The Chief Legatee | Page 2

rather, I'll knock, for I must hear
his story as soon as you do. The reputation of the hotel--"
"Yes, yes, but the gentleman's waiting. Ah! that's better."
The manager had just knocked.
An exclamation from within, a hurried step, and the door fell open. The
figure which met their eyes was startling. Distress, anxiety, and an
impatience almost verging on frenzy, distorted features naturally
amiable if not handsome.
"My wife," fell in a gasp from his writhing lips.
"We have come to help you find her," Mr. Gerridge calmly assured him.
Mr. Gerridge was the detective. "Relate the circumstances, sir. Tell us
where you were when you first missed her."
Mr. Ransom's glance wandered past him to the door. It was partly open.
The manager, whose name was Loomis, hastily closed it. Mr. Ransom
showed relief and hurried into his story. It was to this effect:
"I was married to-day in Grace Church. At the altar my bride--you

probably know her name, Miss Georgian Hazen--wore a natural look,
and was in all respects, so far as any one could see, a happy woman,
satisfied with her choice and pleased with the éclat and elegancies of
the occasion. Half-way down the aisle this all changed. I remember the
instant perfectly. Her hand was on my arm and I felt it suddenly stiffen.
I was not alarmed, but I gave her a quick look and saw that something
had happened. What, I could not at the moment determine. She didn't
answer when I spoke to her and seemed to be mainly concerned in
getting out of the church before her emotions overcame her. This she
succeeded in doing with my help; and, once in the vestibule, recovered
herself so completely, and met all my inquiries with such a gay shrug
of the shoulders, that I should have passed the matter over as a mere
attack of nerves, if I had not afterwards detected in her face, through all
the hurry and excitement of the ensuing reception, a strained expression
not at all natural to her. This was still more evident after the
congratulations of a certain guest, who, I am sure, whispered to her
before he passed on; and when the time came for her to go up-stairs she
was so pale and unlike herself that I became seriously alarmed and
asked if she felt well enough to start upon the journey we had
meditated. Instantly her manner changed. She turned upon me with a
look I have been trying ever since to explain to myself, and begged me
not to take her out of town to-night but to some quiet hotel where we
might rest for a few days before starting on our travels. She looked me
squarely in the eye as she made this request and, seeing in her nothing
more than a feverish anxiety lest I should make difficulties of some
kind, I promised to do what she asked and bade her run away and get
herself ready to go and say nothing to any one of our change of plan.
She smiled and turned away towards her own room, but presently came
hurrying back to ask if I would grant her one more favor. Would I be so
good as not to speak to her or expect her to speak to me till we got to
the hotel; she was feeling very nervous but was sure that a few minutes
of complete rest would entirely restore her; something had occurred
(she acknowledged this) which she wanted to think out; wouldn't I
grant her this one opportunity of doing so? It was a startling request,
but she looked so lovely--pardon me, I must explain my easy
acquiescence--that I gave her the assurance she wished and went about
my own preparations, somewhat disconcerted but still not at all

prepared for what happened afterward. I had absolutely no idea that she
meant to leave me."
Mr. Ransom paused, greatly affected; but upon the detective asking
him how and when Mrs. Ransom had deserted him, he controlled
himself sufficiently to say:
"Here; immediately after that silent and unnatural ride. She entered the
office with me and was standing close at my side all the time I was
writing our names in the register; but later, when I turned to ask her to
enter the elevator with me, she was gone, and the boy who was
standing by with our two bags said that she had slipped into the
reception-room across the hall. But I didn't find her there or in any of
the adjoining rooms. Nor has anybody since succeeded in finding her.
She has left the building--left me, and--"
"You want her back again?"
This from the detective, but very dryly.
"Yes. For she was not following her own inclinations in thus