Read Lost Man's Lane: A Second Episode in the Life of Amelia Butterworth Page 2

  I

  A VISIT FROM MR. GRYCE

  Ever since my fortunate--or shall I say unfortunate?--connection withthat famous case of murder in Gramercy Park, I have had it intimated tome by many of my friends--and by some who were not my friends--that nowoman who had met with such success as myself in detective work wouldever be satisfied with a single display of her powers, and that sooneror later I would find myself again at work upon some other case ofstriking peculiarities.

  As vanity has never been my foible, and as, moreover, I never haveforsaken and never am likely to forsake the plain path marked out for mysex, at any other call than that of duty, I invariably responded tothese insinuations by an affable but incredulous smile, striving toexcuse the presumption of my friends by remembering their ignorance ofmy nature and the very excellent reasons I had for my one notableinterference in the police affairs of New York City.

  Besides, though I appeared to be resting quietly, if not in entirecontentment, on my laurels, I was not so utterly removed from the oldatmosphere of crime and its detection as the world in general consideredme to be. Mr. Gryce still visited me; not on business, of course, but asa friend, for whom I had some regard; and naturally our conversation wasnot always confined to the weather or even to city politics, provocativeas the latter subject is of wholesome controversy.

  Not that he ever betrayed any of the secrets of his office--oh no; thatwould have been too much to expect--but he did sometimes mention theoutward aspects of some celebrated case, and though I never venturedupon advice--I know too much for that, I hope--I found my wits more orless exercised by a conversation in which he gained much withoutacknowledging it, and I gave much without appearing conscious of thefact.

  I was therefore finding life pleasant and full of interest, whensuddenly (I had no right to expect it, and I do not blame myself for notexpecting it or for holding my head so high at the prognostications ofmy friends) an opportunity came for a direct exercise of my detectivepowers in a line seemingly so laid out for me by Providence that I feltI would be slighting the Powers above if I refused to enter upon it,though now I see that the line was laid out for me by Mr. Gryce, andthat I was obeying anything but the call of duty in following it.

  But this is not explicit. One night Mr. Gryce came to my house lookingolder and more feeble than usual. He was engaged in a perplexing case,he said, and missed his early vigor and persistency. Would I like tohear about it? It was not in the line of his usual work, yet it hadpoints--and well!--it would do him good to talk about it to anon-professional who was capable of sympathizing with its baffling andworrisome features and yet would never have to be told to hold herpeace.

  I ought to have been on my guard. I ought to have known the old fox wellenough to feel certain that when he went so manifestly out of his way totake me into his confidence he did it for a purpose. But Jove nods nowand then--or so I have been assured on unimpeachable authority,--and ifJove has ever been caught napping, surely Amelia Butterworth may bepardoned a like inconsistency.

  "It is not a city crime," Mr. Gryce went on to explain, and here he wasbase enough to sigh. "At my time of life this is an importantconsideration. It is no longer a simple matter for me to pack up avalise and go off to some distant village, way up in the mountainsperhaps, where comforts are few and secrecy an impossibility. Comfortshave become indispensable to my threescore years and ten, andsecrecy--well, if ever there was an affair where one needs to go softly,it is this one; as you will see if you will allow me to give you thefacts of the case as known at Headquarters to-day."

  I bowed, trying not to show my surprise or my extreme satisfaction. Mr.Gryce assumed his most benignant aspect (always a dangerous one withhim), and began his story.