The Victorian Mystery Megapack: 27 Classic Mystery Tales. Эдгар Аллан По
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Two days after my bargain with Mr. Harold Van Gilt, in which he acquired possession of the Scrappe jades and Mrs. Van Raffles and I shared the proceeds of the ten thousand dollars check, I was installed at Bolivar Lodge as head-butler and steward, my salary to consist of what I could make out of it on the side, plus ten percent of the winnings of my mistress. It was not long before I discovered that the job was a lucrative one. From various tradesmen of the town I received presents of no little value in the form sometimes of diamond scarf-pins, gold link sleeve-buttons, cases of fine wines for my own use, and in one or two instances checks of substantial value. There was also what was called a steward’s rebate on the monthly bills, which in circles where lavish entertainment is the order of the day amounted to a tidy little income in itself. My only embarrassment lay in the contact into which I was necessarily brought with other butlers, with whom I was perforce required to associate. This went very much against the grain at first, for, although I am scarcely more than a thief after all, I am an artistic one, and still retain the prejudice against inferior associations which an English gentleman whatever the vicissitudes of his career can never quite rid himself of. I had to join their club—an exclusive organization of butlers and “gentlemen’s gentlemen”—otherwise valets—and in order to quiet all suspicion of my real status in the Van Raffles household I was compelled to act the part in a fashion which revolted me. Otherwise the position was pleasant, and, as I have intimated, more than lucrative.
It did not take me many days to discover that Henriette was a worthy successor to her late husband. Few opportunities for personal profit escaped her eye, and I was able to observe as time went on and I noted the accumulation of spoons, forks, nutcrackers, and gimcracks generally that she brought home with her after her calls upon or dinners with ladies of fashion that she had that quality of true genius which never overlooks the smallest details.
The first big coup after my arrival, as the result of her genius, was in the affair of Mrs. Gaster’s maid. Henriette had been to a bridge afternoon at Mrs. Gaster’s and upon her return manifested an extraordinary degree of excitement. Her color was high, and when she spoke her voice was tremulous. Her disturbed condition was so evident that my heart sank into my boots, for in our business nerve is a sine qua non of success, and it looked to me as if Henriette was losing hers. She has probably lost at cards today, I thought, and it has affected her usual calmness. I must do something to warn her against this momentary weakness. With this idea in mind, when the opportunity presented itself later I spoke.
“You lost at bridge today, Henriette,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “Twenty-five hundred dollars in two hours. How did you guess?”
“By your manner,” said I. “You are as nervous as a young girl at a commencement celebration. This won’t do, Henriette. Nerves will prove your ruin, and if you can’t stand your losses at bridge, what will you do in the face of the greater crisis which in our profession is likely to confront us in the shape of an unexpected visit of police at any moment?”
Her answer was a ringing laugh.
“You absurd old rabbit,” she murmured. “As if I cared about my losses at bridge! Why, my dear Bunny, I lost that money on purpose. You don’t suppose that I am going to risk my popularity with these Newport ladies by winning, do you? Not I, my boy. I plan too far ahead for that. For the good of our cause it is my task to lose steadily and with good grace. This establishes my credit, proves my amiability, and confirms my popularity.”
“But you are very much excited by something, Henriette,” said I. “You cannot deny that.”
“I don’t—but it is the prospect of future gain, not the reality of present losses, that has taken me off my poise,” she said. “Whom do you suppose I saw at Mrs. Gaster’s today?”
“No detectives, I hope,” I replied, paling at the thought.
“No, sir,” she laughed. “Mrs. Gaster’s maid. We must get her, Bunny.”
“Oh, tush!” I ejaculated. “All this powwow over another woman’s maid!”
“You don’t understand,” said Henriette. “It wasn’t the maid so much as the woman that startled me, Bunny. You can’t guess who she was.”
“How should I?” I demanded.
“She was Fiametta de Belleville, one of the most expert hands in our business. Poor old Raffles used to say that she diminished his income a good ten thousand pounds a year by getting in her fine work ahead of his,” explained Henriette. “He pointed her out to me in Piccadilly once and I have never forgotten her face.”
“I hope she did not recognize you,” I observed.
“No, indeed—she never saw me before, so how could she? But I knew her the minute she took my cloak,” said Henriette. “She’s dyed her hair, but her eyes were the same as ever, and that peculiar twist of the lip that Raffles had spoken of as constituting one of her fascinations remained unchanged. Moreover, just to prove myself right, I left my lace handkerchief and a five hundred dollar bill in the cloak pocket. When I got the cloak back both were gone. Oh, she’s Fiametta de Belleville all right, and we must get her.”
“What for—to rob you?”
“No,” returned Henrietta, “rather that we—but there, there, Bunny, I’ll manage this little thing myself. It’s a trifle too subtle for a man’s intellect—especially when that man is you.”
“What do you suppose she is doing here?” I asked.
“You silly boy,” laughed Henriette.
“Doing? Why, Mrs. Gaster, of course. She is after the Gaster jewels.”
“Humph!” I said, gloomily. “That cuts us out, doesn’t it?”
“Does it?” asked Henriette, enigmatically.
It was about ten weeks later that the newspapers of the whole country were ringing with the startling news of the mysterious disappearance of Mrs. Gaster’s jewels. The lady had been robbed of three hundred and sixty-eight thousand dollars worth of gems, and there was apparently no clew even to the thief. Henriette and I, of course, knew that Fiametta de Belleville had accomplished her mission, but apparently no one else knew it. True, she had been accused, and had been subjected to a most rigid examination by the Newport police and the New York Central Office, but no proof of any kind establishing her guilt could be adduced, and after a week of suspicion she was to all intents and purposes relieved of all odium.
“She’ll skip now,” said I.
“Not she,” said Henriette. “To disappear now would be a confession of guilt. If Fiametta de Belleville is the woman I take her for she’ll stay right here as if nothing had happened, but of course not at Mrs. Gaster’s.”
“Where then?” I asked.
“With Mrs. A. J. Van Raffles,” replied Henriette. “The fact is,” she added, “I have already engaged her. She has acted her part well, and has seemed so prostrated by the unjust suspicion of the world that even Mrs. Gaster is disturbed over her condition. She has asked her to remain, but Fiametta has refused. ‘I couldn’t, madam,’ she said when Mrs. Gaster asked her to stay. ‘You have accused me of a fearful crime—a crime of which I am innocent—and—I’d rather work in a factory, or become a shop-girl in a department store, than stay longer in a house where such painful things have happened.’ Result, next Tuesday Fiametta de Belleville comes to me as my maid.”
“Well, Henriette,” said I, “I presume you know your own business, but why you lay yourself open to being robbed yourself and to having the profits of your own business diminished I can’t see. Please remember that I warned you against this foolish act.”
“All right, Bunny, I’ll remember,” smiled Mrs. Van Raffles, and there the matter was dropped for the moment.
The following Tuesday Fiametta de Belleville was installed in the Van Raffles household as the maid of Mrs. A. J. Van Raffles. To her eagle eye it was another promising