DETECTIVE EBENEZER GRYCE - Complete Murder-Mysteries Collection: 11 Novels in One Volume
gentleman, I mean, none of your American dandies,—and I had no stare to return; I had forgotten that emergency in my confabs with Pierre Catnille Marie Make-face.”
Amused, but a little discomposed by this sudden turn in the conversation, I looked at Mr. Gryce inquiringly.
“Now you, I dare say, have no trouble? Was born one, perhaps. Can even ask a lady to dance without blushing, eh?”
“Well,—” I commenced.
“Just so,” he replied; “now, I can’t. I can enter a house, bow to the mistress of it, let her be as elegant as she will, so long as I have a writ of arrest in my hand, or some such professional matter upon my mind; but when it comes to visiting in kid gloves, raising a glass of champagne in response to a toast—and such like, I am absolutely good for nothing.” And he plunged his two hands into his hair, and looked dolefully at the head of the cane I carried in my hand. “But it is much the same with the whole of us. When we are in want of a gentleman to work for us, we have to go outside of our profession.”
I began to see what he was driving at; but held my peace, vaguely conscious I was likely to prove a necessity to him, after all.
“Mr. Raymond,” he now said, almost abruptly; “do you know a gentleman by the name of Clavering residing at present at the Hoffman House?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“He is very polished in his manners; would you mind making his acquaintance?”
I followed Mr. Gryce’s example, and stared at the chimney-piece. “I cannot answer till I understand matters a little better,” I returned at length.
“There is not much to understand. Mr. Henry Clavering, a gentleman and a man of the world, resides at the Hoffman House. He is a stranger in town, without being strange; drives, walks, smokes, but never visits; looks at the ladies, but is never seen to bow to one. In short, a person whom it is desirable to know; but whom, being a proud man, with something of the old-world prejudice against Yankee freedom and forwardness, I could no more approach in the way of acquaintance than I could the Emperor of Austria.”
“And you wish——”
“He would make a very agreeable companion for a rising young lawyer of good family and undoubted respectability. I have no doubt, if you undertook to cultivate him, you would find him well worth the trouble.”
“But——”
“Might even desire to take him into familiar relations; to confide in him, and——”
“Mr. Gryce,” I hastily interrupted; “I can never consent to plot for any man’s friendship for the sake of betraying him to the police.”
“It is essential to your plans to make the acquaintance of Mr. Clavering,” he dryly replied.
“Oh!” I returned, a light breaking in upon me; “he has some connection with this case, then?”
Mr. Gryce smoothed his coat-sleeve thoughtfully. “I don’t know as it will be necessary for you to betray him. You wouldn’t object to being introduced to him?”
“No.”
“Nor, if you found him pleasant, to converse with him?”
“No.”
“Not even if, in the course of conversation, you should come across something that might serve as a clue in your efforts to save Eleanore Leavenworth?”
The no I uttered this time was less assured; the part of a spy was the very last one I desired to play in the coming drama.
“Well, then,” he went on, ignoring the doubtful tone in which my assent had been given, “I advise you to immediately take up your quarters at the Hoffman House.”
“I doubt if that would do,” I said. “If I am not mistaken, I have already seen this gentleman, and spoken to him.”
“Where?”
“Describe him first.”
“Well, he is tall, finely formed, of very upright carriage, with a handsome dark face, brown hair streaked with gray, a piercing eye, and a smooth address. A very imposing personage, I assure you.”
“I have reason to think I have seen him,” I returned; and in a few words told him when and where.
“Humph!” said he at the conclusion; “he is evidently as much interested in you as we are in him.
“How ‘s that? I think I see,” he added, after a moment’s thought. “Pity you spoke to him; may have created an unfavorable impression; and everything depends upon your meeting without any distrust.”
He rose and paced the floor.
“Well, we must move slowly, that is all. Give him a chance to see you in other and better lights. Drop into the Hoffman House reading-room. Talk with the best men you meet while there; but not too much, or too indiscriminately. Mr. Clavering is fastidious, and will not feel honored by the attentions of one who is hail-fellow-well-met with everybody. Show yourself for what you are, and leave all advances to him; he ‘ll make them.”
“Supposing we are under a mistake, and the man I met on the corner of Thirty-seventh Street was not Mr. Clavering?”
“I should be greatly surprised, that’s all.”
Not knowing what further objection to make, I remained silent.
“And this head of mine would have to put on its thinking-cap,” he pursued jovially.
“Mr. Gryce,” I now said, anxious to show that all this talk about an unknown party had not served to put my own plans from my mind, “there is one person of whom we have not spoken.”
“No?” he exclaimed softly, wheeling around until his broad back confronted me. “And who may that be?”
“Why, who but Mr.—” I could get no further. What right had I to mention any man’s name in this connection, without possessing sufficient evidence against him to make such mention justifiable? “I beg your pardon,” said I; “but I think I will hold to my first impulse, and speak no names.”
“Harwell?” he ejaculated easily.
The quick blush rising to my face gave an involuntary assent.
“I see no reason why we shouldn’t speak of him,” he went on; “that is, if there is anything to be gained by it.”
“His testimony at the inquest was honest, you think?”
“It has not been disproved.”
“He is a peculiar man.”
“And so am I.”
I felt myself slightly nonplussed; and, conscious of appearing at a disadvantage, lifted my hat from the table and prepared to take my leave; but, suddenly thinking of Hannah, turned and asked if there was any news of her.
He seemed to debate with himself, hesitating so long that I began to doubt if this man intended to confide in me, after all, when suddenly he brought his two hands down before him and exclaimed vehemently:
“The evil one himself is in this business! If the earth had opened and swallowed up this girl, she couldn’t have more effectually disappeared.”
I experienced a sinking of the heart. Eleanore had said: “Hannah can do nothing for me.” Could it be that the girl was indeed gone, and forever?
“I have innumerable agents at work, to say nothing of the general public; and yet not so much as a whisper has come to me in regard to her whereabouts or situation. I am only afraid we shall find her floating in the river some fine morning, without a confession in her pocket.”
“Everything hangs upon that girl’s testimony,” I remarked.
He gave a short grunt. “What does Miss Leavenworth say