Ransom (16 page)

Out in the kitchen, Maggie was cleaning up. She said the place wasn't fit for pigs. There were tears on her cheeks. She was too nervous to sit down. She was thinking of the tall, nice boy with traces of the baby in his face, the baby she had cared for years ago.

Christobel didn't want to be in the kitchen with Maggie. She sensed that Maggie was anxious, too. She wanted to stay near her father and see if anything developed from the telephone message. Perhaps they would have found Rannie. Perhaps he hadn't been kidnapped after all. Just gone off on some crazy errand. Maybe he had gone out to pawn his watch as he said he was going to do. That would be like Rannie, if he got some wild idea in his head. Dear, blusterous Rannie! Oh, if that would only be it, and he would come back pretty soon, whistling, angry with them for imagining that he was lost, furious when he found he had been mentioned on the radio. But oh, what a relief it would be if he came!

It was just then she heard a car stop in front of the door, and a moment later the bell pealed annoyingly through the house, giving Christobel a shiver of apprehension as she rose from her seat on the stairs and hurried to the door.

B
ut Maggie had heard the bell and came hurrying to open the door. She did not intend to have her other blessed lamb kidnapped. Christobel retreated when she saw Maggie and stood on the stair landing wide-eyed, her hand upon her heart.

It was a lady at the door this time, and suddenly Christobel knew, even before she saw her, who it must be. She was not surprised when she saw the slight altercation at the door end by Maggie being swept aside peremptorily.

“I am an intimate friend of the family, my good woman!” said a hard, imperious voice that yet resembled the fawning voice that Christobel knew. And Maggie, still holding the door open because she did not want to admit that she was conquered and shut the unwelcome guest inside, gave one protesting glance upward to where her nursling stood, just in the act of flight. Maggie was not quite sure, but she didn't like this woman as an intimate for her master's family. Her lips were too red and her perfume too subtle.

For an instant Christobel remained poised on the landing for flight. Then she heard her father return from the garage and enter the telephone booth in the back hall. At any moment he might come out and be the prey of this interloper. Christobel thought she could not bear to have this added to the burden of the evening. Very likely this persistent woman would somehow persuade her father that he must either allow her to stay here and share in their anxiety and distress, or else that she, Christobel, must go home with the woman and be protected. The thought of either was horrible to the girl. It must not be. She did not know how she was going to prevent it, but some way she must.

So she turned quietly, adjusting an untried dignity, and went swiftly downstairs, an odd thought flitting through her mind. Afterward, she wondered why it had come. The thought was a wish that Phil Harper would come back. A feeling that somehow he would sense the need and find a way to get this woman courteously out of the house. But she put it swiftly by, knowing that this was an emergency she must meet herself if it was to be met.

It was Maggie who spoke, raising an angry, frustrated face and flashing blue eyes. “This wumman was wantin' ta see yer father, Miss Chrissie, an' I was tellin' her he was very much occypied, an' that ye was wore out with the trubble and excitement.”

Christobel smiled indulgently.

“It's all right, Maggie. Mrs. Romayne didn't understand. Never mind, I will speak to her for just a moment. Good evening, Mrs. Romayne. Will you just step in here where we shall be free from interruption.”

Christobel swept the light on again in the small reception room, drew Mrs. Romayne within, and pulled the curtains after her. Now, if her father came back, he would not see who was there.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Romayne,” said the girl, suddenly feeling quite grown up and able to deal with this person, knowing that the situation was a desperate one and she must somehow conquer it or she might have it to deal with it the rest of her life. “You have been very kind to call of course, and we appreciate all your solicitation. But I'm sure you will understand that tonight my father is too deeply engaged to see you or anyone. In fact, we are both too much worried and disturbed to talk.”

“Oh, but my dear, I certainly do understand all that!” cooed the lady. “I've not come here to talk or to ask questions, that is, any more than necessary. I've come here to save you from others. I've made arrangements just to stay indefinitely and look after the house and the servants for you, and answer all callers and questions. I'd even be willing to see reporters and detectives for you. Poor dear Rannie!” She got out her delicately bordered handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes with an effective gesture.

“That is kind,” said Christobel, trying not to have her voice sound like an icicle, “but it is not necessary. The household is running perfectly smoothly and it needs no help. As for reporters and detectives, we do not intend to admit them, and they will be looked after by the police. I do hope you will understand when I tell you that the very best way you can help us now is by staying away. I'm sorry if that sounds rude, Mrs. Romayne, but it really is the truth. In fact, I heard the officer tell my father it would be best for us not to admit anyone just now, even very close friends, until he has the case a little better in hand. You know, it may be possible that my brother just took it into his head to go somewhere for the evening. He may come home pretty soon—” She said this with a confidence she was far from feeling and tried to summon a brave smile.

“Oh,” said the lady eagerly, with ill-veiled curiosity in her tones, “have you any reason to expect any such thing? Was there any reason for his having gone off like that? He hadn't had a quarrel with either of you, had he?”

Christobel laughed with a nervous little ripple that scarcely hid her indignation and weariness.

“Oh, no indeed!” she answered. “Of course not. What would we quarrel about? Rannie never quarreled. We were so happy together.” And suddenly her lip quivered and her eyes brimmed over, to her great dismay and annoyance. Then she drew her head up and smiled bravely into the lady's face again, saying with dignity, “We are quite sure this will all clear up very soon, Mrs. Romayne, and Rannie will be back again safely, but Father thought it wise these days when so many strange things are happening to have him paged on the radio. Now, would you mind going? The officers may be back at any time, and Father prefers there be no one present except the family when they come in to consult with him.”

“Oh, but my dear,” protested the lady, wafting the sickish perfume on her frail handkerchief into the girl's reluctant nostrils, “I couldn't think of going away and leaving you. I'll go upstairs and stay with you till news comes and I'm sure you are all right. Or, if you should prefer, suppose you come with me. A young girl should not stay alone where there are policemen—”

“I am not alone,” said Christobel. “I have a trusted servant with me, and I certainly do not want anyone with me and will not be willing to go away from here at present. If I should need your help I will call you up and let you know.” She was still struggling to be courteous.

“Well, then, let us sit down a little while and talk,” said the visitor, with a subtle cunning in her voice, yielding for the time to be inevitable. “I want to know all about it. What time did your brother go? When did you last see him? What were the circumstances? Have you the least idea where he may be? Does your father think he may have gone back to school? Who were his young friends in the city? He might be off at a dance, you know.”

The smooth voice rattled off the questions, and they fell like sharp pebbles against the sister's consciousness as she stood watching this impertinent, beautiful woman and wondering what other way she might try to get rid of her. Then she became aware that Mrs. Romayne had paused for a reply, and she turned bright determined eyes upon her guest.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Romayne, I can't answer your questions at present. The officer in charge has asked us to say nothing to anybody.”

“Not even a friend of the family?” said the purring voice with a velvet scratch to its tones.

“Not to anyone.”

“But that is ridiculous!” said the lady indignantly. “My dear, I shall have to insist on seeing your father!” And she made as if to pass the girl and go in search of him.

Christobel had been aware of soft noises in the hall, feet stirring on the thick rug and hushed voices. She was frantic to get rid of this woman, yet she must send her out if something was going on in the hall. Perhaps her father was there! What should she do?

Then, just as she had opened her lips to protest, someone pushed the heavy curtain back, and there stood Phil Harper, tall, grave, courteous, peremptory.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Christobel.” He spoke like one vested with authority. “You're wanted in the other room at once, please, and if you will kindly introduce me to this lady, I will escort her to her car. I presume that is hers outside?” He lifted questioning eyes to the lady's and summoned a grave smile. “Sorry to interrupt,” he added apologetically as Christobel murmured an introduction. “But, you see, we are all under orders just now.” He motioned the girl to go and held out his arm to escort the lady with all the grace a man of the world might have shown.

Mrs. Romayne, never quite impervious to the charms of a good-looking young man, submitted herself to be led away quite willingly, tossing back a sweet caressing farewell to Christobel, calculated to impress the young man.

Christobel slipped quickly away to the library, tears of swift relief filling her eyes. It seemed to be true that Mrs. Romayne was really gone before her father appeared on the scene. It was wonderful that the young man had seemed to understand and had managed it all so courteously without offending the lady. How much had heard her say, she wondered?

There were two officers in the library waiting for her father. They arose as she came in. The chief asked her if she was Miss Kershaw.

“We want to ask you a few questions about the tramp your father says you saw lurking around the street and watching the house.”

Christobel sat down with wildly beating heart and forgot everything but the tragedy that had befallen the home, as she searched her mind for the exact data: just what time it was when she had seen the man, whether he might have been lurking in the shadow of the street when her brother drove away to put the car in the garage. And then, almost casually, with nevertheless a keen searching look, the chief asked her if there had been any unpleasantness in the family, any reason to suppose her brother might have gone away of his own accord, or had he mentioned any errand that might have taken him away?

“Oh, no,” said Christobel earnestly. “He was intending to come right to dinner. He said he was hungry. And—why, we never quarreled!” There was indignation in her tone. How terrible it was to have outsiders, strangers, prying into their family affairs, having a right to think all sorts of terrible things about them. A sudden and oppressive sense of what this thing was going to mean to them in the way of publicity came over her.

“Why, we were all looking forward to the evening with Father. You know we have been away at school and have had little opportunity to see him. And besides, there was Rannie's hat in the garage, all crushed, as if somebody had stepped on it.”

The officer relaxed his narrow watch of her face, evidently convinced, and just then, to her relief, she heard footsteps coming to the door. But after her father and Phil Harper came into the room she remembered how Rannie had spoken of pawning his watch to pay his school debts. Could it be possible that he had gone to pawn his watch? But then, how would his hat be on the floor of the garage? Of course he might have driven in, somehow dropped his hat, perhaps got out of the car, and then, remembering his watch, he might have backed out of the garage again, not waiting to pick up his hat. Rannie was like that. He wouldn't mind whether he had his hat on or not.

But if that was what he had done, why wouldn't he come back home again for supper? He surely wouldn't have driven back to school without Father's permission.

Christobel decided that she must tell her father about Rannie's debt and the possibility that he might have gone somewhere to pawn his watch.

The men were talking about a car that had been seen backing out of the driveway behind the house. An officer on his beat had recognized it as the Kershaw car. He had not noticed the license number. Word had gone out to watch for such a car on all highways. Several cars of the same make had been stopped and investigated, but they all had wrong license numbers. By this time, of course, there had been ample time for license plates to be changed.

Even while they were talking the telephone rang, and there came reports of cars found here and there, but no trace of identification with the Kershaw car.

As the midnight hour drew on, Christobel suddenly felt as if the load on her heart was almost too heavy to bear. Her father happened to look at her white anxious face just then and noted the strained tenseness of her slender body, the whiteness of her lips and cheeks, the feverish anxiety, and his heart smote him. He drew her aside gently.

“Chrissie dear,” he said, “you should go to bed at once. You will be sick. There is no need for you to sit up longer. You can't do anything now. Get Maggie to go up with you and get some sleep. Don't worry about your brother. Doubtless there is some explanation to this strange disappearance. We shall likely discover it by morning. I've just been telephoning his school. I thought somehow he might have got it into his head to go back there. They are to let us know at once if he arrives.”

“Well, there is something perhaps you ought to know, Father,” said Christobel anxiously, “but I didn't tell it before everybody.”