The Holladay Case Part 18
"Here's one thing," I said, "that might help," and I picked up a photograph from the mantel. "You won't mind my using it?"
Mr. Royce took it with trembling hand and gazed at it for a moment--at the dark eyes, the earnest mouth----Then he handed it back to me.
"No," he answered; "not if it will really help; we must use every means we can. Only----"
"I won't use it unless I absolutely have to," I a.s.sured him; "and when I'm done with it, I'll destroy it."
"Very well," he a.s.sented, and I put it in my pocket.
There was nothing more to be discovered there, and we went away, after warning the two men to say not a word to anyone concerning their mistress's disappearance.
Plainly, the first thing to be done was to find the coachman who had driven Miss Holladay and her maid away from the house; and with this end in view, we visited all the stables in the neighborhood; but from none of them had a carriage been ordered by her. Had she ordered it herself from a stable in some distant portion of the city for the purpose of concealing her whereabouts, or had it been ordered for her by her maid, and was she really the victim of foul play? I put this question to Mr. Royce, but he seemed quite unable to reach a conclusion. As for myself, I was certain that she had gone away of her own accord, and had deliberately planned her disappearance. Why? Well, I began to suspect that we had not yet really touched the bottom of the mystery.
We drove back to the office, and found Mr. Graham there. I related to him the circ.u.mstances of our search, and submitted to him and to our junior one question for immediate settlement.
"At the best, it's a delicate case," I pointed out. "Miss Holladay has plainly laid her plans very carefully to prevent us following her. It may be difficult to prove that she has not gone away entirely of her own accord. She certainly has a perfect right to go wherever she wishes without consulting us. Have we the right to follow her against her evident desire?"
For a moment Mr. Graham did not answer, but sat tapping his desk with that deep line of perplexity between his eyebrows. Then he nodded emphatically.
"It's our duty to follow her and find her," he said. "It's perfectly evident to me that no girl in her right mind would act as she has done. She had no reason whatever for deceiving us--for running away.
We wouldn't have interfered with her. Jenkinson's right--she's suffering with dementia. We must see that she receives proper medical treatment."
"It might not be dementia," I suggested, "so much as undue influence--on the part of the new maid, perhaps."
"Then it's our duty to rescue her from that influence," rejoined Mr.
Graham, "and restore her to her normal mentality."
"Even if we offend her?"
"We can't stop to think of that. Besides, she won't be offended when she comes to herself. The question is, how to find her most speedily."
"The police, probably, could do it most speedily," I said; "but since she can be in no immediate danger of any kind, I rather doubt whether it would be wise to call in the police. Miss Holladay would very properly resent any more publicity----"
"But," objected Mr. Graham, "if we don't call in the police, how are we to find her? I recognize, of course, how undesirable it is that she should be subjected to any further notoriety, but is there any other way?"
I glanced at Mr. Royce, and saw that he was seemingly sunk in apathy.
"If I could be excused from the office for a few days, sir," I began hesitatingly, "I might be able to find some trace of her. If I'm unsuccessful, we might then call in the authorities."
Mr. Royce brightened up for a moment.
"That's it," he said. "Let Lester look into it."
"Very well," a.s.sented Mr. Graham. "I agree to that. Of course, any expenses you may incur will be borne by the office."
"Thank you, sir," and I rose with fast-beating heart, for the adventure appealed to me strongly. "I'll begin at once then. I should like a.s.sistance in one thing. Could you let me have three or four clerks to visit the various stables of the city? It would be best, I think, to use our own people."
"Certainly," a.s.sented our senior instantly. "I'll call them in, and we can give them their instructions at once."
So four clerks were summoned, and each was given a district of the city. Their instructions were to find from which stable Miss Holladay had ordered a carriage on the morning of Thursday, April 3d. They were to report at the office every day, noon and evening, until the search was finished. They started away at once, and I turned to follow them, when my eye was caught by the expression of our junior's face.
"Mr. Royce is ill, sir!" I cried. "Look at him!"
He was leaning forward heavily, his face drawn and livid, his eyes set, his hands plucking at the arms of his chair. We sprang to him and led him to a couch. I bathed his hands and face in cold water, while Mr. Graham hurriedly summoned a physician. The doctor soon arrived, and diagnosed the case at a glance.
"Nervous breakdown," he said tersely. "You lawyers drive yourselves too hard. It's a wonder to me you don't all drop over. We'll have to look out, or this will end in brain fever."
He poured out a stimulant, which the sick man swallowed without protest. He seemed stronger in a few moments, and began talking incoherently to himself. We got him down to the doctor's carriage, and drove rapidly to his lodgings, where we put him to bed without delay.
"I think he'll pull through," observed the doctor, after watching him for a while. "I'll get a couple of nurses, and we'll give him every chance. Has he any relatives here in New York?"
"No; his relatives are all in Ohio. Had they better be notified?"
"Oh, I think not--not unless he gets worse. He seems to be naturally strong. I suppose he's been worrying about something?"
"Yes," I said. "He has been greatly worried by one of his cases."
"Of course," he nodded. "If the human race had sense enough to stop worrying, there'd be mighty little work for us doctors."
"I'd like to call Doctor Jenkinson into the case," I said. "He knows Mr. Royce, and may be of help."
"Certainly; I'll be glad to consult with Doctor Jenkinson."
So Jenkinson was called, and confirmed the diagnosis. He understood, of course, the cause of Mr. Royce's breakdown, and turned to me when the consultation was ended, and his colleague had taken his departure.
"Mr. Lester," he said, "I advise you to go home and get some rest. Put this case out of your mind, or you'll be right where Mr. Royce is. He had some more bad news, I suppose?"
I told him of Miss Holladay's disappearance; he pondered over it a moment with grave face.
"This strengthens my belief that she is suffering with dementia," he said. "Sudden aversion to relatives and friends is one of its most common symptoms. Of course, she must be found."
"I'm going to find her," I a.s.sured him, with perhaps a little more confidence than I really felt.
"Well, remember to call on me if I can help you. But first of all, go home and sleep for ten hours--twelve, if you can. Mind, no work before that--no building of theories. You'll be so much the fresher to-morrow."
I recognized the wisdom of this advice, but I had one thing to do first. I took a cab and drove to the nearest telegraph office. There I sent an imperative message to Brooks, the Holladay coachman, telling him to return to New York by the first train, and report to me at the office. That done, I gave the driver my address and settled back in the seat.
No building of theories, Jenkinson had said; yet it was difficult to keep the brain idle. Where was Frances Holladay? Why had she fled? Was she really mentally deranged? Had the weight of the secret proved too great for her? Or had she merely fallen under the influence of the woman who was guilty? Supposing she was insane, what should we do with her when we found her? How could we control her? And, supposing she were not insane, what legal right had we to interfere with her? These and a hundred other questions crowded upon me, till thought failed, and I lay back confused, indifferent----
"Here we are, sir," said the driver, jumping down from his seat and jerking open the door.
I paid him, and went stumblingly up the steps. I have no doubt he was grinning behind me. As I fumbled with my key, someone opened the door from the inside.
"Why, Mistair Lester!" exclaimed Martigny's voice. "What is it? You have no illness, I hope!"
"No," I murmured, "I'm just dead tired," and I started blindly for the stair.
"Let me a.s.sist you," and he took my arm and helped me up; then went on ahead, opened my door, and lighted the gas.