Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 39).djvu/226

 Mr. Keith was a man who had built up a large fortune mainly by consistently refusing to allow anything to agitate him. He carried this policy into private life.

"Wasn't she in at lunch?" he asked, placidly.

"I tell you I haven't seen her all day. She breakfasted in her room"

"Late?"

"Yes. She was tired, poor girl."

"If she breakfasted late," said Mr. Keith, "she wouldn't need any lunch. She's gone for a stroll somewhere."

"Would you put back dinner, do you think?" inquired Mrs. Keith, anxiously.

"I am not good at riddles," said Mr. Keith, comfortably, "but I can answer that one. I would not put back dinner. I would not put back dinner for the King."

Elsa did not come back for dinner. Nor was hers the only vacant place. Mr. Barstowe had also vanished. Even Mr. Keith's calm was momentarily ruffled by this discovery. The poet was not a favourite of his—it was only reluctantly that he had consented to his being invited at all; and the presumption being that when two members of a house-party disappear simultaneously they are likely to be spending the time in each other's society, he was annoyed. Elsa was not the girl to make a fool of herself, of course, but He was unwontedly silent at dinner.

Mrs. Keith's anxiety displayed itself differently. She was frankly worried, and mentioned it. By the time the fish had been reached conversation at the table had fixed itself definitely on the one topic.

"It isn't the car this time, at any rate," said Mr. Keith. "It hasn't been out to-day."

"I can't understand it," said Mrs. Keith for the twentieth time. And that was the farthest point reached in the investigation of the mystery.

By the time dinner was over a spirit of unrest was abroad. The company sat about in uneasy groups. Snooker-pool was, if not forgotten, at any rate shelved. Somebody suggested search-parties, and one or two of the moustache-tuggers wandered rather aimlessly out into the darkness.

Martin was standing in the porch with Mr. Keith when Keggs approached. As his eyes lit on him, Martin was conscious of a sudden solidifying of the vague suspicion which had been forming in his mind. And yet that suspicion seemed so wild. How could Keggs, with the worst intentions, have had anything to do with this? He could not forcibly have abducted the missing pair and kept them under lock and key. He could not have stunned them and left them in a ditch. Nevertheless, looking at him standing there in his attitude of deferential dignity, with the light from the open door shining on his bald head, Martin felt perfectly certain that he had in some mysterious fashion engineered the whole thing.

"Might I have a word, sir, if you are at leisure?"

"Well, Keggs?"

"Miss Elsa, sir."

"Yes?"

Keggs's voice took on a sympathetic softness.

"It was not my place, sir, to make any remark while in the dining-room, but I could not 'elp but hoverhear the conversation. I gathered from remarks that was passed that you was somewhat hat a loss to account for Miss Elsa's non-appearance, sir."

Mr. Keith laughed shortly.

"You gathered that, eh?"

Keggs bowed.

"I think, sir, that possibly I may be hable to throw light on the matter."

"What!" cried Mr. Keith. "Great Scot, man! then why didn't you say so at the time? Where is she?"

"It was not my place, sir, to henter into the conversation of the dinner-table," said the butler, with a touch of reproof. "If I might speak now, sir?"

Mr. Keith clutched at his forehead.

"Heavens above! Do you want a signed permit to tell me where my daughter is? Get on, man, get on!"

"I think it 'ighly possible, sir, that Miss Elsa and Mr. Barstowe may be on the hisland in the lake, sir."

About half a mile from the house was a picturesque strip of water, some fifteen hundred yards in width and a little less in length, in the centre of which stood a small and densely wooded island. It was a favourite haunt of visitors at the house when there was nothing else to engage their attention, but during the past week, with shooting to fill up the days, it had been neglected.

"On the island?" said Mr. Keith. "What put that idea into your head?"

"I 'appened to be rowing on the lake this morning, sir. I frequently row of a morning, sir, when there are no duties to detain me in the 'ouse. I find the hexercise hadmirable for the 'ealth. I walk briskly to the boat-'ouse, and"

"Yes, yes. I don't want a schedule of