"Me, madam!" cried P. Sybarite in alarm. "Far be it from me to come between husband and wife!"
"Don"t be afraid: I"m not asking you to dabble your innocent hands in a fellow-human"s blood--merely to run an errand for me."
"Really--I"d rather be excused."
"Really," she mocked pleasantly, "you won"t be. I"m a gentle creature but determined--frail but firm, you know. Perhaps you"ve heard of me--Mrs. Jefferson Inche?"
Decidedly he had; and so had nine-tenths of New York"s newspaper-reading population. His eyes widened with new interest.
"Truly?" he said, civilly responsive to the challenge in her announcement. "But _I_ never knew Mrs. Jefferson Inche was beautiful."
"It needs a beautiful woman to be known as the most dangerous in Town," she explained with modest pride.
"But--ah--Mr. Inche, I understand, died some years ago."
"So he did."
"Yet you speak of your husband--?"
"Of my present husband, whose name I don"t wear for reasons of real-estate. I took the rotter on because he"s rich and will be richer when his father dies; he married me because he was rotten and I had the worst reputation he could discover. So we"re quits _there_. If our marriage comes out prematurely, he"ll be disinherited; so we"ve agreed to a _sub-rosa_ arrangement which leaves him, ostensibly, a marketable bachelor. Now, I happen to know a marriage has recently been offered him through which he would immediately come into control of a big pot of money, and naturally he"s strong for it. But I refused his offer of a cool half-million to play the Reno circuit, and so he concluded to sue for a divorce with a revolver, a Maxim silencer, and a perfect alibi. Do you follow me?"
"As far as the alibi."
"Oh, that"s quite simple. We don"t live together, and he"s in sure-enough society, and I"m not. To-night the annual Hadley-Owen post-lenten masquerade"s in full swing just around the corner, and friend husband"s there with the rest of the haughty bunch. Can"t you see how easy it would be for him to drop round here between dances, murder his lawful wedded wife, and beat it back, without his absence ever being noticed?"
"It does sound feasible, if--ah--sickening," P. Sybarite admitted.
"But really, it"s hard to believe. Are you positive--?"
"I tell you," said the woman impatiently, "I recognised him; I saw his mouth--his mask wouldn"t hide that--and knew him instantly."
P. Sybarite was silent: he, too, had recognized that mouth.
Briefly he meditated upon this curious freak of _Kismet_ that was linking his fortunes of the night with those of the man with the twisted mouth.
"Now you know the lay of the land--how about helping me out?"
Now the trail of the man with the twisted mouth promised fair to lead to Molly Lessing. P. Sybarite didn"t linger on his decision.
"I"m awf"ly impressionable," he conceded with a sigh; "some day, I"m afraid, it"ll get me in a peck of trouble."
"I can count on you, then?"
"Short of trying a "prentice hand at a.s.sa.s.sination--"
"Don"t be an a.s.s. I only want to protect myself. Besides, you can"t refuse. Consider how lenient I"ve been with you."
P. Sybarite lifted questioning eyebrows, and dragged down the corners of a dubious mouth.
"If I wanted to be nasty," Mrs. Inche explained, "you"d be on your way now to a cell in the East Fifty-first Street station. But I was grateful."
"The Saints be praised for that!" exclaimed the little man fervently.
"What"s it for?"
"For waking me up in time to prevent my murder in my sleep," she returned coolly; "and also for being the s.p.u.n.ky little devil you are and chasing off that hound of a husband of mine. If it wasn"t for you, he"d"ve got me sure. Or else," she amended, "I"d"ve got him; which would have been almost as unpleasant--what with being pinched and tried and having juries disagree and getting off at last only on the plea of insanity--and all that."
"Madam," said P. Sybarite, rising, "the more I see of you, the more you claim my admiration. I entreat you, permit me to go away before my emotion deepens into disastrous infatuation."
"Sit down," countered Mrs. Inche amiably; "don"t be afraid--I don"t bite. Now you know who I am, but before you go, I mean to know who you are."
"Michael Monahan, madam." This was the first alliterative combination to pop into his optimistic mind.
"Can that," retorted the lady serenely--"solder it up tight, along with the business of pretending to be a cop. It won"t get you anything. I"ve a proposition to make to you."
"But, madam," he declared with his naf and disarming grin--"believe me--my young affections are already engaged."
"You"re not half the imbecile you make yourself out," she judged soberly. "Come--what"s your name?"
Taking thought, he saw no great danger in being truthful for once.
"P., unfortunately, Sybarite," he said: "bookkeeper for Whigham and Wimper--leather merchants, Frankfort Street."
"And how did you come by that coat and hat?"
"Borrowed it from a drunken cop in Penfield"s, a little while ago.
They were raiding the place and I kind of wanted to get away. Strange to say, my disguise didn"t take, and I had to leave by way of the back fences in order to continue uninterrupted enjoyment of the inalienable rights of every American citizen--life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness."
"I don"t know why I believe you," said Mrs. Inche reflectively, when he paused for breath. "Perhaps it"s your spendthrift way with language. Do you talk like that when sober?"
"Judge for yourself."
"All right," she laughed indulgently: "I believe everything you say.
Now what"ll you take to do me a service?"
"My services, madam, are yours to command: my reward--ah--your smile."
"Bunk," observed the lady elegantly. "How would a hundred look to you?
Good, eh?"
"You misjudge me," the little man insisted. "Money is really no object."
"Still"--she frowned in puzzlement--"I should think a clerk in the leather business--!"
"I"m afraid I"ve misled you. I should have said that I _was_ a clerk in the leather business until to-day. Now I happen to be independently wealthy, a clerk no longer."
"How"s that--wealthy?"
"Came into a small fortune this evening--nothing immodest, but ample for one of my simple tastes and modest ambitions."