Ethel Watts Mumford

“ There approached a handsome middle-aged citizen of New Orleans, slender, quick of movement, mobile of countenance.
"Hello," said the newcomer, with hardly a trace of French accent. "How did you manage it?"
"Manage what, Thiery?" said Braithwait, grinning a welcome.
"To get Mlle. Bébé's permission to paint this courtyard. She's sicked the dog on more artists than you can count, for daring so much as to shoot a covetous glance at her pet banana tree. You must have hypnotized her. Roxanne, she is amiable, but Bébé—oh, la, la!" ”

“ They all know her and respectfully take her orders and fail to fill them. But Roxanne gave her a wax wreath under glass, and she's quite content with that. Poor little Mlle. Bébé! The sight of her always goes to my heart. Why couldn't she have lavished all that faith and love on somebody worthy of it? Irony of fate. Poor little soul!
"Ah, there comes our quail roasted in vine leaves, see if you don't like them."
But Braithwait hardly glanced at the succulent birds, as they were ceremoniously presented to his attention. ”

“ He will give us our one consolation, Roxanne. He will not let her murderer go unpunished. He, of all the world, is the one man I could trust—and he is here."
Miss Dumontel looked at the tattered masquerader without surprise. "They have waited, monsieur," she said gravely. "The coroner is here, and the police. They all knew her—she was the friend of everybody, my poor Bébé." She turned toward a door leading from the salon, which, when opened, revealed a corridor that at its further end, terminated in an iron, festooned balcony that overlooked the garden. ”

“ Of course, in her twisted mind she has the idea of pursuit. She does not dare confide in anything human. Alas, I must confess, my friend, it is my tragedy, too. I have never married." Thiery rose nervously and reached for his hat. "Allons! If you are painting this afternoon, you had best install yourself before the light begins to change. Since you have forgotten that you are a detective, remember that you are a painter."
"You're right," agreed Braithwait. ”

“ Once inside the enclosure any agile person could easily climb the trellis, pull himself up and over the railing, and enter the room. If Mlle. Bébé had been murdered, this was certainly the way her assailant had come. There was proof of it in plain sight—broken tendrils, freshly scraped paint, the heavy imprint of a foot in the moist soil.
Braithwait turned back into the room. Both Thiery and the officer were regarding him expectantly as if they believed him capable of unravelling the mystery at once. ”

“ Thiery's eyes were bitter, hard. "But he killed her, just the same. To kill her was like killing a child. Look how little she is, how helpless!" The tears sprang again to his eyes. "You've got to find the brute. Think, think hard. Things don't just happen. There is a reason for everything. Somebody knew, somebody must have known."
"He came in," Braithwait continued, "either over the wall, or through that green door—but that's a detail. He climbed to the balcony by way of the arbor. ”

“ Roxanne is the elder, but she looks ten years younger—fact is, poor Mlle. Bébé isn't more than thirty-five, if she's that. Hers is a queer story and a sad one."
Gaston Thiery started guiltily as the creaking of a board and the sweep of a raised Venetian blind warned them of the approach of the subject of their talk.
"Bon jour, mam'selle," called Thiery, advancing quickly into the center of the garden. "I see you have raised the embargo in favor of my friend, Monsieur Braithwait. Be careful, mademoiselle, he is a dangerous charmer." ”

“ With a sob, Thiery threw himself on his knees by the bedside, his lips moving in silent prayer.
"What I am going to do," whispered Braithwait, "will be rather spectacular. Don't let it get on your nerves, old man. I'm going to put over a third degree of my own invention, from inside that armoire. When the chief is here, tell him, so the suspect won't hear you. Get him outside. The chances are that the guilty man will be so upset at sight of his victim he won't notice anything else. Listen—I hear them."
He tiptoed to the massive wardrobe, tested its balance and stepped inside. ”

“ I almost wish, my good Thiery, that you hadn't told me the tale of Mlle. Bébé's love tragedy. I'm on my vacation, and when I'm vacationing I make it a point to be my artist self, pure and simple. I'm supposed to be a painter now, and here you're rousing my sleeping sleuth instinct. ”

“ Beautiful, peaceful, fragrant.
The peculiar, brooding charm that is New Orleans, the New Orleans of the vieux Carré—the old French and Spanish quarter—permeated this, the home of Mesdemoiselles Bébé and Roxanne Dumontel. The artist turned quickly at the sound of footsteps under the echoing arch behind him that opened on the street. ”

“ All the Dumontels and the Chaberts and the Dequenes are wild. But Bébé just beams. They're going to be married, and then to Paris to live. The nine days' wonder passes by, and then he goes North to settle up his affairs. What happened next, of course, didn't come out until afterward. But it was like this: He writes her from New York that he has a surprise in store for her. She is to tell no one, but he will be in New Orleans just one night. It's Carnival time. If a masquer climbs her wall at twelve o'clock of a certain night, she is not to be frightened. ”

“ Thiery gripped the detective's arm with nervous fingers that dug into the flesh as he thrust his reluctant companion into the vehicle, and gave the Dumontel address to the driver.
Braithwait started. "Where? The Dumontels? What's wrong there?"
The car had started. Thiery leaned forward, covering his face with his hand. He was crying. Great scalding tears slipped between his fingers. Shocked and puzzled, Braithwait laid a sympathetic hand on the other's shoulder.
"What is it, mon vieux? How can I help? Come, come, get a grip on yourself." ”

“ She controlled herself. "He will show you, monsieur. I—I cannot. It was I, who found her," she added simply, as she turned away.
The policeman rose, received Thiery's explanation as if expecting it, looked at Braithwait curiously, and, unlocking the door, preceded them into the room. The tall windows stood open, their blue painted shutters folded back. The broad green, varnished leaves of a magnolia tree thrust themselves over the wrought iron balcony railing. ”

“ Creel, it turns out, is wanted for a whole series of robberies.
"With her world crumbling about her ears, Mlle. Bébé refuses to believe. She refuses to divulge the whereabouts of the necklace. She repeats his statement to her, that the pearls are his, an heirloom. Nothing can move her. She changes her story a dozen times—she's given the pearls to a messenger; she doesn't know where they are, the string she wore to Carnival ball was only a lot of cheap beads she had bought, and strung herself. She believes absolutely in her fiancé. He is a persecuted angel. She will stand by him forever. ”

“ Then his glance lifted from the picture and roved over the scene it portrayed—rose-tinted walls covered with fig vine, balconies, blue and green, now faded to exquisitely tender tones, butter-colored oil jars, dripping clusters of purple flowers, a banana tree and two oleanders, trenchantly green against the low, open patterned brick wall at the far end of the garden, where presided a gaudy Madonna in a niche above a gurgling fountain. ”

“ Well, as it came about, Mlle. Bébé and Roxanne and a dozen or so escorts go to the races one fine day, and from her box Bébé looks down and sees this Creel, and he looks up and sees Bébé. Bang!—they're off! How they managed to meet Bébé never would tell. You know how carefully guarded are our girls of the old French families, but love will find the way, and they found theirs. ”

“ She is searched, the house is searched. She is called an accessory after the fact, and in spite of the whole Dumontel clan, they put Bébé in jail. She goes quite cheerfully, with her poodle and her negro maid, and her little portable altar and her special chocolate pot. And the pearls never were found from that day to this. They've never been seen. But her devotion and faith couldn't save Creel. There was too much against him. They couldn't prove the Bullard robbery on him, but they didn't need that one. Bébé was in jail when his trial came on. ”

“ Only two things attracted attention in the orderly chamber—the door of the great armoire stood open, revealing a white satin wedding dress, turned ivory with age. Other dresses, sheer embroidered trifles of lawn and mull. Evidently in this wardrobe the bereft bride had stored her trousseau. ”

“ Author of "All In the Night's Work," (with George Bronson-Howard)
"Blind Blue Men," etc.
EVEN A DETECTIVE ON A HOLIDAY MAY JOIN THE MAD MASQUERS OF NEW ORLEANS AT CARNIVAL TIME. YET EVEN THERE MYSTERY AND TRAGEDY MAY HAUNT HIS HOURS OF PLAYTIME—AND NO MAN MAY ESCAPE HIS DESTINY
WITH a little sigh of satisfaction, Clinton Braithwait leaned back as far as he could without losing his precarious balance, and squinted happily at the study of the picturesque courtyard his last brush stroke had completed. ”

“ Go to the post office here in the city and find out what packages were sent out by parcel post, early this morning. It's dollars to doughnuts he's mailed them to himself under another name—somewhere west, since he was headed that way. But don't neglect address in Mexico, either. Probably it's insured—he wouldn't take a chance on losing them. Have them look up registered packages first of all. ”

“ And from that, the few people at the ball who really are experts and can tell the real from the imitation however good, spot that necklace as being something priceless. The length of it, the unusual size of the pearls, perfectly matched, make it something quite unique—and presto! the fat's in the fire.
"A few days, nearly a week later, a detective arrives from the North. Mr. Jack Creel has been located and arrested. The pearls answer to the description given by Mrs. ”