus called his man into the house, wrote a note to the police-station, asking for an officer in citizen's clothes at once, and despatched it by him, with the injunction to let very little grass grow under his feet on the way down to headquarters. He then summoned the waitress into the library.
"Have you said anything to Margaret about the china?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"What did you say?"
"I told her as how wasn't it funny the way it had went, sir."
"And what did she say?"
"Nothing, sir. Only she seemed to think it was funny, because she laughed."
"And what did you say then?"
"Nothing, Mr. Perkins. Margaret and me have very little conversation, because she don't fancy me, and prefers talkin' to herself like."
"H'm!" said Thaddeus. "Talks to herself, does she?"
"All the time, sir," returned the waitress, "and she seems very fond of it, sir. She laughs, and says things, and then laughs again. She does it by the hour."
"How long has this been going on?"
"About a week, sir. I noticed it first last time I had my day out. I didn't get in until nearly eleven o'clock, and I found her sitting at the table havin' supper and talkin' and laughin' like as though there was folks around."
"She was entirely alone, was she?" asked Thaddeus.
"Yes, sir."
"What did you do when you came in?"
"I said 'Hello' to her and sat down opposite to her at the table, where there was a place set, and I told her I was glad she had something to eat and a place set for me, because I hadn't had any supper and I was hungry, sir."
"Did she make any reply?"
"No, sir. She looked at me kind of indignant, and turned out the gas and went up to bed, leaving me in the dark."
Thaddeus's brow grew thoughtful again. It wrinkled into a half- dozen lines as he asked:
"Why didn't you speak of this before?"
"It ain't for me to be telling tales, Mr. Perkins," she said. "All cooks as I've lived with is queer like, and I didn't think any more about it."
"All right," said Thaddeus. "You may go. Only, Mary, don't speak of the plates again to Margaret. Say as little to her as you can, in fact, about anything. If you notice anything queer, report to me at once."
The waitress left the room, and Thaddeus turned to his desk. It was plain from his appearance that light was beginning to be let in on places that up to this point had been more or less dark to him, although, as a matter of fact, he could not in any way account for the mystery of the vanished plates any more than he could for the sweeping of the library in the still hours of the night. He had an idea as to who the culprit was, and what that idea was is plain enough to us, but the question of motive was the great puzzle to him now.
"If she did take them, why should she?" was the problem he was trying to solve; and then, as if his trials were not already great enough for one day, Bessie broke excitedly into the room.
"Thaddeus!" she cried, "there's something wrong in this house; my best table-cloth is missing, our dessert-spoons are gone, and what do you suppose has happened?"
"I don't know--a volcano has developed in the cellar, I suppose," said Thaddeus.
"No," said Bessie, "it isn't as bad as that; but the ice-cream man has telephoned up to know whether we want the cream for dinner or for eleven o'clock, according to the order as he understands it."
"Well," said Thaddeus, "I don't see anything very unusual in an ice- cream man's needing to be told three or four times what is expected of him."
"But I never ordered any cream at all," said Bessie.
"Ah," said Thaddeus, "that's different. Did you tell Partinelli so?"
"I did, and he said he was sure he wasn't mistaken, because he had taken the order himself."
"From you?"
"No, from Margaret."
"Then it's all right," said Thaddeus; "it's a clew that fits very nicely into my theory of our recent household disturbances. If you will wait, I think things will begin to develop very shortly, and then we shall be able to dismiss this indictment against the cat we thought we heard last night."
"Do you think Margaret is dishonest?"
"I don't know," said Thaddeus. "I shouldn't be surprised if she had friends with taking ways; in other words, my dear, I suspect that Margaret is in league with people outside of this house who profit by her mistaken notions as to how to be generous; but I can't prove it yet."
"But what are you going to do?"
"Set a watch. I have sent for a detective," said Thaddeus.
This was too much for Bessie. She was simply overcome, and she sat squarely down upon the arm-chair, which fortunately was immediately behind her. I think that if it had not been, she would have plumped down upon the floor.
"Detective!" she gasped.
"Exactly," said Thaddeus, "and here he comes," he added, as a carriage was driven up to the door and one of the citizen police descended therefrom.
"You would better leave us to talk over this matter together," said Thaddeus, as he hastened to the door. "We shall be able to manage it entirely, and the details might make you nervous."
"I couldn't be more nervous than I am," said Bessie; "but I'll leave you just the same."
Whereupon she went to her room, and Thaddeus, for an hour, was closeted with the detective, to which he detailed the whole story.
"It's one of the two," said the latter, when Thaddeus had finished, "and I agree with you it is more likely to be the cook than the waitress. If it was the waitress, she couldn't have stood your examination as well as you say she did. Perhaps I'd better see her, though, and talk to her myself."
"No, I shouldn't," said Thaddeus "we'll pass you off as a business acquaintance of mine up from town, and you can stay all night and watch developments."
So it was arranged. The detective was introduced into the family as a correspondent of Thaddeus's firm, and he settled down to watch the household. Afternoon and evening went by without developments, and at about eleven o'clock every light in the house was extinguished, and the whole family, from the head of the house to the cook, had apparently retired.
At half-past eleven, however, there were decided signs of life within the walls of Thaddeus's home. The clew was working satisfactorily, and the complete revelation of the mystery was close at hand.
The remainder of the narrative can best be told in the words of the detective:
"When Mr. Perkins sent for me," he said, "and told me all that had happened, I made up my mind that he had a servant in his house for whom the police had been on the lookout for some time. I thought she was a certain Helen Malony, alias Bridget O'Shaughnessy, alias many other names, who was nothing more nor less than the agent of a clever band of thieves who had lifted thousands of dollars of swag in the line of household silver, valuable books, diamonds, and other things from private houses, where she had been employed in various capacities. I could not understand why she should have made 'way with the dishes and Mrs. Perkins's table-cloth, but there's no accounting for tastes of people in that line of business, so I didn't bother much trying to reason that matter out.
"After we'd had dinner and spent the evening in Mr. Perkins's library, the family went to bed, and I pretended to do the same. Instead of really going to bed, I waited my chance and slipped down the stairs into the dining-room, and got under the table. At eleven o'clock the maidservants went up to their rooms, and at quarter-past there wasn't a light burning in the house. I sat there in the dining-room waiting, and just as the clock struck half-past eleven I heard a noise out on the stairs, and in less than half a minute a sulphur match was struck almost over my head under the table, and there stood the cook, her face livid as that of a dead person, and in her hand she held a candle, which she lit with the match. From where I was I could see everything she did, which was not much. She simply gathered up all the table fixings she could, and started down-stairs into the kitchen with 'em. Then I went up to Mr. Perkins's room and called him.
"It's--it's all we have, ma'am," said she, her eyes filling with tears.
"All we have?" echoed Mrs. Perkins in surprise. "Why, what do you mean? Where is the other set?"
"I don't know," protested the waitress.
"You don't know?" said Thaddeus, taking the matter in hand. "Why don't you know? Isn't the china a part of your care?"
"Yes, sir," replied the maid, "but--it's gone, sir, and I don't know where."
"When did you miss it?" asked Thaddeus.
"Not until I came to set the table for lunch."
"Was it in its proper place at breakfast-time?"
"I didn't notice, sir. The breakfast dishes were all there, but I don't remember seeing the other plates. I didn't think to look."
"Then it wasn't a cat," said Bessie, sinking back into her chair; "we have been robbed."
"Well, it's the first time on record, I guess, that thieves have ever robbed a man of his china," said Thaddeus, calmly. "Have you looked for the plates?" he added, addressing the waitress.
"No, sir," she replied, simply. "Where could I look?"
"That's so--where?" said Bessie. "There isn't much use looking for dishes when they disappear like that. They aren't like whisk-brooms or button-hooks to be mislaid easily. We have been robbed; that's all there is about that."
"Oh, well," said Thaddeus, "let's eat lunch, and see about it afterwards."
This was quite easy to say, but to eat under the circumstances was too much for either of the young householders. The luncheon left the table practically untouched; and when it was over Thaddeus called his man into the house, wrote a note to the police-station, asking for an officer in citizen's clothes at once, and despatched it by him, with the injunction to let very little grass grow under his feet on the way down to headquarters. He then summoned the waitress into the library.
"Have you said anything to Margaret about the china?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"What did you say?"
"I told her as how wasn't it funny the way it had went, sir."
"And what did she say?"
"Nothing, sir. Only she seemed to think it was funny, because she laughed."
"And what did you say then?"
"Nothing, Mr. Perkins. Margaret and me have very little conversation, because she don't fancy me, and prefers talkin' to herself like."
"H'm!" said Thaddeus. "Talks to herself, does she?"
"All the time, sir," returned the waitress, "and she seems very fond of it, sir. She laughs, and says things, and then laughs again. She does it by the hour."
"How long has this been going on?"
"About a week, sir. I noticed it first last time I had my day out. I didn't get in until nearly eleven o'clock, and I found her sitting at the table havin' supper and talkin' and laughin' like as though there was folks around."
"She was entirely alone, was she?" asked Thaddeus.
"Yes, sir."
"What did you do when you came in?"
"I said 'Hello' to her and sat down opposite to her at the table, where there was a place set, and I told her I was glad she had something to eat and a place set for me, because I hadn't had any supper and I was hungry, sir."
"Did she make any reply?"
"No, sir. She looked at me kind of indignant, and turned out the gas and went up to bed, leaving me in the dark."
Thaddeus's brow grew thoughtful again. It wrinkled into a half- dozen lines as he asked:
"Why didn't you speak of this before?"
"It ain't for me to be telling tales, Mr. Perkins," she said. "All cooks as I've lived with is queer like, and I didn't think any more about it."
"All right," said Thaddeus. "You may go. Only, Mary, don't speak of the plates again to Margaret. Say as little to her as you can, in fact, about anything. If you notice anything queer, report to me at once."
The waitress left the room, and Thaddeus turned to his desk. It was plain from his appearance that light was beginning to be let in on places that up to this point had been more or less dark to him, although, as a matter of fact, he could not in any way account for the mystery of the vanished plates any more than he could for the sweeping of the library in the still hours of the night. He had an idea as to who the culprit was, and what that idea was is plain enough to us, but the question of motive was the great puzzle to him now.
"If she did take them, why should she?" was the problem he was trying to solve; and then, as if his trials were not already great enough for one day, Bessie broke excitedly into the room.
"Thaddeus!" she cried, "there's something wrong in this house; my best table-cloth is missing, our dessert-spoons are gone, and what do you suppose has happened?"
"I don't know--a volcano has developed in the cellar, I suppose," said Thaddeus.
"No," said Bessie, "it isn't as bad as that; but the ice-cream man has telephoned up to know whether we want the cream for dinner or for eleven o'clock, according to the order as he understands it."
"Well," said Thaddeus, "I don't see anything very unusual in an ice- cream man's needing to be told three or four times what is expected of him."
"But I never ordered any cream at all," said Bessie.
"Ah," said Thaddeus, "that's different. Did you tell Partinelli so?"
"I did, and he said he was sure he wasn't mistaken, because he had taken the order himself."
"From you?"
"No, from Margaret."
"Then it's all right," said Thaddeus; "it's a clew that fits very nicely into my theory of our recent household disturbances. If you will wait, I think things will begin to develop very shortly, and then we shall be able to dismiss this indictment against the cat we thought we heard last night."
"Do you think Margaret is dishonest?"
"I don't know," said Thaddeus. "I shouldn't be surprised if she had friends with taking ways; in other words, my dear, I suspect that Margaret is in league with people outside of this house who profit by her mistaken notions as to how to be generous; but I can't prove it yet."
"But what are you going to do?"
"Set a watch. I have sent for a detective," said Thaddeus.
This was too much for Bessie. She was simply overcome, and she sat squarely down upon the arm-chair, which fortunately was immediately behind her. I think that if it had not been, she would have plumped down upon the floor.
"Detective!" she gasped.
"Exactly," said Thaddeus, "and here he comes," he added, as a carriage was driven up to the door and one of the citizen police descended therefrom.
"You would better leave us to talk over this matter together," said Thaddeus, as he hastened to the door. "We shall be able to manage it entirely, and the details might make you nervous."
"I couldn't be more nervous than I am," said Bessie; "but I'll leave you just the same."
Whereupon she went to her room, and Thaddeus, for an hour, was closeted with the detective, to which he detailed the whole story.
"It's one of the two," said the latter, when Thaddeus had finished, "and I agree with you it is more likely to be the cook than the waitress. If it was the waitress, she couldn't have stood your examination as well as you say she did. Perhaps I'd better see her, though, and talk to her myself."
"No, I shouldn't," said Thaddeus "we'll pass you off as a business acquaintance of mine up from town, and you can stay all night and watch developments."
So it was arranged. The detective was introduced into the family as a correspondent of Thaddeus's firm, and he settled down to watch the household. Afternoon and evening went by without developments, and at about eleven o'clock every light in the house was extinguished, and the whole family, from the head of the house to the cook, had apparently retired.
At half-past eleven, however, there were decided signs of life within the walls of Thaddeus's home. The clew was working satisfactorily, and the complete revelation of the mystery was close at hand.
The remainder of the narrative can best be told in the words of the detective:
"When Mr. Perkins sent for me," he said, "and told me all that had happened, I made up my mind that he had a servant in his house for whom the police had been on the lookout for some time. I thought she was a certain Helen Malony, alias Bridget O'Shaughnessy, alias many other names, who was nothing more nor less than the agent of a clever band of thieves who had lifted thousands of dollars of swag in the line of household silver, valuable books, diamonds, and other things from private houses, where she had been employed in various capacities. I could not understand why she should have made 'way with the dishes and Mrs. Perkins's table-cloth, but there's no accounting for tastes of people in that line of business, so I didn't bother much trying to reason that matter out.
"After we'd had dinner and spent the evening in Mr. Perkins's library, the family went to bed, and I pretended to do the same. Instead of really going to bed, I waited my chance and slipped down the stairs into the dining-room, and got under the table. At eleven o'clock the maidservants went up to their rooms, and at quarter-past there wasn't a light burning in the house. I sat there in the dining-room waiting, and just as the clock struck half-past eleven I heard a noise out on the stairs, and in less than half a minute a sulphur match was struck almost over my head under the table, and there stood the cook, her face livid as that of a dead person, and in her hand she held a candle, which she lit with the match. From where I was I could see everything she did, which was not much. She simply gathered up all the table fixings she could, and started down-stairs into the kitchen with 'em. Then I went up to Mr. Perkins's room and called him.
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