The Disappearance of Kimball Webb

Kimball Webb didn't look at all like a man who would disappear mysteriously. Though I'm not sure mysteriously disappearing men, as a class, have physical characteristics in common. But one rather imagines them eerie looking, with deep, cavernous eyes and hollow cheeks.

Kimball Webb had nothing of the sort. He was a bit distinguished looking, but that was because he was a New Englander by birth, and a playwright by profession and had won the D. S. C. in the late war. Now, though a lame knee interfered slightly with his outdoor pursuits, his mind was alert and eager to return to work and his brain was fairly bursting with new ideas for his plays. First, however, he must needs attend to a certain business of getting married. A delightful business it seemed to Webb, for Elsie Powell was as lovely and desirable in the flesh as she had looked to him when seen in his troubled dreams in far off France.

There is a lot to be said about Elsie, but that properly comes in the next chapter.

Mrs. Webb and Miss Henrietta Webb sat at their pleasant breakfast table, and while they wait for the son and brother, I'll describe them.

Every detail of their appearance and manner shrieked Boston,--so you don't need much more surface description. A mental interior view would show hearts devotedly, even absurdly, fond of Kimball Webb, and minds which reasoned against showing fully that devotion.

The New England repression of feeling is not effaced by life in New York; indeed, the circumstance often accentuates the trait.

And the Webbs lived in New York. This condition crucified the souls of both women but they came cheerfully, because it was Kimball's wish. He felt his dramatic talent was of a wing-spread too wide for the narrow opportunities of his native town, and there were other lures in the metropolis, especially Elsie.

So, with a smile on their lips but tears in their eyes, his mother and sister left the shadow of their State House dome, and set up their household gods in an old but comfortable house in the East Sixties, not far from Park Avenue. It was on Park Avenue that Elsie lived.

Webb's love of all beautiful things,--especially Elsie,--had led him to have the back yard of their home fixed up like an old patio or close or some such doings, and had scattered over its paved area, benches, statues, lions and other more or less damaged stoneware, picked up from certain worthwhile dealers in antiques.

So it was on this picturesque outlook the dining room windows opened, and the house being on the south side of the street, the morning sun added cheer to the already pleasant breakfast scene.

"Kimball is late this morning," said Miss Webb, naturally, though unnecessarily.

"Small wonder," returned her mother. "I happen to know that he was up till all hours at his dinner party."

"What a foolish idea, having a bachelor dinner the night before one is married. I should think he'd prefer a good night's rest to fit him for the responsibilities of the ceremony."

"Few responsibilities devolve on Kimball's shoulders. The best man looks after everything, I'm told."

"And Fenn Whiting can do that. He is the most capable man I ever saw, when it comes to social matters of any sort. But I'm a little surprised at his consenting to be best man. You know he worships Elsie."

"I know. He tried to cut Kim out."

"And I wish he had! I shall never be reconciled to Kim's marrying that girl--"

"Rather late now to raise objections, Henrietta."

"As if I hadn't been raising them right along from the day I first heard the outrageous news!"

"Yes, and what good did it do?"

"None. But I've put myself on record as against the marriage."

"You certainly have! And now, do hold your tongue about it; I think I shall send Hollis up to Kimball's room--"

"Oh, let the poor boy alone. The wedding isn't until four o'clock, and he may as well sleep late if he wants to. What time did he get in?"

"It was after two. He looked in to say good-night to me. He had the pendant with him."

"He did? I thought he was to give it to Elsie yesterday."

"He was. But she was afraid to keep it in her possession over night,--they have no safe."

"Neither have we."

"Well, anyway, she asked Kimball to keep it for her till today. He wanted me to put it in my jewel box, but I said no. I didn't want the responsibility of such a valuable thing."

"It is perfectly stunning. It's wicked, I think, for Kim to put so much money in diamonds."

"It never was done in our family," Mrs. Webb sighed. "But the Powells, of course, have different standards."

"Shall we go on and eat our breakfast?"

"I hate to, on Kim's last day under this roof. I shall send up and at least find out if he is still asleep."

Hollis, the butler and general factotum of the establishment, was dispatched on the errand.

When Hollis returned, though his face showed amazement and doubt, there was no sign of fear, but rather a suppressed smile and an indulgent twinkle of his eye.

"Mr. Kimball is very sound asleep, ma'am," he reported to his mistress. "Will you not leave him lay for awhile?"

"You are implying," said Mrs. Webb, astutely, "that Mr. Kimball was at a gay party last night. He spoke with me on his return, and I can assure you, Hollis, that he had not been over-celebrating in any way."

The butler looked chagrined, then relieved, then puzzled.

"In that case, ma'am, why does he sleep so very soundly? I rapped as loud as I could, and also shook at the door-knob. And then, I listened at the keyhole, but I could hear no deep breathing, as of a sound sleeper."

"I will go up myself," said Kimball Webb's mother, and the man held the door open for her to pass through.

"It is very strange," said Henrietta, with a covert glance at the butler.