Quill's Window Part 36

He replaced the envelope in his pocket, and smiled politely, his hand going to the door k.n.o.b.

"We couldn't do it, Mr. Thane, unless we stuck pretty closely to our rule,--that is, of asking our patrons to pay promptly at the end of every week."

"It's really the only way," he agreed.

"So if you will be kind enough to let me have the amount now, I will be very much obliged to you."

He stepped to the head of the stairs, ostensibly to be nearer a light, and took out his purse. While counting out the bills, he cast frequent glances down into the lower hall. The buzz of conversation came up from the "lounge."

"I think you will find the proper amount here, Miss Molly," he said, after restoring the purse to his pocket.

She took the bank-notes and counted them.

"Quite correct, Mr. Thane. Thank you. By the way, I have been meaning to ask how much longer you contemplate remaining with us.

Pastor Mavity has been inquiring for room and board for his sister, who is coming on from Indianapolis to spend several months in Windomville. If by any chance you are thinking of vacating your room within the next few days, I would be obliged if you would let me know as soon as possible in order that I may give Mr. Mavity an answer."

"I think I shall be leaving shortly, Miss Dowd. I can let you know in a day or two," said he stiffly. "I am afraid your winters are too severe for me. Good night,--and thank you for being so patient, Miss Dowd."

Meanwhile, Miss Angie Miller had taken Charlie Webster off to a corner of the "lounge" remote from the fireplace. She was visibly excited.

"I had a letter in this afternoon's mail from my uncle, Charlie,"

she announced in subdued tones. "My goodness, you'll simply pa.s.s away when you read it."

"Where is it?" demanded Charlie eagerly.

"I haven't even shown it to Furman," said she, looking over her shoulder. "I've been wondering whether I ought to let him read it first."

"Not at all," said he promptly. "It's none of his business. This is between you and me, Angie. Let's have a look at it."

"I don't think you'd better read it here," she whispered nervously.

"It--it is very private and confidential."

"That's all right," said Charlie. "I'll sneak upstairs with it, Angie."

"Well, act as if you are looking out of the window," she said, and when his back was turned she produced the letter from its hiding place inside her blouse.

II

Charlie retired to his room a few minutes later. There he perused the following letter, written on the stationery of Beck, Blossom, Fredericks & Smith, Attorneys-at-law, New York City:

MY DEAR NIECE:

Pardon my delay in replying to your letter of recent date. I have been very busy in court and have not been in a position to devote even a little of my time to your inquiry. Your second letter reached me yesterday, and I now make amends for my previous delinquency by answering it with a promptness most uncommon in lawyers.

The firm of which I am a member appeared in 1912 for the plaintiff in the case of Ritter vs. Thane. Our client was a young woman residing in Brooklyn. The defendant was Courtney Thane, the son of Howard Thane, and no doubt the young man to whom you refer. In any case, he was the grandson of Silas Thane, who lived in your part of the State of Indiana. We were demanding one hundred thousand dollars for our client. Miss Ritter was a trained nurse. Young Thane had been severely injured in an automobile accident. If YOUR Courtney Thane is the same as MINE, he will be walking with a slight limp. His left leg was badly crushed in the accident to which I refer. For several months he was unable to walk. Upon his removal from St. Luke's Hospital to his father's home in Park Avenue, a fortnight after the accident, our client was employed as a nurse on the case. This was early in the spring of 1912. In June the Thane family went to the Berkshires, where they had rented a house for the summer. Our client accompanied them. Prior to their departure, Thane, senior, had settled out of court with the occupants of the automobile with which his son's car had collided in upper Broadway.

His son was alone in his car when the accident occurred, but there were a number of witnesses ready to testify that he was driving at a high rate of speed, regardless of traffic or crossings. If my memory serves me correctly, his father paid something like twenty-five thousand dollars to the three persons injured. That, however, is neither here nor there, except to ill.u.s.trate the young man's disregard for the law.

Miss Ritter had been on the case a very short time before he began to make ardent love to her. She was an extremely pretty girl, two years his senior, and, I am convinced, a most worthy and exemplary young woman. She became infatuated with the young man. He asked her to marry him. (Permit me to digress for a moment in order to state that while Courtney Thane was in his freshman year at college his father was obliged to pay out quite a large sum of money to a chorus-girl with whom, it appears, he had become involved.) To make a long story short, our client, trusting implicitly to his honour and submitting to the ardour of their joint pa.s.sion, antic.i.p.ated the marriage ceremony with serious results to herself. When she discovered that he had no intention of marrying her, she attempted suicide. Her mother, on learning the truth, went to Thane's parents and pleaded for the righting of the wrong. Howard Thane had, by this time, lost all patience with his son. He refused to have anything to do with the matter. The young man's mother ordered Miss Ritter's mother out of the apartment and threatened to have her arrested for blackmail. Shortly after this episode, we were consulted by Mrs.

Ritter, much against the wishes of her daughter, who shrank from the notoriety and the disgrace of a lawsuit. The elder Thane was adamant in his decision that his son should marry the girl, who, he was fair enough to admit, was a young woman of very superior character and who, he was convinced, had been basely deceived. The mother, on the other hand, was relentlessly opposed to the sacrifice of her son. We took the matter to court. On the morning of the first day of the trial, before the opening of court, the defendant's counsel came to us with a proposition. They offered to settle out of court for twenty-five thousand dollars. In the end, we accepted fifty thousand, and the case was dismissed. Afterwards counsel for the other side informed us that the elder Thane turned his son out of his home and refused to have anything more to do with him.

I understand the young man went to Europe, where he subsisted on an allowance provided by his mother. Thane, senior, died shortly after this. Our client, I am pained to say, died with her babe in childbirth.

You may be interested to know, my dear niece, that Mrs. Thane married soon after her husband's death. Her second husband was a young French n.o.bleman, many years her junior. He was killed in the war, I think at Verdun. I understand she is now living in this city. Her present name escapes me, but I know that her widowhood has been made endurable by a legacy which happens to be one in name only. In other words, he left her the t.i.tle of Countess.

If I can be of any further service to you, my dear niece, pray do not hesitate to call upon me. Believe me to be...etc., etc.

Within ten minutes after the perusal of this very convincing indictment, Charlie Webster was on his way to Alix's home. He was quite out of breath when he presented himself at the front door, and his first words to Alix were:

"While I'm getting my breath, Alix, you might prepare yourself for a shock."

CHAPTER XX

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ROSABEL VICK

Early the next morning, the telephone in township a.s.sessor Jordan's house rang. Annie Jordan was "setting" the breakfast table. She waited for the call to be repeated; she was not sure whether the bell had rung thrice or four times. Their call was "Party J, ring four." Four sharp rings came promptly. She looked at the kitchen clock. It lacked five minutes of seven.

"Gee," she grumbled, "I didn't know anybody had to get up as early as I do." Taking down the receiver she uttered a sweet "h.e.l.lo,"

because, as she said, "You never know who's at the other end, and it's just as likely to be HIM as not."

"Is that you, Annie? This is Mrs. Vick. May I speak to Rosabel?"

"Why, Rosabel isn't here, Mrs. Vick."

"What?"

"Rosabel isn't here."

There was a short silence. Then: "Are you joking with me, Annie?

If she isn't up yet, please tell her to--"

"Honest to goodness, Mrs. Vick, she's not here. I haven't seen her since day before yesterday."

"She said she was going over to spend the night with you. She left home about four yesterday. Oh, my goodness, I--I--is there any one else she might have,--I'm sure she said you, though, Annie. Can you think of any one else? She took her nightdress--and things."

"She always comes here, Mrs. Vick," said Annie, and felt a little chill creeping over her. "Still she may have gone to Mrs. Urline's.

She and Hattie are good friends. Shall I call up and ask? I'll ring you up in a couple of minutes."

That was the beginning. Within the hour the whole of Windomville was talking about the strange disappearance of the pretty daughter of Amos Vick, across the river. Old Jim House, the handy-man at Dowd's Tavern, inserted his s.h.a.ggy head through the dining-room door and informed the editor of the Sun in a far from ceremonious manner that he had an "item" for the paper.

"I'll be out as soon as I've finished breakfast," said Mr. Pollock.

"Well, you can't say I didn't tell ye," said Jim, and withdrew his head. "No wonder there ain't ever anything worth readin' in that pickerune paper of his, Maggie," he growled to Margaret Slattery.

"If ever I DO subscribe for a paper, it's goin' to be one that's got some git up and go about it. Some Injinapolis er Cincinnaty paper, b'gosh. There's Link Pollock settin' in there eatin' pancakes while a girl is bein' missed from one end of the township to the other. Bill Foss has--"

"What girl?" demanded Margaret.