I grumbled, “This is going to be a lot of fun,” to myself, sat down at a window and smoked a cigarette.
A maid in black and white knocked on the door and asked me what I wanted for luncheon. She was a hearty pink and plump blonde somewhere in the middle twenties, with blue eyes that looked curiously at me and had jokes in them. I took a shot of Scotch from the bottle in my bag, ate the luncheon the maid presently returned with, and spent the afternoon in my room.
By keeping my ears open I managed to catch Minnie as she came out of her mistress’s room at a little after four. The mulatto’s eyes jerked wide when she saw me standing in my doorway.
“Come in,” I said. “Didn’t Doctor Riese tell you I was here?”
“No, sir. Are—are you—? You’re not wanting anything with Miss Gabrielle?”
“Just looking out for her, seeing that nothing happens to her. And if you’ll keep me wised up, let me know what she says and does, and what others say and do, you’ll be helping me, and helping her; because then I won’t have to bother her.”
The mulatto said, “Yes, yes,” readily enough, but, as far as I could learn from her brown face, my cooperative idea wasn’t getting across any too well.
“How is she this afternoon?” I asked.
“She’s right cheerful this afternoon, sir. She like this place.”
“How’d she spend the afternoon?”
“She—I don’t know, sir. She just kind of spent it—quiet like.”
Not much news there. I said:
“Doctor Riese thinks she’ll be better off not knowing I’m here, so you needn’t say anything to her about me.”
“No, sir, I sure won’t,” she promised, but it sounded more polite than sincere.
In the early evening Aaronia Haldorn came in and invited me down to dinner. The dining-room was paneled and furnished in dark walnut. There were ten of us at the table.
Joseph Haldorn was tall, built like a statue, and wore a black silk robe. His hair was thick, long, white, and glossy. His thick beard, trimmed round, was white and glossy. Aaronia Haldorn introduced me to him, calling him, “Joseph,” as if he had no last name. All the others addressed him in the same way. He gave me a white even-toothed smile and a warm strong hand. His face, healthily pink, was without line or wrinkle. It was a tranquil face, especially the clear brown eyes, somehow making you feel at peace with the world. The same soothing quality was in his baritone voice.
He said: “We are happy to have you here.”
The words were merely polite, meaningless, yet, as he said them, I actually believed that for some reason he was happy. Now I understood Gabrielle Leggett’s desire to come to this place. I said that I, too, was happy to be there, and while I was saying it I actually thought I was.
Besides Joseph and his wife and their son at the table there was Mrs. Rodman, a tall frail woman with transparent skin, faded eyes, and a voice that never rose above a murmur; a man named Fleming, who was young, dark, very thin, and wore a dark mustache and the detached air of one busy with his own thoughts; Major Jeffries, a well-tailored, carefully mannered man, stout and bald and sallow; his wife, a pleasant sort of person in spite of a kittenishness thirty years too young for her; a Miss Hillen, sharp of chin and voice, with an intensely eager manner; and Mrs. Pavlov, who was quite young, had a high-cheek-boned dark face, and avoided everybody’s eyes.
The food, served by two Filipino boys, was good. There was not much conversation and none of it was religious. It wasn’t so bad.
After dinner I returned to my room. I listened at Gabrielle Leggett’s door for a few minutes, but heard nothing. In my room I fidgeted and smoked and waited for Doctor Riese to show up as he had promised. He didn’t show up. I supposed that one of the emergencies that are regular parts of doctors’ lives had kept him elsewhere, but his not coming made me irritable. Nobody went in or out of Gabrielle’s room. I tiptoed over to listen at her door a couple of times. Once I heard nothing. Once I heard faint meaningless rustling sounds.
At a little after ten o’clock I heard some of the inmates going past my door, probably on their way to their rooms for the night.
At five minutes past eleven I heard Gabrielle’s door open. I opened mine. Minnie Hershey was going down the corridor toward the rear of the building. I was tempted to call her, but didn’t. My last attempt to get anything out of her had been a flop, and I wasn’t feeling tactful enough now to stand much chance of having better luck.
By this time I had given up hopes of seeing Riese before the following day.
I switched off my lights, left my door open, and sat there in the dark, looking at the girl’s door and cursing the world. I thought of Tad’s blind man in a dark room hunting for a black hat that wasn’t there, and knew how he felt.
At a little before midnight Minnie Hershey, in hat and coat as if she had just come in from the street, returned to Gabrielle’s room. She didn’t seem to see me. I stood up silently and tried to peep past her when she opened the door, but didn’t have any luck.
Minnie remained there until nearly one o’clock, and when she came out she closed the door very softly, walking tiptoe. That was an unnecessary precaution on the thick carpet. Because it was unnecessary it made me nervous. I went to my door and called in a low voice:
“Minnie.”
Maybe she didn’t hear me. She went on tiptoeing down the corridor. That increased my jumpiness. I went after her quickly
