Vance did not betray the least trepidation, but said, in a
calm voice:
"My friend, I was just about to put that same question to
you."
"My question came first, and I demand an answer."
"I don't care what you demand."
"I hold you at my mercy."
"Do you think so?"
"You are not what you seem," said the stranger.
"Nor are you," was the quick response.
"Who have I claimed to be, sir?"
"Renie's father."
"And you deny that I am her father?"
"I do."
"Who am I?"
"That is for you to tell."
"Who do you think I am?"
"I am not giving out my thoughts."
"Why not?"
"I've nothing as yet whereon to base an opinion."
"What difference does it male to you who I am?"
"Considerable."
"Will you explain how?"
"You are looking for the girl Renie, and so am I."
"You are?"
"Yes."
"What interest have you in the girl?"
"I am her friend."
"Can you find her--do you know where to look for her?"
"I think I do."
"Will you tell me frankly who you are?"
"No."
"And you demand to know who I am?"
"Yes."
"I have the same right as yourself to refuse to disclose my
identity.
"No, sir."
"Why not?"
"You have claimed to be the girl's father."
"Well?"
"You are not her father."
"How do you know?"
"I know."
"It is to my interest to find the girl, and it is to your
interest to aid me. I will admit to you that I have not
disclosed who or what I am."
"You must, if you desire my aid."
"I can pay you for your service. Listen! you claim to be a
friend of the girl; so am I her friend."
"You know something concerning her real identity?"
"I do."
"And you desire my co-operation in, discovering the
whereabouts of the girl?"
"Possibly I do."
"If you desire my assistance, you must make a confidant of
me."
"First tell me; do you believe evil has befallen the girl?"
"Yes."
"What do you suspect?"
"There is no reason why I should make a confidant of you."
"There is."
"Explain wherein."
"If you will prove yourself an honest man, with honest
purposes, I will tell you all in good time."
"It will be better to tell me at once."
"I will."
"When?"
"Speedily; but tell me, what has become of her?"
"I do not know."
"Put you admit what you suspect."
"Yes."
"Will you tell me what you suspect?"
"I believe she has been abducted."
The stranger betrayed great agitation. He buried his face in
his hands. He was at the mercy of the detective, had the
latter been disposed to take advantage of the situation.
A few moments' silence pervaded the room, and a strange scene
was presented. On the floor lay the corpse of the boatman;
seated in a chair into which he had retreated was the man in
the rubber coat, and standing over against him with a stern
glance in his eye was the detective.
At length the man uncovered his face, and said:
"You think she has been abducted?"
"Yes."
"Have you any suspicion as to the identity of the abductor?"
"I have."
"And you will know where to look for her?"
"I will know who to look for."
"Do you suspect the motive for the abduction?"
"Yes."
"What was the motive?"
"Renie is a beautiful girl."
"You told me differently before."
"I did."
"Now you admit she is beautiful?"
"Yes; one of the most beautiful girls I ever beheld."
"Will you describe her appearance?"
The detective hesitated a moment, but at length did describe
the appearance of Renie.
A detective can better describe a missing person's appearance
than any other party, as it is a part of their trade to
accustom themselves to the art, and our hero's description was
vivid and accurate.
"Yes, yes, it is she," muttered the stranger, involuntarily.
"From the description you are satisfied that the adopted
daughter of Tom Pearce is the girl you are looking for, my
friend?"
"Yes; there is no doubt."
"You recognize the description?"
"Yes."
"Then you have seen the girl?"
"Not since she was a year old."
"Not since she was a year old?" exclaimed the detective.
"How can you know what she would look like now?"
"I knew her mother."
"I wish I were assured that you are her friend."
"I am her friend."
The real agitation the stranger had betrayed, had modified the
detective's original opinion concerning the man.
"Answer me, are you really the girl's father?"
"I am her friend."
"You were at first ready to proclaim yourself her father; now
you only claim to be a friend."
"I am her friend, and you must aid me to find her, young man;
your service, if successful, will bring you more money than
you have previously earned during your whole life."
"Oh, no."
"Yes, sir; I will pay you a fortune if you will find the
girl."
"I already possess a fortune."
"You are rich?"
"I am rich."
"Your appearance would not indicate that you were a rich man."
"But you said a moment ago that I was not what I seemed."
"And I was correct?"
"You were right."
"Who are you?"
"Never mind; I am a friend to the girl."
"Why are you her friend?"
"I cannot tell you now, but I will admit that I am under deep
obligations to her, and when I met you first to-night I was on
my way to the cottage."
"How long a time since you saw the girl?"
"It is more than a week."
Strange revelations were to follow.