  “Well, I’m a red-blooded young American, and I’m not denying that a fortune of a few millions would come in mighty handy in my business!” The speaker was Joe Allison, and he was paying his first call on the Powells. They liked him at once, for one could scarce help liking the breezy mannered light-hearted chap, and his frankness and straightforwardness won Elsie’s heart. “Of course,” he went on,—they were talking of Miss Elizabeth Powell’s will, “the whole thing is pretty ridiculous,—freak wills are,—but it’s none of my quarrel that she should run me in as an afterclap. You have the inside track, Cousin Elsie,—let me call you that,—but I have a right to feel an interest in your doings. And I’ve heard,—I may as well speak frankly,—I’ve heard it rumoured that you’re determined to marry nobody,—nobody in the world,—except Mr. Webb. Who is, I understand, unavailable for the moment.” “That’s all true,—” Elsie admitted, but Gerty spoke up: “Only true in part, Mr. Allison.” “Oh, call me Joe. I’m not really related, but it makes me feel good to be connected in any way with the Powell money.” “I fear you’ve a mercenary spirit,” said Mrs. Powell, smiling at the boyish face. “No more so than the average man. I’m no dollar-grabber, but when I’m up against a possible inheritance, I want to know how strong a probability there is.” “A decidedly strong one, Joe,” Elsie said, looking at him, but Gerty again interrupted. “Don’t take her too seriously,” she begged. “Elsie doesn’t realize her own position. And there’s considerable time yet for her to come to a true sense of things as they are,—” “And time to find the missing man,” suggested Joe, cheerfully. “I am not going to pretend I don’t want to be the old lady’s heir, for I do,—but not at the expense of Elsie’s happiness. I’ve known you less than half an hour, Cousin Elsie, but, by George, I’m for you!” “Why?” said Elsie, with a real curiosity. “First, because you’re so pretty; second, because you’re so plucky; and third, because the whole thing is so much of a gamble,—it would be an awful pity for you to lose out,—even if it would be nuts for me!” “You’re a good sort, Joe; and, truly, if Kimball Webb never reappears, and you inherit Aunt Elizabeth’s money, I’ll be glad for you—” “Come, come, Elsie,” said her mother, pettishly, “that’s all right in Sunday-school books, and Uplift pamphlets, but we live in a practical world, and I don’t propose to let you do yourself the injustice of losing your rightful fortune for a bit of misplaced sentiment. You’re young,—too young to realize what it would mean to you to go through life alone and poor. And that’s what your life will be if you refuse to marry any one except Kimball. You must know that he may never return. Of course it is possible that he will,—but he may not. And in that case, I shall insist on your marrying some other good and worthy man,—if only for the sake of your financial well-being in the future.” “And that of your family,” added Allison, sagaciously, quite sensing the undercurrent of Mrs. Powell’s thoughts. “That, too,” she admitted. “Elsie knows that our happiness depends upon her course in the matter. Gerty’s husband, a well-to-do lawyer, was killed in action; for myself, I am practically penniless. It is, therefore, Elsie’s duty to sacrifice herself to some extent for those dependent on her. I am an invalid, Gerty has the care and support of two tiny children, and I am sure we are not unduly selfish in our attitude.” “And it isn’t,” Gerty took up the tale, “as if we were asking anything wrong or unusual of Elsie. There is some time yet for her to look around and choose among her various suitors,—and she has lots of them,—” “Naturally,” said Allison, dryly. “Oh, I don’t mean fortune-hunters! There are plenty of men who love Elsie for herself alone. And they are first class, desirable men, who would make delightful husbands.” “Gerty, you give me the shivers!” exclaimed Elsie. “I’m merely an investment, it would seem! I can tell you, Mr. Allison,—Joe,—I do not propose to marry somebody in order to secure a fortune for my people! I am fond of them, I will work for them, but I refuse to sell myself for them!” “Fine talk, Cousin Elsie,” the young man said, smiling, “but you won’t last out. Let me see, Mr. Webb has been missing three days now,—isn’t it?” “Yes; three days, now.” “And you have three months in which to find him,—you see I know the main facts. Well, I hate to be discouraging, but I don’t believe you’ll ever see that man again,—and you may as well begin to pick his successor.” “I started out by liking you, Joe, but you’ve changed my attitude,” Elsie exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with anger. “How can you speak like that?” “I’m a hardheaded Westerner, Elsie, and I look things square in the face. It’s out of all thinking that Webb was kidnapped! Such things aren’t done! And, too, how could it be possible?” “How could his departure be possible, anyway?” “Far easier, if he went of his own accord, than if he were forced to go against his will. In fact, my girl, you must see that he couldn’t have been taken unwillingly. Granting the mystery of the locked room, it can be,—it must be explained in some way,—but, only if Webb went away of his own volition. You must see that?” “I do,” declared Gerty, “and Elsie does too, only she won’t admit it.” “I don’t,” Elsie denied; “but I refuse to discuss the subject at all. I find it does no good. Nothing does any good! Here, three days have passed; a detective has done his best,—and it amounted to nothing at all! Two of my friends,—Mr. Whiting and Mr. Harbison have done their best,—and it has amounted to nothing at all; Kimball’s mother and sister have done their best—” “Are you sure of them?” Allison broke in; “I mean, are you sure they are hunting him,—or, are they foxy enough—” He paused and looked from one to another to guess their attitude toward the Webb ladies. “I don’t think they know anything more about Kimball than I do,” said Elsie, slowly. “I did think Henrietta engineered the whole thing,—and I had reason to think so,—I still have,—but, not enough to make me feel sure of it.” “I’m keen on the mystery part of it,” said Allison. “I’ve a fondness for mystery and I’d like to know just how Mr. Webb did get out of that room,—that is, if it was as securely locked as the stories made it out.” “Oh, it was;” Elsie nodded her head, positively. “That is, if Henrietta’s story is true. And it must be, for she couldn’t make all the servants stick to a made-up tale, after all the grilling they’ve been through by the detectives and by all of us. Yes, I do believe that Hollis and Oscar,—they’re the two men servants,—broke in, just as they say they did.” “Then it’s the mystery of the century!” young Allison exclaimed. “I’m going to take a hand at it!” Elsie smiled with an indulgent air. “All right, Joe, go ahead. But, the very simplicity of it all is the baffling part. Door and windows fastened on the inside, and the man gone, with no trace of how he got out, where he went to, or where he is now.” “Can you beat it?” and Allison’s round face fairly glowed with interest. “No secret passage?” “No; everybody’s tried to find one, but there’s no unexplained space in the walls, or between partitions, or anything of the sort. Mr. Whiting is an architect, and he showed the police detective how he could see there is no chance for any secret exit. The walls are intact and solid,—oh, I don’t know how to express it, but there’s absolutely no chance of a sliding panel or secret staircase or passage.” “Makes it still more interesting. What theories have been suggested?” “Nothing definite, except Kimball’s mother’s idea that spirits wafted him away!” “Oh, I don’t mean idiotic talk, like that! Is the maternal Webb a Spookist?” “Of the deepest dye. She really believes Kimball was carried bodily through a closed door—” “Don’t waste time on that. What does the detective think?” “Can’t think of anything,—that fits all conditions. But he says Kimball must have gone away purposely, and, in some unexplained fashion, locked the door after him.” “Street door open?” “No; locked and bolted as usual.” “Beautiful case! Finest mystery I ever heard of! I’m going to imperil my chance at the fortune and try to get your man back for you!” “That’s nice of you, Joe, but I wish I had more hope of your success.” Elsie’s disconsolate face did not brighten at her cousin’s offer. “Look here, Elsie; what say to offering a reward? Make a nice big sum,—contingent on the restoration of your lover,—and then if I can find him for you, I lose the fortune,—but I get the prize money.” “Oh, I’ll do that, Joe! Gladly. How much shall I make it? Ten thousand dollars?” “No; fifty thousand. You see, I want a slice of the money and,—to be honest,—I don’t think you’d let the fortune slip for want of a bridegroom.” “Indeed she won’t!” cried Gerty. “She’ll see reason before the thirtieth of June!” “That’s what I think,” agreed Joe; “so, Cousin Elsie, you’ll never miss fifty thousand from your millions, and it’ll do me a power of good!” “You haven’t solved the mystery yet,” said Elsie, but her face had brightened at the mere idea of Joe’s success. “Then, if I don’t, you won’t have to pay me.” “Also,” said Mrs. Powell, “if some one else wins the reward—” “That’s all right,” said Joe, casually. “If so, Elsie’ll be mighty glad to pay it!” “Of course I will! I’d pay it to anybody who will restore my lover!” “And a good investment, too; the return of the man means the assurance of the money.” Fenn Whiting did not altogether approve of the plan of a reward. When he came to see Elsie, after Allison had left the house, he advised against it. “You see, dear,” he said, “it is all right to offer the money to your cousin, but the lure of a big reward will attract all sorts and conditions of men, and you’ll get involved in devious bothers.” “Such as what?” demanded Elsie. “I don’t care who gets the money if Kimball is found. You know, Fenn, Kim must be somewhere! I don’t for a minute believe he is dead, do you?” “No; there’s no reason to think that. Who would have any motive for killing him?—that is,—except,—oh, Elsie, can’t you see an inch in front of your nose? The only one with a possible motive for taking Kim away from you is that precious cousin of yours,—though why you call him cousin, I don’t know.” “Joe Allison! Why, Fenn, if you saw that boy, you’d never associate any wrong doing with him! He’s the frankest, most honest—” “Elsie! how innocent you are! Surely, child, you must have intelligence,—if not experience enough to see that a scamp would assume honesty and frankness of demeanour—” “But you haven’t seen Joe!” “No matter. I know he’s the only one with a motive,—if we except Wally Courtney.” “Haven’t they found him yet?” “No; but they’re on his trail. He is hiding somewhere, but I don’t believe he’s responsible for Kim’s disappearance. How could he be?” “He could be,—as well as any one else. How could anybody be the means of,—and yet somebody was!” “Nobody but Kim himself,—Elsie. The method of his disappearance is still a mystery, but a motive for any one is more dubious still. I merely mentioned this Allison, but after all, I can’t believe he came here to New York from Chicago, got into a strange house, abducted a strong, able-bodied man, and spirited him away, leaving the doors locked behind him! Your theory of Miss Webb’s connivance is more plausible than that!” “You mix me all up, Fenn! I thought at first you suspected Joe.” “I suspect no one, because, as yet, I’ve found no real motive. But this Allison can be said to have a motive,—and still, my reason won’t let me suspect him. We’re all of us at sea, Elsie. We all speculate, and wonder and assume,—then, when it comes to a positive suspicion, we can’t find a logical one.” “Then I am sure I’m right in offering a reward,—and a big one. You see, if Kim isn’t found in time, I won’t have to pay it,—and if he is found, I shall marry him at once and so have plenty of money to pay it!” “You mean, make the payment contingent on his restoration before your birthday?” “Of course. I shall never marry any one else. I’ll wait for ever for him. If he never comes back to me, I shall never marry. If he comes after my birthday,—then Joe Allison will have the money and I will be a poor girl.” “How foolish you are, Elsie!” “You think so?” “No, dear, not really. I appreciate your loyal love, and I know you can’t dream of marrying another man. But,—you may change your mind later. And, remember, Elsie, I have always loved you. I’m not asking you to marry me, now; but if Kim doesn’t return before your birthday, and if the money goes to Allison, and if you’re, as you say, a girl dependent on your own efforts,—for I suppose you wouldn’t accept an allowance from Allison?” “He hasn’t offered one, I never thought of such a thing! Yes, I would accept it for mother and Gerty and the children! Not for myself.” “He wouldn’t make you any such allowance as your mother and Gerty would want. You know, Elsie, they are a bit mercenary.” “You sha’n’t call them that! They’ve always had lots of money,—they can’t get along without it. And Gerty isn’t strong, and mother is growing more of an invalid every day, and the children are expensive little things. Oh, Fenn, what can I do? I can’t see my people in want! And I can’t marry somebody just to get a fortune for them!” “I’m in a sorry predicament, dear, when I try to advise you; you know how I love you,—how long I have loved you. When I found you had chosen Kimball, I never obtruded my claims. But, now,—oh, Elsie, I can’t ask you to marry me to save the fortune! I’m not such a poor thing as that! But, if Allison gets the money, and if he will look after your mother and Gerty, won’t you, dearest, won’t you let me provide for you?—I can’t offer to take the whole family,—I’m not a rich man,—but I love you so,—dear,—and all I can say is, that you must remember my only wish is to serve you,—in any way. Command me anything,—anything, Elsie!” “Very well, Fenn, find Kimball for me.” “I’ll do my best, dear. If I don’t succeed, you’ll know I tried.” “You’re a good friend, Fenn; and I’ll say this. I shall never—never marry any other man but my Kim, but I like you best of all my friends, and I depend on you most of all to help me.” “You may, Elsie. Now, are you determined to offer this reward?” “Oh, yes; and if you win it—” “Don’t! dear heart, you don’t know how you hurt me! Do you think for a minute I’d take it?” “I don’t see why not, if you earn it, by restoring Kim to me.” “Well, don’t let’s speak of reward! To give you happiness is all the reward I shall ask. I don’t want pay for that!” A visitor was announced, and in another minute Joe Allison entered the room. “Oh, Elsie,” he cried; “I’m finding out things! Beg pardon, I thought you were alone.” Elsie introduced the two men, and Joe favoured Fenn Whiting with a long steady glance. “How do you do?” he said; “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Whiting, for lots of reasons.” “Thank you,” said Whiting; “am I to know them?” “You bet. But, I say, you’re in with us on this deal?” “Rather! Still, I’d like to know more of your ideas of what the deal is.” “Oh, yes; sure. I mean this notion of Elsie’s offering a reward for the return of her missing man.” “Don’t speak of it so—so bluntly, Joe,” Elsie urged. “I side with Miss Powell,” Whiting said; “seems to me, Mr. Allison, the matter might be put more delicately.” “Oh, all right. But I’m a blunt man,—Westerners have that rep. Anyway, I’m keen on the scent.” “What have you found out?” cried Elsie. “I’ve found that Mr. Courtney, for one thing.” “Where is he?” exclaimed Whiting and Elsie, too. “He’s practically in hiding, but not for concealment at all; merely to get a chance to work in peace, I take it.” “Where is he?” insisted Whiting. “He’s staying with a Miss Lulie Lloyd,—only she won’t admit it.” “Lulie Lloyd!” Elsie cried; “why, she’s Kim’s stenographer.” “Yep; I found that out, too. Well, Miss Lloyd has an apartment of her own,—lives there with her mother,—if it is her mother,—and I believe for the present, Mr. Wallace Courtney is making his abode there also.” “What’s he doing there?” “Working like mad on his play!” “Oh, then he did steal Kim away!” and Elsie’s eyes grew wide with glad surprise. “If that’s so, we can soon get Kim back! I hoped it was Mr. Courtney, but I couldn’t believe it!” “I can’t believe it yet,” put in Whiting. “How did you get all this, Mr. Allison?” “Just by nosing around. I found out that Miss Lloyd had been Mr. Webb’s stenographer, and I went to see her—” “Why?” “Just to quiz her, and maybe find out a thing or two. You know a stenographer is often a mine of information regarding her employer,—whether she lets go of it or not.” “And did she?” Whiting was agog with interest. “She did not! She has the tightest closed pair of lips that ever felt a lipstick! She told me just about nothing. But—I caught on to some points! I’ll say I did!” “Go on,” said Elsie, breathlessly, “what about Kim?” “Nothing about him,—nothing at all. But it’s my belief she has Mr. Courtney there,—in her place,—because of her—well, because of a lot of things I saw.” “You went there?” “I did. And Miss Lloyd so little expected any inquisitive intruders that I caught her utterly unprepared. I rather rudely brushed past the maid, who was taking my card to the lady, and I entered the room just as an inner door closed behind a hurried departure of somebody. I only deduce that somebody was Mr. Wallace Courtney, for these reasons. First, there was a definite odour of good cigar smoke in the room. Second, there were papers and notebooks scattered about a desk,—whose chair was pushed aside as if just vacated by its occupant. Third, Miss Lloyd, herself, who rose hastily from her typewriter table, was exceedingly flustered and absurdly angry at my intrusion.” “Hadn’t she a right to be?” asked Whiting, a little severely, for he did not approve of the young man’s easy-going ways. “Sure she had! I fully expected it. Well, I simply said, ‘Where’s Mr. Courtney gone?’ and she did the high and mighty, ‘I don’t know what you mean, sir!’ with a loud exclamation point after the ‘sir!’ And then with the usual tragedy queen gag, she pointed to the door. But I had caught on to the dope I was after, and casually picking up a few sheets of the copy she had just written, I saw it was a play, and I saw the characters in said play, were named. ‘Mrs. Saltonstall, Mr. Cabot and Miss Adams.’ I glanced at the notes on the abandoned desk hard by, and found the same names scribbled there. To make assurance sure, I helped myself to a page of the scribblement, and came away. That was all I did there. Then I went to the Workers’ Club, and somehow or other I wormed myself in, and I managed to get the information from a friend of Mr. Courtney’s that the page of scribbled notes is in his handwriting and that Mr. Courtney’s play included the characters named as I have hereinbefore enumerated! That’s about all.” “And enough!” cried Whiting. “Man, you’re a wonder! Courtney is there, of course—” “And I see farther into it than you do!” Elsie exclaimed; “that Lulie Lloyd is giving Mr. Courtney all the points of Kim’s play! She’s Kim’s stenographer, you know!” |
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