Her father must have had some way of getting out of the compound gate that she didn’t know about. He must have suffered an attack of amnesia or something and simply walked off into the night.
But inquiry all over that part of the country had not turned up anyone who had seen Morel. And besides, he was in splendid health with not one thing to hint at brain trouble such as amnesia.
So he must have gone off, sane but in some suddenly conceived hurry. Or he might have been kidnaped!
Lila was trying not to think of the latter possibility. She was acting as if her father had left of his own accord and in full possession of his faculties.
So she was coming to talk to his oldest friend.
The house she was approaching was set in acres of lawn, sloping off to the Hudson River, not many miles north of New York City. It was a beautiful estate that belonged to a well-known figure.
The owner was Edwin C. Ritter, wealthy owner of an inherited shoe company, who was now high in power in the political party which had always had his allegiance.
Ritter was Arthur Morel’s closest friend. The two men had gone to school together and had kept in close touch with each other ever since. Lila felt that if anyone would know where her father had gone it would be Ritter.
Anyhow, she hoped so.
It was about ten o’clock at night, but lights blazed from most windows of the country place. It looked as if her luck were in and that Ritter, a busy man seldom at home, was now here to be seen.
Lila stopped her modest coupé, got out and walked up the stone steps to a ponderous door. She pressed the button there and heard soft chimes within. Then the door opened.
For a moment Lila felt as if she were in a dream and was seeing a nightmare.
From the crack between door and jamb, peered out at her one of the ugliest faces she had ever seen. And it was set on a form equally ugly.
The man was hardly five feet high, with shoulders and back twisted subtly so that the malformation didn’t actually show, but was more sensed than seen. Over this dwarfish body was a face that seemed to have come from the Stone Age. The features were so heavy that it was like a mask of a face twice life-size. He had a great, jutting jaw, heavy cheekbones and a beak of a nose. The whole countenance was almost hairless so that it looked curiously naked.
But the eyes reassured her. In the midst of this grotesque, almost repellent malformation, the eyes were intelligent, clear, kindly.
“Yes, miss?” the ugly, dwarfish man said. Only then did Lila see that he wore servants’ livery.
“I’d like to see Mr. Ritter, please,” she said. “My name is Lila Morel.”
The twisted little man showed her into a small drawing room, then disappeared. In a moment the famous Edwin Ritter came in.
Ritter was over six feet, very handsome, with black eyes and heavy black brows and prematurely white hair. He had an orator’s large, mobile mouth. He came to Lila with both hands out.
“Fine to see you,” he boomed. “How is your father? I haven’t seen you and Arthur for much too long.”
Lila’s heart sank, and it must have showed on her face. For Ritter said quickly:
“What’s the matter? Anything wrong?”
“I was hoping you
“No. I haven’t. What—”
Lila told what had happened. Ritter sat there with a slight frown on his handsome face.
“That
Lila shook her head.
“Why would he simply walk off, in carpet slippers and with no money or anything else, at two or three o’clock in the morning, and without saying a word to Packer or me?”
“It does seem odd,” said Ritter. “What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know that there’s anything you
Ritter nodded. His hand touched her shoulder in a fatherly way.
“Now don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be all right.” He stopped. “Hang it, I’m not at all sure of it! Tell me, is Packer still with you?”
“Yes,” said Lila.
“Is he perfectly all right? Are you sure of him?”
“Absolutely sure,” said Lila. “He’s above suspicion.”
Ritter chewed his lip, then shrugged. “This hits me as hard as it does you. Should we get in touch with the police?”
“I hate to do that, yet,” said Lila. “Dad has sometimes done eccentric things. Maybe this is one of those times. I’ll go to the apartment and wait. Tell me if you hear from him.”
She started toward the hall door, then looked at Ritter.
“You have a new butler?”
Ritter nodded, smiling a liitle. “Nothing of beauty, is he? But he is the perfect servant. In fact, he is more than a servant. Knarlie is my right-hand man, and I think I’ll make him my confidential secretary one of these days.”
“Knarlie?” Lila almost smiled, too. “What an odd name for an odd man!”
