for dinner."
"He seemed the same as usual?"
"Just the same, sir. I've been with Mr. Arnold for nearly ten years, and he's always been the same. A kind master, but not given to talking to his servants. As, indeed, why should he? But some masters chat a bit now and then. After Mr. Arnold went down to dinner, I put his things in order, turned down his bed, and laid out his night things, and that always ends my duties for the day. Mr. Arnold never requires me when he goes to bed. He says it only bothers him to have me about then. So my evenings are my own."
"And when do you go to Mr. Arnold's room of a morning?" Mr. Crane had taken upon himself the right to institute this investigation, and asked his questions with the air of one in charge of a case.
"I never go, sir, until Mr. Arnold rings," Peters answered; "but he always rings for me at half-past eight This morning he didn't; and as it was the first time such a thing had ever happened, I was surprised. I waited and waited, and then, something after nine o'clock, I went to his room, and found he hadn't been there all night."
"He may have been there," objected Mr. Crane. "Well, sir, if he was, he left no trace. Not a brush was touched, or anything on his dresser, or in his bedroom or bath-room. Of course he may have been in the room and gone away again, but he didn't sleep there last night. And"—Peters paused impressively—"he isn't in this house now, sir. I'll swear to that. I took two of the footmen, sir, and we've scoured the whole house, and there's no sign of Mr. Arnold anywhere."
"Of course there isn't!" exclaimed Dorothy. "He wouldn't go and hide in some cupboard, and, if he had a stroke of apoplexy or anything, he couldn't have disappeared after it. I tell you he went out for some perfectly sensible reason, and he'll come back when he gets ready. I don't care anything about your burglar-alarm! If it's so clever and ingenious, he probably had some equally clever way to turn it off and on as he chose."
"But, Miss Duncan," said Driggs respectfully, "besides the burglar alarm, every door and window is fastened on the inside. The doors have heavy bolts and chains, and the windows have patent fastenings. These were all intact this morning, when I came downstairs."
"All but one, Driggs," said Dorothy, smiling. "The one Mr. Arnold went out at couldn't have been fastened this morning, although you think it was."
Driggs said nothing, but looked unconvinced, and Mr. Crane suggested, "He has so many clever mechanical contrivances, perhaps he could open a door or window and then fasten it behind him."
"But there'd be no sense to it," said Ernest Chapin impatiently. "Why should a man like Mr. Arnold leave his house secretly in the dead of night? As his secretary, I am conversant with his business affairs, and there is nothing among those that could call him away on a secret errand. And if he had a secret errand, he was at liberty to go and attend to it, unquestioned, in broad daylight."
"What, then, do you think is the solution of this mystery?" asked Mr. Crane.
"I don't know," replied Chapin. "It seems to me that he must be in the house, although, of course, Peters has made a thorough search."
"He can't be in the house," declared Miss Abby. "I don't care anything about thorough searching; if Justin were in the house, he'd be in some one of the rooms where he reasonably belongs. He went out of the house, that's what he did!"
Every time this opinion was expressed, Driggs seemed to consider it an imputation against his own fidelity and veracity. His long period of service had given him certain privileges above those of an ordinary butler, and he allowed himself to volunteer a remark.
"Miss Wadsworth," he began, "may I say that if Mr. Arnold did get out of this house, which he couldn't do unbeknownst, the watchman must have seen him do so? Would you, ma'am, call Malony and ask him?"
Glad of the new suggestion, Miss Wadsworth ordered that Malony be summoned at once.
The big Irishman appeared, and, at a nod from Miss Abby, Mr. Crane questioned him.
"You are the night watchman on the estate?"
"Yis, sor; I'm Malony, the night watchman. I've pathrolled these grounds ivery night for manny years."
"Do you walk all round the place, systematically?"
"I do thot! It's me dooty to poonch the time-clocks ivery half-hour."
"And where are the time-clocks?"
"Well, sor, there's wan at the gatekeeper's lodge, wan at the shtables, wan each at the four sides of the house and the four corners of the grounds; betune 'em all, I'm all over the grounds all the time, and nobody, least of all the masther, would be sthrollin' around without me knowin' of it."
"But if he had left the house, Malony, when you were in a distant corner of the grounds, you might not have seen him."
"Thrue for ye, sor; but thin, be the same token, I'd run across him sooner or later, in me thrips, fer he couldn't get out of the grounds. The big gate is locked and barred so strong that it wud take a batterin'-ram to break it down. And this marnin' ivery one of thim bolts and bars was jist as they should be. So I puts it to ye, sor: cud anny man get out of that gate and bolt and bar it behind him? He cud not! And cud he get over the wall? ye'll say. He cud not! The wall is tin feet high, and the top av it is dekkyrated wid the foinest collection of broken bottles to be found in the country. Their p'ints stick up as jagged and sharp as so many swoord-blades, and if anny man cud manage to climb over that wall, he'd be in ribbins when he kem down on the other side! Would Mr. Arnold do thot? He wud not! And so it's plain, sor, that Mr. Arnold did not come out av his house, which he couldn't get out av; and did not purrood about his grounds, because, forbye, he isn't there!"
Malony's voice, at the last, dropped to a mysterious and meaningful whisper, so that Crane was moved to inquire, "What do you mean by saying so emphatically that Mr. Arnold is nowhere on the grounds?"
"Becuz I searched iverywhere! Me and two of the gardeners and some of the stable-b'ys, we've been scouring the grounds iver since we heard Mr. Arnold was missin', and, though we've looked in ivery ravine and holler, he jist ain't there!"
Mr. Crane rather prided himself on his "detective instinct," and he caught at what he considered a point.
"If Mr. Arnold couldn't get out of the house, Malony, why did you go to the trouble of making such a thorough search of the grounds?"
Malony's honest fact looked grave. "Perhaps it was raysonless, sor," he said, "but them grounds is my special charge at night. And though Mr. Arnold cuddent get out of the house without Driggs knowin' it, yet I thought it was up to me to make sure that he wasn't in the grounds, in case I shud be asked the question."
To more than one mind present, this was a slight indication of a possible complicity on the part of Driggs. The only evidence that the burglar-alarm had not been switched off and on again while Arnold went out, was Driggs's word to that effect. But closely allied to that came the thought that if Driggs were not telling the truth, Malony might be equally mendacious!
However, there was no real reason to suspect these old servants. For years they had been trusty and true, and any hypothesis leading toward an idea that they connived at or assisted Justin Arnold's secret departure from his own home was too melodramatic and absurd to be considered for a moment.
The servants were dismissed, and the little group in the library looked at one another blankly, while considering what to do next.
"Of course, only two things are possible," declared Fred Crane, emphasizing his statement by pounding his right fist into his left palm.
"What are they?" said his wife, as he seemed to be awaiting the question.
"One is," and again came the emphatic pound, "that Arnold is on some perfectly plausible and natural errand somewhere—"
"Which of course he is!" interrupted Dorothy, her eyes blazing as she spoke.
"Or else," went on Crane, "those two men servants know where he is."
"Which two?" said Chapin.
"Driggs