Part 33 (2/2)

”Only Reginald and my daughter Betty. Betty is frantic--not with fear for herself, but with fear for me. No one can rea.s.sure her. In fact it was as much for her sake as anyone's that I sent for you. Reginald has tried to trace the thing down himself, but has not succeeded.”

She paused. The door opened and Reginald Blake entered. He was a young fellow, self confident and no doubt very efficient at the new dances, though scarcely fitted to rub elbows with a cold world which, outside of his own immediate circle, knew not the name of Blake. He stood for a moment regarding us through the smoke of his cigarette.

”Tell me just what you have done,” asked Kennedy of him as his mother introduced him, although he had done the talking for her over the telephone.

”Done?” he drawled. ”Why, as soon as mother told me of the letter, I left an envelope up at the Prince Henry, as it directed.”

”With the money?” put in Craig quickly.

”Oh, no--just as a decoy.”

”Yes. What happened?”

”Well, I waited around a long time. It was far along in the day when a woman appeared at the desk. I had instructed the clerk to be on the watch for anyone who asked for mail addressed to a Dr. Hopf. The clerk slammed the register. That was the signal. I moved up closer.”

”What did she look like?” asked Kennedy keenly.

”I couldn't see her face. But she was beautifully dressed, with a long light flowing linen duster, a veil that hid her features and on her hands and arms a long pair of motoring doeskin gloves. By George, she was a winner--in general looks, though. Well, something about the clerk, I suppose, must have aroused her suspicions. For, a moment later, she was gone in the crowd. Evidently she had thought of the danger and had picked out a time when the lobby would be full and everybody busy. But she did not leave by the front entrance through which she entered. I concluded that she must have left by one of the side street carriage doors.”

”And she got away?”

”Yes. I found that she asked one of the boys at the door to crank up a car standing at the curb. She slid into the seat, and was off in a minute.”

Kennedy said nothing. But I knew that he was making a mighty effort to restrain comment on the bungling amateur detective work of the son of our client.

Reginald saw the look on his face. ”Still,” he hastened, ”I got the number of the car. It was 200859 New York.”

”You have looked it up?” queried Kennedy quickly.

”I didn't need to do it. A few minutes later Dr. Rae Wilson herself came out--storming like mad. Her car had been stolen at the very door of the hotel by this woman with the innocent aid of the hotel employees.”

Kennedy was evidently keenly interested. The mention of the stolen car had apparently at once suggested an idea to him.

”Mrs. Blake,” he said, as he rose to go, ”I shall take this letter with me. Will you see that Buster is sent up to my laboratory immediately?”

She nodded. It was evident that Buster was a great pet with her and that it was with difficulty she kept from smoothing his silky coat.

”You--you won't hurt Buster?” she pleaded.

”No. Trust me. More than that, if there is any possible way of untangling this mystery, I shall do it.”

Mrs. Blake looked rather than spoke her thanks. As we went downstairs, accompanied by Miss Sears, we could see in the music room a very interesting couple, chatting earnestly over the piano.

Betty Blake, a slip of a girl in her first season, was dividing her attention between her visitor and the door by which we were pa.s.sing.

She rose as she heard us, leaving the young man standing alone at the piano. He was of an age perhaps a year or two older than Reginald Blake. It was evident that, whatever Miss Betty might think, he had eyes for no one else but the pretty debutante. He even seemed to be regarding Kennedy sullenly, as if he were a possible rival.

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