The Unlatched Door

By Emma Redington Lee Thayer

The Unlatched Door, first published in 1920, marks the first appearance of detective Peter Clancy. During her long career, author Emma Redington Lee Thayer (1874-1973) published 60 novels, all but one featuring Clancy, who begins his career with the police; later books have Clancy working as a private detective. Clancy is also later joined by his trusty valet Wiggars, who first appears in the tenth book of the series: Dead Man’s Shoes (1929).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phocion Publishing
• Release date: Nov 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781789129564

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Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

THE UNLATCHED DOOR

By

LEE THAYER

The Unlatched Door was originally published in 1920 by The Century Company, New York.

DEDICATION

To

F. J. G.

WITH THE LIFE-LONG LOVE

AND ADMIRATION OF

THE AUTHOR

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

DEDICATION 4

TABLE OF CONTENTS 6

I —GRAY EYES AND BLACK 7

II — FATE STEPS OUT OF THE SHADOWS 13

III — I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO! 18

IV — WHO DINED WITH MRS. RUTLEDGE? 22

V — SARAH CONNORS 30

VI — CLUES 35

VII — A PAIR OF PUMPS 38

VIII — A LOSING GAME 41

IX — CAPTAIN O’MALLEY DEMONSTRATES 47

X — HAMMOND RUTLEDGE 51

XI — THE CORONER’S VERDICT 55

XII — YOU NEVER CAN TELL 59

XIII — A SECRET 63

XIV — AN S.O.S. 65

XV — ASHES TO ASHES 70

XVI — PETER MAKES A DISCOVERY 74

XVII — AN UNPREMEDITATED JOURNEY 78

XVIII — THE OTHER LADY 84

XIX — WHO SENT IT? 88

XX — ELEANOR WENTWORTH 92

XXI — DO YOU MIND IF I CLOSE THE DOOR? 96

XXII — WHAT DICK FOUND BY THE ROADSIDE 102

XXIII — A COLD TRAIL 107

XXIV — A LITTLE LIGHT ON THE PUZZLE 114

XXV — SUPPOSING — JUST SUPPOSING 118

XXVI — AN ALIBI? 121

XXVII — SOME PARTS OF THE PUZZLE FALL INTO PLACE 127

XXVIII — PETER CLANCY TAKES A NIGHT OFF 133

XXIX — TWO TELEGRAMS 139

XXX — A DETOUR — AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 144

XXXI — AN UNACKNOWLEDGED WITNESS 147

XXXII — NORA’S STORY 152

XXXIII — A CROSS-EXAMINATION 156

XXXIV — O’MALLEY DRAWS ASIDE THE CURTAIN 160

XXXV — HOW PETER GUESSED 164

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 169

I —GRAY EYES AND BLACK

Richard Van Loo Schuyler was a young man of large and variously assorted wealth. His ancestors had helped to make the history of New York, from the period in which old Peter Stuyvesant stumped through its narrow, crooked streets on his wooden leg. The family had dwindled in size as the years went on, until now, except for a few cousins scattered over the world, its only representatives were the aforementioned Richard and his old Aunt Van Loo. The enormous fortune accumulated by thrifty Dutch ancestors had been somewhat dissipated by Richard’s immediate predecessors, but there was still enough solidly invested wealth left to enable the young man to saunter through life with ease and grace, taking all the good things that came his way without thought or care.

He was a good-looking young fellow, tall and fair, with the broad shoulders and narrow hips of a natural athlete. His manners were simple and gracious and he made friends with such careless ease that he often failed to make the necessary effort to retain them.

In his career at Harvard he had achieved conspicuous prominence in the field of athletics only; for, while he had a brain of no mean capacity, the law school had interested him just sufficiently to enable him to get through with no startling honors to his credit. A bet with one of his sporting companions that he would never be admitted to the bar had been the principal reason for sustained effort until that goal had been reached. After that he contented himself with setting up a superlatively comfortable office in the downtown district, where his friends could always find the best of tobacco and the latest and most delectable of little drinks, and he continued to stroll through life as before.

And now, though still under thirty, Richard Schuyler, for the first time in his life, was bored. His wild enthusiasm for the river, the diamond, and the oval was distinctly waning. Pretty girls had passed back and forth across his leisurely path without materially quickening his pace for more than a few long strides. He was an idealist in his way, though few would have suspected it, and the butterfly type of girl which he was accustomed to see fluttering among the flowers, pausing to encourage pursuit and then fluttering on again, failed to stir him.

It was the spring of the year and a feeling of unrest, partly due to the season, filled him with vague unhappiness as he pursued his idle way along the perfumed by-paths of the park, where the full young green of the trees danced and flashed in the merry afternoon sun and the shining tulips lifted their golden and scarlet cups, filled to the brim with light.

Just ahead there was the gleam of water through the trees and a sudden dip of the path brought him to the landing-stage where a few happy children in the care of prim nurses were embarking for wild adventure in the swan-boats. The pretty sight brought a smile to his lips and he paused a moment, watching the excited children.

One small tar in spotless blue with bright bobbed hair flying from under his nautical cap, was expostulating violently with his nurse, a pained-looking, serious young woman, who evidently felt her responsibilities keenly.

I won’t sit in the middle, Marie! he cried. I’ll be the lookout in the bow, like on the big, big ship we came home on. This way — see!

He sprang on the seat, which tilted violently under the sudden capricious movement and he would have fallen into the cold water if Richard, who had been standing close by, had not caught him as he fell.

Hold hard, Captain! he said as he placed the lad safely on the planks. We don’t want any ‘man overboard’ on this ship, you know!

The boy, who had been thoroughly frightened by the instability of the ship, recovered his courage almost immediately. My, but that was fun! he laughed. If I had fallen in the ocean would you have jumped in and saved me?

At the risk of my life, sir, said Richard Schuyler, throwing out his chest grandly.

The boy laughed — the delicious, infectious giggle of childhood — and Richard heard an echo, quickly suppressed, close behind him.

He turned sharply, and his eyes met two dancing gray ones, filled with keen enjoyment of the situation. They Bashed on him for the merest instant and then dropped to the capering figure by his side; but the smile on the fresh curving lips remained and a dimple still showed in the rounded cheek.

The boy, too, had turned, following Richard’s eyes. Oh, Marie, he cried in an excited whisper, there’s the pretty lady again! May I go over and talk to her?

Hush, Dick, cautioned the serious nurse. You mustn’t talk to all the strangers you meet.

The boy was silenced but unconvinced. In his little heart was a great love of the beautiful and the owner of the dimple and other items various was very lovely indeed.

Richard Schuyler stood for a moment covertly regarding her. She was a young girl, small and slender, with a supple, almost boyish figure. Her plain dark blue suit, though well cut, showed signs of wear and the close-fitting hat which sat so well on her soft, dark hair was probably the last winter hat to be worn in the whole city. He could not help sympathizing with the little boy’s enthusiasm for the pretty lady. There was something vaguely familiar about her face that troubled Richard. It was the sort one does not forget and he was sure he had seen it before and been startled by its beauty; but where?

Dick climbed the steep ascent to the driveway, a puzzled frown on his face. The girl on the landing-stage haunted him. He had seen her before, recently, and without a hat. He distinctly remembered the soft upward waves of dusky hair that turned to bronze when touched by the sun.

He had walked on for some time, deep in thought, when slowly, slowly a picture began to develop itself on the sensitive background of his consciousness:

A dark window with heavy, rich drapery, framing a face of arresting beauty. It all came back to him now and he felt again the start with which he had realized the necessary implication of her costume. It was black, with narrow bands of white at throat and wrist, and a dainty white apron with bib and shoulder-straps clasped the slender waist and seemed to throw its arms about her neck.

Oh, damn! he thought with regret, as the vision came clear in all its details. She’s only a maid in the house next door. No wonder I couldn’t place her!

Richard Schuyler was not the type of man who extends the field of his flirtations below-stairs and he tried resolutely to put those haunting gray eyes out of his mind; but it cost him a conscious struggle, much to his disgust.

I’m not that sort of cad, I hope, he said to himself as his long, smooth strides carried him swiftly northward.

It was growing late. The children were leaving the park now and the air was turning colder. The fickle spring wind had changed and drew more strongly from the east. A faint film seemed to have been breathed over the sky, so recently clear and blue, and broad bands of purple were drawn ominously across the glory of the setting sun. A strange, heavy, gray light tinged with yellow filtered in level bars through the lower branches of the trees, picking out with insistence the dips and hollows of the uneven ground. In the open spaces across the velvet grass tall buildings loomed, massive and gray, in the cold rising mists, their windows showing against the lurid sky faint points of greenish light.

The waters of the reservoir looked deep and cold and Richard Schuyler shivered as he rounded it at a swinging pace, which, rapid as it was, was not sufficient to keep the chill out of his blood.

A few little drinks will set me up all right, he thought. I’m cold to the bone. And they call this spring! We don’t have such a thing in New York. It’s a sandwich of winter and summer with the thinnest possible spreading of spring in between. Give me the fall every time. That ‘a something like! Colors like the rainbow and air like wine. I’ll trade you all of March, April, and May for either October or November, and I’ll have the best of the bargain at that. No mistake about it!

He raised his head as if to defy the contradiction of an imaginary listener, but there was no one in sight except two people pacing slowly forward at some distance along the path.

The way led up a slight grade. His rapid stride was beginning to close the distance between him and the two advancing figures when the rise of a few shallow steps brought them in sharp silhouette against the sky. It was still light enough to see quite clearly and, with a little start, he recognized the girl. It was the maid next door, or the pretty lady — Richard could hardly make up his mind which to call her.

Thursday afternoon, and she’s walking out with her best young man, he thought as he drew nearer. Somehow it’s hard to connect her with that sort of thing. Her eyes were clever, Intelligent, as well as beautiful. Oh, I’m a fool! Just because they’re lovely in shape and expression, there’s no reason to think that there’s anything behind ‘em.

He looked quickly at the girl’s companion and drew in his breath with a low whistle. It was obvious, from the elegance of the man’s dress and carriage, that he was not at all the sort of person with whom it was proper for a self-respecting serving-maid to be out a-walking.

She doesn’t look that sort, at all! he thought with conviction. And yet the man was evidently not forcing his attentions on her, for she was walking quietly by his side and talking to him earnestly. Once the man threw out his hand with an appealing gesture and the girl shook her head in violent negation.

Richard came nearer and nearer. His light shoes with rubber-shod heels made little noise on the path and the man and girl were quite unaware of his presence. He would have turned aside, moved by some vague feeling of intrusion (though he assured himself that it was a delicacy quite unwarranted by the circumstances), but no branching path led off to right or left through the maze of shrubbery and he was cold and in a hurry to get home. He felt sure that she was too much engrossed in the man beside her to notice him and there was little chance that she would recognize him. If she did, what did it matter? She could hardly imagine that he had followed her after all this time! Probably never gave him another thought, anyway. He was getting more than a little absurd.

And then — It all happened so swiftly that he hadn’t a moment to consider the facts — that she had probably brought it on herself — that it was none of his business, anyway — and all those other useful things one remembers — afterward.

The girl had stopped suddenly, bringing the man beside her to a standstill. Schuyler could not hear her words, but her stamping foot and passionate gesture of dissent were unmistakable. Her companion had asked her something and she had refused with all the emphasis of which her small figure was capable. He said something more, leaning toward her almost threateningly, and she threw up her little head in defiance. As she did so she saw Schuyler, who was within a few paces, and a look of startled recognition flashed in her eyes. The man, whose back was turned, remained quite unconscious of Richard’s close proximity. His low tones, vibrant with emotion, reached Schuyler, who, however, did not distinguish the words.

Then the girl said, No, no! I will not, come what may! You have no right to try to force me to do something against my will!

Richard was struck by the tone of her voice. It was low and clear and her intonation was that of a cultivated woman of the world. The thought flashed through his mind as the girl’s companion answered angrily and put his hand on her arm.

With a sudden movement, the girl released herself, passed the man, and dashed swiftly down a side path leading toward the east.

The man turned quickly in pursuit — and brought up sharply against Richard’s brawny shoulder.

I beg your pardon, said Richard, politely, but remaining in a position that effectively barred the way. Very clumsy of me, I’m sure. Pray accept my apologies.

The man, seen from the front, was a handsome chap enough, very well, even richly, dressed, in a picturesque sort of way. His soft, velvet-finished felt hat was worn at a dashing angle and his whole make-up suggested the amateur — actor or artist. He was strikingly slender and not very tall and his long, thin face and dark skin suggested a delicate constitution. His dark eyes were blazing as he faced Schuyler and his full mobile lips were bitter with resentment.

It’s quite all right, old chap, he said, controlling his voice with an effort. Now let me pass, if you please.

Certainly, said Schuyler pleasantly, without, however, giving ground, but are you sure I didn’t hurt you? I’m such a blundering ass; never can look where I’m going. One gets into all sorts of trouble if one doesn’t look ahead, don’t you know? Quite sure you’re all right? He spoke with the deliberation of infinite leisure.

Yes, quite sure, said the smaller man, looking angrily for any sign of relenting in the steady, towering form before him.

It’s good of you not to mind, Richard said, moving slowly aside at last.

The other darted past him without another word.

Richard followed the swiftly retreating figure at a sufficiently brisk pace to keep it in sight. His interest was strongly aroused. Soon the brightly lighted avenue appeared close at hand and the dark man’s pace slackened to a walk. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

Across the park entrance the stream of traffic flowed by ceaselessly, an endless ribbon, shiny and black in the middle with the polished tops of cars gleaming in the light, shot with an occasional dash of green and yellow as a bus went by, and flowering at the edges into a varicolored border made up of the soft hues of women’s dresses. If the girl had mingled with this throng, and she undoubtedly had, she was safe from pursuit.

As the two young men stepped from the gray-green shadows of the park into the lighted street, the smaller one, aware of Dick’s proximity, turned with a laugh. All the anger had faded from his face and was replaced by a quizzical humor which was quite disarming.

I suppose you think you foiled the villain that time, Sir Galahad, he said, and you did put a spoke in my wheel, I admit. But don’t you run away with the idea that the girl I was speaking to isn’t all right. She’s as straight as a die, only — well, I can’t tell you about it. ‘T isn’t my story. But I wouldn’t do her an injury for the world, not meaning to, at least. I ask you to believe me; not that that part matters, only — well, you’re a sport! You did me good and proper and kept within the rules! Do you mind? He held out his hand.

No, I don’t mind, said Richard, his strong hand closing on the slender fingers. You’re a sport yourself. And he went home, chuckling softly.

II — FATE STEPS OUT OF THE SHADOWS

This is where I leave you, fellows, said Dick Schuyler, with an exaggerated air of virtue, as he looked at his watch, the hands of which seemed to him to be tangled up somewhere between the numbers one and two. ‘Early to bed,’ you know; and it must be ‘early to rise’ for me tomorrow. I’ve an engagement to play golf with Blakeslie at Meadow Bay and I promised to be out in time to play around once before lunch."

He stood in the brilliantly lighted doorway of one of the swiftest of New York’s all-night restaurants, swaying a little on his well-shod feet. He and his friends had been hitting it up, as they would have expressed it, since early in the evening. Their spirits had mounted steadily from camaraderie to exhilaration, and the uproarious protests which his words elicited showed that they all now stood on the dizzy heights of hilarity from which the slide to oblivion and a morning headache would be sudden and complete.

Long experience had taught Dick to recognize this psychic moment which came sometimes early and sometimes late in a gay evening, and to go not only while the going was good but also while it was still practicable.

He therefore turned a deaf ear to all inducements offered and, avoiding a clutching hand or two, with a laugh and a wave of his gloves passed out through the gilded doors.

The rain, which had threatened earlier in the evening, was now falling heavily. It came down with a windless rush on the gaudy awning and showed in perpendicular lines of silver against the blackness of the night.

A gorgeous being in gold and scarlet with a figure like a grenadier’s and a face like an archbishop’s applied his great strength and intelligence to the arduous task of calling a cab. Dick looked at him gravely.

It should be a magic carpet at least, O Genie, to comport with your appearance, he said as he slipped a coin into the waiting palm and leaned back against the cushions.

The man seemed puzzled and the cab waited.

Anny partic’lar place ye’d loike to go, sor? said the glorious one after a pause.

No answer.

Maybe he only wants a dry place to rest in, said the chauffeur, with a grin. I don’t mind as long as the old machine goes on ticking. Shall I move up?

He’s one av our reg’lar customers, replied the other, rubbing his ear in perplexity, but I don’t happen to know where he lives. Wait a minute.

The scarlet-and-gold cap disappeared into the darkness of the cab. Richard Van Loo Schuyler lifted the cap from the