Five Fatal Words (5 page)

She went with him to a low stone seat; and she was more glad of his company than she betrayed; he seemed sane and competent and self-assured.

"I hear Everitt's arriving," Granger observed.

"Yes," said Melicent. Friendly as Granger was, she was determined to share no confidences with him, as much because of an instinctive caution as because of her pledge to Miss Cornwall.

"He's a human one--perhaps the best of the lot," went on Granger cheerfully.

"You'll like him. He's the oldest brother, next to Daniel, who died. Originally, there were six children; but you know one of them recently died?"

"Yes; I know it."

"It means a couple of hundred thousand extra a year for the five survivors; but puts them all even more on pins and needles."

"What do you mean--pins and needles ?"

"Because old Silas Cornwall's will was a joker. I can't figure out whether he hated his children or whether he wanted his will to be an inspiration to them; but the way he fixed it, they all share alike at first but, as they die, the shares of the deceased go to the survivors till there's only one left--and then he, or she, does whatever he pleases. It set them all off in the world's championship race to be the last survivor. It's pretty funny, because they're all trying different schemes to outlive the others."

"What sort of schemes?"

"Well, you're getting an inside view of Hannah's. Forty years ago, when the will was first made public, the various systems of the various sons and daughters to insure long life got plenty of publicity; one of them became a vegetarian; another one lived mostly on cheese; another one spent five years in a sanitarium getting herself in perfect physical condition. It was pretty funny then, I guess, but now they are all old and I suppose nature will claim them one by one in the next ten years. Hannah's pretty nearly the youngest and Hannah looks a bit rocky to me."

"You haven't much feeling for them, have you?"

"Why should I? The income of the estate is divided between them and makes them as rich as coots, anyway. It's just greed that makes them want to be last. Greed and a determination that their particular notion of disposing of their father's fortune will be the one that is carried out. They each have a different plan, you know; our employer's is the Greek idea; she's devoting herself to the business of living longest so she can build a university which would bring back Athens in its glory."

"Yes," said Melicent, "she mentioned it."

"Some of the others have even more dangerous ideas."

"Dangerous how--to whom?"

"To themselves probably. Dangle a couple of hundred million before a few enterprising beneficiaries, and somebody is likely to prove impatient. Take Professor Coleman, purely as an imaginary example. If Hannah Cornwall lives longest, he'll have the two hundred million some day not too far away for his glorious Greek university--and himself; but not a cent will he get, if she dies first. It's the same way with the hangers-on and favorites of each of the others.

"Quite a situation for everybody, when you think of it. Each brother or sister has a little group whose whole fortune depends on him or her living longest--and the others dying first. I say, it's a situation in which you wouldn't be amazed if somebody got the feeling that Providence might not kill them off in quite the right order and so he ought to take a hand in the demises himself."

"I hadn't thought of it," confessed Melicent, staring, "in quite that way."

"The possibility of such assistance to Providence has occurred, I am quite sure," said Granger, "to our estimable employer. For whom, by the way, I must be continuing the rounds now. Meet me here again."

"Gladly," agreed Melicent, and returned to the house.

At eleven a car drove to the house and Everitt Cornwall arrived. Melicent was with Miss Cornwall when the butler let him into the hall. He joined them at once and held out both his hands to his sister.

"By George! This is nice. Haven't seen you in a long time. You don't look a day older." He was older than his sister but, as Granger had said, Everitt Cornwall clearly had more of the humanities in his character. His eyes were blue and twinkled; his mustache was white but it twitched, frequently--an effect caused by a quick smile beneath it.

His sister was not smiling; indeed, Melicent could sense a stiffening in Miss Cornwall; and she guessed that, in mentioning age, Everitt Cornwall had tread rudely upon a sacred taboo.

"You look very well yourself, Everitt, and you are not a bit more serious than you used to be. This is my new secretary, Miss Waring."

He took Melicent's hand. "I am delighted to meet you. My sister must have interviewed thousands of secretaries before she chose you."

Melicent shook her head and smiled in return. "I was just the first to apply."

"An early bird, eh?--admirable virtue." He turned to his sister. "I say, it's gloomier here--except for this young lady's presence--even than I remembered. Never could see why you cling to this place. As far as I'm concerned, Connecticut is all waste land. Might as well live at the north pole. Never did think much of the temperate zone, anyway. Dull name for it."

He sat down in a chair and continued his staccato speech. Melicent liked him and wanted to stay, but she expected to be sent away. She looked at Miss Cornwall to see a signal; but Miss Cornwall apparently preferred that, for the present at least, Melicent remain.

"Tell me all the scandal, Hannah. I gathered from your letter that poor Daniel was very unwise to visit Dutch Guiana; but that was his idea. He was a dour bird, anyway. Always was sure that the tropics were the place to live--if you could just dodge the diseases; so he'd stay there and spend his time and money dodging. Always had a trench system full of scientists keeping the whang-poo fever or something or other at a distance from him. Well, what is, is. I suppose we're all getting pretty old. How's Alice and her family? What's Theodore doing with himself and do you ever hear from Lydia?"

Melicent perceived plainly that it was painful for Miss Cornwall to listen to this bright and airy talk. She was sure that Miss Cornwall conceived it her duty to apprise her brother of the contents of the letter from Dutch Guiana and that probably she would do this as soon as she was alone with him. But, for the present, Miss Cornwall put off this duty; that was why she allowed Melicent to remain; and soon, instead of dismissing Melicent, she excused herself and left her brother with her secretary.

Everitt immediately resumed his seat after his sister was gone and began to talk about her. "Hannah's--like the rest of the family--fretful, peevish, overcautious with herself. It's the Governor's fault--the way he left his pile to the one of us who'll live the longest. Every single member of my family has gone into competitive living and holding the clock on the performance of each of the others. It doesn't make for family feeling. But look at me. I drink. I smoke. My income is big enough, for me and for several of my friends, while I'm living. What do I care what happens when I pass on? And if I happen to outlive the lot and get all the money in the end--nobody knows what I'm going to do with it. I don't know myself. I've got no Prof. Coleman sitting on the sidelines praying for me to be the one to live longest--and then when I've got the money, passion and leave it to him. Not me. Why not have your fun? Well, I've had my fun and I may say, young lady, that if I were twenty years younger, a girl as pretty as yourself wouldn't be doomed to work for a woman."

Suddenly his tone changed. "How does it happen a girl like you takes a job like this? It's no place for youth. What makes you want to stay in a God-forsaken hole day in and day out with an old crab like Hannah?"

Melicent answered him quite frankly. "Just one thing. The difficulty of getting any sort of a job these days."

He shook his head sympathetically. "Too bad. You wouldn't consider becoming the secretary of a young fellow sixty-five, always on the go, traveling around the world, plenty of good company, no work except two or three letters a year?"

Melicent laughed. He was a very human old man and an extremely likeable one.

Shortly afterwards luncheon was announced and they dined together. Mr. Cornwall made the meal a contrast to the preceding ones by his reminiscences, some of which were wholly incredible but all of which he insisted were authentic personal adventures. Melicent hoped he would stay a long time.

They were in the hall, leaving the dining room, when a maid spoke to Miss Cornwall. "The telegraph company at Williamsborough is on the phone, ma'am; they have a message to be phoned to Mr. Everitt Cornwall which they will give only to him."

Everitt Cornwall, like Melicent, heard this; and he asked: "Where's the phone? I'll take it." And he followed the maid to the phone which was in a closet near the library.

Miss Cornwall started for the stairs, but, in her haste, stumbled on her absurdly long skirt. Melicent bent over to help her up but Miss Cornwall pushed her away.

"Run to my room! Quick! The phone is an extension. Listen to that telegram!"

"But it's not for you."

"Do as I say! Quick. These are not ordinary times. Run!" And Melicent ran.

As she picked up the receiver upstairs and heard voices, she recoiled; then she listened.

"Don't Ever Alter These Horoscopes," a girl's voice was repeating; plainly she had read it before.

"Exactly, I get the words," replied Everitt Cornwall. "But are you sure the message is for me? It is absolutely meaningless."

"The address," said the voice from the telegraph office, "is to Everitt Cornwall, care of Miss Hannah Cornwall, Blackcroft, and with the request to phone it over promptly. It came from New York, signed 'John.'"

"And the message is," said Everitt Cornwall's voice, "'Don't Ever Alter These Horoscopes.' Never had a horoscope in my life; never asked for one. The whole thing is absolutely meaningless. Must be mistake--or some joke. Much obliged to you, however."

He rang off.

Melicent looked about; Miss Cornwall had entered the room.

"What was it, Miss Waring?"

What was it? DEATH spelled itself in Melicent's mind as she separated the initial letters; the identical arrangement of initial letters which had made up a different meaningless message of five words received by the brother Daniel just previous to his death. DEATH spelled by the initials of a message otherwise utterly meaningless. It was impossible that it could be chance in both cases. In this case, did this mean also death to the recipient?

He had no idea of it.

"What was it, Miss Waring?" Hannah Cornwall repeated.

"Last night," said Melicent, "you asked me if a five word message, which you repeated, had any meaning to me."

"Yes," said Miss Cornwall, her face whiter than ever.

"It had no meaning at the time; but since then one occurred to me. 'Doubtless Even A Tulip Hopes.' The initial letters spell death."

"Yes," said Miss Cornwall; and Melicent knew then that, since last night, she had seen that herself. "Why do you mention that to me now?"

"Because the message which just came over the telephone was another meaningless message of five words. 'Don't Ever Alter These Horoscopes.' It meant nothing to your brother; he could not believe it was for him. The initial letters of the five words are the same; they spell 'death.' "

"Yes," said Miss Cornwall. "Yes." She seemed incapable of articulating a syllable more; but soon she managed. "That was all of the message?"

"That was all; it came from New York, signed 'John.'"

"I know no John who would threaten us. None." She clutched the back of a chair to steady herself. "The message was for my brother Everitt, you say; you heard that? How was it addressed?"

"To Everitt Cornwall, in your care, Miss Cornwall, at Blackcroft."

"It was not addressed to me; you are sure of that? It was not addressed to me ?"

"It was not addressed to you, Miss Cornwall."

"Very well; you have done well. That's all. Don't say a word of this; not a syllable. Silence, complete and utter. A life may depend upon it! That is all; but stay in the house; remain, please, downstairs. Ask my brother to come to see me here immediately--immediately."

Melicent descended the gloomy stairs slowly; below in the great gray hall, Everitt Cornwall was whistling a gay, lively music hall tune, probably picked up in France.

"Oh, Miss Waring," he hailed her. "Was looking for you. By Jove, it was remarkable how, after hardly an hour with you, I've missed you. Lighten up this place, you do, I'll say."

"Mr. Cornwall, Miss Cornwall asks you to come to her room."

"Oh, no hurry about that."

"She thinks there is."

"But there can't be. See here, what's come over you? I swear, you're looking gloomy, too. See here, my girl, you mustn't let this place make you goofy. Cheer up."

"Your sister, Mr. Cornwall, wants very much to see you."

"Oh, all right. I'll get it over with; but will you be about then? Do; that's a nice girl." And he passed her on the stairs.

Melicent posted herself in the room below Miss Cornwall's; she could not hear even the hum of voices through the thick ceiling and floor, but she could make out, soon, the steps of a man pacing back and forth. Evidently argument was going on which kept him agitated.

At last the door above was opened and Everitt Cornwall descended.

"I'm glad you're here with my sister," he said to Melicent very seriously. "I am exceedingly glad. She needs some one like you. Don't leave her just now, will you?"

"Of course not," said Melicent.

"And try to get her out of this--this brooding and seeing things threatening her everywhere. Laugh it off with her; for God's sake, get her to laugh something off. I've done my best and I've just given up. You take her over now, will you? Cheer her up."

"You aren't going now, are you?" asked Melicent.

"Why, I've just come. No; I'm settling."

Melicent went up to her employer who was sitting staring at nothing. "What has my brother just said to you?"

Melicent told her a part of it, and there was silence again, in which Melicent could hear Everitt Cornwall whistling.