The Woman in the Alcove Part 21

No one appeared.

He tried the latch; it lifted, but the door did not open; it was fastened from within.

"Strange!" he muttered, casting a glance at the waiting horse and buggy, then at the lighted window, which was on the second floor directly over his head. "Guess I'll sing out."

Here he shouted the man's name. "Wellgood! I say, Wellgood!"

No response to this either.

"Looks bad!" he acknowledged to himself; and, taking a step back, he looked up at the window.

It was closed, but there was neither shade nor curtain to obstruct the view.

"Do you see anything?" he inquired of Mr. Grey, who sat with his eye at the small window in the buggy top.

"Nothing."

"No movement in the room above? No shadow at the window?"

"Nothing."

"Well, it's confounded strange!" And he went back, still calling Wellgood.

The tied-up horse whinnied, and the waves gave a soft splash and that was all,--if I except Sweet.w.a.ter's muttered oath.

Coming back, he looked again at the window, then, with a gesture toward Mr. Grey, turned the corner of the building and began to edge himself along its side in an endeavor to reach the rear and see what it offered.

But he came to a sudden standstill. He found himself on the edge of the bank before he had taken twenty steps. Yet the building projected on, and he saw why it had looked so large from a certain point of the approach. Its rear was built out on piles, making its depth even greater than the united width of the three stores. At low tide this might be accessible from below, but just now the water was almost on a level with the top of the piles, making all approach impossible save by boat.

Disgusted with his failure, Sweet.w.a.ter returned to the front, and, finding the situation unchanged, took a new resolve. After measuring with his eye the height of the first story, he coolly walked over to the strange horse, and, slipping his bridle, brought it back and cast it over a projection of the door; by its aid he succeeded in climbing up to the window, which was the sole eye to the interior.

Mr. Grey sat far back in his buggy, watching every movement.

There were no shades at the window, as I have before said, and, once Sweet.w.a.ter's eye had reached the level of the sill, he could see the interior without the least difficulty. There was n.o.body there. The lamp burned on a great table littered with papers, but the rude cane-chair before it was empty, and so was the room. He could see into every corner of it and there was not even a hiding-place where anybody could remain concealed. Sweet.w.a.ter was still looking, when the lamp, which had been burning with considerable smoke, flared up and went out. Sweet.w.a.ter uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, and, finding himself face to face with utter darkness, slid from his perch to the ground.

Approaching Mr. Grey for the second time, he said:

"I can not understand it. The fellow is either lying low, or he's gone out, leaving his lamp to go out, too. But whose is the horse--just excuse me while I tie him up again. It looks like the one he was driving to-day. It is the one. Well, he won't leave him here all night. Shall we lie low and wait for him to come and unhitch this animal? Or do you prefer to return to the hotel?"

Mr. Grey was slow in answering. Finally he said:

"The man may suspect our intention. You can never tell anything about such fellows as he. He may have caught some unexpected glimpse of me or simply heard that I was in town. If he's the man I think him, he has reasons for avoiding me which I can very well understand. Let us go back,--not to the hotel, I must see this adventure through tonight,--but far enough for him to think we have given up all idea of routing him out to-night. Perhaps that is all he is waiting for. You can steal back--"

"Excuse me," said Sweet.w.a.ter, "but I know a better dodge than that.

We'll circ.u.mvent him. We pa.s.sed a boat-house on our way down here. I'll just drive you up, procure a boat, and bring you back here by water.

I don't believe that he will expect that, and if he is in the house we shall see him or his light."

"Meanwhile he can escape by the road."

"Escape? Do you think he is planning to escape?"

The detective spoke with becoming surprise and Mr. Grey answered without apparent suspicion.

"It is possible if he suspects my presence in the neighborhood."

"Do you want to stop him?"

"I want to see him."

"Oh, I remember. Well, sir, we will drive on,--that is, after a moment."

"What are you going to do?"

"Oh, nothing. You said you wanted to see the man before he escaped."

"Yes, but--"

"And that he might escape by the road."

"Yes--"

"Well, I was just making that a little bit impracticable. A small pebble in the keyhole and--why, see now, his horse is walking off! Gee! I must have fastened him badly. I shouldn't wonder if he trotted all the way to town. But it can't be helped. I can not be supposed to race after him.

Are you ready now, sir? I'll give another shout, then I'll get in." And once more the lonely region about echoed with the cry: "Wellgood! I say, Wellgood!"

There was no answer, and the young detective, masking for the nonce as Mr. Grey's confidential servant, jumped into the buggy, and turned the horse's head toward C--.

XIX. THE FACE

The moon was well up when the small boat in which our young detective was seated with Mr. Grey appeared in the bay approaching the so-called manufactory of Wellgood. The looked-for light on the waterside was not there. All was dark except where the windows reflected the light of the moon.

This was a decided disappointment to Sweet.w.a.ter, if not to Mr. Grey.

He had expected to detect signs of life in this quarter, and this additional proof of Wellgood's absence from home made it look as if they had come out on a fool's errand and might much better have stuck to the road.

"No promise there," came in a mutter from his lips. "Shall I row in, sir, and try to make a landing?"

"You may row nearer. I should like a closer view. I don't think we shall attract any attention. There are more boats than ours on the water."

Sweet.w.a.ter was startled. Looking round, he saw a launch, or some such small steamer, riding at anchor not far from the mouth of the bay. But that was not all. Between it and them was a rowboat like their own, resting quietly in the wake of the moon.

"I don't like so much company," he muttered. "Something's brewing; something in which we may not want to take a part."

"Very likely," answered Mr. Grey grimly. "But we must not be deterred--not till I have seen--" the rest Sweet.w.a.ter did not hear. Mr.

Grey seemed to remember himself. "Row nearer," he now bade. "Get under the shadow of the rocks if you can. If the boat is for him, he will show himself. Yet I hardly see how he can board from that bank."

It did not look feasible. Nevertheless, they waited and watched with much patience for several long minutes. The boat behind them did not advance, nor was any movement discernible in the direction of the manufactory. Another short period, then suddenly a light flashed from a window high up in the central gable, sparkled for an instant and was gone. Sweet.w.a.ter took it for a signal and, with a slight motion of the wrist, began to work his way in toward sh.o.r.e till they lay almost at the edge of the piles.