Chapter XXXV The Astonishing Mrs. Wilmerding
Mrs. Wilmerding looked at him with an odd touch of wistfulness in her gaze. Then she sighed a little. “Youth is a very wonderful thing,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t make such a vow as that, though. You might have to break it. Have you thought of any plan?”
“Not yet. I only know I’ll find her in some way. You must tell me everything you know quickly. We haven’t any time to lose. When did she go out?”
“A little after three. She said she was going to call on a girl friend she met at the dance—a Miss Jennings.”
“And did she?”
“Yes. When I reached home, about half past five, and did not find her here, my secretary called up the Jennings house on Fifty-seventh Street, and found that Shirley had left there an hour before. Even then there was nothing to worry about. She might easily have gone shopping. But when another hour had passed I began to be troubled. At twenty minutes to seven this letter was delivered at the door.”
“Delivered!” Barry exclaimed. “Did the man notice by whom?”
“An ordinary messenger boy in uniform.”
Barry’s eyes sparkled. “By Jove!” he burst out. “You’re sure there isn’t any mistake about that?”
“Perfectly. Naturally, I asked Pagdon about it instantly. Unfortunately, he did not notice the boy’s number; but there was no mistaking the uniform.”
“May I have a telephone book?” Lawrence asked abruptly. “It may take a little time, but there won’t be any real difficulty in running the boy down.”
Mrs. Wilmerding stepped over to the fireplace and pressed a button concealed in the carving. Almost instantly the velvet hangings were parted, and the footman stood in the doorway.
“Bring a New York telephone directory, Pagdon,” Mrs. Wilmerding directed tersely; “and then tell Miss Winters I wish to see her at once. My secretary can do the telephoning as well as you,” she went on, turning to Lawrence. “It will give you time for a bite of dinner, which you might not otherwise have.”
Barry protested that he wanted nothing to eat; but his hostess insisted, and, to avoid actual rudeness, he was finally obliged to give in. The instant the directory was brought, he turned hastily to the list of American District Telegraph offices, and discovered that there were almost fifty in Manhattan and the Bronx alone. A number of them could be eliminated, however, and that he proceeded to do, jotting down the phone numbers of the most likely ones on a sheet of note paper. He had just finished the list, when the secretary, a trim, capable-looking girl of twenty-six or so, entered the room.
Having acknowledged the introduction, Lawrence explained what he wanted.
“We must find out which of these offices handled the letter that was delivered to Mrs. Wilmerding about half past six,” he said hurriedly. “Will you please call them up, Miss Winters, beginning with the numbers I’ve jotted down here? If you fail to locate the right one, take the rest of the numbers from the book. The instant you succeed, tell the manager to hold the boy until I can get down, and kindly let me know at once.”
The secretary nodded, and, gathering up list and book, was leaving the room when Barry had a sudden idea.
“Before you do anything else,” he said quickly, “will you please call the Yale Club and get Mr. Jacob Hamersley, junior? Tell him that I’m delayed, but that it’s most important he should wait at the club until I can get down there.”
The girl nodded understandingly, and disappeared into the hall; while Lawrence followed his hostess through some wide doors at the farther end of the drawing-room into a library lined with books and as bewilderingly rich in its furnishings as the rest of the house.
At one end was a fireplace with a carved oak mantel and paneling black with age, which looked as if it had been transported from some old English country house—as it probably had. A fire of logs blazed and twinkled there; and drawn up before it was a small round table, set for two. Evidently Mrs. Wilmerding had not been idle while Barry was busy with the telephone book.
“I had it brought here because it is nearer the telephone,” she explained as Lawrence drew out her chair. “It is only the simplest sort of a supper.”
It proved to be extremely satisfactory, for all that. The butler and a footman who served the dishes seemed to realize the necessity for haste, and there was not a second’s delay. Consequently, in an incredibly short space of time the meal was over, and they returned to the drawing-room a moment or two before Miss Winters reappeared.
“The office is on Broadway, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth,” she said quietly. “The boy had not been sent out again, and the manager will hold him there until you get down.”
Lawrence sprang to his feet. “Good!” he exclaimed. “And Hamersley?”
“He had left the club a moment or two before I called. He left word, however, that he would be back within half an hour.”
Barry turned to Mrs. Wilmerding. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I thought my friend might help, but I can pick him up afterward if it’s necessary.”
“You might call the club again, Miss Winters,” the older woman suggested, “and have them request Mr. Hamersley not to leave until he hears from Mr. Lawrence.”
When the secretary had departed, she glanced swiftly back to Barry.
“You have enough money?” she asked.
“Plenty.”
“Then hurry. Be sure and keep me informed of what you are doing when it’s possible. I trust you to find her to-night.”
She held out her hand, and Lawrence took it quickly. For an instant they stood looking into one another’s eyes; then the woman threw back her head.
“You love my niece,” she said rapidly. “You think there are insurmountable barriers between you. I tell you this, Barry Lawrence: The moment you bring Shirley back to me those barriers shall cease to exist. You understand? It shall be as if they had never been.”
A flood of bright crimson leaped into Barry’s face, and he stared at her, unable to credit his senses.
“But that will be—impossible!” he gasped. “I’m almost a—pauper! I have no position; my very name is—tarnished.”
“Humph!” she exclaimed incredulously. “Tarnished through some fault of yours?”
“N-o; but everybody thinks——”
Her teeth came together with a click; her eyes were flashing. “Bah!” she retorted impatiently. “Do you suppose for a minute that I care what everybody thinks? I trust my own judgment, and it has never failed. If a man is clean and straight and decent, money isn’t worth that!” She snapped her fingers. “I have more of it than I know what to do with. You understand? Well, go, then—and remember what I’ve said.”