CHAPTER XV

RHODA AND THE CLOAK

The one servant of Mrs. Bensusan was a girl of seventeen, who had a

local fame in the neighbourhood on account of her sharp tongue and many

precocious qualities. No one knew who her parents were, or where the fat

landlady had picked her up; but she had been in the Jersey Street house

some ten years, and had been educated and--in a manner--adopted by its

mistress, although Mrs. Bensusan always gave her cronies to understand

that Rhoda was simply and solely the domestic of the establishment.

Nevertheless, for one of her humble position, she had a wonderful power

over her stout employer, the power of a strong mind over a weak one, and

in spite of her youth it was well known that Rhoda managed the domestic

economy of the house. Mrs. Bensusan was the sovereign, Rhoda the prime

minister.

This position she had earned by dint of her own sharpness in dealing

with the world. And the local tradesmen were afraid of Rhoda. "Mrs.

Bensusan's devil," they called her, and never dared to give short

weight, or charge extra prices, or pass off damaged goods as new, when

Rhoda was the purchaser. On the contrary, No. 9 Jersey Street was

supplied with everything of the best, promptly and civilly, at ordinary

market rates; for neither butcher, nor baker, nor candlestick maker, was

daring enough to risk Rhoda's tongue raging like a prairie fire over

their shortcomings. Several landladies, knowing Rhoda's value, had tried

to entice her from Mrs. Bensusan by offers of higher wages and better

quarters, but the girl refused to leave her stout mistress, and so

continued quite a fixture of the lodgings. Even in the city, Rhoda had

been spoken of by clerks who had lived in Jersey Street, and so had more

than a local reputation for originality.

This celebrated handmaid was as lean as her mistress was stout. Her hair

was magnificent in quality and quantity, but, alas! was of the unpopular

tint called red; not auburn, or copper hued, or the famous Titian color,

but a blazing, fiery red, which made it look like a comic wig. Her face

was pale and freckled, her eyes black--in strange contrast to her hair,

and her mouth large, but garnished with an excellent set of white teeth.

Rhoda was not neat in her attire, perhaps not having arrived at the age

of coquetry, for she wore a dingy grey dress much too short for her, a

pair of carpet slippers which had been left by a departed lodger, and

usually went about with her sleeves tucked up, and a resolute look on

her sharp face. Such was the appearance of Mrs. Bensusan's devil, who

entered to forbid her mistress confiding in Lucian.

"Oh, Rhoda!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "You bad gal! I believe as you've

'ad your ear to the keyhole."

"I 'ave!" retorted Rhoda defiantly. "It's been there for five minutes,

and good it is for you, mum, as I ain't above listening. What do you

mean, sir," she cried, turning on Lucian like a fierce sparrow, "by

coming 'ere to frighten two lone females, and her as innocent as a

spring chicken?"

"Oh!" said Lucian, looking at her composedly, "so you are the celebrated

Rhoda? I've heard of you."

"Not much good, then, sir, if Miss Greeb was talking," rejoined the

red-haired girl, with a sniff. "Oh, I know her."

"Rhoda! Rhoda!" bleated her mistress, "do 'old your tongue! I tell you

this gentleman's a police."

"He ain't!" said the undaunted Rhoda. "He's in the law. Oh, I knows

him!'

"Ain't the law the police, you foolish gal?"

"Of course it--" began Rhoda, when Lucian, who thought that she had

displayed quite sufficient eccentricity, cut her short with a quick

gesture.

"See here, my girl," he said sharply, "you must not behave in this

fashion. I have reason to believe that the assassin of Mr. Vrain entered

the house through the premises of your mistress."

"Lawks, what a 'orrible idear!" shrieked Mrs. Bensusan. "Good 'eavens,

Rhoda, did you see the murdering villain?"

"Me? No! I never sawr nothing, mum," replied Rhoda doggedly.

Lucian, watching the girl's face, and the uneasy expression in her eyes,

felt convinced she was not telling the truth. It was no use forcing her

to speak, as he saw very plainly that Rhoda was one of those obstinate

people whom severity only hardened. Much more could be done with her by

kindness, and Denzil adopted this--to him--more congenial course.

"If Rhoda is bound by any promise, Mrs. Bensusan, I do not wish her to

speak," he said indifferently, "but in the interests of justice I am

sure you will not refuse to answer my questions."

"Lord, sir! I know nothing!" whimpered the terrified landlady.

"Will you answer a few questions?" asked Denzil persuasively.

Mrs. Bensusan glanced in a scared manner at Rhoda, who, meanwhile, had

been standing in a sullen and hesitating attitude. When she thought

herself unobserved, she stole swift glances at the visitor, trying

evidently to read his character by observation of his face and manner.

It would seem that her scrutiny was favourable, for before Mrs. Bensusan

could answer Lucian's question she asked him one herself.

"What do you want to know, sir?"

"I want to know all about Mr. Wrent."

"Why?"

"Because I fancy he has something to do with this crime."

"Lord!" groaned Mrs. Bensusan. "'Ave I waited on a murderer?"

"I don't say he is a murderer, Mrs. Bensusan, but he knows something

likely to put us on the track of the criminal."

"What makes ye take up the case?" demanded Rhoda sharply.

"Because I know that Mr. Wrent came to board in this house shortly after

Mr. Vrain occupied No. 13," replied Denzil.

"Who says he did?"

"Miss Greeb, my landlady, and she also told me that he left here two

days after the murder."

"That's as true as true!" cried Mrs. Bensusan, "ain't it, Rhoda? We lost

him 'cause he said he couldn't abide living near a house where a crime

had been committed."

"Well, then," continued Lucian, seeing that Rhoda, without speaking,

continued to watch him, "the coincidence of Mr. Wrent's stay with that

of Mr. Vrain's strikes me as peculiar."

"You are a sharp one, you are!" said Rhoda, with an approving nod. "Look

here, Mr. Denzil, would you break a promise?"

"That depends upon what the promise was."

"It was one I made to hold my tongue."

"About what?"

"Several things," said the girl shortly.

"Have they to do with this crime?" asked Lucian eagerly.

"I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda; then suddenly her face grew

black. "I tell you what, sir, I hate Mr. Wrent!" she declared.

"Oh, Rhoda!" cried Mrs. Bensusan. "After the lovely cloak he gave you!"

The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at her mistress; then, without

a word, darted out of the room. Before Lucian could conjecture the

reason of her strange conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could get her breath

again--a very difficult operation for her--Rhoda was back with a blue

cloth cloak, lined with rabbit skins, hanging over her arm. This she

threw down at the feet of Lucian, and stamped on it savagely with the

carpet slippers.

"There's his present!" she cried angrily, "but I wish I could dance on

him the same way! I wish--I wish I could hang him!"

"Can you?" demanded Lucian swiftly, taking her in the moment of wrath,

when she seemed disposed to speak.

"No!" said Rhoda shortly. "I can't!"

"Do you think he killed Mr. Vrain?"

"No, I don't!"

"Do you know who did?"

"Blest if I do!"

"Does Mr. Wrent?" asked Denzil meaningly.

The girl wet her finger and went through a childish game. "That's wet,"

she said; then wiping the finger on her dingy skirt, "that's dry. Cut my

throat if I tell a lie. Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil."

"I don't understand you," said Lucian, quite puzzled.

"Rhoda! Rhoda! 'Ave you gone crazy?" wailed Mrs. Bensusan.

"Look here," said the girl, taking no notice of her mistress, "do you

want to know about Mr. Wrent?"

"Yes, I do."

"And about that side passage as you talked of to the missis?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll answer yer questions, sir. You'll know all I know."

"Very good," said Lucian, with an approving smile, "now you are talking

like a sensible girl."

"Rhoda! You ain't going to talk bad of Mr. Wrent?"

"It ain't bad, and it ain't good," replied Rhoda. "It's betwixt and

between."

"Well, I must 'ear all. I don't want the character of the 'ouse took

away," said Mrs. Bensusan, with an attempt at firmness.

"That's all right," rejoined Rhoda reassuringly, "you can jine in

yerself when y' like. Fire away, Mr. Denzil."

"Who is Mr. Wrent?" asked Lucian, going straight to the point.

"I don't know," replied Rhoda; and henceforth the examination proceeded

as though the girl were in the witness-box and Lucian counsel for the

prosecution.

Q. When did he come to Jersey Street?

A. At the end of July, last year.

Q. When did he go away?

A. The morning after Boxing Day.

Q. Can you describe his appearance?

A. He was of the middle height, with a fresh complexion, white hair, and

a white beard growing all over his face. He was untidy about his

clothes, and kept a good deal to his own room among a lot of books. I

don't think he was quite right in his head.

Q. Did he pay his rent regularly?

A. Yes, except when he was away. He would go away for a week at a time.

Q. Was he in this house on Christmas Eve?

A. Yes, sir. He came back two days before Christmas.

Q. Where had he been?

A. I don't know; he did not say.

Q. Did he have any visitors?

A. He did. A tall, dark man and a lady.

Q. What was the lady like?

A. A little woman; I never saw her face, as she always kept her veil

down.

Q. What kind of a veil did she wear?

A. A black gauze veil with velvet spots.

Q. Did she come often to see Mr. Wrent?

A. Yes. Four or five times.

Q. When did she call last?

A. On Christmas Eve.

Q. At what hour?

A. She came at seven, and went away at eight. I know that because she

had supper with Mr. Wrent.

Q. Did she leave the house?

A. Yes. I let her out myself.

Q. Did you ever hear any conversation between them?

A. No. Mr. Wrent took care of that. I never got any chance of listening

at keyholes with him. He was a sharp one, for all his craziness.

Q. What was the male visitor like?

A. He was tall and dark, with a black moustache.

Q. Do you think he was a foreigner?

A. I don't know. I never heard him speak. Mr. Wrent let him out, as

usual.

Q. When did he visit Mr. Wrent last?

A. On Christmas Eve. He came with the lady.

Q. Did he stay to supper also?

A. No. He went away at half-past seven. Mr. Wrent let him out, as usual.

Q. Did he go away altogether?

A. I--I--I am not sure! (here the witness hesitated).

Q. Why did Mr. Wrent give you the cloak?

A. To make me hold my tongue about the dark man.

Q. Why?

A. Because I saw him in the back yard.

Q. On what night?

A. On the night of Christmas Eve, about half-past eight.