A Husband by Proxy Part 22

More than half ready to believe that Dorothy had been spirited away, Garrison examined everything available, with the intention of discovering, if possible, any sc.r.a.p that might indicate the destination to which the trio had proceeded.

The Robinsons had left almost nothing of the slightest value or importance, since what clothing remained was of no significance whatever.

It was not until he opened up the old man's books on the subject of wills that Garrison found the slightest clew, and then he came upon a postal-card addressed to "Sykey Robinson, Esq.," from Theodore's mother. It mentioned the fact that she had arrived quite safely at "the house," and requested that her husband forward a pair of her gla.s.ses, left behind when she started.

The address of the place where she was stopping was given as 1600 Myrtle Avenue. The postmark was Woodsite, Long Island.

Garrison made up his mind to go to Woodsite. If Dorothy were found, he meant to steal her--if need be, even against her will.

Warmed to the business by his few discoveries, he returned at once to Dorothy's apartments and opened her bureau and dressing-table for a superficial inspection. To his complete surprise, he found that every drawer was in utter confusion as to its contents. That each and all had been rudely overhauled there could not be a doubt for a moment.

Not one showed the order apparent in all things else about the rooms.

There could be but one conclusion. Some one had searched them hurriedly, sparing not even the smallest. The someone could not have been Dorothy, for many reasons--and Garrison once more rejoiced.

He was thoroughly convinced that Dorothy had been taken from the house by force.

Whatever else she might be guilty of, he felt she must be innocent of the dastardly attempt upon his life. And, wherever she was, he meant to find her and take her away, no matter what the cost.

The hour was late--too late, he was aware--for anything effective. Not without a certain satisfaction in his sense of owners.h.i.+p, and with grim resolutions concerning his dealings in future with the Robinsons, he extinguished the lights in the rooms he had searched, and, glad of the much-needed rest, retired in calm for six solid hours of sleep.

This brought him out, refreshed and vigorous, at a bright, early hour of the morning. The housekeeper, not yet stirring in her downstairs quarters, failed to hear him let himself out at the door--and his way was clear for action.

His breakfast he took at an insignificant cafe. Then he went to his room in Forty-fourth Street.

The "shadow," faithful to his charge, was waiting in the street before the house. His presence was noted by Garrison, who nodded to himself in understanding of the fellow's persistency.

Arrived upstairs, he discovered three letters, none of which he took the time to read. They were thrust in his pocket--and forgotten.

The metal bomb, which was still in his coat, he concealed among a lot of shoes in his closet.

From among his possessions, acc.u.mulated months before, when the needs of the Biddle robbery case had arisen, he selected a thoroughly effective disguise, which not only grew a long, drooping mustache upon his lip, but aged him about the eyes, and appeared to reduce his stature and his width of shoulders. With a pair of shabby gloves on his hands, and a book beneath his arms, he had suddenly become a genteel if poor old book-agent, whose appearance excited compa.s.sion.

Well supplied with money, armed with a loaded revolver, fortified by his official badge, and more alert in all his faculties than he had ever felt in all his life, he pa.s.sed down the stairs and out upon the street, under the very nose of the waiting "shadow," into whose face he cast a tired-looking glance, without exciting the slightest suspicion.

Twenty minutes later he had hired a closed automobile, and was being carried toward the Williamsburg Bridge and Long Island. The car selected was of a type renowned for achievements in speed.

It was nearly ten o'clock when he stood at length on the sidewalk opposite 1600 Myrtle Avenue, Woodsite, a modest cottage standing on a corner. It was one of the houses farthest from the center of the town; nevertheless, it had its neighbors all about, if somewhat scattered.

There was no sign of life about the place. The shades were drawn; it bore a look of desertion. Only pausing for a moment, as even a book-agent might, after many repeated rebuffs, Garrison wended his way across the street, proceeded slowly up the concrete walk, ascended the steps, and rang the bell.

There was no result. He rang again, and out of the corner of his eye beheld the curtain pushed a trifle aside, in the window near at hand, where someone looked out from this concealment. For the third time he rang--and at last the door was opened for a distance no more than six inches wide. The face he saw was old man Robinson's.

The chain on the door was securely fastened, otherwise Garrison would have pushed his way inside without further ado. He noted this barely in time to save himself from committing an error.

"Go away!" said old Robinson testily. "No books wanted!"

"I hope you will not refuse a tired old man," said Garrison, in a voice that seemed trembling with weakness. "The books I have to offer are quite remarkable indeed.

"Don't want them. Good-day!" said Robinson. He tried to close the door, but Garrison's foot prevented.

"One of my books is particularly valuable to read to headstrong young women. If you have a daughter--or any young woman in the house----"

"She can't see anyone--I mean there's no such person here!" snapped Robinson. "What's the matter with that door?"

"My other book is of the rarest interest," insisted Garrison. "An account of the breaking of the Butler will--a will drawn up by the most astute and crafty lawyer in America, yet broken because of its flaws.

A book----"

"Whose will was that?" demanded Robinson, his interest suddenly roused.

"Some lawyer, did you say?" He relaxed his pressure on the door and fumbled at the chain.

"The will of Benjamin Butler--the famous Benjamin Butler," Garrison replied. "One of the most remarkable----"

"Come in," commanded old Robinson, who had slipped off the chain. "How much is the book?"

"I am only taking orders to-day," answered Garrison, stepping briskly inside and closing the door with his heel. "If you'll take this copy to the light----"

"Father!" interrupted an angry voice. "Didn't I tell you not to let anyone enter this house? Get out, you old nuisance! Get out with your book?"

Garrison looked down the oak-finished hall and saw Theodore coming angrily toward him.

Alive to the value of the melodramatic, he threw off both his hat and mustache and squared up in Theodore's path.

Young Robinson reeled as if struck a staggering blow.

"You--you----" he gasped.

Old Robinson recovered his asperity with remarkable promptness.

"How dare you come into this house?" he screamed. "You lying----"

"That's enough of that," said Garrison quietly. "I came for Dorothy--whom you dared to carry away."

"You--you--you're mistaken," said Theodore, making a most tremendous effort at calmness, with his face as white as death. "She isn't here."

"Don't lie. Your father has given the facts away," said Garrison. "I want her--and I want her now."

"Look here," said Theodore, rapidly regaining his rage, "if you think you can come to my house like this----" He was making a move as if to slip upstairs--perhaps for a gun.

Garrison pulled his revolver without further parley.

"Stay where you are! Up with your hands! Don't either of you make a move that I don't order, understand? I said I'd come to take my wife away."

"For Heaven's sake, don't shoot!" begged old Robinson. "Don't shoot!"

"You fool--do you think I'd bring her here?" said Theodore, trying to grin, but putting up his hands. "Put away your gun, and act like a man in his senses, or I'll have you pulled for your pains."

"You've done talking enough--and perhaps _I'll_ have just a word to say about pulling, later on," said Garrison. "In the meantime, don't you open your head again, or you'll get yourself into trouble."

He raised his voice and shouted tremendously: