Chapter XIII: Mercedes’ Flight From Home

The meeting between the detective and Reginald Danton took place shortly before dark on the evening of the last Sunday in June and, therefore, at about six o’clock.

After an hour passed together, during which Danton could give Nick but little more in the way of information than that which has already been recorded, the young man took his departure and the detective was left alone to think over the incidents of the afternoon.

He had agreed with young Danton that he would go out to the Fells early the following day and there hold an interview with the maid, and after looking over the ground more thoroughly, would determine if there really existed any reason why he should search for the temporary hiding-place of Mercedes Danton.

“You see,” he said, in conclusion, in talking with his friend, “it is one thing if she has been induced to leave home through any undue influence, and it is another if she has simply gone away of her own free will. But I agree with you, Danton, for from what I know of your sister, I do not think she would do such a thing, when there is, or appears to be, no reason for her action.”

When, however, Danton had taken his departure, and the detective was seated alone in his room, he went slowly over the ground that had already been covered, much more deliberately than he had done while the young millionaire was with him.

His first remark, too, made to himself in the privacy of his own den, demonstrated the general trend of his conjectures.

“Mercedes Danton never left her home in that manner of her own free will,” he said aloud. “I am as positive of that point as if she had told me so herself. Now, let me see what I already know about the circumstances surrounding her, in her home, which might lead to some clue for the reasons of her going. I’ll go back first to the killing of Orizaba.”

“Ramon Orizaba was reputed to be a distant relative. He was killed by Paul Rogers, Reginald Danton’s valet. Letters found among the effects of Orizaba showed that he had been pursued by a Nemesis for upward of ten years, but they do not demonstrate clearly why. Rogers had been in the employ of Danton for about two years--something more, I believe. I found the whole family rather reticent about both Orizaba and Rogers, and while at the time I attributed that reticence to mere family pride, it now appears that there might have been another reason for it.

“After the murder Rogers left a letter for Danton in which he confessed the murder, told how he did it, refused to tell why he did it--and then he disappeared. Since that time not a trace of Rogers has been discovered. He disappeared off the face of the earth almost as completely as if he had gone to the edge of it and jumped off.

“Next: When young Danton was describing to me the death of Orizaba, he referred, in an abstract way, to some pretentions to the hand of Mercedes which Orizaba had made. That was a matter which I had no occasion to inquire into at the time, and now, of course, it is too late to do so. Danton would resent it; Mercedes would resent it; their mother would resent it--and, in fact, at the present moment at least, I can think of no good excuse for doing so.

“Next: If I am any reader of character at all, I must concede that Mercedes and her brother appeared to love each other with a fondness that is unusual, and it was certainly sincere on both sides. Now it is absurd to suppose that the quarrel which took place between the brother and sister had anything whatever to do with the fact of her leaving home, it was merely an incident, and----

“Next: There is only one feature of the case that has come under my observation or knowledge which is at all significant, and that is that Mercedes should cry out in alarm upon seeing her brother on the street, should retreat back into her carriage and drive hastily away, and that her coachman should strike him.

“Now: I do not believe that Mercedes Danton would dodge any living person on earth--I think she is made of the stuff that would dare to face anybody or anything at any time or place. In other words, if ever I saw a young woman upon whose character was stamped every indication of courage, Mercedes Danton was that woman. Again: If Mercedes had left home willingly and taken all that baggage with her, she would not have remained in the city of New York at this time of the year, and hence she would not have been where her brother could have encountered her, and if such an encounter really took place, Mercedes would not seek to avoid it, and, least of all, would she have instructed her driver to strike her brother with his whip.

“Ergo: The woman in the cab was not Mercedes Danton. Reginald, for some reason, believed her to be his sister, and for some reason also, the woman, whoever she was, considered it imperative that she should avoid an interview with Reginald.

“Now, there is not a circumstance connected with this whole affair which should induce me to investigate it, if I regard it purely from a professional standpoint; but, on the other hand, if I regard it from a personal standpoint, considering myself the friend of Reginald--or shall I confess it to myself?--considering myself as solicitous only for the welfare of Mercedes herself, there is every reason why I should at least satisfy myself that all is well--or, rather, that nothing is wrong.”

Nick Carter had just arrived at this decision when he was told that a client awaited him in the reception-room, and he descended quickly, to find there a woman, who rose from her chair and bowed respectfully to him when he entered the room.

“I do not know if you will remember me, Mr. Carter,” she said, coming at once to the point, “and I hardly know, sir, how to explain the reason for my coming here at all. I fear that you will consider it a great liberty for me to take not only with your time, but with the affairs of my mistress.”

“I remember you very well,” said Nick, “although I never heard your name. You are a maid of Miss Mercedes Danton. Concerning your coming here, make your mind easy at once, for I already know why you are here, and I am glad you have come. I should have gone out to the Fells in the morning to talk with you.”

“Did I understand you to say that you know why I have come, sir?” she inquired, evidently greatly surprised.

“Yes. Mr. Reginald Danton has told me that his sister left home a week ago, rather mysteriously. Now, if you please, I will ask you some questions, and I would rather you would confine what you have to tell to me, to the replies to those questions. If, after we have finished, there should be other things which you would like to touch upon, do so. First, then, suppose you tell me your name.”

“Sarah Kearney, sir.”

“How long have you been in the employ of Miss Danton?”

“Ten years. I have served her since she was a little girl, nine years old.”

“Good. And you were quite deeply in her confidence, were you not?”

“She told me almost everything, sir--until quite lately.”

“Do you mean that she has partly withdrawn her confidence of late?”

“Yes, sir. Partly.”

“Since when?”

“Since just before the mur--the death of Mr. Orizaba.”

“You think her manner altered toward you, about that time, or just before his death?”

“No, sir, I cannot say that her manner altered; only I am certain that there was some sorrow or trouble on her mind which she did not tell to me.”

“I see. And before that, or rather up to that time, she had been in the habit of confiding her troubles to you?”

“Always, sir.”

“Now let us take a back step for a moment: Tell me just why you came to see me to-night.”

“Why, sir, you have already said that you know.”

“I know the reason for your wanting assistance, but I do not know why you selected me to render that assistance. For example, if this occasion had arisen a month ago, you would not have come here to me about it, would you?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because I did not know you then, sir.”

“Neither did you know me now. Had you never heard the name of Nick Carter before the time of the death of Orizaba?”

“Oh, yes, indeed!”

“Well, then there is some reason other than you have stated, why you have come here. Now see if you can tell me what it is.”

“Only what Miss Mercedes herself said to me.”

“Ah! Well, what was that?”

“Why, only a few days before she went away she told me----”

“Tell me her exact words if you can.”

“‘Sarah,’ she said, ‘if the time should ever come when anything should happen to me which you cannot explain, go to Mr. Carter and ask him to help you.’ That was all she said, sir. I asked her why she said such things, and she only smiled, and replied that she knew you would be her friend if she should need one.”

“Very good,” replied Nick. “Now come down for the present to the day she went away. How did it happen that you were not present at the time she packed her trunks?”

“She sent me away to the city, early in the day, sir, on an errand which took me all the day. I did not get back until just before dark. She had already entered her carriage to drive to the station.”

“And the trunks had already gone, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that your return surprised her? That she expected to be gone before your return?”

“Yes, sir. I was impressed by that idea.”

“And that she sent you on that fruitless errand for the explicit purpose of getting you out of the house while she was making her preparations for leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Was the other maid in the carriage with her when you arrived at the house at the moment of her departure?”

“Yes.”

“What is her name?”

“Isabel Benton.”

“Rather a high-sounding name for a maid, eh? We will return to her presently. I shall want to know more about her.”

“Well, sir, it won’t be much. Nobody could tell anything about her. She was a puzzle.”

“Indeed? I like puzzles--of that sort. Now let us return to your mistress. How did she appear when you saw her in the carriage? Was she pale?”

“I could not say, sir. Her veil was drawn tightly over her face so that I could not see her features.”

“Yet you are certain that it was your mistress?”

“Why, of course, sir.”

“But why, of course?”

“Just that it was her. I saw the carriage--the door was already closed and the coachman was on the point of starting the horses when I came up the walk. There was a small trunk on the box with the coachman, and I suspected that Miss Mercedes was going away, so I called to him to wait and ran forward before they started.”

“Good. Did she seem annoyed because you delayed them?”

“She seemed in a hurry, sir. In fact, she said that she was in a hurry.”

“Tell me what she said to you.”

“‘Sarah,’ she said, ‘I am in great haste. Tell my brother that I will write to him. I will also write to you.’”

“‘Will you not send for me to come to you?’ I asked her. ‘It will be the first time you have been without me in ten years,’ I urged; and she replied: ‘Perhaps.’ That was all. She was gone before I had a chance to say anything more.”

“Did you recognize her voice.”

“Of course.”

“Was she not coughing or laughing, or did she not hold her handkerchief over her mouth and nostrils while she was speaking to you?”

“Goodness, sir, how could you know that? Yes, sir, just before she spoke to me she put her handkerchief under her veil and----”

“And talked through it when she spoke to you. Very good, Sarah, I am beginning to think that your mistress had already gone when--but we won’t anticipate.”