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 A MYSTERIOUS
 DISAPPEARANCE

 BY
 GORDON HOLMES

 NEW YORK
 EDWARD J. CLODE
 156 FIFTH AVENUE
 1905




 Copyright, 1905, by
 EDWARD J. CLODE

 _The Plimpton Press Norwood Mass._




 CONTENTS


      I "_Last Seen at Victoria_!"                     1
     II _Inspector White_                             12
    III _The Lady's Maid_                             22
     IV _No. 61 Raleigh Mansions_                     30
      V _At the Jollity Theatre_                      41
     VI _Miss Marie le Marchant_                      48
    VII _In the City_                                 56
   VIII _The Hotel du Cercle_                         64
     IX _Breaking the Bank_                           72
      X _Some Good Resolutions_                       83
     XI _Theories_                                    91
    XII _Who Corbett Was_                            101
   XIII _A Question of Principle_                    109
    XIV _No. 12 Raleigh Mansions_                    119
     XV _Mrs. Hillmer Hesitates_                     131
    XVI _Foxey_                                      142
   XVII _A Possible Explanation_                     152
  XVIII _What Happened on the Riviera_               163
    XIX _Where Mrs. Hillmer Went_                    175
     XX _Mr. Sydney H. Corbett_                      183
    XXI _How Lady <DW18> Left Raleigh Mansions_        194
   XXII _A Wilful Murder_                            205
  XXIII _The Letter_                                 216
   XXIV _The Handwriting_                            225
    XXV _Miss Phyllis Browne Intervenes_             234
   XXVI _Lady Helen Montgomery's Son_                246
  XXVII _Mr. White's Method_                         254
 XXVIII _Sir Charles <DW18>'s Journey_                 264
   XXIX _How Lady <DW18> Disappeared_                  274
    XXX _Sir Charles <DW18> Ends His Narrative_        285
   XXXI _Valedictory_                                297




CHAPTER I

"LAST SEEN AT VICTORIA!"


Alice, Lady <DW18>, puckered her handsome forehead into a thoughtful frown
as she drew aside the window-curtains of her boudoir and tried to look
out into the opaque blackness of a November fog in London.

Behind her was cheerfulness--in front uncertainty. Electric lights, a
nice fire reflected from gleaming brass, the luxury of carpets and
upholstery, formed an alluring contrast to the dull yellow glare of a
solitary lamp in the outer obscurity.

But Lady <DW18> was a strong-minded woman. There was no trace of doubt in
the wrinkled brows and reflective eyes. She held back the curtains with
her left hand, buttoning a glove at the wrist with the other. Fog or no
fog, she would venture forth, and she was already dressed for the
weather in tailor-made costume and winter toque.

She was annoyed, but not disconcerted by the fog. Too long had she
allowed herself to take things easily. The future was as murky as
the atmosphere; the past was dramatically typified by the pleasant
surroundings on which she resolutely turned her back. Lady <DW18> was
quite determined as to her actions, and a dull November night was a
most unlikely agent to restrain her from following the course she had
mapped out.

Moving to the light again, she took from her pocket a long, closely
written letter. Its details were familiar to her, but her face hardened
as she hastily ran through it in order to find a particular passage.

At last she gained her object--to make quite sure of an address. Then
she replaced the document, stood undecided for a moment, and touched an
electric bell.

"James," she said, to the answering footman, "I am going out."

"Yes, milady."

"Sir Charles is not at home?"

"No, milady."

"I am going to Richmond--to see Mrs. Talbot. I shall probably not return
in time for dinner. Tell Sir Charles not to wait for me."

"Shall I order the carriage for your ladyship?"

"Will you listen to me and remember what I have said?"

"Yes, milady."

James ran downstairs, opened the door, bowed as Lady <DW18> passed into
Portman Square, and then confidentially informed Buttons that "the
missus" was in a "rare old wax" about something.

"She nearly jumped down my bloomin' throat when I asked her if she would
have the carriage," he said.

Her ladyship's mood did not soften when she drifted from the fixed
tenure of Wensley House, Portman Square, into the chaos of Oxford Street
and fog at 5.30 on a November evening.

Though not a true "London particular," the fog was chilly, exasperating,
tedious. People bumped against each other without apology, 'buses
crunched through the traffic with deadly precision, pair-horse vans
swept around corners with magnificent carelessness.

In the result, Lady <DW18>, who meant to walk, as she was somewhat in
advance of the time she had fixed on for this very important engagement,
took a hansom. In her present mood slight things annoyed her. Usually,
the London cab-horse is a thoughtful animal; he refuses to hurry; when
he falls he lies contented, secure in the knowledge that for five
blissful minutes he will be at complete rest. But this misguided
quadruped flew as though oats and meadow-grass awaited him at Victoria
Station on the Underground Railway.

He raced down Park Lane, skidded past Hyde Park Corner, and grated the
off-wheel of the hansom against the kerb outside the station within
eight minutes.

In other words, her ladyship, if she would obey the directions contained
in the voluminous letter, was compelled to kill time.

As she stepped from the vehicle and halted beneath a lamp to take a
florin from her purse, a tall, ulster-wrapped gentleman, walking rapidly
into Victoria Street, caught a glimpse of her face and well-proportioned
form.

Instantly his hat was off.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Lady <DW18>. Can I be of any service?"

She bit her lip, not unobserved, but the law of Society forced her
features into a bright smile.

"Oh, Mr. Bruce, is it you? I am going to see my sister at Richmond.
Isn't the weather horrid? I shall be so glad if you will put me into the
right train."

Mr. Claude Bruce, barrister and man about town, whose clean-cut features
and dark, deep-set eyes made him as readily recognizable, knew that she
would have been much better pleased had he passed without greeting. Like
the footman, he wondered why she did not drive in her carriage rather
than travel by the Underground Railway on such a night. He guessed that
she was perturbed--that her voluble explanation was a disguise.

He reflected