A Mysterious Disappearance

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XXV

  MISS PHYLLIS BROWNE INTERVENES

  Bruce was quite positive in his belief that Jane Harding was the paidagent of some person who wished to conceal the facts concerning LadyDyke's death.

  Her unexpected appearance in the field at this late hour, no less thanthe bold _role_ she adopted, proved this conclusively. But in Englandthere was no torture-chamber to which she might be led and graduallydismembered until she confessed the truth.

  So long as she adhered to the policy of pert denial she was quite safe.The law could not touch her, for the chief witness against her, SirCharles Dyke, was obviously more than half-inclined to admit thegenuineness of the letter, even in opposition to the superior judgmentof his friend.

  Yet it was a matter which Bruce considered ought to be made known to thepolice, so he sent for Mr. White and told him of the strange result ofhis interview with Miss Marie le Marchant.

  "Dash everything!" cried the detective, when he heard the news. "I madea note sometime ago that that girl ought to be watched, but I cleanforgot all about it."

  "Remember," said Bruce, "that my discovery was the result of pureaccident. My object in visiting her was to endeavor to induce herconfidence with regard to Lady Dyke's former life and habits. Indeed, Ihandled the business very badly."

  "I don't see that, sir. You got hold of a very remarkable fact, and thusprevented the success of a bold move by some one which, in my case atany rate, nearly choked me off the inquiry."

  "True. Thus far, chance favored me. But I ought to have been contentwith the assumption. There was no need to frighten her by pressing ithome."

  "Oh, from that point of view--" began the detective.

  But Bruce was merely thinking aloud--rough-shaping his ideas as theygrouped themselves in his brain.

  "Perhaps I am wrong there too," he went on. "If this girl is working toinstructions she would have refused to help me in any way, and shealready knows that I am on the trail. There is one highly satisfactoryfeature in the Jane Harding adventure, Mr. White."

  "And what is that?"

  "The person, or persons, responsible for Lady Dyke's death know that thematter has not been dropped. They are inclined to think that the circleis narrowing. In some of our casts, Mr. White, we must have come sounpleasantly close to them, that they deemed it advisable to throw usoff the scent by a bold effort."

  "No doubt you are right, sir, but I wish to goodness I knew when we were'warm,' as I am becoming tired of the business. Every new developmentdeepens the mystery."

  The detective's face was as downcast as his words.

  "Surely not! The more pieces of the puzzle we have to handle the lessdifficult should be the final task of putting them together."

  "Not when every piece is a fresh puzzle in itself."

  "Why, what has disconcerted you to-day?"

  "Mrs. Hillmer."

  "What of her?"

  "I have had another talk with the maid,--her companion, you know,--agirl named Dobson. It struck me that it was advisable to know more aboutMrs. Hillmer than we do at present."

  Bruce made no comment, but he could not help reflecting that Corbett,the stranger from Wyoming, had entertained the same view.

  "Well," continued the detective, "I went about the affair as quietly aspossible, but the maid, though willing, could not tell me much. Mrs.Hillmer, she thinks, married very young, and was badly treated by herhusband. Finally, there was a rumpus, and she went on the stage, whileHillmer drank himself to death. He died a year ago, and they had beenseparated nearly five years. He was fairly well-to-do, but he squanderedall his money in dissipation and never gave her a cent. Three years lastMichaelmas she set up her present establishment at Raleigh Mansions, andthere she has been ever since."

  "Then where does the money come from? It must cost her at least L2,000 ayear to live."

  "That's just what the maid can't tell me. Her mistress led a verysecluded life, and was never what you could call fast, though a verypretty woman. During this time she had only one visitor--a gentleman."

  "Ah!"

  "It sounds promising, but it ends in smoke, so far as I can see."

  "Why?"

  "This gentleman was a Colonel Montgomery--an old friend--though hewasn't much turned thirty, the maid says. He interested himself a lot inMrs. Hillmer's affairs, looked after some investments for her, and wason very good terms with her, and nobody could whisper a word against thecharacter of either of them. He was never there except in the afternoon.On very rare occasions he took Mrs. Hillmer, whose maid alwaysaccompanied them, to Epping Forest, or up the river, or on some suchjourney."

  "Go on!"

  "I'm sorry, sir, but the chase is over. He's dead."

  "Dead?"

  "Yes. The maid doesn't know how, or when, exactly, but one day she foundher mistress crying, and when she asked her what was the matter, Mrs.Hillmer said, 'I've lost my friend.' The maid said, 'Surely not ColonelMontgomery, madam?' and she replied, 'Yes.' She quite took on about it."

  "Had the maid no idea as to the date of this interesting occurrence?"

  "Only a vague one. Sometime in the autumn or before Christmas. By Jove,yes; it escaped me at the time, but she said that soon after theColonel's death another gentleman called and took her mistress out todinner. I was so busy thinking about the colonel that I slipped thesignificance of that statement. It must have been you, Mr. Bruce."

  "So it seems."

  The barrister's active brain was already assimilating this newinformation. If a woman like Mrs. Hillmer had lost a dear and valuablefriend--one who practically formed the horizon of her life--she wouldcertainly have worn mourning for him. It was a singular coincidence thatMrs. Hillmer "lost" Colonel Montgomery about the same time that LadyDyke disappeared. Detective and maid alike had drawn a false inferencefrom Mrs. Hillmer's words.

  "We must find Colonel Montgomery," he said, after a slight pause.

  "Find him!"

  "Yes."

  "I hope neither of us is going his way for some time to come, Mr.Bruce," laughed the policeman.

  "White, I shall never cure you from jumping at conclusions. Upon yourpresent evidence Colonel Montgomery is no more dead than you are."

  "But the maid said--"

  "I don't care if fifty maids said. There are many more ways of 'losing'a friend than by death. Pass me the Army List, on that bookshelf behindyou there."

  A brief reference to the index, and Bruce said:

  "I thought so. There is no _Colonel_ Montgomery. There are severalcaptains and lieutenants, and a Major-General who has commanded a smallisland in the Pacific for the last five years, but not a single colonel.White, you have blundered into eminence in your profession."

  "I'm glad to hear it, even as you put it, Mr. Bruce. But I don't see--"

  "I know you don't. If you did, a popular novelist would write your lifeand style you the English Lecocq. Mrs. Hillmer 'lost' the gallantcolonel at the same time that the world 'lost' Lady Dyke. Find thefirst, and I am much mistaken if we do not learn all about the second."

  "Now I wonder if you are right."

  The detective's eyes sparkled with animation. It was the first real cluehe had hit upon, and Bruce's method of complimenting him on the fact didnot disconcert him.

  "Of course I am right. You have done so well with the maid that I leaveher in your hands. Try the coachman and the cook. But keep me informedof your progress."

  White rushed off elated. So persistent was he in striving to elucidatethis new problem that he paid no heed during some days to the side-lightfurnished by Jane Harding and her exceedingly curious powers as aletter-writer.

  Bruce purposely left the inquiry to the policeman.

  He realized intuitively that the disappearance of Lady Dyke would soonbe explained, but he shrank from subjecting Mrs. Hillmer to furtherquestioning.

  His abstinence was rewarded later in the week, for Mensmore came to seehim. The young man wore an expression of settled melancholy whichsurprised the
barrister greatly.

  "Have you prevailed on your sister to take us into her confidence?" hesaid, when Mensmore was ensconced in a chair in his cosy sitting-room.

  "No. She is more fixed than ever in her resolve to take the whole blameon herself."

  "Surely this mistaken idea can be shaken?"

  "I fear not."

  "And you also share it?"

  "I do. Bear with us, Bruce. This is a terrible business. It has brokenme up utterly."

  "Nonsense. You are in no way concerned save to shield your sister, andno one credits her wild statements regarding her complicity in thiscrime."

  "Look here, my dear fellow, I have come to ask you if this investigationcannot be allowed to rest. It means a lot of misery that you cannotforetell or prevent. Knowing what I do, I cannot believe that Lady Dykewas murdered."

  "Knowing what I do, I cannot accept any other conclusion. A worthy andestimable lady leaves her home suddenly, without the slightest imaginarycause, and she is found in the Thames with a piece of iron driven intoher brain, while the medical evidence is clear that death was not due todrowning. What other inference can be drawn than that she was foullydone to death?"

  "Heaven help me, I cannot tell. Yet I appeal to you to let matters restwhere they are if it is possible."

  "It is not possible. I cannot control the police. I am merely a privateagent acting on my own responsibility and on behalf of Lady Dyke'srelatives."

  "Don't misunderstand me, Bruce. I am not asking this thing on account ofmy sister or myself."

  "On whose account, then?"

  Mensmore did not answer for a moment. He looked mournfully into the firefor inspiration.

  "Perhaps I had better tell you," he said, "that I have broken off myengagement with Miss Browne."

  The other jumped from his chair.

  "What the dickens do you mean?" he cried.

  "Exactly what I have said. When we met on Monday night, I did notmention that Sir William and Lady Browne and their daughter travelledback to England with us. On Tuesday I saw Phyllis. In view of the shadowthrown on me by this frightful charge I thought it my duty to releaseher from any ties. If my sister has to figure in a court of law as aprincipal, or accomplice, in a murder case--and possibly myself withher--I could not consent to associate my poor Phyllis's name with mine.So I took the plunge."

  "You are a beastly idiot," shouted Bruce. "If I had the power I wouldgive you six months' hard labor this moment. Who ever threatened to putyou or your sister in the dock?"

  "You have done your best that way, you know."

  "I?--I have shielded you throughout!"

  "I feel that. But your admission shows that I am right. Shielded us fromwhat? From arrest by the police, of course."

  "But why take this precipitate action? What has Lady Dyke's death to dowith your marriage to Miss Browne?"

  "That's it, Bruce. I cannot explain. I must endure silently."

  "Did you give her any reason for your absurd resolution?"

  "Yes. I could have no secrets from her."

  "Did you inflict all this wretched story on a woman you loved and hopedto marry?"

  "You may be as bitter as you like. That is my idea of square dealing, atany rate. What other pretext could I invite for--for giving her up?"

  Mensmore found it hard to utter the words. In his heart Bruce pitiedhim, though he raged at this lamentable issue of the only bright passagein the whole story of death and intrigue.

  "And what did Miss Browne say?"

  "Oh, she just pooh-poohed the affair, and pretended to laugh at me,though she was crying all the time."

  "A nice kettle of fish you have made of it," growled the barrister. "Youhelp your sister in her folly of silence and then proceed to give effectto it by ruining your own happiness and that of your affianced wife.Have you seen Miss Browne since?"

  "No."

  His visitor was so utterly disconsolate that Bruce was at a loss toknow how to deal with him. He felt that if Mensmore would but speakregarding Mrs. Hillmer's strange delusion, and the cause of it, allthese difficulties and disasters would disappear. He resolved to try adirect attack.

  "Have you ever heard of a Colonel Montgomery?" he said suddenly, bendinghis searching gaze on the other's downcast face.

  The effect was electrical. Mensmore was so taken back that he wasspellbound. He looked at Claude, the picture of astonishment, before hestammered:

  "I--you--who told you about him?"

  "He was your sister's friend, adviser, and confidant," was the sternreply. "He it is who, in some mysterious way, is bound up with LadyDyke's disappearance."

  Mensmore rose excitedly.

  "I cannot discuss the matter with you," he cried. "I have given mysacred promise, and no matter what the cost may be I will not break myword."

  "I do not press you. But may I see Mrs. Hillmer again? When she iscalmer I might reason with her."

  The other placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder, and his voice was veryimpressive, though shaken by strong emotion:

  "Believe me," he said, "it is better that you should not see her. Itwill be useless. She is leaving London, not to avoid consequences, butto get away from painful memories. Her departure will be quite open, andher place of residence known to any one who cares to inquire. One thingshe is immovable in. She will never reveal to a living soul what sheknows of Lady Dyke's death. She would rather suffer any punishment atthe hands of the law."

  "Don't you understand that this man, Montgomery, is now known to thepolice. Sooner or later he will be found and asked to explain anyconnection he may have had with the crime. Why not accomplish quietlythat which will perforce be done through the uncompromising channels ofScotland Yard?"

  "Your reasoning appears to be good, but--"

  "But folly must prevail?"

  "Put it that way if you like."

  "So this wretched imbroglio may cost you the love of a charming anddevoted girl?"

  "Heaven help me, it may--probably will."

  "I swear to you," cried the barrister, who was unusually excited, "thatI will tear the heart out of this mystery before the week expires."

  Mensmore bowed silently and would have left the room, but Smith entered.In their distraction they had not heard the bell ring. Smith handed acard to his master. Instantly Bruce controlled himself. His admirationfor the dramatic sequence of events overcame his eagerness as an actor.It was with an appreciative smile that he said, without the slightestreference to Mensmore:

  "Show the lady in."

  Mensmore was passing out, but the sight of the visitor drove him back asthough he had been struck. It was Phyllis Browne.

  Her recognition of him was a bright smile. She advanced to Bruce, sayingpleasantly:

  "I am glad to meet you, though the manner of my call is somewhatunconventional. I heard much of you from Bertie in the Riviera, and moresince my return to town."

  He suitably expressed his delight at this apparition. Mensmore, notknowing what to do, stood awkwardly at the other end of the room.

  Neither of the others paid the least heed to him.

  "Of course I had a definite object in coming to see you, Mr. Bruce,"went on the young lady. "I have been coolly told that, because somebodykilled somebody else some months ago, a young gentlemen who asked me tobe his wife, is not only not going to marry me but intends to spend therest of his life in Central Africa or China--anywhere in fact but whereI may be."

  "A most unwise resolve," said the barrister.

  "So I thought. You appear to hold the key to the situation; and, as itis an easy matter to trace you through the Directory, here I am. Mypeople think I am skating at St. James's."

  "Well, Miss Browne," said Claude, "I am neither judge nor jury norcounsel for the prosecution, but there is the culprit. I hand him overto you."

  "Yes; but that goose didn't kill anybody, did he?"

  "No."

  "And I am sure his sister did not; from what little I saw of her shewould not hurt a fly."


  "Quite true."

  "Then why don't you find the man who caused all themischief--and--and--lock him up at least, so that he cannot go oninjuring people?"

  Miss Phyllis was very brave and self-confident at the outset. Now shewas on the verge of tears, for Mensmore's saddened face and depressedmanner unnerved her more than his passionate words at their lastinterview.

  "You ask me a straight question," replied Bruce, though his eyes werefixed on Mensmore, "and I will give you a straight answer. I _will_ findthe man who killed Lady Dyke. As you say, it is time his capacity fordoing injury to others should be limited. Before many days have passedMr. Mensmore will come to you and beg your pardon for his hasty andquite unwarranted resolve."

  "Do you hear that, Bertie?" cried the girl. "Didn't I tell you so?"

  Mensmore came forward to her side of the table.

  "I need not wait, Phil, dear," he said simply. "I ask your pardon now.This business is in the hands of Providence. I was foolish to think thatanything I could do would stave off the inevitable."

  "And if you have--to go--to China--you w-will take me with you?"

  Bruce looked out of the window, whistled, and said loudly, addressing abeautiful lady in short skirts who figured in a poster across the way:

  "Let me ring for some tea. All this talk makes one dry."