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I find she'd been asking all the other cabmen, and had been to the desk, before that. I guess she must have been inquiring for your husband, ma'am." "Yes yes very likely," Grace hastily replied. "What then?" "Well, ma'am, she then asked me if I knew Mrs. Duvall. I said I did.
She pulled the satchel toward her, her fingers seeking to close it. Duvall discontinued his efforts at once. It would be time enough, he felt, when they had reached the hotel, and the woman had been safely conducted to a room there. He had made his plans carefully in advance, and arranged matters with the hotel manager. There was nothing to do, now, but wait.
Duvall pointed to the crumpled heap on the floor. "I had to shoot it, though I'm sorry now that I did. It attacked me in the dark. I couldn't afford to take any chances. My wife was locked in here, and was, so far as I knew, in grave danger." "Your wife?" The man glanced at Grace. "Yes." "But where is Miss Norman? And how did that monkey get in here?" "Miss Norman left here some time ago.
In a rather depressed state of mind, she made her way to the train. It was half past eight at night when she arrived in Washington, and she at once called up Richard Duvall on the telephone. To her disappointment, she learned that he was out, and was not expected back until late. There was nothing to do but wait until morning.
But I am afraid something terrible has happened to Mr. Duvall. Tell them to send help, quick." She turned away, and the boy mounted his box, whistling gayly, and at once drove off. Grace hurried to her room, to examine the note within the handkerchief. She could hardly wait to see what it contained. The contents were a great disappointment to her.
Duvall resumed his seat, and once more took up his examination of the letters Mrs. Morton had left with him, but they told him little. There were the usual individual peculiarities in the typewritten characters, but that was about all he could discover. The letter paper, while of excellent quality, was such as might be bought at any first-class stationery store.
Courage, resource, ingenuity seemed alike useless. He was helpless. Dr. Hartmann appeared in the hall as he entered it. "Come in, Mr. Duvall," he said, holding open the door of the office. "Suppose we have a little chat." For a moment the detective hesitated, then decided to meet the doctor's good nature in kind. "By all means," he replied.
On the floor beside the bed, and to the far side of the room from the door, lay the body of the unfortunate valet, his face, ghastly pale, turned toward the ceiling. But it was neither the sight of the man lying there, apparently dead, nor the agonized expression of his face, which caused both the Ambassador and Duvall to start back with exclamations of surprise.
But I was hopin' that mebbe our little corner of the world wouldn't be pestered. But now it looks ez ef we weren't goin' to escape our share of the trouble." "Jedge," asked Jeff, "ain't they some way dis Duvall pusson could be fetched up in cote? I suttinly would admire to see dat yaller man wearin' a striped suit of clothes."
It was not until they had reached the railway station that Richard Duvall roused himself from the stupor in which he had sat ever since he and his wife had driven away from Dr. Hartmann's. When their baggage had been deposited on the platform, under the care of a solicitous porter, and the cabman had been paid and gone his way, Grace asked her husband concerning their destination.
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