RODERICK DUNCAN SEES LIGHT
The police department of the city of New York did not earn the
thousand dollars reward offered by Roderick Duncan. The mystery of the
abandoned car, owned by Jack Gardner, was not explained. Patrick
O'Toole did not return to his duties at Cedarcrest. The story of the
wreck of the White Steamer on the rocks under the derrick remained
untold. Patricia Langdon did not reappear among her friends and
acquaintances in the city. The mysteries born of that party at
Cedarcrest continued unsolved.
Roderick Duncan, having arrived at a conclusion about all those
matters which was quite satisfactory to himself, declined to concern
himself farther about them; he believed that he perfectly understood
the situation, and he let it go at that--although he engaged the
services of every clipping-bureau in the city, in an effort to find
announcement somewhere of the marriage of Patricia Langdon to Richard
Morton. But no such record was discovered, nor was any evidence found
that suggested such a possibility. He withdrew very much into himself,
shunned his clubs, avoided his friends, and could not himself tell why
he did not go away somewhere, to the other side of the world, seeking
to forget what he had lost. He went so far in his studied aloofness as
to keep entirely away from Stephen Langdon, and was perhaps all the
more surprised when, as time elapsed, Patricia's father did not send
for him. The utter silence of Stephen Langdon, and his entire
inactivity concerning the absence of his daughter convinced Duncan, as
it did also Patricia's, friends, generally, that he knew perfectly
well where she was. It was a logical conclusion, too, for, if Stephen
Langdon had not known, it is safe to say that he would have moved
heaven and earth to find his daughter.
Jack and Sally Gardner went to Europe and took Beatrice with them.
Nesbit Farnham followed them, on the next steamer. The Misses Houston,
also, disappeared. The newspapers had contained merely a mention of
the wreck, nothing more of consequence. The destruction of the machine
was told, and it was hinted that the chauffeur was slightly injured;
nothing was said to suggest that Richard Morton had been hurt at all.
The police, to whom Duncan had telephoned, made no bones of
pooh-poohing the entire matter, and laughing in their sleeves about
it. The police had their own ideas about the whole thing--and speedily
forgot them all.
Stephen Langdon was strangely grim and silent, those days; he was also
unusually dangerous to his rivals in "the street." Every energy that
he possessed seemed bent upon ruining somebody, anybody. It did not
occur to Duncan that the old man avoided him, because he was guilty of
the like avoidance himself; but, had he been less concerned with his
own sorrows, and given some thought to Stephen Langdon's, he would
have been quick enough to discover that the old financier dodged him,
studiously.
There was no gossip about the disappearance of Patricia, because
nothing was known about it. She was out of town, as were most of her
associates; traveling somewhere, doubtless, or was passing the time
among her numerous friends.
The first week after the beginning of the mystery was lived through in
a state of unrest by Duncan, and the second and third weeks brought no
change to him. With the beginning of the fourth week, he encountered
Burke Radnor, and the mere sight of the newspaper man recalled to the
young millionaire that bitterly unpleasant episode in which his name
and that of Beatrice Brunswick were coupled. Radnor was seated in the
lobby of the Hotel Astor, when Duncan entered the place. The man had
been drinking just enough to render him a bit boisterous and a trifle
loud in his talk and demeanor, when Duncan saw him. He was seated with
several other men, and all of them were talking and laughing together
at the moment when Duncan passed them on his way to the desk to
inquire for a guest whom he desired to see. He took no notice whatever
of Radnor, and was passing on, when a remark dropped noisily by the
newspaper writer arrested him. It brought him to a halt so suddenly,
that he sank at once upon a chair near at hand, and remained there
without realizing that he did so, for the sole purpose of hearing what
else Radnor might have to say upon this particular subject. He would
have passed on, even then, had he not been convinced that Radnor had
not seen him, and did not suspect his nearness. As he listened, he
gathered that Radnor was boasting of a prospective news story which he
had in prospect, and for the publication of which he needed only a few
additional facts.
"--elopement in high life, with an automobile wreck, a broken head--a
broken heart also, only that was quickly mended--and a bunch of other
little details thrown in, you know," was the remark that was overheard
by Duncan, as he strolled past the group; was his reason for dropping
down upon a convenient chair and remaining there, to listen. "The lady
in the case is a swell who is away up in the top rank of the
'two-hundred-and-fifty;' and the man--well, he is up in high C, too,
for that matter. One of the newly-rich, you know, lately materialized
out of the wild and woolly. Fine stunt, that story; only, I can't seem
to nail the few additional facts I need," Radnor continued, while
Duncan listened with all his ears. "There are certain elements
connected with the story that make it especially attractive to me,
for, in addition to getting a clear scoop in the biggest sensation of
the year, I can clean up an old grudge of mine, bee-eautifully. And
won't I clean it up, when I get my hooks fairly into it! Well! You can
take it from me."
"Oh, go on, Radnor, and tell us about it!" urged one of his
companions--another newspaper writer, evidently. "How'd you get next
to it in the first place?"
"Oh, that was an accident--a series of accidents, it might be called.
I don't mind telling you that part of it, without names. I mentioned
a broken head, just now. Well, I had a line on a dandy story that was
located out of town, and so I borrowed Tony Brokaw's automobile to go
after it, because the story was located some distance off of the main
line of travel. I was bowling along quite merrily, all alone in a car
that is made to carry seven. It was just in the shank of the evening,
and--"
"All this happened out of town, didn't it, Radnor?"
"Yes--a little way out. I came to a place where there had been a
wreck, and--well--seated on the ground at the scene of the disaster,
was the lady in the case, holding the head of the man in the case, in
her lap, and moaning over it to beat the band. Standing beside them,
like a big dog on guard, was a 'faithful servant.' It made a picture
that couldn't be beaten, for suggestive points, provided the
likenesses were made good enough. I took the whole thing in, at a
glance, and sized the situation up rather correctly, too. The young
woman was rattled clean out of her senses, and kept moaning something
about it's being all her fault--I wasn't able to get just the gist of
that part of it. She knew me by sight, and remembered my name. I
offered my assistance, and then fell to examining the injured man. I
discovered that he wasn't dead by a long shot, although he had been
hurt quite badly, and he'd bled a lot. But I've been a war
correspondent; I know all about first aid to the injured; I have seen
wounds of all kinds, and it didn't take me long to estimate 'mister
magusalem's' chances at about a thousand to one, for recovery. I made
the chauffeur help me, and together we toted the wounded man to my
car, and put him in the tonneau. The lady climbed in beside him--and
ordered her chauffeur to follow her, and help her with the injured
man. All the time, I was keeping up a devil of a thinking, wondering
what it was all about. You see, I knew who the man and the woman were,
but I couldn't fix the facts of the case sufficiently clear to satisfy
me. I knew it would be a dandy sensation for the morning papers, but
there was yet plenty of time to get it in, over a wire--besides, I
wanted it to go in late, so that other papers than the one I gave it
to, couldn't get a line on it. I got into my car--that is, the one I
had borrowed, you understand--wondering where I would take the bunch,
when another car stopped alongside of us, and a man, also alone, asked
what was the matter. I found out that he was a doctor, and got him to
take a look at the wounded man. To make a long story short, he
dressed the wound then and there, said there wasn't any immediate
danger--and a lot more--and went on his way. That decided me. I knew
of a place about twenty miles away where I could take them, where the
man would have the best of care, and--best of all--where I could fix
things up to keep everything quiet till I found out all the facts. You
see, I scented the greatest sensational story of my career--and I
wasn't far out, either, if ever I get all of it."
"But, great Scott, man, didn't you have it then?"
"You'd have had it, Sommers; but not I. I knew there was more to it.
When the doctor pulled his freight out of there, I didn't lose any
time in getting a move on me, too. And the girl never asked a
question; not one; I had told her that I would take them to a place
where the man could get well, and she seemed satisfied. The chauffeur
never peeped a word. I let the motor skim along at a good rate, and
wasn't long in bringing the bunch to the place I had thought of, which
happens to be a small, private sanatorium, which isn't known to be one
at all, save by those who patronize it and who want to put their loved
ones away for a time, secretly. But the doc who runs it, is a good
fellow, a good friend of mine, and when I told him that we didn't
want a word said about the affair--and particularly when he discovered
who the parties were and that there was a heap of dough in it for
him--he fell into my plans without a dissenting vote."
"Say, Radnor, that's a long winded yarn, all right, but it's
interesting. I wish, though, that you'd open up with the names."
"Not I, Sommers. I haven't got to the real mystery of the
affair--yet."
"You don't say! What is it?"
"Well, when I had fixed things to suit me, and had received the thanks
of the lady, when I had also satisfied myself that she was just as
anxious for secrecy about the thing as I was, although I couldn't tell
exactly why she was so, I hiked it back for town. It was too late,
then, to get the other story I had been after, and I had ceased to
care much about it, anyhow; and then, when I was ready to leave, out
came the chauffeur, and he said, if I didn't mind, he'd ride part of
the way back with me. He and the woman had been whispering together,
just before that, and I sized it up that she had given him certain
instructions to carry out. Anyhow, when we arrived at the scene of the
accident, the chauffeur got down, and I came on, to the city, alone.
I'm not going to tell you why the chauffeur left me, at the scene of
the accident, because that would give you a pointer which I don't wish
you to have. He had a certain duty to perform which I did not guess
at, just then, but which was all plain to me the next A. M., if
anybody should ask you. It amazed me, and it added immensely to the
mystery. And now, brace yourself, fellows, for the real mystery--the
one I am chasing at the present time."
"We're all ears, Radnor."
"I telephoned to my friend the doc, the next morning. He reported that
the man was doing well, and that the lady was hanging over him like a
possum over a ripe persimmon. I telephoned again that afternoon, again
the next morning, and every day after that, but the doc kept telling
me that, although the man was doing well, and the lady was still there
with him, I had better not butt in until he tipped me the wink--and
I'll give you my word that he managed to keep me on the hooks for ten
days before I tumbled."
"Tumbled to what?"
"You shall hear. I got leary about things on the tenth day, for this
telephoning was getting monotonous, and borrowed Brokaw's car again,
but when I got to the little hidden sanatorium, my birds had flown,
and--"
"Your birds had flown! What do you mean, Radnor?"
"Just what I say. The man and the woman had gone, and the doc wouldn't
tell me when they went away, or anything at all about them. He said he
had been well paid for keeping quiet, and I couldn't get any more
information out of him than you could dig out of a clam. What is more,
that chauffeur hadn't been seen by anybody since I dropped him out of
the machine, at the scene of the accident--and that is the story. I
don't know whether the doc lied to me, or not. He wouldn't let me go
through his place, and, for all I know, the man and the girl were both
there when I went back. On the other hand, they might have been gone a
week, already. I've been unearthing every clue I could think of, since
then, to get trace of them, but you might as well look for saw dust in
hades, as for clues about those two--or rather the three of them, for
I am satisfied that the chauffeur returned to the sanatorium after he
had performed the errand he was sent to do."
"What gets me," said Sommers, "is how people as prominent as you say
they were could fade out of sight like that, and leave no trace behind
them. I should have thought there would be a hue and cry after them
that would have stirred every newspaper in town."
"Well--all that rather gets me, too. Of course, I could make a big
story out of it, as it stands; but that isn't all of the story, and I
want it all."
"There is a scandal in the thing, too, Radnor."
"Of course, man! The fellow wasn't so badly hurt but what he must have
been around again, by the time I went back to the sanatorium. The girl
was certainly in her right senses. She remained there with him,
hanging over him and helping to take care of him--and there wasn't a
thing said about any marriage-ceremony. Oh, it's a big story all
right, no matter how it turns out. You see, there are some remarkable
circumstances associated with the case. For instance, there are two
men in town now, both of whom should be very greatly concerned over
the mystery. I have had them both watched, and, while both seem
anxious about something, neither one seems to give a hang about an
affair which I know they would have broken their necks to have
prevented. There's a nigger in the fence, somewhere; and those two men
avoid each other as if one had the smallpox and the other was down
with yellow fever. Whenever I have asked any of the intimate friends
about the principals in the case, I have been told enough to inform
me that the intimate friends know as little as I do, and don't guess
anything about it, at all. Oh, it's a fine mix-up! But just where the
trouble is located, I can't make out."
"Put me wise, Radnor, and let me help you. Then, we'll do the story
together," said the man called Sommers.
"Not much. It's my story, and I'm going to hang to it. If you can make
anything out of what I have told you, you're welcome. You can't! The
young woman in the case has got more brains than half the business
men, down-town. The man and the woman have both got millions to burn;
and there you are. Come on; let's have something. I'm dry as a bone."
The members of Radnor's party marched past Roderick Duncan without
seeing him; and he, totally forgetful of the errand that had taken him
to the hotel, passed swiftly out of it, hailed a taxi, and gave the
address of Malcolm Melvin, the lawyer; and then he was whirled away as
swiftly as the driver of the cab dared to take him through the streets
of the teeming city.