As soon as I could break away and leave him I did, and betook myself to
Mrs. Carew's house. My resolve was taken. Late as it was, I would
attempt an interview with her. The lights still burning above and below
gave me the necessary courage. Yet I was conscious of some embarrassment
in presenting my name to the astonished maid, who was in the act of
extinguishing the hall-light when my vigorous ring prevented her. Seeing
her doubtful look and the hesitation with which she held the door, I
told her that I would wait outside on the porch till she had carried up
my name to Mrs. Carew. This seemed to relieve her and in a moment I was
standing again under the vines waiting for permission to enter the
house. It came very soon, and I had to conquer a fresh embarrassment at
the sight of Mrs. Carew's nimble and gracious figure descending the
stairs in all eagerness to greet me.
"What is it?" she asked, running hastily forward so that we met in the
center of the hall. "Good news? Nothing else could have brought you back
again so soon--and at an hour so late."
There was a dangerous naïveté in the way she uttered the last three
words which made me suspect the actress. Indeed I was quite conscious as
I met her thrilling and expressive glance, that I should never feel
again the same confidence in her sincerity. My judgment had been
confounded and my insight rendered helpless by what I had heard of her
art, and the fact that she had once been a capable player of "parts."
But I was man enough and detective enough not to betray my suspicion,
now that I was brought face to face with her. It had always been latent
in my breast, even in the very midst of my greatest admiration for her.
Yet I had never acknowledged to myself of what I suspected her, nor did
I now--not quite--not enough to give that point to my attack which would
have insured me immediate victory or defeat. I was obliged to feel my
way and so answered, with every appearance of friendly confidence:
"I fear then that I shall be obliged to ask your pardon. I have no good
news; rather what might be called, if not bad, of a very perplexing
character. The child has been traced"--here I purposely let my voice
halt for an instant--"here."
"Here?" her eyes opened, her lips parted in a look of surprise so
ingenuous that involuntarily I felt forced to add, by way of
explanation:
"The child, I mean, who was carried screaming along the highway in a
wagon and for whom the police--and others--have for two days been
looking."
"Oh!" she ejaculated with a slight turn of her head aside as she
motioned me toward a chair. "And is that child Gwendolen? Or don't you
know?" She was all eagerness as she again faced me.
"That will be known to-morrow," I rejoined, resisting the beautiful
brightness of her face with an effort that must have left its mark on my
own features; for she smiled with unconscious triumph as she held my
eyes for a minute in hers saying softly, "O how you excite me! Tell me
more. Where was the wagon found? Who is with it? And how much of all
this have you told Mrs. Ocumpaugh?"
With the last question she had risen, involuntarily, it seemed, and as
though she would rush to her friend if I did not at once reassure her of
that friend's knowledge of a fact which seemed to throw a gleam of hope
upon a situation hitherto entirely unrelieved.
"Mrs. Ocumpaugh has been told nothing," I hastily returned, answering
the last and most important question first. "Nor must she be; at least
not till certainty replaces doubt. She is in a critical state, I am
told. To rouse her hopes to-night only to dash them again to-morrow
would be cruel policy."
With her eyes still on my face, Mrs. Carew slowly reseated herself.
"Then there are doubts," she faltered; "doubts of its being Gwendolen?"
"There is always doubt," I replied, and openly paused in manifest
non-committal.
"Oh!" she somewhat wildly exclaimed, covering her face with her
hands--beautiful hands covered with jewels--"what suspense! what bitter
and cruel suspense! I feel it almost as much as if it were my Harry!"
was the final cry with which she dropped them again. And she did feel
it. Her features had blanched and her form was shaking. "But you have
not answered my questions as to where this wagon is at present and under
whose care? Can't you see how anxious I must be about that--if it should
prove to be Gwendolen?"
"Mrs. Carew, if I could tell you that, I could tell you more; we shall
both have to wait till to-morrow. Meanwhile, I have a favor to ask. Have
you by any chance the means of entrance to the bungalow? I have a great
and inappeasable desire to see for myself if all the nooks and corners
of that place have given up their secrets. It's an egotistical desire,
no doubt--and may strike you as folly of the rankest--but we detectives
have learned to trust nobody in our investigations, and I shall never be
satisfied till I have looked this whole spot over inch by inch for the
clue which may yet remain there. If there is a clue I must find it."
"Clue?" She was looking at me a little breathlessly. "Clue to what? Then
she wasn't in the wagon; you are still seeking her--"
"Always seeking her," I put in.
"But surely not in the bungalow!" Mrs. Carew's expression was one of
extreme surprise. "What can you find there?"
"I do not know. But I want to look. I can go to the house for a key, but
it is late; and it seems unpardonable to disturb Mrs. Ocumpaugh. Yet I
shall have to do this if you have not a key; for I shall not sleep till
I have satisfied myself that nothing can be discovered on the immediate
scene of Gwendolen's disappearance, to help forward the rescue we both
are so intent upon."
"You are right," was the hesitating reply I received. "I have a key; I
will fetch it and if you do not mind, I will accompany you to the
bungalow."
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," I replied with my best bow;
white lies come easy in our trade.
"I will not keep you a minute," she said, rising and going into the
hall. But in an instant she was back. "A word to my maid and a covering
for my head," she explained, "and I will be with you." Her manner
pointed unmistakably to the door.
I had no alternative but to step out on the porch to await her. But she
was true to her word and in a moment she had joined me, with the key in
her hand.
"Oh, what adventures!" was her breathless cry. "Shall I ever forget this
dreadful, this interminable week! But it is dark. Even the moon is
clouded over. How shall we see? There are no lights in the bungalow."
"I have a lantern in my pocket. My only hope is that no stray gleam from
it may pierce the shrubbery and bring the police upon us."
"Do you fear the police?" she chatted away, almost as a child might.
"No; but I want to do my work alone. There will be little glory or
little money in it if they share any of my discoveries."
"Ah!" It was an irrepressible exclamation, or so it seemed: but I should
not have noted it if I had not caught, or persuaded myself that I had
caught, the oblique glint from her eye which accompanied it. But it was
very dark just at this time and I could be sure of nothing but that she
kept close to my side and seemed more than once on the point of
addressing me in the short distance we traversed before reaching the
bungalow. But nothing save inarticulate murmurs left her lips and soon
we were too busy, in our endeavors to unlock the door, to think of
conversation.
The key she had brought was rusty. Evidently she had not often made use
of it. But after a few futile efforts I succeeded in making it work, and
we stepped into the small building in a silence that was only less
profound than the darkness in which we instantly found ourselves
enveloped. Light was under my hand, however, and in another moment there
opened before us the small square room whose every feature had taken on
a ghostly and unfamiliar air from the strange hour and the unwonted
circumstances. I saw how her impressionable nature was affected by the
scene, and made haste to assume the offhand air I thought most likely to
overcome her apprehension. But the effect of the blank walls before her,
relieved, but in no reassuring way, by the long dark folds of the rugs
hanging straight down over the mysterious partition, held its own
against my well-meant efforts, and I was not surprised to hear her voice
falter as she asked what I expected to find there.