The Silver Shawl Read Free Page B

that time I’ve been trying
to trace her. We’ve also been keeping an eye on several other
people who are suspected of having worked with Faraday in the past.
We know that one of them, who is now living in Denver, recently
received a letter postmarked Sour Springs, Colorado.”
    “So that made you think this Taylor girl was
here?” said Andrew Royal, jabbing a long forefinger on his desk to
emphasize the location.
    “It was a lead to follow up, at least,
Sheriff. There is just the possibility that some of the others who
worked with Faraday may now be in contact with Mary Taylor. At any
rate, now I think you can understand my surprise at the seeming
coincidence of a young woman who matches Miss Taylor’s description
suddenly disappearing, less than forty-eight hours before I arrived
here in search of her.”
    “ Charity? ” repeated Randall Morris.
“It’s—it’s impossible! You don’t know her, Mr. Edgerton, or you’d
realize what you’re saying.”
    “How well do you know her?” asked
Edgerton, turning to look the younger man in the eye. He spoke in a
straightforward manner, but one not untouched with compassion, as
one who knew what consequences the performance of his duty might
have for others. “What can you tell me about her, Mr. Morris? What
do you know about her background?”
    “Just—that she has no family living,” said
Randall, still with incredulity, but the import of his own words
beginning to creep in on him. “She had—she’d been on her own for a
number of years—working for her living. I don’t know how many.”
    “When did she come to Sour Springs?”
    “A year ago.”
    “And you’re engaged to be married?—How long
have you been engaged?”
    “Three months,” said Randall. “We were going
to be married in a few weeks.”
    “And you know nothing about her—where she was
born, where she lived or how?”
    “Look, Mr. Edgerton, you don’t know what
you’re trying to do!” said Randall, putting his hands on the back
of a chair and leaning over it as though he had suddenly found a
need for support. “Charity’s not that kind of girl. She just isn’t.
And if there was anything she’d—if she’d ever been in any kind of
trouble, she would have told me.”
    Edgerton shook his head doubtfully. “She
doesn’t seem to have told you much of anything.”
    “Have you got a picture of that Taylor girl?”
said Andrew Royal abruptly, having caught a glimpse of the look on
Randall’s face.
    “Unfortunately, no,” said Edgerton. “She
apparently never had her photograph taken. All we have is a general
description—a young woman between twenty and twenty-five years of
age, brunette, attractive, with a ladylike, genteel appearance and
manner.”
    “Charity to the letter,” grumbled Royal under
his breath.
    Edgerton glanced at Randall Morris, and then
addressed the sheriff. “Under the circumstances, if I could be
allowed to examine Miss Bradford’s home or lodgings, I might find
something that would conclusively prove or disprove my suggestion,
rather than pursuing this speculation; or possibly even find a clue
to her whereabouts.”
    Royal raised his bushy eyebrows doubtfully,
but as Randall spun around with an expression of outrage he brought
them down grimly over his eyes again. Edgerton availed himself of
the perceived advantage. “I am entirely willing to place myself
under your direction, Sheriff, and to do only what you deem
appropriate. I do think this course would be the most useful.”
    Sheriff Royal gave his usual exasperated
exhalation, and started to climb up out of his chair. “Well, you
won’t lose anything by it,” he said. “I don’t guess I’ve got any
objections, if Randall hasn’t.”
    Edgerton turned with silent inquiry toward
Randall. The younger man stood irresolute for a few seconds, the
pain he felt reflected in his face, but he nodded shortly.
    Andrew Royal gave a brief grunt of
acknowledgement. “I’d better go right along with you,”