THE DISAPPEARANCE OF DIANA WARD
Was it guesswork? Was it sheer deduction? Was it knowledge? These
three questions flashed through Larry’s mind, but before he could ask
her any further questions, John Dearborn had come from the cubicle and
was feeling his way down the stairs.
On the next landing he opened the door of a dormitory which Larry had
seen before. It consisted of three rooms which had been knocked into
one at some previous period.
Obedient to Larry’s instructions, the two detectives did not follow
the party in. One strolled down and took his place on the lower
landing; the other sat upon the stairs that led to the cubicles above
and waited.
“Is it light?” asked Dearborn as he walked into the inner room.
“Quite light,” said Larry.
“I am told there is rather a good view from this window,” said
Dearborn, and pointed unerringly to a view which was neither
picturesque nor extensive.
Larry did not reply. It was possibly a polite fiction that the views
from the Home were lovely, and he did not desire to hurt, even in the
slightest degree, the man who was so proud of a prospect which
included six roofs and a hundred chimney pots.
“Is the window closed? I think it is,” said John Dearborn. “Will you
open it for me?”
Larry pulled up the noisy sash, and a breath of cool, sweet air came
into the stuffy dormitory.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Dearborn. “Now, perhaps the young lady----”
Larry was looking about the room. The girl was not in sight. He walked
quickly to the door and the officer on duty stood up from the stairs
on which he had been sitting.
“Which way did Miss Ward go?”
“She didn’t come out, sir,” said the man in surprise. “She went in the
room with you.”
Larry stared at him.
“Didn’t come out?” he repeated in amazement. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure.”
He called to the man on the lower landing:
“Did you see Miss Ward?”
“No, sir,” said the officer, “she hasn’t come out of that door. I can
see it plainly from here, and I haven’t taken my eyes off it.”
Larry went back into the room. It was empty. There were half a dozen
plain iron beds, but there was no place of concealment save a cupboard
which stood against the wall opposite the fireplace. He was in a
panic, and his heart was beating wildly as no danger to himself could
have made it beat.
He pulled open the cupboard door. It was empty except for some old
clothing which was hanging on a line of pegs. He flung these out and
struck the back of the cupboard. It was solid.
“Have you found the young lady?” asked Dearborn presently.
“No, I have not,” said Larry quickly. “Is there any other way out of
this room but these doors?”
The clergyman shook his head.
“No,” he said in astonishment. “Why do you ask? Oh, perhaps you are
thinking we should have a means of egress in case of fire. We have
been thinking over that matter----”
Larry was white of face, and he was trembling. He called in one of the
police officers.
“You will remain in this room until you are relieved,” he said. Then
he summoned the other. “Call Scotland Yard in my name and tell them I
want twenty plain-clothes men here at once. There’s a constable on
point duty at the end of Lissom Grove. Bring him here and station him
outside the house.”
“What has happened?” demanded the Rev. Dearborn anxiously. “These are
the only times when my malady distresses me, when I feel that I cannot
help.”
“Perhaps it would be better if you went to your study,” said Larry
gently. “I am afraid a crime has been committed under my very eyes.”
How could it have happened? He had heard no sound. He thought the girl
was behind him. He knew she had gone into the room because he had
pushed her in before him; he remembered that distinctly. He remembered
her turning to the left to inspect the lower end of the room when he
had gone to open the window--that was when it happened!
When he had pulled up the window he had made a noise which had drowned
any sound which may have occurred at the farther end of the room. But
it had all passed so quickly, and she had not left the room.
He began a systematic examination of the walls, looking for secret
doorways. The coconut matting on the floor was pulled up, but without
result. Diana Ward had disappeared as though an earthquake had
swallowed her, as though she had dissolved into minutest atoms and had
floated out of the window in invisible vapour.