  Mrs. Powell soon returned, utterly unable to do her part in the awful task of telling people not to come to the wedding. Their exclamations and questions were too much for her. She went to her room, suffering from a severe attack of nervous exhaustion. Gerty Seaman, who like Elsie, had strong powers of endurance and ability to meet emergency, stuck to her post until all on her list had been spoken to and had promised to tell others. It was a big undertaking to get word to the larger part of the expected assembly, but it was fairly well accomplished. Of course, many people did go to the church, and were informed that there would be no wedding there that day. The Webbs, mother and daughter, were equally busy in the matter, but with them there was a secret undercurrent of satisfaction, not admitted, even to themselves, but there all the same. The mystery of Kimball’s disappearance was yet to be looked into, but whatever might be revealed regarding that, at least he was not to marry Elsie Powell today. The Webbs were honest in their disapproval of the match. They had really nothing against Elsie or her family save that it was not, in their estimation, in the same class with their own. And, too, they didn’t approve of great wealth. A moderate income seemed to them more in keeping with high standards and fine traditions than millions. “Of course,” opined Henrietta, “she will marry some one else, if Kim—” “Of course,” returned her mother. “By June, there will be no further danger, I’m sure.” The Webbs had decided not to state, over the telephone, what was the reason for the recalling of the invitations. It seemed to them more decorous merely to say there would be no ceremony, and let the people find out why for themselves. Intimate friends were given a hint, but others received only formal announcements, mostly from the Webb servants. “Of course,” Mrs. Webb said, to her daughter, “Kim saw the truth at last. He realized how undesirable it was that he should marry Elsie, and he chose this way of getting out of it. Not a very commendable way but I, for one, don’t blame the poor boy.” “You wouldn’t blame him if he had chosen to kill Elsie, as a way to escape marrying her,” Henrietta returned, smiling grimly. “Nothing could make me blame my son,” and Mrs. Webb complacently folded her hands. “But, if we have guessed the truth, Kim ought to let us know soon where he really is.” “That’s the queer part,” mused Miss Webb. “Wherever he is, how did he lock his door after him?” The afternoon dragged away, and the evening passed, somehow. There was no further communication between the two houses; it had been agreed that if either family heard any news of the missing bridegroom they would at once notify the others. Fenn Whiting went back and forth from one house to the other several times. He, as best man, was alertly ready to do anything, in any way bearing on the matter. He was in possession of the wedding ring, the tickets for the projected honeymoon trip, luggage checks, and all such details of a best man’s duties. Whiting’s all-around efficiency and his general capability made him a valuable assistant to a bridegroom, and Kimball Webb had entrusted everything to him. “You’d better take the ring, Elsie, and keep it,” Whiting said to her, in the evening. “I’ll try to redeem the tickets, and I’ll cancel the reservations as far as I can. Understand, I’m perfectly sure Kim will turn up soon, but there’s no use holding staterooms and hotel rooms. You see, if the boy has met with some accident,—and to my mind that’s more plausible than a joke,—it may be a day or so before we hear from him, that is, assuming—oh, hang it all! It’s so mysterious there’s no assuming anything! What do you want me to tell the reporters?” “Tell them the truth!” Elsie replied; “there’s no sense in holding anything back. And full details may help to find him. I have no fear that Kim has deserted me,—that’s too ridiculous,—though Henrietta Webb does more than hint at it! No, Fenn, Kimball is as true to me as a magnet to the pole; I don’t care who knows the whole story. Kim has done nothing wrong. A wrong has been done to him.” So all the strange details were given to the press, and next morning’s papers were full of the story of the mysterious disappearance of Kimball Webb on his wedding day. Though not a celebrity, Webb was fairly well known as a playwright. He had had one or two real successes before he went to the war, and since his return had been busy on a new play, that was to be his masterpiece. High comedy, founded on satire, was his field, and the new play was pronounced a wonder by all who had heard its plot and plan. A member of the Workers’, and of a fraternizing nature, he often talked over his play at the Club with other members engaged in the same occupation. He had laid aside his work for a fortnight’s honeymoon, but both he and Elsie were too anxious for the completion of the play in time for late summer production, to devote more time to idleness, and they expected to spend the summer in a mountain resort not too far from New York where Webb could work. Webb was a forceful man, tall, well built, and with a strong, fine face. Athletics were his hobby, but an injury to his knee while in France, was not yet entirely healed. He limped very slightly, and would eventually entirely recover, but at present was debarred from active physical effort. Of the gentle, rather easy-going nature, Webb was an Indian when roused. Even Elsie declared if she ever really deserved his wrath she should run away from him,—nothing would induce her to face him when angry! But, on the other hand, the man was so just in his dealings and so tolerant in his opinions that only righteous indignation would ever move him to punish an offender. For the rest, Kimball Webb was merry, light-hearted, kindly, and if careless of social obligations and indifferent to acquaintances, he was a staunch friend and an ideal lover. All the poetry of his nature was brought out in his love for Elsie Powell, and the girl was enthralled, and sometimes bewildered at the depth and sincerity of his expressions of devotion. And she was worthy of it all. Notwithstanding Henrietta Webb’s disparagement, Elsie Powell was a desirable mate for any true hearted man. Not clever in Kimball’s way, she was a strong, true-hearted woman, and her faithfulness and loyalty quite equalled Kimball’s own. Moreover they were exceedingly congenial, enjoyed the same things, and liked the same people. And Elsie was capable of appreciating Webb’s talent, and interested herself in his plays with an understanding that surpassed that of Henrietta herself. Had it not been for Kimball Webb, Elsie would doubtless have married Fenn Whiting. For the latter had great charm and his passion for Elsie was a matter of long standing. Though a few years older than Webb, he was of a vital energy that defied age and made him seem far younger than he was. But when Elsie made her choice, Whiting stepped back and proved his manliness by a cheerful acceptance of the inevitable. When Webb asked him to be best man, he hesitated but a moment and then agreed to do so. And now, in the mysterious emergency that had come upon them all, Whiting was endeavouring to do whatever he could and whatever Elsie wished him to do, to be of any possible help or comfort. “I think,” Mrs. Powell said, as the evening wore on, “we’ll send Elsie to bed now. You’ve been a good friend, Fenn; I don’t know what we should have done without you. Now, what are we going to do next?” “What is there to do?” spoke up Gerty. “We can do nothing but wait for Kimball to return,—and for my part I don’t believe he ever will. I think there’s more to this thing than a disappearance,—I think you’ll find there’s been a crime—” “Oh, hush, Gert!” wailed Elsie. “I’ve been afraid somebody would say that! I won’t think of it! Anyway, not tonight! And it isn’t true! It can’t be true!” On the verge of a breakdown, after her trying day, Elsie ran out of the room, and her mother followed, bidding Whiting a brief good night as she passed him. Left alone with Gerty Seaman, Whiting asked if she had any errand he might do for her, and then he proposed to say good night. “No,” said Gerty, “there’s nothing more to be done tonight, I should say,—but, oh, Fenn, what do you think of it all?” “What is there to think, Gerty? Every one of us knows as much as the next one about it,—and who among us can suggest even a possible explanation?” “Nobody can,—and yet, Fenn, there must be an explanation. I mean,—Kimball did get out of his room—” “Of his own volition,—of course, Gerty. How he managed to lock the door behind him is, to be sure, an enormous mystery, but not so great a one as to imagine that any one else did it! Why, that idea of a practical joke won’t hold water a minute.” “I thought it was your theory.” “Only until I figured it out. How on earth could anybody abduct Kim, take him from his room unwillingly, and depart, bolting the door behind them? It couldn’t be done. Kim’s fastening the door behind himself is a puzzle, but an easier one, it seems to me, than for an outsider to do it. Kim could get downstairs and out, unobserved, if alone, but not if he was being kidnapped by a jocularly inclined comrade!” “I don’t see it that way,” Gerty said, thoughtfully. “I think the mystery of the locked door is a thing by itself, and in no way affected by or dependent upon other circumstances. However, it doesn’t matter much. Will the police take a hand?” “Yes. I happen to know they are to be at the Webb house this evening. I’m going there now. Oh, Kimmy will be found, of course. Never doubt that!” “But—but, you know about the will, Fenn,—do you suppose he’ll be found by Elsie’s birthday?” “When is that, exactly?” “The thirtieth of June.” “And it’s now the sixth of April. Nearly three months! I should say so! If he isn’t found in that time, he never will be!” “And—what then?” “What then? Oh, you mean about Elsie’s money. I know there’s some tie-up there, but I don’t know just what it is. Her old aunt’s freakishness, wasn’t it?” “Yes; Aunt Elizabeth Powell,—Elsie is named for her. She left all her fortune, millions, to Elsie, with a reservation. You’ve heard the story.” “Not in detail; tell me.” “Well, you see, the Powell money was half my father’s and half his sister’s, Aunt Elizabeth. Father lost all his, sooner or later, in Wall Street. Aunt Elizabeth, she never married, left hers with a Trust Company, this way. Father was to have the interest of it all as long as he lived; then it all went to Elsie,—for the name, you know. Besides, at the time the will was made, my husband was alive and well-to-do. But, you see, only the interest was to come to Elsie, until her wedding day, then she is to have the whole fortune.” “Oh, well, the interest is enough for you all to live on, isn’t it?” “Goodness, yes; we’ve lived on it for years, comfortable enough. But, here’s the trouble. If Elsie isn’t married by the time she is twenty-four, the whole fortune goes to a distant cousin of Aunt Elizabeth.” “What an unjust will!” “Oh, no; you see, everybody would expect Elsie to marry before she was twenty-four. The reason of it all was Aunt Elizabeth’s own love affair. If she had married young all would have been well, but she waited, thinking she was too young, and her lover married somebody else. She never got over it,—I think it affected her mind. She wouldn’t look at anybody else, though she had lots of suitors, of course. So, she made a condition that Elsie should marry before she was twenty-four. And it never seemed to us a hard condition, for Elsie was engaged to Kimball before he went to France, you know. They would have been married much sooner but for the war. However, the wedding day which was to have been today, was in ample time to meet the requirements of the will. And now—” “Oh, well, Gerty, Kim will surely turn up before the birthday in June! And, if he doesn’t,—Elsie will surely marry some one else,—rather than lose the inheritance!” “That’s just it,—she won’t. She’s as stubborn as Aunt Powell herself, and she’d go to the poorhouse before she’d marry anybody but Kimball Webb!” “Don’t worry, Kimball will return. Why, he’s too wrapped up in that play of his to stay away from New York very long.” “But there’s no sense to it all! If somebody spirited Kim off for a joke,—they’d surely returned him in time for the ceremony.” “You’d think so. And the only other alternative is to think that he went away voluntarily,—which is, to say the least, hard on Elsie.” “He never went away because he didn’t want to marry her,—not much!” “Mrs. Webb thinks he was spirited away.” “So do I! But by very human and physical spirits! I firmly believe Henrietta Webb or her mother, or both, managed the whole business, and they will keep Kim out of the way until after Elsie’s birthday, thinking she will marry some one else, and then they’ll produce Kim!” “A queer theory, but perhaps about the easiest one to believe. And if, as you assume, Elsie won’t marry some one else,—what then?” “That’s what I said a few minutes ago. And it will come hardest on mother and me. Elsie doesn’t care much for money,—oh, of course, she likes things comfortable,—she doesn’t realize what it would mean to have them any other way,—but she’d give up all for love. Now, mother and I have absolutely no income except the interest Elsie gets from the Powell money. And I have two little children—and mother is practically an invalid,—and I think I may well ask, what then?” “I think so too, Gerty! It’s tough on you,—I didn’t know all this. Why, it will be awful if Elsie doesn’t marry! What will become of you all?” “I don’t know. I don’t even know how Elsie’s going to look at it. If she sees it right, and if Kimball never returns, of course, she ought to marry some nice man rather than let all that money go! But she’s quite capable of refusing point blank to marry any one but Kim,—and that’s what I think she’ll do.” “She most likely will, if I know anything about Elsie!” “You—you like her,—Fenn?” “Oh, Lord, yes! I’ve been in love with her ever since I’ve known her. But she won’t look at me. And,—ahem, Gerty, I’m not a fortune hunter!” “Oh, no, of course not. But,—I do hope Elsie will be safely married before she reaches twenty-four!” “So do I! I’m with you there! I’d hate to see all that money go out of your family. A pretty shabby will, I call it.” “Oh, no, Fenn; nobody could foresee this thing that has happened. And but for this mysterious disappearance, Elsie would be already married and everything all right.” “She’s willing to allow you and the children and your mother enough to live on, after she’s married?” “Yes, indeed. She’s most generous. Her allowance to us is all we could ask. I wish I knew her ideas about it all.” “Poor child, I don’t believe she has any ideas as yet. It’s an awful shock to her, and it came so suddenly. I wonder she bears up at all.” “Oh, that’s Elsie. You’ll see. Tomorrow, she’ll be ready with all sorts of plans and suggestions about hunting up Kim. They won’t amount to anything,—they can’t, but she’ll try every possible way to find him!” “Hopeless task,—hunting for him, I mean. If he can,—he’ll turn up of his own accord. And if he can’t—” “Fenn! You don’t—you don’t think—he’s—dead, do you?” “I haven’t any reason to think that, Gerty. Yet it must be considered among the possibilities. You know, there’s the question of that diamond pendant. Kim had it with him at the dinner, and he had it after he reached home, last night, for he showed it to his mother, they say. Well, suppose a burglar got into his room to steal that,—it must be worth ten thousand dollars?” “Yes, it is,—or a little more.” “Well, isn’t a burglar a more plausible supposition than a practical joker, after all?” “How did he get in?” “That question, Gerty, must be asked regarding any intruder. Moreover, how did he get out? must be asked in connection with an intruder,—or with Kim alone. Anyway, the diamonds are not to be found,—” “Kim probably has them with him,—wherever he is.” “That’s true enough, but a probability isn’t a certainty.” “If, as I still think, the two Webb women are behind it all,—they have the diamonds.” “Yes, of course. Why are they so down on Elsie?” “Oh, only because she wasn’t born in Boston!” “Really? Is that all?” “Yes; that is, I mean, the Webbs don’t think the Powells in their own social rank. Nobody could dislike Elsie, personally; she’s the sweetest thing in the world!” “Of course she is, but she never seems to hit it off with Friend Henrietta.” “It’s Henrietta’s fault entirely! Elsie has been like an angel to her, but Miss Webb is always haughty and superior. She has never been reconciled to the match and never will be!” “Well, I hope old Kimmy will turn up, and the match will come off,—and in time to save the inheritance!” “The match will come off, if Kimball can be found, whether it’s in time to save the inheritance or not!” This announcement was made by Elsie herself, who suddenly appeared in boudoir robe and cap. “I heard you,” she went on, “and I came in to tell you my decision,—to state my platform!” Her eyes shone with excitement, her cheeks were flushed and she was trembling nervously. “Elsie dear,” begged Gerty, “don’t let’s talk any more about it tonight.” “Yes, I will; I’ve been listening to you two, and as Fenn is going over to the Webbs’ now, and he will see the police there, I suppose, I want him to know just where I stand. I shall make it my work,—my life work, if necessary,—to find Kimball. I know, as well as I know my own name, that he was taken away by force. I won’t say who I think did it, or was responsible for the deed, but I shall get him back! The police can go ahead, let them do all they can,—it won’t be much. The abduction of Kimball Webb,—for it is an abduction,—was a carefully planned, cleverly carried out scheme. I won’t say who’s at the bottom of it,—but I know.” “You mean the Webbs,” said Gerty sagaciously. “It’s an awful thing to say,” Elsie admitted, “but I do mean the Webbs. Who else could it be? That joke business is nonsense,—and besides the jokers would have restored him in time for the wedding. They wouldn’t be so cruel to me.” “No; they wouldn’t,” agreed Whiting. “But, be careful, Elsie, how you accuse the Webbs. You don’t want to get into deeper trouble than—” “I can’t be in deeper trouble than I am now! You know that, Fenn. But I’ve got sense enough to know better than to accuse the Webbs openly! I know that would be the very way to spike my own guns! No, Miss Henrietta Webb is a very clever schemer, but I’ll outwit her yet!” “And if not?” said Gerty, alarmed at the possibilities crowding her mind. “If not, if Kimball Webb is never restored to me, I shall live and die an old maid,—just as Aunt Elizabeth did.” “But, Elsie,” Gerty cried, “think of mother! think of me, and the children! Surely, you have some generosity, some loyalty to your people?” “Not to the extent of selling myself for them,” said Elsie, sternly. “If anybody in this family is to marry for money, you can do it, Gerty. You have several rich suitors, to my certain knowledge—” “Nothing of the sort, Elsie! I think you’re disgraceful!” “No more disgraceful than for me to marry some one I don’t love, in time to secure Aunt Powell’s money! And, anyway, I can look after mother,—I can work—” “Yes! What could you do?” Gerty scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know; stenography or something. Anyway, I could take care of mother, and you certainly could do as much for yourself, Gerty. If you don’t want to marry, you could work, too.” “Oh, Elsie,—and leave this house,—this apartment—” “Yes; I’d far rather, than marry anybody,—anybody except Kimball. But, understand this; I’m going to find that man—” “Elsie!” exclaimed Whiting; “you speak as if he were held somewhere in durance vile!” “Not durance vile, but held,—yes! And by his mother and sister.” “With his own consent?” “Most certainly not!” “Then your theory is rubbish. How could they hold him against his will?” “I don’t know—but I shall find out! Good-night.” |
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