"Ah," he said, in a voice a little hoarse; "and she is well?"
"No; she's disappeared."
"You mean----"
"I mean she's run away," I said, waking up a little.
"And she has informed you----"
"Oh, no; we've just found it out. She's been gone ten days."
"And you are going to search for her?" he questioned carelessly, after
another pause.
"Yes--I'll begin in the morning."
Again there was a moment's silence.
"Ah!" he said, with a curious intensity. "Ah."
Then he arose and left me to tumble incontinently into bed.
CHAPTER XI
I Unmask My Enemy
Tired Nature asserted herself and took the full twelve hours. But I
felt like another man when I left the house next morning, and I was
eager to grapple anew with the mystery. I found two reports awaiting
me at the office: Mr. Royce had passed a good night and was better;
the clerks who had spent the afternoon before in visiting the stables
had as yet discovered nothing, and were continuing their search.
I looked up a time-card of the Long Island Railroad, and found that
Miss Holladay's coachman could not reach the city until 9.30. So I put
on my hat again, sought a secluded table at Wallack's, and over a
cigar and stein of bock, drew up a resume of the case--to clear the
atmosphere, as it were. It ran something like this:
March 13, Thursday--Holladay found murdered; daughter
drives to Washington Square.
Pages:
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114