ESCAPE BY SCHEDULE.
“What do you mean by that, chief?” demanded Chick.
“Kennedy says that one of the keepers was found, in a peculiar sort of
stupor, as he calls it, in Grantley’s cell, after the surgeon had gone.
He had evidently been overpowered in some way, and his keys had been
taken from him. Kennedy assumes, rightly enough, I suppose, that
Grantley lured him into the cell on some pretext, and then tried his
tricks. The man is still unconscious, and the prison physician can do
nothing to help him. Kennedy wants me to come up.”
“But I don’t see what that has to do with Helga Lund,” objected Chick.
“Even if it was Grantley that Ida saw--which remains to be proved--I
don’t see any similarity. He didn’t render her unconscious, and, anyway,
he wasn’t near enough to----”
“Think it over, Chick,” the detective interrupted. “The significance
will reach you, by slow freight, sooner or later, I’m sure. I, for one,
haven’t any doubt that Ida saw the fugitive last night. If so, Grantley
did a very daring thing to go there without any attempt at disguise--not
as daring as might be supposed, however. He doubtless counted on just
what happened. If any one who knew him by sight had noticed him in the
theater, the supposition would naturally be that it was a misleading
resemblance.
“There doesn’t seem to be any doubt that he disguised himself carefully
enough for his flight from Sing Sing, and covered his tracks with
unusual care, for Kennedy has been unable to obtain any reliable
information about his movements. If he was at the play, we may be sure
that he restored his normal appearance deliberately, in defiance of the
risks involved, in order that one person, at least, should recognize him
without fail--that person being Helga Lund. And that implies that he was
again actuated primarily by motives of private revenge, as in the case
of Baldwin.
“The scoundrel seems to have a supply of enemies in reserve, and is
willing to go to any lengths in order to revenge himself upon them for
real or fancied grievances. If he’s the man who broke up Lund’s
performance last night, it is obvious that he knew of the special
occasion and the unusual hour before he made his escape. In fact, it
seems probable that he escaped when he did for the purpose of committing
this latest outrage. Even if his chief object has been attained,
however, I don’t imagine he will return to Sing Sing and give himself
up. We shall have to get busy, and, perhaps, keep so for some time.
Plainly, the first thing for me to do is to seek an interview with Helga
Lund, if she is in a condition to receive me. She can tell, if she will,
who or what it was that caused her breakdown. If there turns out to be
no way of connecting it with Grantley, we shall have to begin our work
at Sing Sing. If it was Grantley, we shall begin here. Did you see
anything more of the man you noticed, Ida?”
“Nothing more worth mentioning. He slipped out quickly as soon as the
curtain went down; but lots of others were doing the same, although
many remained and exchanged excited conjectures. I left the box when I
saw him going, but by the time I reached the lobby he was nowhere in
sight, and I couldn’t find any one who had noticed him.”
“Too bad! Then there’s nothing to do but try to see Helga. The rest of
you had better hang around the house until you hear from me. Whatever
the outcome, I shall probably want you all on the jump before long.”
Nick hastily finished his breakfast, while his assistants read him
snatches from the accounts in the various morning newspapers. In that
way he got the gist of all that had been printed in explanation of the
actress’ “attack” and in regard to her later condition.
All of the accounts agreed in saying that Helga Lund was in seclusion at
her hotel, in a greatly overwrought state, and that two specialists and
a nurse were in attendance.
The prospect of a personal interview with her seemed exceedingly remote;
but Nick Carter meant to do his best, unless her condition absolutely
forbade.
Nick had learned from the papers that Helga Lund was staying at the
Wentworth-Belding Hotel. Accordingly, he drove there in one of his motor
cars and sent a card up to her suite. On it he scribbled a request for a
word with one of the physicians or the nurse.
Doctor Lightfoot, a well-known New York physician, with a large practice
among theatrical people, received him in one of the rooms of the
actress’ suite.
He seemed surprised at the detective’s presence, but Nick quickly
explained matters to his satisfaction. Miss Lund, it seemed, was in a
serious condition. She had gone to pieces mentally, passed a sleepless
night, most of the time walking the floor, and appeared to be haunted by
the conviction that her career was at an end.
She declared that she would not mind so much if it had happened before
any ordinary audience, but, as it was, she had made a spectacle of
herself before hundreds of the members of her own profession. That
thought almost crazed her, and she insisted wildly that she would never
regain enough confidence to appear in public again.
If that was the case, it was nothing short of a tragedy, in view of her
great gifts.
Doctor Lightfoot hoped, however, that she would ultimately recover from
the shock of her experience, although he stated that it would be months,
at least, before she was herself again. Meanwhile, all of her
engagements would have to be canceled, of course.
In response to Nick’s questions, the physician assured him that Helga
Lund had given no adequate explanation of her startling behavior of the
night before. She had simply said that she had recognized some one in
the audience, that the recognition had brought up painful memories, and
that she had completely forgotten her lines and talked at random. She
did not know what she had said or done.
Her physicians realized that she was keeping something back, and had
pleaded with her to confide fully in them as a means of relieving her
mind from the weight that was so evidently pressing upon it. But she
had refused to do so, having declared that it would serve no good
purpose, and that the most they could do was to restore her shattered
nerves.
The detective was not surprised at this attitude, which, as a matter of
fact, paved the way to an interview with the actress.
“In that case I think you will have reason to be glad I came,” he told
Doctor Lightfoot. “I believe I know, in general, what happened last
night, and if you will give me your permission to see Miss Lund alone
for half an hour, I have hope of being able to induce her to confide in
me. My errand does not reflect upon her in any way, nor does it imply
the slightest danger or embarrassment to her, so far as I am aware. My
real interest lies elsewhere, but you will readily understand how it
might help her and reënforce your efforts if I could induce her to
unbosom herself.”
“There isn’t any doubt about that, Carter,” was the doctor’s reply; “but
it’s a risky business. She is in a highly excitable state, and uninvited
calls from men of your profession are not apt to be soothing, no matter
what their object may be. How do you know that some ghost of remorse is
not haunting her. If so, you would do much more harm than good.”
“If she saw the person I think she saw in the audience last night,” Nick
replied, “it’s ten to one that the remorse is on the other side--or
ought to be. If I am mistaken, a very few sentences will prove it, and I
give you my word that I shall do my best to quiet any fears my presence
may have aroused, and withdraw at once. On the other hand, if I am
right, I can convince her that I am her friend, and that I know enough
to make it worth her while to shift as much of her burden as possible
to me. If she consents, the tension will be removed at once, and she
will be on the road to recovery. And, incidentally, I shall have gained
some very important information.”
The detective was prepared, if necessary, to be more explicit with
Doctor Lightfoot; but the latter, after looking Nick over thoughtfully
for a few moments, gave his consent.
“I’ve always understood that you always know what you are about,
Carter,” he said. “There is nothing of the blunderer or the brute about
you, as there is about almost all detectives. On the contrary, I am sure
you are capable of using a great deal of tact, aside from your warm
sympathies. My colleague isn’t here now, and I am taking a great
responsibility on my shoulders in giving you permission to see Miss Lund
alone at such a time. She is a great actress, remember, and, if it is
possible, we must give her back to the world with all of her splendid
powers unimpaired. She is like a musical instrument of incredible
delicacy, so, for Heaven’s sake, don’t handle her as if she were a
hurdy-gurdy!”
“Trust me,” the famous detective said quietly.
“Then wait,” was the reply, and the physician hurried from the room.
Two or three minutes later he returned.
“Come,” he said. “I have prepared her--told her you are a specialist in
psychology, which is true, of course, in one sense. You can tell her the
truth later, if all goes well.”