On Wednesday evening Mr. Jamieson, who had been down at the
Armstrong house trying to see Louise--and failing--was met near
the gate at Sunnyside by an individual precisely as repulsive and
unkempt as the one Alex had captured. The man knew the
detective, and he gave him a piece of dirty paper, on which was
scrawled the words--"He's at City Hospital, Johnsville." The
tramp who brought the paper pretended to know nothing, except
this: the paper had been passed along from a "hobo" in
Johnsville, who seemed to know the information would be valuable
to us.
Again the long distance telephone came into requisition. Mr.
Jamieson called the hospital, while we crowded around him. And
when there was no longer any doubt that it was Halsey, and that
he would probably recover, we all laughed and cried together. I
am sure I kissed Liddy, and I have had terrible moments since
when I seem to remember kissing Mr. Jamieson, too, in the
excitement.
Anyhow, by eleven o'clock that night Gertrude was on her way to
Johnsville, three hundred and eighty miles away, accompanied by
Rosie. The domestic force was now down to Mary Anne and Liddy,
with the under-gardener's wife coming every day to help out.
Fortunately, Warner and the detectives were keeping bachelor hall
in the lodge. Out of deference to Liddy they washed their dishes
once a day, and they concocted queer messes, according to their
several abilities. They had one triumph that they ate regularly
for breakfast, and that clung to their clothes and their hair the
rest of the day.
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