The Chestermarke Instinct - J. S. Fletcher

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      "Capital suggestion!—much obliged to you," exclaimed the Earl. "Gad! I wonder we never thought of that before! Much the most likely thing. I can't believe that Horbury——"

      Before he could say more, the door of the dining-room was thrown open, a clear, strong voice was heard speaking to some one without, and in walked a handsome young woman, who pulled herself up on the threshold to stare out of a pair of frank grey eyes at the four startled men.

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      Mrs. Carswell, who had left the gentlemen to themselves after opening the plate-chest, followed the new-comer into the room and looked appealingly at the senior partner.

      "This is Miss Fosdyke, sir," she said, as if accounting for the unceremonious entrance. "Mr. Horbury's——"

      But Miss Fosdyke, having looked round her, entered the arena of discussion as abruptly as she had entered the room.

      "You're Mr. Chestermarke!" she said, turning to Gabriel. "I remember you. What's all this, Mr. Chestermarke? I come down from London to meet my uncle, and to go on with him to Scotland for a holiday, and I learn that he's disappeared! What is it? What has happened? Why are you all looking so mysterious? Is something wrong? Where is my uncle?"

      Gabriel, who had assumed his stereotyped expression of calm attention under this tornado of questions, motioned Joseph to place a chair for the young lady. But Miss Fosdyke shook her head and returned to the attack.

      "Please don't keep anything back!" she said. "I am not of the fainting-to-order type of young woman. Just say what is the matter, if you please. Mrs. Carswell knows no more——"

      "Than we do," interrupted Joseph, with one of his peculiar smiles. "Hadn't you better sit down?"

      "Not until I know what has happened," retorted the visitor. "Because if anything has happened there will be something for me to do, and it's foolish to sit down when one's got to get up again immediately. Mr. Chestermarke, are you going to answer my questions?"

      Gabriel bowed stiffly.

      "I have the honour of addressing——" he began.

      "You have the honour—if you like to put it so—of addressing Miss Betty Fosdyke, who is Mr. John Horbury's niece," replied the young lady impatiently. "Mrs. Carswell has told you that already. Besides—you saw me, more than once, when I was a little girl. And that's not so very long ago. Now, Mr. Chestermarke, where is my uncle?"

      "I do not know where your uncle is," replied Gabriel suddenly, and losing his starchiness. "I wish to Heaven I did!"

      "None of us know where Mr. John Horbury is," repeated Joseph, in his suavest tones. "We all wish to Heaven we did!"

      The girl turned and gave the junior partner a look which took in every inch of him. It was a look which began with a swift speculation and ended in something very like distaste. But Joseph Chestermarke met it with his usual quiet smile.

      "It would make such a lot of difference—if we knew!" he murmured. "As it is—things are unpleasant."

      Miss Fosdyke finished her reflection and turned away.

      "I remember you now," she said calmly. "You're Joseph Chestermarke. Now I will sit down. And I insist on being told—everything!"

      "My dear young lady!" exclaimed Gabriel, "there is next to nothing to tell. If you will have the unpleasant truth, here it is. Your uncle, whom we have trusted for more years than I care to mention, disappeared on Saturday evening, and nobody knows where he is, nor whither he went. All we know is that we find some of our property missing—valuable securities. And this gentleman—Lord Ellersdeane—tells us that six weeks ago he entrusted jewels worth a hundred thousand pounds to your uncle's keeping—they, too, are missing. What can we think?"

      The girl's face had flushed, and her brows had drawn together in an angry frown by the time Gabriel had finished, and Neale, silently watching her from the background, saw her fingers clench themselves. She gave a swift glance at the Earl, and then fixed her eyes steadily on Gabriel.

      "Are you telling me that my uncle is a—thief?" she demanded. "Are you, Mr. Chestermarke?"

      "I'm not, anyhow!" exclaimed the Earl. "I—I—so far as I'm concerned, I say there's some mistake."

      "Thank you!" she answered quietly. "But—you, Mr. Chestermarke? Come—I'm entitled to an answer."

      Gabriel showed signs of deep annoyance. He had the reputation of being a confirmed woman-hater, and it was plain that he was ill at ease in presence of this plain-spoken young person.

      "You appear to be a lady of much common sense!" he said. "Therefore——"

      "I have some common sense," interrupted Miss Fosdyke coolly. "And what amount I possess tells me that I never heard anything more ridiculous in my life than the suggestion that my uncle should steal anything from anybody! Why, he was, and is, I hope, a fairly well-to-do man! And if he wanted money, he'd only to come to me. It so happens that I'm one of the wealthiest young women in England. If my uncle had wanted a few thousands or tens of thousands to play ducks and drakes with, he'd only to ring me up on the telephone, and he'd have had whatever he asked for in a few hours. That's not boasting, Mr. Chestermarke—that's just plain truth. My uncle a thief! Mr. Chestermarke!—there's only one word for your suggestion. Don't think me rude if I tell you what it is. It's—bosh!"

      Gabriel's colourless face twitched a little, and he drew himself up.

      "I have no acquaintance with modern young ladies," he remarked icily. "I daresay they have their own way of looking at things—and of expressing themselves. I, too, have mine. Also I have my own conclusions, and——"

      "I say, Mr. Chestermarke!" said the Earl, hastening to intervene in what seemed likely to develop into a passage-at-arms. "We're forgetting the suggestion made just before this lady—Miss Fosdyke, I think?—entered. Don't let's forget it—it's a good one."

      Miss Fosdyke turned eagerly to the Earl.

      "What suggestion was it?" she asked. "Do tell me? I'm sure you agree with me—I can see you do. Thank you, again!"

      "This gentleman," said the Earl, pointing to Neale, who had retreated into a corner and was staring out of the window, "suggests that Horbury may have met with an accident, you know, and be lying helpless somewhere. I sincerely hope he isn't but——"

      Miss Fosdyke jumped from her chair. She turned an indignant look on Gabriel and let it go on to Joseph.

      "You don't mean to tell me that you have not done anything to find my uncle?" she exclaimed with fiery emphasis. "You've surely had some search made?—surely!"

      "We knew nothing of his disappearance until ten o'clock this morning," replied Gabriel, half-angrily.

      "But—since then? Why, you've had five hours!" she said. "Has nothing been done? Haven't you even told the police?"

      "Certainly not!" answered Gabriel. "It is not our policy."

      Miss Fosdyke made one step to the door and flung it open.

      "Then I shall!" she exclaimed. "Policy, indeed! High time I came down here, I think! Thank you, Lord Ellersdeane—and the other gentleman—for the suggestion. Now I'll go and act on it. And when I act, Mr. Chestermarke, I do it thoroughly!"

      The next moment she had slammed the door, and Gabriel Chestermarke glanced at his partner.

      "Annoying!" he said. "A most unpleasant

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