Carolyn Wells

The Greatest Murder Mysteries of Carolyn Wells


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Maxwell. He had always been so alert and alive, so light-hearted and debonair, that it was difficult to think of him as dead. And the mystery of his death added a peculiar horror to it all.

      But at last the ceremonies were over, and I was free to go away if I chose.

      I hesitated about discussing the matter again with the Maxwells, for I knew they would oppose my going to New York on such an errand. And though I might persuade them that it was my duty to do so, the argument would doubtless be a long one, and I might be late for the train I wanted to take.

      So I asked Hunt to tell them that I had gone, and to say that I would soon return. I advised him, too, to tell them that it was the most straightforward thing to do. For, if the Earl could give a simple and rational explanation of the question of the seal, certainly no harm would be done. And if he could not, surely the matter must be looked into.

      And so I found myself in the train, returning over the road that Miss Gardiner and I had traveled a few days before.

      Naturally my thoughts strayed to her, for mysterious though she was in some ways, she had made a greater impression on my heart than ever woman had done before. I ascribed her strange ways to her strength of character, and her cold logic to her high order of intellect. If a thought crept in that she knew more than she had told about the mystery, I determinedly put it away from me.

      It seemed to me everybody was acting mysteriously. Mildred Leslie was inexplicable. Her rapid transitions from gay thoughtlessness to feverish hysterics surely denoted guilty knowledge of some sort. Miss Lathrop was queer enough, too; but of course, she could know nothing about the crime, except what she had heard from us, or what Mildred had revealed in her delirium.

      Irene was strange; Gilbert Crane had acted very strangely, and certainly Lord Clarence's behavior was astonishing.

      However, I didn't really think the nobleman had done the shooting; but I did think that he knew something about it that he preferred not to tell, and so had put himself beyond questioning.

      Before ten o'clock I was at the Waldorf, inquiring for the Earl, only to be informed that he was out. He had left no word of his whereabouts at the office, but as he still retained his rooms I decided to wait for him. The clerk told me that he had come to the hotel that afternoon about four, and later had gone out, apparently to dinner.

      But though I waited until midnight, his lordship did not appear.

      Again I conferred with the clerk, telling him I was especially anxious to see the Earl of Clarendon.

      He was not greatly disturbed over my anxiety, but was willing to do what he could, and suggested that I interview his lordship's man-servant.

      This was a truly brilliant idea, and I directed that the valet be sent for. But the response was, that Lord Clarendon's man,—by name, Hoskins,—was not at present in the hotel.

      "Did he go away with the Earl?" I inquired, but this, nobody seemed to know. The Earl had left at about six o'clock, and as it was now twelve, all the porters and bell-boys had shifted, and no one at present on duty could give me the information I wanted.

      Nonplussed, I told the clerk that I would go to his lordship's rooms and wait for him there; for secretly I had a hope that I might learn something from an examination of his apartments.

      But permission to do this was refused me; and then, though I didn't want to hint my suspicions openly, I gave the clerk to understand, that it was in the character of a detective that I wished to see the Earl's rooms.

      Whereupon the clerk nonchalantly asked to see my badge. As I had none, not being a real detective at all, he seemed to consider the interview closed; and realizing I could do nothing more that night, I asked for a room and went to bed.

      I rose the next morning with a firm determination to find the Earl. Surely such a personage could not drop out of civilization without leaving a trace; and he had kept his apartments at the hotel, so he evidently intended to return. But to sit and wait for him was not my plan.

      I went down-stairs and inquired for him at the desk, but, as I had anticipated, I received no information whatever, except that he was not at present in the hotel.

      I thought it over, as I ate breakfast on the sunny side of the dining-room, and at last a brilliant idea came to me. I was determined to do real detective work in this matter; something more than merely making inquiries of a secretive clerk.

      My brilliant plan might not prove successful, but after breakfast I put it at once to the test.

      Going up in the elevator, I stepped off at the fourth floor where the Earl's rooms were, instead of going on to my own on the ninth floor.

      I knew the Earl's apartment was numbered four-ninety-two. I managed to get to its door unobserved, and then stood there, hesitating, as if just leaving the room.

      I stood thus for sometime, but my patience was finally rewarded by seeing a chamber-maid coming along the hall.

      "Ah! there you are," I said, stepping briskly forward; "Now, look here, my good woman, I find that I put an important paper in my waste-basket by mistake. When did you empty the baskets?"

      "Last evening, sir," she said, looking a little alarmed. "It should have been done earlier, sir, but I got behind-hand with my work, and—"

      "Never mind; show me the place where the papers were thrown. They're not burned yet, are they?"

      She hesitated, but a powerful argument that was green and crisp induced further information. "They're in a sack, in my broom-closet, sir. But I'd be fined if it were known."

      "It sha'n't be known, I promise you. There's no one about; show me where they are. I want to see the contents of the basket that was in four-ninety-two."

      "They're all together, sir, but that room is near the top. Step in here, please."

      I followed the woman into her broom-closet, which proved to be a small but fairly well lighted room. She took up a large sack and tossed part of its contents out on the floor.

      "Will you search, yourself, sir? I must be at my work."

      "Yes, my good woman, go along. I'll find what I want, and no one will be the wiser."

      She went away and I began the well-nigh hopeless task of looking over the waste paper. But after a time I began to find torn envelopes addressed to the Earl of Clarendon, and these I examined with interest. There were many invitations, advertisements and personal letters, but none seemed to bear on his present absence until I struck a note from one Mrs. Ogilby Pauncefote. This was an invitation to her country house on Long Island, at Osprey-by-the-Sea. The lady asked Lord Clarendon to come the afternoon before, and as I found also a timetable with the railroad station checked, I couldn't help thinking that his lordship had accepted her invitation. At any rate I found nothing else to give me any idea of where the nobleman had gone, and I resolved to go to this place, and if he were not there, perhaps to learn from Mrs. Pauncefote where he might be.

      Making use of the discarded time-table, I started at once toward my destination. But taking the first available train, it was eleven o'clock when I reached the ornate mansion at Osprey-by-the-Sea.

      The footman who answered my ring informed me that Mrs. Pauncefote was not at home.

      "Is the Earl of Clarendon here?" I inquired.

      "No sir; he has been here all night, but he went with the party in the yacht."

      "Ah, in the yacht," I said, endeavoring to assume an air of intimacy with the family. "What time did they start?"

      "At ten o'clock, sir."

      I looked at my watch. "Then they've been gone about an hour," I observed. "And where are they headed for?"

      "Montauk Point, sir."

      "Montauk Point! why they can't reach that till late this afternoon."

      "No, sir; they will lunch on board the yacht, and reach the point by dinner-time,—or I should say, perhaps at tea-time, about four o'clock, sir." He was an amiable sort