“Can’t you go to your banker,” Bertha asked, “explain the circumstances to him, tell him that you were judgment-proof in order to get rid of this—”
“Not a chance in the world,” Belder interrupted. “In order to beat this judgment I had to put everything in my wife’s name, and I mean everything; and it’s in there so tight I can’t even get car fare unless she gives it to me. Remember this, Mrs. Cool; for over a year I haven’t had enough income to pay the expenses of maintaining my office. I made mine while the making was good, and then, when the going got tough, I crawled in a hole and pulled the hole in after me. It’s an ideal set-up to beat a judgment, but it’s an awful fix to be in when you want to raise money... No, I’ve got to get hold of Mabel. One thing’s certain. If Mabel’s out to lunch, she’ll have gone to one of four or five places. I guess the only thing for me to do is to cover them all.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“Yes. When we get the cheque it will save time... No, wait a minute, there’s that damned poison-pen letter to be considered. If I find my wife and you’re along— Oh, damn! Why did they have to pick this time to write that dirty letter?”
Bertha Cool got to her feet. “I’ll be waiting in my office. You can telephone as soon as things are fixed up.”
Belder’s face lit up once more. “Gosh, Mrs. Cool, that’s simply swell. It was a lucky hunch I had, coming to you.” He walked across and pulled open the door to the outer office. “I feel that I can never repay you—”
The door from the corridor opened. Two women came sweeping regally into the office.
The vociferous cordiality of Everett Belder’s greeting carried its own stigma of insincerity.
“Theresa!” he exclaimed, “and Carlotta! I’m certainly glad you were where you could drop in! I couldn’t interrupt a conference to talk with you on the phone— Excuse me, please,” he said parenthetically to Bertha Cool.
“Certainly,” Bertha retorted with frigid formality.
Mrs. Goldring looked Bertha over from head to toe, her eyes hesitating slightly on Bertha’s waistline.
Belder said hurriedly, “Theresa, you’re looking simply marvellous! You look like Carlotta’s sister,” and he added with the haste of a person trying to rectify a faux pas, “Carlotta herself is looking marvelously well. Better than I’ve ever seen her. I’ve been saying so all week, haven’t I, Carlotta?”
Carlotta looked bored. Mrs. Goldring, despite herself, favoured Belder with a simpering smile. “Do you think so, Everett, or are you just saying so?”
“No, Theresa, really I mean it. A person seeing you on the street would certainly take you for — I mean, wouldn’t think — that is, would never suspect you and Carlotta were mother and daughter.”
“We aren’t, you know,” Carlotta said acidly.
“Well, you know what I mean,” Belder said. “Just go into my private office. I’m finishing up here.”
“Oh, I do so hope we’re not intruding,” Mrs. Goldring said.
“No, no. Not at all. Just go into my office and make yourselves at home.”
Mrs. Goldring didn’t move. “Everett,” she asked, “where is Mabel?”
Belder said desperately, “I don’t know. I want to see her. I— You’re sure she isn’t home?”
“Of course I’m sure. We just/came from there.”
“Well, go on into my office and sit down. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
“Have you any idea where she was going?” Mrs. Goldring asked.
“She had an appointment somewhere. I had her tyres checked and the car serviced. I’ll— Just go on in, please.”
“But, Everett, I must find Mabel. I came down from San Francisco especially to see her. She certainly must have received my message. I know she did. She told Carlotta I was coming.”
“Your message?” Belder repeated mechanically, sparring for time.
“I sent her a wire after I’d— Didn’t she tell you I was coming?”
“Why, no. I— She must have gone to the train to meet you, then.”
“The train was hours late. Carlotta left early. Mabel said she’d see her at the depot. How long since you’ve seen Mabel?”
“Why, I don’t know. I can’t turn my mind on it right now. I have a business matter. Won’t you please go and sit down?”
Mrs. Goldring turned once more to look Bertha over. “Oh, yes,” she said, “I remember. You were signing a contract with a business executive, weren’t you, Everett? I’m so sorry. I hope we haven’t bothered you.”
“Not at all. Not at all. I’ll be right with you. Just make yourselves comfortable.”
Mrs. Goldring said to Carlotta, “Come on, dear,” and to Bertha Cool, smiling acidly, “And I trust we haven’t inconvenienced you, or interfered with your sales contract.”
Bertha said, “Not at all. I never let myself be inconvenienced by minor interruptions.”
Mrs. Goldring’s chin came up. She half turned, locked eyes for a moment with Bertha, thought better of it, and swept on into the private office.
Bertha said in a low voice, “You going to let her know anything about the settlement?”
Belder glanced with concern at the door which Carlotta had very pointedly failed to close. “No, no,” he said, in almost a whisper.
“Okay then,” Bertha announced. “You’d better get rid of them as soon as you can.”
Belder said, “You’re not telling me anything. I can’t even go out to look for Mabel while they’re here.”
“And why do you suppose your wife didn’t tell you anything about the telegram saying her mother was coming?”
“I don’t know,” Belder said, his voice showing how worried he was. “It’s not at all like her.”
“The only reason,” Bertha went on, “is that your wife didn’t want you to know she was coming. Evidently she was anticipating some sort of a domestic crisis and wanted to have her mother here for moral support. I’ll bet you she wired or telephoned for her mother to come on account of that letter.”
“I know. I know,” Belder said. “It’s that letter. As soon as she got it, she telephoned her mother. What a mess it is!”
“Take my advice,” Bertha said, “and call for a showdown. Tell her where to get off. Don’t start flattering her and toadying to her. You overdo that stuff, anyway. And it’s no good. You can’t appease a woman of that type. You—”
“Sh-h-h, not so loud, please,” Belder pleaded in a whisper. “I—”
“Everett,” Mrs. Goldring called, “can’t you spare us just a moment of your valuable time? We’re worried about Mabel. She didn’t meet the train and we know she planned to.”
“Yes, yes — coming,” Belder said.
His eyes pleaded with Bertha to leave.
“Go on in,” Bertha said, “and assert yourself.”
“You’d better leave,” Belder whispered, his eyes on the open door to his private office. “Please.”
“Oh, all right,” Bertha said and crossed the office, opened the door to the corridor, went out, and then stood for about four or five seconds just to the left of the closed door; then she turned and abruptly opened the door.
The door to Belder’s private office was closed. Imogene Dearborne, half-way across the office, caught herself in mid-stride and returned to her typewriter.
Bertha said, “It’s just occurred to me that I want some information. Can you put a piece of paper in the typewriter and take a note to Mr. Belder? I’ll dictate it directly to the machine.”
Imogene Dearborne fed a sheet of paper into the machine. Bertha dictated: “Suppose you should report your wife’s automobile as having been stolen. You could claim afterward it was a mistake. The police would pick up the machine if—”