“You KNOW what threatens Halsey, Louise,” she said accusingly. “I believe you know this whole horrible thing, this mystery that we are struggling with. If anything happens to Halsey, I shall never forgive you.”
Louise only raised her hands despairingly and dropped them again.
“He is as dear to me as he is to you,” she said sadly. “I tried to warn him.”
“Nonsense!” I said, as briskly as I could. “We are making a lot of trouble out of something perhaps very small. Halsey was probably late–he is always late. Any moment we may hear the car coming up the road.”
But it did not come. After a half-hour of suspense, Louise went out quietly, and did not come back. I hardly knew she was gone until I heard the station hack moving off. At eleven o’clock the telephone rang. It was Mr. Jamieson.
“I have found the Dragon Fly, Miss Innes,” he said. “It has collided with a freight car on the siding above the station. No, Mr. Innes was not there, but we shall probably find him. Send Warner for the car.”
But they did not find him. At four o’clock the next morning we were still waiting for news, while Alex watched the house and Sam the grounds. At daylight I dropped into exhausted sleep. Halsey had not come back, and there was no word from the detective.
CHAPTER XXVI HALSEY’S DISAPPEARANCE
Nothing that had gone before had been as bad as this. The murder and Thomas’ sudden death we had been able to view in a detached sort of way. But with Halsey’s disappearance everything was altered. Our little circle, intact until now, was broken. We were no longer onlookers who saw a battle passing around them. We were the center of action. Of course, there was no time then to voice such an idea. My mind seemed able to hold only one thought: that Halsey had been foully dealt with, and that every minute lost might be fatal.
Mr. Jamieson came back about eight o’clock the next morning: he was covered with mud, and his hat was gone. Altogether, we were a sad-looking trio that gathered around a breakfast that no one could eat. Over a cup of black coffee the detective told us what he had learned of Halsey’s movements the night before. Up to a certain point the car had made it easy enough to follow him. And I gathered that Mr. Burns, the other detective, had followed a similar car for miles at dawn, only to find it was a touring car on an endurance run.
“He left here about ten minutes after eight,” Mr Jamieson said. “He went alone, and at eight twenty he stopped at Doctor Walker’s. I went to the doctor’s about midnight, but he had been called out on a case, and had not come back at four o’clock. From the doctor’s it seems Mr. Innes walked across the lawn to the cottage Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter have taken. Mrs. Armstrong had retired, and he said perhaps a dozen words to Miss Louise. She will not say what they were, but the girl evidently suspects what has occurred. That is, she suspects foul play, but she doesn’t know of what nature. Then, apparently, he started directly for the station. He was going very fast–the flagman at the Carol Street crossing says he saw the car pass. He knew the siren. Along somewhere in the dark stretch between Carol Street and the depot he evidently swerved suddenly–perhaps some one in the road–and went full into the side of a freight. We found it there last night.”
“He might have been thrown under the train by the force of the shock,” I said tremulously.
Gertrude shuddered.
“We examined every inch of track. There was–no sign.”
“But surely–he can’t be–gone!” I cried. “Aren’t there traces in the mud–anything?”
“There is no mud–only dust. There has been no rain. And the footpath there is of cinders. Miss Innes, I am inclined to think that he has met with bad treatment, in the light of what has gone before. I do not think he has been murdered.” I shrank from the word. “Burns is back in the country, on a clue we got from the night clerk at the drug-store. There will be two more men here by noon, and the city office is on the lookout.”