miss pearl's question was awkward to answer on the spur of the moment, as may be easily guessed. ralph had intended to lead gradually up to the object of his visit; but thrown off his guard by the sight of the dress, he had committed himself in a most untimely manner. while thinking of a possible answer which would delay explanations he stared hard at miss pearl, trying to guess what kind of a woman she was. from the furnishing of the room, from her looks and severe mode of dress, he took her to be a religious woman of a puritanic cast, who had abjured the pomps and vanities of the world. yet she was a music-hall dancer, and that profession did not suit either her surroundings or her appearance.
"i shall explain why i made that remark shortly," said shawe, evading a direct reply as well as he was able; "and, truth to tell, my errand is not a very pleasant one."
miss pearl looked at the card she held in her large white hand, and pondered thoughtfully. "mr. ralph shawe," she said, in her heavy voice. "ah! yes, i remember now. perhaps, mr. ralph shawe, i can guess your errand."
"perhaps you can," muttered shawe, wondering what she would say.
"sir joseph branwin," pursued the dancer, "told me about you, as an undesirable suitor for the hand of his daughter. am i right in assuming that you have called to enlist my sympathies?"
"enlist your sympathies?" repeated the visitor, staring.
"yes. you want me," continued miss pearl, in a ponderously playful manner, "to ask sir joseph to permit you to pay your addresses. i shall do so with pleasure, as i have every sympathy with you and miss branwin."
shawe still stared in a dazed way, as this speech completely puzzled him, and--in vulgar parlance--took the wind out of his sails. here he had come practically to accuse a lady of being connected with the murder of a woman whom she had wished to supplant, and this very lady was now most generously offering her assistance to forward his private aims. shawe could not quite understand if this was cunning on rosy pearl's part or mere stupidity, or perhaps the liberal offer of a generous nature. he noted the careful way in which she spoke and her method of picking out well-sounding words, and mentally observed that she was doing her best to correct a defective education by thinking well before she spoke.
in the meantime miss pearl did not hurry him, as she appeared to be a singularly leisurely person. with her large calm eyes gazing amiably at him, her gracious, rounded figure, and whole placid pose, she reminded ralph of nothing so much as a sacred white cow. but cows can be furious when aroused, and the barrister wondered if she would rise in her majesty like bellona, the goddess of war, when she learnt the true meaning of his visit. but she must be stupid, he thought, else she would have persisted in learning straight away the meaning of his first enigmatic remark. yet she accepted his postponement calmly, and was quite ready to wait for an explanation.
"i am greatly obliged to you for your kindness, miss pearl," he said quietly; "but i fear your offer of help is too late. sir joseph has had a serious quarrel with his daughter."
"a serious quarrel with his daughter?" repeated the woman, slowly, as if trying to get the idea well into her head; then she added, after a pause; "i should like to hear what the quarrel is about."
ralph did not intend to tell her, and he was sure branwin would be too much ashamed of himself to give the information. "well, you know, miss pearl, that sir joseph wanted his daughter to marry lord anvers. she refused him, so miss branwin left the house, as her father was so furious with her."
"miss branwin has left the house? and where is she staying now?"
"at the pink shop," said shawe, promptly. he was unwilling to name audrey's temporary abode, but did so, to see what effect the name had on this calm and undemonstrative woman.
it had an effect, indeed, for miss pearl's white skin slowly became a vivid crimson, and for the first time during the interview she displayed emotion. perhaps she was aware of the meaning in shawe's gaze when he saw this agitation, for she gave an excuse.
"i don't think that the pink shop is a proper place for a young lady to stay at," she remarked frigidly.
"why not? you were there yourself, miss pearl."
"i have frequently been there, mr. shawe. as an artist i have to take the greatest care of what looks i possess, and i find madame coralie invaluable."
"you slept at the pink shop on the night lady branwin was--"
miss pearl displayed more agitation, and--a rare thing for so slow-thinking a woman--interrupted somewhat sharply:
"i admit that i did, but i do not wish it to be known."
"for what reason, miss pearl?" asked ralph, pressing his advantage mercilessly.
"you can guess the reason, mr. shawe," she replied, with heavy indignation. "i know what evil minds people have. sir joseph is an admirer of mine--quite in a platonic way, you understand."
"of course," murmured the barrister. "i have heard of your unblemished reputation, miss pearl."
"i should think it was unblemished," said the dancer, speaking faster than usual. "my dear mother, who was a consistent baptist, always warned me when i left home to keep myself unspotted from the world. circumstances have made me a music-hall dancer, but i have always conducted myself discreetly, and i always shall do so. not by way of advertisement, mr. shawe, but because the principles, instilled by my dear mother, will not permit me to behave in any other way."
"it does you credit, miss pearl," murmured ralph, feeling called upon to say something polite.
rosy pearl looked at him like an offended goddess. "i do not know whether you mean to be sarcastic, mr. shawe, but let me tell you that sarcasm is out of place. are you one of those men who do not believe that a woman can be virtuous in the midst of temptation?"
"not at all, miss pearl. there are good women on the stage, and often bad women in church circles. it is a question of temperament."
"it is a question of doing what is right, mr. shawe," said the goddess, with a disdainful look. "i am a dancer, it is true, but no one can say a word against me."
"i don't think anyone has said a word," ralph ventured to remark.
"if they did," said miss pearl, sharply, "i would bring a libel action against them without delay. my solicitors have instructions to take notice of any flippant remark made about me, and to deal with it as it deserves."
"with such precautions you must be, like cæsar's wife, above suspicion."
"i do not know mrs. cæsar," said rosy pearl, coldly, and betrayed her lack of educational knowledge in the remark. "i attend to my own business and to nothing else. i daresay you wonder, mr. shawe, why, with these sentiments, i am on the music-hall stage?"
"well," ralph admitted, more and more puzzled by this simplicity, but unable to tell if it were real or feigned, "i must say that i do wonder."
"it's because i am stupid."
"stupid?" shawe stared. he had never heard a woman admit as much before.
"yes, i am," said miss pearl, in her rich, slow voice, and looking more than ever like a sacred white cow. "my parents live in a small essex village, and have a large family. my father is a carpenter, and my mother, as i told you, a consistent baptist. being poor, we--the children, that is--have to work, and when i was eighteen i got a housemaid's place in london. but i could not do the work."
"it is not difficult work," said shawe, marvelling at this candour.
"no, it is not difficult work," said miss pearl, who seemed to have a habit of repeating words, perhaps to fix them in her memory; "but i am stupid, and i was always making mistakes, through forgetting things. i lost place after place because of what was called my lack of intelligence. i had to work in some way, and yet i could not, being too slow and heavy. then an old gentleman--he was a scholar--said that i resembled a greek statue. it gave me an idea, as a friend of mine knew a music-hall manager. i went to this manager, and asked him to let me appear in living pictures."
"and he consented?"
"not at once. he admired me for my looks," said miss pearl, with great simplicity, "and he made love to me. they all do, and it is a great nuisance, as i don't like that sort of thing. but this manager became quite friendly when i boxed his ears."
"he must have been an odd manager," said ralph, thinking that so strong a white arm could hurt considerably.
"oh, he was like the rest of them," said miss pearl, heavily. "however, he declared that he saw possibilities in me, and sent me to someone to be taught. when i mentioned what the scholar had said about my being like a greek; this man--he was a professor of dancing--got an idea of reviving some attic dances. he taught me three chants--"
"songs, you mean."
"no, i do not mean songs. i mean chants, to which i dance. you have seen my performance, have you not, mr. shawe?"
"yes, and a very beautiful performance it is," said ralph. he recalled the scene, which represented a greek temple, before which miss pearl, in scanty white robes, danced in a slow and graceful manner, chanting--she was right, the word was chanting--stately words to solemn music. also she danced the flower dance of the anthesterian festival, which was of a more lively character. "it is a very beautiful performance," repeated ralph, emphatically.
"i am glad you think so," said miss pearl, with a slow, sweet smile. "those three dances took me a year to learn. i thought i would never master them; but in the end i did. then i appeared, and was a success. i don't quite like the greek dress," added the dancer, confidentially, "as it scarcely covers one; but, so long as i am respectable, what does it matter?"
ralph laughed in a somewhat embarrassed manner. he was beginning to like miss pearl, because she was so childlike and unaffected. "i think you look perfectly respectable," he said with a smile.
"i am glad you think so," said miss pearl once more. she did not seem to have many ideas. "i get a good salary, and for three years i have been dancing everywhere, so i have saved money, and i am able to help mother. she was shocked at first, being a consistent baptist; but now she is reconciled to the idea, as she knows that i have never forgotten my early teaching. but my success won't last for ever. i am clever enough to see that, so i intend to marry sir joseph branwin, and i hope to make him a good wife."
"i am sure you will," said shawe, heartily, and felt as though he were encouraging a child. "you have known him long?"
"for two years. he has always been a good friend to me, although i have invariably kept him at arm's length. but now that his wife is dead he wants to marry me."
"and you say that you will marry him?"
miss pearl looked at shawe very directly. "i think i shall marry him; but, of course, i may not. i have not yet made up my mind."
"but you said just now--"
"yes, i know what i said, mr. shawe. but one can never be sure of anything in this world of trouble. however, it doesn't much matter if i marry him or not, as i have saved a lot of money, and i am quite content to go back to my village and live with my parents. and now, mr. shawe, that i have told you all about myself, perhaps you will explain why you wish to see me."
time was getting on, and shawe had learnt nothing definite as yet, so he lost no further time, but plunged into the middle of his reason for calling.
"i wish to know if you saw anything when you stayed at the pink shop likely to lead you to suspect who is the assassin of lady branwin?"
"there," said miss pearl, colouring again, "i knew some day that i would be asked that question again."
"were you asked it before?"
"yes. inspector lanton asked me. he learnt from madame coralie that i slept in the upstairs room, and questioned me. of course, i knew nothing, as i was asleep all the time, and i told him so. i also asked him to keep my name out of the papers, as such publicity would not have been good for me. and now," added miss pearl, emphatically, "it would do me positive harm seeing that sir joseph wants to marry me. people would say nasty things."
"for instance, that you wished lady branwin to die?"
"i daresay," said miss pearl, in quite a savage tone for so serene a goddess. "but let them, that's all. i have always my solicitors to look after my reputation. do you think that?" she asked suddenly.
"no," said ralph, frankly. "i might have entertained some such suspicion, but after seeing you i do not suspect you in the least. still"--he paused--"you may know of something."
"know what, for instance?" asked miss pearl, sharply.
ralph evaded an answer, and asked another question. "did you wear a harris tweed dress when you were at the pink shop?"
"no, i did not. why do you ask?"
"because one of the assistants of madame coralie--the blind girl, whose sense of smell is abnormal--scented the peaty fragrance of harris tweed in the lower passage about the time lady branwin was murdered, or, at least, one hour later."
"oh, indeed," said miss pearl, coolly. "then you think that i wore this dress and went downstairs to murder lady branwin so that i could marry--"
"no, no! i don't mean that. i said that parizade smelt the perfume an hour afterwards. you say that you did not wear the dress; but sir joseph always, when in tweeds, prefers the harris cloth."
"was he in the house?" asked miss pearl, bewildered.
"that is what i wish you to tell me."
"i can't." she rose like an offended goddess. "and if he was, i certainly should not tell you, mr. shawe. if sir joseph knew that you dared to accuse him of murder--"
"he knows what i have told you, miss pearl, and knows also that i do not accuse him directly of murder. but someone wearing harris tweed was in the lower passage. you deny wearing this dress, and as sir joseph is partial to the cloth i conclude that he was lurking in the house. he was certainly seen in the lane by mrs. mellop."
"i think," said miss pearl, frigidly, "that you had better tell this story to sir joseph himself. i cannot assist you. i was asleep in the upstairs room all the evening, and i know nothing, as i told inspector lanton. as he is satisfied, i do not see why you should not be."
"of course, i take your word, but--"
"there is no 'but' about it," interrupted the dancer, imperiously, and ralph found himself thinking what a beautiful creature she was. "my mother always taught me never to tell a lie. and if you think that i know anything of the crime, mr. shawe, i shall prove my sincerity and ignorance by refusing to marry sir joseph branwin. good-day," and she walked out of the room, in as stately a manner as she had entered.
"i wonder," murmured ralph, leaving the house, "if she's a born liar, or if she is really and truly telling the truth?"
