The Best of Mary Roberts Rinehart

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

  "He left here about ten minutes after eight," Mr. Jamieson said. "He went alone, and at eight twenty he stopped at Doctor Walker's. I went to the doctor's about midnight, but he had been called out on a case, and had not come back at four o'clock. From the doctor's it seems Mr. Innes walked across the lawn to the cottage Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter have taken. Mrs. Armstrong had retired, and he said perhaps a dozen words to Miss Louise. She will not say what they were, but the girl evidently suspects what has occurred. That is, she suspects foul play, but she doesn't know of what nature. Then, apparently, he started directly for the station. He was going very fast--the flagman at the Carol Street crossing says he saw the car pass. He knew the siren. Along somewhere in the dark stretch between Carol Street and the depot he evidently swerved suddenly--perhaps some one in the road--and went full into the side of a freight. We found it there last night."

  "He might have been thrown under the train by the force of the shock," I said tremulously.

  Gertrude shuddered.

  "We examined every inch of track. There was--no sign."

  "But surely--he can't be--gone!" I cried. "Aren't there traces in the mud--anything?"

  "There is no mud--only dust. There has been no rain. And the footpath there is of cinders. Miss Innes, I am inclined to think that he has met with bad treatment, in the light of what has gone before. I do not think he has been murdered." I shrank from the word. "Burns is back in the country, on a clue we got from the night clerk at the drug-store. There will be two more men here by noon, and the city office is on the lookout."

  "The creek?" Gertrude asked.

  "The creek is shallow now. If it were swollen with rain, it would be different. There is hardly any water in it. Now, Miss Innes," he said, turning to me, "I must ask you some questions. Had Mr. Halsey any possible reason for going away like this, without warning?"

  "None whatever."

  "He went away once before," he persisted. "And you were as sure then."

  "He did not leave the Dragon Fly jammed into the side of a freight car before."

  "No, but he left it for repairs in a blacksmith shop, a long distance from here. Do you know if he had any enemies? Any one who might wish him out of the way?"

  "Not that I know of, unless--no, I can not think of any."

  "Was he in the habit of carrying money?"

  "He never carried it far. No, he never had more than enough for current expenses."

  Mr. Jamieson got up then and began to pace the room. It was an unwonted concession to the occasion.

  "Then I think we get at it by elimination. The chances are against flight. If he was hurt, we find no trace of him. It looks almost like an abduction. This young Doctor Walker--have you any idea why Mr. Innes should have gone there last night?"

  "I can not understand it," Gertrude said thoughtfully. "I don't think he knew Doctor Walker at all, and--their relations could hardly have been cordial, under the circumstances."

  Jamieson pricked up his ears, and little by little he drew from us the unfortunate story of Halsey's love affair, and the fact that Louise was going to marry Doctor Walker.

  Mr. Jamieson listened attentively.

  "There are some interesting developments here," he said thoughtfully. "The woman who claims to be the mother of Lucien Wallace has not come back. Your nephew has apparently been spirited away. There is an organized attempt being made to enter this house; in fact, it has been entered. Witness the incident with the cook yesterday. And I have a new piece of information."

  He looked carefully away from Gertrude. "Mr. John Bailey is not at his Knickerbocker apartments, and I don't know where he is. It's a hash, that's what it is. It's a Chinese puzzle. They won't fit together, unless--unless Mr. Bailey and your nephew have again--"

  And once again Gertrude surprised me. "They are not together," she said hotly. "I--know where Mr. Bailey is, and my brother is not with him."

  The detective turned and looked at her keenly.

  "Miss Gertrude," he said, "if you and Miss Louise would only tell me everything you know and surmise about this business, I should be able to do a great many things. I believe I could find your brother, and I might be able to--well, to do some other things." But Gertrude's glance did not falter.

  "Nothing that I know could help you to find Halsey," she said stubbornly. "I know absolutely as little of his disappearance as you do, and I can only say this: I do not trust Doctor Walker. I think he hated Halsey, and he would get rid of him if he could."

  "Perhaps you are right. In fact, I had some such theory myself. But Doctor Walker went out late last night to a serious case in Summitville, and is still there. Burns traced him there. We have made guarded inquiry at the Greenwood Club, and through the village. There is absolutely nothing to go on but this. On the embankment above the railroad, at the point where we found the machine, is a small house. An old woman and a daughter, who is very lame, live there. They say that they distinctly heard the shock when the Dragon Fly hit the car, and they went to the bottom of their garden and looked over. The automobile was there; they could see the lights, and they thought someone had been injured. It was very dark, but they could make out two figures, standing together. The women were curious, and, leaving the fence, they went back and by a roundabout path down to the road. When they got there the car was still standing, the headlight broken and the bonnet crushed, but there was no one to be seen."

  The detective went away immediately, and to Gertrude and me was left the woman's part, to watch and wait. By luncheon nothing had been found, and I was frantic. I went up-stairs to Halsey's room finally, from sheer inability to sit across from Gertrude any longer, and meet her terror-filled eyes.

  Liddy was in my dressing-room, suspiciously red-eyed, and trying to put a right sleeve in a left armhole of a new waist for me. I was too much shaken to scold.

  "What name did that woman in the kitchen give?" she demanded, viciously ripping out the offending sleeve.

  "Bliss. Mattie Bliss," I replied.

  "Bliss. M. B. Well, that's not what she has on he suitcase. It is marked N. F. C."

  The new cook and her initials troubled me not at all. I put on my bonnet and sent for what the Casanova liveryman called a "stylish turnout." Having once made up my mind to a course of action, I am not one to turn back. Warner drove me; he was plainly disgusted, and he steered the livery horse as he would the Dragon Fly, feeling uneasily with his left foot for the clutch, and working his right elbow at an imaginary horn every time a dog got in the way.

  Warner had something on his mind, and after we had turned into the road, he voiced it.

  "Miss Innes," he said. "I overheard a part of a conversation yesterday that I didn't understand. It wasn't my business to understand it, for that matter. But I've been thinking all day that I'd better tell you. Yesterday afternoon, while you and Miss Gertrude were out driving, I had got the car in some sort of shape again after the fire, and I went to the library to call Mr. Innes to see it. I went into the living-room, where Miss Liddy said he was, and half-way across to the library I heard him talking to some one. He seemed to be walking up and down, and he was in a rage, I can tell you."

  "What did he say?"

  "The first thing I heard was--excuse me, Miss Innes, but it's what he said, `The damned rascal,' he said, `I'll see him in'-- well, in hell was what he said, `in hell first.' Then somebody else spoke up; it was a woman. She said, `I warned them, but they thought I would be afraid.'"

  "A woman! Did you wait to see who it was?"

  "I wasn't spying, Miss Innes," Warner said with dignity. "But the next thing caught my attention. She said, `I knew there was something wrong from the start. A man isn't well one day, and dead the next, without some reason.' I thought she was speaking of Thomas."

  "And you don't know who it was!" I exclaimed. "Warner, you had the key to this whole occurrence in your hands, and did not use it!"

  However, there was nothing to be done. I resolved to make inquiry when I got home
, and in the meantime, my present errand absorbed me. This was nothing less than to see Louise Armstrong, and to attempt to drag from her what she knew, or suspected, of Halsey's disappearance. But here, as in every direction I turned, I was baffled.

  A neat maid answered the bell, but she stood squarely in the doorway, and it was impossible to preserve one's dignity and pass her.

  "Miss Armstrong is very ill, and unable to see any one," she said. I did not believe her.

  "And Mrs. Armstrong--is she also ill?"

  "She is with Miss Louise and can not be disturbed."

  "Tell her it is Miss Innes, and that it is a matter of the greatest importance."

  "It would be of no use, Miss Innes. My orders are positive."

  At that moment a heavy step sounded on the stairs. Past the maid's white-strapped shoulder I could see a familiar thatch of gray hair, and in a moment I was face to face with Doctor Stewart. He was very grave, and his customary geniality was tinged with restraint.

  "You are the very woman I want to see," he said promptly. "Send away your trap, and let me drive you home. What is this about your nephew?"

  "He has disappeared, doctor. Not only that, but there is every evidence that he has been either abducted, or--" I could not finish. The doctor helped me into his capacious buggy in silence. Until we had got a little distance he did not speak; then he turned and looked at me.

  "Now tell me about it," he said. He heard me through without speaking.

  "And you think Louise knows something?" he said when I had finished. "I don't--in fact, I am sure of it. The best evidence of it is this: she asked me if he had been heard from, or if anything had been learned. She won't allow Walker in the room, and she made me promise to see you and tell you this: don't give up the search for him. Find him, and find him soon. He is living."

  "Well," I said, "if she knows that, she knows more. She is a very cruel and ungrateful girl."

  "She is a very sick girl," he said gravely. "Neither you nor I can judge her until we know everything. Both she and her mother are ghosts of their former selves. Under all this, these two sudden deaths, this bank robbery, the invasions at Sunnyside and Halsey's disappearance, there is some mystery that, mark my words, will come out some day. And when it does, we shall find Louise Armstrong a victim."

  I had not noticed where we were going, but now I saw we were beside the railroad, and from a knot of men standing beside the track I divined that it was here the car had been found. The siding, however, was empty. Except a few bits of splintered wood on the ground, there was no sign of the accident.

  "Where is the freight car that was rammed?" the doctor asked a bystander.

  "It was taken away at daylight, when the train was moved."

  There was nothing to be gained. He pointed out the house on the embankment where the old lady and her daughter had heard the crash and seen two figures beside the car. Then we drove slowly home. I had the doctor put me down at the gate, and I walked to the house--past the lodge where we had found Louise, and, later, poor Thomas; up the drive where I had seen a man watching the lodge and where, later, Rosie had been frightened; past the east entrance, where so short a time before the most obstinate effort had been made to enter the house, and where, that night two weeks ago, Liddy and I had seen the strange woman. Not far from the west wing lay the blackened ruins of the stables. I felt like a ruin myself, as I paused on the broad veranda before I entered the house.

  Two private detectives had arrived in my absence, and it was a relief to turn over to them the responsibility of the house and grounds. Mr. Jamieson, they said, had arranged for more to assist in the search for the missing man, and at that time the country was being scoured in all directions.

  The household staff was again depleted that afternoon. Liddy was waiting to tell me that the new cook had gone, bag and baggage, without waiting to be paid. No one had admitted the visitor whom Warner had heard in the library, unless, possibly, the missing cook. Again I was working in a circle.

  CHAPTER XXVII

  WHO IS NINA CARRINGTON?

  The four days, from Saturday to the following Tuesday, we lived, or existed, in a state of the most dreadful suspense. We ate only when Liddy brought in a tray, and then very little. The papers, of course, had got hold of the story, and we were besieged by newspaper men. From all over the country false clues came pouring in and raised hopes that crumbled again to nothing. Every morgue within a hundred miles, every hospital, had been visited, without result.

  Mr. Jamieson, personally, took charge of the organized search, and every evening, no matter where he happened to be, he called us by long distance telephone. It was the same formula. "Nothing to-day. A new clue to work on. Better luck to-morrow."

  And heartsick we would put up the receiver and sit down again to our vigil.

  The inaction was deadly. Liddy cried all day, and, because she knew I objected to tears, sniffled audibly around the corner.

  "For Heaven's sake, smile!" I snapped at her. And her ghastly attempt at a grin, with her swollen nose and red eyes, made me hysterical. I laughed and cried together, and pretty soon, like the two old fools we were, we were sitting together weeping into the same handkerchief.

  Things were happening, of course, all the time, but they made little or no impression. The Charity Hospital called up Doctor Stewart and reported that Mrs. Watson was in a critical condition. I understood also that legal steps were being taken to terminate my lease at Sunnyside. Louise was out of danger, but very ill, and a trained nurse guarded her like a gorgon. There was a rumor in the village, brought up by Liddy from the butcher's, that a wedding had already taken place between Louise and Doctor Walkers and this roused me for the first time to action.

  On Tuesday, then, I sent for the car, and prepared to go out. As I waited at the porte-cochere I saw the under-gardener, an inoffensive, grayish-haired man, trimming borders near the house.

  The day detective was watching him, sitting on the carriage block. When he saw me, he got up.

  "Miss Innes," he said, taking of his hat, "do you know where Alex, the gardener, is?"

  "Why, no. Isn't he here?" I asked.

  "He has been gone since yesterday afternoon. Have you employed him long?"

  "Only a couple of weeks."

  "Is he efficient? A capable man?"

  "I hardly know," I said vaguely. "The place looks all right, and I know very little about such things. I know much more about boxes of roses than bushes of them."

  "This man," pointing to the assistant, "says Alex isn't a gardener. That he doesn't know anything about plants."

  "That's very strange," I said, thinking hard. "Why, he came to me from the Brays, who are in Europe."

  "Exactly." The detective smiled. "Every man who cuts grass isn't a gardener, Miss Innes, and just now it is our policy to believe every person around here a rascal until he proves to be the other thing."

  Warner came up with the car then, and the conversation stopped. As he helped me in, however, the detective said something further.

  "Not a word or sign to Alex, if he comes back," he said cautiously.

  I went first to Doctor Walker's. I was tired of beating about the bush, and I felt that the key to Halsey's disappearance was here at Casanova, in spite of Mr. Jamieson's theories.

  The doctor was in. He came at once to the door of his consulting-room, and there was no mask of cordiality in his manner.

  "Please come in," he said curtly.

  "I shall stay here, I think, doctor." I did not like his face or his manner; there was a subtle change in both. He had thrown of the air of friendliness, and I thought, too, that he looked anxious and haggard.

  "Doctor Walker," I said, "I have come to you to ask some questions. I hope you will answer them. As you know, my nephew has not yet been found."

  "So I understand," stiffly.

  "I believe, if you would, you could help us, and that leads to one of my questions. Will you tell me what was the nature of the conversation you
held with him the night he was attacked and carried off?"

  "Attacked! Carried off!" he said, with pretended surprise. "Really, Miss Innes, don't you think you exaggerate? I understand it is not the first time Mr. Innes has--disappeared."

  "You are quibbling, doctor. This is a matter of life and death. Will you answer my question?"

  "Certainly. He said his nerves were bad, and I gave him a prescription for them. I am violating professional ethics when I tell you even as much as that."

  I could not tell him he lied. I think I looked it. But I hazarded a random shot.

  "I thought perhaps," I said, watching him narrowly, "that it might be about--Nina Carrington."

  For a moment I thought he was going to strike me. He grew livid, and a small crooked blood-vessel in his temple swelled and throbbed curiously. Then he forced a short laugh.

  "Who is Nina Carrington?" he asked.

  "I am about to discover that," I replied, and he was quiet at once. It was not difficult to divine that he feared Nina Carrington a good deal more than he did the devil. Our leave- taking was brief; in fact, we merely stared at each other over the waiting-room table, with its litter of year-old magazines. Then I turned and went out.

  "To Richfield," I told Warner, and on the way I thought, and thought hard.

  "Nina Carrington, Nina Carrington," the roar and rush of the wheels seemed to sing the words. "Nina Carrington, N. C." And I then knew, knew as surely as if I had seen the whole thing. There had been an N. C. on the suit-case belonging to the woman with the pitted face. How simple it all seemed. Mattie Bliss had been Nina Carrington. It was she Warner had heard in the library. It was something she had told Halsey that had taken him frantically to Doctor Walker's office, and from there perhaps to his death. If we could find the woman, we might find what had become of Halsey.