CHAPTER XXIIIMARY LOUISE HAS AN INTUITION
"I wish, Josie," said Mary Louise dolefully, "you'd let me help in thissearch for Alora."
"I'd be glad to, dear, if I could think of a single thing you can do,"replied her friend. "Just now I'm on the most tedious task imaginable--visiting the army of cab-drivers--horse and taxi--here in Chicago andtrying to find the one who carried a woman and a girl away from theBlackington at six o'clock that eventful Tuesday morning."
"Have you met with any success, at all?" asked Mary Louise.
"That question proves you're not fitted for detective work," Josielaughingly asserted. "A moment's reflection would assure you that whenI found my man my search would be ended. Ergo, no success has yetattended my efforts. I've interviewed a couple of hundreds, however,and that leaves only a few hundreds left to question."
"But the whole thing drags terribly!" complained Mary Louise. "Days arepassing, and who knows what may be happening to poor Alora while youare hanging around the cab-stands?"
Josie's face grew grave. In sober tones she said:
"I'm just as anxious as you are, Mary Louise. But this case is reallypuzzling, because Chicago is such a big city that criminals maysecurely hide themselves here for months--even for years--without beingdiscovered. Mrs. Orme was clever enough to leave few traces behind her;as far as clews are concerned she might have evaporated into thin air,taking Alora with her--except for this matter of the cabman. That's whyI am pinning my faith to this search, knowing all the time,nevertheless, that Mrs. Orme may have provided for even thatcontingency and rendered the discovery of the cabman impossible. To dothat, however, she would have to use a private equipage, involving aconfederate, and I believe she preferred to take chances with a hiredcab."
"What are the police doing?" inquired Mary Louise nervously.
"Nothing. They were soon discouraged and lost interest in the matterwhen I took hold of the case. But _I_ don't intend to get discouraged.I hate to be 'stumped,' as you know, and it seems to me, after carefulconsideration, that success may follow the discovery of the cab-driver.I've not been neglecting other trails, I assure you. I've obtained apretty fair record of the history of nurse Orme. She has the habit ofdrudging in sick rooms until she accumulates enough capital to lead agay life for a month or so, after which she resumes nursing in order toreplenish her purse. She's a good nurse and a wild spendthrift, butaside from the peculiarity mentioned there's nothing in her career ofespecial interest. The woman is pretty well known both in New York andChicago, for she squanders in the first city and saves in the other,but of her early history there is no information available. In herwildest moods she has never done anything to warrant her arrest, yetthe police have kept a suspicious eye on her for years."
"Poor Alora!" wailed Mary Louise, miserably; "I wish I could dosomething for her."
"You did a lot for her when you put me on her trail," declared Josie,with conviction. "I've a hunch I shall win. I've wired Daddy O'Gormanall about the case, but he says he can't advise me. In other words,he's watching to see whether I make good or cave in, and I just _dare_not fail. So keep your courage, Mary Louise, and muster all theconfidence you are able to repose in me. I may not know all the tricksof the sleuths, but I know some of them. And now I'm off to interviewmore cabmen."
Mary Louise sighed as her friend left her. She was indeed very unhappyand restless during those days of tedious waiting. Peter Conant hadcome to Chicago on the Colonel's demand, but Mary Louise couldn't seehow he was able to help them one bit.
"Of course," the lawyer had said in his terse, choppy manner, "whoeverabducted the girl is, criminally liable. We can put the party in jail."
"When we get her," suggested Mary Louise impatiently. "The party isMrs. Orme; we have established that fact without a doubt; and, if wecould get her, we'd also get Alora."
"Just so," Peter replied; "and, between the O'Gorman girl and thepolice, we ought to capture the woman soon. I have a degree ofconfidence in Josie O'Gorman and somewhat more confidence in thepolice."
"Do you think we should notify Jason Jones?" inquired Colonel Hathaway.
"I have considered that, sir, in all its phases, and knowing the man'speculiar characteristics I believe such a course is not as yetdesirable. Jones is so enthralled by his latest craze over aviationthat he would be no fit adviser and could render no practicalassistance in the search for his daughter. On the other hand, hisassociation would be annoying, for he would merely accuse you ofneglect in permitting Alora to be stolen while in your care. I haveseen a copy of his wife's will and know that the girl's loss may costhim his guardianship and the perquisites that pertain to it. In thatcase he will probably sue you for the loss of the money, claimingAlora's abduction was due to your carelessness."
"He could not win such an absurd suit, however," declared the Colonel.
"Still, he might be awarded damages," asserted the lawyer. "Juries areuncertain; the law is somewhat elastic; judges are peculiar."
"Don't worry, Gran'pa Jim," said Mary Louise soothingly, as she sat onthe arm of his chair and rubbed the wrinkles from his forehead; "theremust be such a thing as justice, even in law."
"Law _is_ justice," stated Mr. Conant, resenting the insinuation, "butjustice is sometimes recognized by humans in one form, and sometimes inanother. I do not say that Jason Jones could collect damages on suchcomplaint, but he assuredly would have a case."
Mr. Conant had desired to return home after the first conference withhis client, but he admitted that his wife was recovering from herindisposition and a kindly neighbor was assisting Irene in the care ofher, so he yielded to his client's urgent request to remain. ColonelHathaway was more alarmed by Alora's disappearance than he allowed MaryLouise to guess, and he wanted Mr. Conant to spur the police to renewedeffort. In addition to this the Colonel and his lawyer usually spentthe best part of each day pursuing investigations on their own account,with the result that Mary Louise was left to mope alone in the hotelrooms.
The young girl was fond of Alora and secretly terrified over hermysterious disappearance. She tried to embroider, as she sat alone andwaited for something to happen, but her nerveless fingers would nothold the needle. She bought some novels but could not keep her mind onthe stories. Hour by hour she gazed from the window into the crowdedstreet below, searching each form and face for some resemblance toAlora. She had all the newspapers sent to her room, that she might scanthe advertisements and "personals" for a clew, and this led her tofollowing the news of the Great War, in which she found a partialdistraction from her worries. And one morning, after her grandfatherand the lawyer had left her, she was glancing over the columns of theTribune when an item caught her eye that drew from her a cry ofastonishment. The item read as follows:
"The Grand Prize at the exhibition of American paintings being held inthe Art Institute was yesterday awarded by the jury to the remarkablelandscape entitled 'Poppies and Pepper Trees' by the California artist,Jason Jones. This picture has not only won praise from eminent criticsbut has delighted the thousands of visitors who have flocked to theexhibition, so the award is a popular one. The Associated Artists aretendering a banquet to-night to Jason Jones at the Congress Hotel,where he is staying. The future of this clever artist promises well andwill be followed with interest by all admirers of his skillfultechnique and marvelous coloring."
Mary Louise read this twice, trying to understand what it meant. Thenshe read it a third time.
"How strangely we have all been deceived in Alora's father!" shemurmured. "I remember that Gran'pa Jim once claimed that any man soeccentric might well possess talent, but even Mr. Jones' own daughterdid not believe he was a true artist. And Alora never guessed he wasstill continuing to paint--alone and in secret--or that he had regainedhis former powers and was creating a masterpiece. We have all beensadly wrong in our judgment of Jason Jones. Only his dead wife knew hewas capable of great things."
She dropped the paper, still somewhat bewildered by the remarkablediscovery.
r />
"And he is here in Chicago, too!" she mused, continuing her train ofthought, "and we all thought he was stupidly learning to fly inDorfield. Oh, now I understand why he allowed Alora to go with us. Hewanted to exhibit his picture--the picture whose very existence he hadso carefully guarded--and knew that with all of us out of the way,afloat upon the Great Lakes, he could come here without our knowledgeand enter the picture in the exhibition. It may be he doubted itssuccess--he is diffident in some ways--and thought if it failed none ofus at home would be the wiser; but I'm sure that now he has won he willbrag and bluster and be very conceited and disagreeable over histriumph. That is the man's nature--to be cowed by failure and bombasticover success. It's singular, come to think it over, how one who has thesoul to create a wonderful painting can be so crude and uncultured, somorose and--and--cruel."
Suddenly she decided to go and look at the picture. The trip would helpto relieve her loneliness and she was eager to see what Jason Jones hadreally accomplished. The Institute was not far from her hotel; shecould walk the distance in a few minutes; so she put on her hat and setout for the exhibition.
On her way, disbelief assailed her. "I don't see how the man did it!"she mentally declared. "I wonder if that item is just a huge joke,because the picture was so bad that the reporter tried to be ironical."
But when she entered the exhibition and found a small crowd gatheredaround one picture--it was still early in the day--she dismissed atonce that doubtful supposition.
"That is the Jason Jones picture," said an attendant, answering herquestion and nodding toward the admiring group; "that's theprizewinner--over there."
Mary Louise edged her way through the crowd until the great picture wasin full view; and then she drew a long breath, awestruck, delighted,filled with a sense of all-pervading wonder.
"It's a tremendous thing!" whispered a man beside her to his companion."There's nothing in the exhibit to compare with it. And how it breathesthe very spirit of California!"
"California?" thought Mary Louise. Of course; those yellow poppies andlacy pepper trees with their deep red berries were typical of no otherplace. And the newspaper had called Jason Jones a California artist.When had he been in California, she wondered. Alora had never mentionedvisiting the Pacific Coast.
Yet, sometime, surely, her father must have lived there. Was it whileAlora was a small child, and after her mother had cast him off? Hecould have made sketches then, and preserved them for future use.
As she stood there marveling at the superb genius required to producesuch a masterpiece of art, a strange notion crept stealthily into hermind. Promptly she drove it out; but it presently returned; it wouldnot be denied; finally, it mastered her.
"Anyhow," she reflected, setting her teeth together, "I'll beard thewolf in his den. If my intuition has played me false, at worst the mancan only sneer at me and I've always weathered his scornful moods. Butif I am right----"
The suggestion was too immense to consider calmly. With quick, nervoussteps she hastened to the Congress Hotel and sent up her card to JasonJones. On it she had written in pencil: "I shall wait for you in theparlor. Please come to me."