The Search Party. George A. Birmingham

where he was going. I expect he wants you to go after him and join him there—make a fresh start, you know, in the New World, and build up a happy home, where the miserable past may be forgotten. That’s what he means. I’m convinced of it. Only he had to leave this rather hurriedly in the middle of the night. But don’t be despondent, Miss Blow; you’ll get a letter from him soon.”

      “That’s all nonsense,” said Miss Blow. “He’s done nothing of the sort.”

      “But, my dear young lady, how can you possibly speak so confidently? He’s not the first man who has run away under such circumstances. Plenty of people do it, I assure you. It’s not even considered disgraceful.”

      “I know he didn’t.”

      “But how do you know?”

      “Because I wrote to him a week ago, when I first heard he was in trouble, and told him I was coming over here to see him. I said that father would help him out of his difficulties, whatever they were. Do you think that, after that, he’d run away and not so much as tell me he was going?”

      Lord Manton did not know what to think. Dr. O’Grady had disappeared. There was no getting out of that. It was a patent fact. On the other hand, if Mr. Blow had really offered to pay the doctor’s debts, there seemed to be no reason why he should disappear. No doubt the wealthy proprietor of the well-known twopenny Beauties could afford to pay Mr. Lorraine Vavasour’s bill twenty times over if necessary. Still, Dr. O’Grady had disappeared.

      “You are all,” said Miss Blow passionately, “a lot of slanderous busy-bodies, telling lies and meddling with everybody’s business because you have no business of your own to attend to. My poor Lucius has been murdered among you, and now not one of you will help me to get at the truth; but I’ll do it in spite of you.”

      Lord Manton looked at her. She was undeniably handsome; handsomer than ever now that she was in a rage. It occurred to him suddenly that Dr. O’Grady might have a reason for disappearing, quite unconnected with the money he owed. He was engaged to be married to Miss Blow. It was possible that the idea of home life with this masterful and passionate young woman for a partner might be rather terrifying. Besides, the wife who pays her husband’s debts for him has a hold over him ever afterwards; and Miss Blow seemed exactly the kind of lady who would take advantage of such a position. She would certainly make him aware of the fact. Lord Manton thought he understood at last why Dr. O’Grady had run away. Miss Blow’s face was buried in her handkerchief. She was not crying, but she was flushed after her outburst, and preferred to keep her face covered. Lord Manton ventured on a smile and a gentle chuckle.

      “I assure you,” he said soothingly, “that he hasn’t been murdered. Who would murder him? Everybody in the neighbourhood was fond of him. I don’t think there was a man, woman, or child but loved him. I did myself.”

      “If you loved him,” said Miss Blow, “show it now.”

      “I will, with pleasure; but how?”

      “Give me a search warrant.”

      “A search warrant! But——”

      “Yes, a search warrant; and I shall insist upon the police executing it.”

      “I haven’t the least doubt you will; but—but what do you mean to search?”

      “Every house in the neighbourhood. Every house until I find him.”

      “But he isn’t in a house. Do try to be reasonable, Miss Blow. Even if he’s murdered—and I’m quite sure he’s not—he wouldn’t be in a house. His body would be hidden in a wood or a bog-hole or a river, or wherever it is that murderers usually do hide bodies.”

      “You admit then that he has been murdered.”

      “No, I don’t. You mustn’t catch up my words like that. All I said was that, if he had been murdered, he wouldn’t be living in a house, and so a search warrant wouldn’t be any use to you. You don’t really want a warrant at all. You don’t even want the police. All you have to do is to go prowling round the country, poking into any shadowy-looking hole you see with the point of your umbrella until you come across his body.”

      The interview was beginning to tire Lord Manton. He was not accustomed to being bullied by handsome girls, and he did not like it.

      “Perhaps you’d like to start at once,” he said politely.

      “It’s impossible,” she said, “for me to search the country by myself.”

      “Not at all. Nothing is impossible for a young lady of your energy. Start with the wood behind this house; it’s very thick in parts, quite a likely spot for a corpse; and come in here for lunch when you’ve finished.”

      “Give me a written order to the police,” said Miss Blow, “commanding them to aid me in my search.”

      “It wouldn’t be the least use to you, I assure you. You’ve no idea what independent people the police are. An order from me would simply put their backs up and make them determined not to help you.”

      “Give me the order, and I’ll see that they execute it.”

      “My dear Miss Blow, I can’t, I really can’t. Try the Chief Secretary. You’ll find him in his office at Dublin Castle. He’s a most agreeable man. You needn’t be the least bit afraid of him. Not that it’s likely you would be. He’s much more likely to be afraid of you. It won’t take you long. You can run up by the night mail and——”

      “Give me the order.”

      Lord Manton surrendered. He crossed the room, sat down at his desk, and wrote—

      “Sergeant Farrelly, R.I.C. Kindly give all the assistance in your power to Miss Blow, the bearer of this note, who wishes to search the country for a dead body.—Manton.”

      “If that is any use to you,” he said, “you’re welcome to it. Let me know how you get on. Any time you happen to find yourself near this house, drop in for luncheon or tea. Good-bye.”

      Miss Blow rose, bowed, and left the room. Lord Manton rang the bell.

      “Wilkins,” he said to his butler.

      “Yes, my lord.”

      “You saw that young lady who left the house just now? Very well, if she calls again and I happen to be out, you are to give her breakfast, luncheon, tea or dinner according to the hour of the day. If I happen to be at home you are to stay in the room during the time she is with me, as a chaperone. You understand, Wilkins?”

      “Yes, my lord.”

      “She doesn’t require a chaperone, but I do. I don’t feel safe when I’m alone with her. And Wilkins, if she brings a corpse along with her, either Dr. O’Grady’s corpse or any other, you will provide proper accommodation for it. Put it on the table in the servants’ hall with a sheet over it, and send out to the garden for flowers—white flowers.”

      “Yes, my lord.”

      “One thing more, Wilkins; if Sergeant Farrelly or any policeman comes up here from the barracks either to-day or to-morrow and asks to see me, tell him I’m out, and that it won’t be the least use his waiting because I won’t be in before midnight and probably not then.”

      “Yes, my lord.”

      Wilkins left the room, and Lord Manton, taking the chair in which Miss Blow had been sitting, lit a cigarette. There was a stealthy step on the gravel outside. He looked up and saw Patsy Devlin’s face pressed against the window. He rose, opened the window, and asked Patsy what he wanted.

      “Might I be so bold as to put a question to your lordship?”

      “Is it about Miss Blow or Dr. O’Grady?”

      “It is,” said Patsy. “It’s about the both of them.”

      “Out with it, then. That young woman and her relations with the