“Well, it seems strange that a coachman whom you do not know, and who, therefore, would not have been likely to have struck you without instructions, should do that very thing without orders. Now, please be particular, Danton. Is it not possible that you may be mistaken and that the woman in the carriage was not Mercedes?”
“No; it is not possible. I saw her plainly.”
“In that case, I do not see just why you wish to talk to me about the story.”
“Good heavens, Carter! Don’t you suppose I want to find my sister?”
“I don’t know, I am sure. But if that was your sister, it is quite evident that she does not want to find you, or care to have you find her. If the occupant of that carriage was Mercedes Danton, she had mighty good reasons for acting as she did, and I will tell you very frankly, Reginald, as between you and Mercedes, I will take her side of the question every time.”
Reginald Danton took a quick step forward and turned, thus placing himself directly in front of the detective, so that both were obliged to come to a stop. Then he held out his hand and smiled.
“Shake,” he said.
“Why?” asked Nick.
“On that last proposition—that, as between Mercedes and me, you will take her side of the question every time. That is what I want you to do. In other words, I don’t care a fig whose side of the question you take as long as it benefits her in the end. I love my sister better than anybody else in the world—better than everybody else in the world put together. She’s in trouble of some kind, and I haven’t any more idea what it is than the man in the moon; neither can I find out what it is any more than the same mythical personage. Mercedes left the house without a written word to anybody. She took one of her maids with her—a new one, who has been in her employ only a month or so, and she left word with the other one that she would write.
“She did not write. I supposed, of course, she had gone to Newport, where mother is, and on Wednesday I ran over there. She was not there, and had not been there. Mother did not even know that she was not at home, and I didn’t enlighten her; and there you are. Mercedes went out of the house last Sunday, a week ago to-day, and——”