Читать книгу The Valdmere Mystery or The Atomic Ray - Milo Milton Oblinger - Страница 6

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The boys could scarcely believe their ears. The sudden revelation of the mysterious young lady in the front seat that she was the daughter of the famous Professor Valdmere and that he, her father, had unexpectedly disappeared, had so dazed and startled both of them that, for a time, neither seemed capable of speech. They sat with lips pursed and eyes slightly staring as she continued:

“I can’t describe the feeling, but I awoke this morning sensing that something was wrong. I hadn’t slept well either. Usually I rise at seven, but it was just five o’clock by my watch when I slipped out of bed and began to dress. Even then I was trembling, somehow vaguely troubled. Thoughts about Dad were uppermost in my mind. Something kept telling me that he was in some sort of difficulty and wanted to see me. It was a dreadful obsession, increasing with each passing moment. I couldn’t get out into the hall quickly enough and make my way to his room. Of course, he wasn’t there—I was aware of that even before I went in, so strong was that feeling.”

“You must have been terribly alarmed,” Ted cut in.

“I was,” nodded the girl, “especially when I found that he wasn’t there and that his bed hadn’t been disturbed at all. It is not an uncommon occurrence for Dad to work all night, so I tried to make myself believe that he was in his laboratory or shop somewhere.”

She paused, her breath catching. The car continued to thunder along the country road. Ted leaned forward still farther to catch her next words.

“But he was at neither place. They were just changing guards as I made my way back toward the house and asked them if they knew where my father was. But they told me they hadn’t seen him. Then I went to the office, that strange obsession still upon me. The minute I opened the door, I could see that my worst fears were not without foundation. A chair had been overturned and father’s steel safe, built in the wall, had been blown open. I became suddenly so weak and sick that I had to sit down. Someone had taken father’s precious papers and had probably murdered him. For a time, I was so desperate that I just sat there not knowing what to do.”

“I’m not sure how long I was there—perhaps ten or fifteen minutes. I became stronger after a time and got up and walked over to the wall safe and looked inside. Papers were strewn all over the floor and, almost automatically, I stooped and commenced to pick them up. The last thing I found was that scrap of paper.”

Again Miss Valdmere paused, putting one hand to her head.

“Why didn’t you go to the guards just as soon as you found the paper and tell them you believed that robbery and violence had taken place and ask them to help you?”

“I thought of that, but I didn’t trust the guards. The way father has our place guarded, there is no possible chance of anyone entering or leaving without the knowledge of the sentries. But someone did enter and leave and it must have been with the guard’s connivance or, at least, with their knowledge. Do you blame me for not trusting them?”

Ted scratched his head. “I don’t know as I blame you. But didn’t you have any friends you could have telephoned?”

She shook her head. “It may seem strange to you, but I don’t know a soul in Brownsville. And, as I told you before, I arrived here for the first time just a few days ago. Originally we lived in Cincinnati, but Dad decided that he could pursue his investigations more secretly in a remote, out-of-the-way place like this. All the buildings on our estate were completed only last fall and father has resided here only a short time himself. I’ve been attending school in the East. The summer vacation has just commenced. So you can readily see that I did not know where to turn or what to do.”

“And because the note said Langdon Prairie, you suspected that your father had been taken there.”

“Yes,” admitted Miss Valdmere, “I thought it might be possible.”

Ted’s thoughts were leaping hither and yon, a hundred conjectures in his mind. However, one thing stood out very clearly—the greatest puzzle of all: How did Professor Valdmere know that his assailants intended to take him to Langdon Prairie? He voiced the thought.

“He couldn’t read their minds, you know,” Ted concluded.

Miss Valdmere looked at Ted, her expression one of deep concern.

“It does seem queer, doesn’t it? But you may depend upon it, Langdon Prairie has something to do with Dad’s disappearance. Either he surmised he would be taken there or—or he overheard one of his assailants say so.”

Ted doubted if her last conjecture were correct, and also, flashing across his mind, had come the suspicion that the note which the girl still held in her hand might not be Professor Valdmere’s at all.

“Don’t you suppose, Miss Valdmere, that someone besides your father might have written that note in an effort to confuse you? Can you positively identify the hand writing?”

The young lady’s deep, blue eyes shadowed.

“No, not positively. But this looks like Father’s writing if it had been done hurriedly. You can see for yourself,” she held it up where it fluttered in the wind, “that it is almost a hopeless scrawl. If Father wrote it, he was evidently in a desperate hurry or it might have been written under very unusual circumstances.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Ted.

“Father might have been tied to something and might not have had the full use of his arms.”

“But wouldn’t the men who tied him there have been very apt to see him do it?”

“Unless they were occupied with other matters. You see, the office safe was blown open and rifled and they might have been so busily occupied that my father had his opportunity.”

“Town ahead,” suddenly sang out Philo’s voice. “Must be Langdon Prairie.”

A short time later they slowed down as they entered the outskirts of the village. They passed several other automobiles, then a farmer driving a team of horses hitched to a lumber wagon and, presently came to a single business street cut straight as a die from one end of the town to the other. Philo drove in to the curb and shut off the motor. The three young people looked at each other inquiringly.

“I don’t know just exactly what to do first,” Miss Valdmere turned to Ted. “I think, perhaps, it would be advisable not to notify the police just yet. What do you think, Mr.—er——” she paused flushing.

“My name is Winters—Ted Winters, and my friend’s is Philo Birch,” Ted assisted her. “Yes, Miss Valdmere, I quite agree with you that there would be nothing gained by calling in the assistance of the local police. You can describe your father and ask if a person answering that description has been seen here.”

Philo objected. “I don’t agree with you. I think we ought to notify the police. They’re better acquainted here than we are and will have better means of finding out if your dad has been here.”

Thinking it over, Ted was about to assent, when a person passing along the street suddenly drew his attention. He popped up, seizing Philo’s shoulders in a grip that must have hurt.

“Look!” he whispered hoarsely. “Look, Philo! One of the men that slept in our room last night.”

“Cra—cracky!” stammered Philo. “Wha-what do you suppose he’s doing here? Why, Ted,” he stared almost incredulously, “what are you doing?”

Ted leaped out of the car, his face determinedly set, his eyes shining.

“Listen,” he commanded. “I’ll meet you here a little later. Philo, will you and Miss Valdmere make inquiries in the meantime? I’m going to follow him. His presence here looks suspicious. It may have something to do with Professor Valdmere’s disappearance.”

Turning quickly, he leaped to the curb, hurried along for a few hundred feet, then settled down to a more sedate pace about fifty feet behind the man under suspicion.