The Chief Legatee | Page 4

her face and hat to keep the rice out of her hair that I
could not get one glimpse of her features. All nonsense that veil,
especially when I had promised not to address her or even to touch her
in the cab. And she wore it into the office. If it had not been for that I
might have foreseen her intention in time to prevent it."
"Perhaps she knew that."
"It looks as if she did."
"Which means that she was meditating flight from the first."
"From the time she saw that man," Mr. Ransom corrected.
"Just so; from the time she left her uncle's house. Your wife is a woman
of means, I believe."
"Yes, unfortunately."

"Why unfortunately?"
"It makes her independent and offers a lure to irresponsible wretches
like him."
"Her fortune is large, then?"
"Very large; larger than my own."
Every one knew 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