"There is a scandal in the thing, too, Radnor."
"Of course, man! The fellow wasn't so badly hurt but what he must have been around again, by the time I went back to the sanatorium. The girl was certainly in her right senses. She remained there with him, hanging over him and helping to take care of him—and there wasn't a thing said about any marriage-ceremony. Oh, it's a big story all right, no matter how it turns out. You see, there are some remarkable circumstances associated with the case. For instance, there are two men in town now, both of whom should be very greatly concerned over the mystery. I have had them both watched, and, while both seem anxious about something, neither one seems to give a hang about an affair which I know they would have broken their necks to have prevented. There's a nigger in the fence, somewhere; and those two men avoid each other as if one had the smallpox and the other was down with yellow fever. Whenever I have asked any of the intimate friends about the principals in the case, I have been told enough to inform me that the intimate friends know as little as I do, and don't guess anything about it, at all. Oh, it's a fine mix-up! But just where the trouble is located, I can't make out."
"Put me wise, Radnor, and let me help you. Then, we'll do the story together," said the man called Sommers.
"Not much. It's my story, and I'm going to hang to it. If you can make anything out of what I have told you, you're welcome. You can't! The young woman in the case has got more brains than half the business men, down-town. The man and the woman have both got millions to burn; and there you are. Come on; let's have something. I'm dry as a bone."
The members of Radnor's party marched past Roderick Duncan without seeing him; and he, totally forgetful of the errand that had taken him to the hotel, passed swiftly out of it, hailed a taxi, and gave the address of Malcolm Melvin, the lawyer; and then he was whirled away as swiftly as the driver of the cab dared to take him through the streets of the teeming city.
CHAPTER XX
THE LAST WOMAN
Stephen Langdon was seated at one end of the table, Roderick Duncan was at the opposite one. Melvin, the lawyer, was behind it. Duncan had just related the story he had overheard told by Radnor, and he had brought his recital to a close by making a remarkable statement, which had brought at least one of his hearers to a mental stand-still.
"I am a party to an agreement which was signed, sealed and delivered, in this office, Mr. Langdon," he said. "You are also a party to that document. Your daughter also signed it. By the terms of that document, Patricia Langdon became my promised wife. Under the terms recited in that document, she named a day when we were to be married. That day has come and gone, and I have received no word of any kind from her. I am convinced that you, her father, know where she is, where she can be found, and now I demand of you that information, in order that I may seek her. It is my wish to know from her own lips if she repudiates that contract, or if it is still her intention to live up to it. I have asked you, in Mr. Melvin's presence, twice, to give me the information I wish for. I have asked you once on the ground of our mutual friendship: you declined to answer. I have asked you, the second time, on the ground of love and affection, for you and for your daughter: you have refused. I ask you now on the ground of a commercial transaction, just as Miss Langdon insisted upon viewing it, and with all personal considerations put aside. If you again decline my request, I give you warning that I shall make a call upon you within an hour, for the loan I have advanced. I have that right, under the terms of the agreement, and I shall take advantage of it. That is all I have to say. It is my last word."