Читать книгу The Gordon Elopement - Carolyn Wells - Страница 6

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Stewart Havens, of Belknap, Harrington & Havens, sat in his office in Pine Street wondering if he were to get any vacation during the summer. To him came Roger Thompson, vice-president of the Frontier Paper Company, who explained that his company had become possessed of a great amount of land in the spruce country of Maine.

“I am very glad,” said Stewart; “shall you make a great deal of money out of it?”

“That’s just what I want to know,” replied Mr. Thompson. “You see, there are some people besides ourselves who have a claim on the property, and that is why I’ve come to tell you about it.”

“Oh!” said Stewart; “a case for us?”

“Well, it’s a case for the firm, if you like, but I’d rather you’d handle it alone, if it’s all the same to you. You see, it is the sort of deal that we don’t want too many people to know about. It is one which is a little bit out of the ordinary, and if we can keep it all in one man’s hand, then—Well, you see, we don’t want too many people mixed up in the case—that’s all.”

“Then I understand,” said Stewart, “that you want me to find out whether you are really possessed of the land or not?”

“Well, there are two or three people who know about it. One of them is a chap named Hurd, who’s running a summer hotel up in Maine—right in the middle of our spruce lands. Another is the attorney for the Foxboro, Umbagog and Pacific Railroad—which runs through the property—and still another is a young lawyer named Gordon, who lives over in Jersey somewhere.”

“Then you want me to see all these people?”

“Oh, I don’t know that it is necessary to see all of them, but we’ll have to see one or two of them, anyway.”

After further discussion of the subject, it was arranged that Stewart should take up the case for the Frontier Paper Company, and that he should get an interview as soon as possible with the New Jersey lawyer.

And that’s how it happened that Stewart Havens found himself on Robert Gordon’s doorstep the day after the elopement.

“Is Mr. Gordon at home?” he asked of the maid.

“No, sir; but Mr. Carpenter is in.”

“Then I will see him,” said Stewart.

Shown into the library, Stewart Havens saw a young woman pouring alcohol into a chafing-dish lamp.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, looking up at him. Meanwhile she continued to pour the alcohol from the flask some time after the lamp had overflowed.

“Let me take it,” said Stewart.

“Oh, thank you, if you only would,” she said, resigning the dripping affair to him; “these ridiculous wickless gauze-wire things always act like that. I’m so glad you came just as you did.”

“So am I. Am I speaking to Mrs. Gordon?”

“Oh, no. I’m not Mrs. Gordon. I’m Mrs. Carpenter—Mrs. Jack Carpenter.”

“I am Stewart Havens, and I want to see Mr. Robert Gordon on business.”

“Oh, well, he isn’t at home. We’re living here now, Jack and I—that is, Mr. Carpenter; we’re staying here, you know.”

“Ah!” said Stewart, bowing gravely.

“But if you’d like to see my husband—”

“Not at all. I merely wanted to see Mr. Gordon on a business matter. Mayn’t I help you with that lamp again?”

“Thanks, so much—if you’ll light it, please.”

Stewart lighted the lamp and adjusted it under the chafing-dish.

“I hope it will boil soon,” said Mrs. Carpenter, lifting the lid and showing, to Stewart’s surprise, a chafing-dish filled with clear water.

“You see,” she explained, “I’m making afternoon tea, and I can’t find Mrs. Gordon’s tea-kettle—though I suppose she must have one somewhere, but I’ve found these beautiful cups in the cabinet—indeed, that’s what made me think of having tea.”

“They are great,” said Stewart, lifting the Spode cups with the gentle touch of the connoisseur.

“Yes. I dare say they’re heirlooms,” said Mrs. Carpenter, moving them about carelessly. “I hope you’ll stay and drink tea from them with us.”

“Thank you,” said Stewart.

“I say, Katherine,” said Jack Carpenter, appearing from the dining-room with a knife and a lemon, “are these the things you said you wanted to make tea with?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Katherine. “Jack, this is Mr. Havens, who has come down from New York to see Mr. Gordon, and he’s staying to tea with us.”

“That’s good,” said Jack cordially. “We’re host and hostess here at present.”

“And Mr. Gordon is away?” asked Stewart.

“Yes, he’s out of town,” said Jack confidently. “He went away yesterday.”

“And when will he return?”

“Next week, I think. Probably Tuesday?” looking inquiringly at Mrs. Carpenter.

“Yes, Tuesday or Wednesday,” said Katherine airily. “I doubt if they can get back before Wednesday.”

“Ah, then you can give me his address,” said Stewart. “I am very glad. I am most anxious to have it.”

“Ah, yes, certainly,” said Jack, fumbling in his pocket. “Where could I have put that address?”

“Why, Jack Carpenter!” said his wife, “what are you talking about? You haven’t the faintest idea where they are, and you know it!”

“No more I haven’t,” said Carpenter, laughing frankly. “You see, it was this way. We came here to visit my cousin, Mrs. Gordon. We arrived this morning and found no one at home, so we’ve taken possession. We don’t know where they are, but we’re very comfortable, and I think we’ll stay till they get home. I hope they’ll come soon, for they’re so anxious to see us. They’re the most hospitable people—always having company.”

“Strange, then,” said Stewart, “that they should have gone away just as you came, and it’s a bit mysterious, too, that Russell doesn’t know where Gordon is.”

“It’s very mysterious,” broke in Mrs. Carpenter. “Even the maids don’t know where they are.”

“It is queer,” admitted Stewart. “I telephoned to Mr. Gordon’s office this morning, and his partner, Mr. Russell, said that he had not come in yet, and when he didn’t come before ten o’clock he usually didn’t come for the day. That’s the reason I came over here. But Mr. Russell didn’t say anything about Mr. Gordon’s having gone away for any length of time.”

“Well, then, it must be that they’re coming back soon,” said Mrs. Carpenter. “Do you suppose, Jack, that they got our telegram before they left?”

“Sure,” said Jack; “it was open on the library table when we came in.”

“That couldn’t have been the reason for their going,” said Mrs. Jack, dimpling as she passed the tea-cups.

“Hardly,” said Stewart, looking at Mrs. Carpenter, quite convinced that no one could be induced to leave home knowing that such a fascinating young woman was about to arrive.

“But the queerest thing to me,” went on Mrs. Jack, “is that Mrs. Gordon took all her best clothes in her trunk—Nora said so—and they went away in the middle of the night and never said a word to any one.”

“Then how did Nora know?” asked Jack.

“Why, when she came down this morning they were gone, and all Mrs. Gordon’s jewelry has gone, and the trunks—and everything.”

“Didn’t Nora suspect burglars?” asked Stewart.

“Oh, burglars don’t take things off in trunks,” said Mrs. Jack.

“They’re not apt to steal a big man like Robert Gordon, either!” said Jack.

“No,” said Stewart, “but it is strange, and I must find Gordon.”

“Well, I can’t help you,” said Jack Carpenter cheerfully. “I wish I could.”

“I wish so too,” said Stewart, “for it’s really an important matter, and it is as much in Gordon’s interest as in my own that I wish to find him.”

“I hope you’ll find him,” said Carpenter, “but I confess that I think the whole business is queer.”

“Queer?” said Katherine. “It’s more than queer. It’s a perfect mystery.”