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Updated: June 28, 2025
"To her cousin Mr. Mershone?" asked Louise quickly. "That may be the name; I cannot remember," was the evasive reply. "But you must know him, as he is Diana's cousin," retorted Louise. "Why will you try to deceive me? Am I not helpless enough already, and do you wish to make me still more miserable?" "I have seen Mr. Mershone when he was a boy, many times.
"Your victim was a guest of the house." "Not at all. He was merely attending the Kermess." "That makes him our guest, sir. Are you ready?" Mershone glanced around and then lowered his voice. "It's all a little joke, my dear fellow," said he, "and you are liable to spoil everything with your bungling. Here," drawing; a roll of bills from his pocket, "don't let us waste any more time. I'm busy."
"No, Mr. Mershone," shaking his head gravely, "I can't see my way to favor you. It's an easy job now, and I'm afraid to take chances with a harder one." Something in the tone nettled Mershone. "But the pay," he suggested. "Oh, the pay. If I'm a detective fifty years, I'll make an easy two thousand a year. That's a round hundred thousand.
Better be cautious and wait until he had thrown the sleuths off his track. Having considered this matter thoroughly, Mershone decided to remain quiet. By eight o'clock he was breakfasting in the grill room, and Fogerty occupied a table just behind him.
And the patrol, which I never can get when I want it, seems under your direct management. These things have got to be explained, and I need your help. Ready, sir?" Mershone looked grave, but he was not wholly checkmated. Thank heaven the bungling detective had missed the departure of Louise altogether.
In the next block he passed a youth who stood earnestly examining the conventional display in a druggist's window. Mershone, observing this individual, gave a start, but did not alter his pace. It was the same pale, red-haired boy he had noticed twice before at the hotel. In his alert, calculating mind there was no coincidence in this meeting.
"And now," continued the girl, "tell me who you think could be so wicked and cruel as to carry me away from my home and friends? I cannot decide myself. You have more experience and more shrewdness, can't you tell me, Madame Cerise?" The woman muttered inaudibly. "Mr. Mershone might be an enemy, because I laughed at his love-making," continued Louise, musingly.
Big Bill growled some words that were not very choice and then yelled to the chauffeur to stop. The other man was pale and evidently frightened. "See here, Fogerty; you make tracks!" was the sharp command, as the automobile came to a halt. "You've worked a pretty trick on us, 'cordin' to your own showin', and we must find Mr. Mershone before it's too late if we can."
Fogerty eyed his retreating figure a moment, gave a slight shrug and resumed his newspaper. Day followed day without further event, and gradually Mershone came to feel himself trapped. Wherever he might go he found Fogerty on duty, unobtrusive, silent and watchful. It was very evident that he was waiting for the young man to lead him to the secret hiding place of Louise Merrick.
"The courts will refuse to consider that argument, I imagine," she retorted. "Moreover, the friends of this kidnaped girl are powerful and active. They will show you no mercy if you are discovered." "If I fail," answered Mershone, slowly, "I do not care a continental what they do to me, for my life will be a blank without Louise.
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