The police held Mr. Ladley for a day or two, and then, nothing
appearing, they let him go. Mr. Holcombe, who was still occupying the
second floor front, almost wept with rage and despair when he read the
news in the papers. He was still working on the case, in his curious
way, wandering along the wharves at night, and writing letters all
over the country to learn about Philip Ladley's previous life, and his
wife's. But he did not seem to get anywhere.

The newspapers had been full of the Jennie Brice disappearance. For
disappearance it proved to be. So far as could be learned, she had not
left the city that night, or since, and as she was a striking-looking
woman, very blond, as I have said, with a full voice and a languid
manner, she could hardly have taken refuge anywhere without being
discovered. The morning after her disappearance a young woman, tall
like Jennie Brice and fair, had been seen in the Union Station. But
as she was accompanied by a young man, who bought her magazines and
papers, and bade her an excited farewell, sending his love to various
members of a family, and promising to feed the canary, this was not
seriously considered. A sort of general alarm went over the country.
When she was younger she had been pretty well known at the Broadway
theaters in New York. One way or another, the Liberty Theater got
a lot of free advertising from the case, and I believe Miss Hope's
salary was raised.

The police communicated with Jennie Brice's people--she had a sister
in Olean, New York, but she had not heard from her. The sister
wrote--I heard later--that Jennie had been unhappy with Philip Ladley,
and afraid he would kill her. And Miss Hope told the same story.
But--there was no _corpus_, as the lawyers say, and finally the police
had to free Mr. Ladley.