Part 21 (2/2)
”Yes. I'd rather work. Mr. and Mrs. Miles have always been specially nice to me, and I--I could love their children. They're not--afraid of me--”
”Perhaps you're wise,” Dundee agreed. ”By the way, Lydia, did Mrs. Selim have a pistol in her possession at any time during the past week?”
The maid shook her head. ”Not that I seen. And if she'd got one because she was afraid, she'd a-kept it handy and I'd a-been bound to see it.”
Convinced of her sincerity, he was about to let her go to pack her bag when another belated question occurred to him. ”Lydia, will you tell me what engagements Mrs. Selim had this last week?”
The woman scowled, fanatically jealous, Dundee guessed, of her mistress'
reputation, but at last she answered defiantly: ”Let me see.... Mr.
Sprague had Sunday dinner here, and spent the afternoon, but Sunday night it was young Mr. Ralph Hammond. He come whenever she'd let him.... Monday night?... Oh, yes! She had dinner at the Country Club with the Mileses and the Drakes and the Dunlaps. Mr. Miles brought her home, because Mr. Sprague wasn't invited.... Tuesday night--let me think!... Yes, that's the night Judge Marshall was here. Nita had sent for him to talk about finis.h.i.+ng up the attic--”
So that was the ”business engagement” which Judge Marshall had hemmed and hawed over, Dundee reflected triumphantly.
”--and Wednesday night,” Lydia was continuing, with a certain pride in her mistress' popularity, ”she was at a dinner party at the Dunlaps'.”
”Did Mr. Peter Dunlap ever call on Mrs. Selim--alone?”
”_Him?_” Lydia was curiously resentful. ”He wasn't ever here. Nita said to me she wished Mr. Peter liked her as well as Mis' Lois did.”
”Thursday night?”
”Mr. Ralph Hammond took her somewhere to dinner, to some other town, I think, but I wasn't awake when they got home. Nita never would let me set up for her--said I needed my rest. So I always went to bed early.”
”And yesterday--Friday?” Dundee demanded tensely. For Friday she had been driven to making her last will and testament....
”She was home all day, but about half past four Mr. Drake came,” Lydia said slowly, as if she too were wondering. ”She was awfully restless, couldn't set still or eat. I ought to have suspicioned something, but she was often like that--lately. Mr. Drake stayed about an hour. I didn't see him leave, because I was cooking Nita's dinner.... But little good it did, because she didn't eat it, so there was plenty for Mr.
Sprague when he dropped in about seven.”
”Did Sprague spend the evening?”
”I guess so, but I don't know. Nita made me take the Ford and drive into town for a picture show. She was in bed when I got back, and--” but she checked herself hastily.
”Did Nita seem strange--troubled, excited? Did she look as if she'd been crying?” Dundee prodded.
”I didn't see her,” the maid acknowledged. ”I knocked on her door, but she told me to go on to bed, that she wouldn't need me. But now I think back, her voice sounded queer.... Maybe she _was_ crying, but I don't know--”
”And this morning?”
”She seemed all right--just excited about the party and worried about my tooth. Mr. Ralph Hammond come to make the estimates on finis.h.i.+ng up the top floor, and we left him here--”
”What was her att.i.tude toward Mr. Miles when he dropped in on her this morning?” Dundee interrupted.
”Mr. Miles?” Lydia echoed, frowning. ”He wasn't here this morning, or if he was, it was after Nita and I left for town.”
While the maid was packing a bag, which Dundee would examine before she was allowed to take it away with her, the detective rejoined Tracey Miles, who had made himself as comfortable as possible in the living room.
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