Part 40 (1/2)

LOVERS AND A LETTER

At noon that day I telephoned to Margery.

”Come up,” I said, ”and bring the keys to the Monmouth Avenue house. I have some things to tell you, and--some things to ask you.”

I met her at the station with Lady Gray and the trap. My plans for that afternoon were comprehensive; they included what I hoped to be the solution of the Aunt Jane mystery; also, they included a little drive through the park, and a--well, I shall tell about that, all I am going to tell, at the proper time.

To play propriety, Edith met us at the house. It was still closed, and even in the short time that had elapsed it smelled close and musty.

At the door into the drawing-room I stopped them.

”Now, this is going to be a sort of game,” I explained. ”It's a sort of b.u.t.ton, b.u.t.ton, who's got the b.u.t.ton, without the b.u.t.ton. We are looking for a drawer, receptacle or closet, which shall contain, bunched together, and without regard to whether they should be there or not, a small revolver, two military brushes and a clothes brush, two or three soft bosomed s.h.i.+rts, perhaps a half-dozen collars, and a suit of underwear. Also a small flat package about eight inches long and three wide.”

”What in the world are you talking about?” Edith asked.

”I am not talking, I am theorizing,” I explained. ”I have a theory, and according to it the things should be here. If they are not, it is my misfortune, not my fault.”

I think Margery caught my idea at once, and as Edith was ready for anything, we commenced the search. Edith took the top floor, being accustomed, she said, to finding unexpected things in the servants'

quarters; Margery took the lower floor, and for certain reasons I took the second.

For ten minutes there was no result. At the end of that time I had finished two rooms, and commenced on the blue boudoir. And here, on the top shelf of a three-cornered Empire cupboard, with gla.s.s doors and spindle legs, I found what I was looking for. Every article was there. I stuffed a small package into my pocket, and called the two girls.

”The lost is found,” I stated calmly, when we were all together in the library.

”When did you lose anything?” Edith demanded. ”Do you mean to say, Jack Knox, that you brought us here to help you find a suit of gaudy pajamas and a pair of military brushes?”

”I brought you here to find Aunt Jane,” I said soberly, taking a letter and the flat package out of my pocket. ”You see, my theory worked out.

_Here_ is Aunt Jane, and _there_ is the money from the Russia leather bag.”

I laid the packet in Margery's lap, and without ceremony opened the letter. It began:

”MY DEAREST NIECE:

”I am writing to you, because I can not think what to say to Sister Let.i.tia. I am running away! I--am--running--away! My dear, it scares me even to write it, all alone in this empty house. I have had a cup of tea out of one of your lovely cups, and a nap on your pretty couch, and just as soon as it is dark I am going to take the train for Boston. When you get this, I will be on the ocean, the ocean, my dear, that I have read about, and dreamed about, and never seen.

”I am going to realize a dream of forty years--more than twice as long as you have lived. Your dear mother saw the continent before she died, but the things I have wanted have always been denied me. I have been of those that have eyes to see and see not. So--I have run away. I am going to London and Paris, and even to Italy, if the money your father gave me for the pearls will hold out. For a year now I have been getting steams.h.i.+p circulars, and I have taken a little French through a correspondence school. That was why I always made you sing French songs, dearie: I wanted to learn the accent. I think I should do very well if I could only sing my French instead of speaking it.

”I am afraid that Sister Let.i.tia discovered that I had taken some of the pearls. But--half of them were mine, from our mother, and although I had wanted a pearl ring all my life, I have never had one. I am going to buy me a hat, instead of a bonnet, and clothes, and pretty things underneath, and a switch; Margery, I have wanted a switch for thirty years.