Chapter 9

Jan took her mother’s departure very hard. She found the room empty after dinner, and Hilda, seeing her as she came out, realized that she was badly shocked.

“She’s gone,” she said. “Mother’s gone. I don’t understand. Why would she do a thing like that?”

“I wouldn’t worry. She’ll come back.”

“You don’t know her,” said Jan. “She hates Eileen. She’s made life pretty hard for her, and for my father, too. I’m—” She steadied herself by a chair. “I guess I’m frightened, Miss Adams.”

Hilda tried to send her to bed. She refused, however. She spent the evening trying to locate Marian at the hotels in town and at the place she owned in the country. But there was no sign of her. She had not registered anywhere, and the caretaker on the small farm had had no word from her. Jan, giving up finally, looked wan and despairing.

“You don’t think she would do anything dreadful?” she asked Hilda. “She’s been so terribly unhappy.”

“I doubt it,” said Hilda briskly. “She’s had a shock. She’ll get over it.”

The old lady took Marian’s departure rather philosophically.

“What did she expect? They’re married, aren’t they? If they want a child—”

On the whole, Hilda thought, she was pleased rather than resentful. As though Marian was getting the punishment she deserved. But she carried through her usual routine that night, an hour or so with her door locked, the radio on, and her game of solitaire.

During that interval Hilda found Carlton in the library and told him about the night before, the noises and the moving closet door.

His reaction rather surprised her. He was alone, the evening paper on his knee but his eyes fixed on the empty fireplace. He stared at her when she had finished without replying. Then he walked to the portable bar and poured himself a drink. When he came back he looked more normal.

“I wouldn’t listen to servants’ gossip, Miss Adams.”

“I heard the sounds myself. And I saw the door move, Mr. Fairbanks.”

In the end he went upstairs to his mother’s room. It was some time, however, before she admitted him. The room was as usual, the card table set out in front of the hearth and the cards lying on it, but she looked annoyed.

“Really, Carlton, at this time of night.”

“It isn’t late, Mother.”

“It’s my time for bed.”

“Miss Adams heard something in here last night. I want to find out what it was.”

She was quiet after that, although she watched him grimly. Reluctantly she allowed him in the closet with the safe, but he found nothing there. After that he concentrated on the fireplace. At Hilda’s suggestion he tore the paper wadding out of the chimney. Nothing resulted but a shower of soot, however. No bricks were loose, and when at last he turned a grimy face to his mother it was to find her coldly indignant.

“Now that you have ruined my room perhaps you’ll get out.”