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text-align:right; margin-right:.7em; float:left; color:green; } + dt .large {font-weight:bold; } + div.bcat dl dd { margin-left:4em; max-width:21em; } + div.bcat dl dt { text-indent:-2em; margin-left:2em; } + +.clear { clear:both; } +.htab { margin-left:8em; } + /* MAXWIDTH FOR JUVENILE BOOKS */ + p, blockquote, li, dd, dt, div.bcat, pre { text-align:justify; margin-right:auto; margin-left:auto; } + p, li, dd, dt, div.bcat, pre { max-width:25em; } + blockquote { max-width:23em; } + + + div.verse { max-width:25em; margin-right:auto; margin-left:auto; } + div.bq { margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; max-width:23em; } + hr { max-width:20em; } + + h1.pg,h2.pg,h3.pg { margin-top:0em; + max-width: 80%; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; } + p.pg { max-width: 80%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + max-width: 80%; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Detectives, Inc., by William Heyliger</h1> +<p class="pg">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a +href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p> +<p class="pg">Title: Detectives, Inc.</p> +<p class="pg"> A Mystery Story for Boys</p> +<p class="pg">Author: William Heyliger</p> +<p class="pg">Release Date: November 21, 2013 [eBook #44249]</p> +<p class="pg">Language: English</p> +<p class="pg">Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> +<p class="pg">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DETECTIVES, INC.***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by<br /> + Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div id="cover" class="img"> +<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="DETECTIVES, INC." width="500" height="772" /> +</div> +<div class="box"> +<h1>DETECTIVES, +<br />INC.</h1> +<p class="tbcenter"><span class="large"><i>A Mystery Story for Boys</i></span></p> +<p class="tbcenter"><span class="sc">By +<br />William Heyliger</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small"><span class="sc">The Goldsmith Publishing Company</span></span> +<br /><span class="smaller">CHICAGO</span></p> +<p class="tbcenter"><span class="smaller"><span class="sc">Copyright 1935 by</span> +<br />THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY</span></p> +<p class="center"><span class="smaller">MADE IN U. S. A.</span></p> +</div> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<dl class="toc"> +<dt class="jr"><span class="small">PAGE</span></dt> +<dt><a href="#c1">Foreword</a> 13</dt> +<dt><a href="#c2">Theft in the Rain</a> 21</dt> +<dt><a href="#c3">Voices in the Night</a> 53</dt> +<dt><a href="#c4">The Unknown Four</a> 81</dt> +<dt><a href="#c5">Blind Man’s Touch</a> 107</dt> +<dt><a href="#c6">Birthday Warning</a> 137</dt> +<dt><a href="#c7">The House of Beating Hearts</a> 163</dt> +<dt><a href="#c8">As a Man Speaks</a> 193</dt> +<dt><a href="#c9">Arm of Guilt</a> 221</dt> +</dl> +<div class="pb" id="Page_13">[13]</div> +<h2 id="c1">FOREWORD</h2> +<h3 title="">DOGS WHO SET BLIND MEN FREE</h3> +<p>In Morristown, New Jersey, there is what is +probably the most remarkable school in the +world—a school where dogs are educated to +liberate physically the blind people of our country. +This school is called The Seeing Eye and was +founded in 1928 by a woman whose life and wealth +has been devoted to this remarkable cause; her name +is Mrs. Harrison Eustis.</p> +<p>Female German shepherd dogs are chosen for +this work because they are not easily distracted +from the duties entrusted to them. It takes from +three to five months to complete a dog’s education. +The first few months are spent with her instructor: +she learns to pick up whatever he drops; learns that +if she walks off a curb without first stopping, he +stumbles and falls; that if she passes under a low +obstruction, he hits his head.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_14">[14]</div> +<p>It is very hard to find men with sufficient patience +to learn how to educate these dogs and it is equally +as difficult to teach the blind how to rely upon and +use these dogs.</p> +<h3 title="">HOW THE DOG WORKS</h3> +<p>The method by which the dog and man work +together is simple. The dog guide does not take +her master to his destination without being told +where to go. It is not generally appreciated, but +blind people develop an adequate mental picture of +their own communities. All they need is a means +by which they may be guided around <i>their</i> picture. +In a strange city they ask directions as anyone else +would. It is simple to remember the blocks and to +remember also when to go right or left. In familiar +territory people with eyesight do not look for the +name of every street. The master directs his dog by +oral commands of “right,” “left” or “forward.” +But it is the dog that guides the master. By means +of the handle of the leather harness which he holds +lightly in his left hand, she takes him around pedestrians, +sidewalk obstructions, automobiles, anything +which may interfere with his safe progress. +The pace is rapid, rather faster than that of the +average pedestrian. Upon arriving at street crossings +the dog guides her master to the edge of the +curb and stops. He finds the edge immediately +with his foot or cane and then gives his guide the +necessary command for the direction in which he +wishes to go.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_15">[15]</div> +<p>The dog can be depended upon to do her part. +Her lessons have been thorough, particularly those +which teach her to think for herself. She must +pass the school’s rigid “blindfold” test in which her +instructor’s eyes are bandaged so that he is, for +practical purposes, blind. She is then tested under +the most difficult conditions, on streets and intersections +and in the heaviest of pedestrian and auto +traffic. She does not look at traffic lights but at +traffic. When she passes she can be certified as +ready for her blind master.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_16">[16]</div> +<p>Not every blind person can use a dog guide. +Some are too young, many too old. Some do not +like dogs. But conservative estimates indicate that +there are about 10,000 in America who would +benefit through a dog guide. It is understandable +that leading workers for the blind, business men and +women, are urging The Seeing Eye to extend its +facilities as rapidly as is consistent with the maintenance +of the highest possible standards.</p> +<h3 title="">THE ESSENTIALS TO SUCCESS</h3> +<p>There are no secrets which The Seeing Eye uses +to make the shepherd an effective guide, but there +are several essentials to success. The first is experience. +The knowledge gained by the years of work +which have gone into the development of The Seeing +Eye is called upon in the education of every +student. A second essential is that the carefully +selected dog is educated, not trained. She is taught +to think for herself and in her instruction learns +certain principles which she can apply to problems +she will meet later. If she reacted only to commands +she would be useless in guiding blind people. +Another essential is the fact that she loves to work. +To her, service is a pleasure and not a duty. Her +master’s hours are hers. Her main compensation +is her master’s affection and his utter reliance on +her.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_17">[17]</div> +<p>Blind students, men and women, come to the +school in classes of eight, the maximum an instructor +is able to teach at one time. While their major +objective is to learn through practice and instruction +how to direct the dog and follow her guidance, +some of them must learn other things, too. Many +of them since blindness have lost the faculty of finding +their way in known surroundings. Others have +fallen into the habit of shuffling feet and groping +walk, with body bent forward and hands outstretched. +Some never have walked down stairs +unaided. These are things which must be unlearned +if the dog is to bring independence. At +The Seeing Eye the student is taught to free himself +from these habits of helplessness, so that self-reliance +and courage gradually return. Anticipation +replaces despair as the dog opens a new world +for her master, one he dreamed of but never hoped +to have again.</p> +<p>All the practice work of the student with his dog +takes place on the streets of Morristown. Here, +morning and afternoon each day, the student gradually +assimilates his lessons. Near the end of his +month’s course he is able to go easily and fearlessly +about the city without an instructor, just +as he will in his various activities on his return +home.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_18">[18]</div> +<h3 title="">THE DOG AND HER MASTER ARE INSEPARABLE</h3> +<p>From the time the student is assigned his dog, the +two are inseparable. No one else feeds or cares for +her and within a few days the two are bound together +by a mutual affection—a tie which remains +unbroken throughout the years of the dog’s working +life. Even about the house, where no guiding is +necessary, dog and man are constantly together just +because they want to be. She even sleeps close by +her master’s bed.</p> +<h3 title="">NOTE</h3> +<p>For the sake of the story certain qualities have +been given “Lady” which are found in individual +German shepherd dogs, though never present in a +blind leader.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_21">[21]</div> +<h1 title="">DETECTIVES, INC. +<br /><span class="small"><i>A Mystery Story for Boys</i></span></h1> +<h2 id="c2">THEFT IN THE RAIN</h2> +<p>Joe Morrow, very sleepy, grew conscious +of voices coming up from the porch—the slow +drawl of his uncle, Dr. David Stone, and a +quicker, sharper voice. Abruptly the sharper tone +scratched at his memory and the drowsiness was +gone. What was Harley Kent doing here? So far +as he knew the man had never visited the house +before, and his uncle had never set foot on the Kent +place a quarter of a mile down the road. A word, +stark and clear, came through the bedroom window. +Robbery! And suddenly he was out of bed +and slipping into his clothes.</p> +<p>The morning was cool and fresh after the heavy +rain of the night. His uncle stood at the porch railing, +sightless eyes turned off across the valley, a +great, tawny German shepherd dog at his side. +Harley Kent crowded the top step, and Joe noticed +that the dog sneezed, and grew restless, and drew +back a step.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_22">[22]</div> +<p>“Lady, easy.” Dr. Stone’s hand felt for the +dog’s head and rubbed a twitching ear. “When did +you say it was discovered, Kent?”</p> +<p>“A little after six o’clock this morning. The +maid found a window open and called me. The +wall safe was open, too, and the necklace was gone. +Could I trouble you for a match, Doctor? I’ve +lost my lighter.”</p> +<p>The man stepped upon the porch, and the dog +sneezed again and retreated. Dr. Stone brought +forth matches, and Harley Kent had to come close +to get them. Joe was vaguely conscious that his +uncle’s face had become intent.</p> +<p>Harley Kent lit a cigar. “I’m not in the habit +of keeping jewels in the house. Mrs. Kent’s been +in Europe; her ship docks next Monday. We’re to +attend a dinner that night, and I knew she’d want +the necklace. I took it out of a safe deposit box a +week ago and brought it home.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone asked a question. “Insured, of course?” +“Certainly. Twenty-five thousand.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_23">[23]</div> +<p>The boy sucked in his breath and wondered what +twenty-five thousand dollars would look like piled +up in shining half dollars. The Kent automobile +gleamed in front of the house, and a uniformed +chauffeur sat motionless behind the wheel.</p> +<p>“You’ve notified the police?”</p> +<p>“I tried to, but the storm last night crippled our +telephone line. I came over to use yours.”</p> +<p>“Ours is out, too.”</p> +<p>Harley Kent made an impatient gesture. “That +means I’ll have to run into the village.” The cigar +came out of his mouth. “It was an inside job, +Doctor. Whoever robbed that safe knew how to +get into it. It was opened by combination.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said coolly, “That’s putting it on your +own doorstep.”</p> +<p>Harley Kent shrugged. “Figure it out for yourself. +There were only three of us in the house—Donovan, +the chauffeur, the maid, and myself. +Two days ago I forgot to take some papers to New +York. I telephoned Donovan to bring them in. +They were in the safe and I had to give him the +combination. Well, I’m off for the village. I +understand you were a police surgeon before——” +The man coughed.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dr. Stone without emotion. “Before +I lost my sight.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_24">[24]</div> +<p>“Well, if you’d like to run over and get the feel +of a case again——”</p> +<p>“It might be interesting,” the doctor said slowly.</p> +<p>Harley Kent went down the steps, a door +slammed, and the car rolled away. Joe had a +glimpse of the uniformed figure at the wheel, and +spoke in a hoarse whisper:</p> +<p>“Will Donovan be put in jail, Uncle David?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps.” The hand came up from the dog’s +head and tapped the porch railing thoughtfully. +“What time is it, Joe? About eight?”</p> +<p>“Five after.”</p> +<p>“Two hours,” Dr. Stone said as though speaking +to himself. Abruptly he jerked his head. “Time +we had breakfast,” he added, and boy and dog followed +at his heels. Here, in the home of his +widowed sister that had sheltered him for five years, +he knew his way perfectly, and there was nothing +to mark him out as blind as he walked boldly toward +the dining room. And yet at the last moment, his +handicap touched him with uncertainty. He had +to put out his hand to make sure of the table and +then fumble for his chair.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_25">[25]</div> +<p>Joe wondered about jails, and was sorry for +Donovan. Twice the man had picked him up on +the road and carried him into the village, and once he +had spent a fascinating afternoon in the Kent garage +holding tools while the chauffeur worked on the car. +Did they lock a prisoner in a cell and keep him there +night and day?</p> +<p>His mother’s voice cut through his thoughts. +“You’re going over, David?”</p> +<p>“I have a reason for wanting to go,” the man said.</p> +<p>Joe’s heart throbbed. A reason for going. His +throat was husky again. “Right away, Uncle +David? A policeman has to get there while the trail +is hot, doesn’t he?”</p> +<p>“There are some trails,” Dr. Stone said in his slow +drawl, “that do not grow cold.”</p> +<p>Out on the porch he filled a pipe and smoked +quietly. Joe, watching that lion head topped by +crisp, unruly white hair, wondered if his uncle ever +became excited. He fidgeted and watched a clock; +and by and by Dr. Stone knocked the ashes from his +pipe, stood up, and took a dog’s harness down from +a nail.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_26">[26]</div> +<p>The dog stretched its great body and held out its +head. A stiff leash rose from either side of the harness +and joined a wide, hard handle-grip at the top.</p> +<p>“Lady, forward!”</p> +<p>Slowly, protectingly, the massive animal took Dr. +Stone down the steps and along the concrete walk to +the road.</p> +<p>“Lady, right.”</p> +<p>Without hesitation the dog turned right, the +tawny body pressed almost against the man’s left +leg. They were off now, and Dr. Stone’s body bent +slightly from the waist toward the dog, while his +right hand lightly swung a cane. He might have +been gifted with sight, so rapidly did he walk, so +complete was his confidence in his four-footed +guide. Joe had to stretch his legs to keep up with +them. They went past fields and orchards, fences +and tangles of wild grape. The doctor’s cane, +swinging along, came in contact at last, with a wall +of hedge.</p> +<p>“Kent’s place, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.” Joe’s throat throbbed with a twitching +pulse.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_27">[27]</div> +<p>A telephone repair truck was in the driveway. +The dog slowed, and swung aside, pulling on the +leash and changing his course. Without hesitation +Dr. Stone followed the pull, and the dog led him +around and past the truck. They appeared, in their +movements, to be one.</p> +<p>The boy said: “I like to watch him do that.”</p> +<p>“He’s my eyes, Joe. Kent’s car?”</p> +<p>“No, sir; a telephone truck. I don’t see his car.”</p> +<p>“Not back yet,” said the doctor, and whistled +soundlessly. They roamed the grounds. The dog +at a rapid pace, took the man along one side of the +house and deftly manoeuvered him around every +tree and bush. In the rear a maid hung a sodden +garment on the line and, after a frightened glance +at them, disappeared into the house. The wind +blew across the valley and the wet sleeve of a coat +fluttered and swung toward Dr. Stone’s face. He +reached out a groping hand, and found the sleeve, +and brought it close to his sightless eyes as though +trying to pierce a veil of darkness and make out the +pattern. Bees droned through a blooming lilac and +they moved around to the other side of the house.</p> +<p>“Joe, is there a pine tree on the place?”</p> +<p>Pin pricks ran along the boy’s spine. His uncle +had never been here before—how did he know +about the tree? “Yes, sir.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_28">[28]</div> +<p>“A large tree, heavy-branched?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Take me there. Lady, forward.”</p> +<p>The cane explored the trunk and then slowly +tapped the ground.</p> +<p>“About six feet from the house, Joe?”</p> +<p>Joe blinked. “How do you know?”</p> +<p>“Sound echoes,” Dr. Stone chuckled. Automobile +tires ground the gravel of the driveway.</p> +<p>“It’s Mr. Kent,” said the boy.</p> +<p>Harley Kent hurried up to them. “Is this village +supposed to have a police force?” he demanded. +“Had to wait half an hour for Captain Tucker to +stroll back from breakfast. There could be a dozen +murders committed——” He broke off. “Just a +moment, Doctor, and I’ll be with you. It occurs to +me I may have left that lighter in another suit——”</p> +<p>“The maid hung one out to dry,” Dr. Stone said.</p> +<p>“Why, yes.” Harley Kent stopped short. +“That’s it,” he added, and was gone. Presently he +was back. “Not there. I suppose it will turn up +some place. Well, come in; come in. The police +should be here before long.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_29">[29]</div> +<p>They mounted to the porch and Lady, after the +manner of her breed when trained to work with the +blind, stopped with her head directly under the +knob of the strange door.</p> +<p>“A remarkable animal,” Harley Kent said in admiration. +“Well, here’s where the job was done, +Doctor.”</p> +<p>Joe was conscious of strange tremors. Lady, +alert, cocked her head and sniffed the air with an +inquiring nose. The doctor, halting in the arched +doorway leading from the hall, seemed to lose himself +in thought.</p> +<p>“There’s a door to the left of this room, Kent?”</p> +<p>“Yes; it leads into the dining room.”</p> +<p>“And windows in the wall facing this way. +They’re open now.”</p> +<p>Harley Kent gave a startled grunt. “Doctor, if +I didn’t know you were blind——”</p> +<p>“Air currents,” Dr. Stone said laconically. “I +feel them on my face. You feel them, too, but they +go unnoticed. You rely on your eyes. The wall +safe, then, should be in the solid wall on the right. +Correct, Kent?”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand it,” Harley Kent said, still +startled.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_30">[30]</div> +<p>The doctor asked an abrupt question. “How +high is that safe from the floor?”</p> +<p>“Six feet, eight inches.”</p> +<p>“To work the combination without straining a +short man would have to stand upon a chair.”</p> +<p>“Exactly, Doctor. None of the chairs was disturbed; +none of the cushions trampled. I checked +that with the maid.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s face was impassive. “I gather that +means something to you?”</p> +<p>“What would it mean to you if I told you Donovan +was a tall man?”</p> +<p>The doctor’s sightless eyes were fixed straight +ahead as though he saw something that was denied +to other men. “Does Donovan know he’s suspected?”</p> +<p>“He isn’t quite a fool.”</p> +<p>A man passed quickly through the hall. Donovan! +Joe instinctively stepped closer to the dog. +And suddenly, under his feet, the floor boards +creaked with a loud, harsh, dry protest.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_31">[31]</div> +<p>“Loose boards all over the room,” Harley Kent +explained. “I never bothered to have them nailed +down. With the safe in this room I looked upon +them as a burglar alarm. And yet, in the uproar of +last night’s storm, a cannon ball might have been +rolled across the floor and nobody upstairs would +have heard it.” His hands made a resigned gesture +of defeat. “No matter how sound you think your +plans are, you can never be sure.”</p> +<p>“No,” Dr. Stone said slowly, “there’s always a +slip.”</p> +<p>The telephone truck was gone, and now another +car came up the driveway and stopped with a squeal +of brakes.</p> +<p>“Captain Tucker has evidently finished his +breakfast at last,” Harley Kent said with bitter sarcasm. +“He’ll want to question Donovan. If you +don’t mind, Doctor——”</p> +<p>“Of course.” The doctor took an uncertain step +and paused. “I seem to have lost my bearings, Kent. +Would you give me your arm to the door?”</p> +<p>Joe followed blankly. It was the first time he +had ever known his uncle to lose a sense of direction +once established. Behind those blind eyes the +room, in all its essentials, had been mapped. And +even if its outlines had not been printed on a clear +mind, the man had only to say, “Lady, out!” and +the dog would have taken him to the door. Why +take Harley Kent’s arm?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_32">[32]</div> +<p>Captain Tucker, on the porch, spoke a greeting +and passed inside. The door closed. Down at the +end of the gravel where the driveway met the road, +Joe instinctively turned toward home. But Dr. +Stone said, “Lady, right!” and was off toward the +village at that amazingly rapid pace.</p> +<p>“I’m after pipe tobacco, Joe.”</p> +<p>The boy’s shorter legs beat a rapid tattoo on the +dirt road. “I bought you some yesterday, Uncle +David.”</p> +<p>“An extra tin won’t go to waste,” the man said +casually.</p> +<p>Hedge and brush were full of fascinating odors +that invited sniffing examination. But the shepherd +dog, as though aware that the man who gripped the +handle was in her keeping, went ahead with single-minded +purpose. The dirt road became a paved +street and they were in the town. Lady guided her +charge toward the sidewalk, came to a cautious halt +at the curb and waited for her command.</p> +<p>A voice called: “Dr. Stone! Dr. Stone!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_33">[33]</div> +<p>Joe saw that it was Tom Bloodgood, the jeweler. +They waited, and Lady sat down on her haunches, +watchful and alert.</p> +<p>“Heard about the robbery out your way, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“That’s something I’d never expect to happen. +I can’t understand how a burglar could have got +across that room without waking the dead. The +way that floor creaked——”</p> +<p>“Kent says the storm drowned all other noise.” +The doctor’s mouth had grown hard at the corners. +“I didn’t know you and Kent were on visiting +terms.”</p> +<p>“We’re not.”</p> +<p>“But if you knew about those floor boards——”</p> +<p>“Oh! That was a business call—the only time I +was in the house. He sent for me last Wednesday——”</p> +<p>The voice stopped, and Joe found the jeweler’s +eyes resting on him meaningly. Flushing, the boy +took himself out of earshot and pretended to be +absorbed in a store window. Presently his uncle +called to him, and they went down the street to +Stevenson’s shop, and Joe saw that the tight lines +around the man’s mouth had showed much deeper.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_34">[34]</div> +<p>Back on the street the blind man was silent, and +walked with quick steps beside the dog. Half way +home a cloud of dust rode toward them, and Captain +Tucker’s car came out of the dust. The car +stopped.</p> +<p>“So you didn’t arrest Donovan,” said the doctor.</p> +<p>The police officer leaned across the wheel. “Joe +must have told you he’s not in the car.”</p> +<p>“Nobody had to tell me,” Dr. Stone said mildly. +“Captain Tucker, with a jewel thief in charge, +would not be likely to stop for a chat with a friend. +You didn’t arrest Donovan?”</p> +<p>“N—no. Even though you’re reasonably sure +a man’s guilty, you can’t arrest him for robbery unless +you have at least some proof. There is no +proof—there’s nothing. And he has an alibi. He +and the maid have their rooms in the same wing of +the house. She says she couldn’t sleep last night, +and sat up and read with her door partly open. She +insists Donovan couldn’t pass that door without +being seen or heard. If the maid’s telling the truth, +Donovan couldn’t be the thief; if she isn’t telling +the truth, they’re both in it. Anyway, if we do +arrest Donovan, what about the necklace? If possible +we want to recover that.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_35">[35]</div> +<p>“But you think Donovan did it?”</p> +<p>“Well, Doctor, let’s give it a look. She admits +she never sat up all night reading before. She can’t +recollect ever leaving her door open before. Now, +why did both those things have to happen last night +when the safe was robbed?”</p> +<p>“It sounds rather convenient,” Dr. Stone said.</p> +<p>“Too convenient. Too perfect. My idea is +that Donovan did the job and the maid is hiding +him. I can figure it all out, but I can’t pin it on +them. That girl’s too slick for me. I’m going to +call in State troopers. Maybe they’ll be able to +break down her story.”</p> +<p>The car was gone with a whine of gears, and Joe +stretched his legs and followed his uncle and the +dog. Harley Kent’s car stood in the driveway.</p> +<p>“We’re at the Kent place, Uncle David.”</p> +<p>“I know.”</p> +<p>“Are we going in?”</p> +<p>“Sometimes,” the doctor said cryptically, “it is +best to leave a plum hang until it falls.” The cane +made a brisk gesture. “Tonight, Joe.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_36">[36]</div> +<p>To the boy the night was a long way off. A +crime had been committed in the neighborhood, +almost under their noses, and the scene of the crime +drew him with an excited, morbid curiosity. Late +in the afternoon he walked back to the Kent place +and loitered outside the hedge. He was there when +a car drove in and two State troopers got out. Lean +and trim in their belted uniforms, they looked competent +and formidable; and his eyes, fascinated, +clung to the bulges at their hips. An hour later +they came out of the house, and Donovan was with +them. The chauffeur was still with them when the +car rolled away.</p> +<p>Joe ran for home. “Uncle David! They’ve arrested +Donovan.”</p> +<p>“Tucker?”</p> +<p>“No; State troopers. I saw them take him away.”</p> +<p>“I expected it,” Dr. Stone said mildly. Joe, +watching him, was presently aware that he slept +peacefully in the depths of the porch chair. So can +the blind, shut out from the light of the world, in +turn shut out the world and drop off into almost +instant slumber.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_37">[37]</div> +<p>But at supper time the man was vividly awake. +The strong, supple hands that had made him a surgeon, +were suddenly restless and nervous.</p> +<p>“Joe,” he said, “change those hard leather shoes +to soft sneakers. Leather soles make too much +noise.”</p> +<p>The order had a sound of mystery and adventure. +Joe raced upstairs to his room. When he came +down the day was gone and darkness lay over the +countryside. Lady was already harnessed. Out in +the road the boy held to his uncle’s arm and hurried +along. Here, walking into a wall of night, he +would by himself have to go slowly. But to his uncle +the night presented no change, nor did it bring +up any new handicap. For to Dr. Stone the world +was always dark and black. There was no day or +night.</p> +<p>Kent’s car was gone from the driveway. Dr. +Stone said: “Easy, Joe; walk on the grass. Any +lights?”</p> +<p>“Only in the back.”</p> +<p>It seemed to the boy that his uncle made a sound +of satisfaction. The dog, as though sensing the +man’s desire for caution, led them slowly, silently. +Dr. Stone’s cane touched the tree.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_38">[38]</div> +<p>“Lady!” His voice was low.</p> +<p>The dog was all attention.</p> +<p>“Lady, search. Fetch.”</p> +<p>Joe was conscious of the black bulk of the house, +a black tower that was the tree, and a blurred +shadow moving noiselessly in the grass. Minutes +passed, and his heart pounded in his chest. One +moment the dog was near him, and the next it was +gone. And then the shadow stood motionless beside +his uncle.</p> +<p>“Lady, again,” Dr. Stone urged. “Search. +Fetch.”</p> +<p>For what? Joe racked his brain and tried to find +an answer. Once he heard the soft sniff of the dog, +but could not see it. Suddenly it was beside his +uncle again, motionless as before. How long it had +been there he did not know.</p> +<p>“We’ll go to the house now,” Dr. Stone said.</p> +<p>They crossed to the porch and rang the bell. The +living room was all at once alight, and Harley Kent +opened the door.</p> +<p>“I thought you might be along, Doctor. Come +in; come in. It looks as though we’ve cleared this +thing up.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_39">[39]</div> +<p>“Then the necklace was recovered?” Dr. Stone +asked.</p> +<p>“No—not exactly. They’ll sweat Donovan and +make him come through. They took him away +this afternoon.”</p> +<p>“So I heard,” the doctor said without emotion. +“Under arrest?”</p> +<p>“Technically, no. They took him down for +questioning, but—you know how those things are +worked. Keep after him until he opens up and then +book him. The maid slipped.”</p> +<p>“The maid?”</p> +<p>“Yes. They dragged it out of her a little at a +time. Donovan wanted her to marry him. Yesterday +he urged her to marry him and leave for the +West at once. That sounded suspicious, Doctor. +With so many now out of work, why should a man +marry and at once throw up his job? To do this +he’d have to have quite a bit of money—and Donovan +didn’t have any. Or else he’d have to know +how he could raise money very quickly. Get it?”</p> +<p>“Perfectly.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_40">[40]</div> +<p>“So we sent out the maid and brought in Donovan. +He had a smug answer to the reason for that +trip to the West. A friend owned a taxi company +in a western city and wanted him to come on and +take the job of manager.”</p> +<p>“He had this friend’s letter, of course?”</p> +<p>Harley Kent laughed. “You’re not as easily +fooled as that, Doctor? Of course not. Said he had +lost it. So the troopers took him away.”</p> +<p>“That’s that,” Dr. Stone said after a silence.</p> +<p>“Exactly. And a lucky thing the girl talked. +Up to that point we had nothing. No finger prints, +no sign as to how the window had been forced, +no sign of the necklace. Nothing but an open +window and an open safe. It was as though a bird +had flown in and had flown off with the jewels.”</p> +<p>“A bird,” Dr. Stone said slowly, and tapped his +cane against the floor. “Nobody thought of that +seriously though?”</p> +<p>“A bird?” Harley Kent stared.</p> +<p>To Joe’s amazement, his uncle appeared in earnest. +“Because if they had taken a bird seriously the +next step——”</p> +<p>“The next step what?” Harley Kent demanded +sharply.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_41">[41]</div> +<p>The cane had ceased to tap the floor. “The next +step,” Dr. Stone said softly, “would be to look +where a bird would naturally fly with such a +bauble.”</p> +<p>Something electric, something unsaid, hung in the +air, and Joe shook with a strange chill. Whatever +that something was, it spoke to Lady. The dog grew +restless and growled in its throat.</p> +<p>“I think we’ll be going, Kent,” said the doctor.</p> +<p>“Good night,” said Harley Kent.</p> +<p>Joe clung to his uncle’s arm and swallowed with +difficulty. A hundred feet down the road the man +halted.</p> +<p>“Can you see the house from here?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Tell me when the downstairs lights go out.” +The man found his pipe and struck a match to the +bowl.</p> +<p>A whippoorwill called musically through the +night, and distance softened the hoot of an owl. +Frogs croaked in a meadow and a rabbit stirred in +the brush. Joe shifted from foot to foot, and +wondered what was to come next. Twice cars +passed them going into town, and off over the hill +a dog howled. And then, without warning, the +oblongs of downstairs windows disappeared and the +roof was a dark patch against the sky.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_42">[42]</div> +<p>“The lights are out,” the boy whispered.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone put away the pipe. “Joe, you’d better +run home.”</p> +<p>The boy had not expected this. “But——”</p> +<p>“Sorry, Joe. I can handle this better alone. You +might only be in the way. Run along, and I’ll tell +you all about it in the morning.”</p> +<p>“But if——”</p> +<p>“No ifs. Lady’s here, and I’ll be perfectly all +right. Off, now.”</p> +<p>Without another word the boy trudged away. +Once he looked back, and could just distinguish his +uncle’s form. Again he looked back, and man and +dog were gone. His steps slowed and ceased. He +stood listening.</p> +<p>The whippoorwill had ceased to call, and only the +chorus of frogs broke the stillness of the night. By +and by he moved again, back the way he had come. +The sneaks made his progress almost soundless. Had +Uncle David told him to wear them so that they +could go unnoticed to the pine tree? Why the +tree?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_43">[43]</div> +<p>Man and dog were gone from where he had left +them. The tree lingered in his mind. Avoiding +the driveway he crept across the grass. A dark +pillar, darker than the night, loomed ahead. It was +the tree. He dropped to the ground and, hugging +his knees, sat there and was almost afraid to breathe.</p> +<p>There was no moon, and the gloom was filled +with subtle alarms. Donovan was probably in a +cell, caged and helpless. What would happen to +the maid? And why that intangible something that +had hung between Uncle David and Harley Kent? +He grew cramped and shifted his position. It must +be late. Where was his uncle? He strained his eyes +toward the tree but could see nothing.</p> +<p>Suddenly every faculty was sharpened and drawn +tight. He thought he had heard a sound. Slowly +he relaxed. It must have been the wind. And then +he heard it again. This time there could be no mistake. +There had been a subdued, almost indistinct +scraping.</p> +<p>Silence again, and darkness, and that vague alarm. +The silence grew painful. A leaf, fluttering down, +touched his face and a chill ran through his bones. +Why should a leaf fall from a tree in early spring? +And then the stillness was broken by a ringing call:</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_44">[44]</div> +<p>“Kent, it’s no go.”</p> +<p>A voice strangled and strained, came down out of +the tree. “Who the devil are you?”</p> +<p>“Dr. Stone. You can’t get away with it, Kent. +Tell them any story you like, but be sure you have +Donovan released at once. Lady, home!”</p> +<p>Man and dog emerged out of the night, and Joe +flattened out and hugged the ground.</p> +<p>“Come along, Joe,” the doctor said.</p> +<p>The boy stood up, abashed, and took his uncle’s +arm. “How did you know I was there?”</p> +<p>“Ears—a blind man’s ears. When you came in +Lady remained quiet. That meant she recognized +someone she trusted. There could be only one answer—you. +Do you realize you might have ruined +everything? That’s why I sent you home. One +suspicious sound from outside the house and our +quarry might have taken alarm.”</p> +<p>Joe wet his lips. “It was Mr. Kent?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_45">[45]</div> +<p>“Of course. Donovan? I had my doubts from +the start. Kent told a smooth story. He had had to +give Donovan the combination, and the safe had +been opened by combination. It was a tall man’s +safe, and Donovan was a tall man. It fitted together +perfectly, Joe—too perfectly. Remember when I +asked Kent to lead me to the door? I wanted to learn +something—and I learned it. Kent is a tall man, too. +I might have asked you, but to a boy all men seem +tall.”</p> +<p>“The maid’s story was perfect, too,” Joe said +hesitatingly.</p> +<p>“Two perfect stories,” Dr. Stone agreed. “It +became a matter of picking the true from the false, +and Kent rang false from the start.”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand, Uncle David.”</p> +<p>“Let’s analyze it. When Kent came to the house +Lady sneezed and drew away. Two weeks ago I +upset a bottle of bay rum; it ran into her eyes and +nose. She’s been shy of bay rum since. When +Kent said he’d lost his lighter and asked for a match +he reeked with bay rum and talcum. The maid had +awakened him at six o’clock, and he reached our +house at eight. Two striking facts, Joe. Does a +man, finding his house robbed in the night, calmly +go upstairs and make a careful toilet? Does he wait +two hours before going to a telephone to call the +police?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_46">[46]</div> +<p>“Well, we went to his place. He wasn’t home, +and we wandered about the grounds. That was +pure luck. We found the wet suit. I asked you +if there was a pine tree on the place.”</p> +<p>“Why, Uncle David?”</p> +<p>“Because that suit reeked with pine. We found +that the tree was only six feet from the house and +heavy-branched, which meant that some of the +branches grew close to the house. And so now we +had a robbery in the rain, a pine tree, and a dripping +suit of Harley Kent’s that reeked with pine. The +facts were all unrelated, but I began to wonder if the +tree had played a part in the robbery.</p> +<p>“Then Kent came back, and his first thought was +to look in the wet suit for the missing lighter. When +I mentioned the suit on the line he said nothing to +indicate alarm. But a blind man’s ears are sharp. +They are quick to catch shades of sound in a voice. +I knew he was disturbed because we had chanced +upon that suit. Now, why should he be upset? +Wet clothing is not uncommon after a wild rainstorm.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_47">[47]</div> +<p>“We went to town for tobacco, and ran into Tom +Bloodgood. That was another stroke of luck. For +Bloodgood told me Kent had called him to the house +to value a necklace. The jewelry market has fallen +this last year, and Tom gave Kent a valuation of +about $15,000. The moment Bloodgood told me +that I thought I saw the picture.</p> +<p>“Kent’s a market speculator. Evidently he had +been hit and needed money. Apparently he didn’t +want to have the necklace appraised in New York +where he was fairly well known—such things leak +out and sometimes affect a man’s credit. After he +learned what the necklace would bring in the market +he must have done some thinking. If he sold it, +he’d realize $15,000. If it were stolen he’d collect +$25,000 from the insurance company. The reason +he had shaved and waited two hours to call the +police took on significance. It began to look as +though Kent had staged a convenient robbery. +Collect for the jewels and still have them. Later he +might break up the necklace and sell the pearls +separately. It’s been done before.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you tell Captain Tucker, Uncle +David?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_48">[48]</div> +<p>“Oh, no. Tucker would have immediately +searched the tree, and Kent could have got the +incriminating suit out of the way and made the +charge that Donovan had hidden the necklace in the +pine. There was only one way. Scare Kent. Send +him out into the tree in a panic. And then catch +him in the act.</p> +<p>“So tonight we called upon Kent. I was searching +for a way to alarm him, and he opened the door +himself by mentioning birds. The moment I spoke +of a search of a tree he froze. After that it was +merely a matter of waiting for him to come forth +to remove the proof of his guilt.”</p> +<p>They were almost at Joe’s house. The boy +turned a puzzled thought in his mind.</p> +<p>“But, Uncle David——”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Even if there was pine on his coat it wouldn’t be +proof he’d been in a pine tree.”</p> +<p>“True,” Dr. Stone agreed. “That’s what sent +me searching for the absolute proof.”</p> +<p>Light broke upon the boy. “I see it now. You +found something?”</p> +<p>“This.” The man held out his hand.</p> +<p>In the darkness the boy could not see what lay in +the hand. “What is it, Uncle David?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_49">[49]</div> +<p>“The missing cigar lighter,” Dr. Stone said +quietly. “It fell out of Kent’s pocket while he was +hiding the jewels. Lady found it for me under the +tree.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_53">[53]</div> +<h2 id="c3">VOICES IN THE NIGHT</h2> +<p>“Go on ahead, Joe,” Dr. David Stone said. “The +boat will probably need bailing. I’ll have +Jerry fix your rod. Won’t take ten minutes.”</p> +<p>Joe Morrow gripped the can of worms and was +gone. Dr. Stone said, “Right, Lady,” and, gripping +the harness-handle, followed the dog toward Jerry +Moore’s garage.</p> +<p>Sound came to the doctor’s ears—the rasp of a +tool and, abruptly, the sharp tapping of a finger +against glass. The dog deftly steered him around +an automobile. Jerry’s voice came from under the +car.</p> +<p>“That you, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Thought those were Lady’s paws. With you in +a few minutes.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone moved toward the little office. A voice +said, “He’s blind, Rog.” The tapping had stopped.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_54">[54]</div> +<p>But well able to hear, the doctor thought with +grim humor, and listened from the doorway. Voices +came from the garage floor—Jerry Moore’s, the +nervous voice that had said, “He’s blind, Rog,” +and the mellow, genial tones of a third man.</p> +<p>“This brake-rod”—grunt—“sure was loose.” +That was Jerry. “Quite a contraption you’ve got +under here.”</p> +<p>“My own idea,” the genial voice said. “Why +smear up a car when you can pack them where +they’re out of the way?”</p> +<p>The job was done, and presently the car backed +out of the garage. Jerry came to the office.</p> +<p>“What won’t folks think up next?” he demanded. +“Fishing fellows, those two who just went out. +Stopping off to try Horseshoe Lake. Got a long +metal box bolted in under the floor boards. Out of +sight and out of the way. Got room in that box for +a hundred pounds along with ice.”</p> +<p>“Fish?” Dr. Stone asked a trifle sharply.</p> +<p>The garageman cackled. “Sure; a regular ice-box +on wheels. How come they pick here for fishing? +Nobody’s taken a bass out of Horseshoe in +years, and danged few pickerel. Want that rod +mended?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_55">[55]</div> +<p>A horn blew at the pumps. Jerry put the rod +down and hurried outside, and Dr. Stone walked to +the door. A hoarse voice said: “Two quarts of +medium.” A moment later the voice rasped +harshly: “Get away from that hood. Can’t you see +I’ve brought a can for the oil?”</p> +<p>“Easy, brother,” Jerry soothed. “No harm +done.”</p> +<p>“Keep away from the hood, that’s all.”</p> +<p>The car rolled away, and filled the night with the +low, smooth thunder of its exhaust. The doctor’s +ears registered and catalogued sounds. Only a high-priced +motor could sound like that—and only a +piece of tin could rattle as the car rattled. A queer +intentness twitched at the corners of the blind man’s +mouth.</p> +<p>“That’s queer,” Jerry observed. “Two cars in a +row, and they both had something hidden. This +last boiler was all of seven-eight years old, and +shabby as a beggar’s coat. Had something under +that hood, though, he was powerful anxious for no +one to see. What do you make of it, Doctor?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_56">[56]</div> +<p>“Coincidence,” the doctor said mildly. Two +cars, and each with something hidden. Lady’s tail +thumped the floor, and Joe Morrow came into the +office and stood around. The doctor’s ears, registering +an unseen world by sound, caught the tempo +of the boy’s restless feet. Bursting with something, +the blind man decided. The rod mended at last, +man and boy and dog came out to the street, and +Lady led them toward the lake.</p> +<p>Joe’s voice trembled. “A car pulled out just as +I came back, Uncle David. You know that cobbled +road that runs off from Main street, and goes down +into the hollow behind the cottonwoods and rises +to the back door of the bank?”</p> +<p>“The road the express wagon uses when it takes +money to and from the bank?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.” The boy swallowed with a gulp. “I +saw that car in there twice today, just sort of hanging +around.”</p> +<p>An automobile, making speed, went up the street +with a low drone of power.</p> +<p>“There she goes now,” Joe cried, excited.</p> +<p>“A wonderful motor,” said Dr. Stone.</p> +<p>“That’s just it, Uncle David. A shabby old car +with a pip of a motor. What for? A quick getaway?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_57">[57]</div> +<p>The doctor whistled softly under his breath, and +said nothing. Through the black, moonless night +Lady led them at her fast pace to an opening in the +reeds and out upon planking that led to the boats. +Joe got in first, steadied the craft, and helped in his +uncle. The boy rowed with an almost soundless +stroke, and presently shipped the oars and dropped +anchor. And then they waited for the catfish to +bite.</p> +<p>Joe marked Main street by a reflected ribbon of +radiance thrown against the night sky. Water +lapped against the boat, and moving lights crawled +across the distant toll-bridge. Dr. Stone said, “Not +much action, Joe,” and the headlights of a car swept +toward the lake. They stopped near the planking +and snapped out. By and by oars creaked and +splashed loudly, a dark shape moved toward the +toll-bridge, and voices came across the water.</p> +<p>“Why the toll-bridge, Rog?” the sharp voice +asked.</p> +<p>“Use your head,” the genial voice answered. +“There’s plenty of light down there. Somebody +may see us trying to haul in a big one.”</p> +<p>“You’re sure of the time?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_58">[58]</div> +<p>“We got the word, didn’t we?”</p> +<p>“Fast work,” the sharp voice said dubiously.</p> +<p>“Well, why not?” A genial chuckle came across +the water. “Everybody knows you couldn’t get a +decent fish out of this lake with a dragnet. So we +pull out.”</p> +<p>The oars splashed and creaked, and the sharp +voice was lost. And then the genial voice came +again:</p> +<p>“We’ll pull out about five, roll up and get in line, +step on the gas, and make Baltimore in time for +breakfast. After that, let John try to find us.”</p> +<p>Joe got a bite and missed his fish. So these two +men, whoever they were, planned to play hide and +seek with somebody named John. But his mind, +presently, came back to the shabby car with the +powerful motor that had hidden itself twice in the +cobbled road behind the cottonwoods where it +could not be seen from Main street.</p> +<p>“What do you think that car was doing there, +Uncle David?” the boy asked.</p> +<p>“If I knew,” Dr. Stone said dryly, “I’d be able to +give more attention to this fishing-line.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_59">[59]</div> +<p>A tingling tremor ran along the boy’s spine. So +Uncle David thought that strange car worth worrying +about! Lady moved in the boat, and the flat-bottomed +craft pitched and wobbled. The fish +weren’t biting, and the dog was probably cramped. +The boy pulled up the anchor. A steady, rhythmic +splashing came through the night.</p> +<p>“They’re rowing back,” Dr. Stone said.</p> +<p>Joe’s oars made scarcely a ripple. Tied up at the +planking, he shipped the oars before helping his +uncle from the boat. “No fish and a million mosquito +bites,” the doctor drawled, and they went up +the soggy path through the reeds. Oars rattled behind +them and somebody stamped on the planking. +A car was parked in the high grass above the rutted +road that paralleled the lake; even in the darkness +there was a lustrous sheen of paint and of shining +metal. One of Lady’s harness straps had loosened. +The doctor bent down to draw it tight, and +footsteps came up the planking.</p> +<p>“Rog!” The sharp voice snapped. “There’s +somebody at the car.”</p> +<p>“Don’t move!” The genial voice was all at once +icy and deadly. “If you’ve been monkeying——”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_60">[60]</div> +<p>Joe shivered. Lady, as though recognizing the +threat in that voice, had become stiff and taut. The +boy’s hand, feeling for her, met the bristling hairs +along her spine.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone stood up. “No threats, if you please,” +he said coolly.</p> +<p>Joe marveled that, blind, his uncle could face this +unknown hazard with unruffled calm. But then, of +course, there was Lady. The dog was like a tempered +spring, wound.</p> +<p>The man called Rog flew into a rage. “None of +your soft talk. What are you doing at that car? +By God, if——”</p> +<p>Lady gave an ominous, warning growl. The +threat stopped as though a gag had been rammed +down the speaker’s throat.</p> +<p>“It’s the blind man, Rog,” the sharp voice said; +“the blind man and a boy.”</p> +<p>Lady continued to growl a deep warning. A form +backed away quickly, and the deadly chill went out +of Rog’s voice, and he was genial and mellow.</p> +<p>“A thousand apologies, sir. The business of jacking +up a car and stealing the tires has become so +widespread——. You understand, sir?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_61">[61]</div> +<p>“Perfectly,” Dr. Stone said blandly, and quieted +the dog. The car backed around and lurched +through the ruts, but not until it was well on its +way were the lights turned on.</p> +<p>“What did they look like?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>“I couldn’t see their faces,” the boy answered; +“it was too dark.”</p> +<p>“What make of car?”</p> +<p>“I’m not sure.”</p> +<p>“No matter.” The doctor spoke to Lady and the +dog, sure-footed, led them through the night. Jerry +Moore was closing the garage and Ike Boles, the +station agent, gave them a toothless grin.</p> +<p>“Hear about the telegram that came this afternoon, +Doctor? Fellow named John’s glad to hear +the fishing’s good and aims to come up tomorrow +on the 8:11 from New York.”</p> +<p>Memory jingled the wires in Joe’s brain. Was +this the same John Rog and his companion were +anxious to avoid?</p> +<p>“Somebody,” Dr. Stone said mildly, “is evidently +playing a little joke on John. Who was the telegram +for, Ike?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_62">[62]</div> +<p>“Fellow named Carl Metz. Can’t find hide or +hair of him hereabouts. Telegram’s lying undelivered +at the station. Anybody hear tell of a Carl +Metz?”</p> +<p>The intent look that Joe knew so well had come +to the corners of the doctor’s mouth. “Jerry, remember +the man with the husky voice who +wouldn’t let you lift the hood? He had a faint +accent. What would you call it?”</p> +<p>“German,” Jerry said promptly.</p> +<p>And Carl Metz was a German name. A slow +excitement twitched through Joe’s nerves, and he +followed his blind uncle and the dog up the quiet +street.</p> +<p>“Who’s the man with the husky voice, Uncle +David?”</p> +<p>“You’ve seen him.”</p> +<p>“Where?”</p> +<p>“Hiding a shabby car in the cobbled road.”</p> +<p>“But——” Heat throbbed in the boy’s pulse. “But +if he’s the one who’s expecting John, what about +Rog and the other fellow? Why are <i>they</i> running +away from this John?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know—yet,” the doctor said.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_63">[63]</div> +<p>Until late that night he smoked his pipe and paced +the porch; and Lady, who read the signs of his unrest, +gave the short whine of a worried dog and +watched him narrowly. In the morning, when he +awoke, Joe had already gone to school. Mrs. Morrow +said: “Joe seemed frightfully excited about +something, David.” Tight lines formed about the +sightless eyes. Bringing the lawn-mower from the +side of the house, he began to cut the grass. The +lawn was a map in his mind—so many paces to +every walk and shrub. He was running the mower +near the front gate when a droning throb of power +roared up the road and stopped with a squeal of +brakes.</p> +<p>“Stranger,” said a husky voice, “they tell me +there’s a bad, little-traveled hill around here.”</p> +<p>Seconds passed. “Why, yes,” the doctor said +slowly. “Three miles on there’s a fork to the right; +it takes you to Kill Horse Hill.”</p> +<p>“Pretty steep?”</p> +<p>“It’s downright wicked.”</p> +<p>“Any chance,” the hoarse voice asked, “of running +into other cars out there?”</p> +<p>“None,” the doctor assured him; and abruptly the +car, rattling loosely, was gone.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_64">[64]</div> +<p>The blind man pushed the mower aside and +walked thoughtfully to the porch. At noon Joe +arrived, breathless.</p> +<p>“Uncle David! I took a look into the cobbled +road before school this morning. That car was there +again, hidden behind the cottonwoods.”</p> +<p>“I think,” Dr. Stone said, “I’ll walk into town this +afternoon.”</p> +<p>Something dark and sinister was going on under +cover, and it was time somebody spoke to Police +Captain Tucker and the bank. Lady, as though +sensing a need for speed, led him toward the village +at a pace faster than the pace of a man with sight. +Suddenly heavy, rapid footfalls grew loud and clear. +Somebody was running with mad haste. Somebody——? +The doctor’s ears, sharp as only a blind +man’s are sharp, picked a familiar rhythm from the +furious stride.</p> +<p>“Joe! Why aren’t you at school?”</p> +<p>The boy panted. “Wanted—to tell you—the +bank——” Breath failed him.</p> +<p>“Robbed?” Dr. Stone demanded sharply.</p> +<p>“The—express wagon. Had money—for the +bank—that came in—on No. 5.”</p> +<p>“The cobbled road?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_65">[65]</div> +<p>“Yes, sir.” The boy’s breath was easier. “In that +hollow behind the cottonwoods that you can’t see +from Main street. Captain Tucker was in the wagon +with the driver. When they got into the hollow +there was a man lying in a pool of blood. They +jumped out, and it was only a stuffed figure, and the +blood was red paint. Somebody they couldn’t see +said to put up their hands, and Captain Tucker +started to spin around and a shot knocked off his +cap.”</p> +<p>“And after that he kept his hands up?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Next thing a bag was over his head +and one over the driver’s, and they were tied up and +chucked into the truck. By and by somebody +found them and the money was gone.”</p> +<p>“Much?”</p> +<p>“Twenty-two thousand dollars. They’re looking +for that shabby car.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think they’ll have to look far,” Dr. Stone +said grimly. “Lady, forward.” Again the rapid +pace that ate up distance. “What time did the +hold-up happen, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Twenty of twelve.”</p> +<p>“Twenty—You’re positive of that?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_66">[66]</div> +<p>“That’s what everybody says. No. 5 got in at +half-past eleven. Gosh, Uncle David, if we had told +Captain Tucker last night about that car——”</p> +<p>“I don’t think it would have made any difference,” +the doctor said slowly. The blind eyes had +puckered again with a queer expression of baffled +uncertainty. Opposite the garage he spoke to Lady, +and the dog, obedient, led him in toward the pumps.</p> +<p>“Jerry about?”</p> +<p>The mechanic answered. “No, Doctor; had to +go up-country with the wrecker to bring down a +busted car. Hear about the hold-up?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Any talk about the getaway?”</p> +<p>“Nobody saw a car come up out of that road, +Doctor. Tucker doesn’t know. He had a bag over +his head, and the express engine was running, and, +lying on the floor, all he could hear was his own +motor. Looks like whoever planned it, planned it +neat.”</p> +<p>“About twenty-two thousand dollars?”</p> +<p>“Twenty-eight thousand. Everybody had it +twenty-two thousand at first, but it was twenty-eight +thousand. Twenty thousand in paper money, +and eight thousand in silver.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_67">[67]</div> +<p>“In silver?” The doctor stood very still and broke +into an almost soundless whistle. Joe’s heart hammered +against his ribs. He knew the sign—his +uncle’s mind, back in its shroud of darkness, had +touched something tangible and significant. Quietly, +after a long minute of thought, the blind man +walked into the office, groped about the desk for +the telephone, and called the railroad station.</p> +<p>“Ike, this is Dr. Stone. Did you find Carl Metz +and deliver the telegram?”</p> +<p>“I did not. I can’t find a man of the name.”</p> +<p>“Did this man John arrive?”</p> +<p>“If he did he’s a ghost. I watched the train for +a look at who it might be was coming to Horseshoe +for good fishing, and not a stranger got off.”</p> +<p>“What time did his train get in?”</p> +<p>“Eleven-thirty.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s voice snapped into the transmitter. +“Is that the train that leaves New York at 8:11?”</p> +<p>“The same,” said Ike; “No. 5 on the train-sheet, +and the money that was stolen in the baggage car.”</p> +<p>The receiver went back upon the hook. The +blind man was on his feet.</p> +<p>“What time is it, Joe?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_68">[68]</div> +<p>“Half-past two.”</p> +<p>“If we hurry——” The doctor was out the door, +following Lady at an amazingly fast pace. Joe had +to half run.</p> +<p>“Where are we going, Uncle David?”</p> +<p>“To the toll-bridge.”</p> +<p>Horseshoe Lake rippled with golden sun. Sid +Malloy, the bridge-tender, collected toll and Captain +Tucker, grim and dour, with a ghastly black +hole in the top of his cap, inspected the inside of +every car. He frowned at sight of Dr. Stone, the +boy and the dog.</p> +<p>“Doctor,” he said bluntly, “this is no place for a +blind man; and as for a boy——”</p> +<p>“Go inside, Joe,” the doctor said mildly. “Keep +out of the way. If trouble starts, duck low and hug +the floor. Is your gun handy, Captain?”</p> +<p>“I always have my gun,” Captain Tucker +growled.</p> +<p>“Presently I may speak to one of the cars that +stops to pay toll. Never mind questions. Have your +gun out and cover that car.”</p> +<p>The captain had had a bad day and was nettled. +“Wild west stuff?” he asked.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_69">[69]</div> +<p>“You wouldn’t want the next bullet to go a little +lower than your cap, would you, Captain?”</p> +<p>Joe sucked in a gasping breath. If there was +shooting, what chance would a blind man stand? +The question had a sobering effect, and the police +captain’s voice shed some of its bad wire.</p> +<p>“You’re waiting for a car, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“What kind of car?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“Can you describe whoever’ll be in it?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>Temper flamed suddenly in the harassed man. +“Look here, Doctor, if you don’t know what car it +is, or what whoever’s in it looks like, you’d better +leave this business for those——”</p> +<p>“Who can see?” Doctor Stone asked mildly. +“Sometimes the blindest persons have eyes.”</p> +<p>A car stopped at the toll-house and, while Sid +Malloy collected the toll, Captain Tucker opened +the doors and inspected the inside. A clock in a +village church tower struck three, and the midafternoon +traffic thickened and converged upon the +bridge. Cars rolled upon the bridge approach, and +stopped, and rolled on again, and the sound was +like the beat of some large machine.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_70">[70]</div> +<p>Forgotten by Captain Tucker, for there was +much work to be done and the police officer was +busy probing into automobiles, Dr. Stone and Lady +stood just outside the toll-house door. The smoke +of a seasoned pipe drifted blue and fragrant with +the breeze. Joe, trembling inside the toll-house, +could see his uncle’s face. It was stamped with +the calm, bland, inscrutable patience of the blind.</p> +<p>Automobiles shuttled past, and there was a delay +as each car was scrutinized. A line formed, and +horns began to honk impatiently. Joe, twisting his +head to see how far back the line extended, was +frozen by the cold crack of his uncle’s voice.</p> +<p>“I’m ready for you, Tucker.”</p> +<p>The boy wrenched himself around. The movement +had changed his position; the sun, slanting in +through the doorway, was in his eyes. The blurred +outline of a car was in front of the house, and he +was conscious of his uncle moving toward the car. +Fire burned in his throat, and the world hung in a +stark silence. And out of that silence came his +uncle’s voice.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_71">[71]</div> +<p>“Rog,” Dr. Stone drawled, “I’m afraid you’re +going to miss your breakfast in Baltimore tomorrow.”</p> +<p>There was an oath and a movement in the car. +Joe, frozen, forgot to crouch and hug the floor. +When would the shooting start? And then another +form was beside his uncle, and the sun glinted +menacingly on cold, blue steel.</p> +<p>“Keep your hands up where I can see them,” +Captain Tucker ordered.</p> +<p>Joe, sick with relief, felt his knees begin to buckle +and bend.</p> +<p>Two hours later he sat in a room in the red-bricked +Town Hall with his uncle and Captain +Tucker. The captain, putting down a telephone, +leaned far back in his chair and gave a sigh.</p> +<p>“That was New York calling,” he announced. +“They’ve picked up John. He worked for the +New York bank that shipped the money. The +bank here has counted the shipment and it’s all there +down to the last nickel.” His eyes went slowly from +the boy to the dog and to the blind man. “Doctor, +I don’t know how you did it. We were all looking +for that shabby car——”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_72">[72]</div> +<p>“That car had me fooled for a while,” Dr. Stone +admitted. “Joe had me convinced it was motored +for a quick getaway. This morning the car stopped +at our place and the driver asked for directions. He +wanted a bad hill, and I sent him to Kill Horse. +When Joe came along with news of the hold-up, +I started here to tell you where that car could be +found; but when I learned that the hold-up took +place at twenty minutes of twelve the shabby car +was washed right out of the picture.”</p> +<p>“Why?” Captain Tucker demanded.</p> +<p>“Because within a minute or two of 11:40 the +driver of that car was asking me for directions. He +couldn’t have been in two places at once.”</p> +<p>“Why were you sure it was the shabby car?”</p> +<p>“A blind man’s ears, Captain—the sound of the +motor and the driver’s husky voice. And all at +once I knew why he had surrounded himself with +so much mystery—afraid to have Jerry Moore look +under the hood, hiding down behind the cottonwoods +when he did lift the hood, anxious to find a +steep hill little used by other cars. The man was, +without question, experimenting with a carburetor +of his own design, and afraid somebody would get a +slant at it before he was ready to have it patented.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_73">[73]</div> +<p>Captain Tucker pursed his lips and rocked in his +chair. “I follow you that far, Doctor, but how did +you pick up Rog?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t,” Dr. Stone said mildly; “he dropped +into my lap. Let’s begin at the beginning. I met +Rog and his companion at Jerry’s garage, and Jerry +had seen that storage-box under the car. It struck +me as strange that a fisherman should try to keep +fish fresh by placing them under a car and next to +a red-hot exhaust pipe. Later, while Joe and I +were on the lake——”</p> +<p>“That was last night?” the captain interrupted.</p> +<p>“Yes. A boat passed us; I recognized the voices +of Rog and his friend. I learned that they knew +there were few fish in the lake. Now, why had +these men come prepared to pack fish in ice if they +knew there were no fish? I found they planned to +leave today—roll into line about three o’clock, they +said—and that they wanted to avoid somebody +named John. Coming ashore, Ike Boles told us +of a telegram that had come from John. Now, if +this was their John, why should they tell him the +fishing was good if they knew it wasn’t? On the +other hand, the telegram was directed to a Carl +Metz, and nobody knew a Carl Metz. Who was +Carl Metz? The driver of the shabby car spoke +with a German accent. Was he Carl Metz? If +so, why was he never seen fishing? The thing was +rather complicated.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_74">[74]</div> +<p>“I don’t see yet how you figured it out,” Captain +Tucker complained.</p> +<p>“I didn’t,” Dr. Stone chuckled. “It burst upon +me. After the elimination of the shabby car, Rog +lingered in my mind. I stopped at Jerry’s garage; +talking to Jerry might bring forth some overlooked +fact that might prove illuminating. But Jerry was +not there, and his mechanic dropped a bomb-shell—there +was eight thousand dollars in silver in the +stolen money. I began to wonder if there might be +two Johns: the John who sent a telegram from New +York, and the John whom Rog mentioned, an entirely +different John——”</p> +<p>“You mean——” Captain Tucker broke in suddenly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_75">[75]</div> +<p>“Yes; John Law. The crook’s name for the +police. Why should they run from the police? +Was it this hold-up? Eight thousand dollars in +silver is something you cannot hide in your vest +pocket or under your hat. They wouldn’t ride with +it thrown into a car; a police drag-net would probably +be searching cars. That silver would have to +be carried where it would defy search. Where better +than a storage-box hidden away under a car, +particularly if we remember two things: First, +these men had said it was an ice-box for fish. +Second, they knew they weren’t going to get any +fish. It held together except for one weak link.”</p> +<p>“What was that?”</p> +<p>“Had they received word from New York that +this money was coming? That stuffed figure lying +in the cobbled road meant just one thing—the highwaymen +not only knew that money was coming +but they knew it was coming on No. 5. In order to +know that they must have received a message. That +telegram came into the puzzle again. I called Ike +Boles. He had not found Carl Metz; he had watched +the train that should have brought John and no +stranger had got off. John had said he would leave +New York on the 8:11. The 8:11 was No. 5.”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker scratched a puzzled head. “But +if nobody got that message——”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_76">[76]</div> +<p>“Captain, let’s suppose they know whatever message +was sent would be filed in New York at a certain +time. What better safeguard than to send it to +a name unknown here? What’s to prevent the one +to whom that message is really intended loitering +about the station and listening for it to click into +the office?”</p> +<p>“You’re assuming they know telegraphy?”</p> +<p>“I wasn’t assuming, captain; I knew. Last night, +when I walked into Jerry’s while he was looking +over that storage-box, fingers began to tap a window. +It was a message. It said: ‘Too much attention; +let’s scram.’ I knew those men could read +Morse.”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker stood up. “Doctor, any time +you’d like a job as a detective——” He broke off +short. “What made you so sure they wouldn’t make +their getaway up-country?”</p> +<p>“I heard Rog say they’d roll into line. There’s +only one spot in this village where a car has to roll +into line. That’s at the toll-bridge.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_77">[77]</div> +<p>Out in the village street Dr. Stone filled his pipe +and puffed contentedly. Rog’s car stood in the +police driveway beside the Town Hall; and the steel +storage-box, wrenched loose by crowbar and hammer, +lay upon the ground.</p> +<p>“You took a chance, Uncle David,” Joe said +hoarsely. “If that car had slipped past——”</p> +<p>“Rog threatened us on the lake path last night,” +the blind doctor said mildly. “If I had released the +harness-grip Lady would have torn him down. I +knew only two persons in town who had met the +car, or Rog: Jerry, and he was up-country. You; +but it was dark last night and you wouldn’t have +recognized the car. That put it up to Lady.”</p> +<p>Joe blinked.</p> +<p>“If you owned a dog,” Dr. Stone went on, “it +would be your dog. I’m blind. Lady knows it. +Lady believes she owns me, and she never forgets. +To her Rog will always mean danger—to me.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” Light broke upon the boy. “Then +Lady——”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Dr. Stone. “I knew when Rog’s car +stopped at the toll-house. Lady growled.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_81">[81]</div> +<h2 id="c4">THE UNKNOWN FOUR</h2> +<p>Dr. David Stone, walking rapidly beside Lady, +seemed unaware of the penetrating chill +of the pale, thin dawn. His broad shoulders +swung with his stride, his coat was open, and no +hat covered the white hair of his magnificently-formed +head. But Joe Morrow, his nephew, huddled +down into a turtle-neck sweater and shivered.</p> +<p>“Joe,” said Dr. Stone, “I shouldn’t have let you +come along on this. You’ve never seen a dead man +before.”</p> +<p>Chill shook the boy’s teeth. “A dead man can’t +hurt anybody.”</p> +<p>“True; but this may be nasty business. Captain +Tucker says old Anthony was murdered.”</p> +<p>The boy sucked in his breath and was +momentarily sorry the telephone that had called his uncle +had awakened him. Crows, cawing faintly, loomed +against the early light of the cold sky. The grass +was wet, and saturated the bottoms of his trousers.</p> +<p>“They—they don’t know who did it?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_82">[82]</div> +<p>“That’s the trouble, Joe. So many persons might +have wanted to.” Since turning into Meadow Road +the doctor had been counting paces, and now his +voice changed abruptly. “We should be near +there.”</p> +<p>“It’s right ahead, Uncle David.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said, “Lady, left,” and the great, tawny +dog turned obediently. They went up a weed-bordered +path to a house that had once been noble, +but which now lay in peeled-paint neglect.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker let them in. Four men sat in a +room off the hall, and they watched the doorway +in silence as Dr. Stone and the dog appeared. Joe, +crowding at his uncle’s heels, was conscious of a +studied ease and a cautious wariness in all of them. +He identified them as Police Captain Tucker made +them known to the blind man—Ted Lawton, +marked by a certain furtiveness; Ran Freeman, cool +and self-contained; Fred Waring, silently grim, and +Otis King, dapper and assured. Lady, restless on her +leash, suddenly gave an eerie, dismal whine.</p> +<p>Waring flared. “Stop that confounded dog.”</p> +<p>“She knows,” Dr. Stone said quietly, “that there +has been death here—by violence.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_83">[83]</div> +<p>Ice ran in Joe’s veins. Otis King lit a cigarette +and calmly meditated the glowing end. The doctor +said, “Lady, chair,” and the dog led him to a seat. +Freeman, sitting on a stool in front of a piano, +dropped one arm and the elbow awoke a crashing, +jangling chord.</p> +<p>Lawton jumped. “Did you have to do that?”</p> +<p>“Better take something for your nerves,” Freeman +said mildly, and ran one hand soundlessly over +the keys of the piano.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker’s voice bit into the silence. “One +of you four has every right to be nervous.” He +turned to Dr. Stone. “I sent for you, Doctor, +because I am baffled. All four of these men came +here late yesterday. Cagge says——”</p> +<p>“Who’s Cagge?” the doctor broke in.</p> +<p>“Old Anthony Fitch’s servant. He says all four +quarreled violently with Anthony last night, and +that the old man cackled at them, and goaded them, +and invited them to remain so that today the comedy +could be resumed. About eleven o’clock he went +off to bed, holding to Cagge’s arm, after telling the +servant to show the visitors to rooms.”</p> +<p>“And then?” the doctor asked.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_84">[84]</div> +<p>“Cagge says he awoke about three o’clock this +morning and heard groans. He went to Anthony’s +room, and there he found the old man crumpled +on his bed. He had been struck on the temple by +a heavy brass candlestick that lay on the floor. Cagge +says he tried to speak, and muttered one word several +times before he died.”</p> +<p>“That word was?”</p> +<p>“Four. Over and over again. ‘Four, four, four.’ +What do you make of it?”</p> +<p>Slowly Doctor Stone filled a pipe, struck a match, +and puffed in unhurried contemplation. “It may +be, Tucker, he meant that all four were concerned +in his murder.”</p> +<p>Otis King laughed. “Doctor,” he said easily, +“that shot misses the target. There isn’t one of us +trusts any of the other three. You couldn’t get us +into a combine.”</p> +<p>“You must know each other,” the doctor observed.</p> +<p>Fred Waring jumped angrily to his feet. “Look +here, Doctor——”</p> +<p>Lady growled deep in her throat, and Waring +slumped into a chair and watched the dog.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_85">[85]</div> +<p>“Then,” Dr. Stone said slowly, “if all of you are +not concerned, one man’s hand is stained with +blood.”</p> +<p>Freeman still continued to run his hand soundlessly +across the keys. Lawton gave the doctor a +quick, sidelong glance, and stared down at the floor.</p> +<p>“Which one?” King asked coolly; and now, for +the first time Joe noticed that he alone, of the four +in the room, was fully dressed.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s hand touched the dog’s head. “I may +tell you—later. First, I should like to know how all +of you happened to arrive here yesterday. Did the +old man invite you?”</p> +<p>“No,” Otis King drawled; “but I rather fancy he +expected us. Did you know he was writing a book? +It was to be one of those brutally frank things—fire +the gun and let the shots hit whom they may. +Anthony dropped each of us a letter. We were to be +in the book. So, knowing Anthony, we all raced for +the Grand Central and met on the same train.”</p> +<p>“And killed him,” Dr. Stone said.</p> +<p>“Some one did,” King admitted blandly. “And +I’m not denying that any of the four of us had reason +to do the job.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_86">[86]</div> +<p>Fred Waring spoke bitterly. “You always did +talk too much, Otis.” He lapsed into silence, and +presently spoke to the doctor. “If you knew +Anthony Fitch—”</p> +<p>“Perhaps I do,” the doctor said mildly. “For +several years he was mixed up in shady transactions, +but managed to stay just inside the law. Slippery, +and clever, and unscrupulous.”</p> +<p>“That was Anthony on the outside,” Waring said +passionately. “Inside he was vindictive, and cold, +and merciless. Those claw-like hands of his were +the talons of a hawk. He took a pleasure in refined +torture. Years ago we were all tied up with him, +and—”</p> +<p>“You don’t have to go into that,” Ted Lawton +cried warningly.</p> +<p>“I’m not going to. Anyway, we broke away, and +one of his schemes failed. He told us then that some +day he’d pay the score. Lately he set out to write +a book. It was to be called ‘Confessions of a Rascal.’”</p> +<p>“I see.” The doctor’s face was expressionless. +“Naturally, you gentlemen objected to being included +in the book.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_87">[87]</div> +<p>Waring ripped out an oath. “He had gone back +fifteen years to rake open old sores. God, man, do +you know what that meant? We thought we had +lived down those old mistakes. We had established +ourselves. I am cashier at a manufacturing plant. +King is manager of a branch brokerage house. Lawton +is in business for himself. Ran Freeman is engaged +to marry Lilly Panner——”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone sat up straight. “The Calico Heiress?”</p> +<p>Freeman’s fingers still played imaginary music. +“Exactly, Doctor,” he said quietly. “The newspapers +have made the family fairly well known. +Fine old traditions—that sort of thing. Let this book +of Anthony’s appear and my marriage to Miss Panner +would be overboard.”</p> +<p>“And with it the Panner fortune,” the doctor observed +dryly.</p> +<p>“That, too,” Ran Freeman admitted without +emotion.</p> +<p>The pipe had gone out. The blind man ran the +bowl absently along one sleeve. Dishes clattered in +the kitchen.</p> +<p>“It seems,” the doctor said, “you’ve given yourself +sufficient motive for murder, Freeman.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_88">[88]</div> +<p>“We all have sufficient motive,” Freeman said +frankly. “How long could Waring remain a cashier +if his past were dug out? How long would King +be manager of a brokerage house? How long would +Lawton have enough credit left to stay on in his +business?”</p> +<p>The room fell into silence, and Joe felt sweat on +the palms of his hands. These men discussed murder +as other men might have talked of the loss of a button +from a coat. Dr. Stone put the pipe away and +turned his sightless eyes toward the spot from which +Waring’s voice had sounded.</p> +<p>“You say Anthony wrote you?”</p> +<p>“All of us. A devilish letter telling what was +going into the book concerning us. Do you get +that? Paying off, after all these years, the old score; +ramming in the knife and turning it around. Giving +us the prospect of months of anticipation and worry +waiting for the book to appear. So we came up +here——”</p> +<p>“And threatened him?” the doctor asked.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_89">[89]</div> +<p>“Yes,” Waring answered after a momentary hesitation. +“He laughed at us. He said the only way +to stop that book was to kill him, and invited us to +do it. He said there was a blind man in the village +with the very devil of a dog and that the man who +killed him would be tracked down.” Waring’s +voice rose. “But, for once, Anthony was wrong. +He forgot——” The passionate flow of words +stopped with startling suddenness.</p> +<p>“What did he forget?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>Waring said nothing.</p> +<p>“Did he forget that there was such a thing as the +manuscript being stolen?”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker spoke. “What good would that +do? The old man could write it again.”</p> +<p>“Could he?” Dr. Stone mused. “I’m not so sure. +A man who has to lean on a servant’s arm is a sick +man—perhaps a dying man. By the way, Tucker, +did you look for the manuscript?”</p> +<p>“Yes. He kept it in his bedroom.”</p> +<p>“And?”</p> +<p>“It’s gone.”</p> +<p>“Waring,” Dr. Stone said slowly, “you checked +yourself too late. So Anthony forgot—and the +manuscript <i>is</i> stolen. That unfinished sentence +could convict you.”</p> +<p>“Of what?” Waring snapped.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_90">[90]</div> +<p>“Of murder. The man who stole that manuscript +killed Anthony Fitch.”</p> +<p>Lady whimpered uneasily, and, in the hard +silence, the sound was like the wail of a ghost. Joe’s +temples throbbed, and he was conscious of Lawton +watching his uncle in a sort of bleak dread. Slowly +he came to the realization that the blind man, sitting +there in a handicap of darkness was the dominating +figure in the room.</p> +<p>Softly, almost soundlessly, a man wearing an +apron appeared from the kitchen. This, the boy +guessed, was Cagge.</p> +<p>“I’ve made coffee,” the servant announced in a +nasal monotone. “Anybody want some?”</p> +<p>Freeman’s hand came away from the piano. +“What’s the matter with the bacon and eggs?”</p> +<p>Lawton gave a grunt of distaste. “Ugh! Who +could eat food now?”</p> +<p>“Is Anthony’s death supposed to fill any of us +with sorrow?” Freeman asked blandly.</p> +<p>“Fry mine on both sides,” said Otis King. He +stretched his legs and smoothed his trousers. “Cagge, +you were with Anthony how long?”</p> +<p>“Three years.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_91">[91]</div> +<p>“Any trouble collecting your wages?”</p> +<p>Joe saw the servant’s face flame. “Trouble? +Why, the tight-fisted, old skin-flint——. Do you +know how much he’s paid me this last year? A +couple of dollars here and there when I could wring +it out of him. And now he’s dead, and where am I +going to collect the four hundred dollars he owes +me?”</p> +<p>“Did you say four hundred dollars, Cagge?” +King asked softly.</p> +<p>“I said four hundred dollars and I mean four +hundred dollars.” Like a shadow, almost without +sound, the man was gone. The clatter of a pan +came from the kitchen.</p> +<p>Otis King tapped a cigarette against a silver case. +Joe’s hands had gone dry. Somewhere in the house +a clock struck seven.</p> +<p>“Four!” King said thoughtfully. “What would +you call that, Doctor, coincidence or—something +else? Many a man has killed for less than four +hundred dollars.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_92">[92]</div> +<p>Dr. Stone stood up. Holding to the harness-handle +of the dog’s leash he spoke to the four men +who watched him intently. “Would a murderer +first tell that his victim kept muttering ‘Four, four,’ +and then add that the slain man owed him four hundred +dollars? Lady, upstairs.” The shepherd dog +guided him across the room skillfully preventing +him from bumping into chairs and furniture. With +his feet on the first tread he spoke again. “It +wasn’t Cagge, gentlemen.”</p> +<p>“Do you always leap at conclusions?” Otis King +asked insolently.</p> +<p>“I usually keep off paths other men mark for me,” +the doctor said quietly.</p> +<p>Joe followed his uncle up the staircase. He kept +close to the dog, afraid, in this house of terror, of he +knew not what. In the upper hall Captain Tucker +halted and clutched his arm.</p> +<p>“Doctor,” he said rapidly, “there was something +I did not want to tell you downstairs in front of +them. I found something in the room.”</p> +<p>“Finger prints?”</p> +<p>“No; the candle-stick had been wiped clean. A +plain, silk handkerchief. It had evidently been used +to cover the lower part of the murderer’s face. I +found it in the center of the floor.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_93">[93]</div> +<p>Joe saw the familiar tense lines form around his +uncle’s mouth, and a soundless whistle came from +the blind man’s lips. “So! I hadn’t expected that. +King was right. They had reason not to trust one +another.”</p> +<p>“What’s that, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, Captain; nothing. Lead me in.”</p> +<p>A huddled figure was twisted grotesquely upon +the bed. Joe, with a sudden spot of ice in the pit +of his stomach, backed out into the hall. Presently +there were leisurely footsteps on the stairs, and from +inside the room his uncle’s voice said, “Lady, trail.” +The footsteps came on. But the boy’s ears were +held by the softer pad-pad-pad of the shepherd +dog’s feet.</p> +<p>Lady came out into the hall, ears back and nose +close to the floor. Sniffing, she veered this way and +that, but went steadily along the passage. And then, +suddenly, Joe’s heart gave a choked throb, for the +tawny shepherd had swung in and came to a stop +before a closed door. True to her training, she +stopped with her head below the lock; and Dr. +Stone, reaching out a groping hand, touched the +knob.</p> +<p>“Who’s room is this?” he asked.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_94">[94]</div> +<p>“Mine,” came Otis King’s voice from down the +hall.</p> +<p>The tense lines were back around the doctor’s +mouth. “The trail clouds again, Tucker,” he said; +but Captain Tucker, triumphant, held out the silk +handkerchief.</p> +<p>“Ever see this before, King?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“It was found near Anthony’s body. The dog, +taking a scent from it, followed a trail to your door. +How you explain that?”</p> +<p>“Seeing that this is the first time I’ve been upstairs, +I can’t explain it. Cagge brought my bag to +this room, but I did not follow. When Anthony +went tottering off to bed I went outdoors and +tramped the roads for hours.”</p> +<p>“What for?” Captain Tucker barked.</p> +<p>“I was trying,” King said, “to hatch a plan by +which I might get my hands on that manuscript.”</p> +<p>“And then you came back, and came up here——”</p> +<p>“I came back, but did not come upstairs. I went +out again at once.”</p> +<p>“Still plotting, I suppose?” Captain Tucker said +in sarcasm.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_95">[95]</div> +<p>“No,” King said coolly; “the second time I acted. +I destroyed Anthony’s book.”</p> +<p>Joe found it hard to swallow. Uncle David said +the man who stole the manuscript was the man who +had killed! Dr. Stone’s face was expressionless:</p> +<p>“I thought so.”</p> +<p>“Look here,” King burst out angrily. “I told you +I went out. When I came back the house was dark. +As I opened the front door I heard someone run up +the stairs. I snapped on the light, and a bundle of +typed papers lay on the floor. I had to read only +half a page to know it was Anthony’s manuscript. +Would I be apt to tell voluntarily that I destroyed +the book if the fact would link me to the murder?”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker seemed a bit taken back. Lawton’s +voice came from downstairs:</p> +<p>“Breakfast, Otis.”</p> +<p>“You might have built this up,” Captain Tucker +said suspiciously.</p> +<p>“I might,” King agreed. He was once more +dapper and assured.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_96">[96]</div> +<p>But when he came down stairs to the table, Joe saw +that he had hardened into cold watchfulness. Freeman +said, “Sorry you won’t eat with us, Doctor.” +Lady, walking restlessly around the table, stopped +at Freeman’s place and the man offered her a strip +of bacon.</p> +<p>“Quite a dog, Doctor.”</p> +<p>“Quite,” Dr. Stone agreed; and Joe, reading +something in the word, gave his uncle a sharp, expectant +glance.</p> +<p>Cagge came in from the kitchen with more coffee. +His hand shook as he refilled the cups, and the +spout of the pot chattered against the china.</p> +<p>“Cagge,” Dr. Stone said suddenly, “how did you +sleep last night?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t—much,” Cagge answered in his nasal +monotone. “I didn’t like the look of things.”</p> +<p>“Did you hear anybody go out?”</p> +<p>“Yes.” The servant put down the pot. “It was +blasted queer. I heard somebody go out twice, and +I heard somebody come back three times.”</p> +<p>“That doesn’t make sense,” Captain Tucker said +irritably.</p> +<p>“Everything makes sense when you understand +it,” the blind man observed. Joe, catching a movement +of the hand that held Lady’s leash, followed +his uncle into the living-room.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_97">[97]</div> +<p>“Joe, was the window of King’s room open?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>The meal was over, and the four men came back +through the doorway. Dr. Stone found his chair. +Ran Freeman dropped down upon the piano stool, +but Lawton seemed to seek a seat far from the blind +man and the dog. Waring paced the room, and +Otis King was still cold and watchful.</p> +<p>Freeman’s fingers, once more running soundlessly +over the keys, struck a faint note. As though the +sound had broken a barrier, he banged a chord. +The next instant, swinging about on the stool, he +faced the instrument and began to play, freely and +without restraint.</p> +<p>Joe found it hard to swallow. Music, in this house +of death, sounded ghastly, almost sacrilegious. He +looked at his uncle. The calmness was gone from +Dr. Stone’s face. Around the sightless eyes, around +the serene mouth, strange, intense lines he knew +well had suddenly formed.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker had gone out into the kitchen +to talk to Cagge. Freeman ended with a crash of +sound. Seconds passed, and nobody spoke. The +silence seemed no more ghastly than the music.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_98">[98]</div> +<p>“Ran,” Otis King drawled, dangerously quiet, +“your veins must be filled with ice.”</p> +<p>“Why be hypocrites?” Freeman demanded. +“We’re not mourning Anthony, are we?”</p> +<p>“We can be decent about it,” King told him.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s voice was again a calm stream. “There +was one part, Freeman—Tum, te-tum-tum, tum-tum-te-tum. +Toward the end. The execution was +fast. Tum, te-tum——”</p> +<p>“Oh, this.” Freeman faced the key-board again +and began to play. “This what you mean?”</p> +<p>“Play it,” said the blind man.</p> +<p>Ran Freeman played. He was an artist, and he +knew it. But Joe no longer gave ear to the music. +Something quiet—something too quiet—had been in +his uncle’s voice. Something that suggested a cocked +trigger about to be fired. He shivered, and gripped +the ends of his sweater, and held them tight.</p> +<p>For the second time the music ended in a crash +of chords. Freeman, swung about on the stool.</p> +<p>“Like it, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Beautifully done,” the blind man said. He lay +back against the cushions of the chair, loose and relaxed. +“In fact, it would have been perfect if——”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_99">[99]</div> +<p>Freeman chuckled. “Are you a music critic, too, +Doctor? If what?”</p> +<p>“If,” Dr. Stone said quietly, “if many of those +rapid notes had been struck by a living touch.”</p> +<p>Joe screamed, “Look out, Uncle David.” For +Freeman, no longer self-contained, had leaped +from the stool and one hand had gone toward a +pocket.</p> +<p>The blind man did not move. “Lady, get him.”</p> +<p>A tawny form hurtled through the air. There +was the sound of a falling body, a scream of terror. +Captain Tucker came running in from the kitchen.</p> +<p>“What——”</p> +<p>“It’s all right, Tucker.” Dr. Stone’s voice was +once more a calm stream. “Lady will merely hold +him. He’s your man.”</p> +<p>Ten minutes later Lawton, King and Waring +were gone, glad to be free and away. Ran Freeman, +white and sullen, sat handcuffed in one of the +big chairs. Captain Tucker, having telephoned for +a policeman to relieve him until the Coroner arrived, +came back to the living-room.</p> +<p>“I still don’t get it, Doctor,” he said ruefully. +“After Lady trailed to King’s room——”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_100">[100]</div> +<p>“That was a laid trail,” Dr. Stone told him. +“Anthony had warned them there was a dog that +could track. Would a man deliberately invite detection +by leaving a trail right to his door? However, +some one of the four had been in the room. +Which one? Probably the one with most at stake. +Lawton stood to suffer in a small business. Waring +and King would have lost their jobs. But Freeman +stood to lose the Panner fortune.</p> +<p>“King told us he had not been in the room, or unpacked +his bag, or been to bed. So far as the bed +and the bag were concerned it had to be the truth, +for it was a story too easily disproved if he had +lied. By the same reasoning, knowing that there +was a dog in the neighborhood that could follow +scent, he would not have made a trail to his own +room if he had committed murder. Therefore, +when the trail led to a room in which there was a +rumpled bed and a bag partly unpacked, one fact +was obvious. King was not the man.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_101">[101]</div> +<p>“He said he had gone out twice. But Cagge +said somebody had come in three times. Did you +notice the open window in King’s room? The +ceilings down here are low—a blind man can feel +these things. The second floor wouldn’t be far +from the ground. Whoever killed Anthony knew +King was out of the house. Therefore, after the +crime, he purposely left the silk handkerchief to +give the dog a scent. Then, going to King’s room, +he mussed the bed, dragged clothing out of the bag, +and dropped out the window. No doubt you’ll +find deep footprints where he dropped. Going into +the room and out the window, he probably reasoned, +brought the trail to King’s room and ended it +there.</p> +<p>“He was the third man Cagge heard come in. +He must have brought Anthony’s manuscript back +into the house with him intending to dispose of +it later. But King must have come back almost on +his heels. Not wanting to be found with the manuscript +he dropped it and fled. Perhaps he reasoned +that King, finding it, would destroy it, anyway. +If I had any doubts at all they were gone when we +came downstairs. The four men were eating. +Lady, circling the table, stopped at Freeman’s +chair. She had found the scent again. I don’t +think Freeman meant to kill. His idea was to steal +the book. But Anthony awoke. Am I right?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_102">[102]</div> +<p>Freeman had recovered some of his nerve. “Do +you expect any jury to convict on the testimony of +a dog?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“Tucker,” said Dr. Stone, “will you look at his +right hand?”</p> +<p>Joe shrank away from the prisoner’s violent +struggle to free himself of the handcuffs. Captain +Tucker, holding Freeman in the chair, turned a +startled face toward the blind man.</p> +<p>“Why, Doctor?——”</p> +<p>“Exactly, Tucker. I had the testimony of Lady, +but I needed greater proof. Freeman gave it to me +when he played the piano. All through the music +something kept recurring. Perhaps, were I not +blind, did I not have to depend so much on hearing, +I would not have noticed it. A hesitation on certain +notes, an almost imperceptible break in the rhythm, +a faint click upon the ivory of the keys that could +only be made by something foreign, something that +was not living flesh. Freeman has an artificial +finger.”</p> +<p>Freeman had slumped in the chair. Captain +Tucker straightened up.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_103">[103]</div> +<p>“Doctor,” he said curiously, “your brain travels +too fast for me.... Much too fast. Just what +does that prove?”</p> +<p>“Everything,” Dr. Stone said quietly. “Modern +surgery does miracles these days. Freeman has an +artificial finger that can be taken off. Do you remember +Cagge’s story? Old Anthony kept muttering +‘Four, four.’ That’s what he had seen. Four! +Four fingers on the hand of his murderer.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_107">[107]</div> +<h2 id="c5">BLIND MAN’S TOUCH</h2> +<p>Dr. Stone, reaching into the closet, found +the gray suit that needed pressing. He knew +it was gray because his fingers felt the three +sharply-ridged lines of thread sewed on the inside of +the collar. So, to the blind man, was every suit, +shirt, tie and sock in his wardrobe marked for exact +identification. One raised ridge of thread for blue, +two for brown, and three for gray.</p> +<p>He came down the stairs with the suit. Joe Morrow +had put a leash on Lady, and she whined +eagerly.</p> +<p>“Ready to go, old girl?” The blind man patted +the dog’s head and took the leash. “All set, Joe? +Got your money?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.” The boy felt for the two dollars he +had earned weeding a neighbor’s garden. “I’ll have +fourteen dollars saved,” he boasted.</p> +<p>“Wealth,” the doctor chuckled, and snapped +open his watch and touched the exposed hands with +a finger. “We’ll be back in time for dinner.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_108">[108]</div> +<p>But that was a dinner they were destined never +to eat.</p> +<p>Roses bloomed in the summer heat, fields of corn +tasseled in the sun, and a dog ran out of a yard and +barked at them furiously. Lady, intent only on the +blind man in her keeping, pricked up her ears but +did not change her rapid pace. The village was +busy with its Saturday morning trade, and the +tawny brute carefully maneuvered the doctor +through the crowds. Joe clutched his two dollars +and his bank-book. They left the gray suit at the +tailor’s and came out to the street. And at that moment +a man, coatless and hatless, ran out of the +Pelle Canning Company building and went past +them, panting.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said: “Did you hear that man’s breathing, +Joe? He’s frightened. Who is he?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Pelle,” the boy told him.</p> +<p>“Where did he go?”</p> +<p>“Into the bank.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_109">[109]</div> +<p>The doctor said: “Lady, right,” and followed +the dog across the roadway to the bank side of the +street. A small door in one of the two-story brick +buildings opened suddenly, and a girl hurried out. +The door was marked: “<span class="small">OFFICE, MIDSTATE TEL. +CO. UPSTAIRS</span>,” and the girl was Tessie Rich, one +of the telephone operators. In her haste she almost +ran into the blind man.</p> +<p>“Oh! I’m sorry, Doctor.”</p> +<p>“No harm done, Tessie,” Dr. Stone said, and +chuckled slyly. “We’re on our way to the bank. +Any message you’d like me to give Albert Wall?”</p> +<p>The girl colored rosily. “I usually give him my +own messages.”</p> +<p>The wail of a siren filled the street and a police +car went past them, traveling fast. Instantly the +girl was across the sidewalk and through the telephone +company door. The car stopped at the +bank, and Joe saw a figure in blue uniform and +brass buttons get out.</p> +<p>“Captain Tucker?” the blind man asked.</p> +<p>“Yes, Uncle David.”</p> +<p>“The bank?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Tessie gone? I see. And Tucker and Pelle +both in a hurry.” The doctor whistled an almost +soundless whistle. “We’d better get on, Joe.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_110">[110]</div> +<p>Something had gone wrong at the bank. The +boy saw that at once. A score of depositors clung +together in knots on the main floor, uneasy bank +clerks stood behind the bronze grille of the teller’s +windows, and from some inner room came a roaring, +bull voice shouting in anger. Bryan Smith, the +president of the bank, agitated and flushed, appeared +in the doorway of the little room, saw the +blind man and cried out:</p> +<p>“Doctor! Doctor Stone! This way, please.”</p> +<p>Joe Morrow, still clutching his two dollars and +his pass-book, went with his uncle and the dog, and +the door closed upon them. Inside the room three +men stood about the bank president’s desk. The +veins in Mr. Pelle’s neck were swollen with rage; +Albert Wall, the cashier, tapped his fingers against +the desk and frowned, and a third man, who looked +lost and bewildered, held on to the back of a chair +near the window. This third man, whom Joe had +never seen before, smelled of antiseptics and carried +his right arm in a sling.</p> +<p>“Doctor,” Bryan Smith sputtered, “this bank has +been robbed of five thousand dollars. Robbed right +under our noses. Not fifteen minutes ago.”</p> +<p>“By whom?” the doctor asked quietly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div> +<p>“We don’t know. Somebody put a forged check +through the window. At least Pelle says he signed +only one check and——”</p> +<p>“What do you mean I say I signed only one +check?” the canner roared. “I tell you I signed +only one. I should know! If you were fools enough +to pay——”</p> +<p>“But I telephoned you, Mr. Pelle,” Albert Wall +broke in. “You said——”</p> +<p>“I know what I said. I told you I had given a +check to Fred Hesset for five thousand dollars. If +you paid five thousand dollars to another man on a +forged check that’s your funeral. The real Hesset +is here.” Mr. Pelle pointed to the man with bandaged +arm. “Pay him.”</p> +<p>“Not so fast,” Bryan Smith fumed. “One check +has been paid already. Now we have another and +you say you signed only one. Which one?” The +bank president held out two slips of paper.</p> +<p>Joe had a glimpse of them. Both were dated that +day, both were made out to Fred Hesset, both were +for five thousand dollars, both were signed “Paul +Pelle.” The canner stared at them for a long minute.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div> +<p>“This one,” he said, and pushed one of the checks +across the desk.</p> +<p>“How do you know?”</p> +<p>“Because this one is number 1046. I gave Hesset +check No. 1046.”</p> +<p>“How about your signature on this other check?”</p> +<p>“I tell you that isn’t my signature.”</p> +<p>With a quick movement the banker scrambled +the checks and then laid them side by side partly +covered by a blotter so that only the signatures +showed.</p> +<p>“Now, Pelle,” he snapped, “which one did you +sign?”</p> +<p>The canner’s neck swelled again. “What is +this,” he roared; “a trap? I can’t tell them apart. +That’s what you’re supposed to be able to do. I +tell you——”</p> +<p>“Gentlemen.” Dr. Stone’s voice was mild. +“Let’s stay with facts. As I understand it Pelle +gave a man named Hesset a check for five thousand +dollars this morning. What for?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div> +<p>“Damages,” Mr. Pelle snapped. “Hesset owns a +butcher shop at Arlington. One of my trucks got +out of control and skidded into the front of the +shop. Hesset was caught in the wreckage; broken +arm and broken collarbone. I don’t carry liability +insurance. I settled with him and gave him a check +at eleven o’clock this morning.”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker said: “Where does this second +check come in?”</p> +<p>“Tell them, Albert,” Bryan Smith ordered.</p> +<p>The cashier’s fingers ceased to tap the desk. “At +11:13—I happened to glance at the clock—a man +pushed a check through the window. It was a five +thousand dollar check, made out to Fred Hesset and +signed by Mr. Pelle. The man couldn’t identify +himself, so I called Mr. Pelle and was told he had +given the check a few minutes before. I cashed it. +Ten minutes later another Hesset check for five +thousand dollars came through the window. It +looked queer. I called Mr. Pelle again.” Albert +Wall made a gesture with his hands. “Then I telephoned +for Captain Tucker.”</p> +<p>The captain cleared his throat. “That first check +was the forged check?”</p> +<p>Again the cashier’s hands moved. “So Mr. Pelle +says.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div> +<p>The canner’s face was livid. But before he could +roar his wrath Dr. Stone’s voice sounded quietly in +the breathless tension of the room.</p> +<p>“May I see those checks?”</p> +<p>“Why—” The idea of sightless eyes trying to +examine handwriting staggered Bryan Smith. +“Why—why, of course, Doctor,” he said weakly.</p> +<p>The checks crinkled faintly in the blind man’s +hands. Joe, watching his uncle’s face, suddenly +saw a sign that sent a hot needle through his spine. +Tight, puckered lines had gathered around the +sightless eyes.</p> +<p>“How many persons knew this check was to be +paid today?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>“No one,” Mr. Pelle answered shortly. “Things +not connected directly with the buying and selling +I keep to myself.”</p> +<p>“But if you wrote Hesset surely your stenographer——”</p> +<p>“I didn’t write. I telephoned.”</p> +<p>“When?”</p> +<p>“Last Monday evening—seven o’clock. I was +alone in the office. I told him to be here promptly +at eleven this morning.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div> +<p>Albert Wall said: “If you’ll excuse me a moment—” +and was gone. Joe felt the warning pressure +of his uncle’s foot upon his toe. The door of +the inner room had not been tightly closed. Craning +his neck, the boy saw the cashier at a telephone. +Presently Albert Wall came back still with that +slight frown upon his face.</p> +<p>“This thing was planned ahead,” Captain Tucker +said slowly.</p> +<p>“Forgery is always planned ahead,” Dr. Stone +agreed. “Somebody knew that at eleven this morning +Pelle was to give Hesset a check. By the way, +Pelle, when you telephoned Monday evening did +you tell Hesset what the amount of the check +would be?”</p> +<p>“Certainly. No man settles a damage claim without +knowing what he’s going to get. I offered five +thousand dollars; he accepted.”</p> +<p>“So somebody knew three important facts—that +you were going to pay a check at a certain time, +the exact amount of the check and to whom it was +to be made payable.”</p> +<p>“Nobody knew it,” the canner insisted.</p> +<p>“Except you and Hesset,” the blind man said +mildly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div> +<p>The bandaged man, holding to the back of the +chair, seemed to grow even more bewildered. Mr. +Pelle’s face was thrust across the desk.</p> +<p>“Doctor,” he rasped, “are you insinuating——”</p> +<p>Lady gave a low, deep-throated growl. One of +the blind man’s hands touched the tawny head.</p> +<p>“Pelle,” he asked, “how did you come to pick a +Saturday morning to settle with Hesset?”</p> +<p>“Any law against it?” Mr. Pelle demanded.</p> +<p>“No.” The doctor’s voice was bland. “This is +a small bank. It has only two really busy hours in +the week. There is a rush from eleven to noon on +Saturday just before the week-end closing; another +rush from eight to nine Monday morning with business +men coming in with their Saturday cash. +During the week there would be leisure for a cashier +to scrutinize a man; perhaps to telephone and ask, +among other things, for a description. But on Saturday, +after eleven, there is pressure and haste. +And in this hour of pressure a check went through.”</p> +<p>Mr. Pelle wet his lips nervously. Captain Tucker +stood very still.</p> +<p>“Anything else, Doctor?” he asked.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div> +<p>“Why, yes.” The blind man took a pipe from +his pocket and filled it slowly. “Why did Hesset +bring his check here to be cashed? Why didn’t he +take it back to Arlington and deposit it in his own +bank?”</p> +<p>“Well, Hesset?” the police captain barked.</p> +<p>Joe saw the bandaged man grip the back of the +chair with his good hand. “I know nothing about +two checks, Captain. I saw only one check. I +wanted the money in my pocket. Cash is cash. +Sometimes a check you think is good——”</p> +<p>Mr. Pelle’s roar filled the room. “You dare say +that to me, Hesset?” Captain Tucker sprang between +the two men, and Joe shrank out of the way. +Dr. Stone said: “I had better take the dog out of +here. Come, Joe.” It was long past noon, and the +bank was closed. Albert Wall went with them +down the long, deserted floor to open the front door +and let them out.</p> +<p>“What do you make of this?” he asked in an +undertone.</p> +<p>“Pelle?” the doctor asked mildly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_118">[118]</div> +<p>The cashier hesitated. “Well—yes. Five thousand +dollars is a lot of money. I know the condition +of Pelle’s account; business hasn’t been any too good +of late and five thousand dollars might hit him hard. +If he could pay five thousand dollars with one hand +and manipulate a forged check with the other and +get five thousand dollars back from the bank—. +For that, though, he’d need a confederate, somebody +to go to the window with the first check. It +doesn’t seem probable.”</p> +<p>“A possibility though,” the blind man said. “A +great many possibilities,” he added. “Let’s not forget +Hesset. Either Hesset or Pelle could have +worked this with a confederate. Or some person, +unknown and unsuspected, might be the criminal. +Good day, Albert.” He held out his hand.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Doctor.” Their hands met. The +heavy door of the bank closed.</p> +<p>The puckered lines had come back to the sightless +eyes. Man, boy and dog came down the stone +steps of the old-fashioned building. On the sidewalk +the doctor spoke.</p> +<p>“Joe, you could see them. How did Pelle strike +you?”</p> +<p>“He was wild,” the boy answered.</p> +<p>“A man may protest too much or too little,” the +blind man observed dryly. “Hesset?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_119">[119]</div> +<p>“He was scared.”</p> +<p>“So! That leaves Albert Wall. Could you see +him when he left the room?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Where did he go?”</p> +<p>“To a telephone.”</p> +<p>“Good lad!” The doctor knocked the ashes +from his pipe and walked beside the dog in silence. +“The telephone office,” he said suddenly.</p> +<p>Joe wondered what unseen tangent of the case +could bring them there. They went up a narrow +mountain of a stairway. Lady, leading, slowed and +swung her Master to the left, stopping him at the +counter.</p> +<p>“Can you tell me,” Dr. Stone asked, “what operators +were on duty at seven o’clock last Monday +night?”</p> +<p>“We have only one girl on duty after 6:45,” the +manager told him, and consulted a record. “That +was Tessie Rich’s night. Any complaint, Doctor?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_120">[120]</div> +<p>“Merely a matter of information,” the doctor +smiled. Back in the sunlight Joe saw that the smile +was gone and that the puckers around the sightless +eyes had become intent. Dr. Stone said absently: +“You must be hungry, Joe,” and they went toward +a restaurant. But before they reached it there was +a rush of feet and a woman’s breathless voice.</p> +<p>“Doctor!” It was Tessie Rich. “Why did you +want to know if I was on duty last Monday night?”</p> +<p>“I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” The girl was nonplused. “But—but you +asked——”</p> +<p>“I asked who was on duty,” the doctor said +gently. “Did you have any reason to think I was +asking about you?”</p> +<p>Subtle, hidden undertones filled the question, and +the hot needle was again in Joe’s spine. The girl +raised a handkerchief to her lips.</p> +<p>“Why—why, of course not, Doctor? Why +should I?” There was something of hysterical +panic in her voice.</p> +<p>“Why?” the blind man asked, blandly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_121">[121]</div> +<p>In the restaurant Joe Morrow chewed on food +that all at once stuck in his throat. Why had his +uncle gone to the telephone office? What hidden +spring had that visit touched and what had +frightened Tessie Rich? Were Mr. Pelle and the +girl both involved? Had the canner actually signed +two checks? What about Mr. Hesset? Who had +gone to the bank with the first check and walked +out with five thousand dollars in cash?</p> +<p>“Do you know who did it, Uncle David?”</p> +<p>A pipe came out of a pocket; blue smoke spiraled +fragrantly about a face that had become placid and +bland.</p> +<p>“Joe, the bank is built on a corner—at an angle to +the corner. How far up the street can you see?”</p> +<p>“Quite a distance.”</p> +<p>“As far as Pelle’s factory?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“I know who didn’t do it,” the blind man said, +and stood up. “And,” he added quietly, “I think I +know who did.”</p> +<p>Joe hoped it wasn’t Tessie Rich. They walked +out of the village and up along the dirt road. The +doctor said aloud: “If I could pick one more link—” +and left the sentence unfinished and said no more. +Tree toads made metallic clamor in the afternoon +heat, and the earth smelled as though it were baked.</p> +<p>A clock struck three as they entered the house. +Dr. Stone paced the porch and Lady stretched off in +a patch of sun and watched him steadily. Joe +brought up a tool from the cellar and prepared to +trim the hedge.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_122">[122]</div> +<p>A light delivery truck stopped in the road and a +young man carried a suit up to the house.</p> +<p>“You’re prompt,” Dr. Stone said. The suit was +on a hanger; the coat brushed against his knee with +a soft crinkle. He ran one hand into a pocket and +pulled out a paper. Strange! There had been +nothing in the pockets of the suit he had carried +away. His hand went up quickly to feel inside the +collar. The three sharply ridged lines of thread +were not there.</p> +<p>“Joe!” he called. “Stop that tailor’s boy——” +But the driver had already discovered his mistake. +He came up the walk with the suit of gray. Joe laid +down the clippers and followed him in.</p> +<p>“I’ll carry that up to your room, Uncle Da——What’s +Lady got?”</p> +<p>The dog had found a paper on the floor. Now +she carried it to the doctor. It crinkled in his hand.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_123">[123]</div> +<p>It was a small paper, no larger than half a sheet +from a note-book. Joe watched those hands move, +gently exploring, over every inch of surface. And +as the hands moved, Dr. Stone’s face changed. Joe +had seen that sharp, alert expression before. It was +a silent sign that, some place in the eternal darkness +of his world, the blind man had found light.</p> +<p>“Joe, there is writing on this paper?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.” The boy looked closer and drew in a +hot, throbbing breath. “Uncle David! The same +thing’s written all over it. Paul Pelle, Paul Pelle, +Paul Pelle.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said a soft: “Ah!” and folded the paper +and put it in his pocket. “The criminal always +slips,” he observed; “there’s always something forgotten.” +He stood for a moment whistling softly. +“Care to stretch your legs? I want a word with the +tailor.”</p> +<p>Joe’s eyes, fascinated, were on the writing. That +paper had fallen from the suit delivered by mistake, +and now his uncle wanted to know to whom the +suit belonged.</p> +<p>“Couldn’t you telephone him, Uncle David?”</p> +<p>The blind man’s mouth twitched. “The call +might pass through Tessie’s switchboard,” he said +dryly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_124">[124]</div> +<p>The boy groped, and stumbled, and sought to +find the meaning. The afternoon sun was low; the +first cool breath of evening breeze blew over the +dirt road. He waited outside while his uncle talked +with the tailor; when the man came out he was +whistling.</p> +<p>“Police station,” he said.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker was at his desk. “Doctor,” he +burst out, “this thing is baffling. Lay those two +checks side by side and you can’t tell the signatures +apart. I’ve talked to New York. There isn’t a +forger known to the police in this part of the country.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone asked: “Did Albert Wall give you a +description?”</p> +<p>“Of the man who cashed that first check? A lot +of good that does. Five feet eight, about 155 +pounds, dark, clean-shaven, blue suit. It fits a +million men.”</p> +<p>“It would,” the doctor said blandly. His face +was inscrutable. “You heard Pelle’s story and +Albert Wall’s. Get statements prepared.”</p> +<p>“For what?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_125">[125]</div> +<p>“For them to sign.” His hands felt along the +desk for the telephone and he called Bryan Smith’s +house. “Bryan? Dr. Stone. Do you know where +you can find Albert at this hour? He’s with you +now? Can you have him at the bank in an hour? +I’ll be along with Captain Tucker and Pelle.” He +put down the telephone. “You have an hour, +Tucker, in which to get those statements ready and +dig up Pelle. He’s probably at the factory.”</p> +<p>“But why signed statements?” Captain Tucker +demanded impatiently.</p> +<p>“Bait,” the blind man said casually. “Sometimes +you use cheese in a trap; sometimes you use printed +words.” He settled into a chair and closed his +eyes, and appeared to doze. The dog, ever watchful, +lay at his feet.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker left the room, and presently, in +another part of the police station, a typewriter began +to click. The captain came back grumbling and +out-of-sorts. The doctor’s devious, subtle methods +always provoked him to a show of ill-humor. The +telephone rang sharply—there had been an automobile +crash near the bridge. A minute later a +motor roared into life in the alley beside the station +and a motorcycle patrolmen sped away. The +blind man did not stir.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_126">[126]</div> +<p>Joe Morrow squirmed restlessly and watched the +clock. Mr. Pelle arrived in a chastened, subdued +mood; a uniformed man brought Captain Tucker +several typewritten sheets; the wall clock struck the +hour, and Dr. Stone opened his eyes.</p> +<p>“Ready, Tucker?”</p> +<p>They drove to the bank in the police car. Bryan +Smith let them in. Dusk had begun to gather in the +corners farthest from the windows, a guardlight +burned in front of the steel safe, and a burst of ceiling +lights shone from the inner room. Captain +Tucker and Mr. Pelle went on ahead while the bank +president saw to it that the door was securely +locked. The doctor lingered.</p> +<p>“Bryan,” he said softly, “are there pens and ink +on your desk?”</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>“Remove them; Lady, forward.” And before the +man could reply the doctor was on his way past the +teller’s cages, one hand holding the harness-grip, his +body bent a little toward the guiding dog.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_127">[127]</div> +<p>Bryan Smith, saying that they might need room, +cleared the desk. Mr. Pelle’s eyes shifted from side +to side and missed nothing. Albert Wall seemed to +wait patiently the outcome of this strange gathering. +But what held Joe’s attention and sent the blood +pounding in his veins was a something that lay behind +the passive placidity of his uncle’s face.</p> +<p>“Captain Tucker,” Dr. Stone said, “has prepared +statements for Pelle and Albert to sign. You have +pens, gentlemen? Now, if you will sign them——”</p> +<p>Albert Wall read rapidly and, taking a fountain +pen from his pocket, signed at once. Mr. Pelle read +his paper through and then read it again. He wrote +his name slowly.</p> +<p>“Albert’s paper, Captain.” The doctor laid it on +the desk at his right hand. “Pelle’s.” It went upon +the left. “Now, Bryan, if I may have those checks. +First the one Pelle says he didn’t sign.” It went +upon the right with Albert Wall’s statement.</p> +<p>The bank president’s nerves had been under a +long strain. “What’s the meaning of this, Doctor?” +he snapped. “If you have your suspicions, let us +know them. If you have anything to say, say it. +Don’t waste time.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_128">[128]</div> +<p>“Presently,” the doctor said mildly. His hands +had moved, mysteriously explored, and had come to +rest. That vague something in his face was no +longer there; he was serene. When he spoke again +his voice was almost confidential. “Had that fountain +pen long, Albert?”</p> +<p>The cashier was surprised. “Four or five years.”</p> +<p>“You kept it too long. It tripped you.”</p> +<p>“Tripped? Look here, Doctor, what are you +driving at?”</p> +<p>“Money,” the blind man said. “Five thousand +dollars. What did you do with it?”</p> +<p>In the appalled silence of the room Joe heard +clearly the sound of someone breathing with an +effort. The cashier had not moved.</p> +<p>“Do you know what you’re saying, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Quite,” the doctor said pleasantly. From his +pocket he drew out a paper. “Did you ever see +this?”</p> +<p>It was the paper Lady had picked from the floor. +Albert Wall’s eyes widened.</p> +<p>“A dangerous business, handling money,” Dr. +Stone mused. “Thousands upon thousands of dollars +pouring through one’s hands every day. Other +people’s money. If a man has a weak spot some +place inside it may get him—a fever to have some of +this money for his own. If the right moment +comes, or the right scheme presents itself——</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_129">[129]</div> +<p>“You heard about the settlement Pelle was to +make with Hesset, didn’t you, Albert? The weak +spot took control. You saw a chance to put your +hands on five thousand dollars so cleverly that it +would never be traced to you. You must have +spent hour upon hour practicing Pelle’s signature. +And finally you had a check that you thought was +perfect.</p> +<p>“You could see Pelle’s factory. Saturday morning +you saw Hesset go in. You may have gone to +Arlington so you’d know what he looked like; you +may have figured you’d know him because he +would be bandaged. You saw him come out; you +waited a minute or two. Then you telephoned +Pelle that a man was at the window with a five thousand +dollar check. Naturally Pelle said it was all +right. You knew he’d say that. Hadn’t he just +given the check? So you stamped ‘paid’ on the +check you had forged, and placed it with the checks +the bank had cashed that morning. Shortly thereafter +the real Hesset appeared and you telephoned +Pelle again. Oh, it was a sweet scheme, Albert. +Apparently there was no come-back. Hadn’t Pelle +told you to pay the first check? Could the bank be +held responsible for paying a check Pelle told it to +pay? In its simplicity the plan was almost genius. +But—” The doctor paused. “You slipped.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_130">[130]</div> +<p>The cashier had not moved. “Doctor,” he said +evenly, “your story is preposterous. You heard +Pelle say he was alone in the office when he telephoned +Hesset. To put a scheme like this through +I would have to know in advance that a settlement +had been made, when a check was to be given, and +for how much. How could I know it?”</p> +<p>“Bryan,” the blind man said, “will you call the +telephone office and ask them can they send Tessie +Rich over here for a moment?”</p> +<p>The bank president reached for the telephone.</p> +<p>“Don’t do that,” Albert Wall called sharply. +In a moment all the self-control had gone out of +him. There was a chair behind him; he reached +back and sank into it heavily. “Keep her out of it,” +he said in a whisper. “I—I did it. I alone.”</p> +<p>Mr. Pelle wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. +“I thought you suspected me, Doctor?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_131">[131]</div> +<p>“It is wise, sometimes, to appear to suspect the +innocent. Do you remember I asked for the checks +this morning? A moment later I knew you were +not the man. As soon as you said you had telephoned +Hesset a significant thing happened. +Albert left the room. He went to a telephone. My +guess is he went there to warn Tessie not to tell anybody +she had spoken to him about the Hesset settlement.”</p> +<p>The cashier lifted a white face. “How did you +know that?”</p> +<p>“Deduction. One person could have heard what +Pelle said to Hesset—the central operator through +whom the call passed. When I left here Albert +took me to the door. I made a point of shaking +hands with him. A cashier who had just paid a +forged check, it is only natural to suppose, would +be nervous and upset. Albert’s hand was hard and +strained, his grip that of a man steeled to see something +through.... What?</p> +<p>“I stopped at the telephone office and asked what +girls had been on duty at seven o’clock Monday +evening. Tessie had been on duty alone. I did +not mention her name; and yet, before I had gone +one hundred feet, she was out in the street after me, +badly shaken, demanding to know why I had inquired +about her. That end of the picture was +complete. Tessie and Albert were sweethearts; +she had told him of the Pelle call in confidential +gossip. I knew then who the guilty man was, but +I could not prove it.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_132">[132]</div> +<p>“This afternoon the tailor delivered me another +man’s suit by mistake. I found it was Albert’s. +This was in one of the pockets.” The doctor +pushed across the desk the paper covered with the +canner’s signature. “Probably every other paper +on which Albert had practiced the signature had +been destroyed—this one had been overlooked. As +he could not have practiced forgery at the bank he +must have done it at home. And as the same pen +had written the signatures on this paper and the +signature on the forged check, they must have been +written, not with a bank pen, but with a pen that +Albert carried with him. I wanted to have him use +that pen before witnesses.</p> +<p>“So I had Captain Tucker prepare statements and +bring you here. I had Bryan clear the desk so that +Albert would have no other pen to use but his own. +Once he signed that statement he had damned himself.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_133">[133]</div> +<p>Bryan Smith, examining the two checks, shook +his head. “Doctor, you cannot see. How could +you tell that?”</p> +<p>“Have you a magnifying glass?” the blind man +asked.</p> +<p>The bank president took one from a drawer.</p> +<p>“Examine the check Pelle signed and the statement +he signed. Both signatures are smooth. Look +at the forged check. There are three l’s in Paul +Pelle. On each of the three upstrokes on the l’s the +pen gouged the paper a bit. Here’s the paper that +was in the suit. The same gouge on the upstrokes. +Now the statement Albert Wall signed. There are +also three l’s in his name, and the same gouge on the +upstrokes. All made by the same pen.”</p> +<p>Joe Morrow was filled with a sense of pride and +wonder. Bryan Smith said slowly:</p> +<p>“Doctor, I fail to see how you, sightless, could +detect that.”</p> +<p>“Eyes,” Dr. Stone said. “Auxiliary eyes. When +sight goes, other senses quicken.” He laid his hands +upon the table, palms up, and the light shone upon +the delicate, sensitive finger tips.</p> +<p>“You mean you could feel these grooves?” Captain +Tucker demanded.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_134">[134]</div> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>The captain ran his own fingers across the signatures. +“I don’t see how,” he complained. “I don’t +feel a thing.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone filled his pipe with expert care. “You +are not blind,” he said mildly. “You lack a blind +man’s touch.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_137">[137]</div> +<h2 id="c6">BIRTHDAY WARNING</h2> +<p>Even though his eyes could not tell the difference +between light and darkness, Dr. Stone +knew that day had broken. The air had an +early morning smell. Reaching out, he felt for the +clock from which the glass face had been removed; +his sensitive fingers, touching the exposed hands +lightly, recorded the time. Five minutes of six. +He sat up in bed.</p> +<p>He had gone to sleep thinking of Allan Robb, and +now, awake, the thought returned. Tomorrow +would be Allan’s birthday. Twenty-one years old; +the master, in his own right, of a fortune. The doctor +chuckled, and wondered just how much of a +master Allan would really be—for a while, anyway. +For Alec Landry was Allan’s guardian and had +lived at the Robb homestead these six years since +old Jamie Robb’s death. A straightforward man, +Alec Landry, who had obeyed old Jamie’s dying +command to “bring up my boy right.” A loud, +hearty man, with a love of having his own way and +a habit of roaring down any who opposed him. Tomorrow, +then, Allan Robb would become master +in name; but it would be several years, probably, before +the young man got out from under Alec Landry’s +hand.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_138">[138]</div> +<p>A good thing, Dr. Stone thought dryly. Already +there were signs of attentions that might turn the +head of a young man suddenly independent. Tomorrow +there was to be a great party. That was +all right—a lad comes of age only once. Bruce +Robb had sent up a blooded mare from New York. +That was all right, too—Bruce was Allan’s cousin. +But all yesterday afternoon cars had come in +through the village, traveling fast. Cars that blew +imperative horns too obviously. That was the +danger to Allen—rich young friends with time on +their hands and nothing to do. Ah, well; leave that +to Alec Landry. He was a stout man when it came +to calling halt.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone swung his legs to the floor. Lady arose +from where she had slept, stretched her great +muscles, and came toward him.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_139">[139]</div> +<p>“Lady,” the doctor said, “suppose we take to the +road. There aren’t many good days left. Once +winter comes you and I will be more or less chained +to the house.”</p> +<p>The deep eyes of the dog clung to his face. Presently, +his hand holding the hard handle-grip of +Lady’s harness, he listened at Joe Morrow’s bedroom +door. His nephew was still asleep. Out on +the dirt road Dr. Stone said, “Lady, away,” and +they turned north to where Indian summer lingered +late in the hills and the valleys were a brown haze. +By and by there was wood smoke in the man’s nostrils, +and the distant babble of many alien tongues. +And, while he wondered about this a woman’s +voice, old and weak, quavered at him from the +roadside.</p> +<p>“Your fortune, kind master, if it’s safe near the +beast and you blind. Cross my palm with silver, +and——”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_140">[140]</div> +<p>Gypsies! The doctor laughed and shook his +gray, lion head. His left hand held to the harness; +his right hand swung a light cane. Abruptly the +cane lost contact with a field fence and touched +nothing. The man said, “Lady, right,” and passed +through a pasture gate onto Allan Robb’s land as +unerringly as though he could see the gate itself. +And the thought that lay in his mind had to do with +the gypsy encampment and how long it would be +before Alec Landry discovered the trespass and +roared the intruders off.</p> +<p>And now, suddenly, the stillness that seemed part +of the smoky haze was broken, and the morning was +filled with the far-off echoes of a sledge or a pick +swung against rock and dirt. The sound, the doctor +decided, came from the deep ravine that divided +the Robb estate. But when man and dog came to +the wooden bridge that spanned the ravine, there +was no sound save the gurgle of water running +among the sharp rocks far below.</p> +<p>“Hello, down there!” Dr. Stone called.</p> +<p>Silence! Lady stood rigid and a low growl rumbled +in her throat. The man, sharpened by an intangible +something, touched the alert ears, and the +dog was quiet. A wind sighed through the bare +branches of the trees, and all at once there was dust +and grit in his face. The grit burned like fire. He +put up a quick hand and rubbed hot, harsh particles +between his fingers. For a time he stood there motionless, +startled; and then, slowly, he moved off the +bridge with the dog.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_141">[141]</div> +<p>An hour later he was back on the dirt road. +Horses’ hoofs raced and pounded, and voices +shouted and halloed. Lady pulled him out of the +way, toward the safety of a hedge, and the young +people who had come for Allan’s party thundered +past. One pair of hoofs pranced, and one of the +riders rode back.</p> +<p>“The new mare, Allan?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>“No, sir. Skipper thinks it’s more in keeping not +to ride her until tomorrow.” Skipper had always +been Allan Robb’s name for his guardian. “Did +you run into the gypsies?”</p> +<p>The doctor was surprised. “You know they’re +there?”</p> +<p>“Of course. I think we all know they’re there.”</p> +<p>The doctor’s surprise increased. “Alec, too?”</p> +<p>“Skipper?” Allan’s laugh rang. “Doctor, I +think Skipper’s softening. Of course he knows +they’re there—he must. Cousin Bruce, too. You +remember Bruce—forever chasing boys out of the +orchard when he came on vacation? Last night +I saw him talking pleasantly to one of the gypsy +men.”</p> +<p>“Where was Bruce? At their camp?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_142">[142]</div> +<p>“No; down at the ravine bridge.” Spurs touched +the horse. “You and Joe will be over this afternoon?”</p> +<p>“Nothing could keep me away,” Dr. Stone said +quietly. The horse was gone in a crescendo of +hoof-beats, and the blind man again stood thinking +for a time before moving on.</p> +<p>Joe Morrow met him at the house gate. “Allan +stopped and said we were to go over, Uncle David. +He’s going to show me the mare. And there’s a +story in the <i>Herald</i> about Bruce Robb. He’s being +sued—.” The boy found the story in the paper. +“For eight thousand five hundred dollars.” He +spoke the sum in a tone of awe.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone whistled soundlessly. How much +would a good horse cost today? Five hundred dollars? +If a man who couldn’t pay his bills spent five +hundred dollars for a birthday present——</p> +<p>“Joe, do you think you could get into that ravine +on Allan’s land without being seen?”</p> +<p>“I—I think so.”</p> +<p>“Somebody was there this morning hiding under +the planking of the bridge.”</p> +<p>Joe stared. “How did you know?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_143">[143]</div> +<p>“Lady warned me. Then, whoever was under +there, had a pipe. The hot grains of tobacco blew +into my face.”</p> +<p>The boy’s heart missed a beat. “You think the +gypsies—”</p> +<p>The blind man shrugged. “I’d like to know what +story the ravine could tell. Give it a look, Joe, and +keep out of sight.”</p> +<p>Lady, out of her harness, drowsed in a patch of +sun, but Dr. Stone sat with a perplexed pucker between +his sightless eyes. By and by familiar footsteps +came hurriedly along the dirt road, and he +arose and went to the porch door.</p> +<p>“Somebody’s been messing under the bridge,” +Joe reported. “A lot of rock’s been knocked out +and a lot of dirt dug away. Does it mean anything, +Uncle David?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” the blind man said, and took the dog’s +harness down from a peg. “It’s time we looked in +at the party.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_144">[144]</div> +<p>Allan Robb’s house was gay with noise and with +laughter. Young people seemed to be everywhere—on +the porch, on the lawn, back toward the +stables. Joe, walking with his uncle and the dog, +was conscious of curious glances and voices that +flattened out and became silent. And so they went +up to the porch to be met by Allan in the great hall.</p> +<p>“Glad you came, Doctor. Joe, I’ll show you the +mare—” His voice broke off. “Bruce, here’s an old +friend.”</p> +<p>Joe edged back a step. Bruce Robb, proud and +imperious, had often driven him from Allan’s acres, +and he was still a little in awe of the man. But the +Bruce he met today was morose and restless, and +given to a habit of gnawing on a clipped, black +mustache.</p> +<p>Alec Landry surged down the hall. “Hi, Doctor. +A party to be remembered. Well, why not? +It isn’t every day a man comes of age.”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you a day early?” Dr. Stone asked +mildly.</p> +<p>“Why wait for the day to arrive. Meet it; greet +it; welcome it on the threshold. The old Indian +tribes had the right idea.”</p> +<p>Joe wondered what Indians had to do with +Allan’s birthday.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_145">[145]</div> +<p>“Symbolism,” Alec Landry roared heartily. +“At midnight Allan becomes of age, and immediately +he begins to exercise the prerogatives of a +man. At a minute past the hour he walks into the +library with two witnesses and signs his will. At +four tomorrow morning he’ll saddle the mare Bruce +gave him and ride it for the first time. Ride it, +Doctor, in the dark of the night and on his own land. +Ride it through the woodland to the bridge, and +over the ravine, and up East Hill. And then, alone +on the hilltop, he’ll meet his manhood in the dawn.”</p> +<p>“Quite an idea,” the blind man said. And then: +“Might I trouble either of you gentlemen for a +pipeful of tobacco?”</p> +<p>Joe thought they must all hear the breath that rattled +in his throat. A man, smoking a pipe, had +hidden—. Did his uncle suspect somebody here? +His hot eyes watched to see who would bring forth +tobacco.</p> +<p>“All the pipefuls you want, Doctor,” Alec Landry +roared, “and welcome. Bruce and I smoke the +same brand. Take your pick of either pouch.”</p> +<p>The doctor filled his pipe, and a merry group +came through the hall and Alec was swept away.</p> +<p>“Skipper’s certainly putting on a show for the +golden crown,” Bruce said tartly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_146">[146]</div> +<p>The blind face was a tranquil mask. “Aren’t +you?”</p> +<p>Bruce gave a bitter laugh. “You’ve seen the +<i>Herald</i>, I suppose, and you’re wondering about +the mare. You’ve never been a half-soled cousin, +have you? When you become the poor end of a +rich relative you play to keep in his good graces. +You heard Skipper mention the will? When Allan +dies I’ll inherit wealth. Something to look forward +to, isn’t it? And yet, at this minute, I’m as poor—.” +He bit off the sentence, and in that instant the noisy +gayety from the lawn fell away to a startled murmur +and then became a hushed silence.</p> +<p>“Probably some more of Skipper’s symbolism,” +Bruce Robb jeered.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said, “Lady, out,” and they reached +the porch. The silence remained unbroken.</p> +<p>“It’s a gypsy woman, Uncle David,” Joe said +breathlessly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_147">[147]</div> +<p>The woman was painfully old, and gnarled, and +advanced toward the porch with the aid of a stout +stick of twisted wood. Even in the voluminous +folds of her faded, bedraggled, once gayly-colored +garments she seemed a fragile framework of bones +and of brown, wrinkled flesh. Beads were strung +around her scrawny neck; brass rings hung from +her ears. And as Joe watched, fascinated, she hobbled +slowly up the walk with the slowness of great +age.</p> +<p>“Where did she come from?” Bruce demanded.</p> +<p>“Don’t you know?” Dr. Stone asked mildly.</p> +<p>The morose man flared. “Of course not. Why +should I?”</p> +<p>Joe had the feeling that, in that short dialogue, +something had been charged, something denied. +Strange premonitions grew and throbbed. And +yet his eyes were glued to the old crone, leaning +like a bundle of rags on her stick at the foot of the +porch.</p> +<p>“Your fortunes, kind masters,” she cried in a +weak quaver. “It is well to know the future, for a +cloud hangs over this house. I see danger where no +danger should be, and a bud dying as it blooms.”</p> +<p>Joe went cold to his spine. Feet shifted restlessly +in the grass, and Alec Landry burst through the +crowd.</p> +<p>“What’s this vagabond doing here?” he demanded +roughly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_148">[148]</div> +<p>Bruce gave a thin smile. “A different sort of +symbolism, Skipper. Making prophecy. Danger, +and death, and doom. Pleasant old hag.”</p> +<p>Joe saw the Landry face go red with rage. Pushing +past Bruce he went down the steps, burly in his +strength, and towered above the bent, shrunken +form.</p> +<p>“You’re not wanted here,” he said. “Clear out +before I call the police.”</p> +<p>The bent bundle did not stir.</p> +<p>“Do you hear me?” Alec roared. “Go!”</p> +<p>Slowly a clawlike hand lifted itself above the +parchment face. For seconds she stood there, and +in those seconds no one moved or spoke.</p> +<p>“The blind man,” she croaked. “Hark to me. +The blind man shall see, and the wolf shall find a +thorn in the rose.”</p> +<p>The hand dropped. Slowly that bundle of rags +turned, slowly it tottered on its way, slowly it disappeared +among the trees. A shuddering voice said, +“Gosh, Allan; that was creepy.”</p> +<p>Alec Landry fumed. “Mark me, Doctor, if +there’s mischief abroad in this neighborhood it will +be the gypsies behind it.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_149">[149]</div> +<p>“What mischief, Alec?”</p> +<p>“Why—.” Joe was startled to find the man suddenly +uneasy. “How should I know?”</p> +<p>“How?” the doctor admitted blandly. Pinched +lines had formed around the sightless eyes. Lady +moved restlessly against his left leg, and Allan strove +to rout the depression of the old woman’s visit.</p> +<p>“Your fortune, kind masters,” he mimicked; “a +roof lies over this house—.” He went off into a gale +of laughter. “What a lot of rot! I said I’d show +you the mare, Joe. Coming, Doctor?” and the +party, recovering its voice and its holiday mood, +milled toward the stable-yard.</p> +<p>The mare, Joe saw with a thrill of admiration, +was superb. A groom had brought her out roaring +and plunging. Suddenly she was on her hind legs, +pawing the air, whistling and snorting. A girl +screamed.</p> +<p>The blind man’s ears had etched the picture. “A +spirited animal, Bruce.”</p> +<p>“Spirited, yes.”</p> +<p>“Too much spirit, perhaps.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_150">[150]</div> +<p>Bruce shrugged. “Allan wouldn’t thank you for +a cream-puff. He knows how to ride—he’s proud +of it—he warms to a horse with plenty of fire.”</p> +<p>“And yet—.” The cane in the right hand +swished gently against a trouser leg. “Even a +skilled rider might find it dangerous to ride a strange, +fiery horse in the dark.”</p> +<p>“Why don’t you tell that to Skipper, Doctor? +It’s his show. Anyhow, the mare isn’t a killer. I +know horses.”</p> +<p>“And gypsies?” the doctor asked softly.</p> +<p>Joe was conscious of those strange premonitions +twitching at his nerves. Bruce gnawed at his mustache.</p> +<p>“I might as well tell you,” he flung out suddenly. +“Of course I knew that the gypsies had made camp; +I talked to some of them. When you’ve had your +own taste of being harried and pressed you shrink +from hounding others. The truth is, Doctor, I’ve +lost practically all of what money I had a year ago. +Skipper had a hot tip on a deal and let me in. It +wiped me out.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_151">[151]</div> +<p>Joe saw that the right hand no longer swished the +cane. The groom took the mare back to the stable, +and the crowd went off shouting in search of some +new interest. Dr. Stone said, “Lady, house,” and +returned to the porch. The house seemed to be +momentarily deserted; but suddenly a voice came +from one of the rooms off the wide, center hall.</p> +<p>“I tell you I can’t—not now. Give me time. A +week—two at the most. I’ll make good. I—”</p> +<p>The blind man’s feet rang hard against the floor. +The voice stopped short, and a receiver snapped +back upon a hook. Alec Landry came out into the +hall.</p> +<p>“Oh! It’s you, Doctor. You’ll pardon me; I +have an errand that won’t wait.” Abruptly, on his +way to the door, he turned and came back. “What +do you think of the mare?”</p> +<p>It was Joe who answered. “Isn’t she a beauty?”</p> +<p>“A devil. You’ve talked to Bruce, Doctor. +What do you make of him?”</p> +<p>“Was I supposed to make something?”</p> +<p>The man shook his head impatiently. “Allan +should not have told him how much he was to inherit. +He’s in a black mood and penniless.”</p> +<p>“You’re letting Allan ride the mare,” Dr. Stone +pointed out.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_152">[152]</div> +<p>“Yes.” There was a moment of silence. “What +else could I do? He believes in himself. Could I +risk shaking his courage and turning him into a +coward? See you later.”</p> +<p>The blind man stood whistling his soundless +whistle. Presently he touched the dog. “Lady, +outside.” The revelry of Allan’s guests was subdued +in the distance.</p> +<p>“Are we going home, Uncle David?” Joe asked.</p> +<p>“We’re going to the bridge,” said Dr. Stone.</p> +<p>Dusk crept out of the sky and darkness gathered +in the hollows. They skirted a field of stubble and +plunged into woodland, and Joe could feel the hard +pumping of his heart. The bridge again! Did his +uncle expect to find something there? The murmur +of water came to them, and he lengthened his stride +and struck out ahead.</p> +<p>“Behind me, Joe,” Dr. Stone called sharply.</p> +<p>The boy drew back. From the rear he saw his +uncle urge Lady forward until both walked at an +extraordinary fast pace. The sound of running +water was stronger now, clear and distinct in the +evening quiet. Fearlessly, without hesitation, the +blind man went ahead into the unknown, trusting +himself to the guidance of the beast.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_153">[153]</div> +<p>Lady reached the bridge. And then, in one swift +movement, she seemed to half leap and turn. Her +powerful body blocked the man’s path, found his +legs and pressed him back.</p> +<p>“Joe!” There was no change in the serene self-control +of the voice.</p> +<p>“Yes, Uncle David.”</p> +<p>“Give me your hand. Step out upon the bridge—one +foot only, one foot lightly. And hold on to +my hand with all your strength.”</p> +<p>The boy put a trembling foot upon the wooden +planking. The next instant, with a strangled cry, +he leaped toward the man and, even as he leaped, +found himself pulled back violently.</p> +<p>“It moved, Uncle David.”</p> +<p>“I thought so.”</p> +<p>“What does it mean?”</p> +<p>“It means murder,” the blind man said grimly.</p> +<p>Joe wiped cold sweat from his forehead. Who +was to die? Allan? Who planned it?</p> +<p>“The gypsies, Uncle David?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_154">[154]</div> +<p>“No.” Quietly, without haste, the man filled his +pipe. “Remember, they are a clan. The old +woman would not have spoken of death if the men +of her tribe were concerned in this. Besides, who +would hire them for this sort of work and risk paying +blackmail all the days of his life? I am concerned +with something else. Alec Landry called +me to witness their presence should there be mischief. +Bruce took pains to explain why he had not +driven them off. Both men may have spoken the +truth, but it is not likely. One or both of them lied.”</p> +<p>Night had fallen. In the darkness Dr. Stone +smoked as placidly as though death and horror were +not at his elbow. Lady still kept her body between +him and the ravine.</p> +<p>“Two men,” he said, “one with a fortune to gain, +one with a crime to cover. Do they work together, +or do they work alone? Is one innocent? If so, +which one?”</p> +<p>Joe spoke in a whisper. “What crime, Uncle +David?”</p> +<p>“Embezzlement. You heard that telephone talk +of Landry’s? He’s lost heavily in the deal that +wrecked Bruce. He’s probably lost money that +didn’t belong to him—Allan’s money. Somebody +has planned that Allan shall die. Is it the man who +would be sure to become wealthy, or the man who +might save himself from jail? Who undermined +this bridge?” Without haste he knocked the ashes +from his pipe. “Come, Joe; we’re going back.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_155">[155]</div> +<p>Once clear of the woodland Joe saw the house +across the fields brilliant with lights. Sounds of +merriment came from inside, and a dozen voices +laughed and talked at once.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone spoke softly. “What are they doing, +Joe? Eating?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Bruce and Mr. Landry?”</p> +<p>“I can’t see them. They’re not at the tab——I +see them now. They’re coming this way toward +the porch.”</p> +<p>“We’ll soon know,” the blind man said calmly. +When Bruce and Alec Landry stepped from the +house he sat in placid contentment, and the tawny +shepherd dog lay at his feet.</p> +<p>“Allan’s holding places for you and Joe,” Alec +Landry said.</p> +<p>The doctor shook his head. “I think I’ll stay +here. This is a night when youth has a right to +question the presence of gray hairs.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_156">[156]</div> +<p>“I’m in no mood for it myself,” Bruce Robb said +curtly, and dropped into a chair to the left of Dr. +Stone. Landry sat on his right. The blind man +stretched his arms lazily, as one does who takes his +rest gratefully, and his hands fell on an arm of the +chair of the man on either side.</p> +<p>“And so Allan rides at dawn,” he said casually.</p> +<p>Joe had almost ceased to breathe.</p> +<p>“At dawn,” Alec Landry repeated heartily. “By +George, there’s a picture. Sir Galahad with the +sunrise in his face. Get it, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Plainly, Alec; very plainly. That’s what worries +me.”</p> +<p>“What worries you?”</p> +<p>“The picture. It’s incomplete. First he rides +out. So far, so good. But—is he supposed to come +back?”</p> +<p>For the space of a heart-beat it was as though +neither man had heard; then Bruce leaped to his +feet.</p> +<p>“Dr. Stone, that’s a ghastly thing to say.”</p> +<p>“It’s a ghastly business,” the blind man said without +emotion.</p> +<p>“That mumbling gypsy has addled your brain. +You’re mad. I think I can find pleasanter company.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_157">[157]</div> +<p>He was gone, and Joe grew conscious of a collar +that had become too tight. Would Uncle David +let him go, or would Lady be sent to bring him +back? A burst of laughter rolled from the festive +dining-room. Dr. Stone’s voice, brooding, came +out of the darkness.</p> +<p>“You were desperate, Alec, weren’t you?”</p> +<p>“Desperate?” The word was snapped.</p> +<p>“Yes; desperate. The deal that had plunged +Bruce to ruin had sucked you down, too. You didn’t +know which way to turn. Until Bruce sent up the +mare there seemed no escape; but when the mare +arrived it opened the doors to salvation. It brought +a plan. Let the lad ride out alone. Blame the mare +when his body was found—a runaway crash +through the bridge. Hadn’t they all seen the mare’s +wild prancings? You tried to cover yourself from +every angle. You even insinuated that Bruce might +have a reason for sending such a horse—you even +called her a devil—and whispered of Bruce’s black +mood, and his penniless condition, and the will. +You tried to work the gypsies into the pattern. If +some sharp eye should notice something queer about +the way the bridge had collapsed hadn’t there been +gypsies encamped nearby? You were too pointed +in calling my attention to the gypsies and their possible +relation to the future events. That was when +I began to suspect you. It was inconceivable that +you hadn’t known they were on the land. Never +before had you permitted trespass. Why this +time?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_158">[158]</div> +<p>“The answer was simple. It was the will that +Allan was to sign at midnight. Without question +he was to name you executor. It takes a year to +close an estate. With Allan dead the estate, instead +of passing out of your charge, would remain in your +control for another twelve months. A year in +which to save yourself from going to prison as a +thief. A year in which to put back the money you +used to finance your own personal business deals. +How deeply did you dip your hands into Allan’s +funds? How much did you lose? How much are +you short?”</p> +<p>There was a stark, sick silence. Joe pulled at his +collar and wet his lips.</p> +<p>“Eighty thousand dollars,” Alec Landry said +hoarsely.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_159">[159]</div> +<p>“And you planned to hide it under a murder,” +Dr. Stone said in a voice that was flat, and level, and +as cold as ice.</p> +<p>They were singing in the house. Allan, flushed +and happy, came out to the porch.</p> +<p>“Skipper, they want you inside. That bass voice +of yours is needed.”</p> +<p>Joe held to the porch rail and waited for what +might come next.</p> +<p>Alec Landry did not rise. “Allan,” he said +heavily, “when you ride at dawn, don’t go by the +bridge. I’ve just had word that it’s in bad shape—the +weight of a horse would crash it down. It +might be a good idea to run your party over and +block the approaches. Some luckless devil might +wander out on it.”</p> +<p>Presently the young men were gone with lanterns, +and lights, and axes to build a barricade; and +he who had been great on Allan Robb’s land waited +in the house for the just punishment that would +come; and a boy, and a dog and a blind man went +toward home along the dirt road.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_160">[160]</div> +<p>“Conscience, Joe,” Dr. Stone said quietly. +“You’ll remember, I sat between them. One, or +both, were behind the cold-blooded plan. If, out +of a clear sky, knowledge of the plot were exploded, +there would have to be a reaction. I counted on +that. Conscience can steel itself to brazenly meet +the expected, but against the unexpected it is unprepared. +And so, when I asked if Allan were expected +to return from that ride——”</p> +<p>“Yes?” Joe Morrow asked breathlessly.</p> +<p>“Conscience spoke,” Dr. Stone told him quietly. +“Alec Landry’s chair trembled as his guilty soul +cowered in fear.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_163">[163]</div> +<h2 id="c7">THE HOUSE OF BEATING HEARTS</h2> +<p>In the short dusk of a Friday afternoon in +March Joe Morrow came toward home from +the village school pleasantly concerned with +plans for the week-end holiday. There was a hint +of spring in the air, and the hard crust of the winter’s +snow had begun to soften. At the top of the +last rise out of the village he passed Roscoe Sweetman’s +farm, and it seemed to the boy that the burly +Mr. Sweetman, busy outside the barn, turned and +looked after him as he passed. From there a section +of the road spread out before him—the deserted, +abandoned Farley place and, beyond that, the rock-and-timber +house which Frederick Wingate had +built and in which he painted pictures that were sent +to art dealers in New York. Queer pictures, the +village said—pictures of queer blurs and shadows, +pictures in which men did not look like men nor +did horses look like horses. Frederick Wingate, according +to village suspicion, was slightly mad.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_164">[164]</div> +<p>But Joe Morrow’s thoughts were far removed +from men who might be mad. Sometimes, if you +were lucky, you found an apple imprisoned under +the snow—a late windfall that was almost a ball of +liquid cider. He swung off the road and, back in +the Farley orchard, rooted diligently. Presently, +triumphant, he gave a shout. He had found not one +apple, but two. He bit through the skin, and the +cold, imprisoned juices oozed into his mouth. +When the fruit was sucked dry he tossed it aside +and bit into the second. And only then did he notice +how much the day had darkened.</p> +<p>And suddenly, for no reason at all, he was filled +with a creeping, apprehensive dread. His eyes, +startled, rested on the house where Matt Farley had +once lived, and he forgot to suck nectar through the +punctured hole in the apple. Often, since the house +had been abandoned, he had romped around the +wide porches and climbed over the heavy railings. +But now, in the gathering gloom, the structure had +ceased to be friendly and inviting. Against the +darkening sky this old friend of a house had all at +once become a threatening, nameless thing—a monster +of lightless windows, and locked doors, and +stark, inner silence. The boy, uneasy, began to +move toward the road. Without warning he broke +into a run as though peril clutched at his heels.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_165">[165]</div> +<p>Back on the road he felt safe. Outside the house +of Frederick Wingate two men stood talking; he +saw, with surprise, that one of them was Mr. Sweetman. +A little while ago the farmer had been working +at his own barn, and he was not the type given +to hurry. Why, then, had he hurried over here? +The boy was conscious, as he approached, that the +talking stopped. Roscoe Sweetman called in his +slow, heavy, rumbling voice:</p> +<p>“Why were you running, Joe?”</p> +<p>The boy gulped. “N—nothing.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t I tell you?” the farmer cried.</p> +<p>But the artist only laughed. “Coincidence, +Roscoe.” The laugh lingered in the boy’s ears, +amused, scoffing. “Your uncle going to be home +tonight, Joe?”</p> +<p>“I think so, Mr. Wingate.”</p> +<p>“Tell him we’ll be over.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_166">[166]</div> +<p>Joe trudged on through the snow. What was +this coincidence? Why had Mr. Sweetman cried +out, “Didn’t I tell you?” Why were they coming +to see Uncle David? Had it something to do with +the Farley house? Why had he fled in panic from +the orchard? Now that he was away from the +place the action seemed foolish and cowardly. It +was one thing he would not tell his uncle, for he +could not imagine Dr. David Stone, blind though he +was, fleeing from anything.</p> +<p>At eight o’clock the artist and the farmer came +to the house. Frederick Wingate called: “Don’t +get up, Doctor,” and Dr. Stone held out a hand of +warm greeting. Lady lay at his feet and stared unwinking +at the visitors.</p> +<p>Joe Morrow stared, too. Was it the Farley +house? Roscoe Sweetman, ungainly and burly in +his leather coat, his corduroy trousers and his heavy +boots, sat uncomfortably in a chair and rubbed a +calloused hand across a stubble of beard. Frederick +Wingate, lithe and jaunty, walked the floor and +filled the boy’s eyes. An opera cloak draped his +shoulders, his shirt was pleated, his collar was long +and loose, and a silk tie was gathered in a limp, nondescript +bow. He seemed, in his dress, to belong +to another age; and this passion for adornments of +the past was reflected in his jewelry. His watch +was old—a thick, heavy silver timepiece elaborately +scrolled that had been converted into an ungainly +wrist watch. And on the finger of his right hand +was an enormous old-fashioned ring of gold curiously +twisted and knotted.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_167">[167]</div> +<p>“Doctor,” the artist announced, “I have brought +you a man half out of his wits.”</p> +<p>“I know what I have heard,” the farmer said, +slowly and heavily.</p> +<p>“Just what did you hear, Sweetman?” Dr. Stone +asked.</p> +<p>“It was last night. I was coming home from the +village and took a short cut across the Farley place +to get quicker to my back door. I came close past +the house, and there were voices coming from the +inside. That was strange because there was no +light on the inside. I have long had a key from Mr. +Rodgers, the real estate man, so I went home and +got the key and opened the front door. From inside +came groans and cries of suffering. Then I +went and shouted for Mr. Wingate.”</p> +<p>“And then?” the doctor asked.</p> +<p>The artist shrugged. “I brought flashlights. We +searched the house from cellar to attic. There was +nobody there—nothing had been disturbed.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_168">[168]</div> +<p>“Voices?” Dr. Stone suggested.</p> +<p>“He’s imagining things,” Frederick Wingate +said impatiently. “There were no voices.”</p> +<p>“I heard them plain,” the farmer insisted stonily.</p> +<p>“‘Them’?” The blind man’s voice had taken on +a note of quick interest. “What do you mean by +‘them’?”</p> +<p>“Ghosts,” said Mr. Sweetman. “If it was imagination +with me, what was it with Joe when he came +running hard this afternoon?”</p> +<p>Ice crept up and down the boy’s back, and his +stomach chilled. His uncle whistled long and +softly.</p> +<p>“What did you hear or see, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Nothing.”</p> +<p>“But you ran?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. From the orchard.”</p> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t know.”</p> +<p>“I do,” Mr. Sweetman said with stolid insistence.</p> +<p>Frederick Wingate laughed. “A boy’s vivid +imagination, Doctor. A sudden fear of the dark.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_169">[169]</div> +<p>“I never knew Joe to be afraid of the dark,” Dr. +Stone said quietly. “You still have the key, Sweetman? +By the way, how did you come into possession +of the key?”</p> +<p>“I was thinking of buying,” the farmer explained. +“Mr. Rodgers gave me the key so that I could look +long at the house. Before that Mr. Wingate had +the key.”</p> +<p>The doctor asked: “Were you thinking of +buying, Fred?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Rodgers came to me three months ago +and offered it for eight thousand dollars. It’s worth +far more than that to a man who could use it. With +its good lines and its solid construction it has possibilities. +However, after looking it over I decided +it wouldn’t answer my purpose. I gave the key +back to Rodgers two months ago.”</p> +<p>“Rodgers came to me,” Mr. Sweetman added. +“I think maybe I will buy, maybe for seven thousand +dollars, but I do not tell him. It is bad business +to buy quick and pay what is first asked.”</p> +<p>“You won’t want it now,” Dr. Stone said.</p> +<p>“Maybe. First I must think.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_170">[170]</div> +<p>After that there was a silence in the room. Joe +looked from his uncle to Frederick Wingate. The +artist leaned against the mantel and seemed to find +a cynical amusement in watching the man who had +come with him. Strained lines had formed suddenly +around the blind man’s mouth.</p> +<p>“You are afraid of ghosts, Sweetman?” he said +softly.</p> +<p>“I am afraid,” the farmer answered heavily.</p> +<p>“Yet you might buy?”</p> +<p>“It is good land. I could tear down the house and +sell it away, some here and some there.” Joe saw +greed gleam in the dull eyes. “Maybe with ghost +talk around it will come a better price. Maybe I +could yet buy for three thousand dollars.”</p> +<p>“Business first, Sweetman,” the doctor said pleasantly. +He snapped a finger, and at once Lady arose; +and Joe, his heart pounding, hurried to get the dog’s +harness. Frederick Wingate still leaned against the +mantel above the fireplace.</p> +<p>“Going ghost hunting, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“You can never tell what you’ll find on a hunt,” +the doctor answered dryly. “Coming?”</p> +<p>“This is the year 1934,” the artist said, amused +again. “Ghosts have gone out of fashion. I have +letters to write.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_171">[171]</div> +<p>The doctor slipped the harness on the dog. +Lady, alert, waited beside him for the signal to go. +Mr. Sweetman had lumbered to his feet.</p> +<p>“Care for it, Joe?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>The boy felt the chill again in his spine. And +yet——</p> +<p>“I’ll get flashlights,” he said huskily.</p> +<p>They went up the road through the snow in +silence—three men, a boy and a dog. A pale quarter +of moon had risen, and the world was all white +silver, and even the trees seemed ghostlike and unreal. +The artist dropped out at his house to write his +letters, and the others went on to Farley’s. The +place, Joe thought, did not look so forbidding under +the softening touch of the moon. Frost had come +with darkness, and the porch floor creaked under +their feet. Mr. Sweetman thrust a key into a lock, +the front door opened on complaining hinges, and +they stepped into the damp, black, moldiness of a +deserted, closed-up dwelling.</p> +<p>“The light!” the farmer cried. “Where is the +light?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_172">[172]</div> +<p>Joe jumped, and switched on a flash. He had a +momentary glimpse of his uncle, standing in the +eternal darkness of the blind, serene and untroubled, +and the sight gave him courage. The +beam picked out faded walls, a chair, broken and +discarded, the dusty floor, a doorway, a yawning +staircase. Outside the yellow shaft of light there +was naught but a blank, impenetrable, stealthy darkness. +Darkness, and the hushed, unbroken silence.</p> +<p>“Well?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>There was a sound. At first it might have been +the whimper of a wind around the eaves of the +house. It rose, and fell away, and rose again. It +fell away to a plaintive, worried whimper. And +then, without warning, it became a human cry that +filled the house with ghastly echoes. A voice—unmistakably +a voice—sobbed wildly in writhing +anguish. As abruptly as it had risen the cry was +gone, and there was only a low, plaintive, heartbroken +lamentation.</p> +<p>Mr. Sweetman’s teeth chattered. “You hear it, +Doctor? From all over the house—upstairs, downstairs, +everywhere.”</p> +<p>“Quiet,” said Dr. Stone.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_173">[173]</div> +<p>There was a new sound. It seemed to come from +nowhere and from everywhere. It was gone—it +came again. A measured beat, a steady rhythm that +hammered and throbbed like an unchanging pulse. +Hammer and throb, hammer and throb! It beat +upon the ears. Hammer and throb! All at once +the sound stopped in the middle of a stroke and did +not come again. The dark house lay in frozen +silence.</p> +<p>“Doctor!” The farmer’s voice shook. “You +know what that was?”</p> +<p>“Do you, Sweetman?”</p> +<p>The man’s answer came in a hoarse whisper. “I +think it was a heart beating.”</p> +<p>Joe’s throat was a cramped vice. The flashlight +shook in his hand and made fantastic splotches of +light upon the floor.</p> +<p>“Upstairs,” Mr. Sweetman croaked.</p> +<p>They heard the sound of footsteps on the floor +above. A child’s footsteps. Footsteps that ran and +skipped lightly and gayly. Suddenly the sound was +gone from above and in the same room in which they +stood the same footsteps gamboled. Joe made a +frantic circle of the room with the flash.</p> +<p>“See!” the farmer choked. “Nothing!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_174">[174]</div> +<p>A new sound joined the footfalls. Joe recognized +it, and his scalp prickled. The beat of a heart! It +throbbed momentarily and was gone. The unseen +child continued to romp.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s voice, low and clear, came out of the +darkness. “Lady!”</p> +<p>Joe’s light focused on the dog. Lady, her tail +whipping restlessly, had eyes only for the blind +master who had spoken.</p> +<p>“Find the baby,” Dr. Stone said.</p> +<p>Joe’s breath came and went in short, choking +spurts. Find a ghost? He kept the unsteady light +trained upon the man and the dog. The merry romp +of invisible feet still filled the room. Lady, her +tawny body red in the beam from the flash, went +without hesitation to the nearest wall. And there +she stopped, defeated, and whined.</p> +<p>“It’s all right, Lady,” the blind man said quietly. +His left hand held the handle-grip of the dog’s +harness; his right hand thrust out the cane until it +touched the wall. He came closer and laid one hand +upon the wall itself.</p> +<p>The echo of young footsteps had stopped.</p> +<p>“Come.” Mr. Sweetman trembled. “It is +enough.”</p> +<p>“Wait,” said Dr. Stone.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_175">[175]</div> +<p>Without warning the dark house was awake again +with sound. Upstairs a childish voice sang softly. +Then footsteps once more filled the room. Not +footsteps in a home, but footsteps crunching over a +graveled walk. Sounds, for a moment, became confused +and fragmentary—the icy-clutch beating of +that heart, a child humming, the wash and gurgle of +water. Footsteps again crunching gravel. Joe could +almost vision a child at play.</p> +<p>The idyllic picture was broken. All at once there +was a piercing, terror-stricken scream. With amazing +speed it thinned, waned, grew fainter, as though +somebody was falling, falling—. Abruptly there +was a heavy splash, the sound of water in commotion, +a gurgling, strangling voice calling faintly for +help.</p> +<p>Joe dropped the flash, and it went out. Mr. +Sweetman cried something inarticulate and plunged +for the porch. Outside they heard him shouting:</p> +<p>“Wingate! Wingate! Come quick! Wingate!”</p> +<p>The doctor’s voice, in the darkness, was steady. +“Frightened, Joe?”</p> +<p>The boy fought for control. “Not—not when +I’m with you and Lady.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_176">[176]</div> +<p>“Good lad. Find your flash. Got it? Spot it +on the wall. Look sharply, now. Does that wall +look strange in any way, in any way at all?”</p> +<p>Joe compelled himself to make the inspection. +“No, sir.”</p> +<p>Roscoe Sweetman’s boots thudded on the porch. +The farmer came in, panting, followed by Frederick +Wingate. Dr. Stone had moved away from the +wall.</p> +<p>“What’s this?” the artist demanded. “Moans, +screams, footsteps? It sounds like a dime novel. +Let’s hear them.”</p> +<p>But the house now held to a soundless quiet. Ten +or fifteen minutes passed.</p> +<p>“It looks,” Dr. Stone observed, “as though our +ghost has called it a day.”</p> +<p>“Sweetman,” Mr. Wingate snapped impatiently, +“this is the second time you’ve called me from my +work for nothing. Where’s your ghost?”</p> +<p>“He was here,” the farmer insisted. He appeared +to be filled with a dull surprise.</p> +<p>“The second time,” Dr. Stone repeated thoughtfully. +“I’d call that strange, Fred.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_177">[177]</div> +<p>“You, too, Doctor.” The artist’s impatience had +given place to amusement. “I thought better of you +than that.”</p> +<p>“Did you?” the blind man asked mildly. Joe +stood rigid. His uncle’s voice had carried an undertone +that had not been there before.</p> +<p>But nothing more was said. They came from the +house, and Roscoe Sweetman’s fumbling hand clattered +the key against the lock. In the road Frederick +Wingate paused.</p> +<p>“Doctor,” he asked curiously, “do you actually +believe in ghosts?”</p> +<p>“I believe what I hear,” the blind man said without +emotion.</p> +<p>Joe, struck with terror, hugged close to the safety +of the dog. That night his sleep was broken by +dreams—dreams of a great, monstrous heart throbbing +so that all could hear it and of strange screams +that faded into a swift, strange silence. In the morning +an east wind blew down from the mountains and +the sky was gray and overcast. Twice Joe walked +toward the Farley farm, and twice he turned back. +He saw Mr. Sweetman, hulked over the wheel of +a small car, drive toward the village and, an hour +later, drive back. And all through the morning Dr. +Stone sat with his beloved pipe unlighted in his +hands, and by that token the boy knew that his +uncle was buried in disturbed thought.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_178">[178]</div> +<p>Early in the afternoon Police Captain Tucker and +Mr. Rodgers, the real estate man, came to the house +in the captain’s car. Joe hovered in the doorway.</p> +<p>“Doctor,” Mr. Rodgers demanded, “what’s this +talk about a ghost at Farley’s? Sweetman came in +to see me this morning—”</p> +<p>“Sweetman?” The blind man was intent.</p> +<p>“Rubbed it under my nose that there was no +market for a haunted house. Said you had heard the +ghost. How about it?”</p> +<p>“Did Sweetman happen to be in a buying mood?” +Dr. Stone asked quietly.</p> +<p>“An eager mood. That’s what I can’t understand.”</p> +<p>“How much did he offer?”</p> +<p>“Twenty-five hundred.”</p> +<p>And yesterday, Joe thought, the farmer had mentioned +$3,000. He glanced at his uncle. The blind +man had struck a match to the unlighted pipe.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_179">[179]</div> +<p>“We heard a little of everything, Rodgers—groans, +screams, the footsteps of a child, singing.” +Blue smoke rose fragrantly from the pipe. “A child +singing,” the doctor added, and turned sightless eyes +toward the captain. “What brings you into this, +Tucker. Planning to arrest a ghost?”</p> +<p>“Ghost?” Captain Tucker snorted. “I don’t +believe in ghosts. There’s such a thing as hocus-pocus +to steal away the value of a piece of property. +Did you know Matt Farley?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Rodgers and I did. A friend to tie to. Matt +was doing well here, but his youngest boy, about +four, died. It broke him up. Two years later he +closed the house and went away. Now he’s out on +the Coast, sick and penniless, and he asked Rodgers +to sell the place and get money to him. I’m in on +this to see that no swindle is put over on him.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone asked: “How did the boy die, Tucker?”</p> +<p>“He fell down a well and was drowned.”</p> +<p>Horror froze Joe Morrow’s blood. Words +passed back and forth in the room—he did not hear +them. By and by the three men were in the road +and headed for Farley’s. He trailed along. They +stopped at Mr. Sweetman’s for the key.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_180">[180]</div> +<p>“Doctor,” the farmer said heavily, “not for one +thousand dollars would I go into that house again.”</p> +<p>“You’d buy it though,” Dr. Stone said mildly.</p> +<p>“Not now. Since this morning I am told that +when you tear down a ghost house the ghost follows +you into yours. Maybe it is so. I do not take a +chance.”</p> +<p>“Who told you that?” the real estate man +snapped.</p> +<p>Mr. Sweetman’s eyes shifted. “I do not say.”</p> +<p>The house, on this drab, gray day, was bleak and +forbidding in its emptiness. Cold shadows lurked +in the corners. However, there was daylight, you +could see, and Joe did not feel the frozen terror of +last night. Captain Tucker relentlessly searched the +house. In the end he came up from the cellar with a +paper in his hand.</p> +<p>“Find anything,” Mr. Rodgers asked eagerly.</p> +<p>“The cover from a magazine and a scrap torn +from a page. Matt’s been out of here for years; this +magazine is a last August issue. How did it get +here?”</p> +<p>“What magazine?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>“It’s called <i>Wonder World</i>. How did it get +here?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_181">[181]</div> +<p>“Sweetman has a key,” the real estate man said. +“Wingate did have a key. Either one of them +could have brought it in.”</p> +<p>“How long did Wingate have his key?” the +doctor asked suddenly.</p> +<p>“A month, probably. Painted in here for a while. +Gave me back the key at last and said it would cost +too much to change the upstairs to get a studio with +a northern light.”</p> +<p>“Then these things mean nothing,” the captain +grumbled in disappointment. He crumpled the +cover and threw it into a blackened fireplace.</p> +<p>“That scrap of paper?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>“Half a dozen incomplete lines. Something torn +out at random.”</p> +<p>“Might I have it?”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker grunted in impatience. “I tell +you it’s merely a scrap——Oh, take it.”</p> +<p>They emerged from the house, and almost at once +Frederick Wingate came out of his own dwelling +wearing a paint-smeared apron.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_182">[182]</div> +<p>“By Harry!” he cried angrily, “this ceases to be a +joke. Now the police are here, and next it will be +in the newspapers. They’ll howl it up with scare +headlines, and the rabble will come down on us by +train, and bus and private car. The neighborhood +will be marked for sordid sensation. Sweetman’s +place, Farley’s, mine—none of them will be worth +a dollar. Nobody has heard these screams, and +footsteps and heartbeats. It’s hysterical imagination.”</p> +<p>“I’ll come over tonight and try my imagination,” +Captain Tucker said.</p> +<p>The artist stormed back into his house and +slammed the door.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone, holding to Lady’s harness-grip, went +serenely toward his home. Mr. Rodgers talked +warmly. Wingate had the right idea—hysteria. But +Joe, though silent, could still feel the tremor of his +nerves. There had been screams and heartbeats. +And a boy had fallen into a well and drowned!</p> +<p>Captain Tucker and the real estate man climbed +into the police car and were off. Instantly the unconcern +fell away from the blind man. He held out +the scrap of paper.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_183">[183]</div> +<p>“Read it, Joe?”</p> +<p>The boy read the few, disjointed words on the +triangular strip:</p> +<p><span class="jr">If the</span> +<span class="jr">effects</span> +<span class="jr">sonority</span> +<span class="jr">periments.</span> +<span class="jr">By means of</span> +<span class="jr">succeeded in</span></p> +<p>“Does it mean anything, Uncle Dave?” he asked, +puzzled.</p> +<p>“Perhaps.” Dr. Stone’s face had become intent. +“I think I’ll walk into the village with Lady. You’d +better stay here, Joe. I may be gone a long time.”</p> +<p>He was gone three hours. When he returned +he was whistling softly.</p> +<p>Darkness came early out of the drab day. Joe +placed a log in the fireplace, and Dr. Stone smoked +quietly and toasted his legs in the warmth of the +blaze. At seven o’clock there were footsteps on the +porch and a knock on the door. Frederick Wingate +walked in.</p> +<p>“Still thinking of ghosts, Doctor?” he asked +humorously. The afternoon’s ill-temper had disappeared.</p> +<p>The face of the blind man was inscrutable. “Still +thinking,” he admitted.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_184">[184]</div> +<p>And then, for a time, the Farley house and the +ghoulish beat of its unseen heart seemed forgotten, +and Joe listened to sparkling talk of the days when +Mr. Wingate had been a student in Paris and Vienna. +Abruptly, in the middle of a sentence, the man +stopped short.</p> +<p>“What time will Tucker be back tonight, +Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Eight-thirty.”</p> +<p>The artist pulled back the sleeve of his coat and +glanced at the heavy, elaborately-scrolled, silver +wrist watch. “Eight-ten,” he said. And then, seeing +Joe’s fascinated eyes upon the watch, he continued +to hold up the bared wrist. “A curious trinket, Joe. +I picked it up in Austria. Keeps time to the split +second. But it has a curious trick. Do you hear it +ticking?”</p> +<p>“No, sir.”</p> +<p>“If your wrist happens to turn in exactly the right +position——” The man moved his wrist, and all at +once the boy heard the watch ticking out an emphatic, +muffled stroke. Again the wrist moved, and +the timepiece was no longer audible. The artist +laughed. “Not bad, eh, Joe?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_185">[185]</div> +<p>Joe said “Gosh!” and looked at his uncle. Dr. +Stone had ceased to smoke.</p> +<p>“It’s going to be a bad night, Doctor,” Frederick +Wingate went on. “There’s snow in the air. I’d +advise you to sit snug and let Tucker do his ghost-hunting +alone. It will be wasted time.”</p> +<p>“Why are you so sure of that, Fred?”</p> +<p>“Come, come, Doctor. You know how I feel +about goblins.”</p> +<p>“Of course. I was wondering. Last night you +insisted we hadn’t heard sounds. Tonight you become +more positive. You predict we’re not going to +hear anything. Why this added certainty? Is it +because you had removed the cable running between +your house and Farley’s?”</p> +<p>Joe Morrow suddenly found himself tight and +expectant. The good humor had been washed +from the artist’s face.</p> +<p>“It was hard,” the doctor said serenely, “to locate +exactly where the sound originated. Lady, though, +took me to one wall. After that, the trick was +plain. A blind man’s touch is sensitive, Fred. I felt +the vibration in the wall. I asked Joe if the wall +looked at all strange. He said it didn’t. Who could +break into a wall and then doctor it so it would let +out sound freely and still look untouched? Who but +an artist accustomed to skilfully blending colors?</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_186">[186]</div> +<p>“But at first I suspected Sweetman. The man’s +anxiety to take advantage of a ghost scare and buy +cheaply fooled me. We all stumble at times. I +should have seen from the start it couldn’t be Sweetman. +He was greedy, but he didn’t have the brains. +Then, too, there were no creepy manifestations +whenever you appeared. By the way, who told +Sweetman the ghost would invade his house if he +pulled down Farley’s? You?”</p> +<p>“You’re stumbling now, Doctor, aren’t you?” +the artist asked. Joe saw that his eyes had become +sharp and watchful.</p> +<p>“Not now,” the blind man said. “The road is too +plain. Today, when Tucker searched the house, he +found the cover of the August <i>Miracle World</i> and +a fragmentary scrap torn from a magazine page. +Only ten words were on that scrap, Fred, but one of +them was ‘sonority.’ It’s a word dealing with sound. +On a bare chance I dropped in at the public library. +There I learned that one Frederick Wingate is a subscriber +to <i>Miracle World</i>, and each month turns the +magazine over to the library after he has read it. +But this Mr. Wingate did not turn over his August +copy; the library, wishing to keep a complete file, +sent for the August number. There was a significant +article in that number, Fred. The librarian +read it to me. It had to do with sound effects by +radio and telephone.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_187">[187]</div> +<p>Joe’s lips were parted breathlessly. Frederick +Wingate stood as though he had lost the power of +movement.</p> +<p>“I’m not up on those things. They developed +after I became blind. Exactly how you worked the +trick I do not know. After reading the August +number you concocted your scheme. You took +your time. But in December you got the key from +Rhodes on the pretext you wanted to paint in the +house and try out the light. In that month you did +your wiring, broke through walls, inserted your +loud speakers and tuned them to the proper pitch. +The transmitting cable from your house to Farley’s +was probably laid on the ground under the snow. +No doubt you thought you would not have to give +more than five or six manifestations. Let the ghost +talk start. After that you could take up the cable. +The thing would be done. Farley’s property would +be ruined; you’d buy it in for a song.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_188">[188]</div> +<p>“What did you do from December to March? +Practice the act? Anyway, you ran into the unexpected. +Sweetman also saw a chance to buy +cheaply. So you filled him with the fear of inheriting +a ghost. Then, when the road seemed clear, +Tucker came in. You hadn’t expected the police. +Today, when you protested to Tucker, Rodgers +thought you were furiously indignant. I read your +voice better. You were alarmed. So tonight, as +soon as darkness fell, you took up the incriminating +cable. You’re wealthy. Why does a man of means +stoop to small cupidities? Is it because he thinks it +clever and smart?”</p> +<p>The artist spoke hoarsely. “You’ll admit, Doctor, +that this is all rather circumstantial?”</p> +<p>“It was until a little while ago. Then I found the +absolute proof. Sometimes a thing becomes so +much a part of a man that he forgets he has it and +it betrays him. Do you mind telling me the time?”</p> +<p>The artist glanced at his wrist-watch. “It is +now——” His eyes, startled, stared fixedly at the +doctor. “I see,” he said.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_189">[189]</div> +<p>Dr. Stone relighted the pipe. “Might I make a +suggestion. We don’t want Tucker in on this. I’m +more interested in Matt Farley. My suggestion is +that you buy the place even below its worth, eight +thousand dollars. Eight thousand will be a fortune +to a man sick and penniless.”</p> +<p>Wet blotches fell against the windows. Snow!</p> +<p>“Doctor,” Frederick Wingate said, “will you believe +me when I say I did not know Farley was destitute?” +He picked his coat from a chair. “I’ll see +Rodgers in the morning and put down a deposit. +Good night.”</p> +<p>The blazing log broke and fell, and sparks +showered up the chimney. So there really had been +no ghost! Relief went through Joe Morrow in a +fervent tide.</p> +<p>“Did—did you really have the proof, Uncle +David?”</p> +<p>“The absolute proof, Joe. You saw it yourself.”</p> +<p>“I saw it?” The boy was bewildered.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_190">[190]</div> +<p>Dr. Stone stretched back in the chair and placed +his hands behind his head. “I don’t know whether +he used a telephone mouthpiece or a microphone. +Whatever he used he was right in front of it. His +hands must have been active—he had to produce the +sounds of water, footsteps, gravel. Every time the +watch began its mystifying tick——”</p> +<p>“Oh!” Joe breathed.</p> +<p>“Yes,” the blind man said quietly. “You and +Sweetman thought it was the beating of a human +heart.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_193">[193]</div> +<h2 id="c8">AS A MAN SPEAKS</h2> +<p>“Hard!” said Police Captain Tucker. “That’s +what he is, Doctor—hard,” and the policeman +drove a smacking fist into the palm of +his other hand to emphasize the point.</p> +<p>The dog, lying in front of the fireplace, lifted +her head. Dr. David Stone puffed his pipe serenely +in the warmth of the blazing logs. The winter wind +whistled about the house, a shutter banged like the +report of a gun, and Joe Morrow jumped.</p> +<p>“Talks tough, Doctor, and sticks out his chin as +though asking you what you were going to do about +it. I’ve sent out his fingerprints. Wouldn’t be surprised +if it turned out he was a bit of a gangster.”</p> +<p>“You have him safely in jail,” Dr. Stone pointed +out.</p> +<p>“Safe enough for the present,” Captain Tucker +admitted, “but I can’t hold him forever on mere +suspicion.”</p> +<p>“Then you’re not charging him with murder?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_194">[194]</div> +<p>“How can I? You can’t prove a murder without +producing a body. Where’s the corpse? Where’s +Boothy Wilkes, alive or dead? He hasn’t been +around——. You pass his place every day, Joe. +When did you see him last?”</p> +<p>“Wednesday,” Joe Morrow, Dr. Stone’s nephew, +answered. “He asked me had I seen Jud Cory hanging +around.”</p> +<p>“Nobody’s seen him since Wednesday. That was +six days ago. That morning he and Jud had a talk +outside the post office—something about money—and +suddenly Jud yelled out that he’d kill him. +Dozen people heard it. And since late Wednesday +Boothy hasn’t been seen.”</p> +<p>“Why did Jud want to kill him?” the blind doctor +asked.</p> +<p>“How do I know?”</p> +<p>“Might be worth looking into,” the calm voice +drawled.</p> +<p>“Haven’t I tried to sweat it out of him? Haven’t +I grilled him trying to make him tell where he hid +the body? What do I get? A stuck-out chin, and +a scowl, and him telling me he’s not a squealer. +That’s gangster talk.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_195">[195]</div> +<p>The blind man’s head rested against the back of +the chair; his sightless eyes seemed to stare unblinkingly +at some object on the ceiling; the pale face +had the calmness of graven stone. Joe, highly excited +by all this talk of murder and a hidden body, +pulled at a thought that had occurred to him more +than once in the past. Could anything happen that +would shake his uncle out of that unruffled tranquillity?</p> +<p>“How old did you say he was, Captain?”</p> +<p>“Twenty.”</p> +<p>The doctor sat up and knocked the ashes of his +pipe into the fireplace, “No boy is hard at twenty, +Captain. He only thinks he’s hard. Mind if I talk +to him?”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker sighed. “I was hoping you +would.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone reached for the dog’s harness. “More +work for us, old girl,” he said, and the dog looked +at him steadily. Joe wondered if she understood. +They went out to the small police car, the tawny +shepherd anxiously leading the blind man through +the snow to the running-board. Crowded into the +car, Joe and the dog in the rear seat, they rode toward +the village.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_196">[196]</div> +<p>“How long is it since Jud Cory left here?” Dr. +Stone asked.</p> +<p>“Seven years. That’s what I can’t understand. +Why should he come back after seven years to do a +murder? He used to live with Boothy; did chores +for his keep. We’ve sent for his brother.”</p> +<p>“Jud’s?”</p> +<p>“No; Boothy’s.”</p> +<p>The doctor said, surprised: “I didn’t know he had +a brother.”</p> +<p>“Neither did anybody else. But for that matter +Boothy was a tight-lipped man who told his business +to no one. After the neighbors reported him missing +we searched the house. Found a will and a note +written the day before the quarrel outside the post +office. The note said if anything happened to +him——. See that, Doctor? He was afraid that something +would happen.”</p> +<p>“He wrote that note the day before Jud threatened +to kill him,” the blind man said slowly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_197">[197]</div> +<p>Joe thought that Captain Tucker had the look +of a man stumbling over a rock he had not seen. +“Well——.” The captain coughed awkwardly. +“Why couldn’t Jud have gone to the house several +times before that meeting outside the post office? +Certainly he didn’t come here planning to loiter in +the streets until Boothy appeared. Anyway, the +note said if anything happened to him to notify his +brother, Otis Wilkes, at once.”</p> +<p>“Any witnesses to the will?”</p> +<p>“No. Oh, it’s in his handwriting. We proved +that.”</p> +<p>“Who gets his property?”</p> +<p>“This brother, Otis Wilkes.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said, “I’d like to meet Otis.” Joe, +sitting taut on the rear seat, had the feeling that his +uncle had touched something hidden in the dark. +The car halted outside the village lock-up.</p> +<p>“I won’t go down with you,” Captain Tucker +grunted. “He wouldn’t talk if I were there.”</p> +<p>“I’ll want Joe with me,” Dr. Stone said, and a +turnkey led man, boy and dog down a damp staircase. +It was the first time Joe had ever seen this +forbiddingly bleak corridor of cells, and his heart +grew heavy with a sick chill. A key rasped in a +lock, and the jail attendant threw open an iron-barred +door.</p> +<p>“Somebody to see you, Cory.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_198">[198]</div> +<p>“I don’t want to see nobody,” a voice answered +harshly.</p> +<p>The blind man said, “Lady, left,” and followed +the dog into the cell. Joe saw a disheveled youth +who sat scowling upon a cot. At sight of them he +arose with an air of bravado. The cell door closed.</p> +<p>“What’s the idea?” the harsh voice demanded. +“Trying to scare me with a dog?”</p> +<p>“Nobody’s trying to scare you, Jud. Don’t you +remember me? I’m Dr. Stone.”</p> +<p>“Another cop?”</p> +<p>“No,” the blind man said gently; “your friend. +And here’s another friend—Joe Morrow. You +ought to remember Joe. He was only a little tyke +then, and always followed you when you brought +the cows in from pasture.”</p> +<p>Joe saw the hard eyes waver. At that moment +Jud Cory looked, not the murderous gangster, but +a frightened, bewildered, sick-souled boy.</p> +<p>“He always brought me a cake with raisins in it,” +Jud said huskily. And then, like some wild animal +touched by danger, the youth had sprung back +against the wall of the cell. “Hey! Trying to pull +soft stuff on me? Nothing doing, I don’t talk.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_199">[199]</div> +<p>“You’ve had your share of bitter days, haven’t +you?” Dr. Stone asked quietly.</p> +<p>The hard eyes wavered.</p> +<p>“I knew your father, Jud. It doesn’t seem possible +that his son could butcher a man for a few +dollars.”</p> +<p>“It wasn’t a few dollars,” the lad cried thickly. +“It——”</p> +<p>Joe shivered. Then this had really been a murder +for a lot of dollars. The youth had choked off the +sentence and stood against the stone wall shaken by +the appalling significance of what he had said.</p> +<p>“Jud,” the blind man said, “don’t try to fool me +and don’t try to fool yourself. You’re just a poor, +miserable kid who’s caught in a squeeze that’s too +tight for him. Don’t you think you ought to +tell me.”</p> +<p>The chin wasn’t a hard chin now. It quivered, +tried to steady itself; and suddenly, like a tree that +snaps in a storm, Jud Cory broke. One moment he +stood against the wall, still suspicious, still afraid; +the next he was on the side of his cot, his head in +his hands, sobbing.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_200">[200]</div> +<p>“You don’t know what it’s been like in here, +Doctor. Everybody telling me I was a murderer +and asking what I did with the body. When I said +I’d kill him I was mad. I didn’t mean it. I tell +you, Doctor, I didn’t mean it.”</p> +<p>The blind man groped across the cell, and sat +upon the cot, and one hand reached out and rested +on the boy’s shoulder.</p> +<p>The sobbing had stopped. “We—we lived in the +city,” came from between the lad’s hands, “my pop +and me, and pop got sick and they said he should go +to the country. I don’t know how it happened, +but we came to Boothy Wilkes’. I liked it there. +Then pop died, and that changed everything. I +was nine then, nine nearly ten, and Wilkes made me +do all the chores—said I had to earn my keep. Telling +me every day I was a pauper and threatening +to send me away to the pauper farm. Then he began +to shout and yell that I ate too much. That was +when I lit out.</p> +<p>“I went to Philadelphia and sold newspapers. +They told me to keep out of the way of the cops +or they’d slap me in a home because I ought to be +in school. It wasn’t so bad in the summer, but in +the winter it was tough. Snowy days I wouldn’t +sell many papers, and maybe I’d have to sleep in a +hallway that night.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_201">[201]</div> +<p>“How old were you then, Jud?”</p> +<p>“About fourteen.”</p> +<p>Joe shot a glance at his uncle. The unruffled tranquillity +was gone. The blind man’s face was dark +with a bitter wrath.</p> +<p>“I figured I’d go some place where there wouldn’t +be so much cold, so I beat it to California. There I +got jobs doing this and that, and got along. One +day, when I was out of work and feeling pretty low, +a man stopped me and asked wasn’t I Jud Cory. He +said I looked as though I was on my uppers, and I +said I was. He said I must have gone through the +money pretty fast, and I asked him what money, +and he said he had been cashier for the bank here +and that just a few days before my father died he +was sent for, and went to Wilkes’ house, and that +my father put nine thousand dollars in Wilkes’ account +for me. It seemed pop didn’t want any dealings +with lawyers and courts and thought Wilkes +was honest. Maybe this man was telling me straight +and maybe he wasn’t. I got thinking it over, and +it seemed maybe Wilkes had laid it on me heavy so +I’d light out and he’d have the money to himself. +So I came back here, and the first time I spoke to +Wilkes I knew it was true.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_202">[202]</div> +<p>“How?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<p>“By his face.”</p> +<p>“What was the name of this man, Jud?”</p> +<p>“I—I don’t know. I got so excited I forgot to +ask, and when I went looking for him afterwards +I couldn’t find him. Does that make any difference?”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid so.”</p> +<p>Jud Cory’s hands went out in a hopeless gesture. +“I don’t suppose anybody’ll believe me.” He was +up from the cot, frantic, terror-stricken. “But I +didn’t kill him. I didn’t.”</p> +<p>“I know you didn’t,” Dr. Stone said quietly. +“I’ve known that for the past ten minutes.”</p> +<p>Serenity had come back upon the blind man. +Holding the handle-grip of Lady’s harness he followed +the dog up the damp stairway to the headquarters +room. There he told Captain Tucker Jud +Cory’s story.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_203">[203]</div> +<p>“A fairy tale,” the police captain scoffed. “He +got it out of a book or the movies. Anyway, it +doesn’t explain the riddle. Where’s Boothy Wilkes’ +body?”</p> +<p>“Let’s go to the bank,” the doctor suggested.</p> +<p>Again they rode in the police car, and again Lady +cautiously conducted her master through the snow. +Bryan Smith, president of the bank, admitted them +to his private office and closed the door.</p> +<p>“The Wilkes case, gentlemen?”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker shrugged. “In a way. Cory +has burst forth with a wild——”</p> +<p>“Just a moment, Captain,” Dr. Stone said sharply. +“Mr. Smith, did a cashier resign eight or nine years +ago?”</p> +<p>“Eight or nine years?” The banker considered. +“That would be Herman Lang. He resigned about +that time.”</p> +<p>“Do you know why he resigned?”</p> +<p>“Yes. He had an offer to join a land development +company.”</p> +<p>“Where?”</p> +<p>“In California.”</p> +<p>Joe saw Captain Tucker’s mouth sag, but his +uncle’s face was impassive. Bryan Smith lowered +his voice.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_204">[204]</div> +<p>“Ordinarily, gentlemen, we do not discuss our +depositors’ business. However, there is something +I think you should know. Boothy Wilkes drew out +five thousand dollars in cash the day he vanished. +Cash!”</p> +<p>The sag that had been in Captain Tucker’s jaw +was gone. Out in the car he spoke a positive judgment.</p> +<p>“There’s your motive, Doctor. Find Boothy’s +body and Cory’ll soon tell us what he did with the +five thousand dollars. Anyway, we all know Boothy +kept a tight fist on a dime. Suppose he did rob the +boy. Is that any excuse for murder?”</p> +<p>“You haven’t yet proved Jud did commit a +murder,” the blind man suggested gently.</p> +<p>“The body?” Captain Tucker snapped an impatient +finger. “That’s only a matter of time. It +couldn’t have been taken far.”</p> +<p>Outside the village town hall a constable awaited +their coming. Otis Wilkes, he said, had arrived +from Baltimore and was now at the Wilkes farm. +Captain Tucker turned the car about. Fifteen minutes +later they swung into a driveway between trees +and skidded to a stop. On the Wilkes porch a thin, +wiry man paced back and forth restlessly.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_205">[205]</div> +<p>“I’d know him for a Wilkes anywhere,” Captain +Tucker said in an undertone. “Favors Boothy in +looks, only this one’s all whiskered. Mind if I use +Lady while you’re here, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“What for?”</p> +<p>“Clues. She might scent us something.”</p> +<p>As they left the car and came toward the house, +Joe Morrow had eyes only for the man on the +porch. A voice called down to them across the +railing.</p> +<p>“Captain Tucker?” The tone carried a high, +nasal twang. “Land o’ Goshen, I’ve been a-waitin’ +for you until I’m like t’ freeze.” The sentence ended +in a choking, sputtering cough. The man spat +violently with a burst of breath. “Come in; come +in out of the cold.”</p> +<p>The house, untenanted for a week, was scarcely +warmer than the outdoors. But it was the house +from which a man had disappeared, and Joe Morrow +kept staring about uneasily as though expecting +to find a ghost. They went into a front room that +overlooked some of the land bordering the road. +Here, at least, there was sun.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_206">[206]</div> +<p>“Did they get him?” Otis Wilkes demanded. +“This Jud Cory?” Speech was momentarily halted +by that same choking cough, that same sputtering +outburst of breath. “This Jud Cory who killed +Boothy.”</p> +<p>Joe was conscious of a sudden, intent look on his +uncle’s face. Captain Tucker answered very, very +slowly.</p> +<p>“Did you stop at the police station, or did you +come straight to the house?”</p> +<p>“To the house, of course. Where else with +maybe Boothy lying dead?”</p> +<p>“How did you know he was dead?” Captain +Tucker demanded.</p> +<p>“He wrote me, Boothy did.” One hand made a +frantic reach for the inside pocket of his coat and +drew forth a folded paper. “Boothy said it was +on him. Here!”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_207">[207]</div> +<p>Captain Tucker read the letter aloud:</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Dear Otis: Like as not you’ll be surprised to +get this letter seeing as we have not seen or +heard of each other in twenty years. But when +a man feels he is going to be took, it is natural +he should turn to his only kin. I have wrote a +will leaving everything to you, and you will be +notified when necessary. If anything should +happen to me sudden, look for Jud Cory. He +has made talk of killing me, and I think he is +the kind to do it.</p> +<p><span class="jr">Your brother,</span> +<span class="jr">Boothy.</span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Captain Tucker folded the letter. “Well, +Doctor?” he asked in poorly-concealed satisfaction.</p> +<p>The blind man’s face was inscrutable. “Does a +man facing death, a man known to keep a tight fist +on a dime, stop to draw five thousand dollars in cash +from a bank?”</p> +<p>“Boothy was a-tryin’ t’ buy him off,” Mr. Wilkes +shrilled.</p> +<p>“How do you know that, Mr. Wilkes?”</p> +<p>“Reasonable, ain’t it? Reckon a man would +ruther pay five thousand dollars than be laid out +stiff. What about Jud Cory?”</p> +<p>“We have him,” Captain Tucker answered, “but +Boothy’s missing. We believe he’s been murdered.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_208">[208]</div> +<p>“Then why you standin’ ’round wastin’ time +doin’ nothin’?” Mr. Wilkes’ outburst arose to a +tremulous falsetto. “Find him. I’ll pay a reward.”</p> +<p>“We’re starting a search now with the dog,” Captain +Tucker soothed the agitated man. “If you wish +to come along——”</p> +<p>But Mr. Wilkes was seized with a shuddering reluctance. +“It ain’t fitten’ I should, seein’ as folks +might say I was powerful anxious t’ find him so’s t’ +claim the property. Besides——” Straggling hairs +again bothered his mouth, and there was another +spell of coughing and sputtering. “Besides, I ain’t +so spry anymore and the cold gits into my bones. +I’ll set here by the window in the sun an’ watch out +through the apple orchard.”</p> +<p>“It’s a fine orchard,” Captain Tucker observed.</p> +<p>“Boothy set great store by it,” Mr. Wilkes said +feelingly. “Blasted the soil with dynamite before +settin’ out the trees.”</p> +<p>“Coming, Captain?” Dr. Stone asked.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_209">[209]</div> +<p>There was an undercurrent to the words. Joe, +roused out of his expectation of a ghost, saw that +the strained lines were gone from his uncle’s mouth +and that now the face was placid and serene. The +boy knew the sign. Once more Dr. Stone had +touched something hidden in obscurity. Light had +come to the brain that lay behind those blind eyes. +And so they came outdoors, to the snow and the +frozen ground.</p> +<p>“Careful, Doctor,” Captain Tucker warned.</p> +<p>“Lady won’t let me on ice,” the doctor answered. +“Search, old girl.”</p> +<p>The dog winnowed through the snow, back and +forth, ever advancing. The quest took them past +the house, on past the summer kitchen. Suddenly +the animal, no longer advancing, began to dig in +the snow with her paws.</p> +<p>“She’s found something,” Joe cried.</p> +<p>Out from under the snow Lady dragged a hat. +Captain Tucker seized it eagerly.</p> +<p>“It’s Boothy’s, Doctor. Here are his initials. +B. W.”</p> +<p>The doctor asked a question. “Where are we, +Joe?”</p> +<p>Joe’s throat ached. “On the driveway to the +barn.”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t it strike you as strange, Captain, that +Boothy’s hat should be found here?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_210">[210]</div> +<p>“What’s strange about it? Isn’t this the driveway?”</p> +<p>“That’s exactly what’s strange about it,” the blind +man answered. “If somebody wanted to dispose of +a body would he drag it through the open or would +he seek cover? Might not the hat have been left +here to be found?”</p> +<p>But the police officer was absorbed in a fresh +discovery. The hat was sodden with snow; and yet, +darker than the soak of water, was a stain above the +sweat-band.</p> +<p>“Doctor, there’s something on this hat.”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“Blood.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s lips formed to a soundless whistle. +“Boothy’s blood?”</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“Because, Captain, if that had been human blood +Lady would have shied, and whimpered, and trembled. +She would have called our attention to it, +but she would not have brought the hat out to us.”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker flared into temper. “Doctor, +that’s going too far. Even a clever dog is only a +dog. We’re going back.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_211">[211]</div> +<p>The police officer carried the gruesome find to +the house. Joe stumbled in the snow. There had +been that dark stain near the sweat-band; he had seen +it, and was troubled. Was Uncle David wrong? +They crossed the porch and entered the room +where Mr. Wilkes waited, and on the instant the +man cried out in nasal horror:</p> +<p>“It’s Boothy’s hat. And there’s blood on it.”</p> +<p>“I’m going back to the village,” Captain Tucker +said hurriedly. “I’m coming back with a crew of +men. We’ll find what’s hidden here. We’ll find +it if we have to dig up every foot of this farm.”</p> +<p>The captain was gone. The outer door closed. +Dr. Stone still stood just within the room. Outside +a motor roared, and suddenly the blind man shouted.</p> +<p>“Tucker! See that Herman Lang comes here as +soon as he arrives.”</p> +<p>It seemed to Joe that Mr. Wilkes leaped and +jerked in every muscle. “Lang? What about Herman +Lang?” Another fit of sputtering and coughing +seized him, and he spat violently. “What about +him?”</p> +<p>“Oh!” The doctor’s voice was soft. “So you +know Herman Lang?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_212">[212]</div> +<p>“Never heerd o’ him. Who is he?”</p> +<p>“He’s the bank cashier who was at this house the +day Jud Cory’s father trusted Boothy with nine +thousand dollars. Jud came here to get that +money.”</p> +<p>“Bah! A likely tale. What am I supposed to do +about it?”</p> +<p>The blind man, holding to the dog’s leash, stepped +well within the room. Joe edged a little to the side. +He had been with his uncle on so many adventures +he had developed an instinct that told him when a +trap was to be sprung. And instinct told him a trap +was to be sprung now.</p> +<p>“You might answer a few questions, Mr. Wilkes. +You and Boothy hadn’t seen or heard from each +other in twenty years?”</p> +<p>“Maybe it was twenty-one years.”</p> +<p>“Then how did you know Boothy used dynamite +to break the hardpan when he set out his orchard. +Those trees were planted in the spring of 1920, +thirteen years ago.”</p> +<p>Joe saw the Adam’s apple in the man’s throat +work convulsively. “Likely I heard about it somewhere.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div> +<p>“When Tucker came in, how did you know he +had Boothy’s hat?”</p> +<p>“It must have been Boothy’s—Boothy allers wore +the same kind.”</p> +<p>“How did you know of the blood? You were +across the room. You couldn’t have distinguished +a stain on a wet hat. Or—” The blind man +paused. “Or did you know, before we left the +room, that we were going to come back with a +blood-stained hat?”</p> +<p>Joe could almost feel the man tremble. But no +words came from the stark, startled lips.</p> +<p>“Nine thousand dollars,” Dr. Stone mused. +“Simple interest for eleven years at six per cent. +Five hundred and forty dollars a year. A total, +principal and interest, of fourteen thousand nine +hundred forty dollars. Sit down, Wilkes.”</p> +<p>Mr. Wilkes sat down.</p> +<p>“Make out a check to Jud Cory for fourteen thousand +nine hundred forty dollars.”</p> +<p>Joe expected shrill, nasal protest. Instead the man +sat there, huddled in tremulous abjection. By and +by the fingers, strong and work-hardened, began to +move slowly; and with that Joe saw a look of +shrewd, calculating cunning steal into the eyes. +He was like a man who, lost, sees a glimmer of hope.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div> +<p>“Doctor, most likely this Jud Cory’s been a-tellin’ +you a passel o’ lies. But it ain’t fitten to speak ill o’ +the dead, and Boothy’s my brother and I don’t +hanker t’ have folks a-whisperin’ about him and +makin’ light o’ his good name. Tell you what I’ll +do, Doctor. I’ll give this Jud Cory enough to stop +his mouth. Likely he’ll need it, anyway, t’ pay his +trial lawyer.”</p> +<p>“That’s kind of you,” Dr. Stone said dryly.</p> +<p>Mr. Wilkes wrote a check and pressed it into the +blind man’s hand.</p> +<p>“It’s no more than fair to tell you, Wilkes, that +Herman Lang is not expected here.”</p> +<p>With a snarl the man was on his feet. “Give me +that check!” Lady gave a warning growl, and on +the instant the grasping hand was stayed. Mr. +Wilkes shrank back.</p> +<p>“It would be a simple matter to telegraph and +bring him East,” the doctor said pointedly.</p> +<p>As slowly as it had come the shrewd cunning +faded out of the man’s eyes. He sank back into the +chair.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div> +<p>Dr. Stone held out the slip of paper. “How much +is it for, Joe?”</p> +<p>“Five thousand dollars, Uncle David.” This time +it was the boy who trembled. Five thousand dollars +was the amount of cash Boothy Wilkes had drawn +from the bank.</p> +<p>“Signed by whom?”</p> +<p>“By Otis Wilkes.”</p> +<p>Without haste the doctor folded the check twice, +and tore it into bits.</p> +<p>“Write another check,” he ordered quietly. +“This time write it for fourteen thousand nine hundred +forty dollars. This time sign your own name. +Sign it Boothy Wilkes.”</p> +<p>To Joe Morrow the world went topsy-turvy. +Through an incredulous haze he saw a snarling man +sign a check and almost hurl it into his uncle’s face. +As they came out upon the porch with Lady, Captain +Tucker’s car swung into the driveway from +the road.</p> +<p>“I’ll have men here in half an hour. Where’s Otis, +Doctor?”</p> +<p>“Gone. Boothy’s inside.”</p> +<p>“Boothy?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_216">[216]</div> +<p>“Otis, if you like that name better,” the doctor +said pleasantly.</p> +<p>For the second time that day Captain Tucker’s +jaw sagged. Dr. Stone brought out his pipe, filled +it, and puffed with calm enjoyment.</p> +<p>“You see,” he said, “Jud Cory told us the truth. +When he arrived with the information that he knew +of the money that was his, it was like plunging a +knife into Boothy’s heart. Money has rather been +Boothy’s god. The way to save the money came +with Jud’s threat to kill him that so many persons +overheard. Boothy went to the bank, drew out five +thousand dollars, wrote the will and the note that +you found, wrote himself the letter he showed you, +and went to Baltimore to await the results he knew +would follow. When it was discovered he was gone +people remembered Jud’s threat. And so Jud was +arrested, and you wrote Otis to come on, and the +search began for a body that would never be found.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_217">[217]</div> +<p>“Boothy had it figured out nicely. As Otis he +would have five thousand dollars to live on. There +was no hurry. Let Jud Cory stew in jail. He +would never be tried for murder, for without a +corpse no murder could be proved. Public opinion, +though, might try Jud for threatening life, or for +disturbing the peace, or for something else. He +might even be sent to the county penitentiary for +nine months. All right; let him go. When he was +released he would be so sick of the game, so glad to +be at liberty again, that he’d take the first train out +and never come back. And then, after an interval, +Boothy would reappear. What story would he +have told? Well, he might have claimed a complete +loss of memory—aphasia, as it is called. And there +he’d be with his nine thousand dollars intact and +Jud Cory gone for good.”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker had recovered from his chagrin. +“I can see all that now, Doctor. But how did you +know he was Boothy? Man, he had me completely +fooled.”</p> +<p>“There were several signs,” Dr. Stone answered. +“An apple orchard, for one; a hat for another. But +the real give-away—” He passed the pipe under +his nose and inhaled the aroma of the burning tobacco. +“You wear false teeth, Captain?”</p> +<p>“What has that to do with it?” Captain Tucker +demanded impatiently.</p> +<p>“Took you a while to get used to them, didn’t it?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div> +<p>“Of course.”</p> +<p>“There’s the answer. Boothy didn’t take time to +get used to them. They kept straggling out of place +and interfering with his speech.”</p> +<p>“What are you talking about?” Captain Tucker +cried impatiently. “False teeth?”</p> +<p>“No,” the blind man said mildly. “False +whiskers.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_221">[221]</div> +<h2 id="c9">ARM OF GUILT</h2> +<p>Hurrying along the shadowed road beside +Dr. David Stone and Lady, Joe Morrow +was conscious of the hard pounding of his +heart against his ribs. The telephone call from Police +Captain Tucker had been terse and abrupt, but +out of it had come alarm and revelation. The explosion +he and his uncle had heard an hour ago had not +been the backfire of an automobile, but the murderous +bark of a pistol. And Ira Close, the Foster’s +hired man, had been shot, and nine-year-old Billy +Foster had been kidnaped. Joe gulped. He had +seen the small boy at school that afternoon.</p> +<p>Moonlight flooded the yard in the rear of Ben +Foster’s house, and black shapes stood out in sharp +relief. Pressed against the powerful flanks of the +dog Joe strained his eyes and made them out: Mr. +Foster, agitated, walking back and forth restlessly; +Captain Tucker staring hard at the ground, and a +third man—Why, the third man was Ira Close. The +boy gave a suppressed cry.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_222">[222]</div> +<p>“He’s there, Uncle David.”</p> +<p>“Billy?” Dr. Stone asked eagerly.</p> +<p>“No, sir; Ira. Ira wasn’t shot badly. It’s only +his hand. His hand is bandaged.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said: “Lady, left,” and the dog swung +them into the Foster yard. At the sound of their +feet on the driveway gravel Mr. Foster gave a cry +and hurried toward them.</p> +<p>“Thank God, Doctor, you’re here. If you can +find him, if you can get him back——”</p> +<p>“Are you sure,” the doctor broke in quietly, “he +hasn’t gone to a friend’s house and stayed for supper? +Small boys sometimes forget to come home.”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker shook his head. “It’s kidnaping. +We have the ransom note. Five thousand dollars.”</p> +<p>“Ten thousand!” Mr. Foster cried wildly. “Fifteen! +Any amount, so long as he comes back unharmed.”</p> +<p>“Easy,” said Dr. Stone, and took out his pipe and +reached into a pocket for tobacco. Amid the hysterical +panic he was controlled, steady. “If we’re to +get any place we must try to think clearly. When +was the boy seen last?”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker answered. “Four o’clock.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_223">[223]</div> +<p>“Then we know he wasn’t kidnaped until after +four. And about eight o’clock you were given a +ransom note. That means the kidnapers were in +the neighborhood an hour ago. How did the note +get here?”</p> +<p>“It was brought to me,” said Mr. Foster.</p> +<p>“Who brought it?”</p> +<p>“Ira.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s hand came out of his pocket without +the tobacco pouch. Joe, startled, saw his uncle’s +eyes turn, as though by instinct, toward the hired +man he could not see. Ira Close, always given to a +dull, stupid sullenness, shifted his thick-set, muscular +body awkwardly.</p> +<p>“I sent him out to find Billy,” Mr. Foster explained. +“The boy had been gone since four o’clock +when he went out of the house with a plate of food +for his rabbits. I thought he might have gone trailing +after that organ-grinder——”</p> +<p>“What organ-grinder?” Dr. Stone asked sharply.</p> +<p>Again it was Captain Tucker who answered. “A +stranger, doctor. Gave his name as Pasquale Monetti. +Came to the police station four days ago and +paid two dollars for a permit. Had a monkey on a +chain. The kids have been following him all over +the village.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_224">[224]</div> +<p>The doctor said quietly: “How did you come to +get the note, Ira?”</p> +<p>“I went for Billy like Mr. Foster said.” The +man’s voice was a low rumble. “Down by the +Howard’s woodlot there’s a bang and I know I’m +shot.”</p> +<p>“The right thumb,” said Captain Tucker. “The +bullet creased the skin.”</p> +<p>“It bled,” Ira Close said unemotionally, and Joe +saw blood on the handkerchief-bandage. “He tells +me not to move, and ties my arms behind, and puts +the note in my pocket.”</p> +<p>“He,” Dr. Stone said. “What he, Ira?”</p> +<p>“The organ-grinder.”</p> +<p>“You’re sure?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Did you see him?”</p> +<p>“No; I have my back turned. He does not talk +our kind of American.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_225">[225]</div> +<p>Captain Tucker gave a grunt of exasperation. +“That’s too thin for identification. A thousand men +within twenty miles might talk with a foreign accent. +I can’t understand this, Doctor. If somebody +wanted to use Ira to carry a message why did they +shoot close enough to hit him?”</p> +<p>“I wonder,” Dr. Stone said gravely. His hand +went into his pocket and this time came out with +the pouch. Slowly, almost leisurely, he filled the +pipe.</p> +<p>Joe Morrow, groping in the dark for light, +abruptly grasped the cords of memory. “Ira could +have known his voice,” the boy cried, excited.</p> +<p>“How’s that?” Captain Tucker barked.</p> +<p>“I saw Ira talking to the organ-grinder yesterday +in front of the bank.”</p> +<p>“I asked him about the monkey,” Ira said stolidly. +“I thought maybe I might buy one for Billy.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you tell us that?” Captain Tucker +flared in a temper. “Here we’re wasting time——”</p> +<p>“And my boy being taken farther away every +minute,” Mr. Foster groaned in sick despair. “Do +something! I tell you I can’t stand this waiting, +waiting! Do something!”</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” Dr. Stone said gently, “we have already +done something. How was Ira tied, Tucker? +Tight?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_226">[226]</div> +<p>“I’ve seen them tied tighter. Didn’t have to cut +the rope—slipped it down over his elbows. A botchy +job.”</p> +<p>“This organ-grinder?”</p> +<p>“Swarthy, with a heavy mustache. Not over +four and one-half feet tall and weighing about 135.”</p> +<p>“How much do you weigh, Ira?” the doctor +asked.</p> +<p>The hired man answered without interest. “One +hundred eighty-five pounds.”</p> +<p>Joe, trying to read his uncle’s face, found it inscrutable. +And yet the question meant something. +The pipe had gone out; Dr. Stone lighted it again.</p> +<p>“Let’s try to reconstruct this crime, Tucker. At +four o’clock Billy left the house with feed for the +rabbits. After that—a blank. Did he feed the rabbits +and wander on? Did he ever reach the warren?”</p> +<p>“No,” Mr. Foster choked. “Whatever happened +to him happened here.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_227">[227]</div> +<p>And then, for the first time, Joe saw what lay +upon the ground in the moonlight—the shattered +pieces of a blue plate, scraps of lettuce and carrot, +and a boy’s cap. Evidently, Billy Foster had never +reached the rabbit warren with the feed. While +Captain Tucker described the scene to the blind +man, Joe picked up the cap. Why, they were in +full view of the house. Could a boy be kidnaped in +broad daylight from his own doorstep?</p> +<p>“It couldn’t have happened,” Captain Tucker insisted +testily. “Not here. The place is too open. +Probably something startled the boy and he dropped +the plate.”</p> +<p>“If he were frightened,” Dr. Stone asked mildly, +“why didn’t he run to the house? What frightened +him? Did whatever happen happen so quickly that +there was no time to run? And then there’s something +else.”</p> +<p>“What?” Captain Tucker snapped.</p> +<p>“The cap. It would take quite a fright to pop a +cap off a boy’s head.” The blind man put the pipe +back in his pocket. “You’ve kept track of this +organ-grinder, haven’t you, Tucker? Where has +he been staying?”</p> +<p>“Petey Ring’s shack on the river.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_228">[228]</div> +<p>“I think,” Dr. Stone said, “it might be worth our +while to go down toward the river.” A dozen steps +toward Captain Tucker’s car he paused. “You’d +better have that finger looked at, Ira. Gun-shot +wounds can develop lock-jaw.”</p> +<p>“Doctors want money,” Ira Close said resentfully.</p> +<p>“It’s a common failing,” the blind man observed +pleasantly.</p> +<p>Joe tingled. Something lay behind those four +words. But again the bland face was expressionless.</p> +<p>Petey Ring, unkempt and wrapped in a soiled +apron, met them in the frowsy public room of this +river “hotel.”</p> +<p>“Cap,” he said, “I was just thinking of giving you +a buzz. You know that bird who’s been penny +snatching with a monk?”</p> +<p>Joe’s mouth fell open, and Dr. Stone stopped dead +in his tracks.</p> +<p>“Where is he?” Captain Tucker demanded.</p> +<p>“Ask me. I ain’t clapped a peeper on him since +this morning. Looks to me like he’s taken it on the +lam. You got a line out for him, Cap?”</p> +<p>The captain shrugged. “Just checking up, +Petey. What time did he shove off.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_229">[229]</div> +<p>“You’re asking me? I thought he was out working +his graft. Then there’s a jabbering from his +room, and there’s the monk all alone in there throwing +fits.”</p> +<p>Dr. Stone’s voice cut in. “Where’s his room?”</p> +<p>Petey, stepping past the dog warily, led the way. +The room was a squalor of untidiness. Dirty blankets +were tumbled on the army cot bed, and a +cracked mirror stood upon a paint-chipped dresser. +The hand-organ, gaudy with cheap trappings, +leaned in a corner and, attached to it by a light +chain was a wizened, wrinkled, black-faced monkey. +The animal flew into a rage, climbed the +length of its chain and, from the top of a window-casing, +shrieked and chattered.</p> +<p>“Ira was right,” Captain Tucker said harshly. +“And we’re too late.”</p> +<p>Joe’s throat ached. Jolly Billy Foster taken by +violence and held for ransom! Hidden away in +some dark hole, probably, homesick and terror-stricken. +He looked at his uncle. The blind man’s +face had become intent.</p> +<p>“This room reeks,” Dr. Stone said, “with the +stench of cheap shaving soap. Search it.”</p> +<p>“For what?” Captain Tucker asked, puzzled.</p> +<p>“Hair.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_230">[230]</div> +<p>Joe, conscious only of the stale stench of the +room, marveled that his uncle could detect the smell +of soap. He poked into the corners. Petey, +lounging in the doorway, watched the search narrowly.</p> +<p>“What’s this bird been pulling, Cap?”</p> +<p>“Kidnaping,” Captain Tucker threw at him.</p> +<p>Petey went white. “So help me, Cap. I’m out +of it. You ain’t got a thing on me. Take my oath. +I ain’t touching nothing like that. Who’d he +snatch?”</p> +<p>There was no answer. Lady, pawing, had +brought a ball of paper out from under the bureau. +Captain Tucker opened the wad.</p> +<p>“Hair,” he said.</p> +<p>“There’s blood, too,” Joe cried.</p> +<p>The blind man whistled soundlessly. “A shaved +off mustache and a cut lip.”</p> +<p>“Tried a disguise and marked himself.” Captain +Tucker bolted for the door. They pushed past the +alarmed, agitated Petey and left him crying after +them.</p> +<p>At the railroad station a strange agent, a relief for +the regular man, came to the ticket window.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_231">[231]</div> +<p>“Did you sell a ticket late this afternoon or this +evening to a man with a cut lip?” Captain Tucker +barked the question.</p> +<p>“Why, yes.” The agent spoke with a slow, +maddening drawl. “Short, dark fellow. Couldn’t +help noticing that lip. Looked as though——”</p> +<p>“How many tickets did he buy?”</p> +<p>“Why, if I recollect, he bought one. Yes; one +ticket.”</p> +<p>“Where to?”</p> +<p>“Peekskill. Yes; I remember that. Just happens +that I have a married daughter in Peek——”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker frothed. “Never mind your +family. This is important. What train did he +take?”</p> +<p>The agent was galvanized into more rapid speech. +“The 6:29.”</p> +<p>“Did you see him get on?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Yes; I did. I happened to be looking out +the window——”</p> +<p>“Did he get on alone or did he have someone +with him. Quick!”</p> +<p>“He got on alone.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_232">[232]</div> +<p>No flicker of change showed in Dr. Stone’s face, +but Captain Tucker was staggered. Joe was suddenly +wan and bleak. Had they followed the trail +this far only to have it fail them. And then, +abruptly, the police captain was pounding the grille +of the ticket-window with a huge fist.</p> +<p>“What time does that train make Peekskill? In +twelve minutes? Get that key working. I want +that man with the cut lip held. If he doesn’t get off +the train have it searched. Give me that telephone.”</p> +<p>The captain called Peekskill police. Presently +they were out on the platform and he took off his +cap and fanned his face. Green signal lights blinked +out of the darkness down the right of way.</p> +<p>“Doctor, what did he do with the boy?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps he did nothing,” the doctor said +quietly.</p> +<p>Joe stiffened with new hope. That tone of his +uncle’s—? But the captain, brooding, was lost in +his own thoughts.</p> +<p>“There’s a slant to this I don’t understand,” he +said slowly. “That boy was kidnaped in broad +daylight. Snapped out of his own yard. How +could a stranger have brought him through a village +where he was known? How could he have +been taken past his own house out to the road?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_233">[233]</div> +<p>“I have been thinking about that,” Dr. Stone admitted. +The blind face was again intent. “Suppose +we go back to the house.”</p> +<p>Mr. Foster hurried toward them with pathetic +haste. “Any news?”</p> +<p>“The organ-grinder left for Peekskill on the +6:29,” Captain Tucker told him. “I’ve telephoned +and wired. They’ll pick him up when the train +gets there.”</p> +<p>“Was Billy with him?”</p> +<p>The captain made a merciful answer. “I’m not +sure.”</p> +<p>Ira Close came across the yard through the moonlight. +“You want me to pick up those pieces of +plate, Mr. Foster?”</p> +<p>“I’ll take care of them, Ira. I—I don’t want Mrs. +Foster to see them.”</p> +<p>“Have you his cap?” Dr. Stone asked with that +same understanding gentleness. “I don’t believe he +was ever taken out to the road. Now, Tucker, if +you’ll lead me to where the plate was dropped—. +Lady, forward.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_234">[234]</div> +<p>Joe could feel Ira Close beside him rubbing the +injured hand as though it pained, but his eyes were +on the man walking beside the dog. They came to +the shattered pieces of crockery. The doctor held +the cap to the dog’s nose.</p> +<p>“Lady, find,” he said quietly.</p> +<p>Joe trembled. What now? Nose to the ground, +the great, tawny dog sniffed for the scent. And +then it moved, not toward the road but off to the +left toward a grove of apple trees. The blind man +pulled on the leash and the dog stopped.</p> +<p>“What lies ahead, Foster?”</p> +<p>“The orchard, the barn where Ira has a room in +the loft, the chicken runs, the cow shed, and Billy’s +rabbits.”</p> +<p>Captain Tucker exploded. “Doctor, this is getting +nowhere. The boy may have gone to the rabbits. +That’s the trail you may be following this +minute.”</p> +<p>In the moonlight the sightless eyes were calm. +“Aren’t you forgetting the broken plate, Captain? +He started out with feed. Why should he go on +without it?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_235">[235]</div> +<p>Beside him Joe Morrow could feel the hired man +still rubbing the hand and hear the soft scraping of +flesh along the bandage. The doctor appeared to +listen to something in the night.</p> +<p>“Are you going on?” Mr. Foster cried.</p> +<p>“Tomorrow,” the blind man said with that same +gentleness. “The night offers obstacles. We might +miss something we should see.”</p> +<p>“But to wait—to wait—” The voice broke.</p> +<p>“We wouldn’t hold you in suspense a moment +longer than necessary. Tomorrow, at daybreak. +Have you the cap, Joe? Don’t lose it.”</p> +<p>Ira rumbled a heavy “good-night” and passed +from the moonlight into the shadow of the orchard. +A woman’s voice called: “Pa! Pa! Captain +Tucker’s wanted on the telephone.” The captain +hurried toward the house. Dr. Stone spoke softly:</p> +<p>“Ira’s been with you a long time, Foster?”</p> +<p>“Nine years. Surly, but a good worker. A bit +gruffer than usual tonight. Billy was always a little +afraid of him; that’s probably on his mind. And +then this shooting and the loss of his money.”</p> +<p>“Money?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_236">[236]</div> +<p>“Three hundred dollars. He drew it out yesterday +to send to his sister and carried it in a hip pocket. +That’s the pocket in which the organ-grinder put +the note. The money’s gone.”</p> +<p>The blind man’s head was thrown back; Joe saw +the lips strained and tight once more. Captain +Tucker came out of the house, slowly.</p> +<p>“Bad news,” he blurted. “Our man fooled us. +Wasn’t on the train; slipped off at one of the way +stations.”</p> +<p>Mr. Foster swayed unsteadily. “Don’t,” he +begged hoarsely, “tell Billy’s mother.”</p> +<p>The policeman walked down the driveway with +the doctor. “That Italian may have left the train +a station or two out, and come back for the boy. +I’ve ordered every road out of the village guarded.”</p> +<p>Joe came away with a choking lump in his +throat. The blind man, holding the harness and +walking close to the dog, whistled an almost soundless +whistle. The boy knew, by this sign, that the +brain behind the sightless eyes had caught a glimmer +of light.</p> +<p>Suddenly, without warning, the apple-scented +peace of the night was broken by a flash and a roar. +A whistling whine filled the air.</p> +<p>“Drop!” Dr. Stone cried.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_237">[237]</div> +<p>Not until he lay prone in the road did the boy +grasp the significance of flash and roar. Somebody +had fired on them from ambush. A shuddering +chill ran up his spine, and sweat stood out upon his +forehead. The moon-splashed world was silent +again, and faintly to his nostrils came the drift of +burnt powder.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone stood up. “Another shot,” he called +clearly, “and I’ll send the dog to tear you down. +Come, Joe.”</p> +<p>Quaking, Joe stood up. They moved ahead +again, and the boy’s nerves were torture-tight as he +waited for another flash and roar. But the silence +remained unbroken and they came at last to the +welcome protection of home.</p> +<p>The boy’s voice trembled. “Why did the organ-grinder +come back and shoot at us?”</p> +<p>“That bullet,” Dr. Stone said grimly, “was intended +for Lady, not for us.” His hand fell upon +the dog’s head. “Old girl, somebody’s afraid you +know too much.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_238">[238]</div> +<p>In the chill dark of the following morning the +boy and the man gulped hot coffee in the kitchen. +Arising from the table Dr. Stone walked to a desk +in the hall, took out a small first-aid kit, and slipped +it into a pocket. Then man, boy and dog were +out in the road, when the first golden streak was +faint in the eastern sky.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker’s car stood in the driveway. Mr. +Foster looked as though he had not slept. Ira Close, +his right hand wrapped in a handkerchief, went +about small chores.</p> +<p>Dr. Stone said: “Could Ira get Lady a drink, +Foster?”</p> +<p>Ira brought water in a pan. The blind man, +shifting the leash, stumbled against the dog and tottered. +Joe, with a cry of alarm, sprang forward. +But the doctor’s arms, outstretched, had gone +around the hired man; they slipped along the stout +body, down, down—. He caught himself and stood +erect. Ira Close swore morosely and swung an +arm.</p> +<p>“That finger?” Dr. Stone asked, concerned. “I +warned you. Why didn’t you have a doctor see it?”</p> +<p>“I fixed it myself.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense. Here; give it to me.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_239">[239]</div> +<p>After a moment of hesitation the hand was held +out. Joe watched his uncle’s fingers move as +though they had eyes. The tweezers came out of the +kit. Abruptly the doctor’s body was between him +and the throbbing wound.</p> +<p>“Fever in here,” the blind man said; “infected.” +Ira Close cried aloud. Joe glimpsed a corner of his +uncle’s face, intent, strained; then there was the +drip of iodine, and Dr. Stone stepped back. The +blind eyes were bland and serene.</p> +<p>“Have Mrs. Foster bandage it,” he said.</p> +<p>Ira went into the house. The kitchen door +slammed shut, and immediately tranquility left the +doctor.</p> +<p>“Tucker, stay here. Joe, this way. A few minutes, +Foster; just a few minutes.”</p> +<p>Back where the broken plate had lain yesterday, +Dr. Stone unhooked the leash and gave the dog +the scent of the cap.</p> +<p>“Lady, find,” he urged. The tawny dog, as +though puzzled by the absence of the leash, looked +up inquiringly. “Find,” the man said again.</p> +<p>Lady, nose down, padded toward the orchard.</p> +<p>“Take me back, Joe.”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_240">[240]</div> +<p>The boy had the feeling that they hung in air. +Ira Close came out of the house with a finger freshly +bandaged. Captain Tucker gave an exclamation of +surprise.</p> +<p>“Doctor! Where’s the dog?”</p> +<p>Lady made her own answer. From some place in +the near distance they heard her deep-toned, full-throated, +insistent bark.</p> +<p>“Foster,” Dr. Stone said quietly, “I think Lady +has found your boy.”</p> +<p>Two men began to run—Foster toward the +orchard, Ira Close toward the road. To Joe Morrow +the world whirled and spun. Dr. Stone cried, +“Look out, Tucker; he has a gun.” The policeman +leaped, and the hired man went down. With +amazing quickness brawny arms turned Ira over, +and the first shaft of sunlight glinted on a blue +barrel.</p> +<p>“See if there are two exploded cartridges,” the +doctor called.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker broke the gun. “Two,” he said. +“What does this mean, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“It means you have your kidnaper.”</p> +<p>And so it came that Ira Close, snarling and +venomous, sat handcuffed in Captain Tucker’s +police car.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_241">[241]</div> +<p>“Where’s the boy, Doctor?”</p> +<p>“In the barn, most likely. Not a bad idea, was it? +Snatch the boy and hide him away three hundred +feet from his home. Who’d think of looking for +him there? Why should anybody look for him +there when the hue and cry had gone out for an +organ-grinder who had disappeared after trying to +disguise himself?</p> +<p>“Why did Ira do it? You’ll have to ask him. +The papers have been full of kidnapings and ransoms. +Probably, with a greed for money, he’d been +turning the thing in his mind for a long time. Then +came the organ-grinder, and that brought inspiration. +But there was one point, Tucker, you failed +to take into account, and that was why I was not +surprised to learn the Italian had boarded the train +alone. A man, fleeing after a crime, does not shave +off his mustache and leave the clipped hairs behind +him to advertise his disguise.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_242">[242]</div> +<p>“Ira snapped Billy up yesterday afternoon. The +boy had never liked him; there was a momentary +struggle. The signs of it lay upon the ground. +Probably he hid the boy in the barn loft and gagged +him. With the coming of night there was alarm in +the Foster home. ‘Ira, go see if you can find Billy!’ +He had anticipated that command. And so he +went forth, and managed to run a noose up his arms, +and came back with the note and a cock-and-bull +story. He was loosely tied. Did you ever see a +captive who was not tied tightly? For this Italian +to tie Ira, a taller man, he would have to put away +his gun. Can you picture 185-pound Ira allowing a +135-pound stripling, no longer flourishing a pistol, +to wind him with a rope? It didn’t hold together.</p> +<p>“Nor was that the only point where the story +didn’t hold together. Ira made positive identification +of the organ-grinder. He identified him +through a foreign accent. But he said nothing of a +previous meeting until Joe told of seeing them in +conversation. Where had that conversation been +held? Outside the bank. Not significant in itself, +but strikingly significant when we find Ira suddenly +announcing to Foster that he had drawn three hundred +dollars from the bank to send to his sister and +that it had been stolen from his pocket.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_243">[243]</div> +<p>“What’s your guess about that three hundred +dollars, Tucker? Mine is that it went to the organ-grinder. +The Italian is guilty of no wrong. All he +knows is that a stranger offered him three hundred +dollars to shave off his mustache, abandon his organ +and monkey, disappear quietly and leave the train +before reaching the station for which he had purchased +a ticket. Why did Ira tell us about the three +hundred dollars? What’s your guess, Tucker? +Mine is that he was suddenly touched with a cold +fear. The withdrawal of the money was a matter +of record at the bank. The money was taken out +the day of the kidnaping, the day of the organ-grinder’s +disappearance. These facts might have +given rise to a few unpleasant questions.”</p> +<p>Joe, breathless, looked at Captain Tucker. The +policeman frowned doubtfully.</p> +<p>“How about that shot in the finger, Doctor? Do +you mean he shot himself?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_244">[244]</div> +<p>“What’s your guess?” Dr. Stone asked mildly. +“Mine is that, when he was sent out to look for +Billy, he fired a shot in the air as an after-thought. +Do you remember, when we got there, that his hand +pained? He kept rubbing it as though it throbbed. +Infection doesn’t set in so quickly, Captain; there +must be a period of incubation. He had cut that +finger earlier in the day. He objected to going to +a doctor even after I warned him of lock-jaw. +Why? Because he didn’t fear the lock-jaw that +may follow a gun-shot wound. Because he knew +that no doctor would look at that wound and believe +it came from a bullet. Of course, he let me handle +it; but, then, I am blind. He figured I didn’t count. +My guess is that, in running the rope over his arms, +he reopened a wound he had received earlier in the +day.”</p> +<p>“By the Eternal,” Captain Tucker burst out, +“this seems to be nothing but guesses. You guess +this and you guess that. How about a few facts. +We have placed this man in irons. If Billy isn’t +found you and I may discover ourselves in a sweet +peck of trouble.”</p> +<p>A voice called from the house: “Captain Tucker! +Telephone.”</p> +<p>The captain mounted the porch steps. The doctor, +fishing out his pipe, methodically stuffed it with +tobacco.</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_245">[245]</div> +<p>“I can’t understand,” he said musingly, “why +you didn’t light out last night, Ira, after trying to +shoot Lady. Afraid to run and lose five thousand +dollars, and afraid to stay and be caught. You were +in one sweet peck of trouble, weren’t you, Ira?” +Ira said nothing.</p> +<p>“How were you going to work it? Collect the +money and then get word to them where to find the +boy?”</p> +<p>The hired man glared in impotent fury.</p> +<p>Captain Tucker, looking slightly dazed, came +back to the car. “They picked up our Italian in a +small village fifteen miles above Peekskill.”</p> +<p>“Search him, Captain?”</p> +<p>“Of course.”</p> +<p>“Did they,” the doctor asked mildly, “find three +hundred dollars in his pocket?”</p> +<p>“Three hundred dollars to the penny in one roll.” +The captain fanned his face with his uniform cap. +Abruptly the motion of the cap stopped. “Look +here, Doctor; you said you found the first clew in +that injured hand.”</p> +<p>“The first clew and the last,” the doctor told +him.</p> +<p>“The last? Did you find something else when +you dressed that finger a little while ago?”</p> +<div class="pb" id="Page_246">[246]</div> +<p>The blind man puffed serenely on the pipe. “I +found a nasty cut and something foreign imbedded +in the cut. It had set up the infection; I could feel +it under the pressure of my fingers. I took it out +with the tweezers. Something hard and gritty, +Captain. I haven’t seen it; it’s safely stowed away in +my pocket. But I’ll stake my soul it’s a chipped +splinter from a broken blue plate.”</p> +<p>At that moment Joe Morrow saw Lady and Mr. +Foster emerge from the orchard, and the man carried +a small boy in his arms.</p> +<h2>Transcriber’s Note</h2> +<ul><li>The copyright notice from the printed edition was preserved, +although this book is in the public domain in the country of +publication.</li> +<li>Typographical errors were corrected without comment.</li> +<li>Nonstandard spellings and dialect were not changed.</li></ul> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p class="pg">***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DETECTIVES, INC.***</p> +<p class="pg">******* This file should be named 44249-h.txt or 44249-h.zip *******</p> +<p class="pg">This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/4/2/4/44249">http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/2/4/44249</a></p> +<p class="pg"> +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p class="pg"> +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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