BAFFLED for the moment, Tommy strolled into the restaurant, and ordered
a meal of surpassing excellence. His four days’ imprisonment had taught
him anew to value good food.
He was in the middle of conveying a particularly choice morsel of Sole
à la Jeanette to his mouth, when he caught sight of Julius entering
the room. Tommy waved a menu cheerfully, and succeeded in attracting the
other’s attention. At the sight of Tommy, Julius’s eyes seemed as though
they would pop out of his head. He strode across, and pump-handled
Tommy’s hand with what seemed to the latter quite unnecessary vigour.
“Holy snakes!” he ejaculated. “Is it really you?”
“Of course it is. Why shouldn’t it be?”
“Why shouldn’t it be? Say, man, don’t you know you’ve been given up
for dead? I guess we’d have had a solemn requiem for you in another few
days.”
“Who thought I was dead?” demanded Tommy.
“Tuppence.”
“She remembered the proverb about the good dying young, I suppose. There
must be a certain amount of original sin in me to have survived. Where
is Tuppence, by the way?”
“Isn’t she here?”
“No, the fellows at the office said she’d just gone out.”
“Gone shopping, I guess. I dropped her here in the car about an hour
ago. But, say, can’t you shed that British calm of yours, and get down
to it? What on God’s earth have you been doing all this time?”
“If you’re feeding here,” replied Tommy, “order now. It’s going to be a
long story.”
Julius drew up a chair to the opposite side of the table, summoned a
hovering waiter, and dictated his wishes. Then he turned to Tommy.
“Fire ahead. I guess you’ve had some few adventures.”
“One or two,” replied Tommy modestly, and plunged into his recital.
Julius listened spellbound. Half the dishes that were placed before him
he forgot to eat. At the end he heaved a long sigh.
“Bully for you. Reads like a dime novel!”
“And now for the home front,” said Tommy, stretching out his hand for a
peach.
“We-el,” drawled Julius, “I don’t mind admitting we’ve had some
adventures too.”
He, in his turn, assumed the rôle of narrator. Beginning with his
unsuccessful reconnoitring at Bournemouth, he passed on to his return
to London, the buying of the car, the growing anxieties of Tuppence,
the call upon Sir James, and the sensational occurrences of the previous
night.
“But who killed her?” asked Tommy. “I don’t quite understand.”
“The doctor kidded himself she took it herself,” replied Julius dryly.
“And Sir James? What did he think?”
“Being a legal luminary, he is likewise a human oyster,” replied Julius.
“I should say he ‘reserved judgment.’” He went on to detail the events
of the morning.
“Lost her memory, eh?” said Tommy with interest. “By Jove, that explains
why they looked at me so queerly when I spoke of questioning her. Bit of
a slip on my part, that! But it wasn’t the sort of thing a fellow would
be likely to guess.”
“They didn’t give you any sort of hint as to where Jane was?”
Tommy shook his head regretfully.
“Not a word. I’m a bit of an ass, as you know. I ought to have got more
out of them somehow.”
“I guess you’re lucky to be here at all. That bluff of yours was the
goods all right. How you ever came to think of it all so pat beats me to
a frazzle!”
“I was in such a funk I had to think of something,” said Tommy simply.
There was a moment’s pause, and then Tommy reverted to Mrs. Vandemeyer’s
death.
“There’s no doubt it was chloral?”
“I believe not. At least they call it heart failure induced by an
overdose, or some such claptrap. It’s all right. We don’t want to
be worried with an inquest. But I guess Tuppence and I and even the
highbrow Sir James have all got the same idea.”
“Mr. Brown?” hazarded Tommy.
“Sure thing.”
Tommy nodded.
“All the same,” he said thoughtfully, “Mr. Brown hasn’t got wings. I
don’t see how he got in and out.”
“How about some high-class thought transference stunt? Some magnetic
influence that irresistibly impelled Mrs. Vandemeyer to commit suicide?”
Tommy looked at him with respect.
“Good, Julius. Distinctly good. Especially the phraseology. But it
leaves me cold. I yearn for a real Mr. Brown of flesh and blood. I think
the gifted young detectives must get to work, study the entrances and
exits, and tap the bumps on their foreheads until the solution of the
mystery dawns on them. Let’s go round to the scene of the crime. I wish
we could get hold of Tuppence. The _Ritz_ would enjoy the spectacle of
the glad reunion.”
Inquiry at the office revealed the fact that Tuppence had not yet
returned.
“All the same, I guess I’ll have a look round upstairs,” said Julius.
“She might be in my sitting-room.” He disappeared.
Suddenly a diminutive boy spoke at Tommy’s elbow:
“The young lady--she’s gone away by train, I think, sir,” he murmured
shyly.
“What?” Tommy wheeled round upon him.
The small boy became pinker than before.
“The taxi, sir. I heard her tell the driver Charing Cross and to look
sharp.”
Tommy stared at him, his eyes opening wide in surprise. Emboldened, the
small boy proceeded. “So I thought, having asked for an A.B.C. and a
Bradshaw.”
Tommy interrupted him:
“When did she ask for an A.B.C. and a Bradshaw?”
“When I took her the telegram, sir.”
“A telegram?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When was that?”
“About half-past twelve, sir.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
The small boy drew a long breath.
“I took up a telegram to No. 891--the lady was there. She opened it
and gave a gasp, and then she said, very jolly like: ‘Bring me up a
Bradshaw, and an A.B.C., and look sharp, Henry.’ My name isn’t Henry,
but----”
“Never mind your name,” said Tommy impatiently. “Go on.”
“Yes, sir. I brought them, and she told me to wait, and looked up
something. And then she looks up at the clock, and ‘Hurry up,’ she says.
‘Tell them to get me a taxi,’ and she begins a-shoving on of her hat in
front of the glass, and she was down in two ticks, almost as quick as I
was, and I seed her going down the steps and into the taxi, and I heard
her call out what I told you.”
The small boy stopped and replenished his lungs. Tommy continued to
stare at him. At that moment Julius rejoined him. He held an open letter
in his hand.
“I say, Hersheimmer”--Tommy turned to him--“Tuppence has gone off
sleuthing on her own.”
“Shucks!”
“Yes, she has. She went off in a taxi to Charing Cross in the deuce of a
hurry after getting a telegram.” His eye fell on the letter in Julius’s
hand. “Oh; she left a note for you. That’s all right. Where’s she off
to?”
Almost unconsciously, he held out his hand for the letter, but
Julius folded it up and placed it in his pocket. He seemed a trifle
embarrassed.
“I guess this is nothing to do with it. It’s about something
else--something I asked her that she was to let me know about.”
“Oh!” Tommy looked puzzled, and seemed waiting for more.
“See here,” said Julius suddenly, “I’d better put you wise. I asked Miss
Tuppence to marry me this morning.”
“Oh!” said Tommy mechanically. He felt dazed. Julius’s words were
totally unexpected. For the moment they benumbed his brain.
“I’d like to tell you,” continued Julius, “that before I suggested
anything of the kind to Miss Tuppence, I made it clear that I didn’t
want to butt in in any way between her and you----”
Tommy roused himself.
“That’s all right,” he said quickly. “Tuppence and I have been pals for
years. Nothing more.” He lit a cigarette with a hand that shook ever
so little. “That’s quite all right. Tuppence always said that she was
looking out for----”
He stopped abruptly, his face crimsoning, but Julius was in no way
discomposed.
“Oh, I guess it’ll be the dollars that’ll do the trick. Miss Tuppence
put me wise to that right away. There’s no humbug about her. We ought to
gee along together very well.”
Tommy looked at him curiously for a minute, as though he were about
to speak, then changed his mind and said nothing. Tuppence and Julius!
Well, why not? Had she not lamented the fact that she knew no rich men?
Had she not openly avowed her intention of marrying for money if she
ever had the chance? Her meeting with the young American millionaire
had given her the chance--and it was unlikely she would be slow to avail
herself of it. She was out for money. She had always said so. Why blame
her because she had been true to her creed?
Nevertheless, Tommy did blame her. He was filled with a passionate and
utterly illogical resentment. It was all very well to _say_ things
like that--but a _real_ girl would never marry for money. Tuppence was
utterly cold-blooded and selfish, and he would be delighted if he never
saw her again! And it was a rotten world!
Julius’s voice broke in on these meditations.
“Yes, we ought to gee along together very well. I’ve heard that a girl
always refuses you once--a sort of convention.”
Tommy caught his arm.
“Refuses? Did you say _refuses?_”
“Sure thing. Didn’t I tell you that? She just rapped out a ‘no’ without
any kind of reason to it. The eternal feminine, the Huns call it, I’ve
heard. But she’ll come round right enough. Likely enough, I hustled her
some----”
But Tommy interrupted regardless of decorum.
“What did she say in that note?” he demanded fiercely.
The obliging Julius handed it to him.
“There’s no earthly clue in it as to where she’s gone,” he assured
Tommy. “But you might as well see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
The note, in Tuppence’s well-known schoolboy writing, ran as follows:
“DEAR JULIUS,
“It’s always better to have things in black and white. I don’t feel I
can be bothered to think of marriage until Tommy is found. Let’s leave
it till then.
“Yours affectionately,
“TUPPENCE.”
Tommy handed it back, his eyes shining. His feelings had undergone a
sharp reaction. He now felt that Tuppence was all that was noble and
disinterested. Had she not refused Julius without hesitation? True, the
note betokened signs of weakening, but he could excuse that. It read
almost like a bribe to Julius to spur him on in his efforts to find
Tommy, but he supposed she had not really meant it that way. Darling
Tuppence, there was not a girl in the world to touch her! When he saw
her----His thoughts were brought up with a sudden jerk.
“As you say,” he remarked, pulling himself together, “there’s not a hint
here as to what she’s up to. Hi--Henry!”
The small boy came obediently. Tommy produced five shillings.
“One thing more. Do you remember what the young lady did with the
telegram?”
Henry gasped and spoke.
“She crumpled it up into a ball and threw it into the grate, and made a
sort of noise like ‘Whoop!’ sir.”
“Very graphic, Henry,” said Tommy. “Here’s your five shillings. Come on,
Julius. We must find that telegram.”
They hurried upstairs. Tuppence had left the key in her door. The room
was as she had left it. In the fireplace was a crumpled ball of orange
and white. Tommy disentangled it and smoothed out the telegram.
“Come at once, Moat House, Ebury, Yorkshire, great developments--TOMMY.”
They looked at each other in stupefaction. Julius spoke first:
“You didn’t send it?”
“Of course not. What does it mean?”
“I guess it means the worst,” said Julius quietly. “They’ve got her.”
_“What?”_
“Sure thing! They signed your name, and she fell into the trap like a
lamb.”
“My God! What shall we do?”
“Get busy, and go after her! Right now! There’s no time to waste. It’s
almighty luck that she didn’t take the wire with her. If she had we’d
probably never have traced her. But we’ve got to hustle. Where’s that
Bradshaw?”
The energy of Julius was infectious. Left to himself, Tommy would
probably have sat down to think things out for a good half-hour before
he decided on a plan of action. But with Julius Hersheimmer about,
hustling was inevitable.
After a few muttered imprecations he handed the Bradshaw to Tommy as
being more conversant with its mysteries. Tommy abandoned it in favour
of an A.B.C.
“Here we are. Ebury, Yorks. From King’s Cross. Or St. Pancras. (Boy must
have made a mistake. It was King’s Cross, not _Charing_ Cross.) 12.50,
that’s the train she went by. 2.10, that’s gone. 3.20 is the next--and a
damned slow train too.”
“What about the car?”
Tommy shook his head.
“Send it up if you like, but we’d better stick to the train. The great
thing is to keep calm.”
Julius groaned.
“That’s so. But it gets my goat to think of that innocent young girl in
danger!”
Tommy nodded abstractedly. He was thinking. In a moment or two, he said:
“I say, Julius, what do they want her for, anyway?”
“Eh? I don’t get you?”
“What I mean is that I don’t think it’s their game to do her any harm,”
explained Tommy, puckering his brow with the strain of his mental
processes. “She’s a hostage, that’s what she is. She’s in no immediate
danger, because if we tumble on to anything, she’d be damned useful to
them. As long as they’ve got her, they’ve got the whip hand of us. See?”
“Sure thing,” said Julius thoughtfully. “That’s so.”
“Besides,” added Tommy, as an afterthought, “I’ve great faith in
Tuppence.”
The journey was wearisome, with many stops, and crowded carriages. They
had to change twice, once at Doncaster, once at a small junction. Ebury
was a deserted station with a solitary porter, to whom Tommy addressed
himself:
“Can you tell me the way to the Moat House?”
“The Moat House? It’s a tidy step from here. The big house near the sea,
you mean?”
Tommy assented brazenly. After listening to the porter’s meticulous
but perplexing directions, they prepared to leave the station. It was
beginning to rain, and they turned up the collars of their coats as they
trudged through the slush of the road. Suddenly Tommy halted.
“Wait a moment.” He ran back to the station and tackled the porter anew.
“Look here, do you remember a young lady who arrived by an earlier
train, the 12.50 from London? She’d probably ask you the way to the Moat
House.”
He described Tuppence as well as he could, but the porter shook his
head. Several people had arrived by the train in question. He could not
call to mind one young lady in particular. But he was quite certain that
no one had asked him the way to the Moat House.
Tommy rejoined Julius, and explained. Depression was settling on him
like a leaden weight. He felt convinced that their quest was going to
be unsuccessful. The enemy had over three hours’ start. Three hours was
more than enough for Mr. Brown. He would not ignore the possibility of
the telegram having been found.
The way seemed endless. Once they took the wrong turning and went nearly
half a mile out of their direction. It was past seven o’clock when a
small boy told them that “t’ Moat House” was just past the next corner.
A rusty iron gate swinging dismally on its hinges! An overgrown drive
thick with leaves. There was something about the place that struck a
chill to both their hearts. They went up the deserted drive. The leaves
deadened their footsteps. The daylight was almost gone. It was like
walking in a world of ghosts. Overhead the branches flapped and creaked
with a mournful note. Occasionally a sodden leaf drifted silently down,
startling them with its cold touch on their cheek.
A turn of the drive brought them in sight of the house. That, too,
seemed empty and deserted. The shutters were closed, the steps up to
the door overgrown with moss. Was it indeed to this desolate spot
that Tuppence had been decoyed? It seemed hard to believe that a human
footstep had passed this way for months.
Julius jerked the rusty bell handle. A jangling peal rang discordantly,
echoing through the emptiness within. No one came. They rang again and
again--but there was no sign of life. Then they walked completely round
the house. Everywhere silence, and shuttered windows. If they could
believe the evidence of their eyes the place was empty.
“Nothing doing,” said Julius.
They retraced their steps slowly to the gate.
“There must be a village handy,” continued the young American. “We’d
better make inquiries there. They’ll know something about the place, and
whether there’s been anyone there lately.”
“Yes, that’s not a bad idea.”
Proceeding up the road, they soon came to a little hamlet. On the
outskirts of it, they met a workman swinging his bag of tools, and Tommy
stopped him with a question.
“The Moat House? It’s empty. Been empty for years. Mrs. Sweeny’s got the
key if you want to go over it--next to the post office.”
Tommy thanked him. They soon found the post office, which was also a
sweet and general fancy shop, and knocked at the door of the cottage
next to it. A clean, wholesome-looking woman opened it. She readily
produced the key of the Moat House.
“Though I doubt if it’s the kind of place to suit you, sir. In a
terrible state of repair. Ceilings leaking and all. ‘Twould need a lot
of money spent on it.”
“Thanks,” said Tommy cheerily. “I dare say it’ll be a washout, but
houses are scarce nowadays.”
“That they are,” declared the woman heartily. “My daughter and
son-in-law have been looking for a decent cottage for I don’t know how
long. It’s all the war. Upset things terribly, it has. But excuse me,
sir, it’ll be too dark for you to see much of the house. Hadn’t you
better wait until to-morrow?”
“That’s all right. We’ll have a look around this evening, anyway. We’d
have been here before only we lost our way. What’s the best place to
stay at for the night round here?”
Mrs. Sweeny looked doubtful.
“There’s the _Yorkshire Arms_, but it’s not much of a place for
gentlemen like you.”
“Oh, it will do very well. Thanks. By the way, you’ve not had a young
lady here asking for this key to-day?”
The woman shook her head.
“No one’s been over the place for a long time.”
“Thanks very much.”
They retraced their steps to the Moat House. As the front door swung
back on its hinges, protesting loudly, Julius struck a match and
examined the floor carefully. Then he shook his head.
“I’d swear no one’s passed this way. Look at the dust. Thick. Not a sign
of a footmark.”
They wandered round the deserted house. Everywhere the same tale. Thick
layers of dust apparently undisturbed.
“This gets me,” said Julius. “I don’t believe Tuppence was ever in this
house.”
“She must have been.”
Julius shook his head without replying.
“We’ll go over it again to-morrow,” said Tommy. “Perhaps we’ll see more
in the daylight.”
On the morrow they took up the search once more, and were reluctantly
forced to the conclusion that the house had not been invaded for some
considerable time. They might have left the village altogether but for
a fortunate discovery of Tommy’s. As they were retracing their steps to
the gate, he gave a sudden cry, and stooping, picked something up from
among the leaves, and held it out to Julius. It was a small gold brooch.
“That’s Tuppence’s!”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ve often seen her wear it.”
Julius drew a deep breath.
“I guess that settles it. She came as far as here, anyway. We’ll make
that pub our head-quarters, and raise hell round here until we find her.
Somebody _must_ have seen her.”
Forthwith the campaign began. Tommy and Julius worked separately and
together, but the result was the same. Nobody answering to Tuppence’s
description had been seen in the vicinity. They were baffled--but not
discouraged. Finally they altered their tactics. Tuppence had certainly
not remained long in the neighbourhood of the Moat House. That pointed
to her having been overcome and carried away in a car. They renewed
inquiries. Had anyone seen a car standing somewhere near the Moat House
that day? Again they met with no success.
Julius wired to town for his own car, and they scoured the neighbourhood
daily with unflagging zeal. A grey limousine on which they had set high
hopes was traced to Harrogate, and turned out to be the property of a
highly respectable maiden lady!
Each day saw them set out on a new quest. Julius was like a hound on
the leash. He followed up the slenderest clue. Every car that had passed
through the village on the fateful day was tracked down. He forced his
way into country properties and submitted the owners of the motors to
a searching cross-examination. His apologies were as thorough as his
methods, and seldom failed in disarming the indignation of his victims;
but, as day succeeded day, they were no nearer to discovering Tuppence’s
whereabouts. So well had the abduction been planned that the girl seemed
literally to have vanished into thin air.
And another preoccupation was weighing on Tommy’s mind.
“Do you know how long we’ve been here?” he asked one morning as they
sat facing each other at breakfast. “A week! We’re no nearer to finding
Tuppence, _and next Sunday is the_ 29_th!_”
“Shucks!” said Julius thoughtfully. “I’d almost forgotten about the
29th. I’ve been thinking of nothing but Tuppence.”
“So have I. At least, I hadn’t forgotten about the 29th, but it didn’t
seem to matter a damn in comparison to finding Tuppence. But to-day’s
the 23rd, and time’s getting short. If we’re ever going to get hold of
her at all, we must do it before the 29th--her life won’t be worth an
hour’s purchase afterwards. The hostage game will be played out by then.
I’m beginning to feel that we’ve made a big mistake in the way we’ve set
about this. We’ve wasted time and we’re no forrader.”
“I’m with you there. We’ve been a couple of mutts, who’ve bitten off a
bigger bit than they can chew. I’m going to quit fooling right away!”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you. I’m going to do what we ought to have done a week ago.
I’m going right back to London to put the case in the hands of your
British police. We fancied ourselves as sleuths. Sleuths! It was a piece
of damn-fool foolishness! I’m through! I’ve had enough of it. Scotland
Yard for me!”
“You’re right,” said Tommy slowly. “I wish to God we’d gone there right
away.”
“Better late than never. We’ve been like a couple of babes playing ‘Here
we go round the Mulberry Bush.’ Now I’m going right along to Scotland
Yard to ask them to take me by the hand and show me the way I should go.
I guess the professional always scores over the amateur in the end. Are
you coming along with me?”
Tommy shook his head.
“What’s the good? One of us is enough. I might as well stay here and
nose round a bit longer. Something _might_ turn up. One never knows.”
“Sure thing. Well, so long. I’ll be back in a couple of shakes with a
few inspectors along. I shall tell them to pick out their brightest and
best.”
But the course of events was not to follow the plan Julius had laid
down. Later in the day Tommy received a wire:
“Join me Manchester Midland Hotel. Important news--JULIUS.”
At 7.30 that night Tommy alighted from a slow cross-country train.
Julius was on the platform.
“Thought you’d come by this train if you weren’t out when my wire
arrived.”
Tommy grasped him by the arm.
“What is it? Is Tuppence found?”
Julius shook his head.
“No. But I found this waiting in London. Just arrived.”
He handed the telegraph form to the other. Tommy’s eyes opened as he
read:
“Jane Finn found. Come Manchester Midland Hotel immediately--PEEL
EDGERTON.”
Julius took the form back and folded it up.
“Queer,” he said thoughtfully. “I thought that lawyer chap had quit!”