The Silent House Part 17

Diana made this remark with so kindly a look, so becoming a blush, and so warm a pressure of the hand, that Lucian felt quite overcome, and not trusting himself to speak, walked swiftly out of the room.

In spite of the gravity of the task in which he was concerned, at that moment he thought more of Diana's looks and speech than of the detective business which he had taken up for love's sake. But on reaching his rooms in Geneva Square he made a mighty effort to waken from these day dreams, and with a stern determination addressed himself resolutely to the work in hand.

In this case the bitter came before the sweet. But by accomplis.h.i.+ng the desire of Diana, and solving the mystery of her father's death, Lucian hoped to win not only her smiles but the more substantial reward of her heart and hand.

Before calling on Mrs. Bensusan the barrister debated within himself as to whether it would not be judicious to call in again the a.s.sistance of Link, and by telling him of the new evidence which had been found place him thereby in possession of new material to prosecute the case. But Link lately had taken so pessimistic a view of the matter that Lucian fancied he would scoff at his late discoveries, and discourage him in prosecuting what seemed to be a fruitless quest.

Denzil was anxious, as Diana's knight, to do as much of the work as possible in order to gain the reward of her smiles. It is true that he had no legal authority to make these inquiries, and it was possible that Mrs. Bensusan might refuse to answer questions concerning her own business, unsanctioned by law; but on recalling the description of Miss Greeb, Lucian fancied that Mrs. Bensusan, as a fat woman, might only be good-natured and timid.

He therefore dismissed all ideas of asking Link to intervene, and resolved to risk a personal interview with the tenant of the Jersey Street house. It would be time enough to invite Link's a.s.sistance, he thought, when Mrs. Bensusan--as yet an unknown quant.i.ty in the case--proved obstinate in replying to his questions.

Mrs. Bensusan proved to be quite as stout as Miss Greeb had reported. A gigantically fat woman, she made up in breadth what she lacked in length. Yet she seemed to have some activity about her, too, for she opened the door personally to Lucian, who was quite amazed when he beheld her monstrous bulk blocking up the doorway. Her face was white and round like a pale moon; she had staring eyes of a china blue, resembling the vacant optics of a wax doll; and, on the whole, appeared to be a timid, lymphatic woman, likely to answer any questions put to her in a sufficiently peremptory tone. Lucian foresaw that he was not likely to have much trouble with this mountain of flesh.

"What might you be pleased to want, sir?" she asked Lucian, in the meekest of voices. "Is it about the lodgings?"

"Yes," answered the barrister boldly, for he guessed that Mrs. Bensusan would scuttle back into the house like a rabbit to its burrow, did he speak too plainly at the outset, "that is--I wish to inquire about a friend of mine."

"Did he lodge here, sir?"

"Yes. A Mr. Wrent."

"Deary me!" said the fat woman, with mild surprise. "Mr. Wrent left me shortly after Christmas. A kind gentleman, but timid; he----"

"Excuse me," interrupted Lucian, who wanted to get into the house, "but don't you think you could tell me about my friend in a more convenient situation?"

"Oh, yes, sir--certainly, sir," wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, rolling back up the narrow pa.s.sage. "I beg your pardon, sir, for my forgetfulness, but my head ain't what it ought to be. I'm a lone widow, sir, and not over strong."

Denzil could have laughed at this description, as the lady's bulk gave the lie to her a.s.sertion. However, on diplomatic grounds he suppressed his mirth, and followed his ponderous guide into a sitting-room so small that she almost filled it herself.

As he left the pa.s.sage he saw a brilliant red head pop down the staircase leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt; but whether it was that of a man or a woman he could not say. Still, on recalling Miss Greeb's description of the Bensusan household, he concluded that the red head was the property of Rhoda, the sharp servant, and argued from her appearance in the background, and rapid disappearance, that she was in the habit of listening to conversations she was not meant to hear.

Mrs. Bensusan sat down on the sofa, as being most accommodating to her bulk, and cast a watery look around the small apartment, which was furnished in that extraordinary fas.h.i.+on which seems to be the peculiar characteristic of boarding houses. The walls and carpet were patterned with glowing bunches of red roses; the furniture was covered with stamped red velvet; the ornaments consisted of sh.e.l.ls, wax fruit under gla.s.s shades, mats of Berlin wool, vases with dangling pendants of gla.s.s, and such like elegant survivals of the early Victorian epoch.

Hideous as the apartment was, it seemed to afford Mrs. Bensusan--also a survival--great pleasure; and she cast a complacent look around as Lucian seated himself on an uncomfortable chair covered with an antimaca.s.sar of crochet work.

"My rooms are most comfortable, an' much liked," said Mrs. Bensusan, sighing, "but I have not had many lodgers lately. Rhoda thinks it must be on account of that horrible murder."

"The murder of Vrain in No. 13?"

"Ah!" groaned the fat woman, looking tearfully over her double chin, "I see you have heard of it."

"Everybody has heard of it," replied Lucian, "and I was one of the first to hear, since I live in Miss Greeb's house, opposite No. 13."

"Indeed, sir!" grunted Mrs. Bensusan, stiffening a little at the sound of a rival lodging-house keeper's name. "Then you are Mr. Denzil, the gentleman who occupies Miss Greeb's first floor front."

"Yes. And I have come to ask you a few questions."

"About what, sir?" said Mrs. Bensusan, visibly alarmed.

"Concerning Mr. Wrent."

"You are a friend of his?"

"I said so, Mrs. Bensusan, but as a matter of fact I never set eyes on the gentleman in my life."

Mrs. Bensusan gasped like a fish out of water, and patted her fat breast with her fat hand, as though to give herself courage. "It is not like a gentleman to say that another gentleman's his friend when he ain't," she said, with an attempt at dignity.

"Very true," answered Lucian, with great composure, "but you know the saying, 'All is fair in love and war.' I will be plain with you, Mrs.

Bensusan," he added, "I am here to seek possible evidence in connection with the murder of Mr. Vrain, in No. 13, on Christmas Eve."

Mrs. Bensusan gave a kind of hoa.r.s.e screech, and stared at Lucian in a horrified manner.

"Murder!" she repeated. "Lord! what mur--that murder! Mr. Vrain! Mr.

Vrain--that murder!" she repeated over and over again.

"Yes, the murder of Mr. Vrain in No. 13 Geneva Square on Christmas Eve.

Now do you understand?"

With another gasp Mrs. Bensusan threw up her fat hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

"As I am a Christian woman, sir," she cried, "I am as innocent as a babe unborn!"

"Of what?" asked Lucian sharply.

"Of the murder!" wept Mrs. Bensusan, now dissolved in tears. "Rhoda said----"

"I don't want to hear what Rhoda said," interrupted Lucian impatiently, "and I am not accusing you of the murder. But--your house is at the back of No. 13."

"Yes," replied Mrs. Bensusan, weeping like a Niobe.

"And a fence divides your yard from that of No. 13?"

"I won't contradict you, sir--it do."

"And there is a pa.s.sage leading from Jersey Street into your yard?"

"There is, Mr. Denzil; it's useful for the trades-people."

"And I daresay useful to others," said Lucian drily. "Now, Mrs.

Bensusan, do you know if any lady was in the habit of pa.s.sing through that pa.s.sage at night?"

Before Mrs. Bensusan could answer the door was dashed open, and Rhoda, the red-headed, darted into the room.

"Don't answer, missus!" she cried shortly. "As you love me, mum, don't!"

CHAPTER XV