The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn Page 10

  CHAPTER X

  "What?" cried Gilbert; he felt as if some one had struck him a suddenblow.

  "He has never returned to the hotel," said the manager, very seriously.

  "Ah! to the hotel, but where----" Gilbert stopped without completing thequestion, while excitement struggled with anxiety within his breast. Hegazed imploringly at the other.

  "He did not return to the Law Courts Hotel that evening," the managerwent on, "and nothing has been seen or heard of him since."

  Gilbert smothered an ejaculation. What a thing, he thought, to have totell Kitty!

  "That was the state of the case up to yesterday," continued the manager."I have had no communication on the subject this morning, but if youlike, I will ring up the hotel on the 'phone--there may be fresh news."

  "Thanks; but one moment, please. You had what you have just told me fromthe hotel people?"

  "Yes, and also from the police who are now moving in the matter, thoughI am not aware of their having found out anything."

  "The police!" exclaimed Gilbert, almost protestingly, but even as hespoke he knew it was a fit and proper case for the police to take up."Please go on," he said.

  "Of course," resumed the manager, "the police had to be called in.Between ourselves I think they should have been called in sooner thanthey were, but at the same time it must be acknowledged that the hotelauthorities were in a difficult position; people in their business arealways anxious not to interfere with the freedom of their guests, sothey make allowance for eccentricities and what might be consideredrather erratic movements."

  "I understand," said Gilbert. "Perhaps you will now tell me just whataction the hotel people took--you can ring them up later."

  "Very well. Mr. Thornton went out from the hotel late that Fridaynight--the 30th of July was a Friday--and on his way out he spoke to theporter, saying he would go along Holborn and take a turn, it might be,up and down Chancery Lane, if it was pretty quiet."

  "The porter remembered that distinctly, I presume?"

  "Yes, perfectly. He did not see Mr. Thornton return, but he thoughtnothing of this, imagining that Mr. Thornton had gone back into thehotel when he, the porter, happened to be away for a minute from thedoor."

  "I must see that porter," Gilbert broke in. Was he, he wondered, thelast man to see Thornton alive? For, already, a conviction was springingup within him that Thornton was no more, and that this was the mournfulintelligence he would have to carry to Kitty.

  "Certainly you must," assented the manager.

  "Well, next day a chambermaid, on going into Mr. Thornton's room, foundthat his bed had not been slept in; she reported it, but nothing beyondtaking a note of the circumstance was done at the moment by the hotelpeople. They supposed, naturally enough, that Mr. Thornton would turn upin the course of the day."

  "But surely," said Gilbert, "they should have felt some alarm seeingthat they knew how frightfully ill he had been two days before, don'tyou think?"

  "You must bear in mind, in fairness to them, that they do not care toappear to limit in any way the liberty of their guests--and also, Mr.Eversleigh, that they never suspected anything was wrong; it is easy tobe wise after the event."

  "Yes, yes," Gilbert agreed, but he spoke with some impatience.

  "At first," the manager went on, "they were under no apprehension as tohis safety, but when he did not return that day at all, nor the next,they began to think it a little strange; they thought it very singular,too, that they did not hear from him. They waited, however, till theTuesday, and then they communicated with the police, and the affair isnow in the latter's hands. A detective-inspector came to see if I couldthrow any light on the mystery. Of course, I was greatly interested, asyou may imagine, but I could tell him nothing. I went round to the hotelin Holborn, and there learned what I have told you. I am afraid there isnothing more known at present."

  "But have the police discovered no trace of him?"

  "I don't think they have. I believe they are completely baffled--attheir wits' end. They have no clue, none at all, so far as I can hear.No; the fact is that Mr. Thornton has vanished, you might say, from offthe face of the earth. It is as if he had never been!"

  "What a terrible thing!" said Gilbert, in a voice of gloom. "Is therereally nothing more?"

  "I fear there is absolutely nothing more."

  "Have you made any guess as to what has happened?" asked Gilbert.

  "No. You will see the police, Mr. Eversleigh?"

  "At once. But perhaps you will ring up the Law Courts Hotel; there'sjust a chance they may have something fresh."

  The manager immediately telephoned, and was told there were no furtherdevelopments to be reported; Mr. Thornton was still missing, and nothinghad been heard of him.

  Gilbert thanked the manager for the information he had given, and with aheavy heart went off to Scotland Yard. He thought of the loving girl whohad looked forward with such keen pleasure to the coming of her father,and who was now so anxious about him. How was he to tell her what he hadheard? And he feared that the worst had happened to Morris Thornton; hefelt his conviction growing that the man was dead. Still, he must notsay so to Kitty, so long as there was any uncertainty.

  Gilbert was seen at the "Yard" by Detective-inspector Gale, an officerof great experience, and a man of considerable ability. In introducinghimself Gilbert mentioned that he was the son of Francis Eversleigh, ofthe firm of Eversleigh, Silwood, and Eversleigh, thinking that they mustbe known to Gale, who bowed respectfully as he listened. Coming to thematter of the disappearance of Morris Thornton, he also said that thefirm were the solicitors of the missing man. Then he explained how itwas he himself came into the case.

  "Mr. Thornton has a daughter here?" said Gale, making notes. "I did notknow that. Indeed, I know very little about Mr. Thornton. I shall beglad if you will tell me all you know of him."

  And Gilbert did so.

  The detective-inspector asked several questions about the letterThornton had addressed to his daughter, and dwelt upon the sentence init which spoke of Thornton's intention to "surprise" Kitty.

  "I should like to see that letter," he said.

  "Certainly. You think it important?"

  "It may be--one can never tell," said the officer, diplomatically, "butthe word 'surprise'--the idea--seems to suggest a certain whimsicalnesson the part of Mr. Thornton."

  "It was merely his humour, I imagine," remarked Gilbert; "but I can'tfor an instant suppose that Mr. Thornton carried his whimsicalness, asyou term it, or his humour to such a prodigious degree as to disappearfrom his hotel in the way he did."

  Gale nodded. Then he shut his note-book.

  "You would think so, Mr. Eversleigh," he observed, referring toGilbert's last sentences; "but you would be surprised how often mendisappear intentionally."

  "One hears of such things, but not frequently."

  "These disappearances are much more common than the public have anynotion of, I can assure you. I am speaking now of what I have calledintentional disappearances, and I don't mean what you might termcriminal disappearances either. Men make up their minds to cut awaycompletely from their surroundings, to begin a new life, to turn over afresh leaf, and so on; do you see?"

  "Yes; but there could be nothing of the kind in the case of Mr.Thornton."

  "I do not say there was," said Gale, but his voice was non-committal.

  "May I ask if you have formed any theory regarding Mr. Thornton'sdisappearance?"

  "I have not; the facts are too few."

  "Have you any hope?"

  "Do you mean hope of finding where he is gone or what has become ofhim?"

  "Yes. And do you think he is alive? I have a haunting dread that he isdead."

  "Dead? Perhaps so; I cannot say, but I think it is too soon to come tothat conclusion. Hundreds, yes thousands of people, disappear in Londonevery year, and many of them are never heard of again. But you cannotsay that of the majority. I would not be surprised to discover that Mr.Thornton is
alive, and I would be as little surprised to find out thathe is dead."

  "It has occurred to me," said Gilbert, who felt that the officer took upa safe but scarcely a sympathetic position, "that it is possible Mr.Thornton had another sudden heart-attack, and was taken into a housenear at hand by some kind person----"

  "But suppose he had an attack and had been taken in as you suggest,"interrupted Gale; "surely it is impossible to suppose that such acircumstance would not be reported somewhere? Mr. Thornton would havesent word to the hotel sooner or later, don't you think?"

  "Yes; that is reasonable."

  "I had thought of that idea myself, but, on consideration I dismissed itas quite untenable. Mr. Thornton, I have come to the conclusion, haseither disappeared intentionally, or he is dead. Now I can see nothingto indicate an intentional disappearance: the state of his health wouldseem absolutely to forbid it."

  "Then you think he is dead?" asked Gilbert, as Gale paused.

  "I can't say, please remember, but it looks rather like it."

  "But what about the body?"

  "Oh, bodies can be made to disappear."

  "Do you mean that you think he has been murdered?"

  "I won't go so far," said Gale, cautiously, "but Mr. Thornton was a richman, and probably had valuables about him; he was in a weak, feeblestate, and so would fall an easy victim. And it was late in the eveningwhen he went out. I am afraid it is possible--I will not say probable,for there is no evidence--that he was murdered the night he left thehotel."

  "Is it not dreadful? I've been thinking much the same. But how did youknow he was rich?"

  "We took possession of what property he had at the hotel. It was notmuch, but what there was hinted pretty plainly at wealth. There was oneextraordinary thing--we could not find his address, I mean the addressof the place he lived in."

  "That was odd, and I cannot explain it," said Gilbert. "You know now helived in Vancouver?"

  "Yes, you have told me so, but I did not know it before. We madeinquiries by cable in New York--the label on his luggage showed he hadcome from that city--but he was unknown to the police there, nor couldthey find out anything about him. Now we shall make inquiries inVancouver."

  "I hope you will let me know if you hear of anything," said Gilbert,rising to leave, after thanking the inspector for his courtesy. "MissThornton is very anxious about her father, and she will be more anxiousthan ever after she has heard what I have to tell her."

  "Certainly."

  Gilbert was just about leaving, when it struck him as very desirablethat the officer should communicate with his father, Francis Eversleigh.He had already told Mr. Gale that his father's firm were MorrisThornton's solicitors, and now he suggested to the inspector-detectiveto accompany him, if he had the time, to see his father, and tell himexactly how the case stood.

  Gale thought for a moment, and then said that if he would wait for ashort while until he had finished a memorandum he had been engaged onwhen Gilbert had been shown in, he would go with him to his father.

  "I really ought to see him in the circumstances," said Gale. "He may beable to give us some clue."

  But when Gale and Gilbert put the facts before Francis Eversleigh, hehad no suggestion to make. Indeed, the solicitor was perfectlythunderstruck by the intelligence they brought him, and acted in such anextraordinary way as to cause Gilbert to fear that the news had affectedhis brain. Eversleigh, in fact, could hardly believe it; but when hedid, it, too, seemed part and parcel of that hideous waking nightmarein which he now lived. Yet, somewhere in the darkening depths of hismind, there shot up a tiny ray of hope. For if Morris Thornton weredead, or if it were only that he had disappeared, was not that topostpone the day of reckoning?

  Gilbert's most difficult and painful task was to disclose to the girl heloved all he had come to know that day. With infinite gentleness anddelicacy he told her the truth, and wound up by declaring she must notlose hope of seeing her father again; it was far too soon, he urged, andthe circumstances were far too obscure to admit of any definiteconclusion being arrived at.

  But Kitty, crying and sobbing bitterly in her lover's arms, would saynothing. Gilbert knew, however, from her passion of weeping, that shealready mourned her father as dead. Very tenderly he sought to consoleher, but at first her grief would have its way, albeit she clung to himas if she would never let him go.