it would be advisable for me to talk to her first," said Rob. "I might put her more at her ease than a formidable detective could, and then I could report to you what I learn."
"Yes," agreed the other; "you could choose an expedient time, and, being in the same house, Miss French might help you."
"She could secure an interview for me quite casually, I am sure. And then, if I don't succeed, you can insist upon an official session, and question her definitely."
"There are indications," mused Mr. Fairbanks, "that accidental leaving of such a paper on the table is a little unlikely. If it were done purposely, it would be far easier to understand."
"Yes, and, granting there is any ground for suspicion, all Miss Dupuy's hysterics and disinclination to answer questions would be explained."
"Well, I hate to suspect a woman,—but we won't call it suspicion; we'll call it simply inquiry. You do what you can to get a friendly interview, and, if necessary, I'll insist on an official one later." Rob Fessenden went straight over to the Van Norman house, eager to tell Kitty French the developments of the afternoon.
She was more than willing to revise her opinions, and was honestly glad that Mr. Carleton was practically exonerated.
"Of course there's nothing official," said Rob, after he had told his whole story, "but the burden of suspicion has been lifted from Carleton, wherever it may next be placed."
At first Kitty was disinclined to think Cicely could be implicated.
"She's such a slip of a girl!" she said. "I don't believe that little blue-eyed, yellow-haired thing could stab anybody."
"But you mustn't reason that way," argued Rob. "Opinions don't count at all. We must try to get at the facts. Now let us go at once and interview Miss Dupuy. Can't we see her in that sitting-room, as we did before? And she mustn't be allowed to faint this time."
"We can't help her fainting," declared Kitty, a little indignantly. "You're just as selfish as all other men. Everything must bow to your will."
"I never pretended to any unmanly degree of unselfishness," said Rob blandly. "But we must have this interview at once. Will you go ahead and prepare the way?"
For answer Kitty ran upstairs and knocked at the door of what had been Madeleine's sitting-room, where Miss Dupuy was usually to be found at this hour of the day.
The door was opened by Marie, who replied to Kitty's question with a frightened air.
"Miss Dupuy? She is gone away. On the train, with luggage."
"Gone! Why, when did she go?"
"But a half-hour since. She went most suddenly."
"She did indeed! Does Miss Morton know of this?"
"That I do not know, but I think so."
Kitty turned to find Fessenden behind her, and as he had overheard the latter part of the conversation he came into the room and closed the door.
"Marie," he said to the maid, "tell us your idea of why Miss Dupuy went away."
"She was in fear," said Marie deliberately.
"In fear of what?"
"In fear of the detectives, and the questions they ask, and the dreadful coroner man. Miss Dupuy is not herself any more; she is so in fear she cannot sleep at night. Always she cries out in her dream." Fessenden glanced at Kitty. "What does she say, Marie?" he asked.
"Nothing that I can understand, m'sieu; but always low cries of fear, and sometimes she murmurs, 'I must go away! I cannot again answer those dreadful questions. I shall betray my secret.' Over and over she mutters that."
Fessenden began to grow excited. Surely this was evidence, and Cicely's departure seemed to emphasize it. Without another word he went in search of Miss Morton.
"Did you know Miss Dupuy was going away?" he said abruptly to her.
"Yes," she replied. "The poor girl is completely worn out. For the last few days she has been looking over Madeleine's letters and papers and accounts, and she is really overworked, besides the fearful nervous strain we are all under."
"Where has she gone?"
"I don't know. I meant to ask her to leave an address, but she said she would write to me as soon as she reached her destination, and I thought no more about it."
"Miss Morton, she has run away. Some evidence has come to light that makes it seem possible she may be implicated in Madeleine's death, and her sudden departure points toward her guilt."
"Guilt! Miss Dupuy? Oh, impossible! She is a strange and emotional little creature, but she couldn't kill anybody. She isn't that sort."
"I'm getting a little tired of hearing that this one or that one 'isn't that sort.' Do you suppose anybody in decent society would ever be designated as one who is that sort? Unless the murderer was some outside tramp or burglar, it must have been some one probably not 'of that sort.' But, Miss Morton, we must find Miss Dupuy, and quickly. When did she go?"
"I don't know; some time ago, I think. I ordered the carriage to take her to the station. Perhaps she hasn't gone yet—from the station, I mean."
Rob looked at his watch. "Do you know anything about train times?" he asked.
"No except that there are not very many trains in the afternoon. I don't even know which way she is going."
Rob thought quickly. It seemed foolish to try to overtake the girl at the railway station, but it was the only chance. He dashed downstairs, and, catching up a cap as he rushed through the hall, he was out on the road in a few seconds, and running at a steady, practised gait toward the railroad. After he had gone a few blocks he saw a motor-car standing in front of a house. He jumped in and said to the astonished chauffeur, "Whiz me down to the railroad station, and I'll make it all right with your master, and with you, too."
The machine was a doctor's runabout, and the chauffeur knew that the doctor was making a long call, so he was not at all unwilling to obey this impetuous and masterful young man. Away they went, doubtless exceeding the speed limit, and in a short time brought up suddenly at the railroad station.
Rob jumped out, flung a bill to the chauffeur, gave him a card to give to his master, and waved a good-by as the motor-car vanished.
He strode into the station, only to be informed by the ticket-agent that a train had left for New York about a quarter of an hour since, and another would come along in about five minutes, which, though it made no regular stop at Mapleton, could be flagged if desired.
A few further questions brought out the information that a young woman corresponding to the description of Miss Dupuy had gone on that train.
Fessenden thought quickly. The second train, a fast one, he knew would pass the other at a siding, and if he took it, he would reach New York before Cicely did, and could meet her there when she arrived at the station.
Had he had longer to consider, he might have acted differently, but on the impulse of the moment, he bought a ticket, said, "Flag her, please," and soon he was on the train actually in pursuit of the escaping girl.
As he settled himself in his seat, he rather enjoyed the fact that he was doing real detective, work now. Surely Mr. Fairbanks would be pleased at his endeavors to secure the interview with Miss Dupuy under such difficulties.
But his plan to meet her at the Grand Central Station was frustrated by an unforeseen occurrence. His own train was delayed by a hot box, and he learned that he would not reach New York until after Miss Dupuy had arrived there.
Return from a way station was possible, but Rob didn't want to go back to Mapleton with his errand unaccomplished.
He thought it over, and decided on a radical course of action.
Instead of alighting there himself, he wrote a telegram which he had despatched from the way station to Miss Kitty French, and which ran:
Gone to New