# The Holladay Case (Detective Story Magazine)/Chapter 12
### CHAPTER XII.
#### En Voyage.

Mr. Graham's congratulations next morning quite overwhelmed me.
“I never expected such complete and speedy success, Mr. Lester,” he said warmly. “You've done splendid work.”
I pointed out to him that, after all, my success was purely the result of accident.
But my chief would not listen; he declared that a man must be judged by his achievements, and that he judged me by mine.
“Let us find out how our friend is,” I suggested. We were informed that the patient was stronger, but would not be able to leave his bed for two or three days.
“The Jourdains may tell him of my call, ” I said. “They'll suspect something when I don't return to-day, but one day is all I want. It's just possible that they may keep silent altogether. They've nothing to gain by speaking—it's plain that they're not in the conspiracy. Anyway, to-morrw I'll be out of reach.”
Mr. Graham nodded.
“Yes—that's plainly the next step. You must follow them to France—but where in France will you look for them?”
“We must try to find out where the women have gone, and I believe Rogers can help us. My theory is that they're from one of the towns which the Holladays visited when they were abroad, and Mr. Holladay must have kept in touch with his office, more or less, during that time.”
My chief sprang up and seized his hat.
“The very thing!” he cried. “Come, I'll go with you.”
“Only,” I added, as we went down together, “I very much fear that the search will lead to Paris, for Martigny is undoubtedly a Parisian.”
“And to find a person in Paris——”
I did not answer. I only shut my teeth together, and told myself for the hundredth time that I must not fail.
Rogers had been carrying on the routine work of the business since his employer's death, and was supervising the settlement of accounts, and the thousand and one details which must be attended to before the business could be closed up. We found him in the private office, and stated our errand without delay.
“Yes,” he said, “Mr. Holladay kept in touch with the office, of course. Let me see—what was the date?”
“Let us look for the first six months of 1896,” I suggested.
He got down the file covering that period, and ran through the letters.
“Yes, here they are,” he said after a moment. “In January, he writes from Nice, where they seem to have remained during February and March. About the middle of April, they started north—here's a letter dated Paris, April 19th—and from Paris they went to a place called Etretat. They remained there through May, June, and July. That is all the time covered by this file. Shall I get another?”
“No,” I answered, “but I wish you'd make an abstract of Mr. Holladay's whereabouts during the whole time he was abroad, and send it to our office not later than this afternoon.”
“But why didn't you let him go farther?” asked Mr. Graham, as we left the building.
“Because I think I've found the place, sir,” I answered. “Did you notice—the time they stayed at Etretat covers the period of Miss Holladay's birth, with which, I'm convinced, these people were in some way concerned. We must look up Etretat.”
A map at the office showed us that it was a little fishing hamlet and seaside resort on the shore of the English Channel, not far north of Havre.
“My theory is,” I said, “that when the time of her confinement approached, Mr. Holladay brought his wife to Paris to secure the services of an experienced physician, perhaps; or perhaps a nurse, or linen, or all of them. That done, they proceeded to Etretat, which they may have visited before, and knew for a quiet place, with a bracing atmosphere and good climate—just such a place as they would naturally desire. Here the daughter was born, and here we shall find the key to the mystery, though I'm very far from guessing what that key is. But I have a premonition—you may smile if you wish—that I'll find the clew I'm seeking at Etretat. The name has somehow struck an answering chord in me.”
“I don't doubt that you're right, Mr. Lester,” Graham replied. “I don't need to say that I have every confidence in you. I'll have a letter of credit prepared at once, so that you may not want for money—shall we say five thousand to start with?”
I stammered that I was certain that would be more than enough, but he silenced me with a gesture.
I was about to take my leave, when a message came from Doctor Jenkinson. Mr. Royce was so much impressed that the doctor advised him to take a long vacation. When he heard my plans, he insisted on going abroad with me.
My packing finished, I sat down for a review of the situation.
There was one development of the day before which quite baffled me. I had proved that there were, indeed, two women, and I believed them to be mother and daughter, but I could not in the least understand why the younger one had so completely broken down after the departure of the elder with Miss Holladay. I looked at this point from every side, but could find no reasonable explanation of it. It might be, indeed, that the younger one was beginning already to repent her share in the conspiracy—there could be no question that it was she who had struck down Holladay in his office—that she had even refused to go farther in the plot, and that her companions had found it necessary to restrain her. I became lost in a maze of conjecture before I gave it up, and went to bed.
I called for Mr. Royce, as we had agreed, and together we drove down to the pier. After disposing of our baggage we went out on deck to watch the last preparations for departure. The pier was in that state of hurly-burly which may be witnessed only at the sailing of a transatlantic liner. My companion appeared quite strong, and seemed to enjoy the bustle and hubbub as much as I did. He flushed with pleasure, as he caught sight of our senior pushing his way toward us.
“Why, this is kind of you, sir!” he said, grasping his hand.
Mr. Graham smiled at us. “I learned just this morning that two very dear friends of mine are taking this boat—Mrs. Kemball and her daughter—the widow of Jim Kemball, you know.”
We were both interested.
“I want you to meet them,” continued Mr. Graham, looking about in all directions. “Ah, here they are!” and he dragged his partner away toward the bow of the boat. I saw him bowing before a gray-haired little lady, and a younger and taller one whose back was toward me. They laughed together for a moment, then the last bell rang, and the ship's officers began to clear the boat. I turned back to the pier, but was brought round an instant later by Mr. Graham's voice.
“My dear Lester,” he cried, “I thought we'd lost you. I want to introduce you to Mrs. Kemball and her daughter, who are to be your fellow voyagers. Mr. Lester's a very ingenious young man,” he added. “Make him amuse you!” and he hastened away to catch the gangplank before it should, be pulled in.
I bowed to Mrs. Kemball, thinking to myself that I had never seen a sweeter, pleasanter face. Then I found myself looking into a pair of blue eyes that fairly toook my breath away.
“We'll not neglect Mr. Graham's advice,” said a merry voice. “So prepare for your fate, Mr. Lester!”
There was a hoarse shouting at the gangway behind me, and the eyes looked past me, over my shoulder.
“See,” she said; “there's one poor fellow who has just made it.”
I turned and looked toward the gangplank. One end had been cast loose, but two deck hands were assisting another man to mount it. He seemed weak and helpless, and they supported him on either side. An involuntary cry rose to my lips as I looked at him, but I choked it back. For it was Martigny, risen from his bed to follow us!