Excerpt
CHAPTER I THE STORY OF A DOUBLE TRAGEDY
The young man was evidently in a tremendous hurry, and as soon as the ferryboat bumped into the slip he was at the gate and was the first one ashore. He beckoned to one of the alert taxicabmen, and without waiting to have the vehicle brought to him, ran to it and leaped inside.
"Do you know where the Vanderslip Building is?" he questioned abruptly.
"Yes, sir."
"Then take me there with all possible speed."
"Yes, sir."
The door slammed, the taxi driver mounted to his seat, and off the taxi started at the best rate of speed the driver could attain. The young man sank down among the cushions and buried his chin in his hands.
His face, normally a handsome one, was now wrinkled with care, his hair was disheveled, and he looked as if he had lost much sleep. At times his mouth twitched nervously and he clenched his fists in a passion which availed him nothing.
"To think that she is guilty!" he muttered. "It is horrible! Horrible!" And then his whole frame shook as if with the ague. Twice he started up, to see if he had not yet arrived at his destination. But the drive was a long one, and to him, in his keen anxiety, it appeared an age.
"If he is away—out of town—in Europe, or on some case which he cannot leave, what am I to do?" he murmured. "I've pinned my whole faith on him."
Presently there was a jar, and the taxicab came to a halt in front of a large office building. The young man gave one look, and, before the driver could get down, had the door open and was on the pavement. "Here you are," he said and thrust a dollar bill into the fellow's hand. Then he crossed the broad pavement and was lost to sight in the corridor beyond.
"In a hurry and no mistake, and looks a heap worried, too," was the chauffeur's comment. "Well, I'm a quarter ahead on that fare."
For a moment the young man studied the directory on the corridor wall. Then he entered an elevator and alighted at the eighth floor. He, walked down a side hall until he came to a door upon the glass of which was inscribed the name:
Adam Adams
"This must be the place," he murmured, and opening the door he entered the office, to find himself in a plain but neatly furnished apartment, containing several chairs, and a flat-top desk, at which a young lady was writing.
"Is Mr. Adams in?" he asked, as the young lady arose to meet him.
"What name, please?" was the counter question, and the young lady gave the visitor a keen glance.
"Raymond Case." The young man brought forth his card. "Tell Mr. Adams I am the son of the late Wilbur Case, and wish to see him on important business."
The young lady disappeared through a door leading to an inner apartment. From this she entered another apartment, much larger, and overlooking the little city park far below. The room was filled with books and pictures, and some wall brackets contained several bits of finely-carved statuary. There was one large roller-top desk and three comfortable leather chairs.
At the desk sat a man of uncertain age, with a strong face, a somewhat bald head, and eyes that were neither light nor dark....