  “You’re right, man,” declared Harbison; “let’s tackle that problem seriously. How could it be done,—no matter how absurd or unlikely the suggestion?” “First,” enumerated Hanley, “there’s Mrs. Webb’s suggestion of spirits.” “It would be hard to beat that for unlikeliness!” said Harbison, speaking very seriously, and entirely ignoring Mrs. Webb’s disdainful expression. “Now, see here,—how about turning the key from the outside by means of a very powerful magnet—” “No such thing possible,” Hanley declared. “There’s not a magnet in existence that could do that. And shoot the bolt also, did you mean?” “Yes, I did. But, of course, it’s only a suggestion. Well, what else?” “Untruthfulness!” said Elsie, suddenly, coming out into the open. “I regret exceedingly to mention such a thing, but as there is no explanation of the alleged facts,—must we not doubt the truth of the alleged facts?” Henrietta Webb glared at her. “Do you mean,” she cried, “that we have not told you the truth about finding Kim’s door locked?” “That’s precisely what I mean!” and a red spot appeared on Elsie’s either cheek. “If you can offer the slightest, vaguest sort of a hint as to how your story could be true, I’ll listen; but if you can’t, you must not be surprised that I refuse to believe it.” “Doubt my word? Let me tell you, miss, a Webb does not speak untruth!” “Not ordinarily,—nor do most of us. But I know, Henrietta, that you would resort to any means to prevent Kimball from marrying me, and I am justified in thinking you have done so.” “What do you mean, Miss Powell,” asked Hanley; “that Mr. Webb went away voluntarily?” “Not exactly. I mean that I think he was persuaded, forced or tricked into going away by his sister, and that the broken lock and burst bolt are fabrications to mislead investigators.” Henrietta Webb looked at Elsie, first with amazed scorn, and then, her face changing to a gentler expression, she said, “You are not quite responsible, dear. I shall not hold your speech against you. And, really, I’m not surprised that you try to grasp at any straw, in this sea of mystery. But,” she turned to Harbison and the detective, “there is no reason to doubt the truth of the story of my brother’s disappearance. Our butler and chauffeur will corroborate it, and will tell you just how much difficulty they had in entering the room.” At Hanley’s request, Hollis and Oscar were summoned, and they told in detail the events of the morning before. “And you heard or saw nothing that could give you the slightest hint as to any reason for Mr. Webb’s disappearance?” “No!” both men answered. “You saw or heard nothing unusual or that you could not understand?” the detective continued. “Well, sir,” Oscar began, “when I ran upstairs, and Miss Webb was waiting outside her brother’s door, I heard her say, to herself, ‘Oh, if it should be!’—sort of excited like.” “Whom was she speaking to?” “To nobody, sir, just to herself.” “What did you mean by that speech, Miss Webb?” Hanley inquired. “I didn’t make it,” replied Henrietta coolly. “Oscar is mistaken. He imagined it all.” “I told you so!” Elsie cried, irrepressibly; “I knew Miss Webb was at the bottom of it all!” “Well, such a speech as that doesn’t prove it,” Hanley observed. “It rather lets her out. If she had concealed her brother previously, why should she say those words? And if she was merely hoping he had gone away, it goes to show she had no hand in the matter.” Henrietta’s face was expressionless, as if the subject interested her not at all. “You will all have to agree with me, sooner or later,” Mrs. Webb began. “There is, as you’ve seen, no normal explanation. Only the supernatural remains. And, you ought to know, that room of Kimball’s has been haunted for a long time.” “What, haunted?” exclaimed Hanley. “Yes, sir. Not only my son and my daughter have heard and seen strange things in it, but the maids have also had such experiences.” “Such as what?” “Hearing queer sounds. Once, there was a complete conversation carried on by voices that belonged to invisible people.” “This is interesting only if confirmed by credible witnesses,” Hanley said. “It interests me, anyway,” said Harbison. “I don’t believe in levitation and the passing of a human body through a locked door, but a haunted room always thrills me. Tell me some more about it.” “I will,” said Henrietta. “For the last year or two, there have been times when voices were audible there. Not loud or entirely distinct,—but vaguely to be heard,—like the sound of a faraway speaker. My brother heard them,—he frequently told me so.” “Well, not frequently, Henrietta,” said her mother, correcting her, “but two or three times.” “Who else heard them?” asked Hanley, briefly. “The servants,” Henrietta informed them. “One chambermaid was so frightened she left at once.” “Oh, fiddlesticks!” cried Harbison. “This gets us nowhere! If they were really spirits it is absurd; and if, as I thought at first, they were human voices, heard through a secret passage or a hollow panel, it’s up to us to find the secret entrance.” “There isn’t any,” declared Hanley. “I’ve sounded and tested every bit of wall in the room.” “All the same, I’d like a try at it,” Harbison declared, and asking permission, he went alone up to the room that had been Kimball Webb’s. “Who saw Mr. Webb last?” asked Hanley, by way of pursuing his duty. “I suppose I did,” answered his mother. “He came to my room to say good night, as he often does, after he’s been out late. We had a little chat, and then he kissed me good night, and I heard him go upstairs.” “Did you hear him, Miss Webb?” “N—no; I was asleep.” “And he didn’t wake you as he passed your door?” “No; it was closed. I didn’t hear his footsteps.” “But you went up to his room later!” Elsie cried, accusingly. “N—no, I didn’t! What do you mean?” Henrietta Webb spoke hesitatingly; one would have said she was prevaricating, from the manner of her speech. But she looked straight at Elsie, and demanded an explanation of her words. “Then, you were up in Kim’s room before he came home that night.” “No, I wasn’t. Why do you say these things?” “When were you in your brother’s room last, before he—went away?” Elsie demanded. “Oh, not for several days. I sometimes go up there to chat with him, but he’s been so pre-occupied lately, with his play and his wedding preparations both, that I haven’t intruded on his time.” “You were up there the night before last, after Kim came home from the dinner!” Elsie declared, looking straight at Miss Webb, “and you sat on the little sofa between the front windows.” “I’ve been considerate of you, Elsie,” Miss Webb said, coldly, “because I feel sorry for you, and I make allowances for your disturbed nerves and your—your natural lack of poise,—but, I warn you I won’t stand everything! Your accusations are not only false, they’re ridiculous! If I had gone to Kim’s room and talked to him after his return, why should I deny it?” “Because you’re afraid it will incriminate you!—in his disappearance! Oh, Henrietta, where is he? Give him back to me! I love him so—I want him so! Oh, Kimball,—my love—” The girl gave way and burst into hysterical tears. Truly, she had not the poise of the woman before her,—but she had resiliency. In a moment she pulled herself together, steadied her voice, and said; “You were in Kim’s room that night,—and I can prove it by a witness! Stay here,—all of you!” She ran out of the room, and they heard her go upstairs. “Don’t put too much reliance on what Miss Powell says,” Henrietta said to the detective. “She’s not quite herself.” “All right, ma’am,” returned Hanley, but he looked closely at the speaker. “Any news?” asked a man’s voice from the doorway, and Fenn Whiting came into the room. “I couldn’t keep away,” he went on. “I’ve been over to the Powells’ and they said Elsie was here.” He looked about. “She is,” began Henrietta, but Harbison, who had returned from his futile quest, impatiently broke in. “I say, Whiting, listen to my theory.” He proceeded to detail the matter of Courtney’s play and recalled to Whiting the wrath that Courtney exhibited at the bachelor dinner. “By Jove, he was mad!” Whiting agreed, his attention arrested at once by the ideas Harbison put forth. “And, though it sounds like a cock and bull story,” Harbison went on, “suppose Wally thinks to himself, if I could only tie Kim up somewhere till I can get my play finished and accepted by a manager, it will be my salvation! Now, of course, if he kidnapped Kim it had to be done before the wedding, so—” “It’s far-fetched,” said Whiting thoughtfully, “but I’ll say it’s the first thing I’ve heard put forth by way of a motive. You know finding a motive is a necessary step to be taken before finding the perpetrator of this thing.” “I know the motive,” Elsie’s voice announced, as she entered in time to hear Whiting’s closing words. “I’ve found the perpetrator,—and I did have proof,—but she’s destroyed it.” Elsie’s stern gaze at Henrietta Webb decidedly discomfited that cool, calm personality, and for the first time Miss Webb’s poise seemed about to desert her. Ignoring the others, Elsie addressed herself to Hanley. “I found a real clue, yesterday morning,” she said, “when I went up to look around Mr. Webb’s room. On the floor, in front of the little sofa were several white marks,—” “How absurd!” cried Henrietta; “I beg of you don’t discuss the shortcomings of a careless housemaid!” “White marks,” Elsie went on, as if uninterrupted, “that were made by the rubbing on the carpet of a woman’s white shoes. Shoes, I mean, that had been whitened with some of those chalk preparations that most women use,—or their maids use for them.” A side glance at Henrietta’s face showed Elsie that it was as white as the chalk in question, but she went on: “I know that those marks were made by Miss Webb’s shoes; I know that it was at her request that the maid carefully removed the marks from the green carpet; I know she gave the maid orders to say nothing about the matter; and I know she has destroyed or concealed those shoes!” Henrietta’s face became like a stone. Impassive, unreadable, its expression showed neither embarrassment nor fear. Only in her eyes was there a sign of perturbation. Her glance at Elsie was defiant, and a little threatening. “Well, Miss Webb,” Hanley began, “you advised me not to be too much impressed by Miss Powell’s statements, so I’ll ask you for a bit of explanation right here.” “There is nothing to explain,” Henrietta began, calmly; “I deny everything she has asserted. I may have been in my brother’s room during the past week, I may have left some white marks from my shoes on the carpet, but I do not recollect such an occasion, nor do I think it at all pertinent to the matter in hand. As to the matter of the housemaid, that is pure fabrication. I am not in the habit of conniving with servants, as Miss Powell seems to be.” “Which shoes of yours are so whitened that the marks on the carpet are usual,—and where are the shoes?” Elsie demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Miss Webb. “I really don’t know,” Henrietta shrugged her shoulders. “You must ask Janet, she looks after my wardrobe.” “Come, come, Miss Powell,” said Hanley, impressed more by Henrietta’s indifference than by Elsie’s “clue.” “I don’t think you’re adapted to detective work. You overestimate the importance of trifles.” “Nothing is a trifle if it points the way to discovery,” said Elsie, her brown eyes flashing and her red lips quivering as she looked from one to another for help or sympathy. And it came, from Fenn Whiting. “I think, Miss Webb,” he said, a bit shortly, “that you owe us a little information. Doesn’t the maid clean the rooms each morning?” “Certainly.” “Then white marks, as of chalked shoes, early in the morning would seem to me to imply that you were there the night before. Why not own up to it? It couldn’t have been on any secret errand?” “Of course it couldn’t. But I wasn’t there at all. The marks, if they existed outside of Elsie’s imagination, must have been made by one of the maids. They wear white shoes sometimes.” “Then call the maid, and let her produce the shoes,” cried Elsie. “I tell you, Mr. Hanley, this is a clue, and a real one. If you let it slip, you are not doing your duty.” Hanley became angry. “It isn’t for a man twelve years on the force to be taught his duty by a chit of a girl who ought to be in school herself!” he exploded, and the nod of approval from Henrietta decided him to go on. “I’m sorry, indeed, for you, Miss Powell, and it’s a small wonder that you’re nearly distracted, but I must insist that it isn’t right for you to imagine that Miss Webb is implicated. It seems to me much more likely that we ought to look in the direction of this Mr. Courtney. If he is the sort of a man to stop at nothing in the furtherance of his own schemes, I can believe that he has somehow secreted Kimball Webb in order to get his play done first.” “How could he?” Elsie cried; “how could he get into the house? How could he get Kimball out?” “Those questions are unanswerable at present, no matter who the suspect is,” the detective returned, imperturbably. “Now, look here, Miss Powell, I want to know about this will business. I’ve only heard a vague story. Is it true that if you are not married by a certain date, your fortune is taken away from you?” “It is,” she replied; “and the date is the thirtieth of June. This gives us three months, nearly, to find Mr. Kimball Webb.” “And that’s about time enough for Mr. Wallace Courtney to finish his precious play! I predict that you will not see Mr. Webb until Mr. Courtney’s play is finished!” “And you’re going to let him get away with it!” cried Harbison. “Can one man put another aside in that fashion, at will, without prevention or even protest?” “Well, hardly; but after all, it may not be Mr. Courtney at all. Here’s another point I want cleared up. In the event of your not marrying by the given date, Miss Powell, what becomes of your aunt’s money?” “It will go to a cousin of hers, who lives out West somewhere. I don’t know exactly where.” “A relative of yours?” “No; my aunt was my father’s half sister. This man is a connection of her mother, and is no relation to my father or myself.” “You know him?” “Only his name, Joseph Allison. I’ve never seen him, never heard from him. You see, there was no question of the fortune not being mine, as I expected to marry Mr. Kimball well within the prescribed time.” “I see; and may we not assume an interest on the part of this young man as to the disposition of the estate, in the event of your not marrying?” “Hullo!” exclaimed Harbison, “that opens up a new field of conjecture. May not the young man have been sufficiently interested to go to the length of removing Kimball Webb from the field of action altogether?” “Oh, no,” Elsie said. “You see, it’s this way. Mr. Allison tried to break the will at the time of my aunt’s death, four years ago; but there wasn’t a chance of it, and so, as the lawyers told me, he gracefully gave up the matter and has never been heard from since.” “That doesn’t prevent his still being interested,” persisted Hanley. “You see, Miss Powell, I’m an experienced detective. I’m no story-book chap, but I’m a good plain worker, and I keep my eyes open, with the result that I see a hole through a millstone, now and then. And, I think I’ve learned about all I can pick up here, just now. I shall look into the matter of Mr. Courtney and his play; also into the affairs of Mr. Joseph Allison. And let me advise you, Miss Powell, not to put your inexperienced fingers into pies that you don’t understand. A girl of your age and ignorance of these things can’t be a detective,—even an amateur one. So leave it all to those who know the ropes.” Hanley went away, and the others remained for a time. There was a silence at first, and then Henrietta said, “I’m not going to reprove you, Elsie, I feel too sorry for you to do that, but I am going to ask you not to trump up any more such foolish yarns as the one you spun about the white shoes!” “What became of the shoes, then?” asked Elsie, bluntly. “What shoes? There are no especial shoes to be considered. Drop the subject, dear. Such harping on it makes it seem as if you were not quite calmed down yet.” “And I’m not, and I never shall be, until Kimball is given back to me! I’m going to find him, myself, I don’t care what that detective says. Who is going to help me?” “I, for one,” said Henry Harbison, promptly. “I’m mighty sorry for you, Miss Powell, and you may command me as you like.” “Thank you, Mr. Harbison; I know you’re a firm friend of Kimball’s and I gladly accept your friendship also.” “I suppose you know you can depend on me to see you through, without any definite avowal,” said Fenn Whiting, smiling. “Of course, Fenn, you are my right-hand man. But I want all the help I can get.” “We’ll help you, Elsie,” Henrietta began, but Elsie only gave her a scornful glance. “When you are ready to help, Henrietta, begin by telling me about your white shoes.” Miss Webb made a scornful gesture, as of one powerless to aid such a wilful girl, and Mrs. Webb began on her hobby. “You can all search and detect and deduce all you like; there is nothing that can explain Kim’s disappearance or solve the mystery of his absence except supernatural forces. Carp as you will, object as you see fit, you must admit there’s no other way out!” “You’re right, to a degree, Mrs. Webb,” said Fenn Whiting slowly; “there’s no other way out! I don’t for a minute believe in spooks, but—I’m ready to agree there’s no other way out.” “Then we must stay in,” said Harbison. “Not we!” declared Elsie; “not I, at least. And you men have promised to help me. Now, first of all, is there any chance of Joe Allison being implicated? I hadn’t thought of it,—but it must, as Mr. Hanley said, be looked into.” “How could he manage it?” asked Whiting. “Courtney looks more possible, if you ask me.” “I do ask you,” said Elsie, “I ask you all. I want your help, your counsel, your advice. I am inexperienced, I’ve no knowledge of police work or detective work, but I have courage, hope and a will that is unbreakable and unshakable! I will go through fire and water, I will move heaven and earth, I will face danger of any sort, I will suffer or endure anything,—if it will help in the least degree to get Kimball back.” “Never mind the theatrical demonstration, Elsie,” said Henrietta, scoffingly, “we all want Kim back, but we don’t announce it from the housetops!” “Nor am I doing so,” Elsie spoke quietly but with flashing eyes; “I will omit all personal remarks, hereafter, but I must still insist upon my determination and my perseverance,—which, after all, are my stock in trade!” “Good for you, Elsie,” and Whiting smiled at her. “I’m with you, and we’ll never let up until we find the boy! Harbison, you’re in on this?” “To a finish! Now, how do we begin? I’m all for looking up Courtney. It’s too much of a coincidence that he should want Kim out of the way,—and, immediately, Kim is out of the way! Isn’t that a bit curious?” “It is, now you put it that way,” and Whiting looked visibly impressed. “Let’s run him to cover first of all.” And then, the telephone bell rang, and Detective Hanley informed them that Wallace Courtney had disappeared as suddenly and as inexplicably as Kimball Webb had himself! “That settles it!” declared Harbison, jumping up and grasping his hat. “I’ve got to get in on the ground floor! Good-bye, all!” He left the house hastily, and Fenn Whiting was eager to follow. But he spoke first to Elsie. “Shall I go,” he asked, “or stay with you?” “Go!” she cried, with shining eyes. “At last, we’re beginning to do something! Go and find out all you can about Mr. Courtney, and report to me at my home. I’m going over there,—as soon as I have this matter out with Henrietta!” |
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