The Yellow Crayon | Page 5

mine!"
"Yes, sir."
"You have been with her, I believe, for many years. You are doubtless
much attached to her!"
"Indeed I am, sir!"
"You may have surmised, Duson, that she has left me. I desire to ensure
your absolute fidelity, so I take you into my confidence to this extent.
Your mistress is in the hands of those who have some power over her.
Her absence is involuntary so far as she is concerned. It has been a
great blow to me. I am prepared to run all risks to discover her
whereabouts. It is late in my life for adventures, but it is very certain
that adventures and dangers are before us. In accompanying me you
will associate yourself with many risks. Therefore - "
Duson held up his hand.

"I beg, sir," he exclaimed, "that you will not suggest for a moment my
leaving your service on that account. I beg most humbly, sir, that you
will not do me that injustice."
Mr. Sabin paused. His eyes, like lightning, read the other's face.
"It is settled then, Duson," he said. "Kindly pay this cabman, and
follow me as quickly as possible."
Mr. Sabin passed across the marble hall, leaning heavily upon his stick.
Yet for all his slow movements there was a new alertness in his eyes
and bearing. He was once more taking keen note of everybody and
everything about him. Only a few days ago she had been here.
He claimed his rooms at the office, and handed the keys to Duson, who
by this time had rejoined him. At the moment of turning away he
addressed an inquiry to the clerk behind the counter.
"Can you tell me if the Duchess of Souspennier is staying here?" he
inquired.
The young man glanced up.
"Been here, I guess. Left on Tuesday."
Mr. Sabin turned away. He did not speak again until Duson and he
were alone in the sitting-room. Then he drew out a five dollar bill.
"Duson," he said, "take this to the head luggage porter. Tell him to
bring his departure book up here at once, and there is another waiting
for him. You understand?"
"Certainly, sir!"
Mr. Sabin turned to enter his bed-chamber. His attention was attracted,
however, by a letter lying flat upon the table. He took it up. It was
addressed to Mr. Sabin.
"This is very clever," he mused, hesitating for a moment before

opening it. "I wired for rooms only a few hours ago - and I find a letter.
It is the commencement."
He tore open the envelope, and drew out a single half-sheet of
note-paper. Across it was scrawled a single sentence only.
"Go back to Lenox."
There was no signature, nor any date. The only noticeable thing about
this brief communication was that it was written in yellow pencil of a
peculiar shade. Mr. Sabin's eyes glittered as he read.
"The yellow crayon!" he muttered.
Duson knocked softly at the door. Mr. Sabin thrust the letter and
envelope into his breast coat pocket.

CHAPTER II
This is the luggage porter, sir," Duson announced. "He is prepared to
answer any questions."
The man took out his book. Mr. Sabin, who was sitting in an easy-chair,
turned sideways towards him.
"The Duchess of Souspennier was staying here last week," he said.
"She left, I believe, on Thursday or Friday. Can you tell me whether her
baggage went through your hands?"
The man set down his hat upon a vacant chair, and turned over the
leaves of his book.
"Guess I can fix that for you," he remarked, running his forefinger
down one of the pages. "Here we are. The Duchess left on Friday, and
we checked her baggage through to Lenox by the New York, New
Haven & Hartford."
Mr. Sabin nodded.
"Thank you," he said. "She would probably take a carriage to the
station. It will be worth another ten dollars to you if you can find me
the man who drove her."

"Well, we ought to manage that for you," the man remarked
encouragingly. "It was one of Steve Hassell's carriages, I guess, unless
the lady took a hansom."
"Very good," Mr. Sabin said. "See if you can find him. Keep my
inquiries entirely to yourself. It will pay you."
"That's all right," the man remarked. "Don't you go to bed for
half-an-hour, and I guess you'll hear from me again."
Duson busied himself in the bed-chamber, Mr. Sabin sat motionless in
his easy chair. Soon there came a tap at the door. The porter reappeared
ushering in a smart-looking young man, who carried a shiny
coachman's hat in his hand.
"Struck it right fust time," the porter remarked cheerfully. "This is the
man, sir.
Mr. Sabin turned his head.
"You drove a lady from here to