“A very interesting speculation, Mr. Hersheimmer. In my own opinion, it would be successful. It is unfortunate that there is no chance of the conditions repeating themselves as you suggest.”
“Not by nature, perhaps, doc. But I’m talking about art.”
“Art?”
“Why, yes. What’s the difficulty? Hire a liner—”
“A liner!” murmured Dr. Hall faintly.
“Hire some passengers, hire a submarine—that’s the only difficulty, I guess. Governments are apt to be a bit hidebound over their engines of war. They won’t sell to the first-comer. Still, I guess that can be got over. Ever heard of the word ‘graft,’ sir? Well, graft gets there every time! I reckon that we shan’t really need to fire a torpedo. If everyone hustles round and screams loud enough that the ship is sinking, it ought to be enough for an innocent young girl like Jane. By the time she’s got a life-belt on her, and is being hustled into a boat, with a well-drilled lot of artistes doing the hysterical stunt on deck, why—she ought to be right back where she was in May, 1915. How’s that for the bare outline?”
Dr. Hall looked at Julius. Everything that he was for the moment incapable of saying was eloquent in that look.
“No,” said Julius, in answer to it, “I’m not crazy. The thing’s perfectly possible. It’s done every day in the States for the movies. Haven’t you seen trains in collision on the screen? What’s the difference between buying up a train and buying up a liner? Get the properties and you can go right ahead!”
Dr. Hall found his voice.
“But the expense, my dear sir.” His voice rose. “The expense! It will be colossal!”
“Money doesn’t worry me any,” explained Julius simply.
Dr. Hall turned an appealing face to Sir James, who smiled slightly.
“Mr. Hersheimmer is very well off—very well off indeed.”
The doctor’s glance came back to Julius with a new and subtle quality in it. This was no longer an eccentric young fellow with a habit of falling off trees. The doctor’s eyes held the deference accorded to a really rich man.
“Very remarkable plan. Very remarkable,” he murmured. “The movies—of course! Your American word for the kinema. Very interesting. I fear we are perhaps a little behind the times over here in our methods. And you really mean to carry out this remarkable plan of yours.”
“You bet your bottom dollar I do.”
The doctor believed him—which was a tribute to his nationality. If an Englishman had suggested such a thing, he would have had grave doubts as to his sanity.
“I cannot guarantee a cure,” he pointed out. “Perhaps I ought to make that quite clear.”
“Sure, that’s all right,” said Julius. “You just trot out Jane, and leave the rest to me.”
“Jane?”
“Miss Janet Vandemeyer, then. Can we get on the long distance to your place right away, and ask them to send her up; or shall I run down and fetch her in my car?”
The doctor stared.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hersheimmer. I thought you understood.”
“Understood what?”
“That Miss Vandemeyer is no longer under my care.”
XV
Tuppence Receives a Proposal
Julius sprang up.
“What?”
“I thought you were aware of that.”
“When did she leave?”
“Let me see. Today is Monday, is it not? It must have been last Wednesday—why, surely—yes, it was the same evening that you—er—fell out of my tree.”
“That evening? Before, or after?”
“Let me see—oh yes, afterwards. A very urgent message arrived from Mrs. Vandemeyer. The young lady and the nurse who was in charge of her left by the night train.”
Julius sank back again into his chair.
“Nurse Edith—left with a patient—I remember,” he muttered. “My God, to have been so near!”
Dr. Hall looked bewildered.
“I don’t understand. Is the young lady not with her aunt, after all?”
Tuppence shook her head. She was about to speak when a warning glance from Sir James made her hold her tongue. The lawyer rose.
“I’m much obliged to you, Hall. We’re very grateful for all you’ve told us. I’m afraid we’re now in the position of having to track Miss Vandemeyer anew. What about the nurse who accompanied her; I suppose you don’t know where she is?”
The doctor shook his head.
“We’ve not heard from her, as it happens. I understood she was to remain with Miss Vandemeyer for a while. But what can have happened? Surely the girl has not been kidnapped.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Sir James gravely.
The other hesitated.
“You do not think I ought to go to the police?”
“No, no. In all probability the young lady is with other relations.”
The doctor was not completely satisfied, but he saw that Sir James was determined to say no more, and realized that to try and extract more information from the famous K.C. would be mere waste of labour. Accordingly, he wished them goodbye, and they left the hotel. For a few minutes they stood by the car talking.
“How maddening,” cried Tuppence. “To think that Julius must have been actually under the same roof with her for a few hours.”
“I was a darned idiot,” muttered Julius gloomily.
“You couldn’t know,” Tuppence consoled him. “Could he?” She appealed to Sir James.
“I should advise you not to worry,” said the latter kindly. “No use crying over spilt milk, you know.”
“The great thing is what to do next,” added Tuppence the practical.
Sir James shrugged his shoulders.
“You might advertise for the nurse who accompanied the girl. That is the only course I can suggest, and I must confess I do not hope for much result. Otherwise there is nothing to be done.”
“Nothing?” said Tuppence blankly. “And—Tommy?”
“We must hope for the best,” said Sir James. “Oh yes, we must go on hoping.”
But over her downcast head his eyes met Julius’s, and almost imperceptibly he shook his head. Julius understood. The lawyer considered the
