THE MYSTERY DEEPENS
Uncle John was both astounded and indignant that so bold and unlawful an
act as the abduction of his own niece could have been perpetrated in the
heart of New York and directly under the eyes of the police. Urged by
the Major, Mr. Merrick was at first inclined to allow Arthur Weldon to
prosecute the affair and undertake the recovery of the girl, being
assured this would easily be accomplished and conceding the fact that no
one had a stronger interest in solving the mystery of Louise's
disappearance than young Weldon. But when midday arrived and no trace of
the young girl had yet been obtained the little millionaire assumed an
important and decisive air and hurried down town to "take a hand in the
game" himself.
After a long interview with the Chief of Detectives, Mr. Merrick said
impressively:
"Now, understand, sir; not a hint of this to the newspaper folks. I
won't have any scandal attached to the poor child if I can help it. Set
your whole force to work--at once!--but impress them with the need of
secrecy. My offer is fair and square. I'll give a reward of ten thousand
dollars if Miss Merrick is discovered within twenty-four hours; nine
thousand if she's found during the next twenty-four hours; and so on,
deducting a thousand for each day of delay. That's for the officer who
finds her. For yourself, sir, I intend to express my gratitude as
liberally as the service will allow me to. Is this all clear and
above-board?"
"It is perfectly clear, Mr. Merrick."
"The child must be found--and found blamed quick, too! Great Caesar! Can
a simple affair like this baffle your splendid metropolitan force?"
"Not for long, Mr. Merrick, believe me."
But this assurance proved optimistic. Day by day crept by without a clew
to the missing girl being discovered; without development of any sort.
The Inspector informed Mr. Merrick that "it began to look like a
mystery."
Arthur, even after several sleepless nights, still retained his courage.
"I'm on the right track, sir," he told Uncle John. "The delay is
annoying, but not at all dangerous. So long as Fogerty holds fast to
Mershone Louise is safe, wherever she may be."
"Mershone may have nothing to do with the case."
"I'm positive he has."
"And Louise can't be safe while she's a prisoner, and in the hands of
strangers. I want the girl home! Then I'll know she's safe."
"I want her home, too, sir. But all your men are unable to find her, it
seems. They can't even discover in what direction she was taken, or how.
The brown limousine seems to be no due at all."
"Of course not. There are a thousand brown limousines in New York."
"Do you imagine she's still somewhere in the city, sir?" enquired
Arthur.
"That's my theory," replied Uncle John. "She must be somewhere in the
city. You see it would be almost impossible to get her out of town
without discovery. But I'll admit this detective force is the finest
aggregation of incompetents I've ever known--and I don't believe your
precious Fogerty is any better, either."
Of course Beth and Patsy had to be told of their cousin's disappearance
as soon as the first endeavor to trace her proved a failure. Patsy went
at once to Mrs. Merrick and devoted herself to comforting the poor woman
as well as she could.
Beth frowned at the news and then sat down to carefully think out the
problem. In an hour she had logically concluded that Diana Von Taer was
the proper person to appeal to. If anyone knew where Louise was, it was
Diana. That same afternoon she drove to the Von Taer residence and
demanded an interview.
Diana was at that moment in a highly nervous state. She had at times
during her career been calculating and unscrupulous, but never before
had she deserved the accusation of being malicious and wicked. She had
come to reproach herself bitterly for having weakly connived at the
desperate act of Charlie Mershone, and her good sense assured her the
result would be disastrous to all concerned in it. Contempt for herself
and contempt for her cousin mingled with well-defined fears for her
cherished reputation, and so it was that Miss Von Taer had almost
decided to telephone Madame Cerise and order her to escort Louise
Merrick to her own home when Beth's card came up with a curt demand for
a personal interview.
The natures of these two girls had never harmonized in the slightest
degree. Beth's presence nerved Diana to a spirit of antagonism that
quickly destroyed her repentant mood. As she confronted her visitor her
demeanor was cold and suspicious. There was a challenge and an
accusation in Beth's eyes that conveyed a distinct warning, which Miss
Von Taer quickly noted and angrily resented--perhaps because she knew it
was deserved.
It would have been easy to tell Beth De Graf where her cousin Louise
was, and at the same time to assure her that Diana was blameless in the
affair; but she could not endure to give her antagonist this
satisfaction.
Beth began the interview by saying: "What have you done with Louise
Merrick?" That was, of course, equal to a declaration of war.
Diana was sneering and scornful. Thoroughly on guard, she permitted no
compromising word or admission to escape her. Really, she knew nothing
of Louise Merrick, having unfortunately neglected to examine her
antecedents and personal characteristics before undertaking her
acquaintance. One is so likely to blunder through excess of good nature.
She had supposed a niece of Mr. John Merrick would be of the right sort;
but the age is peculiar, and one cannot be too cautious in choosing
associates. If Miss Merrick had run away from her home and friends, Miss
Von Taer was in no way responsible for the escapade. And now, if Miss De
Graf had nothing further to say, more important matters demanded Diana's
time.
Beth was furious with anger at this baiting. Without abandoning a jot
her suspicions she realized she was powerless to prove her case at this
time. With a few bitter and cutting remarks--made, she afterward said,
in "self-defense"--she retreated as gracefully as possible and drove
home.
An hour later she suggested to Uncle John that he have a detective
placed where Diana's movements could be watched; but that had already
been attended to by both Mr. Merrick and Mr. Fogerty. Uncle John could
hardly credit Diana's complicity in this affair. The young lady's social
position was so high, her family so eminently respectable, her motive
in harming Louise so inconceivable, that he hesitated to believe her
guilty, even indirectly. As for her cousin, he did not know what to
think, as Arthur accused him unreservedly. It did not seem possible that
any man of birth, breeding and social position could be so contemptible
as to perpetrate an act of this character. Yet some one had done it, and
who had a greater incentive than Charlie Mershone?
Poor Mrs. Merrick was inconsolable as the days dragged by. She clung to
Patsy with pitiful entreaties not to be left alone; so Miss Doyle
brought her to her own apartments, where the bereft woman was shown
every consideration. Vain and selfish though Mrs. Merrick might be, she
was passionately devoted to her only child, and her fears for the life
and safety of Louise were naturally greatly exaggerated.
The group of anxious relatives and friends canvassed the subject
morning, noon and night, and the longer the mystery remained unsolved
the more uneasy they all became.
"This, ma'am," said Uncle John, sternly, as he sat one evening facing
Mrs. Merrick, "is the final result of your foolish ambition to get our
girls into society."
"I can't see it that way, John," wailed the poor woman. "I've never
heard of such a thing happening in society before, have you?"
"I don't keep posted," he growled. "But everything was moving smoothly
with us before this confounded social stunt began, as you must admit."
"I can't understand why the papers are not full of it," sighed Mrs.
Merrick, musingly. "Louise is so prominent now in the best circles."
"Of course," said the Major, drily; "she's so prominent, ma'am, that no
one can discover her at all! And it's lucky for us the newspapers know
nothing of the calamity. They'd twist the thing into so many shapes that
not one of us would ever again dare to look a friend in the eye."
"I'm sure my darling has been murdered!" declared Mrs. Merrick, weeping
miserably. She made the statement on an average of once to every five
minutes. "Or, if she hasn't been killed yet, she's sure to be soon.
Can't _something_ be done?" That last appeal was hard to answer. They
had done everything that could be thought of. And here it was Tuesday.
Louise had been missing for five days.