Chapter XXIX

Interviewing Mrs. LaRauche did not prove as difficult as we had anticipated. At ten o'clock--McGinity and I were still in bed--the manservant I had installed at the LaRauche house, telephoned that Mrs. LaRauche was feeling much stronger, and was most anxious to see Henry and me on a matter of very urgent business; and would we please bring along the village Chief of Police, also the young newspaper reporter who had accompanied the officer and me to the house the night before.

At eleven o'clock, we drove off. On our way through the village, we picked up Chief Meigs, and the first thing he did after boarding the car was to give me a wink, and mutter: "Screws!" Henry was pallid and trembling. He had been deeply shocked when he learned of Orkins' death. He seemed to have aged ten years during the night.

McGinity was in a state of excitement. After a late and hasty breakfast, he and Pat had taken a stroll on the terrace. In spite of the tragedies and excitement, Pat had come downstairs looking as fresh and as bright as I had ever known her. I met them as I came out to get into the car. McGinity had just reached out to take her hand in his, and she had not drawn it away. She seemed a little breathless.

The strain of the past twenty-four hours, and loss of sleep, had been too much for me. As we breezed along in the crisp, morning air, I was no more capable of keeping my eyes open than I was of writing poetry. My conversation was limited to monosyllabic answers; between monosyllables, I fell into a light doze.

Nearing the LaRauche place, I became more wide-awake, and began to speculate whether Mrs. LaRauche knew, and was in a position to tell, the whole truth. Doubt had entered my mind. Even after we had been admitted into the house, and had gathered around her, in a sitting-room adjoining her bedchamber, I felt certain that she would be able to contribute very little to the sum of information which we had.

She was dressed in a dark morning gown, and seated in an easy chair. The heavy window curtains were drawn, to save her eye-sight, after long imprisonment in a darkened room. In the dim glow of a shaded lamp, her face appeared pale and worn. Yet her poise was serene; to all appearances, she was very much mistress of herself. This was a great relief to me. I was afraid we would have a quivering, sobbing woman on our hands, and the thought was terrifying. Only once, when she grasped Henry's hand, on our arrival, did she show that she was under a strain which was almost at a breaking point.

She was a comely woman, even in her present pitiable state, and she had the voice of a woman of refinement and education. I had often wondered why she had married a man so much older than herself, and so eccentric. She was LaRauche's second wife. God knows what became of the first one!

After we had quietly taken seats, Chief Meigs broke the tension of silence. "Do you feel strong enough to answer our questions, Mrs. LaRauche?" he inquired.

She nodded, and replied: "I think so."

Then Henry spoke. "I wish to heaven, Mrs. LaRauche, you'd got in touch sooner with Livingston and me. We've always prized your friendship very highly, and if it had not been for--"

"Yes; I know," Mrs. LaRauche broke in, as though anticipating his closing remark; "but I've been unable to communicate with any one on the outside for several weeks. A day or so ago, I managed to get the front window open, and waved to a motorcycle policeman, but apparently he did not see me." She stopped, and glanced nervously over her shoulder, and added, with a little shiver: "Oh, you don't know how I've grown to hate this house!" Then, quickly regaining her self-possession, she looked at McGinity steadily for a moment, and said: "I haven't the slightest idea who you are. I only know that you were a very thoughtful and kind young man last night. Are you the newspaper reporter?"

McGinity nodded, with an embarrassed smile, and was about to reply when I interjected: "A thousand pardons, Mrs. LaRauche," I said. "Allow me to present Mr. Robert McGinity, of the New York Daily Recorder, a young but very capable reporter, in whom we place every confidence. In fact, we've grown so fond of him, he seems like one of the family." Turning to Henry for confirmation, I concluded: "I am quite right, am I not, Henry?"

"Of course, you're right," Henry answered, loudly. "And I don't know what we're going to do without him when this--er--Martian affair--I was about to say, Martian inquest--is finished."

I gasped with astonishment at Henry's remarks, while McGinity turned very red, and said, stammeringly: "Thanks, Mr. Royce." Then he began to fumble nervously with his inevitable bunch of copy paper and pencil.

Mrs. LaRauche smiled wanly, and addressed herself again to the reporter. "I'm so glad you've come, Mr. McGinity," she said, "for what I'm going to tell, I wish to be given as much publicity as possible. I want the public to know that Henry Royce was imposed upon, and that my husband, now a fugitive, although I refuse to believe he's a murderer, was wholly responsible, with the connivance of Orkins, his manservant, in carrying out this cruel deception, which, I know, is still puzzling all of you."

"Even at that, it doesn't seem so incredulous," Henry commented. "I guess I'm one of the die-hard kind."

There was a little pause, then Mrs. LaRauche turned to Chief Meigs. "Tell me," she said, "how is the search going? Have the police discovered any clue to my husband's whereabouts?"

"I'm afraid I can't give you any information," Meigs replied; "no clue at all."

"It isn't that I want him back," she said firmly, "or would ever want to see him again, after the many cruelties he practiced on me. But he's been out of his mind--insane--I'm sure, for weeks now, and is really unaccountable for his acts."

Her voice had grown shaky, and her face went whiter than it had been. We remained silent, recognizing the futility of questioning her until she got control of herself. Our chief interest, of course, lay in the unraveling of the mystery which still baffled us, and when she finally got to it, she answered all our questions in a cool collected way.

On my suggestion, McGinity began the questioning, giving us a specimen of his powers of observation. He omitted no detail of importance, carefully marshaling his facts and presenting them to Mrs. LaRauche as expertly as a lawyer examining a witness before a jury.

"Your married life has been a very unhappy one, hasn't it, Mrs. LaRauche?" he began.

"Very unhappy," she replied, sighing. "Insolent, quarrelsome, Rene LaRauche humiliated me in every possible way. I was simply his housekeeper--a vassal. He was the mighty, brainy scientist, and he never allowed me to forget it--not for one instant."

"Apparently he did not confide in you?"

"Orkins had been his manservant for some years prior to our marriage, and to him he entrusted the secrets of his scientific discoveries and inventions, rather than to me. This was only one of his many eccentricities, and I submitted to the indignity with exemplary patience."

"How do you account for his making Orkins a confidant?"

"He was too self-centered, too egotistical, to invite the confidence of brainy people. He seemed to like to impress--startle--inferior minds with his discoveries. Orkins was a highly trained servant, and a general handy man, but he was not intellectual."

"But you could easily have escaped all this bullying and domineering on the part of your husband?"

"I often considered divorce," was the reply, "but a latent sense of duty to my marriage vows prevented me from taking that step."

Here McGinity suddenly switched off that line of inquiry, and turned to another. "Why have you brought us here today?" he asked.

"To disclose certain facts which prove my husband tricked Henry Royce shamelessly in these Martian revelations."

"When did you come into possession of these facts?"

"Less than a month ago. Up to that time I had been as keenly interested in the matter, and as gullible as the rest of you, and the public at large. When Rene found that I had acquired this knowledge, and that, motivated by a deep sense of justice and fair play, I meant to disclose the real meaning of these revelations, he hid my clothes, and locked me up in that attic room, where you found me."

"How did you manage to get downstairs and phone to the Royce house, last evening?"

"Orkins, who served my meals, forgot to lock the door after him. He seemed preoccupied and nervous. It was my first opportunity to seek outside aid since my imprisonment. I stole out quietly, and crept downstairs, to the phone in the library, unaware that my husband was shadowing me."

"And he cut you short, it seems."

"Before I had a chance even to tell my name, he sprang upon me and choked me off, and then, in his usual cruel manner, bound me to the chair and bed. He acted like a maniac, I was terribly frightened." She paused, a little breathlessly, then added: "I am still in some dilemma as to how my unfinished message was understood."

"You may recall, Mrs. LaRauche, that you spoke to me," I answered. "Your voice was familiar, yet I couldn't place it at first. Finally, when I was convinced that it was your voice, the incident put us on the right track. Mr. McGinity and I already were in possession of several vital, suspicious facts, and your phone call gave us another important clue."

Then Henry spoke. "About Orkins. Had you any misgivings, Mrs. LaRauche, when he entered my service as butler? I took him, you know, on your husband's recommendation."

"It was not clear at the time," she answered. "Rene invented some explanation that Orkins wanted to make more money. Now, I know that he was deliberately planted in your house as a spy, and that he kept my husband advised on all your secret workings in science. He betrayed your confidence, as he cold-bloodedly tried to betray Rene, for that $5,000 reward."

"Do you know anything at all about Orkins' death?" Chief Meigs broke in, abruptly.

It was a pertinent question to put, but a little cruel. "No," Mrs. LaRauche replied, almost defiantly. "I do recall hearing a distant, sharp sound of some sort--it may have been the shot that killed him--but I associated it with the back-firing of an automobile on the highway. About an hour later, I heard a noise downstairs."

"That was when I smashed a panel in your front door, probably," the Chief put in.

"Shortly afterwards," Mrs. LaRauche went on, "my husband entered the attic room, looking very excited. He threw a sheet over me, and then I heard him open the back window, and climb through, on to the roof. I had the uncomfortable feeling that something sinister had occurred, and that he was bent on escape. But I was bound to the chair and helpless, and in too much anguish to think clearly."

"Mrs. LaRauche!" McGinity asked suddenly. "We are very anxious to know how your husband escaped so magically from the roof, like he had flown to the ground. Have you any theory?"

She smiled faintly, and replied: "Rene invented many peculiar things, like the robot, now used in all New York subway and railroad stations, where the traveler's usual questions are answered by a phonographic voice, by simply pressing a button. He had a great fear of fire, of being trapped by fire. Some months ago, he installed a safety device, in case of fire, on our roof."

"What was it like?" I asked, eagerly.

"Simply a heavy wire stretched tautly from the roof to the ground, and terminating at some distance away from the house, to make the descent more gradual," she replied. "In case of fire, you step into a sort of trapeze, which is attached to the wire by a grooved wheel, and your descent to the ground is something like the 'slide for life,' often seen at the circus, or in film melodramas. I can see how, in the dark, it would give the illusion of flying."