Detective and mystery stories; Fiction; Love stories
I took the elevated to Cortlandt Street, and hurried down to the ferry,
expecting every instant to hear the gong which announced the departure
of the boat. But I found that I had ten minutes to wait before there was
a train, and I spent them walking feverishly up and down the narrow
waiting-room, where the road's patrons are herded like cattle behind the
slatted gates.
At last the gates opened; there was the usual rush to the boat; the slow
crossing of the wide river, with the cool salt breeze coming in from the
ocean; the stampede to the coaches through the great Jersey City
station; and finally I found myself in a seat, with the train rumbling
out from under the long shed.
I stared out into the night, wondering what the new developments could
be. They must have been unusual and unexpected ones, to stir Godfrey to
sending me that telegram! But what _could_ they be? For the present, the
case was closed. Curtiss and Miss Lawrence were both in mid-ocean, and
any further developments must await their meeting. Besides, it was only
a few hours since I myself had left Elizabeth, and there had seemed no
prospect then of anything further happening there. Godfrey had announced
his own intention of leaving the place at once--he had said that the
case wasn't worth wasting any more time over. What, then, had detained
him?
Was it possible, I asked myself, that Marcia Lawrence had not sailed on
the _Umbria_, that the message had been merely a blind, that she had
foreseen that we would trace it to the West Street office, that she had
written it on a sheet of the steamer's paper for the purpose of
deceiving us? Yes, that was clearly possible. She may have returned
home, and Godfrey, discovering the return, had summoned me to be present
at her unmasking! I had really only half-believed that it was she whom
Curtiss had descried upon the _Umbria's_ forward deck. But if she had,
indeed, done all this, she must be far more deeply versed in deception
than I had supposed. I should hardly have given her credit for laying a
plan so adroit as that; but one can never judge a woman's capabilities.
Suddenly conscious again of my fatigue, I laid my head back against the
seat, and dozed away until the sharp call of the brakeman aroused me.
Not until I had left the train did I remember that Godfrey had appointed
no rendezvous. He might, perhaps, be awaiting me at the hotel, or, at
least, he had certainly left a message there for me, and I started up
the street.
But an inquiry of the clerk developed the fact that, while Godfrey was
still stopping there, he had gone out immediately after dinner, and had
left no message of any kind. For a moment I was fairly taken aback, so
confident had I been; but perhaps Godfrey had deemed a message
superfluous after the hint given in the telegram--I knew how he detested
the obvious. He had no doubt thought that hint sufficient--and it was.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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