The Chief Legatee | Page 4

Mr. Ransom to be a millionaire.
"Left her by her father?"
"No, by some great-uncle, I believe, who made his fortune in the Klondike."
"And entirely under her own control?"
"Entirely so."
"Who is her man of business?"
"Edward Harper, of--Wall Street."
"He's your man. He'll know sooner or later where she is."
"Yes, but later won't do. I must know to-night; or, if that is impossible, to-morrow. Were it not for the mortification it would cause her I should beg you to put on all your force and ransack the city for this bride of five hours. But such publicity is too shocking. I should like to give her a day to reconsider her treatment of me. She cannot mean to leave me for good. She has too much self-respect; to say nothing of her very positive and not to be questioned affection for myself."
The detective looked thoughtful. The problem had its difficulties.
"Are those hers?" he asked at last, pointing to the two trunks he saw standing against the wall.
"Yes. I had them brought up, in the hope that she had slipped away on some foolish errand or other and would yet come back."
"By their heft I judge them to be full; how about her hand-bag?"
"She had only a small bag and an umbrella. They are both here."
"How's that?"
"The colored boy took them at the door. She went away with nothing in her hands."
Gerridge glanced at the bag Mr. Ransom had pointed out, fingered it, then asked the young husband to open it.
He did so. The usual articles and indispensable adjuncts of a nice woman's toilet met their eyes. Also a pocketbook containing considerable money and a case holding more than one valuable jewel.
The eyes of the officer and manager met in ill disguised alarm.
"She must have been under the most violent excitement to slip away without these," suggested the former. "I'd better be at work. Give me two hours," were his parting words to Mr. Ransom. "By that time I'll either be back or telephone you. You had better stay here; she may return. Though I don't think that likely," he muttered as he passed the manager.
At the door he stopped. "You can't tell me the color of that veil?"
"No."
"Look about the room, sir. There's lots of colors in the furniture and hangings. Don't you see one somewhere that reminds you of her veil or even of her dress?"
The miserable bridegroom looked up from the bag into which he was still staring and, glancing slowly around him, finally pointed at a chair upholstered in brown and impulsively said:
"The veil was like that; I remember now. Brown, isn't it? a dark brown?"
"Yes. And the dress?"
"I can't tell you a thing about the dress. But her gloves--I remember something about them. They were so tight they gaped open at the wrist. Her hands looked quite disfigured. I wondered that so sensible a woman should buy gloves at least two sizes too small for her. I think she was ashamed of them herself, for she tried to hide them after she saw me looking."
"This was in the cab?"
"Yes."
"Where you didn't speak a word?"
"Not a word."
"Though she seemed so very much cut up?"
"No, she didn't seem cut up; only tired."
"How tired?"
"She sat with her head pressed against the side of the cab."
"And a little turned away?"
"Yes."
"As if she shrank from you?"
"A little so."
"Did she brighten when the carriage stopped?"
"She started upright."
"Did you help her out?"
"No, I had promised not to touch her."
"She jumped out after you?"
"Yes."
"And never spoke?"
"Not a word."
Gerridge opened the door, motioned for the manager to follow, and, once in the hall, remarked to that gentleman:
"I should like to see the boy who took her bag and was with them when she slipped away."
CHAPTER II
THE LADY IN NUMBER THREE
The boy was soon found and proved to be more observing in matters of dress than Mr. Ransom. He described with apparent accuracy both the color and cut of the garments worn by the lady who had flitted away so mysteriously. The former was brown, all brown; and the latter was of the tailor-made variety, very natty and becoming. "What you would call 'swell,'" was the comment, "if her walk hadn't spoiled the hang of it. How she did walk! Her shoes must have hurt her most uncommon. I never did see any one hobble so."
"How's that? She hobbled, and her husband didn't notice it?"
"Oh, he had hurried on ahead. She was behind him, and she walked like this."
The pantomime was highly expressive.
"That's a point," muttered Gerridge. Then with a sharp look at the boy: "Where were you that you didn't notice her when she slipped off?"
"Oh, but I did, sir. I was waiting for the clerk to give me the key, when I saw her step back from the gentleman's side and, looking quickly round to see if any