ON THE TRAIL
Josie O'Gorman loved mysteries for their own sake. She loved them
because they required solutions, and to solve a mystery is not only
interesting but requires a definite amount of talent. Since she was a
wee thing perched on her father's knee, Officer O'Gorman had flooded
her ears with the problems he daily encountered, had turned the
problems inside out and canvassed them from every possible viewpoint,
questioning the child if this, or that, was most probable. By this odd
method he not only enjoyed the society of his beloved daughter but
argued himself, through shrewd reasoning, into a lucid explanation of
many puzzling cases. To his pleased surprise, as little Josie grew
older she began to answer his questions, taking a part in his
professional arguments with himself, and from that time her training as
a detective began.
John O'Gorman had never been quite sure whether his fatherly adoration
unduly influenced him or whether Josie was indeed an exceptionally
talented girl; so, having firmly determined to train her to become a
girl detective, he had so far held her in leash, permitting her to
investigate various private cases but refusing to place her in
professional work--such as the secret service--until she had gained
experience and acquired confidence in herself. Confidence was the one
thing Josie lacked most. She took her mistakes too much to heart.
The girl was full of enthusiasm, however, and now meant to untangle the
mystery of Alora Jones if it were possible to do so, both to please
Mary Louise and to enjoy the satisfaction of success. After saying good
night to her friends, and before going to her own room, the girl
wandered about the big hotel making casual inquiries and obtaining more
or less useful information. Afterward, she sat in her room and arranged
in her mind the complete history of Alora, so far as she was informed
of it, and made notes of all facts which seemed to bear on the present
problem.
Next morning she inquired for the housekeeper and found that lady
seated in her little office on the third floor of the hotel.
"I'm trying to trace one of the servants who left you Monday night, or
early Tuesday morning," she said, after informing the woman that she
was engaged in tracing the missing girl, Alora Jones. "I am not sure
what name you knew her by, but her real name was Gorham."
"No one has left us this week," returned the housekeeper, who seemed
disposed to converse freely with her visitor.
"Are you sure of that?"
"Why, I'm positive. We treat our help well and they seldom leave us.
I'm sure no woman employed in this hotel, down to the lowest kitchen
scullion, has resigned or been discharged during the last few days."
"And there is no one still in your service named Gorham?"
"No one. It's an unusual name and I should have remembered it."
"Do any of the guests ever use the servants' entrance?"
"Certainly not. It is reserved exclusively for the employees. Some of
our guests have private maids, who occasionally use the rear entrances,
and Mrs. Tolliver's trained nurses are allowed to pass out that way,
too; but----"
She stopped abruptly, as if some new thought had occurred to her.
"What is it?" asked Josie, who was watching her face.
"Why, I have just recollected that Mrs. Tolliver's night nurse did not
show up Tuesday evening, for some reason, and they were obliged to
telephone for another."
"Who is Mrs. Tolliver?"
"One of our permanent guests, who is suffering just now from a severe
attack of rheumatism. She employs two trained nurses, a day nurse and a
night nurse."
"And the night nurse left her post Tuesday morning and did not return
in the evening, as she was expected to do?"
"That's it, miss. Mrs. Tolliver was greatly annoyed, but fortunately
she was able to secure another nurse at once."
"What was the nurse's name--the one who abandoned her job without
notice?"
"Let me see. It wasn't Gorham. I'll call Alice, my assistant; I feel
quite sure that she will know."
Alice promptly answered the bell and on being questioned said:
"The nurse was Mrs. Orme. She'd been with Mrs. Tolliver ever since she
was took sick, and was the best nurse she's had."
"Why did she leave?" asked Josie.
"I don't know, miss, I'm sure. She were a quiet body, never sayin' much
to no one. But quite ladylike, she were, an' most of us liked her."
"Can you describe her?"
"Well, she isn't tall--not so very tall, you know--an' she's got a good
form an' good manners. I take it she's about thirty-five, an' handsome
for her age. Good eyes, but mostly looks down an' don't show 'em. Very
neat an' tidy. Brown hair. She wore gray clothes, you know--the reg'lar
nurse's uniform."
"Do you know where Mrs. Orme lives?"
"No, miss; haven't the faintest idea."
"Who is Mrs. Tolliver's doctor?"
"The house physician, Dr. Pease. His office is No. 633, in this hotel."
"Thank you, Alice."
Josie hunted up Mary Louise.
"Have you ever heard that a trained nurse named Mrs. Orme is in any way
connected with Alora's history?" she asked.
"No; I'm pretty sure Alora has never mentioned such a person. What
about her, Josie?
"I think Alora went away with her. Have you any description of Miss
Gorham, the governess?"
"Not especially," said Mary Louise, trying to remember. "Alora has
sometimes referred to her as 'Old Skinny,' but that doesn't mean
anything."
"It means she isn't Mrs. Orme, anyhow," answered Josie, in a
disappointed tone.
Mary Louise considered this in her usual careful way. She would like to
help Josie, if she could.
"Who do you suppose this Mrs. Orme could be?" she presently asked.
"Some one whom Alora knew years ago, when her mother was alive. Of
course her name may not have been Orme, then, and she may not have been
a trained nurse. That's why I was inclined to connect her with Gorham."
"Wait a minute, Josie! A nurse, do you say? Why, I remember something
about a nurse, no--Alora's mother's nurse. When we were in Italy, where
I first knew Alora, she told me that her father, at one time when they
lived in New York, had been forced to give money to a woman, and Alora
believed he had left America to escape this person's further demands.
When I asked who the woman was, she said it was her mother's nurse; but
I'm pretty sure she didn't mention her name."
Josie's freckled face now wore a broad smile.
"How simple any enigma proves when you have the key," she remarked,
with an air of relief. "The mystery is solved, my dear! It's all as
easy as A. B. C."
"In that case," said Mary Louise, more mystified than ever, "kindly
oblige me with the key."
"With pleasure. You haven't given me much time to forge a chain, so
I'll add each link as it occurs to me. Mrs. Jones, during her last
illness, had a nurse; a good nurse, too, in whom she had confidence.
When Mrs. Jones sent for her husband, from whom she had been estranged,
the nurse was aware of the action. When the husband came--Alora's
father--without doubt the nurse remained in the sick room during the
interview. Husband and wife quarreled, instead of making up--this guess
is justified by the man's disagreeable disposition--and Mrs. Jones
hastily wrote a codicil to her will and gave it into the nurse's
keeping, with instructions to deliver it to her lawyer. Then the poor
lady over-excited, lay back and died, and the man Jason Jones--realized
that his lack of diplomacy had euchred him out of a big income for
seven years. But he put up a job with the nurse who held his fate in
her hands in the shape of scrap of paper. If she'd give him that
codicil--no! that isn't right--if she'd keep it to herself and not let
anyone know of its existence, Mr. Jones proposed to give her a share of
the money. She considered this easier than working and the bargain was
struck. Isn't that a logical chain of events, so far, Mary Louise?"
"But what a terrible thing to do, Josie!"
"Yes, human nature in its worst aspect selfishness, greed,
unscrupulousness--and still human nature. Well, the woman followed him
to New York and got some of the money, as Alora said; but the nurse
wanted more, and was likely to bleed the man more liberally than he
liked; so, being afraid of her, he ran away to Europe. Nurse spent her
money, couldn't find Jason Jones to get more, and so returned to
Chicago and practiced her profession again. Any dummy could figure that
out."
"I cannot see," responded Mary Louise, "how that accounts for Alora's
disappearance."
"Why, of course the woman knew all about the terms of the will. She was
nursing a Mrs. Tolliver in this hotel when she discovered Alora's
arrival. How she discovered it doesn't matter. In the morning, when the
day nurse arrived to take her place, she left Mrs. Tolliver and went
directly to Alora's room. The girl instantly recognized her and would
probably have a warm place in her heart for her mother's old nurse.
Decided to walk part of the way home with her so they could talk over
old times--you and the Colonel being still asleep--but was enticed to
the nurse's house and promptly locked up and held as a weapon to force
old Jones to pay up. This completes the chain. A woman who would enter
into such an ugly deal with Jason Jones as I have described would not
hesitate to capture Alora, especially as it proved an easy thing to
do."
Mary Louise drew a long breath. "If I could believe that theory,
Josie," she said, "it would relieve me of much worry, for I'd know
Alora is safe. But--what was it your father said about your
imagination?"
Josie laughed. "This isn't wholly imagination, you goose, for it's
based on a knowledge of human nature, as I've hinted. Also it's a
scientific matching of the pieces in the puzzle. Why, Mary Louise, in
this deduction we have all the necessary elements of the usual crime. A
woman--always look for a woman in a mystery, my dear--money, the cause
of four-fifths of all crimes, and a guilty man who is afraid of being
forced to disgorge his ill-gotten gains. Then we will add an innocent
girl who suffers through the machinations of others. Some of my
conclusions may not be exactly correct, but in the main the story is
absolutely logical."
"That's what you said last night, Josie, when you thought the
governess, Gorham, had abducted Alora."
"True, but I have later information which doesn't entirely upset the
theory but changes the actors in the drama. I don't say that further
investigations may not alter this present plot in some of its details,
but the main facts are too lucid and undeniable to get far away from.
I'm now going to interview the house physician and get Mrs. Orme's
address."
When she had gone, Mary Louise went to Gran'pa Jim with the tale of
Josie's latest discoveries and Colonel Hathaway was so impressed by the
theory that he decided to telegraph Peter Conant to catch the noon
train and come straight to Chicago.
"The complications suggested by Josie will require a lawyer's advice,"
he said, "and Mr. Conant knows law and can advise us how to handle the
case when we have discovered where Alora is confined."
Meanwhile Josie went to the doctor's office and after waiting some
time, was finally admitted to his private room.
"I came to ask for the address of a trained nurse--a Mrs. Orme--whom
you recommended to Mrs. Tolliver," she began, her innocent eyes
regarding the physician gravely.
Dr. Pease frowned.
"I cannot recommend her again," said he. "Although she's a good nurse,
she is unreliable, and left my patient without notice when she was
badly needed."
"I merely want to find her," declared Josie. "I'm a stranger in town
and I've a letter of introduction to Mrs. Orme."
"I don't know her address. I got the woman through Dr. Anstruther."
"Oh. May I telephone Dr. Anstruther, then?"
"I've no objection. There's a telephone in the outer office. But you're
not likely to catch him much before noon. Dr. Anstruther is a very busy
man."
Josie went to her own room to telephone. She telephoned Dr.
Anstruther's office at intervals all the morning, but did not succeed
in getting him until nearly two o'clock. Then he answered that he did
not know Mrs. Orme's address, having always secured her services
through the Sisters' Hospital.
Josie tried the Sisters' Hospital and learned that Mrs. Orme lived in
an apartment at 524 Morgan Avenue. She took a taxicab and drove there,
determining to obtain an interview with the woman by posing as a nurse
who desired assistance in securing employment. But disappointment
confronted her. Mrs. Orme had moved from the apartment ten days ago and
her present address was unknown.
"She has taken considerable pains to cover her traces," said Josie to
Mary Louise, when she returned from her futile trip.
"I hope you're not discouraged, dear," returned Mary Louise anxiously.
"The local detectives have done nothing at all, so you are our only
hope, Josie."
The embryo detective smiled sweetly.
"I'm not here on a pleasure trip," she said, "although I enjoy travel
and good hotel fodder as well as anyone. This is business, but so far
I'm just feeling my way and getting a start. You can't open a mystery
as you do a book, Mary Louise; it has to be pried open. The very fact
that this Mrs. Orme has so carefully concealed her hiding-place is
assurance that she's the guilty party who abducted Alora. Being
positive of that, it only remains to find her--not an impossibility, by
any means--and then we shall have no difficulty in liberating her
prisoner."
"But to find her; can you do that, Josie?"
"Certainly, with a little help from the police, which they will gladly
furnish. They know I'm Daddy's daughter, for I have already introduced
myself to them, and while they may be slow to take the initiative they
are always quite willing to aid in an affair of this sort. Now, it
stands to reason, Mary Louise, that the nurse didn't use the streets to
promenade with. Alora. That would have been dangerous to her plans.
There are so few people abroad in Chicago at six o'clock in the morning
that those who met the two would have noted and remembered them. For
the same reason Mrs. Orme did not take a street car, or the elevated.
Therefore, she took a cab, and the cabman who drove them will know Mrs.
Orme's address."
"But who was the cabman?" asked Mary Louise.
"That," said Josie, "is to be my next discovery."