The House Opposite Part 29

"What is the matter?" I asked, as I went to the sideboard and poured out a stiff gla.s.s of brandy, which I handed him. "Drink that, and you'll feel better," I said.

He gulped it down at one swallow.

"My wife has disappeared."

"Disappeared!" I repeated.

He nodded.

"But when?--how?"

"I don't know. At dinner yesterday she acted queerly. The tears kept coming to her eyes without any reason----"

"Before you go any further," I interrupted him, "tell me if this was after the doctor had seen her?"

"Yes, and he practically confirmed all you said. He laid great stress on her being spared all agitation, and advised a course of baths at Nauheim."

"Her tears, then, were probably caused by worrying over her condition,"

I said.

"I don't think so, for the doctor was very careful to rea.s.sure her, and I had not even mentioned that we were to go abroad. No, it was something else, I'm sure." He paused. I wondered if anything I had said during our short walk had upset her.

"I suggested going to a roof garden," continued Atkins, "and she acquiesced enthusiastically, and after that was over she insisted on a supper at Rector's. It was pretty late when we got home, and we both went immediately to bed. Now, I a.s.sure you that ever since she fainted on Wednesday I have been most affectionate towards her. I had determined to bury my suspicions, and my anxiety for her health helped me to do so.

She responded very tenderly to my caresses, but I could see that she was still as depressed as before, although she tried her best to hide it from me. I tell you all this so that you may know that nothing occurred yesterday between us that could have caused her to leave me, and yet that is what she has done."

He buried his head in his arms. I laid my hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me the rest, old man."

"The rest?--I woke up a short time ago and was surprised to find my wife had already left the room. Wondering what could be the matter (for she is usually a very late riser), I got up also. On the table beside my bed lay a letter addressed to me in her handwriting. I tore it open. Here it is," and he handed me a small pink note redolent of the peculiar scent which I had noticed his wife affected. This is what I read:

MY DARLING HUSBAND:

I must leave you. It is best for both. Don't think I'm going because I don't love you. It isn't that. I love you more than ever.

It breaks my heart to go. Oh, my darling, darling! We have been happy, haven't we? And now it is all over. Don't look for me, I beg you. I must hide. Don't tell any one, even the servants, that I have gone, for two days. Oh, do oblige me in this. I have taken all the money I could find, $46.00, and some of my jewelry; so I shall not be dest.i.tute.

Forgive me, and forget me.

Your loving, heart-broken wife, LULU.

After reading the note to the end, I stared at him in speechless astonishment.

"What do you think of that?" he asked.

"Well, really, of all mysterious, incomprehensible----"

"Exactly," he interrupted, impatiently, "but what am I to do now? It is, of course, nonsense her telling me not to look for her. I _will_ look for her and find her, too. But how shall I go about it? O my G.o.d, to think of that little girl sick, unhappy, alone; she will die--" he cried, starting up.

"Atkins," I said, after a moment's reflection, "I think the best thing for you to do is to lay this case before Mr. Merritt."

"What, the man who was mixed up in the murder? Never!"

"You can hardly speak of a detective as being mixed up in a murder," I said. "Every celebrated detective has always several important cases going at once, one of which is very likely to be a murder. The reason I suggest Merritt is that I have seen a good deal of him lately, and have been much impressed by his character as well as his ability. He is a kindly, honourable, and discreet man, and that is more than can be said for the majority of his fellows, and, professionally, he stands at the very top of the ladder. You want to find your wife as quickly as possible, and at the same time to avoid all publicity. You therefore must consult a thoroughly reliable as well as competent person."

"But if I go to Merritt and tell him that my wife has disappeared, I must also tell of the strange way she has been behaving lately. That will lead to his discovering that the murdered man was a friend of hers, and who knows but that he may end by suspecting her of complicity in his death?--and I acknowledge that her flight lends some colour to that theory."

"My dear fellow, he has been aware for some time--since Monday, in fact--that the dead man visited your wife the very evening he was killed, and yet, knowing all this, he told me that Mrs. Atkins could not be connected in the remotest way with the tragedy."

"He said that!" exclaimed Atkins, with evident relief.

"He did," I a.s.sured him.

"All right, then; let's go to him at once."

As soon as I was dressed we got into a cab and drove rapidly to Mr.

Merritt's. We met the detective just going out, but he at once turned back with us, and we were soon sitting in his little office. Atkins was so overcome by the situation that I found it necessary to explain our errand. The detective, on hearing of Mrs. Atkins's flight gave a slight start.

"I wish I knew at what time she left home," he said.

"I think I can help you there,"--and I told him of the person I had seen stealing from the building, and who I now believed to have been no other than Mrs. Atkins.

"Half-past two," he murmured; "I wonder she left as early as that. Where could she have gone to at that hour! It looks as if she had arranged her flight beforehand and prepared some place of refuge. Do you know of any friend in the city she would be likely to appeal to in such an emergency?" he inquired, turning towards Atkins.

"No," he replied; "whatever friends she has here have all been previously friends of mine, and as she has only known them since our marriage they have not had time to become very intimate yet."

After asking a few more pertinent questions, Mr. Merritt rose.

"I think I have all the necessary facts now and will at once order the search started. I hope soon to have good news for you."

We all three left the detective's house together, but separated immediately afterwards. Atkins, haggard and wild-eyed, went off to look for his wife himself. I had to go to the hospital, and Merritt offered to accompany me there.

"Well, what do you think of this latest development?" I asked.

"I am not surprised."

"Not surprised!" I exclaimed; "what do you mean?"

"Just this: I have been expecting Mrs. Atkins to make an attempt to escape, and have tried to prevent her doing so."

"How?" I inquired.

"One of my men has been watching her night and day. He is stationed in your house, and I am extremely annoyed that he has allowed her to slip through his fingers, although I must say he has some excuse, for she certainly managed things very neatly."

"But Mr. Merritt," I exclaimed, "do you now think Mrs. Atkins guilty?"

He smiled enigmatically, but said nothing.

"This is a very serious matter for me," I continued. "After what you repeatedly said to me, I thought you scouted the probability of her being in any way implicated in this murder. It was on the strength of this a.s.surance that I induced Atkins to confide in you. Had I known that you were having her shadowed I shouldn't, of course, have advised him to put his case in your hands. I feel dreadfully about this. It is exactly as if I had betrayed the poor fellow. I must warn him at once."