A glow of enjoyment such as he had sometimes experienced when the
ticker at the Cadillac Hotel informed him that the man he had backed in
some San Francisco fight had upset his opponent for the count began to
permeate Keggs.
'Disappeared, madam,' he repeated.
'Perhaps Mrs. Winfield took him with her to Tuxedo.'
'No, madam. Mrs. Winfield was alone. I was present when she drove
away.'
'Send Mamie to me at once,' said Mrs. Porter.
Keggs could have whooped with delight had not such an action seemed to
him likely to prejudice his chances of retaining a good situation. He
contented himself with wriggling ecstatically. 'The young person is not
in the house, madam.'
'Not in the house? What business has she to be out? Where is she?'
'I could not tell you, madam.' Keggs paused, reluctant to deal the
final blow, as a child lingers lovingly over the last lick of ice-cream
in a cone. 'I last saw her at about five o'clock, driving off with Mr.
Winfield in an automobile.'
'What!'
Keggs was content. His climax had not missed fire. Its staggering
effect was plain on the face of his hearer. For once Mrs. Porter's
poise had deserted her. Her one word had been a scream.
'She did not tell me her destination, madam,' went on Keggs, making all
that could be made of what was left of the situation after its artistic
finish. 'She came in and packed a suit-case and went out again and
joined Mr. Winfield in the automobile, and they drove off together.'
Mrs. Porter recovered herself. This was a matter which called for
silent meditation, not for chit-chat with a garrulous butler.
'That will do, Keggs.'
'Very good, madam.'
Keggs withdrew to his pantry, well pleased. He considered that he had
done himself justice as a raconteur. He had not spoiled a good story in
the telling.
Mrs. Porter went to her room and sat down to think. She was a woman of
action, and she soon reached a decision.
The errant pair must be followed, and at once. Her great mind, playing
over the situation like a searchlight, detected a connection between
this elopement and the disappearance of William Bannister. She had long
since marked Kirk down as a malcontent, and she now labelled the absent
Mamie as a snake in the grass who had feigned submission to her rule,
while meditating all the time the theft of the child and the elopement
with Kirk. She had placed the same construction on Mamie's departure
with Kirk as had Mr. Penway, showing that it is not only great minds
that think alike.
A latent conviction as to the immorality of all artists, which had been
one of the maxims of her late mother, sprang into life. She blamed
herself for having allowed a nurse of such undeniable physical
attractions to become a member of the household. Mamie's very quietness
and apparent absence of bad qualities became additional evidence
against her now, Mrs. Porter arguing that these things indicated deep
