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Crevice, The

<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> <h3>MARGARET HEFFERMAN’S FAILURE</h3></div> The disappearance of Ramon Hamilton, coming so soon after the sudden death of his prospective father-in-law, caused a profound sensation. In the small hours of the night, before the press had been apprised of the event and when every probable or possible place where the young lawyer might be had been communicated with in vain, Henry Blaine set the perfect machinery of his forces at work to trace him. It was dawn before he could spare a precious moment to go to Anita Lawton. On his arrival he found her pacing the floor, wringing her slim hands in anguish. “He is dead.” She spoke with the dull hopelessness of utter conviction. “I shall never see him again. I feel it! I know it!” “My dear child!” Blaine put his hands upon her shoulders in fatherly compassion. “You must put all such morbid fancies from your mind. He is not dead and we shall find him. It may be all a mistake––perhaps some important matter concerning a client made it necessary for him to leave the city over night.” She shook her head despairingly. “No, Mr. Blaine. You know as well as I that Ramon is just starting in his profession. He has no clients of any prominence, and my father’s influence was really all that his rising reputation was being built upon. Besides, nothing but a serious accident or––or death would keep him from me!” <div>117</div> “If he had met with any accident his identity would have been discovered and we would be notified, unless, as in the case when he was run down by that motor-car, he did not wish them to let you know for fear of worrying you.” Blaine watched the young girl narrowly as he spoke. Was she aware of the two additional attempts only the day before on the life of the man she loved? “He merely followed a dear, unselfish impulse because he knew that in a few hours at most he would be with me; but now it is morning! The dawn of a new day, and no word from him! Those terrible people who tried to kill him that other time to keep him from coming to me in my trouble have made away with him. I am sure of it now.” The detective breathed more freely. Evidently Ramon Hamilton had had the good sense to keep from her his recent danger. “You can be sure of nothing, Miss Lawton, save the fact that Mr. Hamilton is not dead,” Henry Blaine said earnestly. “You do not realize, perhaps, the one salient fact that criminal experts who deal with cases of disappearance have long since recognized––the most difficult of all things to conceal or do away with in a large city is a dead body.” Anita shivered and clasped her hands convulsively, but she did not speak, and after a scarcely perceptible pause, the detective went on: “You must not let your mind dwell on the possibilities; it will only entail useless, needless suffering on your part. My experiences have been many and varied in just such cases as this, and in not one in fifty does serious harm come to the subject of the investigation. In fact, in this instance, I think it quite probable that 118 Mr. Hamilton has left the city of his own accord, and in your interests.” “In my interests?” Anita repeated, roused from her lethargy of sorrow by his words, as he had intended that she should be. “Left the city? But why?” “When he called upon me yesterday morning I told him of a commission which I wished him to execute for me in connection with your investigation. I gave him some preliminary instructions and he was to return to me in the afternoon for a letter of introduction and to learn some minor details of the matter involved. He did not appear at the hour of our appointment and I concluded that he had taken the affair into his own hands and had gone immediately upon leaving my office to fulfill his mission.” “Oh, perhaps he did!” The young girl started from her chair, her dull, tearless eyes suddenly bright with hope. “That would be like Ramon; he is so impulsive, so anxious to help me in every way! Where did you send him, Mr. Blaine? Can’t we telephone, or wire and find out if he really has gone to this place? Please, please do! I cannot endure this agony of uncertainty, of suspense, much longer!” “Unfortunately, we cannot do that!” Blaine responded, gravely. “To attempt to communicate with him where I have sent him would be to show our hand irretrievably to the men we are fighting and undo much of the work which has been accomplished. He may communicate with you or possibly with me, if he finds that he can contrive to accomplish it safely.” “Safely? Then if he has gone to this place, wherever it is, he is in danger?” Anita faltered, tremblingly. “By no means. The only danger is that his identity and purpose may be disclosed and our plans jeopardized,” 119 the detective reassured her smoothly. “I know it is hard to wait for news, but one must school oneself to patience under circumstances such as this. It may be several days before you hear from Mr. Hamilton and you must try not to distress yourself with idle fears in the meantime.” “But it is not certain––we have no assurance that he really did go upon that mission.” The light of hope died in her eyes as she spoke, and a little sob rose in her throat. “Oh, Mr. Blaine, promise me that you will leave no stone unturned to find him!” “My dear child, you must trust in me and have faith in my long years of experience. I have already, as a precautionary measure, started a thorough investigation into Mr. Hamilton’s movements yesterday, and in the event that he has not gone on the errand I spoke of, it can only be a question of hours before he will be located. You did not see him yesterday?” “No. He promised to lunch with me, but he never came nor did he telephone or send me any word. Surely, if he had meant to leave town he would have let me know!” “Not necessarily, Miss Lawton.” Blaine’s voice deepened persuasively. “He was very much excited when he left my office, interested heart and soul in the mission I had entrusted to him. Remember, too, that it was all for you, for your sake alone.” “And I may not know where he has gone?” Anita asked, wistfully. “I think, perhaps, that is why Mr. Hamilton did not communicate with you before leaving town,” the detective replied, significantly. “He agreed with me that it would be best for you not to know, in your own interests, where he was going. You must try to believe that I am 120 doing all in my power to help you, and that my judgment is in such matters better than yours.” “I do, Mr. Blaine. Indeed I do trust you absolutely; you must believe that.” She reached out an impulsive hand toward him, and his own closed over it paternally for a moment. Then he gently released it. Anita sighed and sank back resignedly in her chair. There was a moment’s pause before she added: “It is hard to be quiescent when one is so hedged in on all sides by falsehood and deceit and the very air breathes conspiracy and intrigue. I have no tangible reason to fear for my own life, of course, but sometimes I cannot help wondering why it has not been imperiled. Surely it would be easier for my father’s enemies to do away with me altogether than to have conceived and carried out such an elaborate scheme to rob me and defame my father’s memory. But I will try not to entertain such thoughts. I am nervous and overwrought, but I will regain my self-control. In the meantime, I shall do my best to be patient and wait for Ramon’s return.” Henry Blaine felt a glow of pardonable elation, but his usually expressive face did not betray by a single flicker of an eyelash that he had gained his point. He knew that Ramon Hamilton had never started on that mission to Long Bay, but if the young girl’s health and reason were to be spared, her anxiety must be allayed. Courageous and self-controlled as she had been through all the grief and added trouble which besieged her on every hand, the keen insight of the detective warned him that she was nearing the breaking-point. If she fully realized the blow which threatened her in the sudden disappearance of her lover, together with the sinister events 121 which had immediately preceded it, she would be crushed to the earth. “You must try to rest.” Blaine rose and motioned toward the window through which the cold rays of the wintry sun were stealing and putting the orange glow of the electric lights to shame. “See. It is morning and you have had no sleep.” “But you must not go just yet, Mr. Blaine! I cannot rest until I know who that man was whose voice I heard over your telephone this morning. What did he mean? He said that his wife committed suicide; that he himself had been ruined! And all through my father and you! It cannot be true, of course; but I must know to what he referred!” “I will tell you. It is best that you should know the truth. Your father was absolutely innocent in the matter, but his enemies and yours might find it expedient to spread fake reports which would only add to your sorrow. You know, you must remember since your earliest childhood, how every one came to your father with their perplexities and troubles and how benevolently they were received, how wisely advised, how generously aided. Not only bankers and financiers in the throes of a panic, but men and women in all walks of life came to him for counsel and relief.” “I know. I know!” Anita whispered with bowed head, the quick tears of tender memory starting in her eyes. “Such a one who came to him for advice in her distress was the wife of Herbert Armstrong. She was a good woman, but through sheer ignorance of evil she had committed a slight indiscretion, nothing more than the best of women might be led into at any time. We need not go into details. It is enough to tell you that 122 certain unscrupulous persons had her in their power and were blackmailing her. She fell their victim through the terror of being misunderstood, and when she could no longer accede to their demands she came to your father, her husband’s friend, for advice. Herbert Armstrong was insanely jealous of his wife, and in your father’s efforts to help her he unfortunately incurred the unjust suspicions of the man. Armstrong brought suit for divorce, intending to name Mr. Lawton as corespondent.” “Oh, how could he!” Anita cried, indignantly. “The man must have been mad! My father was the soul of honor. Every one––the whole world––knows that! Besides, his heart was buried, all that he did not give to me, deep, deep in the sea where Mother and my little brother and sister are lying! He never even looked at another woman, save perhaps in kindness, to help and comfort those who were in trouble. But when did you come into the case, Mr. Blaine? That man whose voice I heard to-day must have been Herbert Armstrong himself, of course. Why did he say that you, as well as my father, were responsible for his tragedy?” “Because when Mr. Lawton became aware of Armstrong’s ungovernable jealousy and the terrible length to which he meant to go in his effort to revenge himself, he––your father––came to me to establish Mrs. Armstrong’s innocence, and his, in the eyes of the world. Armstrong’s case, although totally wrong from every standpoint, was a very strong one, but fortunately I was able to verify the truth and was fully prepared to prove it. Just on the eve of the date set for the trial, however, a tragedy occurred which brought the affair to an abrupt and pathetic end.” <div>123</div> “A tragedy? Mrs. Armstrong’s suicide, you mean?” asked Anita, in hushed tones. “How awful!” “She was deeply in love with her husband. His unjust accusations and the public shame he was so undeservedly bringing upon her broke her heart. I assured her that she would be vindicated, that Armstrong would be on his knees to her at the trial’s end. Your father tried to infuse her with courage, to gird her for the coming struggle to defend her own good name, but it was all of no use. She was too broken in spirit. Life held nothing more for her. On the night before the case was to have been called, she shot herself.” “Poor thing!” Anita murmured, with a sob running through her soft voice. “Poor, persecuted woman. Why did she not wait! Knowing her own innocence and loving her husband as she did, she could have forgiven him for his cruel suspicion when it was all over! But surely Herbert Armstrong knows the truth now. How can he blame you and my father for the wreck which he made of his own life?” “Because his mind has become unhinged. He was always excitable and erratic, and his weeks of jealous wrath, culminating in the shock of the sudden tragedy, and the realization that he had brought it all on himself, were too much for him. He was a broker and one of the most prominent financiers in the city, but with the divorce fiasco and the death of Mrs. Armstrong, he began to brood. He shunned the friends who were left to him, neglected his business and ultimately failed. Sinking lower and lower in the scale of things, he finally disappeared from Illington. You can understand now why I thought it best when you told me of the conversation you had overheard in the library here a few hours before your father’s death, and of the mention of Herbert 124 Armstrong’s name, to trace him and find out if it was he who had come in the heart of the night and attempted to blackmail Mr. Lawton.” “I understand. That was why you wanted me to hear his voice yesterday and see if I recognized it. But it was not at all like that of the man in the library on the night of my father’s death. And do you know, Mr. Blaine”––she leaned forward and spoke in still lower tones––“when I recall that voice, it seems to me, sometimes, that I have heard it before. There was a certain timbre in it which was oddly familiar. It is as if some one I knew had spoken, but in tones disguised by rage and passion. I shall recognize that voice when I hear it again, if it holds that same note; and when I do––” Blaine darted a swift glance at her from under narrowed brows. “But why attribute so much importance to it?” he asked. “To be sure, it may have some bearing upon our investigation, although at present I can see no connecting link. You feel, perhaps, that the violent emotions superinduced by that secret interview, added to your father’s heart-trouble, indirectly caused his death?” Anita again sank back in her chair. “I don’t know, Mr. Blaine. I cannot explain it, even to myself, but I feel instinctively that that interview was of greater significance than any one has considered, as yet.” “That we must leave to the future.” The detective took her hand, and this time Anita rose and walked slowly with him toward the door. “There are matters of greater moment to be investigated now. Remember my advice. Try to be patient. Yours is the hardest task of all, to sit idly by and wait for events to shape themselves, or for me to shape them, but it must be. 125 If you can calm your nerves and obtain a few hours’ sleep you will feel your own brave self again when I report to you, as I shall do, later to-day.” Despite his night of ceaseless work, Henry Blaine, clear-eyed and alert of brain, was seated at his desk at the stroke of nine when Suraci was ushered in––the young detective who had trailed Walter Pennold from Brooklyn to the quiet backwater where Jimmy Brunell had sought in vain for disassociation from his past shadowy environment. “It has become necessary, through an incident which occurred yesterday, for me to change my plans,” Blaine announced. “I had intended to put you on the trail of a young crook, a relative of Pennold, but I find I must send you instead to Long Bay to look up a hotel register for me and obtain some writing paper with the engraved letter-head from that hotel. You can get a train in an hour, if you look sharp. Try to get back to-night or to-morrow morning at the latest. Find out anything you can regarding the visit there two years ago last August of Pennington Lawton and his daughter and of other guests who arrived during their stay. Here are your instructions.” Twenty minutes’ low-voiced conversation ensued, and Suraci took his departure. He was followed almost immediately by Guy Morrow. “What is the dope, sir?” the latter asked eagerly, as he entered. “There’s an extra out about the Hamilton disappearance. Do you think Paddington’s had a hand in that?” “I want you to tail him,” Blaine replied, non-committally. “Find out anything you can of his movements for the past few weeks, but don’t lose sight of him for a minute until to-morrow morning. He’s supposed 126 to be working up the evidence now for the Snedecker divorce, so it won’t be difficult for you to locate him. You know what he looks like.” “Yes, sir. I know the man himself––if you call such a little rat a man. We had a run-in once, and it isn’t likely I’d forget him.” “Then be careful to keep out of his sight. He may be a rat, but he’s as keen-eyed as a ferret. I’d rather put some one on him whom he didn’t know, but we’ll have to chance it. I wouldn’t trust this to anyone but you, Guy.” The young operative flushed with pride at this tribute from his chief, and after a few more instructions he went upon his way with alacrity. Once more alone, Henry Blaine sat for a long time lost in thought. An idea had come to him, engendered by a few vague words uttered by Anita Lawton in the early hours of that morning: an idea so startling, so tremendous in its import, that even he scarcely dared give it credence. To put it to the test, to prove or disprove it, would be irretrievably to show his hand in the game, and that would be suicidal to his investigation should his swift suspicion chance to be groundless. The sharp ring of the telephone put an end to his cogitations. He put the receiver to his ear with a preoccupied frown, but at the first words which came to him over the wire his expression changed to one of keenest concentration. “Am I speaking to the gentleman who talked with me at the working girls’ club?” a clear, fresh young voice asked. “This is Margaret Hefferman, Mr. Rockamore’s stenographer––that is, I was until ten minutes ago, but I have been discharged.” “Discharged!” Blaine’s voice was eager and crisp 127 as he reiterated her last word. “On what pretext?” “It was not exactly a pretext,” the girl replied. “The office boy accused me of taking shorthand notes of a private conversation between my employer and a visitor, and I could not convince Mr. Rockamore of my innocence. I––I must have been clumsy, I’m afraid.” “You have the notes with you?” “Yes.” “The visitor’s name was Paddington?” “Yes, sir.” Blaine considered for a moment; then, his decision made, he spoke rapidly in a clear undertone. “You know the department store of Mead & Rathbun? Meet me there in the ladies’ writing-room in half an hour. Where are you now?” “In a booth in the drug-store just around the corner from the building where Mr. Rockamore’s offices are located.” “Very good. Take as round-about a route as you can to reach Mead & Rathbun’s, and see if you are followed. If you are and you find it impossible to shake off your shadow, do not try to meet me, but go directly to the club and I will communicate with you there later.” “Oh, I don’t think I’ve been followed, but I’ll be very careful. If everything is all right, I will meet you at the place you named in half an hour. Good-by.” Henry Blaine paced the floor for a time in undisguised perturbation. His move in placing inexperienced girls from Anita Lawton’s club in responsible positions, instead of using his own trained operatives, had been based not upon impulse but on mature reflection. The girls were unknown, whereas his operatives would assuredly have been recognized, sooner or later, especially 128 in the offices of Carlis and Rockamore. Moreover, the ruse adopted to obtain positions for Miss Lawton’s protégées had appeared on the surface to be a flawlessly legitimate one. He had counted upon their loyalty and zeal to outweigh their possible incompetence and lack of discretion, but the stolid German girl had apparently been so clumsy at her task as to bring failure upon his plan. “So much for amateurs!” he murmured to himself, disgustedly. “The other three will be discharged as soon as excuses for their dismissal can be manufactured now. My only hope from any of them is that French governess. If she will only land Paddington I don’t care what suspicions the other three arouse.” Margaret Hefferman’s placid face was a little pale when she greeted him in the ladies’ room of the department store a short time later. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Blaine!” she exclaimed, but in carefully lowered tones. “I could have cut my right hand off before I would hurt Miss Lawton after all she has done for me, and already the first thing she asks, I must fail to do!” “You are sure you were not followed?” asked the detective, disregarding her lamentations with purposeful brusqueness, for the tears stood in her soft, bovine eyes, and he feared an emotional outburst which would draw down upon them the attention of the whole room. “Oh, no! I made sure of that. I rode uptown and half-way down again to be certain, and then changed to the east-side line.” “Very well.” He drew her to a secluded window-seat where, themselves almost unseen, they could obtain an unobstructed view of the entrance door and of their immediate neighbors. <div>129</div> “Now tell me all about it, Miss Hefferman.” “It was that office boy, Billy,” she began. “Such sharp eyes and soft walk, like a cat! Always he is yawning and sleepy––who would think he was a spy?” Her tone was filled with such contempt that involuntarily the detective’s mobile lips twitched. The girl had evidently quite lost sight of the fact that she herself had occupied the very position in the pseudo employ of Bertrand Rockamore which she derided in his office boy. He did not attempt to guide her in her narrative of the morning’s events, observing that she was too much agitated to give him a coherent account. Instead, he waited patiently for her to vent her indignation and tell him in her own way the substance of what had occurred. “I had no thought of being watched, else I should have been more careful,” she went on, resentfully. “This morning, only, he was late––that Billy––and I did not report him. I was busy, too, for there was more correspondence than usual to attend to, and Mr. Rockamore was irritable and short-tempered. In the midst of his dictation Mr. Paddington came, and I was bundled out of the room with the letters and my shorthand book. They talked together behind the closed door for several minutes and I had no opportunity to hear a word, but presently Mr. Rockamore called Billy and sent him out on an errand. Billy left the door of the inner office open just a little and that was my chance. I seated myself at a desk close beside it and took down in shorthand every word which reached my ears. I was so much occupied with the notes that I did not hear Billy’s footsteps until he stopped just behind me and whistled right in my ear. I jumped and he laughed at me and went in to Mr. Rockamore. When he came out 130 he shut the door tight behind him and grinned as if he knew just what I had been up to. I did not dare open the door again, and so I heard no more of the conversation, but I have enough, Mr. Blaine, to interest you, I think.” She fumbled with her bag, but the detective laid a detaining hand on her arm. “Never mind the notes now. Go on with your story. What happened after the interview was over?” “That boy Billy went to Mr. Rockamore and told him. Already I have said he was irritable this morning. He had seemed nervous and excited, as if he were angry or worried about something, but when he sent for me to discharge me he was white-hot with rage. Never have I been so insulted or abused, but that would be nothing if only I had not failed Miss Lawton. For her sake I tried to lie, to deny, but it was of no use. My people were good Lutherans, but that does not help one in a business career; it is much more a nuisance. He could read in my face that I was guilty, and he demanded my shorthand note-book. I had to give it to him; there was nothing else to be done.” “But I understood that you had the notes with you,” Blaine commented, then paused as a faint smile broke over her face and a demure dimple appeared in either cheek. “I gave to him a note-book,” she explained naïvely. “He was quite pleased, I think, to get possession of it. No one can read my shorthand but me, anyway, so one book did him as much good as another. He tried to make me tell him why I had done that––why I had taken down the words of a private conference of his with a visitor. I could not think what I should say, so I kept silent. For an hour he bullied and questioned me, but 131 he could find out nothing and so at last he let me go. If now I could get my hands on that Billy––” “Never mind him,” Blaine interrupted. “Rockamore didn’t threaten you, did he?” “He said he would fix it so that I obtained no more positions in Illington,” the girl responded, sullenly. “He will tell Miss Lawton that I am deceitful and treacherous and I should no longer be welcome at the club! He said––but I will not take up your so valuable time by repeating his stupid threats. Miss Lawton will understand. Shall not I read the notes to you? I have had no opportunity to transcribe them and indeed they are safer as they are.” “Yes. Read them by all means, Miss Hefferman, if you have nothing more to tell me. I do not think we are being overheard by anyone, but remember to keep your voice lowered.” “I will, Mr. Blaine.” The girl produced the note-book from her bag and swept a practised eye down its cryptic pages. “Here it is. These are the first words I heard through the opened door. They were spoken by Mr. Rockamore, and the other, Paddington, replied. This is what I heard: “‘I don’t know what the devil you’re driving at, I tell you.’ “‘Oh, don’t you, Rockamore? Want me to explain? I’ll go into details if you like.’ “‘I’m hanged if I’m interested. My share in our little business deal with you was concluded some time ago. There’s an end of that. You’re a clever enough man to know the people you’re doing business with, Paddington. You can’t put anything over on us.’ “‘I’m not trying to. The deal you spoke of is over 132 and done with and I guess nobody’ll squeal. We’re all tarred with the same brush. But this is something quite different. We were pretty good pals, Rockamore, so naturally, when I heard something about you which might take a lot of explaining to smooth over, if it got about, I kept my mouth shut. I think a good turn deserves another, at least among friends, and when I got in a hole I remembered what I did for you, and I thought you’d be glad of a chance to give me a leg up.’ “‘In other words you come here with a vague threat and try to blackmail me. That’s it, isn’t it?’ “‘Blackmail is not a very pleasant term, Rockamore, and yet it is something which even you might attempt. Get me? Of course the others would be glad to help me out, but I thought I’d come to you first, since I––well, I know you better.’ “‘How much do you want?’ “‘Only ten thousand. I’ve got a tip on the market and if I can raise the coin before the stock soars and buy on margin, I’ll make a fine little coup. Want to come in on it, Rockamore?’ “‘Go to the devil! Here’s your check––you can get it certified at the bank. Now get out and don’t bother me again or you’ll find out I’m not the weak-minded fool you take me for. Stick to the small fry, Paddington. They’re your game, but don’t fish for salmon with a trout-fly.’ “‘Thanks, old man. I always knew I could call on you in an emergency. I only hope my tip is a straight one and I don’t go short on the market. If I do––’ “‘Don’t come to me! I tell you, Paddington, you can’t play me for a sucker. That’s the last cent you’ll ever get out of me. It suits me now to pay for your silence because, as you very well know, I don’t care to inform 133 my colleagues or have them informed that I acted independently of them; but I’ve paid all that your knowledge is worth, and more.’ “‘It might have been worth even more to others than to you or your colleagues. For instance––’ “Then Billy came up behind me and whistled,” concluded Miss Hefferman, as she closed her note-book. “Shall I transcribe this for you, Mr. Blaine? We have a typewriter at the club.” “No, I will take the note-book with me as it is and lock it in my safe at the office. Please hold yourself in readiness to come down and transcribe it whenever it may be necessary for me to send for you. You have done splendidly, Miss Hefferman. You must not feel badly over having been discovered and dismissed. You have rendered Miss Lawton a valuable service for which she will be the first to thank you. Telephone me if anyone attempts to approach you about this affair, or if anything unusual should occur.” Scarcely an hour later, when Henry Blaine placed the receiver at his ear in response to the insistent summons of the ’phone, her voice came to him again over the wire. “Mr. Blaine, I am at the club, but I thought you should know that after all, I was––what is that you say––shadowed this morning. Just a little way from Mead & Rathbun’s my hand-bag was cut from my arm. It was lucky, hein, that you took the note-book with you? As for me, I go out no more for any positions. I go back soon as ever I can, by Germany.” <hr class='major' /> <div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> 134 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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