CHAPTER 3

At luncheon I questioned Lavender vigorously, but he had little information to impart. He ate in silence for the greater part of the meal and afterward smoked several thoughtful cigarettes.

“I’ve told you practically all I know about the case, Gilly,” was all he said in direct reply to my questions. “And what I know, I know chiefly because it must be so. Of actual evidence I have very little, but there certainly have been many significant indications.”

“And now we go back to Miss Minor and her troubles?”

“Exactly! You’ve no objections to going back to Miss Minor, surely?”

I laughed. “None in the world. I like her very much. But what did you say in your note to Morley, Lavender?”

“Just this: Morley, open safe at earliest opportunity. It contains the solution of two mysteries. See morning papers. Now will you call a taxi?”

On that we fared forth to attack the problem we, or at any rate Lavender, had been employed to solve. As we drove north across the Loop in a swirling ocean of traffic my mind became occupied with thoughts of the charming young person we were going to see, and I looked forward with pleasure to our second meeting. Lavender, whatever his thoughts were, smoked many cigarettes and drummed impatiently with his fingers on the narrow window ledge. When he had finished with one cigarette, he lighted another from the glowing tip of the old one and resumed his drumming. I supposed him to be in deep thought.

The progress of the taxi was slow, for the press was bewildering. A mounted policeman, dancing his horse in the maelstrom, recognized Lavender and gave him a nod of greeting. The line of automobiles had stopped for perhaps the twelfth time. The officer’s greeting called my friend’s wandering attention back to his surroundings, and suddenly he was sitting straight up and looking at a shop window within line of his vision. It was a barber shop, as it happened, and as vastly uninteresting as most barber shops, as far as I could see. But Lavender had seen more than the shop.

“See the placard, Gilly,” he nodded. “The ‘Tinfoil Revue’ again. We can’t dodge it, it seems. The woman in the picture, if I’m not mistaken, is the very person we were discussing. No, not Miss Minor. I mean Miss Sidney Kane.”

I looked and saw that he was right. Her name appeared below the portrait in letters of some size.

“An atrocious portrait, too, I should imagine,” he continued. “Do you know, Gilly, on second thought I think I shall be altruistic this afternoon. You shall go alone to Miss Minor, pay our respects, and listen to anything she may have to tell us. I will inform you what further you are to ascertain. As for myself, I shall—this is Wednesday, isn’t it, Gilly?—I shall go to a matinee, I think, against the sterner labors that lie ahead of us. Thus we shall both be benefited, according to our tastes.”

I am, of course, frequently a fool, but I am never as big a fool as Lavender’s remarks often would suggest. I looked back at him sternly.

“What you mean is, that you will go to the ‘Tinfoil Revue’ and see Miss Kane,” I corrected.

“Well, if you put it that way, yes,” he grinned. “The fact is, Gilly, the lady attracts me, and there already has been so much coincidence in this case, or in these cases I should say, that I’m determined to check them against each other and see what happens. The theatre, I believe, is just around the corner.”

“What am I to ask Miss Minor?” I demanded.

“First, whether she has heard from her father. I’m inclined to think that she has not, but ask her anyway. Tell her that I think she will hear from him shortly, but not to be too sanguine. Then ask her permission to look casually over his desk, or whatever he uses, to see if there are any clues to his movements. Probably the young lady will have done this herself, but you will make a more thorough job of it. Look at the letters if there are any, however far back they may go, and don’t leap at any wild conclusions whatever you find. Your principal task is to remember what you see so that you can tell me about it to-night.”

“And when shall I see you?”

He hesitated. “You have a key. Be in my rooms at six. I may join you for dinner. If I’m not there by six, though, I won’t be in for dinner. Sit around until about eight, as I may call you up if I don’t come. If you don’t hear from me by eight—well, I’m darned if I know when you will.”

It sounded very dubious indeed. “Look here. Lavender,” I said uneasily, “does that mean that you are going into some danger?”

“Without you, Gilly? Not by a large majority! I wouldn’t think of going into danger without my second line of defense. No, it means that I may be detained longer than I now expect, that’s all. If there is any danger it will come later and you shall have your full share, I promise.”

With that I was forced to be content, although what new idea had possessed my eccentric friend I could not imagine. No doubt he would see Miss Kane and confront her with her apparent knowledge of Vanderdonck, and no doubt he would ask about the disappearance of Charles Merritt. I thought again of that sinister safe in Vanderdonck’s rooms, and in fancy I saw a slow dark stream issuing from the impassable crack of its heavy door.

Lavender climbed from the machine, and with a wave of his hand disappeared for a moment in the throng of cars. An instant later I saw him standing before the barber shop window, studying the libelous portrait of Sidney Kane. Then again I lost him as the whirlpool shifted, and he did not reappear. I continued on my way alone.

It was a pleasant enough ride to the Minor mansion far out on the north side, and it was pleasant to find Miss Minor at home. Her exclamation of delight at sight of me was enough to pay for any disappointment caused by Lavender’s desertion.

But charming as was Miss Shirley Minor and happy as was the hour or two I spent in her company, I learned not a thing calculated to further our investigations. There were few letters from persons other than Miss Minor herself. Her letters, Cyril Minor had saved for years back; he seemed to have saved all she had ever written to him. But for the rest I found nothing but a scattering of business communications of no particular interest save as they furnished the names of a number of Minor’s early ventures. As Lavender had foretold, Miss Minor had heard nothing from her father, so at the close of my visit I made her happy with my friend’s message of cheer, and took my departure. I was convinced not only that I was in love with Shirley Minor, but also that I was a very poor detective indeed.

It was growing toward dusk as I climbed the interminable and familiar steps to Lavender’s rooms, and as I let myself in the clock struck five. I helped myself to a cigar, placed the humidor within reach, and picked up a magazine. But I did not read. I dozed instead, and finally I slept. When I awoke with a start, it was quite dark outside and the clock, when I had flooded the room with light, showed the hour to be well past eight. Lavender had not come and there had been no call. Evidently he had found work to do. So I went downstairs to dinner on the opposite corner, and then climbed the stairs again. I read diligently until past midnight, then as there was still no sign of Lavender I turned in on the bed I called mine.

It seemed that I had been asleep for no time at all when something wakened me. I sat up in bed to find Lavender in the room. It was two o’clock in the morning and he was whistling quietly to himself as he undressed.

“Jimmie,” I said sleepily, “where the devil have you been?”

“Hullo, Gilly,” said he. “Didn’t intend to wake you. I was later than I thought I’d be, but it was worth while. I’ve got half the mystery solved.”

My brain cells began to function. “Tell me!” I commanded.

“Can you follow me? All right.” He lighted a cigarette and dropped into an easy chair. “Well, after I left you, Gilly, I had a look at the portrait of Miss Kane, as you probably saw, and then I went to the matinee and had a look at the lady herself. She’s very clever, although nearer forty than thirty. After the show I sent around my card with a few words penciled on it, and she consented to see me.”

“What did you write?” I asked, deeply interested.

“I wrote under my name ‘In connection with the case of Charles Merritt.’”

“Go on!”

“Well, she saw me. I told her I was looking into the Merritt affair and asked her if she could tell me anything. She asked why I had come to her. I said I had heard that they were friends. She replied that it was a fact but she didn’t know who could have told me. Anyway, she told me about the disappearance which was much as it was reported in the newspapers. He didn’t answer his cue, and wasn’t to be found. He hasn’t been seen since. Was he a drinker, I asked. She was indignant. Not more than the average man! Had he any love affairs? She hesitated, then she believed not. I was shooting more or less in the dark, of course, although not entirely so. When she had told me all that I already knew and all that she cared to volunteer, which wasn’t much, I asked her point blank if she knew Peter Vanderdonck.”

He paused and chuckled.

“She nearly fainted. I thought she was going to faint. Then she said, no, she did not. I asked her what had frightened her. She said she was not frightened but that her part tired her. I asked whether it were not a fact that Merritt and Vanderdonck were friends or acquaintances. I phrased it that way on purpose to put her mind at ease. She replied that she believed they were. She thought she had heard Mr. Merritt mention Mr. Vanderdonck but she couldn’t be sure. Anyway, she had not deceived me; she did not know Mr. Vanderdonck! I let it go at that. But I asked her if she did not think it strange that Mr. Merritt and Mr. Vanderdonck should disappear at the same time. She did not know that Mr. Vanderdonck had disappeared, she said, but if it were so, why certainly it was strange. You see, she was getting her wits back more rapidly than at first and the longer I talked the better she became. Finally I told her that I knew where Merritt was, and that threw her into a funk again. ‘Where?’ she asked. I looked her in the eye and said, ‘He’s in Mr. Vanderdonck’s safe!’

“At this point she sat down. She’d been standing, up to then, hoping I’d go. ‘Just who are you?’ she demanded. And I said, ‘Actually, Miss Kane, I’m just a private investigator hired by a Miss Minor to find her father, who is missing. But accidentally I blundered onto this other case, through helping a friend in the police department. I’m still helping him.’ I told her I was sorry to have had to disturb her, thanked her for her information, and got out before she had time to catch her breath. I hope I didn’t upset her so that she could not play her part in the evening.”

“Did you, Jimmie?”

“No, I didn’t,” he chuckled. “She was there, for I saw her come out after the show. She appeared quite calm and perfectly at ease, and I fancy she was, too. I have no doubt that she did some important telephoning as soon as I’d left her in the afternoon.”

“And where have you been until this hour?”

“Out scouting in the neighborhood of Miss Kane’s home, which is in Elmhurst and a jolly long way from here.”

“Looking for Vanderdonck? You think she has been concealing him?”

“Well, yes, I do. I think she is still concealing him. Anyway, I didn’t find him. Of course, he may not be there.”

“You think that this Vanderdonck murdered Merritt, don’t you, Lavender?”

“My dear fellow, no. There’s no murder in this case, not yet, anyway. It’s plain comedy from beginning to end. I played with you a bit about it and I played with Morley, but I’ll quit now since you won’t see for yourself. Morley, in point of fact, has seen, for he took my tip and opened the safe.”

“And he didn’t find the body of Charles Merritt?”

“Not even a hair. Well, yes, perhaps a hair. What I told you, Gilly, was that the safe contained all that was left of Charles Merritt, and it was strictly true. In other words, it contained his clothing and part of his makeup. You see, old man, Merritt and Peter Vanderdonck were the same individual. Vanderdonck decided to quit being Merritt, so he quit and packed Merritt, so to speak, in the safe. Then he vanished himself. Of course it was guesswork until Morley opened the safe, but it was safe guessing, if I may be permitted a bad pun. Everything pointed to the accuracy of my deductions—the unused office, the greasy wash bowl to which the water clung as it receded, the dirty towel smelling of grease paint, the notice in the paper of Miss Kane’s success, and so on. Merritt made certain changes at the theatre after his performances but the final cleaning up he reserved for Vanderdonck’s rooms, where he was safer from recognition in the event of an uncontemplated meeting.”

I digested all this in silence. At length I said, “And Miss Kane is concealing Vanderdonck from pursuit? Why?”

“She probably loves him,” opined Lavender, “and for reasons of his own he doesn’t want to appear as yet. I called Morley and told him all this, after he’d told me that he’d opened the safe, and now I suppose the police will drop the case. There’s no real crime in it after all, and they are not hired to catch Giles’ delinquent tenants.”

“Meanwhile,” I said ironically, “we continue to search for another missing man, who is as far away, or as near, as ever. Probably he’ll turn out to be the missing Mrs. Jameson about whom we read in the paper this morning.”

Lavender laughed at my bitterness.

“No, Gilly, nothing like that. But I’m afraid that by morning we, too, will be out of a job. I expect that by morning Miss Minor will have heard from her father and will call off the hunt. I have been so sure of it all day that I haven’t bothered much with that case. Somewhere along the line of our investigations, he will have received word of our search and he will instantly communicate with his daughter, whom, you must remember, he does not know to be in town.”