“Meanwhile I undergo martyrdom.”
“It may turn out to be political Capital,” said Elmer Bush, nodding happily, pleased to be involved in such high and dirty politics.
The Senator-Designate snorted. He looked at the end of his rope; he was also getting tight. “What a mess it is, Grace,” he said, turning with a sigh to Mrs. Rhodes. She smiled and patted his hand.
“It won’t last much longer,” she said softly.
“I hope you’re right.” I was surprised by this sudden gentle exchange; could they have been … but it was to far-fetched.
I was suddenly tempted to drop the whole thing; to retire from the scene with the secret satisfaction of having solved a case which, all things considered, had proven to be damned near insoluble.
I looked at the murderer thoughtfully, aware, disagreeably, of my own power. I have few sadistic impulses and I had no chivalrous love for any of the dead. I resolved at that moment to keep my information to myself.
“The point I have been making continually,” said Ledbetter, turning on the professional political voice which became him so well, if you happen to like politicians of the old school, “is that my connection with the company was perfectly legal, that Rufus and Lee between them ran it and that all I did was have my office occasionally handle their legal work for them. I had no other connection with it.”
“But why, Senator, if you had so little to do with the companies, did you have an equal share with Mr. Rhodes?” I was surprised at my own boldness; hostile eyes were turned upon me.
“I left all that to them, young man. Instead of paying me a legal fee, they gave me stock. I paid very little attention to what they were doing. I will not say that I was used by Lee, my oldest and dearest friend, but I will say that Rufus Hollister was a most sinister figure. I am now engaged in investigating, at considerable expense, his business dealing for the past fifteen years, since he came to Washington. It will make unsavory reading, sir, most unsavory.”
Elmer Bush nodded. “There is already enough proof at hand to show that Hollister was involved, on his own, in a number of rackets which would completely discredit him.”
“While my own record is …” An open book, I murmured to myself, “an open book,” said Johnson Ledbetter, scowling honestly. “I was used by him. I am being used now by politicians in an effort to discredit not only me but the Party. We will win, though,” he added, his voice solemn, like a keynoter at a convention.
“You should’ve shown more sense,” said Verbena sharply. Mrs. Rhodes excused herself aware, doubtless, that her husband’s memory might be impugned. It was. “Lee was always getting involved in some get-rich-quick scheme and though he was perfectly honest he couldn’t resist a deal, no matter how shady, if it looked like a million dollars might be made. The fact that he never made a cent on these things is proof enough that he was a dupe himself, though he thought he was a financial genius.”
“Where did he make that three and a half million he left in his will?” I asked, always practical.
“Inherited,” said Verbena crisply.
This was interesting; I wondered why I had never thought before to inquire into the source of the Rhodes fortune. “One thing which puzzles me, though,” I said, in a very humble way, “is why, if Senator Rhodes was perfectly innocent in this deal, did he go out of his way to arrange it so that Rufus Hollister would be solely responsible for the company’s illegality?”
“How,” said Ledbetter, “do we know that Lee did? We have only Hollister’s word for it, in that farewell note of his.”
“We have also those documents which were sent to me anonymously.”
“Had they been executed?”
“No, sir, they had not, but the fact that they had been drawn up indicated that someone expected to use them in case the various deals were ever made public; the papers provided a perfect out for Rhodes.” And for you, I added to myself.
“But there is no proof that either Lee or myself drew up those documents, remember that,” said Ledbetter, and I saw quite clearly the direction his defense would take.
“By the way,” I asked, “what was his attitude the other night when you talked to him, before he died?”
The Senator-Designate was startled.
Verbena snorted angrily. “How did you know Johnson was here?”
“It’s no secret, is it?”
“At the moment, yes,” said Verbena and she looked like an angry mountain before an eruption.
“You will do me a great favor by saying nothing about that visit in the press, my boy,” said Ledbetter with an attempt at good-fellowship.
“I’m sure Pete wouldn’t think of it,” said Elmer, warningly: reminding me that he was still author of the Globe’s main feature: “America’s New York,” and of considerable influence with the editor.
“I have no intention of printing any of this, Senator,” I said earnestly. “My only interest was in the murder. Politics is out of my line. I was only curious, that’s all. I mean you were the last person to see Rufus alive.”
“This is, then, off the record,” said Ledbetter heavily. “Rufus Hollister threatened me, threatened to blackmail me. I told him to do his worst. He said he would, that he would cause a scandal even if it would involve him. I am afraid that we parted enemies, never to meet again in this world.” There was a long silence.
I was suddenly weary of the whole business, sleepy, too.
Mrs. Rhodes returned and the company rearranged itself like musical chairs. I refused a drink, was given coffee, but it did not wake me up. Yawning widely behind my hand, I excused myself and went up to bed.
The case was solved and I had the satisfaction not only of having solved it but also of denying myself the glory of announcing my solution to the world, to the accompaniment of fame and glory. I was quite pleased with myself.
When I got to my room, I went straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I was so exhausted that I had trouble keeping awake. When I finished I sat down for a moment on the toilet seat to rest. I awoke suddenly to find that my head had fallen with a crack against the washbasin. I had gone to sleep.
Rubbing my eyes, I got to my feet and went into the bedroom. Each step I took fatigued me. I wondered if I might be ill, if I’d caught Camilla Pomeroy’s virus. I fell across the bed. I was ill. I tried to sit up but the effort was too great. My hands and feet were ice-cold and I felt chill waves engulf my body.
Clouded as my brain was, on the verge of unconsciousness, I realized that I had been poisoned. I was just able to knock the telephone off its hook before I passed out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
1
“Is he dead?” asked Lieutenant Winters, his voice coming to me from behind some dark green clouds through which a light shone fitfully.
“Not yet,” said a voice and I slipped away, discouraged.
My next attempt at consciousness occurred when a great many yards of tubing were withdrawn from my insides. I opened my eyes, saw a pair of hands above me, felt the tube being withdrawn, felt hideously sick and passed out again.
The next day, however, I was sitting up in bed ready to receive callers. My head ached terribly and I was extremely weak. Otherwise my mind, such as it is, was functioning smoothly.
A trained nurse was the first person I saw on my return to the vale of tears. She smiled cheerfully. “They took out two quarts,” she said.