CHAPTER XVIITHE DISAPPEARANCE
The train was late getting into Chicago that Monday night. ColonelHathaway took Mary Louise and Alora to the Blackington, but the hotelwas so crowded that the girls could not get adjoining rooms. However,they secured rooms just across the hall from one another and theColonel's room was but two doors removed from that of hisgranddaughter, so the three were not greatly separated.
"Never mind, dear," said Mary Louise, as she kissed her friend goodnight; "to-morrow we go aboard the yacht, and that will be our home fora long time."
"What time will you breakfast?" asked Alora.
"Well, we're up late, and Gran'pa Jim likes to sleep mornings. Can youfast until half-past eight, Alora?"
"Yes, indeed," with a laugh. "I'm used to somewhat early hours, so Ishall probably be dressed by seven. But I'll find plenty to amuse meuntil you are up, and I'll knock on your door at eight-thirty."
But in the morning Alora failed to knock on Mary Louise's door, as shehad promised. The Colonel was ready for breakfast, having enjoyed agood night's rest, and Mary Louise said to him:
"Alora probably slept later than she expected to. Shall I risk wakeningher, Gran'pa Jim?"
"I think so," he replied. "She has slept long enough, for a younggirl."
Mary Louise ran across the hall and knocked at the door of 216. Sheknocked again, for there was no answer. She did not dare call out, forfear of disturbing other guests of the hotel. The Colonel now came andrapped upon the panels, but without any better result.
"I think she must have left her room and is perhaps in the parlor, orin the hotel lobby," he said.
A chambermaid was passing through the hall and overheard the remark.
"The party in 216 has been up a long time, sir," she asserted. "I foundthe door ajar at six o'clock, and so I went in and made up the room."
"Poor Alora!" exclaimed Mary Louise laughingly; "she was too excited tosleep, and, as you say, we shall probably find her somewhere about thehotel, enjoying the sights."
But they could not find the girl anywhere in the hotel. After a longand careful search for her, Colonel Hathaway left word at the desk thatif his room or Mary Louise's room was called, to report that they wouldbe found in the breakfast room.
The old gentleman was distinctly annoyed as they sat down to breakfast.
"The foolish girl is wandering about the streets, somewhere," hecomplained, "and it was unmannerly to leave the hotel withoutconsulting me, since she is our guest and in my care."
Mary Louise's sweet face wore a troubled expression.
"It is not like Alora, Gran'pa Jim," she asserted in defense of herfriend. "Usually I have found her quite considerate." Then, after apause: "I--I hope nothing has happened to her."
"Don't worry," he replied. "She's a wide-awake girl and has a tongue inher head, so she can't get lost. Why, Mary Louise, Alora knows the citywell, for she used to live in Chicago with her mother."
"Until she was eleven. That was four years ago. But I did not think ofher getting lost. The automobiles, you know, are so thick----"
"Yes, dear; and there's the lake, and the railroad crossings, and thestreet cars; but the chances are against our little friend's beingdrowned or run over, especially so early in the day, when there isn'tmuch traffic. Again I ask you not to worry."
But Mary Louise couldn't help worrying. They lingered over thebreakfast, but Alora did not join them. Then they waited around thehotel until nearly noon, without receiving a word from her. FinallyColonel Hathaway, too, became nervous. He telephoned the central policestation to inquire if a young girl of Alora's description had met withan accident. There was no record of such an accident, but in half anhour a detective came to the hotel and asked for the Colonel.
"Tell me all the particulars of the young lady's disappearance,please," he requested.
When he had received this information he said:
"Let us go to her room."
The key to No. 216 had not been turned in at the office, but wasmissing. With a pass-key they unlocked the door of Alora's room andfound her suit case open, her toilet articles lying upon the dresserand her nightrobe neatly folded ready for packing. Her hat was missing,however, and the little jacket she wore with her tailored suit.
The detective touched nothing but examined the room and its contentswith professional care.
"Let us call the chambermaid who made up the room," he suggested.
The woman was easily found and when she appeared the detective asked:
"Did you fold this nightrobe, or did you find it already folded?"
"Why, it was lyin' careless-like over the foot of the bed," said she,"so I folded it up."
"Why didn't you hang it in the closet?"
"The clerk had notified me the room would be vacated to-day. So I knewthat when the young lady came back she'd want to pack it in her grip."
"And at what time did you find the door ajar?"
"At six-ten, sir. I come on duty at six."
"You did not see Miss Jones?"
"No, sir--if that were the lady's name."
"You found no one prowling about the halls?"
"Didn't see a soul, sir."
"Thank you; that's all."
When she had gone the detective said to the Colonel in a reassuringtone:
"I wouldn't worry, sir, although I'll admit this prolonged absence ofMiss Jones is puzzling. But perhaps she has gone to call on an oldfriend and will presently return and apologize. I remember her mother--a remarkable woman, sir--who used to live at the Voltaire. She had alot of friends in Chicago, did Mrs. Antoinette Seaver Jones, so it'slikely her daughter is looking some of them up."
"I wish you would do all you can to locate her," pleaded ColonelHathaway. "The young girl was placed in my care by her father and Ifeel personally responsible for her safety."
"She's safe enough, sir. No sign of a struggle in her room; no reportof an accident in the city. Went out of her own volition and willprobably come back the same way, when she's ready. I'm going back tothe office now, but I'll instruct our men to keep a good lookout forMiss Jones. If we hear anything, I'll let you know at once. In themeantime, if the girl happens to turn up, you must telephone me of thefact."
He handed the Colonel his card and went away.
"This is dreadful, Gran'pa Jim!" exclaim Mary Louise. "That man can'thelp us a bit. What do you think we ought to do?"
"Why, we've done all in our power, already, it seems to me," heanswered. "The police will keep a good lookout for Alora."
"I've no confidence in that detective."
"Why not, my dear? He seemed quite courteous and gentlemanly."
"But he isn't especially interested. He didn't probe far enough intothe case. He never asked why the key to Alora's door was missing, yetthe maid found the door ajar--half open," said Mary Louise. "Would shetake the key and leave the door open?"
"Why--no; that _is_ strange, Mary Louise."
"The detective didn't inquire at the office whether the night clerk hadseen Alora pass through and go out. But _I_ inquired, Gran'pa, and thenight clerk goes off duty at six o'clock, when the relief clerk comeson, but neither saw any girl at all leave the office. No one was in thehotel lobby, at that hour."
"That is strange, too! How could Alora get out, otherwise?"
"I can't guess. Gran'pa, I'm going to telegraph Josie O'Gorman, and askher advice," said Mary Louise.
"Do. It's a good idea, Josie might put us on the right track," approvedthe Colonel.
So Mary Louise went to the telegraph office in the hotel lobby and sentthe following message:
"Josie O'Gorman,1225 F Street,Washington, D. C.
"A girl friend has mysteriously disappeared from the Blackington, wherewe are stopping. What shall I do?Mary Louise Burrows."
Two hours later she received this answer:
"Miss Mary Louise Burrows,Hotel Blackington, Chicago.
"Notify police at once. Keep cool. I'm coming.Josie O'Gorman."
&nbs
p; Mary Louise felt tremendously relieved when she read this. Josie was agirl of her own age, but she was the daughter of one of the mostcelebrated secret service men in the employ of the United Statesgovernment, and John O'Gorman had trained Josie from babyhood in allthe occult details of his artful profession. It was his ambition thatsome day this daughter would become a famous female detective, but herefused to allow her to assume professional duties until she had becomethoroughly qualified to excel. He did not wish her to be ordinary, butextraordinary, and Josie's talents, so far, had seemed to justify hisexpectations. Mary Louise knew Josie very well and admired and lovedher, for in her amateur way Josie had once helped to solve a stubbornmystery that threatened the happiness of both the old Colonel and hisgranddaughter, and through this experience the two girls had becomefriends. Josie O'Gorman was devoted to Mary Louise, who knew she couldrely on Josie's judgment in this emergency but had scarcely expectedher to come all the way from Washington to Chicago to render herpersonal assistance.
In appearance the young girl--who was destined some day to become agreat detective--was not especially prepossessing. She was short ofform and inclined to be stout--"chubby," she called herself. She hadred hair, a freckled face and a turned-up nose. But her eyes, round andblue and innocent in expression as those of a baby, dominated herfeatures and to an extent redeemed their plainness.
Mary Louise hurried to the Colonel.
"Gran'pa Jim," she cried excitedly, "Josie is coming!"
"That is very good of her," replied the Colonel, highly pleased. "Josieis very resourceful and while she may not be able to trace Alora shewill at least do all in her power, and perhaps her clever little brainwill be able to fathom the mystery of the girl's disappearance."
"She tells us to notify the police, but we did that at once. I don'tknow of anything else we can do, Gran'pa, until Josie comes."
Colonel Hathaway communicated with the police office several times thatday and found the officials courteous but calm--prolific of assurances,but not especially concerned. This was but one of a number of peculiarcases that daily claimed their attention.
"I should hire a private detective, were not Josie coming," he toldMary Louise; "but of course it is possible we shall hear of Alora,directly or indirectly, before morning."
But they did not hear, and both passed a miserable, wakeful, anxiousnight.
"There is no use in our consulting Alora'a father, for the present,"remarked the old gentleman, next morning. "The news would only worryhim. You remember how very particular he was in charging me to guardhis daughter's safety."
"Yes, and I know why," replied Mary Louise. "Alora has told me that ifshe is lost, strayed or stolen for sixty days, her father might berelieved of his guardianship and lose the income he enjoys. Now, Iwonder, Gran'pa Jim, if Alora has purposely lost herself, withmischievous intent, so as to get rid of her father, whom she abhors?"
The Colonel considered this thoughtfully.
"I think not," he decided. "The girl is impulsive and at timesreckless, and doubtless she would like to be free from her father'sguardianship; but I am sure she is too fond of you, and has too muchrespect for me, to run away from us without a word. Besides, she has nomoney."
"Really," said Mary Louise despondently, "it is the strangest thing Iever knew."
Josie O'Gorman arrived at the hotel at six o'clock in the afternoon,having caught the fast train from Washington the evening before. Shecame in as unconcernedly as if she had lived at the hotel and merelybeen out to attend a matinee and greeted the Colonel with a brightsmile and Mary Louise with a kiss.
"My, but I'm hungry!" were her first words. "I hope you haven't dinedyet?"
"Oh, Josie," began Mary Louise, on the verge of tears, "thisdreadful----"
"I know, dear; but we must eat. And let's not talk or think of thetrouble till our stomachs are in a comfortable condition. Which way isthe dining room?"
Neither the Colonel nor Mary had eaten much since Alora'sdisappearance, but they took Josie in to dinner, realizing it would beimpossible to get her to talk seriously or to listen to them until shewas quite ready to do so. And during the meal Josie chattered away likea magpie on all sorts of subjects except that which weighed mostheavily on their minds, and the little thing was so bright andentertaining that they were encouraged to dine more heartily than theyotherwise would have done.
But afterward, when they had adjourned to a suite that had now beengiven them, and which included a cosy little sitting room, and afterthe Colonel had been ordered to light his cigar, which always composedhis nerves, the O'Gorman girl suddenly turned serious and from thedepths of an easy chair, with her hands clasped behind her red head,she said:
"Now to business. Begin at the beginning and tell me all there is totell."
"Haven't I written you something about Alora, Josie?" asked MaryLouise.
"Never mind whether you have or haven't. Imagine I've forgotten it. Iwant every detail of the girl's history."
So Mary Louise told it, with a few comments from her grandfather. Shebegan with their first meeting with Alora and her eccentric father inItaly, and related not only all the details of their acquaintance butsuch facts as Alora had confided to her of her mother's death and hersubsequent unhappy relations with her father and guardian. Alora hadoften talked freely to Mary Louise, venting in her presence muchbitterness and resentment over her cruel fate--as she deemed it. So,knowing Josie's desire to obtain the most seemingly trifling detail ofa case, Mary Louise told the story as connectedly and comprehensivelyas possible, avoiding all personal comment so as to leave Josie's mindfree from prejudice.
During the recital Josie sat very still, with closed eyes, reclininglazily in her chair and refraining from any interruption.
"Now, Colonel," she said, "tell me all that Mary Louise has forgottento mention."
"She has told you more than I knew myself," he declared. "Of course weinformed the police of our friend's disappearance and they sent adetective here who went into the affair very carefully. Yet, sofar----"
"I know," said Josie, nodding. "I called at the police station before Icame here, on leaving the train. The detective is Al Howard, and he's anice fellow but rather stupid. You mustn't expect any results from thatsource. To be sure, the department might stumble on a clew, but thechances are they wouldn't recognize it, even then."
"I'm certainly surprised to hear that!" said the Colonel.
"Because you are ignorant of police methods. They mean well, but haveso much to handle, in a big city like this, that they exist in a stateof perpetual bewilderment."
"But what are we to do?" pleaded Mary Louise. "Tell us, Josie!"
"How do _I_ know?" asked the girl, with a smile. "I'm just JosieO'Gorman, a student detective, who makes as many blunders--alas!--as afull-fledged 'tec.' But I thought I'd be able to help, or I wouldn'thave come. I've a personal interest in this case, Mary Louise, becauseit's your case and I love you. So let's get to work. Have you aphotograph of Alora Jones?"
"No," was the reply.
"Then give me a word picture of her."
Both Mary Louise and the Colonel tried to do, this, and Josie seemedsatisfied.
"Now, then," she said, rising, "let's go to her room. I hope it hasn'tbeen disturbed since she left it."
"The police have taken the key and forbidden anyone to enter the room."
"Quite proper. But we'll go there, just the same."
The room was but a few steps away, in the same corridor, and when theyarrived there Josie drew a bunch of slender keys from her purse andunlocked the door with no difficulty. Having entered, she turned on theelectric lights and cast a curious glance around.
"Let's read Alora's room," said she, while her companions stoodlistening. "To begin with, we see her night-dress nicely folded and hertoilet articles arranged in neat order on the dresser. Chambermaid didthat, for Alora is not neat. Proving that her stuff was just strewnaround and the orderly maid put things straight. Which leads to thesupposition that Alora w
as led away rather suddenly."
"Oh, do you think so?"
"She left the door ajar, but took the key. Intended, of course, to lockher room, but was so agitated by what she saw or heard that she forgotand just walked away."
"But no one saw her leave the hotel," observed Mary Louise.
"Then she didn't pass through the office, but through the less usedLadies' Entrance at the side."
"That was not unlocked, they told me, until after seven o'clock."
"Then she left by the servants' entrance."
"The servants'!"
"Quite likely. You'll say she didn't know anything about it, or whereit was; but the fact remains that Alora left the hotel. I'd like to seethat chambermaid. I believe you told me she comes on duty at sixo'clock in the morning. All right. I'll catch her at six a. m.to-morrow."
"The detective interviewed her," stated Colonel.
"I know, and she answered all his questions. My questions will bedifferent. If Alora used the servants' entrance, she went out with aservant or with someone who knew the ways of the hotel intimately."
"I don't see that," objected Mary Louise.
"Nor do I, but there lies our trail. Alora didn't pass out through theoffice, nor did she make her exit through the less public Ladies'Entrance. There are only two other ways to get out of here: through thebaggage door and by the servants' entrance at the rear, which lets intoan alley. The head porter will know whether Alora went out the baggagedoor, but as it's usually very high--on a level with the platform of abaggage-wagon--I don't believe she jumped it. That leaves the servants'entrance as the probable exit for our missing one, and as she was aperfect stranger to the arrangements of this hotel, she couldn't havegone that way unless someone guided her. So our course is clear, MaryLouise. Find out who enticed Alora from the hotel and it won't bedifficult to trace her and discover what has become of her."
"Enticed, Josie?"
"Had force been used, she would have screamed and attracted attention.Let us say she was decoyed."
"You think, then, that Alora was kidnapped?"
"Let us reason. The girl couldn't have had an enemy in Chicago,according to her history, for she was only eleven when she left hereand no one hates an eleven year old child. Having no enemy, she hasdoubtless escaped personal harm. But Alora is an heiress, and a lot ofpeople in Chicago know that. You suggest kidnapping. Well, perhapsthat's the solution: held for ransom."
"That would be the first idea of Jason Jones!" exclaimed Mary Louise."He has always seemed afraid of such a thing."
"In that case, however, I do not believe her father would pay aransom," declared Colonel Hathaway.
"Oh, indeed he would!" asserted Mary Louise, emphatically; "we mustn'tforget that if Alora isn't found and restored to him within a giventime he will lose all her income for the next three years."
Josie looked at her friend admiringly. Then she laughed.
"You're a better detective than any of us," she remarked. "What I'vebeen groping for is the _object_ of the abduction, and you've hit thenail squarely on the head. Now we're getting down to brass tacks, so tospeak. The whole thing is explained by the one word--'blackmail.' Girldisappears; papa is threatened with the lose of thousands. Very well,Papa! pay up. Relinquish a part of the income and you may keep therest. Refuse, and you lose it all. Ergo, papa pays."
"That certainly seems a logical conclusion," admitted the Colonel.
"Then," said Josie, thoughtfully, "we must decide whether to put it upto Mr. Jones, and let him pay, or to go on with the search."
"We'll go on!" exclaimed Mary Louise. "We may be wrong, and poor Aloramay be in danger, or suffering. We must rescue her as soon aspossible."
"The girl was in my care," said the Colonel, "and I feel responsiblefor her safety. Moreover blackmail is a crime against society, and theplot should be foiled even were we not interested in the victim of it.I am anxious to find Alora before her father is approached."
"Then," Josie decided, "we will leave no stone unturned in our effortsto locate and recover her. If we have diagnosed the case correctly, wehave to deal with a shrewd and unprincipled, if not clever person.Cleverness, too, we may encounter, and then our task will be doublyhard."
"Poor, dear Alora!" sighed Mary Louise. "It's a shame she should sufferbecause some cruel person wants her father's money. The fortune hermother left her has been a _mis_fortune to her daughter, instead of ablessing."
"Money," said Josie sententiously, "is a dangerous thing. Itspossession, or the lack of it, leads to four-fifths of the world'scrimes. The other one-fifth is charged to hatred and jealousy. But--dear me!--here I am philosophizing, when I ought to be thinking."
"Then think, Josie, and think to some purpose," pleaded Mary Louise.
"If our hastily constructed theory is correct," remarked JohnO'Gorman's daughter, "Papa Jones will soon hear from Alora's abductor,with a financial proposition."
"I hope we shall find her before then," returned the Colonel earnestly."We ought not to delay an instant, with that idea in view. Indeed, ourtheory may be quite wrong and Alora be in desperate need of immediateassistance."
"Correct, sir," agreed Josie. "But we won't abandon our theory until weevolve a better one and in following this lead we must first discoverwho in Chicago is aware of the terms of the will of Antoinette SeaverJones. Also who is familiar enough with Papa Jones' love of money tobelieve he can be successfully blackmailed. What information can eitherof you give me along those lines?"
"Alora has talked to Irene a good deal about that dreadful will,"replied Mary Louise, "Irene has repeated many of her statements to me.Also Alora has frankly spoken to me, at times, and her queer historyhas interested us all. But I cannot remember that any such person asyou describe is in any way mixed up with the story. Judge Bernsted drewup the will for Alora's mother. He was her lawyer, and she trusted himfully."
"She was justified," declared Josie. "I know of Judge Bernsted, byreputation. He died a year ago."
"Then," continued Mary Louise, reflectively, "there was Mrs. Jones'doctor, who was very kind to Alora and who also enjoyed her mother'sconfidence. His name was Anstruther--Dr. Anstruther."
"He is a prominent physician in Chicago," declared Josie, who seemed toknow every important person of every locality, for this had been partof her education. "It is impossible that Dr. Anstruther could have anyknowledge of this plot. Moreover, it doesn't seem to me like a man'splot. I don't believe Alora would have accompanied a strange man, underany circumstances, for she's knocked around the world enough to havelearned prudence. The crime is feminine. What woman knew of this will,and was an intimate friend of Mrs. Jones, or of Mr. Jones?"
"Really," said Mary Louise, "I don't know."
"Nor you, Colonel?"
"I do not recollect hearing of any woman connected with the Joneshistory--except Alora's former governess, a Miss Gorham, who wasdischarged by Mr. Jones at the time he took his daughter from Chicagoto New York."
"That isn't such a bad clew!" Josie quickly returned, sitting upstraight and staring reflectively at the old gentleman. "Miss Gorham,eh? Now, how long had she been Alora's governess?"
"For some years, I believe." It was Mary Louise who answered thisquestion.
"Then she doubtless knew the family secrets. Was Alora fond of her?"
"I think not. She has told me that at the time they separated she wasglad to be rid of the woman."
"Then the woman may be the kind that would resort to blackmail.Discharged from a good place, where she had drawn pay for years, shewould be angry. Brooded during the last four years on her imaginedwrongs and figured out a neat revenge. Had sized up Papa Jones and knewhe clung to money with a desperate grip and would pay some rather thanlose all. Couldn't get another job; was poor; had no money to chase upJones, but figured he would some time return to Chicago and give her anopportunity play her game. Discovered that Alora had arrived at thishotel, and----See here! What would prevent the former governess, now inreduced circumstances,
from being employed as a servant in this veryhotel? Perhaps as a night chambermaid. May have seen Alora enter herroom and recognized her former pupil. During the long night she figuredand planned how to take advantage of the fortunate circumstances. Earlyin the morning, before she left here, went to Alora and in some wayinduced the girl to go out with her. Alora would accompany her oldgoverness without suspicion. So--there's the whole story, in anutshell, rather cleverly figured out."
"Oh, Josie, it must be true!" cried Mary Louise, who had eagerlyfollowed this plausible reasoning.
"And it may not," laughed Josie. "It's just a theory, and gooddetectives distrust theories, which often befog clever brains. Still,the deduction sounds mighty logical. I'm going to my room, now, to givethe suggestion some serious thought. I'll try to tear it to pieces, orat least to pick holes in it. When I came away Daddy said to me:'Josie, beware that imagination of yours. If it asserts itself, sit onit.' Daddy was glad to have me tackle the case, and try to help you,for these little affairs give me practice; but he hates to have me makea flat failure. So, for dear old Daddy's sake, I'm not going to let anygood-looking theory lead me astray. Good night. You'd both better go tobed, for I can see you had little sleep last night. But your strainmust now relax, for you've pushed the responsibility onto my poorlittle shoulders and now it's up to me to worry."