“And she came to the basement door?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And asked to be let in?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Young Mrs. Van Burnam?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Dressed in a black and white plaid silk, and wearing a hat covered with flowers?”
“Yes, ma’am, or something like that. I know it was very bright and becoming.”
“And why did she come to the basement door—a lady dressed like that?”
“Because she knew I couldn’t open the front door; that I hadn’t the key. O she talked beautiful, ma’am, and wasn’t proud with me a bit. She made me let her stay in the house, and when I said it would be dark after a while and that I hadn’t done nothing to the rooms upstairs, she laughed and said she didn’t care, that she wasn’t afraid of the dark and had just as lieve as not stay in the big house alone all night, for she had a book—Did you say anything, ma’am?”
“No, no, go on, she had a book.”
“Which she could read till she got sleepy. I never thought anything would happen to her.”
“Of course not, why should you? And so you let her into the house and left her there when you went out of it? Well, I don’t wonder you were shocked to see her lying dead on the floor next morning.”
“Awful, ma’am. I was afraid they would blame me for what had happened. But I didn’t do nothing to make her die. I only let her stay in the house. Do you think they will do anything to me if they know it?”
“No,” said I, trying to understand this woman’s ignorant fears, “they don’t punish such things. More’s the pity!”—this in confidence to myself. “How could you know that a piece of furniture would fall on her before morning. Did you lock her in when you left the house?”
“Yes, ma’am. She told me to.”
Then she was a prisoner.
Confounded by the mystery of the whole affair, I sat so still the woman looked up in wonder, and I saw I had better continue my questions.
“What reason did she give for wanting to stay in the house all night?”
“What reason, ma’am? I don’t know. Something about her having to be there when Mr. Van Burnam came home. I didn’t make it out, and I didn’t try to. I was too busy wondering what she would have to eat.”
“And what did she have?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. She said she had something, but I didn’t see it.”
“Perhaps you were blinded by the money she gave you. She gave you some, of course?”
“O, not much, ma’am, not much. And I wouldn’t have taken a cent if it had not seemed to make her so happy to give it. The pretty, pretty thing! A real lady, whatever they say about her!”
“And happy? You said she was happy, cheerful-looking, and pretty.”