BY ROWLAND WRIGHT NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1920 Copyright, 1919 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc. VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK...

Kimball Webb didn’t look at all like a man who would disappear mysteriously. Though I’m not sure mysteriously disappearing men, as a class, have physical characteristics in common. But one rather imagines them eerie looking, with deep, cavernous eyes and hollow cheeks. Kimball Webb had nothing of the sort. He was a bit distinguished looking, but that was because he was a New Englander by birth, and a playwright by profession and had won the D. S. C. in the late war. Now, though a lame knee inter

She made an impressive picture, as she swept the telephone from its little table, even while she sank into the attendant chair. For Henrietta Webb was a striking-looking woman,—only her Bostonian restraint kept her from being a stunning one. Tall, but very graceful, muscular, yet strictly feminine, her demeanor was marked by a calm composure, that was absolutely unshakable. “Mistress of herself, though china fall,” would be a true but an inadequate comment on Miss Webb’s self-control. She ruled

“After such an exhibition of foolishness, one could scarcely wonder that I can’t look upon you as a desirable mate for my talented brother,—but I am willing to make allowances for your display of temper, as I can readily understand how embarrassed you must be at the awkwardness of having no wedding—” Henrietta Webb paused as she saw the look that came over Elsie’s face. “Don’t you propose to let him out in time to get married?” the girl cried. “Oh, Henrietta, how can you be so cruel? I know you’

Mrs. Powell soon returned, utterly unable to do her part in the awful task of telling people not to come to the wedding. Their exclamations and questions were too much for her. She went to her room, suffering from a severe attack of nervous exhaustion. Gerty Seaman, who like Elsie, had strong powers of endurance and ability to meet emergency, stuck to her post until all on her list had been spoken to and had promised to tell others. It was a big undertaking to get word to the larger part of the

Elsie Powell’s nature was generous. She gave of herself to all with whom she came in contact, and gave freely and willingly; time, thought, and sympathy as well as more material gifts. Her disposition was so free from selfishness that not always did she sufficiently guard her own interests. But when need arose, she promptly rose to the occasion. And the morning after the day which was to have been her wedding-day, she awoke with a saddened heart but a mind alert and ready to plan and execute act

“You’re right, man,” declared Harbison; “let’s tackle that problem seriously. How could it be done,—no matter how absurd or unlikely the suggestion?” “First,” enumerated Hanley, “there’s Mrs. Webb’s suggestion of spirits.” “It would be hard to beat that for unlikeliness!” said Harbison, speaking very seriously, and entirely ignoring Mrs. Webb’s disdainful expression. “Now, see here,—how about turning the key from the outside by means of a very powerful magnet—” “No such thing possible,” Hanley d

“Well, I’m a red-blooded young American, and I’m not denying that a fortune of a few millions would come in mighty handy in my business!” The speaker was Joe Allison, and he was paying his first call on the Powells. They liked him at once, for one could scarce help liking the breezy mannered light-hearted chap, and his frankness and straightforwardness won Elsie’s heart. “Of course,” he went on,—they were talking of Miss Elizabeth Powell’s will, “the whole thing is pretty ridiculous,—freak wills

When Elsie arrived at Lulie Lloyd’s home, that young woman greeted her most pleasantly. “I came to see Mr. Courtney,” Elsie said, briefly, looking about. “Here I am, Miss Powell,” and Wallace Courtney came in from the next room. “I was told you were here,—in hiding!” Elsie exclaimed, excitedly. “In retreat, not in hiding,” Courtney corrected her. “I am exceedingly busy, and in order to work uninterruptedly, I’ve set up an office in this house, and Miss Lloyd is helping me.” “But you’re Mr. Webb’

But Elsie’s determination to get a special detective was not easily carried out. She visited several who were recommended to her by agencies, but none seemed sufficiently sure of success to make her willing to pay the large fees they demanded, irrespective of the outcome of their efforts. In fact none seemed anxious to take up the case. They deemed it too difficult to locate the missing man, for they held the opinion, that he had been hidden with his own consent or at his own request. One detect

Nearly every evening Coley Coe came to report to Elsie. The first time that he met the other members of the Powell family he quite took them by storm. His big, blue eyes had a frank, even impudent stare, but his smile was so winning and his laugh so spontaneous that it was impossible to be otherwise than friendly toward him. “Awful glad to meet you, Mrs. Powell,” he said, shaking hands cordially, “and I want to congratulate you on your daughter. Miss Powell’s a wonder! How? Oh, in every way, but

No one deemed Kimball Webb dead, yet the grave itself could not have been more silent than the circumstances of his absence. The public generally were divided into two classes, those who thought he had decamped to avoid his wedding and those who thought he had been abducted for some undiscovered reason. The Webb family were extremely reticent, and neither Mrs. Webb nor Henrietta expressed definite beliefs or fears. Even to their nearest and dearest friends they showed an attitude of patient wait

Coley Coe sat in his somewhat eccentric looking den, in an attitude characteristic of his working hours. He occupied a big over-stuffed chair, and while his head and shoulders rested on one of its wide arms, his feet and legs were draped carelessly over the other. His remarkable hair fountained out over his forehead and almost hid his eyes, which were fairly blinking in the earnestness of his thought. He was clearing out his always methodical mind, and tabulating his ideas as he went along. “The

Fenn Whiting was not unversed in feminine ways. And, especially did he count himself familiar with the ways of Elsie Powell. And though the average woman would make a threat of killing herself as a melodramatic bluff, not so Elsie. Whiting knew, for a certainty, if she had made up her mind to such a desperate step, she would assuredly take it. No interference or hindrance could prevent her. She might be foiled in several attempts but she would succeed finally, if she had set her face that way. A

Though slow to anger, Elsie was a little firebrand when roused. And the more she thought over the matter the more furious she grew at the game that had been played on her. The fact that she brought it all upon herself only made her more angry. And, yet, she didn’t blame herself utterly, for she had felt so sure that only by following instructions implicitly, could she accomplish her end. She didn’t for a moment believe that some one had tricked her who knew nothing of Kimball Webb, for she had h

“Is that a threat?” Elsie turned on Whiting, with sudden rage. “Not unless you choose to take it so.” But the man’s steely grey eyes were commanding rather than imploring, and his thin lips were set in a straight line that bespoke determination. “Don’t make me threaten you, Elsie,—why should it be necessary? I love you and I want you,—but more than that I want your promise to marry me at once to save yourself from persecution and trouble. You were trapped here, you say,—you just referred to some

There was consternation in the Powell household when Miss Loring arrived without Elsie. “Where is she?” cried Gerty. “Here, isn’t she?” returned the bewildered nurse. “No, of course not! Why did you think so?” And then Nurse Loring told how she had received a message from Elsie saying she had been obliged to return to New York suddenly, that she had gone with some friends, and for Miss Loring to follow as soon as she could pack off. “Did she write you a note?” asked Mrs. Powell. “No; the word wa

And so again Coe went over the room. “Lord!” he cried, “I’m sick and tired of looking for a mousehole when the mousehole isn’t here! Not a baby mouse could get in or out of this box,—let alone a swashbuckler villain, carrying a drugged unconscious man on his back!” For that was the way Coe visualized it,—he felt sure the abductor had entered by his confounded secret entrance, had drugged or chloroformed the sleeping Webb, and had returned the way he came, carrying his prey. For how else could it

It was the twenty-ninth of June. Elsie Powell had been nearly a week in confinement, under the care and at the mercy of the woman she called Mrs. Pike, but who was in reality the wife of Bass, the valet and general factotum of Fenn Whiting. When Elsie had asked his name he had said Pike, on the spur of the moment, and Pike he had remained to her. Elsie was not at all uncomfortably housed. She had comforts if not luxuries. She was allowed to go in the several rooms of the basement of the house, w