CHAPTER XXI
"What we want to do," said Gatewood over the telephone, "is to give youa corking little dinner at the Santa Regina. There'll be Mr. and Mrs.Tommy Kerns, Captain and Mrs. Harren, Mr. and Mrs. Jack Burke, Mrs.Gatewood, and myself. We want you to set the date for it, Mr. Keen, andwe also wish you to suggest one more deliriously happy couple whom youhave dragged out of misery and flung head-first into terrestrialparadise."
"Do you young people really care to do this for me?" asked the Tracer,laughing.
"Of course we do. We're crazy about it. We want one more couple, and youto set the date."
There was the slightest pause; then the Tracer's voice, with the sameundertone of amusement ringing through it:
"How would your cousin, Victor Carden, do?"
"He's all right, only he isn't married. We want two people whom you havejoined together after hazard has put them asunder and done stunts withthem."
"Very well; Victor Carden and his very lovely wife will be just thepeople."
"Is Victor married?" demanded Gatewood, astonished.
"No," said the Tracer demurely, "but he will be in time for thatdinner." And he set the date for the end of the week in an amused voice,and rang off.
Then he glanced at the clock, touched an electric bell, and againunhooking the receiver of the telephone, called up the Sherwood Studiosand asked for Mr. Carden.
"Is _this_ Mr. Carden? Oh, good morning, Mr. Carden! This is Mr. Keen,Tracer of Lost Persons. Could you make it convenient to call--say incourse of half an hour? Thank you. . . . What? . . . Well, speaking withthat caution and reserve which we are obliged to employ in making anypreliminary statements to our clients, I think I may safely say that youhave every reason to feel moderately encouraged."
"You mean," said Carden's voice, "that you have actually solved theproposition?"
"It has been a difficult proposition, Mr. Carden; I will not deny thatit has taxed our resources to the uttermost. Over a thousand people,first and last, have been employed on this case. It has been a slow andtedious affair, Mr. Carden--tedious for us all. We seldom have a casecontinue as long as this has; it is a year ago to-day since you placedthe matter in our hands. . . . What? Well, without committing myself, Ithink that I may venture to express a carefully qualified opinion thatthe solution of the case is probably practically in the way of beingalmost accomplished! . . . Yes, I shall expect you in half an hour.Good-by!"
The Tracer of Lost Persons' eyes were twinkling as he hung up thereceiver and turned in his revolving chair to meet the pretty youngwoman who had entered in response to his ring.
"The Carden case, if you please, Miss Smith," he said, smiling tohimself.
The young woman also smiled; the Carden case had become a classic in theoffice. Nobody except Mr. Keen had believed that the case could ever besolved.
"Safe-deposit box 108923!" said Miss Smith softly, pressing a speakingtube to her red lips. In a few moments there came a hissing thud fromthe pneumatic tube; Miss Smith unlocked it and extracted a smooth, steelcylinder.
"The combination for that cylinder is A-4-44-11-X," observed the Tracer,consulting a cipher code, "which, translated," he added, "gives us thesetting combination, One, D, R-R,-J-'24."
Miss Smith turned the movable disks at the end of the cylinder untilthe required combination appeared. Then she unscrewed the cylinder headand dumped out the documents in the famous Carden case.
"As Mr. Carden will be here in half an hour or so I think we had betterrun over the case briefly," nodded the Tracer, leaning back in his chairand composing himself to listen. "Begin with my preliminary memorandum,Miss Smith."
"Case 108923," began the girl. Then she read the date, Carden's fullname, Victor Carden, a terse biography of the same gentleman, and added:"Case accepted. Contingent fee, $5,000."
"Quite so," said Mr. Keen; "now, run through the minutes of the firstinterview."
And Miss Smith unrolled a typewritten scroll and read:
"Victor Carden, Esquire, the well-known artist, called this evening at6.30. Tall, well-bred, good appearance, very handsome; very muchembarrassed. Questioned by Mr. Keen he turned pink, and looked timidlyat the stenographer (Miss Colt). Asked if he might not see Mr. Keenalone, Miss Colt retired. Mr. Keen set the recording phonograph inmotion by dropping his elbow on his desk."
A brief _resume_ of the cylinder records followed:
"Mr. Carden asked Mr. Keen if he (Mr. Keen) knew who he (Mr. Carden)was. Mr. Keen replied that everybody knew Mr. Carden, the celebratedpainter and illustrator who had created the popular type of beauty knownas the 'Carden Girl.' Mr. Carden blushed and fidgeted. (_Notes from. Mr.Keen's Observation Book, pp. 291-297._) Admitted that he was the creatorof the 'Carden Girl.' Admitted he had drawn and painted that particulartype of feminine beauty many times. Fidgeted some more. (_Keen's O.B.,pp. 298-299._) Volunteered the statement that this type of beauty, knownas the 'Carden Girl,' was the cause of great unhappiness to himself.Questioned, turned pinker and fidgeted. (_K.O.B., page 300._) Deniedthat his present trouble was caused by the model who had posed for the'Carden Girl.' Explained that a number of assorted models had posed forthat type of beauty. Further explained that none of them resembled thetype; that the type was his own creation; that he used models merely forthe anatomy, and that he always idealized form and features.
"Questioned again, admitted that the features of the 'Carden Girl' werehis ideal of the highest and loveliest type of feminine beauty. Did notdeny that he had fallen in love with his own creation. Turned red andtried to smoke. (_K.O.B., page 303._) Admitted he had been fascinatedhimself with his own rendering of a type of beauty which he had neverseen anywhere except as rendered by his own pencil on paper or oncanvas. Fidgeted. (_K.O.B., page 304._) Admitted that he could easilyfall in love with a woman who resembled the 'Carden Girl.' Didn'tbelieve she ever really existed. Confessed he had hoped for years toencounter her, but had begun to despair. Admitted that he had venturedto think that Mr. Keen might trace such a girl for him. Doubted Mr.Keen's success. Fidgeted (_K.O.B., page 306_), and asked Mr. Keen totake the case. Promised to send to Mr. Keen a painting in oil whichembodied his loftiest ideal of the type known as the 'Carden Girl.'(_Portrait received; lithographs made and distributed to our agentsaccording to routine, from Canada to Mexico and from the Atlantic to thePacific._)
"Mr. Keen terminated the interview with characteristic tact, acceptingthe case on the contingent fee of $5,000."
"Very well," said the Tracer, as Miss Smith rolled up the scroll andlooked at him for further instructions. "Now, perhaps you had better runover the short summary of proceedings to date. I mean the digest whichyou will find attached to the completed records."
Miss Smith found the paper, unrolled it, and read:
"During the twelve months' investigation and search (_in re Carden_)seven hundred and nine young women were discovered who resembled veryclosely the type sought for. By process of elimination, owing to defectsin figure, features, speech, breeding, etc., etc., this list was cutdown to three. One of these occasionally chewed gum, but otherwiseresembled the type. The second married before the investigation of herhabits could be completed. The third is apparently a flawless replica ofMr. Carden's original in face, figure, breeding, education, moral andmental habits. (_See Document 23, A._)"
"Read Document 23, A," nodded Mr. Keen.
And Miss Smith read:
ROSALIND HOLLIS, M.D.
Age . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
Height . . . . . . 5 feet 9 inches
Weight . . . . . . . . 160 pounds
Thick, bright, ruddyHair . . . . . . golden, and inclined to curl.
Teeth . . . . . . . . . Perfect
Eyes . . . . . . . Dark violet-blue
Mouth . . . . . . . . . Perfect
Color . . . . Fair. An ivory-tinted blonde.
Figure . . . . .
. . . . Perfect
Health . . . . . . . . . Perfect
Temper . . . . . . . . . Feminine
Austere, with aHabits . . . . resolutely suppressed capacity for romance.
Business . . . . . . . . . None
Profession . . . . . . . Physician
Mania . . . . . . . . A Mission
"NOTE.--Dr. Rosalind Hollis was presented to society in her eighteenthyear. At the end of her second season she withdrew from society with thedetermination to devote her entire life to charity. Settlement work andthe study of medicine have occupied her constantly. Recently admitted topractice, she spends her mornings in visiting the poor, whom she treatsfree of all charge; her afternoons and evenings are devoted to what sheexpects is to be her specialty: the study of the rare malady known asLamour's Disease. (_See note on second page._)
"It is understood that Dr. Hollis has abjured the society of all menother than her patients and such of her professional _confreres_ as sheis obliged to consult or work with. Her theory is that of the beehive:drones for mates, workers for work. She adds, very decidedly, that shebelongs to the latter division, and means to remain there permanently.
"NOTE (_Mr. Keen's O.B., pp. 916-18_).--Her eccentricity is probably theresult of a fine, wholesome, highly strung young girl taking life andherself too seriously. The remedy will be the _Right Man_."
"_Ex_actly," nodded Mr. Keen, joining the tips of his thin fingers andpartly closing his eyes. "Now, Miss Smith, the disease which Dr. Hollisintends to make her specialty--have you any notes on that?"
"Here they are," said Miss Smith; and she read: "Lamour's Disease; therarest of all known diseases; first discovered and described by Ero S.Lamour, M.D., M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H., in 1861. Only a single case has everbeen observed. This case is fully described in Dr. Lamour's superb andmonumental work in sixteen volumes. Briefly, the disease appears withoutany known cause, and is ultimately supposed to result fatally. The firstsymptom is the appearance of a faintly bluish circle under the eyes, asthough the patient was accustomed to using the eyes too steadily attimes. Sometimes a slight degree of fever accompanies thismanifestation; pulse and temperature vary. The patient is apparently inexcellent health, but liable to loss of appetite, restlessness, and asudden flushing of the face. These symptoms are followed by othersunmistakable: the patient becomes silent at times; at times evinces aweakness for sentimental expressions; flushes easily; is easilydepressed; will sit for hours looking at one person; and, if notchecked, will exhibit impulsive symptoms of affection for the oppositesex. The strangest symptom of all, however, is the physical change inthe patient, whose features and figure, under the trained eye of theobserver, gradually from day to day assume the symmetry and charm of abeauty almost unearthly, sometimes accompanied by a spiritual pallorwhich is unmistakable in confirming the diagnosis, and which, Dr. Lamourbelieves, presages the inexorable approach of immortality.
"There is no known remedy for Lamour's Disease. The only case on recordis the case of the young lady described by Dr. Lamour, who watched herfor years with unexampled patience and enthusiasm; finally, in theinterest of science, marrying his patient in order to devote his lifeto a study of her symptoms. Unfortunately, some of these disappearedearly--within a week--but the curious manifestation of physical beautyremained, and continued to increase daily to a dazzling radiance, withno apparent injury to the patient. Dr. Lamour, unfortunately, diedbefore his investigations, covering over forty years, could becompleted; his widow survived him for a day or two only, leaving sixteenchildren.
"Here is a wide and unknown field for medical men to investigate. It issafe to say that the physician who first discovers the bacillus ofLamour's Disease and the proper remedy to combat it will reap as hisreward a glory and renown imperishable. Lamour's Disease is a diseasenot yet understood--a disease whose termination is believed to befatal--a strange disease which seems to render radiant and beautiful thefeatures of the patient, brightening them with the forewarning ofimpending death and the splendid resurrection of immortality."
The Tracer of Lost Persons caressed his chin reflectively. "_Ex_actly,Miss Smith. So this is the disease which Dr. Hollis has chosen for herspecialty. And only one case on record. _Ex_actly. Thank you."
Miss Smith replaced the papers in the steel cylinder, slipped it intothe pneumatic tube, sent it whizzing below to the safe-deposit vaults,and, saluting Mr. Keen with a pleasant inclination of her head, went outof the room.
The Tracer turned in his chair, picked up the daily detective report,and scanned it until he came to the name Hollis. It appeared that thedaily routine of Rosalind Hollis had not varied during the past threeweeks. In the mornings she was good to the poor with bottles and pills;in the afternoons she tucked one of Lamour's famous sixteen volumesunder her arm and walked to Central Park, where, with democraticsimplicity, she sat on a secluded bench and pored over the symptoms ofLamour's Disease. About five she retired to her severely simpleapartments in the big brownstone office building devoted to physicians,corner of Fifty-eighth Street and Madison Avenue. Here she took tea,read a little, dined all alone, and retired about nine. This was theguileless but determined existence of Rosalind Hollis, M.D., accordingto McConnell, the detective assigned to observe her.
The Tracer refolded the report of his chief of detectives andpigeonholed it just as the door opened and a tall, well-built,attractive young man entered.
Shyness was written all over him; he offered his hand to Mr. Keen withan embarrassed air and seated himself at that gentleman's invitation.
"I'm almost sorry I ever began this sort of thing," he blurted out, likea big schoolboy appalled at his own misdemeanors. "The truth is, Mr.Keen, that the prospect of actually seeing a 'Carden Girl' alive hasscared me through and through. I've a notion that my business with thatsort of a girl ends when I've drawn her picture."
"But surely," said the Tracer mildly, "you have some natural curiosityto see the living copy of your charming but inanimate originals, haven'tyou, Mr. Carden?"
"Yes--oh, certainly. I'd like to see one of them alive--say out of awindow, or from a cab. I should not care to be too close to her."
"But merely seeing her does not commit you," interposed Mr. Keen,smiling. "She is far too busy, too much absorbed in her own affairs totake any notice of you. I understand that she has something of anaversion for men."
"Aversion!"
"Well, she excludes them as unnecessary to her existence."
"Why?" asked Carden.
"Because she has a mission in life," said Mr. Keen gravely.
Carden looked out of the window. It was pleasant weather--June in allits early loveliness--the fifth day of June. The sixth was his birthday.
"I've simply got to marry somebody before the day after to-morrow," hesaid aloud--"that is, if I want my legacy."
"What!" demanded the Tracer sharply.
Carden turned, pink and guilty. "I didn't tell you all the circumstancesof my case," he said. "I suppose I ought to have done so."
"_Ex_actly," said the Tracer severely. "Why is it necessary that youmarry somebody before the day after to-morrow?"
"Well, it's my twenty-fifth birthday--"
"Somebody has left you money on condition that you marry before yourtwenty-fifth birthday? Is that it, Mr. Carden? An uncle? An imbecilegrandfather? A sentimental aunt?"
"My Aunt Tabby Van Beekman."
"Where is she?"
"In Trinity churchyard. It's too late to expostulate with her, you see.Besides, it wouldn't have done any good when she was alive."
The Tracer knitted his brows, musing, the points of his slim fingersjoined.
"She was very proud, very autocratic," said Carden. "I am the last ofmy race and my aunt was determined that the race should not die out withme. I don't want to marry and increase, but she's trying to make me. Atall events, I am not going to marry any woman inferior to the type Ihave created with m
y pencil--what the public calls the 'Carden Girl.'And now you see that your discovery of this living type comes ratherlate. In two days I must be legally married if I want my Aunt Tabby'slegacy; and to-day for the first time I hear of a girl who, you assureme, compares favorably to my copyrighted type, but who has a mission andan aversion to men. So you see, Mr. Keen, that the matter is perfectlyhopeless."
"I don't see anything of the kind," said Mr. Keen firmly.
"What?--do you believe there is any chance--"
"Of your falling in love within the next hour or so? Yes, I do. I thinkthere is every chance of it. I am sure of it. But that is not thedifficulty. The problem is far more complicated."
"You mean--"
"_Ex_actly; how to marry that girl before day after to-morrow. That'sthe problem, Mr. Carden!--not whether you are capable of falling inlove with her. I have seen her; I _know_ you can't avoid falling inlove with her. Nobody could. I myself am on the verge of it; and I amfifty: you can't avoid loving her."
"If that were so," said Carden gravely; "if I were really going to fallin love with her--I would not care a rap about my Aunt Tabby and hermoney--"
"You ought to care about it for this young girl's sake. That legacy isvirtually hers, not yours. She has a right to it. No man can ever giveenough to the woman he loves; no man has ever done so. What _she_ givesand what _he_ gives are never a fair exchange. If you can balance theaccount in any measure, it is your duty to do it. Mr. Carden, if shecomes to love you she may think it very fine that you bring to her yourlove, yourself, your fame, your talents, your success, your position,your gratifying income. But I tell you it's not enough to balance theaccount. It is never enough--no, not all your devotion to her included!You can never balance the account on earth--all you can do is to try tobalance it materially and spiritually. Therefore I say, endow her with_all_ your earthly goods. Give all you can in every way to lighten asmuch as possible man's hopeless debt to all women who have ever loved."
"You talk about it as though I were already committed," said Carden,astonished.
"You are, morally. For a month I have, without her knowledge, it istrue, invaded the privacy of a very lovely young girl--studied herminutely, possessed myself of her history, informed myself of herhabits. What excuse had I for this unless I desired her happiness andyours? Nobody could offer me any inducement to engage in such a practiceunless I believed that the means might justify a moral conclusion. Andthe moral conclusion of this investigation is your marriage to her."
"Certainly," said Carden uneasily, "but how are we going to accomplishit by to-morrow? How is it going to be accomplished at all?"
The Tracer of Lost Persons rose and began to pace the long rug, claspinghis hands behind his back. Minute after minute sped; Carden staredalternately at Mr. Keen and at the blue sky through the open window.
"It is seldom," said Mr. Keen with evident annoyance, "that I personallytake any spectacular part in the actual and concrete demonstrationsnecessary to a successful conclusion of a client's case. But I've got todo it this time."
He went to a cupboard, picked out a gray wig and gray side whiskers anddeliberately waved them at Carden.
"You see what these look like?" he demanded.
"Y-yes."
"Very well. It is now noon. Do you know the Park? Do you happen torecollect a shady turn in the path after you cross the bridge over theswan lake? Here; I'll draw it for you. Now, here is the lake; here's theesplanade and fountain, you see. Here's the path. You followit--so!--around the lake, across the bridge, then following the lake tothe right--so!--then up the wooded slope to the left--so! Now, here is abench. I mark it Number One. _She_ sits there with her book--there sheis!"
"If she looks like _that_--" began Carden. And they both laughed withthe slightest trace of excitement.
"Here is Bench Number Two!" resumed the Tracer. "Here you sit--and thereyou are!"
MR. KEEN'S SKETCH OF THE RENDEZVOUS]
"Thanks," said Carden, laughing again.
"Now," continued the Tracer, "you must be there at one o'clock. She willbe there at one-thirty, or earlier perhaps. A little later I will becomebenignly visible. Your part is merely a thinking part; you are to donothing, say nothing, unless spoken to. And when you are spoken to youare to acquiesce in whatever anybody says to you, and you are to dowhatever anybody requests you to do. And, above all, don't be surprisedat _anything_ that may happen. You'll be nervous enough; I expect that.You'll probably color up and flush and fidget; I expect that; I count onthat. But don't lose your nerve entirely; and don't think of attemptingto escape."
"Escape! From what? From whom?"
"From her."
"_Her?_"
"Are you going to follow my instructions?" demanded the Tracer of LostPersons.
"I--y-yes, of course."
"Very well, then, I am going to rub some of this under your eyes." AndMr. Keen produced a make-up box and, walking over to Carden, calmlydarkened the skin under his eyes.
"I look as though I had been on a bat!" exclaimed Carden, surveyinghimself in a mirror. "Do you think any girl could find any attraction insuch a countenance?"
"_She_ will," observed the Tracer meaningly. "Now, Mr. Carden, one lastword: The moment you find yourself in love with her, and the firstmoment you have the chance to do so decently, make love to her. Shewon't dismiss you; she will repulse you, of course, but she won't letyou go. I know what I am saying; all I ask of you is to promise on yourhonor to carry out these instructions. Do you promise?"
"I do."
"Then here is the map of the rendezvous which I have drawn. Be therepromptly. Good morning."
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