The unpardonable sin

Chapter I

Who stole the jewels at Dr. Cleverton^s houseparty ?

It was not so much this question that people were asking themselves. They were wondering why Mrs. Cleverton would neither allow detectives to be employed on the case nor any of her servants to be dismissed.

It is bad enough to lose one’s jewelry, but it is another thing when one is not permitted to have the loss investigated.

This morning, even Dr. Cleverton was asking himself why his wife should act so strangely. He sat at his desk, his head in his hands, thinking over his past life, trying to put two and two together, but to imagine anything to his precious wife’s detriment, would have been impossible for this honorable man.

This man, who had at his command a vast fortune, which he might have squandered in the many ways known to wealthy young heirs, had preferred to give the greater part of his income to charitable purposes and never lost sight of those beings who were less fortunate than himself. In fact, before his marriage, he had spent most of his time in the districts of New York where a doctor is most needed, but cannot be paid for.

It was in such a locality he had first seen his wife. Day after day he had passed her on the street and it made him shudder to see a young girl so evidently in a condition of poverty and neglect.

In those days, she had not been really beautiful. In fact, he had scarcely noticed her looks at all. He only knew that she possessed two large startling black eyes set in a shrunken little face and that she did not seem to belong to the squalid surroundings in which he always saw her. Even after he had returned home in the evenings, the pitiful half-starved look from her beautiful eyes would haunt him, and he could picture in his mind, the droop of her long lashes on her cheek at his approach.

He had been almost afraid to speak to this shy creature. Finally, one day he had stopped her and tried to draw her into conversation with him. Then, indeed, she had been very shy and had answered him in monosyllables, but as time went on, she had grown more accustomed to him and lost much of her timidity.

One day, when Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Hubbs, his care-takers, had come to the city to see him on business pertaining to his country-home, he had asked them if they would take this girl under their care for awhile. They had seemed very willing, for they were childless, and life in the country must be very lonesome at times.

He had made it a point to meet her the next day to ask her whether she would like to have a vacation in the country. He smiled to himself as he pictured how she had blushed and trembled.

‘‘Why, sir,” she had replied in a low voice, “you are too kind to me.”

“Well, then, if you really want to go,” he had said very gently, “take me to your parents and I will ask their permission.”

The girl had turned sadly to him.

“I have no parents,” she had answered with a tremor in her voice, “I'm an orphan. I can do as I please.”

“Surely there is someone,” he had insisted, “who has authority over you. I can’t snatch you from the street and carry you away. I’d be arrested for kidnapping.”

“No,” the girl protested, “I work for my keep and if you don’t mind, sir. I’ll meet you here to-morrow, prepared to go.”

So, on the morrow he had come for her and found her with a queer little bundle under her arm, which contained all she posessed in the world. He had put her into his machine and watched her go away supremely happy. He had not laid eyes on her until the following summer.

The remainder of the winter and spring had found him working hard and it was not until the sun was scorching the dried-up crust of the earth, that he had found time to take advantage of the luxuries of his country estate. Even after he had set up his permanent abode there, it was quite awhile before he came face to face with Mr. and Mrs. Hubb’s little visitor, for he had been kept busy with a house full of guests. He remembered the shock that passed through him at his first meeting with her. She had ripened into an exquisitely beautiful slip of a girl.

He remembered distinctly every hour that he had spent with her that summer in the big house. By fall, he had asked her to marry him. He laughed to himself when he thought how they had slipped away quietly, leaving everybody to guess where she had come from.

He recalled those wonderful days of their honeymoon which they spent in Italy and how she had been almost overcome by the beauties of landscape of which she had never dreamed. She had been just like a little child with a new toy. Then their homecoming; the tears came into his eyes when he remembered how hard she had tried to be a good wife to him and to learn how a woman in her station of life should act. But she had more than fulfilled his expectations and had played the part of wife, mistress and social helper in a way that seemed born in her. It must have been very hard, though, for the only education she had received had been a few years in the public school. He knew she must have studied secretly, after she was married. Three years before she had presented him with a beautiful little daughter. To-day after four years of married life, he was more in love with his wife than he had ever been before.

He knew that a beautiful woman stands in danger of the world’s tongue and he also knew that at present, the world had some excuse for talking. He could pay to a certain extent to have the matter which was worrying him now hushed up, but would anything in God’s world keep women from talking?

He had never fully appreciated the fortune left him at his father’s death, until he had married. Before that, he had rather scorned spending money made by another man. But after his marriage, he had seen the luxuries it could bring his wife and child. Now, he could not be thankful enough for it. It also gave him a chance to leave the mercenary side entirely out of his profession. To-day he was finding that money could not buy everything and he was puzzled to know just how to clear the mystery which had surrounded his house.

It had all happened this way. It was the habit of his wife and himself to ask a number of guests during the summer months to spend the week-end with them. They usually had a very gay time for the country about afforded unusual advantages to those who were fond of out-door sports. There were delightful cross-country rides, strenuous tennis matches or golf at the country club for ones who preferred it. On Saturdays, the Cleverton^s threw open the doors of their wonderful home and invited all the neighboring folk for dinner and dancing in the evening. These dances had become the talk of the surrounding country side. The house stood on a high hill, overlooking a forest of beautiful trees of every kind, and on these nights the faint strains from the orchestra could be heard for a great distance.

Cleverhill was indeed a wonderful home, surrounded by six hundred acres. It stood like a castle on the Rhine on the top of a bluff, which sloped in deep descent to a river far below it. The house was built of white stone in rambling fashion and the grounds were terraced except where a smooth white road wound itself around to the door of the mansion.

^The preceding two weeks the Doctor and his wife had, as usual, entertained house parties and among the guests there had been notably people of wealth and distinction. On the last two Saturday nights, after the dancing was over and everyone had retired and was sleeping soundly, the guests in the house had been mysteriously robbed of all their jewels. Of course, the blame had been laid upon the servants, for everyone felt sure that had anyone come in from the outside, there would have been some signs of intrusion. It was just as if an invisible hand had swooped down and snatched up the jewely for not a sign could be found of where it had disappeared to.

Dr. Cleverton, who was everywhere honored and respected highly, had asked all the parties concerned to keep as quiet as possible about the matter and had not only offered, but insisted that everyone should be re-imbursed for what they had lost. All would have been well had not his wife refused to bring detectives into the case. She would have been the last person upon whom the slightest ray of suspicion would have fallen, but it just took this little thing to start the ball rolling and the Doctor wondered how long it would be before she would become the victim of her own folly. He knew that at last their friends were seeking out the skeleton in their family cupboard.

He was very tired of thinking this morning and straightening himself up in his chair in a decisive way, came to the conclusion that he had better have a serious talk with his wife. He was startled when he turned his head to find her standing in the doorway. She must have noticed his appearance of abject misery, for she came forward and, putting her arms around him, said, “Tom, dear, what are you worrying about? This is not a bit like you and it makes me very sad.”

He decided to be frank with her. He drew her onto his knee and told her very gently of what a precarious position she had placed them in and how much he would like to bring someone there to catch the guilty person.

But she only shook her head and said, “No, no, I will not have those horrid detectives wandering about my beautiful home. I shall go away to the city if you do this thing. I will not be bothered with such men.”

“But, dearest,” her husband replied, “you would not have to be bothered with them. You might never know they were here.”

“I know,” she answered, “but that is worse. It is I like something creeping up one^s back and I will ! not stay if you bring detectives into this matter.”

“It is only for your sake, dear. I cannot bear to have suspicion fall upon you and you know,” he said, tenderly kissing her, “when a person is as beautiful as you, God help her if the women get a chance to talk.”

She laughed and then turned to him very se- [riously.

“Tom, dear,” she said, “you don’t suspect me of having stolen the jewels, do you? I have everything I want, why should I rob my guests ?”

He shuddered at the thought of such a thing.

“Alma,” he replied, “I know you wouldn’t steal a common pin, so never fear again of me thinking of such a thing. Always remember, whatever might happen, that I shall have faith in you for I know you to be the most truthful, honest and trustworthy woman in the whole world. Come what may, nothing will ever turn me against you.”

For a moment they hung in each other’s embrace. This woman knew that her husband was worth his weight in gold.

“Dear,” she said, after a moment, “I dread to think of the party that is coming this week-end. Why not play off sick? Mrs. Ralph Stotesbury and Mrs. Eugene Houghton will be here and each of them will try to outshine the other in the number of jewels they wear. You know with this thing hanging over our head, we shall never feel at ease. It will pretty nearly put me into my grave.”

The Doctor shook his head.

“It would not be well for us to call the party off It might cause talk. It would be better for us to let them come here and to try to keep our eyes open.”

“Yes” said Mrs. Cleverton, “I shall never sleep while they are here. I mean to take the matter into my own hands.”

The Doctor said nothing but for once in his life he intended to deceive his wife. He had full intentions of employing the smartest, craftiest and cleverest detectives that money could pay for.

Chapter II

Friday was ushered in with the intense heat which is customary in the middle of July and Mrs. Cleverton, rising early, felt that the party coming this day, was going to be a great drag on her. After the luxury of a cool bath and a delicious breakfast, she felt in very much better condition. She hastily dressed in a simple little gown of white, bare at the neck and arms and throwing on a large Gainsborough hat to take the place of a sunshade, started for a ramble through the woods.

Alma Cleverton's actual beauty was not so extraordinary that everyone was struck by it, but her presence and affluence were irresistible. She was fashioned like the picture of a lovely Italian peasant girl, slender and not too tall to be graceful. Her greatest charm lay in the mysterious depths of her dark soul-stirring eyes. And she had a heart! A heart overflowing with pity and sympathy for anyone who was unhappy or in trouble. Alas! there are few of us now-a-days who can boast of such an organ. But she was lovely as flashes of lightning and tender as a little child, while her capacity for love and power of deep vibrant emotion, intoxicated all who had the opportunity to know her well.

She had been so happy during her married life and 9 she wondered as she strolled along under the trees this morning whether all her great happiness was going to be swept away by the dark cloud which threatened to engulf her. She chided herself inwardly for worrying so much and determined to try and regain her buoyant spirits.

When she came near to her house again, she could see the white dress of her little girl flitting to and fro. She idolized this baby of hers and would have given anything in the world to send the nurse away and take entire charge of the little one herself. In fact, she had often threatened to do so but in the end, had given up what would have been the greatest pleasure in life, to keep her place in the society to which her husband’s family for generations had belonged.

When the little girl saw her mother coming, she left the nurse and running to her, jumped into her arms, crying, “Mudder, mudder, is you going to stay wif me?”

The tears came to Mrs. Cleverton’s eyes. It had only been for the past few days that her little girl had been able to say “Mother.” Before she had always called her “Mama.” This morning everything seemed to make Mrs. Cleverton sad and she even felt reluctant to leave her child, when her tiny wrist watch told her that it was nearly noon and that some of her guests were liable to arrive any time. She was becoming morbid. This would never do. She left the little one hastily and hurried to the house. She did not expect those of her guests who were married, until late in the afternoon when they would probably motor up with their husbands.

but she was also expecting a party of four young folks and she knew that they had nothing in the world to do but have a good time so they would most likely come early.

Just as she reached the veranda, she could see a machine entering the gates a half mile below and she saw the dear fat Mrs. Hubbs come onto her little porch and scrutinize its occupants, before she would permit the chauffeur to drive any further. The poor soul would never allow anyone to go past her little door until she made sure they were not bandits or cut-throats. It was a good thing in a way to be particular, but Mrs. Cleverton hardly knew whether Mrs. Hubbs did it from a sense of duty or curiosity. Still, Mrs. Cleverton, loved Mr. and Mrs. Hubbs dearly. When she had come to them five years before, a poor little thing, friendless and fearful, they had treated her as kindly as though she were their own child and she had never forgotten it. To this day, she loved more than anything to go down and have a cup of tea in their tiny kitchen.

She felt tired and warm from her long walk but she decided she had better bid the young people welcome, before she retired to her own room to brush up a little bit. She stood on the porch and watched them as they drove up under the porte cochere; a merry group, bubbling over with mirth and good spirits. They made as much noise as a bunch of geese quacking, as they jumped out of the car and came forward to meet her, everyone chattering as fast as they could.

“You old darling,” cried Miss Doris Reese, throwing her arms around Mrs. Cleverton and squeezing her as hard as she could. “We thought we’d come early. I hope we haven’t put you out any.”

“You know we don’t want you to bother a bit about us,” replied Miss Miriam Whitman, pushing Miss Doris away and kissing her hostess again and again. “We’ll make ourselves at home and try to be model visitors.”

They all laughed merrily, and Mr. Dick D’Lanson, who Mrs. Cleverton had known for a couple of years, shook hands heartily with her and introduced the other gentleman, Mr. Robert Green, “who,” said Mr. D’Lanson, “had come along with them because Dr. Cleverton’s machine would be too crowded that afternoon.”

“Well, we’re mighty glad he did,” broke in Miss Doris, “he entertained us the whole way out. I wish I’d met him a long time ago.”

Mr. Green blushed.

“I’m sorry to intrude upon your hospitality, Mrs. Cleverton,” he said in a gentle, well-bred voice, “but I happened to meet the Doctor, who I’ve known for a long time, and he insisted upon me coming out here. I was most delighted to accept his invitation.”

“Don’t mention it,” answered Mrs. Cleverton pleasantly, “I’m so glad to see you all. I’ve had the blues lately and I think you folks are just the ones to cure me.”

“I must say it is going to be wonderful to lounge around here on this cool porch, with the breeze coming up from the valley below, after the terrible heat of the city,” said Mr. D’Lanson, looking longingly at the large comfortable chairs and thinking how delightful it would be to sit there smoking with Miss Miriam as a companion.

“I guess we had all better put on our tennis costumes before luncheon,” suggested Mrs. Cleverton, “and then,” she went on, “we’ll have time to play a set or two of tennis before anyone else arrives. Fm sure the girls feel dusty and dirty.”

“Yes, I, for one, think that an excellent plan,” replied Miss Miriam. “We don’t want to lose any time.”

“Make yourselves at home. You will find your rooms ready, if you wish to wash up,” was Mrs. Cleverton’s parting juncture to the gentlemen, as she and the two girls disappeared into the house.

Twenty minutes later they appeared again, looking fresh and attractive in their white shirt waists and skirts.

They found that the men had also changed their street clothes for soft shirts and white trousers and were surely making themselves at home, for both of them were sipping something of deep brownish color from large cool-looking glasses.

“I motion that we turn on the Victrola and have a dance before luncheon,” said Miss Doris.

“It’s pretty warm for dancing,” laughed Mrs. Cleverton, “I’ll put the pieces on for you people and save my strength for the tennis.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” insisted Mr. Green. “I intend to steal the pleasure of having the first dance with the hostess.”

He helped her to choose a lively one-step and before she knew it, they were whirling around like two children. Mrs. Cleverton could tell an instant after the dance started, that she had found a wonderful partner. She forgot everything for a few moments, in the excitement of the dance, but was brought back to earth by the butler announcing that lunch was ready.

Everyone had a good appetite and they laughed and joked while they ate. Mrs. Cleverton could see that Miss Doris was very much attracted to Mr. Green, but she hoped that they would not become too much attached to each other until she found out something about the young man. He was certainly handsome and had beautiful manners, ‘‘But,” she thought, to herself, “it is strange that I have never heard of him before.”

The tennis court looked cool and inviting as they wandered out over the smooth green lawn to where it stood, well-shaded and in perfect condition. Mrs. Cleverton could not be moved this time by their threats or pleading to take part in the game. She insisted that it was entirely too warm for her and seated herself on a little rustic seat to watch the match, which promised to be very exciting.

It was not long, however, until one of the servants came to tell her that her husband had arrived home and wanted her up at the house for a few moments. When she had reached the veranda, she found him sitting with a lady and gentleman enjoying a cooling drink. She greeted Mrs. Darius Wicks affectionately for she was very fond of the little widow, but it was hard for her to even shake hands with the gentleman, notwithstanding the fact that he was her husband^s cousin. This cousin, Mr. Cleverton, made rather a good appearance, for he was in a way distinguished looking and he had about him the manner of a man of great prosperity and riches. But Mrs. Cleverton knew his circumstances to be otherwise and she knew also, that he hated and envied the Doctor because of his prosperity and happiness. Then, too, it exasperated her to have to play hostess to him every week-end during the summer for he never missed one of their little house parties and never received an invitation to any of them. He seemed to take it for granted that being one of their relatives he could come and go as he pleased. Mrs. Cleverton was too much of a lady, though, to show her displeasure in any way so she sat down and tried to be as congenial as possible. A little later they all walked out to see how the tennis match was coming along.

The Doctor and his wife dragged along slowly in hopes that they might have a word with each other. When they did get a chance, Mrs. Cleverton, who seldom lost her temper, broke out fitfully, “Why did you bring that terrible bore out here again ?’^ she scolded.

“I couldn't help it," answered the Doctor playfully begging for mercy. “He telephoned that he would be down at my office in time to drive out with me and sure enough he was there waiting in the machine. I had no chance of escape. What could I do?"

“You silly goose," exclaimed his wife, “you are too soft-hearted. You would give away your last dollar rather than offend your worst enemy. But honestly," she went on, more kindly, “it is for your own good that you ought to get rid of that man. I’m sure that he detests you even though he pretends to be so friendly.”

They had no more time for conversation for they had reached the tennis court and the young folks dropped their game when they saw the Doctor and rushed to greet him.

The afternoon wore on and at five o’clock, Mr. and Mrs. Stotesbury and Mr. and Mrs. Houghton arrived. There was a great exchange of greetings and then everyone repaired to their rooms to dress for dinner.

The sun went down and the fearful heat of the day was over. A slight breeze was stirring which blew the dust in swirls through the air and gave warning of a thunder storm, not far distant.

The merry guests inside did not care. They made an unsually gay party as they gathered around the brightly lighted dinner table. After dinner there was a table of bridge made up and the rest of the folks danced and did just as they pleased. It was almost midnight, when Mrs. Stotesbuy rose from the bridge game and announced that she was tired and thought she would go to bed.

There was a general movement in that direction. Miss Doris and Miss Miriam were loathe to retire but wanted to do the proper thing, and so were forced to bid a reluctant goodnight to the young men. Mrs. Cleverton followed Mrs. Stotesbury and Mrs. Houghton to their rooms which were across the hall from each other and asked them confidentially to let her keep their jewelry for fear something might happen to it.

‘Tt’s absurd, my dear, for you to suggest doing such a thing,” said Mrs. Houghton.

‘T have always taken care of my own jewelry,” replied Mrs Stotesbury firmly, “and I have a perfectly honest maid who guards them like a lion would his prey. YouVe never had anything stolen here, I’m sure, so don’t give us the shivers.”

Mrs. Cleverton bit her lip but could say no more.

In the meantime, Mrs. Darius Wicks and Mr. Cleverton had strolled out onto the porch for a tetea-tete before going to bed. Mrs. Wicks being a widow, felt that she was old enough to chaperon herself and therefore took liberties which would not have been becoming to Miss Doris Reese or Miriam Whitman. Mrs. Wicks had, in her own way of reckoning, lived alone long enough. The Clevertons were all of good family and she could see that the gentleman who walked so dignifiedly by her side was very much infatuated with her. A woman’s intuition is one of her most valuable gifts. Mrs. Wicks with an eye to business, had planned this little midnight ecapade for she pictured how well she would look with her bare arms and neck showing so wonderfully white in the darkness of the night. And in truth, she did look beautiful with the flashes of heat lightning playing about her white gown like forked tongues of flame. The sight of her would have melted a heart of stone.

Mr. Cleverton led her to a rustic seat and after having persuaded her to sit down for awhile, they watched the lights in the house go out one by one, leaving it dark and sombre looking. Mr. Cleverton’s arm stole around Mrs. Wicks’ waist. Who can withstand the wiles of a young and charming widow, incidently the owner of a fairly well-filled purse? Is it a weakness to be wrought upon by the exquisite curves of a woman’s cheek or the delicate molding of her bare white arms? A woman’s arm touched the soul of a great sculptor two thousand years ago so much that he wrought an image of it which moves us still. Call it weakness, if you will, but do not pass judgment if you have never been beseiged by a lady whose beauty and grace have already won from you the tribute of admiration. The psychological moment had almost arrived and Mrs. Wicks knew how to bring things to a climax, but just then the raindrops started to come down. Mr. Cleverton would never have felt them but Mrs. Wicks could imagine how she would look with her hair straggling and wet and the powder and paint running down her cheeks. No, no, that would never do. She decided to make a hasty retreat. It was indeed a shame that the weather was about to spoil all her plans. She arose and posed before him in such an alluring manner, that he lost control of himself and suddenly crushing her in his arms, rained kisses upon her face and lips. When he released her, she turned without saying a word and hurried to the house.

Mr. Cleverton did not attempt to follow her. He was overcome with happiness and did not even notice that the rain was coming down faster and faster. He sat down and began to ponder over what had just happened and he chuckled contentedly to himself, for he felt with perfect assurance that Mrs.

Wicks had not disliked his treatment of her. She had not even struggled in his embrace.

Meanwhile, everything in the house had quieted down. Dr. Cleverton had pleaded with his wife to, go to bed. “I have a few things to do yet,’’ he said, ‘‘but I want you to get some sleep. You are losing your pink cheeks and rest is what you need.”

She kissed him good-night and started upstairs.

The Doctor felt a twinge of conscience at deceiving her, but she had seemed ready to do as he said so he turned into a small room which he had fitted up as a laboratory and instead of going to work, sat down and waited anxiously for someone to come.