The instinct of self-defense and gravity of his position precluded sympathetic feeling for friends innocently involved in results of the tragedy. Such sentiments will come when present stress is less imminent.

Emerging from the English Channel, they are in the Bay of Biscay. A storm is raging. Sailors fear wreck, but Oswald feels not a tremor. What are ocean's pending perils to this human castaway, about whose hunted soul seem closing the tentacles of fate?

Roar of tempest, blinding electric flash, rushing wave, descending spray, creaking timbers, with instinctive ravening of ocean's hungry hordes, are luring, friendly greetings compared to merciless clamor of that receding sh.o.r.e.

Spending its spasmodic heat, the storm subsides, and the ship plows on toward destined port.

CHAPTER VI

THE TRIPLE WEB

Sir Donald and Esther returned from the opera expecting to meet their friends. Admitted by the servant, they were informed that Alice and Oswald were still out. A little surprised, they expect them momentarily.

After waiting some time, Esther expresses the opinion that possibly an accident occurred, causing the delay. Sir Donald has no fear but what Alice and Oswald soon will arrive. "They have enjoyed the ride and gone farther than intended."

Esther sees the probability of this, but feels piqued at their careless conduct.

"Alice should know better than to stay out so late! Perhaps they have not started back yet!"

Sir Donald looks up and notes his daughters evident excitement. Her flashing eyes and quivering lips tell their story.

Esther feels that she has shown too much interest, and resorts to pretty arts of dissembling.

Sir Donald is indulgent. He acquiesces in Esther's artful show, and with much animation they chat away for another hour on subjects which seem to have new interest for this charming girl. Finally both retire.

They listen, expecting the bell soon to announce the return of Alice and Oswald.

Both Esther and Sir Donald arose early. They were puzzled at the strange absence of their friends. Some accident must have befallen them. Perhaps a.s.sistance is needed. However, it would be wise to avoid undue haste and notoriety. The innocent conduct and mishaps of their friends must not be made the theme of vulgar gossip.

Restrained by these refined sentiments, Esther and Sir Donald waited until afternoon before taking any action. Then they started out together, and procuring a boat, rowed up the Thames in the direction which Oswald and Alice had taken, the keeper going with them.

After about an hour the boat was found, and all landed at this point. No signs of the missing couple were seen. It was decided that Sir Donald and Esther should row farther up the stream, while the keeper searched the sh.o.r.e for any signs of the young people. Soon all stopped.

Oswald's hat was found upon the bank at the rustic seat. Their search up and down the river revealed no other clew. They returned greatly shocked.

It seemed certain that both had disappeared at the place where the hat was found. In some way they had gone over the bank. There may have been a b.l.o.o.d.y tragedy, but most likely Alice had fallen over into the stream, and Oswald, attempting her rescue, both were drowned.

The police were notified. Careful search up and down both sides of the stream gave no further clew. All the means available for rescue of the bodies were employed. Finally a lace handkerchief was found. Esther identified it as the property of Alice. The delicately embroidered initials "A.W." made its ident.i.ty complete. Both had been murdered or were accidentally drowned.

The papers commented upon this mysterious affair. Reporters vied in their narratives of exciting coincidences.

Sir Donald and Esther were hara.s.sed by all sorts of questions as to the antecedents of their friends. Between desire to be courteous and dictates of discretion, they often were much puzzled.

Detectives, each with his own theory, made frequent calls. While polite, these inquisitors were most persistent in their persecutions. What cared they for refined scruples? The presence of both missing parties at Northfield, their conduct while there, and Oswald's stay at the home of Alice in London were dwelt upon at length. Failing to get full replies responsive to direct questions, shrewdly phrased opinions delicately hinting at possible infatuation of one or the other were expressed.

Sir Donald, though much annoyed, could answer with apparent frankness, yet conceal what he wished not told, but Esther had greater difficulty.

Their inquisitors soon became aware of this. Not desiring notoriety, but shrinking from apparent concealment, Esther's distress was evident.

At first Sir Donald refrained from further instruction to Esther than simple suggestion of care in her answers. But this inexperienced girl was no match for detectives or reporters, who quizzed her mercilessly.

Sir Donald came to the rescue with a vigor most decisive.

One reporter had been offensively persistent. An amateur detective was pressing Sir Donald with his theory of the case.

"Oswald suggested the night ride, and lured Alice to the rustic seat for the purpose of murdering the girl. To avoid blame for her betrayal, she was thrown into the river. His hat was left at the spot as evidence that he too met death. Oswald fled, and is now somewhere in disguise."

Sir Donald managed to suppress his indignation at the substance and manner of this statement. Just then the reporter in the next room asked Esther by direct question what he had been urging by innuendo:

"Was there anything in the conduct of your friends while at Northfield or in London which indicated that they were unduly familiar?"

Before time for reply, the reporter was lifted through the front door, landing beyond the porch. No one seeming to appreciate our sleuth's brilliant theory, he promptly left.

Both Sir Donald and Esther regretted the notoriety likely to result from this affair, but none of its details were published.

Soon after, there appeared in a London paper this comment:

"It is pretty generally agreed that a certain gentleman and his daughter know more than they feel safe to relate about the mysterious disappearance of Oswald Langdon and Alice Webster. Their evident embarra.s.sment when questioned regarding the conduct of the missing parties is significant. There is such a thing as being an accessory to crime by concealment. There is no wrath like that of--, etc. A little detective work along a certain line might unearth some startling finds.

A hint to the wise is sufficient."

Sir Donald received a marked copy of the paper containing this screed, but concealed it from his daughter. This precaution was unavailing, as another copy, conspicuously marked, was delivered by special carrier to Esther.

Both were greatly distressed by these insinuations. Every one would know to whom reference was made. However, there was nothing which could be done. To resent this attack would be most indiscreet.

Relying upon the probability that Sir Donald and Esther were sufficiently disciplined by this publication, other inquisitors appeared.

Sir Donald's manner was so frigid that none cared to persist. No one had the audacity further to interview Esther.

Instead of returning at once to Northfield, they remained several days in London. Realizing that there might be some suspicion cast upon them, Sir Donald was on his mettle. So far from shrinking from public gaze, he openly moved about his affairs with dignified composure. He consulted one of the most noted London detectives, retaining his agency to unravel the Dodge conspiracy, lake tragedy, and these mysterious disappearances.

This agency undertook to solve the three complex issues involved, convinced that these were so interwoven as to form one web. Skillful a.s.sistants were intrusted with particular lines of investigation.

Double shifts were employed in watching each of the Laniers. A trusted lieutenant, skilled in intricate work, was sent to India.

Sir Donald keenly felt the unpleasant notoriety. He had been attacked at the most sensitive, vital point of his nature. Never before had he experienced any sense of social ostracism. No thought of family shame ever had suffused his cheek. And his beloved Esther! This motherless girl, whose clinging, obedient love and trusting dependence had wound their silken tendrils around every pulsing fiber of his soul!

That penny-liners could make coa.r.s.e reference or express vague innuendo about this pure-minded, sensitive girl seemed horrible. He could have trampled to death such offenders with deliberate fury, yet this vengeance but more surely would crush Esther's hopes. For her sake he must be patient. Time, property, and every available means will find employment in her vindication. There shall be permitted no maudlin sentiment of pity in this undertaking. Certain retribution shall be whetted by each delay.

This former impersonation of complacent optimism, acquiescing in all human experiences as special essentials of the infinite plan, shrinks from such crucial test. This is surely a noted exception. A daughter's tender heartstrings are too sensitive for such stoic touch.

Sir Donald chafes at slow processes of retributive justice. How tardy the infinitesimal grind! Would that the wheels speed their lagging momentum!

The former Sir Donald Randolph is changed. His old philosophical, speculative, idealistic bent is as completely in abeyance as though stricken with rudimentary palsy. In their stead is an alert, untiring, relentless Nemesis, more pitiless because of intense, novel zeal.

But Sir Donald is handicapped. Not that time or money is lacking. These are available. What about Esther? Her comment upon the absence of Oswald and Alice that night had been painfully distinct. The unmistaken, mute language of her eyes and quivering lips was clearer. Her pretty, persistent dissembling was confirmation. Subsequent suspicious innuendoes had aggravated her feelings. He asks himself: "Shall I neglect this troubled child to engage in ferreting out crime? Why should Esther's sorrows merit her father's neglect?"

Seeing a picture of justice blinded, he exclaims: "What mocking irony in judicial pose of blind G.o.ddess poising nicely adjusted balance, whose crude, arbitrary registers reckon not of vicarious pain!"