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121 pages

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pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. This was the third week of Selwood's secretaryship to Jacob Herapath. Herapath was a well-known man in London. He was a Member of Parliament, the owner of a sort of model estate of up-to-date flats, and something of a crank about such matters as ventilation, sanitation, and lighting. He himself, a bachelor, lived in one of the best houses in Portman Square; when he engaged Selwood as his secretary he made him take a convenient set of rooms in Upper Seymour Street, close by. He also caused a telephone communication to be set up between his own house and Selwood's bedroom, so that he could summon his secretary at any hour of the night. Herapath occasionally had notions about things in the small hours, and he was one of those active, restless persons who, if they get a new idea, like to figure on it at once. All the same, during those three weeks he had not once troubled his secretary in this fashion. No call came to Selwood over that telephone until half-past seven one November morning, just as he was thinking of getting out of bed

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	23 octobre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819914006
Langue	English

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CHAPTER I
JACOB HERAPATH IS MISSING
This was the third week of Selwood's secretaryshipto Jacob Herapath. Herapath was a well-known man in London. He wasa Member of Parliament, the owner of a sort of model estate ofup-to-date flats, and something of a crank about such matters asventilation, sanitation, and lighting. He himself, a bachelor,lived in one of the best houses in Portman Square; when he engagedSelwood as his secretary he made him take a convenient set of roomsin Upper Seymour Street, close by. He also caused a telephonecommunication to be set up between his own house and Selwood'sbedroom, so that he could summon his secretary at any hour of thenight. Herapath occasionally had notions about things in the smallhours, and he was one of those active, restless persons who, ifthey get a new idea, like to figure on it at once. All the same,during those three weeks he had not once troubled his secretary inthis fashion. No call came to Selwood over that telephone untilhalf-past seven one November morning, just as he was thinking ofgetting out of bed. And the voice which then greeted him was notHerapath's. It was a rather anxious, troubled voice, and itbelonged to one Kitteridge, a middle-aged man, who was Herapath'sbutler.
In the act of summoning Selwood, Kitteridge wasevidently interrupted by some person at his elbow; all that Selwoodmade out was that Kitteridge wanted him to go round at once. Hedressed hurriedly, and ran off to Herapath's house; there in thehall, near the door of a room which Herapath used as a study andbusiness room, he found Kitteridge talking to Mountain, Herapath'scoachman, who, judging by the state of his attire, had also beencalled hurriedly from his bed. "What is it, Kitteridge?" demandedSelwood. "Mr. Herapath ill?"
The butler shook his head and jerked his thumbtowards the open door of the study. "The fact is, we don't knowwhere Mr. Herapath is, sir," he answered. "He hasn't slept in hisbed, and he isn't in the house." "Possibly he didn't come home lastnight," suggested Selwood. "He may have slept at his club, or at anhotel."
The butler and the coachman looked at each other –then the coachman, a little, sharp-eyed man who was meditativelychewing a bit of straw, opened his tightly-compressed lips. "He didcome home, sir," he said. "I drove him home – as usual. I saw himlet himself into the house. One o'clock sharp, that was. Oh, yes,he came home!" "He came home," repeated Kitteridge. "Look here,sir." He led the way into the study and pointed to a small tableset by the side of Herapath's big business desk. "You see thattray, Mr. Selwood? That's always left out, there, on that table,for Mr. Herapath every night. A small decanter of whiskey, asyphon, a few sandwiches, a dry biscuit or two. Well, there youare, sir – he's had a drink out of that glass, he's had a mouthfulor so of sandwiches. Oh, yes, he came home, but he's not at homenow! Charlesworth – the valet, you know, sir – always goes into Mr.Herapath's room at a quarter past seven every morning; when he wentin just now he found that Mr. Herapath wasn't there, and the bedhadn't been slept in. So – that's where things stand."
Selwood looked round the room. The curtains had notyet been drawn aside, and the electric light cast a cold glare onthe various well-known objects and fittings. He glanced at theevidences of the supper tray; then at the blotting-pad onHerapath's desk; there he might have left a note for his butler orhis secretary. But there was no note to be seen. "Still, I don'tsee that there's anything to be alarmed about, Kitteridge," hesaid. "Mr. Herapath may have wanted to go somewhere by a very earlymorning train – – " "No, sir, excuse me, that won't do," broke inthe butler. "I thought of that myself. But if he'd wanted to catcha night train, he'd have taken a travelling coat, and a rug, and abag of some sort – he's taken nothing at all in that way. Besides,I've been in this house seven years, and I know his habits. If he'dwanted to go away by one of the very early morning trains he'd havekept me and Charlesworth up, making ready for him. No, sir! He camehome, and went out again – must have done. And – it's uncommonlyqueer. Seven years I've been here, as I say, and he never did sucha thing before."
Selwood turned to the coachman. "You brought Mr.Herapath home at one o'clock?" he said. "Alone?" "He was alone,sir," replied the coachman, who had been staring around him as ifto seek some solution of the mystery. "I'll tell you all thathappened – I was just beginning to tell Mr. Kitteridge here whenyou come in. I fetched Mr. Herapath from the House of Commons lastnight at a quarter past eleven – took him up in Palace Yard at theusual spot, just as the clock was striking. 'Mountain,' he says, 'Iwant you to drive round to the estate office – I want to callthere.' So I drove there – that's in Kensington, as you know, sir.When he got out he says, 'Mountain,' he says, 'I shall bethree-quarters of an hour or so here – wrap the mare up and walkher about,' he says. I did as he said, but he was more thanthree-quarters – it was like an hour. Then at last he came back tothe brougham, just said one word, 'Home!' and I drove him here, andthe clocks were striking one when he got out. He said 'Good night,'and I saw him walk up the steps and put his key in the latch as Idrove off to our stables. And that's all I know about it."
Selwood turned to the butler. "I suppose no one wasup at that time?" he inquired. "Nobody, sir," answered Kitteridge."There never is. Mr. Herapath, as you've no doubt observed, is abit strict in the matter of rules, and it's one of his rules thateverybody in the house must be in bed by eleven-thirty. No one wasever to sit up for him on any occasion. That's why this supper-traywas always left ready. His usual time for coming in when he'd beenat the House was twelve o'clock." "Everybody in the house might bein bed," observed Selwood, "but not everybody might be asleep. Haveyou made any inquiry as to whether anybody heard Mr. Herapathmoving about in the night, or leaving the house? Somebody may haveheard the hall door opened and closed, you know." "I'll makeinquiry as to that, sir," responded Kitteridge, "but I've heardnothing of the sort so far, and all the servants are aware by nowthat Mr. Herapath isn't in the house. If anybody had heard anything– – "
Before the butler could say more the study dooropened and a girl came into the room. At sight of her Selwood spokehurriedly to Kitteridge. "Have you told Miss Wynne?" he whispered."Does she know?" "She may have heard from her maid, sir," repliedKitteridge in low tones. "Of course they're all talking of it. Iwas going to ask to see Miss Wynne as soon as she was dressed."
By that time the girl had advanced towards the threemen, and Selwood stepped forward to meet her. He knew her asHerapath's niece, the daughter of a dead sister of whom Herapathhad been very fond; he knew, too, that Herapath had brought her upfrom infancy and treated her as a daughter. She was at this time ayoung woman of twenty-one or two, a pretty, eminently likeableyoung woman, with signs of character and resource in eyes and lips,and Selwood had seen enough of her to feel sure that in anydisturbing event she would keep her head. She spoke calmly enoughas the secretary met her. "What's all this, Mr. Selwood?" sheasked. "I understand my uncle is not in the house. But there'snothing alarming in that, Kitteridge, is there? Mr. Herapath mayhave gone away during the night, you know." "Kitteridge thinks thathighly improbable," replied Selwood. "He says that Mr. Herapath hadmade no preparation for a sudden journey, has taken no travellingcoat or rug, or luggage of any sort." "Did he come in from theHouse?" she asked. "Perhaps not?"
Kitteridge pointed to the supper-tray and thenindicated the coachman. "He came in as usual, miss," he replied."Or rather an hour later than usual. Mountain brought him home atone o'clock, and he saw him let himself in with his latch-key."
Peggie Wynne turned to the coachman. "You're surethat he entered the house?" she asked. "As sure as I could be,miss," replied Mountain. "He was putting his key in the door when Idrove off." "He must have come in," said Kitteridge, pointing tothe tray. "He had something after he got in." "Well, go and tellthe servants not to talk, Kitteridge," said Peggie. "My uncle, nodoubt, had reasons for going out again. Have you said anything toMr. Tertius?" "Mr. Tertius isn't down yet, miss," answered thebutler.
He left the room, followed by the coachman, andPeggie turned to Selwood. "What do you think?" she asked, with aslight show of anxiety. "You don't know of any reason for this, doyou?" "None," replied Selwood. "And as to what I think, I don'tknow sufficient about Mr. Herapath's habits to be able to judge.""He never did anything like this before," she remarked. "I knowthat he sometimes gets up in the middle of the night and comes downhere, but I never knew him to go out. If he'd been setting off on asudden journey he'd surely have let me know. Perhaps – – "
She paused suddenly, seeing Selwood lift his eyesfrom the papers strewn about the desk to the door. She, too, turnedin the same direction.
A man had come quietly into the room – aslightly-built, little man, grey-bearded, delicate-looking, whoseeyes were obscured by a pair of dark-tinted spectacles. He movedgently and with an air of habitual shyness, and Selwood, who wasnaturally observant, saw that his lips and his hands were tremblingslightly as he came towards them. "Mr. Tertius," said Peggie, "doyou know anything about Uncle Jacob? He came in during the night –one o'clock – and now he's disappeared. Did he say anything to youabout going away early this morning?"
Mr. Tertius shook his head. "No – no – nothing!" heanswered. "Disappeared! Is it certain he came in?" "Mountain sawhim come in," she said. "Besides, he had a drink out of that glass,and he ate something from the