Абрахам Меррит - Burn, Witch, Burn!

"McCann," I began, "have you arranged to keep the doll store under constant surveillance, as we agreed

last night?"

"You bet. A flea couldn't hop in or out without being spotted."

"Any reports?"

"The boys ringed the joint close to midnight. The front's all dark. There's a building in the back an' a

space between it an' the rear of the joint. There's a window with a heavy shutter, but a line of light shows

under it. About two o'clock this fish-white gal comes slipping up the street and lets in. The boys at the

back hear a hell of a squalling, an' then the light goes out. This morning the gal opens the shop. After a

while the hag shows up, too. They're covered, all right."

"What have you found out about them?"

"The hag calls herself Madame Mandilip. The gal's her niece. Or so she says. They rode in about eight

months since. Nobody knows where from. Pay their bills regular. Seem to have plenty of money. Niece

does all the marketing. The old woman never goes out. Keep to themselves like a pair of clams. Have

strictly nothing to do with the neighbors. The hag has a bunch of special customers-rich-looking people

many of them. Does two kinds of trade, it looks-regular dolls, an' what goes with 'em, an' special dolls

which they say the old woman's a wonder at. Neighbors ain't a bit fond of 'em. Some of 'em think she's

handling dope. That's all yet."

Special dolls? Rich people?

Rich people like the spinster Bailey, the banker Marshall?

Regular dolls-for people like the acrobat, the bricklayer? But these might have been "special" too, in

ways McCann could not know.

"There's the store," he continued. "Back of it two or three rooms. Upstairs a big room like a storeroom.

They rent the whole place. The hag an' the wench, they live in the rooms behind the store."

"Good work!" I applauded, and hesitated-"McCann, did the doll remind you of somebody?"

He studied me with narrowed eyes.

"You tell me," he said at last, dryly.

"Well-I thought it resembled Peters."

"Thought it resembled!" he exploded. "Resembled-hell! It was the lick-an'-spit of Peters!"

"Yet you said nothing to me of that. Why?" I asked, suspiciously.

"Well I'm damned-" he began, then caught himself. "I knowed you seen it. I thought you kept quiet

account of Shevlin, an' followed your lead. Afterwards you were so busy putting me through the jumps

there wasn't a chance."

"Whoever made that doll must have known Peters quite well." I passed over this dig. "Peters must have

sat for the doll as one sits for an artist or a sculptor. Why did he do it? When did he do it? Why did

anyone desire to make a doll like him?"

"Let me work on the hag for an hour an' I'll tell you," he answered, grimly.

"No," I shook my head. "Nothing of that sort until Ricori can talk. But maybe we can get some light in

another way. Ricori had a purpose in going to that store. I know what it was. But I do not know what

directed his attention to the store. I have reason to believe it was information he gained from Peters'

sister. Do you know her well enough to visit her and to draw from her what it was she told Ricori

yesterday? Casually-tactfully-without telling her of Ricori's illness?"

He said, bluntly: "Not without you give me more of a lead-Mollie's no fool."

"Very well. I am not aware whether Ricori told you, but the Darnley woman is dead. We think there is a

connection between her death and Peters' death. We think that it has something to do with the love of

both of them for Mollie's baby. The Darnley woman died precisely as Peters did-"

He whispered-"You mean with the same-trimmings?"

"Yes. We had reason to think that both might have picked up the-the disease-in the same place. Ricori

thought that perhaps Mollie might know something which would identify that place. A place where both

of them might have gone, not necessarily at the same time, and have been exposed to-the infection.

Maybe even a deliberate infection by some ill-disposed person. Quite evidently what Ricori learned from

Mollie sent him to the Mandilips. There is one awkward thing, however-unless Ricori told her yesterday,

she does not know her brother is dead."

"That's right," he nodded. "He gave orders about that."

"If he did not tell her, you must not."

"You're holding back quite a lot, ain't you, Doc?" He drew himself up to go.

"Yes," I said, frankly. "But I've told you enough."

"Yeah? Well, maybe." He regarded me, somberly. "Anyway, I'll soon know if the boss broke the news

to Mollie. If he did, it opens up the talk natural. If he didn't-well, I'll call you up after I've talked to her.

Hasta luego."

With this half-mocking adieu he took his departure. I went over to the remains of the doll upon the table.

The nauseous puddle had hardened. In hardening it had roughly assumed the aspect of a flattened human

body. It had a peculiarly unpleasant appearance, with the miniature ribs and the snapped wire of the

spine glinting above it. I was overcoming my reluctance to collect the mess for analysis when Braile came

in. I was so full of Ricori's awakening, and of what had occurred, that it was some time before I noticed

his pallor and gravity. I stopped short in the recital of my doubts regarding McCann to ask him what was

the matter.

"I woke up this morning thinking of Harriet," he said. "I knew the 4-9-1 code, if it was a code, could not

have meant Diana. Suddenly it struck me that it might mean Diary. The idea kept haunting me. When I

had a chance I took Robbins and went to the apartment. We searched, and found Harriet's diary. Here it

is."

He handed me a little red-bound book. He said: "I've gone through it."

I opened the book. I set down the parts of it pertinent to the matter under review.

Nov. 3. Had a queer sort of experience today. Dropped down to Battery Park to look at the new fishes

in the Aquarium. Had an hour or so afterwards and went poking around some of the old streets, looking

for something to take home to Diana. Found the oddest little shop. Quaint and old looking with some of

the loveliest dolls and dolls' clothes in the window I've ever seen. I stood looking at them and peeping

into the shop through the window. There was a girl in the shop. Her back was turned to me. She turned

suddenly and looked at me. She gave me the queerest kind of shock. Her face was white, without any

color whatever and her eyes were wide and sort of staring and frightened. She had a lot of hair, all ashen

blonde and piled up on her head. She was the strangest looking girl I think I've ever seen. She stared at

me for a full minute and I at her. Then she shook her head violently and made motions with her hands for

me to go away. I was so astonished I could hardly believe my eyes. I was about to go in and ask her

what on earth was the matter with her when I looked at my watch and found I had just time to get back

to the hospital. I looked into the shop again and saw a door at the back beginning slowly to open. The

girl made one last and it seemed almost despairing gesture. There was something about it that suddenly

made me want to run. But I didn't. I did walk away though. I've puzzled about the thing all day. Also,

besides being curious I'm a bit angry. The dolls and clothes are beautiful. What's wrong with me as a

customer? I'm going to find out.

Nov. 5. I went back to the doll shop this afternoon. The mystery deepens. Only I don't think it's much of

a mystery. I think the poor thing is a bit crazy. I didn't stop to look in the window but went right in the