Dorothy Dixon and the Double Cousin

“Cut it out, Dot,” broke in Bill, who had been waiting patiently for a chance to get even. “You can’t be in the center of the stage all the time, and your remarks are out of order, anyway.”

“I’ll dot you one, if you take my name in vain, young man!”

“Silence, woman! Go ahead, Howard, and speak your piece, or she’ll jump in with both feet next time.”

Dorothy said nothing but the glance she shot Bill Bolton was a promise of dire things to come.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” grinned Howard, and Dorothy immediately put him down as a good sport. “Well, to go on with it – we used to meet in the lobby, go for walks and bus rides, sometimes to the movies or a matinee. Two weeks ago, Janet, who is just eighteen, by the way, said she would marry me. She seemed to have no friends in New York. I’ve seen her father, but never met him. Except for this horrible business, which came up a few days ago, all that I know about Janet is that her mother died when she was five, her father parked her at a boarding-school near Chicago, and she stayed there until last June when she graduated. Her summer holidays were spent at a girls’ camp in Wisconsin. She was never allowed to visit the homes of the other girls, so Christmas and Easter holidays she stayed in the school. During her entire schooling, she saw her father only five times. Last summer he took her abroad with him. They travelled in Germany and in Russia, I believe.”

“Gosh, what a life for a girl!” exploded Bill.

“I should say so!” Dorothy made no attempt to hide her disgust. “The more I hear about Uncle Michael, the less I care about him.”

“Tell us what you do know about him,” prompted Sanborn. “I want to get all the background possible before Bright explains the girl’s present predicament. I know a good deal about Dr. Winn and his secretary. If those men are threatening her, there must be something very serious brewing. Go ahead, Dorothy – luncheon will be up here any minute, now.”

“All right, but I warn you it isn’t much. My mother, who as you know died when I was a little girl, had one sister, my Aunt Edith, who was her twin. They looked so much alike that their own father and mother had trouble in telling them apart. Aunt Edith fell in love with a young Irishman named Michael Jordan, whom she met at a dance. He seemed prosperous, and my grandfather gave his consent to their engagement. Then he learned that Michael Jordan made his money by selling arms and ammunition to South and Central American revolutionists. Grandpa, from all accounts, hit the ceiling. He was a deacon of the church, very sedate and all that, and he said he wouldn’t allow his daughter to marry a gun-runner. And that was that. To make a long story short, Aunt Edith ran away with Michael Jordan. They were married in New York, sent Grandpa a copy of the marriage certificate, and then sailed for South America. For several years there was no word from them at all. My mother, whose name was Janet, by the way, loved Aunt Edith as only a twin can love the other. But she couldn’t write to her because the eloping couple had left no address. Six years later, mother had a letter from Uncle Michael. He was in Chicago then, and he wrote that Aunt Edith had died, and that he had placed little Janet at the Pence School in Evanston. Mother and Daddy went right out to Chicago, to see Uncle Michael. They tried to get him to let them take Janet home with them, and bring her up with me. I was only three at the time, so naturally I don’t remember anything about it. But what I’m telling you Daddy told to me years later. Well, their trip to Chicago was all for nothing – Uncle Michael refused to let them have Janet. It almost broke my mother’s heart. Well, and that is the reason Janet and I have always given each other presents at Christmas and on our birthdays, although we’ve never even met. Two years ago, she sent me her photograph, and both Daddy and I were astounded to see the resemblance to me. Twice, since then, I’ve been taken for Janet by girls who were at school with her at Evanston. Perhaps, if we were seen together, you’d be able to tell us apart – I don’t know.”

“I do, though,” declared Howard, “you may be slightly broader across the shoulders, Dorothy, but otherwise you might be Janet, sitting there. You’ve the same brown hair, grey eyes, your features are alike – ”

“How about our voices?”

“Exactly the same. You have a more forceful way of speaking, that’s all. I keep wanting to call you ‘Janet’ all the time.” Howard turned his head away, and Dorothy could see the emotion that again overtook him as he thought of his helpless little fiancee, a prisoner in the hands of unscrupulous men.

She glanced at Bill, and shook her head in sympathy. Just then there came a knock on the sitting room door.

“Ah! lunch at last!” Ashton Sanborn rose and put his hand on Howard’s shoulder. “Come, no more of this now. The subject of the double cousins is taboo until we’ve all done justice to this excellent meal!”

Chapter III

THE SLEEPWALKER

“Mr. Sanborn,” said Dorothy, “when you’re tired of fathoming mysteries for people, come out to New Canaan and help me order meals. That was the most scrumptious lunch I’ve had in a month of Sundays.” She dropped a lump of sugar in her demitasse and threw her host a bright smile across the table.

“Thank you, my dear,” the detective smiled back. “I may take you up on that one of these days. But speaking of mysteries reminds me that now the waiter is gone, it’s high time we busied ourselves again with the affairs of Janet Jordan. Now that I understand something of the young lady’s background and her family, I want to hear all there is to tell about her present position.” He pulled a briar pipe and tobacco pouch out of his pocket and commenced to fill the one with the contents of the other. “All ready, Howard. Start at the beginning and don’t skimp on details – they may be and they generally are important.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll begin with a week ago today.” Howard pushed his chair away from the table, thrust his hands into trouser pockets and jumped into his story. “Janet had a date to meet me last Thursday at two p. m. at the Strand. We intended to take in a movie – but she never showed up.”

“Then you aren’t a business man – ?” This from the detective.

“Oh, but I am – a mining engineer, Mr. Sanborn. With the Tuthill Corporation. But I am free on Thursday afternoons, instead of Saturday. It is more convenient for the office staff.”

“Hasn’t your concern large mining concessions in Peru?”

“It has, sir – silver mines. To make matters worse – but no – I’ll tell it this way. I particularly wanted to meet Janet last Thursday, because I had been told the day before by the head of our New York office that I was to be transferred to Lima, Peru. The boat that I’m scheduled to sail on, leaves this coming Saturday. I was fearfully pepped up about it. I’m going down there as assistant manager of our Lima office, the job carries a considerable increase in salary, and, if I make good, a fine future with the firm. My plan was to get Janet to marry me, with or without her father’s consent, and to take her to Lima with me. I couldn’t bear to think of leaving her to the kind of existence she’d had before I’d known her – and with no way of correspondence – Well, I waited for over an hour in the lobby of the theatre but she didn’t come. At last I went up to my apartment.”

“Why didn’t you phone her?” asked Dorothy, who was nothing if not direct.

“Because Janet had asked me never to do that. She said if her father knew she had a boy friend, he’d pack her off somewhere, and we’d never be able to meet again.”

“Nice papa – I don’t think!” observed Bill Bolton.

“No comments now, please,” said Sanborn. “Go on, Howard. If you couldn’t talk to Janet, how did you find out that she was a prisoner?”

Howard smiled. “But we were able to talk to each other, Mr. Sanborn. About the time we became engaged, I fixed that. My small flat is on the ninth floor of the building, the Jordans’ on the seventh. My three rooms have windows on an air shaft. The Jordans’ back bedroom and bath overlook the same airshaft and are directly opposite my sitting room, two flights below. The shaft is only twenty feet wide, so I bought one of those headphone sets that are used in airplanes for conversation between the cockpits of a plane while it is being flown. I lengthened the wires of course, and got a long, collapsible pole. After dark, Janet would come to her window, I’d pass her headphone set down to her, hooked on to the end of the pole, and we would hold long conversations across the court without anybody being the wiser. When we were through talking, I’d pass the pole over to her and draw it back when she’d attached her headset.”

“By Jingoes!” cried Bill. “I’ll say that’s clever!”

“It sure is, Howard!” Dorothy was quite as enthusiastic. “You certainly deserve to get Janet after that.”

Howard shook his head. “We’ll have to do something really clever to get her away from the bunch who are holding her prisoner. Well, – as I say, when I got to my flat, I sat down by my sitting room window, and pretended to read a book. In reality, of course, I was watching Janet’s window. Presently she appeared. Even at that distance, I could see that she had been crying. She held up a slate, for we never dared to use the headphones in the day time, and slates are a good medium for short messages. On it she had written, ‘After dark.’ Well, that was one of the longest afternoons I’d ever put in. About five-thirty, she came back to her window and I passed over the headgear. When I heard her story, I went half crazy, and I guess I’ve been pretty much that way ever since.

“You see, Mr. Sanborn, Janet has told me that occasionally she walks in her sleep, especially when she isn’t feeling very well. The evening before, that was a week ago Wednesday night, she had a headache and went to bed early. When she awoke, she was terrified to find herself seated on the floor of their living room, behind a large Chinese screen. There seemed to be seven or eight men in the room, including her father. Of course, she could not see them, but she could hear every word they said. By the clock on the wall above her head, she saw that it was one in the morning. She soon realized that this was a meeting of the heads of some large society or organization and that these men had come there from all parts of the world. There was an air of mystery about them and their talk. No names were mentioned but they addressed each other by number. Mr. Jordan was Number 5; Number 2, who spoke with a foreign accent, was evidently conducting the meeting, in place of the absent Number 1, whom they all seemed to hold in great awe. Janet realized that she must have entered the room before the meeting started, while she was still asleep. She saw that so long as the meeting lasted, there would be no way of escape. Gradually she became terrified at her predicament, and – ”

“Just a moment,” interrupted Ashton Sanborn. “Has Janet ever told you anything of her father’s business?”

“She really knows nothing about it, Mr. Sanborn. I asked her myself some time ago, and she said then, except that he seemed to travel a lot, she hadn’t the slightest idea what he did for a living. Once when she asked him outright what is was, Mr. Jordan flew into a rage. He said it was his own affair, and that so long as it brought them in enough money to live comfortably, he did not wish her to bring up the matter again. The one thing she does know is that he doesn’t go regularly to an office. Men frequently come to see him at the apartment, but their conversations are invariably held behind locked doors.”

“I see. Go on now, with Janet and the meeting.”

“Well, sir, as I’ve said, she was behind that screen, listening to what the men said – and in fact, she couldn’t help listening. Not that she understood much of what they were saying. Number 2 made a long speech and the gist of it was that now they were agreed upon the use of Formula X, the demonstration (whatever that was) must be made in their respective sectors at the same time on the same day. He also proposed that Number 5 (Janet’s father) interview Number 1 and learn from him when the demonstrations should be made. This motion was carried unanimously. Then Number 3 asked the chairman if they could not in future hold their meeting in some safer place than the Jordans’ apartment. ‘For all we know,’ he said, ‘someone may be secreted behind that screen!’ Mr. Jordan laughed at this, and told Number 3 to close up the screen if it made him nervous. So the first thing Janet knew, the screen was dragged aside and she was staring into the face of a Chinaman. Seated in a circle behind him were the others, her father among them.”

“Gosh!” exclaimed Dorothy. “I’ll bet that scared the poor kid silly.”

“It did,” admitted Howard. “She was absolutely petrified. And then there was the dickens to pay. All the men started talking at once. The Chinaman pulled a revolver and pointed it straight at her, yelling that she had heard their secrets and must be immediately executed!”

“‘She has heard nothing!’ her father told them. ‘She frequently walks in her sleep. She was asleep when she wandered in here before the meeting, and she is sleeping now – look!’ Then he lit a match and held the flame before Janet’s eyes. ‘You see,’ he said, ‘she doesn’t even blink. Janet has heard nothing, gentlemen.’”

“Of course Janet had taken her father’s hint, and followed it. She knew that he was doing the only thing he could to save her life, so she kept right on staring in front of her without moving, while the Chinaman held the automatic within a foot of her head. But the strain she was under nearly broke her nerve. She knew that the slightest sign on her part that she was conscious would mean a bullet through her brain. A furious argument followed. Most of the men – there were eight of them including Mr. Jordan – wanted her put out of the way at once. But at last, her father and Number 2, a big man with a long beard who seemed to be more humane than the rest, prevailed upon them to let him lead her back to her bed. Her father was forbidden to hold any intercourse with her whatsoever. She was locked in her bedroom, afraid even to cry, for fear she would be heard, and not knowing what moment the door would open and they would drag her to her death.”

“Horrible!” Mr. Sanborn’s pipe had gone out but he didn’t seem to notice it. “That experience was enough to unhinge a person’s mind. Janet may be shy and retiring, but she evidently doesn’t lack grit. By the way, did she say she recognized any of the men at the meeting?”

“No. She said that without exception she was sure she’d never seen any of them before, although they were all on good terms with her father. Each one seemed to be of a different nationality. One was a black man who wore a turban – an East Indian, probably. Another, also pretty dark, wore a red fez. The others were apparently Europeans, but as they all spoke English together she had no way of guessing what they were. Number 2, the man with the long brown beard, she thought might be a Scandinavian. She was sure, though, that her father was the only American or Anglo-Saxon in the group.”

“Tell us what happened next morning,” proposed Dorothy. Her coffee, now cold, remained untasted in the cup.

“I’m getting to that. At eight o’clock her door was unlocked and a woman, a stranger to her, came into her bedroom with a breakfast tray. She put the tray on a table and went into the bathroom and turned on the water for Janet’s bath, then left the room and locked the door after her. At nine this same woman came back, brought some books and magazines to her, made up the bed and put the room straight. Whenever Janet spoke to her, she shook her head and put her finger to her lips. But Janet said that even now she doesn’t know whether the woman is actually dumb or only acting under orders. She has brought and taken away her meals ever since, but she has never been able to get her to speak.”

“But how did she find out about going to Dr. Winn’s house?” asked Bill Bolton, who had shown an interest quite as keen as Dorothy’s or Sanborn’s.

Howard Bright drank a glass of water. “I’m getting to that part now,” he explained. “I’m not much of a story teller and I seem to be taking an awful time to get through this one – but I’m doing my best just the same.”

“Of course you are!” Dorothy motioned Bill to keep quiet. “You’re doing noble, Howard! Pay no attention to that goof over there.”

“O.K., Dorothy.” Howard replaced his empty glass on the table. “At about noon of the first day of Janet’s imprisonment in her room, the door was unlocked and Mr. Lawson came in. She knew him as a friend of her father’s who had dined with them two or three times. She had always thought him quite a jolly sort of chap and knew that he was private secretary to Dr. Winn, the celebrated chemist. Naturally, she felt rather relieved to see him, and she opened up on him at once. She still felt that her only hope for life and freedom was to pretend absolute ignorance of the happenings of the night before. And she managed to keep up that pretense before Lawson, though what he had to do with the affair she hadn’t any idea, nor does she yet know where he comes into the picture. Anyway, he wasn’t at the meeting. She let him know, though, that she was very indignant and astonished to find herself kept a prisoner, and demanded to see her father. Lawson, she told me, was most affable and kind to her. He said that she of course did not realize that she had been very ill during the night and that she was now under doctor’s orders. He also told her that her father had been called away on business, so he had come to her as an old friend of the family, to be of any help that he could. Janet said that his sympathy almost undermined her suspicion – she almost confided in him. But luckily, she didn’t. He has been to see her every day since, and she is now convinced that his part in this devilish scheme is to gain her confidence, and to find out whether she actually did hear or see anything at the meeting. Yesterday he told her that it had been decided she should visit him and his wife at Dr. Winn’s house while her father is away, and that in order to occupy her mind, she should act as secretary to Mrs. Lawson, who assists Dr. Winn in his work.”

“Maybe they don’t really mean to harm her after all,” said Dorothy hopefully.

“Janet is certain,” said Howard, “that they want her at the Doctor’s for close observation. She took a secretarial course at school, so that part of it is all right, but I believe with her that one slip, one sign that she is deceiving them, will mean that she will simply vanish and never be heard of again. She knows that Lawson lied about one thing: her father is still living in their flat. She has heard his voice several times.”