The Circular Staircase - Page 113/154

Nothing that had gone before had been as bad as this. The murder and

Thomas' sudden death we had been able to view in a detached sort of

way. But with Halsey's disappearance everything was altered. Our

little circle, intact until now, was broken. We were no longer

onlookers who saw a battle passing around them. We were the center of

action. Of course, there was no time then to voice such an idea. My

mind seemed able to hold only one thought: that Halsey had been foully

dealt with, and that every minute lost might be fatal.

Mr. Jamieson came back about eight o'clock the next morning: he was

covered with mud, and his hat was gone. Altogether, we were a

sad-looking trio that gathered around a breakfast that no one could

eat. Over a cup of black coffee the detective told us what he had

learned of Halsey's movements the night before. Up to a certain point

the car had made it easy enough to follow him. And I gathered that Mr.

Burns, the other detective, had followed a similar car for miles at

dawn, only to find it was a touring car on an endurance run.

"He left here about ten minutes after eight," Mr. Jamieson said. "He

went alone, and at eight twenty he stopped at Doctor Walker's. I went

to the doctor's about midnight, but he had been called out on a case,

and had not come back at four o'clock. From the doctor's it seems Mr.

Innes walked across the lawn to the cottage Mrs. Armstrong and her

daughter have taken. Mrs. Armstrong had retired, and he said perhaps a

dozen words to Miss Louise. She will not say what they were, but the

girl evidently suspects what has occurred. That is, she suspects foul

play, but she doesn't know of what nature. Then, apparently, he

started directly for the station. He was going very fast--the flagman

at the Carol Street crossing says he saw the car pass. He knew the

siren. Along somewhere in the dark stretch between Carol Street and

the depot he evidently swerved suddenly--perhaps some one in the

road--and went full into the side of a freight. We found it there last

night."

"He might have been thrown under the train by the force of the shock,"

I said tremulously.

Gertrude shuddered.

"We examined every inch of track. There was--no sign."

"But surely--he can't be--gone!" I cried. "Aren't there traces in the

mud--anything?"

"There is no mud--only dust. There has been no rain. And the footpath

there is of cinders. Miss Innes, I am inclined to think that he has

met with bad treatment, in the light of what has gone before. I do not

think he has been murdered." I shrank from the word. "Burns is back

in the country, on a clue we got from the night clerk at the

drug-store. There will be two more men here by noon, and the city

office is on the lookout."