Part 18 (1/2)

”Really,” said Mary Louise despondently, ”it is the strangest thing I ever knew.”

Josie O'Gorman arrived at the hotel at six o'clock in the afternoon, having caught the fast train from Was.h.i.+ngton the evening before. She came in as unconcernedly as if she had lived at the hotel and merely been out to attend a matinee and greeted the Colonel with a bright smile and Mary Louise with a kiss.

”My, but I'm hungry!” were her first words. ”I hope you haven't dined yet?”

”Oh, Josie,” began Mary Louise, on the verge of tears, ”this dreadful----”

”I know, dear; but we must eat. And let's not talk or think of the trouble till our stomachs are in a comfortable condition. Which way is the dining room?”

Neither the Colonel nor Mary had eaten much since Alora's disappearance, but they took Josie in to dinner, realizing it would be impossible to get her to talk seriously or to listen to them until she was quite ready to do so. And during the meal Josie chattered away like a magpie on all sorts of subjects except that which weighed most heavily on their minds, and the little thing was so bright and entertaining that they were encouraged to dine more heartily than they otherwise would have done.

But afterward, when they had adjourned to a suite that had now been given them, and which included a cosy little sitting room, and after the Colonel had been ordered to light his cigar, which always composed his nerves, the O'Gorman girl suddenly turned serious and from the depths of an easy chair, with her hands clasped behind her red head, she said:

”Now to business. Begin at the beginning and tell me all there is to tell.”

”Haven't I written you something about Alora, Josie?” asked Mary Louise.

”Never mind whether you have or haven't. Imagine I've forgotten it. I want every detail of the girl's history.”

So Mary Louise told it, with a few comments from her grandfather. She began with their first meeting with Alora and her eccentric father in Italy, and related not only all the details of their acquaintance but such facts as Alora had confided to her of her mother's death and her subsequent unhappy relations with her father and guardian. Alora had often talked freely to Mary Louise, venting in her presence much bitterness and resentment over her cruel fate--as she deemed it. So, knowing Josie's desire to obtain the most seemingly trifling detail of a case, Mary Louise told the story as connectedly and comprehensively as possible, avoiding all personal comment so as to leave Josie's mind free from prejudice.

During the recital Josie sat very still, with closed eyes, reclining lazily in her chair and refraining from any interruption.

”Now, Colonel,” she said, ”tell me all that Mary Louise has forgotten to mention.”

”She has told you more than I knew myself,” he declared. ”Of course we informed the police of our friend's disappearance and they sent a detective here who went into the affair very carefully. Yet, so far----”

”I know,” said Josie, nodding. ”I called at the police station before I came here, on leaving the train. The detective is Al Howard, and he's a nice fellow but rather stupid. You mustn't expect any results from that source. To be sure, the department might stumble on a clew, but the chances are they wouldn't recognize it, even then.”

”I'm certainly surprised to hear that!” said the Colonel.

”Because you are ignorant of police methods. They mean well, but have so much to handle, in a big city like this, that they exist in a state of perpetual bewilderment.”

”But what are we to do?” pleaded Mary Louise. ”Tell us, Josie!”

”How do _I_ know?” asked the girl, with a smile. ”I'm just Josie O'Gorman, a student detective, who makes as many blunders--alas!--as a full-fledged 'tec.' But I thought I'd be able to help, or I wouldn't have come. I've a personal interest in this case, Mary Louise, because it's your case and I love you. So let's get to work. Have you a photograph of Alora Jones?”

”No,” was the reply.

”Then give me a word picture of her.”

Both Mary Louise and the Colonel tried to do, this, and Josie seemed satisfied.

”Now, then,” she said, rising, ”let's go to her room. I hope it hasn't been disturbed since she left it.”

”The police have taken the key and forbidden anyone to enter the room.”

”Quite proper. But we'll go there, just the same.”

The room was but a few steps away, in the same corridor, and when they arrived there Josie drew a bunch of slender keys from her purse and unlocked the door with no difficulty. Having entered, she turned on the electric lights and cast a curious glance around.

”Let's read Alora's room,” said she, while her companions stood listening. ”To begin with, we see her night-dress nicely folded and her toilet articles arranged in neat order on the dresser. Chambermaid did that, for Alora is not neat. Proving that her stuff was just strewn around and the orderly maid put things straight. Which leads to the supposition that Alora was led away rather suddenly.”