THE CARHART MYSTERY.

Press, Volume LX, Issue 11753, 30 November 1903, Page 3

THE CARHART MYSTERY.

I m Ml

HtMiX K. Vitt*. : "I assure you. WUloughby, dpon. my word, as sum as I frtntid here, I had taated nothing more potent thau 4 glass or two of Burgundy that'night."-. _ "What night?" inquired WUloHghby. "The night young (.Urhart disappeared," I interpow-d, ,ntpres*iv*ly. . * l I?»e J"** l a, fellow sis f«t high and Iwavier than any of us vanished as completely from this room as a puff of biuoke dissolves in air." "1 liave wen a. puff of smoke g» flying through a window." Wilioughby suggested, xlauguiiig, though his interest had evidently bwn aroused, for be glanced toward the bay of leaded glass which made one of the ple_sante*t features of Barton's cosy smoking-room. "But no man ever went through this particular window," I replied, taking the burden of enlightenment upon myself, in spite of my host's very apparent disapproval. "This window looks out upon a neighbour's yard, and eve* sinoe the house was built is has been barred as heavily as you see it now." I sprang up, and, when I had pressed a button which set a dozen electric bulbs aglow in the four corners of the room, drew the light curtains to on* side. "Examine for yourself!" I cried, much in the manner of a showman.

"I'll take your word for it the iron in that grille is genuine," said WiHoughby, without rising. "And I will admit that no fasting Yogi could worm himself through intersect ices so small. But how about tho door V

"The door." I hastened v to assure him, "was then just as you see it now, an opening tliree feet wide, and Barton himself stood before it in the hall a single step beyond the threshold.",

I should have gone 6_ in my eagerness to call attention to the walls and ceiling and floor, ull obviously free from secret openings, had not Barton interrupted. tinifting uneasily .on his feet before the mantelpiece, he said: "Our friend Joe has not explained that he knows nothing of the circumstance beyond what I have told him."

"But not in confidence," I protested. "No," admitted Barton, "not in confidence." And to his other guest bo said: "I have made no secret of this strange occurrence, wilioughby, and my reluctance to discuss it arises from a doubt that long familiarity with the circumstances haa not mado it impossible for mc. to give to each its proper weight. I am in constant fear of coming upon a weakness which I have overlooked in, the chain, and yet it would be a lelief to diacdver such a flaw. I should have called in an expert at once. I should have sought the counsel of detectives; and such would unquestionably have been my comae had not those most interested dissuaded mc. Young Carhart's father telegraphed"me: 'Say nothing to authorities.' Disappearance satisfactorily explained.' And, at the time, that was enough. It was not till some months later that I learned the family were theoaophisto, a sect to which nothing is so satisfactory aa the inexplicable. 1 have, myself, no theory to advance. The man, my guest, was here one moment, and the next he had gone from a room where the only openings were a grilled window and a guarded door. His overcoat and hat are still in my possession; and, from all I have been able to learn, he haa not been heard of since." "I beg that you will not think it necessary to tell mc more of ,the etory if 't distresses you," protested Wilioughby, courteously; for Barton's face had grown grave, an- I had begun to feel my introduction of the subject ill-timed. But our host was quick tc reassure him with a gesture. .-'.,, t "On the contrary," he aajd, "yon have but just returned from India, where, aa I have heard, mysterious disappearances are not unoonimon, and occult matters are better understood. Your opinion will be of the greatest service." "In that case," Wilioughby replied, becaxoing ipstaatlyy Judicially alert. "Let as begin «t the "beginning. Who was Carhart? Ho* came heher.! What was the I manner of hk going?" J "' : v ;■ - ,: -That', fret tha myjltery/'.t mterpoaed. "Joe, please don't interrupt, said Barton, making an effort to collect his thoughts. •'slit down, old man," Willoughbj? suggested. "Well choke Joe if he speaks again. Now, let us have the facts—l'm deeply interested. Do ait down." Barton complied in so far a» to perch himself upon the broad arm of a leather chair. "I sha'nt be tragic," he began; "for, as I said, there may be—in fact, there must be—some purely natural explanation. Of course, you never met young Carhart; for he came here while you were away. He had but few acquaintances in New, York; for, although he brought good letters from Boston, where nia people lived, he had not cboaen to present them. He waa a most attractive sort—half-back at Harvard, stroke-bar and all the rest. Great fellow in the Hasty Pudding Club, and poet of his claw, but just a trifle—shall I say—susceptible and—" "Soft," I suggested.

"No," contradicted Barton; "though, to tell the trutli, he never could resist a pretty face. That waa his failing." "Remarkable' maul" Wilioughby commented with fervour. ' • "He was,"' assented Barton. "In that respect, at least.* He carried.it too far. He wanted to marry every good-looking girl he met; He would have been married a dozen times before he graduated, had not his friends interefered." ■~■■■ , "Thank heaven for friends T' commented Wilioughby, with still more fervour. "Till at laat," cantinued Barton, now sufficiently himself to punctuate hia narrative with occasional whiffs of his cigar, "at last Carhart fell under the influence of a widow." ~,■'. "A designing widow," I put in, to make the situation clearer. • , "Attractive?" Wilioughby inquired. "Oh, decidedly." "_ncu_mrances?" "No," answered Barton. "Not exactly. There were rumours of a husband in the background somewhere, but he waa not produced." . "A pretty widow is-beyond the habeas corpus Act/ mused Wilioughby. "Quite so," Barton admitted: "But, at all evente, there was nothing really known against the lady except a maiden aunt, and this objectionable relative Was, by the way, quite as much opposed to the match as were Carhart's own -people. ,, "And why were they opposed, to itr "Oh you see, with ha procilivities for poetry and acting, they were afraid an unhappy marriage would drive him to —c stage, and, naturally, _ they took every measure to prevent it-". ■_ , Here Barton paused to light a irescigar, while we others sipped, our coffee thoughtfully. ' "And what were these preventive measures?" Wilioughby inquired. "Oh, the usual thing," said Barton. "Threat-, badgering, advice and promises. All these -died to move him; he was determined to make her h_ wife, and, as a last resource, hk father wrote to mc, putting the matter in my hand*; wjthout re"An elopement had been pl«nned,aa we bad every reason to believe, for a certain evening; and the elder Carhart kept the wires hot all day with appeal* to mc to save his eon." • "And did you?" Wilioughby inquired. "Yes," answered Barton, cautiously, "u> a way." "How?" "I began by inviting him to dinner. "And, of course, he did not accept?" "Oh, yes, he did. He both accepted sod arrived on time, and I must say I never saw a, __n confront a filet nrignon bordela-e with more outward t_tisfaction; and, though we spoke upon -different topics, hk apiriU •earned «rab__ntbeyond all bounds- But you may be sum I kept ■_ eye upon his every movement. I waa determined be should not escape. In an extremity, I waa prepared to administer * harmless sleeping potion-in hi* coffee." >> "Indeed 1" aaid Wilioughby, as he _et down his cup, and ran an investigating lutd suspicious tongue aloujf the edges of his "A drastic tneasure, I admit," continued Barton, "but one which I shoald have oonaidared jMtiflafclt, could I have feme*- tha

miscarriage" of my other plan. You know! my _der- sister, "Emily?" ' j ' We bowed, for it was a duty to know, Emily. "And you know her eldest daughter, Emeline?" We bowed again, it was a pleasure to know Eraeline. "Well," went on Barton, "it so happened that they were to dine' that evening in the neighbourhood, And I Arranged with them to drop in upon mc in an offhand way soon after their dinner, which was a small, informal one. I was convinced, you see, that Carhart could not fail to fall desperately in love with Emcline. which would have simplified affairs at once."' Of course, we both assented—l through civility, but Wilioughby, as I fancied, with a somewhat heightened colour.

"I presume you did not take -Miss Emeline into your confidence," be said, a trifle stiffly. "_«o," answered Barton, "but I have often wished since that I had been more frank. It's just the sort of thing she's good at." Wilioughby tossed his excellent cigar, half smoked, 'into the grate, with what appeared unnecessary violence. "You were saying that your plan fell through," he prompted. "It did," Tejoined the host. "It fell through completely, as you shall see. I kept my young friend at the table aa long au possible, and Nathan—to his credit I will say it—was never more deliberate; but wh*en Carhart had declined ■'almonds and raisins rather pointedly for the third time, wo rose from the table, as the clock struck ten, and. came in here to smoke. The lights were low, as they were before our friend Joe tried to blind us." "I beg your pardon!" I exclaimed, and, hastening to the button, I reduced the room again to semi-darkness. "Ah, that's more like it," 6aid Barton. "I much prefer the light subdued. Well, here we were—Carhart before the mantelpiece, Where I stood just now, smoking composedly enough, and I between him and the door, listening for the sound of the bell which might at any moment announce the arrival of the ladies. I remember perfectly that, we were discussing setter dogs; and, as you may well believe, I wae never bo put to it for anecdotes in my life, when at fast the welcome summons came."

"I thought you said your plan fell through," Wilioughby interposed. "It did," retorted Barton. "The bell, which echoed through the house, waa not rung by Emily at all, but by a servant with a note from her to fay that, being indisposed; my sister had decided to drive dirgctly home. Emeline, she added, was going on to some infernal dance. I had given Carhart no intimation of my sister's coming, and, naturally, I did not reveal the contents of her note. In fact, I made the dim light an excuse for stepping into the brighter hall, and this enabled mc to conceal from him my first chagrin. As I stood not two feet from the threshold, debating what my course should be, I observed that Nathan closed the front door upon the -messenger; and presently he passed mc, going to his pantry, as I thought. I must have remained standing there bfifore tJhe door nearly a minute, though it seemed much less, for, when I turned, Nathan was at my elbow again, holding in hk hands a tray of cups. "'You served, the coffee not a minute ago, you idiot 1' I said, betraying the irritation which I felt; and, furthermore, I will confess, the smell of coffee brought back to mc most painfully the only plan which then remained.

"'I thought you might be ready for thum more,' persisted Nathan, with his most aggravating lisp. 'I did not know the gentleman had gone.' "'Gonel' I exclaimed. 'You must be blind. The gentleman, Mr Carhart, is in the smoking-room.' "1 beg your pardon, thir; but he'tb not,' retorted Nathan, moving from mc as though to avoid a blow. 'The gentleman ain't in the tamoking-room.' "'Fool!' I cried, and darted from vim, but the next moment I had found his words too tree. Carhart had vanished, dkfeppeared, melted, as one might say, into the element of air."

"Strange!" I reflected, lowering my voice as an aid to Barton's climax. ■ ••■.

"Strange enough 1" cried less impressed than I had hoped. "And so your servant waa the first to make the discovery?" "Yes," answered Barton;- "although I have never allowed him to know.of j - .y astonishment. I did my best to. pass it off ac a joke. I allowed him to believe that Carhart had taken leave of mc before the stupid blunder of the second coffee." "Athking your pardon, thir," came in injured, lisping accents from the gloom. "I never brought no thecond coffee that night, becauth the cat upthet the coffeepot, nor did I thay, thir, that the gentle- j man had gone." • Barton, concealing his annoyance, sat! regarding his domestic for a moment with . assumed indifference. j "And pray what did you say, then, when j you stood there beside mc at the door?" ! he demanded. "Nothing at all, thir," answered Nathan. "I wathn't there. I went back to my; panthy when I had let out the methenger, and there I thayed until I heard you hammering on the wallth and floor with the fire-shovel." "That will do, Nathan," returned Bar-, ton, stiffly; and I perceived an odd expression on the face of Wilioughby. "Thoda, thir?" inquired Nathan of the other guess. •> " "Yes," waa the answer. "And please fill it up." We settled down ' into an awkward silence, while Nathan fidgetted with sodawater bottles, Barton fingering his cigar, I. toying with a paper-weight, and Wilioughby intent upon the fire. "Carhart," he kept repeating, almost to himself. "Where have I heard that name befoie? Carhart I" "Carhart?" said Barton, inquiringly. "Carhart!" repeated Wilioughby, with still more** abstraction. "Carhart 1 "Yes, Carhart!" I put in, by way of keeping up the train of thought. "Carhart!" roared Barton, springing to his feet. *'Can't anybody tajr anything but Carhart?" "And what became of the widow?" Wilioughby demanded, meditatively. "I never knew nor cared to know," replied our host. "Pretty, I think you said," continued Wilioughby. "And auburn •haired?'' "Yes, deuced pretty, deuced auburn - haired. "What are you driving at?" Wilioughby held up a soothing hand. "Just let mc think," he said. "I used to know a man once in Calcutta. An American from Boston; sold canned goods, calico and caramels at wholesale; had a pretty wife. Clever fellow, too; and great at giving imitations—could mimic anything, used to do an old domestic with a lisp in a way that would make your sites ache. I wish I could recall that fellow's name. By Jove, it was—it waa I—it was! " "Was what?" I asked. "Why, 'C-rhart'!" Barton, before the fire,. swayed on his feet unsteadily, and clutched the mantelpiece for support. Old Nathan shuffled to I his side.

"Thoda, thirf * the servant asked. "Yes," said the master, absently. "If you please, one lump of sugar and a little cream."