Dark Hollow

by Anna Katharine Green

  XXVII

  HE MUST BE FOUND

  Three hours later, an agitated confab took place at the gate, or ratherbetween the two front gates. Mr. Black had rung for admittance, and Mrs.Scoville had answered the call. In the constrained interview whichfollowed, these words were said:

  "One moment, Mrs. Scoville. How can I tell the judge! Young Ostrander isgone--flew the city, and I can get no clew to his whereabouts. Somewarning of what is happening here may have reached him, or he may besimply following impulses consequent upon his personal disappointments;but the fact is just this--he asked for two weeks' leave to go West uponbusiness,--and he's been gone three. Meanwhile, no word has come, norcan his best friends tell the place of his destination. I have beenburning the telegraph wires ever since the first despatch, and this isthe result."

  "Poor Judge Ostrander!" Then, in lower and still more pathetic tones,"Poor Reuther!"

  "Where is Reuther?"

  "At Miss Weeks'. I had to command her to leave me alone with the judge.It's the first time I ever spoke unkindly to her."

  "Shall I tell the judge the result of his telegram, or will you?"

  "Have you the messages with you?"

  He bundled them into her hand.

  "I will hand them in to him. We can do nothing less and nothing more.Then if he wants you, I will telephone."

  "Mrs. Scoville?"

  She felt his hand laid softly on her shoulder.

  "Yes, Mr. Black."

  "There is some one else in this matter to consider besides JudgeOstrander."

  "Reuther? Oh, don't I know it! She's not out of my mind a moment."

  "Reuther is young, and has a gallant soul. I mean you, Mrs. Scoville,you! You are not to succumb to this trial. You have a future--a brightfuture--or should have. Do not endanger it by giving up all yourstrength now. It's precious, that strength, or would be--"

  He broke off; she began to move away. Overhead in the narrow space ofsky visible to them from where they stood, the stars burned brightly.Some instinct made them look up; as they did so, their hands met. Then agruff sound broke the silence. It was Alanson Black's voice uttering agrim farewell.

  * * * * *

  "He must be found! Oliver must be found!" How the words rung in herears. She had handed in the messages to the waiting father; she haduttered a word or two of explanation, and then, at his request, had lefthim. But his last cry followed her: "He must be found!"

  When she told it to Mr. Black the next morning, he looked serious.

  "Pride or hope?" he asked.

  "Desperation," she responded, with a guilty look about her. "Possibly,some hope is in it, too. Perhaps, he thinks that any charge of thisnature must fall before Oliver's manly appearance. Whatever he thinks,there is but one thing to do: find Oliver."

  "Mrs. Scoville, the police have started upon that attempt. I got the tipthis morning."

  "We must forestall them. To satisfy the judge, Oliver must come of hisown accord to face these charges."

  "It's a brave stock. If Oliver gets his father's telegram he will come."

  "But how are we to reach him! We are absolutely in the dark."

  "If I could go to Detroit, I might strike some clew; but I cannot leavethe judge. Mr. Black, he told me this morning when I carried in hisbreakfast that he should see no one and go nowhere till I brought himword that Oliver was in the house. The hermit life has begun again. Whatshall we do? Advise me in this emergency, for I feel as helpless as achild,--as a lost child."

  They were standing far apart in the little front parlour, and he gave noevidence of wishing to lessen the space between them, but he gave her alook as she said this, which, as she thought it over afterwards, held inits kindly flame something which had never shone upon her before,whether as maid, wife or widow. But, while she noticed it, she did notdwell upon it now, only upon the words which followed it.

  "You say you cannot go to Detroit. Shall I go?"

  "Mr. Black!"

  "Court is adjourned. I know of nothing more important than JudgeOstrander's peace of mind--- unless it is yours. I will go if you sayso."

  "Will it avail? Let me think. I knew him well, and yet not well enoughto know where he would be most likely to go under impulse."

  "There is some one who knows him better than you do."

  "His father?"

  "No."

  "Reuther? Oh, she mustn't be told--"

  "Yes, she must. She's our one adviser. Go for her--or send me."

  "It won't be necessary. There's her ring at the gate. But oh, Mr. Black,think again before you trouble this fragile child of mine with doubtsand questions which make her mother tremble."

  "Has she shown the greater weakness yet?"

  "No, but--"

  "She has sources of strength which you lack. She believes absolutely inOliver's integrity. It will carry her through."

  "Please let her in, Mr. Black. I will wait here while you tell her."

  Mr. Black hurried from the room. When his form became visible on thewalk without, Deborah watched him from where she stood far back in theroom. Why? Was this swelling of her impetuous heart in the midst of suchsuspense an instinct of thankfulness? A staff had been put in her hand,rough to the touch, but firm under pressure, and she needed such astaff. Yes, it was thankfulness.

  But she forgot gratitude and every lesser emotion in watching Reuther'sexpression as the two came up the path. The child was radiant, and themother, thus prepared, was not surprised when the young girl, runninginto her arms, burst out with the glad cry:

  "Oliver is no longer in Detroit, but he's wanted here, and Mr. Black andI are going to find him. I think I know where to look. Get me ready,mother dear; we are going to-night."

  * * * * *

  "You are going to-night?" This was said after the first moment ofebullition had past. "Where, Reuther? You have not been correspondingwith Oliver. How should you know where to look for him?"

  Then Reuther told her story.

  "Mr. Ostrander and I were talking very seriously one day. It was beforewe became definitely engaged, and he seemed to feel very dispirited anduncertain of the future. There was a treatise he wanted to write, andfor this he could get no opportunity in Detroit. 'I need time,' he said,'and complete seclusion.' And then he made this remark: 'If ever lifebecomes too much for me, I shall go to one of two places and give myselfup to this task.' 'And what are the places?' I asked. 'One isWashington,' he answered, 'where I can have the run of a great libraryand the influence of the most inspiring surroundings in the world; theother is a little lodge in a mountain top above Lake Placid--TempestLodge, they call it; perhaps, in contrast to the peacefulness itdominates.' And he described this last place with so much enthusiasm andweighed so carefully the advantages of the one spot against the otherfor the absorbing piece of work that he contemplated, that I am surethat if we do not find him in Washington, we certainly shall in theAdirondacks."

  "Let us hope that it will be in Washington," replied the lawyer, with akeen remembrance of the rigours of an Adirondack fall--rigours of whichReuther in her enthusiasm, if not in her ignorance, appeared to takelittle count. "And now," he went on, "this is how I hope to proceed. Wewill go first to Washington, and, if unsuccessful there, to TempestLodge. We will take Miss Weeks with us, for I am sure that I could not,without some such assistance, do justice to this young lady's comfort.If you have a picture of Mr. Ostrander as he looks now, I hope you willtake it, Miss Scoville. With that and the clew to his intentions, whichyou have given me, I have no doubt that we shall find him within theweek."

  "But," objected Deborah, "if you know where to look for him, why takethe child? Why go yourself? Why not telegraph to these places?"

  His answer was a look, quick, sharp and enigmatical enough to requireexplanation. He could not give it to her then, but later, when Reutherhad left them, he said:

  "Men who fly their engagements and secrete themselves, with or without apretex
t, are not so easily reached. We shall have to surprise OliverOstrander, in order to place his father's message in his hands."

  "You may be right. But Reuther? Can she stand the excitement--thephysical strain?"

  "You have the harder task of the two, Mrs. Scoville. Leave the littleone to me. She shall not suffer."

  Deborah's response was eloquent. It was only a look, but it made hisharsh features glow and his hard eye soften. Alanson Black had waitedlong, but his day of romance had come--and possibly hers also.

  But his thoughts, if not his hopes, received a check when, with everyplan made and Miss Weeks, as well as Reuther, in trembling anticipationof the journey, he encountered the triumphant figure of Flannagan comingout of Police Headquarters.

  His jaunty air, his complaisant nod, admitted of but one explanation. Hehad told his story to the chief authorities and been listened to. Proofthat he had something of actual moment to tell them; something which theDistrict Attorney's office might feel bound to take up.

  Alanson Black felt the shock of this discovery, but was glad of thewarning it gave him. Plans which had seemed both simple and naturalbefore, he now saw must be altered to suit the emergency. He could nolonger hope to leave town with his little party without attractingunwelcome attention. They might even be followed. For whatever Flannaganmay have told the police, there was one thing he had been unable toimpart, and that was where to look for Oliver. Only Reuther held thatclew, and if they once suspected this fact, she would certainly becomethe victim of their closest surveillance. Little Reuther, therefore,must not accompany him on his quest, but hold herself quite apart fromit; or, better still, be made to act as a diversion to draw off thescent from the chief actor, which was himself. The idea was good, andone to be immediately carried out.

  Continuing on to his office, he called up Miss Weeks.

  "Are you there?" he asked.

  Yes, she was there.

  "Alone?"

  Yes, Reuther was home packing.

  "Nobody around?"

  Nobody.

  "No one listening on the line?"

  "TELL ME WHAT THIS MEANS," HE SAID. BUT HE DID NOT TURNHIS HEAD AS HE MADE THIS REQUEST]

  She was sure not.

  "Very well. Listen closely and act quickly. You are not to go to--I willnot mention the name; and you are not to wait for me. You are to startat the hour named, but you will buy tickets for Atlantic City, where youmust get what accommodations you can. Our little friend needs to betaken out of town,--not on business you understand, but to escape theunpleasantness here and to get such change as will distract her mind.Her mother cannot leave her duties, so you have undertaken to accompanythe child. The rest leave to me. Have you understood all this?"

  "Yes, perfectly; but--"

  "Not another word, Miss Weeks. The change will do our little friendgood. Trust my judgment, and ask her to do the same. Above all, do notbe late for the train. Telephone at once for a cab, and forgeteverything but the pleasant trip before you.--Oh, one minute! There's anarticle you had better send me. I hope you can guess what it is."

  "I think I can."

  "You know the city I am going to. Mark the package, General Delivery,and let me have it soon. That's all."

  He hung up the receiver.

  At midnight he started for Washington. He gave a political reason inexcuse for this trip. He did not expect to be believed; but the spy, ifsuch had been sent, had taken the earlier train on which the two ladieshad left for Atlantic City. He knew every man who got on board of thesame train as himself; and none of them were in league with PoliceHeadquarters.