A Strange Disappearance by Anna Katharine Green (books under 200 pages TXT) 📖

“Yes sir.”

“And this Emily, when did she come here?”

“Oh it must be eleven months or so ago.”

“An Irish girl?”

“O no, American. She is not a common person, sir.”

“What do you mean by that? That she was educated, lady-like, pretty, or what?”

“I don’t know what to say. She was educated, yes, but not as you would call a lady educated. Yet she knew a great many things the rest of us did’nt. She liked to read, you see, and—O sir, ask the girls about her, I never know what to say when I am questioned.”

I scanned the gray-haired woman still more intently than I had yet done. Was she the weak common-place creature she seemed, or had she really some cause other than appeared for these her numerous breaks and hesitations.

“Where did you get this girl?” I inquired. “Where did she live before coming here?”

“I cannot say, I never asked her to talk about herself. She came to me for work and I liked her and took her without recommendation.”

“And she has served you well?”

“Excellently.”

“Been out much? Had any visitors?”

She shook her head. “Never went out and never had any visitors.”

I own I was nonplussed, “Well,” said I, “no more of this at present. I must first find out if she left this house alone or in company with others.” And without further parley I stepped out upon the roof of the extension.

As I did so I debated with myself whether the case warranted me or not in sending for Mr. Gryce. As yet there was nothing to show that the girl had come to any harm. A mere elopement with or without a lover to help her, was not such a serious matter that the whole police force need be stirred up on the subject; and if the woman had money, as she said, ready to give the man who should discover the whereabouts of this girl, why need that money be divided up any more than was necessary. Yet Gryce was not one to be dallied with. He had said, send for him if the affair seemed to call for his judgment, and somehow the affair did promise to be a trifle complicated. I was yet undetermined when I reached the edge of the roof.

It was a dizzy descent, but once made, escape from the yard beneath would be easy. A man could take that road without difficulty; but a woman! Baffled at the idea I turned thoughtfully back, when I beheld something on the roof before me that caused me to pause and ask myself if this was going to turn out to be a tragedy after all. It was a drop of congealed blood. Further on towards the window was another, and yes, further still, another and another. I even found one upon the very window ledge itself. Bounding into the room, I searched the carpet for further traces. It was the worst one in the world to find anything upon of the nature of which I was seeking, being a confused pattern of mingled drab and red, and in my difficulty I had to stoop very low.

“What are you looking for?” cried Mrs. Daniels.

I pointed to the drop on the window sill. “Do you see that?” I asked.

She uttered an exclamation and bent nearer. “Blood!” cried she, and stood staring, with rapidly paling cheeks and trembling form. “They have killed her and he will never—”

As she did not finish I looked up.

“Do you think it was her blood?” she whispered in a horrified tone.

“There is every reason to believe so,” rejoined I, pointing to a spot where I had at last discovered not only one crimson drop but many, scattered over the scarcely redder roses under my feet.

“Ah, it is worse than I thought,” murmured she. “What are you going to do? What can we do?

“I am going to send for another detective,” returned I; and stepping to the window I telegraphed at once to the man Harris to go for Mr. Gryce.

“The one we saw at the Station?”

I bowed assent.

Her face lost something of its drawn expression. “O I am glad; he will do something.”

Subduing my indignation at this back thrust, I employed my time in taking note of such details as had escaped my previous attention. They were not many. The open writing-desk—in which, however I found no letters or written documents of any kind, only a few sheets of paper, with pen, ink, etc.; the brush and hairpins scattered on the bureau as though the girl had been interrupted while arranging her hair (if she had been interrupted); and the absence of any great pile of work such as one would expect to see in a room set apart for sewing, were all I could discover. Not much to help us, in case this was to prove an affair of importance as I began to suspect.

With Mr. Gryce’s arrival, however, things soon assumed a better shape. He came to the basement door, was ushered in by your humble servant, had the whole matter as far as I had investigated it, at his finger-ends in a moment, and was up-stairs and in that room before I, who am called the quickest man in the force as you all know, could have time to determine just what difference his presence would make to me in a pecuniary way in event of Mrs. Daniels’ promises amounting to anything. He did not remain there long, but when he came down I saw that his interest was in no wise lessened.

“What kind of a looking girl was this?” he asked, hurrying up to Mrs. Daniels who had withdrawn into a recess in the lower hall while all this was going on. “Describe her to me, hair, eyes, complexion, etc.; you know.”

“I—I—don’t know as I can,” she stammered reluctantly, turning very red in the face. “I am a poor one for noticing. I will call one of the girls, I—” She was gone before we realized she had not finished her sentence.

“Humph!” broke from Mr. Gryce’s lips as he thoughtfully took down a vase that stood on a bracket near by and looked into it.

I did not venture a word.

When Mrs. Daniels came back she had with her a trim-looking girl of prepossessing appearance.

“This is Fanny,” said she; “she knows Emily well, being in the habit of waiting on her at table; she will tell you what you want to hear. I have explained to her,” she went on, nodding towards Mr. Gryce with a composure such as she had not before displayed; “that you are looking for your niece who ran away from home some time ago to go into some sort of service.”

“Certainly, ma’am,” quoth that gentleman,