The Million Dollar Mystery - Harold MacGrath (best books under 200 pages .TXT) 📗
- Author: Harold MacGrath
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The lull made Jones doubly alert. He was positive that they were preparing to strike again. But from what direction and in what manner? He had not met the gift of clairvoyance so he had to wait; and waiting is a terrible game when perhaps death is balancing the scales. It is always easier to make an assault than to await it; and it is a good general who always finds himself prepared.
But it made his heart ache to watch the child. She went about cheerfully—when any one was in the room with her. Many a time, however, he had stolen to the door of her bedroom and heard the heart-rending sobs, a vain attempt being made to stifle them among the pillows. She was only eighteen; it was first love; and first loves are pale, evanescent attachments. It hurt now; but she would get over it presently. Youth forgets. Time, like water, smooths away the ragged places.
The countess called regularly. She was, of course, dreadfully sorry over what had happened. She had heard something about his character; newspaper men weren't always the best. This one was a mere fortune hunter; a two-faced one, at that. She was never more surprised in her life than when he threw his arms around her. And so on, and so forth, half lies and half truths, till the patient Jones felt like wringing her neck.
From his vantage point the butler smiled ironically. He could read the heart of the Perigoff woman as he could read the page of a book. The effrontery! And all the while he must gravely admit her and pretend when the blood rioted in his veins at the sight of her. But he dared not swerve a single inch from the plans laid down. It was a cup of bitter gall, and there was no way of avoiding the putting of it to his lips. She emanated poison as nightshade emanates it, the upas tree. And he must bow when she entered and bow when she left! Still, she had done him an indirect favor in breaking up this love business.
One afternoon Braine summoned his runabout and called up two physicians. When he was ushered into the deserted office of the first he sent his card in. The doctor replied in person. His face was pale and his hands shook.
"Good afternoon," said Braine, smiling affably.
The doctor eyed him like a man hypnotized. "You ... you wished to see me on some particular business?"
"Very particular," dryly. "My car is outside. Will you be so good as to accompany me?"
The doctor slowly went into the hall for his hat and coat. He left the house and got into the car with never a word of protest.
"Thinking?" said Braine.
"I am always thinking whenever I see your evil face. What devilment do you require of me this time?"
"A mere stroke of the pen."
"Where are we going?"
"To call on another physician of your standing," significantly. "It is a great thing to have friends like you two. Always ready to serve us, for the mere love of it."
"There's no need of using that kind of talk to me. You have me in the hollow of your hand. Why should I bother to deny it? I have broken the law. I broke it because I was starving."
"It is better to starve in freedom than to eat fat joints up the river. To-day it is a question of sanity."
"And you want me to assist in signing away the liberty of some person who is perfectly sane?"
"The nail on the head," urbanely.
"You're a fine scoundrel!"
"Not so loud!" warningly.
"As loud as I please. I am not forgetting that you need me. I'm no coward. I recognize that you hold the whip hand. But you can send me to the chair before I'll crawl to you. Now, leave me alone for a while."
The other physician had no such qualms of conscience. He was ready at all times for the generous emoluments which accrued from his dealings with the man Braine.
The Countess Perigoff was indisposed; so it was quite in the order of things that she should summon physicians.
There is a law in the state of New York—just or unjust, whichever you please—that reads that any person may be adjudged insane if the signatures of two registered physicians are affixed to the document. It does not say that these physicians shall have been proved reputable.
There were, besides the physicians, a motherly looking woman and a man of benign countenance. Their faces were valuable assets. To gain another person's confidence is, perhaps, among the greatest human achievements. A confidence man and woman in the real sense of the word. In your mind's eye you could see this man carrying the contribution plate down the aisle on Sunday mornings, and his wife Kate putting her mite on the plate for the benefit of some poor, untidy Hottentot.
On Tuesday of the following week Florence and Susan went shopping. The chauffeur was a strong young fellow whom Jones relied upon. If you pay a man well and hold out fine promises, you generally can trust him. As their car left the corner another followed leisurely. This second automobile contained Thomas Wendt and his wife Kate. The two young women stopped at the great dry goods shop near the public library, and for the time being naturally forgot everything but the marvels which had come from all parts of the world. It is as natural for a woman to buy as it is for a man to sell.
In some manner or other Florence became separated from Susan. She hunted through aisle after aisle, but could not find her; for the simple reason that Susan was hunting for her. It occurred to the girl that Susan might have wisely concluded the best place to wait would be in the taxicab. And so Florence hurried out into the street, into the arms of the Wendt family, who were patiently awaiting her.
The trusted chauffeur had been sent around to the side entrance by the major domo. The young lady had so requested, so he said.
Florence struggled and called for the policeman, who came running up, followed by the usual idle, curious crowd.
"The poor young woman is insane," said the motherly Kate, tears in her eyes. The benign Thomas looked at heaven. "We are her keepers."
"It is not true," cried Florence desperately.
"She has the hallucination that she is the daughter of the millionaire Stanley Hargreave." And Thomas exhibited his document, which was perfectly legal, so far as appearances went.
"Hurry up and get her off the walk. I can't have the crowd growing any larger," said the policeman, convinced.
So, despite her cries and protestations, Florence was hustled into the automobile, even the policeman lending a hand.
"Poor young thing!" he said to the crowd. "Come now, move on. I can't have the walk blocked up. Get a gait on you."
He was congratulating himself upon the orderliness of the affair when a keen-eyed young man in the garb of a chauffeur touched his shoulder.
"What's this I hear about an insane young woman?" he demanded.
"She was insane, all right. They had papers to prove it. She kept crying that she was Stanley Hargreave's daughter."
"My God!" The young man struck his forehead in despair. "You ass, she was Stanley Hargreave's daughter, and they've kidnaped her right under your nose! What was the number of that car?"
"Cut out that line of talk, young fellah; I know my business. They had the proper documents."
"But you hadn't brains enough to inquire whether they were genuine or not! You wait!" shrilled the chauffeur. "I'll have you broken for this work." He wheeled and ran back to his car, to find Susan and the countess in a great state of agitation. "They got her, they got her! And I swore on the book that they never should, so long as I drove the car."
FLORENCE WAS PERMITTED TO WANDER ABOUT THE SHIP AS SHE PLEASED
FLORENCE WAS PERMITTED TO WANDER ABOUT THE SHIP AS SHE PLEASED
Susan wept, and the countess tried in vain to console her.
And when Jones was informed he frightened even the countess with the snarl of rage which burned across his lips. He tore into the hall, seized his hat, and was gone. Not a word of reproach did he offer to the chauffeur. He understood that no one is infallible. He found the blundering policeman, who now realized that he stood in for a whiff of the commissioner's carpet. All he could do was to give a good description of the man and woman. Word was sent broadcast through the city. The police had to be informed this time.
Late in the day an officer whose beat included the ferry landing at Hoboken said he had seen the three. Everything had looked all right to him. It was the motherly face of the one and the benign countenance of the other that had blinded him.
At midnight Jones, haggard and with the air of one beaten, returned home.
"No wireless yet?" asked Norton.
"The George Washington of the North German Lloyd does not answer. Something has happened to her wires; tampered with, possibly."
"So long as we know they are at sea, we can remedy the evil. They will not be able to land at a single port. I have sent ten cables. They can't get away from the wire. If I could only get hold of the names of those damnable doctors who signed that document! Twenty years."
Jones bent his head in his hands, and Norton tramped the floor till the sound of his footsteps threatened to drive the moaning Susan into hysterics.
"It is only a matter of a few days."
"But can the child stand the terrors?" questioned Jones. "Who knows that they may not really drive her insane?"
On board the George Washington every one felt extremely sorry for this beautiful girl. It was a frightful misfortune to be so stricken at her age.
"She is certainly insane," said one of the passengers, who had known Hargreave slightly through some banking business. "Hargreave wasn't married. He lived alone."
After the second day out Florence was permitted to wander about the ship as she pleased.
A good many of the passengers were mightily worried when they learned that the wireless had in some mysterious way been tampered with after the boat had made the open sea. It was impossible to put about. The apparatus must be fixed at sea.
EVERYONE FELT EXTREMELY SORRY FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL
EVERYONE FELT EXTREMELY SORRY FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL
And when finally Norton's wireless caught the wires of the George Washington he was gravely informed that the young lady referred to had leaped the rail off the banks at night and had been drowned. She had not been missed till the following morning.
It was perfectly true that Florence had cast herself into the sea. It had not been an act of despair, however. On the contrary, hope and courage had prompted her to leap. The night was clear, with only a moderate sea running. At the time the great ship was passing the banks, and almost within hail, she saw a fishing schooner riding gracefully at anchor. She quite readily believed that if she remained on board the George Washington she was lost. She naturally forgot the marvel of wireless telegraphy. No longer may a man hide at sea.
So, with that quick thought which was a part of her inheritance, she seized the life buoy, climbed the rail and leaped far out. As the great, dark, tossing sea swooped up to meet her she noted a block of wood bobbing up and down. She tried to avoid it, but could not, and struck it head on. Despite the blow and the shock of the chill water she instinctively clung to the buoy. The wash from the mighty propellers tossed her about, hither and yon, from one
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