But I saw the scrimmage and it was a man who shot.
Are you sure? That thick, clouded glass blurs a shadow beyond recognition.
What makes you think it was a woman, then?
This, and Norah pointed to a hatpin that lay on the big desk.
It was a fine-looking pin, with a big head, but when I was about to pick it up Norah dissuaded me.
Dont touch it, she warned; you know, Mr. Brice, weve really no right here and we simply must not touch anything.
But, Norah, I began, my common sense and good judgment having returned to me with the advent of human companionship, I dont want to do anything wrong. If weve no right here, for Heavens sake, lets get out!
Yes, in a minute, but let me think what you ought to do. And, oh, do let me take a minute to look round!
No, girl; this is no time to satisfy your curiosity or, to enjoy a sight of these
Oh, I dont mean that! But I want to see if there isnt some clew or some bit of evidence to the whole thing. It is too weird! too impossible that three people should have disappeared into nothingness! Where are they?
Norah looked in the same closets I had explored; she drew aside window draperies and portières, she hastily glanced under desks and tables, not so much, I felt sure, in expectation of finding anyone, as with a general idea of searching the place thoroughly.
She scrutinized the desk fittings of the stenographer.
Everything of the best, she commented, but very little real work done up here. I fancy these offices of Mr. Gatelys are more for private conferences and personal appointments than any real business matters.
Which would account for the ladys hatpin, I observed.
Yes; but how did they get out? You looked out in the hall, at once, you say?
Yes; I came quickly through these three rooms, and then looked out into the hall at once, and there was no elevator in sight nor could I see anyone on the stairs.
Well, theres not much to be seen here. I suppose youd better call up the bank people. Though if they thought there was anything queer theyd be up here by this time.
I left Norah in Mr. Gatelys rooms while I went back to my own office and called up the Puritan Trust Company.
A polite voice assured me that they knew nothing of Mr. Gatelys whereabouts at that moment, but if I would leave a message he would ultimately receive it.
So, then, I told them, in part, what had happened, or, rather, what I believed had happened, and still a little unconcerned, the polite man agreed to send somebody up.
Stuffy people! I said to Norah, as I returned to the room she was in. They seemed to think me officious.
I feared they would, Mr. Brice, but you had to do it. Theres no doubt Mr. Gately left this room in mad haste. See, heres his personal checkbook on his desk, and he drew a check today.
Nothing remarkable in his drawing a check, I observed, but decidedly peculiar to leave his checkbook around so carelessly. As you say, Norah, he left in a hurry.
But how did he leave?
Thats the mystery; and I, for one, give it up. Im quite willing to wait until some greater brain than mine works out the problem.
But its incomprehensible, Norah went on; wheres Jenny?
For that matter, I countered, wheres Mr. Gately? Wheres his angry visitor, male or female? and, finally, wheres the pistol that made the sound and smoke of which I had positive evidence?
We may find that, suggested Norah, hopefully.
But careful search failed to discover any firearms, as it had failed to reveal the actors of the drama.
Nor did the representative from the bank come up at once. This seemed queer, I thought, and with a sudden impulse to find out something, I declared I was going down to the bank myself.
Go on, said Norah, Ill stay here, for I must know what they find out when they do come.
I went out into the hall and pushed the Down button of the elevator.
Be careful, Norah warned me, as the car was heard ascending, say very little, Mr. Brice, except to the proper authorities. This may be a terrible thing, and you mustnt get mixed up in it until you know more about it. You were not only the first to discover the disappearance, but you and I are apparently the only ones in this corridor who know of it yet, we may be
Suspected of the abduction of Amos Gately! Hardly! Dont let your detective instinct run away with you Norah!
And then the elevator door slid open and I got into the car.
CHAPTER II
Jennys Version
The elevators in the building were run by girls, and the one I entered was in charge of Minny Boyd, a sister of Jenny, who was in Mr. Gatelys office.
As soon as I stepped into the car I saw that Minny was in a state of excitement.
Whats the matter? I asked, sympathetically.
Oh, Mr. Brice, and the girl burst into tears, Jenny said
Well, I urged, as she hesitated, what did Jenny say?
Dont you know anything about it?
About what? I asked, trying to be casual.
Why, about Mr. Gately.
And what about him?
Hes gone! Disappeared!
Amos Gately? The president of the Puritan Trust Company! Minny, what do you mean?
Why, Mr. Brice, only a little while ago, I took Jenny down. She was crying like everything and she said that Mr. Gately had been shot!
Shot?
Yes, thats what she said
Who shot him?
I dont know, but Jenny was nearly crazy! I told her to go to the lunchroom, thats where the girls go when off duty, and I said Id come to her as soon as I could. I cant leave my car, you know.
Of course not, Minny, I agreed; but what did Jenny mean? Did she see Mr. Gately shot?
No, I dont think so, but she heard a pistol fired off, and she she
What did she do?
She ran into Mr. Gatelys private office, and, he wasnt there! And then she oh, I suppose she hadnt any right to do it, but she ran on to his own personal room, the one where she is never allowed to go, and there wasnt anybody there! So Jenny was scared out of her senses, and she ran out here, to the hall, I mean, and I took her downstairs, and oh, Mr. Brice, Ive got to stop at this floor, theres a call, and please dont say anything about it, I mean dont tell I said anything for Jenny told me not to
I saw Minny was in great perturbation, and I forebore to question her further, for just then we stopped at the seventh floor and a man entered the elevator.
I knew him, that is, I knew he was George Rodman, but I wasnt sufficiently acquainted to speak to him.
So the three of us went on down in silence, past the other floors, and reached the ground floor, where Rodman and I got out.
Waiting to go up, I found Mr. Pitt, a discount clerk of the Puritan Trust Company.
This is Mr. Brice? he said, in a superior way.
I resented the superiority, but I admitted his soft impeachment.
And you say there is something to be investigated in Mr. Gatelys offices? he went on, as if I were a Food Administrator, or something.
Well, I returned, a little curtly, I chanced to see and hear and smell a pistol shot, and further looking into the matter failed to show anybody killed or wounded or in fact, failed to disclose anybody whatever on the job, and I confess it all looks to me mighty queer!
Well, I returned, a little curtly, I chanced to see and hear and smell a pistol shot, and further looking into the matter failed to show anybody killed or wounded or in fact, failed to disclose anybody whatever on the job, and I confess it all looks to me mighty queer!
And may I ask why it appeals to you as queer?
I looked Friend Pitt square in the eye, and I said, It seems to me queer that a bank president should drop out of existence and even out of his business affiliations in one minute without any recognition of the fact.
Perhaps you overestimate an outside interest, said Pitt. You must know it is really none of the business of the Puritan Trust Company what Mr. Gately does in his leisure hours.
Very well, Mr. Pitt, I returned, then let us go and interview the young woman who is Mr. Gatelys stenographer and who is even now in hysterics in the employees lunchroom.
Mr. Pitt seemed duly impressed and together we went to find Jenny.
The lunchroom for the employees of the building was a pleasant place, on the ground floor, and therein we found Jenny, the yellow-haired stenographer of Amos Gately.
The girl was, without doubt, hysterical, and her account of the shooting was disjointed and incoherent.
Moreover, Mr. Pitt was of the supercilious type, the kind who never believes anything, and his manner, as he listened to Jennys story, was incredulous and almost scoffing.
So Jennys story, though to me illuminating, was, I felt sure, to Pitt, of little value.
Oh, Jenny exclaimed, I was in my room, the first room, and I didnt mean to listen, I never do! and then, all of a sudden, I heard somebody threatening Mr. Gately! That made me listen, I dont care if it was wrong and then, I heard somebody quarreling with Mr. Gately.
How do you know they were quarreling? interposed Pitts cold voice.
I couldnt help knowing, sir. I heard Mr. Gatelys usually pleasant voice raised as if in anger, and I heard the visitors voice, high and angry too.
You didnt know the visitors voice? you had never heard it before? asked Pitt.
No, sir; Ive no idea who he could have been! and the foolish little Jenny bridled and looked like an innocent ingénue.
I broke in.
But didnt you admit all visitors or callers to Mr. Gately? I demanded.
Jenny looked at me. No, sir, she replied; I received all who came to my door, but there were others!
Where did they enter? asked Pitt.
Oh, they came in at the other doors. You see, I only looked after my own room. Of course, if Miss Raynor came, or anybody that Mr. Gately knew personally Jenny paused discreetly.
And did Miss Raynor come this morning? I asked.
Yes, Jenny replied, she did. That is, not this morning, but early this afternoon. I know Miss Raynor very well.
Mr. Pitt seemed a little disturbed from his usual calm, and with evident reluctance said to me, I think, Mr. Brice, that this matter is more serious than I thought. It seems to me that it would be wise to refer the whole matter to Mr. Talcott, the secretary of the Trust Company.
Now, I was only too glad to refer the matter to anybody who could be considered authoritative, and I agreed at once.
Moreover, said Mr. Pitt, as he gave an anxious glance at Jenny, I think it well to take this young woman along, as she is the secretary of Mr. Gately and may know
Oh, no, sir, cried Jenny, I dont know anything! Please dont ask me questions!
Jennys perturbation seemed to make Mr. Pitts intentions more definite, and he corralled the young woman, as he also swept me along.
In a moment, we were all going into the offices of the Puritan Trust Company.
And here, Mr. Pitt faded from view, and he left us in the august presence of Mr. Talcott, the secretary of the Company.
I found myself in the quiet, pleasant atmosphere of the usual bankers office, and Mr. Talcott, a kindly gentleman of middle-aged aristocracy, began to question me.
It seems to me, Mr. Brice, he began, that this story of yours about Mr. Gately is not only important but mysterious.
I think so, Mr. Talcott, I responded, and yet, the whole crux of the matter is whether Mr. Gately is, at present, in some one of his offices, or, perhaps at his home, or whether his whereabouts are undetermined.
Of course, Mr. Brice, the secretary went on, it is none of our business where Mr. Gately is, outside of his banking hours; and yet, in view of Mr. Pitts report of your account, it is incumbent upon us, the officers of the Trust Company, to look into the matter. Will you tell me, please, all you know of the circumstances pertaining to Mr. Gatelys disappearance, if he has disappeared?
If he has disappeared! I snapped back; and, pray, sir, if he has not disappeared, where is he?
Mr. Talcott, still unmoved, responded, That is aside the question, for the moment. What do you know of the matter, Mr. Brice?
I replied by telling him all I knew of the whole affair, from the time I first saw the shadows until the moment when I went down in the elevator and met Mr. Pitt.
He listened with deepest attention, and then, seemingly unimpressed by my story, began to question Jenny.
This volatile young lady had regained her mental balance, and was more than ready to dilate upon her experiences.
Yes, sir, she said, I was sitting at my desk, and nobody had come in for an hour or so, when, all of a sudden, I heard talking in Mr. Gatelys room.
Do callers usually go through your room? Mr. Talcott inquired.
Yes, sir, that is, unless theyre Mr. Gatelys personal friends, like Miss Raynor or somebody.
Who is Miss Raynor? I broke in.
His ward, said Mr. Talcott, briefly. Go on, Jenny; nobody had gone through your room?
No, sir; and so, I was startled to hear somebody scrapping with Mr. Gately.
Scrapping?
Yes, sir; sort of quarreling, you know; I
Did you listen?
Not exactly that, sir, but I couldnt help hearing the angry voices, though I didnt make out the words.
Be careful, Jenny, Talcotts tones were stern, dont assume more than you can be sure was meant.
Then I cant assume anything, said Jenny, crisply, for I didnt hear a single word, only I did feel sure the two of em was scrapping.
You heard, then, angry voices?
Yes, sir, just that. And right straight afterward, a pistol shot.
In Mr. Gatelys room?
Yes, sir. And then I ran in there to see what it meant,
Werent you frightened?
No, sir; I didnt stop to think there was anything to be frightened of. But when I got in there, and saw
Well, go on, what did you see?
A man, with a pistol in his hand, running out of the door
Which door?
The door of number three, thats Mr. Gatelys own particular private room, well, he was running out of that door, with a pistol in his hand, and the pistol was smoking, sir!
Jennys foolish little face was red with excitement and her lips trembled as she told her story. It was impossible to disbelieve her, there could be no doubt of her fidelity to detail.
But Talcott was imperturbable.
The pistol was smoking, he repeated, where did the man go with it?
I dont know, sir, said Jenny; I ran out to the hall after him, I think I saw him run down the staircase, but I, I was so scared with it all, I jumped into the elevator, Minnys elevator, and came downstairs myself.