The Silver Shawl Read Free Page A

course of a year, when a man with a valise in his hand
came up the street, looked at the sign over the open door and
stepped into the office.
    “Sheriff Royal?” he inquired, looking
questioningly at the sheriff as he removed his hat. At Royal’s
brusque nod he came forward and took a card from his waistcoat
pocket. “My name is Edgerton.”
    Andrew Royal glanced up from the card to the
newcomer’s face. “A detective?”
    Edgerton nodded. He was a slim man of medium
height, with close-cropped gray hair and serious, attentive gray
eyes, dressed plainly but in clothes that spoke subtly of the city.
“I’m hoping that you can provide me with some information.”
    “Oh,” said Royal, glancing over at Randall
Morris. Randall, who had been pacing the office when Edgerton
arrived, had come quickly forward with dreading expectancy at his
entrance, but turned away as abruptly when he heard the man’s
words. “Thought you were coming to give me some information. Maybe
you hadn’t heard, but there’s a girl missing from here and I’m
doing my best to find her.” He accompanied the emphasis with
another sharp glance in Randall’s direction.
    “Missing?” said Edgerton, looking from one to
the other with unexpected attention. “What sort of girl?”
    Andrew Royal rapped out the description he
had given many times over the previous morning. “Five-feet-two,
middling-dark brown hair, brown eyes, wearing a green dress and a
hat with flowers and a shawl.”
    “Her name is Charity Bradford,” Randall
Morris supplied earnestly.
    Edgerton set his valise down on the desk and
stood with his hands resting on it. “A local girl? Has she any
family here?”
    Royal jerked a thumb toward Randall. “Just
him. Randall Morris, Miss Bradford’s intended.”
    Randall shook hands with Edgerton hurriedly.
“She’s been missing since the night before last, and I’m terribly
worried about her. I know she didn’t go off on her own. It’s not
like her.”
    “Then it was entirely unexpected? You hadn’t
noticed anything in her behavior recently—anything that suggested
she might have something on her mind?”
    “No. Why?” said Randall, suddenly becoming
aware of the gravity in the detective’s face.
    “It’s only, by some coincidence,” said
Edgerton, “that I’m looking for a young woman myself, one who fits
your description of Miss Bradford quite closely. Certain
information in my possession led me to believe that she might be
found here, in Sour Springs.”
    “Charity?” said Randall. “I—I don’t
understand.”
    “The name of the girl I’m looking for, or at
least the name we know her by, is Mary Taylor,” said Edgerton,
taking some papers from his valise and handing them over to Andrew
Royal, who was listening frowningly. “Miss Taylor is wanted for
questioning in New Orleans, where she was known to be the associate
and accomplice of a man called John Faraday, an accomplished
gentleman burglar and jewel thief. I’ve been on his trail for more
than six years. He had a far-reaching and well-run organization,
one of the curious features of which was that his various
accomplices never had any contact with each other, only with
Faraday himself.
    “Miss Taylor’s background is somewhat
vague—she may have been on the stage or she may not, but that is
immaterial—what we do know is that at different times and under
different names she worked as companion to a wealthy elderly lady,
as a fashionable milliner’s assistant and a salesgirl in an
expensive department store. In those capacities she helped to
arrange and carry out a number of successful jewel thefts.”
    Edgerton clicked shut his valise. “A little
over a year ago, Mr. Faraday had the misfortune to get himself shot
in a street fracas in New Orleans. Shortly afterwards Miss Mary
Taylor disappeared from view. There is a strong possibility that
she had in her possession the fruits of their latest robbery, an
extremely valuable pearl necklace. Since