the first. It was a hard struggle, for Georgette, of course,
assumed the much-injured air of some of the heroines of her
favourite novels. But I, at least, believed that we had won and
that Georgette finally was brought to respect and, I hoped,
understand our wishes in the matter. I believe so yet. Mr. Gilbert
in a roundabout way came to an understanding with old Mr. Dudley
Lawton, who possesses a great influence over his son, and - well,
Dudley Lawton seemed to have passed out of Georgette's life. I
believed so then, at least, and I see no reason for not believing
so yet. I feel that you ought to know this, but really I don't
think it is right to say that Georgette had a love affair. I should
rather say that she had had a love affair, but that it had been
forgotten, perhaps a year ago."
Mrs. Gilbert paused again, and it was evident that though she was
concealing nothing she was measuring her words carefully in order
not to give a false impression.
"What does Dudley Lawton say about the newspapers bringing his name
into the case?" asked Kennedy, addressing Mr. Gilbert.
"Nothing," replied he. "He denies that he has even spoken to her
for nearly a year. Apparently he has no interest in the case. And
yet I cannot quite believe that Lawton is as uninterested as he
seems. I know that he has often spoken about her to members of the
Cosmos Club where he lives, and that he reads practically everything
that the newspapers print about the case."
"But you have no reason to think that there has ever been any secret
communication between them? Miss Georgette left no letters or
anything that would indicate that her former infatuation survived?"
"None whatever," repeated Mr. Gilbert emphatically. "We have gone
over her personal effects very carefully, and I can't say they
furnish a clue. In fact, there were very few letters. She rarely
kept a letter. Whether it was merely from habit or for some purpose,
I can't say."
"Besides her liking for Dudley Lawton and her rather romantic nature,
there are no other things in her life that would cause a desire for
freedom?" asked Kennedy, much as a doctor might test the nerves of
a patient. "She had no hobbies?"
"Beyond the reading of some books which her mother and I did not
altogether approve of, I should say no - no hobbies."
"So far, I suppose, it is true that neither you nor the police have
received even a hint as to where she went after leaving the
book-store?"
"Not a hint. She dropped out as completely as if the earth had
swallowed her."
"Mrs. Gilbert," said Kennedy, as our visitors rose to go, "you may
rest assured that if it is humanly possible to find your daughter I
shall leave no stone unturned until I have probed to the bottom of
this mystery. I have seldom had a case that hung on more slender
threads, yet if I can weave other threads to support it I feel that
we shall soon find that the mystery is not so baffling as the
Missing Persons Squad has found it so far."
Scarcely had the Gilberts left when Kennedy put on his hat,
remarking: "We'll at least get our walk, if not the show. Let's
stroll around to the Cosmos Club. Perhaps we may catch Lawton in."
Luckily we chanced to find him there in the reading-room. Lawton
was, as Mrs. Gilbert had said, a type that is common enough in New
York and is very fascinating to many girls. In fact, he was one
of those fellows whose sins are readily forgiven because they are
always interesting. Not a few men secretly admire though publicly
execrate the Lawton type.
I say we chanced to find him in. That was about all we found. Our
interview was most unsatisfactory. For my part, I could not
determine whether he was merely anxious to avoid any notoriety in
connection with the case or whether he was concealing something that
might compromise himself.
"Really, gentlemen," he drawled, puffing languidly on a cigarette
and turning slowly toward the window to watch the passing throng
under the lights of the avenue, "really I don't see how I can be
of any assistance. You see, except for a mere passing acquaintance
Miss Gilbert and I had drifted entirely apart - entirely apart
- owing to circumstances over which I, at least, had no control."
"I thought perhaps you might have heard from her or about her,
through some mutual friend," remarked Kennedy, carefully concealing
under his nonchalance what I knew was working in his mind - a belief
that, after all, the old attachment had not been so dead as the
Gilberts had fancied.
"No, not a breath, either before this sad occurrence or, of course,
after. Believe me, if I could add one fact that would simplify the
search for Georgette - ah, Miss Gilbert - ah - I would do so in a
moment," replied Lawton quickly, as if desirous of getting rid of
us as soon as possible. Then perhaps as if regretting the
brusqueness with which he had tried to end the interview, he added,
"Don't misunderstand me. The moment you have discovered anything
that points to her whereabouts, let me know immediately. You can
count on me - provided you don't get me into the papers. Good-night,
gentlemen. I wish you the best of success."
"Do you think he could have kept up the acquaintance secretly?" I
asked Craig as we walked up the avenue after this baffling interview.
"Could he have cast her off when he found that in spite of her
parents' protests she was still in his power?"
"It's impossible to say what a man of Dudley Lawton's type could do,"
mused Kennedy, "for the simple reason that he himself doesn't know
until he has to do it. Until we have more facts, anything is both
possible and probable."
There was nothing more that could be done that night, though after
our walk we sat up for an hour or two discussing probabilities. It
did not take me long to reach the end of my imagination and give up
the case, but Kennedy continued to revolve the matter in his mind,
looking at it from every angle and calling upon all the vast store
of information that he had treasured up in that marvellous brain of
his, ready to be called on almost as if his mind were card-indexed.
Murders, suicides, robberies, and burglaries are, after all, pretty
easily explained," he remarked, after a long period of silence on
my part, "but the sudden disappearance of people out of the crowded
city into nowhere is something that is much harder to explain. And
it isn't so difficult to disappear as some people imagine, either.
You remember the case of the celebrated Arctic explorer whose picture
had been published scores of times in every illustrated paper. He
had no trouble in disappearing and then reappearing later, when he
got ready.
"Yet experience has taught me that there is always a reason for
disappearances. It is our next duty to discover that reason.
Still, it won't do to say that disappearances are not mysterious.
Disappearances except for money troubles are all mysterious. The
first thing in such a case is to discover whether the person has
any hobbies or habits or fads. That is what I tried to find out
from the Gilberts. I can't tell yet whether I succeeded."
Kennedy took a pencil and hastily jotted down something on a piece
of paper which he tossed over to me. It read:
1.Love, family trouble.
2.A romantic disposition.
3.Temporary insanity, self-destruction.
4.Criminal assault.
5.Aphasia.
6.Kidnapping.
"Those are the reasons why people disappear, eliminating criminals
and those who have financial difficulties. Dream on that and see
if you can work out the answer in your subliminal consciousness.
Good-night."
Needless to say, I was no further advanced in the morning than at
midnight, but Kennedy seemed to have evolved at least a tentative
programme. It started with a visit to the public library, where he
carefully went over the ground already gone over by the police.
Finding nothing, he concluded that Miss Gilbert had not found what
she wanted at the library and had continued the quest, even as he
was continuing the quest of herself.
His next step was to visit the department-store. The purchase had
been an inconsequential affair of half a dozen handkerchiefs, to be
sent home. This certainly did not look like a premeditated
disappearance; but Craig was proceeding on the assumption that this
purchase indicated nothing except that there had been a sale of
handkerchiefs which had caught her eye. Having stopped at the
library first and a book-shop afterward, he assumed that she had
also visited the book-department of the store. But here again
nobody seemed to recall her or that she had asked for anything in
particular.
Our last hope was the book-shop. We paused for a moment to look at
the display in the window, but only for a moment, for Craig quickly
pulled me along inside. In the window was a display of books
bearing the sign:
BOOKS ON NEW THOUGHT, OCCULTISM,
CLAIRVOYANCE, MESMERISM
Instead of attempting to go over the ground already traversed by the
police, who had interrogated the numerous clerks without discovering
which one, if any, had waited on Miss Gilbert, Kennedy asked at once
to see the record of sales of the morning on which she had
disappeared. Running his eye quickly down the record, he picked out
a work on clairvoyance and asked to see the young woman who had made
the sale. The clerk was, however, unable to recall to whom she had
sold the book, though she finally admitted that she thought it might
have been a young woman who had some difficulty in making up her
mind just which one of the numerous volumes she wanted. She could
not say whether the picture Kennedy showed her of Miss Gilbert was
that of her customer, nor was she sure that the customer was not
escorted by some one. Altogether it was nearly as hazy as our
interview with Lawton.
"Still," remarked Kennedy cheerfully, "it may furnish a clue, after
all. The clerk at least was not positive that it was not Miss
Gilbert to whom she sold the book. Since we are down in this
neighbourhood, let us drop in and see Mr. Gilbert again. Perhaps
something may have happened since last night."
Mr. Gilbert was in the dry-goods business in a loft building in the
new dry-goods section on Fourth Avenue. One could almost feel that
a tragedy had invaded even his place of business. As we entered,
we could see groups of clerks, evidently discussing the case. It
was no wonder, I felt, for the head of the firm was almost frantic,
and beside the loss of his only daughter the loss of his business
would count as nothing, at least until the keen edge of his grief
was worn off.
"Mr. Gilbert is out," replied his secretary, in answer to our
inquiry. "Haven't you heard? They have just discovered the body
of his daughter in a lonely spot in the Croton Aqueduct. The
report came in from the police just a few minutes ago. It is
thought that she was murdered in the city and carried there in an
automobile."
The news came with a stinging shock. I felt that, after all, we
were too late. In another hour the extras would be out, and the
news would be spread broadcast. The affair would be in the hands
of the amateur detectives, and there was no telling how many
promising clues might be lost.
"Dead!" exclaimed Kennedy, as he jammed his hat on his head and
bolted for the door. "Hurry, Walter. We must get there before
the coroner makes his examination."
I don't know how we managed to do it, but by dint of subway,
elevated, and taxicab we arrived on the scene of the tragedy not
very long after the coroner. Mr. Gilbert was there, silent, and
looking as if he had aged many years since the night before; his
hand shook and he could merely nod recognition to us.
Already the body had been carried to a rough shanty in the
neighbourhood, and the coroner was questioning those who had made
the discovery, a party of Italian labourers on the water improvement
near by. They were a vicious looking crew, but they could tell
nothing beyond the fact that one of them had discovered the body
in a thicket where it could not possibly have lain longer than
overnight. There was no reason, as yet, to suspect any of them,
and indeed, as a much travelled automobile road ran within a few
feet of the thicket, there was every reason to believe that the
murder, if murder it was, had been committed elsewhere and that
the perpetrator had taken this means of getting rid of his
unfortunate victim.
Drawn and contorted were the features of the poor girl, as if she
had died in great physical agony or after a terrific struggle.
Indeed, marks of violence on her delicate throat and neck showed
only too plainly that she had been choked.
As Kennedy bent over the form of the once lovely Georgette, he
noted the clenched hands. Then he looked at them more closely.
I was standing a little behind him, for though Craig and I had been
through many thrilling adventures, the death of a human being,
especially of a girl like Miss Gilbert, filled me with horror and
revulsion. I could see, however, that he had noted something
unusual. He pulled out a little pocket magnifying glass and made
an even more minute examination of the hands. At last he rose and
faced us, almost as if in triumph. I could not see what he had
discovered - at least it did not seem to be anything tangible, like
a weapon.
Quickly he opened the pocketbook which she had carried. It seemed
to be empty, and he was about to shut it when something white,
sticking in one corner, caught his eye. Craig pulled out a clipping
from a newspaper, and we crowded about him to look at it. It was a
large clipping from the section of one of the metropolitan journals
which carries a host of such advertisements as "spirit medium,"
"psychic palmist," "yogi mediator," "magnetic influences," "crystal
gazer," "astrologer," "trance medium," and the like. At once I
thought of the sallow, somewhat mystic countenance of Dudley, and
the idea flashed, half-formed, in my mind that somehow this clue,
together with the purchase of the book on clairvoyance, might prove
the final link necessary.
But the first problem in Kennedy's mind was to keep in touch with
what the authorities were doing. That kept us busy for several
hours, during which Craig was in close consultation with the
coroner's physician. The physician was of the opinion that Miss
Gilbert had been drugged as well as strangled, and for many hours,
down in his laboratory, his chemists were engaged in trying to
discover from tests of her blood whether the theory was true. One
after another the ordinary poisons were eliminated, until it began
to look hopeless.
So far Kennedy had been only an interested spectator, but as the
different tests failed, he had become more and more keenly alive.
At last it seemed as if he could wait no longer.
"Might I try one or two reactions with that sample?" he asked of
the physician who handed him the test tube in silence.
For a moment or two Craig thoughtfully regarded it, while with one
hand he fingered the bottles of ether, alcohol, distilled water,
and the many reagents standing before him. He picked up one and
poured a little liquid into the test tube. Then, removing the
precipitate that was formed, he tried to dissolve it in water. Not
succeeding, he tried the ether and then the alcohol. Both were
successful.
"What is it?" we asked as he held the tube up critically to the light.
"I can't be sure yet," he answered slowly. "I thought at first that
it was some alkaloid. I'll have to make further tests before I can
be positive just what it is. If I may retain this sample I think
that with other clues that I have discovered I may be able to tell
you something definite soon."
The coroner's physician willingly assented, and Craig quickly
dispatched the tube, carefully sealed, to his laboratory.
"That part of our investigation will keep," he remarked as we left
the coroner's office. "To-night I think we had better resume the
search which was so unexpectedly interrupted this morning. I
suppose you have concluded, Walter, that we can be reasonably sure
that the trail leads back through the fortune-tellers and
soothsayers of New York, - which one, it would be difficult to say.
The obvious thing, therefore, is to consult them all. I think you
will enjoy that part of it, with your newspaperman's liking for the
bizarre."
The fact was that it did appeal to me, though at the moment I was
endeavouring to formulate a theory in which Dudley Lawton and an
accomplice would account for the facts.
It was early in the evening as we started out on our tour of the
clairvoyants of New York. The first whom Kennedy selected from the
advertisements in the clipping described himself as "Hata, the
Veiled Prophet, born with a double veil, educated in occult mysteries
and Hindu philosophy in Egypt and India." Like all of them his
advertisement dwelt much on love and money:
The great questions of life are quickly solved, failure turned to
success, sorrow to joy, the separated are brought together, foes
made friends. Truths are laid bare to his mysterious mind. He
gives you power to attract and control those whom you may desire,
tells you of living or dead, your secret troubles, the cause and
remedy. Advice on all affairs of life, love, courtship, marriage,
business, speculations, investments. Overcomes rivals, enemies,
and all evil influences. Will tell you how to attract, control,
and change the thought, intentions, actions, or character of any
one you desire.
Hata was a modest adept who professed to be able to explain the
whole ten stages of Yoga. He had established himself on a street
near Times Square, just off Broadway, and there we found several
automobiles and taxicabs standing at the curb, a mute testimony to
the wealth of at least some of his clientele.
A solemn-faced coloured man ushered us into a front parlour and
asked if we had come to see the professor. Kennedy answered that
we had.
"Will you please write your names and addresses on the outside
sheet of this pad, then tear it off and keep it?" asked the
attendant. "We ask all visitors to do that simply as a guarantee
of good faith. Then if you will write under it what you wish to
find out from the professor I think it will help you concentrate.
But don't write while I am in the room, and don't let me see the
writing."
"A pretty cheap trick," exclaimed Craig when the attendant had gone.
"That's how he tells the gullible their names before they tell him.
I've a good notion to tear off two sheets. The second is chemically
prepared, with paraffin, I think. By dusting it over with powdered
charcoal you can bring out what was written on the first sheet over
it. Oh, well, let's let him get something across, anyway. Here
goes, our names and addresses, and underneath I'll write, 'What has
become of Georgette Gilbert?'"
Perhaps five minutes later the negro took the pad, the top sheet
having been torn off and placed in Kennedy's pocket. He also took
a small fee of two dollars. A few minutes later we were ushered
into the awful presence of the "Veiled Prophet," a tall, ferret-eyed
man in a robe that looked suspiciously like a brocaded dressing-gown
much too large for him.
Sure enough, he addressed us solemnly by name and proceeded directly
to tell us why we had come.
"Let us look into the crystal of the past, present, and future and
read what it has to reveal," he added solemnly, darkening the room,
which was already only dimly lighted. Then Hata, the crystal-gazer,
solemnly seated himself in a chair. Before him, in his hands,
reposing on a bag of satin, lay a huge oval piece of glass. He
threw forward his head and riveted his eyes on the milky depths of
the crystal. In a moment he began to talk, first ramblingly, then
coherently.
"I see a man, a dark man," he began. "He is talking earnestly to a
young girl. She is trying to avoid him. Ah - he seizes her by both
arms. They struggle. He has his hand at her throat. He is choking
her."
I was thinking of the newspaper descriptions of Lawton, which the
fakir had undoubtedly read, but Kennedy was leaning forward over the
crystal-gazer, not watching the crystal at all, nor with his eyes
on the clairvoyant's face.
"Her tongue is protruding from her mouth, her eyes are bulging - "
"Yes, yes," urged Kennedy. "Go on."
"She falls. He strikes her. He flees. He goes to - "
Kennedy laid his hand ever so lightly on the arm of the clairvoyant,
then quickly withdrew it.
"I cannot see where he goes. It is dark, dark. You will have to
come back to-morrow when the vision is stronger."
The thing stung me by its crudity. Kennedy, however, seemed elated
by our experience as we gained the street.
"Craig," I remonstrated, "you don't mean to say you attach any
importance to vapourings like that? Why, there wasn't a thing the
fellow couldn't have imagined from the newspapers, even the clumsy
description of Dudley Lawton."
"We'll see," he replied cheerfully, as we stopped under a light to
read the address of the next seer, who happened to be in the same
block.
It proved to be the psychic palmist who called himself "the Pandit."
He also was "born with a strange and remarkable power - not meant to
gratify the idle curious, but to direct, advise, and help men and
women" - at the usual low fee. He said in print that he gave instant
relief to those who had trouble in love, and also positively
guaranteed to tell your name and the object of your visit. He added:
Love, courtship, marriage. What is more beautiful than the true
unblemished love of one person for another? What is sweeter, better,
or more to be desired than perfect harmony and happiness? If you
want to win the esteem, love, and everlasting affection of another,
see the Pandit, the greatest living master of the occult science.
Inasmuch as this seer fell into a passion at the other incompetent
soothsayers in the next column (and almost next door) it seemed as
if we must surely get something for our money from the Pandit.
Like Hata, the Pandit lived in a large brownstone house. The man
who admitted us led us into a parlour where several people were
seated about as if waiting for some one. The pad and writing
process was repeated with little variation. Since we were the
latest comers we had to wait some time before we were ushered into
the presence of the Pandit, who was clad in a green silk robe.
The room was large and had very small windows of stained glass. At
one end of the room was an altar on which burned several candles
which gave out an incense. The atmosphere of the room was heavy
with a fragrance that seemed to combine cologne with chloroform.
The Pandit waved a wand, muttering strange sounds as he did so, for
in addition to his palmistry, which he seemed not disposed to
exhibit that night, he dealt in mysteries beyond human ken. A voice,
quite evidently from a phonograph buried in the depths of the altar,
answered in an unknown language which sounded much like "Al-ya wa-aa
haal-ya waa-ha." Across the dim room flashed a pale blue light with
a crackling noise, the visible rays from a Crookes tube, I verily
believe. The Pandit, however, said it was the soul of a saint
passing through. Then he produced two silken robes, one red, which
he placed on Kennedy's shoulders, and one violet, which he threw
over me.
>From the air proceeded strange sounds of weird music and words.
The Pandit seemed to fall asleep, muttering. Apparently, however,
Kennedy and I were bad subjects, for after some minutes of this
he gave it up, saying that the spirits had no revelation to make
to-night in the matter in which we had called. Inasmuch as we had
not written on the pad just what that matter was, I was not
surprised. Nor was I surprised when the Pandit laid off his robe
and said unctuously, "But if you will call to-morrow and concentrate,
I am sure that I can secure a message that will be helpful about
your little matter."
Kennedy promised to call, but still he lingered. The Pandit,
anxious to get rid of us, moved toward the door. Kennedy sidled
over toward the green robe which the Pandit had laid on a chair.
"Might I have some of your writings to look over in the meantime?"
asked Craig as if to gain time.
"Yes, but they will cost you three dollars a copy - the price I
charge all my students," answered the Pandit with just a trace of
a gleam of satisfaction at having at last made an impression.
He turned and entered a cabinet to secure the mystic literature.
The moment he had disappeared Kennedy seized the opportunity he
had been waiting for. He picked up the green robe and examined
the collar and neck very carefully under the least dim of the
lights in the room. He seemed to find what he wished, yet he
continued to examine the robe until the sound of returning
footsteps warned him to lay it down again. He had not been quite
quick enough. The Pandit eyed us suspiciously, then he rang a
bell. The attendant appeared instantly, noiselessly.