The haunting hand
“What do you want?” he said with gruff abruptness, his expressionless
eyes fixed on the star.
Before Corinne could answer him, Margot said quietly:
“_She_ doesn’t really want anything of you, Mr. Stoner. _I’m_ the one
who wants to see you.” She held his eyes with a gaze so keen and
masterful that his glance wavered and fell.
“I just wanted to tell you, Mr. Stoner, in the presence of Miss
Delamar, that I know, beyond any possibility of doubt or denial on
your part, that you were the man who went to the room of Stella Ball
and who wanted to rent that radium!”
As if against his will, his eyes once more met Margot’s. There was no
mistaking that look of fear, followed swiftly by a gleam of anger.
“Hell of a lot you know about me!”
His language, though inelegant, made Margot smile in his face, which
enraged him still further. He glared at her venomously.
“I was a fool to choose _you_ that day, instead of Lulu Leinster.”
Margot’s irritating smile broadened.
“I believe I’ve heard you express those sentiments before, Mr. Stoner.
In view of what I know about you, your reason for choosing me that
day, for the picture, is quite obvious. I repeat my accusation about
Stella Ball and the radium.”
Stoner’s face grew purple. “What the devil do you mean by telling such
lies? Don’t you know you can be sued for libel--defamation of
character?” His threat held so much bluster that it made Margot smile
again.
“Not by you, Mr. Stoner, for what I accuse you of isn’t libel or
defamation of character. It’s God’s truth. Quite apart from the way
you aroused my suspicions by all that rot about publicity, and your
evident eagerness to make me drop the matter of my mystery--not to
mention a very strange expression I caught in your eyes several times,
notably when I first gave you my address; your behavior the night you
called on me (your call was merely a ruse to examine that room), your
extraordinary antics in the room where the policeman was keeping
guard, and your still more extraordinary and utterly unconvincing
theory about the lights and the hand putting them out--merely an
attempt to choke off my theories, or an excuse for your call; all this
set the stage beautifully for the final curtain.” She stopped,
watching him with amusement overlaying her serious intent to corner
him.
“What do you mean?” Sheer curiosity forced the quick question.
“I mean, Mr. Stoner, the remarkable kick I got out of your picture
_The Masque of Life_, with its weird and absurd portrayal of the magic
properties of radium!”
She saw his lips twitch and his pale eyes grow darker as the pupils
dilated. She knew that what she saw, Corinne must also see, but she
would not shift her glance from Stoner’s self-accusing face.
“I’m a damn fool to stand here talking to you,” he said, wetting his
lips. “But since you’ve started things, you might as well finish. What
in all creation has that picture got to do with that girl Stella and
the man Murchison?”
“Everything in creation,” Margot said, smiling. “I’m not accusing you
of having a thing to do with the _theft_ of the radium, Mr. Stoner,
but I do assert that when you wanted to get more realism into your
picture, you thought it would be a fine idea to get hold of some
radium. I haven’t _yet_ mastered all the details of your acquaintance
with Murchison, but I know beyond all doubt, that you tried your best
to get the radium _he’d_ stolen, _knowing_ he’d stolen it, which of
course, makes you an accessory after the crime, Mr. Stoner.”
He worked his mouth into a twisted, scornful smile, as he said
threateningly:
“You just try, young lady, making any public charge like the one
you’ve just made.”
“She won’t have to! _I’ll_ do the charging--to our board of
directors!” Corinne stood up and glared into his astonished eyes.
Surprise changed to insensate rage as he stared back at his star.
“You will, will you! Well, you just try it, and see where _you_ get
off!”
“Oh,” she said calmly, “I expect to get off very well, thank you. I
expect to get a new director for our company who won’t have to consort
with crooks in order to put on pictures and make himself famous.”
“You’re crazy!” He looked a little that way himself, as his lips and
hands worked convulsively. “What do you think you can prove of this
girl’s wild story? Nothing--absolutely nothing!”
“Oh, yes she can, Mr. Stoner.” Margot’s voice had velvet in it, and
her smile was sweeter than ever. “You seem to have forgotten that the
girl Stella Ball, although deprived of one arm, thanks to the quarrel
between you and Murchison, still has the perfect use of her eyes--both
of them. She says she could pick you out anywhere, at a single glance.
She’ll never forget you, she says.”
Lie, little Margot, lie in a good cause! Why not! It was a good and a
safe card to play, for without doubt Stella _would_ recognize Stoner
at a glance, even if she failed to describe him accurately. And the
wild shot went straight home. Stoner seemed to crumble, morally, right
before their eyes. Margot, quick to follow up an advantage, went on
with quiet assurance.
“You see, Mr. Stoner, you can do one of three things. You’re really
lucky to have so much to choose from, and you really owe that to me.
You can make a break for the open; get out while the getting’s still
good, prove--to our satisfaction--your guilt beyond question, but
escape, perhaps, its penalty. Or you can face your board of directors
and deny my accusations, which will enable _me_ to prove them to
_every_one’s satisfaction. Or--and permit me to suggest that this last
would be your wisest course--you can admit the facts to your board of
directors, plead clemency, which Miss Delamar and I will also plead
for you, take what’s coming to you, so far as getting out of this
company is concerned, and escape the penalty of the law, also the
ignominy of having other film companies hear the truth about you. I’m
sure that if you make it easy for everyone concerned, your board of
directors will agree to keep the story from spreading.”
Corinne’s large and expressive eyes stared at Margot with an
admiration as sincere as it was obvious. Then the star turned a
haughty glance of dismissal at Stoner.
“That’s about all, Fred Stoner, except that I’d like to tell you that
I’m fully aware of all the lies you’ve told me, first and last, and if
I do agree to do what Miss Anstruther suggests, and ask the Board to
give you clemency, I want you to understand that it will be because
I’d be afraid that otherwise, your vast and ridiculous conceit would
imagine I was trying to wreak vengeance on you for personal reasons.
And now, please go!”
He went--without another word--and Margot returned in full measure,
the admiration Corinne had given her.
“That was very, very clever of you,” she said earnestly. “That last
remark, I mean. I think that between us, Miss Delamar, we’ve been just
a little too much for the gentleman.”
“Gentleman!” Corinne’s scorn lay too deep for humor or irony.
“Just a form of speech, my dear. And now let me tell you how very glad
I am that you and I are going to be friends, as of course we shall be
after this. And, by the way, could you fix it up so that I can be
present at the meeting of the board of directors?”
“Certainly,” Corinne said warmly. “I wouldn’t miss having you there.
In fact, it’s quite necessary that you should be. And I am glad too
that we can be friends. And I’m grateful to you for showing me what an
awful fool I’ve been for taking any stock in that man, or anything
that he’s ever said to me.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” Margot said hastily. “I don’t think
you’ve been a fool at all, but I didn’t want to see you in danger of
being put in a false position.”
“Very nice of you to put it that way. Well, good-by!” And she took
Margot’s outstretched hand in a friendly clasp of good-fellowship and
trust.
And that was that, as Margot said to herself, with her ironic and
characteristic manner of disposing of a situation or a problem.
CHAPTER XVI.
A KING’S RANSOM IN RADIUM
A telegram from Corinne Delamar, later in the day, advised Margot
that the strategically planned directors’ meeting was to take place
the following morning at eleven, and would Margot please be on hand
without fail. Not that Corinne so described the meeting, but Margot
knew her well enough by this time, to be sure of the strategy implied.
She decided to telephone Gene to ask him to come to see her the
following evening. For the moment she was weary of discussion and
analysis, and not in the mood for an interview with Gene which was
likely to be rather strenuous, everything considered. Besides, she
would prefer to clean up her “job” as amateur detective--dispose
finally of Stoner--before coming to an understanding with Gene. It did
not occur to her that he might be sulking, or that he could be
anything but eager to answer her summons.
Her telephone call brought no response. Strange, because Gene was
invariably in his room at that hour, waiting for a call from her. She
rang his number twice more before going to bed. She wondered where he
could be, and a vague uneasiness possessed her. Could he actually be
angry with her to the point of not answering the phone? Funny old
Gene! Well, she’d explain things to-morrow night.
The next morning she met Corinne in her dressing-room. It was getting
to be a habit, Margot told the star, with her customary whimsicality.
“Funny, isn’t it!” Corinne laughed, making Margot welcome. “If
anybody’d told me a week ago that you and I would be getting chummy
about anything under the shining sun--Stoner least of all--I’d have
told them to go to an alienist. But here we are, actually in cahoots
to see that our friend gets his just deserts.” She offered her guest a
cigarette, then lighted it for her, adding: “And the funniest part of
the whole thing is that I’m not a bit unhappy about it. It was a shock
at first, but that’s all. I find I’m not really one little bit in love
with Stoner, and I thought I was, you know.”
“I’m mighty glad you’re not!” Margot said earnestly. “He isn’t fit to
clean your shoes, Miss Delamar.”
“He never would have.” Corinne looked down at her shoes and laughed
contemptuously. “He’s the kind who, after a few months of marriage,
would let his wife clean _his_ shoes. It’s strange, once you begin
shedding your illusions about a person, how clearly you see every
fault.”
“Too clearly, I think,” Margot said thoughtfully. “If you’ve begun by
exaggerating a person’s good points, when you begin to wake up you
almost always exaggerate the bad points. I’m quite sure that no man is
ever as good as the woman who loves him believes him to be, and never
as bad as the woman who hates him considers him to be. It’s the same
the other way round.”
“You’re some little philosopher, aren’t you, Miss Anstruther? No
wonder you ferreted out Stoner’s connection with your mystery. You’re
awfully clever. I wish I were!”
“If it’s that bad,” laughed Margot, “I’ll have to become a little
_more_ clever and disguise the fact that I _am_ clever. Clever girls
aren’t popular, you know.”
“Well, _you’re_ popular, so there must be exceptions.” There was no
mistaking Corinne’s sincerity. She was not simply flattering Margot,
with or without design.
“Everyone here has been awfully kind to me.” It was so trite a remark
that Margot chuckled inwardly at her concession to the commonplace.
Corinne glanced at her watch. “About ten minutes more, then we’ll have
to go to the board room. Won’t it be amusing seeing Stoner make a fool
of himself--as of course he will, trying to worm himself out of the
corner we’ve got him in!”
“Does he know about this directors’ meeting?”
“He does not,” said Corinne with a vicious little dab at her nose with