The Yellow Crayon Part 3

Mr. Sabin declined.

"Get right ahead then."

"I am an Englishman," Mr. Sabin said slowly, "and consequently am not altogether at home with your ways over here. I have always understood, however, that if you are in need of any special information such as we should in England apply to the police for, over here there is a quicker and more satisfactory method of procedure."

"You've come a long way round," Mr. Skinner remarked, spitting upon the floor, "but you're dead right."

"I am in need of some information," Mr. Sabin continued, "and accordingly I called this morning on Mr.--"

Mr. Skinner held up his hand.

"All right," he said. "We don't mention names more than we can help.

Call him the boss."

"He a.s.sured me that the information I was in need of was easily to be obtained, and gave me a card to you."

"Go right on," Mr. Skinner said. "What is it?"

"On Friday last," Mr. Sabin said, "at four o'clock, the d.u.c.h.ess of Souspennier, whose picture I will presently show you, left the Holland House Hotel for the New York, New Haven & Hartford Depot, presumably for her home at Lenox, to which place her baggage had already been checked.

On the way she ordered the cabman to set her down at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, which he did at a few minutes past four. The d.u.c.h.ess has not returned home or been directly heard from since. I wish to ascertain her movements since she arrived at the Waldorf."

"Sounds dead easy," Mr. Skinner remarked rea.s.suringly. "Got the picture?"

Mr. Sabin touched the spring of a small gold locket which he drew from an inside waistcoat pocket, and disclosed a beautifully painted miniature. Mr. Skinner's thick lips were pursed into a whistle. He was on the point of making a remark when he chanced to glance into Mr.

Sabin's face. The remark remained unspoken.

He drew a sheet of note-paper towards him and made a few notes upon it.

"The d.u.c.h.ess many friends in New York?"

"At present none. The few people whom she knows here are at Newport or in Europe just now."

"Any idea whom she went to the Waldorf to see? More we know the better."

Mr. Sabin handed him the letter which had been picked up in the cab. Mr.

Skinner read it through, and spat once more upon the floor.

"What the h---'s this funny coloured pencil mean?"

"I do not know," Mr. Sabin answered. "You will see that the two anonymous communications which I have received since arriving in New York yesterday are written in the same manner."

Mr. Sabin handed him the other two letters, which Mr. Skinner carefully perused.

"I guess you'd better tell me who you are," he suggested.

"I am the husband of the d.u.c.h.ess of Souspennier," Mr. Sabin answered.

"The d.u.c.h.ess send any word home at all?" Mr. Skinner asked.

Mr. Sabin produced a worn telegraph form. It was handed in at Fifth Avenue, New York, at six o'clock on Friday. It contained the single word 'Good-bye.'

"H'm," Mr. Skinner remarked. "We'll find all you want to know by to-morrow sure."

"What do you make of the two letters which I received?" Mr. Sabin asked.

"Bunk.u.m!" Mr. Skinner replied confidently.

Mr. Sabin nodded his head.

"You have no secret societies over here, I suppose?" he said.

Mr. Skinner laughed loudly and derisively.

"I guess not," he answered. "They keep that sort of rubbish on the other side of the pond."

"Ah!"

Mr. Sabin was thoughtful for a moment. "You expect to find, then," he remarked, "some other cause for my wife's disappearance?"

"There don't seem much room for doubt concerning that, sir," Mr. Skinner said; "but I never speculate. I will bring you the facts to-night between eight and eleven. Now as to the business side of it."

Mr. Sabin was for a moment puzzled.

"What's the job worth to you?" Mr. Skinner asked. "I am willing to pay,"

Mr. Sabin answered, "according to your demands."

"It's a simple case," Mr. Skinner admitted, "but our man at the Waldorf is expensive. If you get all your facts, I guess five hundred dollars will about see you through."

"I will pay that," Mr. Sabin answered.

"I will bring you the letters back to-night," Mr. Skinner said. "I guess I'll borrow that locket of yours, too."

Mr. Sabin shook his head.

"That," he said firmly, "I do not part with." Mr. Skinner scratched his ear with his penholder. "It's the only sc.r.a.p of identifying matter we've got," he remarked. "Of course it's a dead simple case, and we can probably manage without it. But I guess it's as well to fix the thing right down."

"If you will give me a piece of paper," Mr. Sabin said, "I will make you a sketch of the d.u.c.h.ess. The larger the better. I can give you an idea of the sort of clothes she would probably be wearing."

Mr. Skinner furnished him with a double sheet of paper, and Mr. Sabin, with set face and unflinching figures, reproduced in a few simple strokes a wonderful likeness of the woman he loved. He pushed it away from him when he had finished without remark. Mr. Skinner was loud in its praises.

"I guess you're an artist, sir, for sure," he remarked. "This'll fix the thing. Shall I come to your hotel?"

"If you please," Mr. Sabin answered. "I shall be there for the rest of the day."

Mr. Skinner took up his hat.

"Guess I'll take my dinner and get right to work," he remarked. "Say, you come along, Mr. Sabin. I'll take you where they'll fix you such a beefsteak as you never tasted in your life."