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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Millbank Case, by George Dyre

-Eldridge

-

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and

-most other parts of the world 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

-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you

-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before

-using this eBook.

-

-Title: The Millbank Case

-       A Maine Mystery of To-day

-

-Author: George Dyre Eldridge

-

-Illustrator: Eliot Keen

-

-Release Date: August 12, 2021 [eBook #66051]

-

-Language: English

-

-Produced by: Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

-             https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images

-             made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)

-

-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MILLBANK CASE ***

-

-

-

-

-

-  The Millbank Case

-  _A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY_

-

-  BY

-  GEORGE DYRE ELDRIDGE

-

-

-  _With a Frontispiece in Colour_

-  BY ELIOT KEEN

-

-

-  [Illustration]

-

-

-  NEW YORK

-  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

-  1905

-

-

-

-

-  COPYRIGHT, 1905

-  BY

-  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

-

-  _Published May, 1905_

-

-  THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS

-  RAHWAY, N. J.

-

-

-

-

-CONTENTS

-

-

-  CHAPTER                               PAGE

-

-     I. A STATEMENT OF THE CASE            1

-

-    II. MRS. PARLIN TESTIFIES             14

-

-   III. ALIVE AT MIDNIGHT                 33

-

-    IV. TRAFFORD GETS AN ASSURANCE        51

-

-     V. THE WEAPON IS PRODUCED            67

-

-     VI. MRS. MATTHEWSON AND TRAFFORD     85

-

-    VII. HUNTING BROKEN BONES            101

-

-   VIII. A MAN DISAPPEARS                119

-

-     IX. “YOU ARE MY MOTHER”             133

-

-      X. A SECOND MURDER?                153

-

-     XI. ALREADY ONE ATTEMPT             167

-

-    XII. AT THE DRIVERS’ CAMP            185

-

-   XIII. THE PRIEST’S STORY              199

-

-    XIV. A DUEL                          212

-

-     XV. IN MATTHEWSON’S CHAMBERS        227

-

-    XVI. THE RANGE 16 SCANDAL            243

-

-   XVII. THE STORY OF THE PAPERS         259

-

-  XVIII. THE MAN IS FOUND                275

-

-    XIX. THE LAST OF THE PAPERS          290

-

-

-

-

-THE MILLBANK CASE

-

-CHAPTER I

-

-A Statement of the Case

-

-

-Theodore Wing had no known enemy in the world. He was a man of forty;

-“well-to-do,” as they say in New England; a lawyer by profession, and

-already “mentioned” for a county judgeship. He was unmarried, but there

-were those who had hopes, and there was scarce a spinster in Millbank

-who hadn’t a kindly word and smile for him--at times. He was not a

-church member, but it was whispered that his clergyman was disposed to

-look leniently on this shortcoming, for Wing was a regular attendant

-at service and liberal with money for church purposes, which, shrewd

-guessers said, some of the church members were not.

-

-Wing lived in the River Road, just at the top of Parlin’s Hill. He

-was from “over East, somewheres,” and had come to Millbank as a law

-student, when old Judge Parlin was at the head of the Maine bar. He

-became in turn chief clerk, junior partner, and finally full partner

-to the judge, and when the latter died--of disappointment, it was

-said, due to failure to secure the chief justiceship--Wing became the

-head of the firm, and finally the firm itself; for he had a dislike

-for partnerships, and at forty his office associates were employés

-associated in particular cases, not partners in the general business.

-

-Judge Parlin was less than sixty years of age when he died and left

-a widow, the Parlin homestead, and an estate of private debts, that

-seemed to breed as Wing attempted to untangle affairs. For years his

-income had been large and his expenses small. His townsmen had rated

-him as their richest man who was not of the great Millbank logging

-firms. There was not a man but would have considered it an insult

-to the town to hint that Judge Parlin was worth less than a hundred

-thousand dollars. His investments turned out the veriest cats and dogs;

-and even in cases where the security might have been ample, the papers

-were often executed with such carelessness that collection rested

-on the honesty of the borrower and not on sufficiency of documentary

-evidence. In fact, the debts outvalued the resources two to one--that

-is, they seemed to, until it was announced that the Parlin homestead

-had been sold for a sum sufficient to pay all obligations and leave the

-widow a life income of five hundred dollars a year. People understood

-when it was learned that Wing himself was the purchaser.

-

-Mrs. Parlin was fifty years of age at the time of her husband’s

-death--a woman to whom stateliness had come with white hairs and the

-growth of ambition. From the hour of the judge’s death, the devotion

-she had given him living turned to the protection of his good name.

-In a distant, cold way she had always shown a regard for Wing, which

-changed to more marked affection, when his interposition provided

-the means to meet the last of her husband’s debts. She harboured no

-suspicion that the price paid for the homestead was beyond value. Not

-only had it been her home throughout her married life, but the judge

-had always spoken of its value in the large terms that were habitual

-with him in dealing with personal matters, and, from the moment

-when Wing discovered the condition of the estate, he held before her

-constantly the idea that the homestead would bring a price sufficient

-to cover the indebtedness. Indeed, she felt that she was making a

-sacrifice, when she consented to waive her dower rights, and chiefly

-she rejoiced that the purchaser was Wing and not a stranger.

-

-It is possible that some suspicion attached in her mind to the purchase

-of the annuity, and this may have been confirmed by Wing’s insistence

-that he would consent to occupy the homestead only on condition that

-she should make it her home for her lifetime. If, however, this was

-so, she proved herself large-minded enough to understand that her

-happiness--so far as this was possible to her now dwarfed life--was the

-best acknowledgment she could make to such a man, and during the five

-years since the judge’s death, she had been the mistress of Wing’s home.

-

-The house stands at the crown of Parlin’s Hill. The estate embraces

-twenty acres, divided nearly equally between farm land, meadow, and

-woodland. The portion lying west of River Road is an apple orchard,

-covering the slope of the hill from the road to the river. The roll of

-the land is to the southwest, where all through the summer days the

-sun lies in warm splendour, that seems to live in the heart and juices

-of the red and yellow fruit, which is the pride of Millbank. To have

-apples from the Parlin orchard, is to have the best that Millbank can

-give.

-

-The house is near the road on the easterly side. The winter snows are

-too deep to warrant building far from the travelled roads, and for

-the same reason the buildings are connected one with another, under a

-continuous roof, so that the breaking of roads and paths is unnecessary

-for access to stock. The house is large and square, with a long wing

-stretching to the ample woodshed, through which one passes to the

-barns. The body of the buildings is white, and the shutters green. A

-drive runs to the south of the house, leading from the road to the

-doors of the great barn. It passes the side door of the main house, the

-door to the wing and the woodshed, and the buildings shelter it from

-the fierce northern winds. In the flower-beds that border this drive,

-under the shelter of the house, the earliest flowers bloom in spring

-and the latest in autumn.

-

-Between the road and the front of the house is an enclosure of about

-half an acre--the “front yard,” as Millbank names it. A footpath

-runs from the front gate to the main door of the house, dividing the

-enclosure into two nearly equal parts. This enclosure is crowded with

-flower-beds and shrubbery; the paths are bordered with box hedges,

-while a few great evergreens tower above the roof, and make the place

-somewhat gloomy on dull days. In midsummer, however, when the sun turns

-the corner and thrusts strongly into the enclosure, the deep shadows of

-the great trees are cool and inviting.

-

-From the principal door, the main hall, broad and unencumbered, makes

-back until it is cut by the narrower hall from the south-side door.

-This side hall carries the stairs, and east of it are the dining room,

-kitchens, and pantries. The main hall goes on, in narrowed estate,

-between the dining room on the south and kitchens on the north, to the

-woodsheds. To the left, as one enters the house, is the great parlour,

-seldom used, and a sitting room, the gloomiest room on the floor, for

-it has a northern outlook only.

-

-In the angle of the two halls is the great room which Wing used as

-his library. It is some twenty-four by thirty-six feet, high-posted,

-and has a warm, sunny outlook to the south and west. It is lined with

-books and pictures; a great desk stands in the centre front, and

-lounges and easy chairs are scattered about in inviting confusion.

-The room above was his bedchamber, adjoining which is a bathroom, in

-its day the wonder and challenge of Millbank. An iron spiral stairway

-leads from the lower to the upper room, so that the occupant has the

-two rooms at his command independent of the remainder of the house.

-This was Wing’s special domain. Outside these two rooms, Mrs. Parlin

-ruled as undisputed as during her thirty years of wifehood. Within,

-Wing held control, and while no small share of his personal work was

-done here, the great room saw much of his private life of which his

-everyday acquaintances had little suspicion. The cases contained many a

-volume that belongs to literature rather than law, and here he found

-that best of rest from the onerous demands of a constantly growing

-practice--complete change in matter and manner of thought.

-

-On the night of the 10th of May, 1880, the light burned late in Lawyer

-Wing’s library. It was the scandal of Millbank that this occurred

-often. The village was given to regarding the night as a time when no

-man should work. “Early to bed and early to rise” was its motto, and

-though an opposite practice had left Theodore Wing with more of health,

-wealth, and wisdom than most Millbankians possessed, he had never

-succeeded in reconciling his townsmen to his methods. But to-night

-conditions were more outrageous than usual. Mrs. Merrick, from the

-bed of an ailing grandchild, glanced up the hill at midnight and saw

-the light still burning. Old Doctor Portus, coming villageward from a

-confinement case, an hour later, saw the light as he passed the house

-and shook his head with dire prognostications. If Wing should be sick,

-old Doctor Portus would certainly not be called in attendance, and

-therefore he could measure this outrage of nature’s laws with a mind

-uninfluenced by personal bias.

-

-At four o’clock, however, a farmer’s son, who had yielded the night to

-Millbank’s temptations, hurrying farmward to his morning chores, saw no

-light growing dim in the first flush of the spring morning to attract

-his attention to a scene that later knowledge revealed. At six, the

-hired man came down the back stairs and went through the woodshed to

-the barns. Turning the heavy wooden bar that held the great doors fast,

-he swung them open and let in the soft morning air.

-

-Then, his eye travelled along the stretch of house and he saw something

-that startled him. The side door was standing ajar--half open--and on

-the stone step was a huddled mass that looked strangely like a man,

-half lying and half crouching. Before the hired man had passed half the

-distance to the door, he knew that the huddled mass was Theodore Wing.

-His head and right arm rested on the threshold and held the door from

-closing; his body was on the stone step. There was blood spattered on

-the white of the westerly door-post, and the left temple of the man,

-which was upward as he lay, showed a spot around which the flesh was

-blackened as if powder-burnt, while between the head and the threshold

-a thin stream of blood still flowed and fell drop by drop on the stone

-below. The eyes were wide open and the look in them seemed to say that,

-suddenly as death had come, it had not come too suddenly for the man to

-realise that here had fallen the end of his hopes and ambitions, his

-strivings and accomplishments, in a form that left him powerless to

-strike a blow in his own behalf.

-

-This murder was the most tragic event that had ever happened in the

-history of Millbank. It caused the more terror in that, so far as

-any one could understand, it was absolutely without motive. It was

-not known that Theodore Wing had an enemy in the world. Millbank was

-proud of him with a wholesome, kindly pride, which found much of

-self-gratulation in having such a citizen. Yet this man had been struck

-down by a murderer’s hand, so silently that no sound had been heard,

-and the murderer had gone as he had come, without leaving trace of his

-coming or going.

-

-Contrary to expectation aroused by the first news, the house seemed

-not to have been entered. The whole of the crime was evidenced in the

-dead man on the stone step. Apparently, there had been a ring at the

-bell and a shot from a pistol, held close to the head of the man, as

-he stood in the doorway, by some one who had stationed himself at

-the easterly end of the doorstep, and who, his purpose accomplished,

-slipped into the darkness which had opened to give him way for this

-deed. It was uncanny in the extreme and gave a sense of insecurity

-to life that an ordinary murder, due to traceable causes, would have

-failed utterly to give.

-

-The closest inspection furnished no clue. There was no footprint on

-the drive, and the grass at the end of the step, where the murderer

-must have stood, gave no token. And yet--here was another fearsome

-fact--the deed had been done by some one who knew the house and its

-peculiarities. The door had two bell-pulls, one on either door-post.

-Originally there had been only the one on the right or easterly

-post, and this was the general bell. When Wing took the library as

-his special room, he had a change made and the bell transferred to

-that room, so that his personal visitors could come and go without

-disturbing the house. In a little time, however, this proved very

-annoying, because most visitors came to this door, and he gave an order

-for a general bell to be put in. This he intended should also have a

-pull on the right-hand post, but the workman, who seemed to have no

-conception that one post could carry two pulls, put it on the left.

-Thus the post nearest Wing’s room carried the general bell, and the

-further post his own, and neither of the bells could be heard on the

-premises devoted to the other. At first, this condition gave rise to

-troublesome mistakes, and Wing talked often of a change, but gradually

-the visitors to the house became accustomed to the condition and the

-need of a change disappeared.

-

-It was clear, therefore, that whoever the murderer was, he had rung

-the bell which alone could be heard by the lawyer at his desk, and

-therefore must have been acquainted with the peculiarity of the

-bell-pulls. Had the lawyer had any cause to fear? Apparently not, for

-the shade to the window nearest his desk was raised and he evidently

-had answered the bell as a matter of course, not even taking with him

-a light. But, if he was seated at his desk, as seemed clearly the case,

-the man must have seen him as he came up the drive and might easily

-have shot him through the window. Why, then, had he called him to the

-door? The body had not been disturbed after it fell; the watch was in

-the fob, and money in the pocket. Murder was evidently the murderer’s

-purpose; yet he had summoned his victim, when clearly he had him in his

-power without so doing.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER II

-

-Mrs. Parlin Testifies

-

-

-In addition to the ill-fated lawyer, there were but three people in the

-Parlin household--the widow; a general house girl, Mary Mullin; and the

-hired man, Jonathan Oldbeg, a nephew of the Mullin woman. Oldbeg was

-about thirty, and his aunt forty. The widow’s room was in the northwest

-corner of the second floor, while that of the Mullin woman was over the

-kitchen. The hired man slept over the woodshed. All the windows of the

-three rooms gave to the north, excepting two in Mrs. Parlin’s room,

-which opened to the west, overlooking the orchard and the river.

-

-Mrs. Parlin was a tall, striking woman who carried her head, crowned

-with waves of white hair, with an air that some named queenly, and

-others by that terrible New England word “conceited.” The death of

-her husband had been a terrible blow to her soaring ambitions; but

-this she had outlived, at least to outward seeming. Childless, as

-well as husbandless, the dormant maternal instinct, which is a part

-of every true woman, had stirred to life under the care lavished upon

-her by Wing, whose years were sufficiently less than her own to give a

-natural tone to the pseudo relation of mother and son. Nevertheless,

-there had been something of the maternal in her relationship to the

-judge--of that phase of the maternal which gives to natural weakness

-courage for defence. It was not in personal finance alone that the

-judge was a grown-up boy. The sense of fear was so little developed as

-to amount scarce to caution. Scrupulous in duty, he gave no thought to

-the enemies or enmities he created, while she saw in these not alone

-threats to his professional career, but as well danger of a personal

-nature. Even she, standing guard as she did, had not been able to save

-him from enemies who defeated his noble ambition and would, as she

-believed, as readily have destroyed him. As the intensity of her grief

-softened with time, the solicitude with which she had followed her

-husband’s career, was transferred to Wing, but with less of the factor

-of self than it possessed of old, with the result that she grew more

-lovable and companionable, and gained a friendly interest from the

-village which had not been hers during the judge’s lifetime.

-

-To this recovered peace of mind the tragic death of Wing came as a

-crushing blow, the full weight of which few realised until the broken,

-haggard woman was seen of the public for the first time at the inquest.

-Years seemed to have left their impress upon her, and there were many

-who noted that the immediate physical effect was as much more marked

-than that following the judge’s death, as Wing’s death had been the

-more tragic. Her husband’s death left to her the responsibility of

-protecting his name, in co-operation with his partner and friend.

-Wing’s death snatched away the last prop and stay of her years.

-Husbandless and childless, to her life had no further meaning, and

-while the community was whispering that she was again rich--for it was

-known that she was the principal legatee of the dead lawyer’s will--she

-was looking down the years with a dread that made hope impossible.

-

-Her testimony was of the briefest. She had said “good-night” to Wing

-at half-past nine. She had gone to the library for that purpose, as was

-her custom evenings when he did not sit with her in her own sitting

-room till her early bedtime.

-

-“Was it his custom to spend the evening in your sitting room or the

-library?” the coroner asked.

-

-“Two or three evenings a week he spent in my sitting room. The other

-evenings in the library, when he was at home.”

-

-“Was he away much, evenings?”

-

-“Only when he was at court in Augusta or Portland. When he had cases at

-Norridgewock he always drove home at night.”

-

-“At what time did you have supper?”

-

-“At six.”

-

-“On the night of the murder?”

-

-The witness nodded, too much affected to speak her answer.

-

-“Who was present at supper?”

-

-“Theodore and myself.”

-

-“Mary Mullin and Oldbeg did not eat with you?”

-

-This was a sore spot in Millbank’s estimate of the widow Parlin. The

-town still held it a Christian duty for “help” to eat at the same

-table with their employers. Every departure from this primitive rule

-was occasion for heart-burnings and recriminations.

-

-“They ate by themselves in the kitchen.”

-

-There was a slight raising of the head, a shadow, as it were, of the

-old self-assertive pride, which in other days would have made itself

-manifest in answering this question. So deep was Millbank in the

-tragedy that the audience almost lost the weight of the heinous fact

-confessed in this answer.

-

-“Did you go directly to your sitting room after supper?”

-

-“No, we went out into the front yard, to look at the flower-beds, and

-then crossed the road to the orchard and walked through that to the

-river-bank.”

-

-“From there you returned to the house?”

-

-“Yes.”

-

-“Where did you go on your return?”

-

-“To my sitting room. He lighted my lamp and then excused himself,

-because of some work he had to do.”

-

-“When did you see him again?”

-

-“At half-past nine, when I went to bid him good-night.”

-

-“Are you certain of the time?”

-

-“Yes; for I stopped to wind the clock as I went through the hall, and

-noticed that it was exactly half-past nine.”

-

-“There are two doors to the library, are there not--one from the main

-hall and one from the side?”

-

-“Yes.”

-

-“By which one did you enter the library?”

-

-“By the one from the side hall.”

-

-“Which is near the side door of the house?”

-

-Again she had to nod assent. This was the door through which Wing had

-passed to his death.

-

-“Did you knock at the door before entering?”

-

-“Always.”

-

-Again that slight suggestive raising of the head.

-

-“Did he open the door for you?”

-

-“Yes. He knew my knock, and always came to open the door.”

-

-“Did you notice anything peculiar about him or the room?”

-

-“I did not.”

-

-“Was there anything to indicate whether he was writing or reading when

-you knocked?”

-

-“He had a book in his left hand and the light was on a small table by

-his reading chair.”

-

-“This reading chair and table, where were they in the room?”

-

-“Before the fireplace, about the centre of the north side.”

-

-“Was there a fire in the fireplace?”

-

-“Yes; there were a few wood coals.”

-

-“Was it a cold night?”

-

-“No; but he was very fond of a wood fire and when the evening was not

-too warm had one, even if he had to have a window open.”

-

-“Was the window open that night?”

-

-“Yes; the one nearest the River Road, overlooking the driveway.”

-

-“That was the nearest window to the desk?”

-

-“The nearest of the south windows. The desk stood between the two west

-windows.”

-

-“Did you notice whether the shades were drawn?”

-

-“They were drawn to the west windows, but were raised to all four of

-the south windows.”

-

-“Were you long in the room?”

-

-“Only long enough to say ‘good-night’ and ask him not to read too late.”

-

-“What did he say to this?”

-

-“Laughed, as he always did, when I spoke of his sitting up late, and,”

-in a voice that was almost a sob; “said, ‘You know, mother, I can’t

-get over my bad habits, but really to-night I’m only going to read a

-chapter or two more, for I must write a letter and then go to bed. I’ve

-got a busy day to-morrow.’”

-

-“Was that all he said?”

-

-“Excepting ‘good-night.’”

-

-“Do you recall anything in his manner, tone, or words that indicated

-trouble or apprehension of any kind?”

-

-“Nothing. He was, as always, cheerful and, seemingly, happy, and

-laughed quite carelessly when he spoke of his bad habit.”

-

-“When did you next see him?”

-

-The question came with a suddenness that startled every one who heard

-it, including the witness. She grew white and for a moment swayed as

-if she would fall. Dr. Rogers, her physician, stepped towards her, but

-before he could reach her side, she recovered by what seemed a supreme

-effort of the will, and, raising her head, answered:

-

-“In the morning, a little after six, lying dead on the threshold of the

-south door.”

-

-Then her head dropped on the table in front of her, and her face was

-hidden from the gaze of her curious neighbours, but not a sob was

-heard. She had spent her tears long before.

-

-At an adjourned session, she testified that she had heard no unusual

-noise during the night. She was a sound sleeper and did not wake

-easily. She had fallen asleep soon after hearing the clock strike ten.

-She did not recall awaking until aroused by the noise made by Mary

-Mullin knocking at her door, soon after six o’clock, to tell her of the

-discovery of the murder.

-

-“Do you believe that a pistol shot could have been fired at your

-side door and you not hear it?” the coroner asked, with that sudden

-sharpness he had at times.

-

-“I am compelled to believe that it did occur;” and there was to more

-than one onlooker an air of defiance in the answer.

-

-“In advance of this, would you believe it possible?” he demanded.

-

-She looked at him as if weighing the question and its purpose, and then

-said deliberately:

-

-“No.”

-

-The answer manifestly accorded with the sense of the spectators, among

-whom there were sundry exchanges of glances not all friendly to the

-witness. But the coroner was speaking again:

-

-“Mrs. Parlin, what do you know of the parentage of the late Theodore

-Wing?”

-

-Every head was bent towards the witness to catch the answer to what

-the veriest dullard suspected was the most important question thus far

-asked. The witness grew pale--paler than she had been at any time, and

-there came into her bearing a touch of defiance rather felt than seen.

-She was apparently arming herself against coroner and spectators.

-

-“He was the son of Judge Parlin.”

-

-If she had aimed at sensation, she could not have hoped for greater

-success. A murmur of surprise ran about the room, and the confusion

-rose to a height that for a time defied the efforts of the coroner to

-preserve order. Curiosity to hear further questions and answers came to

-his aid, and silence was restored.

-

-“By a former marriage?”

-

-“No. He was born out of wedlock.”

-

-“When did you first learn of this?”

-

-“On the eleventh of this month.”

-

-“The day succeeding the murder?”

-

-“Yes.”

-

-“How did you learn of it?”

-

-“From a paper in the judge’s handwriting, found in Theodore’s desk, and

-enclosed in an envelope addressed ‘Mrs. Amelia Parlin; Mr. Theodore

-Wing; to be opened and read by the survivor, in event of the death of

-either, and until such death to remain unopened.’”

-

-“Was this inscription also in the handwriting of your late husband?”

-

-Now many noted that she had said “Judge Parlin,” and not “my late

-husband,” as if she would remind them from the start of the public’s

-share in his acts, rather than of her own.

-

-“It was.”

-

-“Please produce that paper.”

-

-The witness drew forth a large square envelope and handed it to the

-coroner, who said to the jury:

-

-“I regret that I am compelled to read to you a paper which was

-evidently intended for one person’s reading only, and that Mrs.

-Parlin or Mr. Wing, according as the one or the other should be the

-longest-lived. The circumstances of the death which placed this in the

-hands of the other for perusal, leaves no alternative. Before reading,

-let me say, I was a townsman of Judge Parlin: I had the honour to know

-him intimately, and notwithstanding what I am about to read you, I

-still hold it an honour. He was an able lawyer, an upright judge, a

-good citizen, and, I may add, a noble man. If he sinned, who of us is

-there that is without sin? If there be such, let him cast the first

-stone. I am not entitled to do so.”

-

-The widow sat with head held high, as if there had come to her again

-the old strength that so many felt was gone forever. When her husband

-was in question, her courage had no limit. She flinched from no eye

-that was turned towards her, but there was that in her own which seemed

-to resent even the kindly words of the coroner, as if in protest that

-they implied wrong in her husband’s past which she would not for one

-instant admit. It was not for them to accuse, still less to excuse.

-What he had done was a thing that concerned him and his God alone, and

-her look said more plainly than words, “neither do I accuse him!” The

-instinct of defence covered her as a shield.

-

-Meantime the coroner read:

-

-“‘There were three persons who had the right to know what I am about to

-write. One died many years ago. Until another dies, these words are not

-to be read. In the course of nature, it is probable that the reading

-will fall to Theodore, not to my wife. If so, I believe that when

-Theodore reads them, I will already have been reunited to my wife and

-will have told her all that I write here, and so told it that she will

-feel my sincerity more clearly than I can make it felt by any written

-words.

-

-“‘Although born and raised in Millbank, I read law in the office of

-Judge Murdock in Bangor. My father had a great admiration for the judge

-and, dying early, before he had seen me admitted to the bar, asked his

-friend to take me into his office. If I have attained anything of note

-in my profession, I owe it largely to the fidelity with which Judge

-Murdock discharged his trust.

-

-“‘While in his office and shortly before I returned to Millbank,

-I became involved with a young woman of Bangor, who became by me

-the mother of the man now known as Theodore Wing--he will find his

-name legally established by action of the Legislature in 1841.

-Unfortunately, I can say little that is good of her; I will say nothing

-otherwise, if I can avoid it. I shirk no part of the responsibility for

-the wrong done. God alone knows that if she failed in true womanhood,

-then or after, it was not I who was wholly to blame. Thus much I can

-say, she was and is a woman of brilliant mind and shrewd resources,

-which have carried her far socially.

-

-“‘Fortunately I did not lack money, and so was able to provide

-comfortably for the woman and her child. As a matter of justice, I

-offered marriage, but she made it a condition that her child should be

-placed in some institution, urging that it would otherwise always be a

-stigma upon us. To this I would not consent, and her election to forego

-the vindication of marriage put me on my guard, for I could not believe

-that a woman of her temperament would deliberately elect to go through

-life encumbered with an unfathered child. The event proved me right,

-for within three months she had placed the infant in an institution for

-orphans, and returned to Bangor with a plausible tale accounting for

-her absence.

-

-“‘She, of course, counted safely on my silence, but I did not hesitate

-to make it a condition that I should take possession of the child for

-whom I provided, rearing him in such a way that he has taken a place

-in the world equal to that of his parents, and as untrammelled by his

-unsuspected birth as it is possible for one to be. My marriage has

-never been blessed with children, and thus to him and my wife of

-thirty years, the two on earth whose claim upon me is most sacred, I am

-able to leave all that I have accumulated.

-

-“‘He has been to me all that a son could be. Let this narrative be to

-him, if he ever reads it, an explanation of anything in which I have

-been less than a father to him.

-

-“‘I see no necessity for continuing this narrative further, save that

-it may be to my son a relief to know something more of his mother,

-and to my wife a joy to know that my wrong did not bring a woman to

-misery and worldly ruin. Within a year of her desertion of my son,

-I attended her wedding to a man of equal social rank, who has since

-risen to wealth and political power. She has been a notable aid to

-him, and her name is well-nigh as often pronounced in connection with

-his fortunes as is his own. She is the mother of children who have

-taken good social positions, and some of whom seem to have inherited

-their mother’s brilliance of mind and unflinching purpose and their

-father’s ability in money and power getting. To say more than this,

-even to the two dear ones, of whom one alone is to read these lines,

-would be an injustice to the woman herself and to her children. To her

-influence, exerted against me, I attribute my failure to secure the

-chief justiceship. As great as was the disappointment, I can write the

-fact to-day without bitterness toward her and without purpose to accuse

-her of injustice. If by meeting the penalty of my sin, I can avert it

-from others, I am content.’”

-

-Unless one knew the unbending spirit of the man in matters of right

-and wrong, he must fail to understand the keenness of feeling covered

-by the apparently cold, formal statement of fact to which Judge Parlin

-had confined his written words. To the witness on the witness rack,

-however, those words were as if the living man spoke again and laid

-bare a heart torn with the humiliation of self-condemnation, more

-terrible to him than the judgment of any human tribunal. Realising the

-bitterness of spirit in which he had spoken, she was stirred anew by

-that long-dead instinct of protection, which had made her weakness a

-shield in the past to his strength, and held high her head, too proud

-of her dead to allow any one to find in her the faintest blame for

-this strong spirit whose words she, and she alone, read to their last

-meaning.

-

-The hush that followed the reading was that strong suspension of every

-function which betokens deep emotion. Before the mass had recovered,

-the coroner’s voice broke harshly upon them:

-

-“When did you first know of the existence of this paper?”

-

-“The paper itself on the eleventh. I saw the envelope and its address

-by accident a week or ten days before.”

-

-“Can you fix the exact date?”

-

-“I cannot. I saw it by accident, as I have said, and I assumed it

-related to something Judge Parlin had desired done in the event named

-on the envelope. I asked no questions regarding it.”

-

-“Will you state on oath that you knew nothing of the contents of this

-paper until after the death of Mr. Theodore Wing?”

-

-The white head went up, and there was a sting of rebuke in the tone in

-which the answer came:

-

-“I was under oath when I gave my testimony. I stated then that I first

-learned of this paper and its contents on May eleventh. I can add

-nothing to that.”

-

-“Did you ever suspect the relationship of your husband to Mr. Wing

-prior to the eleventh of this month, when you saw this paper?”

-

-“I did not.”

-

-“Would a knowledge of that relationship, if you had known it while he

-was living, have changed in any way your feeling towards Mr. Wing?”

-

-The witness paused as if she would question her own heart before

-answering, and the coroner waited patiently, with apparent

-understanding of the need. A hush fell on the room, like that which had

-followed the reading of the remarkable paper. Then Mrs. Parlin looked

-directly at the coroner and answered distinctly and without a tremor in

-her voice:

-

-“I think it would.”

-

-“Thank you,” said the coroner. “I am sorry if I have in any way

-disturbed you unnecessarily in this examination. I know that you

-believe I have aimed simply at my duty.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER III

-

-Alive at Midnight

-

-

-An hour after the close of the day’s session, Mrs. Parlin was in her

-sitting room, with the door closed and the shades lowered. On the

-opposite side of the small light-stand sat a rather undersized man,

-plainly dressed, and of somewhat insignificant aspect. Distinctly, the

-woman in her was disappointed.

-

-“I have sent for you, Mr. Trafford,” she said, slowly and apparently

-reluctantly, “because both my husband and Theodore--Mr. Wing--had

-the utmost confidence in your ability. I want you to find Mr. Wing’s

-murderer. It’s not a matter of cost--I simply want him found.”

-

-As she spoke, she gathered confidence, and the tone of her final words

-almost evidenced a belief that he could do what she asked. She stopped

-speaking, and the insignificance of the man’s appearance was again more

-real to her and sent a chill over her earnestness.

-

-“If you entrust the case to me,” he said, in a tone singularly winning

-for a man in his station and of his personal appearance, “I shall do

-my best to sustain the confidence Judge Parlin and Mr. Wing gave me;

-but let me warn you, in my profession there is no royal road. I have no

-instinct that enables me to scent a murderer or other criminal. I reach

-results by hard work, close attention to details, and perseverance.

-I make it a condition of undertaking any case that nothing shall be

-concealed from me. I must start with at least the knowledge that my

-principal possesses.”

-

-“I’ve told everything to the coroner. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve heard

-the testimony.” She spoke with dignity, almost with hostility, in her

-voice.

-

-“I heard the testimony,” he said, “but are you sure you’ve told

-everything? There’s sometimes things that we know which aren’t

-facts--that is, not facts as the term is understood when one is giving

-testimony.”

-

-“For instance?”

-

-“You have impressions of what led up to this tragedy.” There was

-nothing of question in his tone. It was as if he stated what was

-indisputable.

-

-The statement seemed to strike her and to arouse a new train of

-thought. She was silent for some time, and he sat watching anxiously,

-but without a sign of impatience. At last she looked up and answered:

-

-“You are mistaken; I’m absolutely in the dark. There’s nothing to point

-in any direction.”

-

-He accepted the disappointment, but accepted it as absolute. He

-evidently had striven by the assertion so positively made to surprise

-her into new thought, with the hope that it might hit on something that

-in his skilled hands would have meaning. He saw not only that he had

-not succeeded, but that there was no ground for success.

-

-“That, in itself,” he said, “is significant. It shows that we must

-dig deeper in his life than we have yet done. The motive; we want the

-motive!”

-

-“There was no motive,” she said. “It was motiveless. There are men who

-do murder for murder’s sake.” Under sting of her life experience, she

-spoke with keen bitterness.

-

-He leaned across the table, and for the instant she saw something in

-the man she had not seen before; something that flashed like a gleam of

-new intelligence and was gone with its very birth.

-

-“There are no motiveless crimes,” he said. “In this case, of all

-others, you may be sure a motive existed, and that when we put our

-hands on it, we shall find it a tremendous one--that is, tremendous in

-its imperative force.”

-

-“But what could be the motive--against a man like him?”

-

-“Because he was such a man, we may be the more certain of motive,”

-he said. “Under other conditions it might have been Judge Parlin.”

-He spoke at hazard--perhaps; but the effect was something startling.

-She grew pale as at the inquest before she answered as to the first

-knowledge of Wing’s death, and her companion expected for the moment

-that she would faint. But she was a woman equal to noteworthy sudden

-efforts, and even as he watched she overcame the momentary weakness.

-Yet it was with pale lips she stammered:

-

-“I understand. It might have been the judge.”

-

-Trafford waited, seemingly expecting something more, but when the pause

-grew awkward, he continued, “He told you he had a letter to write

-before he went to bed. Had he written it?”

-

-“I don’t know. It’s a thing we never shall know.”

-

-“It’s a thing that we will know, and that in a very short time. Who

-entered the room first that morning?” and there was a sense of action

-in his tone that caused her to look up with sudden interest.

-

-“I did. Mary told me expressly that she hadn’t dared open the door

-until I came, and Jonathan was by the body, outside.”

-

-“Was the door closed?”

-

-“Yes.”

-

-“Who closed it?”

-

-“I have never asked. I supposed it hadn’t been open.”

-

-“It was open,” he said. “He came to the door without a light when the

-bell rang. Naturally, he left the door open so that the light from the

-room would shine through. He would leave it wide open, to get the full

-light. Somebody shut that door!”

-

-Mary and Jonathan were called and questioned. The latter set the matter

-at rest. When he discovered the body he stooped over it to make certain

-that Mr. Wing was dead. Then, remembering to have heard that you must

-not touch a murdered man until the coroner comes, he arose without

-touching him and as he did so saw through the outer door that the door

-to the library was closed.

-

-“The outer door was wide open?” Trafford said.

-

-“No, sir, ’twant neither. ’Twas against Mr. Wing’s head and arm. If it

-hadn’t been fur them, it would ’a’ shut too.”

-

-After the two had gone, Trafford declared he would see the room, but

-proposed first to do so alone. He entered from the main hall, set

-his light on the lamp-mat on the writing-desk, and took his station

-in front of the door from the side hall. Here he stood for at least

-ten minutes studying the room. Then he walked to a medium-sized safe

-that stood to the right of the fire-jamb and was partially hidden by

-book-shelves near the door from the side hall.

-

-Having studied this for some time, he made a minute examination

-of every part of the room, including the blotting paper in the

-writing-pad on the desk, which he finally lifted carefully and held

-before the mirror to examine the few ink-marks it showed. Of these he

-took note in a small memorandum book. They seemed to be the only things

-that struck his attention particularly. Then he rang and told Mary to

-ask Mrs. Parlin to come to the library.

-

-“Is that the blotting-pad that was here that night?” he asked. “And you

-were the first one who came to this desk in the morning?” when she had

-answered him as to the identity of the pad. “And there was no letter on

-the desk?”

-

-“None.”

-

-“Then, evidently he had not written the letter he told you of?”

-

-“Evidently not,” she assented.

-

-“Then he must have been killed before he had time to write?”

-

-“It would seem so.”

-

-“And, therefore, probably very soon after you left him?”

-

-“I can see no other conclusion, unless he changed his mind and didn’t

-write,” she assented.

-

-“Now we come to one of the impressions which you could not testify to

-as a fact, but which may be of far more value. Did he say he had a

-letter to write in a way that makes you think he may have changed his

-mind?”

-

-“No,” she said. “I understood, from the way in which he said it, that

-it was the important thing he had to do before going to bed. I went

-away satisfied that he would write the letter early and then get to

-bed. He certainly meant that the next day was to be a busy one.”

-

-“Then he probably was killed, very soon, since he had not written the

-letter.”

-

-“I think so.”

-

-“Now, if you please, let me send for Jonathan again.”

-

-When the hired man came, he glanced over his shoulder in an uneasy way,

-as if he did not more than half like the room. Trafford motioned him to

-a chair and without any preliminaries suddenly demanded:

-

-“At what hour are you going to testify that you went to bed that

-night?”

-

-Thus far Oldbeg had simply been called upon to testify to the finding

-of the body. The remainder of his testimony was to be given later.

-

-“About nine o’clock; not more’n five minutes one way or ’tother.”

-

-“What were you doing on Canaan Street at five minutes after midnight?”

-

-Oldbeg looked frightened, and Mrs. Parlin showed considerable anxiety

-in the look she cast on the two men.

-

-“Come,” said Trafford sharply. “If I can find out you were there, I can

-find out why you were there. I’d rather hear it from you.”

-

-“I was comin’ from the twelve-o’clock train. My cousin, Jim Shepard,

-went to Portland to work an’ I saw him off.”

-

-“Be careful,” Trafford warned him. “If you were coming from the

-station, you’d have come up Somerset Street, not Canaan.”

-

-“Why, ye see,” the man explained, placed at once at his ease in having

-something to tell of which he had knowledge; “Jim, he was spendin’

-the evenin’ with his gal, Miss Flanders, in Canaan Street, an’ I

-was to call fur him thar; an’ he was so late we couldn’t get round

-to the station, an’ so we made a short cut through Gray’s Court an’

-jest catched the train, an’ that was all. We had to run, or he’d ’a’

-missed it any way. So I come back that way, instead o’ through Somerset

-Street.”

-

-“Then you came through Canaan Street to River Road----”

-

-“No, I didn’t,” the other interrupted. “I cut across lots back o’

-Burgess, ’cause ’twas shorter, an’ struck River Road down in front of

-Miller’s.”

-

-“Yes; and then came up to the driveway and so into the house?”

-

-“Yep!”

-

-“You must have got in about ten minutes after twelve.”

-

-“Jest to a dot!” he exclaimed in evident admiration of the other’s

-shrewdness. “Jest to a dot. I looked to my watch an’ ’twas jest ten

-minutes arter midnight.”

-

-“Then you must have passed close to the side-door step?”

-

-“Yess’r; fact, ye might say, I hit agin it, for I did knock my toe agin

-it as I passed.”

-

-“Was Mr. Wing’s body there then?” The demand was quick and imperative.

-

-“No, siree! Do you s’pose I’d ’a’ waited till mornin’ to rout ’em out

-ef it had ben? Mr. Wing was in this ere room.”

-

-“How do you know?”

-

-“I saw his shadder on the curtain. He was walkin’ up an’ down. I seed

-him turn as I come up the drive.”

-

-“But why didn’t you see him? The shade was up to that window, when he

-was found in the morning.”

-

-“Yep; but they was all down when I come up the drive, an’ I saw his

-shadder agin ’em.”

-

-Further questioning elicited no added information from the man,

-excepting the statement that as his cousin Jim swung on to the rear

-end of the car, another man had swung on to the front end, suddenly

-rushing out of the darkness. Jonathan did not know who it was; indeed,

-had hardly given the matter a thought, so anxious had he been lest Jim

-should be left. When he had gone, Trafford turned to Mrs. Parlin and

-asked:

-

-“When do you think Mr. Wing intended writing that letter, if he hadn’t

-written it at ten minutes after midnight?”

-

-“He must have changed his mind, after all,” she answered.

-

-“Evidently, he did,” he said.

-

-Then he took up the matter of Judge Parlin’s confession.

-

-“I do not wish to pain you,” he said, “but I would not be justified in

-letting that drop without going into it further. Have you any suspicion

-who Theodore’s mother was--or is, since she is still living, or was

-between five and six years ago?”

-

-“I haven’t the faintest suspicion,” she said. “But surely this has been

-raked open enough. You can let that wound heal.”

-

-“I can let nothing heal,” he said. “I don’t for the life of me see how

-that can have anything to do with this murder, but that’s no reason I

-may not find that it has lots to do with it. At any rate, I must find

-her out.”

-

-“Can you do it on the feeble clue we have?” she asked.

-

-He smiled.

-

-“On such a clue, I’ll trace her in a week and not half try. Your

-husband intended to shield her from discovery, and but for these

-untoward circumstances, we would be bound to respect his wishes. As it

-is, I must know the identity of the woman. I hope I’ll find nothing

-to compel me to go farther. In the meantime, I’m going to take with

-me this blotting-pad, and I want you to examine it so that you can

-identify it beyond question, blotter and all. It’s too important for

-any mistake.”

-

-Just then Mary Mullin brought word that Mr. McManus had come in

-response to a message sent earlier in the evening by Mr. Trafford. Mr.

-McManus had been with Mr. Wing for a number of years, and held the most

-confidential relation to his principal of any in the office. Since the

-murder he had naturally taken charge of his personal affairs. He was a

-man of thirty, tall and lithe, with a nervous force about him that was

-held well in control by strong will-power.

-

-“Do you know what special engagements Mr. Wing had for the eleventh,

-that caused him to expect a particularly busy day?” the detective asked.

-

-“None connected with office matters. It must have been a personal

-engagement.”

-

-“Did you open this safe the day after the murder?”

-

-“Yes.”

-

-“Was it properly closed and locked?”

-

-“So far as I could see.”

-

-“I’d have given a hundred dollars if I’d been here,” Trafford said

-earnestly.

-

-McManus looked at him in surprise.

-

-“Certainly,” he said, “you don’t suspect robbery?”

-

-“I don’t suspect anything,” Trafford replied, somewhat brusquely. “Of

-all things, I avoid suspicion and guesses. I’d like you to open the

-safe again.”

-

-McManus knelt, drew from his pocket a paper with a series of figures

-written on it, and following these with the turnings of the knob, threw

-open the door. Within was revealed a small iron door surrounded by

-pigeon-holes, the divisions of wood. Trafford dropped on his knees and

-gave peculiar scrutiny to the door, and especially the lock. Then he

-turned towards McManus:

-

-“These two empty pigeon-holes on the left; they were empty when you

-first opened the safe?”

-

-“Every paper is in the exact place I found it,” McManus answered

-sharply. “My profession has taught me some things!”

-

-“And this door?”

-

-“It was closed and locked. Here is the key.”

-

-Trafford opened the door, revealing packages of letters, filling about

-half the space above the small drawer which was at the lowest portion.

-

-“You have examined these letters?”

-

-“Only sufficiently to be able to identify them. They relate to certain

-logging interests of firms employing Mr. Wing.”

-

-“And the drawer?”

-

-“You have the key: there’s nothing there but trinkets and a little

-personal jewelry.” There was a personal tone of resentment over the

-failure to recognise the distance between a detective and an attorney.

-

-Trafford opened the drawer mechanically, then closed it and took out

-indifferently one of the packages of letters. These he returned and

-closed and locked the door, which he examined again with care. Then he

-pushed to the heavy outer door, turning the knob slowly and as if he

-was studying the fall of the wards.

-

-“If it had been planned to leave no trace,” he said, as if to himself,

-“it would be a success. Have you a suspicion of the motive for this

-murder, Mr. McManus?”

-

-“So far as I can see, it was motiveless,” McManus answered. “I can only

-conclude that it was the work of a lunatic, or a mere murder fiend. It

-was, in my opinion, merely an accident that it was Mr. Wing and not

-some one else.”

-

-“I hadn’t thought of that aspect of the case,” Trafford said. “Is there

-any unfortunate creature of that kind about here?”

-

-“No, not that I know of; but might it not be a stranger that has

-wandered here?”

-

-“Did you ever hear of one of that class that was content with mere

-killing? It’s mutilation that characterises all such crimes. Its

-absence in this case is one of the most prominent features. By the bye:

-was the night of the tenth windy?”

-

-“On the contrary, it was a very still night.”

-

-“Not wind enough to blow that door shut?” pointing to the door into the

-side hall.

-

-“Certainly not.”

-

-Trafford walked around to the different windows and finally pulled

-down the shades and placed the lamp on the writing-desk. Then he went

-outside and studied the reflection on the shades. When he returned, he

-said:

-

-“I shall be absent a few days. Will you see to it, Mr. McManus, that

-the coroner doesn’t reconvene the inquest until I can be here? Until

-we find a motive for this crime, we’re going to make slow headway in

-finding the criminal.”

-

-“So long as you have charge of the case,” McManus answered, “I shall

-follow your wishes; but you may as well understand that I’m not going

-to be content with failure on any one’s part. You’re after the pay;

-I’m after punishment for the murderer. As long as our wishes run in the

-same line----”

-

-Trafford interrupted him:

-

-“When a case is placed in your hands, you expect to manage it, I

-assume. This case has been placed in my hands, and as long as it

-remains there, I shall conduct it in my own way. That doesn’t mean I

-won’t take advice; it simply means, I’ll be the one to decide what I’ll

-do with it.”

-

-The two men faced each other for the moment almost with hostility. Then

-McManus’s face lightened and he held out his hand without a word of

-apology:

-

-“You’ll do, I guess. If the fellow escapes you, he’d deserve to--if

-he’d killed anybody but Theodore Wing. Whatever I can do to aid, call

-on me day or night. At the least, keep me posted.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER IV

-

-Trafford Gets an Assurance

-

-

-Trafford sat in his room in the hotel at Bangor the next evening and

-studied the copy of Judge Parlin’s statement.

-

-“Her brilliancy of mind has carried her far,” he said; “has aided her

-husband politically; and it was this influence that defeated him for

-the chief justiceship. It’s so easy that I can’t believe the solution.

-By George! I wonder if the old judge ever wrote that paper? I wish I’d

-examined the original more critically. If I’d been one of your inspired

-detectives, such as you find in novels, I’d probably have caught a

-forgery the first thing!”

-

-None the less, he put himself to the task of untangling the threads

-of the statement, with a result that set him to deep thinking. Bangor

-was not the direction from which had come opposition to the judge’s

-nomination. On the contrary, Judge Parlin had been rather a favourite

-than otherwise in Bangor, and his cause had received substantial aid.

-But the statement did not assert that Wing’s mother had remained in

-Bangor, or that it was there that she aided her husband politically.

-The most hostile influence that Judge Parlin had encountered was

-popularly credited to an ex-Governor, Matthewson, an Eastern Maine man,

-who at present held no office, but without whose countenance few men

-ventured even to aspire to office.

-

-“If it should prove that Matthewson’s wife is a Bangor woman, ’twould

-be so easy as to be absurd,” Trafford mused. “The old judge wasn’t

-silly enough to believe that what he wrote could conceal her identity.

-Either he meant it should be known to Wing or Mrs. Parlin, or--but what

-possible object could there be in forging such a paper?”

-

-Suddenly he sat bolt upright and stared at the document in blank

-amazement. Then, with a low whistle, he folded it into his pocketbook.

-

-“I’ll find Mrs. Matthewson Bangor-born, I’ll bet ten cents to a leather

-button!” he declared.

-

-Whatever had brought Trafford to this sudden conclusion, it proved

-absolutely correct, and the details given of her brilliance and her

-aid to her husband fitted exactly to the character of the woman. This

-fact naturally raised the question, was it safe to go farther and, if

-so, how much farther? Mrs. Matthewson at least had been put on her

-guard by the published statement, and she was not a woman to remain in

-ignorance of any steps taken in consequence of that statement, or of

-the man who took them. The family was powerful and not credited with

-scrupulosity as to means employed to ends. On the other hand, it was

-manifest that if there was such an episode in her past, her husband was

-ignorant of it and she would stop at nothing to keep him so. The secret

-might be dangerous, but it might be valuable as well.

-

-Beyond this, however, was the joy of the chase, which is absent from no

-man and least of all from the trained detective. There was a problem to

-solve, and, danger or no danger, it was as impossible for Trafford to

-refuse to solve it as to refuse to breathe. Whatever use he was or was

-not to make of it, he would know the truth.

-

-He was not, however, so intent upon this one feature of the case as to

-neglect Jim Shepard. The second day, he slipped over to Portland and

-found that young countryman at work and exceedingly homesick in what

-was, to his narrow experience, a great city. Finding that Trafford knew

-Millbank, he threw his heart open to him and talked as freely as he

-would to Oldbeg himself. Trafford let him talk. There was a flood of

-irrelevant matter, but the detective’s experience was too broad for him

-to decide in advance what might and what might not be valuable. On the

-whole, however, it was a dreary waste, until he touched on the night he

-left Millbank.

-

-“I wasn’t the only feller,” he said; “that nigh missed that train. Jest

-as ’twas startin’, a feller rushed out from behind Pettingill’s ’tater

-storehouse and caught the front end of the car. I thought he was goin’

-to miss an’ I swung back to see him drop off; but he clung like a good

-one an’ finally got his foot on the step. I tell you, he was nigh clean

-tuckered out when he came into the car, fur he was a swell an’ warn’t

-used to using his arms that-a-way.”

-

-“Queer place for him to come from,” said the other.

-

-“Wall, ye see, if he’d come from Somerset Street way an’ out through

-’tween Neil’s store and the post-office, he’d ’a’ come out jest thar;

-but he’d ’a’ had to know the lay o’ the land to done it. Ef he’d ben a

-stranger, he couldn’t help missing it an’ not half try.”

-

-“But you say he was a stranger and a swell,” Trafford suggested.

-

-“He was a swell, fast enough. City rig; kid gloves--one on ’em bust,

-hangin’ on to the rail, and got up in go-to-meetin’ style; but he must

-’a’ knowed the way. He’d ben thar before, you bet!”

-

-“You seem to have got a pretty good look at him.”

-

-“Wall, ye see he took the seat two in front o’ me, and every time I

-woke up--say, them air seats hain’t made to sleep comfortable in, be

-they--thar he was, till all of a sudden I woke up an’ he warn’t thar.”

-

-“Then you don’t know where he got off,” Trafford said, keeping the

-disappointment out of his voice.

-

-“No. Ye see, when we pulled out of ’Gusta, he was thar, an’ I didn’t

-wake up ag’in till we got to Brunswick, an’ he warn’t thar. I meant

-to see whar he went to, but arter ’Gusta, I guessed he must be from

-Portland and that’s whar I got left.”

-

-“I suppose you hear from Millbank--from Oldbeg, for instance.”

-

-“Wall,” he said, blushing a fiery red, “Jonathan hain’t no great hand

-to write: but I du hear sometimes. Say, du you s’pose a body could ’a’

-heerd that thar shot from Parlin’s house down onto Canaan Street?”

-

-“I don’t know,” said the detective carelessly, hiding his eagerness. “A

-still night, it might be; why?”

-

-“’Cause, a letter I got says that thar night she’d jest got to sleep

-when she woke up sudden, as if she’d heerd so’thing like a shot. She

-got up, but didn’t hear nothin’ more an’ so went back to bed. But the

-next mornin’ she guessed ’twas the shot she heerd from Parlin’s.”

-

-“Did she say what time it was?”

-

-“Nope: only she’d ben asleep about half a hour, an’ thet night she

-didn’t get to bed ’fore twelve o’clock. Fact, I guess she didn’t go

-till she heerd the train leave.”

-

-“But about this swell,” Trafford interposed. “Would you know him again

-if you saw him?”

-

-“I guess I would; leastwise ef I could see the top of his head. He took

-his hat off, an’ thar was the funniest little bald spot, jest the shape

-of a heart. ’Twas funny, an’ he warn’t more’n thirty years old. Say,

-when he gets to be fifty, he won’t hev no more hair’n I’ve got on the

-back o’ my hand.”

-

-The next afternoon, a card was brought to Charles Matthewson, Esq., in

-his inner office in Augusta, and on the card he read, printed in small

-square letters:

-

-  “ISAAC TRAFFORD.”

-

-“What in thunder does Trafford want of me?” he asked himself. “He can’t

-possibly know!”

-

-He sat and looked at the card, while the boy waited and finally coughed

-to remind him he was still there. Matthewson looked up with a puzzled

-air. Evidently he did not care to see the man whose name was on the

-card, and as evidently he did not dare refuse him. Finally he said:

-

-“Show him in in five minutes.”

-

-When Trafford entered, in the very act of bowing, he cast a quick

-glance at the top of Matthewson’s head. There was the odd bald spot,

-shaped, as Jim Shepard had said, “Jest like a heart.”

-

-“What can I do for you, Mr. Trafford?” Matthewson asked, with the air

-of a busy man.

-

-“I want about ten minutes’ talk with you,” the detective answered,

-drawing a chair close to the desk.

-

-“Professional?”

-

-“Yes;--my profession.”

-

-The lawyer started. He was provoked with himself for doing so, but

-it was beyond his control. Trafford was not a man with whom it was

-comfortable to talk professionally--that is, from the standpoint of his

-profession.

-

-“Well, be quick about it, then. I’m busy, and it’ll be a favour to cut

-it as short as you can.”

-

-“You were in Millbank the evening of the tenth.”

-

-“Well, you are short and to the point. Suppose I was?”

-

-“What were you there for?”

-

-“None of your business.”

-

-Trafford chuckled. He was getting on. It was just the answer he

-expected.

-

-“Now let’s stick right to the point, as you wanted me to. If I have to

-whip round to get to it again, you mustn’t blame me.”

-

-“Come, Mr. Trafford; you can’t deal with every one the same way. If you

-want to find out anything from me, you mustn’t go at it as if I was a

-country bumpkin whom your very name would scare.”

-

-“Bless you, I don’t,” said Trafford. “Now if you were a country

-bumpkin, as you are pleased to put it, I’d lead up to the matter gently

-and so have it all out of you before you knew what I was at. Not being

-a country bumpkin, I come at you fair and square to save your time and

-mine too. What were you doing in Millbank on the evening of the tenth?

-You weren’t at any of the hotels. You weren’t seen by any of the men

-who were likely to see you.”

-

-“So you’ve peddled it all over Millbank that I was there that night,

-have you?” demanded the other, angrily.

-

-Trafford looked at him with a mixture of amusement and spleen. At last

-he answered:

-

-“That isn’t the way I do my work. I don’t need to give away what I know

-to find out what other folks know. There’s nobody in Millbank any the

-wiser for the enquiries I’ve made.”

-

-“Well, if you know so much and are so cunning, you know that I got

-there at eight o’clock and left at midnight----”

-

-“Dropping off at the Bridge stop before the train crossed the river,

-and swinging on to the front end of the second car as the train was

-pulling out of the station, coming out of the shadow of Pettingill’s

-potato warehouse to do so, so as not to be seen and recognized,”

-Trafford continued.

-

-The first part was a shrewd guess, but evidently it hit the mark, for

-the lawyer wheeled about and faced him before saying:

-

-“The devil! To what am I indebted for such close surveillance?”

-

-“Well,” drawled Trafford, with an irritating air of indifference, that

-he could at times assume, “perhaps you don’t know that a matter of some

-importance happened in Millbank that night and has led to our looking

-up all the strangers that were in town, especially those who did not

-seem to want to be seen.”

-

-“You refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”

-

-“I refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”

-

-“I regret Mr. Wing’s tragic death,” said the lawyer coldly; “and

-especially deplore the commission of such a crime. At the same time,

-I don’t think it as important as Millbank naturally thinks it, and I

-imagine the State will manage to wag along in spite of the great loss

-it has sustained.”

-

-It was not so much the words, ill-timed and out-of-taste as they

-were, as the air with which they were uttered, that constituted their

-significance. It was as if in the mind that originated them there was

-a lurking bitterness, that the speaker would willingly conceal, which

-yet was so intense that it must find vent. There was a cruel hardness

-in the tone that made the words themselves all but meaningless.

-Was it possible, Trafford asked himself, that the man was able to

-read the meaning of Judge Parlin’s story and knew that Wing was his

-half-brother? He dismissed the question with the asking, satisfied that

-something of which he was still ignorant was at the foundation of this

-outbreak. It was to be a question of the comparative shrewdness of the

-two men, whether he still remained ignorant when the interview closed.

-

-“You certainly don’t suppose that I shot Millbank’s leading citizen,

-do you?” the lawyer demanded, after a moment’s pause. It was, perhaps,

-an effort to recover what the lawyer could not fail to see that he had

-lost.

-

-“On the contrary, I’ve every reason to believe that he was still alive

-when you left town, and I still further believe that your visit had

-nothing to do, remotely or directly, with his death.”

-

-What was that odd flash that passed over the other’s face as Trafford

-said these last words? Seemingly, Trafford was not looking at the

-other’s face at the moment and it might have escaped him. Still, he

-would have been interested if he had seen it.

-

-“Thanks: but, in that event, what are you here for?”

-

-“I can’t let my beliefs or disbeliefs interfere with my investigation

-of facts. Here is something most unusual occurring, almost at the

-moment of the murder. It don’t make any difference whether I believe it

-has anything to do with it or not. It’s my business to know, and that’s

-what I’m here to do.”

-

-“And if I say I’ve nothing to tell you?”

-

-“The coroner’s enquiry will be public, while mine may remain private.”

-

-“What do you want to know?”

-

-“I simply want your assurance that your visit to Millbank had nothing

-to do, directly or remotely, with Theodore Wing.”

-

-“I can’t see what value such an assurance can have. If I went there to

-hire somebody to shoot him, I should, of course, not hesitate to give

-you the assurance--and probably you wouldn’t fail to find out the truth

-of the matter inside a week.”

-

-“That’s my business,” said Trafford. “If I’m content with your

-assurance, I don’t see why you should object to my being.”

-

-“Because there’s no certainty you’ll remain content with it. It’s

-one of those things where you could come back to-morrow with ‘newly

-discovered testimony’ that would upset the whole agreement.”

-

-“Oh, as for that,” said Trafford, “I propose to agree to nothing.

-As matters stand, the inquest ’ll go on within a day or two. I know

-you were in Millbank the night of the murder, and with no assurance

-from any one that your visit had nothing to do with the murder, I’m

-compelled, absolutely compelled, to ask the coroner to summons you.

-On the other hand, if I’m satisfied, there’s no reason for me to tell

-any one that I know you were there, and nothing to induce the coroner

-to summons you. At the same time, I don’t agree to anything as to the

-future. That must depend upon facts, and you know better than I do now

-whether there are any that would call for you.”

-

-“Humph!” grunted Matthewson; “then it’s this: I assure you what you ask

-and I’m not to be summoned until you see fit to summon me, and if I

-don’t, you see fit to summon me at once.”

-

-“That’s about it,” assented Trafford.

-

-Matthewson sat for a few minutes thinking, and Trafford sat

-watching him. He was tall and slim, with a rather prepossessing

-face--well-dressed, in fact, a “swell,” as Jim Shepard had said. His

-face was far from a dull one. His mother had evidently given him

-something of her personality. Yet, a man less on his guard against

-impressions than the detective might find something in his face that

-he did not like,--a look of cunning lurking in the half-closed eyes, a

-want of feeling in the lines of the mouth. He was a man who would go

-far to accomplish his ends, but would not be willingly cruel, perhaps

-because he could not understand that to be cruel which was for his own

-interest. Yet, what of a fight that involved life and honour? Trafford

-at least knew that it is only then that the hidden forces come to

-the surface and the man himself stands complete. Suddenly Matthewson

-turned, and with a side glance at the waiting detective said:

-

-“I assure you that my visit to Millbank had nothing to do directly or

-indirectly with Mr. Wing’s death.”

-

-“That’s all I want,” the detective said.

-

-“I gave him credit for being sharper than that,” Matthewson said to

-himself, as the door closed behind his visitor.

-

-“Now I’ve got to find out,” Trafford noted, “how that visit did concern

-Wing. I’ll test Matthewson’s conclusion before I accept it.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER V

-

-The Weapon is Produced

-

-

-The inquest reconvened with an increase rather than a decrease of

-interest on the part of the public. This was due in part to the

-renewed attention aroused by the funeral, which had been one of the

-most imposing ever had in Millbank; and in part to the rewards for the

-detection of the murderer offered by Mrs. Parlin and the selectmen of

-the town.

-

-In addition, the County Court had instructed the county attorney to be

-present at further sittings, to assist the coroner, and the town had

-employed its own counsel for the same purpose.

-

-Mary Mullin was the first witness.

-

-“You are the help at Mrs. Parlin’s?” the coroner asked.

-

-“I be.”

-

-“How long have you been so employed?”

-

-“Twenty-five year this coming July.”

-

-“You were at the house the evening and night of the tenth of May?”

-

-“Yep!”

-

-“Did you wait on the table at supper that evening?”

-

-“I passed the victuals, ef that’s what ye mean by wait;” with an air of

-defiance.

-

-“Who were at supper?”

-

-“Mis Parlin an’ Mr. Wing.”

-

-“Did either of them seem to you depressed or preoccupied?”

-

-“Nope.”

-

-“The meal was pleasant as usual, and both seemed in good spirits?”

-

-“Yep.”

-

-“Were you in the dining room when they left it?”

-

-“Nope; I left ’em thar an’ went back arter they were through an’

-cleaned up the table.”

-

-“When did you next see Mr. Wing?”

-

-“As he and Mis Parlin come back from the orchard.”

-

-“Did everything seem pleasant between them then?”

-

-“Why shouldn’t it?”

-

-“I asked you if it did?”

-

-“I’d scorn to answer sech a question, ef I warn’t under oath to answer

-what you axed. Yep!”

-

-“When did you see him next?”

-

-“Lyin’ a dead corpse on the doorstep at ten minutes arter six the next

-mornin’!”

-

-“You are certain you did not see him from the time he returned from the

-orchard, until you saw him dead?”

-

-“Didn’t I swear it?”

-

-“I asked you if you are certain?”

-

-“Yep!” indignantly.

-

-“Did you eat your supper before or after your mistress ate hers?”

-

-“What may ye mean by mistress?”

-

-“I mean, did you eat your supper before or after Mrs. Parlin ate hers?”

-

-“Arter.”

-

-She testified that she and Jonathan ate together; that she went to her

-room at nine o’clock, after shutting up the house “all but the front

-part,” and that she went at once to bed.

-

-“Did you at any time during the night hear a pistol or gun shot or any

-sound resembling one?”

-

-“I did not.”

-

-“Are you a sound sleeper?”

-

-“After I git to sleep, ye might carry me off an’ I’d never know it till

-mornin’.”

-

-“Then you think a pistol might have been fired at the south door of the

-house in the middle of the night without your hearing it, although that

-door was open?”

-

-“I think that one was.”

-

-“But do you believe, aside from what you think regarding what happened

-that night, that a pistol so fired would wake you?”

-

-“No, nor a cannon, ef ’twan’t too big.”

-

-Jonathan Oldbeg testified practically to what he had told Trafford, the

-detective, though with some amplification of details. On the question

-of the absolute recognition of the shadow on the window shades as that

-of Mr. Wing, he grew very positive, affirming that he knew the stoop

-of the shoulders and the movement of his head. The county attorney

-and the town counsel were quite strong at this point and suggested

-questions which finally confused the witness, though in the end he

-clung to his positive identification.

-

-The coroner seemed disposed to pass to the next witness, when Trafford

-handed up a paper, after reading which the coroner turned again to the

-witness and asked:

-

-“On the shades of which windows did you see the shadow?”

-

-“On all three of ’em.”

-

-“On which was it the highest and largest?”

-

-The witness paused as he began his answer and seemed in deep thought.

-Once he raised his head with a blank expression and then dropped it

-again. Finally he looked up and said:

-

-“On the curtain nighest the door.”

-

-“And the smallest?”

-

-“On the curtain nighest the road.”

-

-“The witness will step down a moment and Mr. Isaac Trafford will take

-the stand.”

-

-All necks were craned to see the detective, and every ear intent for

-his testimony. It was most disappointing.

-

-“Have you made any experiments,” the coroner asked; “as to the shadow

-thrown on the shades of Mr. Wing’s library, with relation to the

-position of the light?”

-

-“I have.”

-

-“With what results?”

-

-“If the light is on the writing-desk, the highest and largest shadow is

-thrown on the shade nearest the street and none is thrown on the shade

-nearest the door. If the light is on the reading-table in front of

-the fireplace, or in the centre of the mantel over the fireplace, the

-highest and largest shadow is on the shade of the centre window. If the

-light is on the mantel near the safe, the largest and highest shadow is

-on the shade nearest the door, and the smallest and lowest on the shade

-nearest the road. If the light is on the safe itself, or on the stand

-near the safe, no shadow is thrown on the shade nearest the street.”

-

-“You have heard the testimony of the last witness as to the shadows he

-saw?”

-

-“I have.”

-

-“What is your conclusion from that testimony as to the position of the

-light at the time the witness passed up the drive?”

-

-“That it was on the mantel nearly above the safe.”

-

-“Have you made any experiments to determine in what position any one

-would place the light, if he had the safe open and desired the best

-light on its contents?”

-

-“I have.”

-

-“With what result?”

-

-“That he would place it on the mantel about a foot or a foot and a half

-west of the safe.”

-

-“Then the testimony of the witness and the result of your experiments

-would lead you to conclude that at the time the witness passed up the

-drive, the occupant of the room had the safe open and the light so

-placed that he could best see into it?”

-

-“It is entirely compatible with that assumption.”

-

-Mr. Trafford was dismissed and Oldbeg recalled. There was a buzz in the

-room.

-

-“What do you s’pose that was fur?” one man asked another.

-

-“For impression. It shows how mighty cute Trafford is, an’ lets folks

-know that there’s somebody arter ’em as knows what’s what.”

-

-“Onless Trafford got it up hisself fur advertisin’,” suggested the

-other, a hard-headed Yankee to whom shrewdness was a natural instinct.

-

-“Do you own a pistol?” demanded the coroner, as Oldbeg settled himself

-to his examination.

-

-Every eye turned towards the witness, who fidgeted before answering,

-as if he was in doubt what to say. At last, when attention was at its

-keenest, he found his tongue and said:

-

-“Nope.”

-

-“Yet you bought a thirty-two calibre one on May eighth.”

-

-It had already been testified that the fatal shot was fired from a

-thirty-two calibre revolver. Every person present was alive with the

-thought that a critical moment in the inquest had come.

-

-“Yep; but I gave it away.”

-

-“When?”

-

-“The night o’ May tenth.”

-

-“To whom?”

-

-“To Jim Shepard. Jest as he was jumpin’ on the train, I took it out o’

-my pocket an’ put it in his’n.”

-

-“Do you call that giving it away?”

-

-“Yep! That’s what I bought it fur. I don’t need one here; leastwise,

-I didn’t think so then; but he’s goin’ to a tarnel big place, an’ I

-thought he ought to had one, so I bought it an’ took it to the train

-with me that night an’ put it in his pocket.”

-

-“Did you say anything to him about it?”

-

-“I didn’t hev no time. I was goin’ to give it to him, but we hed to run

-for the train, an’ I clean forgot it till, jest as he struck the bottom

-step, I thought on it. All I could do was to chuck it into his pocket,

-whar his coat swung back.”

-

-“Did you see it go in?”

-

-“Nope: ’twas too dark.”

-

-“Was it loaded?”

-

-“All but one bar’l. I fired that off up in the woods that day an’

-furgot to load it again.”

-

-“Call James Shepard.”

-

-Oldbeg started, and when his cousin came from a door back of the

-coroner, stood as one struck dumb. It was difficult to say what emotion

-was expressed in his face. Trafford watched him and acknowledged his

-own uncertainty.

-

-“Do you desire to change your testimony last given?” asked the coroner.

-

-“I’ve told the truth; I hain’t got nothin’ to change,” he said sulkily.

-

-James Shepard gave his testimony regarding his leaving Millbank and

-answered the questions put to him with reference to the stranger

-who took the same train, which, of course, simply led up to his

-disappearance somewhere between Augusta and Brunswick. Then came the

-question which all were awaiting:

-

-“Did your cousin give you a pistol the night you left Millbank?”

-

-“Not that I knows on. It’s the fust time I ever heerd about it.”

-

-“Do you own a pistol?”

-

-“Nope. I hain’t got no use fur a pistol an’ never had.”

-

-“Call William Buckworth.”

-

-A stout, elderly man, head of the firm of Buckworth & Tompson, notion

-dealers, came to the stand. After the preliminary questions, the

-coroner took from a drawer a pistol and handed it to the witness.

-

-“What is that?”

-

-“A thirty-two calibre Woodruff revolver.”

-

-“Did you ever see it before?”

-

-“Yes. I sold it on the eighth of May to Jonathan Oldbeg.”

-

-“Are you certain of the identity?”

-

-The witness then proceeded to the identification, which was absolute.

-

-“Are the chambers charged?”

-

-“Four are. One is empty and has recently been fired.”

-

-“Isaac Trafford will take the stand.

-

-“Do you recognize this pistol, Mr. Trafford, as one you have before

-seen?”

-

-“I do.”

-

-“State the circumstances.”

-

-“I found it on the morning of the twelfth of May hidden in the box

-hedge in the front yard of the Parlin house. It was in the box nearest

-the fence that separates the front yard from the driveway, and about

-twelve feet from the house.”

-

-“Was it in the same condition then as now?”

-

-“It was wet with dew and the rust is deeper now than then; otherwise it

-is in the same condition.”

-

-“Call Margaret Flanders.”

-

-At the name, Jim Shepard, who had taken a seat in the main room upon

-concluding his testimony, turned the colour of a peony and a giggle was

-started among a group of boys near him.

-

-Margaret Flanders, a buxom, healthy lass of about twenty, tripped into

-the room as if in enjoyment of the sensation she was creating. In

-answer to questions, her testimony ran:

-

-She lived at home, with her parents, on Canaan Street; the left-hand

-side as you went from River Road. Jim Shepard came sometimes to see her

-and was with her the evening of May tenth. He was going to Portland to

-work and he was to take the midnight train. He stayed till his cousin

-Jonathan Oldbeg called for him. It was then so late that she was afraid

-he would miss his train. Indeed, there was only five minutes to spare

-when he left the house. She waited on the front stoop till she heard

-the train go and then went to her room, which was on the second floor

-in the northwest corner, the nearest River Road and the Parlin house.

-She went right to bed, was in bed by quarter-past twelve, probably, and

-went right to sleep. Had slept a few minutes when she was wakened by a

-sound like a pistol shot. She jumped out of bed and went to the window,

-which was open, for she always liked plenty of fresh air; but saw

-nothing and heard nothing. There was a light in the Parlin house and

-she thought it was in the library, but could not tell certainly. She

-was at the window only a few minutes, when the clock struck one, but

-whether it was half-past twelve or one o’clock she could not tell. Then

-she went back to bed and fell asleep, and heard nothing more to disturb

-her that night.

-

-The coroner announced that this closed his witnesses, but at the

-request of the county attorney he recalled Mrs. Parlin. The county

-attorney put his questions through the coroner.

-

-“Have you ever had any question as to the genuineness of the statement

-which purports to be in the handwriting of your husband?”

-

-“None whatever.”

-

-“Was your husband accustomed to leave important papers without date or

-signature?”

-

-“This paper is in Judge Parlin’s handwriting.”

-

-“I hand you a letter here with the signature turned down. Can you

-identify the handwriting?”

-

-“I think it is the handwriting of Theodore Wing.”

-

-“Can you state positively?”

-

-“I cannot: but I have little doubt.”

-

-“I hand you another. Whose handwriting is that?”

-

-“Judge Parlin’s.”

-

-“Are you positive?”

-

-“Positive.”

-

-“Are you certain that the first letter is not in the handwriting of

-your late husband?”

-

-“It may possibly be; but I think it is in Mr. Wing’s handwriting.”

-

-“There was then a very strong resemblance between the handwriting of

-your late husband and that of Mr. Wing?”

-

-“A very strong resemblance. Theodore always admitted that he had tried

-to write like the judge, and of late years the resemblance was very

-close.”

-

-“Still you are confident as to the handwriting of the statement that

-has been produced here?”

-

-“Absolutely confident.”

-

-“When you hold this statement up to the light, do you discover any

-water-mark?”

-

-“Yes, a sheaf of something that looks like wheat with a circle around

-it.”

-

-“I hand you a blank sheet of paper. Has that any water-mark?”

-

-“It has the same water-mark.”

-

-“That will do. Mr. Trafford will take the stand.

-

-“I hand you this blank sheet of paper, which Mrs. Parlin has just

-stated contains the same water-mark as that on which the purported

-statement of Judge Parlin is written. Have you ever seen this sheet

-before?”

-

-“Yes. I took it from Mr. Theodore Wing’s writing-desk on the morning of

-May twelfth. It was one of a number of similar sheets I found there.”

-

-“Call Mr. Marmaduke.

-

-“You are the head of the stationery firm of Marmaduke & Co.?”

-

-“I am.”

-

-“Did you supply the late Theodore Wing with writing paper?”

-

-“I did.”

-

-“Is this a sheet of the paper you furnished him?”

-

-“It is a sheet of the paper I furnished him for his home use. I never

-furnished it to him for office use.”

-

-“How long have you sold paper with this water-mark?”

-

-“About four years.”

-

-“Never before that?”

-

-“Never. I do not think it was made with that water-mark until about

-four years ago. At least, I never heard of it.”

-

-“Did you furnish paper to the late Judge Parlin, for home or office?”

-

-“For both.”

-

-“Did you ever furnish him, either for home or office, with paper

-bearing this water-mark?”

-

-“Never. I didn’t have paper with that water-mark for sale until nearly

-a year after Judge Parlin’s death. I got it at the special request of

-Mr. Wing, and that was after Judge Parlin’s death.”

-

-After consultation, the inquest was again adjourned. There was a

-general expectation that a warrant would issue for Oldbeg’s arrest,

-but neither the coroner nor the county attorney felt justified in so

-overt an act. The public might try, condemn, and all but execute a man

-on mere suspicion, but larger responsibility rested on the officers of

-the law. In consultation, Trafford was appealed to and agreed fully

-with the decision reached. He was not wholly pleased with the coroner’s

-haste in bringing out certain facts that in his opinion could have

-been left with safety to the adjourned session. The strength of his

-own work lay in minimising, rather than exaggerating, the importance of

-unsupported facts, which were almost sure to lead to wrong conclusions.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER VI

-

-Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford

-

-

-The wife of former Governor Matthewson was prominent--that is,

-respectably prominent--in church matters, as in all good works, and the

-booth over which she presided at the May Church Festival was one of the

-most attractive and profitable, albeit there was many another that had

-proved a centre for the younger men and larger boys. Mrs. Matthewson

-sat in the curtained space behind the main booth, for she was really

-tired. She was a tall woman, of commanding presence, who had just

-touched her sixtieth year and upon whom the consciousness of power, and

-ability to wield it, had left the impress of dignity and strength.

-

-The crowd was mainly in front of the booths, but occasionally some one

-strayed away to the quieter nooks shut off by the booths themselves. Of

-these were two men, one small and rather unimpressive in appearance,

-the other larger and more commanding, but with a strange deference

-towards his companion. The two passed where by accident, apparently,

-the smaller man had a view of the resting woman, without being too

-plainly seen himself. The larger man was speaking:

-

-“Public opinion is settling on the paper as a forgery.”

-

-“Has it discovered a motive?” There was almost a sneer in the tone.

-

-“No; nor for the crime; but it firmly believes that the woman never

-existed.”

-

-“It would think me mad or a liar then if I should affirm that she did

-exist; that she does exist; that in fact I could at a moment’s notice

-put my hand on Theodore Wing’s mother.”

-

-The other smiled.

-

-“One might almost imagine you thought her in this room.”

-

-“Stranger things have happened;” and the two moved on.

-

-If the woman had taken note of the conversation, there was nothing in

-her manner to indicate it. Had there been, Trafford would have felt

-keen disappointment, for he had observed her somewhat carefully, and

-had formed a higher opinion of her capabilities. At the same time, he

-had not so poor a conception of his own powers of observation as to

-doubt the correctness of his impression of a slight lifting of the

-eyebrows and critical scanning of his own face by Mrs. Matthewson, as

-he loitered slowly back towards the throng in front. He intended, if it

-was her wish to be able to recognise him again, that she should have

-the opportunity.

-

-After he had passed, she waited a sufficient time not to seem

-precipitate, then rose and sauntered slowly into the front part of

-the hall, whence came a constant babble of voices. She was a woman

-who had seen too many things to be afraid; but as well she was a

-woman too shrewd to neglect a warning and go on to punishment. She

-knew she had her warning; she knew that the man who had given it was

-prepared to deal with her, or he would not have given it; and she knew

-that boldness would secure the best terms. She had no question that

-blackmail was at the bottom of the affair.

-

-The public had generally accepted the statement as a forgery and was

-laughing at its clumsiness; but there would come a waking time when it

-realised that as a forgery it had no bearing upon the solution of the

-murder mystery, and that would be the moment of danger. She found her

-son, Charles Matthewson, and taking his arm went to the refreshment

-room.

-

-“You’re dead tired, mother,” he said. “A man of iron couldn’t stand

-these affairs.”

-

-“No,” she said. “It requires something finer than iron. Your man of

-iron is a poor simile for strength. It’s got to be better than that.”

-

-“By George; I only hope when I’m sixty, I can stand as much as you!”

-

-“Is that your tact, Charles, to mention a woman’s age in public? I know

-the people know my age, but I object to their knowing that I know.”

-

-“Much you care, mother. You can leave such stuff as that to the silly

-herd.”

-

-A man passed by and took his seat at a table out of ear range. He did

-not look in her direction as he passed, and she did not even glance

-in his; but she felt his presence, and knew also that Charles had

-seen him and recognised him. She ran on with her light chat, seemingly

-taking no note of her son’s distraught manner and absent-minded

-replies; but after she had let things go on for a safe space, she

-suddenly looked up with:

-

-“Really, Charles, I might as well save my foolishness for somebody

-who is less occupied than you seem to be. I should say you were more

-interested in that man over there than in me.”

-

-“Was I really giving attention to him?” the son demanded.

-

-“Most really, and I’m simply wondering where you learned your

-self-control, that you can do a thing so apparent to a whole roomful.”

-She had not asked a word regarding the man, certain as she was that he

-would tell her all he knew.

-

-“Do you know who that man is?” her son asked.

-

-“No; really,” she said, putting up her glasses, “I had simply noticed

-him as a man from whom you did not seem able to keep your eyes. Now I

-look at him, I don’t see anything particularly worth noticing.”

-

-“It’s Trafford, the detective. He’s said to be on this Wing murder

-case.”

-

-“Oh, is that so?” she said, raising her glasses again. “In that case, I

-suppose one’s permitted to look at him, since that’s largely his stock

-in trade. He doesn’t look smart.”

-

-“That’s his stock in trade too,” said Charles, a trifle impatiently for

-the son of such a woman. “If he looked half as smart as he is, he’d

-look too smart for his work, and if he was really as dull as he looks,

-he’d be too stupid.”

-

-“And they depend on him to unravel the Wing murder?” she asked.

-

-“Oh, the Wing murder,” echoed an acquaintance who was passing. “Why

-didn’t that stupid coroner arrest that fellow Oldman--if that was his

-name? My husband says if he takes the opportunity to run away, it may

-be interesting for the coroner. Of course, nobody has a doubt that he’s

-the murderer. You think so, Mr. Matthewson, don’t you?”

-

-“I think it will be a great wrong if such a wanton murder goes

-unpunished,” he answered.

-

-“Yes,” said the mother carelessly; “but the motive? Did he murder him

-because he was an illegitimate son of Judge Parlin?”

-

-“Oh, pshaw, Mrs. Matthewson, nobody believes that story. Why, they tell

-me Judge Parlin was a real nice man. He wouldn’t have had anything to

-do with such a woman as she would have been, if the story was true.”

-

-A crowd gathered and, in spite of Charles Matthewson’s efforts to

-change the subject, persisted in discussing the murder, which was still

-a live topic wherever Judge Parlin and Lawyer Wing had been known. To

-Matthewson’s increased annoyance, he noted that Trafford had moved to a

-nearer table, where he could catch the talk.

-

-“What kind of man would Judge Parlin have been, if the story were

-true?” Mrs. Matthewson asked listlessly.

-

-“Oh, yes; but you know that’s not the same. He was a mere youngster,

-and a designing woman you know can do anything with a man. Oh, no:

-it would be bad enough in him, but the woman--why, she’d be simply

-abominable; simply abominable.”

-

-“Well, if there was such a woman, she’s undoubtedly dead long ago,”

-Mrs. Matthewson said. “We might at least not begrudge her a grave. We

-came near making Judge Parlin chief justice.”

-

-Charles was uneasy. His mother was not accustomed to losing her head,

-but he had his suspicions at this moment, and tried again to draw her

-away; but she seemed not to notice his efforts, and showed herself not

-loath to go on with the conversation.

-

-“If the thing isn’t true,” broke in a woman who was fearful she

-might not make herself felt in the presence of the overbearing Mrs.

-Matthewson, “my husband says it’s a forgery; but what could that

-nice Mr. Wing have forged such a story as that for? Do you see, Mr.

-Matthewson?”

-

-“You must excuse me from expressing any opinion one way or the other,”

-he said, thus distinctly appealed to. “Murders and forgeries are not in

-my line, and I don’t think my opinion would have the value it might if

-I was a criminal lawyer or a detective.”

-

-“Oh, a detective!” some one interrupted. “What a dreadful nasty set of

-men detectives must be! It makes me crawl to think of their having

-anything to do with me.”

-

-“Then you mustn’t be a murderer or permit any one to murder you. It’s

-the only way I know to steer clear of the gang.”

-

-“Come, Charles,” interposed his mother. “Aren’t you a little hard? As

-long as we have criminals, we must have criminal catchers. We can’t

-spare them.”

-

-“But we needn’t make them our heroes, as some people do,” he replied,

-wondering in secret why his mother was chiming into his mood so

-completely. “I object to having them dragged into my company--almost as

-much as I’d object to being dragged into theirs.”

-

-It would have troubled Mrs. Matthewson to say why she felt a savage

-pleasure in thus baiting the detective, but she did feel it, and was

-too proud to deny the fact, even as she was too proud to deny that the

-fact was unworthy her own measure of herself.

-

-An hour later Charles had handed her into her carriage and gone back

-to the hall, as she bade him, to stand for the family during the

-remainder of the evening. A carriage in front blocked the way and a

-voice almost at her elbow, but on the side opposite that at which she

-had entered, said:

-

-“May I have the honour of calling in the morning?”

-

-She did not even turn her head, as she flung back the answer:

-

-“If it’s necessary.”

-

-“I think it necessary.”

-

-“At half-past ten, then.”

-

-She did not look to see, but knew that the place was vacant. None the

-less she yielded no whit, but held her upright position, as if she were

-already on trial before the world and bade it defiance.

-

-It was the same in the morning. She entered the small parlour as if

-it were she and not her visitor who was to ask explanations, and he,

-with his quick adaptation of himself to moods and conditions, not alone

-humoured her, but throughout bore himself with a courtesy and deference

-that went as far as anything could to salve her wounded pride.

-

-“I assume it is not necessary for me to explain who I am and why I

-have asked this interview,” he said, as an approach to a knowledge of

-the footing on which they stood.

-

-“It is not necessary,” she returned. “You are Isaac Trafford,

-detective: you are engaged in ferreting out the murder of Theodore

-Wing, and you think I am able to give you information that may aid you.

-I am sorry to say that I cannot. I am sorry for the crime: I’m always

-sorry for crime; but it can have no particular sting for me, because of

-the man who is its victim.”

-

-“I thought it might be otherwise,” he said quite simply.

-

-“You are mistaken.”

-

-“None the less,” he said, “you have read the statement left by Judge

-Parlin.”

-

-“I have read the statement purporting to be left by Judge Parlin,” she

-corrected him.

-

-“It is absolutely true from beginning to end. There can be no doubt

-that Judge Parlin left it, for only he and one other person at that

-time knew the facts.”

-

-“And that other person?” The question was without a tremor. Trafford

-felt like rising and saluting the woman, as her words came clean-cut

-and passionless.

-

-“Theodore Wing’s mother.”

-

-“She is, then, still alive?”

-

-“She is still alive,” he said; “and unless concerned in this recent

-tragedy, as safe as if the knowledge of the facts had remained locked

-in her breast, as they were at the time of Judge Parlin’s death. If she

-was concerned in this tragedy, then it is that, and not the fact that

-another has learned the truth, that destroys her safety.”

-

-Even at so serious a moment, she could not avoid playing with the

-subject:

-

-“Do you think her concerned in the murder?”

-

-“It is what I am not certain of,” he said frankly. “It is the murder

-that has revealed this--misfortune. I can find no motive that can

-account for her connection with the affair.”

-

-“I am of the opinion she had nothing to do with it,” she said, quite

-positively. “If all this is true, she would naturally have no love for

-the child of her mistake; but you surely cannot think on that account

-that she was guilty of murder--the cruelest murder one could imagine

-under the circumstances! Certainly, if there was anything to tempt to

-murder, anything that would have advantaged her, it passed long ago.”

-

-“I have thought of that,” he said, “but is it not possible that

-something may have occurred recently that alarmed her--something that

-made her feel it necessary to go to extremes to which, naturally, she

-would be unwilling to resort, excepting under the direst necessity?”

-

-“I do not think,” she said, lifting her head with some imperiousness,

-“that such a woman is likely to be alarmed. She would have lived that

-down long since. More than that, she would have brains enough to see

-that a crime, more than all else, would endanger her secret. This woman

-could not have been brainless.”

-

-“Far from it,” he assured her. “I am inclined to rate her as the ablest

-woman I have ever met.”

-

-She bowed as recognising a personal compliment.

-

-“You have met her, then?”

-

-“Yes,” he said. “I have met her.”

-

-“Would you mind telling me the impression she made on you--that is,

-as regards her possible connection with this crime? My curiosity is

-roused.”

-

-“I think she is now incapable of it,” he said. “That she might not have

-been at one time, I am less certain; but if there was such a time, it

-has passed. Success had mollified resentment and increased the feeling

-of safety. Still, if she believed herself in danger, I do not think she

-would hesitate at any extreme. It would, however, take much to arouse a

-conviction of danger.”

-

-“I am inclined to think your judgment sound,” she said. “What can you

-tell me of the man who now shares with her the knowledge of the facts

-in the case?”

-

-“That he would not assert such knowledge unless he possessed every

-detail and was absolutely able to identify every person connected

-with the affair and verify every date and place. You may take his

-assertion that he knows, as absolute evidence of this. His only object

-in searching this matter out was the unravelling of the mystery of

-a crime. If he thought for one instant that the revelation of the

-facts would aid in unravelling that crime, he would not hesitate at

-the revelation. Convinced that it would not aid, the secret is as safe

-with him as if it did not exist. At present the secret, as far as he is

-concerned, does not exist.”

-

-“Of course,” she said; “the woman would prefer, greatly prefer, that

-the secret should have died with the man who shared it with her.

-Failing that, she could not feel safer than to have it in the hands

-of such a man as you describe. There is, however, I should think, one

-further assurance that she might desire.”

-

-“I think if it were a possible thing to promise, the man as I know him

-would be disposed to promise.”

-

-“It is that if at any time in the future it should seem to him that

-the woman was concerned in the crime, if there arise any circumstances

-that call for explanation, he will come to her and first submit them to

-her. I think under these circumstances, he might largely rely upon her

-telling him the truth--at least, upon her not telling him a falsehood.”

-

-“Of course,” he said, “I speak only of my impression, but that is that

-she may rely absolutely upon his adopting this course.”

-

-“I trust this enables us to end this interview,” she said, with no

-relaxation of her dignity.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER VII

-

-Hunting Broken Bones

-

-

-Millbank cherished its tragedy as something that gave it pre-eminence

-among its neighbours, and half the male population turned detectives on

-the spot. To many members of the community, however, the affair bore

-a most serious aspect, heightened by the conviction that no actual

-progress had been made towards the solution of the mystery. Such men

-as McManus, the county attorney, and the town counsel, looked upon

-the testimony which tended to implicate Oldbeg as a concession to the

-public demand that something should be done, and as covering rather

-than revealing the serious business of the investigation. They were

-inclined to be indignant at what they regarded as the direction of

-unjust suspicion against an innocent person, and the more so when they

-saw how public sentiment was roused against the unfortunate man.

-

-In fact, there were whispers among the least responsible that if the

-law was to interpose delays, it might become the duty of the citizens

-to take the execution of justice into their own hands. It was the

-county judge who first called attention to the danger to the town and

-county that lurked in such loose talk, indulged in at the start by idle

-men and boys, but working as a leaven that might finally affect the

-entire community.

-

-“There’s just the material down there to give your town a blacker

-tragedy than it’s had yet,” he said to McManus one day after court.

-“The guilty had better go unpunished than be punished through violation

-of the law.”

-

-McManus turned sharply, with that nervous quickness that made him

-forget the judge in the speaker:

-

-“The guilty! The guilty! No man is guilty till the law has found him

-so! How long since suspicion was proof?”

-

-The judge, who appreciated the strain which the death of his partner

-and friend had thrown upon McManus, let the brusqueness of the answer

-pass, but still was insistent:

-

-“It’s no time for refinements or phrasings. It isn’t the idle alone who

-expect impossibilities. Most of your people think Trafford’s failed

-before he’s had time to begin. There’s got to be something done to

-feed their impatience and gain time. A Yankee’s substitute for doing

-something is to hold a public meeting.”

-

-McManus shook his head.

-

-“With the chances that it would end in a hanging-bee,” he said.

-

-When, however, McManus returned to Millbank from the county town, he

-found affairs so far more menacing than he had anticipated as to lead

-him to take counsel with the more prominent citizens. Naturally almost

-the first man to whom he broached the matter was Charles Hunter, the

-head of the leading logging firm.

-

-Hunter was a man who at the age of thirty-five was already recognised

-as the first business man of the town. Succeeding to a business

-built up by his father, he had doubled it and doubled it again. Its

-operations extended over the entire northern part of the State, and

-into Canada, and were closely interlocked with the immense logging

-interests of the Penobscot and the Androscoggin. President of the

-Millbank National Bank, he was also on the Board of leading banks

-in Augusta, Bangor, and Portland, and as a member of the Governor’s

-staff he had attained the rank of colonel--that warlike title which so

-many exceedingly peaceful gentlemen parade with pride. In fact, his

-operations had touched all interests save politics, for his title had

-more of a social than a political significance.

-

-“Undoubtedly,” he said, “Trafford is entitled to make a show for

-the money he’s getting, and we can understand his giving us some

-horse-play; but it’s going too far when he endangers an innocent

-man, to say nothing of the good name of the town. The episode of the

-revolver found twenty-four hours after the murder is mere child’s play.

-I shouldn’t have thought it would have taken for a moment.”

-

-“You think Trafford put it there?”

-

-“I think he knew when to look for it and when not to. He looked for it

-at the right time, at any rate.”

-

-“I don’t think Trafford’s so much to blame for producing the pistol as

-Coroner Burke,” McManus said. “I was watching him at the time, and I

-thought him annoyed at the question.”

-

-“Whoever is to blame,” Hunter answered, with the positiveness of a man

-accustomed to rely much on his own judgment and to have others do the

-same, “the mischief’s done. Half the town is certain that Oldbeg is the

-murderer. It’s being whispered that Mrs. Parlin hired him to do it, so

-she could have the money, and the fact that she doesn’t discharge the

-man is held to be proof of the fact. Then, with the logic of dolts,

-they declare that she hired Trafford because she was afraid of him.”

-

-A look of horror showed in McManus’s face at this statement of the

-public attitude. Surely, Mrs. Parlin had suffered enough without having

-to bear this injustice.

-

-“But don’t they see,” he remonstrated, “if this was the case, Trafford

-would have been the last to turn suspicion upon Oldbeg?”

-

-“They don’t see anything!” exclaimed Hunter impatiently. “They’re

-simply hanging-mad. They believe Trafford too smart not to have

-solved this thing in a fortnight, and at the same time they believe

-him a big enough fool to have sold himself. They think Oldbeg guilty,

-because there’s nobody else in sight, and because they think him

-guilty, they must believe that Trafford and Mrs. Parlin are protecting

-him. Therefore, Mrs. Parlin must be guilty too, and therefore, again,

-Trafford must be trying to cover up the facts.”

-

-Hunter expressed in his somewhat querulous tone much of the feeling

-that prevailed in the business community. Men felt it a disgrace that

-an unprovoked murder could occur under their very eyes, as it were, and

-remain without the slightest progress towards solution for more than

-a fortnight. In a large community, the police would have come in for

-sneers and ridicule. In this case, the detective had to bear the brunt

-of the complaints.

-

-Hunter, intent for the good name of the town, suggested finally that a

-subscription reward be offered in addition to that of the county and

-town and that offered by Mrs. Parlin. He was willing to guarantee a

-substantial sum.

-

-“I think also,” he said, “we should put another detective to work. I

-can’t see any harm if Trafford is on the square, and it may do a lot of

-good if he isn’t.”

-

-“It’s against all principle to put a case into two men’s hands,”

-McManus objected. “We certainly ought to dismiss the one before we hire

-a second.”

-

-“We haven’t hired the first yet,” Hunter answered roughly. “We can’t

-object to Mrs. Parlin employing a detective, if she wants to; but she

-as certainly can’t object to our doing the same thing. If, however, we

-put a man to work, let him keep his hands off that statement of Judge

-Parlin’s.”

-

-McManus started.

-

-“You think it genuine?”

-

-Hunter looked as if the question tired him. He was a tall dark man,

-with an unusually expressive face, and was not accustomed to concealing

-his feelings.

-

-“That’s more of your horse-play. Whether the paper’s genuine or not

-can’t have any bearing on the murder. It isn’t to be imagined, if

-it’s a forgery, that there was a purpose to make it public after the

-principals in the affair were dead. It’s a false scent and meant to be

-a false scent.”

-

-On the very evening on which Charles Hunter urged the employment of an

-additional detective, Trafford was handed a telegram telling him that

-Charles Matthewson had left Augusta on the late afternoon train up the

-river. It had been an easy matter to ascertain that he had not left the

-train either at the main station in Millbank or at the Bridge-stop,

-but none the less the detective had an uneasy feeling that the man

-might be in town. If so, whom did he come to see and why did he come

-and go so mysteriously? He could see no possible connection between

-the relationship of Wing with Matthewson and the murder, and yet he

-could not divest his mind of the impression that there was some mystery

-going on before his very eyes which he had not fathomed, but which, if

-fathomed, would bear upon the discovery of the murderer.

-

-A half-hour or so before the down train was due to leave the Millbank

-station, he left the hotel and walked down Canaan Street to its

-junction with Somerset Street and the covered and enclosed bridge that

-spans the river at that point. Here, upon the very brink of the river,

-fifty feet above the water, stood the small brick building of the

-Millbank National Bank. The bridge and the bank lay in shadow, for it

-was a moonless night and the street lamp at the entrance of the bridge

-was not lighted. Above the bridge was the dash and roar of the falls;

-below, the steady murmur of the narrowed current, between its rocky

-walls that rise more than fifty feet from the water’s edge.

-

-“Thunder!” he thought, “there are some creepy places around this town,

-especially when they can’t sponge on the moon for light. If I was an

-inspired detective, I’d know whether there was any danger in that

-bridge. As I ain’t, I guess I’ll take the centre.”

-

-He advanced into the darkness of the drive, which was pitchy black,

-solid plank walls dividing it from the footwalk on either hand. He was

-half-way through, when he suddenly felt the presence of some one near

-him, though he could see or hear nothing. He stopped, and absolute

-stillness reigned, save the tumult of the water above and below. He

-had walked close to the wall on the down-river side, so that his form

-might not be outlined against the opening of the bridge, and he was

-conscious that he was as completely concealed, since he had advanced

-a rod into the darkness, as were his companions. It was a question of

-endurance, and in that his training gave him the advantage.

-

-Softly there came out of the darkness a noise as of the moving of a

-tired leg. Inch by inch Trafford crept close to the board wall, until

-now it was at his back, with one of the heavy timbers protecting his

-left arm. His right was free for defence. The sound indicated a man

-within a few feet of him on his left.

-

-Suddenly there was the sharp swish of a club in the air, and the thud

-of contact with a living body, followed by a loud cry of pain and

-

-“_Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!_”

-

-“_Mon dieu! Où est le chien?_”

-

-Two men rushed past toward the Millbank end, with a jabber of Canadian

-French, from which Trafford learned that the assailed feared that his

-shoulder was broken.

-

-“One marked for identification,” he chuckled, as he slid along in the

-deep shadow toward the farther end.

-

-He had satisfied himself of one thing he was anxious about, and with

-another at hand had no time to waste on a man who could be found in the

-morning for the mere asking. He was too keen on the question whether

-Charles Matthewson was in Millbank, to allow a needless diversion.

-If Matthewson was in town, it showed a terrible uneasiness at the

-bottom of his wanderings--an uneasiness that forbade his trusting to

-others for information and yet demanded information at first hands, so

-imperatively that he was willing to take enormous risks to obtain it.

-

-“It would have been a coincidence, if I’d been murdered to-night,”

-said Trafford, in his wonted confidential talk with himself; “with

-Matthewson in town as he was the night of the other murder.”

-

-Trafford crossed the railroad bridge and so attained the Millbank

-station without attracting attention. He saw every one of the

-half-dozen passengers who boarded the train, but found no trace of the

-man he was seeking. As the train slowed up for the Bridge stop, he

-swung off into the dark in time to catch sight of a figure swinging on

-from the same dark side. It was not Matthewson, and he was just turning

-away, when suddenly he changed his purpose and as the train moved off

-was again on the rear platform. He rode there to the next station, and

-then changed his quarters to the baggage car. He had identified his

-man; now he was after his destination.

-

-This proved to be Waterville. A private carriage was waiting, and into

-it the man jumped, driving away rapidly. There was but one way to

-follow and keep the carriage in sight, and Trafford made a half-mile

-in quick time, clinging to the back-bar and resting his weight on his

-hands and arms. He dropped to the ground and crept away as the carriage

-turned into the driveway of an extensive country place, which the

-detective recognised as that of Henry Matthewson, a younger brother of

-Charles, and a man largely interested in the logging business.

-

-“Humph,” he said. “This time he comes part way and they bring him the

-news. Well; it ain’t of my murder, though some folks may wish it was

-before many hours have passed.”

-

-Before daylight, he had his operatives on hand while he himself took

-the early train back to Millbank. The delicate work just now was to

-be done there, and this he would trust to no one save himself. His

-appreciation of the importance of the case and the sensation that would

-be produced when it was finally unravelled, had increased immensely

-since he crossed Millbank Bridge, and he had no purpose to see it

-botched by clumsy handling.

-

-After breakfast he went directly to Mr. Wing’s office and sought an

-interview with Mr. McManus.

-

-“I want,” he said, “to go through all the papers again in Wing’s safe

-and, if you have any private papers of his, through those as well. So

-far, we are absolutely adrift and we have a double task on our hands,

-for we’ve got to clear Oldbeg of suspicion as well as discover the real

-murderer.”

-

-“Then you dismiss all suspicion that Oldbeg had anything to do with the

-murder?”

-

-“If you can dismiss an idea you never entertained. In a certain sense

-every man in town was under suspicion--Oldbeg no more than another.

-This job, however, was not the work of a clumsy man like Oldbeg. When

-we find the murderer, you’ll find a man of quick motions, delicacy of

-touch, strong purpose, assured position, and considerable refinement.

-You’ll find a man to whom murder is repugnant and who resorted to it

-only as a last desperate chance. You’ll find therefore a man who was

-desperate, whose all was at stake, and who knew that Wing’s continued

-living meant the loss of that all. Now, if you can tell me where there

-is such a man, I’ll give you proof of his guilt so conclusive before

-night that no one will hesitate to approve his arrest.”

-

-As he spoke, McManus grew pale. Something brought a terrible picture

-before his eyes. As never before, he realised the desperate chase in

-which they were involved.

-

-“It was, then, in your opinion no mere desire for sordid gain that

-impelled to the crime?”

-

-“Who has gained by it? Some one that by it has been saved from loss,

-and tremendous loss. Don’t fool yourself. Don’t look for any common

-criminal, and above all don’t flatter yourself for one moment that

-the criminal will stop at any additional crime to prevent detection.

-If detected, he’s lost everything. He can’t lose any more with twenty

-murders to his charge.”

-

-McManus glanced over his shoulder, as if he expected to see the

-murderer rise out of vacancy in his own defence.

-

-“What connection then has Judge Parlin’s statement with the crime?” he

-asked uneasily.

-

-“It’s a mere incident--an accident, as you might say, that holds its

-place by its own sensational character and the tensity of nervous

-interest aroused in the public mind by the crime itself. It had nothing

-to do with the crime, or the cause that led up to it. I don’t believe

-the murderer knew of its existence. At the same time it’s one of those

-accidents that may lead to things to which it’s in no way related. It

-may be the very thing that’ll ultimately set us on the right track.

-Don’t lose sight of it for a moment.”

-

-McManus looked as if the caution were wholly uncalled for. There was

-not much danger of his losing sight of anything that had to do with

-the murder. One might have suspected from his looks that he wished he

-could.

-

-After making an appointment for three in the afternoon to examine

-papers, Trafford left the office and went to a little dingy room, in

-Gray’s Inn Lane, where he was joined almost immediately by a tall,

-seedy-looking man, evidently of Canadian stock, whose French was only

-a trifle worse than his English. He was a man whom few men would have

-trusted and whom Trafford had always found absolutely trustworthy.

-The man shook his head, with many a gestured negative. Not a man was

-missing from Little Canada; every man who was open to suspicion was

-accounted for, and not one of them showed a broken collar-bone or a

-shattered arm.

-

-“But there are other Canucks in town, outside Little Canada,” said

-Trafford.

-

-The report included all. The man had determined the whereabouts of

-every Canadian of sixteen years of age and upwards, and there was

-not one who bore marks of the blow delivered on the bridge the night

-before.

-

-“But he was a Canuck,” said Trafford, with positiveness that admits

-no question; “and it’s a bigger miracle than any of their relics ever

-performed before, if he don’t carry a broken bone to-day. There’s

-somebody missing.”

-

-The man shook his head. He had accounted for the last of them.

-

-“Do you think it was a dream or a nightmare?” Trafford demanded, with

-some asperity.

-

-The man shrugged and lifted his shoulders, in deprecation of the tone

-of the demand.

-

-“All right,” said Trafford at last. “Take the afternoon train to

-Augusta and resume your work there. I’ll give this personal attention.”

-

-The man hesitated a moment and then, coming close to him and lowering

-his voice, spoke rapidly and anxiously.

-

-“You are taking risks, Mr. Trafford. This is no ordinary case. You

-can’t tell what you’ve got against you. Two men can go safely where one

-can’t.”

-

-“And one can go safely sometimes where two are a danger. I’ve taken

-risks all my life--it’s my business to take ’em. You don’t suppose I

-chose this business because of its freedom from danger, do you?”

-

-“A brave man doesn’t court danger; he simply meets it bravely when it

-comes.”

-

-“Well, I’ll try to meet it that way if it comes. At present Millbank

-looks like a fairly safe place. I don’t think I’ll get my throat cut

-here.”

-

-“But you aren’t going to stay here,” the man urged. “You know you

-aren’t. You’re going----”

-

-“We’ll dispense with information as to where I’m going,” Trafford

-interrupted. “It’s probably safe to state, but it’s possibly not. We’ll

-keep on the absolutely safe side as long as possible. Your train leaves

-in fifteen minutes.”

-

-The gesticulating Canadian reappeared on the instant. Discipline

-asserted itself, and the man prepared to obey without further

-remonstrance.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER VIII

-

-A Man Disappears

-

-

-Trafford sent a hasty note to McManus, postponing the afternoon

-appointment, and made ready to visit the logging drives at work along

-the Kennebec. It was certain that no physician in Millbank had set a

-broken shoulder or arm within the twenty-four hours; no man of the

-character sought had left by any of the trains or stages, and the river

-afforded the only unguarded means of escape. A canoe or river-driver’s

-boat could easily come and go unnoticed, and it tallied with other

-points in hand that the assailants were connected with the logging

-interests. Another point in the case was that, in almost all the large

-gangs of drivers, there was sure to be some one roughly skilled in

-surgery, who could attend to minor accidents and even, temporarily, to

-those of a severer nature, such as are apt to occur, often at points

-far distant from skilled practitioners. Such a man could, under

-emergency, even possibly have set the arm or shoulder, and could

-certainly have cared for it until a surgeon at Norridgewock or farther

-up the river was reached. As yet the logging drives were all above

-Millbank Falls, so that Trafford’s search pointed entirely in that

-direction.

-

-Every schoolboy or farmer’s lad is a walking directory to any logging

-drive within five miles, and Trafford had no difficulty in learning

-that the nearest drive was at the Bombazee Rips, above Norridgewock.

-Here he found the ordinary gang of a dozen men, with boats and the

-implements of their trade, at work on the logs which were beginning to

-jam against those that had first grounded on the ledge at the head of

-the rips. Full half of the gang were French Canadians, small, dark men

-of wonderful litheness and agility, men with a tenacity of life that

-seems to bid defiance to the wet and exposure of their trade. It was

-hard work by day, hard sleep by night, often in clothes soaked with the

-river water; yet cheerful, healthful good humour was evidenced in the

-loud chatter that came with every lull in the work. It was here that

-the grown lads of the Chaudière, Megantic, and St. François valleys

-secured that schooling in the English tongue from which race jealousy

-barred them at home.

-

-A roughly constructed shanty of pine slabs, the earth bountifully

-spread with clean straw, served for sleeping; while in front was an

-immense fire of logs, which served double purpose, for warmth in the

-evening and cooking in the daytime. An old woodsman, whose driving

-days were past, acted as cook and general camp care-taker. A group of

-boys flittered about the fire, shanty, and boats. The older ones made

-ventures upon the logs, and sometimes lent a hand to a driver, handling

-a pick or cant-hook, a feat that made one a hero with his fellows for

-the remainder of the day.

-

-It was entirely permissible for a countryman, such as Trafford

-appeared, on curiosity bent, to enter the sleeping-place or seat

-himself by the fire. Indeed, at mealtime he would scarcely fail, by

-virtue of his age, of an invitation to share in the coarse food,

-a privilege which the boys viewed with keen envy. These boys were

-unconscious spies, upon the sharpness of whose eyes Trafford counted

-much. They went everywhere and saw everything, and if there was an

-injured man in camp, it would take skill to keep him concealed from

-them.

-

-Trafford chatted pleasantly with the cook and joked the boys, before

-he opened in a general way the subject of accidents--of which he

-seemed to stand in apprehension, declaring that log-driving was in his

-opinion the most dangerous of trades. At that the boys raised a shout

-of derision and extolled the trade to the skies. There was not one of

-them but was consumed with desire for a driver’s life, exactly as he

-would be for any other life of freedom and activity whose claims for

-the moment were pressed upon him.

-

-The old man, on the other hand, admitted the element of danger, and

-thrilled his hearers with accounts of hairbreadth escapes which he had

-witnessed in the long years that he had been on the river. There had

-been deaths, too; deaths from drowning and from crushing in the log

-jams. Still, the life was a grand one for the man who was not afraid

-of hard work, and if he had his to live over, he would live it on the

-river again. There had been no accidents as yet, the jams were light

-and easily moved. It was only here and there with this water that any

-serious troubles were had. Oh, yes; Millbank Falls; that, of course,

-was different. There was a hard drive, and when they got there in the

-course of the next week, they would have a lively tussle.

-

-From camp to camp, Trafford worked up to the Forks of the River and

-then up the Dead River branch, and again across to the main river

-and up into the Megantic woods. Nowhere was there any trace of an

-injured man or a hint of knowledge of one. Wherever the camp was near

-a village, so that boys gathered around, they were of material aid in

-giving him information. In spite, however, of every device, he came

-back down the river unsuccessful and depressed. He had a feeling of

-defeat, as if in every camp some one were laughing at him as outwitted.

-He knew the unreason of the feeling and yet could not escape it.

-

-Nor was there, when he reached Millbank, any information from the lower

-part of the river or from any of the surgeons whom, within a radius of

-thirty miles, he had caused to be interrogated. It was if the earth

-had opened and swallowed up the man--or--and he stood above the falls

-and looked at the water rushing over them, as if he would question

-it and wrest an answer from it. It was certain that the man--a man,

-whose personality he could merely guess at--had disappeared. It was

-like ridding himself of a nightmare to throw off the uneasiness that

-oppressed him.

-

-Immediately on his return, Trafford sought an interview with Mrs.

-Parlin. The time was coming when the inquest must be reconvened, and as

-yet there was nothing of advance since the hour when it had adjourned.

-Even he was grown impatient and he could not marvel that a woman, under

-the nervous strain of his employer, should be fast becoming irritably

-so.

-

-“We have no right,” she said, “to leave an innocent man under suspicion

-as Jonathan has been left. If we can’t find the murderer, we can at

-least prove that it isn’t he.”

-

-“Unfortunately, until we find the man, the majority will believe him

-guilty,” Trafford replied.

-

-“What right had you to throw suspicion on him?” she demanded.

-

-“The right of the coroner to know every fact that bears on the case.

-It would have been as unjustifiable to conceal Oldbeg’s purchase of a

-revolver, as it would to conceal the finding of the weapon.”

-

-“Why wasn’t it there the morning of the eleventh?” she asked.

-

-“My dear madam,” he said with a gentle smile, “if we knew that, we’d

-know who the murderer is. We’d know it, that is: but possibly not in a

-way that we could prove.”

-

-“Precious little good that would do us,” she answered.

-

-“So much good that the chances are ninety-nine in a hundred that the

-proof would be forthcoming. There are few men who are shrewd enough to

-cover every trace.”

-

-“But these seem to be of the few,” she said.

-

-“We are not through with them yet,” he replied; and then suddenly: “Has

-the new detective, employed by Hunter and his friends, been here?”

-

-He had, and had made a critical examination of the house from cellar

-to attic; had been through the papers in the desk and safe, and had

-taken away a number of scraps from the former.

-

-“He didn’t get the writing-pad, though,” he said.

-

-“No; that disturbed him; especially when I told him you had it.”

-

-“The--deuce you did!” he exclaimed. “I wish--you hadn’t!”

-

-“I had no right to conceal so important a fact,” she said.

-

-Trafford bit his lip over this turn of his own argument, but made no

-retort. He recognised in this second detective a graver impediment than

-the cunning of the criminal--if, indeed, it was not the cunning of the

-criminal that had interjected the second detective into the affair.

-Working independently, it was scarcely possible that they could do

-otherwise than thwart each other. He had the feeling that the case was

-his and that no other had a professional right to throw himself into

-it. If he had been on the verge of success, he would have withdrawn

-from the case. As it was, the same professional pride that resented

-intrusion, forbade his taking such a course.

-

-For the twentieth time he asked:

-

-“He certainly did a large amount of work at home and must have had

-papers connected with the work here?”

-

-“Why, certainly,” she said. “He always had a lot of professional papers

-here.”

-

-Trafford looked at her as if doubting whether he should ask the

-question that hung on his lips. But he must have facts, and here if

-anywhere was the information he needed. Could he trust the woman?

-Finally he came and stood over her chair, as if he was afraid of the

-walls even, and asked:

-

-“Was this always his habit?”

-

-“No,” she answered; “not while the judge was living, and never indeed

-until about two years ago. Yes, it began about two years ago.”

-

-“It was not a habit learned from the judge, then?”

-

-“Oh, no! Of course, he brought papers home at times, and so did

-Theodore; but he never kept them at home until within the last two

-years.”

-

-“Did Cranston ask you about this?” Trafford demanded.

-

-“No,” she said, “no, he did not.”

-

-“If he does, avoid answering him, if possible.” Then he stopped as if

-he had gone too far, and she, seeing his embarrassment, checked the

-answer that came to her lips.

-

-He sat for some time silent, and then glanced up to intercept a look

-that she bent upon him.

-

-“What is it?” he asked.

-

-“Have you talked with Mr. Hunter--the one who was in Theodore’s office,

-I mean?”

-

-“Is he of the same family as Mr. Hunter who owns the great logging

-interests?”

-

-“His brother.”

-

-“How long has he been in the office?” he asked carelessly--so

-carelessly that she forgot he had not answered her question.

-

-“About two and a half years. I think Theodore thought him an

-acquisition and had great confidence in his ability.”

-

-“A good stock,” he said, “for pushing.” Then he added after a short

-pause:

-

-“Mrs. Parlin, at the inquest you expressed in the strongest terms your

-confidence that the statement presented was actually written by your

-husband. Have you had any cause since to change your mind?”

-

-“Not the slightest,” she said. “On the contrary, the facts there stated

-account for many things that were strange to me before. There is no

-question as to the facts, and none as to his having written them.”

-

-“That being the case, they can have nothing to do with the murder.

-The only other person who knew these facts was directly interested in

-keeping them concealed. Even admitting, as might be possible, that in

-order effectually to prevent exposure, she had been capable of killing

-or having her son killed, would she find any likelihood of this in a

-murder that would centre on him the interest of the entire State? Of

-course, she did not know of the existence of this paper, and she could

-not know that the murder would make the case public, but she would know

-that if he knew the facts, and had any interest in their publicity, he

-would have acted long ago. She would also know that if you knew the

-facts, your interest was that of secrecy, the chance of which would be

-diminished in the excitement of a murder case. Now that’s my reasoning,

-and through it I reach the conclusion that the facts revealed in that

-statement have nothing to do with the murder. I have since confirmed

-this by facts outside those from which I reasoned. I haven’t told a

-soul this before, not even McManus. I don’t want a soul save you to

-know it now; not even McManus. But now I’m going to ask you a question,

-which I believe has some bearing upon the causes of the murder, and

-that is: Why, if Mr. Wing had for two years been keeping many of his

-business papers at home, was there not one of them in his desk or safe

-the morning the murder was discovered?”

-

-“No papers in his desk or safe?” she said, while a look almost of

-terror came over her face. “You must be mistaken! Why, there was a

-package on his desk, lying right on the writing-pad, when I bade him

-good-night.”

-

-“Would you recognise it again if you saw it?”

-

-“Yes.”

-

-“Then look through the safe and see if you can find it.”

-

-He opened the safe and she went through it package by package, while

-he waited with that patience that comes of long training, until, the

-search finished, she looked up and said:

-

-“It isn’t here!”

-

-“It was here at nine o’clock on the night of the tenth; it wasn’t here

-at six on the morning of the eleventh. What do you make of that?”

-

-“It had been stolen!” she gasped, looking pale and perplexed.

-

-“There might be one other explanation,” he interposed; “and we are

-bound to look at that carefully. Mr. Wing might have burned them. He

-had a fire that evening.”

-

-“Yes,” she said, “he might.”

-

-“I made sure on that point,” he then explained, “the morning of the

-murder. Not from any suspicion that papers were missing, but on the

-principle of taking note of everything, even the most trivial. I can

-assure you that there were no papers of any amount burned in the

-fireplace the night before. We could scarcely expect it; but it would

-have been a stroke of genius if the thief had burned some papers to

-throw us off the track.”

-

-“The thief!” she repeated.

-

-“You must see,” he said, “that the theft of the papers presupposes a

-thief. I have been certain from the start that some one was in the room

-after the murder. What he was after I haven’t known until now. He was

-at the safe, which he must have found open. Some one who wanted those

-papers wanted them enough to induce him to commit this murder, and

-then to enter the room and search the safe, while the dead man lay at

-the door. It was a terrible risk--as terrible as that of the murder

-itself. Suppose Oldbeg had been a half-hour later in coming home. He

-would unquestionably have found the murdered man with the murderers in

-the room. By just that narrow margin this perplexing mystery escaped

-proving a mere blundering crime.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER IX

-

-“You are My Mother”

-

-

-Three men sat in conference in the small library at Henry Matthewson’s

-residence at Waterville, the morning after the bridge incident. These

-were Henry Matthewson himself, three years younger than his brother

-Charles, opposite whom was the man who had come from Millbank by the

-midnight train, Frank Hunter, brother of Charles Hunter and himself an

-attorney in the late Mr. Wing’s office.

-

-“The papers are not in the office,” Hunter was saying. “I was nearly

-certain he did not keep them there, but I made the search carefully.”

-

-“How about his private safe at home?” Henry Matthewson asked.

-

-“Of course I’ve had no opportunity to examine that----”

-

-“You should have made one,” said Charles Matthewson sternly.

-

-The remark threw a chill over the talk, that made it a little difficult

-to break the embarrassed silence that followed. At last, Hunter said:

-

-“It was too dangerous to risk turning any general question in that

-direction. Besides, Trafford had the first shy at that.”

-

-“Mr. Hunter is right,” Henry Matthewson said, with that tone that men

-described as “masterful,” and which generally prevailed with Charles,

-in part because it so much resembled his mother’s. “It would have been

-too much risk.”

-

-“What are you going to do?” demanded Charles; “let the papers fall

-into Trafford’s hands, to be used against us, or sold back to us at an

-enormous price? Wing’s death came at a strangely opportune time; are we

-going to throw the chance away?”

-

-“If there were papers,” Henry affirmed, “McManus or Trafford had them

-almost before we heard of the murder. We want to know whether there

-were papers or not, but we don’t want to advertise their existence. If

-we get a chance to buy, we may think ourselves lucky.”

-

-“Trafford!” said Hunter with a touch of scorn in his voice. “We owe

-them thanks for putting him on to the job.”

-

-“Are you certain of your grounds for judgment, Mr. Hunter?” Charles

-Matthewson asked. “I’m a little afraid you underrate his ability.”

-

-“Why, what’s he found out in his fortnight’s work?” demanded Hunter.

-

-“That’s just what I’d like to find out, but can’t,” said Matthewson.

-“Whatever he’s after, he acts as if he’d get it first and do his

-crowing afterwards.”

-

-“Trafford’s at the top, so far as ability is concerned,” said Henry;

-“and the next best man’s Cranston. If you’re going to set a man at

-work, you’d better take him. There are two things for him to do: First,

-keep track of Trafford and let him give us notice quick if he hears

-of the papers; second, work up the story of Wing’s birth. We’ve got

-to keep that more in the public eye. I can’t for the life of me see

-anything in it to lead to the murder, but the public think there’s some

-connection between the two, and we mustn’t let them lose sight of it.”

-

-“But there must have been some motive in the murder,” Hunter affirmed.

-

-“If we can get hold of the papers, we’ll let the motive take care of

-itself,” Charles interposed. “To think, I was in Millbank that very

-night--almost at the very moment! If I’d known--I’d have found out what

-was in that room before any detective had a chance!”

-

-He looked at Hunter with an implication of failure. He would gladly

-have defended himself, but he remembered that he might have been on the

-scene before McManus, and that he had dawdled over his breakfast and

-let the opportunity slip. No one would have refused him admission any

-more than McManus had been refused. How many anxious hours he might

-have saved himself!

-

-As a result of the conference, Cranston was sent for and put on the

-case. He listened to his instructions and then said:

-

-“I’ve got to know what you want, if I’m to work with any advantage to

-you or myself. You want to find out who Wing’s mother was--but that’s

-incidental. You want to know who murdered Wing--but that’s incidental.

-What is it I’m to do really?”

-

-Again Henry Matthewson showed his superior masterfulness by deciding

-and acting.

-

-“Mr. Wing had been for some time at work upon a matter that concerns

-materially the logging interests of this State. We simply know the

-fact, for he took no one into his confidence, and was so secretive as

-to keep the papers about him or in his private safe in his library.

-Without knowing what the papers contain, we believe if they should fall

-into the hand of a less scrupulous man than Mr. Wing, they might become

-dangerous--that is, a source of blackmail. We want to locate those

-papers, and if possible get possession of them.”

-

-“How far am I warranted in going in order to get hold of them?” he

-asked.

-

-“Only to locate them and report to me. We will decide then on the safe

-course.” It was Henry Matthewson who spoke, as always when prompt

-decision was demanded.

-

-“If they had not already been removed,” said Cranston, “Trafford and

-McManus have had a chance long since to secure them. I’m like to find

-them in their hands.”

-

-“Excepting that they might not know their value,” said Charles

-Matthewson.

-

-Cranston looked at the speaker quizzically.

-

-“I don’t know about your Mr. McManus,” he said. “He’s a lawyer. But as

-to Trafford, I can answer. If he’s had his hands on those papers, he

-knows their value.”

-

-“I don’t think,” said Hunter, after the detective had received his

-instructions and gone, “that my brother would quite approve time spent

-in discovering Wing’s mother. He doesn’t believe that affair had

-anything to do with the murder.”

-

-“How can any sensible man?” Henry Matthewson demanded impatiently; “but

-we don’t know where the enquiry is going to land us nor what help we

-may want before we’re through. If the judge’s statement is true, this

-woman has a high position to lose and has great influence with her

-husband, who holds a strong place politically. It can’t be a matter of

-much trouble to unravel that part of the affair, and it may give us

-some one whom we can use advantageously in case of an emergency. It

-may bring to our aid a force that naturally would be glad to crush us.

-I’ll take the risk at any rate!”

-

-“All right,” said Hunter. “I’m agreeable, though I thought it proper to

-state my brother’s position.”

-

-Cranston entered upon his work at once and with zeal. His first visit

-was to Millbank and the Parlin house, where, as has been said, he

-searched from top to bottom. He plied Mrs. Parlin with questions that

-finally got from her the story of the package of papers, which she was

-not conscious of having seen until his questions stirred her memory to

-recall a picture of the room the night before the murder. Then came

-out clearly and distinctly the package of papers lying on the desk.

-It was, however, equally certain that they were gone, and of this he

-was able to satisfy himself without letting Mrs. Parlin understand

-that he attached any importance to the matter. The task was left him

-of ascertaining whether Trafford or McManus had them. The episode of

-the writing-pad convinced him that Trafford was the man, and that the

-pad was simply a cover to the removal of the papers that were resting

-on it. It was this that caused the annoyance to which Mrs. Parlin had

-referred.

-

-He went over the ground under the consciousness that eyes at least

-as capable of seeing as his own had preceded him, and that there was

-little chance that anything had escaped them and less chance that, if

-there had, he would be able to discover it. It irritated him that men

-who wanted real service should call him in at so late an hour, and then

-seem to take it for granted that they had done all that was necessary.

-

-“Oldbeg has been here a good many years,” he said carelessly to Mrs.

-Parlin, who insisted on attending him in his investigation.

-

-“He’s been with us about six years; one year before the judge died.”

-

-“You have always found him faithful?”

-

-“There has been nothing particular to complain of. He’s been steady and

-has worked hard and usually shown good temper.”

-

-“Usually,” Cranston repeated. “Then sometimes he hasn’t.”

-

-“He has his off-days, the same as the rest of us; days when things

-don’t go right and he gets surly. But those spells pass quickly

-and he’s always sorry for them, seemingly. There aren’t any of us

-smooth-feathered all the time.”

-

-“When did he have one of these ‘off-days,’ as you call them, last?” The

-tone was careless, as if Cranston did not attach much importance to the

-enquiry, and yet made it, as in duty bound.

-

-“On the Sunday before----”

-

-“May ninth,” interrupted Cranston.

-

-“Yes. In the afternoon he was dressed up to go visiting. Theodore sent

-for him to put his driving horse into the light buggy, so he could

-drive to Norridgewock. Jonathan didn’t like it and said if he couldn’t

-have Sunday afternoons, he’d find some place where he could.”

-

-“Was that all there was to it?” Cranston asked, after waiting a moment

-for Mrs. Parlin to continue.

-

-“Why, about all. It’s all too silly to repeat.”

-

-“I’d rather judge of that,” Cranston said, more shortly perhaps than he

-intended.

-

-Mrs. Parlin grew cold and distant, with that poise of the head that, to

-her friends, at least, told of offence taken.

-

-“It was only irritation and he didn’t even mean that Theodore should

-hear him, but Theodore did and answered pretty sharply and----”

-

-“Please, what did he say?”

-

-“That he could go any time it suited him, and that, while he intended

-to give a man all the privileges he could, he intended also to have his

-services when he wanted them. Jonathan said if he wanted a man to work

-like a nigger, he’d better get one; and Theodore told him if he heard

-another word from him, he’d discharge him on the spot.” Mrs. Parlin had

-spoken formally and distantly, as if to assert the compulsion under

-which she complied with his demand.

-

-“Was that the end of it?” he asked.

-

-“Why, of course. Neither of them meant it, and the easiest way was to

-let it pass. Theodore understood that and didn’t refer to it again.

-It’s sometimes the best way to get along with hasty folks.”

-

-“But did Oldbeg forget it?” Cranston asked significantly.

-

-“Possibly not. He knew he was wrong and it made him uneasy, but of

-course, it all went when the terrible murder was discovered.”

-

-Cranston looked at her with a puzzled expression, and then smiled as he

-realised that she had not understood his question. He was glad that it

-was so, and at once passed to other matters.

-

-To Frank Hunter, however, that night he reported his conviction that

-the evidence pointed more strongly to Oldbeg as the murderer than he

-had supposed.

-

-“In fact,” he said, “there’s enough to justify his arrest, and with

-that I feel pretty certain he’ll break down and we’ll get the truth.”

-

-“But the papers,” said Hunter, impatiently. “Oldbeg could have had no

-knowledge of them, but they’re what we’re first of all interested in.”

-

-“Oh, as for them, Trafford’s got them beyond doubt. They were last

-seen on the writing-pad, and he made quite a show of taking that. It

-was nothing but a cover for the papers, of course. You’ve got to open

-negotiations with him for their purchase, but you can’t do that so long

-as he thinks they may have something to do with the murder. When the

-question of the murder’s out of the way, then the papers ’ll simply be

-papers and you can make quick work of ’em: another reason why you ought

-to arrest Oldbeg and get that settled.”

-

-“But my brother’s positive Oldbeg had nothing to do with the murder,

-and whatever his interest may be, he’s not going to let an innocent

-man suffer an unjust arrest. I’m confident, unless you can give him

-positive proofs in the matter, he’ll not allow it to be done.”

-

-“Well,” said the man sulkily, “I’m in your employ and shall obey

-orders, but if I was working on the case as a public matter, I’d have

-the arrest made and made quick.”

-

-Mr. Charles Hunter was obdurate. He declared that enough injustice had

-already been done in turning public suspicion against the man without a

-shred to hang it on, and he was not going to be a party to keeping it

-up.

-

-“It’ll take the man years to recover from it now,” he affirmed;

-“and an arrest would down him forever. Oh, yes, I know you bring in

-a motive in a petty fuss that occurred on Sunday--a thing that might

-happen anywhere and to any one. A man going to see his girl gets

-miffed because he has to harness a horse and is impertinent, and you

-conclude that that’s reason for his shooting his employer. It’s against

-all reason and common sense, and I won’t insult my intelligence by

-considering it.”

-

-“Most murders are against reason and common sense,” said the detective;

-“at least, that’s my experience, and more than that, nine murders out

-of ten are for absolutely trivial causes. Before you get through with

-this case, you’ll see Oldbeg arrested, or I’ll miss my guess.”

-

-“Well, I shan’t be responsible for it,” the other retorted.

-

-Thwarted in this part of his search, Cranston turned his attention

-to tracing Wing’s mother, to which both Hunter and the Matthewsons

-appeared to attach considerable importance--more, in fact, than he

-could find in it. Confessedly, it was a cover or subterfuge and meant

-the unearthing of a secret that might ruin a woman’s good name for a

-mistake made forty years before. It seemed to him a strange twist of

-conscience, which revolted at the arrest of a man for a crime of which

-circumstances tended to show him guilty, while it gave willing assent

-to bringing to light that which might have been lived down years before

-and redeemed by a clean life during more years than any of these men

-had lived.

-

-As soon, however, as he took up the matter, the spirit of the quest

-possessed him, and this grew strong as the facts unearthed began to

-point in a certain direction, while wonder and a low greed found seeds

-in the case as it unfolded. At last, with the truth before him, he

-was at the point where paths separated, with insistent necessity for

-him to take one or the other. Should he go to the woman and demand

-his price for silence; or should he give the sons the facts and make

-them the purchasers? Whichever he decided on, he would deal honestly

-as a man should, and he would not pit one against the other. Hence,

-the importance of the decision, for once made it barred him from

-negotiations with any one else. Preferably, he would keep the matter

-a secret from the sons, save that he had a shrewd suspicion that they

-were in a better position to pay the price than was the mother. On the

-other hand, the mother might prove the more defiant, especially if she

-credited his unwillingness to go to others. It was at best a delicate

-question, but fortunately it would “keep” and be as valuable a month

-hence as now. He could, therefore, wait and let development lead him in

-his decision.

-

-Then came the thought of Trafford. Trafford had, of course, followed

-up this clue and, equally of course, had unearthed the facts. He,

-therefore, was in the market, with the danger that he might not prove

-as “honourable” as Cranston purposed being, and, therefore, might

-damage the price that the latter had expected to obtain. Indeed, it

-was an awkward predicament for a man who had a valuable secret to sell

-and natural purchasers at hand, yet wished at the same time to shape

-his course to the demands of fair dealing and honour. Still, before he

-moved, it was necessary that he should ascertain, if possible, whether

-Trafford had approached either of the persons interested and if so,

-what he had done.

-

-It was the day on which Trafford returned from his fruitless visit to

-the logging drives. Charles Matthewson, uneasy and anxious, found his

-office more conducive to nervousness than work, and finally, throwing

-down his pen, had reached for his hat for a turn out of doors, when the

-door opened and his mother entered.

-

-“Why, mother,” he said, rising to meet her, and striving to stifle the

-apprehension her presence brought, “this is an unusual honour. It’s

-a pleasure I would not deny myself, yet I would have spared you the

-trouble if you had sent for me.”

-

-“I came to talk with you, Charles,” she said, as she took the proffered

-chair by the window; “and it was better and easier to talk here than at

-home.”

-

-“It is a matter of moment, mother?” he asked anxiously.

-

-Endowed though Charles Matthewson was with that relentless persistence,

-that knows no conscience save success in the pursuit of a purpose,

-which had carried the family so far, there was a gentler side to his

-nature that was wanting in his younger brother. The development of

-this was peculiarly in his relationship with his mother, who in turn

-gave him a tenderness of affection of which few dreamed her capable. A

-desire, born of all that was womanly in her masculine nature, had been

-fed by this son’s love, which was in strong contrast to the awe and

-deference accorded her by most of her relatives. It was no easy task

-for her to turn for aid to any one, but if she was forced to do so,

-it was naturally to Charles she would go. On the other hand, he knew

-her well enough to know that an appeal struck its roots deep before it

-could bring her to such a course.

-

-“Is it you, Charles, who are having this woman hunted down?”

-

-“What woman, mother?” he asked in surprise.

-

-She seemed to find difficulty in answering; but after a struggle,

-raised her head almost defiantly, and said in a hard, cold voice:

-

-“The mother of Theodore Wing.”

-

-His face hardened in turn to a strange resemblance to her own.

-

-“You have nothing to do with such a woman as that, mother.”

-

-“Every woman has to do with another who is being oppressed and wronged.

-Why is the dead past of that woman to be laid bare to the world?

-Are the years since her wrongdoing to count for nothing? Is this

-generation, that has grown up since all this happened, to be the judge

-of what she did before it was born? Is my son to be the one to allow

-the wrong?”

-

-This new phase of his mother’s character struck him strangely and not

-pleasantly. She was not wont to show large sympathy with her sex,

-though he would be far from accusing her of hardness or cruelty.

-Still she had left with him the impression of sympathies and feelings

-that were rather masculine than feminine; the impressions of one who,

-accepting the task of fighting her own way in the world, felt it no

-injustice or wrong to impose the same on others.

-

-“I have no wish, mother, to hunt down this or any other woman; but a

-terrible murder has been committed, a murder the more terrible because

-of its motiveless and mysterious character. I have been called in as

-counsel to those who are seeking to unravel this mystery and punish the

-murderer, and it’s my duty to use every means to accomplish this end.”

-

-“Then you are hunting this woman out and will expose her nakedness to

-the world!” The words were a cry, that had its force even more in the

-tone than in the words themselves.

-

-“I am certainly endeavouring to discover the woman. I could do no less

-under the circumstances. I think I have a fair prospect of success.”

-

-She rose from her chair and looked at him strangely and despairingly.

-Then she turned towards the door.

-

-“I will go,” she said. “This is no place for me. I will go.”

-

-He looked at her coldly, almost repellantly, as he said, checking her:

-

-“Mother, what does this mean?”

-

-No man who had once seen it, could forget the look she gave him. There

-was heartbreak in it; there was more than that, there was the crushing

-back of a life-long pride.

-

-“What can it mean?” she asked.

-

-His head fell on his breast. He had never guessed before the bitterness

-that life can have, that a moment of time can bring. She never took her

-eyes from his. Whatever the sentence, she would meet it as became her

-past. Slowly his head came up; slowly the misery in his eyes rose to

-hers. Then he came and laid his lips on her forehead and said:

-

-“You are my mother: I shall obey your wish.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER X

-

-A Second Murder?

-

-

-“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford, after they had completed the

-re-examination of Wing’s private papers at the office and in his safe

-at home, “was Mr. Wing of a peculiarly secretive disposition?”

-

-“If he had a fault,” McManus answered, “and since he was human, he must

-have had, it was his excessive frankness and openness.”

-

-“And yet we find him lugging papers on some affair, which he shared

-with no one, back and forth from office to house, and when not so

-doing, keeping them locked in a safe in his library to which only he

-had access. How do you account for this?”

-

-McManus glanced over his shoulder before answering and then dropped

-his voice almost to a whisper, although they were sitting in the very

-centre of the great library at the Parlin house, with the door closed.

-

-“I think he was afraid.”

-

-“Afraid!” repeated Trafford, almost thrown off his guard, but

-instinctively lowering his tone in sympathy with his companion. “Afraid

-of what?”

-

-“Just about two years ago, he found one morning that his desk at the

-office had been ransacked. Papers were turned topsy-turvy and packages

-of papers had been opened and tied up again hastily. The thoroughness

-with which the search was made showed that the person had a well-shaped

-purpose, while the fact that a considerable amount of money, which was

-loose in a drawer, was not touched, proved that it was not robbery. We

-made every effort to find out the culprit, but without success. We had

-at one time suspicion of an office-boy, but nothing positive, and Mr.

-Wing wouldn’t let him be discharged under circumstances that would do

-him a grave injustice if he were innocent. So we retained him.”

-

-“And he repeated the performance,” Trafford said in a tone of

-conviction.

-

-McManus looked at him, questioning whether this assertion came from

-knowledge of the affair or was merely a shrewd guess. Failing to

-satisfy himself, he went on:

-

-“The performance was repeated, but under conditions that made it

-impossible for the boy to be guilty. He was away on his vacation.”

-

-“Not shrewd of the culprit. You are certain it was some one in the

-office?”

-

-“Yes; but we never discovered his identity.”

-

-“And from that time Mr. Wing began carrying these papers back and forth

-and keeping them in this safe.”

-

-McManus nodded.

-

-“And the desk was never troubled again.”

-

-“How do you know?”

-

-“Was it?”

-

-“No.”

-

-Trafford nodded his satisfaction and proceeded to elucidate:

-

-“When the object was removed and the watcher knew it, he would repeat

-the search only to cover his identity. Shrewd as he was, he either

-wasn’t shrewd enough for that or was indifferent. He gave away the

-fact that he was some one who knew of the removal of the papers.”

-

-“Then you think these papers were what he was after?”

-

-“Most assuredly.”

-

-“And that the removal of them----”

-

-“Became Wing’s death warrant,” Trafford completed the sentence. McManus

-hesitated and grew pale.

-

-“My God, Trafford; do you see what that leads to?”

-

-“I see what you think it leads to. You think it leads to the conclusion

-that Wing was murdered by somebody in your office, somebody who has

-been there at least two years. I think that’s what you lawyers call a

-_non sequitur_.”

-

-“At the office, the papers might be stolen; here they could be stolen

-only after the murder of Wing. Why shouldn’t the thief be one and the

-same in both cases?”

-

-“Because many a man will steal where only one will commit murder. It is

-possible, of course, that the two may be the same. The probabilities,

-however, are against it.”

-

-“What follows then?” demanded McManus.

-

-“That the actor in at least one case, and possibly in both, was not

-the principal; and that the more there are engaged in the affair, the

-better chance we have of discovery. It is the one-man affair that

-baffles.”

-

-None the less, when McManus was gone, Trafford summed up the successes

-of three weeks and found them mortifyingly few. A package of papers

-missed and not found; an innocent man under suspicion; a woman of

-prominence proved the mother of an illegitimate child; a thwarted

-attempt upon his own life; a wounded Canadian apparently wiped off the

-earth; and a respectable citizen traced on a midnight visit to another

-respectable citizen at Waterville. It was not on such achievements as

-these that he had built his reputation.

-

-With the thought of the missing Canadian, his anxiety returned. It

-was impossible that he had been spirited away to Canada, yet it was

-undeniable that he was gone. He went out and looked at the river.

-After two weeks of dry weather the water was falling. On the edge of

-the falls, rocks showed that a week before were under water. In eddies

-and shallow places he could see, as with his physical eye, drift and

-débris collecting, and sometimes in this drift and débris strange

-matter was thrown up. He had hesitated to do it, but he felt that

-he had no right to hesitate longer, and so he gave directions for a

-careful search of the river banks and shallow places from Millbank to

-Pishon’s Ferry. It was the last chance, and he had refused to consider

-it until it would be criminal to refuse longer.

-

-That was the physical part of the task, which he could set others to

-do; but there was another part, and that he took with him to his room

-in the hotel and spent much of the night with it. All the evening he

-turned and re-turned it, looking at every side and phase, and then

-went to bed and to sleep, with the knowledge that more than once that

-which the most earnest thought fails to unravel becomes by some strange

-alchemy clear under the magic of sleep. Would it be so with this?

-

-To that query, which came involuntarily, he answered with a doubt.

-

-“I’m fighting my conviction,” he said, almost plaintively, “instead of

-giving myself up to its free course. I can’t expect to be helped as

-long as I do that; but I can’t, I won’t believe. A man in my mood can’t

-solve anything!”

-

-So it came to pass that the night brought him no help, and he rose in

-the morning without that sense of rest which a single hour’s sleep

-brings under the stimulus of success.

-

-About noon, a country lad on horseback brought a message from a point

-some six miles below the village. Obeying the message, he started at

-once with the coroner and physician.

-

-On a tiny meadow that lay as a crescent of green along the border of

-cove where the current of the river sweeps in as an eddy, something

-was drawn up from the water and lay covered in an unrecognizable mass,

-which none the less had a strange repulsiveness about it. Back of the

-meadow great trees rose toward the early June sky; before it the river

-flashed in the June sunshine, and across its waters, the brown earth,

-dotted with the young corn, stretched away in the beauty of early

-summer. A few men and boys stood about the covered thing in strange

-silence, that seemed almost of fear; yet all pressed nearer when, by

-order of the coroner, the covering cloth was removed.

-

-Trafford and the doctor stooped and made a close examination of the

-hideous thing. No one spoke above his breath as they waited the report,

-yet by some strange magic the story of the finding went from man to

-man. At last the two men rose and went down to the river to wash their

-soiled hands. The coroner followed them:

-

-“What do you make of it?” he asked.

-

-Trafford waited until the doctor was forced to speak:

-

-“Plainly a Canuck, and I should say a log-driver. Certainly a working

-man. Been drowned a week and has come from above the Falls. You can

-see that by the way he’s battered up. That’s when he was whirled round

-under the Falls. Several bones broken, probably by the rocks, but that

-smashing of the collar bone came from a blow from above and before he

-was dead. It may have been that that knocked him into the water. Unless

-you find some particular mark on him, you won’t be able to identify

-him, he’s so smashed up. Better send up the river and see if any driver

-has been missing about a week. Beg pardon, Mr. Trafford, I fear I’m

-taking the words out of your mouth.”

-

-“Not at all,” the other answered. “I couldn’t have covered my findings

-better myself, excepting I was less certain about the breaking of the

-collar bone, whether it was before or after death. If he had gone over

-the Falls, for instance, head first, might he not have struck a rock

-and broken his collar bone, so as to give the appearance of its being

-shattered by a blow dealt from above?”

-

-“It’s not simply that,” said the doctor. “There’s the swelling of the

-living flesh that could not take place if the blow occurred after

-death. The injury must have occurred long enough before death to

-produce this effect.”

-

-“Then it could hardly have been the blow that knocked him into the

-water?”

-

-The doctor started at the question and, without answering, walked

-back to the body and re-examined the broken bone and some of the other

-bruises. Then he came back to where Trafford and the coroner waited him.

-

-“There can’t be any question that the broken clavicle antedates death,

-and antedates it some few hours. The man may have been injured at some

-distance from any one and have taken a boat to go for assistance and

-not been able to control it.”

-

-“He might have done any one of a dozen things,” Trafford interposed

-impatiently; “but the thing is to find out which one he did do. How

-did he get this injury, and how did he come to his drowning after the

-injury; for I take it you’ll admit when death came, it did come through

-drowning.”

-

-“I think we’ll have to admit that,” the doctor returned.

-

-“Then we have an injury, one, two, perhaps three hours before death;

-and then death by drowning. If all this was the result of accident,

-don’t you think he was having more than his fair share, crowded into a

-pretty small space of time?” It was Trafford’s question.

-

-“You mean,” demanded the coroner, a trifle uneasily, “that we’ve got

-another murder on our hands before the first one is cleared up?”

-

-“I mean,” said Trafford; “that if we have, it may prove easier to

-unravel two murders than one.”

-

-They walked slowly back and looked at the face that was gashed beyond

-human recognition. Was this he who had cried so piteously on Millbank

-Bridge, “_Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!_”? If so, what had been the history

-of the few hours that elapsed before he plunged into the river to the

-death meant for Trafford? How was that plunge made? Where was the

-Pierre who had struck the blow on the bridge, and who must be able to

-tell the story of the man’s drowning? These were the questions which

-were dinning themselves in Trafford’s brain and imperiously demanding

-an answer.

-

-The news of the finding of the body spread rapidly through Millbank,

-but with comparatively trifling sensation. Men were drowned each year

-in the river. The driving business was full of risks and men fell

-victims to it each spring. It was not like a murder--a blow from no

-one knew where, falling no one knew why. This drowning was a thing

-people were accustomed to expect. They shrugged, wondered if he had a

-family, and thought little more of an accident that left them “one less

-Canuck.” A solitary priest, poor and hard-worked, spent the night in

-prayers for the dead; for these men who come from the North to drive

-the river are almost without exception faithful children of the Church,

-which, through her ministry, mourns her bereavement and assails the

-gates of heaven for admission of the departed soul.

-

-Trafford sat alone in his room at the hotel. He had no doubt that this

-was the man on whom had fallen the blow which was intended for him.

-Disabled, so that he could not be concealed or taken away without

-discovery and recognition, it had been worth the while of those who had

-failed in their attempt on his own life, to murder the poor wretch,

-rather than take the chances of his being seen and questioned. Disabled

-as he was, his condition should have appealed to the hardest heart.

-He had tried to do faithfully the work given him and, failing, had

-been done to death for his fidelity. What was this hideous thing that

-played with murder, rather than let itself be discovered?

-

-As Trafford asked himself the question, he glanced uneasily at his

-windows. It was here, in this very town, within a stone’s throw of the

-very place where he sat, that murder stalked--murder that had once

-sought him as a victim and then had destroyed its own instrument, not

-trusting the man it had employed. It seemed like a lowering menace,

-ready to fall without warning, and almost for the first time since he

-had taken up this profession, he was conscious of the sense of personal

-fear. This merciless, unseen something, impressed him as standing just

-beyond the line of sight, watching with unseen eyes, to strike at him

-again. If it could be uncovered, what would it prove itself, to justify

-so desperate a chance? If it could not be uncovered, where was safety

-for himself or for any one who stood as a menace to its purposes?

-

-That the men who had committed these two murders and had tried a

-third--for he did not for one instant separate them--would stop at no

-chance, was beyond dispute or question. They had watched and waited on

-Wing for two years and, apparently, had not struck until every other

-means of securing what they wanted had failed. When they did strike,

-they had struck pitilessly and effectively. But they were still on

-their guard, as the assault on the Bridge and this wanton murder of a

-wounded man proved. They had gone so far; certainly they would not now

-retire from the game, nor would they show a scrupulousness they had

-failed to feel before they had so far committed themselves that retreat

-was impossible. It was a struggle to the death, with an unseen foe, by

-a man who at all times stood out as a plain mark. He had the sensation

-of one who stands with a lamp in his hands and peers into the deeper

-dark, to catch a glimpse of a foe that he simply knows lies in wait for

-him unseen.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XI

-

-Already One Attempt

-

-

-“I won’t consent to any further chasing of this woman.”

-

-It was Charles Matthewson who spoke, standing in front of his brother

-in the library at Waterville, where the original interview regarding

-Cranston had taken place. It was a long time since Charles had spoken

-so positively to Henry, and the latter looked up half amused and half

-irritated, yet with an ugly expression on his face.

-

-“You have suddenly become very much concerned for this--woman. I’ll use

-your polite term,” he said.

-

-“I’ve suddenly become concerned for myself,” the other replied hotly.

-“I know, as you do, that she and her--misfortune have nothing to do

-with this murder; and I know, as you do, if you’ll stop to think a

-moment, that it’s a cowardly piece of business for men to engage in to

-hunt down a woman, simply because they may do so with the approval of

-the hunters.”

-

-Henry gave a low whistle.

-

-“Who’s been talking to you? You’ve got a sudden conversion as to this

-woman’s--misfortune.” He gave an ugly slur to that last word. “Time was

-when you’d call it by another name.”

-

-“Well, whether I would or not, Cranston’s got to be called off from

-that line: and he’s got to be called off quick!”

-

-“But Frank Hunter has been very insistent on this point. He seems to

-have some reason for thinking it important,” Henry answered.

-

-“Because he thinks that a sensation there will stop folks asking

-questions nearer home. If he can raise a dust behind which he can

-negotiate for those papers, he’s got all he’s looking for just now.”

-

-“Perhaps you don’t feel any interest in those papers,” Henry answered.

-

-“Interest or no interest, I’m not going to skulk any longer behind a

-petticoat. I’m ashamed to have done it so long.”

-

-“Good boy,” Henry said, making a motion as if to pat him on the

-shoulder. “I ask again, who’s been stirring up your conscience?”

-

-“Our mother,” said Charles simply.

-

-Henry stopped in his act, and a new look came over his face.

-

-“Does she think it unmanly?” he asked.

-

-“She thinks it cowardly and mean,” Charles said strongly.

-

-Not a sign of anger at these stinging words came into Henry’s face, but

-instead the look of a child justly reproved.

-

-“I guess she’s right, Charles,” he said. “I guess she’s right. I hadn’t

-thought of it before, but it is mean and cowardly. I’ll call Cranston

-off at once.”

-

-“And Hunter?” Charles asked in his turn.

-

-“He can find something else to raise a dust, or he can come out into

-the open and fight; but he shan’t fight longer behind this woman’s

-petticoat. I wish we hadn’t done it at all!”

-

-“I’d give more than I can tell,” Charles answered, giving cry to that

-bitterness of shame which, hidden in his heart, he dared not uncover.

-

-“Yes,” said Henry; “to think that mother should call our act mean and

-cowardly! I’d rather the old papers----” Then he stopped short.

-

-“Has it ever occurred to you that the papers may have had something to

-do with Wing’s death?” Charles asked.

-

-“Hush up!” exclaimed Henry roughly. “There are some things a man

-shouldn’t even dare think, much less say.”

-

-“But--by God,” Charles answered, “there are some things a man can’t

-help thinking and perhaps saying. I tell you, I’m not so certain I

-wouldn’t have shot Wing myself for the sake of getting hold of those

-papers!”

-

-“And if you’re going to keep on talking this way, you might as well

-have done it,” Henry answered bitterly. “I wouldn’t trust myself to

-think such things as you’re saying.”

-

-“But, Henry, think, just think----”

-

-“I won’t,” the other shouted in a wild passion. “I won’t think, and

-I forbid you to ask me to! The man is dead and the Lord only knows

-into whose hands those papers have fallen. There’s only one thing I

-keep thinking--thinking all the time,” and his voice dropped, while he

-looked anxiously over his shoulder, as if he feared the very walls of

-his library: “and that is that it was safer to have those papers in his

-hands, so long as we knew that they were there, than it is to have them

-in the hands of somebody--we don’t know who, for a purpose, we don’t

-know what.”

-

-Charles grew paler than Henry had ever seen him. There was a gasp in

-his voice, as if he found breathing difficult, and he almost clutched

-at his brother as he said:

-

-“That means that you are afraid, as I am, that the papers had some

-connection with his death, and you are trying to persuade yourself to

-the contrary. A month ago, you’d have jumped at the chance of somebody

-else having them, no matter who that somebody else might be: yet to-day

-you try to make me think that you believe it has increased the danger.

-_You know better._ I don’t care whose hands they’re in, we’re safer

-than we were when Wing had them. Now it’s only a question of money.”

-

-“Then why don’t we hear from them?”

-

-“It would be so safe, with matters as they are, for any one to offer to

-sell Wing’s papers,” sneered Charles.

-

-“Suppose whoever’s got them makes copies of them?” Henry suggested.

-

-“And you tell me not to think of these things!” Charles cried.

-

-Henry Matthewson at once called Cranston off from the Bangor matter

-and then sent for Frank Hunter. The latter came in the early evening,

-uneasy, restless, and irritable. The mood was confirmed when he

-discovered what had been done.

-

-“It’s that, or let him go to Millbank and keep excitement alive there,”

-he said. “Trafford strikes me as entirely capable of doing enough of

-that.”

-

-“As matters stand,” demanded Henry, regardless of the caution he had

-given his brother, “do you know who were most likely to profit by

-Wing’s death?”

-

-“We were,” answered Frank coldly. “Do you think I’ve ever failed to

-recognise that fact? I don’t do business that way.”

-

-“Then you mean to say that you have seen from the first that if men

-looked for motives, they’d fasten on us?”

-

-“I mean to say exactly that,” Frank Hunter answered; “and unless we can

-dig up something that shows that somebody else was in as bad a position

-as we, it will go hard with us, unless we can tire the detectives out

-and make them give it up as a bad job.”

-

-It was Henry Matthewson’s turn to look and feel uneasy. Born to

-affluence, raised in wealth, and encouraged to high ambition, he had

-already gone far for a young man, and it seemed a piteous thing that

-in his own house, with his wife and children almost within call of his

-voice, he should be told that unless men could be made to forget and

-so abandon their interest in the Wing murder, it might go hard with

-him--that he might become an object of suspicion.

-

-“I don’t mean,” Hunter said, “that we are in any danger of being

-convicted of Wing’s murder, or even of being arrested for it. That’s

-way beyond reason. But how much better off would we be, if the

-community should take up the suspicion that we were interested in

-Wing’s death; that we procured it? The public is an unreasoning brute.

-Look at poor Oldbeg!”

-

-“Poor Oldbeg!” repeated Matthewson. “What in the name of thunder makes

-you so tender of Oldbeg?”

-

-“It is Charles more than I,” Hunter said, referring to his brother.

-“He insists that the man is innocent; that there’s not a scintilla of

-proof against him, and he won’t consent that the unreasoning whim of

-the people shall do such injustice; and in fact, when I think that our

-time may come at any moment, I can’t help feeling a good deal that way

-myself.”

-

-In the shrubbery outside the window a man, who had followed Hunter

-from Millbank, listened and watched. He could hear nothing and see as

-little, but hour after hour he kept his post, with dogged patience,

-using a night to catch a single hint. Had Hunter known how closely he

-was followed and watched, he would have been still more uneasy and

-disturbed.

-

-“What is it about this new corpse that’s been found at Millbank?”

-Matthewson asked.

-

-“Oh, merely a drowned logger. Nobody knows him and he’s been

-unceremoniously put under ground. Nobody’d have thought anything of it

-at any other time, for there’s never a spring that one or more of them

-don’t turn up; but just now we are living on sensations, and it added

-to the interest that Trafford was on hand and almost the first on the

-spot.”

-

-“Wasn’t it one of Trafford’s men who found it?” the other asked.

-

-“So it’s said.”

-

-“Was he looking for it, or for something else?” Matthewson persisted.

-

-“What do you mean?”

-

-“Why should Trafford have sent men to search the lower river, if he

-didn’t expect to find something? Had some one disappeared? You say a

-mere logger. What might Trafford say?”

-

-“I believe you see a bogy every time you turn round,” Hunter said

-impatiently.

-

-“‘’Tis conscience doth make cowards of us all,’” Matthewson answered.

-“I don’t like to be in this position. I don’t dare move to find the

-papers, for fear in doing so I stir suspicions concerning Wing’s

-death. I don’t dare leave the papers in the uncertain hands where they

-are, lest they arouse the very same suspicions. It’s a nice position

-for an innocent man to be in.”

-

-The curiosity of the public, no longer fed on rumours and inquests,

-had begun to flag, giving place to the inevitable sneers at the police

-and detective force, with renewed predictions daily made that the

-murder would remain an unsolved mystery. But for the occasional sight

-of Trafford, and the expectation that the inquest might be reconvened

-at almost any time, the village would already have begun to forget the

-murdered man, so easily does a sensation fade into the commonplace.

-

-But Trafford remained, or at least reappeared at unexpected moments,

-like an uneasy spirit that found no rest. He was working now on two

-murders, confident that if he found the perpetrator of the one, he

-would solve both. It was an aid to him that the public accepted the

-second as an accident, he alone having knowledge of the attempted

-murder of himself which, unaccomplished, had brought this fate on the

-unhappy wretch who was to be himself a murderer.

-

-About this time, however, he had proof that he had not ceased to

-interest some one. On returning to his room at the hotel one evening,

-he found that it had been entered during his absence and a thorough

-search of all his papers and luggage made. At first, he was inclined

-to complain to the landlord, but this purpose passed as quickly as it

-came, resulting in his taking apparently no notice of the affair.

-

-It called to mind very forcibly, however, the tale that McManus had

-told him of the rifling of Wing’s desk, and caused him to take a

-professional view of the incident. He had said at the time that a pair

-of trained eyes would have seen something of importance. He was thus

-placed on his mettle to prove his boast. In fact, there was little to

-see. It was evident that the intruder had come by a window opening on

-to the roof of a long porch. A dusty footprint on the carpet under the

-window, pointing inward, proved this, and Trafford was able to find

-traces along the roof to a hall window, but the returning tracks were

-not traceable. He was not so much offended at the liberty taken with

-his property as by the implication on his sagacity, in the expectation

-of finding anything he preferred should remain unfound.

-

-He had his suspicions as to the person who had ransacked Wing’s desk,

-and it was a satisfaction to be given an opportunity to test that

-suspicion by this later act. If he could bring it home to the possible

-culprit in the former case, he felt that a very considerable advance

-would be made. It was true that the method smacked a trifle of seeking

-facts with which to sustain a preconceived opinion, rather than

-permitting facts to lead up to judgment; but strict adherence to rule

-was not always possible, and this appeared a case in which exception

-was to be made.

-

-Because, however, of this yielding to temptation, possibly, it troubled

-him more to discover that the assumed trespasser on Wing’s desk could

-by no means be the culprit in the present case, for it was beyond

-controversy that the suspected individual had not been within many

-miles of the Millbank hostelry at the hour of the intrusion. It might

-be a touch of cunning, but the alibi was not to be questioned. None the

-less, here was the fact that Wing’s desk was broken open because he

-was believed to be in possession of certain papers of a compromising

-character, and that when it was believed that these papers had come

-into the possession of the detective, his room and papers were in turn

-ransacked. That there was connection of cause and effect between the

-facts was scarcely to be doubted, even though it was not as simple as

-he had at first supposed to establish it.

-

-Uncertainty as to the nature of the missing papers, and his inability

-to secure any definite information, were the tantalising features of

-the case. He questioned McManus only to find that his knowledge of the

-matter was no less hazy. These papers had been seen by no one in the

-office excepting in package. Whether they had been received by Wing

-from Judge Parlin or not was unknown. There was a general understanding

-that they had come from the judge, and that Wing had given a great deal

-of attention to them, so that they had grown materially in his hands.

-The scandal of the ransacking of the desk had caused a great deal of

-excitement in the office and no little discussion, but this had brought

-out no facts bearing on the subject-matter. That it involved some one

-was guessed, but even this guess was wild and general, rather than

-specific.

-

-“Unless something of certainty is arrived at,” Trafford said, “it

-will be impossible to delay the re-opening of the inquest more than a

-week longer, and in the present temper of the public mind a verdict

-implicating Oldbeg would not be impossible.”

-

-He said it half musingly, as if rather talking to himself than

-otherwise, and yet there was a look under the eyelids that would not

-have been quite reassuring to a close observer. McManus did not seem to

-note it, but took up the matter rather with Trafford’s own manner.

-

-“But there the papers stand as the insurmountable difficulty. Oldbeg

-could have no object in stealing them. He could scarcely have known of

-their existence--that is, as papers of value. If the connection could

-be made, it would be serious for him.”

-

-“But it can’t be made,” Trafford said, as if he were waking from his

-lethargic condition. “I’ve told you what kind of a man it was that did

-this murder, and when the murderer is discovered, as discovered he will

-be, you’ll find I’ve described him correctly. Those papers caused this

-murder and caused it because they were a menace to some one. That some

-one couldn’t have been Oldbeg----”

-

-“Yet the public mind is impressed with Oldbeg’s guilt and, if I mistake

-not, the jury is as well.”

-

-“You overlook the fact that nothing regarding these papers has appeared

-in the testimony.”

-

-McManus looked up suddenly as the fact was recalled to him.

-

-“That’s so,” he said. “We’ve discussed them so much that I had entirely

-lost sight of the fact. Of course, that’ll free Oldbeg when it is

-brought out in testimony.”

-

-“If it is brought out,” Trafford said.

-

-“But surely,” McManus urged; “you will not let so important a matter

-pass--let alone the fact that it is the cause of injustice to Oldbeg,

-who surely has suffered enough already.”

-

-“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford solemnly; “I’m at work to find the

-murderer of Mr. Wing. That’s the one purpose I have before me, and it

-is what the best interests of the public demand. If Oldbeg or another

-suffers unjustly for the moment, it is that the guilty man may suffer

-in the end. I’m sorry for Oldbeg, but I’m not responsible for the turn

-matters have taken. At present, the parties who are interested in these

-papers believe I have them, and the work I’m doing requires them to

-continue so to believe. I don’t conceive it to be my duty to produce at

-the inquest testimony that will undeceive them.”

-

-“Aren’t you taking a tremendous responsibility?” McManus asked.

-

-“It’s my business to take responsibility. I’ve taken it often to the

-extent of risking my life--I may do so again; but when there’s a

-murderer at large and I’m set to find him, I don’t stop because my

-life is endangered or because another is put to inconvenience. If

-Oldbeg’s held for the murder, it’ll be inconvenient for him, but not so

-inconvenient as it would be for me to be murdered because I’m on the

-track of the right man.”

-

-“And you are on the track of the right man?” McManus demanded.

-

-“I’ve been on his track from the moment I entered that library and knew

-that it had been searched by the man who fired the fatal bullet. I’ve

-been on his track from that day to this, and I shall keep on it until I

-catch up with him or he kills me; but as surely as that last happens,

-he’ll swing. It isn’t given to any man to commit murder twice and cover

-his tracks. If I go down, it’ll end in his going up.”

-

-“But really, Mr. Trafford, you take this thing more seriously than I

-imagined. You’re not in earnest in this talk of an attempt to murder

-you!”

-

-“So much in earnest that I never go out without thinking I may not come

-back.”

-

-“But why?”

-

-“Because already one attempt has been made.”

-

-“You astound me!” McManus exclaimed. “I agreed at the start to

-co-operate with you so long as you had the case in hand, but,

-certainly, I’m entitled to know something! Why do you say it’s because

-you are supposed to have the papers? Might it not be simply to shield

-the murderer? You leave the thing in a cloud that is”--he seemed

-searching for a word--“disturbing.”

-

-Trafford, however, refused to say more; but after McManus left, he sat

-for a few moments as if asking himself if he had done wisely, and then

-rousing up muttered:

-

-“We’ll see how far that’ll carry!”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XII

-

-At the Drivers’ Camp

-

-

-Two days later a message came which necessitated a trip up the Dead

-River branch, traversing the ground over which Trafford had gone ten

-days before. Already, however, the camps he had visited were deserted,

-the drivers having followed the body of logs moving towards the river

-itself. At the Forks, Trafford was joined by the assistant who had

-warned him that morning in Millbank. They had a long conference,

-in which there appeared no small amount of differing opinion. The

-assistant had tracked from a camp on Moosehead, to a cabin beyond the

-Madison Beeches above Millbank, two Canadians, who had left the lake

-suddenly on May 12. He was certain he had located one of the men, a

-great powerful fellow, in one of the Dead River driving gangs.

-

-“And the other?”

-

-“I can get no trace of him. They separated at Millbank--perhaps

-forever.”

-

-“And this fellow’s name--here on Dead River?”

-

-“Pierre Duchesney.”

-

-“And the other?”

-

-“Victor Vignon.”

-

-“It can scarcely have any bearing,” Trafford asserted after some

-thought. “Nothing definite in the way of plans could have been formed

-so promptly. The murder was only twenty-four hours old then.”

-

-“But they went to Millbank; spent four days in the old Indian hut back

-of Madison Beeches, and were not seen in Millbank during the entire

-time. Then, no one knows how, the one appears at Parlin Pond, and works

-from there over to Dead River. He’s a big, strapping fellow; the other

-one was medium height and size--much the slighter made of the two.”

-

-“But I tell you,” Trafford affirmed; “if they were called to Millbank,

-the call must have come before the murder was known--they came for

-something else than to assault the man supposed to have those papers.”

-

-“And were at hand conveniently to assault the man who was supposedly

-in possession of the papers, when it was found that they had

-involuntarily changed hands.”

-

-This view struck Trafford and he gave it some little thought, while the

-other waited as if for his final judgment.

-

-“As long as we’re here, we may as well have a look at your man,” said

-Trafford.

-

-The next day found them guests of the drive at the camp above the

-first rapids of Dead River, where use was being had of the last of

-the spring flow to get the tail of the winter’s cut into the main

-channel. Already the advance guard of the summer army was making its

-appearance, adventurous souls who love to see the year at its birth,

-and the presence of strangers excited no especial comment. They made it

-so apparent that they sought an invitation for the night that it became

-unavoidable, and so with the falling of dusk and the leap of the great

-flames of the camp fire among the trees, they came on to the time for

-the experiment agreed upon.

-

-Trafford had watched Pierre Duchesney at his work, a great,

-strong-limbed giant whose blow, intentional or not, could well work

-the crushing of lesser bones, and admitted that their purpose was

-well-nigh foolhardy. To take such a man, surrounded as he was by

-friends, was scarcely to be thought of, and in fact would not have been

-thought of, but for a chance remark that he was not going below the

-first rapids. When the jam was started here, he was to strike across

-to the head waters of the Androscoggin, which Trafford’s companion,

-intent in his belief that this was the man they wanted, interpreted as

-a purpose to bury himself in the wilds of the Canadian wilderness about

-Megantic.

-

-Trafford, himself, while yet in doubt as to the identity of the man,

-admitted that even if they lost him, it would be much gained if they

-could prove him, and so consented to the plan his assistant outlined,

-determined to take his chances in the matter of an actual capture.

-

-The men were stretched about the blazing logs, smoking, sleeping,

-chatting. Trafford among them watched the leap of the flames and the

-gradual reddening of the great logs into coals. The other stranger had

-left the circle some time before. Involuntarily Trafford kept his eye

-on Pierre’s huge form, where it was stretched in the full blaze and

-warmth of the logs, his eyes closed in a pleasant after-feeding doze.

-Suddenly out of the dark came a sharp Canadian voice, calling:

-

-“_Sacré, c’est moi, Pierre!_”

-

-Every one glanced up enquiringly, but the effect on Pierre Duchesney

-was startling in the extreme. His eyes stared wide from a face of ashy

-grey; he leaped to his feet, shaking as one with the ague. Trafford

-had sprung to his side at the instant of his leap from his recumbent

-position, and in time to catch from his blanched lips the convicting

-words:

-

-“_Mon dieu; Victor!_”

-

-Trafford’s hand was on his pistol, which he drew, with the sharp demand:

-

-“Quick, seize the man; he’s wanted for the murder of Victor Vignon!”

-

-At the word “murder,” the men drew back from the circle of light. They

-lived free and easy lives in the woods, and had little of the fear

-of the law before them in their fastnesses, but with murder and the

-murderer they had no share. All the other laws of God and man, they

-might violate, but to that one, “Thou shalt do no murder,” they bowed,

-the very defencelessness of their lives making murder doubly terrible

-to them. So, strong men as they were, they gazed wild-eyed on the

-scene, and some of the bravest trembled.

-

-On Pierre, the word acted like magic. No less pale he was than before,

-but it was a paleness in which the sense of self-preservation was

-awake, looking from his eyes, as it looks from those of hunted wild

-creatures brought suddenly to bay. He attempted no plea; he made no

-denial; but his form grew compact with the compactness of one about to

-spring. Trafford, wondering what course the others would take, brought

-his pistol to a steady aim, and said clearly and sharply:

-

-“Surrender, or I’ll shoot! Throw up your arms!”

-

-He felt, rather than saw, that on the edge of the light stood his

-assistant also covering the man with his revolver. The man moved as

-if to obey the order to throw up his arms, and then, with a quickness

-of which none guessed him capable, struck Trafford’s arm a blow that

-caused it to drop numbly by his side, sending the pistol’s discharge

-into the earth. With the same movement the man crouched half to

-earth, and thus escaped the other’s shot. Without rising, he darted,

-crouching, for the shelter of trees beyond the fire, but not so quickly

-as to save his right arm from the second shot by the assistant.

-Trafford, meantime, had changed his revolver into his left hand and was

-firing at the fleeing shadow that the man became before disappearing.

-With his second shot, he heard his assistant at his side.

-

-“You know now, but we’ve lost him.”

-

-“Into the woods; into the woods,” Trafford cried, seizing a blazing

-pine knot. “Quick, we’ll get him yet.”

-

-Not a man stirred save Trafford, and he made only a step or two.

-Glancing back, he saw the drivers huddled in an excited and

-gesticulating group that looked startlingly like mischief. Ahead was

-the heavy blackness of dense trees. Then he realised that the man had

-escaped.

-

-Meantime the men were aroused from the stupor of their first surprise

-and were in a dangerous mood, the active qualities of which were

-quieted by the gleam of Trafford’s badge, which he felt was the best

-introduction to the explanation to which they were clearly entitled.

-They listened patiently, but simply tolerantly, and their coolness

-was in marked contrast to their friendliness of a brief quarter of an

-hour earlier. There was no denial to Trafford and his companion of the

-hospitality of the camp, but they were made to feel that they were

-unwelcome guests, and they waited anxiously and impatiently for the

-first touch of morning to be on their way, as well from a desire to

-leave their surly companions, as from impatience to be where they could

-make use of their newly acquired information.

-

-They were not more than a mile from camp, after a hasty breakfast

-eaten amid strange silence, when, from the woods lying between the

-track they were following and the river, a lad of about sixteen years,

-whom they had seen in camp the night before, overhauled them. He had

-evidently run most of the way, and was anxious to get back before his

-absence attracted attention, but he was also intent on information. The

-conversation with him was carried on partly in the lad’s imperfect

-English, and partly in the French of Canada with Trafford’s companion,

-and by him translated to Trafford:

-

-“Victor Vignon: my cousin. You say, murdered--dead?”

-

-Trafford nodded.

-

-“_Non._ He go big lake. Go by Aten’s stage.”

-

-“Who told you so?” demanded Trafford.

-

-“Pierre--Pierre Duchesney. When he come, he say: Victor, he go big

-lake: he go by Aten’s stage.”

-

-“Well, he killed him. Drowned him in the river at Millbank, where the

-big Falls are.”

-

-“What for he kill him?” demanded the boy.

-

-“Who sent for your cousin at the big lake when he and Pierre went

-away?” Trafford demanded, and then, it being evident that the lad

-had not sufficient command of English to master this question, his

-companion repeated it in French.

-

-The lad’s face brightened as he heard his native tongue, and from that

-time he carried his part of the conversation mostly in that tongue.

-

-“The boss.”

-

-On questioning, it developed that the “boss” had said the “big man”

-had sent for Pierre and Victor; had said that they were to go to the

-Forks of the River and meet a gang, but when they got there the gang

-was gone and they had word to go somewhere else, and it was when Pierre

-came back and Victor had gone to the big lake, that the lad was told

-this by Pierre. The lad did not know where it was that Victor had gone,

-but he was to see him again when the drive was over and they were ready

-to go back to Canada before the feast of St. John.

-

-Oh, yes; the “big man” was somebody who lived down where the water went

-over the big Falls, and owned all the trees, and sent the boss money to

-pay them. He didn’t know his name, but he was a great big man--as big

-as the Seigneur at Rigaud-Vandreuil, the biggest man the lad had ever

-seen.

-

-“A bigger man than the boss?”

-

-Oh, yes; for he sent the boss money to pay them and owned the trees,

-while the boss wasn’t as big a man as Louis Blanchet, the notary, whom

-he, the lad, had often seen and talked with, and once had thrown mud at

-when he was drunk.

-

-No, he didn’t know the big man’s name; he had said that before, but

-anybody could tell them; anybody who knew, for he owned the trees; and

-the “boss” could tell them; his name was Kennett, Georges Kennett; not

-the boss here, for his name was Jean Busque, he was Canadian; but the

-other boss, the one who told Pierre and Victor to go to the Forks of

-the River.

-

-But he must go back, because the boss, the one here, would be angry

-and make him lose some of his money. He had heard them say something

-about Victor being killed, and he wanted to ask them and tell them it

-couldn’t be Victor, because he had gone to the big lake, as Pierre had

-said. What would Victor’s wife do if he was dead? The good God--_le bon

-Dieu_--and the good Saint Anne--_la bonne sainte Anne_--wouldn’t let

-him be dead, when there was Victor’s wife and three little ones and

-another coming in the summer, as Victor had told him. They must know

-that Victor couldn’t be dead, and if they saw him, they were to tell

-him that he--Étienne Vignon--had said this and would meet him at the

-big Falls to go back to la Beauce before the feast of Saint John, as

-Victor had promised Étienne’s mother when he took him away to go on

-the drive. And with these words, the lad dashed into the woods for his

-mile run back to camp.

-

-Trafford caught himself perilously near a sigh, as the lad disappeared

-among the trees.

-

-“It’s as plain as the nose on your face--that part of it,” he said.

-“Hunter sent for these men; had them go to the forks to join a

-pretended gang, and word was left there for ’em to go on to the hut

-back of the Madison Beeches.”

-

-“Hunter?” his companion asked.

-

-“Certainly. Isn’t he the man who owns the trees to such a simple lad as

-that? He don’t know the name--but we do, Charles Hunter of Millbank.”

-

-“Then he’s concerned in the murder?”

-

-“If you knew the things that aren’t to be seen as well as you do the

-things that you see, you’d beat us all,” Trafford answered. “If he

-was in the murder, he’d know where those papers are and wouldn’t have

-needed these men. His very desperation to get them shows he isn’t the

-murderer.”

-

-“Then Charles Hunter’s the man who’s afraid of those papers,” the

-other repeated, as if half dazed by the revelation.

-

-“One of ’em,” said Trafford. “I’ve known that much a long time.”

-

-“But if the men who are afraid of the papers aren’t the men who

-murdered him haven’t you knocked out the motive for the murder? That’s

-the thing that’s bothered all the time, and now that we’ve got hold of

-one, it’s a pity to lose it again.”

-

-“Beware of clues,” half laughed Trafford. “That’s the lesson you

-haven’t learned yet. I’ve said Hunter was one of the men who’s afraid

-of the papers. I haven’t said there weren’t others. Then it doesn’t

-follow that the only people who wanted to get the papers were those who

-were afraid of ’em. Given the papers, there’s a dozen things that might

-make ’em the motive of the murder besides being afraid of them.”

-

-After a silence that lasted some time, the other turned to Trafford and

-demanded:

-

-“Did you know Hunter was in this thing when you set me to hunting

-Canucks round Millbank?”

-

-“Certainly,” answered Trafford. “I’ve known it since a half-hour after

-the attack was made on me at the bridge. Why?”

-

-“Thunder! Hunter was one of the men of whom I thought it safe to make

-open enquiries about Canucks I was looking for.”

-

-“It’s never safe,” Trafford said, “to make enquiries of any one, unless

-you are willing that everybody should know, or anxious that one man

-should. In this case, ’twas just as well Hunter should know that we

-were on the track. He’s a man who makes his false slips when he’s the

-most anxious to escape.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XIII

-

-The Priest’s Story

-

-

-They had their dinner that day at Nic’khal’s, at the Forks, eating in

-the shed that later in the season becomes the “summer kitchen.” The

-meal was primitive in material and cooking, but the sauce was hunger.

-An elderly priest, weary-looking and sad, was their sole companion,

-and he watched them through the meal, with a look that Trafford read

-as expressive of a desire to have talk with him. So, after the eating

-was over, Trafford put himself in the way of the clergyman, who quickly

-availed himself of the chance:

-

-“You are from above?” he asked, and Trafford assented.

-

-“Did you pass the logging camp at the first rapids?”

-

-“I spent the night there,” Trafford answered.

-

-“Was the night disturbed?”

-

-“An attempt was made to arrest a murderer, who escaped into the woods,

-but not without a severe wound, I think.”

-

-“I have a message for the man who attempted to make the arrest.”

-

-“You can deliver it to me,” said Trafford.

-

-“You say the man was a murderer. I have no wish to know his name; but

-I am charged only to speak to one man, and I shall know him by a name.

-You can give it me?”

-

-“If it’s my name you want, it’s Trafford. The murderer attempted first

-to rob or murder me in the covered bridge at Millbank, before he

-committed the actual murder,” answered the detective.

-

-“I did not doubt before,” the priest answered, with something of

-stateliness; “only when a trust is given, one must be certain. The

-message is that the man who was drowned was not murdered. It was an

-accident, in which the one barely escaped and was unable to save the

-other.”

-

-“Even so,” Trafford retorted, “the other might have had a chance to

-escape, if it hadn’t been for a broken collar-bone, and for that the

-man who denies the murder was responsible.”

-

-“But it was by mistake he inflicted it,” the priest answered.

-

-“By mistake, because he missed the man he intended to strike and hit

-his associate in crime. He was in the bridge to rob and probably to

-murder, and if the death of his companion was directly accidental, it

-came through a violation of the law and that makes it murder.”

-

-“In the eyes of the law, possibly,” the priest said; “but we look to

-the intent. The man did not intend to kill his associate. He died as

-the result of an accident.”

-

-“Are you permitted to give me details?” Trafford asked, wisely avoiding

-a discussion that might return again and again on itself without actual

-progress.

-

-“A wounded man found me asleep in a hut where he sought shelter, guided

-by the Blessed Virgin, I doubt not. I heard his confession. On that

-is the seal of the Church. He begged me to find you and give you this

-message, and what he said in that I will strive faithfully to repeat.

-It is all that I can say. He was not in the bridge to murder the man

-at whom he struck, but to seize him and take from his person certain

-papers. He struck in the dark in the direction of a noise made, as he

-supposed, by the man. He may have struck harder than he intended. At

-the least, he struck his companion and not the man, and with force

-sufficient to break the collar-bone. What they had been set to do, they

-were to do and then return to the woods without being seen. He had now

-the fear earned by failure, and the certainty that the man, having

-escaped, would call on the authorities, and he and his companion would

-be betrayed by the latter’s wound. He, therefore, persuaded him to bear

-his pain until they could get to a place of safety, and not daring to

-travel the roads, where they could be tracked, they struck to the river

-banks above the Falls, and followed these until they found a boat into

-which they got, turning its head upstream.

-

-“He had only an old and broken oar with which to paddle, but a driver

-can paddle with a single pole, and they easily reached the middle of

-the river. Here he turned at a groan from his companion and failed

-to see a floating log which struck their boat, and, worse still,

-knocked the oar out of his hand. Before he could recover himself, the

-boat was in the rapid current above the Falls, and rushing downstream

-with increasing force. His companion, roused at the growing roar of

-the waters, seemed to think that it was with intention that this was

-happening. He begged to be spared, and called loudly for help. The

-other told him what had happened and that he was powerless to prevent

-the boat going over the Falls, whereupon the wounded man sprang to

-his feet, with a prayer to the Virgin and Saint Anne, and leaped

-overboard, just as the boat touched the white water above the plunge.

-The other ran to the bow, which was shooting straight out, and stood

-there for a second of time until he felt it tremble for the dip, at

-which instant he jumped for the deeper water below the Falls, and by a

-miracle escaped the rocks at the very base of the plunge. As you know,

-the water there is very deep, so that although he sank, he did not

-touch bottom. He floated through the cañon and succeeded in landing

-just above the railroad bridge. He knew there was no use in looking

-for boat or companion, and so crept up the bank around the Falls,

-secured another boat, and finally towards morning landed just below the

-Bombazee Rips. He set the boat afloat and plunged into the woods. That

-is all I am permitted to tell you.”

-

-“But it is not all you know,” Trafford said.

-

-“It is all I know. If I heard anything more, I heard it under the seal

-of confession and know naught of it.”

-

-Trafford pondered on the story for some time, without speaking. The

-habits born of his profession held him, warning him to avoid hasty

-conclusion as well for the man as against him. It was his business to

-get the truth, not to find a confirmation or refutation of a previously

-formed opinion.

-

-The priest waited without a sign of impatience. At last Trafford raised

-his head and said:

-

-“I do not think it could have been done.”

-

-“What?” asked the priest.

-

-“The leap from the boat over the falls.”

-

-“I have been told by eye-witnesses that it has been done,” declared the

-priest.

-

-“I have seen it done,” Trafford said; “but it was in broad daylight,

-when the man could see, and determine the exact instant for the leap.

-The boat was a very long one, so that before it dipped, it had shot

-far out; the man was extremely powerful, and it was, after all, a mere

-matter of luck.”

-

-“We do not talk of luck,” the priest said, with a touch of sternness in

-his tone. “We will leave that. You admit it possible, because it has

-been done. Your man was extremely strong. This man seems to me such

-also. Your man had daylight to show him the tossing of the waters about

-him; the anxious faces peering at him; the vanishing shores, and the

-coming danger. This man had all his senses active and single to the

-work before him. The flash of white foam was enough to show him, even

-in the night, where he was. To that his sight was turned, for there

-was nothing to distract his full attention. He was leaping for life.

-Instinct would come to his aid. It was possible for the man you saw. I

-believe it was possible for this man.”

-

-Suddenly a thought struck Trafford. This priest could not reveal the

-secrets of the confessional; but neither could he prevent what he had

-heard in confession affecting his attitude towards this man and his

-story. He looked the priest full in the face and asked, solemnly,

-almost sternly:

-

-“Do you fully and absolutely credit this tale?”

-

-Without a shadow of hesitation or delay, the priest answered:

-

-“I do, absolutely and fully. In the story I bring you I have not a

-doubt that you have heard the truth, so far as it goes. You know how

-the death of the man you thought murdered actually occurred.”

-

-To Trafford’s mind there was left no ground for doubt.

-

-“I accept your story,” he said, “as the story of what actually

-occurred. Where is the man who told it to you?”

-

-The priest smiled and raised his hand in a sweep of the northern

-horizon:

-

-“I cannot track the wilderness. If you want him, you must ask the woods

-to give him up.”

-

-“There is a lad in the gang at the first rapids,” Trafford said, “who

-came with Victor Vignon from Beauce. Victor, who was his cousin, was

-to take him back before the Feast of St. John. He relies absolutely on

-this, and would not believe Victor dead. His name is Étienne Vignon and

-he needs comfort and help.”

-

-“I will go to him,” said the priest. “The thought is a kind one.”

-

-If the priest dreamed that he was thus finished with the detective, it

-was because he did not know the nature of the creature.

-

-“From Beauce I think you said the wounded man came,” said Trafford

-carelessly.

-

-If Trafford thought to surprise the priest, it was proof that he too

-was ignorant.

-

-“I do not recall having said so,” the priest answered.

-

-“But he was, wasn’t he?” demanded Trafford.

-

-“I did not ask him.”

-

-On the matter of the wound the priest talked freely. It was painful,

-but not serious. The small bone of the lower right arm was broken, but

-he had set it and was confident it would improve.

-

-“If the man has been unjustly accused, I hope it may prove so,”

-Trafford said. “He goes directly home, of course.”

-

-The priest smiled.

-

-“I did not expect to see him again, so had no occasion to know.”

-

-Convinced that the other was absolutely on guard, and that even if

-he knew anything beyond what he had told--of which Trafford felt

-considerable doubt--it was not to be extracted from him, Trafford again

-commended the lad Étienne to his care, and turned to the matter of a

-conveyance to Carrytunk on the road to Millbank. At parting, he said:

-

-“If I accept your assurance as to the innocence of this man, it is none

-the less true that some one employed him to rob me, and his companion

-lost his life because of the attempt. He could not have told of this

-without telling who that was.”

-

-The priest smiled, but not in a way that encouraged Trafford to hope

-for information, and the event proved him wise not to do so.

-

-“If he told me aught that I have not repeated,” the other answered, “it

-was to obtain God’s pardon, not to invoke man’s punishment on any. Its

-object accomplished, the words passed as they came to the priest and

-not to the man.”

-

-So Trafford was forced to let him go, none the wiser beyond what the

-priest chose that he should be; but as they hurried towards Millbank,

-he tried hard to look at all sides of the story and at last asked his

-companion:

-

-“What do you think of it?”

-

-“A batch of lies, told to a gossiping priest to be peddled out to us

-again,” was the curt judgment.

-

-Even this Trafford weighed carefully before commenting on it.

-

-“You evidently think the fellow a shrewd chap.”

-

-“No; any one can see he’s a stupid lout; just the kind of a thing to be

-used for a dirty job.”

-

-“Yet he had a long enough head to cheat the priest.”

-

-“Then you think the priest believed him?”

-

-“I haven’t a doubt of it,” said Trafford.

-

-Trafford’s judgments had something of the weight of oracles with this

-man, who was able to see things but not to form opinions; and this

-curt declaration was to the point and not to be mistaken. For the time

-being, and for present purposes, it was to be accepted, and having

-accepted it, the other had nothing to say. But it was not so easy for

-Trafford. He had, perhaps, to convince some budding doubt that had not

-found expression either in tone or words.

-

-“To doubt the truth of the fellow’s story, is to believe that he

-reasoned out the chance of the priest finding us and then deliberately

-employed what he regards as a sacrament--that is confession--to put in

-circulation a concocted story for the purpose of deceiving us. I don’t

-believe he’s that smart; and I don’t believe, with his belief in the

-Church, he’d dare do it.”

-

-“We seem to be in the business of acquitting everybody,” the other said

-in a surly tone.

-

-“It’s certainly not our business to convict, but to find out the

-truth,” Trafford answered. “We aren’t prosecuting attorneys.”

-

-“But our work lies in pointing out the guilty.”

-

-“Yes; but unless we do it as much for the sake of proving the innocence

-of the innocent as the guilt of the guilty, we only do half the work

-that we ought to do. I’d rather any time clear a man who is unjustly

-charged than prove a man, thought innocent, guilty,” answered Trafford.

-

-“Maybe so, but that isn’t the kind of work the world gives you most

-credit for. If you can hang a man, it thinks you’ve done something

-big; but if you stop them from hanging a man, they think they’ve been

-cheated.”

-

-“Well, I guess when all’s said and done, it’s more a question of what

-we think about the kind of work we’re doing, than what the world thinks

-of it, that counts. When I’m satisfied with myself--right down honestly

-satisfied--I find I can let the world think what it’s a mind to.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XIV

-

-A Duel

-

-

-Mrs. Matthewson entered the little parlour, where she had met Trafford,

-for the purpose of keeping another appointment--one that she had not

-wanted to make and which she had not yet dared refuse. When she visited

-her son, she knew the name of the man who, under his direction, was

-hunting down Theodore Wing’s mother, but she did not know the man. Now

-she was to meet him face to face. She was afraid, and she bore herself

-with the air of a queen about to grant a favour to her humblest subject.

-

-Cranston felt her imperiousness in the very air as he entered, and

-rebel as he would, it daunted him and took a share of his bravado from

-him. She returned his salutation, but with the evident purpose not to

-aid him in the slightest in the delivery of his errand.

-

-“I regret the necessity,” he said, “of troubling you.”

-

-She bowed stiffly, but without other answer. He apparently had not

-struck the line of least resistance.

-

-“I have been employed,” he began, “upon the Wing murder case.” Then, at

-the look in her eyes, as if of all things on earth the Wing murder case

-had the least possible interest to her, he added desperately: “Among

-those who employed me were your sons.”

-

-“Then you should report to them.” These were the first words she had

-spoken and the tone was beyond measure forbidding, but they were at

-the least words and a recognition that she was taking part in the

-interview. As such they helped the man who, in spite of his experience,

-was floundering woefully.

-

-“I thought it in your interest that I should first report to you,” he

-said.

-

-“There’s nothing in which any one can serve me in the Wing murder

-case,” she said, not sparing herself even the word “murder.”

-

-He looked at her as if he would say that that was a very proper bluff

-for her to put up, but that he knew the facts and was not to be fooled

-thereby.

-

-“In doing thoroughly my work,” he floundered on; “it has been

-impossible for me to overlook the remarkable paper left by Judge

-Parlin.”

-

-Even as she caught the full import of his words, she had a

-consciousness of the hopeless bungling of this man, in comparison with

-the other man, Trafford. No less surely had Trafford told her that he

-had learned the history of her early life; but he had, with a natural

-instinct, taken from the telling every sting that was not ineffaceable.

-This man was so intent upon the telling as not to have a thought for

-her.

-

-She made no acknowledgment, save that frigid bend of the head that was

-less acknowledgment than repulsion, and which he felt as disdain. It

-stung him to more brutal speech than he had intended:

-

-“You would have me, perhaps, report my discoveries in that connection

-to your sons.”

-

-If he had expected her to shrink or lose self-control, his was the

-disappointment. She had lived too long with the possibility of meeting

-thus her past, to allow it to come with the shock of the unexpected.

-There had been no hour for forty years when these words might not be

-spoken to her. She did not even make the mistake of showing irritation

-in her answer:

-

-“I would know why you have sought this interview, that it may be ended.

-As to the results of your employment, they concern your employers, not

-me.”

-

-“I know who was the mother of Theodore Wing.” He spoke somewhat

-insistently, and not without a touch of menace in his voice. He had

-foreseen an easier task. He had a sense of personal wrong, in that she

-was making it so hard for him.

-

-“It is her secret,” she said, with just enough force to betoken

-impersonal indignation; “neither you nor the world have the right to

-drag it to the surface.”

-

-“I am willing it should remain a secret,” he answered.

-

-“Then you should never have told any one you knew it.”

-

-“You are the only one I have told,” he said; “and that was necessary.”

-

-Clearly he expected her to ask, “Necessary to what?” but she did not

-make the mistake. She remained silent and left him to reknit the broken

-strand of discourse.

-

-“The moment of real danger to her will come,” he said, after waiting

-vainly for her to speak, until waiting became a palpable embarrassment;

-“when Wing’s murderer is put on trial.” Then, as with a sudden change

-of his line of attack, he continued: “Have you ever thought why your

-sons employed me in this case?”

-

-“No; nor cared,” she said.

-

-He had expected her to deny that she had known.

-

-“Because they know who the murderer is.”

-

-It was a relief to the tension upon her that she could show resentment

-without personal defence.

-

-“Your remark is insulting,” she said. “I do not know the object of this

-visit, but whatever it is, that remark must be withdrawn before it can

-proceed.”

-

-“It is the last remark you should desire withdrawn, madam,” he said,

-with a calm significance of utterance; “for it is true.”

-

-She rose to dismiss him--rose haughtily and uncompromisingly, as if

-she had not the slightest suspicion of the drift of his purpose. There

-was a dangerous gleam in her eye; one that should have been a warning

-to the man, telling him to shield himself in some way and not carry

-out the threatened purpose. To this woman, that purpose was a cause

-of almost mastering terror, but this the will behind it controlled,

-leaving her seemingly strong to master the situation. He was compelled

-to decide quickly, yet with knowledge that anything that was tinctured

-with apology was a weakening of his position.

-

-“I am not implying guilt on their part,” he said; “nor am I speaking

-of knowledge that would be proof in court, but of that moral knowledge

-which makes one certain in mind, without being able to give evidence

-to justify such certainty. To make a public accusation based on such

-knowledge, would be to do the greatest wrong.”

-

-She remained standing, seemingly weighing this remark. In reality

-she was feeling the keen disappointment of having lost excuse for

-terminating the interview which she had supposed was hers.

-

-“I am averse,” she said, “to discussing questions bearing on this

-murder. I condemn the crime. Beyond that, it has no interest to me.”

-

-She knew that in thus speaking she was weakening the position she had

-taken at first. It was the natural sequence of having the ground cut

-from under her by Cranston’s half-apology. The other eagerly seized the

-opening presented:

-

-“Until Mr. Wing’s murderer is discovered and punished, nothing and no

-one in any way connected with his past will be spared. I have said that

-I know who is his mother.”

-

-She had resumed her seat and again had herself under full control, but

-with some loss of vantage.

-

-“What one man has discovered,” she said, “any other man may discover.

-The mere fact that it can be discovered, is the end of secrecy.”

-

-“There are innumerable things that can be discovered,” he said,

-“compared with the number of people who can discover them. There are

-hundreds who would like to know this one matter, but among them not

-more than one who knows how to find it out. If his mouth is closed, the

-secret is as safe as if it did not exist.”

-

-“The mere knowledge that a secret exists is revelation,” she answered.

-“A man who will sell himself once, simply waits a higher bidder to sell

-himself again.”

-

-“Possibly, if in concealing the identity of this woman, one concealed a

-fact bearing upon the discovery of the murderer. I can assure you that

-her identity has no bearing whatever upon the other question.”

-

-“Then why not let it drop into the oblivion from which you have dragged

-it?”

-

-She knew the danger of exchanging question and answer with him,

-but human endurance has its limit, and even she could not carry

-indifference beyond the breaking point. Still, she was not unconscious

-of the gleam of satisfaction in his face.

-

-“Because,” he said, “this woman has grown strong, powerful, and rich.

-Safety is doubly precious to her. There is no reason why she should

-not pay for it.”

-

-“You mean,” she said, and her eyes snapped, “blackmail!”

-

-She had not been the active partner for thirty-five years of a

-politician who had climbed from obscurity to the control of the State,

-without knowing what this word meant, nor without knowing the infinite

-deeps that yawn for the man or woman who shows the first sign of

-weakness to the blackmailer.

-

-“You are mistaken,” he said. He was on ground now that he had gone over

-in his mind again and again, in his preparation for this interview.

-“The essence of blackmail is threat. I make no threat. I have not said

-that I will expose you, if you do not pay me. I expressly disclaim any

-such intention. But safety is worth something to you; you are rich and

-have high social position. I offer you protection in your riches and

-position, and, for giving it, I ought to have recompense--simply a fair

-equivalent for what I do. Nothing more; but that much is fair; I think

-you cannot deny its fairness.”

-

-He knew he was sliding off into inanity; that all had been said that

-he purposed saying, and that he was simply repeating himself and

-repeating himself weakly. He stopped and waited her answer.

-

-On her part she held herself under restraint, resolved not to interrupt

-him until he had said all he had to say. His change from impersonal to

-personal, which he thought she did not notice, simply impressed her as

-unimportant. She felt fully the weakness and embarrassment of his final

-words, and even with the stress under which she waited, his feeble

-maudlinism affected her with a sense of pity.

-

-“Have you finished?” she asked, when he spoke no further.

-

-“I think there should be no need of saying more,” he answered.

-

-She did not even bend in assent to his proposition. She simply pointed

-to the door, and said:

-

-“Then you may go!”

-

-The change in tone and manner startled him, trained as he was to

-surprises. He had foreseen a storm and indignation, and was prepared

-to treat that as simulated. This impressed him as genuine--so genuine

-that he was forced to ask himself hastily if he could have made any

-mistake, and this notwithstanding he was absolutely certain of all the

-facts.

-

-“But----” he began, hesitatingly.

-

-“Go!” she said, permitting no further utterance, now that he had

-said what he had come to say. A passionate joy in her ability to

-deal harshly with him, regardless of the personal risk to herself

-in so doing, seized her. She had not subjected her line of action

-to the scrutiny of judgment. For once thoroughly a woman, in that

-she discarded the masculine caution which she had cultivated as a

-habit, she gave head to instinct, which carried her past all doubt,

-all weighing of chances, to the least dangerous course that, in her

-situation, was open to her.

-

-Almost an insane fury to send one final shaft that should sting in the

-breast of this woman seized this man who, by all of his traditions,

-should have held himself the better together, the farther his plans

-miscarried. Moving toward the door, he cried:

-

-“Shall I report to my employers--your sons?”

-

-To this she had the single word, “Go!”

-

-When he was gone, she did not break under the relaxation of strain; but

-rather held herself more proudly, as if to do otherwise would be to

-admit to herself, the most important individual concerned, the danger

-in which she stood. Under the calm surface, raged a storm of irritable

-impatience, aroused by the thought that time must elapse before she

-could be called upon to face publicly the charges this man would make.

-She wanted to do it, at this moment. It seemed as if she must rush

-forth and cry:

-

-“See; here am I--I, against whom this thing is charged! Look on me and

-feast your eyes on me and roll the sweet morsel under your tongue! Of

-course, you believe it; want to believe it; but I dare you to say other

-than that it is a slander!”

-

-If she could have done this, it seemed to her that she would have

-happiness again; but to wait; not to know when the blow would fall; to

-hold herself ready to meet it at any instant and to have no power to

-hasten it,--that was the madness of the situation, that the terror it

-had for her.

-

-She rose and stood before a long mirror and looked at herself; as if

-to see if this was a different manner of woman than she who had stood

-there the day before. To her eyes, looking into the reflected depths of

-the room, her own image was representative of the world, and in facing

-it she seemed to taste something of that defiance of public knowledge

-of the scandal for which she so longed.

-

-No thought disturbed her of her future relations to her husband or

-sons. For more than a third of a century, the lives of her husband and

-herself had flowed together, each relying on the other, each confident

-in the other. Breakage was not possible or to be thought of. He would

-not even ask her of this matter, and while that very fact would lay on

-her the greater weight of responsibility to tell him, the necessity did

-not put her under that fear which would have been the greatest burden

-to an ordinary woman. By this she did not mean that he would not feel

-the wound--feel it cruelly; but they had passed the crown of the road,

-their way lay downward, and she had no more doubt of him than she

-would have had of herself, if to him and not to her the parentage of

-Theodore Wing were brought home.

-

-Her bulwark with the public would be the loyalty of her husband and

-sons, and if it smacked of selfishness and unfeeling to rely on them

-and not give a fair portion of thought to the suffering which would

-be hidden by their calm exterior, it must be remembered that during

-the entire period of her wife- and mother-hood she had lived with this

-thing, which had grown dimmer and dimmer as the years receded, until it

-had come to have for her, and it seemed to her necessarily for these

-others, a different aspect than it would have borne in the days before

-she had given to husband and children the pledge of her long devotion.

-

-Before these years she would have reasoned of her husband’s attitude

-toward such a tale from the sense of outrage, not tempered by long

-possession and intimate association. No, she had no fear there, save

-of the inward sense of humiliation under which she had gone to her

-son’s office, and for fighting which she now faced her own reflection,

-as representative of the world of public opinion. She had become

-accustomed to make demands of the world, not requests, and the world

-had yielded. It should do so still. This thing had not destroyed the

-years of loyalty and work that buttressed her present position. It

-should not do so. She stood there to make her defiance, and the world

-should heed. But oh, the waiting! The waiting! That was the cruelty of

-the situation.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XV

-

-In Matthewson’s Chambers

-

-

-Charles Matthewson read with impatience the name on the card just

-brought him--Isaac Trafford. It was a breach of the understanding

-between them, that this man should trouble him further. He was on the

-point of refusing to see him, when he recalled Trafford’s possession of

-the papers taken from Theodore Wing’s desk after his murder. This he

-had not known at the time of their previous interview. It was possible

-that here was the opening of negotiations for their sale. He ordered

-him admitted. Still he could not avoid resenting the intrusion.

-

-“I understood you were not to trouble me further.”

-

-“Until I became satisfied that your visit to Millbank had something to

-do with Wing’s murder,” the detective answered.

-

-“Then I may take this visit as evidence that you are satisfied that it

-had to do with the murder!”

-

-Trafford nodded.

-

-“Why don’t you arrest me then?”

-

-“Because I am satisfied you did not murder him, but can tell me who

-did,” Trafford answered.

-

-“A sort of accessory after the fact?” Matthewson demanded.

-

-“No,” said Trafford. “I’m inclined to think you never suspected that

-you knew anything about it or that you could tell me. At the same time,

-I’m almost certain you saw the murderer and talked with him that night.”

-

-Matthewson started at this statement of the matter. He had not the

-nerve of either his mother or brother, and his power of concealing his

-emotions was greatly less than that of either. However, he quickly

-recovered himself.

-

-“I refuse to be put in the position of laying accusations. I’ve no

-objection to aid in convicting a criminal, but I don’t purpose holding

-one end of a drag-net, for the mere sake of catching some one who may

-or may not be guilty.”

-

-Trafford did not deem it best to answer this directly, but instead went

-on, as if nothing had been said of objection:

-

-“You saw Charles Hunter and his brother Frank--but were they all?”

-

-Matthewson drummed on his desk and looked out of the window. What was

-there, he asked himself, that was drawing him into this tragedy, of

-which he really knew nothing? Did this man know also what Cranston

-had discovered? Was there, after all, to grow out of this murder, of

-which he knew nothing, a scandal that was to overwhelm his family, and

-finally destroy the great influence they exercised in the State?

-

-While he asked these questions of himself Trafford waited, the model of

-patience. If he had anything to disturb his mind, he did not show it.

-Evidently, Matthewson could take his time and be sure that the other

-would be there to receive his answer, when he was ready to give it.

-Finally Matthewson turned to the detective and said:

-

-“I was in Millbank on my own private business. I saw the men whom that

-business concerned and no others. The men whom I saw are one and all

-as incapable of committing this murder as I am. I must decline to

-subject any of them to the annoyance I am now subjected to.”

-

-“I don’t know whether you are incapable of committing murder or not. I

-shouldn’t want to affirm it of any one--not even myself. I am convinced

-that you saw and talked with Wing’s murderer that night. I must know

-the name of every man you saw while in Millbank, and if I can’t find it

-out in one way, I will in another.”

-

-“It pleases you to threaten,” Matthewson said, not wholly unconscious

-of an uneasy feeling.

-

-“Not to threaten, but simply to show you that I am in earnest,”

-Trafford assured him. “Still, I may appeal to you on another ground. I

-have named two men whom you saw. If I am to suppose they were the only

-ones, then I must regard one or the other as the real murderer, and

-this because you persist in concealing from me the name of the man who

-may be guilty. Have you a right to do this?”

-

-“As much right,” retorted Matthewson hotly, “as you have to throw

-suspicion on these gentlemen, simply because of the coincidence of my

-meeting them during a hasty visit to Millbank on the night that Wing

-was murdered. It would be just as reasonable to suspect me of the

-murder.”

-

-“It is possible that I do,” said Trafford.

-

-“Come,” exclaimed Matthewson, “this is going a trifle far. It’s not

-five minutes since you said you were satisfied I did not murder him.”

-

-“But that was before you refused to tell me whom you met.”

-

-Just at that moment a loud voice was heard in the outer room, demanding

-to see Mr. Matthewson. He rose and turned the key in the door,

-notwithstanding a movement on Trafford’s part to stop him. As he turned

-to his desk, Trafford asked:

-

-“Do you recognise the voice?”

-

-“No,” said the other, shortly and indignantly; “but I propose to finish

-this matter here and now, so that there will be no need to reopen it.”

-

-“That’s Cranston, the detective whom you, your brother, and Charles

-Hunter have hired,” said Trafford. “I advise you to see him, and let

-me be in a cupboard or behind a screen while he is here.”

-

-“Superb!” said Matthewson, with a vicious sneer. “You’ll know all he’s

-found out--steal his thunder! Excellent!”

-

-“Mr. Matthewson,” Trafford said, with a touch of dignity in his voice

-that his companion could but note, “I would be justified in resenting

-such a remark, and you are not justified in making it. Cranston has

-discovered nothing that I haven’t known for weeks; but he’s been in

-Bangor, and I know what he could find out there. You sent him there

-and made a cruel mistake when you did it. I would have stopped it, if

-I could. He’s here now to tell you and, if I mistake not, to demand a

-price for his silence. If I’m wrong, no harm can come from my hearing.

-If I’m right, you’re the man who wants me to hear; it’ll be the best

-protection you can have in the future.”

-

-At the mention of Bangor, Matthewson turned pale and then flushed. That

-it was made with the purpose of informing him that the detective knew

-the secret of his mother’s early life, he could not doubt. There was

-but one thing that he ought to do, and that was to pitch the man out

-of his room. He would have done it, but for the man on the other side

-of the door, to whose presence he was recalled by the turning of the

-door-knob. In which of these men did he place the greater trust? He had

-only to ask the question to let it answer itself. But this new menace?

-He would know it at its worst. That was beyond question.

-

-“Pass through this door, into the next room,” he said. “There you will

-find the door of a closet, which has a second door opening into this

-alcove. After he has entered and looked into that alcove, as he may,

-come out of the closet and--listen.”

-

-Cranston, on entering, did exactly what Matthewson had predicted; he

-examined the alcove before taking the chair to which Matthewson pointed

-him.

-

-“There’s no one in there,” Matthewson said.

-

-“I can’t take any chances,” said the other insolently. “What I’ve got

-to say wants to be between us two--you’ll want it to be when you hear

-it.”

-

-Matthewson flushed and an angry retort leaped to his lips. This,

-however, he suppressed and made necessity to ask the cause of the visit.

-

-“I’ve come to report,” said Cranston. Then, as the other waited, he

-added:

-

-“I’ve been at work in Bangor.” Then, after another pause: “I’ve learned

-things in Bangor that you ought to know.”

-

-“It relates to the murder?”

-

-“No, not directly. It relates to Theodore Wing’s mother.” He said it

-defiantly; as if he was throwing down the gage of battle.

-

-It required a mighty effort on Matthewson’s part to control himself,

-and yet he knew that to fail meant that this terrible thing, which as

-yet remained unspoken, would be uttered in words and that he must hear

-it.

-

-“I have become satisfied,” he said slowly and with an effort to control

-himself and appear dispassionate, “that the identity of Wing’s mother

-has no bearing on the murder or on the discovery of the murderer.

-You will, therefore, drop that part of the investigation and confine

-yourself to the other features. In this all who were concerned in

-employing you are agreed.”

-

-“How long since?” the man demanded insolently.

-

-“That is of no consequence,” Matthewson said. “You are now informed of

-the fact, so that your new instructions date from this moment.”

-

-“It’s too late for you to accomplish anything by that dodge,” he said.

-“I’ve found out who Wing’s mother is. The story’s worth money. I’ll

-give you the first chance to buy. Do you want it?”

-

-Matthewson trembled, as he realised the full significance of this

-demand. More than his mother possibly could, he knew how such a story

-would be received; how impossible it would be, once set afloat, to stop

-it or overcome it. Still, he put on a bold front.

-

-“Whatever you may have learned, it was while you were under our pay.

-The information belongs to us and you can’t afford to make it a matter

-of barter.”

-

-“What I’ve found out,” Cranston returned defiantly, “is worth so much

-that I can afford to take some risks. If you want it, you can have it

-for a price. If not, the highest bidder gets it, and in a State where

-ex-Governor Matthewson’s got as many enemies as he’s got in Maine,

-there won’t be any trouble about finding buyers.”

-

-“There’s no need to drag in my father’s name,” Matthewson replied.

-

-“How do you know there ain’t?” the other demanded. “Maybe you’ll be

-surprised at the names that are dragged in before we’re through.”

-

-It was Matthewson’s impulse to throw the man out of doors, without

-regard to consequences; but before him came a face that had watched

-him lovingly and tenderly from his earliest memory--a face that he had

-seen only a few days before pleading to him, as he had never dreamed

-a woman’s face could plead. His hands clutched nervously; but for the

-sake of that face and that love, he held himself in restraint.

-

-“Well, to end this matter,” he said, “what do you want for this

-precious information?”

-

-“Hadn’t you better know first what it is?” demanded the other. “Oh,”

-he said, as he saw on Matthewson’s face what he regarded as a protest;

-“it won’t spoil the goods to show ’em. I’d just as lief tell you before

-as after. It’s silence I’m selling; not facts.”

-

-“I don’t need you to repeat your talk; and what’s more, it won’t be

-safe for you to,” Matthewson said. “I know perfectly well what it would

-be; but I warn you not to dare speak it.”

-

-The man in the alcove almost betrayed himself as he heard this

-astounding acknowledgment. After all, had he mistaken what he had seen,

-and was this the real secret he had been trying to unravel? Cranston

-was speaking again:

-

-“Threatened men live long. You’ll get just as much for as little money,

-if you keep a civil tongue. I’ve got silence to sell; but I’m just

-blamed fool enough, if you get me mad, to refuse to sell at any price.”

-

-“Then your proposition is that if I pay you your price, you’ll keep

-silence regarding your discovery as to Theodore Wing’s mother; and that

-if I do not, you’ll sell your information to any one who will pay you

-for it, regardless of the injury it may do me or any one connected with

-me?”

-

-“That’s about it, in plain English.”

-

-“It’s it, isn’t it?”

-

-“Yes, it’s it.”

-

-“And you think that this information, if made public, would do me and

-those connected with me harm.”

-

-“I don’t know what you call harm, if it wouldn’t. ’Twould be the end of

-the Matthewson family, socially and politically. They’d have to find

-another boss for Maine after this thing got out.”

-

-“It’s just as well,” said the lawyer, “to keep within bounds in your

-remarks; they’re as likely to accomplish your purpose.”

-

-But Cranston was smarting under his previous failure. He had tried to

-deal squarely with Mrs. Matthewson and had met refusal and insult.

-There was the possibility that, had he adopted a higher tone, he would

-have succeeded. He was resolved not to fail from the same cause this

-time.

-

-“I’m answering questions,” he said, “and I’ll answer ’em in my own

-way. If you don’t like it, you don’t need to.”

-

-It required a terrible effort on Matthewson’s part to prevent his

-openly resenting this insolence, and he was conscious of a distinctive

-loss of self-respect that he did not at once pitch the fellow out of

-the room.

-

-“Let’s get through with this thing and be done with it,” he said. “How

-much will your silence cost me?”

-

-“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” answered Cranston.

-

-Mr. Matthewson was startled at the figure.

-

-“Why, man, you’re crazy!” he exclaimed.

-

-“I know it,” said Cranston. “I ought to have a hundred, but I ain’t

-going to be hard. I’ve set my price at twenty-five.”

-

-“And you’ll take five,” retorted Matthewson.

-

-“I wouldn’t take twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine

-dollars and ninety-nine cents,” answered Cranston. “I’ve fixed my

-price, and it’s that or nothing.”

-

-“I guess that’s right,” sneered Matthewson. “And how do you want this

-easy money?”

-

-“In good, crisp bank-notes that one can feel; and before I leave this

-room.”

-

-“Of course you’ll give a receipt when it’s paid over, setting out the

-terms of the bargain?”

-

-“Of course, I won’t!” retorted Cranston. “You’ll have to trust to my

-honour; that’ll be your protection.”

-

-“Then the bargain is, if I give you twenty-five thousand dollars,

-you’ll keep this story quiet. If I don’t, you’ll use it to my

-injury----”

-

-“To your ruin,” interrupted Cranston. “I’ll drive you and your family

-out of the State; I’ll destroy every shred of your influence, and I’ll

-do it with this story!”

-

-“There are no other terms; no other means by which I can stop you?”

-

-“You bet there isn’t; and if this gabble goes on much longer, I’ll

-double my price.”

-

-“Then we’ll stop it right here. I buy safety for twenty-five thousand

-dollars, and here’s five dollars to bind the bargain. I’m to send out

-and get the rest and pay to you before you leave. Are those the terms?”

-

-“Those are the terms, if you get the money quick enough.”

-

-“Then you can get out of this office, you skulking, blackmailing

-scoundrel, or I’ll throw you out of the window. Go, and don’t be slow

-about it, for my fingers are itching to get hold of you. I’m through

-with you!”

-

-For an instant, Cranston was dumbfounded by the sudden revulsion of

-position. He had believed the money practically in his grasp, and

-instead he encountered this dismissal of contempt and abuse. But his

-surprise was only for an instant. Then a flood of senseless anger,

-verging on madness, seized him. He had but one impulse and that was to

-punish the man who had led him on, only to throw him down. There was a

-flash of a pistol in his hand as he said:

-

-“But I’m not through with you, by God!”

-

-“You don’t need that to send you to State’s prison,” said a voice

-behind him, as a hand, seemingly of steel, grasped his and wrenched

-away the pistol. He turned and saw Trafford standing behind him.

-

-“By God, this is a dirty, contemptible trick, Trafford,” he gasped.

-

-“I guess that’s so, too,” Trafford answered, coolly, as he drew the

-charges from the revolver, before handing it back to Cranston; “but

-unfortunately there are some situations in life that can’t be reached

-by anything else, and this seems to be one of ’em.”

-

-“Now will you go?” demanded Matthewson, “while I’ve a notion to let

-you?”

-

-“I’ll go,” the man muttered; “but you aren’t through with me yet!”

-

-“When you feel a particular desire for free quarters at Thomaston, just

-meddle with my affairs again,” retorted Matthewson. “Until you do feel

-that way, you’d better let them alone.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XVI

-

-The Range 16 Scandal

-

-

-“I guess I didn’t make any mistake in staying,” said Trafford, more to

-break the embarrassing silence which followed Cranston’s withdrawal,

-than with any definite purpose.

-

-Matthewson glanced up with the air of a man who had half lost

-consciousness of surrounding circumstances in a line of painful thought.

-

-“I am under deep obligation to you,” he said slowly; and then,

-apparently tracking back to his thoughts before Trafford spoke, he

-added, as it seemed, irrelevantly:

-

-“You said he could tell nothing you did not already know.”

-

-The pain which manifested itself in his face would have shown a far

-less keen man what the speaker had in mind, yet was not willing more

-directly to name.

-

-“He has not,” said Trafford quietly. “All that he hinted at I’ve known

-for weeks.”

-

-“Did you know it when you saw me before?”

-

-Trafford nodded.

-

-“Why did you conceal it?”

-

-“It’s not concealment not to talk of a thing. There was no call to talk

-of it so long as it had nothing to do with the murder.”

-

-“But are you certain,” the words came hard and with a painful ring,

-“that it did have nothing to do with the murder?”

-

-The question showed Trafford how far pain and numbing anguish had

-carried the man who, loyal even to the death of honour to the mother

-who bore him, on that very account was the deeper sufferer.

-

-“Absolutely!” Trafford threw into the word an intense depth of

-conviction. “On that point you may exclude every doubt.”

-

-Matthewson gave him a look of intense relief. He was reasonably certain

-as to Cranston; but if there was a chain of circumstances, as there

-well might be, between this story and the recent murder, what was to

-save them?

-

-“I owe you more than I can say,” he went on. “I won’t waste my

-gratitude in words. The only thing I can do now, that I see, is to

-answer your question of a half-hour ago. You’re entitled to that.”

-

-He wrote some names on a slip of paper and passed it over to Trafford.

-He watched him as he read, to detect, if possible, any movement of

-surprise, for this question of the murder, from a matter of comparative

-indifference, save as it touched the possession of certain papers, was

-growing into a vital thing, that seemed to meet him at every turn,

-filling him with alarm for the moment when it should uncover in all its

-hideous nakedness. But there was nothing to indicate that he had told

-anything which the other did not know already, until Trafford himself

-spoke. Then, even, the tone was most commonplace:

-

-“You have saved me the time and trouble it would have taken to complete

-the list.” He evidently had no question of his ability to do so. “I

-hope you’ll add to the obligation by answering one or two questions.

-Did you meet these men separately or together?”

-

-“I met the first two separately and the other alone.”

-

-“And discussed with the two the papers which were in Wing’s

-possession.” While pursuing the matter in apparently the most

-commonplace way, Trafford did not fail to note the quick air of sudden

-interest on Matthewson’s part which followed this reference to the

-mysterious papers. It was not a look that betokened fear, but rather

-eagerness, if the detective could read aright. He went on:

-

-“Was it on the same matter you saw the third man?”

-

-“Certainly,” answered Matthewson, as if eager now to give the

-information he had before withheld. “There was only one thing that took

-me to Millbank, and that was the papers.”

-

-“Did you see him before or after you saw the others?”

-

-“Before and after, both.”

-

-“Did they know you had seen him or were to see him?”

-

-“No. Rightly or wrongly, I suspected cross-purposes between them and

-was after a second string to my bow. They thought I took an earlier

-train, but I met him by arrangement. I’d sent him to see Wing and met

-him to get the report.”

-

-“Then he was with Wing during the evening?”

-

-“Did you not know it?” demanded Matthewson, turning cross-examiner.

-

-“A question does not always imply ignorance,” said Trafford, smiling,

-“but sometimes the bolstering up of knowledge not yet in the form we

-want it. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I knew Wing had a visitor

-that evening. This man was with him till late?”

-

-“He left him at eleven o’clock and met me. I parted with him in the

-shadow of Pettingill’s potato storehouse, when I ran to jump on the

-train.”

-

-“You sent him to try to get those papers from Wing, and he failed.”

-

-“Miserably failed. It was a desperate chance I took, of course; but I

-could do no less than take it. In fact it was a desperate thing to use

-this man, but it was my last hope, and I had no choice.”

-

-“Yet he’s square--if I’m rightly informed. No danger from him.”

-

-“I don’t mean that. I mean he’s not the kind of man to use in such a

-thing. He’s what you might call too high-toned--not given to that kind

-of work--that is, in a successful way. He wouldn’t take chances that

-another man might. I guess you know better than I can tell you what I

-mean.”

-

-“I know. I understand the type of man. He gave you no hope of securing

-the papers?”

-

-“None whatever. Wing positively refused every suggestion in regard to

-them, and left the impression on his mind that further attempt was

-useless. While I felt that another man might have done better, I was

-certain that his effort had uncovered Wing’s exact position; that Wing

-was determined to hold on to the papers and use them. He was convinced

-of the same thing.”

-

-“Still you urged him to make another effort.”

-

-“No. I was so convinced that it didn’t seem worth while--at least

-along those lines. While we were talking, I heard the warning bell and

-we hurried, turning off Somerset Street between Neil’s store and the

-post-office. As I left him, I remember saying that I’d give the man who

-would put those papers in my hands a hundred thousand dollars.”

-

-“A hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Trafford, for once at least

-showing his surprise.

-

-“Yes,” answered Matthewson, a strange hopefulness coming into his eyes;

-“I’ll give you that sum for the papers this minute.”

-

-“I wish I had ’em,” said Trafford, in a tone half regretful and half as

-if he was groping in his memory for something that bore on the matter.

-

-“Why, haven’t you got them?” demanded Matthewson, between incredulity

-and fear.

-

-“I!” exclaimed Trafford. “I got them! I’ve never even seen them. The

-man who fired the shot that killed Wing has got those papers. Find him,

-and you’re on the track of the papers.”

-

-Matthewson grew pale with revulsion of feeling. That Trafford had the

-papers, he had had no question. He believed that all this had been

-merely leading up to an offer and he had shaped his course, as he

-thought, shrewdly, to the naming of a sum which would make the man

-eager to deal. Instead, he was told in a tone that carried conviction,

-that not only had Trafford not got the papers, but that they were in

-the possession of an unknown man for whom the law was hunting. If he

-was found, the papers would pass into the possession of the State and

-the public!

-

-“In other words, we don’t know where they are?”

-

-“We do know,” answered Trafford, with the solemnity of a man who feels

-that he is approaching accomplished purpose, “that these papers were

-the cause of Wing’s death. Tell me the man who was most concerned in

-getting possession of these papers and I’ll give Wing’s murderer to the

-hangman--or would, if you hadn’t abolished the hangman in Maine.”

-

-Never had the case stood so naked before Matthewson as these

-words stripped it. For the murder itself he had felt comparative

-indifference, his interest in the papers overtopping all else. Since

-he was aware that the murdered man was his half-brother, he had been

-conscious of an approach to a feeling of relief that he was dead. Now,

-for the first time, he saw, as by lightning’s flash, the strife for

-the papers and the murder as cause and effect. The one danger grew into

-another, and each took fearfulness from the other. No effort of the

-will could quite quiet the nervous tremor which the realisation of this

-fact brought. His face was drawn with pain as he answered:

-

-“There can be no man more concerned than I to get these papers.”

-

-“Fortunately I know you were on the train when the shot was fired.”

-

-The answer implied that but for this Trafford would suspect him, and

-Matthewson so understood it; but his anxiety was too great for him even

-to resent the implication. His brother was no less interested than

-himself in the papers. He must warn him, warn him instantly. This man

-was pitiless when a task was set before him; Henry must not let himself

-be drawn into a trap.

-

-“We have supposed,” Matthewson said, as much to ease the situation,

-as from any particular bearing of the remark on the matter under

-discussion, “that you had taken the papers under cover of taking the

-blotter from the desk.”

-

-“I know,” nodded Trafford. “That was the reason you had me attacked in

-the bridge at Millbank. I would have been robbed of the papers--thrown

-into the river, perhaps. For the moment, I assumed that it was the same

-men who committed the murder. I saw my mistake, however, very quickly.”

-

-He added the last words, as it were, as an apology for the mistake

-itself. As a matter of fact, Matthewson had known nothing of the

-assault until some days after it took place, but he scorned a denial

-that must seem like an effort to escape responsibility, and so said

-nothing to disabuse the other’s mind of the belief that he had helped

-plan the assault.

-

-“The most serious aspect of that affair,” Trafford continued, “was the

-death of the Canuck--Victor Vignon.”

-

-But Matthewson was not in a mood to feel keenly the death of a mere

-logger, whom he had never seen and whose importance, in comparison

-with the good name and continued power of the Matthewson family, was

-as nothing. He did not care even to assume an interest for the sake of

-appearance. He was thinking, thinking fast, and only half hearing what

-Trafford was saying. Suddenly his attention was again aroused.

-

-“What is the nature of these papers?” the other was asking. “With

-knowledge of that, I could narrow the circle of interest, so that I

-would have to deal with only a few men.”

-

-“It can’t be the men who are interested in the papers by reason of

-their contents who did the murder,” said Matthewson, speaking rapidly.

-“I know them and can answer for every one of them--that is, so far as

-they knew of the existence of the papers. It is some one who regards

-them from the point of their saleability. It’s their money value.”

-

-Trafford had seen this possibility already, but it did not satisfy him.

-He felt that he could form a sounder judgment than this man, but to do

-it he must have the facts and this man must give them to him.

-

-“If you are correct,” he said, “you must see that you narrow the line

-of enquiry to three men. I must know what the papers were to determine

-which of these three is the man. I have asked you before, what is the

-nature of the papers?”

-

-“Do not think me ungrateful, if I decline to answer. I would trust you

-with everything, but the secret belongs to others no less than myself.”

-

-“Mr. Matthewson,” said Trafford seriously, “it is not pleasant to have

-to play hide and seek with you. I’ve had to remind you once before that

-the inquest is public. If I have this question asked there, you’ll have

-to answer or----”

-

-“Go to jail,” Matthewson said, completing the sentence. “I know. I’ve

-thought of that. I shouldn’t answer.”

-

-Matthewson drummed on the table and looked at his companion. Even his

-political power could not shield him from the consequence of a refusal

-to answer a question put to him at the inquest on such a murder as

-this. Surely the cause must be a serious one that induced him even to

-think of such an act. Trafford took up another line:

-

-“Have you thought that if you were summoned and refused to testify, it

-would be necessary for the government to supply as best it could the

-want of your testimony. Have you thought that in doing so, it could not

-be dainty as to means, and that it would not be impossible in such an

-event that it might stumble on the story that Cranston tried to sell

-you to-day?”

-

-“In other words, you would become the pedlar of scandal,” sneered

-Matthewson.

-

-“In other words, that justice might not fail, I’d get at the facts,

-even if they involved my own--brother. Don’t you see, Mr. Matthewson,

-I’m giving you a chance? If, with a knowledge of all the facts, I can

-bring this crime home to the murderer without bringing you into it,

-I’ll do so. If I can’t, I simply know in advance what all the world is

-bound to know finally. You’ve your chance. You can take it or leave it.”

-

-“You’re pressing your advantage. I’m to tell, or you’ll find out.

-Let me suggest you’ve been on the case some time and the sum of your

-finding is not large.”

-

-“So large, Mr. Matthewson, that I can make my arrest within twenty-four

-hours and, I’m certain, convict my man.”

-

-Matthewson started. There was no mistaking the tone. Still he would not

-yield.

-

-“In that event, you don’t need my answer.”

-

-“I must have your answer to shape my proof. You’ll give it to me here

-or on the witness stand. I’ll leave it to you to decide which.”

-

-Matthewson faced him like a man at bay; then, as he saw his unflinching

-purpose, he yielded and answered:

-

-“The papers purport to impugn titles to a million dollars’ worth of

-land and two millions’ worth of stumpage. They impugn too the honour of

-the men who hold those titles.”

-

-It was Trafford’s turn for surprise. The words took him back to the

-great scandal of the Public Lands Office, before and while Matthewson

-was Governor--the one storm that it had seemed for a time even his

-political resources could not weather. Then came the sudden collapse

-of the attack and the disappearance of documents that were relied on

-to support it. He recalled that Judge Parlin had been retained to

-prosecute the case, and that it was said that papers had been stolen

-from his office which it had never been possible to replace.

-

-“You mean,” he said, “the Range 16 scandal.”

-

-“I believe it was so called,” said Matthewson doggedly.

-

-“But it was said these papers had been stolen; it was supposed they had

-been destroyed. How came they in Wing’s hands?”

-

-“It is said they were stolen; but if so, not all. Parlin never was

-able to fill the place of those that were taken; but this man Wing,

-with devilish ingenuity and persistence, had worked and dug and pieced

-together until--well, until he had got enough to make us uneasy.”

-

-“And so you tried the old game a second time?”

-

-“We tried to get them out of his hands. The main thing we hope now is

-that as the price paid for them this time was murder, the man who got

-them has destroyed them, for fear their possession would betray him.”

-

-Trafford was silent for a few minutes, and then said:

-

-“Don’t hope. They’re not destroyed. The man who committed murder to get

-them, will not part with its price so easily. The man who holds papers

-that would ruin Governor Matthewson, his sons, Charles and Frank

-Hunter, and the Lord knows who else, knows that those papers would

-be his surest means of escape, if his identity was discovered. Those

-papers are in existence;” and he added to himself, “if I can’t convict

-without them, I won’t get out of the next assault so easy.”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XVII

-

-The Story of the Papers

-

-

-Trafford went back to Millbank more seriously alarmed than at any time

-in his whole professional career. Matthewson would unquestionably

-inform the others that he had not the papers; and as certainly warn

-them he was after them, with the determination to secure them. It

-was well within reason that they would regard it as safer that they

-remained in the hands of a murderer whom they protected, than that they

-should fall into those of a detective, who would use them to convict

-and thus make them public. He felt that he must act promptly and

-energetically and bring to his aid every influence possible.

-

-Now, however, there was another matter tugging at him. Few men in

-Maine ever attained to the possession of a hundred thousand dollars.

-The income on such a sum would equal his average yearly earnings. He

-believed that if he could put his hands on the papers, they would

-yield him that sum or more. If he was in danger, he had but to let it

-be known in a certain quarter that on obtaining these papers, he would

-deliver them intact, and the danger disappeared. He was satisfied that

-the man who made public the facts relating to Range 16 scandal would

-never live to see the result. He was satisfied that if the papers were

-once located in any person’s possession, there would now be no further

-time wasted in negotiation, as there had been with Wing; but that

-effective steps would be taken to prevent their publicity.

-

-On arriving at Millbank, Trafford waited only to receive the report of

-his assistant, who had been left on guard, and then went at once to

-the Parlin homestead. He found Mrs. Parlin showing marks of the strain

-upon her of the last few weeks. Life had brought her many sorrows,

-and Wing’s tragic death had seemingly broken the last tie of joy.

-Trafford’s feverish impatience, rather than the trained restraint of

-his profession, spoke in the haste he showed to get at real issues.

-

-“Mrs. Parlin,” he began, as soon as formal greetings were over, “what

-can you tell me of the Range 16 affair and the papers relating thereto?”

-

-To his surprise Mrs. Parlin grew suddenly white and seemed on the point

-of fainting. He turned to her assistance, but by a strong effort she

-recovered a part of her usual self-possession, though the colour did

-not come back to her cheeks.

-

-“Nothing,” she said. “It is a matter on which I can’t talk. You must

-not; you shall not torture me with it.”

-

-“I would not willingly distress you in any way, Mrs. Parlin,” he said,

-with less abruptness; “but it is my duty to insist and I think it your

-duty to comply. Our whole search for Mr. Wing’s murderer may turn upon

-your answer.”

-

-“Oh, has that come up to curse us again! has that come up!” she cried,

-wringing her hands. “I can’t bear it; I can’t bear it!”

-

-Trafford was astounded at her growing agitation, and was half disposed

-to forego further questions, at least for the time; but behind him was

-the impulsion of his dread of, he scarcely knew what, driving him on to

-reckless impatience.

-

-“It has come up and we can’t rid ourselves of it. Those papers were the

-cause of Mr. Wing’s death.”

-

-“Those papers!” she repeated, with open lips, which scarcely moved as

-she spoke. “Those papers! But I hid them; no one knew where they were.

-Theodore did not even know of their existence.”

-

-“You hid them!” exclaimed Trafford, thunderstruck at the statement.

-“They were stolen, I understand. How could you hide them?”

-

-“Yes,” she said, like a bewildered child, admitting a fault; “they were

-stolen. I stole them.”

-

-It was Trafford’s turn to sit dazed beyond the power of clear thought.

-She had stolen the papers to which her husband had given long months of

-work and thought, and on which he had hoped to build a reputation that

-should overpass the bounds of the State and outlive his years. She was

-the thief; and if report said truly, that theft had hastened his death

-and added bitterness to his last days!

-

-“You can’t mean this, Mrs. Parlin,” he said gently. “I refer to the

-papers that were stolen from your husband’s desk some five years before

-he died; the papers that related to the Public Lands Office and the

-timber land and stumpage in Range 16; the papers that involved some

-men very high in the State and in the party--I won’t name them, if you

-please.”

-

-She nodded assent to each of his propositions, and when he had finished

-said:

-

-“Yes; those are the papers I mean. I stole them from his desk and hid

-them. I was going to destroy them; but I thought sometime they might be

-of use and not so dangerous, and so I hid them.”

-

-“Where did you hide them?”

-

-“First in the attic, then in the cellar, and finally under the bricks

-of the hearth in the parlour.”

-

-“It’s easy, then, to find if they’re still there.”

-

-Ten minutes sufficed to raise the bricks and show the hiding-place--a

-hollow cavity which had been devised in the early days for hiding

-purposes--empty.

-

-“They are gone!” she cried as she glanced into the hole.

-

-“Yes,” said Trafford, replacing the bricks and leading her back to

-Wing’s library, where they were less apt to be overheard, “they’re

-gone. Mr. Wing found them and, realising the alarm it would be to you

-to know that they were found, did not tell you. It was those papers

-that brought about his death.”

-

-When Mrs. Parlin was sufficiently calm, Trafford set himself to the

-task of extracting the details of the affair; letting her at first tell

-it in her own way, and later asking questions that completed the story.

-Condensed to the facts, it ran as follows:

-

-Nearly twelve years before, her husband, in the course of some

-investigation of a land title in the Public Lands Office, came across

-what appeared an error in an important entry. He was on the point

-of calling attention to it, so that it could be corrected, when a

-critical examination convinced him that it was not a mere error, but a

-carefully made change that involved the title to timber-land that was

-just becoming exceedingly valuable. Acting on the hint thus given, he

-went to work cautiously, but determinately, and personally got together

-a number of documents that revealed what seemed a systematic series

-of forgeries, relating to immense tracts of land that were formerly

-public. In some cases, the title to the land itself was involved; in

-others, that to the stumpage only.

-

-It was impossible to carry on these investigations without attracting

-attention, especially when they had gone so far as to show that in

-every case where the title was suspicious, the benefit accrued to the

-Matthewsons and to the Hunters at Millbank. Mr. Matthewson was then

-Governor, but he had formerly been at the head of the Public Lands

-Office, and his financial prosperity had appeared to date from about

-the time he held that position.

-

-A prying reporter got an inkling that something was going on, and in

-pursuing his enquiry revealed the hints he had discovered to Henry

-Matthewson. A position of financial importance was suddenly offered

-the reporter in a Western city and the story never was printed. But

-the Matthewsons were, from that moment, on their guard. A few months

-later, a fire broke out in the record room of the Public Lands Office

-and valuable records were destroyed. This did not attract especial

-attention, for the press had repeatedly called public attention to

-the existence of this very danger, and merely contented itself with

-shouting “I told you so,” with a great deal of strenuousness.

-

-What was not known, save to Judge Parlin and, probably, some of the

-office force, was the extreme discrimination shown by the fire in

-destroying the very books on which proof of the forgeries depended.

-Certain remarks incautiously dropped by Judge Parlin let out facts from

-which the scandal took shape, with charges freely made by political

-opponents of the Matthewsons, which could now be proved only by papers

-in Judge Parlin’s hands, since the destruction of the original books.

-This was the Range 16 Scandal in its original form.

-

-Up to this time, Judge Parlin had not even taken his wife into his

-confidence, but as the matter took more and more of public form,

-he deemed it necessary that she should know, especially as he had

-begun to suspect that the men who were against him would hesitate at

-nothing--not even murder, to conceal the truth. It was an incautious

-hint dropped by him to this effect that first alarmed her, and this

-alarm was speedily increased to terror by threats that were conveyed to

-the judge from time to time, though as to the source he was never able

-to reach a solution. “He laughed at them,” she said, telling of these

-threats; “but that is a man’s way. A woman sits and thinks and dreads,

-because she cannot act. In the dead night, I heard footsteps prowling

-about the place--or thought I did, and I lay in an agony of terror--not

-for myself, but because it was not for me that the danger threatened.

-When he was at Norridgewock at court and would drive home after dark,

-I sat and trembled until I had him again in my arms and knew that once

-more the chance had passed him by. If there came a ring at the bell

-late at night, I would plead that he let me answer it, until I wrought

-myself into a nervous terror that I cannot even now remember without

-a shudder. It was the worse because he was so brave and never for a

-moment felt afraid. When he laughed at the threats, I grew cold to my

-very heart, for my fear for him told me that the danger he scorned was

-so real that some day it would fall and crush him. A woman’s love knows

-some things that a man’s brain can’t compass!”

-

-It seemed, however, that he attached importance of one kind to these

-threats, such as to induce him to guard the papers carefully, pending

-the time when he could duplicate them and place one set where they

-could not possibly be reached. But before this was even undertaken,

-Mrs. Parlin had become so alarmed that she urged her husband to abandon

-the matter and destroy the papers and let this be known where it would

-cause a cessation of the annoyance to which they were both subjected.

-But here she found him inflexible, and at last her terror reached such

-a pitch that she determined herself to steal and destroy the papers.

-

-It was some time before she was able to carry this resolve into

-execution, and during the delay she reached a point of terror little

-short of insanity. At last, under the impulse of fear intensified by a

-particularly boldly expressed threat, she took desperate chances and,

-as desperate chances will do at times, succeeded. She took the papers

-from her husband’s desk almost under his very eyes, and ever after had

-the cruel pain of knowing that the trust she had betrayed was so great

-that no suspicion of the betrayal had ever crossed his mind.

-

-Once in possession of the papers, she had, as she told Trafford, failed

-in the courage to destroy them, and had easily persuaded herself

-that they might at some time be an actual means of protection to her

-husband. Therefore she had hidden them, as stated, and thus finally

-they had passed into Theodore Wing’s hands to prove his death warrant.

-

-The judge was much broken over the loss of the papers, the facts in

-regard to which could not be kept from the public. For a time, the

-scandal blazed up and the Matthewsons had to meet charges which could

-be proved by no one and which, therefore, they were the more bold in

-denying. Then public interest was turned to other issues, only to be

-aroused again for a time by Judge Parlin’s candidacy for the highest

-State court and his defeat, which he did not long survive.

-

-“But when,” she demanded, “could Theodore have found these papers?”

-

-“About two years ago, I should say; perhaps a little earlier,” said

-Trafford. “At least, it was then known that he had found them, for on

-no other theory can we explain the ransacking of his desk. He then

-began to carry them about with him, and the interests involved, which

-had rested quiet since your husband’s loss, and especially since his

-death, became disturbed again and active.”

-

-“Then it must be the Matthewsons or Hunters who murdered him,”

-exclaimed the woman, under a sudden breaking in of light.

-

-“It would seem a fair conclusion,” answered Trafford; “and yet I have

-evidence that satisfies me that they did not murder him and do not

-know who did. I don’t mean to say that they wouldn’t have done it

-finally; but they didn’t this time, and are not only puzzled, but much

-disturbed, over the mystery of the murder. We have gone so far on this

-matter that I can tell you in a word why they are disturbed. Whoever

-murdered him took the papers, and they are alarmed as to where they’ll

-turn up next.”

-

-Mrs. Parlin had by the act of telling her story recovered her

-self-control and power to think, and saw as clearly as Trafford the

-meaning of this uncertainty.

-

-“But who,” she asked, “could have done it, if they did not?”

-

-“Some one who knew he had the papers. Some one who knew something of

-their value, and some one who knows the safety there is in boldness,

-and had the nerve to carry through an affair that might break down at

-any point. I knew long since that some one was with Mr. Wing in the

-evening after you left him, and that the visitor stayed very late. I

-also know that, contrary to what was generally supposed, this room was

-visited after the murder. Some one passed over his dead body, entered

-the room, and took the papers. The question is, who was bold enough to

-commit the theft under such conditions?”

-

-The picture that Trafford drew of the murder and the theft stirred Mrs.

-Parlin, already wrought upon by the interview, to a state of nervous

-excitement that was most distressing. Too late, the detective realised

-that in such a state she was scarcely a safe custodian for the secret

-he had given into her keeping. She walked the room, wringing her hands

-and asking herself:

-

-“Why didn’t I burn them; why didn’t I burn them? I might at least have

-saved Theodore! I am his murderer.”

-

-It was late when Trafford had quieted her so that he dared trust her

-even with Mary Mullin. Even this he did not do, without first giving

-her a stern warning as to the necessity of self-restraint.

-

-“We’re on the last stretch now,” he said. “What’s done must be done

-quickly and silently. These men haven’t committed murder yet, but they

-wouldn’t hesitate to, if they were once convinced that safety lay

-in that direction. In forty-eight hours they’ll see that it’s safer

-for this murder to remain a mystery, and then it’ll be dangerous to

-move--it may mean death. Can you keep still on this subject two days?”

-

-“I kept still for eight years while I saw my husband crushed,” she said

-reproachfully.

-

-As he was turning away, oppressed with the thought that he was pitted

-against men who would hesitate at nothing and who, as soon as a

-conference was had, must see that their interests lay in thwarting his

-efforts, she caught him by the coat and drew him towards her.

-

-“There’s been blood enough shed,” she said. “These papers killed my

-husband, though I stole them in the hope of saving his life. They’ve

-killed Theodore. Don’t let them kill any more folks. Burn them, burn

-them, when you get hold of them!”

-

-“But you want me to catch Mr. Wing’s murderer, don’t you? You want him

-sent to Thomaston?”

-

-“Yes; yes!” Her eyes blazed with the desire of revenge. “Don’t let him

-escape! But burn the papers!”

-

-He lingered still, though he felt that he was wasting precious time. He

-seemed to be in the one place of safety, and a strange dread, which he

-knew foreign to his nature and profession, assailed him. He had never

-experienced it before and it seemed a premonition of coming evil. As he

-turned finally to go, she said again:

-

-“Don’t move alone. You can’t do better than take Mr. McManus’s

-advice. The judge had every confidence in him, and so, I think, had

-Theodore. You’ll be safer if some one knows what you are doing. Tell

-him everything and keep somebody by you all the time. Catch Theodore’s

-murderer, and when you get him and the papers, burn the papers: don’t

-let them cause any more bloodshed.”

-

-“I shan’t move without Mr. McManus,” he assured her. “He is cool-headed

-and resourceful. I’ll catch Mr. Wing’s murderer and I’ll put an end to

-the mischief those papers can do.”

-

-Nevertheless, there was the sense of oppression and danger hanging

-over him. He was doubting himself--doubting himself, from the moment

-Matthewson had assured him that he would give a hundred thousand

-dollars for the papers. Suppose he should find them, would he have

-strength to put that offer from him? As he asked this question, he

-realised that the fear that weighed on him was rather the fear born

-of a sense of moral degradation than fear of bodily harm. He knew as

-absolutely as if the thing was done that, if once he was in possession

-of the papers, he would sell them to Matthewson; and while he knew it

-and hated himself for being capable of doing it, he went steadily on

-the course which could have no other ending.

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XVIII

-

-The Man is Found

-

-

-McManus was unmarried and lived at the Millbank Hotel, where he

-indulged in the extravagance of two rooms, a sitting room and a

-bedroom. Trafford saw him at supper and arranged for an evening

-interview.

-

-“I’ll come to your room,” he said. “I’ve got nothing but a six by nine

-closet on the highest floor.”

-

-Supper over, he went for a short walk, to pass the time until the hour

-of appointment. He walked out on the river road where Charles Hunter’s

-great house stood, and found himself running over items of expense in

-maintaining such an establishment, all directed to the question whether

-a man on the income derivable from one hundred thousand dollars could

-afford a home like it. Disgusted with a train of thought he could not

-control, he hastened on, until at the top of Parlin Hill he saw the

-Parlin homestead and quite unexpectedly began asking himself if Mrs.

-Parlin was not likely to sell it and move into a smaller house.

-

-Whipped with the lash of his now ungovernable thoughts, he returned

-to the hotel and was confronted by Frank Hunter, whom he would dearly

-have liked to arrest and bind over to keep the peace. He was in what

-he called a “blue funk,” and did not regain his self-control until he

-found himself in McManus’s room, where a sense of security seemed to

-seize him.

-

-“I’ll put this window on to the porch down and draw the shades,” he

-said, suiting the action to the word. “I’ve got some things to say that

-mustn’t be overheard.”

-

-They were at the table with cigars lighted, before McManus responded

-with reference to the affair in hand:

-

-“Have you made any progress?”

-

-“I’ve got the thing down to a dot,” he answered; “with the one

-exception--you’ll say important--of the man. I can tell you how that

-murder was committed, and when I have, I think you’ll agree with my

-prediction of a fortnight ago as to the characteristics of the man who

-committed it. What I want of you is that when the thing is told, you’ll

-help me put my hands on the man.”

-

-“I’ll do my best,” replied McManus; “but don’t forget you are giving me

-the point on which you confess yourself at a loss.”

-

-Trafford laughed.

-

-“Isn’t that where we all want help?”

-

-“Yes; but not always where we get it.”

-

-“On the evening of May 10, a man came from somewhere below on the

-train due here at eight o’clock. He dropped off at the Bridge station,

-instead of coming into Millbank, and met another man, apparently by

-appointment, about half-way between the railroad and covered bridges.

-They talked about ten minutes----”

-

-“Hold on,” interrupted McManus; “you go too fast. Was the man he met a

-Millbank man?”

-

-“Oh, I forgot. It was Frank Hunter.”

-

-“Frank Hunter!” exclaimed McManus. “You’re still pointing to our

-office, as I said before. It’s a grave responsibility you’re taking,

-Mr. Trafford.”

-

-“I’m taking no responsibility. I’m simply giving you facts. Whoever

-was the murderer, I’m certain it wasn’t Frank Hunter. I’ll give you

-that for your comfort. As I was saying, they talked about ten minutes

-and then separated. Hunter went to his brother’s house and the stranger

-turned back, crossed the railroad bridge, and went down Somerset

-Street, meeting a man about a quarter of a mile below the Catholic

-church, where the street runs through the heavy maple grove. You know

-the spot?”

-

-McManus nodded, attempting no other interruption.

-

-“It was now about quarter to nine, and the two were together full

-half an hour. The stranger then came back up Somerset Street and went

-directly to Charles Hunter’s house. Ten minutes after, a man, who

-might have been the one whom the stranger met, crossed Eddy Street to

-Bicknell, came up Bicknell to Canaan, crossed Canaan to River Road,

-and went directly up River Road to the Parlin homestead. He reached

-there between half-past nine and quarter before ten and went to the

-side door, where he rang the right-hand bell, showing that he was

-acquainted with the peculiar arrangement of the bells. Mr. Wing came to

-the door and the two went into the library.”

-

-“Now,” continued Trafford after a pause, to enable McManus to grasp

-all of the details, “as to the time; it was nine-thirty when Mrs.

-Parlin left the room. Wing had not written his letter, so that we have

-got the time pretty closely fixed. He stayed with Wing until nearly

-eleven-thirty. The stranger seems to have left Hunter’s house under

-pretence of catching the freight that leaves at eleven, but in reality

-he went to Somerset Street and walked up and down that street until a

-quarter to twelve, when he was joined by a man, presumably the one who

-had come from Wing’s library. It was a pretty hazardous thing to do,

-this loafing up and down Somerset Street, but up to now I haven’t found

-a single person whose attention he particularly attracted and certainly

-not one who pretends to have recognised him, though I feel certain he

-has many acquaintances in this town.”

-

-“If the two Hunters saw him, why don’t you get his identity from them?”

-McManus demanded.

-

-“That’ll come in time. I’ve not wanted to take too many into my

-confidence, and there’s no danger of their running away. Of course,

-if there’d been any possibility that this visitor was the murderer,

-’twould be different, but as you’ll see, there isn’t.”

-

-“But he may have instigated the murder, without actually firing the

-shot,” said McManus. “You must pardon me, Mr. Trafford; but I can’t

-help feeling you’ve shown yourself somewhat derelict in this important

-matter.”

-

-“I hope I’ll be able to exonerate myself before I finish,” said

-Trafford. “At any rate, let me go on. The matters these men had to

-discuss were of such interest that the visitor came near missing the

-midnight train, which might have subjected me to the necessity of

-having him arrested, since he would then have been in town when the

-murder occurred. As it was, by hurrying through the alley between the

-post-office and Neil’s store, they got the train, the stranger coming

-from behind the potato warehouse, as has been testified. His companion

-remained there, or he might have been recognised by Oldbeg.”

-

-Trafford seemed disposed to muse over the possible result of such an

-event and as well over another matter to which he referred a moment

-later:

-

-“It would be a curious thing to know just what was said behind the

-storehouse, where they had their last words. It might throw a flood of

-light on things.”

-

-“Yes,” answered McManus, showing a feverish desire for the continuance

-of the narrative; “but you might as well try to guess where yesterday’s

-winds have blown to. You seem to have facts enough, without speculating

-on conversations.”

-

-“I suppose that’s true,” returned Trafford; “yet that last talk has

-a fascination for me. Who knows that it wasn’t just that that sealed

-Wing’s fate? You say this man may have instigated the murder. If so,

-may not that have been the moment of instigation?”

-

-“Scarcely possible,” returned McManus, as it were drawn against his

-will into the discussion. “If he did anything so important, he wouldn’t

-leave it for the last word and last moment.”

-

-“There I don’t agree with you,” Trafford retorted, showing a

-disposition to argue, which caused McManus a nervous irritation he

-could not conceal. “From my experience, that’s just what he would do.

-He’d hesitate to take the plunge; he’d wait to shape a phrase and then,

-at the last moment, when it had to be done, he’d throw it off in any

-form it presented itself. Actually, I’d give more to know what was said

-in that two minutes, before the stranger jumped for the train, than for

-all the talk of the whole evening.”

-

-“Well; have your own way,” said McManus brusquely; “but you can’t know.

-Let it rest there, and let’s go on to what happened next--if you know.”

-

-Trafford watched him intently, as he was speaking, but when he had

-finished seemed to find nothing in the speech, so he went on:

-

-“After the train pulled out, the man behind the storehouse waited some

-few minutes, till the station was closed, and the men had left, and

-then he stepped out and picked up something that he saw lying on the

-ground and had watched from the moment it had caught his eye. It was a

-revolver, one chamber of which had been discharged. We know now how

-it came there, and don’t need to go over that part. He skulked back

-through Gray’s Court, keeping in the shadows when he crossed Canaan

-Street, and so came again into River Road. A feverish haste had now

-taken control of him, and when he reached the driveway of the Parlin

-homestead, the light was still burning in the library--in fact, Mr.

-Wing was at his desk, just finishing the letter which he had intended

-to write early in the evening, and which the visit of this unknown man

-had prevented him from writing.”

-

-“There’s not the first thing,” interrupted McManus, who seemed now

-watchful of every detail as the tale approached its climax, “to show

-that he ever wrote that letter!”

-

-“There’s been no evidence yet produced,” replied Trafford; “but the

-evidence exists, and I can prove that it was written and the person

-to whom it was addressed. I can prove too that it never reached that

-person.”

-

-“Go on,” said McManus.

-

-“The man felt that what he had to do must be done quickly. Perhaps he

-knew that if he took time for thought, he wouldn’t have the courage or

-resolution to do the work. He went to the door where he had rung early

-in the evening, and rang the same bell. Then he stepped on to the grass

-east of the doorstep and waited, with the pistol he had found ready in

-his hand.”

-

-“Are you certain on that point?” demanded McManus.

-

-Trafford stopped and looked at McManus, as if pondering that question.

-Finally he answered:

-

-“I think so. He probably had a pistol of his own, but I’m confident he

-used the one he’d found. Everything points to his being a shrewd, keen

-man, and naturally he would not use his own pistol when he had another

-in his pocket.”

-

-McManus nodded, indicating that Trafford was to take up the story.

-

-“Wing came to the door, as before. He did not bring a lamp, but left

-the doors open behind him. Seeing no one, he stepped out on to the

-door-stone, when the man in hiding pressed the pistol against his

-temple and drew the trigger at the same instant. Wing fell in a heap

-on the step and threshold--his death was instantaneous.”

-

-McManus had listened to these last words as if fascinated by the

-terrible details so briefly stated. When Trafford paused on the last

-word, he seemed to catch his breath with the movement of one who in the

-last minute had forgotten everything but the picture before him.

-

-“If your tale is true,” he said, breathing deeply, “your description of

-the man is the man himself--a man of quick movements, strong purpose,

-assured position, and absolute control of nerves. The man must have

-been iron--at least while he was doing the job.”

-

-“And he needed to be adamant to complete it. There was nothing to him

-in Wing’s death, as a mere death. It saved him from nothing, though it

-might save others. It was positive, not negative, gain he was after.

-Perhaps, on the whole, he would rather Wing had lived. He felt it

-simply a necessity, and an unpleasant one at that, that he should die.

-But he was after something, and Wing’s death was only the preliminary

-to securing it. Having waited to make certain the shot had aroused no

-one, he stepped over the dead body and entered the library. He closed

-the door behind him, went to the safe, which was still open, and took

-from the upper left-hand pigeon hole a package of papers. Then he

-closed the safe and turned the knob, probably mechanically, showing

-that he was a man accustomed to deal with keyless safes. He went to

-the desk and took from it the letter which Wing had just sealed and

-directed----”

-

-“To whom?” interrupted McManus.

-

-“To the Governor, asking for an appointment for the following Thursday,

-the thirteenth.”

-

-McManus nodded and Trafford went on:

-

-“Then he put out the light, raised the shade of one window to make sure

-the coast was clear, and returned the way he had come. In doing so, he

-closed the library door behind him and drew the outer door to until

-it was stopped by the body of the dead man. Thus, you see, with all

-his shrewdness, he made four mistakes; he closed and locked the safe;

-he put out the light; he closed the library door, and he attempted to

-close the outer door.”

-

-“How mistakes?” asked McManus.

-

-“If he had left the safe open, it would have been supposed mere robbery

-was the purpose. If he had left the lamp burning, and the library and

-outer doors open, there would have been nothing to show that some one

-had visited the room after the murder.”

-

-“There was the missing letter,” suggested McManus, who seemed to be

-thinking with Trafford’s thoughts.

-

-“Yes,” replied Trafford; “that was mistake number five.”

-

-“But, of course,” went on McManus, “he had no means of knowing what was

-in it. If it had been still unsealed, it would have been different. As

-it was, he could not risk it; there was nothing else for him to do.”

-

-“Exactly,” replied Trafford; “still, I think we can count it a mistake.

-The package of papers was what he really wanted. He should have been

-content with that.”

-

-“But how did he know that he had got all in that single package? Would

-he not be likely to examine the safe, especially the cupboard?”

-

-“How would he have got at it? It was locked.”

-

-“Unless Wing’s keys were in the lock. That might have been. He would

-have taken them out when he closed the safe; it would not have closed

-otherwise. I understand they were found on the mantel.”

-

-“Who testified to that?” asked Trafford, as if trying to recall the

-fact.

-

-“I don’t remember,” said McManus. “Some one at the inquest, I think.”

-

-“I think it would have been natural for him to open the cupboard,

-though he must have seen the package when he was there early in the

-evening, and so knew what he was after. However, whether he examined

-further or not, he did not remain long. The next day he cleaned the

-chamber of the revolver and filled it, thus leaving only one empty, and

-during the night found opportunity to throw it over on to the box hedge

-in the front yard.”

-

-Trafford stopped as if he had finished his story, and McManus sat like

-one in a deep reverie. Suddenly, he looked up and asked:

-

-“Where then are the papers which were the cause of this tragedy?”

-

-“The man has not dared use them; he keeps them concealed until it is

-safe to sell them for the hundred thousand dollars which was offered

-for them.”

-

-“My God! man, how do you know these things?” demanded McManus, his face

-ghastly as that of a week-old corpse.

-

-“Do you dare deny one of them?” retorted Trafford.

-

-“What do you mean by that?” asked the other.

-

-“_That you are the man who murdered Wing!_”

-

-

-

-

-CHAPTER XIX

-

-The Last of the Papers

-

-

-McManus had sprung to his feet as the accusation came from Trafford’s

-lips. His left hand was in the side pocket of his sack coat, and as

-Trafford also rose, there rang out the report of a pistol, fired

-without removing it from the pocket. The bullet just missed Trafford,

-cutting the sleeve of his coat.

-

-“Throw up your hands, or I’ll shoot,” came from the window, and there

-stood Trafford’s assistant, with pistol drawn and aimed at McManus.

-

-At the very beginning of the story, he had raised the window and had

-since been listening to the conversation. McManus glanced at Trafford,

-who was also covering him with a pistol.

-

-“I yield,” he said, “to force. You will find it all a hideous mistake

-before you get through.”

-

-“Handcuff him.” Trafford gave the order. “I’ll keep my pistol on him.”

-

-McManus turned toward the man who approached from the window. He seemed

-to have recovered his composure, and a puzzling smile was on his lips.

-Then, suddenly, the hand came up, without leaving the pocket, which was

-lifted with it; there was a slight turn of the hand seen through the

-cloth and the muffled report of the pistol. McManus fell, shot through

-the heart by his own hand.

-

-“A damned bungling piece of work, to let that be done,” said Trafford.

-“There ’re steps on the stairs. Don’t open the door for a minute.”

-

-He rushed into the bedroom, and seizing a tin box that stood on a stand

-by the bed, dropped it from the window into a dense mass of shrubbery

-that grew beneath. He was back in the room to answer the first knock at

-the door.

-

-Millbank slept but little that night. The streets were thronged with

-people, and the story of the tragedy, the discovery of the murderer and

-his suicide, was repeated and re-repeated, with new details at every

-repetition. Before midnight it was surprising to know how many people

-had all along suspected McManus and felt certain that he “was no

-better than he should be.”

-

-Frank Hunter came among the very first and went back and forth from

-the sitting room to the bedroom, with an uneasy air of searching for

-something and yet striving to conceal the fact. Trafford watched him

-with a curious expression on his face, as if he enjoyed the man’s

-awkwardness and embarrassment.

-

-When Charles Matthewson arrived on the latest train and went directly

-to the Hunter house, Trafford was instantly informed and at once made

-up his mind to his line of action. McManus’s suicide was confession,

-and the possession of the papers was no longer necessary to conviction.

-Trafford determined to have them off his hands at the earliest possible

-moment, and with Matthewson in town, that promised to be before

-daylight. At the first opportunity he stole out, recovered possession

-of the box, and hid it in a less exposed place.

-

-About midnight, matters had so quieted down that he was able to respond

-to Mrs. Parlin’s message begging him to come to her and, if possible,

-remain in the house the balance of the night. He took with him the

-box, containing what he now regarded as his fortune and his reward for

-work done in discovering the murderer.

-

-Mrs. Parlin was eager to hear the story, and it was some time after

-midnight before she left him and he was at liberty to follow his

-purpose. His judgment dictated waiting until morning, which would be

-a matter of but a few hours, but the box and its papers had become a

-growing burden, leaving him but one thought and that to be rid of them.

-From the library window he could see that a light still burned in the

-Hunter house. He was resolved to complete the matter before he slept.

-

-Leaving the house cautiously, with the box under his arm, he hurried

-down the hill, at the foot of which lay the heavy shadows of the

-great Lombardy poplars. It seemed to him that he had never seen the

-shadows so black as they were to-night. As he entered the blackness,

-he quickened his pace almost to a run, and was almost in the light

-again when there came what seemed to him a flash of flame, then deeper

-darkness and oblivion.

-

-How long he lay on the walk under the poplars he did not know,

-excepting that his first sensation of returning consciousness was of

-the soft white light that comes before the sun steals up from behind

-the earth. The next was of a heaviness of the head and a numbness that

-was giving way to pain. He put up his hand feebly, and brought it down

-again wet with blood.

-

-Then came the thought of the box. He reached out his hand and, groping,

-it fell upon it. He had barely strength enough yet to draw it to him,

-but at last succeeded, though not without much pain. He lifted it

-feebly and the lid fell back, showing the breakage where it had been

-wrenched from its hinges. With a paroxysm of strength born of terror,

-he sat upright and looked into the box. It was empty; not even a

-shred of paper remaining. For one instant he gazed in uncomprehending

-stupidity, and then, as the truth flashed on him, he fell again to the

-earth, and lost in temporary unconsciousness alike the sense of pain

-and the power to follow his interrupted quest.

-

-Almost at the very moment when Trafford discovered the loss of the

-papers, Henry Matthewson slipped through the grounds of the Hunter

-home, coming from the direction of the river, and entered by a side

-door. He went directly to the library, where his brother and the two

-Hunters had been in uneasy conference for some hours. As he entered,

-the three men started to their feet, first in surprise at his presence,

-and then in greater surprise at his appearance. His face was white

-and set, like the face of a man who has passed through some terrible

-struggle and has conquered or been conquered. One, looking at the

-inscrutable face, could not have decided which.

-

-“You!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson. “I have been trying to reach you

-all night.”

-

-“How could you reach here at this hour?” said Frank Hunter. “There’s no

-train.”

-

-Charles Hunter said nothing, but his quick understanding of men, and,

-perhaps, a quality in him that would have dared all that man could dare

-in a desperate case, told him more than either of his companions saw.

-For a moment he hesitated and then, seeing no denial in the face of the

-newcomer, said:

-

-“You have found the papers.”

-

-The others started and looked at the two men whom, instinctively, they

-knew to be stronger than themselves.

-

-“Yes,” said Henry Matthewson.

-

-“Where are they?” asked Charles Matthewson and Frank Hunter, in a

-breath.

-

-The other did not answer. Then Charles repeated the question:

-

-“Where are they?”

-

-“Where would they be now, if they had come into your hands a half-hour

-ago?” demanded Matthewson.

-

-“Destroyed!” said Charles Hunter unhesitatingly.

-

-“They are where they will never menace us or ours again,” said Henry

-Matthewson, “unless the river gives them up. I dropped them from the

-bridge into the pool below the Falls a half-hour ago.”

-

-“But where did you find them?” was Frank Hunter’s question.

-

-Charles Hunter looked again at the other’s face, and said:

-

-“How serious is the matter?”

-

-“The man is merely stunned,” said Henry. “I think some one should find

-him, under the poplars at the foot of the hill----”

-

-“Henry! My God!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson, stepping hastily

-forward. “You haven’t----”

-

-“I have done what was necessary to obtain the papers and save ourselves

-and--our mother. I hope there is no one here who would have done less.

-I accept full responsibility for acting where none but a coward could

-hesitate.”

-

-“Pray God, Trafford’s not dead!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson.

-

-“Amen,” said Henry, and then added; “but be that as it may, the papers

-are.”

-

-

-THE END

-

-

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-Mr. Colton here depicts a gallery of very varied Americans. Tioba was a

-mountain which meant well but was mistaken.

-

-_Bookman_: “He is always the artist observer, adding stroke upon

-stroke with the surest of sure pens, ... an author who recalls the old

-traditions that there were once such things as good writing and good

-story-telling.”

-

-_Critic_: “In each of these stories he has presented some

-out-of-the-way fragment of life with faithfulness and power.... He has

-the artist’s instinct.”

-

-  Henry Holt and Company

-  Publishers      New York

-

-

-

-

-TWO ROMANCES OF TRAVEL

-

-

-The Lightning Conductor

-

-_The Strange Adventures of a Motor Car_

-

-By C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON

-

-12mo. $1.50

-

-The love story of a beautiful American and a gallant Englishman, who

-stoops to conquer. Two almost human automobiles, the one German,

-heavy and stubborn, and the other French, light and easy-going, play

-prominent parts. There is much humor. Picturesque scenes in Provence,

-Spain and Italy pass before the reader’s eyes in rapid succession.

-

-Twenty printings of this novel have been called for.

-

-_Nation_: “Such delightful people, and such delightful scenes.... It

-should be a good, practical guide to those about to go over the same

-course, while its charming descriptions of travel afford an ample new

-fund of pleasure, tinged with envy here and there to the stay-at-homes.”

-

-_N. Y. Sun_: “A pleasant and felicitous romance.”

-

-_Springfield Republican_: “Wholly new and decidedly entertaining.”

-

-_Chicago Post_: “Sprightly humor ... the story moves.”

-

-

-The Pursuit of Phyllis

-

-By J. HARWOOD BACON

-

-With two illustrations by H. LATIMER BROWN

-

-12mo. $1.25

-

-A humorous love story with scenes in England, France, China and Ceylon.

-

-_Boston Transcript_: “A bright and entertaining story of up-to-date men

-and women.”

-

-_N. Y. Tribune_: “Very enjoyable.... Its charm consists in its

-naturalness and the sparkle of the dialogue and descriptions.”

-

-_N. Y. Evening Post_: “The story is brisk, buoyant and entertaining.”

-

-_Bookman_: “Sparkling in fun, clean-cut and straightforward in style as

-the young hero himself.”

-

-  Henry Holt and Company

-  New York      Chicago

-

-

-

-

-2d printing of “A novel in the better sense of a word much sinned

-against.... It is decidedly a book worth while.”

-

-The Transgression of Andrew Vane

-

-By GUY WETMORE CARRYL

-

-12mo. $1.50.

-

-  TIMES’ SATURDAY REVIEW:--“A strong and original story; ... the

-    descriptions of conditions in the American colony [in Paris]

-    are convincingly clever. The story from the prologue--one of

-    exceptional promise in point of interest--to the climax ... is

-    full of action and dramatic surprise.”

-

-  N. Y. TRIBUNE:--“The surprising developments we must leave the

-    reader to find out for himself. He will find it a pleasant

-    task; ... the surprise is not brought forward until precisely

-    the right moment, and one is carried from the first chapter to

-    the last with curiosity, and concern for the hero’s fate kept

-    well alive.”

-

-  N. Y. EVENING SUN:--“Everybody who likes clever fiction should

-    read it.”

-

-  LITERARY WORLD:--“The prologue is as skilful a handling of

-    a repellent theme as has ever been presented. The book is

-    distinctly not one for the young person, but neither is it for

-    the seeker after the risqué or the erotic.... In this novel are

-    poured into a consistent and satisfying whole more of those

-    vivid phases of Paris at which the author has shown himself a

-    master hand.”

-

-  CHICAGO EVENING POST:--“The reader stops with regret in his mind

-    that Guy Wetmore Carryl’s story-telling work is done.”

-

-  CHICAGO TRIBUNE:--“A brilliant piece of work.”

-

-  WASHINGTON STAR:--“A more engaging villain has seldom entered the

-    pages of modern fiction; ... sparkles with quotable epigrams.”

-

-  BUFFALO EXPRESS:--“The sort of a story which one is very apt to

-    read with interest from beginning to end. And, moreover, ...

-    very bright and clever.”

-

-  NEW HAVEN JOURNAL:--“By far the most ambitious work he undertook,

-    and likewise the most brilliant.”

-

-  Henry Holt and Company

-  _29 W. 23d St._      _NEW YORK_

-

-

-

-

-“=From any point of view it is an unusual novel, as much better

-than some of the ‘best sellers’ as a painting is better than a

-chromo.=”--_World’s Work._

-

-[Illustration]

-

-The Divine Fire

-

-BY MAY SINCLAIR

-

-$1.50

-

-

-6th printing of _The story of a London poet_.

-

-_Mary Moss in the Atlantic Monthly_: “Certain it is that in all our new

-fiction I have found nothing worthy to compare with ‘The Divine Fire,’

-nothing even remotely approaching the same class.”

-

-_New York Globe_: “The biggest surprise of the whole season’s fiction

-... you never once stop to question its style, or its realism, or the

-art of its construction. You simply read right on, deaf to everything

-and everybody outside of the compelling magic of its pages.”

-

-_Dial_: “A full-length study of the poetic temperament, framed in a

-varied and curiously interesting environment, and drawn with a firmness

-of hand that excites one’s admiration.... Moreover, a real distinction

-of style, besides being of absorbing interest from cover to cover.”

-

-_Catholic Mirror_: “One of the noblest, most inspiring and absorbing

-books we have read in years.”

-

-_Owen Seaman in Punch_ (London): “I find her book the most remarkable

-that I have read for many years.”

-

-

-The Diary of a Musician

-

-Edited by DOLORES M. BACON

-

-With decorations and illustrations by CHARLES EDWARD HOOPER and H.

-LATIMER BROWN

-

-$1.50

-

-Authorities agree that no particular musical celebrity is described or

-satirized; all review the book with enthusiasm, though some damn while

-others praise.

-

-_Times Review_: “Of extraordinary interest as a study from the inside

-of the inwardness of a genius.”

-

-_Bookman_: “Much of that exquisite egotism, the huge, artistic Me and

-the tiny universe, that gluttony of the emotions, of the whole peculiar

-compound of hysteria, inspiration, vanity, insight and fidgets, which

-goes to make up that delightful but somewhat rickety thing which

-we call the artistic temperament is reproduced.... The ‘Diary of a

-Musician’ does what most actual diaries fail to do--writes down a man

-in full.”

-

-  Henry Holt and Company

-  Publishers      New York

-

-

-

-

-TALES OF MYSTERY

-

-The House of the Black Ring

-

-By FRED. LEWIS PATTEE. $1.50

-

-A story oddly combining humor and horror. It tells of the squire, a

-sort of feudal lord, his enemies, his fate and of his daughter and how

-she would have her way in love. The weird influence of =The House of

-the Black Ring= dominates the little “pocket” in the Seven Mountains of

-Pennsylvania.

-

-_The Washington Star_: “An unusual combination of the weird and the

-humorous ... absorbing and often thrilling tale.... A forest fire ...

-is a dramatic episode which does Mr. Pattee exceptional credit in the

-restraint of his treatment and the effectiveness of his climaxes.”

-

-_N. Y. Evening Sun_: “An interesting story ... piques the reader’s

-curiosity and keeps him reading till the mystery is solved.”

-

-

-Red-Headed Gill

-

-By RYE OWEN. 4th printing. $1.50

-

-Red-Headed Gill is a splendid young country gentlewoman of Cornwall.

-Under a weird East Indian influence she is forced to live over again

-part of the life of a beauty of the days of Queen Bess--the famous Gill

-Red-Head.

-

-_New York Sun_: “A charming girl whom the reader will watch with

-interest to the end. The author manages to transport her back into the

-life of her Tudor ancestress over and again naturally, and with great

-effect.”

-

-_New York Times Review_: “There is much originality in the plot. The

-reader’s attention is at once enlisted, and is not allowed to flag.”

-

-

-In the Dwellings of the Wilderness

-

-By C. BRYSON TAYLOR. $1.25

-

-A ghost story so plausibly told that many may, like one of the chief

-characters, think it might all be explained by natural causes after

-all. It tells the astonishing adventures of three American engineers,

-excavating in the heart of an Egyptian desert.

-

-_Boston Transcript_: “The impression on the reader is so strong that he

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-

-_N. Y. Globe_: “Strikes a note of weird horror, and sustains that note

-page after page.... A vividness that makes it difficult to banish the

-picture from your memory for many a day.”

-

-  Henry Holt and Company

-  Publishers      New York

-

-

-

-

-Transcriber’s Note:

-

-Punctuation has been standardised except spaces before ’ll and ’re

-have been retained as they appear in the original publication.

-Hyphenation and spelling have also been retained as published,

-except as follows:

-

-  Page 74

-    an’ let’s folks _changed to_

-    an’ lets folks

-

-  Page 124

-    must be re-convened _changed to_

-    must be reconvened

-

-  Page 139

-    visit was to Milbank _changed to_

-    visit was to Millbank

-

-  Page 232

-    man who want me _changed to_

-    man who wants me

-

-  Page 247

-    shadow of Pettengill’s potato storehouse _changed to_

-    shadow of Pettingill’s potato storehouse

-

-  Second page of book promotions

-    Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portaic _changed to_

-    Kid Sadler’s adventures at Portate

-

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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 66051 ***
+
+  The Millbank Case
+  _A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY_
+
+  BY
+  GEORGE DYRE ELDRIDGE
+
+
+  _With a Frontispiece in Colour_
+  BY ELIOT KEEN
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  NEW YORK
+  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+  1905
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1905
+  BY
+  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+
+  _Published May, 1905_
+
+  THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS
+  RAHWAY, N. J.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                               PAGE
+
+     I. A STATEMENT OF THE CASE            1
+
+    II. MRS. PARLIN TESTIFIES             14
+
+   III. ALIVE AT MIDNIGHT                 33
+
+    IV. TRAFFORD GETS AN ASSURANCE        51
+
+     V. THE WEAPON IS PRODUCED            67
+
+     VI. MRS. MATTHEWSON AND TRAFFORD     85
+
+    VII. HUNTING BROKEN BONES            101
+
+   VIII. A MAN DISAPPEARS                119
+
+     IX. “YOU ARE MY MOTHER”             133
+
+      X. A SECOND MURDER?                153
+
+     XI. ALREADY ONE ATTEMPT             167
+
+    XII. AT THE DRIVERS’ CAMP            185
+
+   XIII. THE PRIEST’S STORY              199
+
+    XIV. A DUEL                          212
+
+     XV. IN MATTHEWSON’S CHAMBERS        227
+
+    XVI. THE RANGE 16 SCANDAL            243
+
+   XVII. THE STORY OF THE PAPERS         259
+
+  XVIII. THE MAN IS FOUND                275
+
+    XIX. THE LAST OF THE PAPERS          290
+
+
+
+
+THE MILLBANK CASE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A Statement of the Case
+
+
+Theodore Wing had no known enemy in the world. He was a man of forty;
+“well-to-do,” as they say in New England; a lawyer by profession, and
+already “mentioned” for a county judgeship. He was unmarried, but there
+were those who had hopes, and there was scarce a spinster in Millbank
+who hadn’t a kindly word and smile for him--at times. He was not a
+church member, but it was whispered that his clergyman was disposed to
+look leniently on this shortcoming, for Wing was a regular attendant
+at service and liberal with money for church purposes, which, shrewd
+guessers said, some of the church members were not.
+
+Wing lived in the River Road, just at the top of Parlin’s Hill. He
+was from “over East, somewheres,” and had come to Millbank as a law
+student, when old Judge Parlin was at the head of the Maine bar. He
+became in turn chief clerk, junior partner, and finally full partner
+to the judge, and when the latter died--of disappointment, it was
+said, due to failure to secure the chief justiceship--Wing became the
+head of the firm, and finally the firm itself; for he had a dislike
+for partnerships, and at forty his office associates were employés
+associated in particular cases, not partners in the general business.
+
+Judge Parlin was less than sixty years of age when he died and left
+a widow, the Parlin homestead, and an estate of private debts, that
+seemed to breed as Wing attempted to untangle affairs. For years his
+income had been large and his expenses small. His townsmen had rated
+him as their richest man who was not of the great Millbank logging
+firms. There was not a man but would have considered it an insult
+to the town to hint that Judge Parlin was worth less than a hundred
+thousand dollars. His investments turned out the veriest cats and dogs;
+and even in cases where the security might have been ample, the papers
+were often executed with such carelessness that collection rested
+on the honesty of the borrower and not on sufficiency of documentary
+evidence. In fact, the debts outvalued the resources two to one--that
+is, they seemed to, until it was announced that the Parlin homestead
+had been sold for a sum sufficient to pay all obligations and leave the
+widow a life income of five hundred dollars a year. People understood
+when it was learned that Wing himself was the purchaser.
+
+Mrs. Parlin was fifty years of age at the time of her husband’s
+death--a woman to whom stateliness had come with white hairs and the
+growth of ambition. From the hour of the judge’s death, the devotion
+she had given him living turned to the protection of his good name.
+In a distant, cold way she had always shown a regard for Wing, which
+changed to more marked affection, when his interposition provided
+the means to meet the last of her husband’s debts. She harboured no
+suspicion that the price paid for the homestead was beyond value. Not
+only had it been her home throughout her married life, but the judge
+had always spoken of its value in the large terms that were habitual
+with him in dealing with personal matters, and, from the moment
+when Wing discovered the condition of the estate, he held before her
+constantly the idea that the homestead would bring a price sufficient
+to cover the indebtedness. Indeed, she felt that she was making a
+sacrifice, when she consented to waive her dower rights, and chiefly
+she rejoiced that the purchaser was Wing and not a stranger.
+
+It is possible that some suspicion attached in her mind to the purchase
+of the annuity, and this may have been confirmed by Wing’s insistence
+that he would consent to occupy the homestead only on condition that
+she should make it her home for her lifetime. If, however, this was
+so, she proved herself large-minded enough to understand that her
+happiness--so far as this was possible to her now dwarfed life--was the
+best acknowledgment she could make to such a man, and during the five
+years since the judge’s death, she had been the mistress of Wing’s home.
+
+The house stands at the crown of Parlin’s Hill. The estate embraces
+twenty acres, divided nearly equally between farm land, meadow, and
+woodland. The portion lying west of River Road is an apple orchard,
+covering the slope of the hill from the road to the river. The roll of
+the land is to the southwest, where all through the summer days the
+sun lies in warm splendour, that seems to live in the heart and juices
+of the red and yellow fruit, which is the pride of Millbank. To have
+apples from the Parlin orchard, is to have the best that Millbank can
+give.
+
+The house is near the road on the easterly side. The winter snows are
+too deep to warrant building far from the travelled roads, and for
+the same reason the buildings are connected one with another, under a
+continuous roof, so that the breaking of roads and paths is unnecessary
+for access to stock. The house is large and square, with a long wing
+stretching to the ample woodshed, through which one passes to the
+barns. The body of the buildings is white, and the shutters green. A
+drive runs to the south of the house, leading from the road to the
+doors of the great barn. It passes the side door of the main house, the
+door to the wing and the woodshed, and the buildings shelter it from
+the fierce northern winds. In the flower-beds that border this drive,
+under the shelter of the house, the earliest flowers bloom in spring
+and the latest in autumn.
+
+Between the road and the front of the house is an enclosure of about
+half an acre--the “front yard,” as Millbank names it. A footpath
+runs from the front gate to the main door of the house, dividing the
+enclosure into two nearly equal parts. This enclosure is crowded with
+flower-beds and shrubbery; the paths are bordered with box hedges,
+while a few great evergreens tower above the roof, and make the place
+somewhat gloomy on dull days. In midsummer, however, when the sun turns
+the corner and thrusts strongly into the enclosure, the deep shadows of
+the great trees are cool and inviting.
+
+From the principal door, the main hall, broad and unencumbered, makes
+back until it is cut by the narrower hall from the south-side door.
+This side hall carries the stairs, and east of it are the dining room,
+kitchens, and pantries. The main hall goes on, in narrowed estate,
+between the dining room on the south and kitchens on the north, to the
+woodsheds. To the left, as one enters the house, is the great parlour,
+seldom used, and a sitting room, the gloomiest room on the floor, for
+it has a northern outlook only.
+
+In the angle of the two halls is the great room which Wing used as
+his library. It is some twenty-four by thirty-six feet, high-posted,
+and has a warm, sunny outlook to the south and west. It is lined with
+books and pictures; a great desk stands in the centre front, and
+lounges and easy chairs are scattered about in inviting confusion.
+The room above was his bedchamber, adjoining which is a bathroom, in
+its day the wonder and challenge of Millbank. An iron spiral stairway
+leads from the lower to the upper room, so that the occupant has the
+two rooms at his command independent of the remainder of the house.
+This was Wing’s special domain. Outside these two rooms, Mrs. Parlin
+ruled as undisputed as during her thirty years of wifehood. Within,
+Wing held control, and while no small share of his personal work was
+done here, the great room saw much of his private life of which his
+everyday acquaintances had little suspicion. The cases contained many a
+volume that belongs to literature rather than law, and here he found
+that best of rest from the onerous demands of a constantly growing
+practice--complete change in matter and manner of thought.
+
+On the night of the 10th of May, 1880, the light burned late in Lawyer
+Wing’s library. It was the scandal of Millbank that this occurred
+often. The village was given to regarding the night as a time when no
+man should work. “Early to bed and early to rise” was its motto, and
+though an opposite practice had left Theodore Wing with more of health,
+wealth, and wisdom than most Millbankians possessed, he had never
+succeeded in reconciling his townsmen to his methods. But to-night
+conditions were more outrageous than usual. Mrs. Merrick, from the
+bed of an ailing grandchild, glanced up the hill at midnight and saw
+the light still burning. Old Doctor Portus, coming villageward from a
+confinement case, an hour later, saw the light as he passed the house
+and shook his head with dire prognostications. If Wing should be sick,
+old Doctor Portus would certainly not be called in attendance, and
+therefore he could measure this outrage of nature’s laws with a mind
+uninfluenced by personal bias.
+
+At four o’clock, however, a farmer’s son, who had yielded the night to
+Millbank’s temptations, hurrying farmward to his morning chores, saw no
+light growing dim in the first flush of the spring morning to attract
+his attention to a scene that later knowledge revealed. At six, the
+hired man came down the back stairs and went through the woodshed to
+the barns. Turning the heavy wooden bar that held the great doors fast,
+he swung them open and let in the soft morning air.
+
+Then, his eye travelled along the stretch of house and he saw something
+that startled him. The side door was standing ajar--half open--and on
+the stone step was a huddled mass that looked strangely like a man,
+half lying and half crouching. Before the hired man had passed half the
+distance to the door, he knew that the huddled mass was Theodore Wing.
+His head and right arm rested on the threshold and held the door from
+closing; his body was on the stone step. There was blood spattered on
+the white of the westerly door-post, and the left temple of the man,
+which was upward as he lay, showed a spot around which the flesh was
+blackened as if powder-burnt, while between the head and the threshold
+a thin stream of blood still flowed and fell drop by drop on the stone
+below. The eyes were wide open and the look in them seemed to say that,
+suddenly as death had come, it had not come too suddenly for the man to
+realise that here had fallen the end of his hopes and ambitions, his
+strivings and accomplishments, in a form that left him powerless to
+strike a blow in his own behalf.
+
+This murder was the most tragic event that had ever happened in the
+history of Millbank. It caused the more terror in that, so far as
+any one could understand, it was absolutely without motive. It was
+not known that Theodore Wing had an enemy in the world. Millbank was
+proud of him with a wholesome, kindly pride, which found much of
+self-gratulation in having such a citizen. Yet this man had been struck
+down by a murderer’s hand, so silently that no sound had been heard,
+and the murderer had gone as he had come, without leaving trace of his
+coming or going.
+
+Contrary to expectation aroused by the first news, the house seemed
+not to have been entered. The whole of the crime was evidenced in the
+dead man on the stone step. Apparently, there had been a ring at the
+bell and a shot from a pistol, held close to the head of the man, as
+he stood in the doorway, by some one who had stationed himself at
+the easterly end of the doorstep, and who, his purpose accomplished,
+slipped into the darkness which had opened to give him way for this
+deed. It was uncanny in the extreme and gave a sense of insecurity
+to life that an ordinary murder, due to traceable causes, would have
+failed utterly to give.
+
+The closest inspection furnished no clue. There was no footprint on
+the drive, and the grass at the end of the step, where the murderer
+must have stood, gave no token. And yet--here was another fearsome
+fact--the deed had been done by some one who knew the house and its
+peculiarities. The door had two bell-pulls, one on either door-post.
+Originally there had been only the one on the right or easterly
+post, and this was the general bell. When Wing took the library as
+his special room, he had a change made and the bell transferred to
+that room, so that his personal visitors could come and go without
+disturbing the house. In a little time, however, this proved very
+annoying, because most visitors came to this door, and he gave an order
+for a general bell to be put in. This he intended should also have a
+pull on the right-hand post, but the workman, who seemed to have no
+conception that one post could carry two pulls, put it on the left.
+Thus the post nearest Wing’s room carried the general bell, and the
+further post his own, and neither of the bells could be heard on the
+premises devoted to the other. At first, this condition gave rise to
+troublesome mistakes, and Wing talked often of a change, but gradually
+the visitors to the house became accustomed to the condition and the
+need of a change disappeared.
+
+It was clear, therefore, that whoever the murderer was, he had rung
+the bell which alone could be heard by the lawyer at his desk, and
+therefore must have been acquainted with the peculiarity of the
+bell-pulls. Had the lawyer had any cause to fear? Apparently not, for
+the shade to the window nearest his desk was raised and he evidently
+had answered the bell as a matter of course, not even taking with him
+a light. But, if he was seated at his desk, as seemed clearly the case,
+the man must have seen him as he came up the drive and might easily
+have shot him through the window. Why, then, had he called him to the
+door? The body had not been disturbed after it fell; the watch was in
+the fob, and money in the pocket. Murder was evidently the murderer’s
+purpose; yet he had summoned his victim, when clearly he had him in his
+power without so doing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Mrs. Parlin Testifies
+
+
+In addition to the ill-fated lawyer, there were but three people in the
+Parlin household--the widow; a general house girl, Mary Mullin; and the
+hired man, Jonathan Oldbeg, a nephew of the Mullin woman. Oldbeg was
+about thirty, and his aunt forty. The widow’s room was in the northwest
+corner of the second floor, while that of the Mullin woman was over the
+kitchen. The hired man slept over the woodshed. All the windows of the
+three rooms gave to the north, excepting two in Mrs. Parlin’s room,
+which opened to the west, overlooking the orchard and the river.
+
+Mrs. Parlin was a tall, striking woman who carried her head, crowned
+with waves of white hair, with an air that some named queenly, and
+others by that terrible New England word “conceited.” The death of
+her husband had been a terrible blow to her soaring ambitions; but
+this she had outlived, at least to outward seeming. Childless, as
+well as husbandless, the dormant maternal instinct, which is a part
+of every true woman, had stirred to life under the care lavished upon
+her by Wing, whose years were sufficiently less than her own to give a
+natural tone to the pseudo relation of mother and son. Nevertheless,
+there had been something of the maternal in her relationship to the
+judge--of that phase of the maternal which gives to natural weakness
+courage for defence. It was not in personal finance alone that the
+judge was a grown-up boy. The sense of fear was so little developed as
+to amount scarce to caution. Scrupulous in duty, he gave no thought to
+the enemies or enmities he created, while she saw in these not alone
+threats to his professional career, but as well danger of a personal
+nature. Even she, standing guard as she did, had not been able to save
+him from enemies who defeated his noble ambition and would, as she
+believed, as readily have destroyed him. As the intensity of her grief
+softened with time, the solicitude with which she had followed her
+husband’s career, was transferred to Wing, but with less of the factor
+of self than it possessed of old, with the result that she grew more
+lovable and companionable, and gained a friendly interest from the
+village which had not been hers during the judge’s lifetime.
+
+To this recovered peace of mind the tragic death of Wing came as a
+crushing blow, the full weight of which few realised until the broken,
+haggard woman was seen of the public for the first time at the inquest.
+Years seemed to have left their impress upon her, and there were many
+who noted that the immediate physical effect was as much more marked
+than that following the judge’s death, as Wing’s death had been the
+more tragic. Her husband’s death left to her the responsibility of
+protecting his name, in co-operation with his partner and friend.
+Wing’s death snatched away the last prop and stay of her years.
+Husbandless and childless, to her life had no further meaning, and
+while the community was whispering that she was again rich--for it was
+known that she was the principal legatee of the dead lawyer’s will--she
+was looking down the years with a dread that made hope impossible.
+
+Her testimony was of the briefest. She had said “good-night” to Wing
+at half-past nine. She had gone to the library for that purpose, as was
+her custom evenings when he did not sit with her in her own sitting
+room till her early bedtime.
+
+“Was it his custom to spend the evening in your sitting room or the
+library?” the coroner asked.
+
+“Two or three evenings a week he spent in my sitting room. The other
+evenings in the library, when he was at home.”
+
+“Was he away much, evenings?”
+
+“Only when he was at court in Augusta or Portland. When he had cases at
+Norridgewock he always drove home at night.”
+
+“At what time did you have supper?”
+
+“At six.”
+
+“On the night of the murder?”
+
+The witness nodded, too much affected to speak her answer.
+
+“Who was present at supper?”
+
+“Theodore and myself.”
+
+“Mary Mullin and Oldbeg did not eat with you?”
+
+This was a sore spot in Millbank’s estimate of the widow Parlin. The
+town still held it a Christian duty for “help” to eat at the same
+table with their employers. Every departure from this primitive rule
+was occasion for heart-burnings and recriminations.
+
+“They ate by themselves in the kitchen.”
+
+There was a slight raising of the head, a shadow, as it were, of the
+old self-assertive pride, which in other days would have made itself
+manifest in answering this question. So deep was Millbank in the
+tragedy that the audience almost lost the weight of the heinous fact
+confessed in this answer.
+
+“Did you go directly to your sitting room after supper?”
+
+“No, we went out into the front yard, to look at the flower-beds, and
+then crossed the road to the orchard and walked through that to the
+river-bank.”
+
+“From there you returned to the house?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Where did you go on your return?”
+
+“To my sitting room. He lighted my lamp and then excused himself,
+because of some work he had to do.”
+
+“When did you see him again?”
+
+“At half-past nine, when I went to bid him good-night.”
+
+“Are you certain of the time?”
+
+“Yes; for I stopped to wind the clock as I went through the hall, and
+noticed that it was exactly half-past nine.”
+
+“There are two doors to the library, are there not--one from the main
+hall and one from the side?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“By which one did you enter the library?”
+
+“By the one from the side hall.”
+
+“Which is near the side door of the house?”
+
+Again she had to nod assent. This was the door through which Wing had
+passed to his death.
+
+“Did you knock at the door before entering?”
+
+“Always.”
+
+Again that slight suggestive raising of the head.
+
+“Did he open the door for you?”
+
+“Yes. He knew my knock, and always came to open the door.”
+
+“Did you notice anything peculiar about him or the room?”
+
+“I did not.”
+
+“Was there anything to indicate whether he was writing or reading when
+you knocked?”
+
+“He had a book in his left hand and the light was on a small table by
+his reading chair.”
+
+“This reading chair and table, where were they in the room?”
+
+“Before the fireplace, about the centre of the north side.”
+
+“Was there a fire in the fireplace?”
+
+“Yes; there were a few wood coals.”
+
+“Was it a cold night?”
+
+“No; but he was very fond of a wood fire and when the evening was not
+too warm had one, even if he had to have a window open.”
+
+“Was the window open that night?”
+
+“Yes; the one nearest the River Road, overlooking the driveway.”
+
+“That was the nearest window to the desk?”
+
+“The nearest of the south windows. The desk stood between the two west
+windows.”
+
+“Did you notice whether the shades were drawn?”
+
+“They were drawn to the west windows, but were raised to all four of
+the south windows.”
+
+“Were you long in the room?”
+
+“Only long enough to say ‘good-night’ and ask him not to read too late.”
+
+“What did he say to this?”
+
+“Laughed, as he always did, when I spoke of his sitting up late, and,”
+in a voice that was almost a sob; “said, ‘You know, mother, I can’t
+get over my bad habits, but really to-night I’m only going to read a
+chapter or two more, for I must write a letter and then go to bed. I’ve
+got a busy day to-morrow.’”
+
+“Was that all he said?”
+
+“Excepting ‘good-night.’”
+
+“Do you recall anything in his manner, tone, or words that indicated
+trouble or apprehension of any kind?”
+
+“Nothing. He was, as always, cheerful and, seemingly, happy, and
+laughed quite carelessly when he spoke of his bad habit.”
+
+“When did you next see him?”
+
+The question came with a suddenness that startled every one who heard
+it, including the witness. She grew white and for a moment swayed as
+if she would fall. Dr. Rogers, her physician, stepped towards her, but
+before he could reach her side, she recovered by what seemed a supreme
+effort of the will, and, raising her head, answered:
+
+“In the morning, a little after six, lying dead on the threshold of the
+south door.”
+
+Then her head dropped on the table in front of her, and her face was
+hidden from the gaze of her curious neighbours, but not a sob was
+heard. She had spent her tears long before.
+
+At an adjourned session, she testified that she had heard no unusual
+noise during the night. She was a sound sleeper and did not wake
+easily. She had fallen asleep soon after hearing the clock strike ten.
+She did not recall awaking until aroused by the noise made by Mary
+Mullin knocking at her door, soon after six o’clock, to tell her of the
+discovery of the murder.
+
+“Do you believe that a pistol shot could have been fired at your
+side door and you not hear it?” the coroner asked, with that sudden
+sharpness he had at times.
+
+“I am compelled to believe that it did occur;” and there was to more
+than one onlooker an air of defiance in the answer.
+
+“In advance of this, would you believe it possible?” he demanded.
+
+She looked at him as if weighing the question and its purpose, and then
+said deliberately:
+
+“No.”
+
+The answer manifestly accorded with the sense of the spectators, among
+whom there were sundry exchanges of glances not all friendly to the
+witness. But the coroner was speaking again:
+
+“Mrs. Parlin, what do you know of the parentage of the late Theodore
+Wing?”
+
+Every head was bent towards the witness to catch the answer to what
+the veriest dullard suspected was the most important question thus far
+asked. The witness grew pale--paler than she had been at any time, and
+there came into her bearing a touch of defiance rather felt than seen.
+She was apparently arming herself against coroner and spectators.
+
+“He was the son of Judge Parlin.”
+
+If she had aimed at sensation, she could not have hoped for greater
+success. A murmur of surprise ran about the room, and the confusion
+rose to a height that for a time defied the efforts of the coroner to
+preserve order. Curiosity to hear further questions and answers came to
+his aid, and silence was restored.
+
+“By a former marriage?”
+
+“No. He was born out of wedlock.”
+
+“When did you first learn of this?”
+
+“On the eleventh of this month.”
+
+“The day succeeding the murder?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“How did you learn of it?”
+
+“From a paper in the judge’s handwriting, found in Theodore’s desk, and
+enclosed in an envelope addressed ‘Mrs. Amelia Parlin; Mr. Theodore
+Wing; to be opened and read by the survivor, in event of the death of
+either, and until such death to remain unopened.’”
+
+“Was this inscription also in the handwriting of your late husband?”
+
+Now many noted that she had said “Judge Parlin,” and not “my late
+husband,” as if she would remind them from the start of the public’s
+share in his acts, rather than of her own.
+
+“It was.”
+
+“Please produce that paper.”
+
+The witness drew forth a large square envelope and handed it to the
+coroner, who said to the jury:
+
+“I regret that I am compelled to read to you a paper which was
+evidently intended for one person’s reading only, and that Mrs.
+Parlin or Mr. Wing, according as the one or the other should be the
+longest-lived. The circumstances of the death which placed this in the
+hands of the other for perusal, leaves no alternative. Before reading,
+let me say, I was a townsman of Judge Parlin: I had the honour to know
+him intimately, and notwithstanding what I am about to read you, I
+still hold it an honour. He was an able lawyer, an upright judge, a
+good citizen, and, I may add, a noble man. If he sinned, who of us is
+there that is without sin? If there be such, let him cast the first
+stone. I am not entitled to do so.”
+
+The widow sat with head held high, as if there had come to her again
+the old strength that so many felt was gone forever. When her husband
+was in question, her courage had no limit. She flinched from no eye
+that was turned towards her, but there was that in her own which seemed
+to resent even the kindly words of the coroner, as if in protest that
+they implied wrong in her husband’s past which she would not for one
+instant admit. It was not for them to accuse, still less to excuse.
+What he had done was a thing that concerned him and his God alone, and
+her look said more plainly than words, “neither do I accuse him!” The
+instinct of defence covered her as a shield.
+
+Meantime the coroner read:
+
+“‘There were three persons who had the right to know what I am about to
+write. One died many years ago. Until another dies, these words are not
+to be read. In the course of nature, it is probable that the reading
+will fall to Theodore, not to my wife. If so, I believe that when
+Theodore reads them, I will already have been reunited to my wife and
+will have told her all that I write here, and so told it that she will
+feel my sincerity more clearly than I can make it felt by any written
+words.
+
+“‘Although born and raised in Millbank, I read law in the office of
+Judge Murdock in Bangor. My father had a great admiration for the judge
+and, dying early, before he had seen me admitted to the bar, asked his
+friend to take me into his office. If I have attained anything of note
+in my profession, I owe it largely to the fidelity with which Judge
+Murdock discharged his trust.
+
+“‘While in his office and shortly before I returned to Millbank,
+I became involved with a young woman of Bangor, who became by me
+the mother of the man now known as Theodore Wing--he will find his
+name legally established by action of the Legislature in 1841.
+Unfortunately, I can say little that is good of her; I will say nothing
+otherwise, if I can avoid it. I shirk no part of the responsibility for
+the wrong done. God alone knows that if she failed in true womanhood,
+then or after, it was not I who was wholly to blame. Thus much I can
+say, she was and is a woman of brilliant mind and shrewd resources,
+which have carried her far socially.
+
+“‘Fortunately I did not lack money, and so was able to provide
+comfortably for the woman and her child. As a matter of justice, I
+offered marriage, but she made it a condition that her child should be
+placed in some institution, urging that it would otherwise always be a
+stigma upon us. To this I would not consent, and her election to forego
+the vindication of marriage put me on my guard, for I could not believe
+that a woman of her temperament would deliberately elect to go through
+life encumbered with an unfathered child. The event proved me right,
+for within three months she had placed the infant in an institution for
+orphans, and returned to Bangor with a plausible tale accounting for
+her absence.
+
+“‘She, of course, counted safely on my silence, but I did not hesitate
+to make it a condition that I should take possession of the child for
+whom I provided, rearing him in such a way that he has taken a place
+in the world equal to that of his parents, and as untrammelled by his
+unsuspected birth as it is possible for one to be. My marriage has
+never been blessed with children, and thus to him and my wife of
+thirty years, the two on earth whose claim upon me is most sacred, I am
+able to leave all that I have accumulated.
+
+“‘He has been to me all that a son could be. Let this narrative be to
+him, if he ever reads it, an explanation of anything in which I have
+been less than a father to him.
+
+“‘I see no necessity for continuing this narrative further, save that
+it may be to my son a relief to know something more of his mother,
+and to my wife a joy to know that my wrong did not bring a woman to
+misery and worldly ruin. Within a year of her desertion of my son,
+I attended her wedding to a man of equal social rank, who has since
+risen to wealth and political power. She has been a notable aid to
+him, and her name is well-nigh as often pronounced in connection with
+his fortunes as is his own. She is the mother of children who have
+taken good social positions, and some of whom seem to have inherited
+their mother’s brilliance of mind and unflinching purpose and their
+father’s ability in money and power getting. To say more than this,
+even to the two dear ones, of whom one alone is to read these lines,
+would be an injustice to the woman herself and to her children. To her
+influence, exerted against me, I attribute my failure to secure the
+chief justiceship. As great as was the disappointment, I can write the
+fact to-day without bitterness toward her and without purpose to accuse
+her of injustice. If by meeting the penalty of my sin, I can avert it
+from others, I am content.’”
+
+Unless one knew the unbending spirit of the man in matters of right
+and wrong, he must fail to understand the keenness of feeling covered
+by the apparently cold, formal statement of fact to which Judge Parlin
+had confined his written words. To the witness on the witness rack,
+however, those words were as if the living man spoke again and laid
+bare a heart torn with the humiliation of self-condemnation, more
+terrible to him than the judgment of any human tribunal. Realising the
+bitterness of spirit in which he had spoken, she was stirred anew by
+that long-dead instinct of protection, which had made her weakness a
+shield in the past to his strength, and held high her head, too proud
+of her dead to allow any one to find in her the faintest blame for
+this strong spirit whose words she, and she alone, read to their last
+meaning.
+
+The hush that followed the reading was that strong suspension of every
+function which betokens deep emotion. Before the mass had recovered,
+the coroner’s voice broke harshly upon them:
+
+“When did you first know of the existence of this paper?”
+
+“The paper itself on the eleventh. I saw the envelope and its address
+by accident a week or ten days before.”
+
+“Can you fix the exact date?”
+
+“I cannot. I saw it by accident, as I have said, and I assumed it
+related to something Judge Parlin had desired done in the event named
+on the envelope. I asked no questions regarding it.”
+
+“Will you state on oath that you knew nothing of the contents of this
+paper until after the death of Mr. Theodore Wing?”
+
+The white head went up, and there was a sting of rebuke in the tone in
+which the answer came:
+
+“I was under oath when I gave my testimony. I stated then that I first
+learned of this paper and its contents on May eleventh. I can add
+nothing to that.”
+
+“Did you ever suspect the relationship of your husband to Mr. Wing
+prior to the eleventh of this month, when you saw this paper?”
+
+“I did not.”
+
+“Would a knowledge of that relationship, if you had known it while he
+was living, have changed in any way your feeling towards Mr. Wing?”
+
+The witness paused as if she would question her own heart before
+answering, and the coroner waited patiently, with apparent
+understanding of the need. A hush fell on the room, like that which had
+followed the reading of the remarkable paper. Then Mrs. Parlin looked
+directly at the coroner and answered distinctly and without a tremor in
+her voice:
+
+“I think it would.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the coroner. “I am sorry if I have in any way
+disturbed you unnecessarily in this examination. I know that you
+believe I have aimed simply at my duty.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Alive at Midnight
+
+
+An hour after the close of the day’s session, Mrs. Parlin was in her
+sitting room, with the door closed and the shades lowered. On the
+opposite side of the small light-stand sat a rather undersized man,
+plainly dressed, and of somewhat insignificant aspect. Distinctly, the
+woman in her was disappointed.
+
+“I have sent for you, Mr. Trafford,” she said, slowly and apparently
+reluctantly, “because both my husband and Theodore--Mr. Wing--had
+the utmost confidence in your ability. I want you to find Mr. Wing’s
+murderer. It’s not a matter of cost--I simply want him found.”
+
+As she spoke, she gathered confidence, and the tone of her final words
+almost evidenced a belief that he could do what she asked. She stopped
+speaking, and the insignificance of the man’s appearance was again more
+real to her and sent a chill over her earnestness.
+
+“If you entrust the case to me,” he said, in a tone singularly winning
+for a man in his station and of his personal appearance, “I shall do
+my best to sustain the confidence Judge Parlin and Mr. Wing gave me;
+but let me warn you, in my profession there is no royal road. I have no
+instinct that enables me to scent a murderer or other criminal. I reach
+results by hard work, close attention to details, and perseverance.
+I make it a condition of undertaking any case that nothing shall be
+concealed from me. I must start with at least the knowledge that my
+principal possesses.”
+
+“I’ve told everything to the coroner. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve heard
+the testimony.” She spoke with dignity, almost with hostility, in her
+voice.
+
+“I heard the testimony,” he said, “but are you sure you’ve told
+everything? There’s sometimes things that we know which aren’t
+facts--that is, not facts as the term is understood when one is giving
+testimony.”
+
+“For instance?”
+
+“You have impressions of what led up to this tragedy.” There was
+nothing of question in his tone. It was as if he stated what was
+indisputable.
+
+The statement seemed to strike her and to arouse a new train of
+thought. She was silent for some time, and he sat watching anxiously,
+but without a sign of impatience. At last she looked up and answered:
+
+“You are mistaken; I’m absolutely in the dark. There’s nothing to point
+in any direction.”
+
+He accepted the disappointment, but accepted it as absolute. He
+evidently had striven by the assertion so positively made to surprise
+her into new thought, with the hope that it might hit on something that
+in his skilled hands would have meaning. He saw not only that he had
+not succeeded, but that there was no ground for success.
+
+“That, in itself,” he said, “is significant. It shows that we must
+dig deeper in his life than we have yet done. The motive; we want the
+motive!”
+
+“There was no motive,” she said. “It was motiveless. There are men who
+do murder for murder’s sake.” Under sting of her life experience, she
+spoke with keen bitterness.
+
+He leaned across the table, and for the instant she saw something in
+the man she had not seen before; something that flashed like a gleam of
+new intelligence and was gone with its very birth.
+
+“There are no motiveless crimes,” he said. “In this case, of all
+others, you may be sure a motive existed, and that when we put our
+hands on it, we shall find it a tremendous one--that is, tremendous in
+its imperative force.”
+
+“But what could be the motive--against a man like him?”
+
+“Because he was such a man, we may be the more certain of motive,”
+he said. “Under other conditions it might have been Judge Parlin.”
+He spoke at hazard--perhaps; but the effect was something startling.
+She grew pale as at the inquest before she answered as to the first
+knowledge of Wing’s death, and her companion expected for the moment
+that she would faint. But she was a woman equal to noteworthy sudden
+efforts, and even as he watched she overcame the momentary weakness.
+Yet it was with pale lips she stammered:
+
+“I understand. It might have been the judge.”
+
+Trafford waited, seemingly expecting something more, but when the pause
+grew awkward, he continued, “He told you he had a letter to write
+before he went to bed. Had he written it?”
+
+“I don’t know. It’s a thing we never shall know.”
+
+“It’s a thing that we will know, and that in a very short time. Who
+entered the room first that morning?” and there was a sense of action
+in his tone that caused her to look up with sudden interest.
+
+“I did. Mary told me expressly that she hadn’t dared open the door
+until I came, and Jonathan was by the body, outside.”
+
+“Was the door closed?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Who closed it?”
+
+“I have never asked. I supposed it hadn’t been open.”
+
+“It was open,” he said. “He came to the door without a light when the
+bell rang. Naturally, he left the door open so that the light from the
+room would shine through. He would leave it wide open, to get the full
+light. Somebody shut that door!”
+
+Mary and Jonathan were called and questioned. The latter set the matter
+at rest. When he discovered the body he stooped over it to make certain
+that Mr. Wing was dead. Then, remembering to have heard that you must
+not touch a murdered man until the coroner comes, he arose without
+touching him and as he did so saw through the outer door that the door
+to the library was closed.
+
+“The outer door was wide open?” Trafford said.
+
+“No, sir, ’twant neither. ’Twas against Mr. Wing’s head and arm. If it
+hadn’t been fur them, it would ’a’ shut too.”
+
+After the two had gone, Trafford declared he would see the room, but
+proposed first to do so alone. He entered from the main hall, set
+his light on the lamp-mat on the writing-desk, and took his station
+in front of the door from the side hall. Here he stood for at least
+ten minutes studying the room. Then he walked to a medium-sized safe
+that stood to the right of the fire-jamb and was partially hidden by
+book-shelves near the door from the side hall.
+
+Having studied this for some time, he made a minute examination
+of every part of the room, including the blotting paper in the
+writing-pad on the desk, which he finally lifted carefully and held
+before the mirror to examine the few ink-marks it showed. Of these he
+took note in a small memorandum book. They seemed to be the only things
+that struck his attention particularly. Then he rang and told Mary to
+ask Mrs. Parlin to come to the library.
+
+“Is that the blotting-pad that was here that night?” he asked. “And you
+were the first one who came to this desk in the morning?” when she had
+answered him as to the identity of the pad. “And there was no letter on
+the desk?”
+
+“None.”
+
+“Then, evidently he had not written the letter he told you of?”
+
+“Evidently not,” she assented.
+
+“Then he must have been killed before he had time to write?”
+
+“It would seem so.”
+
+“And, therefore, probably very soon after you left him?”
+
+“I can see no other conclusion, unless he changed his mind and didn’t
+write,” she assented.
+
+“Now we come to one of the impressions which you could not testify to
+as a fact, but which may be of far more value. Did he say he had a
+letter to write in a way that makes you think he may have changed his
+mind?”
+
+“No,” she said. “I understood, from the way in which he said it, that
+it was the important thing he had to do before going to bed. I went
+away satisfied that he would write the letter early and then get to
+bed. He certainly meant that the next day was to be a busy one.”
+
+“Then he probably was killed, very soon, since he had not written the
+letter.”
+
+“I think so.”
+
+“Now, if you please, let me send for Jonathan again.”
+
+When the hired man came, he glanced over his shoulder in an uneasy way,
+as if he did not more than half like the room. Trafford motioned him to
+a chair and without any preliminaries suddenly demanded:
+
+“At what hour are you going to testify that you went to bed that
+night?”
+
+Thus far Oldbeg had simply been called upon to testify to the finding
+of the body. The remainder of his testimony was to be given later.
+
+“About nine o’clock; not more’n five minutes one way or ’tother.”
+
+“What were you doing on Canaan Street at five minutes after midnight?”
+
+Oldbeg looked frightened, and Mrs. Parlin showed considerable anxiety
+in the look she cast on the two men.
+
+“Come,” said Trafford sharply. “If I can find out you were there, I can
+find out why you were there. I’d rather hear it from you.”
+
+“I was comin’ from the twelve-o’clock train. My cousin, Jim Shepard,
+went to Portland to work an’ I saw him off.”
+
+“Be careful,” Trafford warned him. “If you were coming from the
+station, you’d have come up Somerset Street, not Canaan.”
+
+“Why, ye see,” the man explained, placed at once at his ease in having
+something to tell of which he had knowledge; “Jim, he was spendin’
+the evenin’ with his gal, Miss Flanders, in Canaan Street, an’ I
+was to call fur him thar; an’ he was so late we couldn’t get round
+to the station, an’ so we made a short cut through Gray’s Court an’
+jest catched the train, an’ that was all. We had to run, or he’d ’a’
+missed it any way. So I come back that way, instead o’ through Somerset
+Street.”
+
+“Then you came through Canaan Street to River Road----”
+
+“No, I didn’t,” the other interrupted. “I cut across lots back o’
+Burgess, ’cause ’twas shorter, an’ struck River Road down in front of
+Miller’s.”
+
+“Yes; and then came up to the driveway and so into the house?”
+
+“Yep!”
+
+“You must have got in about ten minutes after twelve.”
+
+“Jest to a dot!” he exclaimed in evident admiration of the other’s
+shrewdness. “Jest to a dot. I looked to my watch an’ ’twas jest ten
+minutes arter midnight.”
+
+“Then you must have passed close to the side-door step?”
+
+“Yess’r; fact, ye might say, I hit agin it, for I did knock my toe agin
+it as I passed.”
+
+“Was Mr. Wing’s body there then?” The demand was quick and imperative.
+
+“No, siree! Do you s’pose I’d ’a’ waited till mornin’ to rout ’em out
+ef it had ben? Mr. Wing was in this ere room.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“I saw his shadder on the curtain. He was walkin’ up an’ down. I seed
+him turn as I come up the drive.”
+
+“But why didn’t you see him? The shade was up to that window, when he
+was found in the morning.”
+
+“Yep; but they was all down when I come up the drive, an’ I saw his
+shadder agin ’em.”
+
+Further questioning elicited no added information from the man,
+excepting the statement that as his cousin Jim swung on to the rear
+end of the car, another man had swung on to the front end, suddenly
+rushing out of the darkness. Jonathan did not know who it was; indeed,
+had hardly given the matter a thought, so anxious had he been lest Jim
+should be left. When he had gone, Trafford turned to Mrs. Parlin and
+asked:
+
+“When do you think Mr. Wing intended writing that letter, if he hadn’t
+written it at ten minutes after midnight?”
+
+“He must have changed his mind, after all,” she answered.
+
+“Evidently, he did,” he said.
+
+Then he took up the matter of Judge Parlin’s confession.
+
+“I do not wish to pain you,” he said, “but I would not be justified in
+letting that drop without going into it further. Have you any suspicion
+who Theodore’s mother was--or is, since she is still living, or was
+between five and six years ago?”
+
+“I haven’t the faintest suspicion,” she said. “But surely this has been
+raked open enough. You can let that wound heal.”
+
+“I can let nothing heal,” he said. “I don’t for the life of me see how
+that can have anything to do with this murder, but that’s no reason I
+may not find that it has lots to do with it. At any rate, I must find
+her out.”
+
+“Can you do it on the feeble clue we have?” she asked.
+
+He smiled.
+
+“On such a clue, I’ll trace her in a week and not half try. Your
+husband intended to shield her from discovery, and but for these
+untoward circumstances, we would be bound to respect his wishes. As it
+is, I must know the identity of the woman. I hope I’ll find nothing
+to compel me to go farther. In the meantime, I’m going to take with
+me this blotting-pad, and I want you to examine it so that you can
+identify it beyond question, blotter and all. It’s too important for
+any mistake.”
+
+Just then Mary Mullin brought word that Mr. McManus had come in
+response to a message sent earlier in the evening by Mr. Trafford. Mr.
+McManus had been with Mr. Wing for a number of years, and held the most
+confidential relation to his principal of any in the office. Since the
+murder he had naturally taken charge of his personal affairs. He was a
+man of thirty, tall and lithe, with a nervous force about him that was
+held well in control by strong will-power.
+
+“Do you know what special engagements Mr. Wing had for the eleventh,
+that caused him to expect a particularly busy day?” the detective asked.
+
+“None connected with office matters. It must have been a personal
+engagement.”
+
+“Did you open this safe the day after the murder?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Was it properly closed and locked?”
+
+“So far as I could see.”
+
+“I’d have given a hundred dollars if I’d been here,” Trafford said
+earnestly.
+
+McManus looked at him in surprise.
+
+“Certainly,” he said, “you don’t suspect robbery?”
+
+“I don’t suspect anything,” Trafford replied, somewhat brusquely. “Of
+all things, I avoid suspicion and guesses. I’d like you to open the
+safe again.”
+
+McManus knelt, drew from his pocket a paper with a series of figures
+written on it, and following these with the turnings of the knob, threw
+open the door. Within was revealed a small iron door surrounded by
+pigeon-holes, the divisions of wood. Trafford dropped on his knees and
+gave peculiar scrutiny to the door, and especially the lock. Then he
+turned towards McManus:
+
+“These two empty pigeon-holes on the left; they were empty when you
+first opened the safe?”
+
+“Every paper is in the exact place I found it,” McManus answered
+sharply. “My profession has taught me some things!”
+
+“And this door?”
+
+“It was closed and locked. Here is the key.”
+
+Trafford opened the door, revealing packages of letters, filling about
+half the space above the small drawer which was at the lowest portion.
+
+“You have examined these letters?”
+
+“Only sufficiently to be able to identify them. They relate to certain
+logging interests of firms employing Mr. Wing.”
+
+“And the drawer?”
+
+“You have the key: there’s nothing there but trinkets and a little
+personal jewelry.” There was a personal tone of resentment over the
+failure to recognise the distance between a detective and an attorney.
+
+Trafford opened the drawer mechanically, then closed it and took out
+indifferently one of the packages of letters. These he returned and
+closed and locked the door, which he examined again with care. Then he
+pushed to the heavy outer door, turning the knob slowly and as if he
+was studying the fall of the wards.
+
+“If it had been planned to leave no trace,” he said, as if to himself,
+“it would be a success. Have you a suspicion of the motive for this
+murder, Mr. McManus?”
+
+“So far as I can see, it was motiveless,” McManus answered. “I can only
+conclude that it was the work of a lunatic, or a mere murder fiend. It
+was, in my opinion, merely an accident that it was Mr. Wing and not
+some one else.”
+
+“I hadn’t thought of that aspect of the case,” Trafford said. “Is there
+any unfortunate creature of that kind about here?”
+
+“No, not that I know of; but might it not be a stranger that has
+wandered here?”
+
+“Did you ever hear of one of that class that was content with mere
+killing? It’s mutilation that characterises all such crimes. Its
+absence in this case is one of the most prominent features. By the bye:
+was the night of the tenth windy?”
+
+“On the contrary, it was a very still night.”
+
+“Not wind enough to blow that door shut?” pointing to the door into the
+side hall.
+
+“Certainly not.”
+
+Trafford walked around to the different windows and finally pulled
+down the shades and placed the lamp on the writing-desk. Then he went
+outside and studied the reflection on the shades. When he returned, he
+said:
+
+“I shall be absent a few days. Will you see to it, Mr. McManus, that
+the coroner doesn’t reconvene the inquest until I can be here? Until
+we find a motive for this crime, we’re going to make slow headway in
+finding the criminal.”
+
+“So long as you have charge of the case,” McManus answered, “I shall
+follow your wishes; but you may as well understand that I’m not going
+to be content with failure on any one’s part. You’re after the pay;
+I’m after punishment for the murderer. As long as our wishes run in the
+same line----”
+
+Trafford interrupted him:
+
+“When a case is placed in your hands, you expect to manage it, I
+assume. This case has been placed in my hands, and as long as it
+remains there, I shall conduct it in my own way. That doesn’t mean I
+won’t take advice; it simply means, I’ll be the one to decide what I’ll
+do with it.”
+
+The two men faced each other for the moment almost with hostility. Then
+McManus’s face lightened and he held out his hand without a word of
+apology:
+
+“You’ll do, I guess. If the fellow escapes you, he’d deserve to--if
+he’d killed anybody but Theodore Wing. Whatever I can do to aid, call
+on me day or night. At the least, keep me posted.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Trafford Gets an Assurance
+
+
+Trafford sat in his room in the hotel at Bangor the next evening and
+studied the copy of Judge Parlin’s statement.
+
+“Her brilliancy of mind has carried her far,” he said; “has aided her
+husband politically; and it was this influence that defeated him for
+the chief justiceship. It’s so easy that I can’t believe the solution.
+By George! I wonder if the old judge ever wrote that paper? I wish I’d
+examined the original more critically. If I’d been one of your inspired
+detectives, such as you find in novels, I’d probably have caught a
+forgery the first thing!”
+
+None the less, he put himself to the task of untangling the threads
+of the statement, with a result that set him to deep thinking. Bangor
+was not the direction from which had come opposition to the judge’s
+nomination. On the contrary, Judge Parlin had been rather a favourite
+than otherwise in Bangor, and his cause had received substantial aid.
+But the statement did not assert that Wing’s mother had remained in
+Bangor, or that it was there that she aided her husband politically.
+The most hostile influence that Judge Parlin had encountered was
+popularly credited to an ex-Governor, Matthewson, an Eastern Maine man,
+who at present held no office, but without whose countenance few men
+ventured even to aspire to office.
+
+“If it should prove that Matthewson’s wife is a Bangor woman, ’twould
+be so easy as to be absurd,” Trafford mused. “The old judge wasn’t
+silly enough to believe that what he wrote could conceal her identity.
+Either he meant it should be known to Wing or Mrs. Parlin, or--but what
+possible object could there be in forging such a paper?”
+
+Suddenly he sat bolt upright and stared at the document in blank
+amazement. Then, with a low whistle, he folded it into his pocketbook.
+
+“I’ll find Mrs. Matthewson Bangor-born, I’ll bet ten cents to a leather
+button!” he declared.
+
+Whatever had brought Trafford to this sudden conclusion, it proved
+absolutely correct, and the details given of her brilliance and her
+aid to her husband fitted exactly to the character of the woman. This
+fact naturally raised the question, was it safe to go farther and, if
+so, how much farther? Mrs. Matthewson at least had been put on her
+guard by the published statement, and she was not a woman to remain in
+ignorance of any steps taken in consequence of that statement, or of
+the man who took them. The family was powerful and not credited with
+scrupulosity as to means employed to ends. On the other hand, it was
+manifest that if there was such an episode in her past, her husband was
+ignorant of it and she would stop at nothing to keep him so. The secret
+might be dangerous, but it might be valuable as well.
+
+Beyond this, however, was the joy of the chase, which is absent from no
+man and least of all from the trained detective. There was a problem to
+solve, and, danger or no danger, it was as impossible for Trafford to
+refuse to solve it as to refuse to breathe. Whatever use he was or was
+not to make of it, he would know the truth.
+
+He was not, however, so intent upon this one feature of the case as to
+neglect Jim Shepard. The second day, he slipped over to Portland and
+found that young countryman at work and exceedingly homesick in what
+was, to his narrow experience, a great city. Finding that Trafford knew
+Millbank, he threw his heart open to him and talked as freely as he
+would to Oldbeg himself. Trafford let him talk. There was a flood of
+irrelevant matter, but the detective’s experience was too broad for him
+to decide in advance what might and what might not be valuable. On the
+whole, however, it was a dreary waste, until he touched on the night he
+left Millbank.
+
+“I wasn’t the only feller,” he said; “that nigh missed that train. Jest
+as ’twas startin’, a feller rushed out from behind Pettingill’s ’tater
+storehouse and caught the front end of the car. I thought he was goin’
+to miss an’ I swung back to see him drop off; but he clung like a good
+one an’ finally got his foot on the step. I tell you, he was nigh clean
+tuckered out when he came into the car, fur he was a swell an’ warn’t
+used to using his arms that-a-way.”
+
+“Queer place for him to come from,” said the other.
+
+“Wall, ye see, if he’d come from Somerset Street way an’ out through
+’tween Neil’s store and the post-office, he’d ’a’ come out jest thar;
+but he’d ’a’ had to know the lay o’ the land to done it. Ef he’d ben a
+stranger, he couldn’t help missing it an’ not half try.”
+
+“But you say he was a stranger and a swell,” Trafford suggested.
+
+“He was a swell, fast enough. City rig; kid gloves--one on ’em bust,
+hangin’ on to the rail, and got up in go-to-meetin’ style; but he must
+’a’ knowed the way. He’d ben thar before, you bet!”
+
+“You seem to have got a pretty good look at him.”
+
+“Wall, ye see he took the seat two in front o’ me, and every time I
+woke up--say, them air seats hain’t made to sleep comfortable in, be
+they--thar he was, till all of a sudden I woke up an’ he warn’t thar.”
+
+“Then you don’t know where he got off,” Trafford said, keeping the
+disappointment out of his voice.
+
+“No. Ye see, when we pulled out of ’Gusta, he was thar, an’ I didn’t
+wake up ag’in till we got to Brunswick, an’ he warn’t thar. I meant
+to see whar he went to, but arter ’Gusta, I guessed he must be from
+Portland and that’s whar I got left.”
+
+“I suppose you hear from Millbank--from Oldbeg, for instance.”
+
+“Wall,” he said, blushing a fiery red, “Jonathan hain’t no great hand
+to write: but I du hear sometimes. Say, du you s’pose a body could ’a’
+heerd that thar shot from Parlin’s house down onto Canaan Street?”
+
+“I don’t know,” said the detective carelessly, hiding his eagerness. “A
+still night, it might be; why?”
+
+“’Cause, a letter I got says that thar night she’d jest got to sleep
+when she woke up sudden, as if she’d heerd so’thing like a shot. She
+got up, but didn’t hear nothin’ more an’ so went back to bed. But the
+next mornin’ she guessed ’twas the shot she heerd from Parlin’s.”
+
+“Did she say what time it was?”
+
+“Nope: only she’d ben asleep about half a hour, an’ thet night she
+didn’t get to bed ’fore twelve o’clock. Fact, I guess she didn’t go
+till she heerd the train leave.”
+
+“But about this swell,” Trafford interposed. “Would you know him again
+if you saw him?”
+
+“I guess I would; leastwise ef I could see the top of his head. He took
+his hat off, an’ thar was the funniest little bald spot, jest the shape
+of a heart. ’Twas funny, an’ he warn’t more’n thirty years old. Say,
+when he gets to be fifty, he won’t hev no more hair’n I’ve got on the
+back o’ my hand.”
+
+The next afternoon, a card was brought to Charles Matthewson, Esq., in
+his inner office in Augusta, and on the card he read, printed in small
+square letters:
+
+  “ISAAC TRAFFORD.”
+
+“What in thunder does Trafford want of me?” he asked himself. “He can’t
+possibly know!”
+
+He sat and looked at the card, while the boy waited and finally coughed
+to remind him he was still there. Matthewson looked up with a puzzled
+air. Evidently he did not care to see the man whose name was on the
+card, and as evidently he did not dare refuse him. Finally he said:
+
+“Show him in in five minutes.”
+
+When Trafford entered, in the very act of bowing, he cast a quick
+glance at the top of Matthewson’s head. There was the odd bald spot,
+shaped, as Jim Shepard had said, “Jest like a heart.”
+
+“What can I do for you, Mr. Trafford?” Matthewson asked, with the air
+of a busy man.
+
+“I want about ten minutes’ talk with you,” the detective answered,
+drawing a chair close to the desk.
+
+“Professional?”
+
+“Yes;--my profession.”
+
+The lawyer started. He was provoked with himself for doing so, but
+it was beyond his control. Trafford was not a man with whom it was
+comfortable to talk professionally--that is, from the standpoint of his
+profession.
+
+“Well, be quick about it, then. I’m busy, and it’ll be a favour to cut
+it as short as you can.”
+
+“You were in Millbank the evening of the tenth.”
+
+“Well, you are short and to the point. Suppose I was?”
+
+“What were you there for?”
+
+“None of your business.”
+
+Trafford chuckled. He was getting on. It was just the answer he
+expected.
+
+“Now let’s stick right to the point, as you wanted me to. If I have to
+whip round to get to it again, you mustn’t blame me.”
+
+“Come, Mr. Trafford; you can’t deal with every one the same way. If you
+want to find out anything from me, you mustn’t go at it as if I was a
+country bumpkin whom your very name would scare.”
+
+“Bless you, I don’t,” said Trafford. “Now if you were a country
+bumpkin, as you are pleased to put it, I’d lead up to the matter gently
+and so have it all out of you before you knew what I was at. Not being
+a country bumpkin, I come at you fair and square to save your time and
+mine too. What were you doing in Millbank on the evening of the tenth?
+You weren’t at any of the hotels. You weren’t seen by any of the men
+who were likely to see you.”
+
+“So you’ve peddled it all over Millbank that I was there that night,
+have you?” demanded the other, angrily.
+
+Trafford looked at him with a mixture of amusement and spleen. At last
+he answered:
+
+“That isn’t the way I do my work. I don’t need to give away what I know
+to find out what other folks know. There’s nobody in Millbank any the
+wiser for the enquiries I’ve made.”
+
+“Well, if you know so much and are so cunning, you know that I got
+there at eight o’clock and left at midnight----”
+
+“Dropping off at the Bridge stop before the train crossed the river,
+and swinging on to the front end of the second car as the train was
+pulling out of the station, coming out of the shadow of Pettingill’s
+potato warehouse to do so, so as not to be seen and recognized,”
+Trafford continued.
+
+The first part was a shrewd guess, but evidently it hit the mark, for
+the lawyer wheeled about and faced him before saying:
+
+“The devil! To what am I indebted for such close surveillance?”
+
+“Well,” drawled Trafford, with an irritating air of indifference, that
+he could at times assume, “perhaps you don’t know that a matter of some
+importance happened in Millbank that night and has led to our looking
+up all the strangers that were in town, especially those who did not
+seem to want to be seen.”
+
+“You refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”
+
+“I refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”
+
+“I regret Mr. Wing’s tragic death,” said the lawyer coldly; “and
+especially deplore the commission of such a crime. At the same time,
+I don’t think it as important as Millbank naturally thinks it, and I
+imagine the State will manage to wag along in spite of the great loss
+it has sustained.”
+
+It was not so much the words, ill-timed and out-of-taste as they
+were, as the air with which they were uttered, that constituted their
+significance. It was as if in the mind that originated them there was
+a lurking bitterness, that the speaker would willingly conceal, which
+yet was so intense that it must find vent. There was a cruel hardness
+in the tone that made the words themselves all but meaningless.
+Was it possible, Trafford asked himself, that the man was able to
+read the meaning of Judge Parlin’s story and knew that Wing was his
+half-brother? He dismissed the question with the asking, satisfied that
+something of which he was still ignorant was at the foundation of this
+outbreak. It was to be a question of the comparative shrewdness of the
+two men, whether he still remained ignorant when the interview closed.
+
+“You certainly don’t suppose that I shot Millbank’s leading citizen,
+do you?” the lawyer demanded, after a moment’s pause. It was, perhaps,
+an effort to recover what the lawyer could not fail to see that he had
+lost.
+
+“On the contrary, I’ve every reason to believe that he was still alive
+when you left town, and I still further believe that your visit had
+nothing to do, remotely or directly, with his death.”
+
+What was that odd flash that passed over the other’s face as Trafford
+said these last words? Seemingly, Trafford was not looking at the
+other’s face at the moment and it might have escaped him. Still, he
+would have been interested if he had seen it.
+
+“Thanks: but, in that event, what are you here for?”
+
+“I can’t let my beliefs or disbeliefs interfere with my investigation
+of facts. Here is something most unusual occurring, almost at the
+moment of the murder. It don’t make any difference whether I believe it
+has anything to do with it or not. It’s my business to know, and that’s
+what I’m here to do.”
+
+“And if I say I’ve nothing to tell you?”
+
+“The coroner’s enquiry will be public, while mine may remain private.”
+
+“What do you want to know?”
+
+“I simply want your assurance that your visit to Millbank had nothing
+to do, directly or remotely, with Theodore Wing.”
+
+“I can’t see what value such an assurance can have. If I went there to
+hire somebody to shoot him, I should, of course, not hesitate to give
+you the assurance--and probably you wouldn’t fail to find out the truth
+of the matter inside a week.”
+
+“That’s my business,” said Trafford. “If I’m content with your
+assurance, I don’t see why you should object to my being.”
+
+“Because there’s no certainty you’ll remain content with it. It’s
+one of those things where you could come back to-morrow with ‘newly
+discovered testimony’ that would upset the whole agreement.”
+
+“Oh, as for that,” said Trafford, “I propose to agree to nothing.
+As matters stand, the inquest ’ll go on within a day or two. I know
+you were in Millbank the night of the murder, and with no assurance
+from any one that your visit had nothing to do with the murder, I’m
+compelled, absolutely compelled, to ask the coroner to summons you.
+On the other hand, if I’m satisfied, there’s no reason for me to tell
+any one that I know you were there, and nothing to induce the coroner
+to summons you. At the same time, I don’t agree to anything as to the
+future. That must depend upon facts, and you know better than I do now
+whether there are any that would call for you.”
+
+“Humph!” grunted Matthewson; “then it’s this: I assure you what you ask
+and I’m not to be summoned until you see fit to summon me, and if I
+don’t, you see fit to summon me at once.”
+
+“That’s about it,” assented Trafford.
+
+Matthewson sat for a few minutes thinking, and Trafford sat
+watching him. He was tall and slim, with a rather prepossessing
+face--well-dressed, in fact, a “swell,” as Jim Shepard had said. His
+face was far from a dull one. His mother had evidently given him
+something of her personality. Yet, a man less on his guard against
+impressions than the detective might find something in his face that
+he did not like,--a look of cunning lurking in the half-closed eyes, a
+want of feeling in the lines of the mouth. He was a man who would go
+far to accomplish his ends, but would not be willingly cruel, perhaps
+because he could not understand that to be cruel which was for his own
+interest. Yet, what of a fight that involved life and honour? Trafford
+at least knew that it is only then that the hidden forces come to
+the surface and the man himself stands complete. Suddenly Matthewson
+turned, and with a side glance at the waiting detective said:
+
+“I assure you that my visit to Millbank had nothing to do directly or
+indirectly with Mr. Wing’s death.”
+
+“That’s all I want,” the detective said.
+
+“I gave him credit for being sharper than that,” Matthewson said to
+himself, as the door closed behind his visitor.
+
+“Now I’ve got to find out,” Trafford noted, “how that visit did concern
+Wing. I’ll test Matthewson’s conclusion before I accept it.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The Weapon is Produced
+
+
+The inquest reconvened with an increase rather than a decrease of
+interest on the part of the public. This was due in part to the
+renewed attention aroused by the funeral, which had been one of the
+most imposing ever had in Millbank; and in part to the rewards for the
+detection of the murderer offered by Mrs. Parlin and the selectmen of
+the town.
+
+In addition, the County Court had instructed the county attorney to be
+present at further sittings, to assist the coroner, and the town had
+employed its own counsel for the same purpose.
+
+Mary Mullin was the first witness.
+
+“You are the help at Mrs. Parlin’s?” the coroner asked.
+
+“I be.”
+
+“How long have you been so employed?”
+
+“Twenty-five year this coming July.”
+
+“You were at the house the evening and night of the tenth of May?”
+
+“Yep!”
+
+“Did you wait on the table at supper that evening?”
+
+“I passed the victuals, ef that’s what ye mean by wait;” with an air of
+defiance.
+
+“Who were at supper?”
+
+“Mis Parlin an’ Mr. Wing.”
+
+“Did either of them seem to you depressed or preoccupied?”
+
+“Nope.”
+
+“The meal was pleasant as usual, and both seemed in good spirits?”
+
+“Yep.”
+
+“Were you in the dining room when they left it?”
+
+“Nope; I left ’em thar an’ went back arter they were through an’
+cleaned up the table.”
+
+“When did you next see Mr. Wing?”
+
+“As he and Mis Parlin come back from the orchard.”
+
+“Did everything seem pleasant between them then?”
+
+“Why shouldn’t it?”
+
+“I asked you if it did?”
+
+“I’d scorn to answer sech a question, ef I warn’t under oath to answer
+what you axed. Yep!”
+
+“When did you see him next?”
+
+“Lyin’ a dead corpse on the doorstep at ten minutes arter six the next
+mornin’!”
+
+“You are certain you did not see him from the time he returned from the
+orchard, until you saw him dead?”
+
+“Didn’t I swear it?”
+
+“I asked you if you are certain?”
+
+“Yep!” indignantly.
+
+“Did you eat your supper before or after your mistress ate hers?”
+
+“What may ye mean by mistress?”
+
+“I mean, did you eat your supper before or after Mrs. Parlin ate hers?”
+
+“Arter.”
+
+She testified that she and Jonathan ate together; that she went to her
+room at nine o’clock, after shutting up the house “all but the front
+part,” and that she went at once to bed.
+
+“Did you at any time during the night hear a pistol or gun shot or any
+sound resembling one?”
+
+“I did not.”
+
+“Are you a sound sleeper?”
+
+“After I git to sleep, ye might carry me off an’ I’d never know it till
+mornin’.”
+
+“Then you think a pistol might have been fired at the south door of the
+house in the middle of the night without your hearing it, although that
+door was open?”
+
+“I think that one was.”
+
+“But do you believe, aside from what you think regarding what happened
+that night, that a pistol so fired would wake you?”
+
+“No, nor a cannon, ef ’twan’t too big.”
+
+Jonathan Oldbeg testified practically to what he had told Trafford, the
+detective, though with some amplification of details. On the question
+of the absolute recognition of the shadow on the window shades as that
+of Mr. Wing, he grew very positive, affirming that he knew the stoop
+of the shoulders and the movement of his head. The county attorney
+and the town counsel were quite strong at this point and suggested
+questions which finally confused the witness, though in the end he
+clung to his positive identification.
+
+The coroner seemed disposed to pass to the next witness, when Trafford
+handed up a paper, after reading which the coroner turned again to the
+witness and asked:
+
+“On the shades of which windows did you see the shadow?”
+
+“On all three of ’em.”
+
+“On which was it the highest and largest?”
+
+The witness paused as he began his answer and seemed in deep thought.
+Once he raised his head with a blank expression and then dropped it
+again. Finally he looked up and said:
+
+“On the curtain nighest the door.”
+
+“And the smallest?”
+
+“On the curtain nighest the road.”
+
+“The witness will step down a moment and Mr. Isaac Trafford will take
+the stand.”
+
+All necks were craned to see the detective, and every ear intent for
+his testimony. It was most disappointing.
+
+“Have you made any experiments,” the coroner asked; “as to the shadow
+thrown on the shades of Mr. Wing’s library, with relation to the
+position of the light?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“With what results?”
+
+“If the light is on the writing-desk, the highest and largest shadow is
+thrown on the shade nearest the street and none is thrown on the shade
+nearest the door. If the light is on the reading-table in front of
+the fireplace, or in the centre of the mantel over the fireplace, the
+highest and largest shadow is on the shade of the centre window. If the
+light is on the mantel near the safe, the largest and highest shadow is
+on the shade nearest the door, and the smallest and lowest on the shade
+nearest the road. If the light is on the safe itself, or on the stand
+near the safe, no shadow is thrown on the shade nearest the street.”
+
+“You have heard the testimony of the last witness as to the shadows he
+saw?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“What is your conclusion from that testimony as to the position of the
+light at the time the witness passed up the drive?”
+
+“That it was on the mantel nearly above the safe.”
+
+“Have you made any experiments to determine in what position any one
+would place the light, if he had the safe open and desired the best
+light on its contents?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“With what result?”
+
+“That he would place it on the mantel about a foot or a foot and a half
+west of the safe.”
+
+“Then the testimony of the witness and the result of your experiments
+would lead you to conclude that at the time the witness passed up the
+drive, the occupant of the room had the safe open and the light so
+placed that he could best see into it?”
+
+“It is entirely compatible with that assumption.”
+
+Mr. Trafford was dismissed and Oldbeg recalled. There was a buzz in the
+room.
+
+“What do you s’pose that was fur?” one man asked another.
+
+“For impression. It shows how mighty cute Trafford is, an’ lets folks
+know that there’s somebody arter ’em as knows what’s what.”
+
+“Onless Trafford got it up hisself fur advertisin’,” suggested the
+other, a hard-headed Yankee to whom shrewdness was a natural instinct.
+
+“Do you own a pistol?” demanded the coroner, as Oldbeg settled himself
+to his examination.
+
+Every eye turned towards the witness, who fidgeted before answering,
+as if he was in doubt what to say. At last, when attention was at its
+keenest, he found his tongue and said:
+
+“Nope.”
+
+“Yet you bought a thirty-two calibre one on May eighth.”
+
+It had already been testified that the fatal shot was fired from a
+thirty-two calibre revolver. Every person present was alive with the
+thought that a critical moment in the inquest had come.
+
+“Yep; but I gave it away.”
+
+“When?”
+
+“The night o’ May tenth.”
+
+“To whom?”
+
+“To Jim Shepard. Jest as he was jumpin’ on the train, I took it out o’
+my pocket an’ put it in his’n.”
+
+“Do you call that giving it away?”
+
+“Yep! That’s what I bought it fur. I don’t need one here; leastwise,
+I didn’t think so then; but he’s goin’ to a tarnel big place, an’ I
+thought he ought to had one, so I bought it an’ took it to the train
+with me that night an’ put it in his pocket.”
+
+“Did you say anything to him about it?”
+
+“I didn’t hev no time. I was goin’ to give it to him, but we hed to run
+for the train, an’ I clean forgot it till, jest as he struck the bottom
+step, I thought on it. All I could do was to chuck it into his pocket,
+whar his coat swung back.”
+
+“Did you see it go in?”
+
+“Nope: ’twas too dark.”
+
+“Was it loaded?”
+
+“All but one bar’l. I fired that off up in the woods that day an’
+furgot to load it again.”
+
+“Call James Shepard.”
+
+Oldbeg started, and when his cousin came from a door back of the
+coroner, stood as one struck dumb. It was difficult to say what emotion
+was expressed in his face. Trafford watched him and acknowledged his
+own uncertainty.
+
+“Do you desire to change your testimony last given?” asked the coroner.
+
+“I’ve told the truth; I hain’t got nothin’ to change,” he said sulkily.
+
+James Shepard gave his testimony regarding his leaving Millbank and
+answered the questions put to him with reference to the stranger
+who took the same train, which, of course, simply led up to his
+disappearance somewhere between Augusta and Brunswick. Then came the
+question which all were awaiting:
+
+“Did your cousin give you a pistol the night you left Millbank?”
+
+“Not that I knows on. It’s the fust time I ever heerd about it.”
+
+“Do you own a pistol?”
+
+“Nope. I hain’t got no use fur a pistol an’ never had.”
+
+“Call William Buckworth.”
+
+A stout, elderly man, head of the firm of Buckworth & Tompson, notion
+dealers, came to the stand. After the preliminary questions, the
+coroner took from a drawer a pistol and handed it to the witness.
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“A thirty-two calibre Woodruff revolver.”
+
+“Did you ever see it before?”
+
+“Yes. I sold it on the eighth of May to Jonathan Oldbeg.”
+
+“Are you certain of the identity?”
+
+The witness then proceeded to the identification, which was absolute.
+
+“Are the chambers charged?”
+
+“Four are. One is empty and has recently been fired.”
+
+“Isaac Trafford will take the stand.
+
+“Do you recognize this pistol, Mr. Trafford, as one you have before
+seen?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“State the circumstances.”
+
+“I found it on the morning of the twelfth of May hidden in the box
+hedge in the front yard of the Parlin house. It was in the box nearest
+the fence that separates the front yard from the driveway, and about
+twelve feet from the house.”
+
+“Was it in the same condition then as now?”
+
+“It was wet with dew and the rust is deeper now than then; otherwise it
+is in the same condition.”
+
+“Call Margaret Flanders.”
+
+At the name, Jim Shepard, who had taken a seat in the main room upon
+concluding his testimony, turned the colour of a peony and a giggle was
+started among a group of boys near him.
+
+Margaret Flanders, a buxom, healthy lass of about twenty, tripped into
+the room as if in enjoyment of the sensation she was creating. In
+answer to questions, her testimony ran:
+
+She lived at home, with her parents, on Canaan Street; the left-hand
+side as you went from River Road. Jim Shepard came sometimes to see her
+and was with her the evening of May tenth. He was going to Portland to
+work and he was to take the midnight train. He stayed till his cousin
+Jonathan Oldbeg called for him. It was then so late that she was afraid
+he would miss his train. Indeed, there was only five minutes to spare
+when he left the house. She waited on the front stoop till she heard
+the train go and then went to her room, which was on the second floor
+in the northwest corner, the nearest River Road and the Parlin house.
+She went right to bed, was in bed by quarter-past twelve, probably, and
+went right to sleep. Had slept a few minutes when she was wakened by a
+sound like a pistol shot. She jumped out of bed and went to the window,
+which was open, for she always liked plenty of fresh air; but saw
+nothing and heard nothing. There was a light in the Parlin house and
+she thought it was in the library, but could not tell certainly. She
+was at the window only a few minutes, when the clock struck one, but
+whether it was half-past twelve or one o’clock she could not tell. Then
+she went back to bed and fell asleep, and heard nothing more to disturb
+her that night.
+
+The coroner announced that this closed his witnesses, but at the
+request of the county attorney he recalled Mrs. Parlin. The county
+attorney put his questions through the coroner.
+
+“Have you ever had any question as to the genuineness of the statement
+which purports to be in the handwriting of your husband?”
+
+“None whatever.”
+
+“Was your husband accustomed to leave important papers without date or
+signature?”
+
+“This paper is in Judge Parlin’s handwriting.”
+
+“I hand you a letter here with the signature turned down. Can you
+identify the handwriting?”
+
+“I think it is the handwriting of Theodore Wing.”
+
+“Can you state positively?”
+
+“I cannot: but I have little doubt.”
+
+“I hand you another. Whose handwriting is that?”
+
+“Judge Parlin’s.”
+
+“Are you positive?”
+
+“Positive.”
+
+“Are you certain that the first letter is not in the handwriting of
+your late husband?”
+
+“It may possibly be; but I think it is in Mr. Wing’s handwriting.”
+
+“There was then a very strong resemblance between the handwriting of
+your late husband and that of Mr. Wing?”
+
+“A very strong resemblance. Theodore always admitted that he had tried
+to write like the judge, and of late years the resemblance was very
+close.”
+
+“Still you are confident as to the handwriting of the statement that
+has been produced here?”
+
+“Absolutely confident.”
+
+“When you hold this statement up to the light, do you discover any
+water-mark?”
+
+“Yes, a sheaf of something that looks like wheat with a circle around
+it.”
+
+“I hand you a blank sheet of paper. Has that any water-mark?”
+
+“It has the same water-mark.”
+
+“That will do. Mr. Trafford will take the stand.
+
+“I hand you this blank sheet of paper, which Mrs. Parlin has just
+stated contains the same water-mark as that on which the purported
+statement of Judge Parlin is written. Have you ever seen this sheet
+before?”
+
+“Yes. I took it from Mr. Theodore Wing’s writing-desk on the morning of
+May twelfth. It was one of a number of similar sheets I found there.”
+
+“Call Mr. Marmaduke.
+
+“You are the head of the stationery firm of Marmaduke & Co.?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“Did you supply the late Theodore Wing with writing paper?”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“Is this a sheet of the paper you furnished him?”
+
+“It is a sheet of the paper I furnished him for his home use. I never
+furnished it to him for office use.”
+
+“How long have you sold paper with this water-mark?”
+
+“About four years.”
+
+“Never before that?”
+
+“Never. I do not think it was made with that water-mark until about
+four years ago. At least, I never heard of it.”
+
+“Did you furnish paper to the late Judge Parlin, for home or office?”
+
+“For both.”
+
+“Did you ever furnish him, either for home or office, with paper
+bearing this water-mark?”
+
+“Never. I didn’t have paper with that water-mark for sale until nearly
+a year after Judge Parlin’s death. I got it at the special request of
+Mr. Wing, and that was after Judge Parlin’s death.”
+
+After consultation, the inquest was again adjourned. There was a
+general expectation that a warrant would issue for Oldbeg’s arrest,
+but neither the coroner nor the county attorney felt justified in so
+overt an act. The public might try, condemn, and all but execute a man
+on mere suspicion, but larger responsibility rested on the officers of
+the law. In consultation, Trafford was appealed to and agreed fully
+with the decision reached. He was not wholly pleased with the coroner’s
+haste in bringing out certain facts that in his opinion could have
+been left with safety to the adjourned session. The strength of his
+own work lay in minimising, rather than exaggerating, the importance of
+unsupported facts, which were almost sure to lead to wrong conclusions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford
+
+
+The wife of former Governor Matthewson was prominent--that is,
+respectably prominent--in church matters, as in all good works, and the
+booth over which she presided at the May Church Festival was one of the
+most attractive and profitable, albeit there was many another that had
+proved a centre for the younger men and larger boys. Mrs. Matthewson
+sat in the curtained space behind the main booth, for she was really
+tired. She was a tall woman, of commanding presence, who had just
+touched her sixtieth year and upon whom the consciousness of power, and
+ability to wield it, had left the impress of dignity and strength.
+
+The crowd was mainly in front of the booths, but occasionally some one
+strayed away to the quieter nooks shut off by the booths themselves. Of
+these were two men, one small and rather unimpressive in appearance,
+the other larger and more commanding, but with a strange deference
+towards his companion. The two passed where by accident, apparently,
+the smaller man had a view of the resting woman, without being too
+plainly seen himself. The larger man was speaking:
+
+“Public opinion is settling on the paper as a forgery.”
+
+“Has it discovered a motive?” There was almost a sneer in the tone.
+
+“No; nor for the crime; but it firmly believes that the woman never
+existed.”
+
+“It would think me mad or a liar then if I should affirm that she did
+exist; that she does exist; that in fact I could at a moment’s notice
+put my hand on Theodore Wing’s mother.”
+
+The other smiled.
+
+“One might almost imagine you thought her in this room.”
+
+“Stranger things have happened;” and the two moved on.
+
+If the woman had taken note of the conversation, there was nothing in
+her manner to indicate it. Had there been, Trafford would have felt
+keen disappointment, for he had observed her somewhat carefully, and
+had formed a higher opinion of her capabilities. At the same time, he
+had not so poor a conception of his own powers of observation as to
+doubt the correctness of his impression of a slight lifting of the
+eyebrows and critical scanning of his own face by Mrs. Matthewson, as
+he loitered slowly back towards the throng in front. He intended, if it
+was her wish to be able to recognise him again, that she should have
+the opportunity.
+
+After he had passed, she waited a sufficient time not to seem
+precipitate, then rose and sauntered slowly into the front part of
+the hall, whence came a constant babble of voices. She was a woman
+who had seen too many things to be afraid; but as well she was a
+woman too shrewd to neglect a warning and go on to punishment. She
+knew she had her warning; she knew that the man who had given it was
+prepared to deal with her, or he would not have given it; and she knew
+that boldness would secure the best terms. She had no question that
+blackmail was at the bottom of the affair.
+
+The public had generally accepted the statement as a forgery and was
+laughing at its clumsiness; but there would come a waking time when it
+realised that as a forgery it had no bearing upon the solution of the
+murder mystery, and that would be the moment of danger. She found her
+son, Charles Matthewson, and taking his arm went to the refreshment
+room.
+
+“You’re dead tired, mother,” he said. “A man of iron couldn’t stand
+these affairs.”
+
+“No,” she said. “It requires something finer than iron. Your man of
+iron is a poor simile for strength. It’s got to be better than that.”
+
+“By George; I only hope when I’m sixty, I can stand as much as you!”
+
+“Is that your tact, Charles, to mention a woman’s age in public? I know
+the people know my age, but I object to their knowing that I know.”
+
+“Much you care, mother. You can leave such stuff as that to the silly
+herd.”
+
+A man passed by and took his seat at a table out of ear range. He did
+not look in her direction as he passed, and she did not even glance
+in his; but she felt his presence, and knew also that Charles had
+seen him and recognised him. She ran on with her light chat, seemingly
+taking no note of her son’s distraught manner and absent-minded
+replies; but after she had let things go on for a safe space, she
+suddenly looked up with:
+
+“Really, Charles, I might as well save my foolishness for somebody
+who is less occupied than you seem to be. I should say you were more
+interested in that man over there than in me.”
+
+“Was I really giving attention to him?” the son demanded.
+
+“Most really, and I’m simply wondering where you learned your
+self-control, that you can do a thing so apparent to a whole roomful.”
+She had not asked a word regarding the man, certain as she was that he
+would tell her all he knew.
+
+“Do you know who that man is?” her son asked.
+
+“No; really,” she said, putting up her glasses, “I had simply noticed
+him as a man from whom you did not seem able to keep your eyes. Now I
+look at him, I don’t see anything particularly worth noticing.”
+
+“It’s Trafford, the detective. He’s said to be on this Wing murder
+case.”
+
+“Oh, is that so?” she said, raising her glasses again. “In that case, I
+suppose one’s permitted to look at him, since that’s largely his stock
+in trade. He doesn’t look smart.”
+
+“That’s his stock in trade too,” said Charles, a trifle impatiently for
+the son of such a woman. “If he looked half as smart as he is, he’d
+look too smart for his work, and if he was really as dull as he looks,
+he’d be too stupid.”
+
+“And they depend on him to unravel the Wing murder?” she asked.
+
+“Oh, the Wing murder,” echoed an acquaintance who was passing. “Why
+didn’t that stupid coroner arrest that fellow Oldman--if that was his
+name? My husband says if he takes the opportunity to run away, it may
+be interesting for the coroner. Of course, nobody has a doubt that he’s
+the murderer. You think so, Mr. Matthewson, don’t you?”
+
+“I think it will be a great wrong if such a wanton murder goes
+unpunished,” he answered.
+
+“Yes,” said the mother carelessly; “but the motive? Did he murder him
+because he was an illegitimate son of Judge Parlin?”
+
+“Oh, pshaw, Mrs. Matthewson, nobody believes that story. Why, they tell
+me Judge Parlin was a real nice man. He wouldn’t have had anything to
+do with such a woman as she would have been, if the story was true.”
+
+A crowd gathered and, in spite of Charles Matthewson’s efforts to
+change the subject, persisted in discussing the murder, which was still
+a live topic wherever Judge Parlin and Lawyer Wing had been known. To
+Matthewson’s increased annoyance, he noted that Trafford had moved to a
+nearer table, where he could catch the talk.
+
+“What kind of man would Judge Parlin have been, if the story were
+true?” Mrs. Matthewson asked listlessly.
+
+“Oh, yes; but you know that’s not the same. He was a mere youngster,
+and a designing woman you know can do anything with a man. Oh, no:
+it would be bad enough in him, but the woman--why, she’d be simply
+abominable; simply abominable.”
+
+“Well, if there was such a woman, she’s undoubtedly dead long ago,”
+Mrs. Matthewson said. “We might at least not begrudge her a grave. We
+came near making Judge Parlin chief justice.”
+
+Charles was uneasy. His mother was not accustomed to losing her head,
+but he had his suspicions at this moment, and tried again to draw her
+away; but she seemed not to notice his efforts, and showed herself not
+loath to go on with the conversation.
+
+“If the thing isn’t true,” broke in a woman who was fearful she
+might not make herself felt in the presence of the overbearing Mrs.
+Matthewson, “my husband says it’s a forgery; but what could that
+nice Mr. Wing have forged such a story as that for? Do you see, Mr.
+Matthewson?”
+
+“You must excuse me from expressing any opinion one way or the other,”
+he said, thus distinctly appealed to. “Murders and forgeries are not in
+my line, and I don’t think my opinion would have the value it might if
+I was a criminal lawyer or a detective.”
+
+“Oh, a detective!” some one interrupted. “What a dreadful nasty set of
+men detectives must be! It makes me crawl to think of their having
+anything to do with me.”
+
+“Then you mustn’t be a murderer or permit any one to murder you. It’s
+the only way I know to steer clear of the gang.”
+
+“Come, Charles,” interposed his mother. “Aren’t you a little hard? As
+long as we have criminals, we must have criminal catchers. We can’t
+spare them.”
+
+“But we needn’t make them our heroes, as some people do,” he replied,
+wondering in secret why his mother was chiming into his mood so
+completely. “I object to having them dragged into my company--almost as
+much as I’d object to being dragged into theirs.”
+
+It would have troubled Mrs. Matthewson to say why she felt a savage
+pleasure in thus baiting the detective, but she did feel it, and was
+too proud to deny the fact, even as she was too proud to deny that the
+fact was unworthy her own measure of herself.
+
+An hour later Charles had handed her into her carriage and gone back
+to the hall, as she bade him, to stand for the family during the
+remainder of the evening. A carriage in front blocked the way and a
+voice almost at her elbow, but on the side opposite that at which she
+had entered, said:
+
+“May I have the honour of calling in the morning?”
+
+She did not even turn her head, as she flung back the answer:
+
+“If it’s necessary.”
+
+“I think it necessary.”
+
+“At half-past ten, then.”
+
+She did not look to see, but knew that the place was vacant. None the
+less she yielded no whit, but held her upright position, as if she were
+already on trial before the world and bade it defiance.
+
+It was the same in the morning. She entered the small parlour as if
+it were she and not her visitor who was to ask explanations, and he,
+with his quick adaptation of himself to moods and conditions, not alone
+humoured her, but throughout bore himself with a courtesy and deference
+that went as far as anything could to salve her wounded pride.
+
+“I assume it is not necessary for me to explain who I am and why I
+have asked this interview,” he said, as an approach to a knowledge of
+the footing on which they stood.
+
+“It is not necessary,” she returned. “You are Isaac Trafford,
+detective: you are engaged in ferreting out the murder of Theodore
+Wing, and you think I am able to give you information that may aid you.
+I am sorry to say that I cannot. I am sorry for the crime: I’m always
+sorry for crime; but it can have no particular sting for me, because of
+the man who is its victim.”
+
+“I thought it might be otherwise,” he said quite simply.
+
+“You are mistaken.”
+
+“None the less,” he said, “you have read the statement left by Judge
+Parlin.”
+
+“I have read the statement purporting to be left by Judge Parlin,” she
+corrected him.
+
+“It is absolutely true from beginning to end. There can be no doubt
+that Judge Parlin left it, for only he and one other person at that
+time knew the facts.”
+
+“And that other person?” The question was without a tremor. Trafford
+felt like rising and saluting the woman, as her words came clean-cut
+and passionless.
+
+“Theodore Wing’s mother.”
+
+“She is, then, still alive?”
+
+“She is still alive,” he said; “and unless concerned in this recent
+tragedy, as safe as if the knowledge of the facts had remained locked
+in her breast, as they were at the time of Judge Parlin’s death. If she
+was concerned in this tragedy, then it is that, and not the fact that
+another has learned the truth, that destroys her safety.”
+
+Even at so serious a moment, she could not avoid playing with the
+subject:
+
+“Do you think her concerned in the murder?”
+
+“It is what I am not certain of,” he said frankly. “It is the murder
+that has revealed this--misfortune. I can find no motive that can
+account for her connection with the affair.”
+
+“I am of the opinion she had nothing to do with it,” she said, quite
+positively. “If all this is true, she would naturally have no love for
+the child of her mistake; but you surely cannot think on that account
+that she was guilty of murder--the cruelest murder one could imagine
+under the circumstances! Certainly, if there was anything to tempt to
+murder, anything that would have advantaged her, it passed long ago.”
+
+“I have thought of that,” he said, “but is it not possible that
+something may have occurred recently that alarmed her--something that
+made her feel it necessary to go to extremes to which, naturally, she
+would be unwilling to resort, excepting under the direst necessity?”
+
+“I do not think,” she said, lifting her head with some imperiousness,
+“that such a woman is likely to be alarmed. She would have lived that
+down long since. More than that, she would have brains enough to see
+that a crime, more than all else, would endanger her secret. This woman
+could not have been brainless.”
+
+“Far from it,” he assured her. “I am inclined to rate her as the ablest
+woman I have ever met.”
+
+She bowed as recognising a personal compliment.
+
+“You have met her, then?”
+
+“Yes,” he said. “I have met her.”
+
+“Would you mind telling me the impression she made on you--that is,
+as regards her possible connection with this crime? My curiosity is
+roused.”
+
+“I think she is now incapable of it,” he said. “That she might not have
+been at one time, I am less certain; but if there was such a time, it
+has passed. Success had mollified resentment and increased the feeling
+of safety. Still, if she believed herself in danger, I do not think she
+would hesitate at any extreme. It would, however, take much to arouse a
+conviction of danger.”
+
+“I am inclined to think your judgment sound,” she said. “What can you
+tell me of the man who now shares with her the knowledge of the facts
+in the case?”
+
+“That he would not assert such knowledge unless he possessed every
+detail and was absolutely able to identify every person connected
+with the affair and verify every date and place. You may take his
+assertion that he knows, as absolute evidence of this. His only object
+in searching this matter out was the unravelling of the mystery of
+a crime. If he thought for one instant that the revelation of the
+facts would aid in unravelling that crime, he would not hesitate at
+the revelation. Convinced that it would not aid, the secret is as safe
+with him as if it did not exist. At present the secret, as far as he is
+concerned, does not exist.”
+
+“Of course,” she said; “the woman would prefer, greatly prefer, that
+the secret should have died with the man who shared it with her.
+Failing that, she could not feel safer than to have it in the hands
+of such a man as you describe. There is, however, I should think, one
+further assurance that she might desire.”
+
+“I think if it were a possible thing to promise, the man as I know him
+would be disposed to promise.”
+
+“It is that if at any time in the future it should seem to him that
+the woman was concerned in the crime, if there arise any circumstances
+that call for explanation, he will come to her and first submit them to
+her. I think under these circumstances, he might largely rely upon her
+telling him the truth--at least, upon her not telling him a falsehood.”
+
+“Of course,” he said, “I speak only of my impression, but that is that
+she may rely absolutely upon his adopting this course.”
+
+“I trust this enables us to end this interview,” she said, with no
+relaxation of her dignity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Hunting Broken Bones
+
+
+Millbank cherished its tragedy as something that gave it pre-eminence
+among its neighbours, and half the male population turned detectives on
+the spot. To many members of the community, however, the affair bore
+a most serious aspect, heightened by the conviction that no actual
+progress had been made towards the solution of the mystery. Such men
+as McManus, the county attorney, and the town counsel, looked upon
+the testimony which tended to implicate Oldbeg as a concession to the
+public demand that something should be done, and as covering rather
+than revealing the serious business of the investigation. They were
+inclined to be indignant at what they regarded as the direction of
+unjust suspicion against an innocent person, and the more so when they
+saw how public sentiment was roused against the unfortunate man.
+
+In fact, there were whispers among the least responsible that if the
+law was to interpose delays, it might become the duty of the citizens
+to take the execution of justice into their own hands. It was the
+county judge who first called attention to the danger to the town and
+county that lurked in such loose talk, indulged in at the start by idle
+men and boys, but working as a leaven that might finally affect the
+entire community.
+
+“There’s just the material down there to give your town a blacker
+tragedy than it’s had yet,” he said to McManus one day after court.
+“The guilty had better go unpunished than be punished through violation
+of the law.”
+
+McManus turned sharply, with that nervous quickness that made him
+forget the judge in the speaker:
+
+“The guilty! The guilty! No man is guilty till the law has found him
+so! How long since suspicion was proof?”
+
+The judge, who appreciated the strain which the death of his partner
+and friend had thrown upon McManus, let the brusqueness of the answer
+pass, but still was insistent:
+
+“It’s no time for refinements or phrasings. It isn’t the idle alone who
+expect impossibilities. Most of your people think Trafford’s failed
+before he’s had time to begin. There’s got to be something done to
+feed their impatience and gain time. A Yankee’s substitute for doing
+something is to hold a public meeting.”
+
+McManus shook his head.
+
+“With the chances that it would end in a hanging-bee,” he said.
+
+When, however, McManus returned to Millbank from the county town, he
+found affairs so far more menacing than he had anticipated as to lead
+him to take counsel with the more prominent citizens. Naturally almost
+the first man to whom he broached the matter was Charles Hunter, the
+head of the leading logging firm.
+
+Hunter was a man who at the age of thirty-five was already recognised
+as the first business man of the town. Succeeding to a business
+built up by his father, he had doubled it and doubled it again. Its
+operations extended over the entire northern part of the State, and
+into Canada, and were closely interlocked with the immense logging
+interests of the Penobscot and the Androscoggin. President of the
+Millbank National Bank, he was also on the Board of leading banks
+in Augusta, Bangor, and Portland, and as a member of the Governor’s
+staff he had attained the rank of colonel--that warlike title which so
+many exceedingly peaceful gentlemen parade with pride. In fact, his
+operations had touched all interests save politics, for his title had
+more of a social than a political significance.
+
+“Undoubtedly,” he said, “Trafford is entitled to make a show for
+the money he’s getting, and we can understand his giving us some
+horse-play; but it’s going too far when he endangers an innocent
+man, to say nothing of the good name of the town. The episode of the
+revolver found twenty-four hours after the murder is mere child’s play.
+I shouldn’t have thought it would have taken for a moment.”
+
+“You think Trafford put it there?”
+
+“I think he knew when to look for it and when not to. He looked for it
+at the right time, at any rate.”
+
+“I don’t think Trafford’s so much to blame for producing the pistol as
+Coroner Burke,” McManus said. “I was watching him at the time, and I
+thought him annoyed at the question.”
+
+“Whoever is to blame,” Hunter answered, with the positiveness of a man
+accustomed to rely much on his own judgment and to have others do the
+same, “the mischief’s done. Half the town is certain that Oldbeg is the
+murderer. It’s being whispered that Mrs. Parlin hired him to do it, so
+she could have the money, and the fact that she doesn’t discharge the
+man is held to be proof of the fact. Then, with the logic of dolts,
+they declare that she hired Trafford because she was afraid of him.”
+
+A look of horror showed in McManus’s face at this statement of the
+public attitude. Surely, Mrs. Parlin had suffered enough without having
+to bear this injustice.
+
+“But don’t they see,” he remonstrated, “if this was the case, Trafford
+would have been the last to turn suspicion upon Oldbeg?”
+
+“They don’t see anything!” exclaimed Hunter impatiently. “They’re
+simply hanging-mad. They believe Trafford too smart not to have
+solved this thing in a fortnight, and at the same time they believe
+him a big enough fool to have sold himself. They think Oldbeg guilty,
+because there’s nobody else in sight, and because they think him
+guilty, they must believe that Trafford and Mrs. Parlin are protecting
+him. Therefore, Mrs. Parlin must be guilty too, and therefore, again,
+Trafford must be trying to cover up the facts.”
+
+Hunter expressed in his somewhat querulous tone much of the feeling
+that prevailed in the business community. Men felt it a disgrace that
+an unprovoked murder could occur under their very eyes, as it were, and
+remain without the slightest progress towards solution for more than
+a fortnight. In a large community, the police would have come in for
+sneers and ridicule. In this case, the detective had to bear the brunt
+of the complaints.
+
+Hunter, intent for the good name of the town, suggested finally that a
+subscription reward be offered in addition to that of the county and
+town and that offered by Mrs. Parlin. He was willing to guarantee a
+substantial sum.
+
+“I think also,” he said, “we should put another detective to work. I
+can’t see any harm if Trafford is on the square, and it may do a lot of
+good if he isn’t.”
+
+“It’s against all principle to put a case into two men’s hands,”
+McManus objected. “We certainly ought to dismiss the one before we hire
+a second.”
+
+“We haven’t hired the first yet,” Hunter answered roughly. “We can’t
+object to Mrs. Parlin employing a detective, if she wants to; but she
+as certainly can’t object to our doing the same thing. If, however, we
+put a man to work, let him keep his hands off that statement of Judge
+Parlin’s.”
+
+McManus started.
+
+“You think it genuine?”
+
+Hunter looked as if the question tired him. He was a tall dark man,
+with an unusually expressive face, and was not accustomed to concealing
+his feelings.
+
+“That’s more of your horse-play. Whether the paper’s genuine or not
+can’t have any bearing on the murder. It isn’t to be imagined, if
+it’s a forgery, that there was a purpose to make it public after the
+principals in the affair were dead. It’s a false scent and meant to be
+a false scent.”
+
+On the very evening on which Charles Hunter urged the employment of an
+additional detective, Trafford was handed a telegram telling him that
+Charles Matthewson had left Augusta on the late afternoon train up the
+river. It had been an easy matter to ascertain that he had not left the
+train either at the main station in Millbank or at the Bridge-stop,
+but none the less the detective had an uneasy feeling that the man
+might be in town. If so, whom did he come to see and why did he come
+and go so mysteriously? He could see no possible connection between
+the relationship of Wing with Matthewson and the murder, and yet he
+could not divest his mind of the impression that there was some mystery
+going on before his very eyes which he had not fathomed, but which, if
+fathomed, would bear upon the discovery of the murderer.
+
+A half-hour or so before the down train was due to leave the Millbank
+station, he left the hotel and walked down Canaan Street to its
+junction with Somerset Street and the covered and enclosed bridge that
+spans the river at that point. Here, upon the very brink of the river,
+fifty feet above the water, stood the small brick building of the
+Millbank National Bank. The bridge and the bank lay in shadow, for it
+was a moonless night and the street lamp at the entrance of the bridge
+was not lighted. Above the bridge was the dash and roar of the falls;
+below, the steady murmur of the narrowed current, between its rocky
+walls that rise more than fifty feet from the water’s edge.
+
+“Thunder!” he thought, “there are some creepy places around this town,
+especially when they can’t sponge on the moon for light. If I was an
+inspired detective, I’d know whether there was any danger in that
+bridge. As I ain’t, I guess I’ll take the centre.”
+
+He advanced into the darkness of the drive, which was pitchy black,
+solid plank walls dividing it from the footwalk on either hand. He was
+half-way through, when he suddenly felt the presence of some one near
+him, though he could see or hear nothing. He stopped, and absolute
+stillness reigned, save the tumult of the water above and below. He
+had walked close to the wall on the down-river side, so that his form
+might not be outlined against the opening of the bridge, and he was
+conscious that he was as completely concealed, since he had advanced
+a rod into the darkness, as were his companions. It was a question of
+endurance, and in that his training gave him the advantage.
+
+Softly there came out of the darkness a noise as of the moving of a
+tired leg. Inch by inch Trafford crept close to the board wall, until
+now it was at his back, with one of the heavy timbers protecting his
+left arm. His right was free for defence. The sound indicated a man
+within a few feet of him on his left.
+
+Suddenly there was the sharp swish of a club in the air, and the thud
+of contact with a living body, followed by a loud cry of pain and
+
+“_Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!_”
+
+“_Mon dieu! Où est le chien?_”
+
+Two men rushed past toward the Millbank end, with a jabber of Canadian
+French, from which Trafford learned that the assailed feared that his
+shoulder was broken.
+
+“One marked for identification,” he chuckled, as he slid along in the
+deep shadow toward the farther end.
+
+He had satisfied himself of one thing he was anxious about, and with
+another at hand had no time to waste on a man who could be found in the
+morning for the mere asking. He was too keen on the question whether
+Charles Matthewson was in Millbank, to allow a needless diversion.
+If Matthewson was in town, it showed a terrible uneasiness at the
+bottom of his wanderings--an uneasiness that forbade his trusting to
+others for information and yet demanded information at first hands, so
+imperatively that he was willing to take enormous risks to obtain it.
+
+“It would have been a coincidence, if I’d been murdered to-night,”
+said Trafford, in his wonted confidential talk with himself; “with
+Matthewson in town as he was the night of the other murder.”
+
+Trafford crossed the railroad bridge and so attained the Millbank
+station without attracting attention. He saw every one of the
+half-dozen passengers who boarded the train, but found no trace of the
+man he was seeking. As the train slowed up for the Bridge stop, he
+swung off into the dark in time to catch sight of a figure swinging on
+from the same dark side. It was not Matthewson, and he was just turning
+away, when suddenly he changed his purpose and as the train moved off
+was again on the rear platform. He rode there to the next station, and
+then changed his quarters to the baggage car. He had identified his
+man; now he was after his destination.
+
+This proved to be Waterville. A private carriage was waiting, and into
+it the man jumped, driving away rapidly. There was but one way to
+follow and keep the carriage in sight, and Trafford made a half-mile
+in quick time, clinging to the back-bar and resting his weight on his
+hands and arms. He dropped to the ground and crept away as the carriage
+turned into the driveway of an extensive country place, which the
+detective recognised as that of Henry Matthewson, a younger brother of
+Charles, and a man largely interested in the logging business.
+
+“Humph,” he said. “This time he comes part way and they bring him the
+news. Well; it ain’t of my murder, though some folks may wish it was
+before many hours have passed.”
+
+Before daylight, he had his operatives on hand while he himself took
+the early train back to Millbank. The delicate work just now was to
+be done there, and this he would trust to no one save himself. His
+appreciation of the importance of the case and the sensation that would
+be produced when it was finally unravelled, had increased immensely
+since he crossed Millbank Bridge, and he had no purpose to see it
+botched by clumsy handling.
+
+After breakfast he went directly to Mr. Wing’s office and sought an
+interview with Mr. McManus.
+
+“I want,” he said, “to go through all the papers again in Wing’s safe
+and, if you have any private papers of his, through those as well. So
+far, we are absolutely adrift and we have a double task on our hands,
+for we’ve got to clear Oldbeg of suspicion as well as discover the real
+murderer.”
+
+“Then you dismiss all suspicion that Oldbeg had anything to do with the
+murder?”
+
+“If you can dismiss an idea you never entertained. In a certain sense
+every man in town was under suspicion--Oldbeg no more than another.
+This job, however, was not the work of a clumsy man like Oldbeg. When
+we find the murderer, you’ll find a man of quick motions, delicacy of
+touch, strong purpose, assured position, and considerable refinement.
+You’ll find a man to whom murder is repugnant and who resorted to it
+only as a last desperate chance. You’ll find therefore a man who was
+desperate, whose all was at stake, and who knew that Wing’s continued
+living meant the loss of that all. Now, if you can tell me where there
+is such a man, I’ll give you proof of his guilt so conclusive before
+night that no one will hesitate to approve his arrest.”
+
+As he spoke, McManus grew pale. Something brought a terrible picture
+before his eyes. As never before, he realised the desperate chase in
+which they were involved.
+
+“It was, then, in your opinion no mere desire for sordid gain that
+impelled to the crime?”
+
+“Who has gained by it? Some one that by it has been saved from loss,
+and tremendous loss. Don’t fool yourself. Don’t look for any common
+criminal, and above all don’t flatter yourself for one moment that
+the criminal will stop at any additional crime to prevent detection.
+If detected, he’s lost everything. He can’t lose any more with twenty
+murders to his charge.”
+
+McManus glanced over his shoulder, as if he expected to see the
+murderer rise out of vacancy in his own defence.
+
+“What connection then has Judge Parlin’s statement with the crime?” he
+asked uneasily.
+
+“It’s a mere incident--an accident, as you might say, that holds its
+place by its own sensational character and the tensity of nervous
+interest aroused in the public mind by the crime itself. It had nothing
+to do with the crime, or the cause that led up to it. I don’t believe
+the murderer knew of its existence. At the same time it’s one of those
+accidents that may lead to things to which it’s in no way related. It
+may be the very thing that’ll ultimately set us on the right track.
+Don’t lose sight of it for a moment.”
+
+McManus looked as if the caution were wholly uncalled for. There was
+not much danger of his losing sight of anything that had to do with
+the murder. One might have suspected from his looks that he wished he
+could.
+
+After making an appointment for three in the afternoon to examine
+papers, Trafford left the office and went to a little dingy room, in
+Gray’s Inn Lane, where he was joined almost immediately by a tall,
+seedy-looking man, evidently of Canadian stock, whose French was only
+a trifle worse than his English. He was a man whom few men would have
+trusted and whom Trafford had always found absolutely trustworthy.
+The man shook his head, with many a gestured negative. Not a man was
+missing from Little Canada; every man who was open to suspicion was
+accounted for, and not one of them showed a broken collar-bone or a
+shattered arm.
+
+“But there are other Canucks in town, outside Little Canada,” said
+Trafford.
+
+The report included all. The man had determined the whereabouts of
+every Canadian of sixteen years of age and upwards, and there was
+not one who bore marks of the blow delivered on the bridge the night
+before.
+
+“But he was a Canuck,” said Trafford, with positiveness that admits
+no question; “and it’s a bigger miracle than any of their relics ever
+performed before, if he don’t carry a broken bone to-day. There’s
+somebody missing.”
+
+The man shook his head. He had accounted for the last of them.
+
+“Do you think it was a dream or a nightmare?” Trafford demanded, with
+some asperity.
+
+The man shrugged and lifted his shoulders, in deprecation of the tone
+of the demand.
+
+“All right,” said Trafford at last. “Take the afternoon train to
+Augusta and resume your work there. I’ll give this personal attention.”
+
+The man hesitated a moment and then, coming close to him and lowering
+his voice, spoke rapidly and anxiously.
+
+“You are taking risks, Mr. Trafford. This is no ordinary case. You
+can’t tell what you’ve got against you. Two men can go safely where one
+can’t.”
+
+“And one can go safely sometimes where two are a danger. I’ve taken
+risks all my life--it’s my business to take ’em. You don’t suppose I
+chose this business because of its freedom from danger, do you?”
+
+“A brave man doesn’t court danger; he simply meets it bravely when it
+comes.”
+
+“Well, I’ll try to meet it that way if it comes. At present Millbank
+looks like a fairly safe place. I don’t think I’ll get my throat cut
+here.”
+
+“But you aren’t going to stay here,” the man urged. “You know you
+aren’t. You’re going----”
+
+“We’ll dispense with information as to where I’m going,” Trafford
+interrupted. “It’s probably safe to state, but it’s possibly not. We’ll
+keep on the absolutely safe side as long as possible. Your train leaves
+in fifteen minutes.”
+
+The gesticulating Canadian reappeared on the instant. Discipline
+asserted itself, and the man prepared to obey without further
+remonstrance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A Man Disappears
+
+
+Trafford sent a hasty note to McManus, postponing the afternoon
+appointment, and made ready to visit the logging drives at work along
+the Kennebec. It was certain that no physician in Millbank had set a
+broken shoulder or arm within the twenty-four hours; no man of the
+character sought had left by any of the trains or stages, and the river
+afforded the only unguarded means of escape. A canoe or river-driver’s
+boat could easily come and go unnoticed, and it tallied with other
+points in hand that the assailants were connected with the logging
+interests. Another point in the case was that, in almost all the large
+gangs of drivers, there was sure to be some one roughly skilled in
+surgery, who could attend to minor accidents and even, temporarily, to
+those of a severer nature, such as are apt to occur, often at points
+far distant from skilled practitioners. Such a man could, under
+emergency, even possibly have set the arm or shoulder, and could
+certainly have cared for it until a surgeon at Norridgewock or farther
+up the river was reached. As yet the logging drives were all above
+Millbank Falls, so that Trafford’s search pointed entirely in that
+direction.
+
+Every schoolboy or farmer’s lad is a walking directory to any logging
+drive within five miles, and Trafford had no difficulty in learning
+that the nearest drive was at the Bombazee Rips, above Norridgewock.
+Here he found the ordinary gang of a dozen men, with boats and the
+implements of their trade, at work on the logs which were beginning to
+jam against those that had first grounded on the ledge at the head of
+the rips. Full half of the gang were French Canadians, small, dark men
+of wonderful litheness and agility, men with a tenacity of life that
+seems to bid defiance to the wet and exposure of their trade. It was
+hard work by day, hard sleep by night, often in clothes soaked with the
+river water; yet cheerful, healthful good humour was evidenced in the
+loud chatter that came with every lull in the work. It was here that
+the grown lads of the Chaudière, Megantic, and St. François valleys
+secured that schooling in the English tongue from which race jealousy
+barred them at home.
+
+A roughly constructed shanty of pine slabs, the earth bountifully
+spread with clean straw, served for sleeping; while in front was an
+immense fire of logs, which served double purpose, for warmth in the
+evening and cooking in the daytime. An old woodsman, whose driving
+days were past, acted as cook and general camp care-taker. A group of
+boys flittered about the fire, shanty, and boats. The older ones made
+ventures upon the logs, and sometimes lent a hand to a driver, handling
+a pick or cant-hook, a feat that made one a hero with his fellows for
+the remainder of the day.
+
+It was entirely permissible for a countryman, such as Trafford
+appeared, on curiosity bent, to enter the sleeping-place or seat
+himself by the fire. Indeed, at mealtime he would scarcely fail, by
+virtue of his age, of an invitation to share in the coarse food,
+a privilege which the boys viewed with keen envy. These boys were
+unconscious spies, upon the sharpness of whose eyes Trafford counted
+much. They went everywhere and saw everything, and if there was an
+injured man in camp, it would take skill to keep him concealed from
+them.
+
+Trafford chatted pleasantly with the cook and joked the boys, before
+he opened in a general way the subject of accidents--of which he
+seemed to stand in apprehension, declaring that log-driving was in his
+opinion the most dangerous of trades. At that the boys raised a shout
+of derision and extolled the trade to the skies. There was not one of
+them but was consumed with desire for a driver’s life, exactly as he
+would be for any other life of freedom and activity whose claims for
+the moment were pressed upon him.
+
+The old man, on the other hand, admitted the element of danger, and
+thrilled his hearers with accounts of hairbreadth escapes which he had
+witnessed in the long years that he had been on the river. There had
+been deaths, too; deaths from drowning and from crushing in the log
+jams. Still, the life was a grand one for the man who was not afraid
+of hard work, and if he had his to live over, he would live it on the
+river again. There had been no accidents as yet, the jams were light
+and easily moved. It was only here and there with this water that any
+serious troubles were had. Oh, yes; Millbank Falls; that, of course,
+was different. There was a hard drive, and when they got there in the
+course of the next week, they would have a lively tussle.
+
+From camp to camp, Trafford worked up to the Forks of the River and
+then up the Dead River branch, and again across to the main river
+and up into the Megantic woods. Nowhere was there any trace of an
+injured man or a hint of knowledge of one. Wherever the camp was near
+a village, so that boys gathered around, they were of material aid in
+giving him information. In spite, however, of every device, he came
+back down the river unsuccessful and depressed. He had a feeling of
+defeat, as if in every camp some one were laughing at him as outwitted.
+He knew the unreason of the feeling and yet could not escape it.
+
+Nor was there, when he reached Millbank, any information from the lower
+part of the river or from any of the surgeons whom, within a radius of
+thirty miles, he had caused to be interrogated. It was if the earth
+had opened and swallowed up the man--or--and he stood above the falls
+and looked at the water rushing over them, as if he would question
+it and wrest an answer from it. It was certain that the man--a man,
+whose personality he could merely guess at--had disappeared. It was
+like ridding himself of a nightmare to throw off the uneasiness that
+oppressed him.
+
+Immediately on his return, Trafford sought an interview with Mrs.
+Parlin. The time was coming when the inquest must be reconvened, and as
+yet there was nothing of advance since the hour when it had adjourned.
+Even he was grown impatient and he could not marvel that a woman, under
+the nervous strain of his employer, should be fast becoming irritably
+so.
+
+“We have no right,” she said, “to leave an innocent man under suspicion
+as Jonathan has been left. If we can’t find the murderer, we can at
+least prove that it isn’t he.”
+
+“Unfortunately, until we find the man, the majority will believe him
+guilty,” Trafford replied.
+
+“What right had you to throw suspicion on him?” she demanded.
+
+“The right of the coroner to know every fact that bears on the case.
+It would have been as unjustifiable to conceal Oldbeg’s purchase of a
+revolver, as it would to conceal the finding of the weapon.”
+
+“Why wasn’t it there the morning of the eleventh?” she asked.
+
+“My dear madam,” he said with a gentle smile, “if we knew that, we’d
+know who the murderer is. We’d know it, that is: but possibly not in a
+way that we could prove.”
+
+“Precious little good that would do us,” she answered.
+
+“So much good that the chances are ninety-nine in a hundred that the
+proof would be forthcoming. There are few men who are shrewd enough to
+cover every trace.”
+
+“But these seem to be of the few,” she said.
+
+“We are not through with them yet,” he replied; and then suddenly: “Has
+the new detective, employed by Hunter and his friends, been here?”
+
+He had, and had made a critical examination of the house from cellar
+to attic; had been through the papers in the desk and safe, and had
+taken away a number of scraps from the former.
+
+“He didn’t get the writing-pad, though,” he said.
+
+“No; that disturbed him; especially when I told him you had it.”
+
+“The--deuce you did!” he exclaimed. “I wish--you hadn’t!”
+
+“I had no right to conceal so important a fact,” she said.
+
+Trafford bit his lip over this turn of his own argument, but made no
+retort. He recognised in this second detective a graver impediment than
+the cunning of the criminal--if, indeed, it was not the cunning of the
+criminal that had interjected the second detective into the affair.
+Working independently, it was scarcely possible that they could do
+otherwise than thwart each other. He had the feeling that the case was
+his and that no other had a professional right to throw himself into
+it. If he had been on the verge of success, he would have withdrawn
+from the case. As it was, the same professional pride that resented
+intrusion, forbade his taking such a course.
+
+For the twentieth time he asked:
+
+“He certainly did a large amount of work at home and must have had
+papers connected with the work here?”
+
+“Why, certainly,” she said. “He always had a lot of professional papers
+here.”
+
+Trafford looked at her as if doubting whether he should ask the
+question that hung on his lips. But he must have facts, and here if
+anywhere was the information he needed. Could he trust the woman?
+Finally he came and stood over her chair, as if he was afraid of the
+walls even, and asked:
+
+“Was this always his habit?”
+
+“No,” she answered; “not while the judge was living, and never indeed
+until about two years ago. Yes, it began about two years ago.”
+
+“It was not a habit learned from the judge, then?”
+
+“Oh, no! Of course, he brought papers home at times, and so did
+Theodore; but he never kept them at home until within the last two
+years.”
+
+“Did Cranston ask you about this?” Trafford demanded.
+
+“No,” she said, “no, he did not.”
+
+“If he does, avoid answering him, if possible.” Then he stopped as if
+he had gone too far, and she, seeing his embarrassment, checked the
+answer that came to her lips.
+
+He sat for some time silent, and then glanced up to intercept a look
+that she bent upon him.
+
+“What is it?” he asked.
+
+“Have you talked with Mr. Hunter--the one who was in Theodore’s office,
+I mean?”
+
+“Is he of the same family as Mr. Hunter who owns the great logging
+interests?”
+
+“His brother.”
+
+“How long has he been in the office?” he asked carelessly--so
+carelessly that she forgot he had not answered her question.
+
+“About two and a half years. I think Theodore thought him an
+acquisition and had great confidence in his ability.”
+
+“A good stock,” he said, “for pushing.” Then he added after a short
+pause:
+
+“Mrs. Parlin, at the inquest you expressed in the strongest terms your
+confidence that the statement presented was actually written by your
+husband. Have you had any cause since to change your mind?”
+
+“Not the slightest,” she said. “On the contrary, the facts there stated
+account for many things that were strange to me before. There is no
+question as to the facts, and none as to his having written them.”
+
+“That being the case, they can have nothing to do with the murder.
+The only other person who knew these facts was directly interested in
+keeping them concealed. Even admitting, as might be possible, that in
+order effectually to prevent exposure, she had been capable of killing
+or having her son killed, would she find any likelihood of this in a
+murder that would centre on him the interest of the entire State? Of
+course, she did not know of the existence of this paper, and she could
+not know that the murder would make the case public, but she would know
+that if he knew the facts, and had any interest in their publicity, he
+would have acted long ago. She would also know that if you knew the
+facts, your interest was that of secrecy, the chance of which would be
+diminished in the excitement of a murder case. Now that’s my reasoning,
+and through it I reach the conclusion that the facts revealed in that
+statement have nothing to do with the murder. I have since confirmed
+this by facts outside those from which I reasoned. I haven’t told a
+soul this before, not even McManus. I don’t want a soul save you to
+know it now; not even McManus. But now I’m going to ask you a question,
+which I believe has some bearing upon the causes of the murder, and
+that is: Why, if Mr. Wing had for two years been keeping many of his
+business papers at home, was there not one of them in his desk or safe
+the morning the murder was discovered?”
+
+“No papers in his desk or safe?” she said, while a look almost of
+terror came over her face. “You must be mistaken! Why, there was a
+package on his desk, lying right on the writing-pad, when I bade him
+good-night.”
+
+“Would you recognise it again if you saw it?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then look through the safe and see if you can find it.”
+
+He opened the safe and she went through it package by package, while
+he waited with that patience that comes of long training, until, the
+search finished, she looked up and said:
+
+“It isn’t here!”
+
+“It was here at nine o’clock on the night of the tenth; it wasn’t here
+at six on the morning of the eleventh. What do you make of that?”
+
+“It had been stolen!” she gasped, looking pale and perplexed.
+
+“There might be one other explanation,” he interposed; “and we are
+bound to look at that carefully. Mr. Wing might have burned them. He
+had a fire that evening.”
+
+“Yes,” she said, “he might.”
+
+“I made sure on that point,” he then explained, “the morning of the
+murder. Not from any suspicion that papers were missing, but on the
+principle of taking note of everything, even the most trivial. I can
+assure you that there were no papers of any amount burned in the
+fireplace the night before. We could scarcely expect it; but it would
+have been a stroke of genius if the thief had burned some papers to
+throw us off the track.”
+
+“The thief!” she repeated.
+
+“You must see,” he said, “that the theft of the papers presupposes a
+thief. I have been certain from the start that some one was in the room
+after the murder. What he was after I haven’t known until now. He was
+at the safe, which he must have found open. Some one who wanted those
+papers wanted them enough to induce him to commit this murder, and
+then to enter the room and search the safe, while the dead man lay at
+the door. It was a terrible risk--as terrible as that of the murder
+itself. Suppose Oldbeg had been a half-hour later in coming home. He
+would unquestionably have found the murdered man with the murderers in
+the room. By just that narrow margin this perplexing mystery escaped
+proving a mere blundering crime.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+“You are My Mother”
+
+
+Three men sat in conference in the small library at Henry Matthewson’s
+residence at Waterville, the morning after the bridge incident. These
+were Henry Matthewson himself, three years younger than his brother
+Charles, opposite whom was the man who had come from Millbank by the
+midnight train, Frank Hunter, brother of Charles Hunter and himself an
+attorney in the late Mr. Wing’s office.
+
+“The papers are not in the office,” Hunter was saying. “I was nearly
+certain he did not keep them there, but I made the search carefully.”
+
+“How about his private safe at home?” Henry Matthewson asked.
+
+“Of course I’ve had no opportunity to examine that----”
+
+“You should have made one,” said Charles Matthewson sternly.
+
+The remark threw a chill over the talk, that made it a little difficult
+to break the embarrassed silence that followed. At last, Hunter said:
+
+“It was too dangerous to risk turning any general question in that
+direction. Besides, Trafford had the first shy at that.”
+
+“Mr. Hunter is right,” Henry Matthewson said, with that tone that men
+described as “masterful,” and which generally prevailed with Charles,
+in part because it so much resembled his mother’s. “It would have been
+too much risk.”
+
+“What are you going to do?” demanded Charles; “let the papers fall
+into Trafford’s hands, to be used against us, or sold back to us at an
+enormous price? Wing’s death came at a strangely opportune time; are we
+going to throw the chance away?”
+
+“If there were papers,” Henry affirmed, “McManus or Trafford had them
+almost before we heard of the murder. We want to know whether there
+were papers or not, but we don’t want to advertise their existence. If
+we get a chance to buy, we may think ourselves lucky.”
+
+“Trafford!” said Hunter with a touch of scorn in his voice. “We owe
+them thanks for putting him on to the job.”
+
+“Are you certain of your grounds for judgment, Mr. Hunter?” Charles
+Matthewson asked. “I’m a little afraid you underrate his ability.”
+
+“Why, what’s he found out in his fortnight’s work?” demanded Hunter.
+
+“That’s just what I’d like to find out, but can’t,” said Matthewson.
+“Whatever he’s after, he acts as if he’d get it first and do his
+crowing afterwards.”
+
+“Trafford’s at the top, so far as ability is concerned,” said Henry;
+“and the next best man’s Cranston. If you’re going to set a man at
+work, you’d better take him. There are two things for him to do: First,
+keep track of Trafford and let him give us notice quick if he hears
+of the papers; second, work up the story of Wing’s birth. We’ve got
+to keep that more in the public eye. I can’t for the life of me see
+anything in it to lead to the murder, but the public think there’s some
+connection between the two, and we mustn’t let them lose sight of it.”
+
+“But there must have been some motive in the murder,” Hunter affirmed.
+
+“If we can get hold of the papers, we’ll let the motive take care of
+itself,” Charles interposed. “To think, I was in Millbank that very
+night--almost at the very moment! If I’d known--I’d have found out what
+was in that room before any detective had a chance!”
+
+He looked at Hunter with an implication of failure. He would gladly
+have defended himself, but he remembered that he might have been on the
+scene before McManus, and that he had dawdled over his breakfast and
+let the opportunity slip. No one would have refused him admission any
+more than McManus had been refused. How many anxious hours he might
+have saved himself!
+
+As a result of the conference, Cranston was sent for and put on the
+case. He listened to his instructions and then said:
+
+“I’ve got to know what you want, if I’m to work with any advantage to
+you or myself. You want to find out who Wing’s mother was--but that’s
+incidental. You want to know who murdered Wing--but that’s incidental.
+What is it I’m to do really?”
+
+Again Henry Matthewson showed his superior masterfulness by deciding
+and acting.
+
+“Mr. Wing had been for some time at work upon a matter that concerns
+materially the logging interests of this State. We simply know the
+fact, for he took no one into his confidence, and was so secretive as
+to keep the papers about him or in his private safe in his library.
+Without knowing what the papers contain, we believe if they should fall
+into the hand of a less scrupulous man than Mr. Wing, they might become
+dangerous--that is, a source of blackmail. We want to locate those
+papers, and if possible get possession of them.”
+
+“How far am I warranted in going in order to get hold of them?” he
+asked.
+
+“Only to locate them and report to me. We will decide then on the safe
+course.” It was Henry Matthewson who spoke, as always when prompt
+decision was demanded.
+
+“If they had not already been removed,” said Cranston, “Trafford and
+McManus have had a chance long since to secure them. I’m like to find
+them in their hands.”
+
+“Excepting that they might not know their value,” said Charles
+Matthewson.
+
+Cranston looked at the speaker quizzically.
+
+“I don’t know about your Mr. McManus,” he said. “He’s a lawyer. But as
+to Trafford, I can answer. If he’s had his hands on those papers, he
+knows their value.”
+
+“I don’t think,” said Hunter, after the detective had received his
+instructions and gone, “that my brother would quite approve time spent
+in discovering Wing’s mother. He doesn’t believe that affair had
+anything to do with the murder.”
+
+“How can any sensible man?” Henry Matthewson demanded impatiently; “but
+we don’t know where the enquiry is going to land us nor what help we
+may want before we’re through. If the judge’s statement is true, this
+woman has a high position to lose and has great influence with her
+husband, who holds a strong place politically. It can’t be a matter of
+much trouble to unravel that part of the affair, and it may give us
+some one whom we can use advantageously in case of an emergency. It
+may bring to our aid a force that naturally would be glad to crush us.
+I’ll take the risk at any rate!”
+
+“All right,” said Hunter. “I’m agreeable, though I thought it proper to
+state my brother’s position.”
+
+Cranston entered upon his work at once and with zeal. His first visit
+was to Millbank and the Parlin house, where, as has been said, he
+searched from top to bottom. He plied Mrs. Parlin with questions that
+finally got from her the story of the package of papers, which she was
+not conscious of having seen until his questions stirred her memory to
+recall a picture of the room the night before the murder. Then came
+out clearly and distinctly the package of papers lying on the desk.
+It was, however, equally certain that they were gone, and of this he
+was able to satisfy himself without letting Mrs. Parlin understand
+that he attached any importance to the matter. The task was left him
+of ascertaining whether Trafford or McManus had them. The episode of
+the writing-pad convinced him that Trafford was the man, and that the
+pad was simply a cover to the removal of the papers that were resting
+on it. It was this that caused the annoyance to which Mrs. Parlin had
+referred.
+
+He went over the ground under the consciousness that eyes at least
+as capable of seeing as his own had preceded him, and that there was
+little chance that anything had escaped them and less chance that, if
+there had, he would be able to discover it. It irritated him that men
+who wanted real service should call him in at so late an hour, and then
+seem to take it for granted that they had done all that was necessary.
+
+“Oldbeg has been here a good many years,” he said carelessly to Mrs.
+Parlin, who insisted on attending him in his investigation.
+
+“He’s been with us about six years; one year before the judge died.”
+
+“You have always found him faithful?”
+
+“There has been nothing particular to complain of. He’s been steady and
+has worked hard and usually shown good temper.”
+
+“Usually,” Cranston repeated. “Then sometimes he hasn’t.”
+
+“He has his off-days, the same as the rest of us; days when things
+don’t go right and he gets surly. But those spells pass quickly
+and he’s always sorry for them, seemingly. There aren’t any of us
+smooth-feathered all the time.”
+
+“When did he have one of these ‘off-days,’ as you call them, last?” The
+tone was careless, as if Cranston did not attach much importance to the
+enquiry, and yet made it, as in duty bound.
+
+“On the Sunday before----”
+
+“May ninth,” interrupted Cranston.
+
+“Yes. In the afternoon he was dressed up to go visiting. Theodore sent
+for him to put his driving horse into the light buggy, so he could
+drive to Norridgewock. Jonathan didn’t like it and said if he couldn’t
+have Sunday afternoons, he’d find some place where he could.”
+
+“Was that all there was to it?” Cranston asked, after waiting a moment
+for Mrs. Parlin to continue.
+
+“Why, about all. It’s all too silly to repeat.”
+
+“I’d rather judge of that,” Cranston said, more shortly perhaps than he
+intended.
+
+Mrs. Parlin grew cold and distant, with that poise of the head that, to
+her friends, at least, told of offence taken.
+
+“It was only irritation and he didn’t even mean that Theodore should
+hear him, but Theodore did and answered pretty sharply and----”
+
+“Please, what did he say?”
+
+“That he could go any time it suited him, and that, while he intended
+to give a man all the privileges he could, he intended also to have his
+services when he wanted them. Jonathan said if he wanted a man to work
+like a nigger, he’d better get one; and Theodore told him if he heard
+another word from him, he’d discharge him on the spot.” Mrs. Parlin had
+spoken formally and distantly, as if to assert the compulsion under
+which she complied with his demand.
+
+“Was that the end of it?” he asked.
+
+“Why, of course. Neither of them meant it, and the easiest way was to
+let it pass. Theodore understood that and didn’t refer to it again.
+It’s sometimes the best way to get along with hasty folks.”
+
+“But did Oldbeg forget it?” Cranston asked significantly.
+
+“Possibly not. He knew he was wrong and it made him uneasy, but of
+course, it all went when the terrible murder was discovered.”
+
+Cranston looked at her with a puzzled expression, and then smiled as he
+realised that she had not understood his question. He was glad that it
+was so, and at once passed to other matters.
+
+To Frank Hunter, however, that night he reported his conviction that
+the evidence pointed more strongly to Oldbeg as the murderer than he
+had supposed.
+
+“In fact,” he said, “there’s enough to justify his arrest, and with
+that I feel pretty certain he’ll break down and we’ll get the truth.”
+
+“But the papers,” said Hunter, impatiently. “Oldbeg could have had no
+knowledge of them, but they’re what we’re first of all interested in.”
+
+“Oh, as for them, Trafford’s got them beyond doubt. They were last
+seen on the writing-pad, and he made quite a show of taking that. It
+was nothing but a cover for the papers, of course. You’ve got to open
+negotiations with him for their purchase, but you can’t do that so long
+as he thinks they may have something to do with the murder. When the
+question of the murder’s out of the way, then the papers ’ll simply be
+papers and you can make quick work of ’em: another reason why you ought
+to arrest Oldbeg and get that settled.”
+
+“But my brother’s positive Oldbeg had nothing to do with the murder,
+and whatever his interest may be, he’s not going to let an innocent
+man suffer an unjust arrest. I’m confident, unless you can give him
+positive proofs in the matter, he’ll not allow it to be done.”
+
+“Well,” said the man sulkily, “I’m in your employ and shall obey
+orders, but if I was working on the case as a public matter, I’d have
+the arrest made and made quick.”
+
+Mr. Charles Hunter was obdurate. He declared that enough injustice had
+already been done in turning public suspicion against the man without a
+shred to hang it on, and he was not going to be a party to keeping it
+up.
+
+“It’ll take the man years to recover from it now,” he affirmed;
+“and an arrest would down him forever. Oh, yes, I know you bring in
+a motive in a petty fuss that occurred on Sunday--a thing that might
+happen anywhere and to any one. A man going to see his girl gets
+miffed because he has to harness a horse and is impertinent, and you
+conclude that that’s reason for his shooting his employer. It’s against
+all reason and common sense, and I won’t insult my intelligence by
+considering it.”
+
+“Most murders are against reason and common sense,” said the detective;
+“at least, that’s my experience, and more than that, nine murders out
+of ten are for absolutely trivial causes. Before you get through with
+this case, you’ll see Oldbeg arrested, or I’ll miss my guess.”
+
+“Well, I shan’t be responsible for it,” the other retorted.
+
+Thwarted in this part of his search, Cranston turned his attention
+to tracing Wing’s mother, to which both Hunter and the Matthewsons
+appeared to attach considerable importance--more, in fact, than he
+could find in it. Confessedly, it was a cover or subterfuge and meant
+the unearthing of a secret that might ruin a woman’s good name for a
+mistake made forty years before. It seemed to him a strange twist of
+conscience, which revolted at the arrest of a man for a crime of which
+circumstances tended to show him guilty, while it gave willing assent
+to bringing to light that which might have been lived down years before
+and redeemed by a clean life during more years than any of these men
+had lived.
+
+As soon, however, as he took up the matter, the spirit of the quest
+possessed him, and this grew strong as the facts unearthed began to
+point in a certain direction, while wonder and a low greed found seeds
+in the case as it unfolded. At last, with the truth before him, he
+was at the point where paths separated, with insistent necessity for
+him to take one or the other. Should he go to the woman and demand
+his price for silence; or should he give the sons the facts and make
+them the purchasers? Whichever he decided on, he would deal honestly
+as a man should, and he would not pit one against the other. Hence,
+the importance of the decision, for once made it barred him from
+negotiations with any one else. Preferably, he would keep the matter
+a secret from the sons, save that he had a shrewd suspicion that they
+were in a better position to pay the price than was the mother. On the
+other hand, the mother might prove the more defiant, especially if she
+credited his unwillingness to go to others. It was at best a delicate
+question, but fortunately it would “keep” and be as valuable a month
+hence as now. He could, therefore, wait and let development lead him in
+his decision.
+
+Then came the thought of Trafford. Trafford had, of course, followed
+up this clue and, equally of course, had unearthed the facts. He,
+therefore, was in the market, with the danger that he might not prove
+as “honourable” as Cranston purposed being, and, therefore, might
+damage the price that the latter had expected to obtain. Indeed, it
+was an awkward predicament for a man who had a valuable secret to sell
+and natural purchasers at hand, yet wished at the same time to shape
+his course to the demands of fair dealing and honour. Still, before he
+moved, it was necessary that he should ascertain, if possible, whether
+Trafford had approached either of the persons interested and if so,
+what he had done.
+
+It was the day on which Trafford returned from his fruitless visit to
+the logging drives. Charles Matthewson, uneasy and anxious, found his
+office more conducive to nervousness than work, and finally, throwing
+down his pen, had reached for his hat for a turn out of doors, when the
+door opened and his mother entered.
+
+“Why, mother,” he said, rising to meet her, and striving to stifle the
+apprehension her presence brought, “this is an unusual honour. It’s
+a pleasure I would not deny myself, yet I would have spared you the
+trouble if you had sent for me.”
+
+“I came to talk with you, Charles,” she said, as she took the proffered
+chair by the window; “and it was better and easier to talk here than at
+home.”
+
+“It is a matter of moment, mother?” he asked anxiously.
+
+Endowed though Charles Matthewson was with that relentless persistence,
+that knows no conscience save success in the pursuit of a purpose,
+which had carried the family so far, there was a gentler side to his
+nature that was wanting in his younger brother. The development of
+this was peculiarly in his relationship with his mother, who in turn
+gave him a tenderness of affection of which few dreamed her capable. A
+desire, born of all that was womanly in her masculine nature, had been
+fed by this son’s love, which was in strong contrast to the awe and
+deference accorded her by most of her relatives. It was no easy task
+for her to turn for aid to any one, but if she was forced to do so,
+it was naturally to Charles she would go. On the other hand, he knew
+her well enough to know that an appeal struck its roots deep before it
+could bring her to such a course.
+
+“Is it you, Charles, who are having this woman hunted down?”
+
+“What woman, mother?” he asked in surprise.
+
+She seemed to find difficulty in answering; but after a struggle,
+raised her head almost defiantly, and said in a hard, cold voice:
+
+“The mother of Theodore Wing.”
+
+His face hardened in turn to a strange resemblance to her own.
+
+“You have nothing to do with such a woman as that, mother.”
+
+“Every woman has to do with another who is being oppressed and wronged.
+Why is the dead past of that woman to be laid bare to the world?
+Are the years since her wrongdoing to count for nothing? Is this
+generation, that has grown up since all this happened, to be the judge
+of what she did before it was born? Is my son to be the one to allow
+the wrong?”
+
+This new phase of his mother’s character struck him strangely and not
+pleasantly. She was not wont to show large sympathy with her sex,
+though he would be far from accusing her of hardness or cruelty.
+Still she had left with him the impression of sympathies and feelings
+that were rather masculine than feminine; the impressions of one who,
+accepting the task of fighting her own way in the world, felt it no
+injustice or wrong to impose the same on others.
+
+“I have no wish, mother, to hunt down this or any other woman; but a
+terrible murder has been committed, a murder the more terrible because
+of its motiveless and mysterious character. I have been called in as
+counsel to those who are seeking to unravel this mystery and punish the
+murderer, and it’s my duty to use every means to accomplish this end.”
+
+“Then you are hunting this woman out and will expose her nakedness to
+the world!” The words were a cry, that had its force even more in the
+tone than in the words themselves.
+
+“I am certainly endeavouring to discover the woman. I could do no less
+under the circumstances. I think I have a fair prospect of success.”
+
+She rose from her chair and looked at him strangely and despairingly.
+Then she turned towards the door.
+
+“I will go,” she said. “This is no place for me. I will go.”
+
+He looked at her coldly, almost repellantly, as he said, checking her:
+
+“Mother, what does this mean?”
+
+No man who had once seen it, could forget the look she gave him. There
+was heartbreak in it; there was more than that, there was the crushing
+back of a life-long pride.
+
+“What can it mean?” she asked.
+
+His head fell on his breast. He had never guessed before the bitterness
+that life can have, that a moment of time can bring. She never took her
+eyes from his. Whatever the sentence, she would meet it as became her
+past. Slowly his head came up; slowly the misery in his eyes rose to
+hers. Then he came and laid his lips on her forehead and said:
+
+“You are my mother: I shall obey your wish.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A Second Murder?
+
+
+“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford, after they had completed the
+re-examination of Wing’s private papers at the office and in his safe
+at home, “was Mr. Wing of a peculiarly secretive disposition?”
+
+“If he had a fault,” McManus answered, “and since he was human, he must
+have had, it was his excessive frankness and openness.”
+
+“And yet we find him lugging papers on some affair, which he shared
+with no one, back and forth from office to house, and when not so
+doing, keeping them locked in a safe in his library to which only he
+had access. How do you account for this?”
+
+McManus glanced over his shoulder before answering and then dropped
+his voice almost to a whisper, although they were sitting in the very
+centre of the great library at the Parlin house, with the door closed.
+
+“I think he was afraid.”
+
+“Afraid!” repeated Trafford, almost thrown off his guard, but
+instinctively lowering his tone in sympathy with his companion. “Afraid
+of what?”
+
+“Just about two years ago, he found one morning that his desk at the
+office had been ransacked. Papers were turned topsy-turvy and packages
+of papers had been opened and tied up again hastily. The thoroughness
+with which the search was made showed that the person had a well-shaped
+purpose, while the fact that a considerable amount of money, which was
+loose in a drawer, was not touched, proved that it was not robbery. We
+made every effort to find out the culprit, but without success. We had
+at one time suspicion of an office-boy, but nothing positive, and Mr.
+Wing wouldn’t let him be discharged under circumstances that would do
+him a grave injustice if he were innocent. So we retained him.”
+
+“And he repeated the performance,” Trafford said in a tone of
+conviction.
+
+McManus looked at him, questioning whether this assertion came from
+knowledge of the affair or was merely a shrewd guess. Failing to
+satisfy himself, he went on:
+
+“The performance was repeated, but under conditions that made it
+impossible for the boy to be guilty. He was away on his vacation.”
+
+“Not shrewd of the culprit. You are certain it was some one in the
+office?”
+
+“Yes; but we never discovered his identity.”
+
+“And from that time Mr. Wing began carrying these papers back and forth
+and keeping them in this safe.”
+
+McManus nodded.
+
+“And the desk was never troubled again.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“Was it?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Trafford nodded his satisfaction and proceeded to elucidate:
+
+“When the object was removed and the watcher knew it, he would repeat
+the search only to cover his identity. Shrewd as he was, he either
+wasn’t shrewd enough for that or was indifferent. He gave away the
+fact that he was some one who knew of the removal of the papers.”
+
+“Then you think these papers were what he was after?”
+
+“Most assuredly.”
+
+“And that the removal of them----”
+
+“Became Wing’s death warrant,” Trafford completed the sentence. McManus
+hesitated and grew pale.
+
+“My God, Trafford; do you see what that leads to?”
+
+“I see what you think it leads to. You think it leads to the conclusion
+that Wing was murdered by somebody in your office, somebody who has
+been there at least two years. I think that’s what you lawyers call a
+_non sequitur_.”
+
+“At the office, the papers might be stolen; here they could be stolen
+only after the murder of Wing. Why shouldn’t the thief be one and the
+same in both cases?”
+
+“Because many a man will steal where only one will commit murder. It is
+possible, of course, that the two may be the same. The probabilities,
+however, are against it.”
+
+“What follows then?” demanded McManus.
+
+“That the actor in at least one case, and possibly in both, was not
+the principal; and that the more there are engaged in the affair, the
+better chance we have of discovery. It is the one-man affair that
+baffles.”
+
+None the less, when McManus was gone, Trafford summed up the successes
+of three weeks and found them mortifyingly few. A package of papers
+missed and not found; an innocent man under suspicion; a woman of
+prominence proved the mother of an illegitimate child; a thwarted
+attempt upon his own life; a wounded Canadian apparently wiped off the
+earth; and a respectable citizen traced on a midnight visit to another
+respectable citizen at Waterville. It was not on such achievements as
+these that he had built his reputation.
+
+With the thought of the missing Canadian, his anxiety returned. It
+was impossible that he had been spirited away to Canada, yet it was
+undeniable that he was gone. He went out and looked at the river.
+After two weeks of dry weather the water was falling. On the edge of
+the falls, rocks showed that a week before were under water. In eddies
+and shallow places he could see, as with his physical eye, drift and
+débris collecting, and sometimes in this drift and débris strange
+matter was thrown up. He had hesitated to do it, but he felt that
+he had no right to hesitate longer, and so he gave directions for a
+careful search of the river banks and shallow places from Millbank to
+Pishon’s Ferry. It was the last chance, and he had refused to consider
+it until it would be criminal to refuse longer.
+
+That was the physical part of the task, which he could set others to
+do; but there was another part, and that he took with him to his room
+in the hotel and spent much of the night with it. All the evening he
+turned and re-turned it, looking at every side and phase, and then
+went to bed and to sleep, with the knowledge that more than once that
+which the most earnest thought fails to unravel becomes by some strange
+alchemy clear under the magic of sleep. Would it be so with this?
+
+To that query, which came involuntarily, he answered with a doubt.
+
+“I’m fighting my conviction,” he said, almost plaintively, “instead of
+giving myself up to its free course. I can’t expect to be helped as
+long as I do that; but I can’t, I won’t believe. A man in my mood can’t
+solve anything!”
+
+So it came to pass that the night brought him no help, and he rose in
+the morning without that sense of rest which a single hour’s sleep
+brings under the stimulus of success.
+
+About noon, a country lad on horseback brought a message from a point
+some six miles below the village. Obeying the message, he started at
+once with the coroner and physician.
+
+On a tiny meadow that lay as a crescent of green along the border of
+cove where the current of the river sweeps in as an eddy, something
+was drawn up from the water and lay covered in an unrecognizable mass,
+which none the less had a strange repulsiveness about it. Back of the
+meadow great trees rose toward the early June sky; before it the river
+flashed in the June sunshine, and across its waters, the brown earth,
+dotted with the young corn, stretched away in the beauty of early
+summer. A few men and boys stood about the covered thing in strange
+silence, that seemed almost of fear; yet all pressed nearer when, by
+order of the coroner, the covering cloth was removed.
+
+Trafford and the doctor stooped and made a close examination of the
+hideous thing. No one spoke above his breath as they waited the report,
+yet by some strange magic the story of the finding went from man to
+man. At last the two men rose and went down to the river to wash their
+soiled hands. The coroner followed them:
+
+“What do you make of it?” he asked.
+
+Trafford waited until the doctor was forced to speak:
+
+“Plainly a Canuck, and I should say a log-driver. Certainly a working
+man. Been drowned a week and has come from above the Falls. You can
+see that by the way he’s battered up. That’s when he was whirled round
+under the Falls. Several bones broken, probably by the rocks, but that
+smashing of the collar bone came from a blow from above and before he
+was dead. It may have been that that knocked him into the water. Unless
+you find some particular mark on him, you won’t be able to identify
+him, he’s so smashed up. Better send up the river and see if any driver
+has been missing about a week. Beg pardon, Mr. Trafford, I fear I’m
+taking the words out of your mouth.”
+
+“Not at all,” the other answered. “I couldn’t have covered my findings
+better myself, excepting I was less certain about the breaking of the
+collar bone, whether it was before or after death. If he had gone over
+the Falls, for instance, head first, might he not have struck a rock
+and broken his collar bone, so as to give the appearance of its being
+shattered by a blow dealt from above?”
+
+“It’s not simply that,” said the doctor. “There’s the swelling of the
+living flesh that could not take place if the blow occurred after
+death. The injury must have occurred long enough before death to
+produce this effect.”
+
+“Then it could hardly have been the blow that knocked him into the
+water?”
+
+The doctor started at the question and, without answering, walked
+back to the body and re-examined the broken bone and some of the other
+bruises. Then he came back to where Trafford and the coroner waited him.
+
+“There can’t be any question that the broken clavicle antedates death,
+and antedates it some few hours. The man may have been injured at some
+distance from any one and have taken a boat to go for assistance and
+not been able to control it.”
+
+“He might have done any one of a dozen things,” Trafford interposed
+impatiently; “but the thing is to find out which one he did do. How
+did he get this injury, and how did he come to his drowning after the
+injury; for I take it you’ll admit when death came, it did come through
+drowning.”
+
+“I think we’ll have to admit that,” the doctor returned.
+
+“Then we have an injury, one, two, perhaps three hours before death;
+and then death by drowning. If all this was the result of accident,
+don’t you think he was having more than his fair share, crowded into a
+pretty small space of time?” It was Trafford’s question.
+
+“You mean,” demanded the coroner, a trifle uneasily, “that we’ve got
+another murder on our hands before the first one is cleared up?”
+
+“I mean,” said Trafford; “that if we have, it may prove easier to
+unravel two murders than one.”
+
+They walked slowly back and looked at the face that was gashed beyond
+human recognition. Was this he who had cried so piteously on Millbank
+Bridge, “_Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!_”? If so, what had been the history
+of the few hours that elapsed before he plunged into the river to the
+death meant for Trafford? How was that plunge made? Where was the
+Pierre who had struck the blow on the bridge, and who must be able to
+tell the story of the man’s drowning? These were the questions which
+were dinning themselves in Trafford’s brain and imperiously demanding
+an answer.
+
+The news of the finding of the body spread rapidly through Millbank,
+but with comparatively trifling sensation. Men were drowned each year
+in the river. The driving business was full of risks and men fell
+victims to it each spring. It was not like a murder--a blow from no
+one knew where, falling no one knew why. This drowning was a thing
+people were accustomed to expect. They shrugged, wondered if he had a
+family, and thought little more of an accident that left them “one less
+Canuck.” A solitary priest, poor and hard-worked, spent the night in
+prayers for the dead; for these men who come from the North to drive
+the river are almost without exception faithful children of the Church,
+which, through her ministry, mourns her bereavement and assails the
+gates of heaven for admission of the departed soul.
+
+Trafford sat alone in his room at the hotel. He had no doubt that this
+was the man on whom had fallen the blow which was intended for him.
+Disabled, so that he could not be concealed or taken away without
+discovery and recognition, it had been worth the while of those who had
+failed in their attempt on his own life, to murder the poor wretch,
+rather than take the chances of his being seen and questioned. Disabled
+as he was, his condition should have appealed to the hardest heart.
+He had tried to do faithfully the work given him and, failing, had
+been done to death for his fidelity. What was this hideous thing that
+played with murder, rather than let itself be discovered?
+
+As Trafford asked himself the question, he glanced uneasily at his
+windows. It was here, in this very town, within a stone’s throw of the
+very place where he sat, that murder stalked--murder that had once
+sought him as a victim and then had destroyed its own instrument, not
+trusting the man it had employed. It seemed like a lowering menace,
+ready to fall without warning, and almost for the first time since he
+had taken up this profession, he was conscious of the sense of personal
+fear. This merciless, unseen something, impressed him as standing just
+beyond the line of sight, watching with unseen eyes, to strike at him
+again. If it could be uncovered, what would it prove itself, to justify
+so desperate a chance? If it could not be uncovered, where was safety
+for himself or for any one who stood as a menace to its purposes?
+
+That the men who had committed these two murders and had tried a
+third--for he did not for one instant separate them--would stop at no
+chance, was beyond dispute or question. They had watched and waited on
+Wing for two years and, apparently, had not struck until every other
+means of securing what they wanted had failed. When they did strike,
+they had struck pitilessly and effectively. But they were still on
+their guard, as the assault on the Bridge and this wanton murder of a
+wounded man proved. They had gone so far; certainly they would not now
+retire from the game, nor would they show a scrupulousness they had
+failed to feel before they had so far committed themselves that retreat
+was impossible. It was a struggle to the death, with an unseen foe, by
+a man who at all times stood out as a plain mark. He had the sensation
+of one who stands with a lamp in his hands and peers into the deeper
+dark, to catch a glimpse of a foe that he simply knows lies in wait for
+him unseen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Already One Attempt
+
+
+“I won’t consent to any further chasing of this woman.”
+
+It was Charles Matthewson who spoke, standing in front of his brother
+in the library at Waterville, where the original interview regarding
+Cranston had taken place. It was a long time since Charles had spoken
+so positively to Henry, and the latter looked up half amused and half
+irritated, yet with an ugly expression on his face.
+
+“You have suddenly become very much concerned for this--woman. I’ll use
+your polite term,” he said.
+
+“I’ve suddenly become concerned for myself,” the other replied hotly.
+“I know, as you do, that she and her--misfortune have nothing to do
+with this murder; and I know, as you do, if you’ll stop to think a
+moment, that it’s a cowardly piece of business for men to engage in to
+hunt down a woman, simply because they may do so with the approval of
+the hunters.”
+
+Henry gave a low whistle.
+
+“Who’s been talking to you? You’ve got a sudden conversion as to this
+woman’s--misfortune.” He gave an ugly slur to that last word. “Time was
+when you’d call it by another name.”
+
+“Well, whether I would or not, Cranston’s got to be called off from
+that line: and he’s got to be called off quick!”
+
+“But Frank Hunter has been very insistent on this point. He seems to
+have some reason for thinking it important,” Henry answered.
+
+“Because he thinks that a sensation there will stop folks asking
+questions nearer home. If he can raise a dust behind which he can
+negotiate for those papers, he’s got all he’s looking for just now.”
+
+“Perhaps you don’t feel any interest in those papers,” Henry answered.
+
+“Interest or no interest, I’m not going to skulk any longer behind a
+petticoat. I’m ashamed to have done it so long.”
+
+“Good boy,” Henry said, making a motion as if to pat him on the
+shoulder. “I ask again, who’s been stirring up your conscience?”
+
+“Our mother,” said Charles simply.
+
+Henry stopped in his act, and a new look came over his face.
+
+“Does she think it unmanly?” he asked.
+
+“She thinks it cowardly and mean,” Charles said strongly.
+
+Not a sign of anger at these stinging words came into Henry’s face, but
+instead the look of a child justly reproved.
+
+“I guess she’s right, Charles,” he said. “I guess she’s right. I hadn’t
+thought of it before, but it is mean and cowardly. I’ll call Cranston
+off at once.”
+
+“And Hunter?” Charles asked in his turn.
+
+“He can find something else to raise a dust, or he can come out into
+the open and fight; but he shan’t fight longer behind this woman’s
+petticoat. I wish we hadn’t done it at all!”
+
+“I’d give more than I can tell,” Charles answered, giving cry to that
+bitterness of shame which, hidden in his heart, he dared not uncover.
+
+“Yes,” said Henry; “to think that mother should call our act mean and
+cowardly! I’d rather the old papers----” Then he stopped short.
+
+“Has it ever occurred to you that the papers may have had something to
+do with Wing’s death?” Charles asked.
+
+“Hush up!” exclaimed Henry roughly. “There are some things a man
+shouldn’t even dare think, much less say.”
+
+“But--by God,” Charles answered, “there are some things a man can’t
+help thinking and perhaps saying. I tell you, I’m not so certain I
+wouldn’t have shot Wing myself for the sake of getting hold of those
+papers!”
+
+“And if you’re going to keep on talking this way, you might as well
+have done it,” Henry answered bitterly. “I wouldn’t trust myself to
+think such things as you’re saying.”
+
+“But, Henry, think, just think----”
+
+“I won’t,” the other shouted in a wild passion. “I won’t think, and
+I forbid you to ask me to! The man is dead and the Lord only knows
+into whose hands those papers have fallen. There’s only one thing I
+keep thinking--thinking all the time,” and his voice dropped, while he
+looked anxiously over his shoulder, as if he feared the very walls of
+his library: “and that is that it was safer to have those papers in his
+hands, so long as we knew that they were there, than it is to have them
+in the hands of somebody--we don’t know who, for a purpose, we don’t
+know what.”
+
+Charles grew paler than Henry had ever seen him. There was a gasp in
+his voice, as if he found breathing difficult, and he almost clutched
+at his brother as he said:
+
+“That means that you are afraid, as I am, that the papers had some
+connection with his death, and you are trying to persuade yourself to
+the contrary. A month ago, you’d have jumped at the chance of somebody
+else having them, no matter who that somebody else might be: yet to-day
+you try to make me think that you believe it has increased the danger.
+_You know better._ I don’t care whose hands they’re in, we’re safer
+than we were when Wing had them. Now it’s only a question of money.”
+
+“Then why don’t we hear from them?”
+
+“It would be so safe, with matters as they are, for any one to offer to
+sell Wing’s papers,” sneered Charles.
+
+“Suppose whoever’s got them makes copies of them?” Henry suggested.
+
+“And you tell me not to think of these things!” Charles cried.
+
+Henry Matthewson at once called Cranston off from the Bangor matter
+and then sent for Frank Hunter. The latter came in the early evening,
+uneasy, restless, and irritable. The mood was confirmed when he
+discovered what had been done.
+
+“It’s that, or let him go to Millbank and keep excitement alive there,”
+he said. “Trafford strikes me as entirely capable of doing enough of
+that.”
+
+“As matters stand,” demanded Henry, regardless of the caution he had
+given his brother, “do you know who were most likely to profit by
+Wing’s death?”
+
+“We were,” answered Frank coldly. “Do you think I’ve ever failed to
+recognise that fact? I don’t do business that way.”
+
+“Then you mean to say that you have seen from the first that if men
+looked for motives, they’d fasten on us?”
+
+“I mean to say exactly that,” Frank Hunter answered; “and unless we can
+dig up something that shows that somebody else was in as bad a position
+as we, it will go hard with us, unless we can tire the detectives out
+and make them give it up as a bad job.”
+
+It was Henry Matthewson’s turn to look and feel uneasy. Born to
+affluence, raised in wealth, and encouraged to high ambition, he had
+already gone far for a young man, and it seemed a piteous thing that
+in his own house, with his wife and children almost within call of his
+voice, he should be told that unless men could be made to forget and
+so abandon their interest in the Wing murder, it might go hard with
+him--that he might become an object of suspicion.
+
+“I don’t mean,” Hunter said, “that we are in any danger of being
+convicted of Wing’s murder, or even of being arrested for it. That’s
+way beyond reason. But how much better off would we be, if the
+community should take up the suspicion that we were interested in
+Wing’s death; that we procured it? The public is an unreasoning brute.
+Look at poor Oldbeg!”
+
+“Poor Oldbeg!” repeated Matthewson. “What in the name of thunder makes
+you so tender of Oldbeg?”
+
+“It is Charles more than I,” Hunter said, referring to his brother.
+“He insists that the man is innocent; that there’s not a scintilla of
+proof against him, and he won’t consent that the unreasoning whim of
+the people shall do such injustice; and in fact, when I think that our
+time may come at any moment, I can’t help feeling a good deal that way
+myself.”
+
+In the shrubbery outside the window a man, who had followed Hunter
+from Millbank, listened and watched. He could hear nothing and see as
+little, but hour after hour he kept his post, with dogged patience,
+using a night to catch a single hint. Had Hunter known how closely he
+was followed and watched, he would have been still more uneasy and
+disturbed.
+
+“What is it about this new corpse that’s been found at Millbank?”
+Matthewson asked.
+
+“Oh, merely a drowned logger. Nobody knows him and he’s been
+unceremoniously put under ground. Nobody’d have thought anything of it
+at any other time, for there’s never a spring that one or more of them
+don’t turn up; but just now we are living on sensations, and it added
+to the interest that Trafford was on hand and almost the first on the
+spot.”
+
+“Wasn’t it one of Trafford’s men who found it?” the other asked.
+
+“So it’s said.”
+
+“Was he looking for it, or for something else?” Matthewson persisted.
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Why should Trafford have sent men to search the lower river, if he
+didn’t expect to find something? Had some one disappeared? You say a
+mere logger. What might Trafford say?”
+
+“I believe you see a bogy every time you turn round,” Hunter said
+impatiently.
+
+“‘’Tis conscience doth make cowards of us all,’” Matthewson answered.
+“I don’t like to be in this position. I don’t dare move to find the
+papers, for fear in doing so I stir suspicions concerning Wing’s
+death. I don’t dare leave the papers in the uncertain hands where they
+are, lest they arouse the very same suspicions. It’s a nice position
+for an innocent man to be in.”
+
+The curiosity of the public, no longer fed on rumours and inquests,
+had begun to flag, giving place to the inevitable sneers at the police
+and detective force, with renewed predictions daily made that the
+murder would remain an unsolved mystery. But for the occasional sight
+of Trafford, and the expectation that the inquest might be reconvened
+at almost any time, the village would already have begun to forget the
+murdered man, so easily does a sensation fade into the commonplace.
+
+But Trafford remained, or at least reappeared at unexpected moments,
+like an uneasy spirit that found no rest. He was working now on two
+murders, confident that if he found the perpetrator of the one, he
+would solve both. It was an aid to him that the public accepted the
+second as an accident, he alone having knowledge of the attempted
+murder of himself which, unaccomplished, had brought this fate on the
+unhappy wretch who was to be himself a murderer.
+
+About this time, however, he had proof that he had not ceased to
+interest some one. On returning to his room at the hotel one evening,
+he found that it had been entered during his absence and a thorough
+search of all his papers and luggage made. At first, he was inclined
+to complain to the landlord, but this purpose passed as quickly as it
+came, resulting in his taking apparently no notice of the affair.
+
+It called to mind very forcibly, however, the tale that McManus had
+told him of the rifling of Wing’s desk, and caused him to take a
+professional view of the incident. He had said at the time that a pair
+of trained eyes would have seen something of importance. He was thus
+placed on his mettle to prove his boast. In fact, there was little to
+see. It was evident that the intruder had come by a window opening on
+to the roof of a long porch. A dusty footprint on the carpet under the
+window, pointing inward, proved this, and Trafford was able to find
+traces along the roof to a hall window, but the returning tracks were
+not traceable. He was not so much offended at the liberty taken with
+his property as by the implication on his sagacity, in the expectation
+of finding anything he preferred should remain unfound.
+
+He had his suspicions as to the person who had ransacked Wing’s desk,
+and it was a satisfaction to be given an opportunity to test that
+suspicion by this later act. If he could bring it home to the possible
+culprit in the former case, he felt that a very considerable advance
+would be made. It was true that the method smacked a trifle of seeking
+facts with which to sustain a preconceived opinion, rather than
+permitting facts to lead up to judgment; but strict adherence to rule
+was not always possible, and this appeared a case in which exception
+was to be made.
+
+Because, however, of this yielding to temptation, possibly, it troubled
+him more to discover that the assumed trespasser on Wing’s desk could
+by no means be the culprit in the present case, for it was beyond
+controversy that the suspected individual had not been within many
+miles of the Millbank hostelry at the hour of the intrusion. It might
+be a touch of cunning, but the alibi was not to be questioned. None the
+less, here was the fact that Wing’s desk was broken open because he
+was believed to be in possession of certain papers of a compromising
+character, and that when it was believed that these papers had come
+into the possession of the detective, his room and papers were in turn
+ransacked. That there was connection of cause and effect between the
+facts was scarcely to be doubted, even though it was not as simple as
+he had at first supposed to establish it.
+
+Uncertainty as to the nature of the missing papers, and his inability
+to secure any definite information, were the tantalising features of
+the case. He questioned McManus only to find that his knowledge of the
+matter was no less hazy. These papers had been seen by no one in the
+office excepting in package. Whether they had been received by Wing
+from Judge Parlin or not was unknown. There was a general understanding
+that they had come from the judge, and that Wing had given a great deal
+of attention to them, so that they had grown materially in his hands.
+The scandal of the ransacking of the desk had caused a great deal of
+excitement in the office and no little discussion, but this had brought
+out no facts bearing on the subject-matter. That it involved some one
+was guessed, but even this guess was wild and general, rather than
+specific.
+
+“Unless something of certainty is arrived at,” Trafford said, “it
+will be impossible to delay the re-opening of the inquest more than a
+week longer, and in the present temper of the public mind a verdict
+implicating Oldbeg would not be impossible.”
+
+He said it half musingly, as if rather talking to himself than
+otherwise, and yet there was a look under the eyelids that would not
+have been quite reassuring to a close observer. McManus did not seem to
+note it, but took up the matter rather with Trafford’s own manner.
+
+“But there the papers stand as the insurmountable difficulty. Oldbeg
+could have no object in stealing them. He could scarcely have known of
+their existence--that is, as papers of value. If the connection could
+be made, it would be serious for him.”
+
+“But it can’t be made,” Trafford said, as if he were waking from his
+lethargic condition. “I’ve told you what kind of a man it was that did
+this murder, and when the murderer is discovered, as discovered he will
+be, you’ll find I’ve described him correctly. Those papers caused this
+murder and caused it because they were a menace to some one. That some
+one couldn’t have been Oldbeg----”
+
+“Yet the public mind is impressed with Oldbeg’s guilt and, if I mistake
+not, the jury is as well.”
+
+“You overlook the fact that nothing regarding these papers has appeared
+in the testimony.”
+
+McManus looked up suddenly as the fact was recalled to him.
+
+“That’s so,” he said. “We’ve discussed them so much that I had entirely
+lost sight of the fact. Of course, that’ll free Oldbeg when it is
+brought out in testimony.”
+
+“If it is brought out,” Trafford said.
+
+“But surely,” McManus urged; “you will not let so important a matter
+pass--let alone the fact that it is the cause of injustice to Oldbeg,
+who surely has suffered enough already.”
+
+“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford solemnly; “I’m at work to find the
+murderer of Mr. Wing. That’s the one purpose I have before me, and it
+is what the best interests of the public demand. If Oldbeg or another
+suffers unjustly for the moment, it is that the guilty man may suffer
+in the end. I’m sorry for Oldbeg, but I’m not responsible for the turn
+matters have taken. At present, the parties who are interested in these
+papers believe I have them, and the work I’m doing requires them to
+continue so to believe. I don’t conceive it to be my duty to produce at
+the inquest testimony that will undeceive them.”
+
+“Aren’t you taking a tremendous responsibility?” McManus asked.
+
+“It’s my business to take responsibility. I’ve taken it often to the
+extent of risking my life--I may do so again; but when there’s a
+murderer at large and I’m set to find him, I don’t stop because my
+life is endangered or because another is put to inconvenience. If
+Oldbeg’s held for the murder, it’ll be inconvenient for him, but not so
+inconvenient as it would be for me to be murdered because I’m on the
+track of the right man.”
+
+“And you are on the track of the right man?” McManus demanded.
+
+“I’ve been on his track from the moment I entered that library and knew
+that it had been searched by the man who fired the fatal bullet. I’ve
+been on his track from that day to this, and I shall keep on it until I
+catch up with him or he kills me; but as surely as that last happens,
+he’ll swing. It isn’t given to any man to commit murder twice and cover
+his tracks. If I go down, it’ll end in his going up.”
+
+“But really, Mr. Trafford, you take this thing more seriously than I
+imagined. You’re not in earnest in this talk of an attempt to murder
+you!”
+
+“So much in earnest that I never go out without thinking I may not come
+back.”
+
+“But why?”
+
+“Because already one attempt has been made.”
+
+“You astound me!” McManus exclaimed. “I agreed at the start to
+co-operate with you so long as you had the case in hand, but,
+certainly, I’m entitled to know something! Why do you say it’s because
+you are supposed to have the papers? Might it not be simply to shield
+the murderer? You leave the thing in a cloud that is”--he seemed
+searching for a word--“disturbing.”
+
+Trafford, however, refused to say more; but after McManus left, he sat
+for a few moments as if asking himself if he had done wisely, and then
+rousing up muttered:
+
+“We’ll see how far that’ll carry!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+At the Drivers’ Camp
+
+
+Two days later a message came which necessitated a trip up the Dead
+River branch, traversing the ground over which Trafford had gone ten
+days before. Already, however, the camps he had visited were deserted,
+the drivers having followed the body of logs moving towards the river
+itself. At the Forks, Trafford was joined by the assistant who had
+warned him that morning in Millbank. They had a long conference,
+in which there appeared no small amount of differing opinion. The
+assistant had tracked from a camp on Moosehead, to a cabin beyond the
+Madison Beeches above Millbank, two Canadians, who had left the lake
+suddenly on May 12. He was certain he had located one of the men, a
+great powerful fellow, in one of the Dead River driving gangs.
+
+“And the other?”
+
+“I can get no trace of him. They separated at Millbank--perhaps
+forever.”
+
+“And this fellow’s name--here on Dead River?”
+
+“Pierre Duchesney.”
+
+“And the other?”
+
+“Victor Vignon.”
+
+“It can scarcely have any bearing,” Trafford asserted after some
+thought. “Nothing definite in the way of plans could have been formed
+so promptly. The murder was only twenty-four hours old then.”
+
+“But they went to Millbank; spent four days in the old Indian hut back
+of Madison Beeches, and were not seen in Millbank during the entire
+time. Then, no one knows how, the one appears at Parlin Pond, and works
+from there over to Dead River. He’s a big, strapping fellow; the other
+one was medium height and size--much the slighter made of the two.”
+
+“But I tell you,” Trafford affirmed; “if they were called to Millbank,
+the call must have come before the murder was known--they came for
+something else than to assault the man supposed to have those papers.”
+
+“And were at hand conveniently to assault the man who was supposedly
+in possession of the papers, when it was found that they had
+involuntarily changed hands.”
+
+This view struck Trafford and he gave it some little thought, while the
+other waited as if for his final judgment.
+
+“As long as we’re here, we may as well have a look at your man,” said
+Trafford.
+
+The next day found them guests of the drive at the camp above the
+first rapids of Dead River, where use was being had of the last of
+the spring flow to get the tail of the winter’s cut into the main
+channel. Already the advance guard of the summer army was making its
+appearance, adventurous souls who love to see the year at its birth,
+and the presence of strangers excited no especial comment. They made it
+so apparent that they sought an invitation for the night that it became
+unavoidable, and so with the falling of dusk and the leap of the great
+flames of the camp fire among the trees, they came on to the time for
+the experiment agreed upon.
+
+Trafford had watched Pierre Duchesney at his work, a great,
+strong-limbed giant whose blow, intentional or not, could well work
+the crushing of lesser bones, and admitted that their purpose was
+well-nigh foolhardy. To take such a man, surrounded as he was by
+friends, was scarcely to be thought of, and in fact would not have been
+thought of, but for a chance remark that he was not going below the
+first rapids. When the jam was started here, he was to strike across
+to the head waters of the Androscoggin, which Trafford’s companion,
+intent in his belief that this was the man they wanted, interpreted as
+a purpose to bury himself in the wilds of the Canadian wilderness about
+Megantic.
+
+Trafford, himself, while yet in doubt as to the identity of the man,
+admitted that even if they lost him, it would be much gained if they
+could prove him, and so consented to the plan his assistant outlined,
+determined to take his chances in the matter of an actual capture.
+
+The men were stretched about the blazing logs, smoking, sleeping,
+chatting. Trafford among them watched the leap of the flames and the
+gradual reddening of the great logs into coals. The other stranger had
+left the circle some time before. Involuntarily Trafford kept his eye
+on Pierre’s huge form, where it was stretched in the full blaze and
+warmth of the logs, his eyes closed in a pleasant after-feeding doze.
+Suddenly out of the dark came a sharp Canadian voice, calling:
+
+“_Sacré, c’est moi, Pierre!_”
+
+Every one glanced up enquiringly, but the effect on Pierre Duchesney
+was startling in the extreme. His eyes stared wide from a face of ashy
+grey; he leaped to his feet, shaking as one with the ague. Trafford
+had sprung to his side at the instant of his leap from his recumbent
+position, and in time to catch from his blanched lips the convicting
+words:
+
+“_Mon dieu; Victor!_”
+
+Trafford’s hand was on his pistol, which he drew, with the sharp demand:
+
+“Quick, seize the man; he’s wanted for the murder of Victor Vignon!”
+
+At the word “murder,” the men drew back from the circle of light. They
+lived free and easy lives in the woods, and had little of the fear
+of the law before them in their fastnesses, but with murder and the
+murderer they had no share. All the other laws of God and man, they
+might violate, but to that one, “Thou shalt do no murder,” they bowed,
+the very defencelessness of their lives making murder doubly terrible
+to them. So, strong men as they were, they gazed wild-eyed on the
+scene, and some of the bravest trembled.
+
+On Pierre, the word acted like magic. No less pale he was than before,
+but it was a paleness in which the sense of self-preservation was
+awake, looking from his eyes, as it looks from those of hunted wild
+creatures brought suddenly to bay. He attempted no plea; he made no
+denial; but his form grew compact with the compactness of one about to
+spring. Trafford, wondering what course the others would take, brought
+his pistol to a steady aim, and said clearly and sharply:
+
+“Surrender, or I’ll shoot! Throw up your arms!”
+
+He felt, rather than saw, that on the edge of the light stood his
+assistant also covering the man with his revolver. The man moved as
+if to obey the order to throw up his arms, and then, with a quickness
+of which none guessed him capable, struck Trafford’s arm a blow that
+caused it to drop numbly by his side, sending the pistol’s discharge
+into the earth. With the same movement the man crouched half to
+earth, and thus escaped the other’s shot. Without rising, he darted,
+crouching, for the shelter of trees beyond the fire, but not so quickly
+as to save his right arm from the second shot by the assistant.
+Trafford, meantime, had changed his revolver into his left hand and was
+firing at the fleeing shadow that the man became before disappearing.
+With his second shot, he heard his assistant at his side.
+
+“You know now, but we’ve lost him.”
+
+“Into the woods; into the woods,” Trafford cried, seizing a blazing
+pine knot. “Quick, we’ll get him yet.”
+
+Not a man stirred save Trafford, and he made only a step or two.
+Glancing back, he saw the drivers huddled in an excited and
+gesticulating group that looked startlingly like mischief. Ahead was
+the heavy blackness of dense trees. Then he realised that the man had
+escaped.
+
+Meantime the men were aroused from the stupor of their first surprise
+and were in a dangerous mood, the active qualities of which were
+quieted by the gleam of Trafford’s badge, which he felt was the best
+introduction to the explanation to which they were clearly entitled.
+They listened patiently, but simply tolerantly, and their coolness
+was in marked contrast to their friendliness of a brief quarter of an
+hour earlier. There was no denial to Trafford and his companion of the
+hospitality of the camp, but they were made to feel that they were
+unwelcome guests, and they waited anxiously and impatiently for the
+first touch of morning to be on their way, as well from a desire to
+leave their surly companions, as from impatience to be where they could
+make use of their newly acquired information.
+
+They were not more than a mile from camp, after a hasty breakfast
+eaten amid strange silence, when, from the woods lying between the
+track they were following and the river, a lad of about sixteen years,
+whom they had seen in camp the night before, overhauled them. He had
+evidently run most of the way, and was anxious to get back before his
+absence attracted attention, but he was also intent on information. The
+conversation with him was carried on partly in the lad’s imperfect
+English, and partly in the French of Canada with Trafford’s companion,
+and by him translated to Trafford:
+
+“Victor Vignon: my cousin. You say, murdered--dead?”
+
+Trafford nodded.
+
+“_Non._ He go big lake. Go by Aten’s stage.”
+
+“Who told you so?” demanded Trafford.
+
+“Pierre--Pierre Duchesney. When he come, he say: Victor, he go big
+lake: he go by Aten’s stage.”
+
+“Well, he killed him. Drowned him in the river at Millbank, where the
+big Falls are.”
+
+“What for he kill him?” demanded the boy.
+
+“Who sent for your cousin at the big lake when he and Pierre went
+away?” Trafford demanded, and then, it being evident that the lad
+had not sufficient command of English to master this question, his
+companion repeated it in French.
+
+The lad’s face brightened as he heard his native tongue, and from that
+time he carried his part of the conversation mostly in that tongue.
+
+“The boss.”
+
+On questioning, it developed that the “boss” had said the “big man”
+had sent for Pierre and Victor; had said that they were to go to the
+Forks of the River and meet a gang, but when they got there the gang
+was gone and they had word to go somewhere else, and it was when Pierre
+came back and Victor had gone to the big lake, that the lad was told
+this by Pierre. The lad did not know where it was that Victor had gone,
+but he was to see him again when the drive was over and they were ready
+to go back to Canada before the feast of St. John.
+
+Oh, yes; the “big man” was somebody who lived down where the water went
+over the big Falls, and owned all the trees, and sent the boss money to
+pay them. He didn’t know his name, but he was a great big man--as big
+as the Seigneur at Rigaud-Vandreuil, the biggest man the lad had ever
+seen.
+
+“A bigger man than the boss?”
+
+Oh, yes; for he sent the boss money to pay them and owned the trees,
+while the boss wasn’t as big a man as Louis Blanchet, the notary, whom
+he, the lad, had often seen and talked with, and once had thrown mud at
+when he was drunk.
+
+No, he didn’t know the big man’s name; he had said that before, but
+anybody could tell them; anybody who knew, for he owned the trees; and
+the “boss” could tell them; his name was Kennett, Georges Kennett; not
+the boss here, for his name was Jean Busque, he was Canadian; but the
+other boss, the one who told Pierre and Victor to go to the Forks of
+the River.
+
+But he must go back, because the boss, the one here, would be angry
+and make him lose some of his money. He had heard them say something
+about Victor being killed, and he wanted to ask them and tell them it
+couldn’t be Victor, because he had gone to the big lake, as Pierre had
+said. What would Victor’s wife do if he was dead? The good God--_le bon
+Dieu_--and the good Saint Anne--_la bonne sainte Anne_--wouldn’t let
+him be dead, when there was Victor’s wife and three little ones and
+another coming in the summer, as Victor had told him. They must know
+that Victor couldn’t be dead, and if they saw him, they were to tell
+him that he--Étienne Vignon--had said this and would meet him at the
+big Falls to go back to la Beauce before the feast of Saint John, as
+Victor had promised Étienne’s mother when he took him away to go on
+the drive. And with these words, the lad dashed into the woods for his
+mile run back to camp.
+
+Trafford caught himself perilously near a sigh, as the lad disappeared
+among the trees.
+
+“It’s as plain as the nose on your face--that part of it,” he said.
+“Hunter sent for these men; had them go to the forks to join a
+pretended gang, and word was left there for ’em to go on to the hut
+back of the Madison Beeches.”
+
+“Hunter?” his companion asked.
+
+“Certainly. Isn’t he the man who owns the trees to such a simple lad as
+that? He don’t know the name--but we do, Charles Hunter of Millbank.”
+
+“Then he’s concerned in the murder?”
+
+“If you knew the things that aren’t to be seen as well as you do the
+things that you see, you’d beat us all,” Trafford answered. “If he
+was in the murder, he’d know where those papers are and wouldn’t have
+needed these men. His very desperation to get them shows he isn’t the
+murderer.”
+
+“Then Charles Hunter’s the man who’s afraid of those papers,” the
+other repeated, as if half dazed by the revelation.
+
+“One of ’em,” said Trafford. “I’ve known that much a long time.”
+
+“But if the men who are afraid of the papers aren’t the men who
+murdered him haven’t you knocked out the motive for the murder? That’s
+the thing that’s bothered all the time, and now that we’ve got hold of
+one, it’s a pity to lose it again.”
+
+“Beware of clues,” half laughed Trafford. “That’s the lesson you
+haven’t learned yet. I’ve said Hunter was one of the men who’s afraid
+of the papers. I haven’t said there weren’t others. Then it doesn’t
+follow that the only people who wanted to get the papers were those who
+were afraid of ’em. Given the papers, there’s a dozen things that might
+make ’em the motive of the murder besides being afraid of them.”
+
+After a silence that lasted some time, the other turned to Trafford and
+demanded:
+
+“Did you know Hunter was in this thing when you set me to hunting
+Canucks round Millbank?”
+
+“Certainly,” answered Trafford. “I’ve known it since a half-hour after
+the attack was made on me at the bridge. Why?”
+
+“Thunder! Hunter was one of the men of whom I thought it safe to make
+open enquiries about Canucks I was looking for.”
+
+“It’s never safe,” Trafford said, “to make enquiries of any one, unless
+you are willing that everybody should know, or anxious that one man
+should. In this case, ’twas just as well Hunter should know that we
+were on the track. He’s a man who makes his false slips when he’s the
+most anxious to escape.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The Priest’s Story
+
+
+They had their dinner that day at Nic’khal’s, at the Forks, eating in
+the shed that later in the season becomes the “summer kitchen.” The
+meal was primitive in material and cooking, but the sauce was hunger.
+An elderly priest, weary-looking and sad, was their sole companion,
+and he watched them through the meal, with a look that Trafford read
+as expressive of a desire to have talk with him. So, after the eating
+was over, Trafford put himself in the way of the clergyman, who quickly
+availed himself of the chance:
+
+“You are from above?” he asked, and Trafford assented.
+
+“Did you pass the logging camp at the first rapids?”
+
+“I spent the night there,” Trafford answered.
+
+“Was the night disturbed?”
+
+“An attempt was made to arrest a murderer, who escaped into the woods,
+but not without a severe wound, I think.”
+
+“I have a message for the man who attempted to make the arrest.”
+
+“You can deliver it to me,” said Trafford.
+
+“You say the man was a murderer. I have no wish to know his name; but
+I am charged only to speak to one man, and I shall know him by a name.
+You can give it me?”
+
+“If it’s my name you want, it’s Trafford. The murderer attempted first
+to rob or murder me in the covered bridge at Millbank, before he
+committed the actual murder,” answered the detective.
+
+“I did not doubt before,” the priest answered, with something of
+stateliness; “only when a trust is given, one must be certain. The
+message is that the man who was drowned was not murdered. It was an
+accident, in which the one barely escaped and was unable to save the
+other.”
+
+“Even so,” Trafford retorted, “the other might have had a chance to
+escape, if it hadn’t been for a broken collar-bone, and for that the
+man who denies the murder was responsible.”
+
+“But it was by mistake he inflicted it,” the priest answered.
+
+“By mistake, because he missed the man he intended to strike and hit
+his associate in crime. He was in the bridge to rob and probably to
+murder, and if the death of his companion was directly accidental, it
+came through a violation of the law and that makes it murder.”
+
+“In the eyes of the law, possibly,” the priest said; “but we look to
+the intent. The man did not intend to kill his associate. He died as
+the result of an accident.”
+
+“Are you permitted to give me details?” Trafford asked, wisely avoiding
+a discussion that might return again and again on itself without actual
+progress.
+
+“A wounded man found me asleep in a hut where he sought shelter, guided
+by the Blessed Virgin, I doubt not. I heard his confession. On that
+is the seal of the Church. He begged me to find you and give you this
+message, and what he said in that I will strive faithfully to repeat.
+It is all that I can say. He was not in the bridge to murder the man
+at whom he struck, but to seize him and take from his person certain
+papers. He struck in the dark in the direction of a noise made, as he
+supposed, by the man. He may have struck harder than he intended. At
+the least, he struck his companion and not the man, and with force
+sufficient to break the collar-bone. What they had been set to do, they
+were to do and then return to the woods without being seen. He had now
+the fear earned by failure, and the certainty that the man, having
+escaped, would call on the authorities, and he and his companion would
+be betrayed by the latter’s wound. He, therefore, persuaded him to bear
+his pain until they could get to a place of safety, and not daring to
+travel the roads, where they could be tracked, they struck to the river
+banks above the Falls, and followed these until they found a boat into
+which they got, turning its head upstream.
+
+“He had only an old and broken oar with which to paddle, but a driver
+can paddle with a single pole, and they easily reached the middle of
+the river. Here he turned at a groan from his companion and failed
+to see a floating log which struck their boat, and, worse still,
+knocked the oar out of his hand. Before he could recover himself, the
+boat was in the rapid current above the Falls, and rushing downstream
+with increasing force. His companion, roused at the growing roar of
+the waters, seemed to think that it was with intention that this was
+happening. He begged to be spared, and called loudly for help. The
+other told him what had happened and that he was powerless to prevent
+the boat going over the Falls, whereupon the wounded man sprang to
+his feet, with a prayer to the Virgin and Saint Anne, and leaped
+overboard, just as the boat touched the white water above the plunge.
+The other ran to the bow, which was shooting straight out, and stood
+there for a second of time until he felt it tremble for the dip, at
+which instant he jumped for the deeper water below the Falls, and by a
+miracle escaped the rocks at the very base of the plunge. As you know,
+the water there is very deep, so that although he sank, he did not
+touch bottom. He floated through the cañon and succeeded in landing
+just above the railroad bridge. He knew there was no use in looking
+for boat or companion, and so crept up the bank around the Falls,
+secured another boat, and finally towards morning landed just below the
+Bombazee Rips. He set the boat afloat and plunged into the woods. That
+is all I am permitted to tell you.”
+
+“But it is not all you know,” Trafford said.
+
+“It is all I know. If I heard anything more, I heard it under the seal
+of confession and know naught of it.”
+
+Trafford pondered on the story for some time, without speaking. The
+habits born of his profession held him, warning him to avoid hasty
+conclusion as well for the man as against him. It was his business to
+get the truth, not to find a confirmation or refutation of a previously
+formed opinion.
+
+The priest waited without a sign of impatience. At last Trafford raised
+his head and said:
+
+“I do not think it could have been done.”
+
+“What?” asked the priest.
+
+“The leap from the boat over the falls.”
+
+“I have been told by eye-witnesses that it has been done,” declared the
+priest.
+
+“I have seen it done,” Trafford said; “but it was in broad daylight,
+when the man could see, and determine the exact instant for the leap.
+The boat was a very long one, so that before it dipped, it had shot
+far out; the man was extremely powerful, and it was, after all, a mere
+matter of luck.”
+
+“We do not talk of luck,” the priest said, with a touch of sternness in
+his tone. “We will leave that. You admit it possible, because it has
+been done. Your man was extremely strong. This man seems to me such
+also. Your man had daylight to show him the tossing of the waters about
+him; the anxious faces peering at him; the vanishing shores, and the
+coming danger. This man had all his senses active and single to the
+work before him. The flash of white foam was enough to show him, even
+in the night, where he was. To that his sight was turned, for there
+was nothing to distract his full attention. He was leaping for life.
+Instinct would come to his aid. It was possible for the man you saw. I
+believe it was possible for this man.”
+
+Suddenly a thought struck Trafford. This priest could not reveal the
+secrets of the confessional; but neither could he prevent what he had
+heard in confession affecting his attitude towards this man and his
+story. He looked the priest full in the face and asked, solemnly,
+almost sternly:
+
+“Do you fully and absolutely credit this tale?”
+
+Without a shadow of hesitation or delay, the priest answered:
+
+“I do, absolutely and fully. In the story I bring you I have not a
+doubt that you have heard the truth, so far as it goes. You know how
+the death of the man you thought murdered actually occurred.”
+
+To Trafford’s mind there was left no ground for doubt.
+
+“I accept your story,” he said, “as the story of what actually
+occurred. Where is the man who told it to you?”
+
+The priest smiled and raised his hand in a sweep of the northern
+horizon:
+
+“I cannot track the wilderness. If you want him, you must ask the woods
+to give him up.”
+
+“There is a lad in the gang at the first rapids,” Trafford said, “who
+came with Victor Vignon from Beauce. Victor, who was his cousin, was
+to take him back before the Feast of St. John. He relies absolutely on
+this, and would not believe Victor dead. His name is Étienne Vignon and
+he needs comfort and help.”
+
+“I will go to him,” said the priest. “The thought is a kind one.”
+
+If the priest dreamed that he was thus finished with the detective, it
+was because he did not know the nature of the creature.
+
+“From Beauce I think you said the wounded man came,” said Trafford
+carelessly.
+
+If Trafford thought to surprise the priest, it was proof that he too
+was ignorant.
+
+“I do not recall having said so,” the priest answered.
+
+“But he was, wasn’t he?” demanded Trafford.
+
+“I did not ask him.”
+
+On the matter of the wound the priest talked freely. It was painful,
+but not serious. The small bone of the lower right arm was broken, but
+he had set it and was confident it would improve.
+
+“If the man has been unjustly accused, I hope it may prove so,”
+Trafford said. “He goes directly home, of course.”
+
+The priest smiled.
+
+“I did not expect to see him again, so had no occasion to know.”
+
+Convinced that the other was absolutely on guard, and that even if
+he knew anything beyond what he had told--of which Trafford felt
+considerable doubt--it was not to be extracted from him, Trafford again
+commended the lad Étienne to his care, and turned to the matter of a
+conveyance to Carrytunk on the road to Millbank. At parting, he said:
+
+“If I accept your assurance as to the innocence of this man, it is none
+the less true that some one employed him to rob me, and his companion
+lost his life because of the attempt. He could not have told of this
+without telling who that was.”
+
+The priest smiled, but not in a way that encouraged Trafford to hope
+for information, and the event proved him wise not to do so.
+
+“If he told me aught that I have not repeated,” the other answered, “it
+was to obtain God’s pardon, not to invoke man’s punishment on any. Its
+object accomplished, the words passed as they came to the priest and
+not to the man.”
+
+So Trafford was forced to let him go, none the wiser beyond what the
+priest chose that he should be; but as they hurried towards Millbank,
+he tried hard to look at all sides of the story and at last asked his
+companion:
+
+“What do you think of it?”
+
+“A batch of lies, told to a gossiping priest to be peddled out to us
+again,” was the curt judgment.
+
+Even this Trafford weighed carefully before commenting on it.
+
+“You evidently think the fellow a shrewd chap.”
+
+“No; any one can see he’s a stupid lout; just the kind of a thing to be
+used for a dirty job.”
+
+“Yet he had a long enough head to cheat the priest.”
+
+“Then you think the priest believed him?”
+
+“I haven’t a doubt of it,” said Trafford.
+
+Trafford’s judgments had something of the weight of oracles with this
+man, who was able to see things but not to form opinions; and this
+curt declaration was to the point and not to be mistaken. For the time
+being, and for present purposes, it was to be accepted, and having
+accepted it, the other had nothing to say. But it was not so easy for
+Trafford. He had, perhaps, to convince some budding doubt that had not
+found expression either in tone or words.
+
+“To doubt the truth of the fellow’s story, is to believe that he
+reasoned out the chance of the priest finding us and then deliberately
+employed what he regards as a sacrament--that is confession--to put in
+circulation a concocted story for the purpose of deceiving us. I don’t
+believe he’s that smart; and I don’t believe, with his belief in the
+Church, he’d dare do it.”
+
+“We seem to be in the business of acquitting everybody,” the other said
+in a surly tone.
+
+“It’s certainly not our business to convict, but to find out the
+truth,” Trafford answered. “We aren’t prosecuting attorneys.”
+
+“But our work lies in pointing out the guilty.”
+
+“Yes; but unless we do it as much for the sake of proving the innocence
+of the innocent as the guilt of the guilty, we only do half the work
+that we ought to do. I’d rather any time clear a man who is unjustly
+charged than prove a man, thought innocent, guilty,” answered Trafford.
+
+“Maybe so, but that isn’t the kind of work the world gives you most
+credit for. If you can hang a man, it thinks you’ve done something
+big; but if you stop them from hanging a man, they think they’ve been
+cheated.”
+
+“Well, I guess when all’s said and done, it’s more a question of what
+we think about the kind of work we’re doing, than what the world thinks
+of it, that counts. When I’m satisfied with myself--right down honestly
+satisfied--I find I can let the world think what it’s a mind to.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A Duel
+
+
+Mrs. Matthewson entered the little parlour, where she had met Trafford,
+for the purpose of keeping another appointment--one that she had not
+wanted to make and which she had not yet dared refuse. When she visited
+her son, she knew the name of the man who, under his direction, was
+hunting down Theodore Wing’s mother, but she did not know the man. Now
+she was to meet him face to face. She was afraid, and she bore herself
+with the air of a queen about to grant a favour to her humblest subject.
+
+Cranston felt her imperiousness in the very air as he entered, and
+rebel as he would, it daunted him and took a share of his bravado from
+him. She returned his salutation, but with the evident purpose not to
+aid him in the slightest in the delivery of his errand.
+
+“I regret the necessity,” he said, “of troubling you.”
+
+She bowed stiffly, but without other answer. He apparently had not
+struck the line of least resistance.
+
+“I have been employed,” he began, “upon the Wing murder case.” Then, at
+the look in her eyes, as if of all things on earth the Wing murder case
+had the least possible interest to her, he added desperately: “Among
+those who employed me were your sons.”
+
+“Then you should report to them.” These were the first words she had
+spoken and the tone was beyond measure forbidding, but they were at
+the least words and a recognition that she was taking part in the
+interview. As such they helped the man who, in spite of his experience,
+was floundering woefully.
+
+“I thought it in your interest that I should first report to you,” he
+said.
+
+“There’s nothing in which any one can serve me in the Wing murder
+case,” she said, not sparing herself even the word “murder.”
+
+He looked at her as if he would say that that was a very proper bluff
+for her to put up, but that he knew the facts and was not to be fooled
+thereby.
+
+“In doing thoroughly my work,” he floundered on; “it has been
+impossible for me to overlook the remarkable paper left by Judge
+Parlin.”
+
+Even as she caught the full import of his words, she had a
+consciousness of the hopeless bungling of this man, in comparison with
+the other man, Trafford. No less surely had Trafford told her that he
+had learned the history of her early life; but he had, with a natural
+instinct, taken from the telling every sting that was not ineffaceable.
+This man was so intent upon the telling as not to have a thought for
+her.
+
+She made no acknowledgment, save that frigid bend of the head that was
+less acknowledgment than repulsion, and which he felt as disdain. It
+stung him to more brutal speech than he had intended:
+
+“You would have me, perhaps, report my discoveries in that connection
+to your sons.”
+
+If he had expected her to shrink or lose self-control, his was the
+disappointment. She had lived too long with the possibility of meeting
+thus her past, to allow it to come with the shock of the unexpected.
+There had been no hour for forty years when these words might not be
+spoken to her. She did not even make the mistake of showing irritation
+in her answer:
+
+“I would know why you have sought this interview, that it may be ended.
+As to the results of your employment, they concern your employers, not
+me.”
+
+“I know who was the mother of Theodore Wing.” He spoke somewhat
+insistently, and not without a touch of menace in his voice. He had
+foreseen an easier task. He had a sense of personal wrong, in that she
+was making it so hard for him.
+
+“It is her secret,” she said, with just enough force to betoken
+impersonal indignation; “neither you nor the world have the right to
+drag it to the surface.”
+
+“I am willing it should remain a secret,” he answered.
+
+“Then you should never have told any one you knew it.”
+
+“You are the only one I have told,” he said; “and that was necessary.”
+
+Clearly he expected her to ask, “Necessary to what?” but she did not
+make the mistake. She remained silent and left him to reknit the broken
+strand of discourse.
+
+“The moment of real danger to her will come,” he said, after waiting
+vainly for her to speak, until waiting became a palpable embarrassment;
+“when Wing’s murderer is put on trial.” Then, as with a sudden change
+of his line of attack, he continued: “Have you ever thought why your
+sons employed me in this case?”
+
+“No; nor cared,” she said.
+
+He had expected her to deny that she had known.
+
+“Because they know who the murderer is.”
+
+It was a relief to the tension upon her that she could show resentment
+without personal defence.
+
+“Your remark is insulting,” she said. “I do not know the object of this
+visit, but whatever it is, that remark must be withdrawn before it can
+proceed.”
+
+“It is the last remark you should desire withdrawn, madam,” he said,
+with a calm significance of utterance; “for it is true.”
+
+She rose to dismiss him--rose haughtily and uncompromisingly, as if
+she had not the slightest suspicion of the drift of his purpose. There
+was a dangerous gleam in her eye; one that should have been a warning
+to the man, telling him to shield himself in some way and not carry
+out the threatened purpose. To this woman, that purpose was a cause
+of almost mastering terror, but this the will behind it controlled,
+leaving her seemingly strong to master the situation. He was compelled
+to decide quickly, yet with knowledge that anything that was tinctured
+with apology was a weakening of his position.
+
+“I am not implying guilt on their part,” he said; “nor am I speaking
+of knowledge that would be proof in court, but of that moral knowledge
+which makes one certain in mind, without being able to give evidence
+to justify such certainty. To make a public accusation based on such
+knowledge, would be to do the greatest wrong.”
+
+She remained standing, seemingly weighing this remark. In reality
+she was feeling the keen disappointment of having lost excuse for
+terminating the interview which she had supposed was hers.
+
+“I am averse,” she said, “to discussing questions bearing on this
+murder. I condemn the crime. Beyond that, it has no interest to me.”
+
+She knew that in thus speaking she was weakening the position she had
+taken at first. It was the natural sequence of having the ground cut
+from under her by Cranston’s half-apology. The other eagerly seized the
+opening presented:
+
+“Until Mr. Wing’s murderer is discovered and punished, nothing and no
+one in any way connected with his past will be spared. I have said that
+I know who is his mother.”
+
+She had resumed her seat and again had herself under full control, but
+with some loss of vantage.
+
+“What one man has discovered,” she said, “any other man may discover.
+The mere fact that it can be discovered, is the end of secrecy.”
+
+“There are innumerable things that can be discovered,” he said,
+“compared with the number of people who can discover them. There are
+hundreds who would like to know this one matter, but among them not
+more than one who knows how to find it out. If his mouth is closed, the
+secret is as safe as if it did not exist.”
+
+“The mere knowledge that a secret exists is revelation,” she answered.
+“A man who will sell himself once, simply waits a higher bidder to sell
+himself again.”
+
+“Possibly, if in concealing the identity of this woman, one concealed a
+fact bearing upon the discovery of the murderer. I can assure you that
+her identity has no bearing whatever upon the other question.”
+
+“Then why not let it drop into the oblivion from which you have dragged
+it?”
+
+She knew the danger of exchanging question and answer with him,
+but human endurance has its limit, and even she could not carry
+indifference beyond the breaking point. Still, she was not unconscious
+of the gleam of satisfaction in his face.
+
+“Because,” he said, “this woman has grown strong, powerful, and rich.
+Safety is doubly precious to her. There is no reason why she should
+not pay for it.”
+
+“You mean,” she said, and her eyes snapped, “blackmail!”
+
+She had not been the active partner for thirty-five years of a
+politician who had climbed from obscurity to the control of the State,
+without knowing what this word meant, nor without knowing the infinite
+deeps that yawn for the man or woman who shows the first sign of
+weakness to the blackmailer.
+
+“You are mistaken,” he said. He was on ground now that he had gone over
+in his mind again and again, in his preparation for this interview.
+“The essence of blackmail is threat. I make no threat. I have not said
+that I will expose you, if you do not pay me. I expressly disclaim any
+such intention. But safety is worth something to you; you are rich and
+have high social position. I offer you protection in your riches and
+position, and, for giving it, I ought to have recompense--simply a fair
+equivalent for what I do. Nothing more; but that much is fair; I think
+you cannot deny its fairness.”
+
+He knew he was sliding off into inanity; that all had been said that
+he purposed saying, and that he was simply repeating himself and
+repeating himself weakly. He stopped and waited her answer.
+
+On her part she held herself under restraint, resolved not to interrupt
+him until he had said all he had to say. His change from impersonal to
+personal, which he thought she did not notice, simply impressed her as
+unimportant. She felt fully the weakness and embarrassment of his final
+words, and even with the stress under which she waited, his feeble
+maudlinism affected her with a sense of pity.
+
+“Have you finished?” she asked, when he spoke no further.
+
+“I think there should be no need of saying more,” he answered.
+
+She did not even bend in assent to his proposition. She simply pointed
+to the door, and said:
+
+“Then you may go!”
+
+The change in tone and manner startled him, trained as he was to
+surprises. He had foreseen a storm and indignation, and was prepared
+to treat that as simulated. This impressed him as genuine--so genuine
+that he was forced to ask himself hastily if he could have made any
+mistake, and this notwithstanding he was absolutely certain of all the
+facts.
+
+“But----” he began, hesitatingly.
+
+“Go!” she said, permitting no further utterance, now that he had
+said what he had come to say. A passionate joy in her ability to
+deal harshly with him, regardless of the personal risk to herself
+in so doing, seized her. She had not subjected her line of action
+to the scrutiny of judgment. For once thoroughly a woman, in that
+she discarded the masculine caution which she had cultivated as a
+habit, she gave head to instinct, which carried her past all doubt,
+all weighing of chances, to the least dangerous course that, in her
+situation, was open to her.
+
+Almost an insane fury to send one final shaft that should sting in the
+breast of this woman seized this man who, by all of his traditions,
+should have held himself the better together, the farther his plans
+miscarried. Moving toward the door, he cried:
+
+“Shall I report to my employers--your sons?”
+
+To this she had the single word, “Go!”
+
+When he was gone, she did not break under the relaxation of strain; but
+rather held herself more proudly, as if to do otherwise would be to
+admit to herself, the most important individual concerned, the danger
+in which she stood. Under the calm surface, raged a storm of irritable
+impatience, aroused by the thought that time must elapse before she
+could be called upon to face publicly the charges this man would make.
+She wanted to do it, at this moment. It seemed as if she must rush
+forth and cry:
+
+“See; here am I--I, against whom this thing is charged! Look on me and
+feast your eyes on me and roll the sweet morsel under your tongue! Of
+course, you believe it; want to believe it; but I dare you to say other
+than that it is a slander!”
+
+If she could have done this, it seemed to her that she would have
+happiness again; but to wait; not to know when the blow would fall; to
+hold herself ready to meet it at any instant and to have no power to
+hasten it,--that was the madness of the situation, that the terror it
+had for her.
+
+She rose and stood before a long mirror and looked at herself; as if
+to see if this was a different manner of woman than she who had stood
+there the day before. To her eyes, looking into the reflected depths of
+the room, her own image was representative of the world, and in facing
+it she seemed to taste something of that defiance of public knowledge
+of the scandal for which she so longed.
+
+No thought disturbed her of her future relations to her husband or
+sons. For more than a third of a century, the lives of her husband and
+herself had flowed together, each relying on the other, each confident
+in the other. Breakage was not possible or to be thought of. He would
+not even ask her of this matter, and while that very fact would lay on
+her the greater weight of responsibility to tell him, the necessity did
+not put her under that fear which would have been the greatest burden
+to an ordinary woman. By this she did not mean that he would not feel
+the wound--feel it cruelly; but they had passed the crown of the road,
+their way lay downward, and she had no more doubt of him than she
+would have had of herself, if to him and not to her the parentage of
+Theodore Wing were brought home.
+
+Her bulwark with the public would be the loyalty of her husband and
+sons, and if it smacked of selfishness and unfeeling to rely on them
+and not give a fair portion of thought to the suffering which would
+be hidden by their calm exterior, it must be remembered that during
+the entire period of her wife- and mother-hood she had lived with this
+thing, which had grown dimmer and dimmer as the years receded, until it
+had come to have for her, and it seemed to her necessarily for these
+others, a different aspect than it would have borne in the days before
+she had given to husband and children the pledge of her long devotion.
+
+Before these years she would have reasoned of her husband’s attitude
+toward such a tale from the sense of outrage, not tempered by long
+possession and intimate association. No, she had no fear there, save
+of the inward sense of humiliation under which she had gone to her
+son’s office, and for fighting which she now faced her own reflection,
+as representative of the world of public opinion. She had become
+accustomed to make demands of the world, not requests, and the world
+had yielded. It should do so still. This thing had not destroyed the
+years of loyalty and work that buttressed her present position. It
+should not do so. She stood there to make her defiance, and the world
+should heed. But oh, the waiting! The waiting! That was the cruelty of
+the situation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+In Matthewson’s Chambers
+
+
+Charles Matthewson read with impatience the name on the card just
+brought him--Isaac Trafford. It was a breach of the understanding
+between them, that this man should trouble him further. He was on the
+point of refusing to see him, when he recalled Trafford’s possession of
+the papers taken from Theodore Wing’s desk after his murder. This he
+had not known at the time of their previous interview. It was possible
+that here was the opening of negotiations for their sale. He ordered
+him admitted. Still he could not avoid resenting the intrusion.
+
+“I understood you were not to trouble me further.”
+
+“Until I became satisfied that your visit to Millbank had something to
+do with Wing’s murder,” the detective answered.
+
+“Then I may take this visit as evidence that you are satisfied that it
+had to do with the murder!”
+
+Trafford nodded.
+
+“Why don’t you arrest me then?”
+
+“Because I am satisfied you did not murder him, but can tell me who
+did,” Trafford answered.
+
+“A sort of accessory after the fact?” Matthewson demanded.
+
+“No,” said Trafford. “I’m inclined to think you never suspected that
+you knew anything about it or that you could tell me. At the same time,
+I’m almost certain you saw the murderer and talked with him that night.”
+
+Matthewson started at this statement of the matter. He had not the
+nerve of either his mother or brother, and his power of concealing his
+emotions was greatly less than that of either. However, he quickly
+recovered himself.
+
+“I refuse to be put in the position of laying accusations. I’ve no
+objection to aid in convicting a criminal, but I don’t purpose holding
+one end of a drag-net, for the mere sake of catching some one who may
+or may not be guilty.”
+
+Trafford did not deem it best to answer this directly, but instead went
+on, as if nothing had been said of objection:
+
+“You saw Charles Hunter and his brother Frank--but were they all?”
+
+Matthewson drummed on his desk and looked out of the window. What was
+there, he asked himself, that was drawing him into this tragedy, of
+which he really knew nothing? Did this man know also what Cranston
+had discovered? Was there, after all, to grow out of this murder, of
+which he knew nothing, a scandal that was to overwhelm his family, and
+finally destroy the great influence they exercised in the State?
+
+While he asked these questions of himself Trafford waited, the model of
+patience. If he had anything to disturb his mind, he did not show it.
+Evidently, Matthewson could take his time and be sure that the other
+would be there to receive his answer, when he was ready to give it.
+Finally Matthewson turned to the detective and said:
+
+“I was in Millbank on my own private business. I saw the men whom that
+business concerned and no others. The men whom I saw are one and all
+as incapable of committing this murder as I am. I must decline to
+subject any of them to the annoyance I am now subjected to.”
+
+“I don’t know whether you are incapable of committing murder or not. I
+shouldn’t want to affirm it of any one--not even myself. I am convinced
+that you saw and talked with Wing’s murderer that night. I must know
+the name of every man you saw while in Millbank, and if I can’t find it
+out in one way, I will in another.”
+
+“It pleases you to threaten,” Matthewson said, not wholly unconscious
+of an uneasy feeling.
+
+“Not to threaten, but simply to show you that I am in earnest,”
+Trafford assured him. “Still, I may appeal to you on another ground. I
+have named two men whom you saw. If I am to suppose they were the only
+ones, then I must regard one or the other as the real murderer, and
+this because you persist in concealing from me the name of the man who
+may be guilty. Have you a right to do this?”
+
+“As much right,” retorted Matthewson hotly, “as you have to throw
+suspicion on these gentlemen, simply because of the coincidence of my
+meeting them during a hasty visit to Millbank on the night that Wing
+was murdered. It would be just as reasonable to suspect me of the
+murder.”
+
+“It is possible that I do,” said Trafford.
+
+“Come,” exclaimed Matthewson, “this is going a trifle far. It’s not
+five minutes since you said you were satisfied I did not murder him.”
+
+“But that was before you refused to tell me whom you met.”
+
+Just at that moment a loud voice was heard in the outer room, demanding
+to see Mr. Matthewson. He rose and turned the key in the door,
+notwithstanding a movement on Trafford’s part to stop him. As he turned
+to his desk, Trafford asked:
+
+“Do you recognise the voice?”
+
+“No,” said the other, shortly and indignantly; “but I propose to finish
+this matter here and now, so that there will be no need to reopen it.”
+
+“That’s Cranston, the detective whom you, your brother, and Charles
+Hunter have hired,” said Trafford. “I advise you to see him, and let
+me be in a cupboard or behind a screen while he is here.”
+
+“Superb!” said Matthewson, with a vicious sneer. “You’ll know all he’s
+found out--steal his thunder! Excellent!”
+
+“Mr. Matthewson,” Trafford said, with a touch of dignity in his voice
+that his companion could but note, “I would be justified in resenting
+such a remark, and you are not justified in making it. Cranston has
+discovered nothing that I haven’t known for weeks; but he’s been in
+Bangor, and I know what he could find out there. You sent him there
+and made a cruel mistake when you did it. I would have stopped it, if
+I could. He’s here now to tell you and, if I mistake not, to demand a
+price for his silence. If I’m wrong, no harm can come from my hearing.
+If I’m right, you’re the man who wants me to hear; it’ll be the best
+protection you can have in the future.”
+
+At the mention of Bangor, Matthewson turned pale and then flushed. That
+it was made with the purpose of informing him that the detective knew
+the secret of his mother’s early life, he could not doubt. There was
+but one thing that he ought to do, and that was to pitch the man out
+of his room. He would have done it, but for the man on the other side
+of the door, to whose presence he was recalled by the turning of the
+door-knob. In which of these men did he place the greater trust? He had
+only to ask the question to let it answer itself. But this new menace?
+He would know it at its worst. That was beyond question.
+
+“Pass through this door, into the next room,” he said. “There you will
+find the door of a closet, which has a second door opening into this
+alcove. After he has entered and looked into that alcove, as he may,
+come out of the closet and--listen.”
+
+Cranston, on entering, did exactly what Matthewson had predicted; he
+examined the alcove before taking the chair to which Matthewson pointed
+him.
+
+“There’s no one in there,” Matthewson said.
+
+“I can’t take any chances,” said the other insolently. “What I’ve got
+to say wants to be between us two--you’ll want it to be when you hear
+it.”
+
+Matthewson flushed and an angry retort leaped to his lips. This,
+however, he suppressed and made necessity to ask the cause of the visit.
+
+“I’ve come to report,” said Cranston. Then, as the other waited, he
+added:
+
+“I’ve been at work in Bangor.” Then, after another pause: “I’ve learned
+things in Bangor that you ought to know.”
+
+“It relates to the murder?”
+
+“No, not directly. It relates to Theodore Wing’s mother.” He said it
+defiantly; as if he was throwing down the gage of battle.
+
+It required a mighty effort on Matthewson’s part to control himself,
+and yet he knew that to fail meant that this terrible thing, which as
+yet remained unspoken, would be uttered in words and that he must hear
+it.
+
+“I have become satisfied,” he said slowly and with an effort to control
+himself and appear dispassionate, “that the identity of Wing’s mother
+has no bearing on the murder or on the discovery of the murderer.
+You will, therefore, drop that part of the investigation and confine
+yourself to the other features. In this all who were concerned in
+employing you are agreed.”
+
+“How long since?” the man demanded insolently.
+
+“That is of no consequence,” Matthewson said. “You are now informed of
+the fact, so that your new instructions date from this moment.”
+
+“It’s too late for you to accomplish anything by that dodge,” he said.
+“I’ve found out who Wing’s mother is. The story’s worth money. I’ll
+give you the first chance to buy. Do you want it?”
+
+Matthewson trembled, as he realised the full significance of this
+demand. More than his mother possibly could, he knew how such a story
+would be received; how impossible it would be, once set afloat, to stop
+it or overcome it. Still, he put on a bold front.
+
+“Whatever you may have learned, it was while you were under our pay.
+The information belongs to us and you can’t afford to make it a matter
+of barter.”
+
+“What I’ve found out,” Cranston returned defiantly, “is worth so much
+that I can afford to take some risks. If you want it, you can have it
+for a price. If not, the highest bidder gets it, and in a State where
+ex-Governor Matthewson’s got as many enemies as he’s got in Maine,
+there won’t be any trouble about finding buyers.”
+
+“There’s no need to drag in my father’s name,” Matthewson replied.
+
+“How do you know there ain’t?” the other demanded. “Maybe you’ll be
+surprised at the names that are dragged in before we’re through.”
+
+It was Matthewson’s impulse to throw the man out of doors, without
+regard to consequences; but before him came a face that had watched
+him lovingly and tenderly from his earliest memory--a face that he had
+seen only a few days before pleading to him, as he had never dreamed
+a woman’s face could plead. His hands clutched nervously; but for the
+sake of that face and that love, he held himself in restraint.
+
+“Well, to end this matter,” he said, “what do you want for this
+precious information?”
+
+“Hadn’t you better know first what it is?” demanded the other. “Oh,”
+he said, as he saw on Matthewson’s face what he regarded as a protest;
+“it won’t spoil the goods to show ’em. I’d just as lief tell you before
+as after. It’s silence I’m selling; not facts.”
+
+“I don’t need you to repeat your talk; and what’s more, it won’t be
+safe for you to,” Matthewson said. “I know perfectly well what it would
+be; but I warn you not to dare speak it.”
+
+The man in the alcove almost betrayed himself as he heard this
+astounding acknowledgment. After all, had he mistaken what he had seen,
+and was this the real secret he had been trying to unravel? Cranston
+was speaking again:
+
+“Threatened men live long. You’ll get just as much for as little money,
+if you keep a civil tongue. I’ve got silence to sell; but I’m just
+blamed fool enough, if you get me mad, to refuse to sell at any price.”
+
+“Then your proposition is that if I pay you your price, you’ll keep
+silence regarding your discovery as to Theodore Wing’s mother; and that
+if I do not, you’ll sell your information to any one who will pay you
+for it, regardless of the injury it may do me or any one connected with
+me?”
+
+“That’s about it, in plain English.”
+
+“It’s it, isn’t it?”
+
+“Yes, it’s it.”
+
+“And you think that this information, if made public, would do me and
+those connected with me harm.”
+
+“I don’t know what you call harm, if it wouldn’t. ’Twould be the end of
+the Matthewson family, socially and politically. They’d have to find
+another boss for Maine after this thing got out.”
+
+“It’s just as well,” said the lawyer, “to keep within bounds in your
+remarks; they’re as likely to accomplish your purpose.”
+
+But Cranston was smarting under his previous failure. He had tried to
+deal squarely with Mrs. Matthewson and had met refusal and insult.
+There was the possibility that, had he adopted a higher tone, he would
+have succeeded. He was resolved not to fail from the same cause this
+time.
+
+“I’m answering questions,” he said, “and I’ll answer ’em in my own
+way. If you don’t like it, you don’t need to.”
+
+It required a terrible effort on Matthewson’s part to prevent his
+openly resenting this insolence, and he was conscious of a distinctive
+loss of self-respect that he did not at once pitch the fellow out of
+the room.
+
+“Let’s get through with this thing and be done with it,” he said. “How
+much will your silence cost me?”
+
+“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” answered Cranston.
+
+Mr. Matthewson was startled at the figure.
+
+“Why, man, you’re crazy!” he exclaimed.
+
+“I know it,” said Cranston. “I ought to have a hundred, but I ain’t
+going to be hard. I’ve set my price at twenty-five.”
+
+“And you’ll take five,” retorted Matthewson.
+
+“I wouldn’t take twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine
+dollars and ninety-nine cents,” answered Cranston. “I’ve fixed my
+price, and it’s that or nothing.”
+
+“I guess that’s right,” sneered Matthewson. “And how do you want this
+easy money?”
+
+“In good, crisp bank-notes that one can feel; and before I leave this
+room.”
+
+“Of course you’ll give a receipt when it’s paid over, setting out the
+terms of the bargain?”
+
+“Of course, I won’t!” retorted Cranston. “You’ll have to trust to my
+honour; that’ll be your protection.”
+
+“Then the bargain is, if I give you twenty-five thousand dollars,
+you’ll keep this story quiet. If I don’t, you’ll use it to my
+injury----”
+
+“To your ruin,” interrupted Cranston. “I’ll drive you and your family
+out of the State; I’ll destroy every shred of your influence, and I’ll
+do it with this story!”
+
+“There are no other terms; no other means by which I can stop you?”
+
+“You bet there isn’t; and if this gabble goes on much longer, I’ll
+double my price.”
+
+“Then we’ll stop it right here. I buy safety for twenty-five thousand
+dollars, and here’s five dollars to bind the bargain. I’m to send out
+and get the rest and pay to you before you leave. Are those the terms?”
+
+“Those are the terms, if you get the money quick enough.”
+
+“Then you can get out of this office, you skulking, blackmailing
+scoundrel, or I’ll throw you out of the window. Go, and don’t be slow
+about it, for my fingers are itching to get hold of you. I’m through
+with you!”
+
+For an instant, Cranston was dumbfounded by the sudden revulsion of
+position. He had believed the money practically in his grasp, and
+instead he encountered this dismissal of contempt and abuse. But his
+surprise was only for an instant. Then a flood of senseless anger,
+verging on madness, seized him. He had but one impulse and that was to
+punish the man who had led him on, only to throw him down. There was a
+flash of a pistol in his hand as he said:
+
+“But I’m not through with you, by God!”
+
+“You don’t need that to send you to State’s prison,” said a voice
+behind him, as a hand, seemingly of steel, grasped his and wrenched
+away the pistol. He turned and saw Trafford standing behind him.
+
+“By God, this is a dirty, contemptible trick, Trafford,” he gasped.
+
+“I guess that’s so, too,” Trafford answered, coolly, as he drew the
+charges from the revolver, before handing it back to Cranston; “but
+unfortunately there are some situations in life that can’t be reached
+by anything else, and this seems to be one of ’em.”
+
+“Now will you go?” demanded Matthewson, “while I’ve a notion to let
+you?”
+
+“I’ll go,” the man muttered; “but you aren’t through with me yet!”
+
+“When you feel a particular desire for free quarters at Thomaston, just
+meddle with my affairs again,” retorted Matthewson. “Until you do feel
+that way, you’d better let them alone.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The Range 16 Scandal
+
+
+“I guess I didn’t make any mistake in staying,” said Trafford, more to
+break the embarrassing silence which followed Cranston’s withdrawal,
+than with any definite purpose.
+
+Matthewson glanced up with the air of a man who had half lost
+consciousness of surrounding circumstances in a line of painful thought.
+
+“I am under deep obligation to you,” he said slowly; and then,
+apparently tracking back to his thoughts before Trafford spoke, he
+added, as it seemed, irrelevantly:
+
+“You said he could tell nothing you did not already know.”
+
+The pain which manifested itself in his face would have shown a far
+less keen man what the speaker had in mind, yet was not willing more
+directly to name.
+
+“He has not,” said Trafford quietly. “All that he hinted at I’ve known
+for weeks.”
+
+“Did you know it when you saw me before?”
+
+Trafford nodded.
+
+“Why did you conceal it?”
+
+“It’s not concealment not to talk of a thing. There was no call to talk
+of it so long as it had nothing to do with the murder.”
+
+“But are you certain,” the words came hard and with a painful ring,
+“that it did have nothing to do with the murder?”
+
+The question showed Trafford how far pain and numbing anguish had
+carried the man who, loyal even to the death of honour to the mother
+who bore him, on that very account was the deeper sufferer.
+
+“Absolutely!” Trafford threw into the word an intense depth of
+conviction. “On that point you may exclude every doubt.”
+
+Matthewson gave him a look of intense relief. He was reasonably certain
+as to Cranston; but if there was a chain of circumstances, as there
+well might be, between this story and the recent murder, what was to
+save them?
+
+“I owe you more than I can say,” he went on. “I won’t waste my
+gratitude in words. The only thing I can do now, that I see, is to
+answer your question of a half-hour ago. You’re entitled to that.”
+
+He wrote some names on a slip of paper and passed it over to Trafford.
+He watched him as he read, to detect, if possible, any movement of
+surprise, for this question of the murder, from a matter of comparative
+indifference, save as it touched the possession of certain papers, was
+growing into a vital thing, that seemed to meet him at every turn,
+filling him with alarm for the moment when it should uncover in all its
+hideous nakedness. But there was nothing to indicate that he had told
+anything which the other did not know already, until Trafford himself
+spoke. Then, even, the tone was most commonplace:
+
+“You have saved me the time and trouble it would have taken to complete
+the list.” He evidently had no question of his ability to do so. “I
+hope you’ll add to the obligation by answering one or two questions.
+Did you meet these men separately or together?”
+
+“I met the first two separately and the other alone.”
+
+“And discussed with the two the papers which were in Wing’s
+possession.” While pursuing the matter in apparently the most
+commonplace way, Trafford did not fail to note the quick air of sudden
+interest on Matthewson’s part which followed this reference to the
+mysterious papers. It was not a look that betokened fear, but rather
+eagerness, if the detective could read aright. He went on:
+
+“Was it on the same matter you saw the third man?”
+
+“Certainly,” answered Matthewson, as if eager now to give the
+information he had before withheld. “There was only one thing that took
+me to Millbank, and that was the papers.”
+
+“Did you see him before or after you saw the others?”
+
+“Before and after, both.”
+
+“Did they know you had seen him or were to see him?”
+
+“No. Rightly or wrongly, I suspected cross-purposes between them and
+was after a second string to my bow. They thought I took an earlier
+train, but I met him by arrangement. I’d sent him to see Wing and met
+him to get the report.”
+
+“Then he was with Wing during the evening?”
+
+“Did you not know it?” demanded Matthewson, turning cross-examiner.
+
+“A question does not always imply ignorance,” said Trafford, smiling,
+“but sometimes the bolstering up of knowledge not yet in the form we
+want it. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I knew Wing had a visitor
+that evening. This man was with him till late?”
+
+“He left him at eleven o’clock and met me. I parted with him in the
+shadow of Pettingill’s potato storehouse, when I ran to jump on the
+train.”
+
+“You sent him to try to get those papers from Wing, and he failed.”
+
+“Miserably failed. It was a desperate chance I took, of course; but I
+could do no less than take it. In fact it was a desperate thing to use
+this man, but it was my last hope, and I had no choice.”
+
+“Yet he’s square--if I’m rightly informed. No danger from him.”
+
+“I don’t mean that. I mean he’s not the kind of man to use in such a
+thing. He’s what you might call too high-toned--not given to that kind
+of work--that is, in a successful way. He wouldn’t take chances that
+another man might. I guess you know better than I can tell you what I
+mean.”
+
+“I know. I understand the type of man. He gave you no hope of securing
+the papers?”
+
+“None whatever. Wing positively refused every suggestion in regard to
+them, and left the impression on his mind that further attempt was
+useless. While I felt that another man might have done better, I was
+certain that his effort had uncovered Wing’s exact position; that Wing
+was determined to hold on to the papers and use them. He was convinced
+of the same thing.”
+
+“Still you urged him to make another effort.”
+
+“No. I was so convinced that it didn’t seem worth while--at least
+along those lines. While we were talking, I heard the warning bell and
+we hurried, turning off Somerset Street between Neil’s store and the
+post-office. As I left him, I remember saying that I’d give the man who
+would put those papers in my hands a hundred thousand dollars.”
+
+“A hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Trafford, for once at least
+showing his surprise.
+
+“Yes,” answered Matthewson, a strange hopefulness coming into his eyes;
+“I’ll give you that sum for the papers this minute.”
+
+“I wish I had ’em,” said Trafford, in a tone half regretful and half as
+if he was groping in his memory for something that bore on the matter.
+
+“Why, haven’t you got them?” demanded Matthewson, between incredulity
+and fear.
+
+“I!” exclaimed Trafford. “I got them! I’ve never even seen them. The
+man who fired the shot that killed Wing has got those papers. Find him,
+and you’re on the track of the papers.”
+
+Matthewson grew pale with revulsion of feeling. That Trafford had the
+papers, he had had no question. He believed that all this had been
+merely leading up to an offer and he had shaped his course, as he
+thought, shrewdly, to the naming of a sum which would make the man
+eager to deal. Instead, he was told in a tone that carried conviction,
+that not only had Trafford not got the papers, but that they were in
+the possession of an unknown man for whom the law was hunting. If he
+was found, the papers would pass into the possession of the State and
+the public!
+
+“In other words, we don’t know where they are?”
+
+“We do know,” answered Trafford, with the solemnity of a man who feels
+that he is approaching accomplished purpose, “that these papers were
+the cause of Wing’s death. Tell me the man who was most concerned in
+getting possession of these papers and I’ll give Wing’s murderer to the
+hangman--or would, if you hadn’t abolished the hangman in Maine.”
+
+Never had the case stood so naked before Matthewson as these
+words stripped it. For the murder itself he had felt comparative
+indifference, his interest in the papers overtopping all else. Since
+he was aware that the murdered man was his half-brother, he had been
+conscious of an approach to a feeling of relief that he was dead. Now,
+for the first time, he saw, as by lightning’s flash, the strife for
+the papers and the murder as cause and effect. The one danger grew into
+another, and each took fearfulness from the other. No effort of the
+will could quite quiet the nervous tremor which the realisation of this
+fact brought. His face was drawn with pain as he answered:
+
+“There can be no man more concerned than I to get these papers.”
+
+“Fortunately I know you were on the train when the shot was fired.”
+
+The answer implied that but for this Trafford would suspect him, and
+Matthewson so understood it; but his anxiety was too great for him even
+to resent the implication. His brother was no less interested than
+himself in the papers. He must warn him, warn him instantly. This man
+was pitiless when a task was set before him; Henry must not let himself
+be drawn into a trap.
+
+“We have supposed,” Matthewson said, as much to ease the situation,
+as from any particular bearing of the remark on the matter under
+discussion, “that you had taken the papers under cover of taking the
+blotter from the desk.”
+
+“I know,” nodded Trafford. “That was the reason you had me attacked in
+the bridge at Millbank. I would have been robbed of the papers--thrown
+into the river, perhaps. For the moment, I assumed that it was the same
+men who committed the murder. I saw my mistake, however, very quickly.”
+
+He added the last words, as it were, as an apology for the mistake
+itself. As a matter of fact, Matthewson had known nothing of the
+assault until some days after it took place, but he scorned a denial
+that must seem like an effort to escape responsibility, and so said
+nothing to disabuse the other’s mind of the belief that he had helped
+plan the assault.
+
+“The most serious aspect of that affair,” Trafford continued, “was the
+death of the Canuck--Victor Vignon.”
+
+But Matthewson was not in a mood to feel keenly the death of a mere
+logger, whom he had never seen and whose importance, in comparison
+with the good name and continued power of the Matthewson family, was
+as nothing. He did not care even to assume an interest for the sake of
+appearance. He was thinking, thinking fast, and only half hearing what
+Trafford was saying. Suddenly his attention was again aroused.
+
+“What is the nature of these papers?” the other was asking. “With
+knowledge of that, I could narrow the circle of interest, so that I
+would have to deal with only a few men.”
+
+“It can’t be the men who are interested in the papers by reason of
+their contents who did the murder,” said Matthewson, speaking rapidly.
+“I know them and can answer for every one of them--that is, so far as
+they knew of the existence of the papers. It is some one who regards
+them from the point of their saleability. It’s their money value.”
+
+Trafford had seen this possibility already, but it did not satisfy him.
+He felt that he could form a sounder judgment than this man, but to do
+it he must have the facts and this man must give them to him.
+
+“If you are correct,” he said, “you must see that you narrow the line
+of enquiry to three men. I must know what the papers were to determine
+which of these three is the man. I have asked you before, what is the
+nature of the papers?”
+
+“Do not think me ungrateful, if I decline to answer. I would trust you
+with everything, but the secret belongs to others no less than myself.”
+
+“Mr. Matthewson,” said Trafford seriously, “it is not pleasant to have
+to play hide and seek with you. I’ve had to remind you once before that
+the inquest is public. If I have this question asked there, you’ll have
+to answer or----”
+
+“Go to jail,” Matthewson said, completing the sentence. “I know. I’ve
+thought of that. I shouldn’t answer.”
+
+Matthewson drummed on the table and looked at his companion. Even his
+political power could not shield him from the consequence of a refusal
+to answer a question put to him at the inquest on such a murder as
+this. Surely the cause must be a serious one that induced him even to
+think of such an act. Trafford took up another line:
+
+“Have you thought that if you were summoned and refused to testify, it
+would be necessary for the government to supply as best it could the
+want of your testimony. Have you thought that in doing so, it could not
+be dainty as to means, and that it would not be impossible in such an
+event that it might stumble on the story that Cranston tried to sell
+you to-day?”
+
+“In other words, you would become the pedlar of scandal,” sneered
+Matthewson.
+
+“In other words, that justice might not fail, I’d get at the facts,
+even if they involved my own--brother. Don’t you see, Mr. Matthewson,
+I’m giving you a chance? If, with a knowledge of all the facts, I can
+bring this crime home to the murderer without bringing you into it,
+I’ll do so. If I can’t, I simply know in advance what all the world is
+bound to know finally. You’ve your chance. You can take it or leave it.”
+
+“You’re pressing your advantage. I’m to tell, or you’ll find out.
+Let me suggest you’ve been on the case some time and the sum of your
+finding is not large.”
+
+“So large, Mr. Matthewson, that I can make my arrest within twenty-four
+hours and, I’m certain, convict my man.”
+
+Matthewson started. There was no mistaking the tone. Still he would not
+yield.
+
+“In that event, you don’t need my answer.”
+
+“I must have your answer to shape my proof. You’ll give it to me here
+or on the witness stand. I’ll leave it to you to decide which.”
+
+Matthewson faced him like a man at bay; then, as he saw his unflinching
+purpose, he yielded and answered:
+
+“The papers purport to impugn titles to a million dollars’ worth of
+land and two millions’ worth of stumpage. They impugn too the honour of
+the men who hold those titles.”
+
+It was Trafford’s turn for surprise. The words took him back to the
+great scandal of the Public Lands Office, before and while Matthewson
+was Governor--the one storm that it had seemed for a time even his
+political resources could not weather. Then came the sudden collapse
+of the attack and the disappearance of documents that were relied on
+to support it. He recalled that Judge Parlin had been retained to
+prosecute the case, and that it was said that papers had been stolen
+from his office which it had never been possible to replace.
+
+“You mean,” he said, “the Range 16 scandal.”
+
+“I believe it was so called,” said Matthewson doggedly.
+
+“But it was said these papers had been stolen; it was supposed they had
+been destroyed. How came they in Wing’s hands?”
+
+“It is said they were stolen; but if so, not all. Parlin never was
+able to fill the place of those that were taken; but this man Wing,
+with devilish ingenuity and persistence, had worked and dug and pieced
+together until--well, until he had got enough to make us uneasy.”
+
+“And so you tried the old game a second time?”
+
+“We tried to get them out of his hands. The main thing we hope now is
+that as the price paid for them this time was murder, the man who got
+them has destroyed them, for fear their possession would betray him.”
+
+Trafford was silent for a few minutes, and then said:
+
+“Don’t hope. They’re not destroyed. The man who committed murder to get
+them, will not part with its price so easily. The man who holds papers
+that would ruin Governor Matthewson, his sons, Charles and Frank
+Hunter, and the Lord knows who else, knows that those papers would
+be his surest means of escape, if his identity was discovered. Those
+papers are in existence;” and he added to himself, “if I can’t convict
+without them, I won’t get out of the next assault so easy.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+The Story of the Papers
+
+
+Trafford went back to Millbank more seriously alarmed than at any time
+in his whole professional career. Matthewson would unquestionably
+inform the others that he had not the papers; and as certainly warn
+them he was after them, with the determination to secure them. It
+was well within reason that they would regard it as safer that they
+remained in the hands of a murderer whom they protected, than that they
+should fall into those of a detective, who would use them to convict
+and thus make them public. He felt that he must act promptly and
+energetically and bring to his aid every influence possible.
+
+Now, however, there was another matter tugging at him. Few men in
+Maine ever attained to the possession of a hundred thousand dollars.
+The income on such a sum would equal his average yearly earnings. He
+believed that if he could put his hands on the papers, they would
+yield him that sum or more. If he was in danger, he had but to let it
+be known in a certain quarter that on obtaining these papers, he would
+deliver them intact, and the danger disappeared. He was satisfied that
+the man who made public the facts relating to Range 16 scandal would
+never live to see the result. He was satisfied that if the papers were
+once located in any person’s possession, there would now be no further
+time wasted in negotiation, as there had been with Wing; but that
+effective steps would be taken to prevent their publicity.
+
+On arriving at Millbank, Trafford waited only to receive the report of
+his assistant, who had been left on guard, and then went at once to
+the Parlin homestead. He found Mrs. Parlin showing marks of the strain
+upon her of the last few weeks. Life had brought her many sorrows,
+and Wing’s tragic death had seemingly broken the last tie of joy.
+Trafford’s feverish impatience, rather than the trained restraint of
+his profession, spoke in the haste he showed to get at real issues.
+
+“Mrs. Parlin,” he began, as soon as formal greetings were over, “what
+can you tell me of the Range 16 affair and the papers relating thereto?”
+
+To his surprise Mrs. Parlin grew suddenly white and seemed on the point
+of fainting. He turned to her assistance, but by a strong effort she
+recovered a part of her usual self-possession, though the colour did
+not come back to her cheeks.
+
+“Nothing,” she said. “It is a matter on which I can’t talk. You must
+not; you shall not torture me with it.”
+
+“I would not willingly distress you in any way, Mrs. Parlin,” he said,
+with less abruptness; “but it is my duty to insist and I think it your
+duty to comply. Our whole search for Mr. Wing’s murderer may turn upon
+your answer.”
+
+“Oh, has that come up to curse us again! has that come up!” she cried,
+wringing her hands. “I can’t bear it; I can’t bear it!”
+
+Trafford was astounded at her growing agitation, and was half disposed
+to forego further questions, at least for the time; but behind him was
+the impulsion of his dread of, he scarcely knew what, driving him on to
+reckless impatience.
+
+“It has come up and we can’t rid ourselves of it. Those papers were the
+cause of Mr. Wing’s death.”
+
+“Those papers!” she repeated, with open lips, which scarcely moved as
+she spoke. “Those papers! But I hid them; no one knew where they were.
+Theodore did not even know of their existence.”
+
+“You hid them!” exclaimed Trafford, thunderstruck at the statement.
+“They were stolen, I understand. How could you hide them?”
+
+“Yes,” she said, like a bewildered child, admitting a fault; “they were
+stolen. I stole them.”
+
+It was Trafford’s turn to sit dazed beyond the power of clear thought.
+She had stolen the papers to which her husband had given long months of
+work and thought, and on which he had hoped to build a reputation that
+should overpass the bounds of the State and outlive his years. She was
+the thief; and if report said truly, that theft had hastened his death
+and added bitterness to his last days!
+
+“You can’t mean this, Mrs. Parlin,” he said gently. “I refer to the
+papers that were stolen from your husband’s desk some five years before
+he died; the papers that related to the Public Lands Office and the
+timber land and stumpage in Range 16; the papers that involved some
+men very high in the State and in the party--I won’t name them, if you
+please.”
+
+She nodded assent to each of his propositions, and when he had finished
+said:
+
+“Yes; those are the papers I mean. I stole them from his desk and hid
+them. I was going to destroy them; but I thought sometime they might be
+of use and not so dangerous, and so I hid them.”
+
+“Where did you hide them?”
+
+“First in the attic, then in the cellar, and finally under the bricks
+of the hearth in the parlour.”
+
+“It’s easy, then, to find if they’re still there.”
+
+Ten minutes sufficed to raise the bricks and show the hiding-place--a
+hollow cavity which had been devised in the early days for hiding
+purposes--empty.
+
+“They are gone!” she cried as she glanced into the hole.
+
+“Yes,” said Trafford, replacing the bricks and leading her back to
+Wing’s library, where they were less apt to be overheard, “they’re
+gone. Mr. Wing found them and, realising the alarm it would be to you
+to know that they were found, did not tell you. It was those papers
+that brought about his death.”
+
+When Mrs. Parlin was sufficiently calm, Trafford set himself to the
+task of extracting the details of the affair; letting her at first tell
+it in her own way, and later asking questions that completed the story.
+Condensed to the facts, it ran as follows:
+
+Nearly twelve years before, her husband, in the course of some
+investigation of a land title in the Public Lands Office, came across
+what appeared an error in an important entry. He was on the point
+of calling attention to it, so that it could be corrected, when a
+critical examination convinced him that it was not a mere error, but a
+carefully made change that involved the title to timber-land that was
+just becoming exceedingly valuable. Acting on the hint thus given, he
+went to work cautiously, but determinately, and personally got together
+a number of documents that revealed what seemed a systematic series
+of forgeries, relating to immense tracts of land that were formerly
+public. In some cases, the title to the land itself was involved; in
+others, that to the stumpage only.
+
+It was impossible to carry on these investigations without attracting
+attention, especially when they had gone so far as to show that in
+every case where the title was suspicious, the benefit accrued to the
+Matthewsons and to the Hunters at Millbank. Mr. Matthewson was then
+Governor, but he had formerly been at the head of the Public Lands
+Office, and his financial prosperity had appeared to date from about
+the time he held that position.
+
+A prying reporter got an inkling that something was going on, and in
+pursuing his enquiry revealed the hints he had discovered to Henry
+Matthewson. A position of financial importance was suddenly offered
+the reporter in a Western city and the story never was printed. But
+the Matthewsons were, from that moment, on their guard. A few months
+later, a fire broke out in the record room of the Public Lands Office
+and valuable records were destroyed. This did not attract especial
+attention, for the press had repeatedly called public attention to
+the existence of this very danger, and merely contented itself with
+shouting “I told you so,” with a great deal of strenuousness.
+
+What was not known, save to Judge Parlin and, probably, some of the
+office force, was the extreme discrimination shown by the fire in
+destroying the very books on which proof of the forgeries depended.
+Certain remarks incautiously dropped by Judge Parlin let out facts from
+which the scandal took shape, with charges freely made by political
+opponents of the Matthewsons, which could now be proved only by papers
+in Judge Parlin’s hands, since the destruction of the original books.
+This was the Range 16 Scandal in its original form.
+
+Up to this time, Judge Parlin had not even taken his wife into his
+confidence, but as the matter took more and more of public form,
+he deemed it necessary that she should know, especially as he had
+begun to suspect that the men who were against him would hesitate at
+nothing--not even murder, to conceal the truth. It was an incautious
+hint dropped by him to this effect that first alarmed her, and this
+alarm was speedily increased to terror by threats that were conveyed to
+the judge from time to time, though as to the source he was never able
+to reach a solution. “He laughed at them,” she said, telling of these
+threats; “but that is a man’s way. A woman sits and thinks and dreads,
+because she cannot act. In the dead night, I heard footsteps prowling
+about the place--or thought I did, and I lay in an agony of terror--not
+for myself, but because it was not for me that the danger threatened.
+When he was at Norridgewock at court and would drive home after dark,
+I sat and trembled until I had him again in my arms and knew that once
+more the chance had passed him by. If there came a ring at the bell
+late at night, I would plead that he let me answer it, until I wrought
+myself into a nervous terror that I cannot even now remember without
+a shudder. It was the worse because he was so brave and never for a
+moment felt afraid. When he laughed at the threats, I grew cold to my
+very heart, for my fear for him told me that the danger he scorned was
+so real that some day it would fall and crush him. A woman’s love knows
+some things that a man’s brain can’t compass!”
+
+It seemed, however, that he attached importance of one kind to these
+threats, such as to induce him to guard the papers carefully, pending
+the time when he could duplicate them and place one set where they
+could not possibly be reached. But before this was even undertaken,
+Mrs. Parlin had become so alarmed that she urged her husband to abandon
+the matter and destroy the papers and let this be known where it would
+cause a cessation of the annoyance to which they were both subjected.
+But here she found him inflexible, and at last her terror reached such
+a pitch that she determined herself to steal and destroy the papers.
+
+It was some time before she was able to carry this resolve into
+execution, and during the delay she reached a point of terror little
+short of insanity. At last, under the impulse of fear intensified by a
+particularly boldly expressed threat, she took desperate chances and,
+as desperate chances will do at times, succeeded. She took the papers
+from her husband’s desk almost under his very eyes, and ever after had
+the cruel pain of knowing that the trust she had betrayed was so great
+that no suspicion of the betrayal had ever crossed his mind.
+
+Once in possession of the papers, she had, as she told Trafford, failed
+in the courage to destroy them, and had easily persuaded herself
+that they might at some time be an actual means of protection to her
+husband. Therefore she had hidden them, as stated, and thus finally
+they had passed into Theodore Wing’s hands to prove his death warrant.
+
+The judge was much broken over the loss of the papers, the facts in
+regard to which could not be kept from the public. For a time, the
+scandal blazed up and the Matthewsons had to meet charges which could
+be proved by no one and which, therefore, they were the more bold in
+denying. Then public interest was turned to other issues, only to be
+aroused again for a time by Judge Parlin’s candidacy for the highest
+State court and his defeat, which he did not long survive.
+
+“But when,” she demanded, “could Theodore have found these papers?”
+
+“About two years ago, I should say; perhaps a little earlier,” said
+Trafford. “At least, it was then known that he had found them, for on
+no other theory can we explain the ransacking of his desk. He then
+began to carry them about with him, and the interests involved, which
+had rested quiet since your husband’s loss, and especially since his
+death, became disturbed again and active.”
+
+“Then it must be the Matthewsons or Hunters who murdered him,”
+exclaimed the woman, under a sudden breaking in of light.
+
+“It would seem a fair conclusion,” answered Trafford; “and yet I have
+evidence that satisfies me that they did not murder him and do not
+know who did. I don’t mean to say that they wouldn’t have done it
+finally; but they didn’t this time, and are not only puzzled, but much
+disturbed, over the mystery of the murder. We have gone so far on this
+matter that I can tell you in a word why they are disturbed. Whoever
+murdered him took the papers, and they are alarmed as to where they’ll
+turn up next.”
+
+Mrs. Parlin had by the act of telling her story recovered her
+self-control and power to think, and saw as clearly as Trafford the
+meaning of this uncertainty.
+
+“But who,” she asked, “could have done it, if they did not?”
+
+“Some one who knew he had the papers. Some one who knew something of
+their value, and some one who knows the safety there is in boldness,
+and had the nerve to carry through an affair that might break down at
+any point. I knew long since that some one was with Mr. Wing in the
+evening after you left him, and that the visitor stayed very late. I
+also know that, contrary to what was generally supposed, this room was
+visited after the murder. Some one passed over his dead body, entered
+the room, and took the papers. The question is, who was bold enough to
+commit the theft under such conditions?”
+
+The picture that Trafford drew of the murder and the theft stirred Mrs.
+Parlin, already wrought upon by the interview, to a state of nervous
+excitement that was most distressing. Too late, the detective realised
+that in such a state she was scarcely a safe custodian for the secret
+he had given into her keeping. She walked the room, wringing her hands
+and asking herself:
+
+“Why didn’t I burn them; why didn’t I burn them? I might at least have
+saved Theodore! I am his murderer.”
+
+It was late when Trafford had quieted her so that he dared trust her
+even with Mary Mullin. Even this he did not do, without first giving
+her a stern warning as to the necessity of self-restraint.
+
+“We’re on the last stretch now,” he said. “What’s done must be done
+quickly and silently. These men haven’t committed murder yet, but they
+wouldn’t hesitate to, if they were once convinced that safety lay
+in that direction. In forty-eight hours they’ll see that it’s safer
+for this murder to remain a mystery, and then it’ll be dangerous to
+move--it may mean death. Can you keep still on this subject two days?”
+
+“I kept still for eight years while I saw my husband crushed,” she said
+reproachfully.
+
+As he was turning away, oppressed with the thought that he was pitted
+against men who would hesitate at nothing and who, as soon as a
+conference was had, must see that their interests lay in thwarting his
+efforts, she caught him by the coat and drew him towards her.
+
+“There’s been blood enough shed,” she said. “These papers killed my
+husband, though I stole them in the hope of saving his life. They’ve
+killed Theodore. Don’t let them kill any more folks. Burn them, burn
+them, when you get hold of them!”
+
+“But you want me to catch Mr. Wing’s murderer, don’t you? You want him
+sent to Thomaston?”
+
+“Yes; yes!” Her eyes blazed with the desire of revenge. “Don’t let him
+escape! But burn the papers!”
+
+He lingered still, though he felt that he was wasting precious time. He
+seemed to be in the one place of safety, and a strange dread, which he
+knew foreign to his nature and profession, assailed him. He had never
+experienced it before and it seemed a premonition of coming evil. As he
+turned finally to go, she said again:
+
+“Don’t move alone. You can’t do better than take Mr. McManus’s
+advice. The judge had every confidence in him, and so, I think, had
+Theodore. You’ll be safer if some one knows what you are doing. Tell
+him everything and keep somebody by you all the time. Catch Theodore’s
+murderer, and when you get him and the papers, burn the papers: don’t
+let them cause any more bloodshed.”
+
+“I shan’t move without Mr. McManus,” he assured her. “He is cool-headed
+and resourceful. I’ll catch Mr. Wing’s murderer and I’ll put an end to
+the mischief those papers can do.”
+
+Nevertheless, there was the sense of oppression and danger hanging
+over him. He was doubting himself--doubting himself, from the moment
+Matthewson had assured him that he would give a hundred thousand
+dollars for the papers. Suppose he should find them, would he have
+strength to put that offer from him? As he asked this question, he
+realised that the fear that weighed on him was rather the fear born
+of a sense of moral degradation than fear of bodily harm. He knew as
+absolutely as if the thing was done that, if once he was in possession
+of the papers, he would sell them to Matthewson; and while he knew it
+and hated himself for being capable of doing it, he went steadily on
+the course which could have no other ending.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+The Man is Found
+
+
+McManus was unmarried and lived at the Millbank Hotel, where he
+indulged in the extravagance of two rooms, a sitting room and a
+bedroom. Trafford saw him at supper and arranged for an evening
+interview.
+
+“I’ll come to your room,” he said. “I’ve got nothing but a six by nine
+closet on the highest floor.”
+
+Supper over, he went for a short walk, to pass the time until the hour
+of appointment. He walked out on the river road where Charles Hunter’s
+great house stood, and found himself running over items of expense in
+maintaining such an establishment, all directed to the question whether
+a man on the income derivable from one hundred thousand dollars could
+afford a home like it. Disgusted with a train of thought he could not
+control, he hastened on, until at the top of Parlin Hill he saw the
+Parlin homestead and quite unexpectedly began asking himself if Mrs.
+Parlin was not likely to sell it and move into a smaller house.
+
+Whipped with the lash of his now ungovernable thoughts, he returned
+to the hotel and was confronted by Frank Hunter, whom he would dearly
+have liked to arrest and bind over to keep the peace. He was in what
+he called a “blue funk,” and did not regain his self-control until he
+found himself in McManus’s room, where a sense of security seemed to
+seize him.
+
+“I’ll put this window on to the porch down and draw the shades,” he
+said, suiting the action to the word. “I’ve got some things to say that
+mustn’t be overheard.”
+
+They were at the table with cigars lighted, before McManus responded
+with reference to the affair in hand:
+
+“Have you made any progress?”
+
+“I’ve got the thing down to a dot,” he answered; “with the one
+exception--you’ll say important--of the man. I can tell you how that
+murder was committed, and when I have, I think you’ll agree with my
+prediction of a fortnight ago as to the characteristics of the man who
+committed it. What I want of you is that when the thing is told, you’ll
+help me put my hands on the man.”
+
+“I’ll do my best,” replied McManus; “but don’t forget you are giving me
+the point on which you confess yourself at a loss.”
+
+Trafford laughed.
+
+“Isn’t that where we all want help?”
+
+“Yes; but not always where we get it.”
+
+“On the evening of May 10, a man came from somewhere below on the
+train due here at eight o’clock. He dropped off at the Bridge station,
+instead of coming into Millbank, and met another man, apparently by
+appointment, about half-way between the railroad and covered bridges.
+They talked about ten minutes----”
+
+“Hold on,” interrupted McManus; “you go too fast. Was the man he met a
+Millbank man?”
+
+“Oh, I forgot. It was Frank Hunter.”
+
+“Frank Hunter!” exclaimed McManus. “You’re still pointing to our
+office, as I said before. It’s a grave responsibility you’re taking,
+Mr. Trafford.”
+
+“I’m taking no responsibility. I’m simply giving you facts. Whoever
+was the murderer, I’m certain it wasn’t Frank Hunter. I’ll give you
+that for your comfort. As I was saying, they talked about ten minutes
+and then separated. Hunter went to his brother’s house and the stranger
+turned back, crossed the railroad bridge, and went down Somerset
+Street, meeting a man about a quarter of a mile below the Catholic
+church, where the street runs through the heavy maple grove. You know
+the spot?”
+
+McManus nodded, attempting no other interruption.
+
+“It was now about quarter to nine, and the two were together full
+half an hour. The stranger then came back up Somerset Street and went
+directly to Charles Hunter’s house. Ten minutes after, a man, who
+might have been the one whom the stranger met, crossed Eddy Street to
+Bicknell, came up Bicknell to Canaan, crossed Canaan to River Road,
+and went directly up River Road to the Parlin homestead. He reached
+there between half-past nine and quarter before ten and went to the
+side door, where he rang the right-hand bell, showing that he was
+acquainted with the peculiar arrangement of the bells. Mr. Wing came to
+the door and the two went into the library.”
+
+“Now,” continued Trafford after a pause, to enable McManus to grasp
+all of the details, “as to the time; it was nine-thirty when Mrs.
+Parlin left the room. Wing had not written his letter, so that we have
+got the time pretty closely fixed. He stayed with Wing until nearly
+eleven-thirty. The stranger seems to have left Hunter’s house under
+pretence of catching the freight that leaves at eleven, but in reality
+he went to Somerset Street and walked up and down that street until a
+quarter to twelve, when he was joined by a man, presumably the one who
+had come from Wing’s library. It was a pretty hazardous thing to do,
+this loafing up and down Somerset Street, but up to now I haven’t found
+a single person whose attention he particularly attracted and certainly
+not one who pretends to have recognised him, though I feel certain he
+has many acquaintances in this town.”
+
+“If the two Hunters saw him, why don’t you get his identity from them?”
+McManus demanded.
+
+“That’ll come in time. I’ve not wanted to take too many into my
+confidence, and there’s no danger of their running away. Of course,
+if there’d been any possibility that this visitor was the murderer,
+’twould be different, but as you’ll see, there isn’t.”
+
+“But he may have instigated the murder, without actually firing the
+shot,” said McManus. “You must pardon me, Mr. Trafford; but I can’t
+help feeling you’ve shown yourself somewhat derelict in this important
+matter.”
+
+“I hope I’ll be able to exonerate myself before I finish,” said
+Trafford. “At any rate, let me go on. The matters these men had to
+discuss were of such interest that the visitor came near missing the
+midnight train, which might have subjected me to the necessity of
+having him arrested, since he would then have been in town when the
+murder occurred. As it was, by hurrying through the alley between the
+post-office and Neil’s store, they got the train, the stranger coming
+from behind the potato warehouse, as has been testified. His companion
+remained there, or he might have been recognised by Oldbeg.”
+
+Trafford seemed disposed to muse over the possible result of such an
+event and as well over another matter to which he referred a moment
+later:
+
+“It would be a curious thing to know just what was said behind the
+storehouse, where they had their last words. It might throw a flood of
+light on things.”
+
+“Yes,” answered McManus, showing a feverish desire for the continuance
+of the narrative; “but you might as well try to guess where yesterday’s
+winds have blown to. You seem to have facts enough, without speculating
+on conversations.”
+
+“I suppose that’s true,” returned Trafford; “yet that last talk has
+a fascination for me. Who knows that it wasn’t just that that sealed
+Wing’s fate? You say this man may have instigated the murder. If so,
+may not that have been the moment of instigation?”
+
+“Scarcely possible,” returned McManus, as it were drawn against his
+will into the discussion. “If he did anything so important, he wouldn’t
+leave it for the last word and last moment.”
+
+“There I don’t agree with you,” Trafford retorted, showing a
+disposition to argue, which caused McManus a nervous irritation he
+could not conceal. “From my experience, that’s just what he would do.
+He’d hesitate to take the plunge; he’d wait to shape a phrase and then,
+at the last moment, when it had to be done, he’d throw it off in any
+form it presented itself. Actually, I’d give more to know what was said
+in that two minutes, before the stranger jumped for the train, than for
+all the talk of the whole evening.”
+
+“Well; have your own way,” said McManus brusquely; “but you can’t know.
+Let it rest there, and let’s go on to what happened next--if you know.”
+
+Trafford watched him intently, as he was speaking, but when he had
+finished seemed to find nothing in the speech, so he went on:
+
+“After the train pulled out, the man behind the storehouse waited some
+few minutes, till the station was closed, and the men had left, and
+then he stepped out and picked up something that he saw lying on the
+ground and had watched from the moment it had caught his eye. It was a
+revolver, one chamber of which had been discharged. We know now how
+it came there, and don’t need to go over that part. He skulked back
+through Gray’s Court, keeping in the shadows when he crossed Canaan
+Street, and so came again into River Road. A feverish haste had now
+taken control of him, and when he reached the driveway of the Parlin
+homestead, the light was still burning in the library--in fact, Mr.
+Wing was at his desk, just finishing the letter which he had intended
+to write early in the evening, and which the visit of this unknown man
+had prevented him from writing.”
+
+“There’s not the first thing,” interrupted McManus, who seemed now
+watchful of every detail as the tale approached its climax, “to show
+that he ever wrote that letter!”
+
+“There’s been no evidence yet produced,” replied Trafford; “but the
+evidence exists, and I can prove that it was written and the person
+to whom it was addressed. I can prove too that it never reached that
+person.”
+
+“Go on,” said McManus.
+
+“The man felt that what he had to do must be done quickly. Perhaps he
+knew that if he took time for thought, he wouldn’t have the courage or
+resolution to do the work. He went to the door where he had rung early
+in the evening, and rang the same bell. Then he stepped on to the grass
+east of the doorstep and waited, with the pistol he had found ready in
+his hand.”
+
+“Are you certain on that point?” demanded McManus.
+
+Trafford stopped and looked at McManus, as if pondering that question.
+Finally he answered:
+
+“I think so. He probably had a pistol of his own, but I’m confident he
+used the one he’d found. Everything points to his being a shrewd, keen
+man, and naturally he would not use his own pistol when he had another
+in his pocket.”
+
+McManus nodded, indicating that Trafford was to take up the story.
+
+“Wing came to the door, as before. He did not bring a lamp, but left
+the doors open behind him. Seeing no one, he stepped out on to the
+door-stone, when the man in hiding pressed the pistol against his
+temple and drew the trigger at the same instant. Wing fell in a heap
+on the step and threshold--his death was instantaneous.”
+
+McManus had listened to these last words as if fascinated by the
+terrible details so briefly stated. When Trafford paused on the last
+word, he seemed to catch his breath with the movement of one who in the
+last minute had forgotten everything but the picture before him.
+
+“If your tale is true,” he said, breathing deeply, “your description of
+the man is the man himself--a man of quick movements, strong purpose,
+assured position, and absolute control of nerves. The man must have
+been iron--at least while he was doing the job.”
+
+“And he needed to be adamant to complete it. There was nothing to him
+in Wing’s death, as a mere death. It saved him from nothing, though it
+might save others. It was positive, not negative, gain he was after.
+Perhaps, on the whole, he would rather Wing had lived. He felt it
+simply a necessity, and an unpleasant one at that, that he should die.
+But he was after something, and Wing’s death was only the preliminary
+to securing it. Having waited to make certain the shot had aroused no
+one, he stepped over the dead body and entered the library. He closed
+the door behind him, went to the safe, which was still open, and took
+from the upper left-hand pigeon hole a package of papers. Then he
+closed the safe and turned the knob, probably mechanically, showing
+that he was a man accustomed to deal with keyless safes. He went to
+the desk and took from it the letter which Wing had just sealed and
+directed----”
+
+“To whom?” interrupted McManus.
+
+“To the Governor, asking for an appointment for the following Thursday,
+the thirteenth.”
+
+McManus nodded and Trafford went on:
+
+“Then he put out the light, raised the shade of one window to make sure
+the coast was clear, and returned the way he had come. In doing so, he
+closed the library door behind him and drew the outer door to until
+it was stopped by the body of the dead man. Thus, you see, with all
+his shrewdness, he made four mistakes; he closed and locked the safe;
+he put out the light; he closed the library door, and he attempted to
+close the outer door.”
+
+“How mistakes?” asked McManus.
+
+“If he had left the safe open, it would have been supposed mere robbery
+was the purpose. If he had left the lamp burning, and the library and
+outer doors open, there would have been nothing to show that some one
+had visited the room after the murder.”
+
+“There was the missing letter,” suggested McManus, who seemed to be
+thinking with Trafford’s thoughts.
+
+“Yes,” replied Trafford; “that was mistake number five.”
+
+“But, of course,” went on McManus, “he had no means of knowing what was
+in it. If it had been still unsealed, it would have been different. As
+it was, he could not risk it; there was nothing else for him to do.”
+
+“Exactly,” replied Trafford; “still, I think we can count it a mistake.
+The package of papers was what he really wanted. He should have been
+content with that.”
+
+“But how did he know that he had got all in that single package? Would
+he not be likely to examine the safe, especially the cupboard?”
+
+“How would he have got at it? It was locked.”
+
+“Unless Wing’s keys were in the lock. That might have been. He would
+have taken them out when he closed the safe; it would not have closed
+otherwise. I understand they were found on the mantel.”
+
+“Who testified to that?” asked Trafford, as if trying to recall the
+fact.
+
+“I don’t remember,” said McManus. “Some one at the inquest, I think.”
+
+“I think it would have been natural for him to open the cupboard,
+though he must have seen the package when he was there early in the
+evening, and so knew what he was after. However, whether he examined
+further or not, he did not remain long. The next day he cleaned the
+chamber of the revolver and filled it, thus leaving only one empty, and
+during the night found opportunity to throw it over on to the box hedge
+in the front yard.”
+
+Trafford stopped as if he had finished his story, and McManus sat like
+one in a deep reverie. Suddenly, he looked up and asked:
+
+“Where then are the papers which were the cause of this tragedy?”
+
+“The man has not dared use them; he keeps them concealed until it is
+safe to sell them for the hundred thousand dollars which was offered
+for them.”
+
+“My God! man, how do you know these things?” demanded McManus, his face
+ghastly as that of a week-old corpse.
+
+“Do you dare deny one of them?” retorted Trafford.
+
+“What do you mean by that?” asked the other.
+
+“_That you are the man who murdered Wing!_”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+The Last of the Papers
+
+
+McManus had sprung to his feet as the accusation came from Trafford’s
+lips. His left hand was in the side pocket of his sack coat, and as
+Trafford also rose, there rang out the report of a pistol, fired
+without removing it from the pocket. The bullet just missed Trafford,
+cutting the sleeve of his coat.
+
+“Throw up your hands, or I’ll shoot,” came from the window, and there
+stood Trafford’s assistant, with pistol drawn and aimed at McManus.
+
+At the very beginning of the story, he had raised the window and had
+since been listening to the conversation. McManus glanced at Trafford,
+who was also covering him with a pistol.
+
+“I yield,” he said, “to force. You will find it all a hideous mistake
+before you get through.”
+
+“Handcuff him.” Trafford gave the order. “I’ll keep my pistol on him.”
+
+McManus turned toward the man who approached from the window. He seemed
+to have recovered his composure, and a puzzling smile was on his lips.
+Then, suddenly, the hand came up, without leaving the pocket, which was
+lifted with it; there was a slight turn of the hand seen through the
+cloth and the muffled report of the pistol. McManus fell, shot through
+the heart by his own hand.
+
+“A damned bungling piece of work, to let that be done,” said Trafford.
+“There ’re steps on the stairs. Don’t open the door for a minute.”
+
+He rushed into the bedroom, and seizing a tin box that stood on a stand
+by the bed, dropped it from the window into a dense mass of shrubbery
+that grew beneath. He was back in the room to answer the first knock at
+the door.
+
+Millbank slept but little that night. The streets were thronged with
+people, and the story of the tragedy, the discovery of the murderer and
+his suicide, was repeated and re-repeated, with new details at every
+repetition. Before midnight it was surprising to know how many people
+had all along suspected McManus and felt certain that he “was no
+better than he should be.”
+
+Frank Hunter came among the very first and went back and forth from
+the sitting room to the bedroom, with an uneasy air of searching for
+something and yet striving to conceal the fact. Trafford watched him
+with a curious expression on his face, as if he enjoyed the man’s
+awkwardness and embarrassment.
+
+When Charles Matthewson arrived on the latest train and went directly
+to the Hunter house, Trafford was instantly informed and at once made
+up his mind to his line of action. McManus’s suicide was confession,
+and the possession of the papers was no longer necessary to conviction.
+Trafford determined to have them off his hands at the earliest possible
+moment, and with Matthewson in town, that promised to be before
+daylight. At the first opportunity he stole out, recovered possession
+of the box, and hid it in a less exposed place.
+
+About midnight, matters had so quieted down that he was able to respond
+to Mrs. Parlin’s message begging him to come to her and, if possible,
+remain in the house the balance of the night. He took with him the
+box, containing what he now regarded as his fortune and his reward for
+work done in discovering the murderer.
+
+Mrs. Parlin was eager to hear the story, and it was some time after
+midnight before she left him and he was at liberty to follow his
+purpose. His judgment dictated waiting until morning, which would be
+a matter of but a few hours, but the box and its papers had become a
+growing burden, leaving him but one thought and that to be rid of them.
+From the library window he could see that a light still burned in the
+Hunter house. He was resolved to complete the matter before he slept.
+
+Leaving the house cautiously, with the box under his arm, he hurried
+down the hill, at the foot of which lay the heavy shadows of the
+great Lombardy poplars. It seemed to him that he had never seen the
+shadows so black as they were to-night. As he entered the blackness,
+he quickened his pace almost to a run, and was almost in the light
+again when there came what seemed to him a flash of flame, then deeper
+darkness and oblivion.
+
+How long he lay on the walk under the poplars he did not know,
+excepting that his first sensation of returning consciousness was of
+the soft white light that comes before the sun steals up from behind
+the earth. The next was of a heaviness of the head and a numbness that
+was giving way to pain. He put up his hand feebly, and brought it down
+again wet with blood.
+
+Then came the thought of the box. He reached out his hand and, groping,
+it fell upon it. He had barely strength enough yet to draw it to him,
+but at last succeeded, though not without much pain. He lifted it
+feebly and the lid fell back, showing the breakage where it had been
+wrenched from its hinges. With a paroxysm of strength born of terror,
+he sat upright and looked into the box. It was empty; not even a
+shred of paper remaining. For one instant he gazed in uncomprehending
+stupidity, and then, as the truth flashed on him, he fell again to the
+earth, and lost in temporary unconsciousness alike the sense of pain
+and the power to follow his interrupted quest.
+
+Almost at the very moment when Trafford discovered the loss of the
+papers, Henry Matthewson slipped through the grounds of the Hunter
+home, coming from the direction of the river, and entered by a side
+door. He went directly to the library, where his brother and the two
+Hunters had been in uneasy conference for some hours. As he entered,
+the three men started to their feet, first in surprise at his presence,
+and then in greater surprise at his appearance. His face was white
+and set, like the face of a man who has passed through some terrible
+struggle and has conquered or been conquered. One, looking at the
+inscrutable face, could not have decided which.
+
+“You!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson. “I have been trying to reach you
+all night.”
+
+“How could you reach here at this hour?” said Frank Hunter. “There’s no
+train.”
+
+Charles Hunter said nothing, but his quick understanding of men, and,
+perhaps, a quality in him that would have dared all that man could dare
+in a desperate case, told him more than either of his companions saw.
+For a moment he hesitated and then, seeing no denial in the face of the
+newcomer, said:
+
+“You have found the papers.”
+
+The others started and looked at the two men whom, instinctively, they
+knew to be stronger than themselves.
+
+“Yes,” said Henry Matthewson.
+
+“Where are they?” asked Charles Matthewson and Frank Hunter, in a
+breath.
+
+The other did not answer. Then Charles repeated the question:
+
+“Where are they?”
+
+“Where would they be now, if they had come into your hands a half-hour
+ago?” demanded Matthewson.
+
+“Destroyed!” said Charles Hunter unhesitatingly.
+
+“They are where they will never menace us or ours again,” said Henry
+Matthewson, “unless the river gives them up. I dropped them from the
+bridge into the pool below the Falls a half-hour ago.”
+
+“But where did you find them?” was Frank Hunter’s question.
+
+Charles Hunter looked again at the other’s face, and said:
+
+“How serious is the matter?”
+
+“The man is merely stunned,” said Henry. “I think some one should find
+him, under the poplars at the foot of the hill----”
+
+“Henry! My God!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson, stepping hastily
+forward. “You haven’t----”
+
+“I have done what was necessary to obtain the papers and save ourselves
+and--our mother. I hope there is no one here who would have done less.
+I accept full responsibility for acting where none but a coward could
+hesitate.”
+
+“Pray God, Trafford’s not dead!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson.
+
+“Amen,” said Henry, and then added; “but be that as it may, the papers
+are.”
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
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+_N. Y. Evening Post_: “The story is brisk, buoyant and entertaining.”
+
+_Bookman_: “Sparkling in fun, clean-cut and straightforward in style as
+the young hero himself.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  New York      Chicago
+
+
+
+
+2d printing of “A novel in the better sense of a word much sinned
+against.... It is decidedly a book worth while.”
+
+The Transgression of Andrew Vane
+
+By GUY WETMORE CARRYL
+
+12mo. $1.50.
+
+  TIMES’ SATURDAY REVIEW:--“A strong and original story; ... the
+    descriptions of conditions in the American colony [in Paris]
+    are convincingly clever. The story from the prologue--one of
+    exceptional promise in point of interest--to the climax ... is
+    full of action and dramatic surprise.”
+
+  N. Y. TRIBUNE:--“The surprising developments we must leave the
+    reader to find out for himself. He will find it a pleasant
+    task; ... the surprise is not brought forward until precisely
+    the right moment, and one is carried from the first chapter to
+    the last with curiosity, and concern for the hero’s fate kept
+    well alive.”
+
+  N. Y. EVENING SUN:--“Everybody who likes clever fiction should
+    read it.”
+
+  LITERARY WORLD:--“The prologue is as skilful a handling of
+    a repellent theme as has ever been presented. The book is
+    distinctly not one for the young person, but neither is it for
+    the seeker after the risqué or the erotic.... In this novel are
+    poured into a consistent and satisfying whole more of those
+    vivid phases of Paris at which the author has shown himself a
+    master hand.”
+
+  CHICAGO EVENING POST:--“The reader stops with regret in his mind
+    that Guy Wetmore Carryl’s story-telling work is done.”
+
+  CHICAGO TRIBUNE:--“A brilliant piece of work.”
+
+  WASHINGTON STAR:--“A more engaging villain has seldom entered the
+    pages of modern fiction; ... sparkles with quotable epigrams.”
+
+  BUFFALO EXPRESS:--“The sort of a story which one is very apt to
+    read with interest from beginning to end. And, moreover, ...
+    very bright and clever.”
+
+  NEW HAVEN JOURNAL:--“By far the most ambitious work he undertook,
+    and likewise the most brilliant.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  _29 W. 23d St._      _NEW YORK_
+
+
+
+
+“=From any point of view it is an unusual novel, as much better
+than some of the ‘best sellers’ as a painting is better than a
+chromo.=”--_World’s Work._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The Divine Fire
+
+BY MAY SINCLAIR
+
+$1.50
+
+
+6th printing of _The story of a London poet_.
+
+_Mary Moss in the Atlantic Monthly_: “Certain it is that in all our new
+fiction I have found nothing worthy to compare with ‘The Divine Fire,’
+nothing even remotely approaching the same class.”
+
+_New York Globe_: “The biggest surprise of the whole season’s fiction
+... you never once stop to question its style, or its realism, or the
+art of its construction. You simply read right on, deaf to everything
+and everybody outside of the compelling magic of its pages.”
+
+_Dial_: “A full-length study of the poetic temperament, framed in a
+varied and curiously interesting environment, and drawn with a firmness
+of hand that excites one’s admiration.... Moreover, a real distinction
+of style, besides being of absorbing interest from cover to cover.”
+
+_Catholic Mirror_: “One of the noblest, most inspiring and absorbing
+books we have read in years.”
+
+_Owen Seaman in Punch_ (London): “I find her book the most remarkable
+that I have read for many years.”
+
+
+The Diary of a Musician
+
+Edited by DOLORES M. BACON
+
+With decorations and illustrations by CHARLES EDWARD HOOPER and H.
+LATIMER BROWN
+
+$1.50
+
+Authorities agree that no particular musical celebrity is described or
+satirized; all review the book with enthusiasm, though some damn while
+others praise.
+
+_Times Review_: “Of extraordinary interest as a study from the inside
+of the inwardness of a genius.”
+
+_Bookman_: “Much of that exquisite egotism, the huge, artistic Me and
+the tiny universe, that gluttony of the emotions, of the whole peculiar
+compound of hysteria, inspiration, vanity, insight and fidgets, which
+goes to make up that delightful but somewhat rickety thing which
+we call the artistic temperament is reproduced.... The ‘Diary of a
+Musician’ does what most actual diaries fail to do--writes down a man
+in full.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  Publishers      New York
+
+
+
+
+TALES OF MYSTERY
+
+The House of the Black Ring
+
+By FRED. LEWIS PATTEE. $1.50
+
+A story oddly combining humor and horror. It tells of the squire, a
+sort of feudal lord, his enemies, his fate and of his daughter and how
+she would have her way in love. The weird influence of =The House of
+the Black Ring= dominates the little “pocket” in the Seven Mountains of
+Pennsylvania.
+
+_The Washington Star_: “An unusual combination of the weird and the
+humorous ... absorbing and often thrilling tale.... A forest fire ...
+is a dramatic episode which does Mr. Pattee exceptional credit in the
+restraint of his treatment and the effectiveness of his climaxes.”
+
+_N. Y. Evening Sun_: “An interesting story ... piques the reader’s
+curiosity and keeps him reading till the mystery is solved.”
+
+
+Red-Headed Gill
+
+By RYE OWEN. 4th printing. $1.50
+
+Red-Headed Gill is a splendid young country gentlewoman of Cornwall.
+Under a weird East Indian influence she is forced to live over again
+part of the life of a beauty of the days of Queen Bess--the famous Gill
+Red-Head.
+
+_New York Sun_: “A charming girl whom the reader will watch with
+interest to the end. The author manages to transport her back into the
+life of her Tudor ancestress over and again naturally, and with great
+effect.”
+
+_New York Times Review_: “There is much originality in the plot. The
+reader’s attention is at once enlisted, and is not allowed to flag.”
+
+
+In the Dwellings of the Wilderness
+
+By C. BRYSON TAYLOR. $1.25
+
+A ghost story so plausibly told that many may, like one of the chief
+characters, think it might all be explained by natural causes after
+all. It tells the astonishing adventures of three American engineers,
+excavating in the heart of an Egyptian desert.
+
+_Boston Transcript_: “The impression on the reader is so strong that he
+finds his grip on the book grow strained in spite of himself.”
+
+_N. Y. Globe_: “Strikes a note of weird horror, and sustains that note
+page after page.... A vividness that makes it difficult to banish the
+picture from your memory for many a day.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  Publishers      New York
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note:
+
+Punctuation has been standardised except spaces before ’ll and ’re
+have been retained as they appear in the original publication.
+Hyphenation and spelling have also been retained as published,
+except as follows:
+
+  Page 74
+    an’ let’s folks _changed to_
+    an’ lets folks
+
+  Page 124
+    must be re-convened _changed to_
+    must be reconvened
+
+  Page 139
+    visit was to Milbank _changed to_
+    visit was to Millbank
+
+  Page 232
+    man who want me _changed to_
+    man who wants me
+
+  Page 247
+    shadow of Pettengill’s potato storehouse _changed to_
+    shadow of Pettingill’s potato storehouse
+
+  Second page of book promotions
+    Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portaic _changed to_
+    Kid Sadler’s adventures at Portate
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 66051 ***
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Millbank Case, by George Dyre Eldridge</p>

-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and

-most other parts of the world 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="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you

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-country where you are located before using this eBook.

-</div>

-

-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Millbank Case</p>

-<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A Maine Mystery of To-day</p>

-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Dyre Eldridge</p>

-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Eliot Keen</p>

-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 12, 2021 [eBook #66051]</p>

-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>

-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p>

-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MILLBANK CASE ***</div>

-

-<hr class="divider" />

-<h1>The Millbank Case<br />

-<span><i>A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY</i></span></h1>

-<hr class="divider2" />

-

-<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop figcenter width500" id="cover2">

-<img src="images/cover2.jpg" width="500" height="696" alt="Cover" />

-</div>

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<div class="figcenter width800" id="frontispiece">

-  <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="800" height="553" alt="Frontispiece" />

-</div>

-</div>

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<p class="center lh"><span class="p180">The Millbank Case</span><br />

-<i>A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY</i></p>

-

-<hr class="double" />

-

-<p class="center mt3"><span class="p120">BY</span><br />

-<span class="p140">GEORGE DYRE ELDRIDGE</span></p>

-

-<p class="center"><i>With a <a name="Eliot" id="Eliot"></a><ins title="The color

-original could not be found for inclusion in this eBook">Frontispiece in Colour</ins></i><br />

-<span class="smcap">By Eliot Keen</span></p>

-

-<div class="figcenter width100" id="colophon">

-  <img src="images/colophon.png" width="100" height="127" alt="Colophon" />

-</div>

-

-<hr class="double" />

-

-<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />

-<span class="p120">HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</span><br />

-<span class="p80">1905</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1905<br />

-BY<br />

-HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</p>

-

-<hr class="tiny" />

-

-<p class="center"><i>Published May, 1905</i></p>

-

-<p class="center mt3">THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS<br />

-RAHWAY, N. J.</p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<h2 id="contents">CONTENTS</h2>

-</div>

-

-<table summary="Contents">

-<tr>

-<th class="tdr">CHAPTER</th>

-<th class="tdr2" colspan="2">PAGE</th>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">I.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">A Statement of the Case</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">1</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">II.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">Mrs. Parlin Testifies</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">14</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">III.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">Alive at Midnight</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">33</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">IV.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">Trafford Gets an Assurance</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">51</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">V.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">The Weapon is Produced</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">67</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">VI.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">85</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">VII.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">Hunting Broken Bones</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">101</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">VIII.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">A Man Disappears</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">119</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">IX.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">“You are My Mother”</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">133</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">X.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">A Second Murder?</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">153</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XI.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">Already One Attempt</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">167</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XII.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">At the Drivers’ Camp</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">185</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XIII.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">The Priest’s Story</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiii">199</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XIV.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">A Duel</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiv">212</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XV.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">In Matthewson’s Chambers</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xv">227</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XVI.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">The Range 16 Scandal</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvi">243</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XVII.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">The Story of the Papers</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvii">259</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XVIII.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">The Man is Found</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xviii">275</a></td>

-</tr>

-<tr>

-<td class="tdr">XIX.</td>

-<td class="tdl smcap">The Last of the Papers</td>

-<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xix">290</a></td>

-</tr>

-</table>

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>1</span>

-<p class="center p180">THE MILLBANK CASE</p>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="i">CHAPTER I<br />

-<span>A Statement of the Case</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEODORE WING had no known enemy in the

-world. He was a man of forty; “well-to-do,”

-as they say in New England; a lawyer by profession,

-and already “mentioned” for a county judgeship.

-He was unmarried, but there were those who had

-hopes, and there was scarce a spinster in Millbank

-who hadn’t a kindly word and smile for him&mdash;at

-times. He was not a church member, but it was

-whispered that his clergyman was disposed to look

-leniently on this shortcoming, for Wing was a regular

-attendant at service and liberal with money for

-church purposes, which, shrewd guessers said, some

-of the church members were not.</p>

-

-<p>Wing lived in the River Road, just at the top of

-Parlin’s Hill. He was from “over East, somewheres,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>2</span>

-and had come to Millbank as a law student,

-when old Judge Parlin was at the head of the Maine

-bar. He became in turn chief clerk, junior partner,

-and finally full partner to the judge, and when the

-latter died&mdash;of disappointment, it was said, due to

-failure to secure the chief justiceship&mdash;Wing became

-the head of the firm, and finally the firm itself;

-for he had a dislike for partnerships, and at forty his

-office associates were employés associated in particular

-cases, not partners in the general business.</p>

-

-<p>Judge Parlin was less than sixty years of age

-when he died and left a widow, the Parlin homestead,

-and an estate of private debts, that seemed to

-breed as Wing attempted to untangle affairs. For

-years his income had been large and his expenses

-small. His townsmen had rated him as their richest

-man who was not of the great Millbank logging

-firms. There was not a man but would have considered

-it an insult to the town to hint that Judge

-Parlin was worth less than a hundred thousand dollars.

-His investments turned out the veriest cats

-and dogs; and even in cases where the security

-might have been ample, the papers were often executed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>3</span>

-with such carelessness that collection rested

-on the honesty of the borrower and not on sufficiency

-of documentary evidence. In fact, the debts outvalued

-the resources two to one&mdash;that is, they seemed

-to, until it was announced that the Parlin homestead

-had been sold for a sum sufficient to pay all obligations

-and leave the widow a life income of five hundred

-dollars a year. People understood when it was

-learned that Wing himself was the purchaser.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Parlin was fifty years of age at the time of

-her husband’s death&mdash;a woman to whom stateliness

-had come with white hairs and the growth of ambition.

-From the hour of the judge’s death, the

-devotion she had given him living turned to the protection

-of his good name. In a distant, cold way she

-had always shown a regard for Wing, which changed

-to more marked affection, when his interposition

-provided the means to meet the last of her husband’s

-debts. She harboured no suspicion that the price paid

-for the homestead was beyond value. Not only had

-it been her home throughout her married life, but

-the judge had always spoken of its value in the

-large terms that were habitual with him in dealing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>4</span>

-with personal matters, and, from the moment when

-Wing discovered the condition of the estate, he held

-before her constantly the idea that the homestead

-would bring a price sufficient to cover the indebtedness.

-Indeed, she felt that she was making a sacrifice,

-when she consented to waive her dower rights,

-and chiefly she rejoiced that the purchaser was Wing

-and not a stranger.</p>

-

-<p>It is possible that some suspicion attached in her

-mind to the purchase of the annuity, and this may

-have been confirmed by Wing’s insistence that he

-would consent to occupy the homestead only on condition

-that she should make it her home for her lifetime.

-If, however, this was so, she proved herself

-large-minded enough to understand that her happiness&mdash;so

-far as this was possible to her now dwarfed

-life&mdash;was the best acknowledgment she could make

-to such a man, and during the five years since the

-judge’s death, she had been the mistress of Wing’s

-home.</p>

-

-<p>The house stands at the crown of Parlin’s Hill.

-The estate embraces twenty acres, divided nearly

-equally between farm land, meadow, and woodland.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>5</span>

-The portion lying west of River Road is an apple

-orchard, covering the slope of the hill from the road

-to the river. The roll of the land is to the southwest,

-where all through the summer days the sun

-lies in warm splendour, that seems to live in the heart

-and juices of the red and yellow fruit, which is the

-pride of Millbank. To have apples from the Parlin

-orchard, is to have the best that Millbank can

-give.</p>

-

-<p>The house is near the road on the easterly side.

-The winter snows are too deep to warrant building

-far from the travelled roads, and for the same reason

-the buildings are connected one with another, under

-a continuous roof, so that the breaking of roads and

-paths is unnecessary for access to stock. The house

-is large and square, with a long wing stretching to

-the ample woodshed, through which one passes to

-the barns. The body of the buildings is white, and

-the shutters green. A drive runs to the south of the

-house, leading from the road to the doors of the

-great barn. It passes the side door of the main

-house, the door to the wing and the woodshed, and

-the buildings shelter it from the fierce northern<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>6</span>

-winds. In the flower-beds that border this drive,

-under the shelter of the house, the earliest flowers

-bloom in spring and the latest in autumn.</p>

-

-<p>Between the road and the front of the house is an

-enclosure of about half an acre&mdash;the “front yard,”

-as Millbank names it. A footpath runs from the

-front gate to the main door of the house, dividing the

-enclosure into two nearly equal parts. This enclosure

-is crowded with flower-beds and shrubbery; the

-paths are bordered with box hedges, while a few

-great evergreens tower above the roof, and make

-the place somewhat gloomy on dull days. In midsummer,

-however, when the sun turns the corner and

-thrusts strongly into the enclosure, the deep shadows

-of the great trees are cool and inviting.</p>

-

-<p>From the principal door, the main hall, broad and

-unencumbered, makes back until it is cut by the narrower

-hall from the south-side door. This side hall

-carries the stairs, and east of it are the dining room,

-kitchens, and pantries. The main hall goes on, in

-narrowed estate, between the dining room on the

-south and kitchens on the north, to the woodsheds.

-To the left, as one enters the house, is the great parlour,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>7</span>

-seldom used, and a sitting room, the gloomiest

-room on the floor, for it has a northern outlook

-only.</p>

-

-<p>In the angle of the two halls is the great room

-which Wing used as his library. It is some twenty-four

-by thirty-six feet, high-posted, and has a warm,

-sunny outlook to the south and west. It is lined

-with books and pictures; a great desk stands in the

-centre front, and lounges and easy chairs are scattered

-about in inviting confusion. The room above

-was his bedchamber, adjoining which is a bathroom,

-in its day the wonder and challenge of Millbank.

-An iron spiral stairway leads from the lower

-to the upper room, so that the occupant has the two

-rooms at his command independent of the remainder

-of the house. This was Wing’s special domain.

-Outside these two rooms, Mrs. Parlin ruled as undisputed

-as during her thirty years of wifehood.

-Within, Wing held control, and while no small share

-of his personal work was done here, the great room

-saw much of his private life of which his everyday

-acquaintances had little suspicion. The cases contained

-many a volume that belongs to literature<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>8</span>

-rather than law, and here he found that best of rest

-from the onerous demands of a constantly growing

-practice&mdash;complete change in matter and manner of

-thought.</p>

-

-<p>On the night of the 10th of May, 1880, the light

-burned late in Lawyer Wing’s library. It was the

-scandal of Millbank that this occurred often. The

-village was given to regarding the night as a time

-when no man should work. “Early to bed and early

-to rise” was its motto, and though an opposite practice

-had left Theodore Wing with more of health,

-wealth, and wisdom than most Millbankians possessed,

-he had never succeeded in reconciling his

-townsmen to his methods. But to-night conditions

-were more outrageous than usual. Mrs. Merrick,

-from the bed of an ailing grandchild, glanced up the

-hill at midnight and saw the light still burning.

-Old Doctor Portus, coming villageward from a confinement

-case, an hour later, saw the light as he

-passed the house and shook his head with dire prognostications.

-If Wing should be sick, old Doctor

-Portus would certainly not be called in attendance,

-and therefore he could measure this outrage of nature’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>9</span>

-laws with a mind uninfluenced by personal

-bias.</p>

-

-<p>At four o’clock, however, a farmer’s son, who had

-yielded the night to Millbank’s temptations, hurrying

-farmward to his morning chores, saw no light

-growing dim in the first flush of the spring morning

-to attract his attention to a scene that later knowledge

-revealed. At six, the hired man came down

-the back stairs and went through the woodshed to

-the barns. Turning the heavy wooden bar that held

-the great doors fast, he swung them open and let in

-the soft morning air.</p>

-

-<p>Then, his eye travelled along the stretch of

-house and he saw something that startled him. The

-side door was standing ajar&mdash;half open&mdash;and on the

-stone step was a huddled mass that looked strangely

-like a man, half lying and half crouching. Before

-the hired man had passed half the distance to the

-door, he knew that the huddled mass was Theodore

-Wing. His head and right arm rested on the

-threshold and held the door from closing; his body

-was on the stone step. There was blood spattered

-on the white of the westerly door-post, and the left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>10</span>

-temple of the man, which was upward as he lay,

-showed a spot around which the flesh was blackened

-as if powder-burnt, while between the head and the

-threshold a thin stream of blood still flowed and fell

-drop by drop on the stone below. The eyes were wide

-open and the look in them seemed to say that, suddenly

-as death had come, it had not come too suddenly

-for the man to realise that here had fallen the

-end of his hopes and ambitions, his strivings and accomplishments,

-in a form that left him powerless to

-strike a blow in his own behalf.</p>

-

-<p>This murder was the most tragic event that had

-ever happened in the history of Millbank. It caused

-the more terror in that, so far as any one could understand,

-it was absolutely without motive. It was

-not known that Theodore Wing had an enemy in the

-world. Millbank was proud of him with a wholesome,

-kindly pride, which found much of self-gratulation

-in having such a citizen. Yet this man had

-been struck down by a murderer’s hand, so silently

-that no sound had been heard, and the murderer

-had gone as he had come, without leaving trace of

-his coming or going.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>11</span>

-Contrary to expectation aroused by the first news,

-the house seemed not to have been entered. The

-whole of the crime was evidenced in the dead man on

-the stone step. Apparently, there had been a ring at

-the bell and a shot from a pistol, held close to the

-head of the man, as he stood in the doorway, by

-some one who had stationed himself at the easterly

-end of the doorstep, and who, his purpose accomplished,

-slipped into the darkness which had opened

-to give him way for this deed. It was uncanny in

-the extreme and gave a sense of insecurity to life that

-an ordinary murder, due to traceable causes, would

-have failed utterly to give.</p>

-

-<p>The closest inspection furnished no clue. There

-was no footprint on the drive, and the grass at the

-end of the step, where the murderer must have stood,

-gave no token. And yet&mdash;here was another fearsome

-fact&mdash;the deed had been done by some one

-who knew the house and its peculiarities. The door

-had two bell-pulls, one on either door-post. Originally

-there had been only the one on the right or

-easterly post, and this was the general bell. When

-Wing took the library as his special room, he had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>12</span>

-change made and the bell transferred to that room,

-so that his personal visitors could come and go without

-disturbing the house. In a little time, however,

-this proved very annoying, because most visitors

-came to this door, and he gave an order for a general

-bell to be put in. This he intended should also have

-a pull on the right-hand post, but the workman, who

-seemed to have no conception that one post could

-carry two pulls, put it on the left. Thus the post

-nearest Wing’s room carried the general bell, and

-the further post his own, and neither of the bells

-could be heard on the premises devoted to the other.

-At first, this condition gave rise to troublesome mistakes,

-and Wing talked often of a change, but gradually

-the visitors to the house became accustomed to

-the condition and the need of a change disappeared.</p>

-

-<p>It was clear, therefore, that whoever the murderer

-was, he had rung the bell which alone could be

-heard by the lawyer at his desk, and therefore must

-have been acquainted with the peculiarity of the bell-pulls.

-Had the lawyer had any cause to fear? Apparently

-not, for the shade to the window nearest his

-desk was raised and he evidently had answered the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>13</span>

-bell as a matter of course, not even taking with him a

-light. But, if he was seated at his desk, as seemed

-clearly the case, the man must have seen him as he

-came up the drive and might easily have shot him

-through the window. Why, then, had he called him

-to the door? The body had not been disturbed after

-it fell; the watch was in the fob, and money in the

-pocket. Murder was evidently the murderer’s purpose;

-yet he had summoned his victim, when clearly

-he had him in his power without so doing.</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>14</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="ii">CHAPTER II<br />

-<span>Mrs. Parlin Testifies</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>N addition to the ill-fated lawyer, there were but

-three people in the Parlin household&mdash;the widow;

-a general house girl, Mary Mullin; and the hired man,

-Jonathan Oldbeg, a nephew of the Mullin woman.

-Oldbeg was about thirty, and his aunt forty. The

-widow’s room was in the northwest corner of the

-second floor, while that of the Mullin woman was

-over the kitchen. The hired man slept over the

-woodshed. All the windows of the three rooms gave

-to the north, excepting two in Mrs. Parlin’s room,

-which opened to the west, overlooking the orchard

-and the river.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Parlin was a tall, striking woman who carried

-her head, crowned with waves of white hair,

-with an air that some named queenly, and others by

-that terrible New England word “conceited.” The

-death of her husband had been a terrible blow to her

-soaring ambitions; but this she had outlived, at least<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>15</span>

-to outward seeming. Childless, as well as husbandless,

-the dormant maternal instinct, which is a part

-of every true woman, had stirred to life under the

-care lavished upon her by Wing, whose years were

-sufficiently less than her own to give a natural tone to

-the pseudo relation of mother and son. Nevertheless,

-there had been something of the maternal in her

-relationship to the judge&mdash;of that phase of the maternal

-which gives to natural weakness courage for

-defence. It was not in personal finance alone that

-the judge was a grown-up boy. The sense of fear

-was so little developed as to amount scarce to caution.

-Scrupulous in duty, he gave no thought to

-the enemies or enmities he created, while she saw

-in these not alone threats to his professional career,

-but as well danger of a personal nature. Even she,

-standing guard as she did, had not been able to save

-him from enemies who defeated his noble ambition

-and would, as she believed, as readily have destroyed

-him. As the intensity of her grief softened with

-time, the solicitude with which she had followed her

-husband’s career, was transferred to Wing, but with

-less of the factor of self than it possessed of old, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>16</span>

-the result that she grew more lovable and companionable,

-and gained a friendly interest from the village

-which had not been hers during the judge’s

-lifetime.</p>

-

-<p>To this recovered peace of mind the tragic death

-of Wing came as a crushing blow, the full weight of

-which few realised until the broken, haggard woman

-was seen of the public for the first time at the

-inquest. Years seemed to have left their impress

-upon her, and there were many who noted that the

-immediate physical effect was as much more marked

-than that following the judge’s death, as Wing’s

-death had been the more tragic. Her husband’s

-death left to her the responsibility of protecting his

-name, in co-operation with his partner and friend.

-Wing’s death snatched away the last prop and stay

-of her years. Husbandless and childless, to her life

-had no further meaning, and while the community

-was whispering that she was again rich&mdash;for it was

-known that she was the principal legatee of the dead

-lawyer’s will&mdash;she was looking down the years with

-a dread that made hope impossible.</p>

-

-<p>Her testimony was of the briefest. She had said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>17</span>

-“good-night” to Wing at half-past nine. She had

-gone to the library for that purpose, as was her custom

-evenings when he did not sit with her in her

-own sitting room till her early bedtime.</p>

-

-<p>“Was it his custom to spend the evening in your

-sitting room or the library?” the coroner asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Two or three evenings a week he spent in my

-sitting room. The other evenings in the library, when

-he was at home.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was he away much, evenings?”</p>

-

-<p>“Only when he was at court in Augusta or Portland.

-When he had cases at Norridgewock he always

-drove home at night.”</p>

-

-<p>“At what time did you have supper?”</p>

-

-<p>“At six.”</p>

-

-<p>“On the night of the murder?”</p>

-

-<p>The witness nodded, too much affected to speak

-her answer.</p>

-

-<p>“Who was present at supper?”</p>

-

-<p>“Theodore and myself.”</p>

-

-<p>“Mary Mullin and Oldbeg did not eat with you?”</p>

-

-<p>This was a sore spot in Millbank’s estimate of the

-widow Parlin. The town still held it a Christian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>18</span>

-duty for “help” to eat at the same table with their

-employers. Every departure from this primitive

-rule was occasion for heart-burnings and recriminations.</p>

-

-<p>“They ate by themselves in the kitchen.”</p>

-

-<p>There was a slight raising of the head, a shadow,

-as it were, of the old self-assertive pride, which in

-other days would have made itself manifest in answering

-this question. So deep was Millbank in the

-tragedy that the audience almost lost the weight of

-the heinous fact confessed in this answer.</p>

-

-<p>“Did you go directly to your sitting room after

-supper?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, we went out into the front yard, to look at

-the flower-beds, and then crossed the road to the

-orchard and walked through that to the river-bank.”</p>

-

-<p>“From there you returned to the house?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes.”</p>

-

-<p>“Where did you go on your return?”</p>

-

-<p>“To my sitting room. He lighted my lamp and

-then excused himself, because of some work he had

-to do.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>19</span>

-“When did you see him again?”</p>

-

-<p>“At half-past nine, when I went to bid him good-night.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you certain of the time?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; for I stopped to wind the clock as I went

-through the hall, and noticed that it was exactly half-past

-nine.”</p>

-

-<p>“There are two doors to the library, are there

-not&mdash;one from the main hall and one from the

-side?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes.”</p>

-

-<p>“By which one did you enter the library?”</p>

-

-<p>“By the one from the side hall.”</p>

-

-<p>“Which is near the side door of the house?”</p>

-

-<p>Again she had to nod assent. This was the door

-through which Wing had passed to his death.</p>

-

-<p>“Did you knock at the door before entering?”</p>

-

-<p>“Always.”</p>

-

-<p>Again that slight suggestive raising of the

-head.</p>

-

-<p>“Did he open the door for you?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes. He knew my knock, and always came to

-open the door.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>20</span>

-“Did you notice anything peculiar about him or

-the room?”</p>

-

-<p>“I did not.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was there anything to indicate whether he was

-writing or reading when you knocked?”</p>

-

-<p>“He had a book in his left hand and the light

-was on a small table by his reading chair.”</p>

-

-<p>“This reading chair and table, where were they

-in the room?”</p>

-

-<p>“Before the fireplace, about the centre of the

-north side.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was there a fire in the fireplace?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; there were a few wood coals.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was it a cold night?”</p>

-

-<p>“No; but he was very fond of a wood fire and

-when the evening was not too warm had one, even if

-he had to have a window open.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was the window open that night?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; the one nearest the River Road, overlooking

-the driveway.”</p>

-

-<p>“That was the nearest window to the desk?”</p>

-

-<p>“The nearest of the south windows. The desk

-stood between the two west windows.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>21</span>

-“Did you notice whether the shades were

-drawn?”</p>

-

-<p>“They were drawn to the west windows, but

-were raised to all four of the south windows.”</p>

-

-<p>“Were you long in the room?”</p>

-

-<p>“Only long enough to say ‘good-night’ and ask

-him not to read too late.”</p>

-

-<p>“What did he say to this?”</p>

-

-<p>“Laughed, as he always did, when I spoke of his

-sitting up late, and,” in a voice that was almost a

-sob; “said, ‘You know, mother, I can’t get over

-my bad habits, but really to-night I’m only going to

-read a chapter or two more, for I must write a letter

-and then go to bed. I’ve got a busy day to-morrow.’”</p>

-

-<p>“Was that all he said?”</p>

-

-<p>“Excepting ‘good-night.’”</p>

-

-<p>“Do you recall anything in his manner, tone, or

-words that indicated trouble or apprehension of any

-kind?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nothing. He was, as always, cheerful and,

-seemingly, happy, and laughed quite carelessly when

-he spoke of his bad habit.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>22</span>

-“When did you next see him?”</p>

-

-<p>The question came with a suddenness that startled

-every one who heard it, including the witness. She

-grew white and for a moment swayed as if she would

-fall. Dr. Rogers, her physician, stepped towards

-her, but before he could reach her side, she recovered

-by what seemed a supreme effort of the will,

-and, raising her head, answered:</p>

-

-<p>“In the morning, a little after six, lying dead on

-the threshold of the south door.”</p>

-

-<p>Then her head dropped on the table in front of

-her, and her face was hidden from the gaze of her

-curious neighbours, but not a sob was heard. She

-had spent her tears long before.</p>

-

-<p>At an adjourned session, she testified that she had

-heard no unusual noise during the night. She was

-a sound sleeper and did not wake easily. She had

-fallen asleep soon after hearing the clock strike ten.

-She did not recall awaking until aroused by the noise

-made by Mary Mullin knocking at her door, soon

-after six o’clock, to tell her of the discovery of the

-murder.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you believe that a pistol shot could have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>23</span>

-fired at your side door and you not hear it?” the

-coroner asked, with that sudden sharpness he had at

-times.</p>

-

-<p>“I am compelled to believe that it did occur;” and

-there was to more than one onlooker an air of defiance

-in the answer.</p>

-

-<p>“In advance of this, would you believe it possible?”

-he demanded.</p>

-

-<p>She looked at him as if weighing the question and

-its purpose, and then said deliberately:</p>

-

-<p>“No.”</p>

-

-<p>The answer manifestly accorded with the sense of

-the spectators, among whom there were sundry exchanges

-of glances not all friendly to the witness.

-But the coroner was speaking again:</p>

-

-<p>“Mrs. Parlin, what do you know of the parentage

-of the late Theodore Wing?”</p>

-

-<p>Every head was bent towards the witness to catch

-the answer to what the veriest dullard suspected was

-the most important question thus far asked. The

-witness grew pale&mdash;paler than she had been at any

-time, and there came into her bearing a touch of

-defiance rather felt than seen. She was apparently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>24</span>

-arming herself against coroner and spectators.</p>

-

-<p>“He was the son of Judge Parlin.”</p>

-

-<p>If she had aimed at sensation, she could not have

-hoped for greater success. A murmur of surprise

-ran about the room, and the confusion rose to a

-height that for a time defied the efforts of the coroner

-to preserve order. Curiosity to hear further questions

-and answers came to his aid, and silence was restored.</p>

-

-<p>“By a former marriage?”</p>

-

-<p>“No. He was born out of wedlock.”</p>

-

-<p>“When did you first learn of this?”</p>

-

-<p>“On the eleventh of this month.”</p>

-

-<p>“The day succeeding the murder?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes.”</p>

-

-<p>“How did you learn of it?”</p>

-

-<p>“From a paper in the judge’s handwriting, found

-in Theodore’s desk, and enclosed in an envelope

-addressed ‘Mrs. Amelia Parlin; Mr. Theodore

-Wing; to be opened and read by the survivor, in

-event of the death of either, and until such death to

-remain unopened.’”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>25</span>

-“Was this inscription also in the handwriting of

-your late husband?”</p>

-

-<p>Now many noted that she had said “Judge Parlin,”

-and not “my late husband,” as if she would

-remind them from the start of the public’s share in

-his acts, rather than of her own.</p>

-

-<p>“It was.”</p>

-

-<p>“Please produce that paper.”</p>

-

-<p>The witness drew forth a large square envelope

-and handed it to the coroner, who said to the jury:</p>

-

-<p>“I regret that I am compelled to read to you a

-paper which was evidently intended for one person’s

-reading only, and that Mrs. Parlin or Mr. Wing,

-according as the one or the other should be the longest-lived.

-The circumstances of the death which

-placed this in the hands of the other for perusal,

-leaves no alternative. Before reading, let me say,

-I was a townsman of Judge Parlin: I had the honour

-to know him intimately, and notwithstanding what

-I am about to read you, I still hold it an honour. He

-was an able lawyer, an upright judge, a good citizen,

-and, I may add, a noble man. If he sinned, who of

-us is there that is without sin? If there be such, let<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>26</span>

-him cast the first stone. I am not entitled to do

-so.”</p>

-

-<p>The widow sat with head held high, as if there had

-come to her again the old strength that so many felt

-was gone forever. When her husband was in question,

-her courage had no limit. She flinched from no

-eye that was turned towards her, but there was that

-in her own which seemed to resent even the kindly

-words of the coroner, as if in protest that they implied

-wrong in her husband’s past which she would

-not for one instant admit. It was not for them to

-accuse, still less to excuse. What he had done was a

-thing that concerned him and his God alone, and her

-look said more plainly than words, “neither do I accuse

-him!” The instinct of defence covered her as

-a shield.</p>

-

-<p>Meantime the coroner read:</p>

-

-<p>“‘There were three persons who had the right to

-know what I am about to write. One died many

-years ago. Until another dies, these words are not

-to be read. In the course of nature, it is probable

-that the reading will fall to Theodore, not to my

-wife. If so, I believe that when Theodore reads<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>27</span>

-them, I will already have been reunited to my wife

-and will have told her all that I write here, and so

-told it that she will feel my sincerity more clearly

-than I can make it felt by any written words.</p>

-

-<p>“‘Although born and raised in Millbank, I read

-law in the office of Judge Murdock in Bangor. My

-father had a great admiration for the judge and,

-dying early, before he had seen me admitted to the

-bar, asked his friend to take me into his office. If

-I have attained anything of note in my profession, I

-owe it largely to the fidelity with which Judge Murdock

-discharged his trust.</p>

-

-<p>“‘While in his office and shortly before I returned

-to Millbank, I became involved with a young woman

-of Bangor, who became by me the mother of the man

-now known as Theodore Wing&mdash;he will find his

-name legally established by action of the Legislature

-in 1841. Unfortunately, I can say little that is

-good of her; I will say nothing otherwise, if I can

-avoid it. I shirk no part of the responsibility for the

-wrong done. God alone knows that if she failed in

-true womanhood, then or after, it was not I who was

-wholly to blame. Thus much I can say, she was and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>28</span>

-is a woman of brilliant mind and shrewd resources,

-which have carried her far socially.</p>

-

-<p>“‘Fortunately I did not lack money, and so was

-able to provide comfortably for the woman and her

-child. As a matter of justice, I offered marriage,

-but she made it a condition that her child should be

-placed in some institution, urging that it would otherwise

-always be a stigma upon us. To this I would

-not consent, and her election to forego the vindication

-of marriage put me on my guard, for I could

-not believe that a woman of her temperament would

-deliberately elect to go through life encumbered with

-an unfathered child. The event proved me right,

-for within three months she had placed the infant in

-an institution for orphans, and returned to Bangor

-with a plausible tale accounting for her absence.</p>

-

-<p>“‘She, of course, counted safely on my silence,

-but I did not hesitate to make it a condition that I

-should take possession of the child for whom I provided,

-rearing him in such a way that he has taken

-a place in the world equal to that of his parents, and

-as untrammelled by his unsuspected birth as it is

-possible for one to be. My marriage has never been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>29</span>

-blessed with children, and thus to him and my wife

-of thirty years, the two on earth whose claim upon

-me is most sacred, I am able to leave all that I have

-accumulated.</p>

-

-<p>“‘He has been to me all that a son could be. Let

-this narrative be to him, if he ever reads it, an explanation

-of anything in which I have been less than

-a father to him.</p>

-

-<p>“‘I see no necessity for continuing this narrative

-further, save that it may be to my son a relief to

-know something more of his mother, and to my wife

-a joy to know that my wrong did not bring a woman

-to misery and worldly ruin. Within a year of her

-desertion of my son, I attended her wedding to a

-man of equal social rank, who has since risen to

-wealth and political power. She has been a notable

-aid to him, and her name is well-nigh as often pronounced

-in connection with his fortunes as is his own.

-She is the mother of children who have taken good

-social positions, and some of whom seem to have inherited

-their mother’s brilliance of mind and unflinching

-purpose and their father’s ability in money

-and power getting. To say more than this, even to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>30</span>

-the two dear ones, of whom one alone is to read

-these lines, would be an injustice to the woman herself

-and to her children. To her influence, exerted

-against me, I attribute my failure to secure the chief

-justiceship. As great as was the disappointment,

-I can write the fact to-day without bitterness toward

-her and without purpose to accuse her of injustice.

-If by meeting the penalty of my sin, I can avert it

-from others, I am content.’”</p>

-

-<p>Unless one knew the unbending spirit of the man

-in matters of right and wrong, he must fail to understand

-the keenness of feeling covered by the apparently

-cold, formal statement of fact to which

-Judge Parlin had confined his written words. To the

-witness on the witness rack, however, those words

-were as if the living man spoke again and laid bare

-a heart torn with the humiliation of self-condemnation,

-more terrible to him than the judgment of any

-human tribunal. Realising the bitterness of spirit in

-which he had spoken, she was stirred anew by that

-long-dead instinct of protection, which had made her

-weakness a shield in the past to his strength, and

-held high her head, too proud of her dead to allow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>31</span>

-any one to find in her the faintest blame for this

-strong spirit whose words she, and she alone, read

-to their last meaning.</p>

-

-<p>The hush that followed the reading was that

-strong suspension of every function which betokens

-deep emotion. Before the mass had recovered, the

-coroner’s voice broke harshly upon them:</p>

-

-<p>“When did you first know of the existence of this

-paper?”</p>

-

-<p>“The paper itself on the eleventh. I saw the

-envelope and its address by accident a week or ten

-days before.”</p>

-

-<p>“Can you fix the exact date?”</p>

-

-<p>“I cannot. I saw it by accident, as I have said,

-and I assumed it related to something Judge Parlin

-had desired done in the event named on the envelope.

-I asked no questions regarding it.”</p>

-

-<p>“Will you state on oath that you knew nothing

-of the contents of this paper until after the death of

-Mr. Theodore Wing?”</p>

-

-<p>The white head went up, and there was a sting of

-rebuke in the tone in which the answer came:</p>

-

-<p>“I was under oath when I gave my testimony. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>32</span>

-stated then that I first learned of this paper and its

-contents on May eleventh. I can add nothing to

-that.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you ever suspect the relationship of your

-husband to Mr. Wing prior to the eleventh of this

-month, when you saw this paper?”</p>

-

-<p>“I did not.”</p>

-

-<p>“Would a knowledge of that relationship, if you

-had known it while he was living, have changed in

-any way your feeling towards Mr. Wing?”</p>

-

-<p>The witness paused as if she would question her

-own heart before answering, and the coroner waited

-patiently, with apparent understanding of the need.

-A hush fell on the room, like that which had followed

-the reading of the remarkable paper. Then Mrs.

-Parlin looked directly at the coroner and answered

-distinctly and without a tremor in her voice:</p>

-

-<p>“I think it would.”</p>

-

-<p>“Thank you,” said the coroner. “I am sorry if

-I have in any way disturbed you unnecessarily in

-this examination. I know that you believe I have

-aimed simply at my duty.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>33</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="iii">CHAPTER III<br />

-<span>Alive at Midnight</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>N hour after the close of the day’s session, Mrs.

-Parlin was in her sitting room, with the door

-closed and the shades lowered. On the opposite side

-of the small light-stand sat a rather undersized man,

-plainly dressed, and of somewhat insignificant aspect.

-Distinctly, the woman in her was disappointed.</p>

-

-<p>“I have sent for you, Mr. Trafford,” she said,

-slowly and apparently reluctantly, “because both my

-husband and Theodore&mdash;Mr. Wing&mdash;had the utmost

-confidence in your ability. I want you to find Mr.

-Wing’s murderer. It’s not a matter of cost&mdash;I simply

-want him found.”</p>

-

-<p>As she spoke, she gathered confidence, and the

-tone of her final words almost evidenced a belief that

-he could do what she asked. She stopped speaking,

-and the insignificance of the man’s appearance was

-again more real to her and sent a chill over her earnestness.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>34</span>

-“If you entrust the case to me,” he said, in a tone

-singularly winning for a man in his station and of his

-personal appearance, “I shall do my best to sustain

-the confidence Judge Parlin and Mr. Wing gave me;

-but let me warn you, in my profession there is no

-royal road. I have no instinct that enables me to

-scent a murderer or other criminal. I reach results

-by hard work, close attention to details, and perseverance.

-I make it a condition of undertaking any case

-that nothing shall be concealed from me. I must

-start with at least the knowledge that my principal

-possesses.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve told everything to the coroner. If I’m not

-mistaken, you’ve heard the testimony.” She spoke

-with dignity, almost with hostility, in her voice.</p>

-

-<p>“I heard the testimony,” he said, “but are you

-sure you’ve told everything? There’s sometimes

-things that we know which aren’t facts&mdash;that is, not

-facts as the term is understood when one is giving

-testimony.”</p>

-

-<p>“For instance?”</p>

-

-<p>“You have impressions of what led up to this

-tragedy.” There was nothing of question in his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>35</span>

-tone. It was as if he stated what was indisputable.</p>

-

-<p>The statement seemed to strike her and to arouse

-a new train of thought. She was silent for some

-time, and he sat watching anxiously, but without a

-sign of impatience. At last she looked up and answered:</p>

-

-<p>“You are mistaken; I’m absolutely in the dark.

-There’s nothing to point in any direction.”</p>

-

-<p>He accepted the disappointment, but accepted it as

-absolute. He evidently had striven by the assertion

-so positively made to surprise her into new thought,

-with the hope that it might hit on something that in

-his skilled hands would have meaning. He saw not

-only that he had not succeeded, but that there was

-no ground for success.</p>

-

-<p>“That, in itself,” he said, “is significant. It

-shows that we must dig deeper in his life than we

-have yet done. The motive; we want the motive!”</p>

-

-<p>“There was no motive,” she said. “It was motiveless.

-There are men who do murder for murder’s

-sake.” Under sting of her life experience, she spoke

-with keen bitterness.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>36</span>

-He leaned across the table, and for the instant she

-saw something in the man she had not seen before;

-something that flashed like a gleam of new intelligence

-and was gone with its very birth.</p>

-

-<p>“There are no motiveless crimes,” he said. “In

-this case, of all others, you may be sure a motive existed,

-and that when we put our hands on it, we

-shall find it a tremendous one&mdash;that is, tremendous

-in its imperative force.”</p>

-

-<p>“But what could be the motive&mdash;against a man

-like him?”</p>

-

-<p>“Because he was such a man, we may be the more

-certain of motive,” he said. “Under other conditions

-it might have been Judge Parlin.” He spoke

-at hazard&mdash;perhaps; but the effect was something

-startling. She grew pale as at the inquest before

-she answered as to the first knowledge of Wing’s

-death, and her companion expected for the moment

-that she would faint. But she was a woman equal to

-noteworthy sudden efforts, and even as he watched

-she overcame the momentary weakness. Yet it was

-with pale lips she stammered:</p>

-

-<p>“I understand. It might have been the judge.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>37</span>

-Trafford waited, seemingly expecting something

-more, but when the pause grew awkward, he continued,

-“He told you he had a letter to write

-before he went to bed. Had he written it?”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know. It’s a thing we never shall

-know.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s a thing that we will know, and that in a very

-short time. Who entered the room first that morning?”

-and there was a sense of action in his tone

-that caused her to look up with sudden interest.</p>

-

-<p>“I did. Mary told me expressly that she hadn’t

-dared open the door until I came, and Jonathan was

-by the body, outside.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was the door closed?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes.”</p>

-

-<p>“Who closed it?”</p>

-

-<p>“I have never asked. I supposed it hadn’t been

-open.”</p>

-

-<p>“It was open,” he said. “He came to the door

-without a light when the bell rang. Naturally, he

-left the door open so that the light from the room

-would shine through. He would leave it wide open,

-to get the full light. Somebody shut that door!”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>38</span>

-Mary and Jonathan were called and questioned.

-The latter set the matter at rest. When he discovered

-the body he stooped over it to make certain that

-Mr. Wing was dead. Then, remembering to have

-heard that you must not touch a murdered man until

-the coroner comes, he arose without touching

-him and as he did so saw through the outer door that

-the door to the library was closed.</p>

-

-<p>“The outer door was wide open?” Trafford said.</p>

-

-<p>“No, sir, ’twant neither. ’Twas against Mr.

-Wing’s head and arm. If it hadn’t been fur them,

-it would ’a’ shut too.”</p>

-

-<p>After the two had gone, Trafford declared he

-would see the room, but proposed first to do so alone.

-He entered from the main hall, set his light on the

-lamp-mat on the writing-desk, and took his station in

-front of the door from the side hall. Here he stood

-for at least ten minutes studying the room. Then

-he walked to a medium-sized safe that stood to the

-right of the fire-jamb and was partially hidden by

-book-shelves near the door from the side hall.</p>

-

-<p>Having studied this for some time, he made a

-minute examination of every part of the room, including<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>39</span>

-the blotting paper in the writing-pad on the

-desk, which he finally lifted carefully and held before

-the mirror to examine the few ink-marks it showed.

-Of these he took note in a small memorandum book.

-They seemed to be the only things that struck his

-attention particularly. Then he rang and told Mary

-to ask Mrs. Parlin to come to the library.</p>

-

-<p>“Is that the blotting-pad that was here that

-night?” he asked. “And you were the first one who

-came to this desk in the morning?” when she had

-answered him as to the identity of the pad. “And

-there was no letter on the desk?”</p>

-

-<p>“None.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then, evidently he had not written the letter he

-told you of?”</p>

-

-<p>“Evidently not,” she assented.</p>

-

-<p>“Then he must have been killed before he had

-time to write?”</p>

-

-<p>“It would seem so.”</p>

-

-<p>“And, therefore, probably very soon after you

-left him?”</p>

-

-<p>“I can see no other conclusion, unless he changed

-his mind and didn’t write,” she assented.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>40</span>

-“Now we come to one of the impressions which

-you could not testify to as a fact, but which may be

-of far more value. Did he say he had a letter to

-write in a way that makes you think he may have

-changed his mind?”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” she said. “I understood, from the way

-in which he said it, that it was the important thing

-he had to do before going to bed. I went away

-satisfied that he would write the letter early and then

-get to bed. He certainly meant that the next day

-was to be a busy one.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then he probably was killed, very soon, since he

-had not written the letter.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think so.”</p>

-

-<p>“Now, if you please, let me send for Jonathan

-again.”</p>

-

-<p>When the hired man came, he glanced over his

-shoulder in an uneasy way, as if he did not more

-than half like the room. Trafford motioned him to

-a chair and without any preliminaries suddenly demanded:</p>

-

-<p>“At what hour are you going to testify that you

-went to bed that night?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>41</span>

-Thus far Oldbeg had simply been called upon to

-testify to the finding of the body. The remainder of

-his testimony was to be given later.</p>

-

-<p>“About nine o’clock; not more’n five minutes one

-way or ’tother.”</p>

-

-<p>“What were you doing on Canaan Street at five

-minutes after midnight?”</p>

-

-<p>Oldbeg looked frightened, and Mrs. Parlin

-showed considerable anxiety in the look she cast on

-the two men.</p>

-

-<p>“Come,” said Trafford sharply. “If I can find

-out you were there, I can find out why you were

-there. I’d rather hear it from you.”</p>

-

-<p>“I was comin’ from the twelve-o’clock train. My

-cousin, Jim Shepard, went to Portland to work an’

-I saw him off.”</p>

-

-<p>“Be careful,” Trafford warned him. “If you

-were coming from the station, you’d have come up

-Somerset Street, not Canaan.”</p>

-

-<p>“Why, ye see,” the man explained, placed at once

-at his ease in having something to tell of which he

-had knowledge; “Jim, he was spendin’ the evenin’

-with his gal, Miss Flanders, in Canaan Street, an’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>42</span>

-I was to call fur him thar; an’ he was so late we

-couldn’t get round to the station, an’ so we made a

-short cut through Gray’s Court an’ jest catched the

-train, an’ that was all. We had to run, or he’d ’a’

-missed it any way. So I come back that way, instead

-o’ through Somerset Street.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you came through Canaan Street to River

-Road&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“No, I didn’t,” the other interrupted. “I cut

-across lots back o’ Burgess, ’cause ’twas shorter,

-an’ struck River Road down in front of Miller’s.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; and then came up to the driveway and so

-into the house?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yep!”</p>

-

-<p>“You must have got in about ten minutes after

-twelve.”</p>

-

-<p>“Jest to a dot!” he exclaimed in evident admiration

-of the other’s shrewdness. “Jest to a dot. I

-looked to my watch an’ ’twas jest ten minutes arter

-midnight.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you must have passed close to the

-side-door step?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>43</span>

-“Yess’r; fact, ye might say, I hit agin it, for I

-did knock my toe agin it as I passed.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was Mr. Wing’s body there then?” The demand

-was quick and imperative.</p>

-

-<p>“No, siree! Do you s’pose I’d ’a’ waited till

-mornin’ to rout ’em out ef it had ben? Mr. Wing

-was in this ere room.”</p>

-

-<p>“How do you know?”</p>

-

-<p>“I saw his shadder on the curtain. He was

-walkin’ up an’ down. I seed him turn as I come up

-the drive.”</p>

-

-<p>“But why didn’t you see him? The shade was up

-to that window, when he was found in the morning.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yep; but they was all down when I come up the

-drive, an’ I saw his shadder agin ’em.”</p>

-

-<p>Further questioning elicited no added information

-from the man, excepting the statement that as his

-cousin Jim swung on to the rear end of the car, another

-man had swung on to the front end, suddenly

-rushing out of the darkness. Jonathan did not know

-who it was; indeed, had hardly given the matter a

-thought, so anxious had he been lest Jim should be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>44</span>

-left. When he had gone, Trafford turned to Mrs.

-Parlin and asked:</p>

-

-<p>“When do you think Mr. Wing intended writing

-that letter, if he hadn’t written it at ten minutes after

-midnight?”</p>

-

-<p>“He must have changed his mind, after all,” she

-answered.</p>

-

-<p>“Evidently, he did,” he said.</p>

-

-<p>Then he took up the matter of Judge Parlin’s confession.</p>

-

-<p>“I do not wish to pain you,” he said, “but I

-would not be justified in letting that drop without

-going into it further. Have you any suspicion who

-Theodore’s mother was&mdash;or is, since she is still

-living, or was between five and six years ago?”</p>

-

-<p>“I haven’t the faintest suspicion,” she said.

-“But surely this has been raked open enough.

-You can let that wound heal.”</p>

-

-<p>“I can let nothing heal,” he said. “I don’t for

-the life of me see how that can have anything to

-do with this murder, but that’s no reason I may

-not find that it has lots to do with it. At any rate,

-I must find her out.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>45</span>

-“Can you do it on the feeble clue we have?” she

-asked.</p>

-

-<p>He smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“On such a clue, I’ll trace her in a week and not

-half try. Your husband intended to shield her

-from discovery, and but for these untoward circumstances,

-we would be bound to respect his wishes.

-As it is, I must know the identity of the woman.

-I hope I’ll find nothing to compel me to go farther.

-In the meantime, I’m going to take with me this

-blotting-pad, and I want you to examine it so that

-you can identify it beyond question, blotter and all.

-It’s too important for any mistake.”</p>

-

-<p>Just then Mary Mullin brought word that Mr.

-McManus had come in response to a message sent

-earlier in the evening by Mr. Trafford. Mr. McManus

-had been with Mr. Wing for a number of

-years, and held the most confidential relation to his

-principal of any in the office. Since the murder he

-had naturally taken charge of his personal affairs.

-He was a man of thirty, tall and lithe, with a nervous

-force about him that was held well in control

-by strong will-power.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>46</span>

-“Do you know what special engagements Mr.

-Wing had for the eleventh, that caused him to expect

-a particularly busy day?” the detective asked.</p>

-

-<p>“None connected with office matters. It must

-have been a personal engagement.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you open this safe the day after the

-murder?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was it properly closed and locked?”</p>

-

-<p>“So far as I could see.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’d have given a hundred dollars if I’d been

-here,” Trafford said earnestly.</p>

-

-<p>McManus looked at him in surprise.</p>

-

-<p>“Certainly,” he said, “you don’t suspect robbery?”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t suspect anything,” Trafford replied,

-somewhat brusquely. “Of all things, I avoid suspicion

-and guesses. I’d like you to open the safe

-again.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus knelt, drew from his pocket a paper

-with a series of figures written on it, and following

-these with the turnings of the knob, threw open the

-door. Within was revealed a small iron door surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>47</span>

-by pigeon-holes, the divisions of wood.

-Trafford dropped on his knees and gave peculiar

-scrutiny to the door, and especially the lock. Then

-he turned towards McManus:</p>

-

-<p>“These two empty pigeon-holes on the left;

-they were empty when you first opened the

-safe?”</p>

-

-<p>“Every paper is in the exact place I found it,”

-McManus answered sharply. “My profession has

-taught me some things!”</p>

-

-<p>“And this door?”</p>

-

-<p>“It was closed and locked. Here is the key.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford opened the door, revealing packages of

-letters, filling about half the space above the small

-drawer which was at the lowest portion.</p>

-

-<p>“You have examined these letters?”</p>

-

-<p>“Only sufficiently to be able to identify them.

-They relate to certain logging interests of firms employing

-Mr. Wing.”</p>

-

-<p>“And the drawer?”</p>

-

-<p>“You have the key: there’s nothing there but

-trinkets and a little personal jewelry.” There was

-a personal tone of resentment over the failure to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>48</span>

-recognise the distance between a detective and an

-attorney.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford opened the drawer mechanically, then

-closed it and took out indifferently one of the packages

-of letters. These he returned and closed and

-locked the door, which he examined again with care.

-Then he pushed to the heavy outer door, turning the

-knob slowly and as if he was studying the fall of

-the wards.</p>

-

-<p>“If it had been planned to leave no trace,” he

-said, as if to himself, “it would be a success. Have

-you a suspicion of the motive for this murder, Mr.

-McManus?”</p>

-

-<p>“So far as I can see, it was motiveless,” McManus

-answered. “I can only conclude that it was the

-work of a lunatic, or a mere murder fiend. It was,

-in my opinion, merely an accident that it was Mr.

-Wing and not some one else.”</p>

-

-<p>“I hadn’t thought of that aspect of the case,”

-Trafford said. “Is there any unfortunate creature

-of that kind about here?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, not that I know of; but might it not be a

-stranger that has wandered here?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>49</span>

-“Did you ever hear of one of that class that was

-content with mere killing? It’s mutilation that

-characterises all such crimes. Its absence in this

-case is one of the most prominent features. By

-the bye: was the night of the tenth windy?”</p>

-

-<p>“On the contrary, it was a very still night.”</p>

-

-<p>“Not wind enough to blow that door shut?”

-pointing to the door into the side hall.</p>

-

-<p>“Certainly not.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford walked around to the different windows

-and finally pulled down the shades and placed the

-lamp on the writing-desk. Then he went outside

-and studied the reflection on the shades. When he

-returned, he said:</p>

-

-<p>“I shall be absent a few days. Will you see to

-it, Mr. McManus, that the coroner doesn’t reconvene

-the inquest until I can be here? Until we

-find a motive for this crime, we’re going to make

-slow headway in finding the criminal.”</p>

-

-<p>“So long as you have charge of the case,” McManus

-answered, “I shall follow your wishes; but

-you may as well understand that I’m not going to

-be content with failure on any one’s part. You’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>50</span>

-after the pay; I’m after punishment for the murderer.

-As long as our wishes run in the same

-line&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford interrupted him:</p>

-

-<p>“When a case is placed in your hands, you expect

-to manage it, I assume. This case has been

-placed in my hands, and as long as it remains there,

-I shall conduct it in my own way. That doesn’t

-mean I won’t take advice; it simply means, I’ll be the

-one to decide what I’ll do with it.”</p>

-

-<p>The two men faced each other for the moment

-almost with hostility. Then McManus’s face lightened

-and he held out his hand without a word of

-apology:</p>

-

-<p>“You’ll do, I guess. If the fellow escapes you,

-he’d deserve to&mdash;if he’d killed anybody but Theodore

-Wing. Whatever I can do to aid, call on me day

-or night. At the least, keep me posted.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>51</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="iv">CHAPTER IV<br />

-<span>Trafford Gets an Assurance</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD sat in his room in the hotel at

-Bangor the next evening and studied the copy

-of Judge Parlin’s statement.</p>

-

-<p>“Her brilliancy of mind has carried her far,” he

-said; “has aided her husband politically; and it was

-this influence that defeated him for the chief justiceship.

-It’s so easy that I can’t believe the solution.

-By George! I wonder if the old judge ever wrote

-that paper? I wish I’d examined the original more

-critically. If I’d been one of your inspired detectives,

-such as you find in novels, I’d probably have

-caught a forgery the first thing!”</p>

-

-<p>None the less, he put himself to the task of untangling

-the threads of the statement, with a result

-that set him to deep thinking. Bangor was not the

-direction from which had come opposition to the

-judge’s nomination. On the contrary, Judge Parlin

-had been rather a favourite than otherwise in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>52</span>

-Bangor, and his cause had received substantial aid.

-But the statement did not assert that Wing’s

-mother had remained in Bangor, or that it was there

-that she aided her husband politically. The most

-hostile influence that Judge Parlin had encountered

-was popularly credited to an ex-Governor, Matthewson,

-an Eastern Maine man, who at present held no

-office, but without whose countenance few men ventured

-even to aspire to office.</p>

-

-<p>“If it should prove that Matthewson’s wife is

-a Bangor woman, ’twould be so easy as to be absurd,”

-Trafford mused. “The old judge wasn’t

-silly enough to believe that what he wrote could conceal

-her identity. Either he meant it should be

-known to Wing or Mrs. Parlin, or&mdash;but what possible

-object could there be in forging such a paper?”</p>

-

-<p>Suddenly he sat bolt upright and stared at the

-document in blank amazement. Then, with a low

-whistle, he folded it into his pocketbook.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll find Mrs. Matthewson Bangor-born, I’ll bet

-ten cents to a leather button!” he declared.</p>

-

-<p>Whatever had brought Trafford to this sudden

-conclusion, it proved absolutely correct, and the details<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>53</span>

-given of her brilliance and her aid to her husband

-fitted exactly to the character of the woman.

-This fact naturally raised the question, was it safe

-to go farther and, if so, how much farther? Mrs.

-Matthewson at least had been put on her guard by

-the published statement, and she was not a woman

-to remain in ignorance of any steps taken in consequence

-of that statement, or of the man who took

-them. The family was powerful and not credited

-with scrupulosity as to means employed to ends.

-On the other hand, it was manifest that if there

-was such an episode in her past, her husband was

-ignorant of it and she would stop at nothing to

-keep him so. The secret might be dangerous, but

-it might be valuable as well.</p>

-

-<p>Beyond this, however, was the joy of the chase,

-which is absent from no man and least of all from

-the trained detective. There was a problem to

-solve, and, danger or no danger, it was as impossible

-for Trafford to refuse to solve it as to refuse to

-breathe. Whatever use he was or was not to make

-of it, he would know the truth.</p>

-

-<p>He was not, however, so intent upon this one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>54</span>

-feature of the case as to neglect Jim Shepard. The

-second day, he slipped over to Portland and found

-that young countryman at work and exceedingly

-homesick in what was, to his narrow experience, a

-great city. Finding that Trafford knew Millbank,

-he threw his heart open to him and talked as freely

-as he would to Oldbeg himself. Trafford let him

-talk. There was a flood of irrelevant matter, but

-the detective’s experience was too broad for him to

-decide in advance what might and what might not

-be valuable. On the whole, however, it was a

-dreary waste, until he touched on the night he left

-Millbank.</p>

-

-<p>“I wasn’t the only feller,” he said; “that nigh

-missed that train. Jest as ’twas startin’, a feller

-rushed out from behind Pettingill’s ’tater storehouse

-and caught the front end of the car. I thought he

-was goin’ to miss an’ I swung back to see him drop

-off; but he clung like a good one an’ finally got his

-foot on the step. I tell you, he was nigh clean tuckered

-out when he came into the car, fur he was a

-swell an’ warn’t used to using his arms that-a-way.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>55</span>

-“Queer place for him to come from,” said the

-other.</p>

-

-<p>“Wall, ye see, if he’d come from Somerset Street

-way an’ out through ’tween Neil’s store and the post-office,

-he’d ’a’ come out jest thar; but he’d ’a’ had to

-know the lay o’ the land to done it. Ef he’d ben a

-stranger, he couldn’t help missing it an’ not half

-try.”</p>

-

-<p>“But you say he was a stranger and a swell,”

-Trafford suggested.</p>

-

-<p>“He was a swell, fast enough. City rig; kid

-gloves&mdash;one on ’em bust, hangin’ on to the rail, and

-got up in go-to-meetin’ style; but he must ’a’ knowed

-the way. He’d ben thar before, you bet!”</p>

-

-<p>“You seem to have got a pretty good look at

-him.”</p>

-

-<p>“Wall, ye see he took the seat two in front o’ me,

-and every time I woke up&mdash;say, them air seats hain’t

-made to sleep comfortable in, be they&mdash;thar he was,

-till all of a sudden I woke up an’ he warn’t thar.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you don’t know where he got off,” Trafford

-said, keeping the disappointment out of his

-voice.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>56</span>

-“No. Ye see, when we pulled out of ’Gusta, he

-was thar, an’ I didn’t wake up ag’in till we got to

-Brunswick, an’ he warn’t thar. I meant to see

-whar he went to, but arter ’Gusta, I guessed he

-must be from Portland and that’s whar I got left.”</p>

-

-<p>“I suppose you hear from Millbank&mdash;from Oldbeg,

-for instance.”</p>

-

-<p>“Wall,” he said, blushing a fiery red, “Jonathan

-hain’t no great hand to write: but I du hear sometimes.

-Say, du you s’pose a body could ’a’ heerd

-that thar shot from Parlin’s house down onto

-Canaan Street?”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know,” said the detective carelessly, hiding

-his eagerness. “A still night, it might be;

-why?”</p>

-

-<p>“’Cause, a letter I got says that thar night she’d

-jest got to sleep when she woke up sudden, as if

-she’d heerd so’thing like a shot. She got up, but

-didn’t hear nothin’ more an’ so went back to bed.

-But the next mornin’ she guessed ’twas the shot

-she heerd from Parlin’s.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did she say what time it was?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nope: only she’d ben asleep about half a hour,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>57</span>

-an’ thet night she didn’t get to bed ’fore twelve

-o’clock. Fact, I guess she didn’t go till she heerd

-the train leave.”</p>

-

-<p>“But about this swell,” Trafford interposed.

-“Would you know him again if you saw him?”</p>

-

-<p>“I guess I would; leastwise ef I could see the

-top of his head. He took his hat off, an’ thar was

-the funniest little bald spot, jest the shape of a

-heart. ’Twas funny, an’ he warn’t more’n thirty

-years old. Say, when he gets to be fifty, he won’t

-hev no more hair’n I’ve got on the back o’ my

-hand.”</p>

-

-<p>The next afternoon, a card was brought to Charles

-Matthewson, Esq., in his inner office in Augusta,

-and on the card he read, printed in small square

-letters:</p>

-

-<p class="center">“ISAAC TRAFFORD.”</p>

-

-<p>“What in thunder does Trafford want of me?”

-he asked himself. “He can’t possibly know!”</p>

-

-<p>He sat and looked at the card, while the boy

-waited and finally coughed to remind him he was

-still there. Matthewson looked up with a puzzled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>58</span>

-air. Evidently he did not care to see the man

-whose name was on the card, and as evidently he

-did not dare refuse him. Finally he said:</p>

-

-<p>“Show him in in five minutes.”</p>

-

-<p>When Trafford entered, in the very act of bowing,

-he cast a quick glance at the top of Matthewson’s

-head. There was the odd bald spot, shaped,

-as Jim Shepard had said, “Jest like a heart.”</p>

-

-<p>“What can I do for you, Mr. Trafford?” Matthewson

-asked, with the air of a busy man.</p>

-

-<p>“I want about ten minutes’ talk with you,” the

-detective answered, drawing a chair close to the

-desk.</p>

-

-<p>“Professional?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes;&mdash;my profession.”</p>

-

-<p>The lawyer started. He was provoked with himself

-for doing so, but it was beyond his control.

-Trafford was not a man with whom it was comfortable

-to talk professionally&mdash;that is, from the standpoint

-of his profession.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, be quick about it, then. I’m busy, and

-it’ll be a favour to cut it as short as you can.”</p>

-

-<p>“You were in Millbank the evening of the tenth.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>59</span>

-“Well, you are short and to the point. Suppose

-I was?”</p>

-

-<p>“What were you there for?”</p>

-

-<p>“None of your business.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford chuckled. He was getting on. It was

-just the answer he expected.</p>

-

-<p>“Now let’s stick right to the point, as you wanted

-me to. If I have to whip round to get to it again,

-you mustn’t blame me.”</p>

-

-<p>“Come, Mr. Trafford; you can’t deal with every

-one the same way. If you want to find out anything

-from me, you mustn’t go at it as if I was a

-country bumpkin whom your very name would

-scare.”</p>

-

-<p>“Bless you, I don’t,” said Trafford. “Now if

-you were a country bumpkin, as you are pleased to

-put it, I’d lead up to the matter gently and so have

-it all out of you before you knew what I was at.

-Not being a country bumpkin, I come at you fair and

-square to save your time and mine too. What were

-you doing in Millbank on the evening of the tenth?

-You weren’t at any of the hotels. You weren’t seen

-by any of the men who were likely to see you.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>60</span>

-“So you’ve peddled it all over Millbank that I was

-there that night, have you?” demanded the other,

-angrily.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford looked at him with a mixture of amusement

-and spleen. At last he answered:</p>

-

-<p>“That isn’t the way I do my work. I don’t

-need to give away what I know to find out what

-other folks know. There’s nobody in Millbank any

-the wiser for the enquiries I’ve made.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, if you know so much and are so cunning,

-you know that I got there at eight o’clock and left

-at midnight&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“Dropping off at the Bridge stop before the

-train crossed the river, and swinging on to the front

-end of the second car as the train was pulling out

-of the station, coming out of the shadow of Pettingill’s

-potato warehouse to do so, so as not to be

-seen and recognized,” Trafford continued.</p>

-

-<p>The first part was a shrewd guess, but evidently

-it hit the mark, for the lawyer wheeled about and

-faced him before saying:</p>

-

-<p>“The devil! To what am I indebted for such

-close surveillance?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>61</span>

-“Well,” drawled Trafford, with an irritating air

-of indifference, that he could at times assume, “perhaps

-you don’t know that a matter of some importance

-happened in Millbank that night and has led

-to our looking up all the strangers that were in town,

-especially those who did not seem to want to be

-seen.”</p>

-

-<p>“You refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“I refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“I regret Mr. Wing’s tragic death,” said the

-lawyer coldly; “and especially deplore the commission

-of such a crime. At the same time, I don’t

-think it as important as Millbank naturally thinks

-it, and I imagine the State will manage to wag

-along in spite of the great loss it has sustained.”</p>

-

-<p>It was not so much the words, ill-timed and out-of-taste

-as they were, as the air with which they

-were uttered, that constituted their significance. It

-was as if in the mind that originated them there was

-a lurking bitterness, that the speaker would willingly

-conceal, which yet was so intense that it must

-find vent. There was a cruel hardness in the tone

-that made the words themselves all but meaningless.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>62</span>

-Was it possible, Trafford asked himself, that the

-man was able to read the meaning of Judge Parlin’s

-story and knew that Wing was his half-brother?

-He dismissed the question with the asking, satisfied

-that something of which he was still ignorant was at

-the foundation of this outbreak. It was to be a

-question of the comparative shrewdness of the two

-men, whether he still remained ignorant when the

-interview closed.</p>

-

-<p>“You certainly don’t suppose that I shot Millbank’s

-leading citizen, do you?” the lawyer demanded,

-after a moment’s pause. It was, perhaps,

-an effort to recover what the lawyer could not fail

-to see that he had lost.</p>

-

-<p>“On the contrary, I’ve every reason to believe

-that he was still alive when you left town,

-and I still further believe that your visit had nothing

-to do, remotely or directly, with his death.”</p>

-

-<p>What was that odd flash that passed over the

-other’s face as Trafford said these last words?

-Seemingly, Trafford was not looking at the other’s

-face at the moment and it might have escaped him.

-Still, he would have been interested if he had seen it.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>63</span>

-“Thanks: but, in that event, what are you here

-for?”</p>

-

-<p>“I can’t let my beliefs or disbeliefs interfere with

-my investigation of facts. Here is something most

-unusual occurring, almost at the moment of the

-murder. It don’t make any difference whether I

-believe it has anything to do with it or not. It’s

-my business to know, and that’s what I’m here to

-do.”</p>

-

-<p>“And if I say I’ve nothing to tell you?”</p>

-

-<p>“The coroner’s enquiry will be public, while mine

-may remain private.”</p>

-

-<p>“What do you want to know?”</p>

-

-<p>“I simply want your assurance that your visit

-to Millbank had nothing to do, directly or remotely,

-with Theodore Wing.”</p>

-

-<p>“I can’t see what value such an assurance can

-have. If I went there to hire somebody to shoot

-him, I should, of course, not hesitate to give you

-the assurance&mdash;and probably you wouldn’t fail

-to find out the truth of the matter inside a

-week.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s my business,” said Trafford. “If I’m<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>64</span>

-content with your assurance, I don’t see why you

-should object to my being.”</p>

-

-<p>“Because there’s no certainty you’ll remain content

-with it. It’s one of those things where you

-could come back to-morrow with ‘newly discovered

-testimony’ that would upset the whole agreement.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, as for that,” said Trafford, “I propose to

-agree to nothing. As matters stand, the inquest ’ll

-go on within a day or two. I know you were in

-Millbank the night of the murder, and with no

-assurance from any one that your visit had nothing

-to do with the murder, I’m compelled, absolutely

-compelled, to ask the coroner to summons you. On

-the other hand, if I’m satisfied, there’s no reason

-for me to tell any one that I know you were there,

-and nothing to induce the coroner to summons you.

-At the same time, I don’t agree to anything as to

-the future. That must depend upon facts, and you

-know better than I do now whether there are any

-that would call for you.”</p>

-

-<p>“Humph!” grunted Matthewson; “then it’s

-this: I assure you what you ask and I’m not to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>65</span>

-summoned until you see fit to summon me, and if

-I don’t, you see fit to summon me at once.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s about it,” assented Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson sat for a few minutes thinking, and

-Trafford sat watching him. He was tall and slim,

-with a rather prepossessing face&mdash;well-dressed, in

-fact, a “swell,” as Jim Shepard had said. His face

-was far from a dull one. His mother had evidently

-given him something of her personality. Yet, a

-man less on his guard against impressions than the

-detective might find something in his face that he

-did not like,&mdash;a look of cunning lurking in the half-closed

-eyes, a want of feeling in the lines of the

-mouth. He was a man who would go far to accomplish

-his ends, but would not be willingly cruel,

-perhaps because he could not understand that to be

-cruel which was for his own interest. Yet, what

-of a fight that involved life and honour? Trafford

-at least knew that it is only then that the hidden

-forces come to the surface and the man himself

-stands complete. Suddenly Matthewson turned,

-and with a side glance at the waiting detective said:</p>

-

-<p>“I assure you that my visit to Millbank had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>66</span>

-nothing to do directly or indirectly with Mr. Wing’s

-death.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s all I want,” the detective said.</p>

-

-<p>“I gave him credit for being sharper than that,”

-Matthewson said to himself, as the door closed behind

-his visitor.</p>

-

-<p>“Now I’ve got to find out,” Trafford noted,

-“how that visit did concern Wing. I’ll test Matthewson’s

-conclusion before I accept it.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>67</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="v">CHAPTER V<br />

-<span>The Weapon is Produced</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE inquest reconvened with an increase rather

-than a decrease of interest on the part of the

-public. This was due in part to the renewed attention

-aroused by the funeral, which had been one of

-the most imposing ever had in Millbank; and in part

-to the rewards for the detection of the murderer

-offered by Mrs. Parlin and the selectmen of the

-town.</p>

-

-<p>In addition, the County Court had instructed the

-county attorney to be present at further sittings,

-to assist the coroner, and the town had employed its

-own counsel for the same purpose.</p>

-

-<p>Mary Mullin was the first witness.</p>

-

-<p>“You are the help at Mrs. Parlin’s?” the coroner

-asked.</p>

-

-<p>“I be.”</p>

-

-<p>“How long have you been so employed?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>68</span>

-“Twenty-five year this coming July.”</p>

-

-<p>“You were at the house the evening and night of

-the tenth of May?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yep!”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you wait on the table at supper that evening?”</p>

-

-<p>“I passed the victuals, ef that’s what ye mean

-by wait;” with an air of defiance.</p>

-

-<p>“Who were at supper?”</p>

-

-<p>“Mis Parlin an’ Mr. Wing.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did either of them seem to you depressed or

-preoccupied?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nope.”</p>

-

-<p>“The meal was pleasant as usual, and both

-seemed in good spirits?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yep.”</p>

-

-<p>“Were you in the dining room when they left

-it?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nope; I left ’em thar an’ went back arter they

-were through an’ cleaned up the table.”</p>

-

-<p>“When did you next see Mr. Wing?”</p>

-

-<p>“As he and Mis Parlin come back from the

-orchard.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>69</span>

-“Did everything seem pleasant between them

-then?”</p>

-

-<p>“Why shouldn’t it?”</p>

-

-<p>“I asked you if it did?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’d scorn to answer sech a question, ef I warn’t

-under oath to answer what you axed. Yep!”</p>

-

-<p>“When did you see him next?”</p>

-

-<p>“Lyin’ a dead corpse on the doorstep at ten

-minutes arter six the next mornin’!”</p>

-

-<p>“You are certain you did not see him from the

-time he returned from the orchard, until you saw

-him dead?”</p>

-

-<p>“Didn’t I swear it?”</p>

-

-<p>“I asked you if you are certain?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yep!” indignantly.</p>

-

-<p>“Did you eat your supper before or after your

-mistress ate hers?”</p>

-

-<p>“What may ye mean by mistress?”</p>

-

-<p>“I mean, did you eat your supper before or after

-Mrs. Parlin ate hers?”</p>

-

-<p>“Arter.”</p>

-

-<p>She testified that she and Jonathan ate together;

-that she went to her room at nine o’clock, after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>70</span>

-shutting up the house “all but the front part,” and

-that she went at once to bed.</p>

-

-<p>“Did you at any time during the night hear a

-pistol or gun shot or any sound resembling one?”</p>

-

-<p>“I did not.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you a sound sleeper?”</p>

-

-<p>“After I git to sleep, ye might carry me off an’

-I’d never know it till mornin’.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you think a pistol might have been fired

-at the south door of the house in the middle of the

-night without your hearing it, although that door

-was open?”</p>

-

-<p>“I think that one was.”</p>

-

-<p>“But do you believe, aside from what you think

-regarding what happened that night, that a pistol

-so fired would wake you?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, nor a cannon, ef ’twan’t too big.”</p>

-

-<p>Jonathan Oldbeg testified practically to what he

-had told Trafford, the detective, though with some

-amplification of details. On the question of the

-absolute recognition of the shadow on the window

-shades as that of Mr. Wing, he grew very positive,

-affirming that he knew the stoop of the shoulders<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>71</span>

-and the movement of his head. The county attorney

-and the town counsel were quite strong at this

-point and suggested questions which finally confused

-the witness, though in the end he clung to his

-positive identification.</p>

-

-<p>The coroner seemed disposed to pass to the next

-witness, when Trafford handed up a paper, after

-reading which the coroner turned again to the witness

-and asked:</p>

-

-<p>“On the shades of which windows did you see

-the shadow?”</p>

-

-<p>“On all three of ’em.”</p>

-

-<p>“On which was it the highest and largest?”</p>

-

-<p>The witness paused as he began his answer and

-seemed in deep thought. Once he raised his head

-with a blank expression and then dropped it again.

-Finally he looked up and said:</p>

-

-<p>“On the curtain nighest the door.”</p>

-

-<p>“And the smallest?”</p>

-

-<p>“On the curtain nighest the road.”</p>

-

-<p>“The witness will step down a moment and Mr.

-Isaac Trafford will take the stand.”</p>

-

-<p>All necks were craned to see the detective, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>72</span>

-every ear intent for his testimony. It was most

-disappointing.</p>

-

-<p>“Have you made any experiments,” the coroner

-asked; “as to the shadow thrown on the shades of

-Mr. Wing’s library, with relation to the position

-of the light?”</p>

-

-<p>“I have.”</p>

-

-<p>“With what results?”</p>

-

-<p>“If the light is on the writing-desk, the highest

-and largest shadow is thrown on the shade nearest

-the street and none is thrown on the shade nearest

-the door. If the light is on the reading-table in

-front of the fireplace, or in the centre of the mantel

-over the fireplace, the highest and largest shadow

-is on the shade of the centre window. If the light

-is on the mantel near the safe, the largest and highest

-shadow is on the shade nearest the door, and

-the smallest and lowest on the shade nearest the

-road. If the light is on the safe itself, or on

-the stand near the safe, no shadow is thrown on the

-shade nearest the street.”</p>

-

-<p>“You have heard the testimony of the last witness

-as to the shadows he saw?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>73</span>

-“I have.”</p>

-

-<p>“What is your conclusion from that testimony as

-to the position of the light at the time the witness

-passed up the drive?”</p>

-

-<p>“That it was on the mantel nearly above the

-safe.”</p>

-

-<p>“Have you made any experiments to determine

-in what position any one would place the light, if

-he had the safe open and desired the best light on its

-contents?”</p>

-

-<p>“I have.”</p>

-

-<p>“With what result?”</p>

-

-<p>“That he would place it on the mantel about a

-foot or a foot and a half west of the safe.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then the testimony of the witness and the result

-of your experiments would lead you to conclude that

-at the time the witness passed up the drive, the occupant

-of the room had the safe open and the light so

-placed that he could best see into it?”</p>

-

-<p>“It is entirely compatible with that assumption.”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Trafford was dismissed and Oldbeg recalled.

-There was a buzz in the room.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>74</span>

-“What do you s’pose that was fur?” one man

-asked another.</p>

-

-<p>“For impression. It shows how mighty cute

-Trafford is, an’

-<a name="lets" id="lets"></a><ins title="Original has 'let’s'">lets</ins>

-folks know that there’s somebody

-arter ’em as knows what’s what.”</p>

-

-<p>“Onless Trafford got it up hisself fur advertisin’,”

-suggested the other, a hard-headed Yankee

-to whom shrewdness was a natural instinct.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you own a pistol?” demanded the coroner,

-as Oldbeg settled himself to his examination.</p>

-

-<p>Every eye turned towards the witness, who

-fidgeted before answering, as if he was in doubt

-what to say. At last, when attention was at its

-keenest, he found his tongue and said:</p>

-

-<p>“Nope.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yet you bought a thirty-two calibre one on

-May eighth.”</p>

-

-<p>It had already been testified that the fatal shot

-was fired from a thirty-two calibre revolver.

-Every person present was alive with the thought

-that a critical moment in the inquest had come.</p>

-

-<p>“Yep; but I gave it away.”</p>

-

-<p>“When?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>75</span>

-“The night o’ May tenth.”</p>

-

-<p>“To whom?”</p>

-

-<p>“To Jim Shepard. Jest as he was jumpin’ on the

-train, I took it out o’ my pocket an’ put it in his’n.”</p>

-

-<p>“Do you call that giving it away?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yep! That’s what I bought it fur. I don’t

-need one here; leastwise, I didn’t think so then;

-but he’s goin’ to a tarnel big place, an’ I thought he

-ought to had one, so I bought it an’ took it to the

-train with me that night an’ put it in his pocket.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you say anything to him about it?”</p>

-

-<p>“I didn’t hev no time. I was goin’ to give it to

-him, but we hed to run for the train, an’ I clean

-forgot it till, jest as he struck the bottom step, I

-thought on it. All I could do was to chuck it into

-his pocket, whar his coat swung back.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you see it go in?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nope: ’twas too dark.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was it loaded?”</p>

-

-<p>“All but one bar’l. I fired that off up in the

-woods that day an’ furgot to load it again.”</p>

-

-<p>“Call James Shepard.”</p>

-

-<p>Oldbeg started, and when his cousin came from a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>76</span>

-door back of the coroner, stood as one struck dumb.

-It was difficult to say what emotion was expressed

-in his face. Trafford watched him and acknowledged

-his own uncertainty.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you desire to change your testimony last

-given?” asked the coroner.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve told the truth; I hain’t got nothin’ to

-change,” he said sulkily.</p>

-

-<p>James Shepard gave his testimony regarding his

-leaving Millbank and answered the questions put to

-him with reference to the stranger who took the

-same train, which, of course, simply led up to his

-disappearance somewhere between Augusta and

-Brunswick. Then came the question which all were

-awaiting:</p>

-

-<p>“Did your cousin give you a pistol the night you

-left Millbank?”</p>

-

-<p>“Not that I knows on. It’s the fust time I ever

-heerd about it.”</p>

-

-<p>“Do you own a pistol?”</p>

-

-<p>“Nope. I hain’t got no use fur a pistol an’

-never had.”</p>

-

-<p>“Call William Buckworth.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>77</span>

-A stout, elderly man, head of the firm of Buckworth

-&amp; Tompson, notion dealers, came to the

-stand. After the preliminary questions, the coroner

-took from a drawer a pistol and handed it to the

-witness.</p>

-

-<p>“What is that?”</p>

-

-<p>“A thirty-two calibre Woodruff revolver.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you ever see it before?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes. I sold it on the eighth of May to Jonathan

-Oldbeg.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you certain of the identity?”</p>

-

-<p>The witness then proceeded to the identification,

-which was absolute.</p>

-

-<p>“Are the chambers charged?”</p>

-

-<p>“Four are. One is empty and has recently been

-fired.”</p>

-

-<p>“Isaac Trafford will take the stand.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you recognize this pistol, Mr. Trafford, as

-one you have before seen?”</p>

-

-<p>“I do.”</p>

-

-<p>“State the circumstances.”</p>

-

-<p>“I found it on the morning of the twelfth of

-May hidden in the box hedge in the front yard of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>78</span>

-the Parlin house. It was in the box nearest the

-fence that separates the front yard from the driveway,

-and about twelve feet from the house.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was it in the same condition then as now?”</p>

-

-<p>“It was wet with dew and the rust is deeper now

-than then; otherwise it is in the same condition.”</p>

-

-<p>“Call Margaret Flanders.”</p>

-

-<p>At the name, Jim Shepard, who had taken a seat

-in the main room upon concluding his testimony,

-turned the colour of a peony and a giggle was

-started among a group of boys near him.</p>

-

-<p>Margaret Flanders, a buxom, healthy lass of about

-twenty, tripped into the room as if in enjoyment

-of the sensation she was creating. In answer to

-questions, her testimony ran:</p>

-

-<p>She lived at home, with her parents, on Canaan

-Street; the left-hand side as you went from River

-Road. Jim Shepard came sometimes to see her

-and was with her the evening of May tenth. He

-was going to Portland to work and he was to take

-the midnight train. He stayed till his cousin Jonathan

-Oldbeg called for him. It was then so late

-that she was afraid he would miss his train. Indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>79</span>

-there was only five minutes to spare when he

-left the house. She waited on the front stoop till

-she heard the train go and then went to her room,

-which was on the second floor in the northwest

-corner, the nearest River Road and the Parlin

-house. She went right to bed, was in bed by

-quarter-past twelve, probably, and went right to

-sleep. Had slept a few minutes when she was

-wakened by a sound like a pistol shot. She jumped

-out of bed and went to the window, which was open,

-for she always liked plenty of fresh air; but saw

-nothing and heard nothing. There was a light in

-the Parlin house and she thought it was in the

-library, but could not tell certainly. She was at the

-window only a few minutes, when the clock struck

-one, but whether it was half-past twelve or one

-o’clock she could not tell. Then she went back to

-bed and fell asleep, and heard nothing more to disturb

-her that night.</p>

-

-<p>The coroner announced that this closed his witnesses,

-but at the request of the county attorney he

-recalled Mrs. Parlin. The county attorney put his

-questions through the coroner.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>80</span>

-“Have you ever had any question as to the

-genuineness of the statement which purports to be

-in the handwriting of your husband?”</p>

-

-<p>“None whatever.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was your husband accustomed to leave important

-papers without date or signature?”</p>

-

-<p>“This paper is in Judge Parlin’s handwriting.”</p>

-

-<p>“I hand you a letter here with the signature

-turned down. Can you identify the handwriting?”</p>

-

-<p>“I think it is the handwriting of Theodore

-Wing.”</p>

-

-<p>“Can you state positively?”</p>

-

-<p>“I cannot: but I have little doubt.”</p>

-

-<p>“I hand you another. Whose handwriting is

-that?”</p>

-

-<p>“Judge Parlin’s.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you positive?”</p>

-

-<p>“Positive.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you certain that the first letter is not in the

-handwriting of your late husband?”</p>

-

-<p>“It may possibly be; but I think it is in Mr.

-Wing’s handwriting.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>81</span>

-“There was then a very strong resemblance between

-the handwriting of your late husband and

-that of Mr. Wing?”</p>

-

-<p>“A very strong resemblance. Theodore always

-admitted that he had tried to write like the

-judge, and of late years the resemblance was

-very close.”</p>

-

-<p>“Still you are confident as to the handwriting

-of the statement that has been produced

-here?”</p>

-

-<p>“Absolutely confident.”</p>

-

-<p>“When you hold this statement up to the light,

-do you discover any water-mark?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, a sheaf of something that looks like wheat

-with a circle around it.”</p>

-

-<p>“I hand you a blank sheet of paper. Has that

-any water-mark?”</p>

-

-<p>“It has the same water-mark.”</p>

-

-<p>“That will do. Mr. Trafford will take the

-stand.</p>

-

-<p>“I hand you this blank sheet of paper, which Mrs.

-Parlin has just stated contains the same water-mark

-as that on which the purported statement of Judge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>82</span>

-Parlin is written. Have you ever seen this sheet

-before?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes. I took it from Mr. Theodore Wing’s

-writing-desk on the morning of May twelfth. It

-was one of a number of similar sheets I found

-there.”</p>

-

-<p>“Call Mr. Marmaduke.</p>

-

-<p>“You are the head of the stationery firm of Marmaduke

-&amp; Co.?”</p>

-

-<p>“I am.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you supply the late Theodore Wing with

-writing paper?”</p>

-

-<p>“I did.”</p>

-

-<p>“Is this a sheet of the paper you furnished

-him?”</p>

-

-<p>“It is a sheet of the paper I furnished him for

-his home use. I never furnished it to him for

-office use.”</p>

-

-<p>“How long have you sold paper with this water-mark?”</p>

-

-<p>“About four years.”</p>

-

-<p>“Never before that?”</p>

-

-<p>“Never. I do not think it was made with that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>83</span>

-water-mark until about four years ago. At least,

-I never heard of it.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you furnish paper to the late Judge Parlin,

-for home or office?”</p>

-

-<p>“For both.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you ever furnish him, either for home or

-office, with paper bearing this water-mark?”</p>

-

-<p>“Never. I didn’t have paper with that water-mark

-for sale until nearly a year after Judge Parlin’s

-death. I got it at the special request of

-Mr. Wing, and that was after Judge Parlin’s

-death.”</p>

-

-<p>After consultation, the inquest was again adjourned.

-There was a general expectation that a

-warrant would issue for Oldbeg’s arrest, but neither

-the coroner nor the county attorney felt justified in

-so overt an act. The public might try, condemn,

-and all but execute a man on mere suspicion, but

-larger responsibility rested on the officers of the law.

-In consultation, Trafford was appealed to and

-agreed fully with the decision reached. He was not

-wholly pleased with the coroner’s haste in bringing

-out certain facts that in his opinion could have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>84</span>

-left with safety to the adjourned session. The

-strength of his own work lay in minimising, rather

-than exaggerating, the importance of unsupported

-facts, which were almost sure to lead to wrong conclusions.</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>85</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="vi">CHAPTER VI<br />

-<span>Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE wife of former Governor Matthewson was

-prominent&mdash;that is, respectably prominent&mdash;in

-church matters, as in all good works, and the booth

-over which she presided at the May Church Festival

-was one of the most attractive and profitable,

-albeit there was many another that had proved a

-centre for the younger men and larger boys. Mrs.

-Matthewson sat in the curtained space behind the

-main booth, for she was really tired. She was a tall

-woman, of commanding presence, who had just

-touched her sixtieth year and upon whom the consciousness

-of power, and ability to wield it, had left

-the impress of dignity and strength.</p>

-

-<p>The crowd was mainly in front of the booths, but

-occasionally some one strayed away to the quieter

-nooks shut off by the booths themselves. Of these

-were two men, one small and rather unimpressive

-in appearance, the other larger and more commanding,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>86</span>

-but with a strange deference towards his companion.

-The two passed where by accident, apparently,

-the smaller man had a view of the resting

-woman, without being too plainly seen himself.

-The larger man was speaking:</p>

-

-<p>“Public opinion is settling on the paper as a

-forgery.”</p>

-

-<p>“Has it discovered a motive?” There was almost

-a sneer in the tone.</p>

-

-<p>“No; nor for the crime; but it firmly believes

-that the woman never existed.”</p>

-

-<p>“It would think me mad or a liar then if I should

-affirm that she did exist; that she does exist; that in

-fact I could at a moment’s notice put my hand on

-Theodore Wing’s mother.”</p>

-

-<p>The other smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“One might almost imagine you thought her in

-this room.”</p>

-

-<p>“Stranger things have happened;” and the two

-moved on.</p>

-

-<p>If the woman had taken note of the conversation,

-there was nothing in her manner to indicate it. Had

-there been, Trafford would have felt keen disappointment,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>87</span>

-for he had observed her somewhat carefully,

-and had formed a higher opinion of her capabilities.

-At the same time, he had not so poor a

-conception of his own powers of observation as to

-doubt the correctness of his impression of a slight

-lifting of the eyebrows and critical scanning of his

-own face by Mrs. Matthewson, as he loitered slowly

-back towards the throng in front. He intended, if

-it was her wish to be able to recognise him again,

-that she should have the opportunity.</p>

-

-<p>After he had passed, she waited a sufficient time

-not to seem precipitate, then rose and sauntered

-slowly into the front part of the hall, whence came

-a constant babble of voices. She was a woman who

-had seen too many things to be afraid; but as well

-she was a woman too shrewd to neglect a warning

-and go on to punishment. She knew she had her

-warning; she knew that the man who had given it

-was prepared to deal with her, or he would not have

-given it; and she knew that boldness would secure

-the best terms. She had no question that blackmail

-was at the bottom of the affair.</p>

-

-<p>The public had generally accepted the statement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>88</span>

-as a forgery and was laughing at its clumsiness;

-but there would come a waking time when it realised

-that as a forgery it had no bearing upon the solution

-of the murder mystery, and that would be the

-moment of danger. She found her son, Charles

-Matthewson, and taking his arm went to the refreshment

-room.</p>

-

-<p>“You’re dead tired, mother,” he said. “A man

-of iron couldn’t stand these affairs.”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” she said. “It requires something finer

-than iron. Your man of iron is a poor simile for

-strength. It’s got to be better than that.”</p>

-

-<p>“By George; I only hope when I’m sixty, I can

-stand as much as you!”</p>

-

-<p>“Is that your tact, Charles, to mention a

-woman’s age in public? I know the people know my

-age, but I object to their knowing that I know.”</p>

-

-<p>“Much you care, mother. You can leave such

-stuff as that to the silly herd.”</p>

-

-<p>A man passed by and took his seat at a table out

-of ear range. He did not look in her direction as he

-passed, and she did not even glance in his; but she

-felt his presence, and knew also that Charles had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>89</span>

-seen him and recognised him. She ran on with her

-light chat, seemingly taking no note of her son’s

-distraught manner and absent-minded replies; but

-after she had let things go on for a safe space, she

-suddenly looked up with:</p>

-

-<p>“Really, Charles, I might as well save my foolishness

-for somebody who is less occupied than you

-seem to be. I should say you were more interested

-in that man over there than in me.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was I really giving attention to him?” the son

-demanded.</p>

-

-<p>“Most really, and I’m simply wondering where

-you learned your self-control, that you can do a

-thing so apparent to a whole roomful.” She had

-not asked a word regarding the man, certain as she

-was that he would tell her all he knew.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you know who that man is?” her son

-asked.</p>

-

-<p>“No; really,” she said, putting up her glasses,

-“I had simply noticed him as a man from whom

-you did not seem able to keep your eyes. Now I

-look at him, I don’t see anything particularly worth

-noticing.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>90</span>

-“It’s Trafford, the detective. He’s said to be on

-this Wing murder case.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, is that so?” she said, raising her glasses

-again. “In that case, I suppose one’s permitted to

-look at him, since that’s largely his stock in trade.

-He doesn’t look smart.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s his stock in trade too,” said Charles, a

-trifle impatiently for the son of such a woman. “If

-he looked half as smart as he is, he’d look too smart

-for his work, and if he was really as dull as he looks,

-he’d be too stupid.”</p>

-

-<p>“And they depend on him to unravel the Wing

-murder?” she asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, the Wing murder,” echoed an acquaintance

-who was passing. “Why didn’t that stupid coroner

-arrest that fellow Oldman&mdash;if that was his name?

-My husband says if he takes the opportunity to run

-away, it may be interesting for the coroner. Of

-course, nobody has a doubt that he’s the murderer.

-You think so, Mr. Matthewson, don’t you?”</p>

-

-<p>“I think it will be a great wrong if such a wanton

-murder goes unpunished,” he answered.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” said the mother carelessly; “but the motive?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>91</span>

-Did he murder him because he was an illegitimate

-son of Judge Parlin?”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, pshaw, Mrs. Matthewson, nobody believes

-that story. Why, they tell me Judge Parlin was a

-real nice man. He wouldn’t have had anything to

-do with such a woman as she would have been, if

-the story was true.”</p>

-

-<p>A crowd gathered and, in spite of Charles

-Matthewson’s efforts to change the subject, persisted

-in discussing the murder, which was still a live

-topic wherever Judge Parlin and Lawyer Wing had

-been known. To Matthewson’s increased annoyance,

-he noted that Trafford had moved to a nearer

-table, where he could catch the talk.</p>

-

-<p>“What kind of man would Judge Parlin have

-been, if the story were true?” Mrs. Matthewson

-asked listlessly.</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, yes; but you know that’s not the same. He

-was a mere youngster, and a designing woman you

-know can do anything with a man. Oh, no: it

-would be bad enough in him, but the woman&mdash;why,

-she’d be simply abominable; simply abominable.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, if there was such a woman, she’s undoubtedly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>92</span>

-dead long ago,” Mrs. Matthewson said.

-“We might at least not begrudge her a grave. We

-came near making Judge Parlin chief justice.”</p>

-

-<p>Charles was uneasy. His mother was not accustomed

-to losing her head, but he had his suspicions

-at this moment, and tried again to draw her

-away; but she seemed not to notice his efforts, and

-showed herself not loath to go on with the conversation.</p>

-

-<p>“If the thing isn’t true,” broke in a woman who

-was fearful she might not make herself felt in the

-presence of the overbearing Mrs. Matthewson, “my

-husband says it’s a forgery; but what could that

-nice Mr. Wing have forged such a story as that for?

-Do you see, Mr. Matthewson?”</p>

-

-<p>“You must excuse me from expressing any opinion

-one way or the other,” he said, thus distinctly

-appealed to. “Murders and forgeries are not in my

-line, and I don’t think my opinion would have the

-value it might if I was a criminal lawyer or a detective.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, a detective!” some one interrupted. “What

-a dreadful nasty set of men detectives must be! It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>93</span>

-makes me crawl to think of their having anything to

-do with me.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you mustn’t be a murderer or permit any

-one to murder you. It’s the only way I know to

-steer clear of the gang.”</p>

-

-<p>“Come, Charles,” interposed his mother. “Aren’t

-you a little hard? As long as we have criminals,

-we must have criminal catchers. We can’t spare

-them.”</p>

-

-<p>“But we needn’t make them our heroes, as some

-people do,” he replied, wondering in secret why his

-mother was chiming into his mood so completely.

-“I object to having them dragged into my company&mdash;almost

-as much as I’d object to being dragged

-into theirs.”</p>

-

-<p>It would have troubled Mrs. Matthewson to say

-why she felt a savage pleasure in thus baiting the

-detective, but she did feel it, and was too proud to

-deny the fact, even as she was too proud to deny

-that the fact was unworthy her own measure of herself.</p>

-

-<p>An hour later Charles had handed her into her

-carriage and gone back to the hall, as she bade him,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>94</span>

-to stand for the family during the remainder of the

-evening. A carriage in front blocked the way and a

-voice almost at her elbow, but on the side opposite

-that at which she had entered, said:</p>

-

-<p>“May I have the honour of calling in the morning?”</p>

-

-<p>She did not even turn her head, as she flung back

-the answer:</p>

-

-<p>“If it’s necessary.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think it necessary.”</p>

-

-<p>“At half-past ten, then.”</p>

-

-<p>She did not look to see, but knew that the place

-was vacant. None the less she yielded no whit, but

-held her upright position, as if she were already on

-trial before the world and bade it defiance.</p>

-

-<p>It was the same in the morning. She entered the

-small parlour as if it were she and not her visitor who

-was to ask explanations, and he, with his quick

-adaptation of himself to moods and conditions, not

-alone humoured her, but throughout bore himself

-with a courtesy and deference that went as far as

-anything could to salve her wounded pride.</p>

-

-<p>“I assume it is not necessary for me to explain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>95</span>

-who I am and why I have asked this interview,” he

-said, as an approach to a knowledge of the footing

-on which they stood.</p>

-

-<p>“It is not necessary,” she returned. “You are

-Isaac Trafford, detective: you are engaged in ferreting

-out the murder of Theodore Wing, and you

-think I am able to give you information that may

-aid you. I am sorry to say that I cannot. I am

-sorry for the crime: I’m always sorry for crime;

-but it can have no particular sting for me, because

-of the man who is its victim.”</p>

-

-<p>“I thought it might be otherwise,” he said quite

-simply.</p>

-

-<p>“You are mistaken.”</p>

-

-<p>“None the less,” he said, “you have read the

-statement left by Judge Parlin.”</p>

-

-<p>“I have read the statement purporting to be left

-by Judge Parlin,” she corrected him.</p>

-

-<p>“It is absolutely true from beginning to end.

-There can be no doubt that Judge Parlin left it, for

-only he and one other person at that time knew the

-facts.”</p>

-

-<p>“And that other person?” The question was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>96</span>

-without a tremor. Trafford felt like rising and

-saluting the woman, as her words came clean-cut

-and passionless.</p>

-

-<p>“Theodore Wing’s mother.”</p>

-

-<p>“She is, then, still alive?”</p>

-

-<p>“She is still alive,” he said; “and unless concerned

-in this recent tragedy, as safe as if the knowledge

-of the facts had remained locked in her breast,

-as they were at the time of Judge Parlin’s death. If

-she was concerned in this tragedy, then it is that,

-and not the fact that another has learned the truth,

-that destroys her safety.”</p>

-

-<p>Even at so serious a moment, she could not avoid

-playing with the subject:</p>

-

-<p>“Do you think her concerned in the murder?”</p>

-

-<p>“It is what I am not certain of,” he said frankly.

-“It is the murder that has revealed this&mdash;misfortune.

-I can find no motive that can account for her

-connection with the affair.”</p>

-

-<p>“I am of the opinion she had nothing to do

-with it,” she said, quite positively. “If all this is

-true, she would naturally have no love for the child

-of her mistake; but you surely cannot think on that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>97</span>

-account that she was guilty of murder&mdash;the cruelest

-murder one could imagine under the circumstances!

-Certainly, if there was anything to tempt to murder,

-anything that would have advantaged her, it passed

-long ago.”</p>

-

-<p>“I have thought of that,” he said, “but is it not

-possible that something may have occurred recently

-that alarmed her&mdash;something that made her feel it

-necessary to go to extremes to which, naturally, she

-would be unwilling to resort, excepting under the

-direst necessity?”</p>

-

-<p>“I do not think,” she said, lifting her head with

-some imperiousness, “that such a woman is likely

-to be alarmed. She would have lived that down long

-since. More than that, she would have brains

-enough to see that a crime, more than all else, would

-endanger her secret. This woman could not have

-been brainless.”</p>

-

-<p>“Far from it,” he assured her. “I am inclined

-to rate her as the ablest woman I have ever met.”</p>

-

-<p>She bowed as recognising a personal compliment.</p>

-

-<p>“You have met her, then?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” he said. “I have met her.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>98</span>

-“Would you mind telling me the impression she

-made on you&mdash;that is, as regards her possible

-connection with this crime? My curiosity is

-roused.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think she is now incapable of it,” he said.

-“That she might not have been at one time, I am less

-certain; but if there was such a time, it has passed.

-Success had mollified resentment and increased the

-feeling of safety. Still, if she believed herself in

-danger, I do not think she would hesitate at any

-extreme. It would, however, take much to arouse

-a conviction of danger.”</p>

-

-<p>“I am inclined to think your judgment sound,”

-she said. “What can you tell me of the man who

-now shares with her the knowledge of the facts in

-the case?”</p>

-

-<p>“That he would not assert such knowledge unless

-he possessed every detail and was absolutely able

-to identify every person connected with the affair

-and verify every date and place. You may take his

-assertion that he knows, as absolute evidence of this.

-His only object in searching this matter out was the

-unravelling of the mystery of a crime. If he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>99</span>

-thought for one instant that the revelation of the

-facts would aid in unravelling that crime, he would

-not hesitate at the revelation. Convinced that it

-would not aid, the secret is as safe with him as if it

-did not exist. At present the secret, as far as he is

-concerned, does not exist.”</p>

-

-<p>“Of course,” she said; “the woman would prefer,

-greatly prefer, that the secret should have died with

-the man who shared it with her. Failing that, she

-could not feel safer than to have it in the hands of

-such a man as you describe. There is, however, I

-should think, one further assurance that she might

-desire.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think if it were a possible thing to promise,

-the man as I know him would be disposed to promise.”</p>

-

-<p>“It is that if at any time in the future it should

-seem to him that the woman was concerned in the

-crime, if there arise any circumstances that call for

-explanation, he will come to her and first submit

-them to her. I think under these circumstances, he

-might largely rely upon her telling him the truth&mdash;at

-least, upon her not telling him a falsehood.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>100</span>

-“Of course,” he said, “I speak only of my impression,

-but that is that she may rely absolutely

-upon his adopting this course.”</p>

-

-<p>“I trust this enables us to end this interview,”

-she said, with no relaxation of her dignity.</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>101</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="vii">CHAPTER VII<br />

-<span>Hunting Broken Bones</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>ILLBANK cherished its tragedy as something

-that gave it pre-eminence among its

-neighbours, and half the male population turned detectives

-on the spot. To many members of the community,

-however, the affair bore a most serious aspect,

-heightened by the conviction that no actual

-progress had been made towards the solution of the

-mystery. Such men as McManus, the county attorney,

-and the town counsel, looked upon the testimony

-which tended to implicate Oldbeg as a concession

-to the public demand that something should

-be done, and as covering rather than revealing the

-serious business of the investigation. They were

-inclined to be indignant at what they regarded as

-the direction of unjust suspicion against an innocent

-person, and the more so when they saw how public

-sentiment was roused against the unfortunate man.</p>

-

-<p>In fact, there were whispers among the least responsible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>102</span>

-that if the law was to interpose delays, it

-might become the duty of the citizens to take the

-execution of justice into their own hands. It was

-the county judge who first called attention to the

-danger to the town and county that lurked in such

-loose talk, indulged in at the start by idle men and

-boys, but working as a leaven that might finally

-affect the entire community.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s just the material down there to give

-your town a blacker tragedy than it’s had yet,” he

-said to McManus one day after court. “The

-guilty had better go unpunished than be punished

-through violation of the law.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus turned sharply, with that nervous

-quickness that made him forget the judge in the

-speaker:</p>

-

-<p>“The guilty! The guilty! No man is guilty till

-the law has found him so! How long since suspicion

-was proof?”</p>

-

-<p>The judge, who appreciated the strain which the

-death of his partner and friend had thrown upon

-McManus, let the brusqueness of the answer pass,

-but still was insistent:</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>103</span>

-“It’s no time for refinements or phrasings. It

-isn’t the idle alone who expect impossibilities. Most

-of your people think Trafford’s failed before he’s had

-time to begin. There’s got to be something done

-to feed their impatience and gain time. A Yankee’s

-substitute for doing something is to hold a public

-meeting.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus shook his head.</p>

-

-<p>“With the chances that it would end in a hanging-bee,”

-he said.</p>

-

-<p>When, however, McManus returned to Millbank

-from the county town, he found affairs so far more

-menacing than he had anticipated as to lead him to

-take counsel with the more prominent citizens. Naturally

-almost the first man to whom he broached

-the matter was Charles Hunter, the head of the leading

-logging firm.</p>

-

-<p>Hunter was a man who at the age of thirty-five

-was already recognised as the first business man of

-the town. Succeeding to a business built up by his

-father, he had doubled it and doubled it again. Its

-operations extended over the entire northern part

-of the State, and into Canada, and were closely interlocked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>104</span>

-with the immense logging interests of the

-Penobscot and the Androscoggin. President of the

-Millbank National Bank, he was also on the Board

-of leading banks in Augusta, Bangor, and Portland,

-and as a member of the Governor’s staff he had attained

-the rank of colonel&mdash;that warlike title which

-so many exceedingly peaceful gentlemen parade with

-pride. In fact, his operations had touched all interests

-save politics, for his title had more of a social

-than a political significance.</p>

-

-<p>“Undoubtedly,” he said, “Trafford is entitled to

-make a show for the money he’s getting, and we

-can understand his giving us some horse-play; but

-it’s going too far when he endangers an innocent

-man, to say nothing of the good name of the town.

-The episode of the revolver found twenty-four hours

-after the murder is mere child’s play. I shouldn’t

-have thought it would have taken for a moment.”</p>

-

-<p>“You think Trafford put it there?”</p>

-

-<p>“I think he knew when to look for it and when

-not to. He looked for it at the right time, at any

-rate.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>105</span>

-“I don’t think Trafford’s so much to blame for

-producing the pistol as Coroner Burke,” McManus

-said. “I was watching him at the time, and I

-thought him annoyed at the question.”</p>

-

-<p>“Whoever is to blame,” Hunter answered, with

-the positiveness of a man accustomed to rely much

-on his own judgment and to have others do the

-same, “the mischief’s done. Half the town is certain

-that Oldbeg is the murderer. It’s being whispered

-that Mrs. Parlin hired him to do it, so she

-could have the money, and the fact that she doesn’t

-discharge the man is held to be proof of the fact.

-Then, with the logic of dolts, they declare that she

-hired Trafford because she was afraid of him.”</p>

-

-<p>A look of horror showed in McManus’s face at

-this statement of the public attitude. Surely, Mrs.

-Parlin had suffered enough without having to bear

-this injustice.</p>

-

-<p>“But don’t they see,” he remonstrated, “if

-this was the case, Trafford would have been the

-last to turn suspicion upon Oldbeg?”</p>

-

-<p>“They don’t see anything!” exclaimed Hunter

-impatiently. “They’re simply hanging-mad. They<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>106</span>

-believe Trafford too smart not to have solved this

-thing in a fortnight, and at the same time they believe

-him a big enough fool to have sold himself.

-They think Oldbeg guilty, because there’s nobody

-else in sight, and because they think him guilty, they

-must believe that Trafford and Mrs. Parlin are protecting

-him. Therefore, Mrs. Parlin must be guilty

-too, and therefore, again, Trafford must be trying

-to cover up the facts.”</p>

-

-<p>Hunter expressed in his somewhat querulous tone

-much of the feeling that prevailed in the business

-community. Men felt it a disgrace that an unprovoked

-murder could occur under their very eyes, as it

-were, and remain without the slightest progress towards

-solution for more than a fortnight. In a

-large community, the police would have come in for

-sneers and ridicule. In this case, the detective had

-to bear the brunt of the complaints.</p>

-

-<p>Hunter, intent for the good name of the town,

-suggested finally that a subscription reward be

-offered in addition to that of the county and town

-and that offered by Mrs. Parlin. He was willing to

-guarantee a substantial sum.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>107</span>

-“I think also,” he said, “we should put another

-detective to work. I can’t see any harm if Trafford

-is on the square, and it may do a lot of good if he

-isn’t.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s against all principle to put a case into two

-men’s hands,” McManus objected. “We certainly

-ought to dismiss the one before we hire a second.”</p>

-

-<p>“We haven’t hired the first yet,” Hunter answered

-roughly. “We can’t object to Mrs. Parlin

-employing a detective, if she wants to; but she as

-certainly can’t object to our doing the same thing.

-If, however, we put a man to work, let him keep

-his hands off that statement of Judge Parlin’s.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus started.</p>

-

-<p>“You think it genuine?”</p>

-

-<p>Hunter looked as if the question tired him. He

-was a tall dark man, with an unusually expressive

-face, and was not accustomed to concealing his feelings.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s more of your horse-play. Whether the

-paper’s genuine or not can’t have any bearing on

-the murder. It isn’t to be imagined, if it’s a forgery,

-that there was a purpose to make it public after the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>108</span>

-principals in the affair were dead. It’s a false scent

-and meant to be a false scent.”</p>

-

-<p>On the very evening on which Charles Hunter

-urged the employment of an additional detective,

-Trafford was handed a telegram telling him that

-Charles Matthewson had left Augusta on the late

-afternoon train up the river. It had been an easy

-matter to ascertain that he had not left the train

-either at the main station in Millbank or at the

-Bridge-stop, but none the less the detective had an

-uneasy feeling that the man might be in town. If

-so, whom did he come to see and why did he come

-and go so mysteriously? He could see no possible

-connection between the relationship of Wing with

-Matthewson and the murder, and yet he could not

-divest his mind of the impression that there was some

-mystery going on before his very eyes which he had

-not fathomed, but which, if fathomed, would bear

-upon the discovery of the murderer.</p>

-

-<p>A half-hour or so before the down train was due

-to leave the Millbank station, he left the hotel and

-walked down Canaan Street to its junction with

-Somerset Street and the covered and enclosed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>109</span>

-bridge that spans the river at that point. Here,

-upon the very brink of the river, fifty feet above the

-water, stood the small brick building of the Millbank

-National Bank. The bridge and the bank lay in

-shadow, for it was a moonless night and the street

-lamp at the entrance of the bridge was not lighted.

-Above the bridge was the dash and roar of the falls;

-below, the steady murmur of the narrowed current,

-between its rocky walls that rise more than fifty feet

-from the water’s edge.</p>

-

-<p>“Thunder!” he thought, “there are some creepy

-places around this town, especially when they can’t

-sponge on the moon for light. If I was an inspired

-detective, I’d know whether there was any danger

-in that bridge. As I ain’t, I guess I’ll take the

-centre.”</p>

-

-<p>He advanced into the darkness of the drive, which

-was pitchy black, solid plank walls dividing it from

-the footwalk on either hand. He was half-way

-through, when he suddenly felt the presence of some

-one near him, though he could see or hear nothing.

-He stopped, and absolute stillness reigned, save the

-tumult of the water above and below. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>110</span>

-walked close to the wall on the down-river side, so

-that his form might not be outlined against the opening

-of the bridge, and he was conscious that he was

-as completely concealed, since he had advanced a

-rod into the darkness, as were his companions. It

-was a question of endurance, and in that his training

-gave him the advantage.</p>

-

-<p>Softly there came out of the darkness a noise as

-of the moving of a tired leg. Inch by inch Trafford

-crept close to the board wall, until now it was at his

-back, with one of the heavy timbers protecting his

-left arm. His right was free for defence. The

-sound indicated a man within a few feet of him on

-his left.</p>

-

-<p>Suddenly there was the sharp swish of a club in

-the air, and the thud of contact with a living body,

-followed by a loud cry of pain and</p>

-

-<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”</p>

-

-<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon dieu! Où est le chien?</i>”</p>

-

-<p>Two men rushed past toward the Millbank end,

-with a jabber of Canadian French, from which Trafford

-learned that the assailed feared that his shoulder

-was broken.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>111</span>

-“One marked for identification,” he chuckled, as

-he slid along in the deep shadow toward the farther

-end.</p>

-

-<p>He had satisfied himself of one thing he was anxious

-about, and with another at hand had no time

-to waste on a man who could be found in the morning

-for the mere asking. He was too keen on the

-question whether Charles Matthewson was in Millbank,

-to allow a needless diversion. If Matthewson

-was in town, it showed a terrible uneasiness at

-the bottom of his wanderings&mdash;an uneasiness that

-forbade his trusting to others for information and

-yet demanded information at first hands, so imperatively

-that he was willing to take enormous risks

-to obtain it.</p>

-

-<p>“It would have been a coincidence, if I’d been

-murdered to-night,” said Trafford, in his wonted

-confidential talk with himself; “with Matthewson

-in town as he was the night of the other murder.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford crossed the railroad bridge and so attained

-the Millbank station without attracting attention.

-He saw every one of the half-dozen passengers

-who boarded the train, but found no trace of the man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>112</span>

-he was seeking. As the train slowed up for the Bridge

-stop, he swung off into the dark in time to catch

-sight of a figure swinging on from the same dark

-side. It was not Matthewson, and he was just turning

-away, when suddenly he changed his purpose

-and as the train moved off was again on the rear

-platform. He rode there to the next station, and

-then changed his quarters to the baggage car. He

-had identified his man; now he was after his destination.</p>

-

-<p>This proved to be Waterville. A private carriage

-was waiting, and into it the man jumped, driving

-away rapidly. There was but one way to follow

-and keep the carriage in sight, and Trafford made

-a half-mile in quick time, clinging to the back-bar

-and resting his weight on his hands and arms. He

-dropped to the ground and crept away as the carriage

-turned into the driveway of an extensive

-country place, which the detective recognised as that

-of Henry Matthewson, a younger brother of Charles,

-and a man largely interested in the logging business.</p>

-

-<p>“Humph,” he said. “This time he comes part

-way and they bring him the news. Well; it ain’t of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>113</span>

-my murder, though some folks may wish it was before

-many hours have passed.”</p>

-

-<p>Before daylight, he had his operatives on hand

-while he himself took the early train back to Millbank.

-The delicate work just now was to be done

-there, and this he would trust to no one save himself.

-His appreciation of the importance of the case and

-the sensation that would be produced when it was

-finally unravelled, had increased immensely since he

-crossed Millbank Bridge, and he had no purpose to

-see it botched by clumsy handling.</p>

-

-<p>After breakfast he went directly to Mr. Wing’s

-office and sought an interview with Mr. McManus.</p>

-

-<p>“I want,” he said, “to go through all the papers

-again in Wing’s safe and, if you have any private

-papers of his, through those as well. So far, we

-are absolutely adrift and we have a double task on

-our hands, for we’ve got to clear Oldbeg of suspicion

-as well as discover the real murderer.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you dismiss all suspicion that Oldbeg had

-anything to do with the murder?”</p>

-

-<p>“If you can dismiss an idea you never entertained.

-In a certain sense every man in town was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>114</span>

-under suspicion&mdash;Oldbeg no more than another.

-This job, however, was not the work of a clumsy

-man like Oldbeg. When we find the murderer,

-you’ll find a man of quick motions, delicacy of touch,

-strong purpose, assured position, and considerable

-refinement. You’ll find a man to whom murder is

-repugnant and who resorted to it only as a last

-desperate chance. You’ll find therefore a man who

-was desperate, whose all was at stake, and who knew

-that Wing’s continued living meant the loss of that

-all. Now, if you can tell me where there is such a

-man, I’ll give you proof of his guilt so conclusive

-before night that no one will hesitate to approve his

-arrest.”</p>

-

-<p>As he spoke, McManus grew pale. Something

-brought a terrible picture before his eyes. As never

-before, he realised the desperate chase in which they

-were involved.</p>

-

-<p>“It was, then, in your opinion no mere desire

-for sordid gain that impelled to the crime?”</p>

-

-<p>“Who has gained by it? Some one that by it has

-been saved from loss, and tremendous loss. Don’t

-fool yourself. Don’t look for any common criminal,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>115</span>

-and above all don’t flatter yourself for one moment

-that the criminal will stop at any additional crime

-to prevent detection. If detected, he’s lost everything.

-He can’t lose any more with twenty murders

-to his charge.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus glanced over his shoulder, as if he

-expected to see the murderer rise out of vacancy in

-his own defence.</p>

-

-<p>“What connection then has Judge Parlin’s statement

-with the crime?” he asked uneasily.</p>

-

-<p>“It’s a mere incident&mdash;an accident, as you might

-say, that holds its place by its own sensational character

-and the tensity of nervous interest aroused in

-the public mind by the crime itself. It had nothing

-to do with the crime, or the cause that led up to it.

-I don’t believe the murderer knew of its existence.

-At the same time it’s one of those accidents that may

-lead to things to which it’s in no way related. It

-may be the very thing that’ll ultimately set us on

-the right track. Don’t lose sight of it for a moment.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus looked as if the caution were wholly

-uncalled for. There was not much danger of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>116</span>

-losing sight of anything that had to do with the

-murder. One might have suspected from his looks

-that he wished he could.</p>

-

-<p>After making an appointment for three in the

-afternoon to examine papers, Trafford left the office

-and went to a little dingy room, in Gray’s Inn Lane,

-where he was joined almost immediately by a tall,

-seedy-looking man, evidently of Canadian stock,

-whose French was only a trifle worse than his English.

-He was a man whom few men would have

-trusted and whom Trafford had always found absolutely

-trustworthy. The man shook his head, with

-many a gestured negative. Not a man was missing

-from Little Canada; every man who was open to

-suspicion was accounted for, and not one of them

-showed a broken collar-bone or a shattered arm.</p>

-

-<p>“But there are other Canucks in town, outside

-Little Canada,” said Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>The report included all. The man had determined

-the whereabouts of every Canadian of sixteen

-years of age and upwards, and there was not one

-who bore marks of the blow delivered on the bridge

-the night before.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>117</span>

-“But he was a Canuck,” said Trafford, with

-positiveness that admits no question; “and it’s a

-bigger miracle than any of their relics ever performed

-before, if he don’t carry a broken bone to-day.

-There’s somebody missing.”</p>

-

-<p>The man shook his head. He had accounted for

-the last of them.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you think it was a dream or a nightmare?”

-Trafford demanded, with some asperity.</p>

-

-<p>The man shrugged and lifted his shoulders, in

-deprecation of the tone of the demand.</p>

-

-<p>“All right,” said Trafford at last. “Take the

-afternoon train to Augusta and resume your work

-there. I’ll give this personal attention.”</p>

-

-<p>The man hesitated a moment and then, coming

-close to him and lowering his voice, spoke rapidly

-and anxiously.</p>

-

-<p>“You are taking risks, Mr. Trafford. This is

-no ordinary case. You can’t tell what you’ve got

-against you. Two men can go safely where one

-can’t.”</p>

-

-<p>“And one can go safely sometimes where two

-are a danger. I’ve taken risks all my life&mdash;it’s my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>118</span>

-business to take ’em. You don’t suppose I chose

-this business because of its freedom from danger, do

-you?”</p>

-

-<p>“A brave man doesn’t court danger; he simply

-meets it bravely when it comes.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, I’ll try to meet it that way if it comes.

-At present Millbank looks like a fairly safe place.

-I don’t think I’ll get my throat cut here.”</p>

-

-<p>“But you aren’t going to stay here,” the man

-urged. “You know you aren’t. You’re going&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“We’ll dispense with information as to where I’m

-going,” Trafford interrupted. “It’s probably safe

-to state, but it’s possibly not. We’ll keep on the

-absolutely safe side as long as possible. Your train

-leaves in fifteen minutes.”</p>

-

-<p>The gesticulating Canadian reappeared on the

-instant. Discipline asserted itself, and the man prepared

-to obey without further remonstrance.</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>119</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="viii">CHAPTER VIII<br />

-<span>A Man Disappears</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD sent a hasty note to McManus,

-postponing the afternoon appointment, and

-made ready to visit the logging drives at work along

-the Kennebec. It was certain that no physician in

-Millbank had set a broken shoulder or arm within

-the twenty-four hours; no man of the character

-sought had left by any of the trains or stages, and

-the river afforded the only unguarded means of escape.

-A canoe or river-driver’s boat could easily

-come and go unnoticed, and it tallied with other

-points in hand that the assailants were connected

-with the logging interests. Another point in the

-case was that, in almost all the large gangs of

-drivers, there was sure to be some one roughly skilled

-in surgery, who could attend to minor accidents and

-even, temporarily, to those of a severer nature, such

-as are apt to occur, often at points far distant from

-skilled practitioners. Such a man could, under<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>120</span>

-emergency, even possibly have set the arm or shoulder,

-and could certainly have cared for it until a surgeon

-at Norridgewock or farther up the river was

-reached. As yet the logging drives were all above

-Millbank Falls, so that Trafford’s search pointed

-entirely in that direction.</p>

-

-<p>Every schoolboy or farmer’s lad is a walking

-directory to any logging drive within five miles, and

-Trafford had no difficulty in learning that the nearest

-drive was at the Bombazee Rips, above Norridgewock.

-Here he found the ordinary gang of a

-dozen men, with boats and the implements of their

-trade, at work on the logs which were beginning

-to jam against those that had first grounded on the

-ledge at the head of the rips. Full half of the gang

-were French Canadians, small, dark men of wonderful

-litheness and agility, men with a tenacity of

-life that seems to bid defiance to the wet and exposure

-of their trade. It was hard work by day, hard

-sleep by night, often in clothes soaked with the river

-water; yet cheerful, healthful good humour was evidenced

-in the loud chatter that came with every lull

-in the work. It was here that the grown lads of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>121</span>

-Chaudière, Megantic, and St. François valleys secured

-that schooling in the English tongue from

-which race jealousy barred them at home.</p>

-

-<p>A roughly constructed shanty of pine slabs, the

-earth bountifully spread with clean straw, served for

-sleeping; while in front was an immense fire of logs,

-which served double purpose, for warmth in the

-evening and cooking in the daytime. An old

-woodsman, whose driving days were past, acted as

-cook and general camp care-taker. A group of boys

-flittered about the fire, shanty, and boats. The older

-ones made ventures upon the logs, and sometimes

-lent a hand to a driver, handling a pick or cant-hook,

-a feat that made one a hero with his fellows for the

-remainder of the day.</p>

-

-<p>It was entirely permissible for a countryman,

-such as Trafford appeared, on curiosity bent, to

-enter the sleeping-place or seat himself by the fire.

-Indeed, at mealtime he would scarcely fail, by virtue

-of his age, of an invitation to share in the

-coarse food, a privilege which the boys viewed with

-keen envy. These boys were unconscious spies, upon

-the sharpness of whose eyes Trafford counted much.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>122</span>

-They went everywhere and saw everything, and if

-there was an injured man in camp, it would take

-skill to keep him concealed from them.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford chatted pleasantly with the cook and

-joked the boys, before he opened in a general way

-the subject of accidents&mdash;of which he seemed to

-stand in apprehension, declaring that log-driving

-was in his opinion the most dangerous of trades. At

-that the boys raised a shout of derision and extolled

-the trade to the skies. There was not one of them

-but was consumed with desire for a driver’s life,

-exactly as he would be for any other life of freedom

-and activity whose claims for the moment were

-pressed upon him.</p>

-

-<p>The old man, on the other hand, admitted the

-element of danger, and thrilled his hearers with accounts

-of hairbreadth escapes which he had witnessed

-in the long years that he had been on the

-river. There had been deaths, too; deaths from

-drowning and from crushing in the log jams. Still,

-the life was a grand one for the man who was not

-afraid of hard work, and if he had his to live over,

-he would live it on the river again. There had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>123</span>

-no accidents as yet, the jams were light and easily

-moved. It was only here and there with this water

-that any serious troubles were had. Oh, yes; Millbank

-Falls; that, of course, was different. There

-was a hard drive, and when they got there in the

-course of the next week, they would have a lively

-tussle.</p>

-

-<p>From camp to camp, Trafford worked up to the

-Forks of the River and then up the Dead River

-branch, and again across to the main river and up

-into the Megantic woods. Nowhere was there any

-trace of an injured man or a hint of knowledge of

-one. Wherever the camp was near a village, so that

-boys gathered around, they were of material aid in

-giving him information. In spite, however, of every

-device, he came back down the river unsuccessful

-and depressed. He had a feeling of defeat, as if in

-every camp some one were laughing at him as outwitted.

-He knew the unreason of the feeling and

-yet could not escape it.</p>

-

-<p>Nor was there, when he reached Millbank, any

-information from the lower part of the river or

-from any of the surgeons whom, within a radius of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>124</span>

-thirty miles, he had caused to be interrogated. It

-was if the earth had opened and swallowed up the

-man&mdash;or&mdash;and he stood above the falls and looked

-at the water rushing over them, as if he would question

-it and wrest an answer from it. It was certain

-that the man&mdash;a man, whose personality he could

-merely guess at&mdash;had disappeared. It was like ridding

-himself of a nightmare to throw off the uneasiness

-that oppressed him.</p>

-

-<p>Immediately on his return, Trafford sought an interview

-with Mrs. Parlin. The time was coming

-when the inquest must be

-<a name="reconvened" id="reconvened"></a><ins title="Original has 're-convened'">reconvened</ins>,

-and as yet

-there was nothing of advance since the hour when

-it had adjourned. Even he was grown impatient

-and he could not marvel that a woman, under the

-nervous strain of his employer, should be fast becoming

-irritably so.</p>

-

-<p>“We have no right,” she said, “to leave an innocent

-man under suspicion as Jonathan has been

-left. If we can’t find the murderer, we can at least

-prove that it isn’t he.”</p>

-

-<p>“Unfortunately, until we find the man, the majority

-will believe him guilty,” Trafford replied.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>125</span>

-“What right had you to throw suspicion on

-him?” she demanded.</p>

-

-<p>“The right of the coroner to know every fact that

-bears on the case. It would have been as unjustifiable

-to conceal Oldbeg’s purchase of a revolver, as it

-would to conceal the finding of the weapon.”</p>

-

-<p>“Why wasn’t it there the morning of the

-eleventh?” she asked.</p>

-

-<p>“My dear madam,” he said with a gentle smile,

-“if we knew that, we’d know who the murderer is.

-We’d know it, that is: but possibly not in a way that

-we could prove.”</p>

-

-<p>“Precious little good that would do us,” she answered.</p>

-

-<p>“So much good that the chances are ninety-nine

-in a hundred that the proof would be forthcoming.

-There are few men who are shrewd enough to cover

-every trace.”</p>

-

-<p>“But these seem to be of the few,” she said.</p>

-

-<p>“We are not through with them yet,” he replied;

-and then suddenly: “Has the new detective, employed

-by Hunter and his friends, been here?”</p>

-

-<p>He had, and had made a critical examination of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>126</span>

-the house from cellar to attic; had been through the

-papers in the desk and safe, and had taken away a

-number of scraps from the former.</p>

-

-<p>“He didn’t get the writing-pad, though,” he

-said.</p>

-

-<p>“No; that disturbed him; especially when I told

-him you had it.”</p>

-

-<p>“The&mdash;deuce you did!” he exclaimed. “I wish&mdash;you

-hadn’t!”</p>

-

-<p>“I had no right to conceal so important a fact,”

-she said.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford bit his lip over this turn of his own argument,

-but made no retort. He recognised in this

-second detective a graver impediment than the cunning

-of the criminal&mdash;if, indeed, it was not the

-cunning of the criminal that had interjected the second

-detective into the affair. Working independently,

-it was scarcely possible that they could do

-otherwise than thwart each other. He had the feeling

-that the case was his and that no other had a

-professional right to throw himself into it. If he

-had been on the verge of success, he would have

-withdrawn from the case. As it was, the same professional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>127</span>

-pride that resented intrusion, forbade his

-taking such a course.</p>

-

-<p>For the twentieth time he asked:</p>

-

-<p>“He certainly did a large amount of work at

-home and must have had papers connected with the

-work here?”</p>

-

-<p>“Why, certainly,” she said. “He always had

-a lot of professional papers here.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford looked at her as if doubting whether

-he should ask the question that hung on his lips.

-But he must have facts, and here if anywhere was

-the information he needed. Could he trust the

-woman? Finally he came and stood over her chair,

-as if he was afraid of the walls even, and asked:</p>

-

-<p>“Was this always his habit?”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” she answered; “not while the judge was

-living, and never indeed until about two years ago.

-Yes, it began about two years ago.”</p>

-

-<p>“It was not a habit learned from the judge,

-then?”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, no! Of course, he brought papers home

-at times, and so did Theodore; but he never kept

-them at home until within the last two years.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>128</span>

-“Did Cranston ask you about this?” Trafford

-demanded.</p>

-

-<p>“No,” she said, “no, he did not.”</p>

-

-<p>“If he does, avoid answering him, if possible.”

-Then he stopped as if he had gone too far, and she,

-seeing his embarrassment, checked the answer that

-came to her lips.</p>

-

-<p>He sat for some time silent, and then glanced up

-to intercept a look that she bent upon him.</p>

-

-<p>“What is it?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Have you talked with Mr. Hunter&mdash;the one

-who was in Theodore’s office, I mean?”</p>

-

-<p>“Is he of the same family as Mr. Hunter who

-owns the great logging interests?”</p>

-

-<p>“His brother.”</p>

-

-<p>“How long has he been in the office?” he asked

-carelessly&mdash;so carelessly that she forgot he had not

-answered her question.</p>

-

-<p>“About two and a half years. I think Theodore

-thought him an acquisition and had great confidence

-in his ability.”</p>

-

-<p>“A good stock,” he said, “for pushing.” Then

-he added after a short pause:</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>129</span>

-“Mrs. Parlin, at the inquest you expressed in

-the strongest terms your confidence that the statement

-presented was actually written by your husband.

-Have you had any cause since to change

-your mind?”</p>

-

-<p>“Not the slightest,” she said. “On the contrary,

-the facts there stated account for many things

-that were strange to me before. There is no question

-as to the facts, and none as to his having

-written them.”</p>

-

-<p>“That being the case, they can have nothing to

-do with the murder. The only other person who

-knew these facts was directly interested in keeping

-them concealed. Even admitting, as might be possible,

-that in order effectually to prevent exposure,

-she had been capable of killing or having her son

-killed, would she find any likelihood of this in a murder

-that would centre on him the interest of the entire

-State? Of course, she did not know of the existence

-of this paper, and she could not know that the

-murder would make the case public, but she would

-know that if he knew the facts, and had any interest

-in their publicity, he would have acted long ago.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>130</span>

-She would also know that if you knew the facts, your

-interest was that of secrecy, the chance of which

-would be diminished in the excitement of a murder

-case. Now that’s my reasoning, and through it

-I reach the conclusion that the facts revealed in that

-statement have nothing to do with the murder. I

-have since confirmed this by facts outside those

-from which I reasoned. I haven’t told a soul this

-before, not even McManus. I don’t want a soul

-save you to know it now; not even McManus. But

-now I’m going to ask you a question, which I believe

-has some bearing upon the causes of the murder,

-and that is: Why, if Mr. Wing had for two years

-been keeping many of his business papers at home,

-was there not one of them in his desk or safe the

-morning the murder was discovered?”</p>

-

-<p>“No papers in his desk or safe?” she said, while

-a look almost of terror came over her face. “You

-must be mistaken! Why, there was a package on

-his desk, lying right on the writing-pad, when I

-bade him good-night.”</p>

-

-<p>“Would you recognise it again if you saw it?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>131</span>

-“Then look through the safe and see if you can

-find it.”</p>

-

-<p>He opened the safe and she went through it package

-by package, while he waited with that patience

-that comes of long training, until, the search finished,

-she looked up and said:</p>

-

-<p>“It isn’t here!”</p>

-

-<p>“It was here at nine o’clock on the night of the

-tenth; it wasn’t here at six on the morning of the

-eleventh. What do you make of that?”</p>

-

-<p>“It had been stolen!” she gasped, looking pale

-and perplexed.</p>

-

-<p>“There might be one other explanation,” he interposed;

-“and we are bound to look at that carefully.

-Mr. Wing might have burned them. He had a

-fire that evening.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” she said, “he might.”</p>

-

-<p>“I made sure on that point,” he then explained,

-“the morning of the murder. Not from any suspicion

-that papers were missing, but on the principle

-of taking note of everything, even the most trivial.

-I can assure you that there were no papers of any

-amount burned in the fireplace the night before.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>132</span>

-We could scarcely expect it; but it would have been

-a stroke of genius if the thief had burned some

-papers to throw us off the track.”</p>

-

-<p>“The thief!” she repeated.</p>

-

-<p>“You must see,” he said, “that the theft of the

-papers presupposes a thief. I have been certain

-from the start that some one was in the room after

-the murder. What he was after I haven’t known

-until now. He was at the safe, which he must have

-found open. Some one who wanted those papers

-wanted them enough to induce him to commit this

-murder, and then to enter the room and search the

-safe, while the dead man lay at the door. It was a

-terrible risk&mdash;as terrible as that of the murder itself.

-Suppose Oldbeg had been a half-hour later in coming

-home. He would unquestionably have found

-the murdered man with the murderers in the room.

-By just that narrow margin this perplexing mystery

-escaped proving a mere blundering crime.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>133</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="ix">CHAPTER IX<br />

-<span>“You are My Mother”</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HREE men sat in conference in the small library

-at Henry Matthewson’s residence at

-Waterville, the morning after the bridge incident.

-These were Henry Matthewson himself, three years

-younger than his brother Charles, opposite whom

-was the man who had come from Millbank by the

-midnight train, Frank Hunter, brother of Charles

-Hunter and himself an attorney in the late Mr.

-Wing’s office.</p>

-

-<p>“The papers are not in the office,” Hunter was

-saying. “I was nearly certain he did not keep them

-there, but I made the search carefully.”</p>

-

-<p>“How about his private safe at home?” Henry

-Matthewson asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Of course I’ve had no opportunity to examine

-that&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“You should have made one,” said Charles Matthewson

-sternly.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>134</span>

-The remark threw a chill over the talk, that made

-it a little difficult to break the embarrassed silence

-that followed. At last, Hunter said:</p>

-

-<p>“It was too dangerous to risk turning any general

-question in that direction. Besides, Trafford

-had the first shy at that.”</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Hunter is right,” Henry Matthewson said,

-with that tone that men described as “masterful,”

-and which generally prevailed with Charles, in part

-because it so much resembled his mother’s. “It

-would have been too much risk.”</p>

-

-<p>“What are you going to do?” demanded Charles;

-“let the papers fall into Trafford’s hands, to be

-used against us, or sold back to us at an enormous

-price? Wing’s death came at a strangely opportune

-time; are we going to throw the chance away?”</p>

-

-<p>“If there were papers,” Henry affirmed, “McManus

-or Trafford had them almost before we heard

-of the murder. We want to know whether there

-were papers or not, but we don’t want to advertise

-their existence. If we get a chance to buy, we may

-think ourselves lucky.”</p>

-

-<p>“Trafford!” said Hunter with a touch of scorn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>135</span>

-in his voice. “We owe them thanks for putting

-him on to the job.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you certain of your grounds for judgment,

-Mr. Hunter?” Charles Matthewson asked. “I’m

-a little afraid you underrate his ability.”</p>

-

-<p>“Why, what’s he found out in his fortnight’s

-work?” demanded Hunter.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s just what I’d like to find out, but can’t,”

-said Matthewson. “Whatever he’s after, he acts

-as if he’d get it first and do his crowing afterwards.”</p>

-

-<p>“Trafford’s at the top, so far as ability is concerned,”

-said Henry; “and the next best man’s

-Cranston. If you’re going to set a man at work,

-you’d better take him. There are two things for

-him to do: First, keep track of Trafford and let

-him give us notice quick if he hears of the papers;

-second, work up the story of Wing’s birth. We’ve

-got to keep that more in the public eye. I can’t for

-the life of me see anything in it to lead to the murder,

-but the public think there’s some connection

-between the two, and we mustn’t let them lose sight

-of it.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>136</span>

-“But there must have been some motive in the

-murder,” Hunter affirmed.</p>

-

-<p>“If we can get hold of the papers, we’ll let the

-motive take care of itself,” Charles interposed.

-“To think, I was in Millbank that very night&mdash;almost

-at the very moment! If I’d known&mdash;I’d have

-found out what was in that room before any detective

-had a chance!”</p>

-

-<p>He looked at Hunter with an implication of failure.

-He would gladly have defended himself, but

-he remembered that he might have been on the scene

-before McManus, and that he had dawdled over his

-breakfast and let the opportunity slip. No one

-would have refused him admission any more than

-McManus had been refused. How many anxious

-hours he might have saved himself!</p>

-

-<p>As a result of the conference, Cranston was sent

-for and put on the case. He listened to his instructions

-and then said:</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve got to know what you want, if I’m to work

-with any advantage to you or myself. You want

-to find out who Wing’s mother was&mdash;but that’s

-incidental. You want to know who murdered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span>

-Wing&mdash;but that’s incidental. What is it I’m to do

-really?”</p>

-

-<p>Again Henry Matthewson showed his superior

-masterfulness by deciding and acting.</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Wing had been for some time at work upon

-a matter that concerns materially the logging interests

-of this State. We simply know the fact, for

-he took no one into his confidence, and was so secretive

-as to keep the papers about him or in his

-private safe in his library. Without knowing what

-the papers contain, we believe if they should fall

-into the hand of a less scrupulous man than Mr.

-Wing, they might become dangerous&mdash;that is, a

-source of blackmail. We want to locate those

-papers, and if possible get possession of them.”</p>

-

-<p>“How far am I warranted in going in order to

-get hold of them?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Only to locate them and report to me. We will

-decide then on the safe course.” It was Henry

-Matthewson who spoke, as always when prompt

-decision was demanded.</p>

-

-<p>“If they had not already been removed,” said

-Cranston, “Trafford and McManus have had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>138</span>

-chance long since to secure them. I’m like to find

-them in their hands.”</p>

-

-<p>“Excepting that they might not know their

-value,” said Charles Matthewson.</p>

-

-<p>Cranston looked at the speaker quizzically.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know about your Mr. McManus,” he

-said. “He’s a lawyer. But as to Trafford, I can

-answer. If he’s had his hands on those papers, he

-knows their value.”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t think,” said Hunter, after the detective

-had received his instructions and gone, “that my

-brother would quite approve time spent in discovering

-Wing’s mother. He doesn’t believe that

-affair had anything to do with the murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“How can any sensible man?” Henry Matthewson

-demanded impatiently; “but we don’t know

-where the enquiry is going to land us nor what help

-we may want before we’re through. If the judge’s

-statement is true, this woman has a high position

-to lose and has great influence with her husband,

-who holds a strong place politically. It can’t be a

-matter of much trouble to unravel that part of the

-affair, and it may give us some one whom we can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>139</span>

-use advantageously in case of an emergency. It

-may bring to our aid a force that naturally would

-be glad to crush us. I’ll take the risk at any rate!”</p>

-

-<p>“All right,” said Hunter. “I’m agreeable,

-though I thought it proper to state my brother’s

-position.”</p>

-

-<p>Cranston entered upon his work at once and with

-zeal. His first visit was to

-<a name="Millbank" id="Millbank"></a><ins title="Original has 'Milbank'">Millbank</ins>

-and the Parlin

-house, where, as has been said, he searched from

-top to bottom. He plied Mrs. Parlin with questions

-that finally got from her the story of the package

-of papers, which she was not conscious of having

-seen until his questions stirred her memory to

-recall a picture of the room the night before the

-murder. Then came out clearly and distinctly the

-package of papers lying on the desk. It was, however,

-equally certain that they were gone, and of

-this he was able to satisfy himself without letting

-Mrs. Parlin understand that he attached any importance

-to the matter. The task was left him of

-ascertaining whether Trafford or McManus had

-them. The episode of the writing-pad convinced

-him that Trafford was the man, and that the pad<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>140</span>

-was simply a cover to the removal of the papers

-that were resting on it. It was this that caused the

-annoyance to which Mrs. Parlin had referred.</p>

-

-<p>He went over the ground under the consciousness

-that eyes at least as capable of seeing as his own had

-preceded him, and that there was little chance that

-anything had escaped them and less chance that, if

-there had, he would be able to discover it. It irritated

-him that men who wanted real service should

-call him in at so late an hour, and then seem to take

-it for granted that they had done all that was necessary.</p>

-

-<p>“Oldbeg has been here a good many years,” he

-said carelessly to Mrs. Parlin, who insisted on attending

-him in his investigation.</p>

-

-<p>“He’s been with us about six years; one year

-before the judge died.”</p>

-

-<p>“You have always found him faithful?”</p>

-

-<p>“There has been nothing particular to complain

-of. He’s been steady and has worked hard and

-usually shown good temper.”</p>

-

-<p>“Usually,” Cranston repeated. “Then sometimes

-he hasn’t.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>141</span>

-“He has his off-days, the same as the rest of us;

-days when things don’t go right and he gets surly.

-But those spells pass quickly and he’s always sorry

-for them, seemingly. There aren’t any of us

-smooth-feathered all the time.”</p>

-

-<p>“When did he have one of these ‘off-days,’ as

-you call them, last?” The tone was careless, as if

-Cranston did not attach much importance to the

-enquiry, and yet made it, as in duty bound.</p>

-

-<p>“On the Sunday before&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“May ninth,” interrupted Cranston.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes. In the afternoon he was dressed up to

-go visiting. Theodore sent for him to put his driving

-horse into the light buggy, so he could drive

-to Norridgewock. Jonathan didn’t like it and said

-if he couldn’t have Sunday afternoons, he’d find

-some place where he could.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was that all there was to it?” Cranston asked,

-after waiting a moment for Mrs. Parlin to continue.</p>

-

-<p>“Why, about all. It’s all too silly to repeat.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’d rather judge of that,” Cranston said, more

-shortly perhaps than he intended.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>142</span>

-Mrs. Parlin grew cold and distant, with that

-poise of the head that, to her friends, at least, told

-of offence taken.</p>

-

-<p>“It was only irritation and he didn’t even mean

-that Theodore should hear him, but Theodore did

-and answered pretty sharply and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“Please, what did he say?”</p>

-

-<p>“That he could go any time it suited him, and

-that, while he intended to give a man all the privileges

-he could, he intended also to have his services

-when he wanted them. Jonathan said if he

-wanted a man to work like a nigger, he’d better get

-one; and Theodore told him if he heard another

-word from him, he’d discharge him on the spot.”

-Mrs. Parlin had spoken formally and distantly, as

-if to assert the compulsion under which she complied

-with his demand.</p>

-

-<p>“Was that the end of it?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Why, of course. Neither of them meant it,

-and the easiest way was to let it pass. Theodore

-understood that and didn’t refer to it again. It’s

-sometimes the best way to get along with hasty

-folks.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>143</span>

-“But did Oldbeg forget it?” Cranston asked

-significantly.</p>

-

-<p>“Possibly not. He knew he was wrong and it

-made him uneasy, but of course, it all went when

-the terrible murder was discovered.”</p>

-

-<p>Cranston looked at her with a puzzled expression,

-and then smiled as he realised that she had not

-understood his question. He was glad that it was

-so, and at once passed to other matters.</p>

-

-<p>To Frank Hunter, however, that night he reported

-his conviction that the evidence pointed more

-strongly to Oldbeg as the murderer than he had

-supposed.</p>

-

-<p>“In fact,” he said, “there’s enough to justify his

-arrest, and with that I feel pretty certain he’ll break

-down and we’ll get the truth.”</p>

-

-<p>“But the papers,” said Hunter, impatiently.

-“Oldbeg could have had no knowledge of them,

-but they’re what we’re first of all interested in.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, as for them, Trafford’s got them beyond

-doubt. They were last seen on the writing-pad,

-and he made quite a show of taking that. It was

-nothing but a cover for the papers, of course.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>144</span>

-You’ve got to open negotiations with him for their

-purchase, but you can’t do that so long as he thinks

-they may have something to do with the murder.

-When the question of the murder’s out of the way,

-then the papers ’ll simply be papers and you can

-make quick work of ’em: another reason why you

-ought to arrest Oldbeg and get that settled.”</p>

-

-<p>“But my brother’s positive Oldbeg had nothing

-to do with the murder, and whatever his interest

-may be, he’s not going to let an innocent man suffer

-an unjust arrest. I’m confident, unless you can

-give him positive proofs in the matter, he’ll not allow

-it to be done.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well,” said the man sulkily, “I’m in your employ

-and shall obey orders, but if I was working on

-the case as a public matter, I’d have the arrest made

-and made quick.”</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Charles Hunter was obdurate. He declared

-that enough injustice had already been done in

-turning public suspicion against the man without

-a shred to hang it on, and he was not going to be

-a party to keeping it up.</p>

-

-<p>“It’ll take the man years to recover from it now,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>145</span>

-he affirmed; “and an arrest would down him forever.

-Oh, yes, I know you bring in a motive in a

-petty fuss that occurred on Sunday&mdash;a thing that

-might happen anywhere and to any one. A man

-going to see his girl gets miffed because he has to

-harness a horse and is impertinent, and you conclude

-that that’s reason for his shooting his employer.

-It’s against all reason and common sense,

-and I won’t insult my intelligence by considering

-it.”</p>

-

-<p>“Most murders are against reason and common

-sense,” said the detective; “at least, that’s my experience,

-and more than that, nine murders out of

-ten are for absolutely trivial causes. Before you

-get through with this case, you’ll see Oldbeg arrested,

-or I’ll miss my guess.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, I shan’t be responsible for it,” the other

-retorted.</p>

-

-<p>Thwarted in this part of his search, Cranston

-turned his attention to tracing Wing’s mother, to

-which both Hunter and the Matthewsons appeared

-to attach considerable importance&mdash;more, in fact,

-than he could find in it. Confessedly, it was a cover<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>146</span>

-or subterfuge and meant the unearthing of a secret

-that might ruin a woman’s good name for a mistake

-made forty years before. It seemed to him a

-strange twist of conscience, which revolted at the

-arrest of a man for a crime of which circumstances

-tended to show him guilty, while it gave willing

-assent to bringing to light that which might have

-been lived down years before and redeemed by a

-clean life during more years than any of these men

-had lived.</p>

-

-<p>As soon, however, as he took up the matter, the

-spirit of the quest possessed him, and this grew

-strong as the facts unearthed began to point in a

-certain direction, while wonder and a low greed

-found seeds in the case as it unfolded. At last,

-with the truth before him, he was at the point where

-paths separated, with insistent necessity for him to

-take one or the other. Should he go to the woman

-and demand his price for silence; or should he give

-the sons the facts and make them the purchasers?

-Whichever he decided on, he would deal honestly

-as a man should, and he would not pit one against

-the other. Hence, the importance of the decision,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>147</span>

-for once made it barred him from negotiations with

-any one else. Preferably, he would keep the matter

-a secret from the sons, save that he had a shrewd

-suspicion that they were in a better position to pay

-the price than was the mother. On the other hand,

-the mother might prove the more defiant, especially

-if she credited his unwillingness to go to others. It

-was at best a delicate question, but fortunately it

-would “keep” and be as valuable a month hence as

-now. He could, therefore, wait and let development

-lead him in his decision.</p>

-

-<p>Then came the thought of Trafford. Trafford

-had, of course, followed up this clue and, equally

-of course, had unearthed the facts. He, therefore,

-was in the market, with the danger that he might

-not prove as “honourable” as Cranston purposed

-being, and, therefore, might damage the price that

-the latter had expected to obtain. Indeed, it was

-an awkward predicament for a man who had a valuable

-secret to sell and natural purchasers at hand,

-yet wished at the same time to shape his course to

-the demands of fair dealing and honour. Still, before

-he moved, it was necessary that he should ascertain,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>148</span>

-if possible, whether Trafford had approached

-either of the persons interested and if so,

-what he had done.</p>

-

-<p>It was the day on which Trafford returned from

-his fruitless visit to the logging drives. Charles

-Matthewson, uneasy and anxious, found his office

-more conducive to nervousness than work, and

-finally, throwing down his pen, had reached for his

-hat for a turn out of doors, when the door opened

-and his mother entered.</p>

-

-<p>“Why, mother,” he said, rising to meet her, and

-striving to stifle the apprehension her presence

-brought, “this is an unusual honour. It’s a pleasure

-I would not deny myself, yet I would have

-spared you the trouble if you had sent for me.”</p>

-

-<p>“I came to talk with you, Charles,” she said, as

-she took the proffered chair by the window; “and

-it was better and easier to talk here than at home.”</p>

-

-<p>“It is a matter of moment, mother?” he asked

-anxiously.</p>

-

-<p>Endowed though Charles Matthewson was with

-that relentless persistence, that knows no conscience

-save success in the pursuit of a purpose, which had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>149</span>

-carried the family so far, there was a gentler side

-to his nature that was wanting in his younger

-brother. The development of this was peculiarly

-in his relationship with his mother, who in turn

-gave him a tenderness of affection of which few

-dreamed her capable. A desire, born of all that

-was womanly in her masculine nature, had been

-fed by this son’s love, which was in strong contrast

-to the awe and deference accorded her by most

-of her relatives. It was no easy task for her to

-turn for aid to any one, but if she was forced to do

-so, it was naturally to Charles she would go. On

-the other hand, he knew her well enough to know

-that an appeal struck its roots deep before it could

-bring her to such a course.</p>

-

-<p>“Is it you, Charles, who are having this woman

-hunted down?”</p>

-

-<p>“What woman, mother?” he asked in surprise.</p>

-

-<p>She seemed to find difficulty in answering; but

-after a struggle, raised her head almost defiantly,

-and said in a hard, cold voice:</p>

-

-<p>“The mother of Theodore Wing.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>150</span>

-His face hardened in turn to a strange resemblance

-to her own.</p>

-

-<p>“You have nothing to do with such a woman as

-that, mother.”</p>

-

-<p>“Every woman has to do with another who is

-being oppressed and wronged. Why is the dead past

-of that woman to be laid bare to the world? Are

-the years since her wrongdoing to count for nothing?

-Is this generation, that has grown up since

-all this happened, to be the judge of what she did

-before it was born? Is my son to be the one to

-allow the wrong?”</p>

-

-<p>This new phase of his mother’s character struck

-him strangely and not pleasantly. She was not

-wont to show large sympathy with her sex, though

-he would be far from accusing her of hardness or

-cruelty. Still she had left with him the impression

-of sympathies and feelings that were rather masculine

-than feminine; the impressions of one who, accepting

-the task of fighting her own way in the

-world, felt it no injustice or wrong to impose the

-same on others.</p>

-

-<p>“I have no wish, mother, to hunt down this or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>151</span>

-any other woman; but a terrible murder has been

-committed, a murder the more terrible because of its

-motiveless and mysterious character. I have been

-called in as counsel to those who are seeking to unravel

-this mystery and punish the murderer, and

-it’s my duty to use every means to accomplish this

-end.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you are hunting this woman out and will

-expose her nakedness to the world!” The words

-were a cry, that had its force even more in the tone

-than in the words themselves.</p>

-

-<p>“I am certainly endeavouring to discover the

-woman. I could do no less under the circumstances.

-I think I have a fair prospect of success.”</p>

-

-<p>She rose from her chair and looked at him

-strangely and despairingly. Then she turned towards

-the door.</p>

-

-<p>“I will go,” she said. “This is no place for me.

-I will go.”</p>

-

-<p>He looked at her coldly, almost repellantly, as he

-said, checking her:</p>

-

-<p>“Mother, what does this mean?”</p>

-

-<p>No man who had once seen it, could forget the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>152</span>

-look she gave him. There was heartbreak in it;

-there was more than that, there was the crushing

-back of a life-long pride.</p>

-

-<p>“What can it mean?” she asked.</p>

-

-<p>His head fell on his breast. He had never

-guessed before the bitterness that life can have, that

-a moment of time can bring. She never took her

-eyes from his. Whatever the sentence, she would

-meet it as became her past. Slowly his head came

-up; slowly the misery in his eyes rose to hers. Then

-he came and laid his lips on her forehead and said:</p>

-

-<p>“You are my mother: I shall obey your wish.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>153</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="x">CHAPTER X<br />

-<span>A Second Murder?</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>M</span>R. McMANUS,” said Trafford, after they

-had completed the re-examination of

-Wing’s private papers at the office and in his safe

-at home, “was Mr. Wing of a peculiarly secretive

-disposition?”</p>

-

-<p>“If he had a fault,” McManus answered, “and

-since he was human, he must have had, it was his

-excessive frankness and openness.”</p>

-

-<p>“And yet we find him lugging papers on some

-affair, which he shared with no one, back and forth

-from office to house, and when not so doing, keeping

-them locked in a safe in his library to which only

-he had access. How do you account for this?”</p>

-

-<p>McManus glanced over his shoulder before answering

-and then dropped his voice almost to a

-whisper, although they were sitting in the very

-centre of the great library at the Parlin house, with

-the door closed.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>154</span>

-“I think he was afraid.”</p>

-

-<p>“Afraid!” repeated Trafford, almost thrown

-off his guard, but instinctively lowering his tone

-in sympathy with his companion. “Afraid of

-what?”</p>

-

-<p>“Just about two years ago, he found one morning

-that his desk at the office had been ransacked.

-Papers were turned topsy-turvy and packages of

-papers had been opened and tied up again hastily.

-The thoroughness with which the search was made

-showed that the person had a well-shaped purpose,

-while the fact that a considerable amount of money,

-which was loose in a drawer, was not touched,

-proved that it was not robbery. We made every

-effort to find out the culprit, but without success.

-We had at one time suspicion of an office-boy, but

-nothing positive, and Mr. Wing wouldn’t let him be

-discharged under circumstances that would do him a

-grave injustice if he were innocent. So we retained

-him.”</p>

-

-<p>“And he repeated the performance,” Trafford

-said in a tone of conviction.</p>

-

-<p>McManus looked at him, questioning whether this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>155</span>

-assertion came from knowledge of the affair or was

-merely a shrewd guess. Failing to satisfy himself,

-he went on:</p>

-

-<p>“The performance was repeated, but under conditions

-that made it impossible for the boy to be

-guilty. He was away on his vacation.”</p>

-

-<p>“Not shrewd of the culprit. You are certain it

-was some one in the office?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; but we never discovered his identity.”</p>

-

-<p>“And from that time Mr. Wing began carrying

-these papers back and forth and keeping them in

-this safe.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“And the desk was never troubled again.”</p>

-

-<p>“How do you know?”</p>

-

-<p>“Was it?”</p>

-

-<p>“No.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford nodded his satisfaction and proceeded

-to elucidate:</p>

-

-<p>“When the object was removed and the watcher

-knew it, he would repeat the search only to cover his

-identity. Shrewd as he was, he either wasn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>156</span>

-shrewd enough for that or was indifferent. He

-gave away the fact that he was some one who knew

-of the removal of the papers.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you think these papers were what he was

-after?”</p>

-

-<p>“Most assuredly.”</p>

-

-<p>“And that the removal of them&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“Became Wing’s death warrant,” Trafford completed

-the sentence. McManus hesitated and grew

-pale.</p>

-

-<p>“My God, Trafford; do you see what that leads

-to?”</p>

-

-<p>“I see what you think it leads to. You think it

-leads to the conclusion that Wing was murdered

-by somebody in your office, somebody who has been

-there at least two years. I think that’s what you

-lawyers call a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">non sequitur</i>.”</p>

-

-<p>“At the office, the papers might be stolen; here

-they could be stolen only after the murder of Wing.

-Why shouldn’t the thief be one and the same in

-both cases?”</p>

-

-<p>“Because many a man will steal where only one

-will commit murder. It is possible, of course, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>157</span>

-the two may be the same. The probabilities, however,

-are against it.”</p>

-

-<p>“What follows then?” demanded McManus.</p>

-

-<p>“That the actor in at least one case, and possibly

-in both, was not the principal; and that the more

-there are engaged in the affair, the better chance

-we have of discovery. It is the one-man affair that

-baffles.”</p>

-

-<p>None the less, when McManus was gone, Trafford

-summed up the successes of three weeks and

-found them mortifyingly few. A package of papers

-missed and not found; an innocent man under suspicion;

-a woman of prominence proved the mother

-of an illegitimate child; a thwarted attempt upon his

-own life; a wounded Canadian apparently wiped

-off the earth; and a respectable citizen traced on a

-midnight visit to another respectable citizen at

-Waterville. It was not on such achievements as

-these that he had built his reputation.</p>

-

-<p>With the thought of the missing Canadian, his

-anxiety returned. It was impossible that he had

-been spirited away to Canada, yet it was undeniable

-that he was gone. He went out and looked at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>158</span>

-river. After two weeks of dry weather the water

-was falling. On the edge of the falls, rocks showed

-that a week before were under water. In eddies and

-shallow places he could see, as with his physical eye,

-drift and débris collecting, and sometimes in this

-drift and débris strange matter was thrown up.

-He had hesitated to do it, but he felt that he had

-no right to hesitate longer, and so he gave directions

-for a careful search of the river banks and

-shallow places from Millbank to Pishon’s Ferry.

-It was the last chance, and he had refused to consider

-it until it would be criminal to refuse

-longer.</p>

-

-<p>That was the physical part of the task, which he

-could set others to do; but there was another part,

-and that he took with him to his room in the hotel

-and spent much of the night with it. All the evening

-he turned and re-turned it, looking at every side

-and phase, and then went to bed and to sleep, with

-the knowledge that more than once that which the

-most earnest thought fails to unravel becomes by

-some strange alchemy clear under the magic of

-sleep. Would it be so with this?</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>159</span>

-To that query, which came involuntarily, he answered

-with a doubt.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m fighting my conviction,” he said, almost

-plaintively, “instead of giving myself up to its free

-course. I can’t expect to be helped as long as I do

-that; but I can’t, I won’t believe. A man in my

-mood can’t solve anything!”</p>

-

-<p>So it came to pass that the night brought him no

-help, and he rose in the morning without that sense

-of rest which a single hour’s sleep brings under the

-stimulus of success.</p>

-

-<p>About noon, a country lad on horseback brought

-a message from a point some six miles below the

-village. Obeying the message, he started at once

-with the coroner and physician.</p>

-

-<p>On a tiny meadow that lay as a crescent of green

-along the border of cove where the current of the

-river sweeps in as an eddy, something was drawn up

-from the water and lay covered in an unrecognizable

-mass, which none the less had a strange repulsiveness

-about it. Back of the meadow great

-trees rose toward the early June sky; before it the

-river flashed in the June sunshine, and across its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>160</span>

-waters, the brown earth, dotted with the young

-corn, stretched away in the beauty of early summer.

-A few men and boys stood about the covered thing

-in strange silence, that seemed almost of fear; yet

-all pressed nearer when, by order of the coroner,

-the covering cloth was removed.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford and the doctor stooped and made a close

-examination of the hideous thing. No one spoke

-above his breath as they waited the report, yet by

-some strange magic the story of the finding went

-from man to man. At last the two men rose and

-went down to the river to wash their soiled hands.

-The coroner followed them:</p>

-

-<p>“What do you make of it?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford waited until the doctor was forced to

-speak:</p>

-

-<p>“Plainly a Canuck, and I should say a log-driver.

-Certainly a working man. Been drowned a week

-and has come from above the Falls. You can see

-that by the way he’s battered up. That’s when he

-was whirled round under the Falls. Several bones

-broken, probably by the rocks, but that smashing of

-the collar bone came from a blow from above and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>161</span>

-before he was dead. It may have been that that

-knocked him into the water. Unless you find some

-particular mark on him, you won’t be able to identify

-him, he’s so smashed up. Better send up the river

-and see if any driver has been missing about a week.

-Beg pardon, Mr. Trafford, I fear I’m taking the

-words out of your mouth.”</p>

-

-<p>“Not at all,” the other answered. “I couldn’t

-have covered my findings better myself, excepting

-I was less certain about the breaking of the collar

-bone, whether it was before or after death. If he

-had gone over the Falls, for instance, head first,

-might he not have struck a rock and broken his collar

-bone, so as to give the appearance of its being

-shattered by a blow dealt from above?”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s not simply that,” said the doctor. “There’s

-the swelling of the living flesh that could not take

-place if the blow occurred after death. The injury

-must have occurred long enough before death to

-produce this effect.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then it could hardly have been the blow that

-knocked him into the water?”</p>

-

-<p>The doctor started at the question and, without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>162</span>

-answering, walked back to the body and re-examined

-the broken bone and some of the other bruises.

-Then he came back to where Trafford and the coroner

-waited him.</p>

-

-<p>“There can’t be any question that the broken

-clavicle antedates death, and antedates it some few

-hours. The man may have been injured at some

-distance from any one and have taken a boat to go

-for assistance and not been able to control it.”</p>

-

-<p>“He might have done any one of a dozen things,”

-Trafford interposed impatiently; “but the thing is

-to find out which one he did do. How did he get

-this injury, and how did he come to his drowning

-after the injury; for I take it you’ll admit when

-death came, it did come through drowning.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think we’ll have to admit that,” the doctor returned.</p>

-

-<p>“Then we have an injury, one, two, perhaps

-three hours before death; and then death by drowning.

-If all this was the result of accident, don’t you

-think he was having more than his fair share,

-crowded into a pretty small space of time?” It was

-Trafford’s question.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>163</span>

-“You mean,” demanded the coroner, a trifle uneasily,

-“that we’ve got another murder on our

-hands before the first one is cleared up?”</p>

-

-<p>“I mean,” said Trafford; “that if we have, it

-may prove easier to unravel two murders than one.”</p>

-

-<p>They walked slowly back and looked at the face

-that was gashed beyond human recognition. Was

-this he who had cried so piteously on Millbank

-Bridge, “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”? If so, what

-had been the history of the few hours that elapsed

-before he plunged into the river to the death meant

-for Trafford? How was that plunge made? Where

-was the Pierre who had struck the blow on the

-bridge, and who must be able to tell the story of the

-man’s drowning? These were the questions which

-were dinning themselves in Trafford’s brain and

-imperiously demanding an answer.</p>

-

-<p>The news of the finding of the body spread rapidly

-through Millbank, but with comparatively trifling

-sensation. Men were drowned each year in the

-river. The driving business was full of risks and

-men fell victims to it each spring. It was not like

-a murder&mdash;a blow from no one knew where, falling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>164</span>

-no one knew why. This drowning was a thing

-people were accustomed to expect. They shrugged,

-wondered if he had a family, and thought little more

-of an accident that left them “one less Canuck.” A

-solitary priest, poor and hard-worked, spent the

-night in prayers for the dead; for these men who

-come from the North to drive the river are almost

-without exception faithful children of the Church,

-which, through her ministry, mourns her bereavement

-and assails the gates of heaven for admission

-of the departed soul.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford sat alone in his room at the hotel. He

-had no doubt that this was the man on whom had

-fallen the blow which was intended for him. Disabled,

-so that he could not be concealed or taken

-away without discovery and recognition, it had been

-worth the while of those who had failed in their

-attempt on his own life, to murder the poor wretch,

-rather than take the chances of his being seen and

-questioned. Disabled as he was, his condition should

-have appealed to the hardest heart. He had tried to

-do faithfully the work given him and, failing, had

-been done to death for his fidelity. What was this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>165</span>

-hideous thing that played with murder, rather than

-let itself be discovered?</p>

-

-<p>As Trafford asked himself the question, he

-glanced uneasily at his windows. It was here, in

-this very town, within a stone’s throw of the very

-place where he sat, that murder stalked&mdash;murder

-that had once sought him as a victim and then had

-destroyed its own instrument, not trusting the man

-it had employed. It seemed like a lowering menace,

-ready to fall without warning, and almost for the

-first time since he had taken up this profession, he

-was conscious of the sense of personal fear. This

-merciless, unseen something, impressed him as

-standing just beyond the line of sight, watching with

-unseen eyes, to strike at him again. If it could be

-uncovered, what would it prove itself, to justify so

-desperate a chance? If it could not be uncovered,

-where was safety for himself or for any one who

-stood as a menace to its purposes?</p>

-

-<p>That the men who had committed these two murders

-and had tried a third&mdash;for he did not for one

-instant separate them&mdash;would stop at no chance, was

-beyond dispute or question. They had watched and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>166</span>

-waited on Wing for two years and, apparently, had

-not struck until every other means of securing what

-they wanted had failed. When they did strike,

-they had struck pitilessly and effectively. But they

-were still on their guard, as the assault on the Bridge

-and this wanton murder of a wounded man proved.

-They had gone so far; certainly they would not now

-retire from the game, nor would they show a scrupulousness

-they had failed to feel before they had so

-far committed themselves that retreat was impossible.

-It was a struggle to the death, with an unseen

-foe, by a man who at all times stood out as a

-plain mark. He had the sensation of one who stands

-with a lamp in his hands and peers into the deeper

-dark, to catch a glimpse of a foe that he simply

-knows lies in wait for him unseen.</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>167</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xi">CHAPTER XI<br />

-<span>Already One Attempt</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>I</span> WON’T consent to any further chasing of this

-woman.”</p>

-

-<p>It was Charles Matthewson who spoke, standing

-in front of his brother in the library at Waterville,

-where the original interview regarding Cranston

-had taken place. It was a long time since Charles

-had spoken so positively to Henry, and the latter

-looked up half amused and half irritated, yet with

-an ugly expression on his face.</p>

-

-<p>“You have suddenly become very much concerned

-for this&mdash;woman. I’ll use your polite term,”

-he said.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve suddenly become concerned for myself,” the

-other replied hotly. “I know, as you do, that she

-and her&mdash;misfortune have nothing to do with this

-murder; and I know, as you do, if you’ll stop to

-think a moment, that it’s a cowardly piece of business

-for men to engage in to hunt down a woman,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>168</span>

-simply because they may do so with the approval of

-the hunters.”</p>

-

-<p>Henry gave a low whistle.</p>

-

-<p>“Who’s been talking to you? You’ve got a sudden

-conversion as to this woman’s&mdash;misfortune.”

-He gave an ugly slur to that last word. “Time was

-when you’d call it by another name.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, whether I would or not, Cranston’s got to

-be called off from that line: and he’s got to be called

-off quick!”</p>

-

-<p>“But Frank Hunter has been very insistent on

-this point. He seems to have some reason for thinking

-it important,” Henry answered.</p>

-

-<p>“Because he thinks that a sensation there will

-stop folks asking questions nearer home. If he can

-raise a dust behind which he can negotiate for those

-papers, he’s got all he’s looking for just now.”</p>

-

-<p>“Perhaps you don’t feel any interest in those

-papers,” Henry answered.</p>

-

-<p>“Interest or no interest, I’m not going to skulk

-any longer behind a petticoat. I’m ashamed to have

-done it so long.”</p>

-

-<p>“Good boy,” Henry said, making a motion as if<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>169</span>

-to pat him on the shoulder. “I ask again, who’s

-been stirring up your conscience?”</p>

-

-<p>“Our mother,” said Charles simply.</p>

-

-<p>Henry stopped in his act, and a new look came

-over his face.</p>

-

-<p>“Does she think it unmanly?” he asked.</p>

-

-<p>“She thinks it cowardly and mean,” Charles said

-strongly.</p>

-

-<p>Not a sign of anger at these stinging words came

-into Henry’s face, but instead the look of a child

-justly reproved.</p>

-

-<p>“I guess she’s right, Charles,” he said. “I guess

-she’s right. I hadn’t thought of it before, but it

-is mean and cowardly. I’ll call Cranston off at

-once.”</p>

-

-<p>“And Hunter?” Charles asked in his turn.</p>

-

-<p>“He can find something else to raise a dust, or he

-can come out into the open and fight; but he shan’t

-fight longer behind this woman’s petticoat. I wish

-we hadn’t done it at all!”</p>

-

-<p>“I’d give more than I can tell,” Charles answered,

-giving cry to that bitterness of shame which,

-hidden in his heart, he dared not uncover.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>170</span>

-“Yes,” said Henry; “to think that mother

-should call our act mean and cowardly! I’d rather

-the old papers&mdash;&mdash;” Then he stopped short.</p>

-

-<p>“Has it ever occurred to you that the papers may

-have had something to do with Wing’s death?”

-Charles asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Hush up!” exclaimed Henry roughly. “There

-are some things a man shouldn’t even dare think,

-much less say.”</p>

-

-<p>“But&mdash;by God,” Charles answered, “there are

-some things a man can’t help thinking and perhaps

-saying. I tell you, I’m not so certain I wouldn’t

-have shot Wing myself for the sake of getting hold

-of those papers!”</p>

-

-<p>“And if you’re going to keep on talking this way,

-you might as well have done it,” Henry answered

-bitterly. “I wouldn’t trust myself to think such

-things as you’re saying.”</p>

-

-<p>“But, Henry, think, just think&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“I won’t,” the other shouted in a wild passion.

-“I won’t think, and I forbid you to ask me to!

-The man is dead and the Lord only knows into

-whose hands those papers have fallen. There’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>171</span>

-only one thing I keep thinking&mdash;thinking all the

-time,” and his voice dropped, while he looked anxiously

-over his shoulder, as if he feared the very

-walls of his library: “and that is that it was safer to

-have those papers in his hands, so long as we knew

-that they were there, than it is to have them in the

-hands of somebody&mdash;we don’t know who, for a purpose,

-we don’t know what.”</p>

-

-<p>Charles grew paler than Henry had ever seen

-him. There was a gasp in his voice, as if he found

-breathing difficult, and he almost clutched at his

-brother as he said:</p>

-

-<p>“That means that you are afraid, as I am, that the

-papers had some connection with his death, and

-you are trying to persuade yourself to the contrary.

-A month ago, you’d have jumped at the chance of

-somebody else having them, no matter who that

-somebody else might be: yet to-day you try to make

-me think that you believe it has increased the danger.

-<em>You know better.</em> I don’t care whose hands they’re

-in, we’re safer than we were when Wing had them.

-Now it’s only a question of money.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then why don’t we hear from them?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>172</span>

-“It would be so safe, with matters as they are,

-for any one to offer to sell Wing’s papers,” sneered

-Charles.</p>

-

-<p>“Suppose whoever’s got them makes copies of

-them?” Henry suggested.</p>

-

-<p>“And you tell me not to think of these things!”

-Charles cried.</p>

-

-<p>Henry Matthewson at once called Cranston off

-from the Bangor matter and then sent for Frank

-Hunter. The latter came in the early evening,

-uneasy, restless, and irritable. The mood was confirmed

-when he discovered what had been done.</p>

-

-<p>“It’s that, or let him go to Millbank and keep

-excitement alive there,” he said. “Trafford strikes

-me as entirely capable of doing enough of that.”</p>

-

-<p>“As matters stand,” demanded Henry, regardless

-of the caution he had given his brother, “do

-you know who were most likely to profit by Wing’s

-death?”</p>

-

-<p>“We were,” answered Frank coldly. “Do you

-think I’ve ever failed to recognise that fact? I don’t

-do business that way.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you mean to say that you have seen from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>173</span>

-the first that if men looked for motives, they’d fasten

-on us?”</p>

-

-<p>“I mean to say exactly that,” Frank Hunter answered;

-“and unless we can dig up something that

-shows that somebody else was in as bad a position

-as we, it will go hard with us, unless we can tire the

-detectives out and make them give it up as a bad

-job.”</p>

-

-<p>It was Henry Matthewson’s turn to look and feel

-uneasy. Born to affluence, raised in wealth, and encouraged

-to high ambition, he had already gone far

-for a young man, and it seemed a piteous thing that

-in his own house, with his wife and children almost

-within call of his voice, he should be told that unless

-men could be made to forget and so abandon their

-interest in the Wing murder, it might go hard with

-him&mdash;that he might become an object of suspicion.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t mean,” Hunter said, “that we are in any

-danger of being convicted of Wing’s murder, or

-even of being arrested for it. That’s way beyond

-reason. But how much better off would we be, if

-the community should take up the suspicion that we

-were interested in Wing’s death; that we procured<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>174</span>

-it? The public is an unreasoning brute. Look at

-poor Oldbeg!”</p>

-

-<p>“Poor Oldbeg!” repeated Matthewson. “What

-in the name of thunder makes you so tender of Oldbeg?”</p>

-

-<p>“It is Charles more than I,” Hunter said, referring

-to his brother. “He insists that the man is

-innocent; that there’s not a scintilla of proof

-against him, and he won’t consent that the unreasoning

-whim of the people shall do such injustice;

-and in fact, when I think that our time may come

-at any moment, I can’t help feeling a good deal that

-way myself.”</p>

-

-<p>In the shrubbery outside the window a man, who

-had followed Hunter from Millbank, listened and

-watched. He could hear nothing and see as little,

-but hour after hour he kept his post, with dogged

-patience, using a night to catch a single hint. Had

-Hunter known how closely he was followed and

-watched, he would have been still more uneasy and

-disturbed.</p>

-

-<p>“What is it about this new corpse that’s been

-found at Millbank?” Matthewson asked.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>175</span>

-“Oh, merely a drowned logger. Nobody knows

-him and he’s been unceremoniously put under

-ground. Nobody’d have thought anything of it at

-any other time, for there’s never a spring that one

-or more of them don’t turn up; but just now we are

-living on sensations, and it added to the interest

-that Trafford was on hand and almost the first on

-the spot.”</p>

-

-<p>“Wasn’t it one of Trafford’s men who found it?”

-the other asked.</p>

-

-<p>“So it’s said.”</p>

-

-<p>“Was he looking for it, or for something else?”

-Matthewson persisted.</p>

-

-<p>“What do you mean?”</p>

-

-<p>“Why should Trafford have sent men to search

-the lower river, if he didn’t expect to find something?

-Had some one disappeared? You say a

-mere logger. What might Trafford say?”</p>

-

-<p>“I believe you see a bogy every time you turn

-round,” Hunter said impatiently.</p>

-

-<p>“‘’Tis conscience doth make cowards of us all,’”

-Matthewson answered. “I don’t like to be in this

-position. I don’t dare move to find the papers, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>176</span>

-fear in doing so I stir suspicions concerning Wing’s

-death. I don’t dare leave the papers in the uncertain

-hands where they are, lest they arouse the very

-same suspicions. It’s a nice position for an innocent

-man to be in.”</p>

-

-<p>The curiosity of the public, no longer fed on

-rumours and inquests, had begun to flag, giving place

-to the inevitable sneers at the police and detective

-force, with renewed predictions daily made that the

-murder would remain an unsolved mystery. But

-for the occasional sight of Trafford, and the expectation

-that the inquest might be reconvened at almost

-any time, the village would already have begun to

-forget the murdered man, so easily does a sensation

-fade into the commonplace.</p>

-

-<p>But Trafford remained, or at least reappeared at

-unexpected moments, like an uneasy spirit that found

-no rest. He was working now on two murders, confident

-that if he found the perpetrator of the one, he

-would solve both. It was an aid to him that the

-public accepted the second as an accident, he alone

-having knowledge of the attempted murder of himself

-which, unaccomplished, had brought this fate on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>177</span>

-the unhappy wretch who was to be himself a murderer.</p>

-

-<p>About this time, however, he had proof that he

-had not ceased to interest some one. On returning

-to his room at the hotel one evening, he found that

-it had been entered during his absence and a

-thorough search of all his papers and luggage made.

-At first, he was inclined to complain to the landlord,

-but this purpose passed as quickly as it came,

-resulting in his taking apparently no notice of the

-affair.</p>

-

-<p>It called to mind very forcibly, however, the tale

-that McManus had told him of the rifling of Wing’s

-desk, and caused him to take a professional view

-of the incident. He had said at the time that a pair

-of trained eyes would have seen something of importance.

-He was thus placed on his mettle to prove

-his boast. In fact, there was little to see. It was

-evident that the intruder had come by a window

-opening on to the roof of a long porch. A dusty

-footprint on the carpet under the window, pointing

-inward, proved this, and Trafford was able to find

-traces along the roof to a hall window, but the returning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>178</span>

-tracks were not traceable. He was not so

-much offended at the liberty taken with his property

-as by the implication on his sagacity, in the expectation

-of finding anything he preferred should

-remain unfound.</p>

-

-<p>He had his suspicions as to the person who had

-ransacked Wing’s desk, and it was a satisfaction to

-be given an opportunity to test that suspicion by

-this later act. If he could bring it home to the possible

-culprit in the former case, he felt that a very

-considerable advance would be made. It was true

-that the method smacked a trifle of seeking facts

-with which to sustain a preconceived opinion, rather

-than permitting facts to lead up to judgment; but

-strict adherence to rule was not always possible, and

-this appeared a case in which exception was to be

-made.</p>

-

-<p>Because, however, of this yielding to temptation,

-possibly, it troubled him more to discover that the

-assumed trespasser on Wing’s desk could by no

-means be the culprit in the present case, for it was

-beyond controversy that the suspected individual had

-not been within many miles of the Millbank hostelry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>179</span>

-at the hour of the intrusion. It might be a touch of

-cunning, but the alibi was not to be questioned.

-None the less, here was the fact that Wing’s desk

-was broken open because he was believed to be in

-possession of certain papers of a compromising

-character, and that when it was believed that these

-papers had come into the possession of the detective,

-his room and papers were in turn ransacked. That

-there was connection of cause and effect between

-the facts was scarcely to be doubted, even though it

-was not as simple as he had at first supposed to establish

-it.</p>

-

-<p>Uncertainty as to the nature of the missing papers,

-and his inability to secure any definite information,

-were the tantalising features of the case. He questioned

-McManus only to find that his knowledge

-of the matter was no less hazy. These papers had

-been seen by no one in the office excepting in package.

-Whether they had been received by Wing from

-Judge Parlin or not was unknown. There was a

-general understanding that they had come from the

-judge, and that Wing had given a great deal of attention

-to them, so that they had grown materially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>180</span>

-in his hands. The scandal of the ransacking of the

-desk had caused a great deal of excitement in the

-office and no little discussion, but this had brought

-out no facts bearing on the subject-matter. That

-it involved some one was guessed, but even this

-guess was wild and general, rather than specific.</p>

-

-<p>“Unless something of certainty is arrived at,”

-Trafford said, “it will be impossible to delay the

-re-opening of the inquest more than a week longer,

-and in the present temper of the public mind a verdict

-implicating Oldbeg would not be impossible.”</p>

-

-<p>He said it half musingly, as if rather talking to

-himself than otherwise, and yet there was a look

-under the eyelids that would not have been quite reassuring

-to a close observer. McManus did not

-seem to note it, but took up the matter rather with

-Trafford’s own manner.</p>

-

-<p>“But there the papers stand as the insurmountable

-difficulty. Oldbeg could have no object in

-stealing them. He could scarcely have known of

-their existence&mdash;that is, as papers of value. If the

-connection could be made, it would be serious for

-him.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>181</span>

-“But it can’t be made,” Trafford said, as if he

-were waking from his lethargic condition. “I’ve

-told you what kind of a man it was that did this

-murder, and when the murderer is discovered, as

-discovered he will be, you’ll find I’ve described him

-correctly. Those papers caused this murder and

-caused it because they were a menace to some one.

-That some one couldn’t have been Oldbeg&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“Yet the public mind is impressed with Oldbeg’s

-guilt and, if I mistake not, the jury is as well.”</p>

-

-<p>“You overlook the fact that nothing regarding

-these papers has appeared in the testimony.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus looked up suddenly as the fact was

-recalled to him.</p>

-

-<p>“That’s so,” he said. “We’ve discussed them so

-much that I had entirely lost sight of the fact. Of

-course, that’ll free Oldbeg when it is brought out in

-testimony.”</p>

-

-<p>“If it is brought out,” Trafford said.</p>

-

-<p>“But surely,” McManus urged; “you will not

-let so important a matter pass&mdash;let alone the fact

-that it is the cause of injustice to Oldbeg, who surely

-has suffered enough already.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>182</span>

-“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford solemnly; “I’m

-at work to find the murderer of Mr. Wing. That’s

-the one purpose I have before me, and it is what the

-best interests of the public demand. If Oldbeg or

-another suffers unjustly for the moment, it is that

-the guilty man may suffer in the end. I’m sorry for

-Oldbeg, but I’m not responsible for the turn matters

-have taken. At present, the parties who are interested

-in these papers believe I have them, and the

-work I’m doing requires them to continue so to

-believe. I don’t conceive it to be my duty to produce

-at the inquest testimony that will undeceive them.”</p>

-

-<p>“Aren’t you taking a tremendous responsibility?”

-McManus asked.</p>

-

-<p>“It’s my business to take responsibility. I’ve

-taken it often to the extent of risking my life&mdash;I

-may do so again; but when there’s a murderer at

-large and I’m set to find him, I don’t stop because

-my life is endangered or because another is put to

-inconvenience. If Oldbeg’s held for the murder,

-it’ll be inconvenient for him, but not so inconvenient

-as it would be for me to be murdered because

-I’m on the track of the right man.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>183</span>

-“And you are on the track of the right man?”

-McManus demanded.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve been on his track from the moment I entered

-that library and knew that it had been searched

-by the man who fired the fatal bullet. I’ve been on

-his track from that day to this, and I shall keep on

-it until I catch up with him or he kills me; but as

-surely as that last happens, he’ll swing. It isn’t given

-to any man to commit murder twice and cover his

-tracks. If I go down, it’ll end in his going up.”</p>

-

-<p>“But really, Mr. Trafford, you take this thing

-more seriously than I imagined. You’re not in

-earnest in this talk of an attempt to murder you!”</p>

-

-<p>“So much in earnest that I never go out without

-thinking I may not come back.”</p>

-

-<p>“But why?”</p>

-

-<p>“Because already one attempt has been made.”</p>

-

-<p>“You astound me!” McManus exclaimed. “I

-agreed at the start to co-operate with you so long

-as you had the case in hand, but, certainly, I’m entitled

-to know something! Why do you say it’s because

-you are supposed to have the papers? Might

-it not be simply to shield the murderer? You leave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>184</span>

-the thing in a cloud that is”&mdash;he seemed searching

-for a word&mdash;“disturbing.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford, however, refused to say more; but after

-McManus left, he sat for a few moments as if asking

-himself if he had done wisely, and then rousing

-up muttered:</p>

-

-<p>“We’ll see how far that’ll carry!”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>185</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xii">CHAPTER XII<br />

-<span>At the Drivers’ Camp</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>WO days later a message came which necessitated

-a trip up the Dead River branch, traversing

-the ground over which Trafford had gone ten

-days before. Already, however, the camps he had

-visited were deserted, the drivers having followed

-the body of logs moving towards the river itself.

-At the Forks, Trafford was joined by the assistant

-who had warned him that morning in Millbank.

-They had a long conference, in which there appeared

-no small amount of differing opinion. The assistant

-had tracked from a camp on Moosehead, to a

-cabin beyond the Madison Beeches above Millbank,

-two Canadians, who had left the lake suddenly on

-May 12. He was certain he had located one of the

-men, a great powerful fellow, in one of the Dead

-River driving gangs.</p>

-

-<p>“And the other?”</p>

-

-<p>“I can get no trace of him. They separated at

-Millbank&mdash;perhaps forever.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span>

-“And this fellow’s name&mdash;here on Dead River?”</p>

-

-<p>“Pierre Duchesney.”</p>

-

-<p>“And the other?”</p>

-

-<p>“Victor Vignon.”</p>

-

-<p>“It can scarcely have any bearing,” Trafford

-asserted after some thought. “Nothing definite in

-the way of plans could have been formed so

-promptly. The murder was only twenty-four hours

-old then.”</p>

-

-<p>“But they went to Millbank; spent four days in

-the old Indian hut back of Madison Beeches, and

-were not seen in Millbank during the entire time.

-Then, no one knows how, the one appears at Parlin

-Pond, and works from there over to Dead River.

-He’s a big, strapping fellow; the other one was

-medium height and size&mdash;much the slighter made of

-the two.”</p>

-

-<p>“But I tell you,” Trafford affirmed; “if they

-were called to Millbank, the call must have come before

-the murder was known&mdash;they came for something

-else than to assault the man supposed to have

-those papers.”</p>

-

-<p>“And were at hand conveniently to assault the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>187</span>

-man who was supposedly in possession of the papers,

-when it was found that they had involuntarily

-changed hands.”</p>

-

-<p>This view struck Trafford and he gave it some

-little thought, while the other waited as if for his

-final judgment.</p>

-

-<p>“As long as we’re here, we may as well have a

-look at your man,” said Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>The next day found them guests of the drive at

-the camp above the first rapids of Dead River, where

-use was being had of the last of the spring flow to

-get the tail of the winter’s cut into the main channel.

-Already the advance guard of the summer army

-was making its appearance, adventurous souls who

-love to see the year at its birth, and the presence of

-strangers excited no especial comment. They made

-it so apparent that they sought an invitation for the

-night that it became unavoidable, and so with the

-falling of dusk and the leap of the great flames of

-the camp fire among the trees, they came on to the

-time for the experiment agreed upon.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford had watched Pierre Duchesney at his

-work, a great, strong-limbed giant whose blow, intentional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>188</span>

-or not, could well work the crushing of

-lesser bones, and admitted that their purpose was

-well-nigh foolhardy. To take such a man, surrounded

-as he was by friends, was scarcely to be

-thought of, and in fact would not have been thought

-of, but for a chance remark that he was not going

-below the first rapids. When the jam was started

-here, he was to strike across to the head waters of

-the Androscoggin, which Trafford’s companion, intent

-in his belief that this was the man they wanted,

-interpreted as a purpose to bury himself in the wilds

-of the Canadian wilderness about Megantic.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford, himself, while yet in doubt as to the

-identity of the man, admitted that even if they lost

-him, it would be much gained if they could prove

-him, and so consented to the plan his assistant outlined,

-determined to take his chances in the matter

-of an actual capture.</p>

-

-<p>The men were stretched about the blazing logs,

-smoking, sleeping, chatting. Trafford among them

-watched the leap of the flames and the gradual reddening

-of the great logs into coals. The other

-stranger had left the circle some time before. Involuntarily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>189</span>

-Trafford kept his eye on Pierre’s huge

-form, where it was stretched in the full blaze and

-warmth of the logs, his eyes closed in a pleasant

-after-feeding doze. Suddenly out of the dark came

-a sharp Canadian voice, calling:</p>

-

-<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré, c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”</p>

-

-<p>Every one glanced up enquiringly, but the effect

-on Pierre Duchesney was startling in the extreme.

-His eyes stared wide from a face of ashy grey; he

-leaped to his feet, shaking as one with the ague.

-Trafford had sprung to his side at the instant of

-his leap from his recumbent position, and in time

-to catch from his blanched lips the convicting words:</p>

-

-<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon dieu; Victor!</i>”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford’s hand was on his pistol, which he drew,

-with the sharp demand:</p>

-

-<p>“Quick, seize the man; he’s wanted for the murder

-of Victor Vignon!”</p>

-

-<p>At the word “murder,” the men drew back from

-the circle of light. They lived free and easy lives in

-the woods, and had little of the fear of the law before

-them in their fastnesses, but with murder and

-the murderer they had no share. All the other laws<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>190</span>

-of God and man, they might violate, but to that one,

-“Thou shalt do no murder,” they bowed, the very

-defencelessness of their lives making murder doubly

-terrible to them. So, strong men as they were, they

-gazed wild-eyed on the scene, and some of the bravest

-trembled.</p>

-

-<p>On Pierre, the word acted like magic. No less

-pale he was than before, but it was a paleness in

-which the sense of self-preservation was awake,

-looking from his eyes, as it looks from those of

-hunted wild creatures brought suddenly to bay. He

-attempted no plea; he made no denial; but his form

-grew compact with the compactness of one about to

-spring. Trafford, wondering what course the others

-would take, brought his pistol to a steady aim, and

-said clearly and sharply:</p>

-

-<p>“Surrender, or I’ll shoot! Throw up your

-arms!”</p>

-

-<p>He felt, rather than saw, that on the edge of the

-light stood his assistant also covering the man with

-his revolver. The man moved as if to obey the order

-to throw up his arms, and then, with a quickness of

-which none guessed him capable, struck Trafford’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>191</span>

-arm a blow that caused it to drop numbly by his side,

-sending the pistol’s discharge into the earth. With

-the same movement the man crouched half to earth,

-and thus escaped the other’s shot. Without rising,

-he darted, crouching, for the shelter of trees beyond

-the fire, but not so quickly as to save his right arm

-from the second shot by the assistant. Trafford,

-meantime, had changed his revolver into his left

-hand and was firing at the fleeing shadow that the

-man became before disappearing. With his second

-shot, he heard his assistant at his side.</p>

-

-<p>“You know now, but we’ve lost him.”</p>

-

-<p>“Into the woods; into the woods,” Trafford cried,

-seizing a blazing pine knot. “Quick, we’ll get him

-yet.”</p>

-

-<p>Not a man stirred save Trafford, and he made

-only a step or two. Glancing back, he saw the

-drivers huddled in an excited and gesticulating

-group that looked startlingly like mischief. Ahead

-was the heavy blackness of dense trees. Then he

-realised that the man had escaped.</p>

-

-<p>Meantime the men were aroused from the stupor

-of their first surprise and were in a dangerous mood,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>192</span>

-the active qualities of which were quieted by the

-gleam of Trafford’s badge, which he felt was the

-best introduction to the explanation to which they

-were clearly entitled. They listened patiently, but

-simply tolerantly, and their coolness was in marked

-contrast to their friendliness of a brief quarter of an

-hour earlier. There was no denial to Trafford and

-his companion of the hospitality of the camp, but

-they were made to feel that they were unwelcome

-guests, and they waited anxiously and impatiently

-for the first touch of morning to be on their way, as

-well from a desire to leave their surly companions,

-as from impatience to be where they could make use

-of their newly acquired information.</p>

-

-<p>They were not more than a mile from camp, after

-a hasty breakfast eaten amid strange silence, when,

-from the woods lying between the track they were

-following and the river, a lad of about sixteen years,

-whom they had seen in camp the night before, overhauled

-them. He had evidently run most of the way,

-and was anxious to get back before his absence attracted

-attention, but he was also intent on information.

-The conversation with him was carried on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>193</span>

-partly in the lad’s imperfect English, and partly in

-the French of Canada with Trafford’s companion,

-and by him translated to Trafford:</p>

-

-<p>“Victor Vignon: my cousin. You say, murdered&mdash;dead?”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Non.</i> He go big lake. Go by Aten’s stage.”</p>

-

-<p>“Who told you so?” demanded Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>“Pierre&mdash;Pierre Duchesney. When he come, he

-say: Victor, he go big lake: he go by Aten’s stage.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, he killed him. Drowned him in the river

-at Millbank, where the big Falls are.”</p>

-

-<p>“What for he kill him?” demanded the boy.</p>

-

-<p>“Who sent for your cousin at the big lake when

-he and Pierre went away?” Trafford demanded,

-and then, it being evident that the lad had not sufficient

-command of English to master this question,

-his companion repeated it in French.</p>

-

-<p>The lad’s face brightened as he heard his native

-tongue, and from that time he carried his part of

-the conversation mostly in that tongue.</p>

-

-<p>“The boss.”</p>

-

-<p>On questioning, it developed that the “boss” had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>194</span>

-said the “big man” had sent for Pierre and Victor;

-had said that they were to go to the Forks of the

-River and meet a gang, but when they got there the

-gang was gone and they had word to go somewhere

-else, and it was when Pierre came back and Victor

-had gone to the big lake, that the lad was told this

-by Pierre. The lad did not know where it was that

-Victor had gone, but he was to see him again when

-the drive was over and they were ready to go back

-to Canada before the feast of St. John.</p>

-

-<p>Oh, yes; the “big man” was somebody who lived

-down where the water went over the big Falls, and

-owned all the trees, and sent the boss money to pay

-them. He didn’t know his name, but he was a great

-big man&mdash;as big as the Seigneur at Rigaud-Vandreuil,

-the biggest man the lad had ever seen.</p>

-

-<p>“A bigger man than the boss?”</p>

-

-<p>Oh, yes; for he sent the boss money to pay them

-and owned the trees, while the boss wasn’t as big a

-man as Louis Blanchet, the notary, whom he, the

-lad, had often seen and talked with, and once had

-thrown mud at when he was drunk.</p>

-

-<p>No, he didn’t know the big man’s name; he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>195</span>

-said that before, but anybody could tell them; anybody

-who knew, for he owned the trees; and the

-“boss” could tell them; his name was Kennett,

-Georges Kennett; not the boss here, for his name

-was Jean Busque, he was Canadian; but the other

-boss, the one who told Pierre and Victor to go to the

-Forks of the River.</p>

-

-<p>But he must go back, because the boss, the one

-here, would be angry and make him lose some of his

-money. He had heard them say something about

-Victor being killed, and he wanted to ask them and

-tell them it couldn’t be Victor, because he had gone

-to the big lake, as Pierre had said. What would

-Victor’s wife do if he was dead? The good God&mdash;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le

-bon Dieu</i>&mdash;and the good Saint Anne&mdash;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la bonne

-sainte Anne</i>&mdash;wouldn’t let him be dead, when there

-was Victor’s wife and three little ones and another

-coming in the summer, as Victor had told him.

-They must know that Victor couldn’t be dead, and

-if they saw him, they were to tell him that he&mdash;Étienne

-Vignon&mdash;had said this and would meet him

-at the big Falls to go back to la Beauce before the

-feast of Saint John, as Victor had promised<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>196</span>

-Étienne’s mother when he took him away to go on

-the drive. And with these words, the lad dashed

-into the woods for his mile run back to camp.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford caught himself perilously near a sigh,

-as the lad disappeared among the trees.</p>

-

-<p>“It’s as plain as the nose on your face&mdash;that part

-of it,” he said. “Hunter sent for these men; had

-them go to the forks to join a pretended gang, and

-word was left there for ’em to go on to the hut

-back of the Madison Beeches.”</p>

-

-<p>“Hunter?” his companion asked.</p>

-

-<p>“Certainly. Isn’t he the man who owns the

-trees to such a simple lad as that? He don’t know

-the name&mdash;but we do, Charles Hunter of Millbank.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then he’s concerned in the murder?”</p>

-

-<p>“If you knew the things that aren’t to be seen as

-well as you do the things that you see, you’d beat

-us all,” Trafford answered. “If he was in the

-murder, he’d know where those papers are and

-wouldn’t have needed these men. His very desperation

-to get them shows he isn’t the murderer.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then Charles Hunter’s the man who’s afraid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>197</span>

-of those papers,” the other repeated, as if half dazed

-by the revelation.</p>

-

-<p>“One of ’em,” said Trafford. “I’ve known that

-much a long time.”</p>

-

-<p>“But if the men who are afraid of the papers

-aren’t the men who murdered him haven’t you

-knocked out the motive for the murder? That’s

-the thing that’s bothered all the time, and now that

-we’ve got hold of one, it’s a pity to lose it again.”</p>

-

-<p>“Beware of clues,” half laughed Trafford.

-“That’s the lesson you haven’t learned yet. I’ve

-said Hunter was one of the men who’s afraid of

-the papers. I haven’t said there weren’t others.

-Then it doesn’t follow that the only people who

-wanted to get the papers were those who were afraid

-of ’em. Given the papers, there’s a dozen things

-that might make ’em the motive of the murder besides

-being afraid of them.”</p>

-

-<p>After a silence that lasted some time, the other

-turned to Trafford and demanded:</p>

-

-<p>“Did you know Hunter was in this thing when

-you set me to hunting Canucks round Millbank?”</p>

-

-<p>“Certainly,” answered Trafford. “I’ve known<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>198</span>

-it since a half-hour after the attack was made on

-me at the bridge. Why?”</p>

-

-<p>“Thunder! Hunter was one of the men of whom

-I thought it safe to make open enquiries about

-Canucks I was looking for.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s never safe,” Trafford said, “to make enquiries

-of any one, unless you are willing that everybody

-should know, or anxious that one man should.

-In this case, ’twas just as well Hunter should know

-that we were on the track. He’s a man who makes

-his false slips when he’s the most anxious to escape.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>199</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xiii">CHAPTER XIII<br />

-<span>The Priest’s Story</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEY had their dinner that day at Nic’khal’s,

-at the Forks, eating in the shed that later in

-the season becomes the “summer kitchen.” The

-meal was primitive in material and cooking, but the

-sauce was hunger. An elderly priest, weary-looking

-and sad, was their sole companion, and he

-watched them through the meal, with a look that

-Trafford read as expressive of a desire to have talk

-with him. So, after the eating was over, Trafford

-put himself in the way of the clergyman, who quickly

-availed himself of the chance:</p>

-

-<p>“You are from above?” he asked, and Trafford

-assented.</p>

-

-<p>“Did you pass the logging camp at the first

-rapids?”</p>

-

-<p>“I spent the night there,” Trafford answered.</p>

-

-<p>“Was the night disturbed?”</p>

-

-<p>“An attempt was made to arrest a murderer, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>200</span>

-escaped into the woods, but not without a severe

-wound, I think.”</p>

-

-<p>“I have a message for the man who attempted

-to make the arrest.”</p>

-

-<p>“You can deliver it to me,” said Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>“You say the man was a murderer. I have no

-wish to know his name; but I am charged only to

-speak to one man, and I shall know him by a name.

-You can give it me?”</p>

-

-<p>“If it’s my name you want, it’s Trafford. The

-murderer attempted first to rob or murder me in the

-covered bridge at Millbank, before he committed the

-actual murder,” answered the detective.</p>

-

-<p>“I did not doubt before,” the priest answered,

-with something of stateliness; “only when a trust

-is given, one must be certain. The message is that

-the man who was drowned was not murdered. It

-was an accident, in which the one barely escaped

-and was unable to save the other.”</p>

-

-<p>“Even so,” Trafford retorted, “the other might

-have had a chance to escape, if it hadn’t been for a

-broken collar-bone, and for that the man who denies

-the murder was responsible.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>201</span>

-“But it was by mistake he inflicted it,” the priest

-answered.</p>

-

-<p>“By mistake, because he missed the man he intended

-to strike and hit his associate in crime. He

-was in the bridge to rob and probably to murder, and

-if the death of his companion was directly accidental,

-it came through a violation of the law and

-that makes it murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“In the eyes of the law, possibly,” the priest

-said; “but we look to the intent. The man did not

-intend to kill his associate. He died as the result of

-an accident.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you permitted to give me details?” Trafford

-asked, wisely avoiding a discussion that might

-return again and again on itself without actual

-progress.</p>

-

-<p>“A wounded man found me asleep in a hut

-where he sought shelter, guided by the Blessed

-Virgin, I doubt not. I heard his confession. On

-that is the seal of the Church. He begged me to

-find you and give you this message, and what he

-said in that I will strive faithfully to repeat. It is

-all that I can say. He was not in the bridge to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>202</span>

-murder the man at whom he struck, but to seize

-him and take from his person certain papers. He

-struck in the dark in the direction of a noise made,

-as he supposed, by the man. He may have struck

-harder than he intended. At the least, he struck

-his companion and not the man, and with force

-sufficient to break the collar-bone. What they had

-been set to do, they were to do and then return to

-the woods without being seen. He had now the

-fear earned by failure, and the certainty that the

-man, having escaped, would call on the authorities,

-and he and his companion would be betrayed by

-the latter’s wound. He, therefore, persuaded him to

-bear his pain until they could get to a place of

-safety, and not daring to travel the roads, where

-they could be tracked, they struck to the river

-banks above the Falls, and followed these until they

-found a boat into which they got, turning its head

-upstream.</p>

-

-<p>“He had only an old and broken oar with which

-to paddle, but a driver can paddle with a single

-pole, and they easily reached the middle of the

-river. Here he turned at a groan from his companion<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>203</span>

-and failed to see a floating log which struck

-their boat, and, worse still, knocked the oar out of

-his hand. Before he could recover himself, the boat

-was in the rapid current above the Falls, and rushing

-downstream with increasing force. His companion,

-roused at the growing roar of the waters,

-seemed to think that it was with intention that this

-was happening. He begged to be spared, and called

-loudly for help. The other told him what had happened

-and that he was powerless to prevent the boat

-going over the Falls, whereupon the wounded man

-sprang to his feet, with a prayer to the Virgin and

-Saint Anne, and leaped overboard, just as the boat

-touched the white water above the plunge. The

-other ran to the bow, which was shooting straight

-out, and stood there for a second of time until he

-felt it tremble for the dip, at which instant he

-jumped for the deeper water below the Falls, and

-by a miracle escaped the rocks at the very base of

-the plunge. As you know, the water there is very

-deep, so that although he sank, he did not touch

-bottom. He floated through the cañon and succeeded

-in landing just above the railroad bridge.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>204</span>

-He knew there was no use in looking for boat or

-companion, and so crept up the bank around the

-Falls, secured another boat, and finally towards

-morning landed just below the Bombazee Rips. He

-set the boat afloat and plunged into the woods. That

-is all I am permitted to tell you.”</p>

-

-<p>“But it is not all you know,” Trafford said.</p>

-

-<p>“It is all I know. If I heard anything more, I

-heard it under the seal of confession and know

-naught of it.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford pondered on the story for some time,

-without speaking. The habits born of his profession

-held him, warning him to avoid hasty conclusion

-as well for the man as against him. It was

-his business to get the truth, not to find a confirmation

-or refutation of a previously formed opinion.</p>

-

-<p>The priest waited without a sign of impatience.

-At last Trafford raised his head and said:</p>

-

-<p>“I do not think it could have been done.”</p>

-

-<p>“What?” asked the priest.</p>

-

-<p>“The leap from the boat over the falls.”</p>

-

-<p>“I have been told by eye-witnesses that it has

-been done,” declared the priest.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>205</span>

-“I have seen it done,” Trafford said; “but it was

-in broad daylight, when the man could see, and

-determine the exact instant for the leap. The boat

-was a very long one, so that before it dipped, it had

-shot far out; the man was extremely powerful, and

-it was, after all, a mere matter of luck.”</p>

-

-<p>“We do not talk of luck,” the priest said, with

-a touch of sternness in his tone. “We will leave

-that. You admit it possible, because it has been

-done. Your man was extremely strong. This

-man seems to me such also. Your man had daylight

-to show him the tossing of the waters about

-him; the anxious faces peering at him; the vanishing

-shores, and the coming danger. This man had

-all his senses active and single to the work before

-him. The flash of white foam was enough to show

-him, even in the night, where he was. To that his

-sight was turned, for there was nothing to distract

-his full attention. He was leaping for life. Instinct

-would come to his aid. It was possible for

-the man you saw. I believe it was possible for this

-man.”</p>

-

-<p>Suddenly a thought struck Trafford. This priest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>206</span>

-could not reveal the secrets of the confessional; but

-neither could he prevent what he had heard in confession

-affecting his attitude towards this man and

-his story. He looked the priest full in the face and

-asked, solemnly, almost sternly:</p>

-

-<p>“Do you fully and absolutely credit this tale?”</p>

-

-<p>Without a shadow of hesitation or delay, the

-priest answered:</p>

-

-<p>“I do, absolutely and fully. In the story I bring

-you I have not a doubt that you have heard the

-truth, so far as it goes. You know how the death

-of the man you thought murdered actually occurred.”</p>

-

-<p>To Trafford’s mind there was left no ground for

-doubt.</p>

-

-<p>“I accept your story,” he said, “as the story of

-what actually occurred. Where is the man who

-told it to you?”</p>

-

-<p>The priest smiled and raised his hand in a sweep

-of the northern horizon:</p>

-

-<p>“I cannot track the wilderness. If you want

-him, you must ask the woods to give him up.”</p>

-

-<p>“There is a lad in the gang at the first rapids,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>207</span>

-Trafford said, “who came with Victor Vignon

-from Beauce. Victor, who was his cousin, was to

-take him back before the Feast of St. John. He

-relies absolutely on this, and would not believe Victor

-dead. His name is Étienne Vignon and he

-needs comfort and help.”</p>

-

-<p>“I will go to him,” said the priest. “The

-thought is a kind one.”</p>

-

-<p>If the priest dreamed that he was thus finished

-with the detective, it was because he did not know

-the nature of the creature.</p>

-

-<p>“From Beauce I think you said the wounded man

-came,” said Trafford carelessly.</p>

-

-<p>If Trafford thought to surprise the priest, it was

-proof that he too was ignorant.</p>

-

-<p>“I do not recall having said so,” the priest answered.</p>

-

-<p>“But he was, wasn’t he?” demanded Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>“I did not ask him.”</p>

-

-<p>On the matter of the wound the priest talked

-freely. It was painful, but not serious. The small

-bone of the lower right arm was broken, but he had

-set it and was confident it would improve.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>208</span>

-“If the man has been unjustly accused, I hope

-it may prove so,” Trafford said. “He goes directly

-home, of course.”</p>

-

-<p>The priest smiled.</p>

-

-<p>“I did not expect to see him again, so had no occasion

-to know.”</p>

-

-<p>Convinced that the other was absolutely on guard,

-and that even if he knew anything beyond what he

-had told&mdash;of which Trafford felt considerable doubt&mdash;it

-was not to be extracted from him, Trafford

-again commended the lad Étienne to his care, and

-turned to the matter of a conveyance to Carrytunk

-on the road to Millbank. At parting, he said:</p>

-

-<p>“If I accept your assurance as to the innocence of

-this man, it is none the less true that some one employed

-him to rob me, and his companion lost his

-life because of the attempt. He could not have

-told of this without telling who that was.”</p>

-

-<p>The priest smiled, but not in a way that encouraged

-Trafford to hope for information, and the

-event proved him wise not to do so.</p>

-

-<p>“If he told me aught that I have not repeated,”

-the other answered, “it was to obtain God’s pardon,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>209</span>

-not to invoke man’s punishment on any. Its object

-accomplished, the words passed as they came to

-the priest and not to the man.”</p>

-

-<p>So Trafford was forced to let him go, none the

-wiser beyond what the priest chose that he should

-be; but as they hurried towards Millbank, he tried

-hard to look at all sides of the story and at last

-asked his companion:</p>

-

-<p>“What do you think of it?”</p>

-

-<p>“A batch of lies, told to a gossiping priest to be

-peddled out to us again,” was the curt judgment.</p>

-

-<p>Even this Trafford weighed carefully before commenting

-on it.</p>

-

-<p>“You evidently think the fellow a shrewd chap.”</p>

-

-<p>“No; any one can see he’s a stupid lout; just the

-kind of a thing to be used for a dirty job.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yet he had a long enough head to cheat the

-priest.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you think the priest believed him?”</p>

-

-<p>“I haven’t a doubt of it,” said Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford’s judgments had something of the

-weight of oracles with this man, who was able to

-see things but not to form opinions; and this curt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>210</span>

-declaration was to the point and not to be mistaken.

-For the time being, and for present purposes, it

-was to be accepted, and having accepted it, the other

-had nothing to say. But it was not so easy for

-Trafford. He had, perhaps, to convince some budding

-doubt that had not found expression either in

-tone or words.</p>

-

-<p>“To doubt the truth of the fellow’s story, is to

-believe that he reasoned out the chance of the priest

-finding us and then deliberately employed what he

-regards as a sacrament&mdash;that is confession&mdash;to put

-in circulation a concocted story for the purpose of

-deceiving us. I don’t believe he’s that smart; and

-I don’t believe, with his belief in the Church, he’d

-dare do it.”</p>

-

-<p>“We seem to be in the business of acquitting

-everybody,” the other said in a surly tone.</p>

-

-<p>“It’s certainly not our business to convict, but

-to find out the truth,” Trafford answered. “We

-aren’t prosecuting attorneys.”</p>

-

-<p>“But our work lies in pointing out the guilty.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; but unless we do it as much for the sake

-of proving the innocence of the innocent as the guilt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>211</span>

-of the guilty, we only do half the work that we ought

-to do. I’d rather any time clear a man who is unjustly

-charged than prove a man, thought innocent,

-guilty,” answered Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>“Maybe so, but that isn’t the kind of work the

-world gives you most credit for. If you can hang

-a man, it thinks you’ve done something big; but if

-you stop them from hanging a man, they think

-they’ve been cheated.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well, I guess when all’s said and done, it’s

-more a question of what we think about the kind

-of work we’re doing, than what the world thinks of

-it, that counts. When I’m satisfied with myself&mdash;right

-down honestly satisfied&mdash;I find I can let the

-world think what it’s a mind to.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>212</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xiv">CHAPTER XIV<br />

-<span>A Duel</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>RS. MATTHEWSON entered the little parlour,

-where she had met Trafford, for the

-purpose of keeping another appointment&mdash;one that

-she had not wanted to make and which she had not

-yet dared refuse. When she visited her son, she knew

-the name of the man who, under his direction, was

-hunting down Theodore Wing’s mother, but she did

-not know the man. Now she was to meet him face

-to face. She was afraid, and she bore herself with

-the air of a queen about to grant a favour to her

-humblest subject.</p>

-

-<p>Cranston felt her imperiousness in the very air as

-he entered, and rebel as he would, it daunted him

-and took a share of his bravado from him. She

-returned his salutation, but with the evident purpose

-not to aid him in the slightest in the delivery of his

-errand.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>213</span>

-“I regret the necessity,” he said, “of troubling

-you.”</p>

-

-<p>She bowed stiffly, but without other answer. He

-apparently had not struck the line of least resistance.</p>

-

-<p>“I have been employed,” he began, “upon

-the Wing murder case.” Then, at the look in her

-eyes, as if of all things on earth the Wing murder

-case had the least possible interest to her, he added

-desperately: “Among those who employed me were

-your sons.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you should report to them.” These were

-the first words she had spoken and the tone was

-beyond measure forbidding, but they were at the

-least words and a recognition that she was taking

-part in the interview. As such they helped the man

-who, in spite of his experience, was floundering

-woefully.</p>

-

-<p>“I thought it in your interest that I should first

-report to you,” he said.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s nothing in which any one can serve me

-in the Wing murder case,” she said, not sparing

-herself even the word “murder.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>214</span>

-He looked at her as if he would say that that was

-a very proper bluff for her to put up, but that he

-knew the facts and was not to be fooled thereby.</p>

-

-<p>“In doing thoroughly my work,” he floundered

-on; “it has been impossible for me to overlook the

-remarkable paper left by Judge Parlin.”</p>

-

-<p>Even as she caught the full import of his words,

-she had a consciousness of the hopeless bungling of

-this man, in comparison with the other man, Trafford.

-No less surely had Trafford told her that

-he had learned the history of her early life; but he

-had, with a natural instinct, taken from the telling

-every sting that was not ineffaceable. This man

-was so intent upon the telling as not to have a

-thought for her.</p>

-

-<p>She made no acknowledgment, save that frigid

-bend of the head that was less acknowledgment than

-repulsion, and which he felt as disdain. It stung

-him to more brutal speech than he had intended:</p>

-

-<p>“You would have me, perhaps, report my discoveries

-in that connection to your sons.”</p>

-

-<p>If he had expected her to shrink or lose self-control,

-his was the disappointment. She had lived too<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>215</span>

-long with the possibility of meeting thus her past,

-to allow it to come with the shock of the unexpected.

-There had been no hour for forty years

-when these words might not be spoken to her.

-She did not even make the mistake of showing irritation

-in her answer:</p>

-

-<p>“I would know why you have sought this interview,

-that it may be ended. As to the results of your

-employment, they concern your employers, not me.”</p>

-

-<p>“I know who was the mother of Theodore

-Wing.” He spoke somewhat insistently, and not

-without a touch of menace in his voice. He had

-foreseen an easier task. He had a sense of personal

-wrong, in that she was making it so hard for

-him.</p>

-

-<p>“It is her secret,” she said, with just enough

-force to betoken impersonal indignation; “neither

-you nor the world have the right to drag it to the

-surface.”</p>

-

-<p>“I am willing it should remain a secret,” he answered.</p>

-

-<p>“Then you should never have told any one you

-knew it.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>216</span>

-“You are the only one I have told,” he said;

-“and that was necessary.”</p>

-

-<p>Clearly he expected her to ask, “Necessary to

-what?” but she did not make the mistake. She

-remained silent and left him to reknit the broken

-strand of discourse.</p>

-

-<p>“The moment of real danger to her will come,”

-he said, after waiting vainly for her to speak, until

-waiting became a palpable embarrassment; “when

-Wing’s murderer is put on trial.” Then, as with

-a sudden change of his line of attack, he continued:

-“Have you ever thought why your sons employed

-me in this case?”</p>

-

-<p>“No; nor cared,” she said.</p>

-

-<p>He had expected her to deny that she had known.</p>

-

-<p>“Because they know who the murderer is.”</p>

-

-<p>It was a relief to the tension upon her that she

-could show resentment without personal defence.</p>

-

-<p>“Your remark is insulting,” she said. “I do

-not know the object of this visit, but whatever it is,

-that remark must be withdrawn before it can proceed.”</p>

-

-<p>“It is the last remark you should desire withdrawn,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>217</span>

-madam,” he said, with a calm significance

-of utterance; “for it is true.”</p>

-

-<p>She rose to dismiss him&mdash;rose haughtily and uncompromisingly,

-as if she had not the slightest suspicion

-of the drift of his purpose. There was a

-dangerous gleam in her eye; one that should have

-been a warning to the man, telling him to shield

-himself in some way and not carry out the threatened

-purpose. To this woman, that purpose was a

-cause of almost mastering terror, but this the will

-behind it controlled, leaving her seemingly strong

-to master the situation. He was compelled to decide

-quickly, yet with knowledge that anything that

-was tinctured with apology was a weakening of his

-position.</p>

-

-<p>“I am not implying guilt on their part,” he said;

-“nor am I speaking of knowledge that would be

-proof in court, but of that moral knowledge which

-makes one certain in mind, without being able to

-give evidence to justify such certainty. To make

-a public accusation based on such knowledge, would

-be to do the greatest wrong.”</p>

-

-<p>She remained standing, seemingly weighing this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>218</span>

-remark. In reality she was feeling the keen disappointment

-of having lost excuse for terminating

-the interview which she had supposed was hers.</p>

-

-<p>“I am averse,” she said, “to discussing questions

-bearing on this murder. I condemn the

-crime. Beyond that, it has no interest to me.”</p>

-

-<p>She knew that in thus speaking she was weakening

-the position she had taken at first. It was the

-natural sequence of having the ground cut from

-under her by Cranston’s half-apology. The other

-eagerly seized the opening presented:</p>

-

-<p>“Until Mr. Wing’s murderer is discovered and

-punished, nothing and no one in any way connected

-with his past will be spared. I have said that I

-know who is his mother.”</p>

-

-<p>She had resumed her seat and again had herself

-under full control, but with some loss of vantage.</p>

-

-<p>“What one man has discovered,” she said, “any

-other man may discover. The mere fact that it

-can be discovered, is the end of secrecy.”</p>

-

-<p>“There are innumerable things that can be discovered,”

-he said, “compared with the number of

-people who can discover them. There are hundreds<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>219</span>

-who would like to know this one matter, but among

-them not more than one who knows how to find it

-out. If his mouth is closed, the secret is as safe as

-if it did not exist.”</p>

-

-<p>“The mere knowledge that a secret exists is

-revelation,” she answered. “A man who will sell

-himself once, simply waits a higher bidder to sell

-himself again.”</p>

-

-<p>“Possibly, if in concealing the identity of this

-woman, one concealed a fact bearing upon the discovery

-of the murderer. I can assure you that her

-identity has no bearing whatever upon the other

-question.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then why not let it drop into the oblivion from

-which you have dragged it?”</p>

-

-<p>She knew the danger of exchanging question

-and answer with him, but human endurance has its

-limit, and even she could not carry indifference beyond

-the breaking point. Still, she was not unconscious

-of the gleam of satisfaction in his

-face.</p>

-

-<p>“Because,” he said, “this woman has grown

-strong, powerful, and rich. Safety is doubly precious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>220</span>

-to her. There is no reason why she should

-not pay for it.”</p>

-

-<p>“You mean,” she said, and her eyes snapped,

-“blackmail!”</p>

-

-<p>She had not been the active partner for thirty-five

-years of a politician who had climbed from obscurity

-to the control of the State, without knowing

-what this word meant, nor without knowing the

-infinite deeps that yawn for the man or woman who

-shows the first sign of weakness to the blackmailer.</p>

-

-<p>“You are mistaken,” he said. He was on ground

-now that he had gone over in his mind again and

-again, in his preparation for this interview. “The

-essence of blackmail is threat. I make no threat.

-I have not said that I will expose you, if you do not

-pay me. I expressly disclaim any such intention.

-But safety is worth something to you; you are rich

-and have high social position. I offer you protection

-in your riches and position, and, for giving it,

-I ought to have recompense&mdash;simply a fair equivalent

-for what I do. Nothing more; but that much

-is fair; I think you cannot deny its fairness.”</p>

-

-<p>He knew he was sliding off into inanity; that all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>221</span>

-had been said that he purposed saying, and that he

-was simply repeating himself and repeating himself

-weakly. He stopped and waited her answer.</p>

-

-<p>On her part she held herself under restraint, resolved

-not to interrupt him until he had said all he

-had to say. His change from impersonal to personal,

-which he thought she did not notice, simply

-impressed her as unimportant. She felt fully the

-weakness and embarrassment of his final words, and

-even with the stress under which she waited, his

-feeble maudlinism affected her with a sense of pity.</p>

-

-<p>“Have you finished?” she asked, when he spoke

-no further.</p>

-

-<p>“I think there should be no need of saying more,”

-he answered.</p>

-

-<p>She did not even bend in assent to his proposition.

-She simply pointed to the door, and said:</p>

-

-<p>“Then you may go!”</p>

-

-<p>The change in tone and manner startled him,

-trained as he was to surprises. He had foreseen a

-storm and indignation, and was prepared to treat

-that as simulated. This impressed him as genuine&mdash;so

-genuine that he was forced to ask himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>222</span>

-hastily if he could have made any mistake, and this

-notwithstanding he was absolutely certain of all the

-facts.</p>

-

-<p>“But&mdash;&mdash;” he began, hesitatingly.</p>

-

-<p>“Go!” she said, permitting no further utterance,

-now that he had said what he had come to say. A

-passionate joy in her ability to deal harshly with

-him, regardless of the personal risk to herself in so

-doing, seized her. She had not subjected her line

-of action to the scrutiny of judgment. For once

-thoroughly a woman, in that she discarded the

-masculine caution which she had cultivated as a

-habit, she gave head to instinct, which carried her

-past all doubt, all weighing of chances, to the least

-dangerous course that, in her situation, was open to

-her.</p>

-

-<p>Almost an insane fury to send one final shaft that

-should sting in the breast of this woman seized this

-man who, by all of his traditions, should have held

-himself the better together, the farther his plans

-miscarried. Moving toward the door, he cried:</p>

-

-<p>“Shall I report to my employers&mdash;your sons?”</p>

-

-<p>To this she had the single word, “Go!”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>223</span>

-When he was gone, she did not break under the

-relaxation of strain; but rather held herself more

-proudly, as if to do otherwise would be to admit

-to herself, the most important individual concerned,

-the danger in which she stood. Under the calm

-surface, raged a storm of irritable impatience,

-aroused by the thought that time must elapse before

-she could be called upon to face publicly the charges

-this man would make. She wanted to do it, at this

-moment. It seemed as if she must rush forth and

-cry:</p>

-

-<p>“See; here am I&mdash;I, against whom this thing is

-charged! Look on me and feast your eyes on me

-and roll the sweet morsel under your tongue! Of

-course, you believe it; want to believe it; but

-I dare you to say other than that it is a slander!”</p>

-

-<p>If she could have done this, it seemed to her that

-she would have happiness again; but to wait; not

-to know when the blow would fall; to hold herself

-ready to meet it at any instant and to have no power

-to hasten it,&mdash;that was the madness of the situation,

-that the terror it had for her.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>224</span>

-She rose and stood before a long mirror and

-looked at herself; as if to see if this was a different

-manner of woman than she who had stood there the

-day before. To her eyes, looking into the reflected

-depths of the room, her own image was representative

-of the world, and in facing it she seemed to

-taste something of that defiance of public knowledge

-of the scandal for which she so longed.</p>

-

-<p>No thought disturbed her of her future relations

-to her husband or sons. For more than a third of

-a century, the lives of her husband and herself had

-flowed together, each relying on the other, each

-confident in the other. Breakage was not possible

-or to be thought of. He would not even ask her of

-this matter, and while that very fact would lay on

-her the greater weight of responsibility to tell him,

-the necessity did not put her under that fear which

-would have been the greatest burden to an ordinary

-woman. By this she did not mean that he would

-not feel the wound&mdash;feel it cruelly; but they had

-passed the crown of the road, their way lay downward,

-and she had no more doubt of him than she

-would have had of herself, if to him and not to her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>225</span>

-the parentage of Theodore Wing were brought

-home.</p>

-

-<p>Her bulwark with the public would be the loyalty

-of her husband and sons, and if it smacked of selfishness

-and unfeeling to rely on them and not give a

-fair portion of thought to the suffering which would

-be hidden by their calm exterior, it must be remembered

-that during the entire period of her wife- and

-mother-hood she had lived with this thing, which had

-grown dimmer and dimmer as the years receded,

-until it had come to have for her, and it seemed to

-her necessarily for these others, a different aspect

-than it would have borne in the days before she had

-given to husband and children the pledge of her

-long devotion.</p>

-

-<p>Before these years she would have reasoned of

-her husband’s attitude toward such a tale from the

-sense of outrage, not tempered by long possession

-and intimate association. No, she had no fear

-there, save of the inward sense of humiliation under

-which she had gone to her son’s office, and for

-fighting which she now faced her own reflection,

-as representative of the world of public opinion.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>226</span>

-She had become accustomed to make demands of the

-world, not requests, and the world had yielded. It

-should do so still. This thing had not destroyed the

-years of loyalty and work that buttressed her present

-position. It should not do so. She stood there

-to make her defiance, and the world should heed.

-But oh, the waiting! The waiting! That was the

-cruelty of the situation.</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>227</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xv">CHAPTER XV<br />

-<span>In Matthewson’s Chambers</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">C</span>HARLES MATTHEWSON read with impatience

-the name on the card just brought him&mdash;Isaac

-Trafford. It was a breach of the understanding

-between them, that this man should trouble

-him further. He was on the point of refusing to see

-him, when he recalled Trafford’s possession of the

-papers taken from Theodore Wing’s desk after his

-murder. This he had not known at the time of

-their previous interview. It was possible that

-here was the opening of negotiations for their sale.

-He ordered him admitted. Still he could not avoid

-resenting the intrusion.</p>

-

-<p>“I understood you were not to trouble me further.”</p>

-

-<p>“Until I became satisfied that your visit to Millbank

-had something to do with Wing’s murder,”

-the detective answered.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>228</span>

-“Then I may take this visit as evidence that you

-are satisfied that it had to do with the murder!”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“Why don’t you arrest me then?”</p>

-

-<p>“Because I am satisfied you did not murder him,

-but can tell me who did,” Trafford answered.</p>

-

-<p>“A sort of accessory after the fact?” Matthewson

-demanded.</p>

-

-<p>“No,” said Trafford. “I’m inclined to think

-you never suspected that you knew anything about

-it or that you could tell me. At the same time, I’m

-almost certain you saw the murderer and talked

-with him that night.”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson started at this statement of the matter.

-He had not the nerve of either his mother or

-brother, and his power of concealing his emotions

-was greatly less than that of either. However, he

-quickly recovered himself.</p>

-

-<p>“I refuse to be put in the position of laying

-accusations. I’ve no objection to aid in convicting

-a criminal, but I don’t purpose holding one end of

-a drag-net, for the mere sake of catching some one

-who may or may not be guilty.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>229</span>

-Trafford did not deem it best to answer this

-directly, but instead went on, as if nothing had been

-said of objection:</p>

-

-<p>“You saw Charles Hunter and his brother Frank&mdash;but

-were they all?”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson drummed on his desk and looked out

-of the window. What was there, he asked himself,

-that was drawing him into this tragedy, of which he

-really knew nothing? Did this man know also what

-Cranston had discovered? Was there, after all, to

-grow out of this murder, of which he knew nothing,

-a scandal that was to overwhelm his family, and

-finally destroy the great influence they exercised in

-the State?</p>

-

-<p>While he asked these questions of himself Trafford

-waited, the model of patience. If he had anything

-to disturb his mind, he did not show it. Evidently,

-Matthewson could take his time and be sure

-that the other would be there to receive his answer,

-when he was ready to give it. Finally Matthewson

-turned to the detective and said:</p>

-

-<p>“I was in Millbank on my own private business.

-I saw the men whom that business concerned and no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>230</span>

-others. The men whom I saw are one and all as incapable

-of committing this murder as I am. I must

-decline to subject any of them to the annoyance I

-am now subjected to.”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know whether you are incapable of committing

-murder or not. I shouldn’t want to affirm

-it of any one&mdash;not even myself. I am convinced

-that you saw and talked with Wing’s murderer that

-night. I must know the name of every man you

-saw while in Millbank, and if I can’t find it out in

-one way, I will in another.”</p>

-

-<p>“It pleases you to threaten,” Matthewson said,

-not wholly unconscious of an uneasy feeling.</p>

-

-<p>“Not to threaten, but simply to show you that I

-am in earnest,” Trafford assured him. “Still, I

-may appeal to you on another ground. I have

-named two men whom you saw. If I am to suppose

-they were the only ones, then I must regard

-one or the other as the real murderer, and this because

-you persist in concealing from me the name

-of the man who may be guilty. Have you a right

-to do this?”</p>

-

-<p>“As much right,” retorted Matthewson hotly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>231</span>

-“as you have to throw suspicion on these gentlemen,

-simply because of the coincidence of my meeting

-them during a hasty visit to Millbank on the

-night that Wing was murdered. It would be just

-as reasonable to suspect me of the murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“It is possible that I do,” said Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>“Come,” exclaimed Matthewson, “this is going

-a trifle far. It’s not five minutes since you said you

-were satisfied I did not murder him.”</p>

-

-<p>“But that was before you refused to tell me whom

-you met.”</p>

-

-<p>Just at that moment a loud voice was heard in

-the outer room, demanding to see Mr. Matthewson.

-He rose and turned the key in the door, notwithstanding

-a movement on Trafford’s part to stop

-him. As he turned to his desk, Trafford

-asked:</p>

-

-<p>“Do you recognise the voice?”</p>

-

-<p>“No,” said the other, shortly and indignantly;

-“but I propose to finish this matter here and now,

-so that there will be no need to reopen it.”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s Cranston, the detective whom you, your

-brother, and Charles Hunter have hired,” said Trafford.

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>232</span>

-“I advise you to see him, and let me be in a

-cupboard or behind a screen while he is here.”</p>

-

-<p>“Superb!” said Matthewson, with a vicious

-sneer. “You’ll know all he’s found out&mdash;steal his

-thunder! Excellent!”</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Matthewson,” Trafford said, with a touch

-of dignity in his voice that his companion could but

-note, “I would be justified in resenting such a remark,

-and you are not justified in making it. Cranston

-has discovered nothing that I haven’t known

-for weeks; but he’s been in Bangor, and I know

-what he could find out there. You sent him there

-and made a cruel mistake when you did it. I would

-have stopped it, if I could. He’s here now to tell

-you and, if I mistake not, to demand a price for his

-silence. If I’m wrong, no harm can come from my

-hearing. If I’m right, you’re the man who

-<a id="wants"></a><ins title="Original has 'want'">wants</ins>

-me to hear; it’ll be the best protection you can have

-in the future.”</p>

-

-<p>At the mention of Bangor, Matthewson turned

-pale and then flushed. That it was made with the

-purpose of informing him that the detective knew

-the secret of his mother’s early life, he could not

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>233</span>

-doubt. There was but one thing that he ought to

-do, and that was to pitch the man out of his room.

-He would have done it, but for the man on the

-other side of the door, to whose presence he was recalled

-by the turning of the door-knob. In which

-of these men did he place the greater trust? He

-had only to ask the question to let it answer itself.

-But this new menace? He would know it at its

-worst. That was beyond question.</p>

-

-<p>“Pass through this door, into the next room,” he

-said. “There you will find the door of a closet,

-which has a second door opening into this alcove.

-After he has entered and looked into that alcove, as

-he may, come out of the closet and&mdash;listen.”</p>

-

-<p>Cranston, on entering, did exactly what Matthewson

-had predicted; he examined the alcove before

-taking the chair to which Matthewson pointed

-him.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s no one in there,” Matthewson said.</p>

-

-<p>“I can’t take any chances,” said the other insolently.

-“What I’ve got to say wants to be between

-us two&mdash;you’ll want it to be when you hear

-it.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>234</span>

-Matthewson flushed and an angry retort leaped

-to his lips. This, however, he suppressed and made

-necessity to ask the cause of the visit.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve come to report,” said Cranston. Then, as

-the other waited, he added:</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve been at work in Bangor.” Then, after another

-pause: “I’ve learned things in Bangor that

-you ought to know.”</p>

-

-<p>“It relates to the murder?”</p>

-

-<p>“No, not directly. It relates to Theodore Wing’s

-mother.” He said it defiantly; as if he was throwing

-down the gage of battle.</p>

-

-<p>It required a mighty effort on Matthewson’s part

-to control himself, and yet he knew that to fail

-meant that this terrible thing, which as yet remained

-unspoken, would be uttered in words and that he

-must hear it.</p>

-

-<p>“I have become satisfied,” he said slowly and

-with an effort to control himself and appear dispassionate,

-“that the identity of Wing’s mother has no

-bearing on the murder or on the discovery of the

-murderer. You will, therefore, drop that part of

-the investigation and confine yourself to the other<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>235</span>

-features. In this all who were concerned in employing

-you are agreed.”</p>

-

-<p>“How long since?” the man demanded insolently.</p>

-

-<p>“That is of no consequence,” Matthewson said.

-“You are now informed of the fact, so that your

-new instructions date from this moment.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s too late for you to accomplish anything by

-that dodge,” he said. “I’ve found out who Wing’s

-mother is. The story’s worth money. I’ll give

-you the first chance to buy. Do you want

-it?”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson trembled, as he realised the full

-significance of this demand. More than his mother

-possibly could, he knew how such a story would be

-received; how impossible it would be, once set afloat,

-to stop it or overcome it. Still, he put on a bold

-front.</p>

-

-<p>“Whatever you may have learned, it was while

-you were under our pay. The information belongs

-to us and you can’t afford to make it a matter of

-barter.”</p>

-

-<p>“What I’ve found out,” Cranston returned defiantly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>236</span>

-“is worth so much that I can afford to

-take some risks. If you want it, you can have it

-for a price. If not, the highest bidder gets it, and

-in a State where ex-Governor Matthewson’s got as

-many enemies as he’s got in Maine, there won’t be

-any trouble about finding buyers.”</p>

-

-<p>“There’s no need to drag in my father’s name,”

-Matthewson replied.</p>

-

-<p>“How do you know there ain’t?” the other demanded.

-“Maybe you’ll be surprised at the names

-that are dragged in before we’re through.”</p>

-

-<p>It was Matthewson’s impulse to throw the man

-out of doors, without regard to consequences; but

-before him came a face that had watched him lovingly

-and tenderly from his earliest memory&mdash;a face

-that he had seen only a few days before pleading to

-him, as he had never dreamed a woman’s face could

-plead. His hands clutched nervously; but for the

-sake of that face and that love, he held himself in

-restraint.</p>

-

-<p>“Well, to end this matter,” he said, “what do

-you want for this precious information?”</p>

-

-<p>“Hadn’t you better know first what it is?” demanded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>237</span>

-the other. “Oh,” he said, as he saw on

-Matthewson’s face what he regarded as a protest;

-“it won’t spoil the goods to show ’em. I’d just as

-lief tell you before as after. It’s silence I’m selling;

-not facts.”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t need you to repeat your talk; and what’s

-more, it won’t be safe for you to,” Matthewson

-said. “I know perfectly well what it would be;

-but I warn you not to dare speak it.”</p>

-

-<p>The man in the alcove almost betrayed himself

-as he heard this astounding acknowledgment.

-After all, had he mistaken what he had seen, and

-was this the real secret he had been trying to unravel?

-Cranston was speaking again:</p>

-

-<p>“Threatened men live long. You’ll get just as

-much for as little money, if you keep a civil tongue.

-I’ve got silence to sell; but I’m just blamed fool

-enough, if you get me mad, to refuse to sell at any

-price.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then your proposition is that if I pay you your

-price, you’ll keep silence regarding your discovery

-as to Theodore Wing’s mother; and that if I do not,

-you’ll sell your information to any one who will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>238</span>

-pay you for it, regardless of the injury it may do me

-or any one connected with me?”</p>

-

-<p>“That’s about it, in plain English.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s it, isn’t it?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes, it’s it.”</p>

-

-<p>“And you think that this information, if made

-public, would do me and those connected with me

-harm.”</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t know what you call harm, if it wouldn’t.

-’Twould be the end of the Matthewson family,

-socially and politically. They’d have to find

-another boss for Maine after this thing got

-out.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s just as well,” said the lawyer, “to keep

-within bounds in your remarks; they’re as likely to

-accomplish your purpose.”</p>

-

-<p>But Cranston was smarting under his previous

-failure. He had tried to deal squarely with Mrs.

-Matthewson and had met refusal and insult. There

-was the possibility that, had he adopted a higher

-tone, he would have succeeded. He was resolved

-not to fail from the same cause this time.</p>

-

-<p>“I’m answering questions,” he said, “and I’ll answer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>239</span>

-’em in my own way. If you don’t like it, you

-don’t need to.”</p>

-

-<p>It required a terrible effort on Matthewson’s part

-to prevent his openly resenting this insolence, and

-he was conscious of a distinctive loss of self-respect

-that he did not at once pitch the fellow out of the

-room.</p>

-

-<p>“Let’s get through with this thing and be done

-with it,” he said. “How much will your silence

-cost me?”</p>

-

-<p>“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” answered Cranston.</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Matthewson was startled at the figure.</p>

-

-<p>“Why, man, you’re crazy!” he exclaimed.</p>

-

-<p>“I know it,” said Cranston. “I ought to have

-a hundred, but I ain’t going to be hard. I’ve set my

-price at twenty-five.”</p>

-

-<p>“And you’ll take five,” retorted Matthewson.</p>

-

-<p>“I wouldn’t take twenty-four thousand, nine

-hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine

-cents,” answered Cranston. “I’ve fixed my price,

-and it’s that or nothing.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>240</span>

-“I guess that’s right,” sneered Matthewson.

-“And how do you want this easy money?”</p>

-

-<p>“In good, crisp bank-notes that one can feel; and

-before I leave this room.”</p>

-

-<p>“Of course you’ll give a receipt when it’s paid

-over, setting out the terms of the bargain?”</p>

-

-<p>“Of course, I won’t!” retorted Cranston.

-“You’ll have to trust to my honour; that’ll be your

-protection.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then the bargain is, if I give you twenty-five

-thousand dollars, you’ll keep this story quiet. If I

-don’t, you’ll use it to my injury&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“To your ruin,” interrupted Cranston. “I’ll

-drive you and your family out of the State; I’ll

-destroy every shred of your influence, and I’ll do it

-with this story!”</p>

-

-<p>“There are no other terms; no other means by

-which I can stop you?”</p>

-

-<p>“You bet there isn’t; and if this gabble goes on

-much longer, I’ll double my price.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then we’ll stop it right here. I buy safety for

-twenty-five thousand dollars, and here’s five dollars

-to bind the bargain. I’m to send out and get the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>241</span>

-rest and pay to you before you leave. Are those

-the terms?”</p>

-

-<p>“Those are the terms, if you get the money quick

-enough.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then you can get out of this office, you skulking,

-blackmailing scoundrel, or I’ll throw you out of

-the window. Go, and don’t be slow about it, for my

-fingers are itching to get hold of you. I’m through

-with you!”</p>

-

-<p>For an instant, Cranston was dumbfounded by

-the sudden revulsion of position. He had believed

-the money practically in his grasp, and instead he

-encountered this dismissal of contempt and abuse.

-But his surprise was only for an instant. Then a

-flood of senseless anger, verging on madness, seized

-him. He had but one impulse and that was to punish

-the man who had led him on, only to throw him

-down. There was a flash of a pistol in his hand as

-he said:</p>

-

-<p>“But I’m not through with you, by God!”</p>

-

-<p>“You don’t need that to send you to State’s

-prison,” said a voice behind him, as a hand, seemingly

-of steel, grasped his and wrenched away the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>242</span>

-pistol. He turned and saw Trafford standing behind

-him.</p>

-

-<p>“By God, this is a dirty, contemptible trick,

-Trafford,” he gasped.</p>

-

-<p>“I guess that’s so, too,” Trafford answered,

-coolly, as he drew the charges from the revolver, before

-handing it back to Cranston; “but unfortunately

-there are some situations in life that can’t be

-reached by anything else, and this seems to be one

-of ’em.”</p>

-

-<p>“Now will you go?” demanded Matthewson,

-“while I’ve a notion to let you?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll go,” the man muttered; “but you aren’t

-through with me yet!”</p>

-

-<p>“When you feel a particular desire for free quarters

-at Thomaston, just meddle with my affairs

-again,” retorted Matthewson. “Until you do feel

-that way, you’d better let them alone.”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>243</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xvi">CHAPTER XVI<br />

-<span>The Range 16 Scandal</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>I</span> GUESS I didn’t make any mistake in staying,”

-said Trafford, more to break the embarrassing

-silence which followed Cranston’s withdrawal, than

-with any definite purpose.</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson glanced up with the air of a man

-who had half lost consciousness of surrounding circumstances

-in a line of painful thought.</p>

-

-<p>“I am under deep obligation to you,” he said

-slowly; and then, apparently tracking back to his

-thoughts before Trafford spoke, he added, as it

-seemed, irrelevantly:</p>

-

-<p>“You said he could tell nothing you did not already

-know.”</p>

-

-<p>The pain which manifested itself in his face

-would have shown a far less keen man what the

-speaker had in mind, yet was not willing more

-directly to name.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>244</span>

-“He has not,” said Trafford quietly. “All that

-he hinted at I’ve known for weeks.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you know it when you saw me before?”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford nodded.</p>

-

-<p>“Why did you conceal it?”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s not concealment not to talk of a thing.

-There was no call to talk of it so long as it had nothing

-to do with the murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“But are you certain,” the words came hard and

-with a painful ring, “that it did have nothing to do

-with the murder?”</p>

-

-<p>The question showed Trafford how far pain and

-numbing anguish had carried the man who, loyal

-even to the death of honour to the mother who bore

-him, on that very account was the deeper sufferer.</p>

-

-<p>“Absolutely!” Trafford threw into the word an

-intense depth of conviction. “On that point you

-may exclude every doubt.”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson gave him a look of intense relief.

-He was reasonably certain as to Cranston; but if

-there was a chain of circumstances, as there well

-might be, between this story and the recent murder,

-what was to save them?</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>245</span>

-“I owe you more than I can say,” he went on.

-“I won’t waste my gratitude in words. The only

-thing I can do now, that I see, is to answer your

-question of a half-hour ago. You’re entitled to that.”</p>

-

-<p>He wrote some names on a slip of paper and

-passed it over to Trafford. He watched him as he

-read, to detect, if possible, any movement of surprise,

-for this question of the murder, from a matter

-of comparative indifference, save as it touched

-the possession of certain papers, was growing into

-a vital thing, that seemed to meet him at every turn,

-filling him with alarm for the moment when it should

-uncover in all its hideous nakedness. But there was

-nothing to indicate that he had told anything which

-the other did not know already, until Trafford himself

-spoke. Then, even, the tone was most commonplace:</p>

-

-<p>“You have saved me the time and trouble it

-would have taken to complete the list.” He evidently

-had no question of his ability to do so. “I

-hope you’ll add to the obligation by answering one

-or two questions. Did you meet these men separately

-or together?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>246</span>

-“I met the first two separately and the other

-alone.”</p>

-

-<p>“And discussed with the two the papers which

-were in Wing’s possession.” While pursuing the

-matter in apparently the most commonplace way,

-Trafford did not fail to note the quick air of sudden

-interest on Matthewson’s part which followed this

-reference to the mysterious papers. It was not a look

-that betokened fear, but rather eagerness, if the detective

-could read aright. He went on:</p>

-

-<p>“Was it on the same matter you saw the third

-man?”</p>

-

-<p>“Certainly,” answered Matthewson, as if eager

-now to give the information he had before withheld.

-“There was only one thing that took me to

-Millbank, and that was the papers.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you see him before or after you saw the

-others?”</p>

-

-<p>“Before and after, both.”</p>

-

-<p>“Did they know you had seen him or were to see

-him?”</p>

-

-<p>“No. Rightly or wrongly, I suspected cross-purposes

-between them and was after a second<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>247</span>

-string to my bow. They thought I took an earlier

-train, but I met him by arrangement. I’d sent him

-to see Wing and met him to get the report.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then he was with Wing during the evening?”</p>

-

-<p>“Did you not know it?” demanded Matthewson,

-turning cross-examiner.</p>

-

-<p>“A question does not always imply ignorance,”

-said Trafford, smiling, “but sometimes the bolstering

-up of knowledge not yet in the form we want

-it. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I knew Wing

-had a visitor that evening. This man was with him

-till late?”</p>

-

-<p>“He left him at eleven o’clock and met me. I

-parted with him in the shadow of

-<a id="Pettingill"></a><ins title="Original has 'Pettengill’s'">Pettingill’s</ins>

-potato storehouse, when I ran to jump on the train.”</p>

-

-<p>“You sent him to try to get those papers from

-Wing, and he failed.”</p>

-

-<p>“Miserably failed. It was a desperate chance I

-took, of course; but I could do no less than take it.

-In fact it was a desperate thing to use this man, but

-it was my last hope, and I had no choice.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yet he’s square&mdash;if I’m rightly informed. No

-danger from him.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>248</span>

-“I don’t mean that. I mean he’s not the kind of

-man to use in such a thing. He’s what you might

-call too high-toned&mdash;not given to that kind of

-work&mdash;that is, in a successful way. He wouldn’t

-take chances that another man might. I guess you

-know better than I can tell you what I mean.”</p>

-

-<p>“I know. I understand the type of man. He

-gave you no hope of securing the papers?”</p>

-

-<p>“None whatever. Wing positively refused every

-suggestion in regard to them, and left the impression

-on his mind that further attempt was useless.

-While I felt that another man might have done better,

-I was certain that his effort had uncovered

-Wing’s exact position; that Wing was determined

-to hold on to the papers and use them. He was convinced

-of the same thing.”</p>

-

-<p>“Still you urged him to make another effort.”</p>

-

-<p>“No. I was so convinced that it didn’t seem

-worth while&mdash;at least along those lines. While we

-were talking, I heard the warning bell and we hurried,

-turning off Somerset Street between Neil’s

-store and the post-office. As I left him, I remember

-saying that I’d give the man who would put<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>249</span>

-those papers in my hands a hundred thousand dollars.”</p>

-

-<p>“A hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Trafford,

-for once at least showing his surprise.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” answered Matthewson, a strange hopefulness

-coming into his eyes; “I’ll give you that sum

-for the papers this minute.”</p>

-

-<p>“I wish I had ’em,” said Trafford, in a tone half

-regretful and half as if he was groping in his memory

-for something that bore on the matter.</p>

-

-<p>“Why, haven’t you got them?” demanded Matthewson,

-between incredulity and fear.</p>

-

-<p>“I!” exclaimed Trafford. “I got them! I’ve

-never even seen them. The man who fired the shot

-that killed Wing has got those papers. Find him,

-and you’re on the track of the papers.”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson grew pale with revulsion of feeling.

-That Trafford had the papers, he had had no question.

-He believed that all this had been merely

-leading up to an offer and he had shaped his course,

-as he thought, shrewdly, to the naming of a sum

-which would make the man eager to deal. Instead,

-he was told in a tone that carried conviction,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>250</span>

-that not only had Trafford not got the papers, but

-that they were in the possession of an unknown man

-for whom the law was hunting. If he was found,

-the papers would pass into the possession of the

-State and the public!</p>

-

-<p>“In other words, we don’t know where they

-are?”</p>

-

-<p>“We do know,” answered Trafford, with the

-solemnity of a man who feels that he is approaching

-accomplished purpose, “that these papers were

-the cause of Wing’s death. Tell me the man who

-was most concerned in getting possession of these

-papers and I’ll give Wing’s murderer to the

-hangman&mdash;or would, if you hadn’t abolished the

-hangman in Maine.”</p>

-

-<p>Never had the case stood so naked before Matthewson

-as these words stripped it. For the murder

-itself he had felt comparative indifference, his interest

-in the papers overtopping all else. Since he

-was aware that the murdered man was his half-brother,

-he had been conscious of an approach to a

-feeling of relief that he was dead. Now, for the

-first time, he saw, as by lightning’s flash, the strife<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>251</span>

-for the papers and the murder as cause and effect.

-The one danger grew into another, and each

-took fearfulness from the other. No effort of the

-will could quite quiet the nervous tremor which

-the realisation of this fact brought. His face was

-drawn with pain as he answered:</p>

-

-<p>“There can be no man more concerned than I

-to get these papers.”</p>

-

-<p>“Fortunately I know you were on the train when

-the shot was fired.”</p>

-

-<p>The answer implied that but for this Trafford

-would suspect him, and Matthewson so understood

-it; but his anxiety was too great for him even to

-resent the implication. His brother was no less interested

-than himself in the papers. He must warn

-him, warn him instantly. This man was pitiless

-when a task was set before him; Henry must not let

-himself be drawn into a trap.</p>

-

-<p>“We have supposed,” Matthewson said, as much

-to ease the situation, as from any particular bearing

-of the remark on the matter under discussion, “that

-you had taken the papers under cover of taking the

-blotter from the desk.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>252</span>

-“I know,” nodded Trafford. “That was the reason

-you had me attacked in the bridge at Millbank.

-I would have been robbed of the papers&mdash;thrown

-into the river, perhaps. For the moment, I assumed

-that it was the same men who committed the murder.

-I saw my mistake, however, very quickly.”</p>

-

-<p>He added the last words, as it were, as an apology

-for the mistake itself. As a matter of fact, Matthewson

-had known nothing of the assault until

-some days after it took place, but he scorned a denial

-that must seem like an effort to escape responsibility,

-and so said nothing to disabuse the other’s mind of

-the belief that he had helped plan the assault.</p>

-

-<p>“The most serious aspect of that affair,” Trafford

-continued, “was the death of the Canuck&mdash;Victor

-Vignon.”</p>

-

-<p>But Matthewson was not in a mood to feel keenly

-the death of a mere logger, whom he had never

-seen and whose importance, in comparison with the

-good name and continued power of the Matthewson

-family, was as nothing. He did not care even

-to assume an interest for the sake of appearance.

-He was thinking, thinking fast, and only half hearing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>253</span>

-what Trafford was saying. Suddenly his attention

-was again aroused.</p>

-

-<p>“What is the nature of these papers?” the other

-was asking. “With knowledge of that, I could

-narrow the circle of interest, so that I would have

-to deal with only a few men.”</p>

-

-<p>“It can’t be the men who are interested in the

-papers by reason of their contents who did the murder,”

-said Matthewson, speaking rapidly. “I know

-them and can answer for every one of them&mdash;that

-is, so far as they knew of the existence of the

-papers. It is some one who regards them from the

-point of their saleability. It’s their money value.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford had seen this possibility already, but it

-did not satisfy him. He felt that he could form a

-sounder judgment than this man, but to do it he

-must have the facts and this man must give them

-to him.</p>

-

-<p>“If you are correct,” he said, “you must see that

-you narrow the line of enquiry to three men. I must

-know what the papers were to determine which of

-these three is the man. I have asked you before,

-what is the nature of the papers?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>254</span>

-“Do not think me ungrateful, if I decline to answer.

-I would trust you with everything, but the

-secret belongs to others no less than myself.”</p>

-

-<p>“Mr. Matthewson,” said Trafford seriously, “it

-is not pleasant to have to play hide and seek with

-you. I’ve had to remind you once before that the

-inquest is public. If I have this question asked

-there, you’ll have to answer or&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“Go to jail,” Matthewson said, completing the

-sentence. “I know. I’ve thought of that. I

-shouldn’t answer.”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson drummed on the table and looked at

-his companion. Even his political power could not

-shield him from the consequence of a refusal to answer

-a question put to him at the inquest on such a

-murder as this. Surely the cause must be a serious

-one that induced him even to think of such an act.

-Trafford took up another line:</p>

-

-<p>“Have you thought that if you were summoned

-and refused to testify, it would be necessary for the

-government to supply as best it could the want of

-your testimony. Have you thought that in doing

-so, it could not be dainty as to means, and that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>255</span>

-would not be impossible in such an event that it

-might stumble on the story that Cranston tried to

-sell you to-day?”</p>

-

-<p>“In other words, you would become the pedlar

-of scandal,” sneered Matthewson.</p>

-

-<p>“In other words, that justice might not fail, I’d

-get at the facts, even if they involved my own&mdash;brother.

-Don’t you see, Mr. Matthewson, I’m giving

-you a chance? If, with a knowledge of all the

-facts, I can bring this crime home to the murderer

-without bringing you into it, I’ll do so. If I can’t,

-I simply know in advance what all the world is

-bound to know finally. You’ve your chance. You

-can take it or leave it.”</p>

-

-<p>“You’re pressing your advantage. I’m to tell, or

-you’ll find out. Let me suggest you’ve been on the

-case some time and the sum of your finding is not

-large.”</p>

-

-<p>“So large, Mr. Matthewson, that I can make my

-arrest within twenty-four hours and, I’m certain,

-convict my man.”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson started. There was no mistaking

-the tone. Still he would not yield.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>256</span>

-“In that event, you don’t need my answer.”</p>

-

-<p>“I must have your answer to shape my proof.

-You’ll give it to me here or on the witness stand.

-I’ll leave it to you to decide which.”</p>

-

-<p>Matthewson faced him like a man at bay; then,

-as he saw his unflinching purpose, he yielded and

-answered:</p>

-

-<p>“The papers purport to impugn titles to a million

-dollars’ worth of land and two millions’ worth of

-stumpage. They impugn too the honour of the

-men who hold those titles.”</p>

-

-<p>It was Trafford’s turn for surprise. The words

-took him back to the great scandal of the Public

-Lands Office, before and while Matthewson was

-Governor&mdash;the one storm that it had seemed for a

-time even his political resources could not weather.

-Then came the sudden collapse of the attack and the

-disappearance of documents that were relied on to

-support it. He recalled that Judge Parlin had been

-retained to prosecute the case, and that it was said

-that papers had been stolen from his office which it

-had never been possible to replace.</p>

-

-<p>“You mean,” he said, “the Range 16 scandal.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>257</span>

-“I believe it was so called,” said Matthewson

-doggedly.</p>

-

-<p>“But it was said these papers had been stolen; it

-was supposed they had been destroyed. How came

-they in Wing’s hands?”</p>

-

-<p>“It is said they were stolen; but if so, not all.

-Parlin never was able to fill the place of those that

-were taken; but this man Wing, with devilish ingenuity

-and persistence, had worked and dug and

-pieced together until&mdash;well, until he had got enough

-to make us uneasy.”</p>

-

-<p>“And so you tried the old game a second time?”</p>

-

-<p>“We tried to get them out of his hands. The

-main thing we hope now is that as the price paid

-for them this time was murder, the man who got

-them has destroyed them, for fear their possession

-would betray him.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford was silent for a few minutes, and then

-said:</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t hope. They’re not destroyed. The man

-who committed murder to get them, will not part

-with its price so easily. The man who holds

-papers that would ruin Governor Matthewson, his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>258</span>

-sons, Charles and Frank Hunter, and the Lord

-knows who else, knows that those papers would be

-his surest means of escape, if his identity was discovered.

-Those papers are in existence;” and he

-added to himself, “if I can’t convict without

-them, I won’t get out of the next assault so easy.”</p>

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>259</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xvii">CHAPTER XVII<br />

-<span>The Story of the Papers</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD went back to Millbank more seriously

-alarmed than at any time in his whole

-professional career. Matthewson would unquestionably

-inform the others that he had not the

-papers; and as certainly warn them he was after

-them, with the determination to secure them. It

-was well within reason that they would regard it as

-safer that they remained in the hands of a murderer

-whom they protected, than that they should fall into

-those of a detective, who would use them to convict

-and thus make them public. He felt that he must

-act promptly and energetically and bring to his aid

-every influence possible.</p>

-

-<p>Now, however, there was another matter tugging

-at him. Few men in Maine ever attained to the possession

-of a hundred thousand dollars. The income

-on such a sum would equal his average yearly earnings.

-He believed that if he could put his hands on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>260</span>

-the papers, they would yield him that sum or more.

-If he was in danger, he had but to let it be known

-in a certain quarter that on obtaining these papers,

-he would deliver them intact, and the danger disappeared.

-He was satisfied that the man who made

-public the facts relating to Range 16 scandal would

-never live to see the result. He was satisfied that if

-the papers were once located in any person’s possession,

-there would now be no further time wasted

-in negotiation, as there had been with Wing; but

-that effective steps would be taken to prevent their

-publicity.</p>

-

-<p>On arriving at Millbank, Trafford waited only to

-receive the report of his assistant, who had been

-left on guard, and then went at once to the Parlin

-homestead. He found Mrs. Parlin showing marks

-of the strain upon her of the last few weeks. Life

-had brought her many sorrows, and Wing’s tragic

-death had seemingly broken the last tie of joy.

-Trafford’s feverish impatience, rather than the

-trained restraint of his profession, spoke in the haste

-he showed to get at real issues.</p>

-

-<p>“Mrs. Parlin,” he began, as soon as formal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>261</span>

-greetings were over, “what can you tell me of the

-Range 16 affair and the papers relating thereto?”</p>

-

-<p>To his surprise Mrs. Parlin grew suddenly white

-and seemed on the point of fainting. He turned

-to her assistance, but by a strong effort she recovered

-a part of her usual self-possession, though the

-colour did not come back to her cheeks.</p>

-

-<p>“Nothing,” she said. “It is a matter on which

-I can’t talk. You must not; you shall not torture

-me with it.”</p>

-

-<p>“I would not willingly distress you in any way,

-Mrs. Parlin,” he said, with less abruptness; “but

-it is my duty to insist and I think it your duty to

-comply. Our whole search for Mr. Wing’s murderer

-may turn upon your answer.”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, has that come up to curse us again! has that

-come up!” she cried, wringing her hands. “I can’t

-bear it; I can’t bear it!”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford was astounded at her growing agitation,

-and was half disposed to forego further questions,

-at least for the time; but behind him was the impulsion

-of his dread of, he scarcely knew what,

-driving him on to reckless impatience.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>262</span>

-“It has come up and we can’t rid ourselves of it.

-Those papers were the cause of Mr. Wing’s death.”</p>

-

-<p>“Those papers!” she repeated, with open lips,

-which scarcely moved as she spoke. “Those

-papers! But I hid them; no one knew where they

-were. Theodore did not even know of their existence.”</p>

-

-<p>“You hid them!” exclaimed Trafford, thunderstruck

-at the statement. “They were stolen, I

-understand. How could you hide them?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” she said, like a bewildered child, admitting

-a fault; “they were stolen. I stole them.”</p>

-

-<p>It was Trafford’s turn to sit dazed beyond the

-power of clear thought. She had stolen the papers

-to which her husband had given long months of

-work and thought, and on which he had hoped to

-build a reputation that should overpass the bounds

-of the State and outlive his years. She was the

-thief; and if report said truly, that theft had hastened

-his death and added bitterness to his last days!</p>

-

-<p>“You can’t mean this, Mrs. Parlin,” he said

-gently. “I refer to the papers that were stolen from

-your husband’s desk some five years before he died;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>263</span>

-the papers that related to the Public Lands Office

-and the timber land and stumpage in Range 16; the

-papers that involved some men very high in the

-State and in the party&mdash;I won’t name them, if you

-please.”</p>

-

-<p>She nodded assent to each of his propositions,

-and when he had finished said:</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; those are the papers I mean. I stole them

-from his desk and hid them. I was going to destroy

-them; but I thought sometime they might be of use

-and not so dangerous, and so I hid them.”</p>

-

-<p>“Where did you hide them?”</p>

-

-<p>“First in the attic, then in the cellar, and finally

-under the bricks of the hearth in the parlour.”</p>

-

-<p>“It’s easy, then, to find if they’re still there.”</p>

-

-<p>Ten minutes sufficed to raise the bricks and show

-the hiding-place&mdash;a hollow cavity which had been

-devised in the early days for hiding purposes&mdash;empty.</p>

-

-<p>“They are gone!” she cried as she glanced into

-the hole.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” said Trafford, replacing the bricks and

-leading her back to Wing’s library, where they were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>264</span>

-less apt to be overheard, “they’re gone. Mr. Wing

-found them and, realising the alarm it would be to

-you to know that they were found, did not tell you.

-It was those papers that brought about his death.”</p>

-

-<p>When Mrs. Parlin was sufficiently calm, Trafford

-set himself to the task of extracting the details of the

-affair; letting her at first tell it in her own way, and

-later asking questions that completed the story. Condensed

-to the facts, it ran as follows:</p>

-

-<p>Nearly twelve years before, her husband, in the

-course of some investigation of a land title in the

-Public Lands Office, came across what appeared an

-error in an important entry. He was on the point

-of calling attention to it, so that it could be corrected,

-when a critical examination convinced him that it

-was not a mere error, but a carefully made change

-that involved the title to timber-land that was just

-becoming exceedingly valuable. Acting on the hint

-thus given, he went to work cautiously, but determinately,

-and personally got together a number of

-documents that revealed what seemed a systematic

-series of forgeries, relating to immense tracts of

-land that were formerly public. In some cases, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>265</span>

-title to the land itself was involved; in others, that

-to the stumpage only.</p>

-

-<p>It was impossible to carry on these investigations

-without attracting attention, especially when they

-had gone so far as to show that in every case where

-the title was suspicious, the benefit accrued to the

-Matthewsons and to the Hunters at Millbank. Mr.

-Matthewson was then Governor, but he had formerly

-been at the head of the Public Lands Office, and his

-financial prosperity had appeared to date from about

-the time he held that position.</p>

-

-<p>A prying reporter got an inkling that something

-was going on, and in pursuing his enquiry revealed

-the hints he had discovered to Henry Matthewson.

-A position of financial importance was suddenly

-offered the reporter in a Western city and the story

-never was printed. But the Matthewsons were,

-from that moment, on their guard. A few months

-later, a fire broke out in the record room of the

-Public Lands Office and valuable records were destroyed.

-This did not attract especial attention, for

-the press had repeatedly called public attention to

-the existence of this very danger, and merely contented<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>266</span>

-itself with shouting “I told you so,” with a

-great deal of strenuousness.</p>

-

-<p>What was not known, save to Judge Parlin and,

-probably, some of the office force, was the extreme

-discrimination shown by the fire in destroying the

-very books on which proof of the forgeries depended.

-Certain remarks incautiously dropped by Judge Parlin

-let out facts from which the scandal took shape,

-with charges freely made by political opponents of

-the Matthewsons, which could now be proved only

-by papers in Judge Parlin’s hands, since the destruction

-of the original books. This was the Range 16

-Scandal in its original form.</p>

-

-<p>Up to this time, Judge Parlin had not even taken

-his wife into his confidence, but as the matter took

-more and more of public form, he deemed it necessary

-that she should know, especially as he had begun

-to suspect that the men who were against him

-would hesitate at nothing&mdash;not even murder, to conceal

-the truth. It was an incautious hint dropped by

-him to this effect that first alarmed her, and this

-alarm was speedily increased to terror by threats

-that were conveyed to the judge from time to time,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>267</span>

-though as to the source he was never able to reach a

-solution. “He laughed at them,” she said, telling

-of these threats; “but that is a man’s way. A

-woman sits and thinks and dreads, because she cannot

-act. In the dead night, I heard footsteps prowling

-about the place&mdash;or thought I did, and I lay in

-an agony of terror&mdash;not for myself, but because it

-was not for me that the danger threatened. When

-he was at Norridgewock at court and would drive

-home after dark, I sat and trembled until I had him

-again in my arms and knew that once more the

-chance had passed him by. If there came a ring at

-the bell late at night, I would plead that he let me

-answer it, until I wrought myself into a nervous terror

-that I cannot even now remember without a

-shudder. It was the worse because he was so brave

-and never for a moment felt afraid. When he

-laughed at the threats, I grew cold to my very heart,

-for my fear for him told me that the danger he

-scorned was so real that some day it would fall and

-crush him. A woman’s love knows some things that

-a man’s brain can’t compass!”</p>

-

-<p>It seemed, however, that he attached importance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>268</span>

-of one kind to these threats, such as to induce him to

-guard the papers carefully, pending the time when

-he could duplicate them and place one set where

-they could not possibly be reached. But before this

-was even undertaken, Mrs. Parlin had become so

-alarmed that she urged her husband to abandon the

-matter and destroy the papers and let this be known

-where it would cause a cessation of the annoyance to

-which they were both subjected. But here she found

-him inflexible, and at last her terror reached such a

-pitch that she determined herself to steal and destroy

-the papers.</p>

-

-<p>It was some time before she was able to carry this

-resolve into execution, and during the delay she

-reached a point of terror little short of insanity. At

-last, under the impulse of fear intensified by a particularly

-boldly expressed threat, she took desperate

-chances and, as desperate chances will do at times,

-succeeded. She took the papers from her husband’s

-desk almost under his very eyes, and ever after had

-the cruel pain of knowing that the trust she had betrayed

-was so great that no suspicion of the betrayal

-had ever crossed his mind.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>269</span>

-Once in possession of the papers, she had, as she

-told Trafford, failed in the courage to destroy them,

-and had easily persuaded herself that they might at

-some time be an actual means of protection to her

-husband. Therefore she had hidden them, as stated,

-and thus finally they had passed into Theodore

-Wing’s hands to prove his death warrant.</p>

-

-<p>The judge was much broken over the loss of the

-papers, the facts in regard to which could not be

-kept from the public. For a time, the scandal blazed

-up and the Matthewsons had to meet charges which

-could be proved by no one and which, therefore, they

-were the more bold in denying. Then public interest

-was turned to other issues, only to be aroused

-again for a time by Judge Parlin’s candidacy for the

-highest State court and his defeat, which he did not

-long survive.</p>

-

-<p>“But when,” she demanded, “could Theodore

-have found these papers?”</p>

-

-<p>“About two years ago, I should say; perhaps a

-little earlier,” said Trafford. “At least, it was then

-known that he had found them, for on no other

-theory can we explain the ransacking of his desk.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>270</span>

-He then began to carry them about with him, and the

-interests involved, which had rested quiet since your

-husband’s loss, and especially since his death, became

-disturbed again and active.”</p>

-

-<p>“Then it must be the Matthewsons or Hunters

-who murdered him,” exclaimed the woman, under

-a sudden breaking in of light.</p>

-

-<p>“It would seem a fair conclusion,” answered

-Trafford; “and yet I have evidence that satisfies

-me that they did not murder him and do not know

-who did. I don’t mean to say that they wouldn’t

-have done it finally; but they didn’t this time, and

-are not only puzzled, but much disturbed, over the

-mystery of the murder. We have gone so far on this

-matter that I can tell you in a word why they are disturbed.

-Whoever murdered him took the papers, and

-they are alarmed as to where they’ll turn up next.”</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Parlin had by the act of telling her story

-recovered her self-control and power to think, and

-saw as clearly as Trafford the meaning of this uncertainty.</p>

-

-<p>“But who,” she asked, “could have done it, if

-they did not?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>271</span>

-“Some one who knew he had the papers. Some

-one who knew something of their value, and some

-one who knows the safety there is in boldness, and

-had the nerve to carry through an affair that might

-break down at any point. I knew long since that

-some one was with Mr. Wing in the evening after

-you left him, and that the visitor stayed very late. I

-also know that, contrary to what was generally supposed,

-this room was visited after the murder. Some

-one passed over his dead body, entered the room, and

-took the papers. The question is, who was bold

-enough to commit the theft under such conditions?”</p>

-

-<p>The picture that Trafford drew of the murder and

-the theft stirred Mrs. Parlin, already wrought upon

-by the interview, to a state of nervous excitement

-that was most distressing. Too late, the detective

-realised that in such a state she was scarcely a safe

-custodian for the secret he had given into her keeping.

-She walked the room, wringing her hands and

-asking herself:</p>

-

-<p>“Why didn’t I burn them; why didn’t I burn

-them? I might at least have saved Theodore! I

-am his murderer.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>272</span>

-It was late when Trafford had quieted her so that

-he dared trust her even with Mary Mullin. Even

-this he did not do, without first giving her a stern

-warning as to the necessity of self-restraint.</p>

-

-<p>“We’re on the last stretch now,” he said.

-“What’s done must be done quickly and silently.

-These men haven’t committed murder yet, but they

-wouldn’t hesitate to, if they were once convinced

-that safety lay in that direction. In forty-eight

-hours they’ll see that it’s safer for this murder to

-remain a mystery, and then it’ll be dangerous to

-move&mdash;it may mean death. Can you keep still on

-this subject two days?”</p>

-

-<p>“I kept still for eight years while I saw my husband

-crushed,” she said reproachfully.</p>

-

-<p>As he was turning away, oppressed with the

-thought that he was pitted against men who would

-hesitate at nothing and who, as soon as a conference

-was had, must see that their interests lay in

-thwarting his efforts, she caught him by the coat

-and drew him towards her.</p>

-

-<p>“There’s been blood enough shed,” she said.

-“These papers killed my husband, though I stole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>273</span>

-them in the hope of saving his life. They’ve killed

-Theodore. Don’t let them kill any more folks.

-Burn them, burn them, when you get hold of

-them!”</p>

-

-<p>“But you want me to catch Mr. Wing’s murderer,

-don’t you? You want him sent to Thomaston?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; yes!” Her eyes blazed with the desire of

-revenge. “Don’t let him escape! But burn the

-papers!”</p>

-

-<p>He lingered still, though he felt that he was wasting

-precious time. He seemed to be in the one place

-of safety, and a strange dread, which he knew

-foreign to his nature and profession, assailed him.

-He had never experienced it before and it seemed a

-premonition of coming evil. As he turned finally to

-go, she said again:</p>

-

-<p>“Don’t move alone. You can’t do better than

-take Mr. McManus’s advice. The judge had every

-confidence in him, and so, I think, had Theodore.

-You’ll be safer if some one knows what you are

-doing. Tell him everything and keep somebody by

-you all the time. Catch Theodore’s murderer, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>274</span>

-when you get him and the papers, burn the papers:

-don’t let them cause any more bloodshed.”</p>

-

-<p>“I shan’t move without Mr. McManus,” he assured

-her. “He is cool-headed and resourceful.

-I’ll catch Mr. Wing’s murderer and I’ll put an end

-to the mischief those papers can do.”</p>

-

-<p>Nevertheless, there was the sense of oppression

-and danger hanging over him. He was doubting

-himself&mdash;doubting himself, from the moment Matthewson

-had assured him that he would give a hundred

-thousand dollars for the papers. Suppose he

-should find them, would he have strength to put that

-offer from him? As he asked this question, he

-realised that the fear that weighed on him was

-rather the fear born of a sense of moral degradation

-than fear of bodily harm. He knew as absolutely

-as if the thing was done that, if once he was in possession

-of the papers, he would sell them to Matthewson;

-and while he knew it and hated himself for

-being capable of doing it, he went steadily on the

-course which could have no other ending.</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>275</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xviii">CHAPTER XVIII<br />

-<span>The Man is Found</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>cMANUS was unmarried and lived at the

-Millbank Hotel, where he indulged in the

-extravagance of two rooms, a sitting room and a

-bedroom. Trafford saw him at supper and arranged

-for an evening interview.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll come to your room,” he said. “I’ve got

-nothing but a six by nine closet on the highest floor.”</p>

-

-<p>Supper over, he went for a short walk, to pass the

-time until the hour of appointment. He walked

-out on the river road where Charles Hunter’s great

-house stood, and found himself running over items

-of expense in maintaining such an establishment, all

-directed to the question whether a man on the

-income derivable from one hundred thousand dollars

-could afford a home like it. Disgusted with a train

-of thought he could not control, he hastened on,

-until at the top of Parlin Hill he saw the Parlin

-homestead and quite unexpectedly began asking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>276</span>

-himself if Mrs. Parlin was not likely to sell it and

-move into a smaller house.</p>

-

-<p>Whipped with the lash of his now ungovernable

-thoughts, he returned to the hotel and was confronted

-by Frank Hunter, whom he would dearly

-have liked to arrest and bind over to keep the peace.

-He was in what he called a “blue funk,” and did

-not regain his self-control until he found himself in

-McManus’s room, where a sense of security seemed

-to seize him.</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll put this window on to the porch down and

-draw the shades,” he said, suiting the action to the

-word. “I’ve got some things to say that mustn’t

-be overheard.”</p>

-

-<p>They were at the table with cigars lighted, before

-McManus responded with reference to the affair in

-hand:</p>

-

-<p>“Have you made any progress?”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ve got the thing down to a dot,” he answered;

-“with the one exception&mdash;you’ll say important&mdash;of

-the man. I can tell you how that murder was

-committed, and when I have, I think you’ll agree

-with my prediction of a fortnight ago as to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>277</span>

-characteristics of the man who committed it. What

-I want of you is that when the thing is told, you’ll

-help me put my hands on the man.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’ll do my best,” replied McManus; “but

-don’t forget you are giving me the point on which

-you confess yourself at a loss.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford laughed.</p>

-

-<p>“Isn’t that where we all want help?”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes; but not always where we get it.”</p>

-

-<p>“On the evening of May 10, a man came from

-somewhere below on the train due here at eight

-o’clock. He dropped off at the Bridge station,

-instead of coming into Millbank, and met another

-man, apparently by appointment, about half-way

-between the railroad and covered bridges. They

-talked about ten minutes&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“Hold on,” interrupted McManus; “you go too

-fast. Was the man he met a Millbank man?”</p>

-

-<p>“Oh, I forgot. It was Frank Hunter.”</p>

-

-<p>“Frank Hunter!” exclaimed McManus. “You’re

-still pointing to our office, as I said before. It’s a

-grave responsibility you’re taking, Mr. Trafford.”</p>

-

-<p>“I’m taking no responsibility. I’m simply giving<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>278</span>

-you facts. Whoever was the murderer, I’m certain

-it wasn’t Frank Hunter. I’ll give you that for your

-comfort. As I was saying, they talked about ten

-minutes and then separated. Hunter went to his

-brother’s house and the stranger turned back,

-crossed the railroad bridge, and went down Somerset

-Street, meeting a man about a quarter of a mile

-below the Catholic church, where the street runs

-through the heavy maple grove. You know the

-spot?”</p>

-

-<p>McManus nodded, attempting no other interruption.</p>

-

-<p>“It was now about quarter to nine, and the two

-were together full half an hour. The stranger then

-came back up Somerset Street and went directly to

-Charles Hunter’s house. Ten minutes after, a man,

-who might have been the one whom the stranger

-met, crossed Eddy Street to Bicknell, came up Bicknell

-to Canaan, crossed Canaan to River Road, and

-went directly up River Road to the Parlin homestead.

-He reached there between half-past nine and

-quarter before ten and went to the side door, where

-he rang the right-hand bell, showing that he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>279</span>

-acquainted with the peculiar arrangement of the

-bells. Mr. Wing came to the door and the two went

-into the library.”</p>

-

-<p>“Now,” continued Trafford after a pause, to

-enable McManus to grasp all of the details, “as to

-the time; it was nine-thirty when Mrs. Parlin left

-the room. Wing had not written his letter, so that

-we have got the time pretty closely fixed. He stayed

-with Wing until nearly eleven-thirty. The stranger

-seems to have left Hunter’s house under pretence of

-catching the freight that leaves at eleven, but in

-reality he went to Somerset Street and walked up

-and down that street until a quarter to twelve, when

-he was joined by a man, presumably the one who

-had come from Wing’s library. It was a pretty

-hazardous thing to do, this loafing up and down

-Somerset Street, but up to now I haven’t found

-a single person whose attention he particularly

-attracted and certainly not one who pretends to have

-recognised him, though I feel certain he has many

-acquaintances in this town.”</p>

-

-<p>“If the two Hunters saw him, why don’t you get

-his identity from them?” McManus demanded.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>280</span>

-“That’ll come in time. I’ve not wanted to take

-too many into my confidence, and there’s no danger

-of their running away. Of course, if there’d been

-any possibility that this visitor was the murderer,

-’twould be different, but as you’ll see, there isn’t.”</p>

-

-<p>“But he may have instigated the murder, without

-actually firing the shot,” said McManus. “You

-must pardon me, Mr. Trafford; but I can’t help feeling

-you’ve shown yourself somewhat derelict in this

-important matter.”</p>

-

-<p>“I hope I’ll be able to exonerate myself before I

-finish,” said Trafford. “At any rate, let me go on.

-The matters these men had to discuss were of such

-interest that the visitor came near missing the midnight

-train, which might have subjected me to the

-necessity of having him arrested, since he would

-then have been in town when the murder occurred.

-As it was, by hurrying through the alley between

-the post-office and Neil’s store, they got the train,

-the stranger coming from behind the potato warehouse,

-as has been testified. His companion remained

-there, or he might have been recognised by

-Oldbeg.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>281</span>

-Trafford seemed disposed to muse over the possible

-result of such an event and as well over another

-matter to which he referred a moment later:</p>

-

-<p>“It would be a curious thing to know just what

-was said behind the storehouse, where they had their

-last words. It might throw a flood of light on

-things.”</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” answered McManus, showing a feverish

-desire for the continuance of the narrative; “but

-you might as well try to guess where yesterday’s

-winds have blown to. You seem to have facts

-enough, without speculating on conversations.”</p>

-

-<p>“I suppose that’s true,” returned Trafford; “yet

-that last talk has a fascination for me. Who knows

-that it wasn’t just that that sealed Wing’s fate?

-You say this man may have instigated the murder.

-If so, may not that have been the moment of instigation?”</p>

-

-<p>“Scarcely possible,” returned McManus, as it

-were drawn against his will into the discussion.

-“If he did anything so important, he wouldn’t leave

-it for the last word and last moment.”</p>

-

-<p>“There I don’t agree with you,” Trafford<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>282</span>

-retorted, showing a disposition to argue, which

-caused McManus a nervous irritation he could not

-conceal. “From my experience, that’s just what he

-would do. He’d hesitate to take the plunge; he’d

-wait to shape a phrase and then, at the last moment,

-when it had to be done, he’d throw it off in any

-form it presented itself. Actually, I’d give more to

-know what was said in that two minutes, before the

-stranger jumped for the train, than for all the talk

-of the whole evening.”</p>

-

-<p>“Well; have your own way,” said McManus

-brusquely; “but you can’t know. Let it rest there,

-and let’s go on to what happened next&mdash;if you

-know.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford watched him intently, as he was speaking,

-but when he had finished seemed to find nothing

-in the speech, so he went on:</p>

-

-<p>“After the train pulled out, the man behind the

-storehouse waited some few minutes, till the station

-was closed, and the men had left, and then he stepped

-out and picked up something that he saw lying on

-the ground and had watched from the moment it

-had caught his eye. It was a revolver, one chamber<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>283</span>

-of which had been discharged. We know now how

-it came there, and don’t need to go over that part.

-He skulked back through Gray’s Court, keeping in

-the shadows when he crossed Canaan Street, and so

-came again into River Road. A feverish haste had

-now taken control of him, and when he reached the

-driveway of the Parlin homestead, the light was still

-burning in the library&mdash;in fact, Mr. Wing was at

-his desk, just finishing the letter which he had intended

-to write early in the evening, and which the

-visit of this unknown man had prevented him from

-writing.”</p>

-

-<p>“There’s not the first thing,” interrupted McManus,

-who seemed now watchful of every detail

-as the tale approached its climax, “to show that he

-ever wrote that letter!”</p>

-

-<p>“There’s been no evidence yet produced,” replied

-Trafford; “but the evidence exists, and I can prove

-that it was written and the person to whom it was

-addressed. I can prove too that it never reached

-that person.”</p>

-

-<p>“Go on,” said McManus.</p>

-

-<p>“The man felt that what he had to do must be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>284</span>

-done quickly. Perhaps he knew that if he took time

-for thought, he wouldn’t have the courage or resolution

-to do the work. He went to the door where

-he had rung early in the evening, and rang the same

-bell. Then he stepped on to the grass east of the

-doorstep and waited, with the pistol he had found

-ready in his hand.”</p>

-

-<p>“Are you certain on that point?” demanded McManus.</p>

-

-<p>Trafford stopped and looked at McManus, as if

-pondering that question. Finally he answered:</p>

-

-<p>“I think so. He probably had a pistol of his own,

-but I’m confident he used the one he’d found. Everything

-points to his being a shrewd, keen man, and

-naturally he would not use his own pistol when he

-had another in his pocket.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus nodded, indicating that Trafford was

-to take up the story.</p>

-

-<p>“Wing came to the door, as before. He did not

-bring a lamp, but left the doors open behind him.

-Seeing no one, he stepped out on to the door-stone,

-when the man in hiding pressed the pistol against his

-temple and drew the trigger at the same instant.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>285</span>

-Wing fell in a heap on the step and threshold&mdash;his

-death was instantaneous.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus had listened to these last words as if

-fascinated by the terrible details so briefly stated.

-When Trafford paused on the last word, he seemed

-to catch his breath with the movement of one who

-in the last minute had forgotten everything but the

-picture before him.</p>

-

-<p>“If your tale is true,” he said, breathing deeply,

-“your description of the man is the man himself&mdash;a

-man of quick movements, strong purpose, assured position,

-and absolute control of nerves. The man must

-have been iron&mdash;at least while he was doing the job.”</p>

-

-<p>“And he needed to be adamant to complete it.

-There was nothing to him in Wing’s death, as a

-mere death. It saved him from nothing, though it

-might save others. It was positive, not negative,

-gain he was after. Perhaps, on the whole, he would

-rather Wing had lived. He felt it simply a necessity,

-and an unpleasant one at that, that he should

-die. But he was after something, and Wing’s death

-was only the preliminary to securing it. Having

-waited to make certain the shot had aroused no one,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>286</span>

-he stepped over the dead body and entered the

-library. He closed the door behind him, went to

-the safe, which was still open, and took from the

-upper left-hand pigeon hole a package of papers.

-Then he closed the safe and turned the knob, probably

-mechanically, showing that he was a man accustomed

-to deal with keyless safes. He went to the

-desk and took from it the letter which Wing had

-just sealed and directed&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“To whom?” interrupted McManus.</p>

-

-<p>“To the Governor, asking for an appointment for

-the following Thursday, the thirteenth.”</p>

-

-<p>McManus nodded and Trafford went on:</p>

-

-<p>“Then he put out the light, raised the shade of

-one window to make sure the coast was clear, and

-returned the way he had come. In doing so, he closed

-the library door behind him and drew the outer

-door to until it was stopped by the body of the dead

-man. Thus, you see, with all his shrewdness, he

-made four mistakes; he closed and locked the safe;

-he put out the light; he closed the library door, and

-he attempted to close the outer door.”</p>

-

-<p>“How mistakes?” asked McManus.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>287</span>

-“If he had left the safe open, it would have been

-supposed mere robbery was the purpose. If he had

-left the lamp burning, and the library and outer

-doors open, there would have been nothing to show

-that some one had visited the room after the murder.”</p>

-

-<p>“There was the missing letter,” suggested McManus,

-who seemed to be thinking with Trafford’s

-thoughts.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” replied Trafford; “that was mistake

-number five.”</p>

-

-<p>“But, of course,” went on McManus, “he had no

-means of knowing what was in it. If it had been still

-unsealed, it would have been different. As it was,

-he could not risk it; there was nothing else for him

-to do.”</p>

-

-<p>“Exactly,” replied Trafford; “still, I think we

-can count it a mistake. The package of papers was

-what he really wanted. He should have been content

-with that.”</p>

-

-<p>“But how did he know that he had got all in that

-single package? Would he not be likely to examine

-the safe, especially the cupboard?”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>288</span>

-“How would he have got at it? It was

-locked.”</p>

-

-<p>“Unless Wing’s keys were in the lock. That

-might have been. He would have taken them out

-when he closed the safe; it would not have closed

-otherwise. I understand they were found on the

-mantel.”</p>

-

-<p>“Who testified to that?” asked Trafford, as if

-trying to recall the fact.</p>

-

-<p>“I don’t remember,” said McManus. “Some one

-at the inquest, I think.”</p>

-

-<p>“I think it would have been natural for him to

-open the cupboard, though he must have seen the

-package when he was there early in the evening,

-and so knew what he was after. However, whether

-he examined further or not, he did not remain long.

-The next day he cleaned the chamber of the revolver

-and filled it, thus leaving only one empty, and during

-the night found opportunity to throw it over on to

-the box hedge in the front yard.”</p>

-

-<p>Trafford stopped as if he had finished his story,

-and McManus sat like one in a deep reverie. Suddenly,

-he looked up and asked:</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>289</span>

-“Where then are the papers which were the cause

-of this tragedy?”</p>

-

-<p>“The man has not dared use them; he keeps them

-concealed until it is safe to sell them for the hundred

-thousand dollars which was offered for them.”</p>

-

-<p>“My God! man, how do you know these things?”

-demanded McManus, his face ghastly as that of a

-week-old corpse.</p>

-

-<p>“Do you dare deny one of them?” retorted Trafford.</p>

-

-<p>“What do you mean by that?” asked the other.</p>

-

-<p>“<em>That you are the man who murdered Wing!</em>”</p>

-

-

-

-<div class="chapter">

-<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>290</span>

-</div>

-

-<h2 id="xix">CHAPTER XIX<br />

-<span>The Last of the Papers</span></h2>

-

-<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>cMANUS had sprung to his feet as the accusation

-came from Trafford’s lips. His left

-hand was in the side pocket of his sack coat, and as

-Trafford also rose, there rang out the report of a

-pistol, fired without removing it from the pocket.

-The bullet just missed Trafford, cutting the sleeve

-of his coat.</p>

-

-<p>“Throw up your hands, or I’ll shoot,” came from

-the window, and there stood Trafford’s assistant,

-with pistol drawn and aimed at McManus.</p>

-

-<p>At the very beginning of the story, he had raised

-the window and had since been listening to the conversation.

-McManus glanced at Trafford, who was

-also covering him with a pistol.</p>

-

-<p>“I yield,” he said, “to force. You will find it all

-a hideous mistake before you get through.”</p>

-

-<p>“Handcuff him.” Trafford gave the order.

-“I’ll keep my pistol on him.”</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>291</span>

-McManus turned toward the man who approached

-from the window. He seemed to have recovered his

-composure, and a puzzling smile was on his lips.

-Then, suddenly, the hand came up, without leaving

-the pocket, which was lifted with it; there

-was a slight turn of the hand seen through the

-cloth and the muffled report of the pistol. McManus

-fell, shot through the heart by his own

-hand.</p>

-

-<p>“A damned bungling piece of work, to let that be

-done,” said Trafford. “There ’re steps on the

-stairs. Don’t open the door for a minute.”</p>

-

-<p>He rushed into the bedroom, and seizing a tin box

-that stood on a stand by the bed, dropped it from the

-window into a dense mass of shrubbery that grew

-beneath. He was back in the room to answer the

-first knock at the door.</p>

-

-<p>Millbank slept but little that night. The streets

-were thronged with people, and the story of the

-tragedy, the discovery of the murderer and his suicide,

-was repeated and re-repeated, with new details

-at every repetition. Before midnight it was surprising

-to know how many people had all along suspected<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>292</span>

-McManus and felt certain that he “was no

-better than he should be.”</p>

-

-<p>Frank Hunter came among the very first and

-went back and forth from the sitting room to the

-bedroom, with an uneasy air of searching for something

-and yet striving to conceal the fact. Trafford

-watched him with a curious expression on his face,

-as if he enjoyed the man’s awkwardness and embarrassment.</p>

-

-<p>When Charles Matthewson arrived on the latest

-train and went directly to the Hunter house, Trafford

-was instantly informed and at once made up

-his mind to his line of action. McManus’s suicide

-was confession, and the possession of the papers was

-no longer necessary to conviction. Trafford determined

-to have them off his hands at the earliest possible

-moment, and with Matthewson in town, that

-promised to be before daylight. At the first opportunity

-he stole out, recovered possession of the box,

-and hid it in a less exposed place.</p>

-

-<p>About midnight, matters had so quieted down

-that he was able to respond to Mrs. Parlin’s message

-begging him to come to her and, if possible, remain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>293</span>

-in the house the balance of the night. He took with

-him the box, containing what he now regarded as

-his fortune and his reward for work done in discovering

-the murderer.</p>

-

-<p>Mrs. Parlin was eager to hear the story, and it

-was some time after midnight before she left him

-and he was at liberty to follow his purpose. His

-judgment dictated waiting until morning, which

-would be a matter of but a few hours, but the box

-and its papers had become a growing burden, leaving

-him but one thought and that to be rid of them.

-From the library window he could see that a light

-still burned in the Hunter house. He was resolved

-to complete the matter before he slept.</p>

-

-<p>Leaving the house cautiously, with the box under

-his arm, he hurried down the hill, at the foot of

-which lay the heavy shadows of the great Lombardy

-poplars. It seemed to him that he had never seen

-the shadows so black as they were to-night. As he

-entered the blackness, he quickened his pace almost

-to a run, and was almost in the light again when

-there came what seemed to him a flash of flame,

-then deeper darkness and oblivion.</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>294</span>

-How long he lay on the walk under the poplars he

-did not know, excepting that his first sensation of

-returning consciousness was of the soft white light

-that comes before the sun steals up from behind

-the earth. The next was of a heaviness of the head

-and a numbness that was giving way to pain. He

-put up his hand feebly, and brought it down again

-wet with blood.</p>

-

-<p>Then came the thought of the box. He reached

-out his hand and, groping, it fell upon it. He had

-barely strength enough yet to draw it to him, but at

-last succeeded, though not without much pain. He

-lifted it feebly and the lid fell back, showing the

-breakage where it had been wrenched from its

-hinges. With a paroxysm of strength born of terror,

-he sat upright and looked into the box. It was

-empty; not even a shred of paper remaining. For

-one instant he gazed in uncomprehending stupidity,

-and then, as the truth flashed on him, he fell again

-to the earth, and lost in temporary unconsciousness

-alike the sense of pain and the power to follow his

-interrupted quest.</p>

-

-<p>Almost at the very moment when Trafford discovered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>295</span>

-the loss of the papers, Henry Matthewson

-slipped through the grounds of the Hunter home,

-coming from the direction of the river, and entered

-by a side door. He went directly to the library,

-where his brother and the two Hunters had been in

-uneasy conference for some hours. As he entered,

-the three men started to their feet, first in surprise at

-his presence, and then in greater surprise at his

-appearance. His face was white and set, like the

-face of a man who has passed through some terrible

-struggle and has conquered or been conquered. One,

-looking at the inscrutable face, could not have

-decided which.</p>

-

-<p>“You!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson. “I

-have been trying to reach you all night.”</p>

-

-<p>“How could you reach here at this hour?” said

-Frank Hunter. “There’s no train.”</p>

-

-<p>Charles Hunter said nothing, but his quick understanding

-of men, and, perhaps, a quality in him that

-would have dared all that man could dare in a desperate

-case, told him more than either of his companions

-saw. For a moment he hesitated and then,

-seeing no denial in the face of the newcomer, said:</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>296</span>

-“You have found the papers.”</p>

-

-<p>The others started and looked at the two men

-whom, instinctively, they knew to be stronger than

-themselves.</p>

-

-<p>“Yes,” said Henry Matthewson.</p>

-

-<p>“Where are they?” asked Charles Matthewson

-and Frank Hunter, in a breath.</p>

-

-<p>The other did not answer. Then Charles repeated

-the question:</p>

-

-<p>“Where are they?”</p>

-

-<p>“Where would they be now, if they had come

-into your hands a half-hour ago?” demanded

-Matthewson.</p>

-

-<p>“Destroyed!” said Charles Hunter unhesitatingly.</p>

-

-<p>“They are where they will never menace us or

-ours again,” said Henry Matthewson, “unless the

-river gives them up. I dropped them from the

-bridge into the pool below the Falls a half-hour ago.”</p>

-

-<p>“But where did you find them?” was Frank

-Hunter’s question.</p>

-

-<p>Charles Hunter looked again at the other’s face,

-and said:</p>

-

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>297</span>

-“How serious is the matter?”</p>

-

-<p>“The man is merely stunned,” said Henry. “I

-think some one should find him, under the poplars at

-the foot of the hill&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“Henry! My God!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson,

-stepping hastily forward. “You haven’t&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

-

-<p>“I have done what was necessary to obtain the

-papers and save ourselves and&mdash;our mother. I

-hope there is no one here who would have done less.

-I accept full responsibility for acting where none but

-a coward could hesitate.”</p>

-

-<p>“Pray God, Trafford’s not dead!” exclaimed

-Charles Matthewson.</p>

-

-<p>“Amen,” said Henry, and then added; “but be

-that as it may, the papers are.”</p>

-

-

-<p class="center p120 mb3">THE END</p>

-

-<!-- Books -->

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-</div>

-<div class="book-container">

-<p class="center">Two Noteworthy Detective Stories by Burton E. Stevenson</p>

-

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The Marathon Mystery</p>

-

-<p class="center">With five scenes in color by <span class="smcap">Eliot Keen</span></p>

-

-<p class="center">4th printing. $1.50</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p>This absorbing story of New York and Long Island to-day

-has been republished in England. Its conclusion is most

-astonishing.</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Sun</cite>: “Distinctly an interesting story&mdash;one of the sort that the

-reader will not lay down before he goes to bed.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Post</cite>: “By comparison with the work of Anna Katharine

-Green ... it is exceptionally clever ... told interestingly and well.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “<cite><span>The Holladay Case</span></cite> was a capital story of crime

-and mystery. In <cite><span>The Marathon Mystery</span></cite> the author is in even firmer

-command of the trick. He is skillful in keeping his reader in suspense,

-and every element in it is cunningly adjusted to preserving the mystery

-inviolate until the end.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “The excellence of its style, Mr. Stevenson

-apparently knowing well the dramatic effect of fluency and brevity, and

-the rationality of avoiding false clues and attempts unduly to mystify his

-readers.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Boston Herald</cite>: “This is something more than an ordinary detective

-story. It thrills you and holds your attention to the end. But besides all

-this the characters are really well drawn and your interest in the plot is

-enhanced by interest in the people who play their parts therein.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Town and Country</cite>: “The mystery defies solution until the end.

-The final catastrophe is worked out in a highly dramatic manner.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The Holladay Case</p>

-

-<p class="center">With frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Eliot Keen</span></p>

-

-<p class="center">7th printing. $1.25</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p>A tale of a modern mystery of New York and Etretat that

-has been republished in England and Germany.</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “Professor Dicey recently said, ‘If you like a detective

-story take care you read a good detective story.’ This is a good

-detective story, and it is the better because the part of the hero is not

-filled by a member of the profession.... The reader will not want to

-put the book down until he has reached the last page. <strong>Most ingeniously

-constructed and well written into the bargain.</strong>”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>

-<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>

-<span class="city">New York</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-</div>

-<div class="book-container">

-<p class="center">Noteworthy Books by ARTHUR COLTON and what some

-authorities say of them.</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The Belted Seas</p>

-

-<p>A story of the wild voyages of the irrepressible Captain

-Buckingham in Southern seas. 12mo, $1.50</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><cite>Evening Post</cite>: “A whimsical Odyssey.... What Jacobs has

-done for the British seaman, Colton has done for the Yankee sailor.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Cincinnati Enquirer</cite>: “Never has the peculiar brand of humor which

-South America affords been more skilfully exploited than by Arthur Colton

-in <cite><span>The Belted Seas</span></cite>.... It is a joyous book, and he were a hardened

-reader indeed who would not chortle with satisfaction over

-<a name="Portate" id="Portate"></a><ins title="Original has 'Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portiac'">Kid

-Sadler’s adventures at Portate</ins>....

-Many of the stories are uproariously funny

-and recall Stockton at his best.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">Port Argent</p>

-<p class="center">12mo, $1.50</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p class="center">A romance of a few weeks in an Ohio city “with growing pains.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Critic</cite>: “A story of breathless events and of remarkable concentration.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Mr. Colton’s work is particularly worthy of praise.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Life</cite>: “Arthur Colton is a writer with a remarkably individual outlook.

-Port Argent is bright and full of characteristic Coltonisms.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>San Francisco Chronicle</cite>: “A quiet story told with such restraint

-that it is only after laying down the volume that one realizes the bigness

-of the problems presented, in breadth and richness of thought, and the

-power of its action.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">Tioba</p>

-<p class="center">12mo, $1.25</p>

-

-<p>Mr. Colton here depicts a gallery of very varied Americans.

-Tioba was a mountain which meant well but was mistaken.</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “He is always the artist observer, adding stroke upon

-stroke with the surest of sure pens, ... an author who recalls the

-old traditions that there were once such things as good writing and good

-story-telling.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Critic</cite>: “In each of these stories he has presented some out-of-the-way

-fragment of life with faithfulness and power.... He has the artist’s

-instinct.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>

-<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>

-<span class="city">New York</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-</div>

-<div class="book-container">

-<p class="center p120">TWO ROMANCES OF TRAVEL</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The Lightning Conductor</p>

-

-<p class="center p120"><i>The Strange Adventures of a Motor Car</i></p>

-

-<p class="center">By C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON</p>

-

-<p class="center">12mo. $1.50</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p>The love story of a beautiful American and a gallant

-Englishman, who stoops to conquer. Two almost human

-automobiles, the one German, heavy and stubborn, and the

-other French, light and easy-going, play prominent parts.

-There is much humor. Picturesque scenes in Provence, Spain

-and Italy pass before the reader’s eyes in rapid succession.</p>

-

-<p>Twenty printings of this novel have been called for.</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><cite>Nation</cite>: “Such delightful people, and such delightful scenes....

-It should be a good, practical guide to those about to go over the same

-course, while its charming descriptions of travel afford an ample new fund

-of pleasure, tinged with envy here and there to the stay-at-homes.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Sun</cite>: “A pleasant and felicitous romance.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Springfield Republican</cite>: “Wholly new and decidedly entertaining.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Chicago Post</cite>: “Sprightly humor ... the story moves.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The Pursuit of Phyllis</p>

-

-<p class="center p120">By J. HARWOOD BACON</p>

-

-<p class="center">With two illustrations by <span class="smcap">H. Latimer Brown</span></p>

-

-<p class="center">12mo. $1.25</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p>A humorous love story with scenes in England, France,

-China and Ceylon.</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “A bright and entertaining story of up-to-date

-men and women.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “Very enjoyable.... Its charm consists in its

-naturalness and the sparkle of the dialogue and descriptions.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Evening Post</cite>: “The story is brisk, buoyant and entertaining.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Sparkling in fun, clean-cut and straightforward in style

-as the young hero himself.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>

-<p class="center"><span class="publisher">New York</span>

-<span class="city">Chicago</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-</div>

-<div class="book-container">

-<p class="center">2d printing of “A novel in the better sense of a word much

-sinned against.... It is decidedly a book worth while.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The Transgression of<br />

-Andrew Vane</p>

-

-<p class="center p120">By GUY WETMORE CARRYL</p>

-

-<p class="center">12mo. $1.50.</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Times’ Saturday Review</span>:&mdash;“A strong and original story; ... the

-descriptions of conditions in the American colony [in Paris] are

-convincingly clever. The story from the prologue&mdash;one of exceptional

-promise in point of interest&mdash;to the climax ... is full

-of action and dramatic surprise.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">N. Y. Tribune</span>:&mdash;“The surprising developments we must leave the

-reader to find out for himself. He will find it a pleasant task; ...

-the surprise is not brought forward until precisely the right moment,

-and one is carried from the first chapter to the last with curiosity,

-and concern for the hero’s fate kept well alive.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">N. Y. Evening Sun</span>:&mdash;“Everybody who likes clever fiction should

-read it.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Literary World</span>:&mdash;“The prologue is as skilful a handling of a

-repellent theme as has ever been presented. The book is distinctly

-not one for the young person, but neither is it for the seeker after

-the risqué or the erotic.... In this novel are poured into a consistent

-and satisfying whole more of those vivid phases of Paris at

-which the author has shown himself a master hand.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Chicago Evening Post</span>:&mdash;“The reader stops with regret in his

-mind that Guy Wetmore Carryl’s story-telling work is done.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Chicago Tribune</span>:&mdash;“A brilliant piece of work.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Washington Star</span>:&mdash;“A more engaging villain has seldom entered

-the pages of modern fiction; ... sparkles with quotable epigrams.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Buffalo Express</span>:&mdash;“The sort of a story which one is very apt to

-read with interest from beginning to end. And, moreover, ...

-very bright and clever.”</p>

-

-<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">New Haven Journal</span>:&mdash;“By far the most ambitious work he

-undertook, and likewise the most brilliant.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>

-<p class="center"><span class="publisher"><i>29 W. 23d St.</i></span>

-<span class="city"><i>NEW YORK</i></span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-</div>

-<div class="book-container">

-<p class="center">“<strong>From any point of view it is an unusual novel, as much better

-than some of the ‘best sellers’ as a painting is better than

-a chromo.</strong>”&mdash;<cite>World’s Work.</cite></p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<div class="figleft mt2 width120" id="divine-fire">

-  <img src="images/divine-fire.jpg" width="120" height="99" alt="Flames" />

-</div>

-

-<p class="center p180">The Divine Fire</p>

-

-<p class="center p120"><span class="smcap">By</span> MAY SINCLAIR</p>

-

-<p class="center">$1.50</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p>6th printing of <cite>The story of a London poet</cite>.</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><i>Mary Moss in the</i> <cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite>: “Certain it is that in all

-our new fiction I have found nothing worthy to compare with

-‘The Divine Fire,’ nothing even remotely approaching the same

-class.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>New York Globe</cite>: “The biggest surprise of the whole season’s

-fiction ... you never once stop to question its style, or its realism,

-or the art of its construction. You simply read right on, deaf

-to everything and everybody outside of the compelling magic of

-its pages.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Dial</cite>: “A full-length study of the poetic temperament, framed

-in a varied and curiously interesting environment, and drawn

-with a firmness of hand that excites one’s admiration....

-Moreover, a real distinction of style, besides being of absorbing

-interest from cover to cover.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Catholic Mirror</cite>: “One of the noblest, most inspiring and absorbing

-books we have read in years.”</p>

-

-<p><i>Owen Seaman in</i> <cite>Punch</cite> (London): “I find her book the most

-remarkable that I have read for many years.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The Diary of a Musician</p>

-

-<p class="center p120">Edited by DOLORES M. BACON</p>

-

-<p class="center">With decorations and illustrations by <span class="smcap">Charles Edward

-Hooper</span> and <span class="smcap">H. Latimer Brown</span></p>

-

-<p class="center">$1.50</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p>Authorities agree that no particular musical celebrity is

-described or satirized; all review the book with enthusiasm,

-though some damn while others praise.</p>

-

-<hr class="full" />

-

-<p><cite>Times Review</cite>: “Of extraordinary interest as a study from the inside

-of the inwardness of a genius.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Much of that exquisite egotism, the huge, artistic Me and

-the tiny universe, that gluttony of the emotions, of the whole peculiar

-compound of hysteria, inspiration, vanity, insight and fidgets, which goes

-to make up that delightful but somewhat rickety thing which we call the

-artistic temperament is reproduced.... The ‘Diary of a Musician’ does

-what most actual diaries fail to do&mdash;writes down a man in full.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>

-<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>

-<span class="city">New York</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-</div>

-<div class="book-container">

-<p class="center p180">TALES OF MYSTERY</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">The House of the Black Ring</p>

-

-<p class="center p120">By FRED. LEWIS PATTEE. $1.50</p>

-

-<p>A story oddly combining humor and horror. It tells of the

-squire, a sort of feudal lord, his enemies, his fate and of his

-daughter and how she would have her way in love. The weird

-influence of <cite><span>The House of the Black Ring</span></cite> dominates the little

-“pocket” in the Seven Mountains of Pennsylvania.</p>

-

-<p><cite>The Washington Star</cite>: “An unusual combination of the weird and

-the humorous ... absorbing and often thrilling tale.... A forest

-fire ... is a dramatic episode which does Mr. Pattee exceptional credit

-in the restraint of his treatment and the effectiveness of his climaxes.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Evening Sun</cite>: “An interesting story ... piques the reader’s

-curiosity and keeps him reading till the mystery is solved.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">Red-Headed Gill</p>

-

-<p class="center p120">By RYE OWEN. 4th printing. $1.50</p>

-

-<p>Red-Headed Gill is a splendid young country gentlewoman of

-Cornwall. Under a weird East Indian influence she is forced

-to live over again part of the life of a beauty of the days of Queen

-Bess&mdash;the famous Gill Red-Head.</p>

-

-<p><cite>New York Sun</cite>: “A charming girl whom the reader will watch with

-interest to the end. The author manages to transport her back into the

-life of her Tudor ancestress over and again naturally, and with great

-effect.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>New York Times Review</cite>: “There is much originality in the plot.

-The reader’s attention is at once enlisted, and is not allowed to flag.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p180">In the Dwellings

-of the Wilderness</p>

-

-<p class="center p120">By C. BRYSON TAYLOR. $1.25</p>

-

-<p>A ghost story so plausibly told that many may, like one of the

-chief characters, think it might all be explained by natural

-causes after all. It tells the astonishing adventures of three

-American engineers, excavating in the heart of an Egyptian

-desert.</p>

-

-<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “The impression on the reader is so strong that

-he finds his grip on the book grow strained in spite of himself.”</p>

-

-<p><cite>N. Y. Globe</cite>: “Strikes a note of weird horror, and sustains that note

-page after page.... A vividness that makes it difficult to banish the

-picture from your memory for many a day.”</p>

-

-<hr class="full-double" />

-

-<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>

-<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>

-<span class="city">New York</span></p>

-</div>

-

-

-<div class="section">

-<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />

-<div class="tn">

-<p class="center p120">Transcriber’s Note:</p>

-

-<p class="noi left">Punctuation has been standardised except spaces

-before ’ll and ’re have been retained as they appear in the original

-publication. Hyphenation and spelling have also been retained as published,

-except as follows:</p>

-

-<p class="noi left">The <a href="#Eliot">title page</a> refers to a colour

-<a href="#frontispiece">frontispiece</a>. Unfortunately, a colour version

-could not be found at the time this eBook was prepared.</p>

-

-<ul>

-<li>Page 74<br />

-an’ let’s folks <i>changed to</i><br />

-an’ <a href="#lets">lets</a> folks</li>

-

-<li>Page 124<br />

-must be re-convened <i>changed to</i><br />

-must be <a href="#reconvened">reconvened</a></li>

-

-<li>Page 139<br />

-visit was to Milbank <i>changed to</i><br />

-visit was to <a href="#Millbank">Millbank</a></li>

-

-<li>Page 232<br />

-man who want me <i>changed to</i><br />

-man who <a href="#wants">wants</a> me</li>

-

-<li>Page 247<br />

-shadow of Pettengill’s potato storehouse <i>changed to</i><br />

-shadow of <a href="#Pettingill">Pettingill’s</a> potato storehouse</li>

-

-<li>Second page of book promotions<br />

-Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portaic <i>changed to</i><br />

-<a href="#Portate">Kid Sadler’s adventures at Portate</a></li>

-</ul>

-</div>

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+  </head>
+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 66051 ***</div>
+
+<hr class="divider" />
+<h1>The Millbank Case<br />
+<span><i>A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY</i></span></h1>
+<hr class="divider2" />
+
+<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop figcenter width500" id="cover2">
+<img src="images/cover2.jpg" width="500" height="696" alt="Cover" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<div class="figcenter width800" id="frontispiece">
+  <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="800" height="553" alt="Frontispiece" />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<p class="center lh"><span class="p180">The Millbank Case</span><br />
+<i>A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY</i></p>
+
+<hr class="double" />
+
+<p class="center mt3"><span class="p120">BY</span><br />
+<span class="p140">GEORGE DYRE ELDRIDGE</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>With a <a name="Eliot" id="Eliot"></a><ins title="The color
+original could not be found for inclusion in this eBook">Frontispiece in Colour</ins></i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Eliot Keen</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter width100" id="colophon">
+  <img src="images/colophon.png" width="100" height="127" alt="Colophon" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="double" />
+
+<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />
+<span class="p120">HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</span><br />
+<span class="p80">1905</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1905<br />
+BY<br />
+HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</p>
+
+<hr class="tiny" />
+
+<p class="center"><i>Published May, 1905</i></p>
+
+<p class="center mt3">THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS<br />
+RAHWAY, N. J.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<h2 id="contents">CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+<table summary="Contents">
+<tr>
+<th class="tdr">CHAPTER</th>
+<th class="tdr2" colspan="2">PAGE</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">I.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Statement of the Case</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">II.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Mrs. Parlin Testifies</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">III.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Alive at Midnight</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">33</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">IV.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Trafford Gets an Assurance</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">51</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">V.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Weapon is Produced</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VI.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">85</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Hunting Broken Bones</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Man Disappears</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">119</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">IX.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">“You are My Mother”</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">X.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Second Murder?</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XI.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Already One Attempt</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">167</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">At the Drivers’ Camp</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">185</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Priest’s Story</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiii">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIV.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Duel</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiv">212</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XV.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">In Matthewson’s Chambers</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xv">227</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVI.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Range 16 Scandal</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvi">243</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Story of the Papers</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvii">259</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Man is Found</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xviii">275</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIX.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Last of the Papers</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xix">290</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>1</span>
+<p class="center p180">THE MILLBANK CASE</p>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="i">CHAPTER I<br />
+<span>A Statement of the Case</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEODORE WING had no known enemy in the
+world. He was a man of forty; “well-to-do,”
+as they say in New England; a lawyer by profession,
+and already “mentioned” for a county judgeship.
+He was unmarried, but there were those who had
+hopes, and there was scarce a spinster in Millbank
+who hadn’t a kindly word and smile for him&mdash;at
+times. He was not a church member, but it was
+whispered that his clergyman was disposed to look
+leniently on this shortcoming, for Wing was a regular
+attendant at service and liberal with money for
+church purposes, which, shrewd guessers said, some
+of the church members were not.</p>
+
+<p>Wing lived in the River Road, just at the top of
+Parlin’s Hill. He was from “over East, somewheres,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>2</span>
+and had come to Millbank as a law student,
+when old Judge Parlin was at the head of the Maine
+bar. He became in turn chief clerk, junior partner,
+and finally full partner to the judge, and when the
+latter died&mdash;of disappointment, it was said, due to
+failure to secure the chief justiceship&mdash;Wing became
+the head of the firm, and finally the firm itself;
+for he had a dislike for partnerships, and at forty his
+office associates were employés associated in particular
+cases, not partners in the general business.</p>
+
+<p>Judge Parlin was less than sixty years of age
+when he died and left a widow, the Parlin homestead,
+and an estate of private debts, that seemed to
+breed as Wing attempted to untangle affairs. For
+years his income had been large and his expenses
+small. His townsmen had rated him as their richest
+man who was not of the great Millbank logging
+firms. There was not a man but would have considered
+it an insult to the town to hint that Judge
+Parlin was worth less than a hundred thousand dollars.
+His investments turned out the veriest cats
+and dogs; and even in cases where the security
+might have been ample, the papers were often executed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>3</span>
+with such carelessness that collection rested
+on the honesty of the borrower and not on sufficiency
+of documentary evidence. In fact, the debts outvalued
+the resources two to one&mdash;that is, they seemed
+to, until it was announced that the Parlin homestead
+had been sold for a sum sufficient to pay all obligations
+and leave the widow a life income of five hundred
+dollars a year. People understood when it was
+learned that Wing himself was the purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin was fifty years of age at the time of
+her husband’s death&mdash;a woman to whom stateliness
+had come with white hairs and the growth of ambition.
+From the hour of the judge’s death, the
+devotion she had given him living turned to the protection
+of his good name. In a distant, cold way she
+had always shown a regard for Wing, which changed
+to more marked affection, when his interposition
+provided the means to meet the last of her husband’s
+debts. She harboured no suspicion that the price paid
+for the homestead was beyond value. Not only had
+it been her home throughout her married life, but
+the judge had always spoken of its value in the
+large terms that were habitual with him in dealing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>4</span>
+with personal matters, and, from the moment when
+Wing discovered the condition of the estate, he held
+before her constantly the idea that the homestead
+would bring a price sufficient to cover the indebtedness.
+Indeed, she felt that she was making a sacrifice,
+when she consented to waive her dower rights,
+and chiefly she rejoiced that the purchaser was Wing
+and not a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>It is possible that some suspicion attached in her
+mind to the purchase of the annuity, and this may
+have been confirmed by Wing’s insistence that he
+would consent to occupy the homestead only on condition
+that she should make it her home for her lifetime.
+If, however, this was so, she proved herself
+large-minded enough to understand that her happiness&mdash;so
+far as this was possible to her now dwarfed
+life&mdash;was the best acknowledgment she could make
+to such a man, and during the five years since the
+judge’s death, she had been the mistress of Wing’s
+home.</p>
+
+<p>The house stands at the crown of Parlin’s Hill.
+The estate embraces twenty acres, divided nearly
+equally between farm land, meadow, and woodland.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>5</span>
+The portion lying west of River Road is an apple
+orchard, covering the slope of the hill from the road
+to the river. The roll of the land is to the southwest,
+where all through the summer days the sun
+lies in warm splendour, that seems to live in the heart
+and juices of the red and yellow fruit, which is the
+pride of Millbank. To have apples from the Parlin
+orchard, is to have the best that Millbank can
+give.</p>
+
+<p>The house is near the road on the easterly side.
+The winter snows are too deep to warrant building
+far from the travelled roads, and for the same reason
+the buildings are connected one with another, under
+a continuous roof, so that the breaking of roads and
+paths is unnecessary for access to stock. The house
+is large and square, with a long wing stretching to
+the ample woodshed, through which one passes to
+the barns. The body of the buildings is white, and
+the shutters green. A drive runs to the south of the
+house, leading from the road to the doors of the
+great barn. It passes the side door of the main
+house, the door to the wing and the woodshed, and
+the buildings shelter it from the fierce northern<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>6</span>
+winds. In the flower-beds that border this drive,
+under the shelter of the house, the earliest flowers
+bloom in spring and the latest in autumn.</p>
+
+<p>Between the road and the front of the house is an
+enclosure of about half an acre&mdash;the “front yard,”
+as Millbank names it. A footpath runs from the
+front gate to the main door of the house, dividing the
+enclosure into two nearly equal parts. This enclosure
+is crowded with flower-beds and shrubbery; the
+paths are bordered with box hedges, while a few
+great evergreens tower above the roof, and make
+the place somewhat gloomy on dull days. In midsummer,
+however, when the sun turns the corner and
+thrusts strongly into the enclosure, the deep shadows
+of the great trees are cool and inviting.</p>
+
+<p>From the principal door, the main hall, broad and
+unencumbered, makes back until it is cut by the narrower
+hall from the south-side door. This side hall
+carries the stairs, and east of it are the dining room,
+kitchens, and pantries. The main hall goes on, in
+narrowed estate, between the dining room on the
+south and kitchens on the north, to the woodsheds.
+To the left, as one enters the house, is the great parlour,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>7</span>
+seldom used, and a sitting room, the gloomiest
+room on the floor, for it has a northern outlook
+only.</p>
+
+<p>In the angle of the two halls is the great room
+which Wing used as his library. It is some twenty-four
+by thirty-six feet, high-posted, and has a warm,
+sunny outlook to the south and west. It is lined
+with books and pictures; a great desk stands in the
+centre front, and lounges and easy chairs are scattered
+about in inviting confusion. The room above
+was his bedchamber, adjoining which is a bathroom,
+in its day the wonder and challenge of Millbank.
+An iron spiral stairway leads from the lower
+to the upper room, so that the occupant has the two
+rooms at his command independent of the remainder
+of the house. This was Wing’s special domain.
+Outside these two rooms, Mrs. Parlin ruled as undisputed
+as during her thirty years of wifehood.
+Within, Wing held control, and while no small share
+of his personal work was done here, the great room
+saw much of his private life of which his everyday
+acquaintances had little suspicion. The cases contained
+many a volume that belongs to literature<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>8</span>
+rather than law, and here he found that best of rest
+from the onerous demands of a constantly growing
+practice&mdash;complete change in matter and manner of
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>On the night of the 10th of May, 1880, the light
+burned late in Lawyer Wing’s library. It was the
+scandal of Millbank that this occurred often. The
+village was given to regarding the night as a time
+when no man should work. “Early to bed and early
+to rise” was its motto, and though an opposite practice
+had left Theodore Wing with more of health,
+wealth, and wisdom than most Millbankians possessed,
+he had never succeeded in reconciling his
+townsmen to his methods. But to-night conditions
+were more outrageous than usual. Mrs. Merrick,
+from the bed of an ailing grandchild, glanced up the
+hill at midnight and saw the light still burning.
+Old Doctor Portus, coming villageward from a confinement
+case, an hour later, saw the light as he
+passed the house and shook his head with dire prognostications.
+If Wing should be sick, old Doctor
+Portus would certainly not be called in attendance,
+and therefore he could measure this outrage of nature’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>9</span>
+laws with a mind uninfluenced by personal
+bias.</p>
+
+<p>At four o’clock, however, a farmer’s son, who had
+yielded the night to Millbank’s temptations, hurrying
+farmward to his morning chores, saw no light
+growing dim in the first flush of the spring morning
+to attract his attention to a scene that later knowledge
+revealed. At six, the hired man came down
+the back stairs and went through the woodshed to
+the barns. Turning the heavy wooden bar that held
+the great doors fast, he swung them open and let in
+the soft morning air.</p>
+
+<p>Then, his eye travelled along the stretch of
+house and he saw something that startled him. The
+side door was standing ajar&mdash;half open&mdash;and on the
+stone step was a huddled mass that looked strangely
+like a man, half lying and half crouching. Before
+the hired man had passed half the distance to the
+door, he knew that the huddled mass was Theodore
+Wing. His head and right arm rested on the
+threshold and held the door from closing; his body
+was on the stone step. There was blood spattered
+on the white of the westerly door-post, and the left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>10</span>
+temple of the man, which was upward as he lay,
+showed a spot around which the flesh was blackened
+as if powder-burnt, while between the head and the
+threshold a thin stream of blood still flowed and fell
+drop by drop on the stone below. The eyes were wide
+open and the look in them seemed to say that, suddenly
+as death had come, it had not come too suddenly
+for the man to realise that here had fallen the
+end of his hopes and ambitions, his strivings and accomplishments,
+in a form that left him powerless to
+strike a blow in his own behalf.</p>
+
+<p>This murder was the most tragic event that had
+ever happened in the history of Millbank. It caused
+the more terror in that, so far as any one could understand,
+it was absolutely without motive. It was
+not known that Theodore Wing had an enemy in the
+world. Millbank was proud of him with a wholesome,
+kindly pride, which found much of self-gratulation
+in having such a citizen. Yet this man had
+been struck down by a murderer’s hand, so silently
+that no sound had been heard, and the murderer
+had gone as he had come, without leaving trace of
+his coming or going.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>11</span>
+Contrary to expectation aroused by the first news,
+the house seemed not to have been entered. The
+whole of the crime was evidenced in the dead man on
+the stone step. Apparently, there had been a ring at
+the bell and a shot from a pistol, held close to the
+head of the man, as he stood in the doorway, by
+some one who had stationed himself at the easterly
+end of the doorstep, and who, his purpose accomplished,
+slipped into the darkness which had opened
+to give him way for this deed. It was uncanny in
+the extreme and gave a sense of insecurity to life that
+an ordinary murder, due to traceable causes, would
+have failed utterly to give.</p>
+
+<p>The closest inspection furnished no clue. There
+was no footprint on the drive, and the grass at the
+end of the step, where the murderer must have stood,
+gave no token. And yet&mdash;here was another fearsome
+fact&mdash;the deed had been done by some one
+who knew the house and its peculiarities. The door
+had two bell-pulls, one on either door-post. Originally
+there had been only the one on the right or
+easterly post, and this was the general bell. When
+Wing took the library as his special room, he had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>12</span>
+change made and the bell transferred to that room,
+so that his personal visitors could come and go without
+disturbing the house. In a little time, however,
+this proved very annoying, because most visitors
+came to this door, and he gave an order for a general
+bell to be put in. This he intended should also have
+a pull on the right-hand post, but the workman, who
+seemed to have no conception that one post could
+carry two pulls, put it on the left. Thus the post
+nearest Wing’s room carried the general bell, and
+the further post his own, and neither of the bells
+could be heard on the premises devoted to the other.
+At first, this condition gave rise to troublesome mistakes,
+and Wing talked often of a change, but gradually
+the visitors to the house became accustomed to
+the condition and the need of a change disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>It was clear, therefore, that whoever the murderer
+was, he had rung the bell which alone could be
+heard by the lawyer at his desk, and therefore must
+have been acquainted with the peculiarity of the bell-pulls.
+Had the lawyer had any cause to fear? Apparently
+not, for the shade to the window nearest his
+desk was raised and he evidently had answered the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>13</span>
+bell as a matter of course, not even taking with him a
+light. But, if he was seated at his desk, as seemed
+clearly the case, the man must have seen him as he
+came up the drive and might easily have shot him
+through the window. Why, then, had he called him
+to the door? The body had not been disturbed after
+it fell; the watch was in the fob, and money in the
+pocket. Murder was evidently the murderer’s purpose;
+yet he had summoned his victim, when clearly
+he had him in his power without so doing.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>14</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="ii">CHAPTER II<br />
+<span>Mrs. Parlin Testifies</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>N addition to the ill-fated lawyer, there were but
+three people in the Parlin household&mdash;the widow;
+a general house girl, Mary Mullin; and the hired man,
+Jonathan Oldbeg, a nephew of the Mullin woman.
+Oldbeg was about thirty, and his aunt forty. The
+widow’s room was in the northwest corner of the
+second floor, while that of the Mullin woman was
+over the kitchen. The hired man slept over the
+woodshed. All the windows of the three rooms gave
+to the north, excepting two in Mrs. Parlin’s room,
+which opened to the west, overlooking the orchard
+and the river.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin was a tall, striking woman who carried
+her head, crowned with waves of white hair,
+with an air that some named queenly, and others by
+that terrible New England word “conceited.” The
+death of her husband had been a terrible blow to her
+soaring ambitions; but this she had outlived, at least<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>15</span>
+to outward seeming. Childless, as well as husbandless,
+the dormant maternal instinct, which is a part
+of every true woman, had stirred to life under the
+care lavished upon her by Wing, whose years were
+sufficiently less than her own to give a natural tone to
+the pseudo relation of mother and son. Nevertheless,
+there had been something of the maternal in her
+relationship to the judge&mdash;of that phase of the maternal
+which gives to natural weakness courage for
+defence. It was not in personal finance alone that
+the judge was a grown-up boy. The sense of fear
+was so little developed as to amount scarce to caution.
+Scrupulous in duty, he gave no thought to
+the enemies or enmities he created, while she saw
+in these not alone threats to his professional career,
+but as well danger of a personal nature. Even she,
+standing guard as she did, had not been able to save
+him from enemies who defeated his noble ambition
+and would, as she believed, as readily have destroyed
+him. As the intensity of her grief softened with
+time, the solicitude with which she had followed her
+husband’s career, was transferred to Wing, but with
+less of the factor of self than it possessed of old, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>16</span>
+the result that she grew more lovable and companionable,
+and gained a friendly interest from the village
+which had not been hers during the judge’s
+lifetime.</p>
+
+<p>To this recovered peace of mind the tragic death
+of Wing came as a crushing blow, the full weight of
+which few realised until the broken, haggard woman
+was seen of the public for the first time at the
+inquest. Years seemed to have left their impress
+upon her, and there were many who noted that the
+immediate physical effect was as much more marked
+than that following the judge’s death, as Wing’s
+death had been the more tragic. Her husband’s
+death left to her the responsibility of protecting his
+name, in co-operation with his partner and friend.
+Wing’s death snatched away the last prop and stay
+of her years. Husbandless and childless, to her life
+had no further meaning, and while the community
+was whispering that she was again rich&mdash;for it was
+known that she was the principal legatee of the dead
+lawyer’s will&mdash;she was looking down the years with
+a dread that made hope impossible.</p>
+
+<p>Her testimony was of the briefest. She had said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>17</span>
+“good-night” to Wing at half-past nine. She had
+gone to the library for that purpose, as was her custom
+evenings when he did not sit with her in her
+own sitting room till her early bedtime.</p>
+
+<p>“Was it his custom to spend the evening in your
+sitting room or the library?” the coroner asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Two or three evenings a week he spent in my
+sitting room. The other evenings in the library, when
+he was at home.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was he away much, evenings?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only when he was at court in Augusta or Portland.
+When he had cases at Norridgewock he always
+drove home at night.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time did you have supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“At six.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the night of the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness nodded, too much affected to speak
+her answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Who was present at supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Theodore and myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mary Mullin and Oldbeg did not eat with you?”</p>
+
+<p>This was a sore spot in Millbank’s estimate of the
+widow Parlin. The town still held it a Christian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>18</span>
+duty for “help” to eat at the same table with their
+employers. Every departure from this primitive
+rule was occasion for heart-burnings and recriminations.</p>
+
+<p>“They ate by themselves in the kitchen.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a slight raising of the head, a shadow,
+as it were, of the old self-assertive pride, which in
+other days would have made itself manifest in answering
+this question. So deep was Millbank in the
+tragedy that the audience almost lost the weight of
+the heinous fact confessed in this answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you go directly to your sitting room after
+supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, we went out into the front yard, to look at
+the flower-beds, and then crossed the road to the
+orchard and walked through that to the river-bank.”</p>
+
+<p>“From there you returned to the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you go on your return?”</p>
+
+<p>“To my sitting room. He lighted my lamp and
+then excused himself, because of some work he had
+to do.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>19</span>
+“When did you see him again?”</p>
+
+<p>“At half-past nine, when I went to bid him good-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain of the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; for I stopped to wind the clock as I went
+through the hall, and noticed that it was exactly half-past
+nine.”</p>
+
+<p>“There are two doors to the library, are there
+not&mdash;one from the main hall and one from the
+side?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“By which one did you enter the library?”</p>
+
+<p>“By the one from the side hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“Which is near the side door of the house?”</p>
+
+<p>Again she had to nod assent. This was the door
+through which Wing had passed to his death.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you knock at the door before entering?”</p>
+
+<p>“Always.”</p>
+
+<p>Again that slight suggestive raising of the
+head.</p>
+
+<p>“Did he open the door for you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. He knew my knock, and always came to
+open the door.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>20</span>
+“Did you notice anything peculiar about him or
+the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there anything to indicate whether he was
+writing or reading when you knocked?”</p>
+
+<p>“He had a book in his left hand and the light
+was on a small table by his reading chair.”</p>
+
+<p>“This reading chair and table, where were they
+in the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Before the fireplace, about the centre of the
+north side.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there a fire in the fireplace?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; there were a few wood coals.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it a cold night?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; but he was very fond of a wood fire and
+when the evening was not too warm had one, even if
+he had to have a window open.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the window open that night?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; the one nearest the River Road, overlooking
+the driveway.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was the nearest window to the desk?”</p>
+
+<p>“The nearest of the south windows. The desk
+stood between the two west windows.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>21</span>
+“Did you notice whether the shades were
+drawn?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were drawn to the west windows, but
+were raised to all four of the south windows.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you long in the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only long enough to say ‘good-night’ and ask
+him not to read too late.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did he say to this?”</p>
+
+<p>“Laughed, as he always did, when I spoke of his
+sitting up late, and,” in a voice that was almost a
+sob; “said, ‘You know, mother, I can’t get over
+my bad habits, but really to-night I’m only going to
+read a chapter or two more, for I must write a letter
+and then go to bed. I’ve got a busy day to-morrow.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that all he said?”</p>
+
+<p>“Excepting ‘good-night.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you recall anything in his manner, tone, or
+words that indicated trouble or apprehension of any
+kind?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing. He was, as always, cheerful and,
+seemingly, happy, and laughed quite carelessly when
+he spoke of his bad habit.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>22</span>
+“When did you next see him?”</p>
+
+<p>The question came with a suddenness that startled
+every one who heard it, including the witness. She
+grew white and for a moment swayed as if she would
+fall. Dr. Rogers, her physician, stepped towards
+her, but before he could reach her side, she recovered
+by what seemed a supreme effort of the will,
+and, raising her head, answered:</p>
+
+<p>“In the morning, a little after six, lying dead on
+the threshold of the south door.”</p>
+
+<p>Then her head dropped on the table in front of
+her, and her face was hidden from the gaze of her
+curious neighbours, but not a sob was heard. She
+had spent her tears long before.</p>
+
+<p>At an adjourned session, she testified that she had
+heard no unusual noise during the night. She was
+a sound sleeper and did not wake easily. She had
+fallen asleep soon after hearing the clock strike ten.
+She did not recall awaking until aroused by the noise
+made by Mary Mullin knocking at her door, soon
+after six o’clock, to tell her of the discovery of the
+murder.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you believe that a pistol shot could have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>23</span>
+fired at your side door and you not hear it?” the
+coroner asked, with that sudden sharpness he had at
+times.</p>
+
+<p>“I am compelled to believe that it did occur;” and
+there was to more than one onlooker an air of defiance
+in the answer.</p>
+
+<p>“In advance of this, would you believe it possible?”
+he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him as if weighing the question and
+its purpose, and then said deliberately:</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>The answer manifestly accorded with the sense of
+the spectators, among whom there were sundry exchanges
+of glances not all friendly to the witness.
+But the coroner was speaking again:</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Parlin, what do you know of the parentage
+of the late Theodore Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>Every head was bent towards the witness to catch
+the answer to what the veriest dullard suspected was
+the most important question thus far asked. The
+witness grew pale&mdash;paler than she had been at any
+time, and there came into her bearing a touch of
+defiance rather felt than seen. She was apparently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>24</span>
+arming herself against coroner and spectators.</p>
+
+<p>“He was the son of Judge Parlin.”</p>
+
+<p>If she had aimed at sensation, she could not have
+hoped for greater success. A murmur of surprise
+ran about the room, and the confusion rose to a
+height that for a time defied the efforts of the coroner
+to preserve order. Curiosity to hear further questions
+and answers came to his aid, and silence was restored.</p>
+
+<p>“By a former marriage?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. He was born out of wedlock.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you first learn of this?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the eleventh of this month.”</p>
+
+<p>“The day succeeding the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you learn of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“From a paper in the judge’s handwriting, found
+in Theodore’s desk, and enclosed in an envelope
+addressed ‘Mrs. Amelia Parlin; Mr. Theodore
+Wing; to be opened and read by the survivor, in
+event of the death of either, and until such death to
+remain unopened.’”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>25</span>
+“Was this inscription also in the handwriting of
+your late husband?”</p>
+
+<p>Now many noted that she had said “Judge Parlin,”
+and not “my late husband,” as if she would
+remind them from the start of the public’s share in
+his acts, rather than of her own.</p>
+
+<p>“It was.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please produce that paper.”</p>
+
+<p>The witness drew forth a large square envelope
+and handed it to the coroner, who said to the jury:</p>
+
+<p>“I regret that I am compelled to read to you a
+paper which was evidently intended for one person’s
+reading only, and that Mrs. Parlin or Mr. Wing,
+according as the one or the other should be the longest-lived.
+The circumstances of the death which
+placed this in the hands of the other for perusal,
+leaves no alternative. Before reading, let me say,
+I was a townsman of Judge Parlin: I had the honour
+to know him intimately, and notwithstanding what
+I am about to read you, I still hold it an honour. He
+was an able lawyer, an upright judge, a good citizen,
+and, I may add, a noble man. If he sinned, who of
+us is there that is without sin? If there be such, let<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>26</span>
+him cast the first stone. I am not entitled to do
+so.”</p>
+
+<p>The widow sat with head held high, as if there had
+come to her again the old strength that so many felt
+was gone forever. When her husband was in question,
+her courage had no limit. She flinched from no
+eye that was turned towards her, but there was that
+in her own which seemed to resent even the kindly
+words of the coroner, as if in protest that they implied
+wrong in her husband’s past which she would
+not for one instant admit. It was not for them to
+accuse, still less to excuse. What he had done was a
+thing that concerned him and his God alone, and her
+look said more plainly than words, “neither do I accuse
+him!” The instinct of defence covered her as
+a shield.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime the coroner read:</p>
+
+<p>“‘There were three persons who had the right to
+know what I am about to write. One died many
+years ago. Until another dies, these words are not
+to be read. In the course of nature, it is probable
+that the reading will fall to Theodore, not to my
+wife. If so, I believe that when Theodore reads<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>27</span>
+them, I will already have been reunited to my wife
+and will have told her all that I write here, and so
+told it that she will feel my sincerity more clearly
+than I can make it felt by any written words.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Although born and raised in Millbank, I read
+law in the office of Judge Murdock in Bangor. My
+father had a great admiration for the judge and,
+dying early, before he had seen me admitted to the
+bar, asked his friend to take me into his office. If
+I have attained anything of note in my profession, I
+owe it largely to the fidelity with which Judge Murdock
+discharged his trust.</p>
+
+<p>“‘While in his office and shortly before I returned
+to Millbank, I became involved with a young woman
+of Bangor, who became by me the mother of the man
+now known as Theodore Wing&mdash;he will find his
+name legally established by action of the Legislature
+in 1841. Unfortunately, I can say little that is
+good of her; I will say nothing otherwise, if I can
+avoid it. I shirk no part of the responsibility for the
+wrong done. God alone knows that if she failed in
+true womanhood, then or after, it was not I who was
+wholly to blame. Thus much I can say, she was and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>28</span>
+is a woman of brilliant mind and shrewd resources,
+which have carried her far socially.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Fortunately I did not lack money, and so was
+able to provide comfortably for the woman and her
+child. As a matter of justice, I offered marriage,
+but she made it a condition that her child should be
+placed in some institution, urging that it would otherwise
+always be a stigma upon us. To this I would
+not consent, and her election to forego the vindication
+of marriage put me on my guard, for I could
+not believe that a woman of her temperament would
+deliberately elect to go through life encumbered with
+an unfathered child. The event proved me right,
+for within three months she had placed the infant in
+an institution for orphans, and returned to Bangor
+with a plausible tale accounting for her absence.</p>
+
+<p>“‘She, of course, counted safely on my silence,
+but I did not hesitate to make it a condition that I
+should take possession of the child for whom I provided,
+rearing him in such a way that he has taken
+a place in the world equal to that of his parents, and
+as untrammelled by his unsuspected birth as it is
+possible for one to be. My marriage has never been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>29</span>
+blessed with children, and thus to him and my wife
+of thirty years, the two on earth whose claim upon
+me is most sacred, I am able to leave all that I have
+accumulated.</p>
+
+<p>“‘He has been to me all that a son could be. Let
+this narrative be to him, if he ever reads it, an explanation
+of anything in which I have been less than
+a father to him.</p>
+
+<p>“‘I see no necessity for continuing this narrative
+further, save that it may be to my son a relief to
+know something more of his mother, and to my wife
+a joy to know that my wrong did not bring a woman
+to misery and worldly ruin. Within a year of her
+desertion of my son, I attended her wedding to a
+man of equal social rank, who has since risen to
+wealth and political power. She has been a notable
+aid to him, and her name is well-nigh as often pronounced
+in connection with his fortunes as is his own.
+She is the mother of children who have taken good
+social positions, and some of whom seem to have inherited
+their mother’s brilliance of mind and unflinching
+purpose and their father’s ability in money
+and power getting. To say more than this, even to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>30</span>
+the two dear ones, of whom one alone is to read
+these lines, would be an injustice to the woman herself
+and to her children. To her influence, exerted
+against me, I attribute my failure to secure the chief
+justiceship. As great as was the disappointment,
+I can write the fact to-day without bitterness toward
+her and without purpose to accuse her of injustice.
+If by meeting the penalty of my sin, I can avert it
+from others, I am content.’”</p>
+
+<p>Unless one knew the unbending spirit of the man
+in matters of right and wrong, he must fail to understand
+the keenness of feeling covered by the apparently
+cold, formal statement of fact to which
+Judge Parlin had confined his written words. To the
+witness on the witness rack, however, those words
+were as if the living man spoke again and laid bare
+a heart torn with the humiliation of self-condemnation,
+more terrible to him than the judgment of any
+human tribunal. Realising the bitterness of spirit in
+which he had spoken, she was stirred anew by that
+long-dead instinct of protection, which had made her
+weakness a shield in the past to his strength, and
+held high her head, too proud of her dead to allow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>31</span>
+any one to find in her the faintest blame for this
+strong spirit whose words she, and she alone, read
+to their last meaning.</p>
+
+<p>The hush that followed the reading was that
+strong suspension of every function which betokens
+deep emotion. Before the mass had recovered, the
+coroner’s voice broke harshly upon them:</p>
+
+<p>“When did you first know of the existence of this
+paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“The paper itself on the eleventh. I saw the
+envelope and its address by accident a week or ten
+days before.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can you fix the exact date?”</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot. I saw it by accident, as I have said,
+and I assumed it related to something Judge Parlin
+had desired done in the event named on the envelope.
+I asked no questions regarding it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you state on oath that you knew nothing
+of the contents of this paper until after the death of
+Mr. Theodore Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>The white head went up, and there was a sting of
+rebuke in the tone in which the answer came:</p>
+
+<p>“I was under oath when I gave my testimony. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>32</span>
+stated then that I first learned of this paper and its
+contents on May eleventh. I can add nothing to
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever suspect the relationship of your
+husband to Mr. Wing prior to the eleventh of this
+month, when you saw this paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would a knowledge of that relationship, if you
+had known it while he was living, have changed in
+any way your feeling towards Mr. Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness paused as if she would question her
+own heart before answering, and the coroner waited
+patiently, with apparent understanding of the need.
+A hush fell on the room, like that which had followed
+the reading of the remarkable paper. Then Mrs.
+Parlin looked directly at the coroner and answered
+distinctly and without a tremor in her voice:</p>
+
+<p>“I think it would.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you,” said the coroner. “I am sorry if
+I have in any way disturbed you unnecessarily in
+this examination. I know that you believe I have
+aimed simply at my duty.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>33</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="iii">CHAPTER III<br />
+<span>Alive at Midnight</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>N hour after the close of the day’s session, Mrs.
+Parlin was in her sitting room, with the door
+closed and the shades lowered. On the opposite side
+of the small light-stand sat a rather undersized man,
+plainly dressed, and of somewhat insignificant aspect.
+Distinctly, the woman in her was disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>“I have sent for you, Mr. Trafford,” she said,
+slowly and apparently reluctantly, “because both my
+husband and Theodore&mdash;Mr. Wing&mdash;had the utmost
+confidence in your ability. I want you to find Mr.
+Wing’s murderer. It’s not a matter of cost&mdash;I simply
+want him found.”</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, she gathered confidence, and the
+tone of her final words almost evidenced a belief that
+he could do what she asked. She stopped speaking,
+and the insignificance of the man’s appearance was
+again more real to her and sent a chill over her earnestness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>34</span>
+“If you entrust the case to me,” he said, in a tone
+singularly winning for a man in his station and of his
+personal appearance, “I shall do my best to sustain
+the confidence Judge Parlin and Mr. Wing gave me;
+but let me warn you, in my profession there is no
+royal road. I have no instinct that enables me to
+scent a murderer or other criminal. I reach results
+by hard work, close attention to details, and perseverance.
+I make it a condition of undertaking any case
+that nothing shall be concealed from me. I must
+start with at least the knowledge that my principal
+possesses.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve told everything to the coroner. If I’m not
+mistaken, you’ve heard the testimony.” She spoke
+with dignity, almost with hostility, in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I heard the testimony,” he said, “but are you
+sure you’ve told everything? There’s sometimes
+things that we know which aren’t facts&mdash;that is, not
+facts as the term is understood when one is giving
+testimony.”</p>
+
+<p>“For instance?”</p>
+
+<p>“You have impressions of what led up to this
+tragedy.” There was nothing of question in his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>35</span>
+tone. It was as if he stated what was indisputable.</p>
+
+<p>The statement seemed to strike her and to arouse
+a new train of thought. She was silent for some
+time, and he sat watching anxiously, but without a
+sign of impatience. At last she looked up and answered:</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken; I’m absolutely in the dark.
+There’s nothing to point in any direction.”</p>
+
+<p>He accepted the disappointment, but accepted it as
+absolute. He evidently had striven by the assertion
+so positively made to surprise her into new thought,
+with the hope that it might hit on something that in
+his skilled hands would have meaning. He saw not
+only that he had not succeeded, but that there was
+no ground for success.</p>
+
+<p>“That, in itself,” he said, “is significant. It
+shows that we must dig deeper in his life than we
+have yet done. The motive; we want the motive!”</p>
+
+<p>“There was no motive,” she said. “It was motiveless.
+There are men who do murder for murder’s
+sake.” Under sting of her life experience, she spoke
+with keen bitterness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>36</span>
+He leaned across the table, and for the instant she
+saw something in the man she had not seen before;
+something that flashed like a gleam of new intelligence
+and was gone with its very birth.</p>
+
+<p>“There are no motiveless crimes,” he said. “In
+this case, of all others, you may be sure a motive existed,
+and that when we put our hands on it, we
+shall find it a tremendous one&mdash;that is, tremendous
+in its imperative force.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what could be the motive&mdash;against a man
+like him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because he was such a man, we may be the more
+certain of motive,” he said. “Under other conditions
+it might have been Judge Parlin.” He spoke
+at hazard&mdash;perhaps; but the effect was something
+startling. She grew pale as at the inquest before
+she answered as to the first knowledge of Wing’s
+death, and her companion expected for the moment
+that she would faint. But she was a woman equal to
+noteworthy sudden efforts, and even as he watched
+she overcame the momentary weakness. Yet it was
+with pale lips she stammered:</p>
+
+<p>“I understand. It might have been the judge.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>37</span>
+Trafford waited, seemingly expecting something
+more, but when the pause grew awkward, he continued,
+“He told you he had a letter to write
+before he went to bed. Had he written it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. It’s a thing we never shall
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a thing that we will know, and that in a very
+short time. Who entered the room first that morning?”
+and there was a sense of action in his tone
+that caused her to look up with sudden interest.</p>
+
+<p>“I did. Mary told me expressly that she hadn’t
+dared open the door until I came, and Jonathan was
+by the body, outside.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the door closed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who closed it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have never asked. I supposed it hadn’t been
+open.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was open,” he said. “He came to the door
+without a light when the bell rang. Naturally, he
+left the door open so that the light from the room
+would shine through. He would leave it wide open,
+to get the full light. Somebody shut that door!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>38</span>
+Mary and Jonathan were called and questioned.
+The latter set the matter at rest. When he discovered
+the body he stooped over it to make certain that
+Mr. Wing was dead. Then, remembering to have
+heard that you must not touch a murdered man until
+the coroner comes, he arose without touching
+him and as he did so saw through the outer door that
+the door to the library was closed.</p>
+
+<p>“The outer door was wide open?” Trafford said.</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, ’twant neither. ’Twas against Mr.
+Wing’s head and arm. If it hadn’t been fur them,
+it would ’a’ shut too.”</p>
+
+<p>After the two had gone, Trafford declared he
+would see the room, but proposed first to do so alone.
+He entered from the main hall, set his light on the
+lamp-mat on the writing-desk, and took his station in
+front of the door from the side hall. Here he stood
+for at least ten minutes studying the room. Then
+he walked to a medium-sized safe that stood to the
+right of the fire-jamb and was partially hidden by
+book-shelves near the door from the side hall.</p>
+
+<p>Having studied this for some time, he made a
+minute examination of every part of the room, including<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>39</span>
+the blotting paper in the writing-pad on the
+desk, which he finally lifted carefully and held before
+the mirror to examine the few ink-marks it showed.
+Of these he took note in a small memorandum book.
+They seemed to be the only things that struck his
+attention particularly. Then he rang and told Mary
+to ask Mrs. Parlin to come to the library.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that the blotting-pad that was here that
+night?” he asked. “And you were the first one who
+came to this desk in the morning?” when she had
+answered him as to the identity of the pad. “And
+there was no letter on the desk?”</p>
+
+<p>“None.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then, evidently he had not written the letter he
+told you of?”</p>
+
+<p>“Evidently not,” she assented.</p>
+
+<p>“Then he must have been killed before he had
+time to write?”</p>
+
+<p>“It would seem so.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, therefore, probably very soon after you
+left him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can see no other conclusion, unless he changed
+his mind and didn’t write,” she assented.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>40</span>
+“Now we come to one of the impressions which
+you could not testify to as a fact, but which may be
+of far more value. Did he say he had a letter to
+write in a way that makes you think he may have
+changed his mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said. “I understood, from the way
+in which he said it, that it was the important thing
+he had to do before going to bed. I went away
+satisfied that he would write the letter early and then
+get to bed. He certainly meant that the next day
+was to be a busy one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then he probably was killed, very soon, since he
+had not written the letter.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, if you please, let me send for Jonathan
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>When the hired man came, he glanced over his
+shoulder in an uneasy way, as if he did not more
+than half like the room. Trafford motioned him to
+a chair and without any preliminaries suddenly demanded:</p>
+
+<p>“At what hour are you going to testify that you
+went to bed that night?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>41</span>
+Thus far Oldbeg had simply been called upon to
+testify to the finding of the body. The remainder of
+his testimony was to be given later.</p>
+
+<p>“About nine o’clock; not more’n five minutes one
+way or ’tother.”</p>
+
+<p>“What were you doing on Canaan Street at five
+minutes after midnight?”</p>
+
+<p>Oldbeg looked frightened, and Mrs. Parlin
+showed considerable anxiety in the look she cast on
+the two men.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” said Trafford sharply. “If I can find
+out you were there, I can find out why you were
+there. I’d rather hear it from you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was comin’ from the twelve-o’clock train. My
+cousin, Jim Shepard, went to Portland to work an’
+I saw him off.”</p>
+
+<p>“Be careful,” Trafford warned him. “If you
+were coming from the station, you’d have come up
+Somerset Street, not Canaan.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, ye see,” the man explained, placed at once
+at his ease in having something to tell of which he
+had knowledge; “Jim, he was spendin’ the evenin’
+with his gal, Miss Flanders, in Canaan Street, an’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>42</span>
+I was to call fur him thar; an’ he was so late we
+couldn’t get round to the station, an’ so we made a
+short cut through Gray’s Court an’ jest catched the
+train, an’ that was all. We had to run, or he’d ’a’
+missed it any way. So I come back that way, instead
+o’ through Somerset Street.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you came through Canaan Street to River
+Road&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I didn’t,” the other interrupted. “I cut
+across lots back o’ Burgess, ’cause ’twas shorter,
+an’ struck River Road down in front of Miller’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and then came up to the driveway and so
+into the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep!”</p>
+
+<p>“You must have got in about ten minutes after
+twelve.”</p>
+
+<p>“Jest to a dot!” he exclaimed in evident admiration
+of the other’s shrewdness. “Jest to a dot. I
+looked to my watch an’ ’twas jest ten minutes arter
+midnight.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you must have passed close to the
+side-door step?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>43</span>
+“Yess’r; fact, ye might say, I hit agin it, for I
+did knock my toe agin it as I passed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mr. Wing’s body there then?” The demand
+was quick and imperative.</p>
+
+<p>“No, siree! Do you s’pose I’d ’a’ waited till
+mornin’ to rout ’em out ef it had ben? Mr. Wing
+was in this ere room.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“I saw his shadder on the curtain. He was
+walkin’ up an’ down. I seed him turn as I come up
+the drive.”</p>
+
+<p>“But why didn’t you see him? The shade was up
+to that window, when he was found in the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep; but they was all down when I come up the
+drive, an’ I saw his shadder agin ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>Further questioning elicited no added information
+from the man, excepting the statement that as his
+cousin Jim swung on to the rear end of the car, another
+man had swung on to the front end, suddenly
+rushing out of the darkness. Jonathan did not know
+who it was; indeed, had hardly given the matter a
+thought, so anxious had he been lest Jim should be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>44</span>
+left. When he had gone, Trafford turned to Mrs.
+Parlin and asked:</p>
+
+<p>“When do you think Mr. Wing intended writing
+that letter, if he hadn’t written it at ten minutes after
+midnight?”</p>
+
+<p>“He must have changed his mind, after all,” she
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Evidently, he did,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>Then he took up the matter of Judge Parlin’s confession.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not wish to pain you,” he said, “but I
+would not be justified in letting that drop without
+going into it further. Have you any suspicion who
+Theodore’s mother was&mdash;or is, since she is still
+living, or was between five and six years ago?”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t the faintest suspicion,” she said.
+“But surely this has been raked open enough.
+You can let that wound heal.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can let nothing heal,” he said. “I don’t for
+the life of me see how that can have anything to
+do with this murder, but that’s no reason I may
+not find that it has lots to do with it. At any rate,
+I must find her out.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>45</span>
+“Can you do it on the feeble clue we have?” she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“On such a clue, I’ll trace her in a week and not
+half try. Your husband intended to shield her
+from discovery, and but for these untoward circumstances,
+we would be bound to respect his wishes.
+As it is, I must know the identity of the woman.
+I hope I’ll find nothing to compel me to go farther.
+In the meantime, I’m going to take with me this
+blotting-pad, and I want you to examine it so that
+you can identify it beyond question, blotter and all.
+It’s too important for any mistake.”</p>
+
+<p>Just then Mary Mullin brought word that Mr.
+McManus had come in response to a message sent
+earlier in the evening by Mr. Trafford. Mr. McManus
+had been with Mr. Wing for a number of
+years, and held the most confidential relation to his
+principal of any in the office. Since the murder he
+had naturally taken charge of his personal affairs.
+He was a man of thirty, tall and lithe, with a nervous
+force about him that was held well in control
+by strong will-power.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>46</span>
+“Do you know what special engagements Mr.
+Wing had for the eleventh, that caused him to expect
+a particularly busy day?” the detective asked.</p>
+
+<p>“None connected with office matters. It must
+have been a personal engagement.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you open this safe the day after the
+murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it properly closed and locked?”</p>
+
+<p>“So far as I could see.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d have given a hundred dollars if I’d been
+here,” Trafford said earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked at him in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” he said, “you don’t suspect robbery?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t suspect anything,” Trafford replied,
+somewhat brusquely. “Of all things, I avoid suspicion
+and guesses. I’d like you to open the safe
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus knelt, drew from his pocket a paper
+with a series of figures written on it, and following
+these with the turnings of the knob, threw open the
+door. Within was revealed a small iron door surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>47</span>
+by pigeon-holes, the divisions of wood.
+Trafford dropped on his knees and gave peculiar
+scrutiny to the door, and especially the lock. Then
+he turned towards McManus:</p>
+
+<p>“These two empty pigeon-holes on the left;
+they were empty when you first opened the
+safe?”</p>
+
+<p>“Every paper is in the exact place I found it,”
+McManus answered sharply. “My profession has
+taught me some things!”</p>
+
+<p>“And this door?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was closed and locked. Here is the key.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford opened the door, revealing packages of
+letters, filling about half the space above the small
+drawer which was at the lowest portion.</p>
+
+<p>“You have examined these letters?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only sufficiently to be able to identify them.
+They relate to certain logging interests of firms employing
+Mr. Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the drawer?”</p>
+
+<p>“You have the key: there’s nothing there but
+trinkets and a little personal jewelry.” There was
+a personal tone of resentment over the failure to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>48</span>
+recognise the distance between a detective and an
+attorney.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford opened the drawer mechanically, then
+closed it and took out indifferently one of the packages
+of letters. These he returned and closed and
+locked the door, which he examined again with care.
+Then he pushed to the heavy outer door, turning the
+knob slowly and as if he was studying the fall of
+the wards.</p>
+
+<p>“If it had been planned to leave no trace,” he
+said, as if to himself, “it would be a success. Have
+you a suspicion of the motive for this murder, Mr.
+McManus?”</p>
+
+<p>“So far as I can see, it was motiveless,” McManus
+answered. “I can only conclude that it was the
+work of a lunatic, or a mere murder fiend. It was,
+in my opinion, merely an accident that it was Mr.
+Wing and not some one else.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hadn’t thought of that aspect of the case,”
+Trafford said. “Is there any unfortunate creature
+of that kind about here?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not that I know of; but might it not be a
+stranger that has wandered here?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>49</span>
+“Did you ever hear of one of that class that was
+content with mere killing? It’s mutilation that
+characterises all such crimes. Its absence in this
+case is one of the most prominent features. By
+the bye: was the night of the tenth windy?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary, it was a very still night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not wind enough to blow that door shut?”
+pointing to the door into the side hall.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly not.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford walked around to the different windows
+and finally pulled down the shades and placed the
+lamp on the writing-desk. Then he went outside
+and studied the reflection on the shades. When he
+returned, he said:</p>
+
+<p>“I shall be absent a few days. Will you see to
+it, Mr. McManus, that the coroner doesn’t reconvene
+the inquest until I can be here? Until we
+find a motive for this crime, we’re going to make
+slow headway in finding the criminal.”</p>
+
+<p>“So long as you have charge of the case,” McManus
+answered, “I shall follow your wishes; but
+you may as well understand that I’m not going to
+be content with failure on any one’s part. You’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>50</span>
+after the pay; I’m after punishment for the murderer.
+As long as our wishes run in the same
+line&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford interrupted him:</p>
+
+<p>“When a case is placed in your hands, you expect
+to manage it, I assume. This case has been
+placed in my hands, and as long as it remains there,
+I shall conduct it in my own way. That doesn’t
+mean I won’t take advice; it simply means, I’ll be the
+one to decide what I’ll do with it.”</p>
+
+<p>The two men faced each other for the moment
+almost with hostility. Then McManus’s face lightened
+and he held out his hand without a word of
+apology:</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll do, I guess. If the fellow escapes you,
+he’d deserve to&mdash;if he’d killed anybody but Theodore
+Wing. Whatever I can do to aid, call on me day
+or night. At the least, keep me posted.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>51</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="iv">CHAPTER IV<br />
+<span>Trafford Gets an Assurance</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD sat in his room in the hotel at
+Bangor the next evening and studied the copy
+of Judge Parlin’s statement.</p>
+
+<p>“Her brilliancy of mind has carried her far,” he
+said; “has aided her husband politically; and it was
+this influence that defeated him for the chief justiceship.
+It’s so easy that I can’t believe the solution.
+By George! I wonder if the old judge ever wrote
+that paper? I wish I’d examined the original more
+critically. If I’d been one of your inspired detectives,
+such as you find in novels, I’d probably have
+caught a forgery the first thing!”</p>
+
+<p>None the less, he put himself to the task of untangling
+the threads of the statement, with a result
+that set him to deep thinking. Bangor was not the
+direction from which had come opposition to the
+judge’s nomination. On the contrary, Judge Parlin
+had been rather a favourite than otherwise in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>52</span>
+Bangor, and his cause had received substantial aid.
+But the statement did not assert that Wing’s
+mother had remained in Bangor, or that it was there
+that she aided her husband politically. The most
+hostile influence that Judge Parlin had encountered
+was popularly credited to an ex-Governor, Matthewson,
+an Eastern Maine man, who at present held no
+office, but without whose countenance few men ventured
+even to aspire to office.</p>
+
+<p>“If it should prove that Matthewson’s wife is
+a Bangor woman, ’twould be so easy as to be absurd,”
+Trafford mused. “The old judge wasn’t
+silly enough to believe that what he wrote could conceal
+her identity. Either he meant it should be
+known to Wing or Mrs. Parlin, or&mdash;but what possible
+object could there be in forging such a paper?”</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he sat bolt upright and stared at the
+document in blank amazement. Then, with a low
+whistle, he folded it into his pocketbook.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll find Mrs. Matthewson Bangor-born, I’ll bet
+ten cents to a leather button!” he declared.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever had brought Trafford to this sudden
+conclusion, it proved absolutely correct, and the details<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>53</span>
+given of her brilliance and her aid to her husband
+fitted exactly to the character of the woman.
+This fact naturally raised the question, was it safe
+to go farther and, if so, how much farther? Mrs.
+Matthewson at least had been put on her guard by
+the published statement, and she was not a woman
+to remain in ignorance of any steps taken in consequence
+of that statement, or of the man who took
+them. The family was powerful and not credited
+with scrupulosity as to means employed to ends.
+On the other hand, it was manifest that if there
+was such an episode in her past, her husband was
+ignorant of it and she would stop at nothing to
+keep him so. The secret might be dangerous, but
+it might be valuable as well.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond this, however, was the joy of the chase,
+which is absent from no man and least of all from
+the trained detective. There was a problem to
+solve, and, danger or no danger, it was as impossible
+for Trafford to refuse to solve it as to refuse to
+breathe. Whatever use he was or was not to make
+of it, he would know the truth.</p>
+
+<p>He was not, however, so intent upon this one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>54</span>
+feature of the case as to neglect Jim Shepard. The
+second day, he slipped over to Portland and found
+that young countryman at work and exceedingly
+homesick in what was, to his narrow experience, a
+great city. Finding that Trafford knew Millbank,
+he threw his heart open to him and talked as freely
+as he would to Oldbeg himself. Trafford let him
+talk. There was a flood of irrelevant matter, but
+the detective’s experience was too broad for him to
+decide in advance what might and what might not
+be valuable. On the whole, however, it was a
+dreary waste, until he touched on the night he left
+Millbank.</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t the only feller,” he said; “that nigh
+missed that train. Jest as ’twas startin’, a feller
+rushed out from behind Pettingill’s ’tater storehouse
+and caught the front end of the car. I thought he
+was goin’ to miss an’ I swung back to see him drop
+off; but he clung like a good one an’ finally got his
+foot on the step. I tell you, he was nigh clean tuckered
+out when he came into the car, fur he was a
+swell an’ warn’t used to using his arms that-a-way.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>55</span>
+“Queer place for him to come from,” said the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>“Wall, ye see, if he’d come from Somerset Street
+way an’ out through ’tween Neil’s store and the post-office,
+he’d ’a’ come out jest thar; but he’d ’a’ had to
+know the lay o’ the land to done it. Ef he’d ben a
+stranger, he couldn’t help missing it an’ not half
+try.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you say he was a stranger and a swell,”
+Trafford suggested.</p>
+
+<p>“He was a swell, fast enough. City rig; kid
+gloves&mdash;one on ’em bust, hangin’ on to the rail, and
+got up in go-to-meetin’ style; but he must ’a’ knowed
+the way. He’d ben thar before, you bet!”</p>
+
+<p>“You seem to have got a pretty good look at
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wall, ye see he took the seat two in front o’ me,
+and every time I woke up&mdash;say, them air seats hain’t
+made to sleep comfortable in, be they&mdash;thar he was,
+till all of a sudden I woke up an’ he warn’t thar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you don’t know where he got off,” Trafford
+said, keeping the disappointment out of his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>56</span>
+“No. Ye see, when we pulled out of ’Gusta, he
+was thar, an’ I didn’t wake up ag’in till we got to
+Brunswick, an’ he warn’t thar. I meant to see
+whar he went to, but arter ’Gusta, I guessed he
+must be from Portland and that’s whar I got left.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you hear from Millbank&mdash;from Oldbeg,
+for instance.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wall,” he said, blushing a fiery red, “Jonathan
+hain’t no great hand to write: but I du hear sometimes.
+Say, du you s’pose a body could ’a’ heerd
+that thar shot from Parlin’s house down onto
+Canaan Street?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” said the detective carelessly, hiding
+his eagerness. “A still night, it might be;
+why?”</p>
+
+<p>“’Cause, a letter I got says that thar night she’d
+jest got to sleep when she woke up sudden, as if
+she’d heerd so’thing like a shot. She got up, but
+didn’t hear nothin’ more an’ so went back to bed.
+But the next mornin’ she guessed ’twas the shot
+she heerd from Parlin’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she say what time it was?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope: only she’d ben asleep about half a hour,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>57</span>
+an’ thet night she didn’t get to bed ’fore twelve
+o’clock. Fact, I guess she didn’t go till she heerd
+the train leave.”</p>
+
+<p>“But about this swell,” Trafford interposed.
+“Would you know him again if you saw him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess I would; leastwise ef I could see the
+top of his head. He took his hat off, an’ thar was
+the funniest little bald spot, jest the shape of a
+heart. ’Twas funny, an’ he warn’t more’n thirty
+years old. Say, when he gets to be fifty, he won’t
+hev no more hair’n I’ve got on the back o’ my
+hand.”</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon, a card was brought to Charles
+Matthewson, Esq., in his inner office in Augusta,
+and on the card he read, printed in small square
+letters:</p>
+
+<p class="center">“ISAAC TRAFFORD.”</p>
+
+<p>“What in thunder does Trafford want of me?”
+he asked himself. “He can’t possibly know!”</p>
+
+<p>He sat and looked at the card, while the boy
+waited and finally coughed to remind him he was
+still there. Matthewson looked up with a puzzled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>58</span>
+air. Evidently he did not care to see the man
+whose name was on the card, and as evidently he
+did not dare refuse him. Finally he said:</p>
+
+<p>“Show him in in five minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>When Trafford entered, in the very act of bowing,
+he cast a quick glance at the top of Matthewson’s
+head. There was the odd bald spot, shaped,
+as Jim Shepard had said, “Jest like a heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“What can I do for you, Mr. Trafford?” Matthewson
+asked, with the air of a busy man.</p>
+
+<p>“I want about ten minutes’ talk with you,” the
+detective answered, drawing a chair close to the
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>“Professional?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes;&mdash;my profession.”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer started. He was provoked with himself
+for doing so, but it was beyond his control.
+Trafford was not a man with whom it was comfortable
+to talk professionally&mdash;that is, from the standpoint
+of his profession.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, be quick about it, then. I’m busy, and
+it’ll be a favour to cut it as short as you can.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were in Millbank the evening of the tenth.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>59</span>
+“Well, you are short and to the point. Suppose
+I was?”</p>
+
+<p>“What were you there for?”</p>
+
+<p>“None of your business.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford chuckled. He was getting on. It was
+just the answer he expected.</p>
+
+<p>“Now let’s stick right to the point, as you wanted
+me to. If I have to whip round to get to it again,
+you mustn’t blame me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Mr. Trafford; you can’t deal with every
+one the same way. If you want to find out anything
+from me, you mustn’t go at it as if I was a
+country bumpkin whom your very name would
+scare.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bless you, I don’t,” said Trafford. “Now if
+you were a country bumpkin, as you are pleased to
+put it, I’d lead up to the matter gently and so have
+it all out of you before you knew what I was at.
+Not being a country bumpkin, I come at you fair and
+square to save your time and mine too. What were
+you doing in Millbank on the evening of the tenth?
+You weren’t at any of the hotels. You weren’t seen
+by any of the men who were likely to see you.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>60</span>
+“So you’ve peddled it all over Millbank that I was
+there that night, have you?” demanded the other,
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford looked at him with a mixture of amusement
+and spleen. At last he answered:</p>
+
+<p>“That isn’t the way I do my work. I don’t
+need to give away what I know to find out what
+other folks know. There’s nobody in Millbank any
+the wiser for the enquiries I’ve made.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you know so much and are so cunning,
+you know that I got there at eight o’clock and left
+at midnight&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Dropping off at the Bridge stop before the
+train crossed the river, and swinging on to the front
+end of the second car as the train was pulling out
+of the station, coming out of the shadow of Pettingill’s
+potato warehouse to do so, so as not to be
+seen and recognized,” Trafford continued.</p>
+
+<p>The first part was a shrewd guess, but evidently
+it hit the mark, for the lawyer wheeled about and
+faced him before saying:</p>
+
+<p>“The devil! To what am I indebted for such
+close surveillance?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>61</span>
+“Well,” drawled Trafford, with an irritating air
+of indifference, that he could at times assume, “perhaps
+you don’t know that a matter of some importance
+happened in Millbank that night and has led
+to our looking up all the strangers that were in town,
+especially those who did not seem to want to be
+seen.”</p>
+
+<p>“You refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“I refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“I regret Mr. Wing’s tragic death,” said the
+lawyer coldly; “and especially deplore the commission
+of such a crime. At the same time, I don’t
+think it as important as Millbank naturally thinks
+it, and I imagine the State will manage to wag
+along in spite of the great loss it has sustained.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not so much the words, ill-timed and out-of-taste
+as they were, as the air with which they
+were uttered, that constituted their significance. It
+was as if in the mind that originated them there was
+a lurking bitterness, that the speaker would willingly
+conceal, which yet was so intense that it must
+find vent. There was a cruel hardness in the tone
+that made the words themselves all but meaningless.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>62</span>
+Was it possible, Trafford asked himself, that the
+man was able to read the meaning of Judge Parlin’s
+story and knew that Wing was his half-brother?
+He dismissed the question with the asking, satisfied
+that something of which he was still ignorant was at
+the foundation of this outbreak. It was to be a
+question of the comparative shrewdness of the two
+men, whether he still remained ignorant when the
+interview closed.</p>
+
+<p>“You certainly don’t suppose that I shot Millbank’s
+leading citizen, do you?” the lawyer demanded,
+after a moment’s pause. It was, perhaps,
+an effort to recover what the lawyer could not fail
+to see that he had lost.</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary, I’ve every reason to believe
+that he was still alive when you left town,
+and I still further believe that your visit had nothing
+to do, remotely or directly, with his death.”</p>
+
+<p>What was that odd flash that passed over the
+other’s face as Trafford said these last words?
+Seemingly, Trafford was not looking at the other’s
+face at the moment and it might have escaped him.
+Still, he would have been interested if he had seen it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>63</span>
+“Thanks: but, in that event, what are you here
+for?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t let my beliefs or disbeliefs interfere with
+my investigation of facts. Here is something most
+unusual occurring, almost at the moment of the
+murder. It don’t make any difference whether I
+believe it has anything to do with it or not. It’s
+my business to know, and that’s what I’m here to
+do.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if I say I’ve nothing to tell you?”</p>
+
+<p>“The coroner’s enquiry will be public, while mine
+may remain private.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want to know?”</p>
+
+<p>“I simply want your assurance that your visit
+to Millbank had nothing to do, directly or remotely,
+with Theodore Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t see what value such an assurance can
+have. If I went there to hire somebody to shoot
+him, I should, of course, not hesitate to give you
+the assurance&mdash;and probably you wouldn’t fail
+to find out the truth of the matter inside a
+week.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my business,” said Trafford. “If I’m<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>64</span>
+content with your assurance, I don’t see why you
+should object to my being.”</p>
+
+<p>“Because there’s no certainty you’ll remain content
+with it. It’s one of those things where you
+could come back to-morrow with ‘newly discovered
+testimony’ that would upset the whole agreement.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, as for that,” said Trafford, “I propose to
+agree to nothing. As matters stand, the inquest ’ll
+go on within a day or two. I know you were in
+Millbank the night of the murder, and with no
+assurance from any one that your visit had nothing
+to do with the murder, I’m compelled, absolutely
+compelled, to ask the coroner to summons you. On
+the other hand, if I’m satisfied, there’s no reason
+for me to tell any one that I know you were there,
+and nothing to induce the coroner to summons you.
+At the same time, I don’t agree to anything as to
+the future. That must depend upon facts, and you
+know better than I do now whether there are any
+that would call for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph!” grunted Matthewson; “then it’s
+this: I assure you what you ask and I’m not to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>65</span>
+summoned until you see fit to summon me, and if
+I don’t, you see fit to summon me at once.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s about it,” assented Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson sat for a few minutes thinking, and
+Trafford sat watching him. He was tall and slim,
+with a rather prepossessing face&mdash;well-dressed, in
+fact, a “swell,” as Jim Shepard had said. His face
+was far from a dull one. His mother had evidently
+given him something of her personality. Yet, a
+man less on his guard against impressions than the
+detective might find something in his face that he
+did not like,&mdash;a look of cunning lurking in the half-closed
+eyes, a want of feeling in the lines of the
+mouth. He was a man who would go far to accomplish
+his ends, but would not be willingly cruel,
+perhaps because he could not understand that to be
+cruel which was for his own interest. Yet, what
+of a fight that involved life and honour? Trafford
+at least knew that it is only then that the hidden
+forces come to the surface and the man himself
+stands complete. Suddenly Matthewson turned,
+and with a side glance at the waiting detective said:</p>
+
+<p>“I assure you that my visit to Millbank had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>66</span>
+nothing to do directly or indirectly with Mr. Wing’s
+death.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all I want,” the detective said.</p>
+
+<p>“I gave him credit for being sharper than that,”
+Matthewson said to himself, as the door closed behind
+his visitor.</p>
+
+<p>“Now I’ve got to find out,” Trafford noted,
+“how that visit did concern Wing. I’ll test Matthewson’s
+conclusion before I accept it.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>67</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="v">CHAPTER V<br />
+<span>The Weapon is Produced</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE inquest reconvened with an increase rather
+than a decrease of interest on the part of the
+public. This was due in part to the renewed attention
+aroused by the funeral, which had been one of
+the most imposing ever had in Millbank; and in part
+to the rewards for the detection of the murderer
+offered by Mrs. Parlin and the selectmen of the
+town.</p>
+
+<p>In addition, the County Court had instructed the
+county attorney to be present at further sittings,
+to assist the coroner, and the town had employed its
+own counsel for the same purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Mullin was the first witness.</p>
+
+<p>“You are the help at Mrs. Parlin’s?” the coroner
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I be.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long have you been so employed?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>68</span>
+“Twenty-five year this coming July.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were at the house the evening and night of
+the tenth of May?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep!”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you wait on the table at supper that evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“I passed the victuals, ef that’s what ye mean
+by wait;” with an air of defiance.</p>
+
+<p>“Who were at supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mis Parlin an’ Mr. Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did either of them seem to you depressed or
+preoccupied?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope.”</p>
+
+<p>“The meal was pleasant as usual, and both
+seemed in good spirits?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you in the dining room when they left
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope; I left ’em thar an’ went back arter they
+were through an’ cleaned up the table.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you next see Mr. Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>“As he and Mis Parlin come back from the
+orchard.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>69</span>
+“Did everything seem pleasant between them
+then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why shouldn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I asked you if it did?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d scorn to answer sech a question, ef I warn’t
+under oath to answer what you axed. Yep!”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you see him next?”</p>
+
+<p>“Lyin’ a dead corpse on the doorstep at ten
+minutes arter six the next mornin’!”</p>
+
+<p>“You are certain you did not see him from the
+time he returned from the orchard, until you saw
+him dead?”</p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t I swear it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I asked you if you are certain?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep!” indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you eat your supper before or after your
+mistress ate hers?”</p>
+
+<p>“What may ye mean by mistress?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean, did you eat your supper before or after
+Mrs. Parlin ate hers?”</p>
+
+<p>“Arter.”</p>
+
+<p>She testified that she and Jonathan ate together;
+that she went to her room at nine o’clock, after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>70</span>
+shutting up the house “all but the front part,” and
+that she went at once to bed.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you at any time during the night hear a
+pistol or gun shot or any sound resembling one?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you a sound sleeper?”</p>
+
+<p>“After I git to sleep, ye might carry me off an’
+I’d never know it till mornin’.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think a pistol might have been fired
+at the south door of the house in the middle of the
+night without your hearing it, although that door
+was open?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that one was.”</p>
+
+<p>“But do you believe, aside from what you think
+regarding what happened that night, that a pistol
+so fired would wake you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, nor a cannon, ef ’twan’t too big.”</p>
+
+<p>Jonathan Oldbeg testified practically to what he
+had told Trafford, the detective, though with some
+amplification of details. On the question of the
+absolute recognition of the shadow on the window
+shades as that of Mr. Wing, he grew very positive,
+affirming that he knew the stoop of the shoulders<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>71</span>
+and the movement of his head. The county attorney
+and the town counsel were quite strong at this
+point and suggested questions which finally confused
+the witness, though in the end he clung to his
+positive identification.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner seemed disposed to pass to the next
+witness, when Trafford handed up a paper, after
+reading which the coroner turned again to the witness
+and asked:</p>
+
+<p>“On the shades of which windows did you see
+the shadow?”</p>
+
+<p>“On all three of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“On which was it the highest and largest?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness paused as he began his answer and
+seemed in deep thought. Once he raised his head
+with a blank expression and then dropped it again.
+Finally he looked up and said:</p>
+
+<p>“On the curtain nighest the door.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the smallest?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the curtain nighest the road.”</p>
+
+<p>“The witness will step down a moment and Mr.
+Isaac Trafford will take the stand.”</p>
+
+<p>All necks were craned to see the detective, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>72</span>
+every ear intent for his testimony. It was most
+disappointing.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you made any experiments,” the coroner
+asked; “as to the shadow thrown on the shades of
+Mr. Wing’s library, with relation to the position
+of the light?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“With what results?”</p>
+
+<p>“If the light is on the writing-desk, the highest
+and largest shadow is thrown on the shade nearest
+the street and none is thrown on the shade nearest
+the door. If the light is on the reading-table in
+front of the fireplace, or in the centre of the mantel
+over the fireplace, the highest and largest shadow
+is on the shade of the centre window. If the light
+is on the mantel near the safe, the largest and highest
+shadow is on the shade nearest the door, and
+the smallest and lowest on the shade nearest the
+road. If the light is on the safe itself, or on
+the stand near the safe, no shadow is thrown on the
+shade nearest the street.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have heard the testimony of the last witness
+as to the shadows he saw?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>73</span>
+“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is your conclusion from that testimony as
+to the position of the light at the time the witness
+passed up the drive?”</p>
+
+<p>“That it was on the mantel nearly above the
+safe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you made any experiments to determine
+in what position any one would place the light, if
+he had the safe open and desired the best light on its
+contents?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“With what result?”</p>
+
+<p>“That he would place it on the mantel about a
+foot or a foot and a half west of the safe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then the testimony of the witness and the result
+of your experiments would lead you to conclude that
+at the time the witness passed up the drive, the occupant
+of the room had the safe open and the light so
+placed that he could best see into it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is entirely compatible with that assumption.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Trafford was dismissed and Oldbeg recalled.
+There was a buzz in the room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>74</span>
+“What do you s’pose that was fur?” one man
+asked another.</p>
+
+<p>“For impression. It shows how mighty cute
+Trafford is, an’
+<a name="lets" id="lets"></a><ins title="Original has 'let’s'">lets</ins>
+folks know that there’s somebody
+arter ’em as knows what’s what.”</p>
+
+<p>“Onless Trafford got it up hisself fur advertisin’,”
+suggested the other, a hard-headed Yankee
+to whom shrewdness was a natural instinct.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you own a pistol?” demanded the coroner,
+as Oldbeg settled himself to his examination.</p>
+
+<p>Every eye turned towards the witness, who
+fidgeted before answering, as if he was in doubt
+what to say. At last, when attention was at its
+keenest, he found his tongue and said:</p>
+
+<p>“Nope.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet you bought a thirty-two calibre one on
+May eighth.”</p>
+
+<p>It had already been testified that the fatal shot
+was fired from a thirty-two calibre revolver.
+Every person present was alive with the thought
+that a critical moment in the inquest had come.</p>
+
+<p>“Yep; but I gave it away.”</p>
+
+<p>“When?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>75</span>
+“The night o’ May tenth.”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom?”</p>
+
+<p>“To Jim Shepard. Jest as he was jumpin’ on the
+train, I took it out o’ my pocket an’ put it in his’n.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you call that giving it away?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep! That’s what I bought it fur. I don’t
+need one here; leastwise, I didn’t think so then;
+but he’s goin’ to a tarnel big place, an’ I thought he
+ought to had one, so I bought it an’ took it to the
+train with me that night an’ put it in his pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you say anything to him about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t hev no time. I was goin’ to give it to
+him, but we hed to run for the train, an’ I clean
+forgot it till, jest as he struck the bottom step, I
+thought on it. All I could do was to chuck it into
+his pocket, whar his coat swung back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see it go in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope: ’twas too dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it loaded?”</p>
+
+<p>“All but one bar’l. I fired that off up in the
+woods that day an’ furgot to load it again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call James Shepard.”</p>
+
+<p>Oldbeg started, and when his cousin came from a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>76</span>
+door back of the coroner, stood as one struck dumb.
+It was difficult to say what emotion was expressed
+in his face. Trafford watched him and acknowledged
+his own uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you desire to change your testimony last
+given?” asked the coroner.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve told the truth; I hain’t got nothin’ to
+change,” he said sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>James Shepard gave his testimony regarding his
+leaving Millbank and answered the questions put to
+him with reference to the stranger who took the
+same train, which, of course, simply led up to his
+disappearance somewhere between Augusta and
+Brunswick. Then came the question which all were
+awaiting:</p>
+
+<p>“Did your cousin give you a pistol the night you
+left Millbank?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not that I knows on. It’s the fust time I ever
+heerd about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you own a pistol?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope. I hain’t got no use fur a pistol an’
+never had.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call William Buckworth.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>77</span>
+A stout, elderly man, head of the firm of Buckworth
+&amp; Tompson, notion dealers, came to the
+stand. After the preliminary questions, the coroner
+took from a drawer a pistol and handed it to the
+witness.</p>
+
+<p>“What is that?”</p>
+
+<p>“A thirty-two calibre Woodruff revolver.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever see it before?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I sold it on the eighth of May to Jonathan
+Oldbeg.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain of the identity?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness then proceeded to the identification,
+which was absolute.</p>
+
+<p>“Are the chambers charged?”</p>
+
+<p>“Four are. One is empty and has recently been
+fired.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isaac Trafford will take the stand.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you recognize this pistol, Mr. Trafford, as
+one you have before seen?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“State the circumstances.”</p>
+
+<p>“I found it on the morning of the twelfth of
+May hidden in the box hedge in the front yard of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>78</span>
+the Parlin house. It was in the box nearest the
+fence that separates the front yard from the driveway,
+and about twelve feet from the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it in the same condition then as now?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was wet with dew and the rust is deeper now
+than then; otherwise it is in the same condition.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Margaret Flanders.”</p>
+
+<p>At the name, Jim Shepard, who had taken a seat
+in the main room upon concluding his testimony,
+turned the colour of a peony and a giggle was
+started among a group of boys near him.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret Flanders, a buxom, healthy lass of about
+twenty, tripped into the room as if in enjoyment
+of the sensation she was creating. In answer to
+questions, her testimony ran:</p>
+
+<p>She lived at home, with her parents, on Canaan
+Street; the left-hand side as you went from River
+Road. Jim Shepard came sometimes to see her
+and was with her the evening of May tenth. He
+was going to Portland to work and he was to take
+the midnight train. He stayed till his cousin Jonathan
+Oldbeg called for him. It was then so late
+that she was afraid he would miss his train. Indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>79</span>
+there was only five minutes to spare when he
+left the house. She waited on the front stoop till
+she heard the train go and then went to her room,
+which was on the second floor in the northwest
+corner, the nearest River Road and the Parlin
+house. She went right to bed, was in bed by
+quarter-past twelve, probably, and went right to
+sleep. Had slept a few minutes when she was
+wakened by a sound like a pistol shot. She jumped
+out of bed and went to the window, which was open,
+for she always liked plenty of fresh air; but saw
+nothing and heard nothing. There was a light in
+the Parlin house and she thought it was in the
+library, but could not tell certainly. She was at the
+window only a few minutes, when the clock struck
+one, but whether it was half-past twelve or one
+o’clock she could not tell. Then she went back to
+bed and fell asleep, and heard nothing more to disturb
+her that night.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner announced that this closed his witnesses,
+but at the request of the county attorney he
+recalled Mrs. Parlin. The county attorney put his
+questions through the coroner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>80</span>
+“Have you ever had any question as to the
+genuineness of the statement which purports to be
+in the handwriting of your husband?”</p>
+
+<p>“None whatever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was your husband accustomed to leave important
+papers without date or signature?”</p>
+
+<p>“This paper is in Judge Parlin’s handwriting.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you a letter here with the signature
+turned down. Can you identify the handwriting?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it is the handwriting of Theodore
+Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can you state positively?”</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot: but I have little doubt.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you another. Whose handwriting is
+that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Judge Parlin’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you positive?”</p>
+
+<p>“Positive.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain that the first letter is not in the
+handwriting of your late husband?”</p>
+
+<p>“It may possibly be; but I think it is in Mr.
+Wing’s handwriting.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>81</span>
+“There was then a very strong resemblance between
+the handwriting of your late husband and
+that of Mr. Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>“A very strong resemblance. Theodore always
+admitted that he had tried to write like the
+judge, and of late years the resemblance was
+very close.”</p>
+
+<p>“Still you are confident as to the handwriting
+of the statement that has been produced
+here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely confident.”</p>
+
+<p>“When you hold this statement up to the light,
+do you discover any water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, a sheaf of something that looks like wheat
+with a circle around it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you a blank sheet of paper. Has that
+any water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“It has the same water-mark.”</p>
+
+<p>“That will do. Mr. Trafford will take the
+stand.</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you this blank sheet of paper, which Mrs.
+Parlin has just stated contains the same water-mark
+as that on which the purported statement of Judge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>82</span>
+Parlin is written. Have you ever seen this sheet
+before?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I took it from Mr. Theodore Wing’s
+writing-desk on the morning of May twelfth. It
+was one of a number of similar sheets I found
+there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Mr. Marmaduke.</p>
+
+<p>“You are the head of the stationery firm of Marmaduke
+&amp; Co.?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you supply the late Theodore Wing with
+writing paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is this a sheet of the paper you furnished
+him?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is a sheet of the paper I furnished him for
+his home use. I never furnished it to him for
+office use.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long have you sold paper with this water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“About four years.”</p>
+
+<p>“Never before that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never. I do not think it was made with that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>83</span>
+water-mark until about four years ago. At least,
+I never heard of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you furnish paper to the late Judge Parlin,
+for home or office?”</p>
+
+<p>“For both.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever furnish him, either for home or
+office, with paper bearing this water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never. I didn’t have paper with that water-mark
+for sale until nearly a year after Judge Parlin’s
+death. I got it at the special request of
+Mr. Wing, and that was after Judge Parlin’s
+death.”</p>
+
+<p>After consultation, the inquest was again adjourned.
+There was a general expectation that a
+warrant would issue for Oldbeg’s arrest, but neither
+the coroner nor the county attorney felt justified in
+so overt an act. The public might try, condemn,
+and all but execute a man on mere suspicion, but
+larger responsibility rested on the officers of the law.
+In consultation, Trafford was appealed to and
+agreed fully with the decision reached. He was not
+wholly pleased with the coroner’s haste in bringing
+out certain facts that in his opinion could have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>84</span>
+left with safety to the adjourned session. The
+strength of his own work lay in minimising, rather
+than exaggerating, the importance of unsupported
+facts, which were almost sure to lead to wrong conclusions.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>85</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="vi">CHAPTER VI<br />
+<span>Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE wife of former Governor Matthewson was
+prominent&mdash;that is, respectably prominent&mdash;in
+church matters, as in all good works, and the booth
+over which she presided at the May Church Festival
+was one of the most attractive and profitable,
+albeit there was many another that had proved a
+centre for the younger men and larger boys. Mrs.
+Matthewson sat in the curtained space behind the
+main booth, for she was really tired. She was a tall
+woman, of commanding presence, who had just
+touched her sixtieth year and upon whom the consciousness
+of power, and ability to wield it, had left
+the impress of dignity and strength.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd was mainly in front of the booths, but
+occasionally some one strayed away to the quieter
+nooks shut off by the booths themselves. Of these
+were two men, one small and rather unimpressive
+in appearance, the other larger and more commanding,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>86</span>
+but with a strange deference towards his companion.
+The two passed where by accident, apparently,
+the smaller man had a view of the resting
+woman, without being too plainly seen himself.
+The larger man was speaking:</p>
+
+<p>“Public opinion is settling on the paper as a
+forgery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Has it discovered a motive?” There was almost
+a sneer in the tone.</p>
+
+<p>“No; nor for the crime; but it firmly believes
+that the woman never existed.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would think me mad or a liar then if I should
+affirm that she did exist; that she does exist; that in
+fact I could at a moment’s notice put my hand on
+Theodore Wing’s mother.”</p>
+
+<p>The other smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“One might almost imagine you thought her in
+this room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Stranger things have happened;” and the two
+moved on.</p>
+
+<p>If the woman had taken note of the conversation,
+there was nothing in her manner to indicate it. Had
+there been, Trafford would have felt keen disappointment,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>87</span>
+for he had observed her somewhat carefully,
+and had formed a higher opinion of her capabilities.
+At the same time, he had not so poor a
+conception of his own powers of observation as to
+doubt the correctness of his impression of a slight
+lifting of the eyebrows and critical scanning of his
+own face by Mrs. Matthewson, as he loitered slowly
+back towards the throng in front. He intended, if
+it was her wish to be able to recognise him again,
+that she should have the opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>After he had passed, she waited a sufficient time
+not to seem precipitate, then rose and sauntered
+slowly into the front part of the hall, whence came
+a constant babble of voices. She was a woman who
+had seen too many things to be afraid; but as well
+she was a woman too shrewd to neglect a warning
+and go on to punishment. She knew she had her
+warning; she knew that the man who had given it
+was prepared to deal with her, or he would not have
+given it; and she knew that boldness would secure
+the best terms. She had no question that blackmail
+was at the bottom of the affair.</p>
+
+<p>The public had generally accepted the statement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>88</span>
+as a forgery and was laughing at its clumsiness;
+but there would come a waking time when it realised
+that as a forgery it had no bearing upon the solution
+of the murder mystery, and that would be the
+moment of danger. She found her son, Charles
+Matthewson, and taking his arm went to the refreshment
+room.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re dead tired, mother,” he said. “A man
+of iron couldn’t stand these affairs.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said. “It requires something finer
+than iron. Your man of iron is a poor simile for
+strength. It’s got to be better than that.”</p>
+
+<p>“By George; I only hope when I’m sixty, I can
+stand as much as you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that your tact, Charles, to mention a
+woman’s age in public? I know the people know my
+age, but I object to their knowing that I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Much you care, mother. You can leave such
+stuff as that to the silly herd.”</p>
+
+<p>A man passed by and took his seat at a table out
+of ear range. He did not look in her direction as he
+passed, and she did not even glance in his; but she
+felt his presence, and knew also that Charles had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>89</span>
+seen him and recognised him. She ran on with her
+light chat, seemingly taking no note of her son’s
+distraught manner and absent-minded replies; but
+after she had let things go on for a safe space, she
+suddenly looked up with:</p>
+
+<p>“Really, Charles, I might as well save my foolishness
+for somebody who is less occupied than you
+seem to be. I should say you were more interested
+in that man over there than in me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was I really giving attention to him?” the son
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“Most really, and I’m simply wondering where
+you learned your self-control, that you can do a
+thing so apparent to a whole roomful.” She had
+not asked a word regarding the man, certain as she
+was that he would tell her all he knew.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know who that man is?” her son
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“No; really,” she said, putting up her glasses,
+“I had simply noticed him as a man from whom
+you did not seem able to keep your eyes. Now I
+look at him, I don’t see anything particularly worth
+noticing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>90</span>
+“It’s Trafford, the detective. He’s said to be on
+this Wing murder case.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, is that so?” she said, raising her glasses
+again. “In that case, I suppose one’s permitted to
+look at him, since that’s largely his stock in trade.
+He doesn’t look smart.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s his stock in trade too,” said Charles, a
+trifle impatiently for the son of such a woman. “If
+he looked half as smart as he is, he’d look too smart
+for his work, and if he was really as dull as he looks,
+he’d be too stupid.”</p>
+
+<p>“And they depend on him to unravel the Wing
+murder?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, the Wing murder,” echoed an acquaintance
+who was passing. “Why didn’t that stupid coroner
+arrest that fellow Oldman&mdash;if that was his name?
+My husband says if he takes the opportunity to run
+away, it may be interesting for the coroner. Of
+course, nobody has a doubt that he’s the murderer.
+You think so, Mr. Matthewson, don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it will be a great wrong if such a wanton
+murder goes unpunished,” he answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said the mother carelessly; “but the motive?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>91</span>
+Did he murder him because he was an illegitimate
+son of Judge Parlin?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, pshaw, Mrs. Matthewson, nobody believes
+that story. Why, they tell me Judge Parlin was a
+real nice man. He wouldn’t have had anything to
+do with such a woman as she would have been, if
+the story was true.”</p>
+
+<p>A crowd gathered and, in spite of Charles
+Matthewson’s efforts to change the subject, persisted
+in discussing the murder, which was still a live
+topic wherever Judge Parlin and Lawyer Wing had
+been known. To Matthewson’s increased annoyance,
+he noted that Trafford had moved to a nearer
+table, where he could catch the talk.</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of man would Judge Parlin have
+been, if the story were true?” Mrs. Matthewson
+asked listlessly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; but you know that’s not the same. He
+was a mere youngster, and a designing woman you
+know can do anything with a man. Oh, no: it
+would be bad enough in him, but the woman&mdash;why,
+she’d be simply abominable; simply abominable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if there was such a woman, she’s undoubtedly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>92</span>
+dead long ago,” Mrs. Matthewson said.
+“We might at least not begrudge her a grave. We
+came near making Judge Parlin chief justice.”</p>
+
+<p>Charles was uneasy. His mother was not accustomed
+to losing her head, but he had his suspicions
+at this moment, and tried again to draw her
+away; but she seemed not to notice his efforts, and
+showed herself not loath to go on with the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>“If the thing isn’t true,” broke in a woman who
+was fearful she might not make herself felt in the
+presence of the overbearing Mrs. Matthewson, “my
+husband says it’s a forgery; but what could that
+nice Mr. Wing have forged such a story as that for?
+Do you see, Mr. Matthewson?”</p>
+
+<p>“You must excuse me from expressing any opinion
+one way or the other,” he said, thus distinctly
+appealed to. “Murders and forgeries are not in my
+line, and I don’t think my opinion would have the
+value it might if I was a criminal lawyer or a detective.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, a detective!” some one interrupted. “What
+a dreadful nasty set of men detectives must be! It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>93</span>
+makes me crawl to think of their having anything to
+do with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you mustn’t be a murderer or permit any
+one to murder you. It’s the only way I know to
+steer clear of the gang.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Charles,” interposed his mother. “Aren’t
+you a little hard? As long as we have criminals,
+we must have criminal catchers. We can’t spare
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we needn’t make them our heroes, as some
+people do,” he replied, wondering in secret why his
+mother was chiming into his mood so completely.
+“I object to having them dragged into my company&mdash;almost
+as much as I’d object to being dragged
+into theirs.”</p>
+
+<p>It would have troubled Mrs. Matthewson to say
+why she felt a savage pleasure in thus baiting the
+detective, but she did feel it, and was too proud to
+deny the fact, even as she was too proud to deny
+that the fact was unworthy her own measure of herself.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later Charles had handed her into her
+carriage and gone back to the hall, as she bade him,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>94</span>
+to stand for the family during the remainder of the
+evening. A carriage in front blocked the way and a
+voice almost at her elbow, but on the side opposite
+that at which she had entered, said:</p>
+
+<p>“May I have the honour of calling in the morning?”</p>
+
+<p>She did not even turn her head, as she flung back
+the answer:</p>
+
+<p>“If it’s necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“At half-past ten, then.”</p>
+
+<p>She did not look to see, but knew that the place
+was vacant. None the less she yielded no whit, but
+held her upright position, as if she were already on
+trial before the world and bade it defiance.</p>
+
+<p>It was the same in the morning. She entered the
+small parlour as if it were she and not her visitor who
+was to ask explanations, and he, with his quick
+adaptation of himself to moods and conditions, not
+alone humoured her, but throughout bore himself
+with a courtesy and deference that went as far as
+anything could to salve her wounded pride.</p>
+
+<p>“I assume it is not necessary for me to explain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>95</span>
+who I am and why I have asked this interview,” he
+said, as an approach to a knowledge of the footing
+on which they stood.</p>
+
+<p>“It is not necessary,” she returned. “You are
+Isaac Trafford, detective: you are engaged in ferreting
+out the murder of Theodore Wing, and you
+think I am able to give you information that may
+aid you. I am sorry to say that I cannot. I am
+sorry for the crime: I’m always sorry for crime;
+but it can have no particular sting for me, because
+of the man who is its victim.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought it might be otherwise,” he said quite
+simply.</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>“None the less,” he said, “you have read the
+statement left by Judge Parlin.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have read the statement purporting to be left
+by Judge Parlin,” she corrected him.</p>
+
+<p>“It is absolutely true from beginning to end.
+There can be no doubt that Judge Parlin left it, for
+only he and one other person at that time knew the
+facts.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that other person?” The question was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>96</span>
+without a tremor. Trafford felt like rising and
+saluting the woman, as her words came clean-cut
+and passionless.</p>
+
+<p>“Theodore Wing’s mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“She is, then, still alive?”</p>
+
+<p>“She is still alive,” he said; “and unless concerned
+in this recent tragedy, as safe as if the knowledge
+of the facts had remained locked in her breast,
+as they were at the time of Judge Parlin’s death. If
+she was concerned in this tragedy, then it is that,
+and not the fact that another has learned the truth,
+that destroys her safety.”</p>
+
+<p>Even at so serious a moment, she could not avoid
+playing with the subject:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think her concerned in the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is what I am not certain of,” he said frankly.
+“It is the murder that has revealed this&mdash;misfortune.
+I can find no motive that can account for her
+connection with the affair.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am of the opinion she had nothing to do
+with it,” she said, quite positively. “If all this is
+true, she would naturally have no love for the child
+of her mistake; but you surely cannot think on that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>97</span>
+account that she was guilty of murder&mdash;the cruelest
+murder one could imagine under the circumstances!
+Certainly, if there was anything to tempt to murder,
+anything that would have advantaged her, it passed
+long ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have thought of that,” he said, “but is it not
+possible that something may have occurred recently
+that alarmed her&mdash;something that made her feel it
+necessary to go to extremes to which, naturally, she
+would be unwilling to resort, excepting under the
+direst necessity?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think,” she said, lifting her head with
+some imperiousness, “that such a woman is likely
+to be alarmed. She would have lived that down long
+since. More than that, she would have brains
+enough to see that a crime, more than all else, would
+endanger her secret. This woman could not have
+been brainless.”</p>
+
+<p>“Far from it,” he assured her. “I am inclined
+to rate her as the ablest woman I have ever met.”</p>
+
+<p>She bowed as recognising a personal compliment.</p>
+
+<p>“You have met her, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he said. “I have met her.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>98</span>
+“Would you mind telling me the impression she
+made on you&mdash;that is, as regards her possible
+connection with this crime? My curiosity is
+roused.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think she is now incapable of it,” he said.
+“That she might not have been at one time, I am less
+certain; but if there was such a time, it has passed.
+Success had mollified resentment and increased the
+feeling of safety. Still, if she believed herself in
+danger, I do not think she would hesitate at any
+extreme. It would, however, take much to arouse
+a conviction of danger.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am inclined to think your judgment sound,”
+she said. “What can you tell me of the man who
+now shares with her the knowledge of the facts in
+the case?”</p>
+
+<p>“That he would not assert such knowledge unless
+he possessed every detail and was absolutely able
+to identify every person connected with the affair
+and verify every date and place. You may take his
+assertion that he knows, as absolute evidence of this.
+His only object in searching this matter out was the
+unravelling of the mystery of a crime. If he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>99</span>
+thought for one instant that the revelation of the
+facts would aid in unravelling that crime, he would
+not hesitate at the revelation. Convinced that it
+would not aid, the secret is as safe with him as if it
+did not exist. At present the secret, as far as he is
+concerned, does not exist.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course,” she said; “the woman would prefer,
+greatly prefer, that the secret should have died with
+the man who shared it with her. Failing that, she
+could not feel safer than to have it in the hands of
+such a man as you describe. There is, however, I
+should think, one further assurance that she might
+desire.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think if it were a possible thing to promise,
+the man as I know him would be disposed to promise.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is that if at any time in the future it should
+seem to him that the woman was concerned in the
+crime, if there arise any circumstances that call for
+explanation, he will come to her and first submit
+them to her. I think under these circumstances, he
+might largely rely upon her telling him the truth&mdash;at
+least, upon her not telling him a falsehood.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>100</span>
+“Of course,” he said, “I speak only of my impression,
+but that is that she may rely absolutely
+upon his adopting this course.”</p>
+
+<p>“I trust this enables us to end this interview,”
+she said, with no relaxation of her dignity.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>101</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="vii">CHAPTER VII<br />
+<span>Hunting Broken Bones</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>ILLBANK cherished its tragedy as something
+that gave it pre-eminence among its
+neighbours, and half the male population turned detectives
+on the spot. To many members of the community,
+however, the affair bore a most serious aspect,
+heightened by the conviction that no actual
+progress had been made towards the solution of the
+mystery. Such men as McManus, the county attorney,
+and the town counsel, looked upon the testimony
+which tended to implicate Oldbeg as a concession
+to the public demand that something should
+be done, and as covering rather than revealing the
+serious business of the investigation. They were
+inclined to be indignant at what they regarded as
+the direction of unjust suspicion against an innocent
+person, and the more so when they saw how public
+sentiment was roused against the unfortunate man.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, there were whispers among the least responsible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>102</span>
+that if the law was to interpose delays, it
+might become the duty of the citizens to take the
+execution of justice into their own hands. It was
+the county judge who first called attention to the
+danger to the town and county that lurked in such
+loose talk, indulged in at the start by idle men and
+boys, but working as a leaven that might finally
+affect the entire community.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s just the material down there to give
+your town a blacker tragedy than it’s had yet,” he
+said to McManus one day after court. “The
+guilty had better go unpunished than be punished
+through violation of the law.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus turned sharply, with that nervous
+quickness that made him forget the judge in the
+speaker:</p>
+
+<p>“The guilty! The guilty! No man is guilty till
+the law has found him so! How long since suspicion
+was proof?”</p>
+
+<p>The judge, who appreciated the strain which the
+death of his partner and friend had thrown upon
+McManus, let the brusqueness of the answer pass,
+but still was insistent:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>103</span>
+“It’s no time for refinements or phrasings. It
+isn’t the idle alone who expect impossibilities. Most
+of your people think Trafford’s failed before he’s had
+time to begin. There’s got to be something done
+to feed their impatience and gain time. A Yankee’s
+substitute for doing something is to hold a public
+meeting.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“With the chances that it would end in a hanging-bee,”
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>When, however, McManus returned to Millbank
+from the county town, he found affairs so far more
+menacing than he had anticipated as to lead him to
+take counsel with the more prominent citizens. Naturally
+almost the first man to whom he broached
+the matter was Charles Hunter, the head of the leading
+logging firm.</p>
+
+<p>Hunter was a man who at the age of thirty-five
+was already recognised as the first business man of
+the town. Succeeding to a business built up by his
+father, he had doubled it and doubled it again. Its
+operations extended over the entire northern part
+of the State, and into Canada, and were closely interlocked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>104</span>
+with the immense logging interests of the
+Penobscot and the Androscoggin. President of the
+Millbank National Bank, he was also on the Board
+of leading banks in Augusta, Bangor, and Portland,
+and as a member of the Governor’s staff he had attained
+the rank of colonel&mdash;that warlike title which
+so many exceedingly peaceful gentlemen parade with
+pride. In fact, his operations had touched all interests
+save politics, for his title had more of a social
+than a political significance.</p>
+
+<p>“Undoubtedly,” he said, “Trafford is entitled to
+make a show for the money he’s getting, and we
+can understand his giving us some horse-play; but
+it’s going too far when he endangers an innocent
+man, to say nothing of the good name of the town.
+The episode of the revolver found twenty-four hours
+after the murder is mere child’s play. I shouldn’t
+have thought it would have taken for a moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“You think Trafford put it there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think he knew when to look for it and when
+not to. He looked for it at the right time, at any
+rate.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>105</span>
+“I don’t think Trafford’s so much to blame for
+producing the pistol as Coroner Burke,” McManus
+said. “I was watching him at the time, and I
+thought him annoyed at the question.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whoever is to blame,” Hunter answered, with
+the positiveness of a man accustomed to rely much
+on his own judgment and to have others do the
+same, “the mischief’s done. Half the town is certain
+that Oldbeg is the murderer. It’s being whispered
+that Mrs. Parlin hired him to do it, so she
+could have the money, and the fact that she doesn’t
+discharge the man is held to be proof of the fact.
+Then, with the logic of dolts, they declare that she
+hired Trafford because she was afraid of him.”</p>
+
+<p>A look of horror showed in McManus’s face at
+this statement of the public attitude. Surely, Mrs.
+Parlin had suffered enough without having to bear
+this injustice.</p>
+
+<p>“But don’t they see,” he remonstrated, “if
+this was the case, Trafford would have been the
+last to turn suspicion upon Oldbeg?”</p>
+
+<p>“They don’t see anything!” exclaimed Hunter
+impatiently. “They’re simply hanging-mad. They<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>106</span>
+believe Trafford too smart not to have solved this
+thing in a fortnight, and at the same time they believe
+him a big enough fool to have sold himself.
+They think Oldbeg guilty, because there’s nobody
+else in sight, and because they think him guilty, they
+must believe that Trafford and Mrs. Parlin are protecting
+him. Therefore, Mrs. Parlin must be guilty
+too, and therefore, again, Trafford must be trying
+to cover up the facts.”</p>
+
+<p>Hunter expressed in his somewhat querulous tone
+much of the feeling that prevailed in the business
+community. Men felt it a disgrace that an unprovoked
+murder could occur under their very eyes, as it
+were, and remain without the slightest progress towards
+solution for more than a fortnight. In a
+large community, the police would have come in for
+sneers and ridicule. In this case, the detective had
+to bear the brunt of the complaints.</p>
+
+<p>Hunter, intent for the good name of the town,
+suggested finally that a subscription reward be
+offered in addition to that of the county and town
+and that offered by Mrs. Parlin. He was willing to
+guarantee a substantial sum.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>107</span>
+“I think also,” he said, “we should put another
+detective to work. I can’t see any harm if Trafford
+is on the square, and it may do a lot of good if he
+isn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s against all principle to put a case into two
+men’s hands,” McManus objected. “We certainly
+ought to dismiss the one before we hire a second.”</p>
+
+<p>“We haven’t hired the first yet,” Hunter answered
+roughly. “We can’t object to Mrs. Parlin
+employing a detective, if she wants to; but she as
+certainly can’t object to our doing the same thing.
+If, however, we put a man to work, let him keep
+his hands off that statement of Judge Parlin’s.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus started.</p>
+
+<p>“You think it genuine?”</p>
+
+<p>Hunter looked as if the question tired him. He
+was a tall dark man, with an unusually expressive
+face, and was not accustomed to concealing his feelings.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s more of your horse-play. Whether the
+paper’s genuine or not can’t have any bearing on
+the murder. It isn’t to be imagined, if it’s a forgery,
+that there was a purpose to make it public after the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>108</span>
+principals in the affair were dead. It’s a false scent
+and meant to be a false scent.”</p>
+
+<p>On the very evening on which Charles Hunter
+urged the employment of an additional detective,
+Trafford was handed a telegram telling him that
+Charles Matthewson had left Augusta on the late
+afternoon train up the river. It had been an easy
+matter to ascertain that he had not left the train
+either at the main station in Millbank or at the
+Bridge-stop, but none the less the detective had an
+uneasy feeling that the man might be in town. If
+so, whom did he come to see and why did he come
+and go so mysteriously? He could see no possible
+connection between the relationship of Wing with
+Matthewson and the murder, and yet he could not
+divest his mind of the impression that there was some
+mystery going on before his very eyes which he had
+not fathomed, but which, if fathomed, would bear
+upon the discovery of the murderer.</p>
+
+<p>A half-hour or so before the down train was due
+to leave the Millbank station, he left the hotel and
+walked down Canaan Street to its junction with
+Somerset Street and the covered and enclosed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>109</span>
+bridge that spans the river at that point. Here,
+upon the very brink of the river, fifty feet above the
+water, stood the small brick building of the Millbank
+National Bank. The bridge and the bank lay in
+shadow, for it was a moonless night and the street
+lamp at the entrance of the bridge was not lighted.
+Above the bridge was the dash and roar of the falls;
+below, the steady murmur of the narrowed current,
+between its rocky walls that rise more than fifty feet
+from the water’s edge.</p>
+
+<p>“Thunder!” he thought, “there are some creepy
+places around this town, especially when they can’t
+sponge on the moon for light. If I was an inspired
+detective, I’d know whether there was any danger
+in that bridge. As I ain’t, I guess I’ll take the
+centre.”</p>
+
+<p>He advanced into the darkness of the drive, which
+was pitchy black, solid plank walls dividing it from
+the footwalk on either hand. He was half-way
+through, when he suddenly felt the presence of some
+one near him, though he could see or hear nothing.
+He stopped, and absolute stillness reigned, save the
+tumult of the water above and below. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>110</span>
+walked close to the wall on the down-river side, so
+that his form might not be outlined against the opening
+of the bridge, and he was conscious that he was
+as completely concealed, since he had advanced a
+rod into the darkness, as were his companions. It
+was a question of endurance, and in that his training
+gave him the advantage.</p>
+
+<p>Softly there came out of the darkness a noise as
+of the moving of a tired leg. Inch by inch Trafford
+crept close to the board wall, until now it was at his
+back, with one of the heavy timbers protecting his
+left arm. His right was free for defence. The
+sound indicated a man within a few feet of him on
+his left.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there was the sharp swish of a club in
+the air, and the thud of contact with a living body,
+followed by a loud cry of pain and</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon dieu! Où est le chien?</i>”</p>
+
+<p>Two men rushed past toward the Millbank end,
+with a jabber of Canadian French, from which Trafford
+learned that the assailed feared that his shoulder
+was broken.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>111</span>
+“One marked for identification,” he chuckled, as
+he slid along in the deep shadow toward the farther
+end.</p>
+
+<p>He had satisfied himself of one thing he was anxious
+about, and with another at hand had no time
+to waste on a man who could be found in the morning
+for the mere asking. He was too keen on the
+question whether Charles Matthewson was in Millbank,
+to allow a needless diversion. If Matthewson
+was in town, it showed a terrible uneasiness at
+the bottom of his wanderings&mdash;an uneasiness that
+forbade his trusting to others for information and
+yet demanded information at first hands, so imperatively
+that he was willing to take enormous risks
+to obtain it.</p>
+
+<p>“It would have been a coincidence, if I’d been
+murdered to-night,” said Trafford, in his wonted
+confidential talk with himself; “with Matthewson
+in town as he was the night of the other murder.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford crossed the railroad bridge and so attained
+the Millbank station without attracting attention.
+He saw every one of the half-dozen passengers
+who boarded the train, but found no trace of the man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>112</span>
+he was seeking. As the train slowed up for the Bridge
+stop, he swung off into the dark in time to catch
+sight of a figure swinging on from the same dark
+side. It was not Matthewson, and he was just turning
+away, when suddenly he changed his purpose
+and as the train moved off was again on the rear
+platform. He rode there to the next station, and
+then changed his quarters to the baggage car. He
+had identified his man; now he was after his destination.</p>
+
+<p>This proved to be Waterville. A private carriage
+was waiting, and into it the man jumped, driving
+away rapidly. There was but one way to follow
+and keep the carriage in sight, and Trafford made
+a half-mile in quick time, clinging to the back-bar
+and resting his weight on his hands and arms. He
+dropped to the ground and crept away as the carriage
+turned into the driveway of an extensive
+country place, which the detective recognised as that
+of Henry Matthewson, a younger brother of Charles,
+and a man largely interested in the logging business.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph,” he said. “This time he comes part
+way and they bring him the news. Well; it ain’t of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>113</span>
+my murder, though some folks may wish it was before
+many hours have passed.”</p>
+
+<p>Before daylight, he had his operatives on hand
+while he himself took the early train back to Millbank.
+The delicate work just now was to be done
+there, and this he would trust to no one save himself.
+His appreciation of the importance of the case and
+the sensation that would be produced when it was
+finally unravelled, had increased immensely since he
+crossed Millbank Bridge, and he had no purpose to
+see it botched by clumsy handling.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast he went directly to Mr. Wing’s
+office and sought an interview with Mr. McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“I want,” he said, “to go through all the papers
+again in Wing’s safe and, if you have any private
+papers of his, through those as well. So far, we
+are absolutely adrift and we have a double task on
+our hands, for we’ve got to clear Oldbeg of suspicion
+as well as discover the real murderer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you dismiss all suspicion that Oldbeg had
+anything to do with the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you can dismiss an idea you never entertained.
+In a certain sense every man in town was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>114</span>
+under suspicion&mdash;Oldbeg no more than another.
+This job, however, was not the work of a clumsy
+man like Oldbeg. When we find the murderer,
+you’ll find a man of quick motions, delicacy of touch,
+strong purpose, assured position, and considerable
+refinement. You’ll find a man to whom murder is
+repugnant and who resorted to it only as a last
+desperate chance. You’ll find therefore a man who
+was desperate, whose all was at stake, and who knew
+that Wing’s continued living meant the loss of that
+all. Now, if you can tell me where there is such a
+man, I’ll give you proof of his guilt so conclusive
+before night that no one will hesitate to approve his
+arrest.”</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, McManus grew pale. Something
+brought a terrible picture before his eyes. As never
+before, he realised the desperate chase in which they
+were involved.</p>
+
+<p>“It was, then, in your opinion no mere desire
+for sordid gain that impelled to the crime?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who has gained by it? Some one that by it has
+been saved from loss, and tremendous loss. Don’t
+fool yourself. Don’t look for any common criminal,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>115</span>
+and above all don’t flatter yourself for one moment
+that the criminal will stop at any additional crime
+to prevent detection. If detected, he’s lost everything.
+He can’t lose any more with twenty murders
+to his charge.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus glanced over his shoulder, as if he
+expected to see the murderer rise out of vacancy in
+his own defence.</p>
+
+<p>“What connection then has Judge Parlin’s statement
+with the crime?” he asked uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a mere incident&mdash;an accident, as you might
+say, that holds its place by its own sensational character
+and the tensity of nervous interest aroused in
+the public mind by the crime itself. It had nothing
+to do with the crime, or the cause that led up to it.
+I don’t believe the murderer knew of its existence.
+At the same time it’s one of those accidents that may
+lead to things to which it’s in no way related. It
+may be the very thing that’ll ultimately set us on
+the right track. Don’t lose sight of it for a moment.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked as if the caution were wholly
+uncalled for. There was not much danger of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>116</span>
+losing sight of anything that had to do with the
+murder. One might have suspected from his looks
+that he wished he could.</p>
+
+<p>After making an appointment for three in the
+afternoon to examine papers, Trafford left the office
+and went to a little dingy room, in Gray’s Inn Lane,
+where he was joined almost immediately by a tall,
+seedy-looking man, evidently of Canadian stock,
+whose French was only a trifle worse than his English.
+He was a man whom few men would have
+trusted and whom Trafford had always found absolutely
+trustworthy. The man shook his head, with
+many a gestured negative. Not a man was missing
+from Little Canada; every man who was open to
+suspicion was accounted for, and not one of them
+showed a broken collar-bone or a shattered arm.</p>
+
+<p>“But there are other Canucks in town, outside
+Little Canada,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>The report included all. The man had determined
+the whereabouts of every Canadian of sixteen
+years of age and upwards, and there was not one
+who bore marks of the blow delivered on the bridge
+the night before.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>117</span>
+“But he was a Canuck,” said Trafford, with
+positiveness that admits no question; “and it’s a
+bigger miracle than any of their relics ever performed
+before, if he don’t carry a broken bone to-day.
+There’s somebody missing.”</p>
+
+<p>The man shook his head. He had accounted for
+the last of them.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think it was a dream or a nightmare?”
+Trafford demanded, with some asperity.</p>
+
+<p>The man shrugged and lifted his shoulders, in
+deprecation of the tone of the demand.</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Trafford at last. “Take the
+afternoon train to Augusta and resume your work
+there. I’ll give this personal attention.”</p>
+
+<p>The man hesitated a moment and then, coming
+close to him and lowering his voice, spoke rapidly
+and anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“You are taking risks, Mr. Trafford. This is
+no ordinary case. You can’t tell what you’ve got
+against you. Two men can go safely where one
+can’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“And one can go safely sometimes where two
+are a danger. I’ve taken risks all my life&mdash;it’s my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>118</span>
+business to take ’em. You don’t suppose I chose
+this business because of its freedom from danger, do
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“A brave man doesn’t court danger; he simply
+meets it bravely when it comes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll try to meet it that way if it comes.
+At present Millbank looks like a fairly safe place.
+I don’t think I’ll get my throat cut here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you aren’t going to stay here,” the man
+urged. “You know you aren’t. You’re going&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll dispense with information as to where I’m
+going,” Trafford interrupted. “It’s probably safe
+to state, but it’s possibly not. We’ll keep on the
+absolutely safe side as long as possible. Your train
+leaves in fifteen minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>The gesticulating Canadian reappeared on the
+instant. Discipline asserted itself, and the man prepared
+to obey without further remonstrance.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>119</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="viii">CHAPTER VIII<br />
+<span>A Man Disappears</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD sent a hasty note to McManus,
+postponing the afternoon appointment, and
+made ready to visit the logging drives at work along
+the Kennebec. It was certain that no physician in
+Millbank had set a broken shoulder or arm within
+the twenty-four hours; no man of the character
+sought had left by any of the trains or stages, and
+the river afforded the only unguarded means of escape.
+A canoe or river-driver’s boat could easily
+come and go unnoticed, and it tallied with other
+points in hand that the assailants were connected
+with the logging interests. Another point in the
+case was that, in almost all the large gangs of
+drivers, there was sure to be some one roughly skilled
+in surgery, who could attend to minor accidents and
+even, temporarily, to those of a severer nature, such
+as are apt to occur, often at points far distant from
+skilled practitioners. Such a man could, under<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>120</span>
+emergency, even possibly have set the arm or shoulder,
+and could certainly have cared for it until a surgeon
+at Norridgewock or farther up the river was
+reached. As yet the logging drives were all above
+Millbank Falls, so that Trafford’s search pointed
+entirely in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>Every schoolboy or farmer’s lad is a walking
+directory to any logging drive within five miles, and
+Trafford had no difficulty in learning that the nearest
+drive was at the Bombazee Rips, above Norridgewock.
+Here he found the ordinary gang of a
+dozen men, with boats and the implements of their
+trade, at work on the logs which were beginning
+to jam against those that had first grounded on the
+ledge at the head of the rips. Full half of the gang
+were French Canadians, small, dark men of wonderful
+litheness and agility, men with a tenacity of
+life that seems to bid defiance to the wet and exposure
+of their trade. It was hard work by day, hard
+sleep by night, often in clothes soaked with the river
+water; yet cheerful, healthful good humour was evidenced
+in the loud chatter that came with every lull
+in the work. It was here that the grown lads of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>121</span>
+Chaudière, Megantic, and St. François valleys secured
+that schooling in the English tongue from
+which race jealousy barred them at home.</p>
+
+<p>A roughly constructed shanty of pine slabs, the
+earth bountifully spread with clean straw, served for
+sleeping; while in front was an immense fire of logs,
+which served double purpose, for warmth in the
+evening and cooking in the daytime. An old
+woodsman, whose driving days were past, acted as
+cook and general camp care-taker. A group of boys
+flittered about the fire, shanty, and boats. The older
+ones made ventures upon the logs, and sometimes
+lent a hand to a driver, handling a pick or cant-hook,
+a feat that made one a hero with his fellows for the
+remainder of the day.</p>
+
+<p>It was entirely permissible for a countryman,
+such as Trafford appeared, on curiosity bent, to
+enter the sleeping-place or seat himself by the fire.
+Indeed, at mealtime he would scarcely fail, by virtue
+of his age, of an invitation to share in the
+coarse food, a privilege which the boys viewed with
+keen envy. These boys were unconscious spies, upon
+the sharpness of whose eyes Trafford counted much.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>122</span>
+They went everywhere and saw everything, and if
+there was an injured man in camp, it would take
+skill to keep him concealed from them.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford chatted pleasantly with the cook and
+joked the boys, before he opened in a general way
+the subject of accidents&mdash;of which he seemed to
+stand in apprehension, declaring that log-driving
+was in his opinion the most dangerous of trades. At
+that the boys raised a shout of derision and extolled
+the trade to the skies. There was not one of them
+but was consumed with desire for a driver’s life,
+exactly as he would be for any other life of freedom
+and activity whose claims for the moment were
+pressed upon him.</p>
+
+<p>The old man, on the other hand, admitted the
+element of danger, and thrilled his hearers with accounts
+of hairbreadth escapes which he had witnessed
+in the long years that he had been on the
+river. There had been deaths, too; deaths from
+drowning and from crushing in the log jams. Still,
+the life was a grand one for the man who was not
+afraid of hard work, and if he had his to live over,
+he would live it on the river again. There had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>123</span>
+no accidents as yet, the jams were light and easily
+moved. It was only here and there with this water
+that any serious troubles were had. Oh, yes; Millbank
+Falls; that, of course, was different. There
+was a hard drive, and when they got there in the
+course of the next week, they would have a lively
+tussle.</p>
+
+<p>From camp to camp, Trafford worked up to the
+Forks of the River and then up the Dead River
+branch, and again across to the main river and up
+into the Megantic woods. Nowhere was there any
+trace of an injured man or a hint of knowledge of
+one. Wherever the camp was near a village, so that
+boys gathered around, they were of material aid in
+giving him information. In spite, however, of every
+device, he came back down the river unsuccessful
+and depressed. He had a feeling of defeat, as if in
+every camp some one were laughing at him as outwitted.
+He knew the unreason of the feeling and
+yet could not escape it.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was there, when he reached Millbank, any
+information from the lower part of the river or
+from any of the surgeons whom, within a radius of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>124</span>
+thirty miles, he had caused to be interrogated. It
+was if the earth had opened and swallowed up the
+man&mdash;or&mdash;and he stood above the falls and looked
+at the water rushing over them, as if he would question
+it and wrest an answer from it. It was certain
+that the man&mdash;a man, whose personality he could
+merely guess at&mdash;had disappeared. It was like ridding
+himself of a nightmare to throw off the uneasiness
+that oppressed him.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately on his return, Trafford sought an interview
+with Mrs. Parlin. The time was coming
+when the inquest must be
+<a name="reconvened" id="reconvened"></a><ins title="Original has 're-convened'">reconvened</ins>,
+and as yet
+there was nothing of advance since the hour when
+it had adjourned. Even he was grown impatient
+and he could not marvel that a woman, under the
+nervous strain of his employer, should be fast becoming
+irritably so.</p>
+
+<p>“We have no right,” she said, “to leave an innocent
+man under suspicion as Jonathan has been
+left. If we can’t find the murderer, we can at least
+prove that it isn’t he.”</p>
+
+<p>“Unfortunately, until we find the man, the majority
+will believe him guilty,” Trafford replied.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>125</span>
+“What right had you to throw suspicion on
+him?” she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“The right of the coroner to know every fact that
+bears on the case. It would have been as unjustifiable
+to conceal Oldbeg’s purchase of a revolver, as it
+would to conceal the finding of the weapon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why wasn’t it there the morning of the
+eleventh?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“My dear madam,” he said with a gentle smile,
+“if we knew that, we’d know who the murderer is.
+We’d know it, that is: but possibly not in a way that
+we could prove.”</p>
+
+<p>“Precious little good that would do us,” she answered.</p>
+
+<p>“So much good that the chances are ninety-nine
+in a hundred that the proof would be forthcoming.
+There are few men who are shrewd enough to cover
+every trace.”</p>
+
+<p>“But these seem to be of the few,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“We are not through with them yet,” he replied;
+and then suddenly: “Has the new detective, employed
+by Hunter and his friends, been here?”</p>
+
+<p>He had, and had made a critical examination of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>126</span>
+the house from cellar to attic; had been through the
+papers in the desk and safe, and had taken away a
+number of scraps from the former.</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t get the writing-pad, though,” he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>“No; that disturbed him; especially when I told
+him you had it.”</p>
+
+<p>“The&mdash;deuce you did!” he exclaimed. “I wish&mdash;you
+hadn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“I had no right to conceal so important a fact,”
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford bit his lip over this turn of his own argument,
+but made no retort. He recognised in this
+second detective a graver impediment than the cunning
+of the criminal&mdash;if, indeed, it was not the
+cunning of the criminal that had interjected the second
+detective into the affair. Working independently,
+it was scarcely possible that they could do
+otherwise than thwart each other. He had the feeling
+that the case was his and that no other had a
+professional right to throw himself into it. If he
+had been on the verge of success, he would have
+withdrawn from the case. As it was, the same professional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>127</span>
+pride that resented intrusion, forbade his
+taking such a course.</p>
+
+<p>For the twentieth time he asked:</p>
+
+<p>“He certainly did a large amount of work at
+home and must have had papers connected with the
+work here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, certainly,” she said. “He always had
+a lot of professional papers here.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford looked at her as if doubting whether
+he should ask the question that hung on his lips.
+But he must have facts, and here if anywhere was
+the information he needed. Could he trust the
+woman? Finally he came and stood over her chair,
+as if he was afraid of the walls even, and asked:</p>
+
+<p>“Was this always his habit?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she answered; “not while the judge was
+living, and never indeed until about two years ago.
+Yes, it began about two years ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was not a habit learned from the judge,
+then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no! Of course, he brought papers home
+at times, and so did Theodore; but he never kept
+them at home until within the last two years.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>128</span>
+“Did Cranston ask you about this?” Trafford
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said, “no, he did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“If he does, avoid answering him, if possible.”
+Then he stopped as if he had gone too far, and she,
+seeing his embarrassment, checked the answer that
+came to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>He sat for some time silent, and then glanced up
+to intercept a look that she bent upon him.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you talked with Mr. Hunter&mdash;the one
+who was in Theodore’s office, I mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he of the same family as Mr. Hunter who
+owns the great logging interests?”</p>
+
+<p>“His brother.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long has he been in the office?” he asked
+carelessly&mdash;so carelessly that she forgot he had not
+answered her question.</p>
+
+<p>“About two and a half years. I think Theodore
+thought him an acquisition and had great confidence
+in his ability.”</p>
+
+<p>“A good stock,” he said, “for pushing.” Then
+he added after a short pause:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>129</span>
+“Mrs. Parlin, at the inquest you expressed in
+the strongest terms your confidence that the statement
+presented was actually written by your husband.
+Have you had any cause since to change
+your mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not the slightest,” she said. “On the contrary,
+the facts there stated account for many things
+that were strange to me before. There is no question
+as to the facts, and none as to his having
+written them.”</p>
+
+<p>“That being the case, they can have nothing to
+do with the murder. The only other person who
+knew these facts was directly interested in keeping
+them concealed. Even admitting, as might be possible,
+that in order effectually to prevent exposure,
+she had been capable of killing or having her son
+killed, would she find any likelihood of this in a murder
+that would centre on him the interest of the entire
+State? Of course, she did not know of the existence
+of this paper, and she could not know that the
+murder would make the case public, but she would
+know that if he knew the facts, and had any interest
+in their publicity, he would have acted long ago.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>130</span>
+She would also know that if you knew the facts, your
+interest was that of secrecy, the chance of which
+would be diminished in the excitement of a murder
+case. Now that’s my reasoning, and through it
+I reach the conclusion that the facts revealed in that
+statement have nothing to do with the murder. I
+have since confirmed this by facts outside those
+from which I reasoned. I haven’t told a soul this
+before, not even McManus. I don’t want a soul
+save you to know it now; not even McManus. But
+now I’m going to ask you a question, which I believe
+has some bearing upon the causes of the murder,
+and that is: Why, if Mr. Wing had for two years
+been keeping many of his business papers at home,
+was there not one of them in his desk or safe the
+morning the murder was discovered?”</p>
+
+<p>“No papers in his desk or safe?” she said, while
+a look almost of terror came over her face. “You
+must be mistaken! Why, there was a package on
+his desk, lying right on the writing-pad, when I
+bade him good-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would you recognise it again if you saw it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>131</span>
+“Then look through the safe and see if you can
+find it.”</p>
+
+<p>He opened the safe and she went through it package
+by package, while he waited with that patience
+that comes of long training, until, the search finished,
+she looked up and said:</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t here!”</p>
+
+<p>“It was here at nine o’clock on the night of the
+tenth; it wasn’t here at six on the morning of the
+eleventh. What do you make of that?”</p>
+
+<p>“It had been stolen!” she gasped, looking pale
+and perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>“There might be one other explanation,” he interposed;
+“and we are bound to look at that carefully.
+Mr. Wing might have burned them. He had a
+fire that evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, “he might.”</p>
+
+<p>“I made sure on that point,” he then explained,
+“the morning of the murder. Not from any suspicion
+that papers were missing, but on the principle
+of taking note of everything, even the most trivial.
+I can assure you that there were no papers of any
+amount burned in the fireplace the night before.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>132</span>
+We could scarcely expect it; but it would have been
+a stroke of genius if the thief had burned some
+papers to throw us off the track.”</p>
+
+<p>“The thief!” she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>“You must see,” he said, “that the theft of the
+papers presupposes a thief. I have been certain
+from the start that some one was in the room after
+the murder. What he was after I haven’t known
+until now. He was at the safe, which he must have
+found open. Some one who wanted those papers
+wanted them enough to induce him to commit this
+murder, and then to enter the room and search the
+safe, while the dead man lay at the door. It was a
+terrible risk&mdash;as terrible as that of the murder itself.
+Suppose Oldbeg had been a half-hour later in coming
+home. He would unquestionably have found
+the murdered man with the murderers in the room.
+By just that narrow margin this perplexing mystery
+escaped proving a mere blundering crime.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>133</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="ix">CHAPTER IX<br />
+<span>“You are My Mother”</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HREE men sat in conference in the small library
+at Henry Matthewson’s residence at
+Waterville, the morning after the bridge incident.
+These were Henry Matthewson himself, three years
+younger than his brother Charles, opposite whom
+was the man who had come from Millbank by the
+midnight train, Frank Hunter, brother of Charles
+Hunter and himself an attorney in the late Mr.
+Wing’s office.</p>
+
+<p>“The papers are not in the office,” Hunter was
+saying. “I was nearly certain he did not keep them
+there, but I made the search carefully.”</p>
+
+<p>“How about his private safe at home?” Henry
+Matthewson asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I’ve had no opportunity to examine
+that&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“You should have made one,” said Charles Matthewson
+sternly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>134</span>
+The remark threw a chill over the talk, that made
+it a little difficult to break the embarrassed silence
+that followed. At last, Hunter said:</p>
+
+<p>“It was too dangerous to risk turning any general
+question in that direction. Besides, Trafford
+had the first shy at that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Hunter is right,” Henry Matthewson said,
+with that tone that men described as “masterful,”
+and which generally prevailed with Charles, in part
+because it so much resembled his mother’s. “It
+would have been too much risk.”</p>
+
+<p>“What are you going to do?” demanded Charles;
+“let the papers fall into Trafford’s hands, to be
+used against us, or sold back to us at an enormous
+price? Wing’s death came at a strangely opportune
+time; are we going to throw the chance away?”</p>
+
+<p>“If there were papers,” Henry affirmed, “McManus
+or Trafford had them almost before we heard
+of the murder. We want to know whether there
+were papers or not, but we don’t want to advertise
+their existence. If we get a chance to buy, we may
+think ourselves lucky.”</p>
+
+<p>“Trafford!” said Hunter with a touch of scorn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>135</span>
+in his voice. “We owe them thanks for putting
+him on to the job.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain of your grounds for judgment,
+Mr. Hunter?” Charles Matthewson asked. “I’m
+a little afraid you underrate his ability.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, what’s he found out in his fortnight’s
+work?” demanded Hunter.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s just what I’d like to find out, but can’t,”
+said Matthewson. “Whatever he’s after, he acts
+as if he’d get it first and do his crowing afterwards.”</p>
+
+<p>“Trafford’s at the top, so far as ability is concerned,”
+said Henry; “and the next best man’s
+Cranston. If you’re going to set a man at work,
+you’d better take him. There are two things for
+him to do: First, keep track of Trafford and let
+him give us notice quick if he hears of the papers;
+second, work up the story of Wing’s birth. We’ve
+got to keep that more in the public eye. I can’t for
+the life of me see anything in it to lead to the murder,
+but the public think there’s some connection
+between the two, and we mustn’t let them lose sight
+of it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>136</span>
+“But there must have been some motive in the
+murder,” Hunter affirmed.</p>
+
+<p>“If we can get hold of the papers, we’ll let the
+motive take care of itself,” Charles interposed.
+“To think, I was in Millbank that very night&mdash;almost
+at the very moment! If I’d known&mdash;I’d have
+found out what was in that room before any detective
+had a chance!”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Hunter with an implication of failure.
+He would gladly have defended himself, but
+he remembered that he might have been on the scene
+before McManus, and that he had dawdled over his
+breakfast and let the opportunity slip. No one
+would have refused him admission any more than
+McManus had been refused. How many anxious
+hours he might have saved himself!</p>
+
+<p>As a result of the conference, Cranston was sent
+for and put on the case. He listened to his instructions
+and then said:</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got to know what you want, if I’m to work
+with any advantage to you or myself. You want
+to find out who Wing’s mother was&mdash;but that’s
+incidental. You want to know who murdered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span>
+Wing&mdash;but that’s incidental. What is it I’m to do
+really?”</p>
+
+<p>Again Henry Matthewson showed his superior
+masterfulness by deciding and acting.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Wing had been for some time at work upon
+a matter that concerns materially the logging interests
+of this State. We simply know the fact, for
+he took no one into his confidence, and was so secretive
+as to keep the papers about him or in his
+private safe in his library. Without knowing what
+the papers contain, we believe if they should fall
+into the hand of a less scrupulous man than Mr.
+Wing, they might become dangerous&mdash;that is, a
+source of blackmail. We want to locate those
+papers, and if possible get possession of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“How far am I warranted in going in order to
+get hold of them?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Only to locate them and report to me. We will
+decide then on the safe course.” It was Henry
+Matthewson who spoke, as always when prompt
+decision was demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“If they had not already been removed,” said
+Cranston, “Trafford and McManus have had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>138</span>
+chance long since to secure them. I’m like to find
+them in their hands.”</p>
+
+<p>“Excepting that they might not know their
+value,” said Charles Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>Cranston looked at the speaker quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know about your Mr. McManus,” he
+said. “He’s a lawyer. But as to Trafford, I can
+answer. If he’s had his hands on those papers, he
+knows their value.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think,” said Hunter, after the detective
+had received his instructions and gone, “that my
+brother would quite approve time spent in discovering
+Wing’s mother. He doesn’t believe that
+affair had anything to do with the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“How can any sensible man?” Henry Matthewson
+demanded impatiently; “but we don’t know
+where the enquiry is going to land us nor what help
+we may want before we’re through. If the judge’s
+statement is true, this woman has a high position
+to lose and has great influence with her husband,
+who holds a strong place politically. It can’t be a
+matter of much trouble to unravel that part of the
+affair, and it may give us some one whom we can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>139</span>
+use advantageously in case of an emergency. It
+may bring to our aid a force that naturally would
+be glad to crush us. I’ll take the risk at any rate!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Hunter. “I’m agreeable,
+though I thought it proper to state my brother’s
+position.”</p>
+
+<p>Cranston entered upon his work at once and with
+zeal. His first visit was to
+<a name="Millbank" id="Millbank"></a><ins title="Original has 'Milbank'">Millbank</ins>
+and the Parlin
+house, where, as has been said, he searched from
+top to bottom. He plied Mrs. Parlin with questions
+that finally got from her the story of the package
+of papers, which she was not conscious of having
+seen until his questions stirred her memory to
+recall a picture of the room the night before the
+murder. Then came out clearly and distinctly the
+package of papers lying on the desk. It was, however,
+equally certain that they were gone, and of
+this he was able to satisfy himself without letting
+Mrs. Parlin understand that he attached any importance
+to the matter. The task was left him of
+ascertaining whether Trafford or McManus had
+them. The episode of the writing-pad convinced
+him that Trafford was the man, and that the pad<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>140</span>
+was simply a cover to the removal of the papers
+that were resting on it. It was this that caused the
+annoyance to which Mrs. Parlin had referred.</p>
+
+<p>He went over the ground under the consciousness
+that eyes at least as capable of seeing as his own had
+preceded him, and that there was little chance that
+anything had escaped them and less chance that, if
+there had, he would be able to discover it. It irritated
+him that men who wanted real service should
+call him in at so late an hour, and then seem to take
+it for granted that they had done all that was necessary.</p>
+
+<p>“Oldbeg has been here a good many years,” he
+said carelessly to Mrs. Parlin, who insisted on attending
+him in his investigation.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s been with us about six years; one year
+before the judge died.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have always found him faithful?”</p>
+
+<p>“There has been nothing particular to complain
+of. He’s been steady and has worked hard and
+usually shown good temper.”</p>
+
+<p>“Usually,” Cranston repeated. “Then sometimes
+he hasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>141</span>
+“He has his off-days, the same as the rest of us;
+days when things don’t go right and he gets surly.
+But those spells pass quickly and he’s always sorry
+for them, seemingly. There aren’t any of us
+smooth-feathered all the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did he have one of these ‘off-days,’ as
+you call them, last?” The tone was careless, as if
+Cranston did not attach much importance to the
+enquiry, and yet made it, as in duty bound.</p>
+
+<p>“On the Sunday before&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“May ninth,” interrupted Cranston.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. In the afternoon he was dressed up to
+go visiting. Theodore sent for him to put his driving
+horse into the light buggy, so he could drive
+to Norridgewock. Jonathan didn’t like it and said
+if he couldn’t have Sunday afternoons, he’d find
+some place where he could.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that all there was to it?” Cranston asked,
+after waiting a moment for Mrs. Parlin to continue.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, about all. It’s all too silly to repeat.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d rather judge of that,” Cranston said, more
+shortly perhaps than he intended.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>142</span>
+Mrs. Parlin grew cold and distant, with that
+poise of the head that, to her friends, at least, told
+of offence taken.</p>
+
+<p>“It was only irritation and he didn’t even mean
+that Theodore should hear him, but Theodore did
+and answered pretty sharply and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Please, what did he say?”</p>
+
+<p>“That he could go any time it suited him, and
+that, while he intended to give a man all the privileges
+he could, he intended also to have his services
+when he wanted them. Jonathan said if he
+wanted a man to work like a nigger, he’d better get
+one; and Theodore told him if he heard another
+word from him, he’d discharge him on the spot.”
+Mrs. Parlin had spoken formally and distantly, as
+if to assert the compulsion under which she complied
+with his demand.</p>
+
+<p>“Was that the end of it?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, of course. Neither of them meant it,
+and the easiest way was to let it pass. Theodore
+understood that and didn’t refer to it again. It’s
+sometimes the best way to get along with hasty
+folks.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>143</span>
+“But did Oldbeg forget it?” Cranston asked
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly not. He knew he was wrong and it
+made him uneasy, but of course, it all went when
+the terrible murder was discovered.”</p>
+
+<p>Cranston looked at her with a puzzled expression,
+and then smiled as he realised that she had not
+understood his question. He was glad that it was
+so, and at once passed to other matters.</p>
+
+<p>To Frank Hunter, however, that night he reported
+his conviction that the evidence pointed more
+strongly to Oldbeg as the murderer than he had
+supposed.</p>
+
+<p>“In fact,” he said, “there’s enough to justify his
+arrest, and with that I feel pretty certain he’ll break
+down and we’ll get the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the papers,” said Hunter, impatiently.
+“Oldbeg could have had no knowledge of them,
+but they’re what we’re first of all interested in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, as for them, Trafford’s got them beyond
+doubt. They were last seen on the writing-pad,
+and he made quite a show of taking that. It was
+nothing but a cover for the papers, of course.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>144</span>
+You’ve got to open negotiations with him for their
+purchase, but you can’t do that so long as he thinks
+they may have something to do with the murder.
+When the question of the murder’s out of the way,
+then the papers ’ll simply be papers and you can
+make quick work of ’em: another reason why you
+ought to arrest Oldbeg and get that settled.”</p>
+
+<p>“But my brother’s positive Oldbeg had nothing
+to do with the murder, and whatever his interest
+may be, he’s not going to let an innocent man suffer
+an unjust arrest. I’m confident, unless you can
+give him positive proofs in the matter, he’ll not allow
+it to be done.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said the man sulkily, “I’m in your employ
+and shall obey orders, but if I was working on
+the case as a public matter, I’d have the arrest made
+and made quick.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Charles Hunter was obdurate. He declared
+that enough injustice had already been done in
+turning public suspicion against the man without
+a shred to hang it on, and he was not going to be
+a party to keeping it up.</p>
+
+<p>“It’ll take the man years to recover from it now,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>145</span>
+he affirmed; “and an arrest would down him forever.
+Oh, yes, I know you bring in a motive in a
+petty fuss that occurred on Sunday&mdash;a thing that
+might happen anywhere and to any one. A man
+going to see his girl gets miffed because he has to
+harness a horse and is impertinent, and you conclude
+that that’s reason for his shooting his employer.
+It’s against all reason and common sense,
+and I won’t insult my intelligence by considering
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Most murders are against reason and common
+sense,” said the detective; “at least, that’s my experience,
+and more than that, nine murders out of
+ten are for absolutely trivial causes. Before you
+get through with this case, you’ll see Oldbeg arrested,
+or I’ll miss my guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I shan’t be responsible for it,” the other
+retorted.</p>
+
+<p>Thwarted in this part of his search, Cranston
+turned his attention to tracing Wing’s mother, to
+which both Hunter and the Matthewsons appeared
+to attach considerable importance&mdash;more, in fact,
+than he could find in it. Confessedly, it was a cover<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>146</span>
+or subterfuge and meant the unearthing of a secret
+that might ruin a woman’s good name for a mistake
+made forty years before. It seemed to him a
+strange twist of conscience, which revolted at the
+arrest of a man for a crime of which circumstances
+tended to show him guilty, while it gave willing
+assent to bringing to light that which might have
+been lived down years before and redeemed by a
+clean life during more years than any of these men
+had lived.</p>
+
+<p>As soon, however, as he took up the matter, the
+spirit of the quest possessed him, and this grew
+strong as the facts unearthed began to point in a
+certain direction, while wonder and a low greed
+found seeds in the case as it unfolded. At last,
+with the truth before him, he was at the point where
+paths separated, with insistent necessity for him to
+take one or the other. Should he go to the woman
+and demand his price for silence; or should he give
+the sons the facts and make them the purchasers?
+Whichever he decided on, he would deal honestly
+as a man should, and he would not pit one against
+the other. Hence, the importance of the decision,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>147</span>
+for once made it barred him from negotiations with
+any one else. Preferably, he would keep the matter
+a secret from the sons, save that he had a shrewd
+suspicion that they were in a better position to pay
+the price than was the mother. On the other hand,
+the mother might prove the more defiant, especially
+if she credited his unwillingness to go to others. It
+was at best a delicate question, but fortunately it
+would “keep” and be as valuable a month hence as
+now. He could, therefore, wait and let development
+lead him in his decision.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the thought of Trafford. Trafford
+had, of course, followed up this clue and, equally
+of course, had unearthed the facts. He, therefore,
+was in the market, with the danger that he might
+not prove as “honourable” as Cranston purposed
+being, and, therefore, might damage the price that
+the latter had expected to obtain. Indeed, it was
+an awkward predicament for a man who had a valuable
+secret to sell and natural purchasers at hand,
+yet wished at the same time to shape his course to
+the demands of fair dealing and honour. Still, before
+he moved, it was necessary that he should ascertain,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>148</span>
+if possible, whether Trafford had approached
+either of the persons interested and if so,
+what he had done.</p>
+
+<p>It was the day on which Trafford returned from
+his fruitless visit to the logging drives. Charles
+Matthewson, uneasy and anxious, found his office
+more conducive to nervousness than work, and
+finally, throwing down his pen, had reached for his
+hat for a turn out of doors, when the door opened
+and his mother entered.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, mother,” he said, rising to meet her, and
+striving to stifle the apprehension her presence
+brought, “this is an unusual honour. It’s a pleasure
+I would not deny myself, yet I would have
+spared you the trouble if you had sent for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I came to talk with you, Charles,” she said, as
+she took the proffered chair by the window; “and
+it was better and easier to talk here than at home.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is a matter of moment, mother?” he asked
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>Endowed though Charles Matthewson was with
+that relentless persistence, that knows no conscience
+save success in the pursuit of a purpose, which had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>149</span>
+carried the family so far, there was a gentler side
+to his nature that was wanting in his younger
+brother. The development of this was peculiarly
+in his relationship with his mother, who in turn
+gave him a tenderness of affection of which few
+dreamed her capable. A desire, born of all that
+was womanly in her masculine nature, had been
+fed by this son’s love, which was in strong contrast
+to the awe and deference accorded her by most
+of her relatives. It was no easy task for her to
+turn for aid to any one, but if she was forced to do
+so, it was naturally to Charles she would go. On
+the other hand, he knew her well enough to know
+that an appeal struck its roots deep before it could
+bring her to such a course.</p>
+
+<p>“Is it you, Charles, who are having this woman
+hunted down?”</p>
+
+<p>“What woman, mother?” he asked in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>She seemed to find difficulty in answering; but
+after a struggle, raised her head almost defiantly,
+and said in a hard, cold voice:</p>
+
+<p>“The mother of Theodore Wing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>150</span>
+His face hardened in turn to a strange resemblance
+to her own.</p>
+
+<p>“You have nothing to do with such a woman as
+that, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Every woman has to do with another who is
+being oppressed and wronged. Why is the dead past
+of that woman to be laid bare to the world? Are
+the years since her wrongdoing to count for nothing?
+Is this generation, that has grown up since
+all this happened, to be the judge of what she did
+before it was born? Is my son to be the one to
+allow the wrong?”</p>
+
+<p>This new phase of his mother’s character struck
+him strangely and not pleasantly. She was not
+wont to show large sympathy with her sex, though
+he would be far from accusing her of hardness or
+cruelty. Still she had left with him the impression
+of sympathies and feelings that were rather masculine
+than feminine; the impressions of one who, accepting
+the task of fighting her own way in the
+world, felt it no injustice or wrong to impose the
+same on others.</p>
+
+<p>“I have no wish, mother, to hunt down this or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>151</span>
+any other woman; but a terrible murder has been
+committed, a murder the more terrible because of its
+motiveless and mysterious character. I have been
+called in as counsel to those who are seeking to unravel
+this mystery and punish the murderer, and
+it’s my duty to use every means to accomplish this
+end.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you are hunting this woman out and will
+expose her nakedness to the world!” The words
+were a cry, that had its force even more in the tone
+than in the words themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“I am certainly endeavouring to discover the
+woman. I could do no less under the circumstances.
+I think I have a fair prospect of success.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose from her chair and looked at him
+strangely and despairingly. Then she turned towards
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>“I will go,” she said. “This is no place for me.
+I will go.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her coldly, almost repellantly, as he
+said, checking her:</p>
+
+<p>“Mother, what does this mean?”</p>
+
+<p>No man who had once seen it, could forget the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>152</span>
+look she gave him. There was heartbreak in it;
+there was more than that, there was the crushing
+back of a life-long pride.</p>
+
+<p>“What can it mean?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>His head fell on his breast. He had never
+guessed before the bitterness that life can have, that
+a moment of time can bring. She never took her
+eyes from his. Whatever the sentence, she would
+meet it as became her past. Slowly his head came
+up; slowly the misery in his eyes rose to hers. Then
+he came and laid his lips on her forehead and said:</p>
+
+<p>“You are my mother: I shall obey your wish.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>153</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="x">CHAPTER X<br />
+<span>A Second Murder?</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>M</span>R. McMANUS,” said Trafford, after they
+had completed the re-examination of
+Wing’s private papers at the office and in his safe
+at home, “was Mr. Wing of a peculiarly secretive
+disposition?”</p>
+
+<p>“If he had a fault,” McManus answered, “and
+since he was human, he must have had, it was his
+excessive frankness and openness.”</p>
+
+<p>“And yet we find him lugging papers on some
+affair, which he shared with no one, back and forth
+from office to house, and when not so doing, keeping
+them locked in a safe in his library to which only
+he had access. How do you account for this?”</p>
+
+<p>McManus glanced over his shoulder before answering
+and then dropped his voice almost to a
+whisper, although they were sitting in the very
+centre of the great library at the Parlin house, with
+the door closed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>154</span>
+“I think he was afraid.”</p>
+
+<p>“Afraid!” repeated Trafford, almost thrown
+off his guard, but instinctively lowering his tone
+in sympathy with his companion. “Afraid of
+what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just about two years ago, he found one morning
+that his desk at the office had been ransacked.
+Papers were turned topsy-turvy and packages of
+papers had been opened and tied up again hastily.
+The thoroughness with which the search was made
+showed that the person had a well-shaped purpose,
+while the fact that a considerable amount of money,
+which was loose in a drawer, was not touched,
+proved that it was not robbery. We made every
+effort to find out the culprit, but without success.
+We had at one time suspicion of an office-boy, but
+nothing positive, and Mr. Wing wouldn’t let him be
+discharged under circumstances that would do him a
+grave injustice if he were innocent. So we retained
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he repeated the performance,” Trafford
+said in a tone of conviction.</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked at him, questioning whether this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>155</span>
+assertion came from knowledge of the affair or was
+merely a shrewd guess. Failing to satisfy himself,
+he went on:</p>
+
+<p>“The performance was repeated, but under conditions
+that made it impossible for the boy to be
+guilty. He was away on his vacation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not shrewd of the culprit. You are certain it
+was some one in the office?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but we never discovered his identity.”</p>
+
+<p>“And from that time Mr. Wing began carrying
+these papers back and forth and keeping them in
+this safe.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“And the desk was never troubled again.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded his satisfaction and proceeded
+to elucidate:</p>
+
+<p>“When the object was removed and the watcher
+knew it, he would repeat the search only to cover his
+identity. Shrewd as he was, he either wasn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>156</span>
+shrewd enough for that or was indifferent. He
+gave away the fact that he was some one who knew
+of the removal of the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think these papers were what he was
+after?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most assuredly.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that the removal of them&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Became Wing’s death warrant,” Trafford completed
+the sentence. McManus hesitated and grew
+pale.</p>
+
+<p>“My God, Trafford; do you see what that leads
+to?”</p>
+
+<p>“I see what you think it leads to. You think it
+leads to the conclusion that Wing was murdered
+by somebody in your office, somebody who has been
+there at least two years. I think that’s what you
+lawyers call a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">non sequitur</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“At the office, the papers might be stolen; here
+they could be stolen only after the murder of Wing.
+Why shouldn’t the thief be one and the same in
+both cases?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because many a man will steal where only one
+will commit murder. It is possible, of course, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>157</span>
+the two may be the same. The probabilities, however,
+are against it.”</p>
+
+<p>“What follows then?” demanded McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“That the actor in at least one case, and possibly
+in both, was not the principal; and that the more
+there are engaged in the affair, the better chance
+we have of discovery. It is the one-man affair that
+baffles.”</p>
+
+<p>None the less, when McManus was gone, Trafford
+summed up the successes of three weeks and
+found them mortifyingly few. A package of papers
+missed and not found; an innocent man under suspicion;
+a woman of prominence proved the mother
+of an illegitimate child; a thwarted attempt upon his
+own life; a wounded Canadian apparently wiped
+off the earth; and a respectable citizen traced on a
+midnight visit to another respectable citizen at
+Waterville. It was not on such achievements as
+these that he had built his reputation.</p>
+
+<p>With the thought of the missing Canadian, his
+anxiety returned. It was impossible that he had
+been spirited away to Canada, yet it was undeniable
+that he was gone. He went out and looked at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>158</span>
+river. After two weeks of dry weather the water
+was falling. On the edge of the falls, rocks showed
+that a week before were under water. In eddies and
+shallow places he could see, as with his physical eye,
+drift and débris collecting, and sometimes in this
+drift and débris strange matter was thrown up.
+He had hesitated to do it, but he felt that he had
+no right to hesitate longer, and so he gave directions
+for a careful search of the river banks and
+shallow places from Millbank to Pishon’s Ferry.
+It was the last chance, and he had refused to consider
+it until it would be criminal to refuse
+longer.</p>
+
+<p>That was the physical part of the task, which he
+could set others to do; but there was another part,
+and that he took with him to his room in the hotel
+and spent much of the night with it. All the evening
+he turned and re-turned it, looking at every side
+and phase, and then went to bed and to sleep, with
+the knowledge that more than once that which the
+most earnest thought fails to unravel becomes by
+some strange alchemy clear under the magic of
+sleep. Would it be so with this?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>159</span>
+To that query, which came involuntarily, he answered
+with a doubt.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m fighting my conviction,” he said, almost
+plaintively, “instead of giving myself up to its free
+course. I can’t expect to be helped as long as I do
+that; but I can’t, I won’t believe. A man in my
+mood can’t solve anything!”</p>
+
+<p>So it came to pass that the night brought him no
+help, and he rose in the morning without that sense
+of rest which a single hour’s sleep brings under the
+stimulus of success.</p>
+
+<p>About noon, a country lad on horseback brought
+a message from a point some six miles below the
+village. Obeying the message, he started at once
+with the coroner and physician.</p>
+
+<p>On a tiny meadow that lay as a crescent of green
+along the border of cove where the current of the
+river sweeps in as an eddy, something was drawn up
+from the water and lay covered in an unrecognizable
+mass, which none the less had a strange repulsiveness
+about it. Back of the meadow great
+trees rose toward the early June sky; before it the
+river flashed in the June sunshine, and across its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>160</span>
+waters, the brown earth, dotted with the young
+corn, stretched away in the beauty of early summer.
+A few men and boys stood about the covered thing
+in strange silence, that seemed almost of fear; yet
+all pressed nearer when, by order of the coroner,
+the covering cloth was removed.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford and the doctor stooped and made a close
+examination of the hideous thing. No one spoke
+above his breath as they waited the report, yet by
+some strange magic the story of the finding went
+from man to man. At last the two men rose and
+went down to the river to wash their soiled hands.
+The coroner followed them:</p>
+
+<p>“What do you make of it?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford waited until the doctor was forced to
+speak:</p>
+
+<p>“Plainly a Canuck, and I should say a log-driver.
+Certainly a working man. Been drowned a week
+and has come from above the Falls. You can see
+that by the way he’s battered up. That’s when he
+was whirled round under the Falls. Several bones
+broken, probably by the rocks, but that smashing of
+the collar bone came from a blow from above and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>161</span>
+before he was dead. It may have been that that
+knocked him into the water. Unless you find some
+particular mark on him, you won’t be able to identify
+him, he’s so smashed up. Better send up the river
+and see if any driver has been missing about a week.
+Beg pardon, Mr. Trafford, I fear I’m taking the
+words out of your mouth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not at all,” the other answered. “I couldn’t
+have covered my findings better myself, excepting
+I was less certain about the breaking of the collar
+bone, whether it was before or after death. If he
+had gone over the Falls, for instance, head first,
+might he not have struck a rock and broken his collar
+bone, so as to give the appearance of its being
+shattered by a blow dealt from above?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s not simply that,” said the doctor. “There’s
+the swelling of the living flesh that could not take
+place if the blow occurred after death. The injury
+must have occurred long enough before death to
+produce this effect.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it could hardly have been the blow that
+knocked him into the water?”</p>
+
+<p>The doctor started at the question and, without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>162</span>
+answering, walked back to the body and re-examined
+the broken bone and some of the other bruises.
+Then he came back to where Trafford and the coroner
+waited him.</p>
+
+<p>“There can’t be any question that the broken
+clavicle antedates death, and antedates it some few
+hours. The man may have been injured at some
+distance from any one and have taken a boat to go
+for assistance and not been able to control it.”</p>
+
+<p>“He might have done any one of a dozen things,”
+Trafford interposed impatiently; “but the thing is
+to find out which one he did do. How did he get
+this injury, and how did he come to his drowning
+after the injury; for I take it you’ll admit when
+death came, it did come through drowning.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think we’ll have to admit that,” the doctor returned.</p>
+
+<p>“Then we have an injury, one, two, perhaps
+three hours before death; and then death by drowning.
+If all this was the result of accident, don’t you
+think he was having more than his fair share,
+crowded into a pretty small space of time?” It was
+Trafford’s question.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>163</span>
+“You mean,” demanded the coroner, a trifle uneasily,
+“that we’ve got another murder on our
+hands before the first one is cleared up?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean,” said Trafford; “that if we have, it
+may prove easier to unravel two murders than one.”</p>
+
+<p>They walked slowly back and looked at the face
+that was gashed beyond human recognition. Was
+this he who had cried so piteously on Millbank
+Bridge, “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”? If so, what
+had been the history of the few hours that elapsed
+before he plunged into the river to the death meant
+for Trafford? How was that plunge made? Where
+was the Pierre who had struck the blow on the
+bridge, and who must be able to tell the story of the
+man’s drowning? These were the questions which
+were dinning themselves in Trafford’s brain and
+imperiously demanding an answer.</p>
+
+<p>The news of the finding of the body spread rapidly
+through Millbank, but with comparatively trifling
+sensation. Men were drowned each year in the
+river. The driving business was full of risks and
+men fell victims to it each spring. It was not like
+a murder&mdash;a blow from no one knew where, falling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>164</span>
+no one knew why. This drowning was a thing
+people were accustomed to expect. They shrugged,
+wondered if he had a family, and thought little more
+of an accident that left them “one less Canuck.” A
+solitary priest, poor and hard-worked, spent the
+night in prayers for the dead; for these men who
+come from the North to drive the river are almost
+without exception faithful children of the Church,
+which, through her ministry, mourns her bereavement
+and assails the gates of heaven for admission
+of the departed soul.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford sat alone in his room at the hotel. He
+had no doubt that this was the man on whom had
+fallen the blow which was intended for him. Disabled,
+so that he could not be concealed or taken
+away without discovery and recognition, it had been
+worth the while of those who had failed in their
+attempt on his own life, to murder the poor wretch,
+rather than take the chances of his being seen and
+questioned. Disabled as he was, his condition should
+have appealed to the hardest heart. He had tried to
+do faithfully the work given him and, failing, had
+been done to death for his fidelity. What was this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>165</span>
+hideous thing that played with murder, rather than
+let itself be discovered?</p>
+
+<p>As Trafford asked himself the question, he
+glanced uneasily at his windows. It was here, in
+this very town, within a stone’s throw of the very
+place where he sat, that murder stalked&mdash;murder
+that had once sought him as a victim and then had
+destroyed its own instrument, not trusting the man
+it had employed. It seemed like a lowering menace,
+ready to fall without warning, and almost for the
+first time since he had taken up this profession, he
+was conscious of the sense of personal fear. This
+merciless, unseen something, impressed him as
+standing just beyond the line of sight, watching with
+unseen eyes, to strike at him again. If it could be
+uncovered, what would it prove itself, to justify so
+desperate a chance? If it could not be uncovered,
+where was safety for himself or for any one who
+stood as a menace to its purposes?</p>
+
+<p>That the men who had committed these two murders
+and had tried a third&mdash;for he did not for one
+instant separate them&mdash;would stop at no chance, was
+beyond dispute or question. They had watched and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>166</span>
+waited on Wing for two years and, apparently, had
+not struck until every other means of securing what
+they wanted had failed. When they did strike,
+they had struck pitilessly and effectively. But they
+were still on their guard, as the assault on the Bridge
+and this wanton murder of a wounded man proved.
+They had gone so far; certainly they would not now
+retire from the game, nor would they show a scrupulousness
+they had failed to feel before they had so
+far committed themselves that retreat was impossible.
+It was a struggle to the death, with an unseen
+foe, by a man who at all times stood out as a
+plain mark. He had the sensation of one who stands
+with a lamp in his hands and peers into the deeper
+dark, to catch a glimpse of a foe that he simply
+knows lies in wait for him unseen.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>167</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xi">CHAPTER XI<br />
+<span>Already One Attempt</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>I</span> WON’T consent to any further chasing of this
+woman.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Charles Matthewson who spoke, standing
+in front of his brother in the library at Waterville,
+where the original interview regarding Cranston
+had taken place. It was a long time since Charles
+had spoken so positively to Henry, and the latter
+looked up half amused and half irritated, yet with
+an ugly expression on his face.</p>
+
+<p>“You have suddenly become very much concerned
+for this&mdash;woman. I’ll use your polite term,”
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve suddenly become concerned for myself,” the
+other replied hotly. “I know, as you do, that she
+and her&mdash;misfortune have nothing to do with this
+murder; and I know, as you do, if you’ll stop to
+think a moment, that it’s a cowardly piece of business
+for men to engage in to hunt down a woman,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>168</span>
+simply because they may do so with the approval of
+the hunters.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry gave a low whistle.</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s been talking to you? You’ve got a sudden
+conversion as to this woman’s&mdash;misfortune.”
+He gave an ugly slur to that last word. “Time was
+when you’d call it by another name.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, whether I would or not, Cranston’s got to
+be called off from that line: and he’s got to be called
+off quick!”</p>
+
+<p>“But Frank Hunter has been very insistent on
+this point. He seems to have some reason for thinking
+it important,” Henry answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Because he thinks that a sensation there will
+stop folks asking questions nearer home. If he can
+raise a dust behind which he can negotiate for those
+papers, he’s got all he’s looking for just now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps you don’t feel any interest in those
+papers,” Henry answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Interest or no interest, I’m not going to skulk
+any longer behind a petticoat. I’m ashamed to have
+done it so long.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good boy,” Henry said, making a motion as if<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>169</span>
+to pat him on the shoulder. “I ask again, who’s
+been stirring up your conscience?”</p>
+
+<p>“Our mother,” said Charles simply.</p>
+
+<p>Henry stopped in his act, and a new look came
+over his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Does she think it unmanly?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“She thinks it cowardly and mean,” Charles said
+strongly.</p>
+
+<p>Not a sign of anger at these stinging words came
+into Henry’s face, but instead the look of a child
+justly reproved.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess she’s right, Charles,” he said. “I guess
+she’s right. I hadn’t thought of it before, but it
+is mean and cowardly. I’ll call Cranston off at
+once.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Hunter?” Charles asked in his turn.</p>
+
+<p>“He can find something else to raise a dust, or he
+can come out into the open and fight; but he shan’t
+fight longer behind this woman’s petticoat. I wish
+we hadn’t done it at all!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d give more than I can tell,” Charles answered,
+giving cry to that bitterness of shame which,
+hidden in his heart, he dared not uncover.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>170</span>
+“Yes,” said Henry; “to think that mother
+should call our act mean and cowardly! I’d rather
+the old papers&mdash;&mdash;” Then he stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>“Has it ever occurred to you that the papers may
+have had something to do with Wing’s death?”
+Charles asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Hush up!” exclaimed Henry roughly. “There
+are some things a man shouldn’t even dare think,
+much less say.”</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;by God,” Charles answered, “there are
+some things a man can’t help thinking and perhaps
+saying. I tell you, I’m not so certain I wouldn’t
+have shot Wing myself for the sake of getting hold
+of those papers!”</p>
+
+<p>“And if you’re going to keep on talking this way,
+you might as well have done it,” Henry answered
+bitterly. “I wouldn’t trust myself to think such
+things as you’re saying.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Henry, think, just think&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t,” the other shouted in a wild passion.
+“I won’t think, and I forbid you to ask me to!
+The man is dead and the Lord only knows into
+whose hands those papers have fallen. There’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>171</span>
+only one thing I keep thinking&mdash;thinking all the
+time,” and his voice dropped, while he looked anxiously
+over his shoulder, as if he feared the very
+walls of his library: “and that is that it was safer to
+have those papers in his hands, so long as we knew
+that they were there, than it is to have them in the
+hands of somebody&mdash;we don’t know who, for a purpose,
+we don’t know what.”</p>
+
+<p>Charles grew paler than Henry had ever seen
+him. There was a gasp in his voice, as if he found
+breathing difficult, and he almost clutched at his
+brother as he said:</p>
+
+<p>“That means that you are afraid, as I am, that the
+papers had some connection with his death, and
+you are trying to persuade yourself to the contrary.
+A month ago, you’d have jumped at the chance of
+somebody else having them, no matter who that
+somebody else might be: yet to-day you try to make
+me think that you believe it has increased the danger.
+<em>You know better.</em> I don’t care whose hands they’re
+in, we’re safer than we were when Wing had them.
+Now it’s only a question of money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why don’t we hear from them?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>172</span>
+“It would be so safe, with matters as they are,
+for any one to offer to sell Wing’s papers,” sneered
+Charles.</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose whoever’s got them makes copies of
+them?” Henry suggested.</p>
+
+<p>“And you tell me not to think of these things!”
+Charles cried.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Matthewson at once called Cranston off
+from the Bangor matter and then sent for Frank
+Hunter. The latter came in the early evening,
+uneasy, restless, and irritable. The mood was confirmed
+when he discovered what had been done.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s that, or let him go to Millbank and keep
+excitement alive there,” he said. “Trafford strikes
+me as entirely capable of doing enough of that.”</p>
+
+<p>“As matters stand,” demanded Henry, regardless
+of the caution he had given his brother, “do
+you know who were most likely to profit by Wing’s
+death?”</p>
+
+<p>“We were,” answered Frank coldly. “Do you
+think I’ve ever failed to recognise that fact? I don’t
+do business that way.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you mean to say that you have seen from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>173</span>
+the first that if men looked for motives, they’d fasten
+on us?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean to say exactly that,” Frank Hunter answered;
+“and unless we can dig up something that
+shows that somebody else was in as bad a position
+as we, it will go hard with us, unless we can tire the
+detectives out and make them give it up as a bad
+job.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Henry Matthewson’s turn to look and feel
+uneasy. Born to affluence, raised in wealth, and encouraged
+to high ambition, he had already gone far
+for a young man, and it seemed a piteous thing that
+in his own house, with his wife and children almost
+within call of his voice, he should be told that unless
+men could be made to forget and so abandon their
+interest in the Wing murder, it might go hard with
+him&mdash;that he might become an object of suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t mean,” Hunter said, “that we are in any
+danger of being convicted of Wing’s murder, or
+even of being arrested for it. That’s way beyond
+reason. But how much better off would we be, if
+the community should take up the suspicion that we
+were interested in Wing’s death; that we procured<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>174</span>
+it? The public is an unreasoning brute. Look at
+poor Oldbeg!”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Oldbeg!” repeated Matthewson. “What
+in the name of thunder makes you so tender of Oldbeg?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is Charles more than I,” Hunter said, referring
+to his brother. “He insists that the man is
+innocent; that there’s not a scintilla of proof
+against him, and he won’t consent that the unreasoning
+whim of the people shall do such injustice;
+and in fact, when I think that our time may come
+at any moment, I can’t help feeling a good deal that
+way myself.”</p>
+
+<p>In the shrubbery outside the window a man, who
+had followed Hunter from Millbank, listened and
+watched. He could hear nothing and see as little,
+but hour after hour he kept his post, with dogged
+patience, using a night to catch a single hint. Had
+Hunter known how closely he was followed and
+watched, he would have been still more uneasy and
+disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it about this new corpse that’s been
+found at Millbank?” Matthewson asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>175</span>
+“Oh, merely a drowned logger. Nobody knows
+him and he’s been unceremoniously put under
+ground. Nobody’d have thought anything of it at
+any other time, for there’s never a spring that one
+or more of them don’t turn up; but just now we are
+living on sensations, and it added to the interest
+that Trafford was on hand and almost the first on
+the spot.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wasn’t it one of Trafford’s men who found it?”
+the other asked.</p>
+
+<p>“So it’s said.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was he looking for it, or for something else?”
+Matthewson persisted.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should Trafford have sent men to search
+the lower river, if he didn’t expect to find something?
+Had some one disappeared? You say a
+mere logger. What might Trafford say?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe you see a bogy every time you turn
+round,” Hunter said impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“‘’Tis conscience doth make cowards of us all,’”
+Matthewson answered. “I don’t like to be in this
+position. I don’t dare move to find the papers, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>176</span>
+fear in doing so I stir suspicions concerning Wing’s
+death. I don’t dare leave the papers in the uncertain
+hands where they are, lest they arouse the very
+same suspicions. It’s a nice position for an innocent
+man to be in.”</p>
+
+<p>The curiosity of the public, no longer fed on
+rumours and inquests, had begun to flag, giving place
+to the inevitable sneers at the police and detective
+force, with renewed predictions daily made that the
+murder would remain an unsolved mystery. But
+for the occasional sight of Trafford, and the expectation
+that the inquest might be reconvened at almost
+any time, the village would already have begun to
+forget the murdered man, so easily does a sensation
+fade into the commonplace.</p>
+
+<p>But Trafford remained, or at least reappeared at
+unexpected moments, like an uneasy spirit that found
+no rest. He was working now on two murders, confident
+that if he found the perpetrator of the one, he
+would solve both. It was an aid to him that the
+public accepted the second as an accident, he alone
+having knowledge of the attempted murder of himself
+which, unaccomplished, had brought this fate on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>177</span>
+the unhappy wretch who was to be himself a murderer.</p>
+
+<p>About this time, however, he had proof that he
+had not ceased to interest some one. On returning
+to his room at the hotel one evening, he found that
+it had been entered during his absence and a
+thorough search of all his papers and luggage made.
+At first, he was inclined to complain to the landlord,
+but this purpose passed as quickly as it came,
+resulting in his taking apparently no notice of the
+affair.</p>
+
+<p>It called to mind very forcibly, however, the tale
+that McManus had told him of the rifling of Wing’s
+desk, and caused him to take a professional view
+of the incident. He had said at the time that a pair
+of trained eyes would have seen something of importance.
+He was thus placed on his mettle to prove
+his boast. In fact, there was little to see. It was
+evident that the intruder had come by a window
+opening on to the roof of a long porch. A dusty
+footprint on the carpet under the window, pointing
+inward, proved this, and Trafford was able to find
+traces along the roof to a hall window, but the returning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>178</span>
+tracks were not traceable. He was not so
+much offended at the liberty taken with his property
+as by the implication on his sagacity, in the expectation
+of finding anything he preferred should
+remain unfound.</p>
+
+<p>He had his suspicions as to the person who had
+ransacked Wing’s desk, and it was a satisfaction to
+be given an opportunity to test that suspicion by
+this later act. If he could bring it home to the possible
+culprit in the former case, he felt that a very
+considerable advance would be made. It was true
+that the method smacked a trifle of seeking facts
+with which to sustain a preconceived opinion, rather
+than permitting facts to lead up to judgment; but
+strict adherence to rule was not always possible, and
+this appeared a case in which exception was to be
+made.</p>
+
+<p>Because, however, of this yielding to temptation,
+possibly, it troubled him more to discover that the
+assumed trespasser on Wing’s desk could by no
+means be the culprit in the present case, for it was
+beyond controversy that the suspected individual had
+not been within many miles of the Millbank hostelry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>179</span>
+at the hour of the intrusion. It might be a touch of
+cunning, but the alibi was not to be questioned.
+None the less, here was the fact that Wing’s desk
+was broken open because he was believed to be in
+possession of certain papers of a compromising
+character, and that when it was believed that these
+papers had come into the possession of the detective,
+his room and papers were in turn ransacked. That
+there was connection of cause and effect between
+the facts was scarcely to be doubted, even though it
+was not as simple as he had at first supposed to establish
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Uncertainty as to the nature of the missing papers,
+and his inability to secure any definite information,
+were the tantalising features of the case. He questioned
+McManus only to find that his knowledge
+of the matter was no less hazy. These papers had
+been seen by no one in the office excepting in package.
+Whether they had been received by Wing from
+Judge Parlin or not was unknown. There was a
+general understanding that they had come from the
+judge, and that Wing had given a great deal of attention
+to them, so that they had grown materially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>180</span>
+in his hands. The scandal of the ransacking of the
+desk had caused a great deal of excitement in the
+office and no little discussion, but this had brought
+out no facts bearing on the subject-matter. That
+it involved some one was guessed, but even this
+guess was wild and general, rather than specific.</p>
+
+<p>“Unless something of certainty is arrived at,”
+Trafford said, “it will be impossible to delay the
+re-opening of the inquest more than a week longer,
+and in the present temper of the public mind a verdict
+implicating Oldbeg would not be impossible.”</p>
+
+<p>He said it half musingly, as if rather talking to
+himself than otherwise, and yet there was a look
+under the eyelids that would not have been quite reassuring
+to a close observer. McManus did not
+seem to note it, but took up the matter rather with
+Trafford’s own manner.</p>
+
+<p>“But there the papers stand as the insurmountable
+difficulty. Oldbeg could have no object in
+stealing them. He could scarcely have known of
+their existence&mdash;that is, as papers of value. If the
+connection could be made, it would be serious for
+him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>181</span>
+“But it can’t be made,” Trafford said, as if he
+were waking from his lethargic condition. “I’ve
+told you what kind of a man it was that did this
+murder, and when the murderer is discovered, as
+discovered he will be, you’ll find I’ve described him
+correctly. Those papers caused this murder and
+caused it because they were a menace to some one.
+That some one couldn’t have been Oldbeg&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet the public mind is impressed with Oldbeg’s
+guilt and, if I mistake not, the jury is as well.”</p>
+
+<p>“You overlook the fact that nothing regarding
+these papers has appeared in the testimony.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked up suddenly as the fact was
+recalled to him.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so,” he said. “We’ve discussed them so
+much that I had entirely lost sight of the fact. Of
+course, that’ll free Oldbeg when it is brought out in
+testimony.”</p>
+
+<p>“If it is brought out,” Trafford said.</p>
+
+<p>“But surely,” McManus urged; “you will not
+let so important a matter pass&mdash;let alone the fact
+that it is the cause of injustice to Oldbeg, who surely
+has suffered enough already.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>182</span>
+“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford solemnly; “I’m
+at work to find the murderer of Mr. Wing. That’s
+the one purpose I have before me, and it is what the
+best interests of the public demand. If Oldbeg or
+another suffers unjustly for the moment, it is that
+the guilty man may suffer in the end. I’m sorry for
+Oldbeg, but I’m not responsible for the turn matters
+have taken. At present, the parties who are interested
+in these papers believe I have them, and the
+work I’m doing requires them to continue so to
+believe. I don’t conceive it to be my duty to produce
+at the inquest testimony that will undeceive them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t you taking a tremendous responsibility?”
+McManus asked.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s my business to take responsibility. I’ve
+taken it often to the extent of risking my life&mdash;I
+may do so again; but when there’s a murderer at
+large and I’m set to find him, I don’t stop because
+my life is endangered or because another is put to
+inconvenience. If Oldbeg’s held for the murder,
+it’ll be inconvenient for him, but not so inconvenient
+as it would be for me to be murdered because
+I’m on the track of the right man.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>183</span>
+“And you are on the track of the right man?”
+McManus demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been on his track from the moment I entered
+that library and knew that it had been searched
+by the man who fired the fatal bullet. I’ve been on
+his track from that day to this, and I shall keep on
+it until I catch up with him or he kills me; but as
+surely as that last happens, he’ll swing. It isn’t given
+to any man to commit murder twice and cover his
+tracks. If I go down, it’ll end in his going up.”</p>
+
+<p>“But really, Mr. Trafford, you take this thing
+more seriously than I imagined. You’re not in
+earnest in this talk of an attempt to murder you!”</p>
+
+<p>“So much in earnest that I never go out without
+thinking I may not come back.”</p>
+
+<p>“But why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because already one attempt has been made.”</p>
+
+<p>“You astound me!” McManus exclaimed. “I
+agreed at the start to co-operate with you so long
+as you had the case in hand, but, certainly, I’m entitled
+to know something! Why do you say it’s because
+you are supposed to have the papers? Might
+it not be simply to shield the murderer? You leave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>184</span>
+the thing in a cloud that is”&mdash;he seemed searching
+for a word&mdash;“disturbing.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford, however, refused to say more; but after
+McManus left, he sat for a few moments as if asking
+himself if he had done wisely, and then rousing
+up muttered:</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll see how far that’ll carry!”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>185</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xii">CHAPTER XII<br />
+<span>At the Drivers’ Camp</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>WO days later a message came which necessitated
+a trip up the Dead River branch, traversing
+the ground over which Trafford had gone ten
+days before. Already, however, the camps he had
+visited were deserted, the drivers having followed
+the body of logs moving towards the river itself.
+At the Forks, Trafford was joined by the assistant
+who had warned him that morning in Millbank.
+They had a long conference, in which there appeared
+no small amount of differing opinion. The assistant
+had tracked from a camp on Moosehead, to a
+cabin beyond the Madison Beeches above Millbank,
+two Canadians, who had left the lake suddenly on
+May 12. He was certain he had located one of the
+men, a great powerful fellow, in one of the Dead
+River driving gangs.</p>
+
+<p>“And the other?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can get no trace of him. They separated at
+Millbank&mdash;perhaps forever.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span>
+“And this fellow’s name&mdash;here on Dead River?”</p>
+
+<p>“Pierre Duchesney.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the other?”</p>
+
+<p>“Victor Vignon.”</p>
+
+<p>“It can scarcely have any bearing,” Trafford
+asserted after some thought. “Nothing definite in
+the way of plans could have been formed so
+promptly. The murder was only twenty-four hours
+old then.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they went to Millbank; spent four days in
+the old Indian hut back of Madison Beeches, and
+were not seen in Millbank during the entire time.
+Then, no one knows how, the one appears at Parlin
+Pond, and works from there over to Dead River.
+He’s a big, strapping fellow; the other one was
+medium height and size&mdash;much the slighter made of
+the two.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I tell you,” Trafford affirmed; “if they
+were called to Millbank, the call must have come before
+the murder was known&mdash;they came for something
+else than to assault the man supposed to have
+those papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“And were at hand conveniently to assault the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>187</span>
+man who was supposedly in possession of the papers,
+when it was found that they had involuntarily
+changed hands.”</p>
+
+<p>This view struck Trafford and he gave it some
+little thought, while the other waited as if for his
+final judgment.</p>
+
+<p>“As long as we’re here, we may as well have a
+look at your man,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>The next day found them guests of the drive at
+the camp above the first rapids of Dead River, where
+use was being had of the last of the spring flow to
+get the tail of the winter’s cut into the main channel.
+Already the advance guard of the summer army
+was making its appearance, adventurous souls who
+love to see the year at its birth, and the presence of
+strangers excited no especial comment. They made
+it so apparent that they sought an invitation for the
+night that it became unavoidable, and so with the
+falling of dusk and the leap of the great flames of
+the camp fire among the trees, they came on to the
+time for the experiment agreed upon.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford had watched Pierre Duchesney at his
+work, a great, strong-limbed giant whose blow, intentional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>188</span>
+or not, could well work the crushing of
+lesser bones, and admitted that their purpose was
+well-nigh foolhardy. To take such a man, surrounded
+as he was by friends, was scarcely to be
+thought of, and in fact would not have been thought
+of, but for a chance remark that he was not going
+below the first rapids. When the jam was started
+here, he was to strike across to the head waters of
+the Androscoggin, which Trafford’s companion, intent
+in his belief that this was the man they wanted,
+interpreted as a purpose to bury himself in the wilds
+of the Canadian wilderness about Megantic.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford, himself, while yet in doubt as to the
+identity of the man, admitted that even if they lost
+him, it would be much gained if they could prove
+him, and so consented to the plan his assistant outlined,
+determined to take his chances in the matter
+of an actual capture.</p>
+
+<p>The men were stretched about the blazing logs,
+smoking, sleeping, chatting. Trafford among them
+watched the leap of the flames and the gradual reddening
+of the great logs into coals. The other
+stranger had left the circle some time before. Involuntarily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>189</span>
+Trafford kept his eye on Pierre’s huge
+form, where it was stretched in the full blaze and
+warmth of the logs, his eyes closed in a pleasant
+after-feeding doze. Suddenly out of the dark came
+a sharp Canadian voice, calling:</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré, c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>Every one glanced up enquiringly, but the effect
+on Pierre Duchesney was startling in the extreme.
+His eyes stared wide from a face of ashy grey; he
+leaped to his feet, shaking as one with the ague.
+Trafford had sprung to his side at the instant of
+his leap from his recumbent position, and in time
+to catch from his blanched lips the convicting words:</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon dieu; Victor!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford’s hand was on his pistol, which he drew,
+with the sharp demand:</p>
+
+<p>“Quick, seize the man; he’s wanted for the murder
+of Victor Vignon!”</p>
+
+<p>At the word “murder,” the men drew back from
+the circle of light. They lived free and easy lives in
+the woods, and had little of the fear of the law before
+them in their fastnesses, but with murder and
+the murderer they had no share. All the other laws<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>190</span>
+of God and man, they might violate, but to that one,
+“Thou shalt do no murder,” they bowed, the very
+defencelessness of their lives making murder doubly
+terrible to them. So, strong men as they were, they
+gazed wild-eyed on the scene, and some of the bravest
+trembled.</p>
+
+<p>On Pierre, the word acted like magic. No less
+pale he was than before, but it was a paleness in
+which the sense of self-preservation was awake,
+looking from his eyes, as it looks from those of
+hunted wild creatures brought suddenly to bay. He
+attempted no plea; he made no denial; but his form
+grew compact with the compactness of one about to
+spring. Trafford, wondering what course the others
+would take, brought his pistol to a steady aim, and
+said clearly and sharply:</p>
+
+<p>“Surrender, or I’ll shoot! Throw up your
+arms!”</p>
+
+<p>He felt, rather than saw, that on the edge of the
+light stood his assistant also covering the man with
+his revolver. The man moved as if to obey the order
+to throw up his arms, and then, with a quickness of
+which none guessed him capable, struck Trafford’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>191</span>
+arm a blow that caused it to drop numbly by his side,
+sending the pistol’s discharge into the earth. With
+the same movement the man crouched half to earth,
+and thus escaped the other’s shot. Without rising,
+he darted, crouching, for the shelter of trees beyond
+the fire, but not so quickly as to save his right arm
+from the second shot by the assistant. Trafford,
+meantime, had changed his revolver into his left
+hand and was firing at the fleeing shadow that the
+man became before disappearing. With his second
+shot, he heard his assistant at his side.</p>
+
+<p>“You know now, but we’ve lost him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Into the woods; into the woods,” Trafford cried,
+seizing a blazing pine knot. “Quick, we’ll get him
+yet.”</p>
+
+<p>Not a man stirred save Trafford, and he made
+only a step or two. Glancing back, he saw the
+drivers huddled in an excited and gesticulating
+group that looked startlingly like mischief. Ahead
+was the heavy blackness of dense trees. Then he
+realised that the man had escaped.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime the men were aroused from the stupor
+of their first surprise and were in a dangerous mood,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>192</span>
+the active qualities of which were quieted by the
+gleam of Trafford’s badge, which he felt was the
+best introduction to the explanation to which they
+were clearly entitled. They listened patiently, but
+simply tolerantly, and their coolness was in marked
+contrast to their friendliness of a brief quarter of an
+hour earlier. There was no denial to Trafford and
+his companion of the hospitality of the camp, but
+they were made to feel that they were unwelcome
+guests, and they waited anxiously and impatiently
+for the first touch of morning to be on their way, as
+well from a desire to leave their surly companions,
+as from impatience to be where they could make use
+of their newly acquired information.</p>
+
+<p>They were not more than a mile from camp, after
+a hasty breakfast eaten amid strange silence, when,
+from the woods lying between the track they were
+following and the river, a lad of about sixteen years,
+whom they had seen in camp the night before, overhauled
+them. He had evidently run most of the way,
+and was anxious to get back before his absence attracted
+attention, but he was also intent on information.
+The conversation with him was carried on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>193</span>
+partly in the lad’s imperfect English, and partly in
+the French of Canada with Trafford’s companion,
+and by him translated to Trafford:</p>
+
+<p>“Victor Vignon: my cousin. You say, murdered&mdash;dead?”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Non.</i> He go big lake. Go by Aten’s stage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who told you so?” demanded Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“Pierre&mdash;Pierre Duchesney. When he come, he
+say: Victor, he go big lake: he go by Aten’s stage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, he killed him. Drowned him in the river
+at Millbank, where the big Falls are.”</p>
+
+<p>“What for he kill him?” demanded the boy.</p>
+
+<p>“Who sent for your cousin at the big lake when
+he and Pierre went away?” Trafford demanded,
+and then, it being evident that the lad had not sufficient
+command of English to master this question,
+his companion repeated it in French.</p>
+
+<p>The lad’s face brightened as he heard his native
+tongue, and from that time he carried his part of
+the conversation mostly in that tongue.</p>
+
+<p>“The boss.”</p>
+
+<p>On questioning, it developed that the “boss” had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>194</span>
+said the “big man” had sent for Pierre and Victor;
+had said that they were to go to the Forks of the
+River and meet a gang, but when they got there the
+gang was gone and they had word to go somewhere
+else, and it was when Pierre came back and Victor
+had gone to the big lake, that the lad was told this
+by Pierre. The lad did not know where it was that
+Victor had gone, but he was to see him again when
+the drive was over and they were ready to go back
+to Canada before the feast of St. John.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, yes; the “big man” was somebody who lived
+down where the water went over the big Falls, and
+owned all the trees, and sent the boss money to pay
+them. He didn’t know his name, but he was a great
+big man&mdash;as big as the Seigneur at Rigaud-Vandreuil,
+the biggest man the lad had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>“A bigger man than the boss?”</p>
+
+<p>Oh, yes; for he sent the boss money to pay them
+and owned the trees, while the boss wasn’t as big a
+man as Louis Blanchet, the notary, whom he, the
+lad, had often seen and talked with, and once had
+thrown mud at when he was drunk.</p>
+
+<p>No, he didn’t know the big man’s name; he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>195</span>
+said that before, but anybody could tell them; anybody
+who knew, for he owned the trees; and the
+“boss” could tell them; his name was Kennett,
+Georges Kennett; not the boss here, for his name
+was Jean Busque, he was Canadian; but the other
+boss, the one who told Pierre and Victor to go to the
+Forks of the River.</p>
+
+<p>But he must go back, because the boss, the one
+here, would be angry and make him lose some of his
+money. He had heard them say something about
+Victor being killed, and he wanted to ask them and
+tell them it couldn’t be Victor, because he had gone
+to the big lake, as Pierre had said. What would
+Victor’s wife do if he was dead? The good God&mdash;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le
+bon Dieu</i>&mdash;and the good Saint Anne&mdash;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la bonne
+sainte Anne</i>&mdash;wouldn’t let him be dead, when there
+was Victor’s wife and three little ones and another
+coming in the summer, as Victor had told him.
+They must know that Victor couldn’t be dead, and
+if they saw him, they were to tell him that he&mdash;Étienne
+Vignon&mdash;had said this and would meet him
+at the big Falls to go back to la Beauce before the
+feast of Saint John, as Victor had promised<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>196</span>
+Étienne’s mother when he took him away to go on
+the drive. And with these words, the lad dashed
+into the woods for his mile run back to camp.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford caught himself perilously near a sigh,
+as the lad disappeared among the trees.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s as plain as the nose on your face&mdash;that part
+of it,” he said. “Hunter sent for these men; had
+them go to the forks to join a pretended gang, and
+word was left there for ’em to go on to the hut
+back of the Madison Beeches.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hunter?” his companion asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly. Isn’t he the man who owns the
+trees to such a simple lad as that? He don’t know
+the name&mdash;but we do, Charles Hunter of Millbank.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then he’s concerned in the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you knew the things that aren’t to be seen as
+well as you do the things that you see, you’d beat
+us all,” Trafford answered. “If he was in the
+murder, he’d know where those papers are and
+wouldn’t have needed these men. His very desperation
+to get them shows he isn’t the murderer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then Charles Hunter’s the man who’s afraid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>197</span>
+of those papers,” the other repeated, as if half dazed
+by the revelation.</p>
+
+<p>“One of ’em,” said Trafford. “I’ve known that
+much a long time.”</p>
+
+<p>“But if the men who are afraid of the papers
+aren’t the men who murdered him haven’t you
+knocked out the motive for the murder? That’s
+the thing that’s bothered all the time, and now that
+we’ve got hold of one, it’s a pity to lose it again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Beware of clues,” half laughed Trafford.
+“That’s the lesson you haven’t learned yet. I’ve
+said Hunter was one of the men who’s afraid of
+the papers. I haven’t said there weren’t others.
+Then it doesn’t follow that the only people who
+wanted to get the papers were those who were afraid
+of ’em. Given the papers, there’s a dozen things
+that might make ’em the motive of the murder besides
+being afraid of them.”</p>
+
+<p>After a silence that lasted some time, the other
+turned to Trafford and demanded:</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know Hunter was in this thing when
+you set me to hunting Canucks round Millbank?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” answered Trafford. “I’ve known<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>198</span>
+it since a half-hour after the attack was made on
+me at the bridge. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Thunder! Hunter was one of the men of whom
+I thought it safe to make open enquiries about
+Canucks I was looking for.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s never safe,” Trafford said, “to make enquiries
+of any one, unless you are willing that everybody
+should know, or anxious that one man should.
+In this case, ’twas just as well Hunter should know
+that we were on the track. He’s a man who makes
+his false slips when he’s the most anxious to escape.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>199</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xiii">CHAPTER XIII<br />
+<span>The Priest’s Story</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEY had their dinner that day at Nic’khal’s,
+at the Forks, eating in the shed that later in
+the season becomes the “summer kitchen.” The
+meal was primitive in material and cooking, but the
+sauce was hunger. An elderly priest, weary-looking
+and sad, was their sole companion, and he
+watched them through the meal, with a look that
+Trafford read as expressive of a desire to have talk
+with him. So, after the eating was over, Trafford
+put himself in the way of the clergyman, who quickly
+availed himself of the chance:</p>
+
+<p>“You are from above?” he asked, and Trafford
+assented.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you pass the logging camp at the first
+rapids?”</p>
+
+<p>“I spent the night there,” Trafford answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Was the night disturbed?”</p>
+
+<p>“An attempt was made to arrest a murderer, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>200</span>
+escaped into the woods, but not without a severe
+wound, I think.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have a message for the man who attempted
+to make the arrest.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can deliver it to me,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“You say the man was a murderer. I have no
+wish to know his name; but I am charged only to
+speak to one man, and I shall know him by a name.
+You can give it me?”</p>
+
+<p>“If it’s my name you want, it’s Trafford. The
+murderer attempted first to rob or murder me in the
+covered bridge at Millbank, before he committed the
+actual murder,” answered the detective.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not doubt before,” the priest answered,
+with something of stateliness; “only when a trust
+is given, one must be certain. The message is that
+the man who was drowned was not murdered. It
+was an accident, in which the one barely escaped
+and was unable to save the other.”</p>
+
+<p>“Even so,” Trafford retorted, “the other might
+have had a chance to escape, if it hadn’t been for a
+broken collar-bone, and for that the man who denies
+the murder was responsible.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>201</span>
+“But it was by mistake he inflicted it,” the priest
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>“By mistake, because he missed the man he intended
+to strike and hit his associate in crime. He
+was in the bridge to rob and probably to murder, and
+if the death of his companion was directly accidental,
+it came through a violation of the law and
+that makes it murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“In the eyes of the law, possibly,” the priest
+said; “but we look to the intent. The man did not
+intend to kill his associate. He died as the result of
+an accident.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you permitted to give me details?” Trafford
+asked, wisely avoiding a discussion that might
+return again and again on itself without actual
+progress.</p>
+
+<p>“A wounded man found me asleep in a hut
+where he sought shelter, guided by the Blessed
+Virgin, I doubt not. I heard his confession. On
+that is the seal of the Church. He begged me to
+find you and give you this message, and what he
+said in that I will strive faithfully to repeat. It is
+all that I can say. He was not in the bridge to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>202</span>
+murder the man at whom he struck, but to seize
+him and take from his person certain papers. He
+struck in the dark in the direction of a noise made,
+as he supposed, by the man. He may have struck
+harder than he intended. At the least, he struck
+his companion and not the man, and with force
+sufficient to break the collar-bone. What they had
+been set to do, they were to do and then return to
+the woods without being seen. He had now the
+fear earned by failure, and the certainty that the
+man, having escaped, would call on the authorities,
+and he and his companion would be betrayed by
+the latter’s wound. He, therefore, persuaded him to
+bear his pain until they could get to a place of
+safety, and not daring to travel the roads, where
+they could be tracked, they struck to the river
+banks above the Falls, and followed these until they
+found a boat into which they got, turning its head
+upstream.</p>
+
+<p>“He had only an old and broken oar with which
+to paddle, but a driver can paddle with a single
+pole, and they easily reached the middle of the
+river. Here he turned at a groan from his companion<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>203</span>
+and failed to see a floating log which struck
+their boat, and, worse still, knocked the oar out of
+his hand. Before he could recover himself, the boat
+was in the rapid current above the Falls, and rushing
+downstream with increasing force. His companion,
+roused at the growing roar of the waters,
+seemed to think that it was with intention that this
+was happening. He begged to be spared, and called
+loudly for help. The other told him what had happened
+and that he was powerless to prevent the boat
+going over the Falls, whereupon the wounded man
+sprang to his feet, with a prayer to the Virgin and
+Saint Anne, and leaped overboard, just as the boat
+touched the white water above the plunge. The
+other ran to the bow, which was shooting straight
+out, and stood there for a second of time until he
+felt it tremble for the dip, at which instant he
+jumped for the deeper water below the Falls, and
+by a miracle escaped the rocks at the very base of
+the plunge. As you know, the water there is very
+deep, so that although he sank, he did not touch
+bottom. He floated through the cañon and succeeded
+in landing just above the railroad bridge.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>204</span>
+He knew there was no use in looking for boat or
+companion, and so crept up the bank around the
+Falls, secured another boat, and finally towards
+morning landed just below the Bombazee Rips. He
+set the boat afloat and plunged into the woods. That
+is all I am permitted to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it is not all you know,” Trafford said.</p>
+
+<p>“It is all I know. If I heard anything more, I
+heard it under the seal of confession and know
+naught of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford pondered on the story for some time,
+without speaking. The habits born of his profession
+held him, warning him to avoid hasty conclusion
+as well for the man as against him. It was
+his business to get the truth, not to find a confirmation
+or refutation of a previously formed opinion.</p>
+
+<p>The priest waited without a sign of impatience.
+At last Trafford raised his head and said:</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think it could have been done.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” asked the priest.</p>
+
+<p>“The leap from the boat over the falls.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have been told by eye-witnesses that it has
+been done,” declared the priest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>205</span>
+“I have seen it done,” Trafford said; “but it was
+in broad daylight, when the man could see, and
+determine the exact instant for the leap. The boat
+was a very long one, so that before it dipped, it had
+shot far out; the man was extremely powerful, and
+it was, after all, a mere matter of luck.”</p>
+
+<p>“We do not talk of luck,” the priest said, with
+a touch of sternness in his tone. “We will leave
+that. You admit it possible, because it has been
+done. Your man was extremely strong. This
+man seems to me such also. Your man had daylight
+to show him the tossing of the waters about
+him; the anxious faces peering at him; the vanishing
+shores, and the coming danger. This man had
+all his senses active and single to the work before
+him. The flash of white foam was enough to show
+him, even in the night, where he was. To that his
+sight was turned, for there was nothing to distract
+his full attention. He was leaping for life. Instinct
+would come to his aid. It was possible for
+the man you saw. I believe it was possible for this
+man.”</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a thought struck Trafford. This priest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>206</span>
+could not reveal the secrets of the confessional; but
+neither could he prevent what he had heard in confession
+affecting his attitude towards this man and
+his story. He looked the priest full in the face and
+asked, solemnly, almost sternly:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you fully and absolutely credit this tale?”</p>
+
+<p>Without a shadow of hesitation or delay, the
+priest answered:</p>
+
+<p>“I do, absolutely and fully. In the story I bring
+you I have not a doubt that you have heard the
+truth, so far as it goes. You know how the death
+of the man you thought murdered actually occurred.”</p>
+
+<p>To Trafford’s mind there was left no ground for
+doubt.</p>
+
+<p>“I accept your story,” he said, “as the story of
+what actually occurred. Where is the man who
+told it to you?”</p>
+
+<p>The priest smiled and raised his hand in a sweep
+of the northern horizon:</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot track the wilderness. If you want
+him, you must ask the woods to give him up.”</p>
+
+<p>“There is a lad in the gang at the first rapids,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>207</span>
+Trafford said, “who came with Victor Vignon
+from Beauce. Victor, who was his cousin, was to
+take him back before the Feast of St. John. He
+relies absolutely on this, and would not believe Victor
+dead. His name is Étienne Vignon and he
+needs comfort and help.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will go to him,” said the priest. “The
+thought is a kind one.”</p>
+
+<p>If the priest dreamed that he was thus finished
+with the detective, it was because he did not know
+the nature of the creature.</p>
+
+<p>“From Beauce I think you said the wounded man
+came,” said Trafford carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>If Trafford thought to surprise the priest, it was
+proof that he too was ignorant.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not recall having said so,” the priest answered.</p>
+
+<p>“But he was, wasn’t he?” demanded Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not ask him.”</p>
+
+<p>On the matter of the wound the priest talked
+freely. It was painful, but not serious. The small
+bone of the lower right arm was broken, but he had
+set it and was confident it would improve.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>208</span>
+“If the man has been unjustly accused, I hope
+it may prove so,” Trafford said. “He goes directly
+home, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>The priest smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not expect to see him again, so had no occasion
+to know.”</p>
+
+<p>Convinced that the other was absolutely on guard,
+and that even if he knew anything beyond what he
+had told&mdash;of which Trafford felt considerable doubt&mdash;it
+was not to be extracted from him, Trafford
+again commended the lad Étienne to his care, and
+turned to the matter of a conveyance to Carrytunk
+on the road to Millbank. At parting, he said:</p>
+
+<p>“If I accept your assurance as to the innocence of
+this man, it is none the less true that some one employed
+him to rob me, and his companion lost his
+life because of the attempt. He could not have
+told of this without telling who that was.”</p>
+
+<p>The priest smiled, but not in a way that encouraged
+Trafford to hope for information, and the
+event proved him wise not to do so.</p>
+
+<p>“If he told me aught that I have not repeated,”
+the other answered, “it was to obtain God’s pardon,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>209</span>
+not to invoke man’s punishment on any. Its object
+accomplished, the words passed as they came to
+the priest and not to the man.”</p>
+
+<p>So Trafford was forced to let him go, none the
+wiser beyond what the priest chose that he should
+be; but as they hurried towards Millbank, he tried
+hard to look at all sides of the story and at last
+asked his companion:</p>
+
+<p>“What do you think of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“A batch of lies, told to a gossiping priest to be
+peddled out to us again,” was the curt judgment.</p>
+
+<p>Even this Trafford weighed carefully before commenting
+on it.</p>
+
+<p>“You evidently think the fellow a shrewd chap.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; any one can see he’s a stupid lout; just the
+kind of a thing to be used for a dirty job.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet he had a long enough head to cheat the
+priest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think the priest believed him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t a doubt of it,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford’s judgments had something of the
+weight of oracles with this man, who was able to
+see things but not to form opinions; and this curt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>210</span>
+declaration was to the point and not to be mistaken.
+For the time being, and for present purposes, it
+was to be accepted, and having accepted it, the other
+had nothing to say. But it was not so easy for
+Trafford. He had, perhaps, to convince some budding
+doubt that had not found expression either in
+tone or words.</p>
+
+<p>“To doubt the truth of the fellow’s story, is to
+believe that he reasoned out the chance of the priest
+finding us and then deliberately employed what he
+regards as a sacrament&mdash;that is confession&mdash;to put
+in circulation a concocted story for the purpose of
+deceiving us. I don’t believe he’s that smart; and
+I don’t believe, with his belief in the Church, he’d
+dare do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“We seem to be in the business of acquitting
+everybody,” the other said in a surly tone.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s certainly not our business to convict, but
+to find out the truth,” Trafford answered. “We
+aren’t prosecuting attorneys.”</p>
+
+<p>“But our work lies in pointing out the guilty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but unless we do it as much for the sake
+of proving the innocence of the innocent as the guilt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>211</span>
+of the guilty, we only do half the work that we ought
+to do. I’d rather any time clear a man who is unjustly
+charged than prove a man, thought innocent,
+guilty,” answered Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe so, but that isn’t the kind of work the
+world gives you most credit for. If you can hang
+a man, it thinks you’ve done something big; but if
+you stop them from hanging a man, they think
+they’ve been cheated.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I guess when all’s said and done, it’s
+more a question of what we think about the kind
+of work we’re doing, than what the world thinks of
+it, that counts. When I’m satisfied with myself&mdash;right
+down honestly satisfied&mdash;I find I can let the
+world think what it’s a mind to.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>212</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xiv">CHAPTER XIV<br />
+<span>A Duel</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>RS. MATTHEWSON entered the little parlour,
+where she had met Trafford, for the
+purpose of keeping another appointment&mdash;one that
+she had not wanted to make and which she had not
+yet dared refuse. When she visited her son, she knew
+the name of the man who, under his direction, was
+hunting down Theodore Wing’s mother, but she did
+not know the man. Now she was to meet him face
+to face. She was afraid, and she bore herself with
+the air of a queen about to grant a favour to her
+humblest subject.</p>
+
+<p>Cranston felt her imperiousness in the very air as
+he entered, and rebel as he would, it daunted him
+and took a share of his bravado from him. She
+returned his salutation, but with the evident purpose
+not to aid him in the slightest in the delivery of his
+errand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>213</span>
+“I regret the necessity,” he said, “of troubling
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>She bowed stiffly, but without other answer. He
+apparently had not struck the line of least resistance.</p>
+
+<p>“I have been employed,” he began, “upon
+the Wing murder case.” Then, at the look in her
+eyes, as if of all things on earth the Wing murder
+case had the least possible interest to her, he added
+desperately: “Among those who employed me were
+your sons.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you should report to them.” These were
+the first words she had spoken and the tone was
+beyond measure forbidding, but they were at the
+least words and a recognition that she was taking
+part in the interview. As such they helped the man
+who, in spite of his experience, was floundering
+woefully.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought it in your interest that I should first
+report to you,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s nothing in which any one can serve me
+in the Wing murder case,” she said, not sparing
+herself even the word “murder.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>214</span>
+He looked at her as if he would say that that was
+a very proper bluff for her to put up, but that he
+knew the facts and was not to be fooled thereby.</p>
+
+<p>“In doing thoroughly my work,” he floundered
+on; “it has been impossible for me to overlook the
+remarkable paper left by Judge Parlin.”</p>
+
+<p>Even as she caught the full import of his words,
+she had a consciousness of the hopeless bungling of
+this man, in comparison with the other man, Trafford.
+No less surely had Trafford told her that
+he had learned the history of her early life; but he
+had, with a natural instinct, taken from the telling
+every sting that was not ineffaceable. This man
+was so intent upon the telling as not to have a
+thought for her.</p>
+
+<p>She made no acknowledgment, save that frigid
+bend of the head that was less acknowledgment than
+repulsion, and which he felt as disdain. It stung
+him to more brutal speech than he had intended:</p>
+
+<p>“You would have me, perhaps, report my discoveries
+in that connection to your sons.”</p>
+
+<p>If he had expected her to shrink or lose self-control,
+his was the disappointment. She had lived too<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>215</span>
+long with the possibility of meeting thus her past,
+to allow it to come with the shock of the unexpected.
+There had been no hour for forty years
+when these words might not be spoken to her.
+She did not even make the mistake of showing irritation
+in her answer:</p>
+
+<p>“I would know why you have sought this interview,
+that it may be ended. As to the results of your
+employment, they concern your employers, not me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know who was the mother of Theodore
+Wing.” He spoke somewhat insistently, and not
+without a touch of menace in his voice. He had
+foreseen an easier task. He had a sense of personal
+wrong, in that she was making it so hard for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“It is her secret,” she said, with just enough
+force to betoken impersonal indignation; “neither
+you nor the world have the right to drag it to the
+surface.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am willing it should remain a secret,” he answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you should never have told any one you
+knew it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>216</span>
+“You are the only one I have told,” he said;
+“and that was necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>Clearly he expected her to ask, “Necessary to
+what?” but she did not make the mistake. She
+remained silent and left him to reknit the broken
+strand of discourse.</p>
+
+<p>“The moment of real danger to her will come,”
+he said, after waiting vainly for her to speak, until
+waiting became a palpable embarrassment; “when
+Wing’s murderer is put on trial.” Then, as with
+a sudden change of his line of attack, he continued:
+“Have you ever thought why your sons employed
+me in this case?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; nor cared,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>He had expected her to deny that she had known.</p>
+
+<p>“Because they know who the murderer is.”</p>
+
+<p>It was a relief to the tension upon her that she
+could show resentment without personal defence.</p>
+
+<p>“Your remark is insulting,” she said. “I do
+not know the object of this visit, but whatever it is,
+that remark must be withdrawn before it can proceed.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is the last remark you should desire withdrawn,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>217</span>
+madam,” he said, with a calm significance
+of utterance; “for it is true.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose to dismiss him&mdash;rose haughtily and uncompromisingly,
+as if she had not the slightest suspicion
+of the drift of his purpose. There was a
+dangerous gleam in her eye; one that should have
+been a warning to the man, telling him to shield
+himself in some way and not carry out the threatened
+purpose. To this woman, that purpose was a
+cause of almost mastering terror, but this the will
+behind it controlled, leaving her seemingly strong
+to master the situation. He was compelled to decide
+quickly, yet with knowledge that anything that
+was tinctured with apology was a weakening of his
+position.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not implying guilt on their part,” he said;
+“nor am I speaking of knowledge that would be
+proof in court, but of that moral knowledge which
+makes one certain in mind, without being able to
+give evidence to justify such certainty. To make
+a public accusation based on such knowledge, would
+be to do the greatest wrong.”</p>
+
+<p>She remained standing, seemingly weighing this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>218</span>
+remark. In reality she was feeling the keen disappointment
+of having lost excuse for terminating
+the interview which she had supposed was hers.</p>
+
+<p>“I am averse,” she said, “to discussing questions
+bearing on this murder. I condemn the
+crime. Beyond that, it has no interest to me.”</p>
+
+<p>She knew that in thus speaking she was weakening
+the position she had taken at first. It was the
+natural sequence of having the ground cut from
+under her by Cranston’s half-apology. The other
+eagerly seized the opening presented:</p>
+
+<p>“Until Mr. Wing’s murderer is discovered and
+punished, nothing and no one in any way connected
+with his past will be spared. I have said that I
+know who is his mother.”</p>
+
+<p>She had resumed her seat and again had herself
+under full control, but with some loss of vantage.</p>
+
+<p>“What one man has discovered,” she said, “any
+other man may discover. The mere fact that it
+can be discovered, is the end of secrecy.”</p>
+
+<p>“There are innumerable things that can be discovered,”
+he said, “compared with the number of
+people who can discover them. There are hundreds<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>219</span>
+who would like to know this one matter, but among
+them not more than one who knows how to find it
+out. If his mouth is closed, the secret is as safe as
+if it did not exist.”</p>
+
+<p>“The mere knowledge that a secret exists is
+revelation,” she answered. “A man who will sell
+himself once, simply waits a higher bidder to sell
+himself again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly, if in concealing the identity of this
+woman, one concealed a fact bearing upon the discovery
+of the murderer. I can assure you that her
+identity has no bearing whatever upon the other
+question.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why not let it drop into the oblivion from
+which you have dragged it?”</p>
+
+<p>She knew the danger of exchanging question
+and answer with him, but human endurance has its
+limit, and even she could not carry indifference beyond
+the breaking point. Still, she was not unconscious
+of the gleam of satisfaction in his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>“Because,” he said, “this woman has grown
+strong, powerful, and rich. Safety is doubly precious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>220</span>
+to her. There is no reason why she should
+not pay for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean,” she said, and her eyes snapped,
+“blackmail!”</p>
+
+<p>She had not been the active partner for thirty-five
+years of a politician who had climbed from obscurity
+to the control of the State, without knowing
+what this word meant, nor without knowing the
+infinite deeps that yawn for the man or woman who
+shows the first sign of weakness to the blackmailer.</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken,” he said. He was on ground
+now that he had gone over in his mind again and
+again, in his preparation for this interview. “The
+essence of blackmail is threat. I make no threat.
+I have not said that I will expose you, if you do not
+pay me. I expressly disclaim any such intention.
+But safety is worth something to you; you are rich
+and have high social position. I offer you protection
+in your riches and position, and, for giving it,
+I ought to have recompense&mdash;simply a fair equivalent
+for what I do. Nothing more; but that much
+is fair; I think you cannot deny its fairness.”</p>
+
+<p>He knew he was sliding off into inanity; that all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>221</span>
+had been said that he purposed saying, and that he
+was simply repeating himself and repeating himself
+weakly. He stopped and waited her answer.</p>
+
+<p>On her part she held herself under restraint, resolved
+not to interrupt him until he had said all he
+had to say. His change from impersonal to personal,
+which he thought she did not notice, simply
+impressed her as unimportant. She felt fully the
+weakness and embarrassment of his final words, and
+even with the stress under which she waited, his
+feeble maudlinism affected her with a sense of pity.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you finished?” she asked, when he spoke
+no further.</p>
+
+<p>“I think there should be no need of saying more,”
+he answered.</p>
+
+<p>She did not even bend in assent to his proposition.
+She simply pointed to the door, and said:</p>
+
+<p>“Then you may go!”</p>
+
+<p>The change in tone and manner startled him,
+trained as he was to surprises. He had foreseen a
+storm and indignation, and was prepared to treat
+that as simulated. This impressed him as genuine&mdash;so
+genuine that he was forced to ask himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>222</span>
+hastily if he could have made any mistake, and this
+notwithstanding he was absolutely certain of all the
+facts.</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;&mdash;” he began, hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Go!” she said, permitting no further utterance,
+now that he had said what he had come to say. A
+passionate joy in her ability to deal harshly with
+him, regardless of the personal risk to herself in so
+doing, seized her. She had not subjected her line
+of action to the scrutiny of judgment. For once
+thoroughly a woman, in that she discarded the
+masculine caution which she had cultivated as a
+habit, she gave head to instinct, which carried her
+past all doubt, all weighing of chances, to the least
+dangerous course that, in her situation, was open to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Almost an insane fury to send one final shaft that
+should sting in the breast of this woman seized this
+man who, by all of his traditions, should have held
+himself the better together, the farther his plans
+miscarried. Moving toward the door, he cried:</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I report to my employers&mdash;your sons?”</p>
+
+<p>To this she had the single word, “Go!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>223</span>
+When he was gone, she did not break under the
+relaxation of strain; but rather held herself more
+proudly, as if to do otherwise would be to admit
+to herself, the most important individual concerned,
+the danger in which she stood. Under the calm
+surface, raged a storm of irritable impatience,
+aroused by the thought that time must elapse before
+she could be called upon to face publicly the charges
+this man would make. She wanted to do it, at this
+moment. It seemed as if she must rush forth and
+cry:</p>
+
+<p>“See; here am I&mdash;I, against whom this thing is
+charged! Look on me and feast your eyes on me
+and roll the sweet morsel under your tongue! Of
+course, you believe it; want to believe it; but
+I dare you to say other than that it is a slander!”</p>
+
+<p>If she could have done this, it seemed to her that
+she would have happiness again; but to wait; not
+to know when the blow would fall; to hold herself
+ready to meet it at any instant and to have no power
+to hasten it,&mdash;that was the madness of the situation,
+that the terror it had for her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>224</span>
+She rose and stood before a long mirror and
+looked at herself; as if to see if this was a different
+manner of woman than she who had stood there the
+day before. To her eyes, looking into the reflected
+depths of the room, her own image was representative
+of the world, and in facing it she seemed to
+taste something of that defiance of public knowledge
+of the scandal for which she so longed.</p>
+
+<p>No thought disturbed her of her future relations
+to her husband or sons. For more than a third of
+a century, the lives of her husband and herself had
+flowed together, each relying on the other, each
+confident in the other. Breakage was not possible
+or to be thought of. He would not even ask her of
+this matter, and while that very fact would lay on
+her the greater weight of responsibility to tell him,
+the necessity did not put her under that fear which
+would have been the greatest burden to an ordinary
+woman. By this she did not mean that he would
+not feel the wound&mdash;feel it cruelly; but they had
+passed the crown of the road, their way lay downward,
+and she had no more doubt of him than she
+would have had of herself, if to him and not to her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>225</span>
+the parentage of Theodore Wing were brought
+home.</p>
+
+<p>Her bulwark with the public would be the loyalty
+of her husband and sons, and if it smacked of selfishness
+and unfeeling to rely on them and not give a
+fair portion of thought to the suffering which would
+be hidden by their calm exterior, it must be remembered
+that during the entire period of her wife- and
+mother-hood she had lived with this thing, which had
+grown dimmer and dimmer as the years receded,
+until it had come to have for her, and it seemed to
+her necessarily for these others, a different aspect
+than it would have borne in the days before she had
+given to husband and children the pledge of her
+long devotion.</p>
+
+<p>Before these years she would have reasoned of
+her husband’s attitude toward such a tale from the
+sense of outrage, not tempered by long possession
+and intimate association. No, she had no fear
+there, save of the inward sense of humiliation under
+which she had gone to her son’s office, and for
+fighting which she now faced her own reflection,
+as representative of the world of public opinion.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>226</span>
+She had become accustomed to make demands of the
+world, not requests, and the world had yielded. It
+should do so still. This thing had not destroyed the
+years of loyalty and work that buttressed her present
+position. It should not do so. She stood there
+to make her defiance, and the world should heed.
+But oh, the waiting! The waiting! That was the
+cruelty of the situation.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>227</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xv">CHAPTER XV<br />
+<span>In Matthewson’s Chambers</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">C</span>HARLES MATTHEWSON read with impatience
+the name on the card just brought him&mdash;Isaac
+Trafford. It was a breach of the understanding
+between them, that this man should trouble
+him further. He was on the point of refusing to see
+him, when he recalled Trafford’s possession of the
+papers taken from Theodore Wing’s desk after his
+murder. This he had not known at the time of
+their previous interview. It was possible that
+here was the opening of negotiations for their sale.
+He ordered him admitted. Still he could not avoid
+resenting the intrusion.</p>
+
+<p>“I understood you were not to trouble me further.”</p>
+
+<p>“Until I became satisfied that your visit to Millbank
+had something to do with Wing’s murder,”
+the detective answered.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>228</span>
+“Then I may take this visit as evidence that you
+are satisfied that it had to do with the murder!”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you arrest me then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I am satisfied you did not murder him,
+but can tell me who did,” Trafford answered.</p>
+
+<p>“A sort of accessory after the fact?” Matthewson
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Trafford. “I’m inclined to think
+you never suspected that you knew anything about
+it or that you could tell me. At the same time, I’m
+almost certain you saw the murderer and talked
+with him that night.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson started at this statement of the matter.
+He had not the nerve of either his mother or
+brother, and his power of concealing his emotions
+was greatly less than that of either. However, he
+quickly recovered himself.</p>
+
+<p>“I refuse to be put in the position of laying
+accusations. I’ve no objection to aid in convicting
+a criminal, but I don’t purpose holding one end of
+a drag-net, for the mere sake of catching some one
+who may or may not be guilty.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>229</span>
+Trafford did not deem it best to answer this
+directly, but instead went on, as if nothing had been
+said of objection:</p>
+
+<p>“You saw Charles Hunter and his brother Frank&mdash;but
+were they all?”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson drummed on his desk and looked out
+of the window. What was there, he asked himself,
+that was drawing him into this tragedy, of which he
+really knew nothing? Did this man know also what
+Cranston had discovered? Was there, after all, to
+grow out of this murder, of which he knew nothing,
+a scandal that was to overwhelm his family, and
+finally destroy the great influence they exercised in
+the State?</p>
+
+<p>While he asked these questions of himself Trafford
+waited, the model of patience. If he had anything
+to disturb his mind, he did not show it. Evidently,
+Matthewson could take his time and be sure
+that the other would be there to receive his answer,
+when he was ready to give it. Finally Matthewson
+turned to the detective and said:</p>
+
+<p>“I was in Millbank on my own private business.
+I saw the men whom that business concerned and no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>230</span>
+others. The men whom I saw are one and all as incapable
+of committing this murder as I am. I must
+decline to subject any of them to the annoyance I
+am now subjected to.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know whether you are incapable of committing
+murder or not. I shouldn’t want to affirm
+it of any one&mdash;not even myself. I am convinced
+that you saw and talked with Wing’s murderer that
+night. I must know the name of every man you
+saw while in Millbank, and if I can’t find it out in
+one way, I will in another.”</p>
+
+<p>“It pleases you to threaten,” Matthewson said,
+not wholly unconscious of an uneasy feeling.</p>
+
+<p>“Not to threaten, but simply to show you that I
+am in earnest,” Trafford assured him. “Still, I
+may appeal to you on another ground. I have
+named two men whom you saw. If I am to suppose
+they were the only ones, then I must regard
+one or the other as the real murderer, and this because
+you persist in concealing from me the name
+of the man who may be guilty. Have you a right
+to do this?”</p>
+
+<p>“As much right,” retorted Matthewson hotly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>231</span>
+“as you have to throw suspicion on these gentlemen,
+simply because of the coincidence of my meeting
+them during a hasty visit to Millbank on the
+night that Wing was murdered. It would be just
+as reasonable to suspect me of the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is possible that I do,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” exclaimed Matthewson, “this is going
+a trifle far. It’s not five minutes since you said you
+were satisfied I did not murder him.”</p>
+
+<p>“But that was before you refused to tell me whom
+you met.”</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment a loud voice was heard in
+the outer room, demanding to see Mr. Matthewson.
+He rose and turned the key in the door, notwithstanding
+a movement on Trafford’s part to stop
+him. As he turned to his desk, Trafford
+asked:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you recognise the voice?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said the other, shortly and indignantly;
+“but I propose to finish this matter here and now,
+so that there will be no need to reopen it.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s Cranston, the detective whom you, your
+brother, and Charles Hunter have hired,” said Trafford.
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>232</span>
+“I advise you to see him, and let me be in a
+cupboard or behind a screen while he is here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Superb!” said Matthewson, with a vicious
+sneer. “You’ll know all he’s found out&mdash;steal his
+thunder! Excellent!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Matthewson,” Trafford said, with a touch
+of dignity in his voice that his companion could but
+note, “I would be justified in resenting such a remark,
+and you are not justified in making it. Cranston
+has discovered nothing that I haven’t known
+for weeks; but he’s been in Bangor, and I know
+what he could find out there. You sent him there
+and made a cruel mistake when you did it. I would
+have stopped it, if I could. He’s here now to tell
+you and, if I mistake not, to demand a price for his
+silence. If I’m wrong, no harm can come from my
+hearing. If I’m right, you’re the man who
+<a id="wants"></a><ins title="Original has 'want'">wants</ins>
+me to hear; it’ll be the best protection you can have
+in the future.”</p>
+
+<p>At the mention of Bangor, Matthewson turned
+pale and then flushed. That it was made with the
+purpose of informing him that the detective knew
+the secret of his mother’s early life, he could not
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>233</span>
+doubt. There was but one thing that he ought to
+do, and that was to pitch the man out of his room.
+He would have done it, but for the man on the
+other side of the door, to whose presence he was recalled
+by the turning of the door-knob. In which
+of these men did he place the greater trust? He
+had only to ask the question to let it answer itself.
+But this new menace? He would know it at its
+worst. That was beyond question.</p>
+
+<p>“Pass through this door, into the next room,” he
+said. “There you will find the door of a closet,
+which has a second door opening into this alcove.
+After he has entered and looked into that alcove, as
+he may, come out of the closet and&mdash;listen.”</p>
+
+<p>Cranston, on entering, did exactly what Matthewson
+had predicted; he examined the alcove before
+taking the chair to which Matthewson pointed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no one in there,” Matthewson said.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t take any chances,” said the other insolently.
+“What I’ve got to say wants to be between
+us two&mdash;you’ll want it to be when you hear
+it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>234</span>
+Matthewson flushed and an angry retort leaped
+to his lips. This, however, he suppressed and made
+necessity to ask the cause of the visit.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve come to report,” said Cranston. Then, as
+the other waited, he added:</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been at work in Bangor.” Then, after another
+pause: “I’ve learned things in Bangor that
+you ought to know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It relates to the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not directly. It relates to Theodore Wing’s
+mother.” He said it defiantly; as if he was throwing
+down the gage of battle.</p>
+
+<p>It required a mighty effort on Matthewson’s part
+to control himself, and yet he knew that to fail
+meant that this terrible thing, which as yet remained
+unspoken, would be uttered in words and that he
+must hear it.</p>
+
+<p>“I have become satisfied,” he said slowly and
+with an effort to control himself and appear dispassionate,
+“that the identity of Wing’s mother has no
+bearing on the murder or on the discovery of the
+murderer. You will, therefore, drop that part of
+the investigation and confine yourself to the other<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>235</span>
+features. In this all who were concerned in employing
+you are agreed.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long since?” the man demanded insolently.</p>
+
+<p>“That is of no consequence,” Matthewson said.
+“You are now informed of the fact, so that your
+new instructions date from this moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s too late for you to accomplish anything by
+that dodge,” he said. “I’ve found out who Wing’s
+mother is. The story’s worth money. I’ll give
+you the first chance to buy. Do you want
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson trembled, as he realised the full
+significance of this demand. More than his mother
+possibly could, he knew how such a story would be
+received; how impossible it would be, once set afloat,
+to stop it or overcome it. Still, he put on a bold
+front.</p>
+
+<p>“Whatever you may have learned, it was while
+you were under our pay. The information belongs
+to us and you can’t afford to make it a matter of
+barter.”</p>
+
+<p>“What I’ve found out,” Cranston returned defiantly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>236</span>
+“is worth so much that I can afford to
+take some risks. If you want it, you can have it
+for a price. If not, the highest bidder gets it, and
+in a State where ex-Governor Matthewson’s got as
+many enemies as he’s got in Maine, there won’t be
+any trouble about finding buyers.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no need to drag in my father’s name,”
+Matthewson replied.</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know there ain’t?” the other demanded.
+“Maybe you’ll be surprised at the names
+that are dragged in before we’re through.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Matthewson’s impulse to throw the man
+out of doors, without regard to consequences; but
+before him came a face that had watched him lovingly
+and tenderly from his earliest memory&mdash;a face
+that he had seen only a few days before pleading to
+him, as he had never dreamed a woman’s face could
+plead. His hands clutched nervously; but for the
+sake of that face and that love, he held himself in
+restraint.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, to end this matter,” he said, “what do
+you want for this precious information?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hadn’t you better know first what it is?” demanded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>237</span>
+the other. “Oh,” he said, as he saw on
+Matthewson’s face what he regarded as a protest;
+“it won’t spoil the goods to show ’em. I’d just as
+lief tell you before as after. It’s silence I’m selling;
+not facts.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t need you to repeat your talk; and what’s
+more, it won’t be safe for you to,” Matthewson
+said. “I know perfectly well what it would be;
+but I warn you not to dare speak it.”</p>
+
+<p>The man in the alcove almost betrayed himself
+as he heard this astounding acknowledgment.
+After all, had he mistaken what he had seen, and
+was this the real secret he had been trying to unravel?
+Cranston was speaking again:</p>
+
+<p>“Threatened men live long. You’ll get just as
+much for as little money, if you keep a civil tongue.
+I’ve got silence to sell; but I’m just blamed fool
+enough, if you get me mad, to refuse to sell at any
+price.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then your proposition is that if I pay you your
+price, you’ll keep silence regarding your discovery
+as to Theodore Wing’s mother; and that if I do not,
+you’ll sell your information to any one who will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>238</span>
+pay you for it, regardless of the injury it may do me
+or any one connected with me?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s about it, in plain English.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s it, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it’s it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you think that this information, if made
+public, would do me and those connected with me
+harm.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what you call harm, if it wouldn’t.
+’Twould be the end of the Matthewson family,
+socially and politically. They’d have to find
+another boss for Maine after this thing got
+out.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s just as well,” said the lawyer, “to keep
+within bounds in your remarks; they’re as likely to
+accomplish your purpose.”</p>
+
+<p>But Cranston was smarting under his previous
+failure. He had tried to deal squarely with Mrs.
+Matthewson and had met refusal and insult. There
+was the possibility that, had he adopted a higher
+tone, he would have succeeded. He was resolved
+not to fail from the same cause this time.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m answering questions,” he said, “and I’ll answer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>239</span>
+’em in my own way. If you don’t like it, you
+don’t need to.”</p>
+
+<p>It required a terrible effort on Matthewson’s part
+to prevent his openly resenting this insolence, and
+he was conscious of a distinctive loss of self-respect
+that he did not at once pitch the fellow out of the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s get through with this thing and be done
+with it,” he said. “How much will your silence
+cost me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” answered Cranston.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Matthewson was startled at the figure.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, man, you’re crazy!” he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>“I know it,” said Cranston. “I ought to have
+a hundred, but I ain’t going to be hard. I’ve set my
+price at twenty-five.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you’ll take five,” retorted Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t take twenty-four thousand, nine
+hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine
+cents,” answered Cranston. “I’ve fixed my price,
+and it’s that or nothing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>240</span>
+“I guess that’s right,” sneered Matthewson.
+“And how do you want this easy money?”</p>
+
+<p>“In good, crisp bank-notes that one can feel; and
+before I leave this room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you’ll give a receipt when it’s paid
+over, setting out the terms of the bargain?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, I won’t!” retorted Cranston.
+“You’ll have to trust to my honour; that’ll be your
+protection.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then the bargain is, if I give you twenty-five
+thousand dollars, you’ll keep this story quiet. If I
+don’t, you’ll use it to my injury&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“To your ruin,” interrupted Cranston. “I’ll
+drive you and your family out of the State; I’ll
+destroy every shred of your influence, and I’ll do it
+with this story!”</p>
+
+<p>“There are no other terms; no other means by
+which I can stop you?”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet there isn’t; and if this gabble goes on
+much longer, I’ll double my price.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we’ll stop it right here. I buy safety for
+twenty-five thousand dollars, and here’s five dollars
+to bind the bargain. I’m to send out and get the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>241</span>
+rest and pay to you before you leave. Are those
+the terms?”</p>
+
+<p>“Those are the terms, if you get the money quick
+enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you can get out of this office, you skulking,
+blackmailing scoundrel, or I’ll throw you out of
+the window. Go, and don’t be slow about it, for my
+fingers are itching to get hold of you. I’m through
+with you!”</p>
+
+<p>For an instant, Cranston was dumbfounded by
+the sudden revulsion of position. He had believed
+the money practically in his grasp, and instead he
+encountered this dismissal of contempt and abuse.
+But his surprise was only for an instant. Then a
+flood of senseless anger, verging on madness, seized
+him. He had but one impulse and that was to punish
+the man who had led him on, only to throw him
+down. There was a flash of a pistol in his hand as
+he said:</p>
+
+<p>“But I’m not through with you, by God!”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t need that to send you to State’s
+prison,” said a voice behind him, as a hand, seemingly
+of steel, grasped his and wrenched away the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>242</span>
+pistol. He turned and saw Trafford standing behind
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“By God, this is a dirty, contemptible trick,
+Trafford,” he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess that’s so, too,” Trafford answered,
+coolly, as he drew the charges from the revolver, before
+handing it back to Cranston; “but unfortunately
+there are some situations in life that can’t be
+reached by anything else, and this seems to be one
+of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now will you go?” demanded Matthewson,
+“while I’ve a notion to let you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go,” the man muttered; “but you aren’t
+through with me yet!”</p>
+
+<p>“When you feel a particular desire for free quarters
+at Thomaston, just meddle with my affairs
+again,” retorted Matthewson. “Until you do feel
+that way, you’d better let them alone.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>243</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xvi">CHAPTER XVI<br />
+<span>The Range 16 Scandal</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>I</span> GUESS I didn’t make any mistake in staying,”
+said Trafford, more to break the embarrassing
+silence which followed Cranston’s withdrawal, than
+with any definite purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson glanced up with the air of a man
+who had half lost consciousness of surrounding circumstances
+in a line of painful thought.</p>
+
+<p>“I am under deep obligation to you,” he said
+slowly; and then, apparently tracking back to his
+thoughts before Trafford spoke, he added, as it
+seemed, irrelevantly:</p>
+
+<p>“You said he could tell nothing you did not already
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>The pain which manifested itself in his face
+would have shown a far less keen man what the
+speaker had in mind, yet was not willing more
+directly to name.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>244</span>
+“He has not,” said Trafford quietly. “All that
+he hinted at I’ve known for weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know it when you saw me before?”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you conceal it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s not concealment not to talk of a thing.
+There was no call to talk of it so long as it had nothing
+to do with the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“But are you certain,” the words came hard and
+with a painful ring, “that it did have nothing to do
+with the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>The question showed Trafford how far pain and
+numbing anguish had carried the man who, loyal
+even to the death of honour to the mother who bore
+him, on that very account was the deeper sufferer.</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely!” Trafford threw into the word an
+intense depth of conviction. “On that point you
+may exclude every doubt.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson gave him a look of intense relief.
+He was reasonably certain as to Cranston; but if
+there was a chain of circumstances, as there well
+might be, between this story and the recent murder,
+what was to save them?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>245</span>
+“I owe you more than I can say,” he went on.
+“I won’t waste my gratitude in words. The only
+thing I can do now, that I see, is to answer your
+question of a half-hour ago. You’re entitled to that.”</p>
+
+<p>He wrote some names on a slip of paper and
+passed it over to Trafford. He watched him as he
+read, to detect, if possible, any movement of surprise,
+for this question of the murder, from a matter
+of comparative indifference, save as it touched
+the possession of certain papers, was growing into
+a vital thing, that seemed to meet him at every turn,
+filling him with alarm for the moment when it should
+uncover in all its hideous nakedness. But there was
+nothing to indicate that he had told anything which
+the other did not know already, until Trafford himself
+spoke. Then, even, the tone was most commonplace:</p>
+
+<p>“You have saved me the time and trouble it
+would have taken to complete the list.” He evidently
+had no question of his ability to do so. “I
+hope you’ll add to the obligation by answering one
+or two questions. Did you meet these men separately
+or together?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>246</span>
+“I met the first two separately and the other
+alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“And discussed with the two the papers which
+were in Wing’s possession.” While pursuing the
+matter in apparently the most commonplace way,
+Trafford did not fail to note the quick air of sudden
+interest on Matthewson’s part which followed this
+reference to the mysterious papers. It was not a look
+that betokened fear, but rather eagerness, if the detective
+could read aright. He went on:</p>
+
+<p>“Was it on the same matter you saw the third
+man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” answered Matthewson, as if eager
+now to give the information he had before withheld.
+“There was only one thing that took me to
+Millbank, and that was the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see him before or after you saw the
+others?”</p>
+
+<p>“Before and after, both.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did they know you had seen him or were to see
+him?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. Rightly or wrongly, I suspected cross-purposes
+between them and was after a second<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>247</span>
+string to my bow. They thought I took an earlier
+train, but I met him by arrangement. I’d sent him
+to see Wing and met him to get the report.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then he was with Wing during the evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you not know it?” demanded Matthewson,
+turning cross-examiner.</p>
+
+<p>“A question does not always imply ignorance,”
+said Trafford, smiling, “but sometimes the bolstering
+up of knowledge not yet in the form we want
+it. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I knew Wing
+had a visitor that evening. This man was with him
+till late?”</p>
+
+<p>“He left him at eleven o’clock and met me. I
+parted with him in the shadow of
+<a id="Pettingill"></a><ins title="Original has 'Pettengill’s'">Pettingill’s</ins>
+potato storehouse, when I ran to jump on the train.”</p>
+
+<p>“You sent him to try to get those papers from
+Wing, and he failed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miserably failed. It was a desperate chance I
+took, of course; but I could do no less than take it.
+In fact it was a desperate thing to use this man, but
+it was my last hope, and I had no choice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet he’s square&mdash;if I’m rightly informed. No
+danger from him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>248</span>
+“I don’t mean that. I mean he’s not the kind of
+man to use in such a thing. He’s what you might
+call too high-toned&mdash;not given to that kind of
+work&mdash;that is, in a successful way. He wouldn’t
+take chances that another man might. I guess you
+know better than I can tell you what I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. I understand the type of man. He
+gave you no hope of securing the papers?”</p>
+
+<p>“None whatever. Wing positively refused every
+suggestion in regard to them, and left the impression
+on his mind that further attempt was useless.
+While I felt that another man might have done better,
+I was certain that his effort had uncovered
+Wing’s exact position; that Wing was determined
+to hold on to the papers and use them. He was convinced
+of the same thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Still you urged him to make another effort.”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I was so convinced that it didn’t seem
+worth while&mdash;at least along those lines. While we
+were talking, I heard the warning bell and we hurried,
+turning off Somerset Street between Neil’s
+store and the post-office. As I left him, I remember
+saying that I’d give the man who would put<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>249</span>
+those papers in my hands a hundred thousand dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“A hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Trafford,
+for once at least showing his surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” answered Matthewson, a strange hopefulness
+coming into his eyes; “I’ll give you that sum
+for the papers this minute.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish I had ’em,” said Trafford, in a tone half
+regretful and half as if he was groping in his memory
+for something that bore on the matter.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, haven’t you got them?” demanded Matthewson,
+between incredulity and fear.</p>
+
+<p>“I!” exclaimed Trafford. “I got them! I’ve
+never even seen them. The man who fired the shot
+that killed Wing has got those papers. Find him,
+and you’re on the track of the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson grew pale with revulsion of feeling.
+That Trafford had the papers, he had had no question.
+He believed that all this had been merely
+leading up to an offer and he had shaped his course,
+as he thought, shrewdly, to the naming of a sum
+which would make the man eager to deal. Instead,
+he was told in a tone that carried conviction,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>250</span>
+that not only had Trafford not got the papers, but
+that they were in the possession of an unknown man
+for whom the law was hunting. If he was found,
+the papers would pass into the possession of the
+State and the public!</p>
+
+<p>“In other words, we don’t know where they
+are?”</p>
+
+<p>“We do know,” answered Trafford, with the
+solemnity of a man who feels that he is approaching
+accomplished purpose, “that these papers were
+the cause of Wing’s death. Tell me the man who
+was most concerned in getting possession of these
+papers and I’ll give Wing’s murderer to the
+hangman&mdash;or would, if you hadn’t abolished the
+hangman in Maine.”</p>
+
+<p>Never had the case stood so naked before Matthewson
+as these words stripped it. For the murder
+itself he had felt comparative indifference, his interest
+in the papers overtopping all else. Since he
+was aware that the murdered man was his half-brother,
+he had been conscious of an approach to a
+feeling of relief that he was dead. Now, for the
+first time, he saw, as by lightning’s flash, the strife<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>251</span>
+for the papers and the murder as cause and effect.
+The one danger grew into another, and each
+took fearfulness from the other. No effort of the
+will could quite quiet the nervous tremor which
+the realisation of this fact brought. His face was
+drawn with pain as he answered:</p>
+
+<p>“There can be no man more concerned than I
+to get these papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fortunately I know you were on the train when
+the shot was fired.”</p>
+
+<p>The answer implied that but for this Trafford
+would suspect him, and Matthewson so understood
+it; but his anxiety was too great for him even to
+resent the implication. His brother was no less interested
+than himself in the papers. He must warn
+him, warn him instantly. This man was pitiless
+when a task was set before him; Henry must not let
+himself be drawn into a trap.</p>
+
+<p>“We have supposed,” Matthewson said, as much
+to ease the situation, as from any particular bearing
+of the remark on the matter under discussion, “that
+you had taken the papers under cover of taking the
+blotter from the desk.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>252</span>
+“I know,” nodded Trafford. “That was the reason
+you had me attacked in the bridge at Millbank.
+I would have been robbed of the papers&mdash;thrown
+into the river, perhaps. For the moment, I assumed
+that it was the same men who committed the murder.
+I saw my mistake, however, very quickly.”</p>
+
+<p>He added the last words, as it were, as an apology
+for the mistake itself. As a matter of fact, Matthewson
+had known nothing of the assault until
+some days after it took place, but he scorned a denial
+that must seem like an effort to escape responsibility,
+and so said nothing to disabuse the other’s mind of
+the belief that he had helped plan the assault.</p>
+
+<p>“The most serious aspect of that affair,” Trafford
+continued, “was the death of the Canuck&mdash;Victor
+Vignon.”</p>
+
+<p>But Matthewson was not in a mood to feel keenly
+the death of a mere logger, whom he had never
+seen and whose importance, in comparison with the
+good name and continued power of the Matthewson
+family, was as nothing. He did not care even
+to assume an interest for the sake of appearance.
+He was thinking, thinking fast, and only half hearing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>253</span>
+what Trafford was saying. Suddenly his attention
+was again aroused.</p>
+
+<p>“What is the nature of these papers?” the other
+was asking. “With knowledge of that, I could
+narrow the circle of interest, so that I would have
+to deal with only a few men.”</p>
+
+<p>“It can’t be the men who are interested in the
+papers by reason of their contents who did the murder,”
+said Matthewson, speaking rapidly. “I know
+them and can answer for every one of them&mdash;that
+is, so far as they knew of the existence of the
+papers. It is some one who regards them from the
+point of their saleability. It’s their money value.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford had seen this possibility already, but it
+did not satisfy him. He felt that he could form a
+sounder judgment than this man, but to do it he
+must have the facts and this man must give them
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>“If you are correct,” he said, “you must see that
+you narrow the line of enquiry to three men. I must
+know what the papers were to determine which of
+these three is the man. I have asked you before,
+what is the nature of the papers?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>254</span>
+“Do not think me ungrateful, if I decline to answer.
+I would trust you with everything, but the
+secret belongs to others no less than myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Matthewson,” said Trafford seriously, “it
+is not pleasant to have to play hide and seek with
+you. I’ve had to remind you once before that the
+inquest is public. If I have this question asked
+there, you’ll have to answer or&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Go to jail,” Matthewson said, completing the
+sentence. “I know. I’ve thought of that. I
+shouldn’t answer.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson drummed on the table and looked at
+his companion. Even his political power could not
+shield him from the consequence of a refusal to answer
+a question put to him at the inquest on such a
+murder as this. Surely the cause must be a serious
+one that induced him even to think of such an act.
+Trafford took up another line:</p>
+
+<p>“Have you thought that if you were summoned
+and refused to testify, it would be necessary for the
+government to supply as best it could the want of
+your testimony. Have you thought that in doing
+so, it could not be dainty as to means, and that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>255</span>
+would not be impossible in such an event that it
+might stumble on the story that Cranston tried to
+sell you to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“In other words, you would become the pedlar
+of scandal,” sneered Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“In other words, that justice might not fail, I’d
+get at the facts, even if they involved my own&mdash;brother.
+Don’t you see, Mr. Matthewson, I’m giving
+you a chance? If, with a knowledge of all the
+facts, I can bring this crime home to the murderer
+without bringing you into it, I’ll do so. If I can’t,
+I simply know in advance what all the world is
+bound to know finally. You’ve your chance. You
+can take it or leave it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re pressing your advantage. I’m to tell, or
+you’ll find out. Let me suggest you’ve been on the
+case some time and the sum of your finding is not
+large.”</p>
+
+<p>“So large, Mr. Matthewson, that I can make my
+arrest within twenty-four hours and, I’m certain,
+convict my man.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson started. There was no mistaking
+the tone. Still he would not yield.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>256</span>
+“In that event, you don’t need my answer.”</p>
+
+<p>“I must have your answer to shape my proof.
+You’ll give it to me here or on the witness stand.
+I’ll leave it to you to decide which.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson faced him like a man at bay; then,
+as he saw his unflinching purpose, he yielded and
+answered:</p>
+
+<p>“The papers purport to impugn titles to a million
+dollars’ worth of land and two millions’ worth of
+stumpage. They impugn too the honour of the
+men who hold those titles.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Trafford’s turn for surprise. The words
+took him back to the great scandal of the Public
+Lands Office, before and while Matthewson was
+Governor&mdash;the one storm that it had seemed for a
+time even his political resources could not weather.
+Then came the sudden collapse of the attack and the
+disappearance of documents that were relied on to
+support it. He recalled that Judge Parlin had been
+retained to prosecute the case, and that it was said
+that papers had been stolen from his office which it
+had never been possible to replace.</p>
+
+<p>“You mean,” he said, “the Range 16 scandal.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>257</span>
+“I believe it was so called,” said Matthewson
+doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>“But it was said these papers had been stolen; it
+was supposed they had been destroyed. How came
+they in Wing’s hands?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is said they were stolen; but if so, not all.
+Parlin never was able to fill the place of those that
+were taken; but this man Wing, with devilish ingenuity
+and persistence, had worked and dug and
+pieced together until&mdash;well, until he had got enough
+to make us uneasy.”</p>
+
+<p>“And so you tried the old game a second time?”</p>
+
+<p>“We tried to get them out of his hands. The
+main thing we hope now is that as the price paid
+for them this time was murder, the man who got
+them has destroyed them, for fear their possession
+would betray him.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford was silent for a few minutes, and then
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t hope. They’re not destroyed. The man
+who committed murder to get them, will not part
+with its price so easily. The man who holds
+papers that would ruin Governor Matthewson, his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>258</span>
+sons, Charles and Frank Hunter, and the Lord
+knows who else, knows that those papers would be
+his surest means of escape, if his identity was discovered.
+Those papers are in existence;” and he
+added to himself, “if I can’t convict without
+them, I won’t get out of the next assault so easy.”</p>
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>259</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xvii">CHAPTER XVII<br />
+<span>The Story of the Papers</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD went back to Millbank more seriously
+alarmed than at any time in his whole
+professional career. Matthewson would unquestionably
+inform the others that he had not the
+papers; and as certainly warn them he was after
+them, with the determination to secure them. It
+was well within reason that they would regard it as
+safer that they remained in the hands of a murderer
+whom they protected, than that they should fall into
+those of a detective, who would use them to convict
+and thus make them public. He felt that he must
+act promptly and energetically and bring to his aid
+every influence possible.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, there was another matter tugging
+at him. Few men in Maine ever attained to the possession
+of a hundred thousand dollars. The income
+on such a sum would equal his average yearly earnings.
+He believed that if he could put his hands on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>260</span>
+the papers, they would yield him that sum or more.
+If he was in danger, he had but to let it be known
+in a certain quarter that on obtaining these papers,
+he would deliver them intact, and the danger disappeared.
+He was satisfied that the man who made
+public the facts relating to Range 16 scandal would
+never live to see the result. He was satisfied that if
+the papers were once located in any person’s possession,
+there would now be no further time wasted
+in negotiation, as there had been with Wing; but
+that effective steps would be taken to prevent their
+publicity.</p>
+
+<p>On arriving at Millbank, Trafford waited only to
+receive the report of his assistant, who had been
+left on guard, and then went at once to the Parlin
+homestead. He found Mrs. Parlin showing marks
+of the strain upon her of the last few weeks. Life
+had brought her many sorrows, and Wing’s tragic
+death had seemingly broken the last tie of joy.
+Trafford’s feverish impatience, rather than the
+trained restraint of his profession, spoke in the haste
+he showed to get at real issues.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Parlin,” he began, as soon as formal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>261</span>
+greetings were over, “what can you tell me of the
+Range 16 affair and the papers relating thereto?”</p>
+
+<p>To his surprise Mrs. Parlin grew suddenly white
+and seemed on the point of fainting. He turned
+to her assistance, but by a strong effort she recovered
+a part of her usual self-possession, though the
+colour did not come back to her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” she said. “It is a matter on which
+I can’t talk. You must not; you shall not torture
+me with it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would not willingly distress you in any way,
+Mrs. Parlin,” he said, with less abruptness; “but
+it is my duty to insist and I think it your duty to
+comply. Our whole search for Mr. Wing’s murderer
+may turn upon your answer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, has that come up to curse us again! has that
+come up!” she cried, wringing her hands. “I can’t
+bear it; I can’t bear it!”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford was astounded at her growing agitation,
+and was half disposed to forego further questions,
+at least for the time; but behind him was the impulsion
+of his dread of, he scarcely knew what,
+driving him on to reckless impatience.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>262</span>
+“It has come up and we can’t rid ourselves of it.
+Those papers were the cause of Mr. Wing’s death.”</p>
+
+<p>“Those papers!” she repeated, with open lips,
+which scarcely moved as she spoke. “Those
+papers! But I hid them; no one knew where they
+were. Theodore did not even know of their existence.”</p>
+
+<p>“You hid them!” exclaimed Trafford, thunderstruck
+at the statement. “They were stolen, I
+understand. How could you hide them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, like a bewildered child, admitting
+a fault; “they were stolen. I stole them.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Trafford’s turn to sit dazed beyond the
+power of clear thought. She had stolen the papers
+to which her husband had given long months of
+work and thought, and on which he had hoped to
+build a reputation that should overpass the bounds
+of the State and outlive his years. She was the
+thief; and if report said truly, that theft had hastened
+his death and added bitterness to his last days!</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t mean this, Mrs. Parlin,” he said
+gently. “I refer to the papers that were stolen from
+your husband’s desk some five years before he died;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>263</span>
+the papers that related to the Public Lands Office
+and the timber land and stumpage in Range 16; the
+papers that involved some men very high in the
+State and in the party&mdash;I won’t name them, if you
+please.”</p>
+
+<p>She nodded assent to each of his propositions,
+and when he had finished said:</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; those are the papers I mean. I stole them
+from his desk and hid them. I was going to destroy
+them; but I thought sometime they might be of use
+and not so dangerous, and so I hid them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you hide them?”</p>
+
+<p>“First in the attic, then in the cellar, and finally
+under the bricks of the hearth in the parlour.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s easy, then, to find if they’re still there.”</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes sufficed to raise the bricks and show
+the hiding-place&mdash;a hollow cavity which had been
+devised in the early days for hiding purposes&mdash;empty.</p>
+
+<p>“They are gone!” she cried as she glanced into
+the hole.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Trafford, replacing the bricks and
+leading her back to Wing’s library, where they were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>264</span>
+less apt to be overheard, “they’re gone. Mr. Wing
+found them and, realising the alarm it would be to
+you to know that they were found, did not tell you.
+It was those papers that brought about his death.”</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Parlin was sufficiently calm, Trafford
+set himself to the task of extracting the details of the
+affair; letting her at first tell it in her own way, and
+later asking questions that completed the story. Condensed
+to the facts, it ran as follows:</p>
+
+<p>Nearly twelve years before, her husband, in the
+course of some investigation of a land title in the
+Public Lands Office, came across what appeared an
+error in an important entry. He was on the point
+of calling attention to it, so that it could be corrected,
+when a critical examination convinced him that it
+was not a mere error, but a carefully made change
+that involved the title to timber-land that was just
+becoming exceedingly valuable. Acting on the hint
+thus given, he went to work cautiously, but determinately,
+and personally got together a number of
+documents that revealed what seemed a systematic
+series of forgeries, relating to immense tracts of
+land that were formerly public. In some cases, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>265</span>
+title to the land itself was involved; in others, that
+to the stumpage only.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible to carry on these investigations
+without attracting attention, especially when they
+had gone so far as to show that in every case where
+the title was suspicious, the benefit accrued to the
+Matthewsons and to the Hunters at Millbank. Mr.
+Matthewson was then Governor, but he had formerly
+been at the head of the Public Lands Office, and his
+financial prosperity had appeared to date from about
+the time he held that position.</p>
+
+<p>A prying reporter got an inkling that something
+was going on, and in pursuing his enquiry revealed
+the hints he had discovered to Henry Matthewson.
+A position of financial importance was suddenly
+offered the reporter in a Western city and the story
+never was printed. But the Matthewsons were,
+from that moment, on their guard. A few months
+later, a fire broke out in the record room of the
+Public Lands Office and valuable records were destroyed.
+This did not attract especial attention, for
+the press had repeatedly called public attention to
+the existence of this very danger, and merely contented<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>266</span>
+itself with shouting “I told you so,” with a
+great deal of strenuousness.</p>
+
+<p>What was not known, save to Judge Parlin and,
+probably, some of the office force, was the extreme
+discrimination shown by the fire in destroying the
+very books on which proof of the forgeries depended.
+Certain remarks incautiously dropped by Judge Parlin
+let out facts from which the scandal took shape,
+with charges freely made by political opponents of
+the Matthewsons, which could now be proved only
+by papers in Judge Parlin’s hands, since the destruction
+of the original books. This was the Range 16
+Scandal in its original form.</p>
+
+<p>Up to this time, Judge Parlin had not even taken
+his wife into his confidence, but as the matter took
+more and more of public form, he deemed it necessary
+that she should know, especially as he had begun
+to suspect that the men who were against him
+would hesitate at nothing&mdash;not even murder, to conceal
+the truth. It was an incautious hint dropped by
+him to this effect that first alarmed her, and this
+alarm was speedily increased to terror by threats
+that were conveyed to the judge from time to time,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>267</span>
+though as to the source he was never able to reach a
+solution. “He laughed at them,” she said, telling
+of these threats; “but that is a man’s way. A
+woman sits and thinks and dreads, because she cannot
+act. In the dead night, I heard footsteps prowling
+about the place&mdash;or thought I did, and I lay in
+an agony of terror&mdash;not for myself, but because it
+was not for me that the danger threatened. When
+he was at Norridgewock at court and would drive
+home after dark, I sat and trembled until I had him
+again in my arms and knew that once more the
+chance had passed him by. If there came a ring at
+the bell late at night, I would plead that he let me
+answer it, until I wrought myself into a nervous terror
+that I cannot even now remember without a
+shudder. It was the worse because he was so brave
+and never for a moment felt afraid. When he
+laughed at the threats, I grew cold to my very heart,
+for my fear for him told me that the danger he
+scorned was so real that some day it would fall and
+crush him. A woman’s love knows some things that
+a man’s brain can’t compass!”</p>
+
+<p>It seemed, however, that he attached importance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>268</span>
+of one kind to these threats, such as to induce him to
+guard the papers carefully, pending the time when
+he could duplicate them and place one set where
+they could not possibly be reached. But before this
+was even undertaken, Mrs. Parlin had become so
+alarmed that she urged her husband to abandon the
+matter and destroy the papers and let this be known
+where it would cause a cessation of the annoyance to
+which they were both subjected. But here she found
+him inflexible, and at last her terror reached such a
+pitch that she determined herself to steal and destroy
+the papers.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before she was able to carry this
+resolve into execution, and during the delay she
+reached a point of terror little short of insanity. At
+last, under the impulse of fear intensified by a particularly
+boldly expressed threat, she took desperate
+chances and, as desperate chances will do at times,
+succeeded. She took the papers from her husband’s
+desk almost under his very eyes, and ever after had
+the cruel pain of knowing that the trust she had betrayed
+was so great that no suspicion of the betrayal
+had ever crossed his mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>269</span>
+Once in possession of the papers, she had, as she
+told Trafford, failed in the courage to destroy them,
+and had easily persuaded herself that they might at
+some time be an actual means of protection to her
+husband. Therefore she had hidden them, as stated,
+and thus finally they had passed into Theodore
+Wing’s hands to prove his death warrant.</p>
+
+<p>The judge was much broken over the loss of the
+papers, the facts in regard to which could not be
+kept from the public. For a time, the scandal blazed
+up and the Matthewsons had to meet charges which
+could be proved by no one and which, therefore, they
+were the more bold in denying. Then public interest
+was turned to other issues, only to be aroused
+again for a time by Judge Parlin’s candidacy for the
+highest State court and his defeat, which he did not
+long survive.</p>
+
+<p>“But when,” she demanded, “could Theodore
+have found these papers?”</p>
+
+<p>“About two years ago, I should say; perhaps a
+little earlier,” said Trafford. “At least, it was then
+known that he had found them, for on no other
+theory can we explain the ransacking of his desk.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>270</span>
+He then began to carry them about with him, and the
+interests involved, which had rested quiet since your
+husband’s loss, and especially since his death, became
+disturbed again and active.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it must be the Matthewsons or Hunters
+who murdered him,” exclaimed the woman, under
+a sudden breaking in of light.</p>
+
+<p>“It would seem a fair conclusion,” answered
+Trafford; “and yet I have evidence that satisfies
+me that they did not murder him and do not know
+who did. I don’t mean to say that they wouldn’t
+have done it finally; but they didn’t this time, and
+are not only puzzled, but much disturbed, over the
+mystery of the murder. We have gone so far on this
+matter that I can tell you in a word why they are disturbed.
+Whoever murdered him took the papers, and
+they are alarmed as to where they’ll turn up next.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin had by the act of telling her story
+recovered her self-control and power to think, and
+saw as clearly as Trafford the meaning of this uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>“But who,” she asked, “could have done it, if
+they did not?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>271</span>
+“Some one who knew he had the papers. Some
+one who knew something of their value, and some
+one who knows the safety there is in boldness, and
+had the nerve to carry through an affair that might
+break down at any point. I knew long since that
+some one was with Mr. Wing in the evening after
+you left him, and that the visitor stayed very late. I
+also know that, contrary to what was generally supposed,
+this room was visited after the murder. Some
+one passed over his dead body, entered the room, and
+took the papers. The question is, who was bold
+enough to commit the theft under such conditions?”</p>
+
+<p>The picture that Trafford drew of the murder and
+the theft stirred Mrs. Parlin, already wrought upon
+by the interview, to a state of nervous excitement
+that was most distressing. Too late, the detective
+realised that in such a state she was scarcely a safe
+custodian for the secret he had given into her keeping.
+She walked the room, wringing her hands and
+asking herself:</p>
+
+<p>“Why didn’t I burn them; why didn’t I burn
+them? I might at least have saved Theodore! I
+am his murderer.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>272</span>
+It was late when Trafford had quieted her so that
+he dared trust her even with Mary Mullin. Even
+this he did not do, without first giving her a stern
+warning as to the necessity of self-restraint.</p>
+
+<p>“We’re on the last stretch now,” he said.
+“What’s done must be done quickly and silently.
+These men haven’t committed murder yet, but they
+wouldn’t hesitate to, if they were once convinced
+that safety lay in that direction. In forty-eight
+hours they’ll see that it’s safer for this murder to
+remain a mystery, and then it’ll be dangerous to
+move&mdash;it may mean death. Can you keep still on
+this subject two days?”</p>
+
+<p>“I kept still for eight years while I saw my husband
+crushed,” she said reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>As he was turning away, oppressed with the
+thought that he was pitted against men who would
+hesitate at nothing and who, as soon as a conference
+was had, must see that their interests lay in
+thwarting his efforts, she caught him by the coat
+and drew him towards her.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s been blood enough shed,” she said.
+“These papers killed my husband, though I stole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>273</span>
+them in the hope of saving his life. They’ve killed
+Theodore. Don’t let them kill any more folks.
+Burn them, burn them, when you get hold of
+them!”</p>
+
+<p>“But you want me to catch Mr. Wing’s murderer,
+don’t you? You want him sent to Thomaston?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; yes!” Her eyes blazed with the desire of
+revenge. “Don’t let him escape! But burn the
+papers!”</p>
+
+<p>He lingered still, though he felt that he was wasting
+precious time. He seemed to be in the one place
+of safety, and a strange dread, which he knew
+foreign to his nature and profession, assailed him.
+He had never experienced it before and it seemed a
+premonition of coming evil. As he turned finally to
+go, she said again:</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t move alone. You can’t do better than
+take Mr. McManus’s advice. The judge had every
+confidence in him, and so, I think, had Theodore.
+You’ll be safer if some one knows what you are
+doing. Tell him everything and keep somebody by
+you all the time. Catch Theodore’s murderer, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>274</span>
+when you get him and the papers, burn the papers:
+don’t let them cause any more bloodshed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shan’t move without Mr. McManus,” he assured
+her. “He is cool-headed and resourceful.
+I’ll catch Mr. Wing’s murderer and I’ll put an end
+to the mischief those papers can do.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, there was the sense of oppression
+and danger hanging over him. He was doubting
+himself&mdash;doubting himself, from the moment Matthewson
+had assured him that he would give a hundred
+thousand dollars for the papers. Suppose he
+should find them, would he have strength to put that
+offer from him? As he asked this question, he
+realised that the fear that weighed on him was
+rather the fear born of a sense of moral degradation
+than fear of bodily harm. He knew as absolutely
+as if the thing was done that, if once he was in possession
+of the papers, he would sell them to Matthewson;
+and while he knew it and hated himself for
+being capable of doing it, he went steadily on the
+course which could have no other ending.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>275</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xviii">CHAPTER XVIII<br />
+<span>The Man is Found</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>cMANUS was unmarried and lived at the
+Millbank Hotel, where he indulged in the
+extravagance of two rooms, a sitting room and a
+bedroom. Trafford saw him at supper and arranged
+for an evening interview.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll come to your room,” he said. “I’ve got
+nothing but a six by nine closet on the highest floor.”</p>
+
+<p>Supper over, he went for a short walk, to pass the
+time until the hour of appointment. He walked
+out on the river road where Charles Hunter’s great
+house stood, and found himself running over items
+of expense in maintaining such an establishment, all
+directed to the question whether a man on the
+income derivable from one hundred thousand dollars
+could afford a home like it. Disgusted with a train
+of thought he could not control, he hastened on,
+until at the top of Parlin Hill he saw the Parlin
+homestead and quite unexpectedly began asking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>276</span>
+himself if Mrs. Parlin was not likely to sell it and
+move into a smaller house.</p>
+
+<p>Whipped with the lash of his now ungovernable
+thoughts, he returned to the hotel and was confronted
+by Frank Hunter, whom he would dearly
+have liked to arrest and bind over to keep the peace.
+He was in what he called a “blue funk,” and did
+not regain his self-control until he found himself in
+McManus’s room, where a sense of security seemed
+to seize him.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll put this window on to the porch down and
+draw the shades,” he said, suiting the action to the
+word. “I’ve got some things to say that mustn’t
+be overheard.”</p>
+
+<p>They were at the table with cigars lighted, before
+McManus responded with reference to the affair in
+hand:</p>
+
+<p>“Have you made any progress?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got the thing down to a dot,” he answered;
+“with the one exception&mdash;you’ll say important&mdash;of
+the man. I can tell you how that murder was
+committed, and when I have, I think you’ll agree
+with my prediction of a fortnight ago as to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>277</span>
+characteristics of the man who committed it. What
+I want of you is that when the thing is told, you’ll
+help me put my hands on the man.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll do my best,” replied McManus; “but
+don’t forget you are giving me the point on which
+you confess yourself at a loss.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t that where we all want help?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but not always where we get it.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the evening of May 10, a man came from
+somewhere below on the train due here at eight
+o’clock. He dropped off at the Bridge station,
+instead of coming into Millbank, and met another
+man, apparently by appointment, about half-way
+between the railroad and covered bridges. They
+talked about ten minutes&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Hold on,” interrupted McManus; “you go too
+fast. Was the man he met a Millbank man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I forgot. It was Frank Hunter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Frank Hunter!” exclaimed McManus. “You’re
+still pointing to our office, as I said before. It’s a
+grave responsibility you’re taking, Mr. Trafford.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m taking no responsibility. I’m simply giving<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>278</span>
+you facts. Whoever was the murderer, I’m certain
+it wasn’t Frank Hunter. I’ll give you that for your
+comfort. As I was saying, they talked about ten
+minutes and then separated. Hunter went to his
+brother’s house and the stranger turned back,
+crossed the railroad bridge, and went down Somerset
+Street, meeting a man about a quarter of a mile
+below the Catholic church, where the street runs
+through the heavy maple grove. You know the
+spot?”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded, attempting no other interruption.</p>
+
+<p>“It was now about quarter to nine, and the two
+were together full half an hour. The stranger then
+came back up Somerset Street and went directly to
+Charles Hunter’s house. Ten minutes after, a man,
+who might have been the one whom the stranger
+met, crossed Eddy Street to Bicknell, came up Bicknell
+to Canaan, crossed Canaan to River Road, and
+went directly up River Road to the Parlin homestead.
+He reached there between half-past nine and
+quarter before ten and went to the side door, where
+he rang the right-hand bell, showing that he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>279</span>
+acquainted with the peculiar arrangement of the
+bells. Mr. Wing came to the door and the two went
+into the library.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now,” continued Trafford after a pause, to
+enable McManus to grasp all of the details, “as to
+the time; it was nine-thirty when Mrs. Parlin left
+the room. Wing had not written his letter, so that
+we have got the time pretty closely fixed. He stayed
+with Wing until nearly eleven-thirty. The stranger
+seems to have left Hunter’s house under pretence of
+catching the freight that leaves at eleven, but in
+reality he went to Somerset Street and walked up
+and down that street until a quarter to twelve, when
+he was joined by a man, presumably the one who
+had come from Wing’s library. It was a pretty
+hazardous thing to do, this loafing up and down
+Somerset Street, but up to now I haven’t found
+a single person whose attention he particularly
+attracted and certainly not one who pretends to have
+recognised him, though I feel certain he has many
+acquaintances in this town.”</p>
+
+<p>“If the two Hunters saw him, why don’t you get
+his identity from them?” McManus demanded.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>280</span>
+“That’ll come in time. I’ve not wanted to take
+too many into my confidence, and there’s no danger
+of their running away. Of course, if there’d been
+any possibility that this visitor was the murderer,
+’twould be different, but as you’ll see, there isn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he may have instigated the murder, without
+actually firing the shot,” said McManus. “You
+must pardon me, Mr. Trafford; but I can’t help feeling
+you’ve shown yourself somewhat derelict in this
+important matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope I’ll be able to exonerate myself before I
+finish,” said Trafford. “At any rate, let me go on.
+The matters these men had to discuss were of such
+interest that the visitor came near missing the midnight
+train, which might have subjected me to the
+necessity of having him arrested, since he would
+then have been in town when the murder occurred.
+As it was, by hurrying through the alley between
+the post-office and Neil’s store, they got the train,
+the stranger coming from behind the potato warehouse,
+as has been testified. His companion remained
+there, or he might have been recognised by
+Oldbeg.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>281</span>
+Trafford seemed disposed to muse over the possible
+result of such an event and as well over another
+matter to which he referred a moment later:</p>
+
+<p>“It would be a curious thing to know just what
+was said behind the storehouse, where they had their
+last words. It might throw a flood of light on
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” answered McManus, showing a feverish
+desire for the continuance of the narrative; “but
+you might as well try to guess where yesterday’s
+winds have blown to. You seem to have facts
+enough, without speculating on conversations.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose that’s true,” returned Trafford; “yet
+that last talk has a fascination for me. Who knows
+that it wasn’t just that that sealed Wing’s fate?
+You say this man may have instigated the murder.
+If so, may not that have been the moment of instigation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Scarcely possible,” returned McManus, as it
+were drawn against his will into the discussion.
+“If he did anything so important, he wouldn’t leave
+it for the last word and last moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“There I don’t agree with you,” Trafford<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>282</span>
+retorted, showing a disposition to argue, which
+caused McManus a nervous irritation he could not
+conceal. “From my experience, that’s just what he
+would do. He’d hesitate to take the plunge; he’d
+wait to shape a phrase and then, at the last moment,
+when it had to be done, he’d throw it off in any
+form it presented itself. Actually, I’d give more to
+know what was said in that two minutes, before the
+stranger jumped for the train, than for all the talk
+of the whole evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well; have your own way,” said McManus
+brusquely; “but you can’t know. Let it rest there,
+and let’s go on to what happened next&mdash;if you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford watched him intently, as he was speaking,
+but when he had finished seemed to find nothing
+in the speech, so he went on:</p>
+
+<p>“After the train pulled out, the man behind the
+storehouse waited some few minutes, till the station
+was closed, and the men had left, and then he stepped
+out and picked up something that he saw lying on
+the ground and had watched from the moment it
+had caught his eye. It was a revolver, one chamber<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>283</span>
+of which had been discharged. We know now how
+it came there, and don’t need to go over that part.
+He skulked back through Gray’s Court, keeping in
+the shadows when he crossed Canaan Street, and so
+came again into River Road. A feverish haste had
+now taken control of him, and when he reached the
+driveway of the Parlin homestead, the light was still
+burning in the library&mdash;in fact, Mr. Wing was at
+his desk, just finishing the letter which he had intended
+to write early in the evening, and which the
+visit of this unknown man had prevented him from
+writing.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s not the first thing,” interrupted McManus,
+who seemed now watchful of every detail
+as the tale approached its climax, “to show that he
+ever wrote that letter!”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s been no evidence yet produced,” replied
+Trafford; “but the evidence exists, and I can prove
+that it was written and the person to whom it was
+addressed. I can prove too that it never reached
+that person.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go on,” said McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“The man felt that what he had to do must be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>284</span>
+done quickly. Perhaps he knew that if he took time
+for thought, he wouldn’t have the courage or resolution
+to do the work. He went to the door where
+he had rung early in the evening, and rang the same
+bell. Then he stepped on to the grass east of the
+doorstep and waited, with the pistol he had found
+ready in his hand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain on that point?” demanded McManus.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford stopped and looked at McManus, as if
+pondering that question. Finally he answered:</p>
+
+<p>“I think so. He probably had a pistol of his own,
+but I’m confident he used the one he’d found. Everything
+points to his being a shrewd, keen man, and
+naturally he would not use his own pistol when he
+had another in his pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded, indicating that Trafford was
+to take up the story.</p>
+
+<p>“Wing came to the door, as before. He did not
+bring a lamp, but left the doors open behind him.
+Seeing no one, he stepped out on to the door-stone,
+when the man in hiding pressed the pistol against his
+temple and drew the trigger at the same instant.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>285</span>
+Wing fell in a heap on the step and threshold&mdash;his
+death was instantaneous.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus had listened to these last words as if
+fascinated by the terrible details so briefly stated.
+When Trafford paused on the last word, he seemed
+to catch his breath with the movement of one who
+in the last minute had forgotten everything but the
+picture before him.</p>
+
+<p>“If your tale is true,” he said, breathing deeply,
+“your description of the man is the man himself&mdash;a
+man of quick movements, strong purpose, assured position,
+and absolute control of nerves. The man must
+have been iron&mdash;at least while he was doing the job.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he needed to be adamant to complete it.
+There was nothing to him in Wing’s death, as a
+mere death. It saved him from nothing, though it
+might save others. It was positive, not negative,
+gain he was after. Perhaps, on the whole, he would
+rather Wing had lived. He felt it simply a necessity,
+and an unpleasant one at that, that he should
+die. But he was after something, and Wing’s death
+was only the preliminary to securing it. Having
+waited to make certain the shot had aroused no one,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>286</span>
+he stepped over the dead body and entered the
+library. He closed the door behind him, went to
+the safe, which was still open, and took from the
+upper left-hand pigeon hole a package of papers.
+Then he closed the safe and turned the knob, probably
+mechanically, showing that he was a man accustomed
+to deal with keyless safes. He went to the
+desk and took from it the letter which Wing had
+just sealed and directed&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom?” interrupted McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“To the Governor, asking for an appointment for
+the following Thursday, the thirteenth.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded and Trafford went on:</p>
+
+<p>“Then he put out the light, raised the shade of
+one window to make sure the coast was clear, and
+returned the way he had come. In doing so, he closed
+the library door behind him and drew the outer
+door to until it was stopped by the body of the dead
+man. Thus, you see, with all his shrewdness, he
+made four mistakes; he closed and locked the safe;
+he put out the light; he closed the library door, and
+he attempted to close the outer door.”</p>
+
+<p>“How mistakes?” asked McManus.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>287</span>
+“If he had left the safe open, it would have been
+supposed mere robbery was the purpose. If he had
+left the lamp burning, and the library and outer
+doors open, there would have been nothing to show
+that some one had visited the room after the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was the missing letter,” suggested McManus,
+who seemed to be thinking with Trafford’s
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied Trafford; “that was mistake
+number five.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, of course,” went on McManus, “he had no
+means of knowing what was in it. If it had been still
+unsealed, it would have been different. As it was,
+he could not risk it; there was nothing else for him
+to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly,” replied Trafford; “still, I think we
+can count it a mistake. The package of papers was
+what he really wanted. He should have been content
+with that.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how did he know that he had got all in that
+single package? Would he not be likely to examine
+the safe, especially the cupboard?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>288</span>
+“How would he have got at it? It was
+locked.”</p>
+
+<p>“Unless Wing’s keys were in the lock. That
+might have been. He would have taken them out
+when he closed the safe; it would not have closed
+otherwise. I understand they were found on the
+mantel.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who testified to that?” asked Trafford, as if
+trying to recall the fact.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t remember,” said McManus. “Some one
+at the inquest, I think.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it would have been natural for him to
+open the cupboard, though he must have seen the
+package when he was there early in the evening,
+and so knew what he was after. However, whether
+he examined further or not, he did not remain long.
+The next day he cleaned the chamber of the revolver
+and filled it, thus leaving only one empty, and during
+the night found opportunity to throw it over on to
+the box hedge in the front yard.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford stopped as if he had finished his story,
+and McManus sat like one in a deep reverie. Suddenly,
+he looked up and asked:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>289</span>
+“Where then are the papers which were the cause
+of this tragedy?”</p>
+
+<p>“The man has not dared use them; he keeps them
+concealed until it is safe to sell them for the hundred
+thousand dollars which was offered for them.”</p>
+
+<p>“My God! man, how do you know these things?”
+demanded McManus, his face ghastly as that of a
+week-old corpse.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you dare deny one of them?” retorted Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean by that?” asked the other.</p>
+
+<p>“<em>That you are the man who murdered Wing!</em>”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>290</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xix">CHAPTER XIX<br />
+<span>The Last of the Papers</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>cMANUS had sprung to his feet as the accusation
+came from Trafford’s lips. His left
+hand was in the side pocket of his sack coat, and as
+Trafford also rose, there rang out the report of a
+pistol, fired without removing it from the pocket.
+The bullet just missed Trafford, cutting the sleeve
+of his coat.</p>
+
+<p>“Throw up your hands, or I’ll shoot,” came from
+the window, and there stood Trafford’s assistant,
+with pistol drawn and aimed at McManus.</p>
+
+<p>At the very beginning of the story, he had raised
+the window and had since been listening to the conversation.
+McManus glanced at Trafford, who was
+also covering him with a pistol.</p>
+
+<p>“I yield,” he said, “to force. You will find it all
+a hideous mistake before you get through.”</p>
+
+<p>“Handcuff him.” Trafford gave the order.
+“I’ll keep my pistol on him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>291</span>
+McManus turned toward the man who approached
+from the window. He seemed to have recovered his
+composure, and a puzzling smile was on his lips.
+Then, suddenly, the hand came up, without leaving
+the pocket, which was lifted with it; there
+was a slight turn of the hand seen through the
+cloth and the muffled report of the pistol. McManus
+fell, shot through the heart by his own
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>“A damned bungling piece of work, to let that be
+done,” said Trafford. “There ’re steps on the
+stairs. Don’t open the door for a minute.”</p>
+
+<p>He rushed into the bedroom, and seizing a tin box
+that stood on a stand by the bed, dropped it from the
+window into a dense mass of shrubbery that grew
+beneath. He was back in the room to answer the
+first knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Millbank slept but little that night. The streets
+were thronged with people, and the story of the
+tragedy, the discovery of the murderer and his suicide,
+was repeated and re-repeated, with new details
+at every repetition. Before midnight it was surprising
+to know how many people had all along suspected<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>292</span>
+McManus and felt certain that he “was no
+better than he should be.”</p>
+
+<p>Frank Hunter came among the very first and
+went back and forth from the sitting room to the
+bedroom, with an uneasy air of searching for something
+and yet striving to conceal the fact. Trafford
+watched him with a curious expression on his face,
+as if he enjoyed the man’s awkwardness and embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>When Charles Matthewson arrived on the latest
+train and went directly to the Hunter house, Trafford
+was instantly informed and at once made up
+his mind to his line of action. McManus’s suicide
+was confession, and the possession of the papers was
+no longer necessary to conviction. Trafford determined
+to have them off his hands at the earliest possible
+moment, and with Matthewson in town, that
+promised to be before daylight. At the first opportunity
+he stole out, recovered possession of the box,
+and hid it in a less exposed place.</p>
+
+<p>About midnight, matters had so quieted down
+that he was able to respond to Mrs. Parlin’s message
+begging him to come to her and, if possible, remain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>293</span>
+in the house the balance of the night. He took with
+him the box, containing what he now regarded as
+his fortune and his reward for work done in discovering
+the murderer.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin was eager to hear the story, and it
+was some time after midnight before she left him
+and he was at liberty to follow his purpose. His
+judgment dictated waiting until morning, which
+would be a matter of but a few hours, but the box
+and its papers had become a growing burden, leaving
+him but one thought and that to be rid of them.
+From the library window he could see that a light
+still burned in the Hunter house. He was resolved
+to complete the matter before he slept.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the house cautiously, with the box under
+his arm, he hurried down the hill, at the foot of
+which lay the heavy shadows of the great Lombardy
+poplars. It seemed to him that he had never seen
+the shadows so black as they were to-night. As he
+entered the blackness, he quickened his pace almost
+to a run, and was almost in the light again when
+there came what seemed to him a flash of flame,
+then deeper darkness and oblivion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>294</span>
+How long he lay on the walk under the poplars he
+did not know, excepting that his first sensation of
+returning consciousness was of the soft white light
+that comes before the sun steals up from behind
+the earth. The next was of a heaviness of the head
+and a numbness that was giving way to pain. He
+put up his hand feebly, and brought it down again
+wet with blood.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the thought of the box. He reached
+out his hand and, groping, it fell upon it. He had
+barely strength enough yet to draw it to him, but at
+last succeeded, though not without much pain. He
+lifted it feebly and the lid fell back, showing the
+breakage where it had been wrenched from its
+hinges. With a paroxysm of strength born of terror,
+he sat upright and looked into the box. It was
+empty; not even a shred of paper remaining. For
+one instant he gazed in uncomprehending stupidity,
+and then, as the truth flashed on him, he fell again
+to the earth, and lost in temporary unconsciousness
+alike the sense of pain and the power to follow his
+interrupted quest.</p>
+
+<p>Almost at the very moment when Trafford discovered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>295</span>
+the loss of the papers, Henry Matthewson
+slipped through the grounds of the Hunter home,
+coming from the direction of the river, and entered
+by a side door. He went directly to the library,
+where his brother and the two Hunters had been in
+uneasy conference for some hours. As he entered,
+the three men started to their feet, first in surprise at
+his presence, and then in greater surprise at his
+appearance. His face was white and set, like the
+face of a man who has passed through some terrible
+struggle and has conquered or been conquered. One,
+looking at the inscrutable face, could not have
+decided which.</p>
+
+<p>“You!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson. “I
+have been trying to reach you all night.”</p>
+
+<p>“How could you reach here at this hour?” said
+Frank Hunter. “There’s no train.”</p>
+
+<p>Charles Hunter said nothing, but his quick understanding
+of men, and, perhaps, a quality in him that
+would have dared all that man could dare in a desperate
+case, told him more than either of his companions
+saw. For a moment he hesitated and then,
+seeing no denial in the face of the newcomer, said:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>296</span>
+“You have found the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>The others started and looked at the two men
+whom, instinctively, they knew to be stronger than
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Henry Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“Where are they?” asked Charles Matthewson
+and Frank Hunter, in a breath.</p>
+
+<p>The other did not answer. Then Charles repeated
+the question:</p>
+
+<p>“Where are they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Where would they be now, if they had come
+into your hands a half-hour ago?” demanded
+Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“Destroyed!” said Charles Hunter unhesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“They are where they will never menace us or
+ours again,” said Henry Matthewson, “unless the
+river gives them up. I dropped them from the
+bridge into the pool below the Falls a half-hour ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“But where did you find them?” was Frank
+Hunter’s question.</p>
+
+<p>Charles Hunter looked again at the other’s face,
+and said:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>297</span>
+“How serious is the matter?”</p>
+
+<p>“The man is merely stunned,” said Henry. “I
+think some one should find him, under the poplars at
+the foot of the hill&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Henry! My God!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson,
+stepping hastily forward. “You haven’t&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I have done what was necessary to obtain the
+papers and save ourselves and&mdash;our mother. I
+hope there is no one here who would have done less.
+I accept full responsibility for acting where none but
+a coward could hesitate.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pray God, Trafford’s not dead!” exclaimed
+Charles Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“Amen,” said Henry, and then added; “but be
+that as it may, the papers are.”</p>
+
+
+<p class="center p120 mb3">THE END</p>
+
+<!-- Books -->
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">Two Noteworthy Detective Stories by Burton E. Stevenson</p>
+
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Marathon Mystery</p>
+
+<p class="center">With five scenes in color by <span class="smcap">Eliot Keen</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">4th printing. $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>This absorbing story of New York and Long Island to-day
+has been republished in England. Its conclusion is most
+astonishing.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Sun</cite>: “Distinctly an interesting story&mdash;one of the sort that the
+reader will not lay down before he goes to bed.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Post</cite>: “By comparison with the work of Anna Katharine
+Green ... it is exceptionally clever ... told interestingly and well.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “<cite><span>The Holladay Case</span></cite> was a capital story of crime
+and mystery. In <cite><span>The Marathon Mystery</span></cite> the author is in even firmer
+command of the trick. He is skillful in keeping his reader in suspense,
+and every element in it is cunningly adjusted to preserving the mystery
+inviolate until the end.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “The excellence of its style, Mr. Stevenson
+apparently knowing well the dramatic effect of fluency and brevity, and
+the rationality of avoiding false clues and attempts unduly to mystify his
+readers.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Boston Herald</cite>: “This is something more than an ordinary detective
+story. It thrills you and holds your attention to the end. But besides all
+this the characters are really well drawn and your interest in the plot is
+enhanced by interest in the people who play their parts therein.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Town and Country</cite>: “The mystery defies solution until the end.
+The final catastrophe is worked out in a highly dramatic manner.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Holladay Case</p>
+
+<p class="center">With frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Eliot Keen</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">7th printing. $1.25</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>A tale of a modern mystery of New York and Etretat that
+has been republished in England and Germany.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “Professor Dicey recently said, ‘If you like a detective
+story take care you read a good detective story.’ This is a good
+detective story, and it is the better because the part of the hero is not
+filled by a member of the profession.... The reader will not want to
+put the book down until he has reached the last page. <strong>Most ingeniously
+constructed and well written into the bargain.</strong>”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">Noteworthy Books by ARTHUR COLTON and what some
+authorities say of them.</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Belted Seas</p>
+
+<p>A story of the wild voyages of the irrepressible Captain
+Buckingham in Southern seas. 12mo, $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Evening Post</cite>: “A whimsical Odyssey.... What Jacobs has
+done for the British seaman, Colton has done for the Yankee sailor.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Cincinnati Enquirer</cite>: “Never has the peculiar brand of humor which
+South America affords been more skilfully exploited than by Arthur Colton
+in <cite><span>The Belted Seas</span></cite>.... It is a joyous book, and he were a hardened
+reader indeed who would not chortle with satisfaction over
+<a name="Portate" id="Portate"></a><ins title="Original has 'Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portiac'">Kid
+Sadler’s adventures at Portate</ins>....
+Many of the stories are uproariously funny
+and recall Stockton at his best.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">Port Argent</p>
+<p class="center">12mo, $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center">A romance of a few weeks in an Ohio city “with growing pains.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Critic</cite>: “A story of breathless events and of remarkable concentration.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Mr. Colton’s work is particularly worthy of praise.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Life</cite>: “Arthur Colton is a writer with a remarkably individual outlook.
+Port Argent is bright and full of characteristic Coltonisms.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>San Francisco Chronicle</cite>: “A quiet story told with such restraint
+that it is only after laying down the volume that one realizes the bigness
+of the problems presented, in breadth and richness of thought, and the
+power of its action.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">Tioba</p>
+<p class="center">12mo, $1.25</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colton here depicts a gallery of very varied Americans.
+Tioba was a mountain which meant well but was mistaken.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “He is always the artist observer, adding stroke upon
+stroke with the surest of sure pens, ... an author who recalls the
+old traditions that there were once such things as good writing and good
+story-telling.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Critic</cite>: “In each of these stories he has presented some out-of-the-way
+fragment of life with faithfulness and power.... He has the artist’s
+instinct.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center p120">TWO ROMANCES OF TRAVEL</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Lightning Conductor</p>
+
+<p class="center p120"><i>The Strange Adventures of a Motor Car</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">By C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON</p>
+
+<p class="center">12mo. $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>The love story of a beautiful American and a gallant
+Englishman, who stoops to conquer. Two almost human
+automobiles, the one German, heavy and stubborn, and the
+other French, light and easy-going, play prominent parts.
+There is much humor. Picturesque scenes in Provence, Spain
+and Italy pass before the reader’s eyes in rapid succession.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty printings of this novel have been called for.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Nation</cite>: “Such delightful people, and such delightful scenes....
+It should be a good, practical guide to those about to go over the same
+course, while its charming descriptions of travel afford an ample new fund
+of pleasure, tinged with envy here and there to the stay-at-homes.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Sun</cite>: “A pleasant and felicitous romance.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Springfield Republican</cite>: “Wholly new and decidedly entertaining.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Chicago Post</cite>: “Sprightly humor ... the story moves.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Pursuit of Phyllis</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By J. HARWOOD BACON</p>
+
+<p class="center">With two illustrations by <span class="smcap">H. Latimer Brown</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">12mo. $1.25</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>A humorous love story with scenes in England, France,
+China and Ceylon.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “A bright and entertaining story of up-to-date
+men and women.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “Very enjoyable.... Its charm consists in its
+naturalness and the sparkle of the dialogue and descriptions.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Evening Post</cite>: “The story is brisk, buoyant and entertaining.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Sparkling in fun, clean-cut and straightforward in style
+as the young hero himself.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">New York</span>
+<span class="city">Chicago</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">2d printing of “A novel in the better sense of a word much
+sinned against.... It is decidedly a book worth while.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Transgression of<br />
+Andrew Vane</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By GUY WETMORE CARRYL</p>
+
+<p class="center">12mo. $1.50.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Times’ Saturday Review</span>:&mdash;“A strong and original story; ... the
+descriptions of conditions in the American colony [in Paris] are
+convincingly clever. The story from the prologue&mdash;one of exceptional
+promise in point of interest&mdash;to the climax ... is full
+of action and dramatic surprise.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">N. Y. Tribune</span>:&mdash;“The surprising developments we must leave the
+reader to find out for himself. He will find it a pleasant task; ...
+the surprise is not brought forward until precisely the right moment,
+and one is carried from the first chapter to the last with curiosity,
+and concern for the hero’s fate kept well alive.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">N. Y. Evening Sun</span>:&mdash;“Everybody who likes clever fiction should
+read it.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Literary World</span>:&mdash;“The prologue is as skilful a handling of a
+repellent theme as has ever been presented. The book is distinctly
+not one for the young person, but neither is it for the seeker after
+the risqué or the erotic.... In this novel are poured into a consistent
+and satisfying whole more of those vivid phases of Paris at
+which the author has shown himself a master hand.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Chicago Evening Post</span>:&mdash;“The reader stops with regret in his
+mind that Guy Wetmore Carryl’s story-telling work is done.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Chicago Tribune</span>:&mdash;“A brilliant piece of work.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Washington Star</span>:&mdash;“A more engaging villain has seldom entered
+the pages of modern fiction; ... sparkles with quotable epigrams.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Buffalo Express</span>:&mdash;“The sort of a story which one is very apt to
+read with interest from beginning to end. And, moreover, ...
+very bright and clever.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">New Haven Journal</span>:&mdash;“By far the most ambitious work he
+undertook, and likewise the most brilliant.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher"><i>29 W. 23d St.</i></span>
+<span class="city"><i>NEW YORK</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">“<strong>From any point of view it is an unusual novel, as much better
+than some of the ‘best sellers’ as a painting is better than
+a chromo.</strong>”&mdash;<cite>World’s Work.</cite></p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div class="figleft mt2 width120" id="divine-fire">
+  <img src="images/divine-fire.jpg" width="120" height="99" alt="Flames" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center p180">The Divine Fire</p>
+
+<p class="center p120"><span class="smcap">By</span> MAY SINCLAIR</p>
+
+<p class="center">$1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>6th printing of <cite>The story of a London poet</cite>.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><i>Mary Moss in the</i> <cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite>: “Certain it is that in all
+our new fiction I have found nothing worthy to compare with
+‘The Divine Fire,’ nothing even remotely approaching the same
+class.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>New York Globe</cite>: “The biggest surprise of the whole season’s
+fiction ... you never once stop to question its style, or its realism,
+or the art of its construction. You simply read right on, deaf
+to everything and everybody outside of the compelling magic of
+its pages.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Dial</cite>: “A full-length study of the poetic temperament, framed
+in a varied and curiously interesting environment, and drawn
+with a firmness of hand that excites one’s admiration....
+Moreover, a real distinction of style, besides being of absorbing
+interest from cover to cover.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Catholic Mirror</cite>: “One of the noblest, most inspiring and absorbing
+books we have read in years.”</p>
+
+<p><i>Owen Seaman in</i> <cite>Punch</cite> (London): “I find her book the most
+remarkable that I have read for many years.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Diary of a Musician</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">Edited by DOLORES M. BACON</p>
+
+<p class="center">With decorations and illustrations by <span class="smcap">Charles Edward
+Hooper</span> and <span class="smcap">H. Latimer Brown</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">$1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>Authorities agree that no particular musical celebrity is
+described or satirized; all review the book with enthusiasm,
+though some damn while others praise.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Times Review</cite>: “Of extraordinary interest as a study from the inside
+of the inwardness of a genius.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Much of that exquisite egotism, the huge, artistic Me and
+the tiny universe, that gluttony of the emotions, of the whole peculiar
+compound of hysteria, inspiration, vanity, insight and fidgets, which goes
+to make up that delightful but somewhat rickety thing which we call the
+artistic temperament is reproduced.... The ‘Diary of a Musician’ does
+what most actual diaries fail to do&mdash;writes down a man in full.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center p180">TALES OF MYSTERY</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The House of the Black Ring</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By FRED. LEWIS PATTEE. $1.50</p>
+
+<p>A story oddly combining humor and horror. It tells of the
+squire, a sort of feudal lord, his enemies, his fate and of his
+daughter and how she would have her way in love. The weird
+influence of <cite><span>The House of the Black Ring</span></cite> dominates the little
+“pocket” in the Seven Mountains of Pennsylvania.</p>
+
+<p><cite>The Washington Star</cite>: “An unusual combination of the weird and
+the humorous ... absorbing and often thrilling tale.... A forest
+fire ... is a dramatic episode which does Mr. Pattee exceptional credit
+in the restraint of his treatment and the effectiveness of his climaxes.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Evening Sun</cite>: “An interesting story ... piques the reader’s
+curiosity and keeps him reading till the mystery is solved.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">Red-Headed Gill</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By RYE OWEN. 4th printing. $1.50</p>
+
+<p>Red-Headed Gill is a splendid young country gentlewoman of
+Cornwall. Under a weird East Indian influence she is forced
+to live over again part of the life of a beauty of the days of Queen
+Bess&mdash;the famous Gill Red-Head.</p>
+
+<p><cite>New York Sun</cite>: “A charming girl whom the reader will watch with
+interest to the end. The author manages to transport her back into the
+life of her Tudor ancestress over and again naturally, and with great
+effect.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>New York Times Review</cite>: “There is much originality in the plot.
+The reader’s attention is at once enlisted, and is not allowed to flag.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">In the Dwellings
+of the Wilderness</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By C. BRYSON TAYLOR. $1.25</p>
+
+<p>A ghost story so plausibly told that many may, like one of the
+chief characters, think it might all be explained by natural
+causes after all. It tells the astonishing adventures of three
+American engineers, excavating in the heart of an Egyptian
+desert.</p>
+
+<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “The impression on the reader is so strong that
+he finds his grip on the book grow strained in spite of himself.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Globe</cite>: “Strikes a note of weird horror, and sustains that note
+page after page.... A vividness that makes it difficult to banish the
+picture from your memory for many a day.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<div class="tn">
+<p class="center p120">Transcriber’s Note:</p>
+
+<p class="noi left">Punctuation has been standardised except spaces
+before ’ll and ’re have been retained as they appear in the original
+publication. Hyphenation and spelling have also been retained as published,
+except as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="noi left">The <a href="#Eliot">title page</a> refers to a colour
+<a href="#frontispiece">frontispiece</a>. Unfortunately, a colour version
+could not be found at the time this eBook was prepared.</p>
+
+<ul>
+<li>Page 74<br />
+an’ let’s folks <i>changed to</i><br />
+an’ <a href="#lets">lets</a> folks</li>
+
+<li>Page 124<br />
+must be re-convened <i>changed to</i><br />
+must be <a href="#reconvened">reconvened</a></li>
+
+<li>Page 139<br />
+visit was to Milbank <i>changed to</i><br />
+visit was to <a href="#Millbank">Millbank</a></li>
+
+<li>Page 232<br />
+man who want me <i>changed to</i><br />
+man who <a href="#wants">wants</a> me</li>
+
+<li>Page 247<br />
+shadow of Pettengill’s potato storehouse <i>changed to</i><br />
+shadow of <a href="#Pettingill">Pettingill’s</a> potato storehouse</li>
+
+<li>Second page of book promotions<br />
+Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portaic <i>changed to</i><br />
+<a href="#Portate">Kid Sadler’s adventures at Portate</a></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 66051 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/old/66051-0.txt b/old/66051-0.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Millbank Case, by George Dyre
+Eldridge
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world 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
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: The Millbank Case
+       A Maine Mystery of To-day
+
+Author: George Dyre Eldridge
+
+Illustrator: Eliot Keen
+
+Release Date: August 12, 2021 [eBook #66051]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+             https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images
+             made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MILLBANK CASE ***
+
+
+
+
+
+  The Millbank Case
+  _A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY_
+
+  BY
+  GEORGE DYRE ELDRIDGE
+
+
+  _With a Frontispiece in Colour_
+  BY ELIOT KEEN
+
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+
+  NEW YORK
+  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+  1905
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1905
+  BY
+  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+
+  _Published May, 1905_
+
+  THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS
+  RAHWAY, N. J.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  CHAPTER                               PAGE
+
+     I. A STATEMENT OF THE CASE            1
+
+    II. MRS. PARLIN TESTIFIES             14
+
+   III. ALIVE AT MIDNIGHT                 33
+
+    IV. TRAFFORD GETS AN ASSURANCE        51
+
+     V. THE WEAPON IS PRODUCED            67
+
+     VI. MRS. MATTHEWSON AND TRAFFORD     85
+
+    VII. HUNTING BROKEN BONES            101
+
+   VIII. A MAN DISAPPEARS                119
+
+     IX. “YOU ARE MY MOTHER”             133
+
+      X. A SECOND MURDER?                153
+
+     XI. ALREADY ONE ATTEMPT             167
+
+    XII. AT THE DRIVERS’ CAMP            185
+
+   XIII. THE PRIEST’S STORY              199
+
+    XIV. A DUEL                          212
+
+     XV. IN MATTHEWSON’S CHAMBERS        227
+
+    XVI. THE RANGE 16 SCANDAL            243
+
+   XVII. THE STORY OF THE PAPERS         259
+
+  XVIII. THE MAN IS FOUND                275
+
+    XIX. THE LAST OF THE PAPERS          290
+
+
+
+
+THE MILLBANK CASE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A Statement of the Case
+
+
+Theodore Wing had no known enemy in the world. He was a man of forty;
+“well-to-do,” as they say in New England; a lawyer by profession, and
+already “mentioned” for a county judgeship. He was unmarried, but there
+were those who had hopes, and there was scarce a spinster in Millbank
+who hadn’t a kindly word and smile for him--at times. He was not a
+church member, but it was whispered that his clergyman was disposed to
+look leniently on this shortcoming, for Wing was a regular attendant
+at service and liberal with money for church purposes, which, shrewd
+guessers said, some of the church members were not.
+
+Wing lived in the River Road, just at the top of Parlin’s Hill. He
+was from “over East, somewheres,” and had come to Millbank as a law
+student, when old Judge Parlin was at the head of the Maine bar. He
+became in turn chief clerk, junior partner, and finally full partner
+to the judge, and when the latter died--of disappointment, it was
+said, due to failure to secure the chief justiceship--Wing became the
+head of the firm, and finally the firm itself; for he had a dislike
+for partnerships, and at forty his office associates were employés
+associated in particular cases, not partners in the general business.
+
+Judge Parlin was less than sixty years of age when he died and left
+a widow, the Parlin homestead, and an estate of private debts, that
+seemed to breed as Wing attempted to untangle affairs. For years his
+income had been large and his expenses small. His townsmen had rated
+him as their richest man who was not of the great Millbank logging
+firms. There was not a man but would have considered it an insult
+to the town to hint that Judge Parlin was worth less than a hundred
+thousand dollars. His investments turned out the veriest cats and dogs;
+and even in cases where the security might have been ample, the papers
+were often executed with such carelessness that collection rested
+on the honesty of the borrower and not on sufficiency of documentary
+evidence. In fact, the debts outvalued the resources two to one--that
+is, they seemed to, until it was announced that the Parlin homestead
+had been sold for a sum sufficient to pay all obligations and leave the
+widow a life income of five hundred dollars a year. People understood
+when it was learned that Wing himself was the purchaser.
+
+Mrs. Parlin was fifty years of age at the time of her husband’s
+death--a woman to whom stateliness had come with white hairs and the
+growth of ambition. From the hour of the judge’s death, the devotion
+she had given him living turned to the protection of his good name.
+In a distant, cold way she had always shown a regard for Wing, which
+changed to more marked affection, when his interposition provided
+the means to meet the last of her husband’s debts. She harboured no
+suspicion that the price paid for the homestead was beyond value. Not
+only had it been her home throughout her married life, but the judge
+had always spoken of its value in the large terms that were habitual
+with him in dealing with personal matters, and, from the moment
+when Wing discovered the condition of the estate, he held before her
+constantly the idea that the homestead would bring a price sufficient
+to cover the indebtedness. Indeed, she felt that she was making a
+sacrifice, when she consented to waive her dower rights, and chiefly
+she rejoiced that the purchaser was Wing and not a stranger.
+
+It is possible that some suspicion attached in her mind to the purchase
+of the annuity, and this may have been confirmed by Wing’s insistence
+that he would consent to occupy the homestead only on condition that
+she should make it her home for her lifetime. If, however, this was
+so, she proved herself large-minded enough to understand that her
+happiness--so far as this was possible to her now dwarfed life--was the
+best acknowledgment she could make to such a man, and during the five
+years since the judge’s death, she had been the mistress of Wing’s home.
+
+The house stands at the crown of Parlin’s Hill. The estate embraces
+twenty acres, divided nearly equally between farm land, meadow, and
+woodland. The portion lying west of River Road is an apple orchard,
+covering the slope of the hill from the road to the river. The roll of
+the land is to the southwest, where all through the summer days the
+sun lies in warm splendour, that seems to live in the heart and juices
+of the red and yellow fruit, which is the pride of Millbank. To have
+apples from the Parlin orchard, is to have the best that Millbank can
+give.
+
+The house is near the road on the easterly side. The winter snows are
+too deep to warrant building far from the travelled roads, and for
+the same reason the buildings are connected one with another, under a
+continuous roof, so that the breaking of roads and paths is unnecessary
+for access to stock. The house is large and square, with a long wing
+stretching to the ample woodshed, through which one passes to the
+barns. The body of the buildings is white, and the shutters green. A
+drive runs to the south of the house, leading from the road to the
+doors of the great barn. It passes the side door of the main house, the
+door to the wing and the woodshed, and the buildings shelter it from
+the fierce northern winds. In the flower-beds that border this drive,
+under the shelter of the house, the earliest flowers bloom in spring
+and the latest in autumn.
+
+Between the road and the front of the house is an enclosure of about
+half an acre--the “front yard,” as Millbank names it. A footpath
+runs from the front gate to the main door of the house, dividing the
+enclosure into two nearly equal parts. This enclosure is crowded with
+flower-beds and shrubbery; the paths are bordered with box hedges,
+while a few great evergreens tower above the roof, and make the place
+somewhat gloomy on dull days. In midsummer, however, when the sun turns
+the corner and thrusts strongly into the enclosure, the deep shadows of
+the great trees are cool and inviting.
+
+From the principal door, the main hall, broad and unencumbered, makes
+back until it is cut by the narrower hall from the south-side door.
+This side hall carries the stairs, and east of it are the dining room,
+kitchens, and pantries. The main hall goes on, in narrowed estate,
+between the dining room on the south and kitchens on the north, to the
+woodsheds. To the left, as one enters the house, is the great parlour,
+seldom used, and a sitting room, the gloomiest room on the floor, for
+it has a northern outlook only.
+
+In the angle of the two halls is the great room which Wing used as
+his library. It is some twenty-four by thirty-six feet, high-posted,
+and has a warm, sunny outlook to the south and west. It is lined with
+books and pictures; a great desk stands in the centre front, and
+lounges and easy chairs are scattered about in inviting confusion.
+The room above was his bedchamber, adjoining which is a bathroom, in
+its day the wonder and challenge of Millbank. An iron spiral stairway
+leads from the lower to the upper room, so that the occupant has the
+two rooms at his command independent of the remainder of the house.
+This was Wing’s special domain. Outside these two rooms, Mrs. Parlin
+ruled as undisputed as during her thirty years of wifehood. Within,
+Wing held control, and while no small share of his personal work was
+done here, the great room saw much of his private life of which his
+everyday acquaintances had little suspicion. The cases contained many a
+volume that belongs to literature rather than law, and here he found
+that best of rest from the onerous demands of a constantly growing
+practice--complete change in matter and manner of thought.
+
+On the night of the 10th of May, 1880, the light burned late in Lawyer
+Wing’s library. It was the scandal of Millbank that this occurred
+often. The village was given to regarding the night as a time when no
+man should work. “Early to bed and early to rise” was its motto, and
+though an opposite practice had left Theodore Wing with more of health,
+wealth, and wisdom than most Millbankians possessed, he had never
+succeeded in reconciling his townsmen to his methods. But to-night
+conditions were more outrageous than usual. Mrs. Merrick, from the
+bed of an ailing grandchild, glanced up the hill at midnight and saw
+the light still burning. Old Doctor Portus, coming villageward from a
+confinement case, an hour later, saw the light as he passed the house
+and shook his head with dire prognostications. If Wing should be sick,
+old Doctor Portus would certainly not be called in attendance, and
+therefore he could measure this outrage of nature’s laws with a mind
+uninfluenced by personal bias.
+
+At four o’clock, however, a farmer’s son, who had yielded the night to
+Millbank’s temptations, hurrying farmward to his morning chores, saw no
+light growing dim in the first flush of the spring morning to attract
+his attention to a scene that later knowledge revealed. At six, the
+hired man came down the back stairs and went through the woodshed to
+the barns. Turning the heavy wooden bar that held the great doors fast,
+he swung them open and let in the soft morning air.
+
+Then, his eye travelled along the stretch of house and he saw something
+that startled him. The side door was standing ajar--half open--and on
+the stone step was a huddled mass that looked strangely like a man,
+half lying and half crouching. Before the hired man had passed half the
+distance to the door, he knew that the huddled mass was Theodore Wing.
+His head and right arm rested on the threshold and held the door from
+closing; his body was on the stone step. There was blood spattered on
+the white of the westerly door-post, and the left temple of the man,
+which was upward as he lay, showed a spot around which the flesh was
+blackened as if powder-burnt, while between the head and the threshold
+a thin stream of blood still flowed and fell drop by drop on the stone
+below. The eyes were wide open and the look in them seemed to say that,
+suddenly as death had come, it had not come too suddenly for the man to
+realise that here had fallen the end of his hopes and ambitions, his
+strivings and accomplishments, in a form that left him powerless to
+strike a blow in his own behalf.
+
+This murder was the most tragic event that had ever happened in the
+history of Millbank. It caused the more terror in that, so far as
+any one could understand, it was absolutely without motive. It was
+not known that Theodore Wing had an enemy in the world. Millbank was
+proud of him with a wholesome, kindly pride, which found much of
+self-gratulation in having such a citizen. Yet this man had been struck
+down by a murderer’s hand, so silently that no sound had been heard,
+and the murderer had gone as he had come, without leaving trace of his
+coming or going.
+
+Contrary to expectation aroused by the first news, the house seemed
+not to have been entered. The whole of the crime was evidenced in the
+dead man on the stone step. Apparently, there had been a ring at the
+bell and a shot from a pistol, held close to the head of the man, as
+he stood in the doorway, by some one who had stationed himself at
+the easterly end of the doorstep, and who, his purpose accomplished,
+slipped into the darkness which had opened to give him way for this
+deed. It was uncanny in the extreme and gave a sense of insecurity
+to life that an ordinary murder, due to traceable causes, would have
+failed utterly to give.
+
+The closest inspection furnished no clue. There was no footprint on
+the drive, and the grass at the end of the step, where the murderer
+must have stood, gave no token. And yet--here was another fearsome
+fact--the deed had been done by some one who knew the house and its
+peculiarities. The door had two bell-pulls, one on either door-post.
+Originally there had been only the one on the right or easterly
+post, and this was the general bell. When Wing took the library as
+his special room, he had a change made and the bell transferred to
+that room, so that his personal visitors could come and go without
+disturbing the house. In a little time, however, this proved very
+annoying, because most visitors came to this door, and he gave an order
+for a general bell to be put in. This he intended should also have a
+pull on the right-hand post, but the workman, who seemed to have no
+conception that one post could carry two pulls, put it on the left.
+Thus the post nearest Wing’s room carried the general bell, and the
+further post his own, and neither of the bells could be heard on the
+premises devoted to the other. At first, this condition gave rise to
+troublesome mistakes, and Wing talked often of a change, but gradually
+the visitors to the house became accustomed to the condition and the
+need of a change disappeared.
+
+It was clear, therefore, that whoever the murderer was, he had rung
+the bell which alone could be heard by the lawyer at his desk, and
+therefore must have been acquainted with the peculiarity of the
+bell-pulls. Had the lawyer had any cause to fear? Apparently not, for
+the shade to the window nearest his desk was raised and he evidently
+had answered the bell as a matter of course, not even taking with him
+a light. But, if he was seated at his desk, as seemed clearly the case,
+the man must have seen him as he came up the drive and might easily
+have shot him through the window. Why, then, had he called him to the
+door? The body had not been disturbed after it fell; the watch was in
+the fob, and money in the pocket. Murder was evidently the murderer’s
+purpose; yet he had summoned his victim, when clearly he had him in his
+power without so doing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Mrs. Parlin Testifies
+
+
+In addition to the ill-fated lawyer, there were but three people in the
+Parlin household--the widow; a general house girl, Mary Mullin; and the
+hired man, Jonathan Oldbeg, a nephew of the Mullin woman. Oldbeg was
+about thirty, and his aunt forty. The widow’s room was in the northwest
+corner of the second floor, while that of the Mullin woman was over the
+kitchen. The hired man slept over the woodshed. All the windows of the
+three rooms gave to the north, excepting two in Mrs. Parlin’s room,
+which opened to the west, overlooking the orchard and the river.
+
+Mrs. Parlin was a tall, striking woman who carried her head, crowned
+with waves of white hair, with an air that some named queenly, and
+others by that terrible New England word “conceited.” The death of
+her husband had been a terrible blow to her soaring ambitions; but
+this she had outlived, at least to outward seeming. Childless, as
+well as husbandless, the dormant maternal instinct, which is a part
+of every true woman, had stirred to life under the care lavished upon
+her by Wing, whose years were sufficiently less than her own to give a
+natural tone to the pseudo relation of mother and son. Nevertheless,
+there had been something of the maternal in her relationship to the
+judge--of that phase of the maternal which gives to natural weakness
+courage for defence. It was not in personal finance alone that the
+judge was a grown-up boy. The sense of fear was so little developed as
+to amount scarce to caution. Scrupulous in duty, he gave no thought to
+the enemies or enmities he created, while she saw in these not alone
+threats to his professional career, but as well danger of a personal
+nature. Even she, standing guard as she did, had not been able to save
+him from enemies who defeated his noble ambition and would, as she
+believed, as readily have destroyed him. As the intensity of her grief
+softened with time, the solicitude with which she had followed her
+husband’s career, was transferred to Wing, but with less of the factor
+of self than it possessed of old, with the result that she grew more
+lovable and companionable, and gained a friendly interest from the
+village which had not been hers during the judge’s lifetime.
+
+To this recovered peace of mind the tragic death of Wing came as a
+crushing blow, the full weight of which few realised until the broken,
+haggard woman was seen of the public for the first time at the inquest.
+Years seemed to have left their impress upon her, and there were many
+who noted that the immediate physical effect was as much more marked
+than that following the judge’s death, as Wing’s death had been the
+more tragic. Her husband’s death left to her the responsibility of
+protecting his name, in co-operation with his partner and friend.
+Wing’s death snatched away the last prop and stay of her years.
+Husbandless and childless, to her life had no further meaning, and
+while the community was whispering that she was again rich--for it was
+known that she was the principal legatee of the dead lawyer’s will--she
+was looking down the years with a dread that made hope impossible.
+
+Her testimony was of the briefest. She had said “good-night” to Wing
+at half-past nine. She had gone to the library for that purpose, as was
+her custom evenings when he did not sit with her in her own sitting
+room till her early bedtime.
+
+“Was it his custom to spend the evening in your sitting room or the
+library?” the coroner asked.
+
+“Two or three evenings a week he spent in my sitting room. The other
+evenings in the library, when he was at home.”
+
+“Was he away much, evenings?”
+
+“Only when he was at court in Augusta or Portland. When he had cases at
+Norridgewock he always drove home at night.”
+
+“At what time did you have supper?”
+
+“At six.”
+
+“On the night of the murder?”
+
+The witness nodded, too much affected to speak her answer.
+
+“Who was present at supper?”
+
+“Theodore and myself.”
+
+“Mary Mullin and Oldbeg did not eat with you?”
+
+This was a sore spot in Millbank’s estimate of the widow Parlin. The
+town still held it a Christian duty for “help” to eat at the same
+table with their employers. Every departure from this primitive rule
+was occasion for heart-burnings and recriminations.
+
+“They ate by themselves in the kitchen.”
+
+There was a slight raising of the head, a shadow, as it were, of the
+old self-assertive pride, which in other days would have made itself
+manifest in answering this question. So deep was Millbank in the
+tragedy that the audience almost lost the weight of the heinous fact
+confessed in this answer.
+
+“Did you go directly to your sitting room after supper?”
+
+“No, we went out into the front yard, to look at the flower-beds, and
+then crossed the road to the orchard and walked through that to the
+river-bank.”
+
+“From there you returned to the house?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Where did you go on your return?”
+
+“To my sitting room. He lighted my lamp and then excused himself,
+because of some work he had to do.”
+
+“When did you see him again?”
+
+“At half-past nine, when I went to bid him good-night.”
+
+“Are you certain of the time?”
+
+“Yes; for I stopped to wind the clock as I went through the hall, and
+noticed that it was exactly half-past nine.”
+
+“There are two doors to the library, are there not--one from the main
+hall and one from the side?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“By which one did you enter the library?”
+
+“By the one from the side hall.”
+
+“Which is near the side door of the house?”
+
+Again she had to nod assent. This was the door through which Wing had
+passed to his death.
+
+“Did you knock at the door before entering?”
+
+“Always.”
+
+Again that slight suggestive raising of the head.
+
+“Did he open the door for you?”
+
+“Yes. He knew my knock, and always came to open the door.”
+
+“Did you notice anything peculiar about him or the room?”
+
+“I did not.”
+
+“Was there anything to indicate whether he was writing or reading when
+you knocked?”
+
+“He had a book in his left hand and the light was on a small table by
+his reading chair.”
+
+“This reading chair and table, where were they in the room?”
+
+“Before the fireplace, about the centre of the north side.”
+
+“Was there a fire in the fireplace?”
+
+“Yes; there were a few wood coals.”
+
+“Was it a cold night?”
+
+“No; but he was very fond of a wood fire and when the evening was not
+too warm had one, even if he had to have a window open.”
+
+“Was the window open that night?”
+
+“Yes; the one nearest the River Road, overlooking the driveway.”
+
+“That was the nearest window to the desk?”
+
+“The nearest of the south windows. The desk stood between the two west
+windows.”
+
+“Did you notice whether the shades were drawn?”
+
+“They were drawn to the west windows, but were raised to all four of
+the south windows.”
+
+“Were you long in the room?”
+
+“Only long enough to say ‘good-night’ and ask him not to read too late.”
+
+“What did he say to this?”
+
+“Laughed, as he always did, when I spoke of his sitting up late, and,”
+in a voice that was almost a sob; “said, ‘You know, mother, I can’t
+get over my bad habits, but really to-night I’m only going to read a
+chapter or two more, for I must write a letter and then go to bed. I’ve
+got a busy day to-morrow.’”
+
+“Was that all he said?”
+
+“Excepting ‘good-night.’”
+
+“Do you recall anything in his manner, tone, or words that indicated
+trouble or apprehension of any kind?”
+
+“Nothing. He was, as always, cheerful and, seemingly, happy, and
+laughed quite carelessly when he spoke of his bad habit.”
+
+“When did you next see him?”
+
+The question came with a suddenness that startled every one who heard
+it, including the witness. She grew white and for a moment swayed as
+if she would fall. Dr. Rogers, her physician, stepped towards her, but
+before he could reach her side, she recovered by what seemed a supreme
+effort of the will, and, raising her head, answered:
+
+“In the morning, a little after six, lying dead on the threshold of the
+south door.”
+
+Then her head dropped on the table in front of her, and her face was
+hidden from the gaze of her curious neighbours, but not a sob was
+heard. She had spent her tears long before.
+
+At an adjourned session, she testified that she had heard no unusual
+noise during the night. She was a sound sleeper and did not wake
+easily. She had fallen asleep soon after hearing the clock strike ten.
+She did not recall awaking until aroused by the noise made by Mary
+Mullin knocking at her door, soon after six o’clock, to tell her of the
+discovery of the murder.
+
+“Do you believe that a pistol shot could have been fired at your
+side door and you not hear it?” the coroner asked, with that sudden
+sharpness he had at times.
+
+“I am compelled to believe that it did occur;” and there was to more
+than one onlooker an air of defiance in the answer.
+
+“In advance of this, would you believe it possible?” he demanded.
+
+She looked at him as if weighing the question and its purpose, and then
+said deliberately:
+
+“No.”
+
+The answer manifestly accorded with the sense of the spectators, among
+whom there were sundry exchanges of glances not all friendly to the
+witness. But the coroner was speaking again:
+
+“Mrs. Parlin, what do you know of the parentage of the late Theodore
+Wing?”
+
+Every head was bent towards the witness to catch the answer to what
+the veriest dullard suspected was the most important question thus far
+asked. The witness grew pale--paler than she had been at any time, and
+there came into her bearing a touch of defiance rather felt than seen.
+She was apparently arming herself against coroner and spectators.
+
+“He was the son of Judge Parlin.”
+
+If she had aimed at sensation, she could not have hoped for greater
+success. A murmur of surprise ran about the room, and the confusion
+rose to a height that for a time defied the efforts of the coroner to
+preserve order. Curiosity to hear further questions and answers came to
+his aid, and silence was restored.
+
+“By a former marriage?”
+
+“No. He was born out of wedlock.”
+
+“When did you first learn of this?”
+
+“On the eleventh of this month.”
+
+“The day succeeding the murder?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“How did you learn of it?”
+
+“From a paper in the judge’s handwriting, found in Theodore’s desk, and
+enclosed in an envelope addressed ‘Mrs. Amelia Parlin; Mr. Theodore
+Wing; to be opened and read by the survivor, in event of the death of
+either, and until such death to remain unopened.’”
+
+“Was this inscription also in the handwriting of your late husband?”
+
+Now many noted that she had said “Judge Parlin,” and not “my late
+husband,” as if she would remind them from the start of the public’s
+share in his acts, rather than of her own.
+
+“It was.”
+
+“Please produce that paper.”
+
+The witness drew forth a large square envelope and handed it to the
+coroner, who said to the jury:
+
+“I regret that I am compelled to read to you a paper which was
+evidently intended for one person’s reading only, and that Mrs.
+Parlin or Mr. Wing, according as the one or the other should be the
+longest-lived. The circumstances of the death which placed this in the
+hands of the other for perusal, leaves no alternative. Before reading,
+let me say, I was a townsman of Judge Parlin: I had the honour to know
+him intimately, and notwithstanding what I am about to read you, I
+still hold it an honour. He was an able lawyer, an upright judge, a
+good citizen, and, I may add, a noble man. If he sinned, who of us is
+there that is without sin? If there be such, let him cast the first
+stone. I am not entitled to do so.”
+
+The widow sat with head held high, as if there had come to her again
+the old strength that so many felt was gone forever. When her husband
+was in question, her courage had no limit. She flinched from no eye
+that was turned towards her, but there was that in her own which seemed
+to resent even the kindly words of the coroner, as if in protest that
+they implied wrong in her husband’s past which she would not for one
+instant admit. It was not for them to accuse, still less to excuse.
+What he had done was a thing that concerned him and his God alone, and
+her look said more plainly than words, “neither do I accuse him!” The
+instinct of defence covered her as a shield.
+
+Meantime the coroner read:
+
+“‘There were three persons who had the right to know what I am about to
+write. One died many years ago. Until another dies, these words are not
+to be read. In the course of nature, it is probable that the reading
+will fall to Theodore, not to my wife. If so, I believe that when
+Theodore reads them, I will already have been reunited to my wife and
+will have told her all that I write here, and so told it that she will
+feel my sincerity more clearly than I can make it felt by any written
+words.
+
+“‘Although born and raised in Millbank, I read law in the office of
+Judge Murdock in Bangor. My father had a great admiration for the judge
+and, dying early, before he had seen me admitted to the bar, asked his
+friend to take me into his office. If I have attained anything of note
+in my profession, I owe it largely to the fidelity with which Judge
+Murdock discharged his trust.
+
+“‘While in his office and shortly before I returned to Millbank,
+I became involved with a young woman of Bangor, who became by me
+the mother of the man now known as Theodore Wing--he will find his
+name legally established by action of the Legislature in 1841.
+Unfortunately, I can say little that is good of her; I will say nothing
+otherwise, if I can avoid it. I shirk no part of the responsibility for
+the wrong done. God alone knows that if she failed in true womanhood,
+then or after, it was not I who was wholly to blame. Thus much I can
+say, she was and is a woman of brilliant mind and shrewd resources,
+which have carried her far socially.
+
+“‘Fortunately I did not lack money, and so was able to provide
+comfortably for the woman and her child. As a matter of justice, I
+offered marriage, but she made it a condition that her child should be
+placed in some institution, urging that it would otherwise always be a
+stigma upon us. To this I would not consent, and her election to forego
+the vindication of marriage put me on my guard, for I could not believe
+that a woman of her temperament would deliberately elect to go through
+life encumbered with an unfathered child. The event proved me right,
+for within three months she had placed the infant in an institution for
+orphans, and returned to Bangor with a plausible tale accounting for
+her absence.
+
+“‘She, of course, counted safely on my silence, but I did not hesitate
+to make it a condition that I should take possession of the child for
+whom I provided, rearing him in such a way that he has taken a place
+in the world equal to that of his parents, and as untrammelled by his
+unsuspected birth as it is possible for one to be. My marriage has
+never been blessed with children, and thus to him and my wife of
+thirty years, the two on earth whose claim upon me is most sacred, I am
+able to leave all that I have accumulated.
+
+“‘He has been to me all that a son could be. Let this narrative be to
+him, if he ever reads it, an explanation of anything in which I have
+been less than a father to him.
+
+“‘I see no necessity for continuing this narrative further, save that
+it may be to my son a relief to know something more of his mother,
+and to my wife a joy to know that my wrong did not bring a woman to
+misery and worldly ruin. Within a year of her desertion of my son,
+I attended her wedding to a man of equal social rank, who has since
+risen to wealth and political power. She has been a notable aid to
+him, and her name is well-nigh as often pronounced in connection with
+his fortunes as is his own. She is the mother of children who have
+taken good social positions, and some of whom seem to have inherited
+their mother’s brilliance of mind and unflinching purpose and their
+father’s ability in money and power getting. To say more than this,
+even to the two dear ones, of whom one alone is to read these lines,
+would be an injustice to the woman herself and to her children. To her
+influence, exerted against me, I attribute my failure to secure the
+chief justiceship. As great as was the disappointment, I can write the
+fact to-day without bitterness toward her and without purpose to accuse
+her of injustice. If by meeting the penalty of my sin, I can avert it
+from others, I am content.’”
+
+Unless one knew the unbending spirit of the man in matters of right
+and wrong, he must fail to understand the keenness of feeling covered
+by the apparently cold, formal statement of fact to which Judge Parlin
+had confined his written words. To the witness on the witness rack,
+however, those words were as if the living man spoke again and laid
+bare a heart torn with the humiliation of self-condemnation, more
+terrible to him than the judgment of any human tribunal. Realising the
+bitterness of spirit in which he had spoken, she was stirred anew by
+that long-dead instinct of protection, which had made her weakness a
+shield in the past to his strength, and held high her head, too proud
+of her dead to allow any one to find in her the faintest blame for
+this strong spirit whose words she, and she alone, read to their last
+meaning.
+
+The hush that followed the reading was that strong suspension of every
+function which betokens deep emotion. Before the mass had recovered,
+the coroner’s voice broke harshly upon them:
+
+“When did you first know of the existence of this paper?”
+
+“The paper itself on the eleventh. I saw the envelope and its address
+by accident a week or ten days before.”
+
+“Can you fix the exact date?”
+
+“I cannot. I saw it by accident, as I have said, and I assumed it
+related to something Judge Parlin had desired done in the event named
+on the envelope. I asked no questions regarding it.”
+
+“Will you state on oath that you knew nothing of the contents of this
+paper until after the death of Mr. Theodore Wing?”
+
+The white head went up, and there was a sting of rebuke in the tone in
+which the answer came:
+
+“I was under oath when I gave my testimony. I stated then that I first
+learned of this paper and its contents on May eleventh. I can add
+nothing to that.”
+
+“Did you ever suspect the relationship of your husband to Mr. Wing
+prior to the eleventh of this month, when you saw this paper?”
+
+“I did not.”
+
+“Would a knowledge of that relationship, if you had known it while he
+was living, have changed in any way your feeling towards Mr. Wing?”
+
+The witness paused as if she would question her own heart before
+answering, and the coroner waited patiently, with apparent
+understanding of the need. A hush fell on the room, like that which had
+followed the reading of the remarkable paper. Then Mrs. Parlin looked
+directly at the coroner and answered distinctly and without a tremor in
+her voice:
+
+“I think it would.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the coroner. “I am sorry if I have in any way
+disturbed you unnecessarily in this examination. I know that you
+believe I have aimed simply at my duty.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Alive at Midnight
+
+
+An hour after the close of the day’s session, Mrs. Parlin was in her
+sitting room, with the door closed and the shades lowered. On the
+opposite side of the small light-stand sat a rather undersized man,
+plainly dressed, and of somewhat insignificant aspect. Distinctly, the
+woman in her was disappointed.
+
+“I have sent for you, Mr. Trafford,” she said, slowly and apparently
+reluctantly, “because both my husband and Theodore--Mr. Wing--had
+the utmost confidence in your ability. I want you to find Mr. Wing’s
+murderer. It’s not a matter of cost--I simply want him found.”
+
+As she spoke, she gathered confidence, and the tone of her final words
+almost evidenced a belief that he could do what she asked. She stopped
+speaking, and the insignificance of the man’s appearance was again more
+real to her and sent a chill over her earnestness.
+
+“If you entrust the case to me,” he said, in a tone singularly winning
+for a man in his station and of his personal appearance, “I shall do
+my best to sustain the confidence Judge Parlin and Mr. Wing gave me;
+but let me warn you, in my profession there is no royal road. I have no
+instinct that enables me to scent a murderer or other criminal. I reach
+results by hard work, close attention to details, and perseverance.
+I make it a condition of undertaking any case that nothing shall be
+concealed from me. I must start with at least the knowledge that my
+principal possesses.”
+
+“I’ve told everything to the coroner. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve heard
+the testimony.” She spoke with dignity, almost with hostility, in her
+voice.
+
+“I heard the testimony,” he said, “but are you sure you’ve told
+everything? There’s sometimes things that we know which aren’t
+facts--that is, not facts as the term is understood when one is giving
+testimony.”
+
+“For instance?”
+
+“You have impressions of what led up to this tragedy.” There was
+nothing of question in his tone. It was as if he stated what was
+indisputable.
+
+The statement seemed to strike her and to arouse a new train of
+thought. She was silent for some time, and he sat watching anxiously,
+but without a sign of impatience. At last she looked up and answered:
+
+“You are mistaken; I’m absolutely in the dark. There’s nothing to point
+in any direction.”
+
+He accepted the disappointment, but accepted it as absolute. He
+evidently had striven by the assertion so positively made to surprise
+her into new thought, with the hope that it might hit on something that
+in his skilled hands would have meaning. He saw not only that he had
+not succeeded, but that there was no ground for success.
+
+“That, in itself,” he said, “is significant. It shows that we must
+dig deeper in his life than we have yet done. The motive; we want the
+motive!”
+
+“There was no motive,” she said. “It was motiveless. There are men who
+do murder for murder’s sake.” Under sting of her life experience, she
+spoke with keen bitterness.
+
+He leaned across the table, and for the instant she saw something in
+the man she had not seen before; something that flashed like a gleam of
+new intelligence and was gone with its very birth.
+
+“There are no motiveless crimes,” he said. “In this case, of all
+others, you may be sure a motive existed, and that when we put our
+hands on it, we shall find it a tremendous one--that is, tremendous in
+its imperative force.”
+
+“But what could be the motive--against a man like him?”
+
+“Because he was such a man, we may be the more certain of motive,”
+he said. “Under other conditions it might have been Judge Parlin.”
+He spoke at hazard--perhaps; but the effect was something startling.
+She grew pale as at the inquest before she answered as to the first
+knowledge of Wing’s death, and her companion expected for the moment
+that she would faint. But she was a woman equal to noteworthy sudden
+efforts, and even as he watched she overcame the momentary weakness.
+Yet it was with pale lips she stammered:
+
+“I understand. It might have been the judge.”
+
+Trafford waited, seemingly expecting something more, but when the pause
+grew awkward, he continued, “He told you he had a letter to write
+before he went to bed. Had he written it?”
+
+“I don’t know. It’s a thing we never shall know.”
+
+“It’s a thing that we will know, and that in a very short time. Who
+entered the room first that morning?” and there was a sense of action
+in his tone that caused her to look up with sudden interest.
+
+“I did. Mary told me expressly that she hadn’t dared open the door
+until I came, and Jonathan was by the body, outside.”
+
+“Was the door closed?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Who closed it?”
+
+“I have never asked. I supposed it hadn’t been open.”
+
+“It was open,” he said. “He came to the door without a light when the
+bell rang. Naturally, he left the door open so that the light from the
+room would shine through. He would leave it wide open, to get the full
+light. Somebody shut that door!”
+
+Mary and Jonathan were called and questioned. The latter set the matter
+at rest. When he discovered the body he stooped over it to make certain
+that Mr. Wing was dead. Then, remembering to have heard that you must
+not touch a murdered man until the coroner comes, he arose without
+touching him and as he did so saw through the outer door that the door
+to the library was closed.
+
+“The outer door was wide open?” Trafford said.
+
+“No, sir, ’twant neither. ’Twas against Mr. Wing’s head and arm. If it
+hadn’t been fur them, it would ’a’ shut too.”
+
+After the two had gone, Trafford declared he would see the room, but
+proposed first to do so alone. He entered from the main hall, set
+his light on the lamp-mat on the writing-desk, and took his station
+in front of the door from the side hall. Here he stood for at least
+ten minutes studying the room. Then he walked to a medium-sized safe
+that stood to the right of the fire-jamb and was partially hidden by
+book-shelves near the door from the side hall.
+
+Having studied this for some time, he made a minute examination
+of every part of the room, including the blotting paper in the
+writing-pad on the desk, which he finally lifted carefully and held
+before the mirror to examine the few ink-marks it showed. Of these he
+took note in a small memorandum book. They seemed to be the only things
+that struck his attention particularly. Then he rang and told Mary to
+ask Mrs. Parlin to come to the library.
+
+“Is that the blotting-pad that was here that night?” he asked. “And you
+were the first one who came to this desk in the morning?” when she had
+answered him as to the identity of the pad. “And there was no letter on
+the desk?”
+
+“None.”
+
+“Then, evidently he had not written the letter he told you of?”
+
+“Evidently not,” she assented.
+
+“Then he must have been killed before he had time to write?”
+
+“It would seem so.”
+
+“And, therefore, probably very soon after you left him?”
+
+“I can see no other conclusion, unless he changed his mind and didn’t
+write,” she assented.
+
+“Now we come to one of the impressions which you could not testify to
+as a fact, but which may be of far more value. Did he say he had a
+letter to write in a way that makes you think he may have changed his
+mind?”
+
+“No,” she said. “I understood, from the way in which he said it, that
+it was the important thing he had to do before going to bed. I went
+away satisfied that he would write the letter early and then get to
+bed. He certainly meant that the next day was to be a busy one.”
+
+“Then he probably was killed, very soon, since he had not written the
+letter.”
+
+“I think so.”
+
+“Now, if you please, let me send for Jonathan again.”
+
+When the hired man came, he glanced over his shoulder in an uneasy way,
+as if he did not more than half like the room. Trafford motioned him to
+a chair and without any preliminaries suddenly demanded:
+
+“At what hour are you going to testify that you went to bed that
+night?”
+
+Thus far Oldbeg had simply been called upon to testify to the finding
+of the body. The remainder of his testimony was to be given later.
+
+“About nine o’clock; not more’n five minutes one way or ’tother.”
+
+“What were you doing on Canaan Street at five minutes after midnight?”
+
+Oldbeg looked frightened, and Mrs. Parlin showed considerable anxiety
+in the look she cast on the two men.
+
+“Come,” said Trafford sharply. “If I can find out you were there, I can
+find out why you were there. I’d rather hear it from you.”
+
+“I was comin’ from the twelve-o’clock train. My cousin, Jim Shepard,
+went to Portland to work an’ I saw him off.”
+
+“Be careful,” Trafford warned him. “If you were coming from the
+station, you’d have come up Somerset Street, not Canaan.”
+
+“Why, ye see,” the man explained, placed at once at his ease in having
+something to tell of which he had knowledge; “Jim, he was spendin’
+the evenin’ with his gal, Miss Flanders, in Canaan Street, an’ I
+was to call fur him thar; an’ he was so late we couldn’t get round
+to the station, an’ so we made a short cut through Gray’s Court an’
+jest catched the train, an’ that was all. We had to run, or he’d ’a’
+missed it any way. So I come back that way, instead o’ through Somerset
+Street.”
+
+“Then you came through Canaan Street to River Road----”
+
+“No, I didn’t,” the other interrupted. “I cut across lots back o’
+Burgess, ’cause ’twas shorter, an’ struck River Road down in front of
+Miller’s.”
+
+“Yes; and then came up to the driveway and so into the house?”
+
+“Yep!”
+
+“You must have got in about ten minutes after twelve.”
+
+“Jest to a dot!” he exclaimed in evident admiration of the other’s
+shrewdness. “Jest to a dot. I looked to my watch an’ ’twas jest ten
+minutes arter midnight.”
+
+“Then you must have passed close to the side-door step?”
+
+“Yess’r; fact, ye might say, I hit agin it, for I did knock my toe agin
+it as I passed.”
+
+“Was Mr. Wing’s body there then?” The demand was quick and imperative.
+
+“No, siree! Do you s’pose I’d ’a’ waited till mornin’ to rout ’em out
+ef it had ben? Mr. Wing was in this ere room.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“I saw his shadder on the curtain. He was walkin’ up an’ down. I seed
+him turn as I come up the drive.”
+
+“But why didn’t you see him? The shade was up to that window, when he
+was found in the morning.”
+
+“Yep; but they was all down when I come up the drive, an’ I saw his
+shadder agin ’em.”
+
+Further questioning elicited no added information from the man,
+excepting the statement that as his cousin Jim swung on to the rear
+end of the car, another man had swung on to the front end, suddenly
+rushing out of the darkness. Jonathan did not know who it was; indeed,
+had hardly given the matter a thought, so anxious had he been lest Jim
+should be left. When he had gone, Trafford turned to Mrs. Parlin and
+asked:
+
+“When do you think Mr. Wing intended writing that letter, if he hadn’t
+written it at ten minutes after midnight?”
+
+“He must have changed his mind, after all,” she answered.
+
+“Evidently, he did,” he said.
+
+Then he took up the matter of Judge Parlin’s confession.
+
+“I do not wish to pain you,” he said, “but I would not be justified in
+letting that drop without going into it further. Have you any suspicion
+who Theodore’s mother was--or is, since she is still living, or was
+between five and six years ago?”
+
+“I haven’t the faintest suspicion,” she said. “But surely this has been
+raked open enough. You can let that wound heal.”
+
+“I can let nothing heal,” he said. “I don’t for the life of me see how
+that can have anything to do with this murder, but that’s no reason I
+may not find that it has lots to do with it. At any rate, I must find
+her out.”
+
+“Can you do it on the feeble clue we have?” she asked.
+
+He smiled.
+
+“On such a clue, I’ll trace her in a week and not half try. Your
+husband intended to shield her from discovery, and but for these
+untoward circumstances, we would be bound to respect his wishes. As it
+is, I must know the identity of the woman. I hope I’ll find nothing
+to compel me to go farther. In the meantime, I’m going to take with
+me this blotting-pad, and I want you to examine it so that you can
+identify it beyond question, blotter and all. It’s too important for
+any mistake.”
+
+Just then Mary Mullin brought word that Mr. McManus had come in
+response to a message sent earlier in the evening by Mr. Trafford. Mr.
+McManus had been with Mr. Wing for a number of years, and held the most
+confidential relation to his principal of any in the office. Since the
+murder he had naturally taken charge of his personal affairs. He was a
+man of thirty, tall and lithe, with a nervous force about him that was
+held well in control by strong will-power.
+
+“Do you know what special engagements Mr. Wing had for the eleventh,
+that caused him to expect a particularly busy day?” the detective asked.
+
+“None connected with office matters. It must have been a personal
+engagement.”
+
+“Did you open this safe the day after the murder?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Was it properly closed and locked?”
+
+“So far as I could see.”
+
+“I’d have given a hundred dollars if I’d been here,” Trafford said
+earnestly.
+
+McManus looked at him in surprise.
+
+“Certainly,” he said, “you don’t suspect robbery?”
+
+“I don’t suspect anything,” Trafford replied, somewhat brusquely. “Of
+all things, I avoid suspicion and guesses. I’d like you to open the
+safe again.”
+
+McManus knelt, drew from his pocket a paper with a series of figures
+written on it, and following these with the turnings of the knob, threw
+open the door. Within was revealed a small iron door surrounded by
+pigeon-holes, the divisions of wood. Trafford dropped on his knees and
+gave peculiar scrutiny to the door, and especially the lock. Then he
+turned towards McManus:
+
+“These two empty pigeon-holes on the left; they were empty when you
+first opened the safe?”
+
+“Every paper is in the exact place I found it,” McManus answered
+sharply. “My profession has taught me some things!”
+
+“And this door?”
+
+“It was closed and locked. Here is the key.”
+
+Trafford opened the door, revealing packages of letters, filling about
+half the space above the small drawer which was at the lowest portion.
+
+“You have examined these letters?”
+
+“Only sufficiently to be able to identify them. They relate to certain
+logging interests of firms employing Mr. Wing.”
+
+“And the drawer?”
+
+“You have the key: there’s nothing there but trinkets and a little
+personal jewelry.” There was a personal tone of resentment over the
+failure to recognise the distance between a detective and an attorney.
+
+Trafford opened the drawer mechanically, then closed it and took out
+indifferently one of the packages of letters. These he returned and
+closed and locked the door, which he examined again with care. Then he
+pushed to the heavy outer door, turning the knob slowly and as if he
+was studying the fall of the wards.
+
+“If it had been planned to leave no trace,” he said, as if to himself,
+“it would be a success. Have you a suspicion of the motive for this
+murder, Mr. McManus?”
+
+“So far as I can see, it was motiveless,” McManus answered. “I can only
+conclude that it was the work of a lunatic, or a mere murder fiend. It
+was, in my opinion, merely an accident that it was Mr. Wing and not
+some one else.”
+
+“I hadn’t thought of that aspect of the case,” Trafford said. “Is there
+any unfortunate creature of that kind about here?”
+
+“No, not that I know of; but might it not be a stranger that has
+wandered here?”
+
+“Did you ever hear of one of that class that was content with mere
+killing? It’s mutilation that characterises all such crimes. Its
+absence in this case is one of the most prominent features. By the bye:
+was the night of the tenth windy?”
+
+“On the contrary, it was a very still night.”
+
+“Not wind enough to blow that door shut?” pointing to the door into the
+side hall.
+
+“Certainly not.”
+
+Trafford walked around to the different windows and finally pulled
+down the shades and placed the lamp on the writing-desk. Then he went
+outside and studied the reflection on the shades. When he returned, he
+said:
+
+“I shall be absent a few days. Will you see to it, Mr. McManus, that
+the coroner doesn’t reconvene the inquest until I can be here? Until
+we find a motive for this crime, we’re going to make slow headway in
+finding the criminal.”
+
+“So long as you have charge of the case,” McManus answered, “I shall
+follow your wishes; but you may as well understand that I’m not going
+to be content with failure on any one’s part. You’re after the pay;
+I’m after punishment for the murderer. As long as our wishes run in the
+same line----”
+
+Trafford interrupted him:
+
+“When a case is placed in your hands, you expect to manage it, I
+assume. This case has been placed in my hands, and as long as it
+remains there, I shall conduct it in my own way. That doesn’t mean I
+won’t take advice; it simply means, I’ll be the one to decide what I’ll
+do with it.”
+
+The two men faced each other for the moment almost with hostility. Then
+McManus’s face lightened and he held out his hand without a word of
+apology:
+
+“You’ll do, I guess. If the fellow escapes you, he’d deserve to--if
+he’d killed anybody but Theodore Wing. Whatever I can do to aid, call
+on me day or night. At the least, keep me posted.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Trafford Gets an Assurance
+
+
+Trafford sat in his room in the hotel at Bangor the next evening and
+studied the copy of Judge Parlin’s statement.
+
+“Her brilliancy of mind has carried her far,” he said; “has aided her
+husband politically; and it was this influence that defeated him for
+the chief justiceship. It’s so easy that I can’t believe the solution.
+By George! I wonder if the old judge ever wrote that paper? I wish I’d
+examined the original more critically. If I’d been one of your inspired
+detectives, such as you find in novels, I’d probably have caught a
+forgery the first thing!”
+
+None the less, he put himself to the task of untangling the threads
+of the statement, with a result that set him to deep thinking. Bangor
+was not the direction from which had come opposition to the judge’s
+nomination. On the contrary, Judge Parlin had been rather a favourite
+than otherwise in Bangor, and his cause had received substantial aid.
+But the statement did not assert that Wing’s mother had remained in
+Bangor, or that it was there that she aided her husband politically.
+The most hostile influence that Judge Parlin had encountered was
+popularly credited to an ex-Governor, Matthewson, an Eastern Maine man,
+who at present held no office, but without whose countenance few men
+ventured even to aspire to office.
+
+“If it should prove that Matthewson’s wife is a Bangor woman, ’twould
+be so easy as to be absurd,” Trafford mused. “The old judge wasn’t
+silly enough to believe that what he wrote could conceal her identity.
+Either he meant it should be known to Wing or Mrs. Parlin, or--but what
+possible object could there be in forging such a paper?”
+
+Suddenly he sat bolt upright and stared at the document in blank
+amazement. Then, with a low whistle, he folded it into his pocketbook.
+
+“I’ll find Mrs. Matthewson Bangor-born, I’ll bet ten cents to a leather
+button!” he declared.
+
+Whatever had brought Trafford to this sudden conclusion, it proved
+absolutely correct, and the details given of her brilliance and her
+aid to her husband fitted exactly to the character of the woman. This
+fact naturally raised the question, was it safe to go farther and, if
+so, how much farther? Mrs. Matthewson at least had been put on her
+guard by the published statement, and she was not a woman to remain in
+ignorance of any steps taken in consequence of that statement, or of
+the man who took them. The family was powerful and not credited with
+scrupulosity as to means employed to ends. On the other hand, it was
+manifest that if there was such an episode in her past, her husband was
+ignorant of it and she would stop at nothing to keep him so. The secret
+might be dangerous, but it might be valuable as well.
+
+Beyond this, however, was the joy of the chase, which is absent from no
+man and least of all from the trained detective. There was a problem to
+solve, and, danger or no danger, it was as impossible for Trafford to
+refuse to solve it as to refuse to breathe. Whatever use he was or was
+not to make of it, he would know the truth.
+
+He was not, however, so intent upon this one feature of the case as to
+neglect Jim Shepard. The second day, he slipped over to Portland and
+found that young countryman at work and exceedingly homesick in what
+was, to his narrow experience, a great city. Finding that Trafford knew
+Millbank, he threw his heart open to him and talked as freely as he
+would to Oldbeg himself. Trafford let him talk. There was a flood of
+irrelevant matter, but the detective’s experience was too broad for him
+to decide in advance what might and what might not be valuable. On the
+whole, however, it was a dreary waste, until he touched on the night he
+left Millbank.
+
+“I wasn’t the only feller,” he said; “that nigh missed that train. Jest
+as ’twas startin’, a feller rushed out from behind Pettingill’s ’tater
+storehouse and caught the front end of the car. I thought he was goin’
+to miss an’ I swung back to see him drop off; but he clung like a good
+one an’ finally got his foot on the step. I tell you, he was nigh clean
+tuckered out when he came into the car, fur he was a swell an’ warn’t
+used to using his arms that-a-way.”
+
+“Queer place for him to come from,” said the other.
+
+“Wall, ye see, if he’d come from Somerset Street way an’ out through
+’tween Neil’s store and the post-office, he’d ’a’ come out jest thar;
+but he’d ’a’ had to know the lay o’ the land to done it. Ef he’d ben a
+stranger, he couldn’t help missing it an’ not half try.”
+
+“But you say he was a stranger and a swell,” Trafford suggested.
+
+“He was a swell, fast enough. City rig; kid gloves--one on ’em bust,
+hangin’ on to the rail, and got up in go-to-meetin’ style; but he must
+’a’ knowed the way. He’d ben thar before, you bet!”
+
+“You seem to have got a pretty good look at him.”
+
+“Wall, ye see he took the seat two in front o’ me, and every time I
+woke up--say, them air seats hain’t made to sleep comfortable in, be
+they--thar he was, till all of a sudden I woke up an’ he warn’t thar.”
+
+“Then you don’t know where he got off,” Trafford said, keeping the
+disappointment out of his voice.
+
+“No. Ye see, when we pulled out of ’Gusta, he was thar, an’ I didn’t
+wake up ag’in till we got to Brunswick, an’ he warn’t thar. I meant
+to see whar he went to, but arter ’Gusta, I guessed he must be from
+Portland and that’s whar I got left.”
+
+“I suppose you hear from Millbank--from Oldbeg, for instance.”
+
+“Wall,” he said, blushing a fiery red, “Jonathan hain’t no great hand
+to write: but I du hear sometimes. Say, du you s’pose a body could ’a’
+heerd that thar shot from Parlin’s house down onto Canaan Street?”
+
+“I don’t know,” said the detective carelessly, hiding his eagerness. “A
+still night, it might be; why?”
+
+“’Cause, a letter I got says that thar night she’d jest got to sleep
+when she woke up sudden, as if she’d heerd so’thing like a shot. She
+got up, but didn’t hear nothin’ more an’ so went back to bed. But the
+next mornin’ she guessed ’twas the shot she heerd from Parlin’s.”
+
+“Did she say what time it was?”
+
+“Nope: only she’d ben asleep about half a hour, an’ thet night she
+didn’t get to bed ’fore twelve o’clock. Fact, I guess she didn’t go
+till she heerd the train leave.”
+
+“But about this swell,” Trafford interposed. “Would you know him again
+if you saw him?”
+
+“I guess I would; leastwise ef I could see the top of his head. He took
+his hat off, an’ thar was the funniest little bald spot, jest the shape
+of a heart. ’Twas funny, an’ he warn’t more’n thirty years old. Say,
+when he gets to be fifty, he won’t hev no more hair’n I’ve got on the
+back o’ my hand.”
+
+The next afternoon, a card was brought to Charles Matthewson, Esq., in
+his inner office in Augusta, and on the card he read, printed in small
+square letters:
+
+  “ISAAC TRAFFORD.”
+
+“What in thunder does Trafford want of me?” he asked himself. “He can’t
+possibly know!”
+
+He sat and looked at the card, while the boy waited and finally coughed
+to remind him he was still there. Matthewson looked up with a puzzled
+air. Evidently he did not care to see the man whose name was on the
+card, and as evidently he did not dare refuse him. Finally he said:
+
+“Show him in in five minutes.”
+
+When Trafford entered, in the very act of bowing, he cast a quick
+glance at the top of Matthewson’s head. There was the odd bald spot,
+shaped, as Jim Shepard had said, “Jest like a heart.”
+
+“What can I do for you, Mr. Trafford?” Matthewson asked, with the air
+of a busy man.
+
+“I want about ten minutes’ talk with you,” the detective answered,
+drawing a chair close to the desk.
+
+“Professional?”
+
+“Yes;--my profession.”
+
+The lawyer started. He was provoked with himself for doing so, but
+it was beyond his control. Trafford was not a man with whom it was
+comfortable to talk professionally--that is, from the standpoint of his
+profession.
+
+“Well, be quick about it, then. I’m busy, and it’ll be a favour to cut
+it as short as you can.”
+
+“You were in Millbank the evening of the tenth.”
+
+“Well, you are short and to the point. Suppose I was?”
+
+“What were you there for?”
+
+“None of your business.”
+
+Trafford chuckled. He was getting on. It was just the answer he
+expected.
+
+“Now let’s stick right to the point, as you wanted me to. If I have to
+whip round to get to it again, you mustn’t blame me.”
+
+“Come, Mr. Trafford; you can’t deal with every one the same way. If you
+want to find out anything from me, you mustn’t go at it as if I was a
+country bumpkin whom your very name would scare.”
+
+“Bless you, I don’t,” said Trafford. “Now if you were a country
+bumpkin, as you are pleased to put it, I’d lead up to the matter gently
+and so have it all out of you before you knew what I was at. Not being
+a country bumpkin, I come at you fair and square to save your time and
+mine too. What were you doing in Millbank on the evening of the tenth?
+You weren’t at any of the hotels. You weren’t seen by any of the men
+who were likely to see you.”
+
+“So you’ve peddled it all over Millbank that I was there that night,
+have you?” demanded the other, angrily.
+
+Trafford looked at him with a mixture of amusement and spleen. At last
+he answered:
+
+“That isn’t the way I do my work. I don’t need to give away what I know
+to find out what other folks know. There’s nobody in Millbank any the
+wiser for the enquiries I’ve made.”
+
+“Well, if you know so much and are so cunning, you know that I got
+there at eight o’clock and left at midnight----”
+
+“Dropping off at the Bridge stop before the train crossed the river,
+and swinging on to the front end of the second car as the train was
+pulling out of the station, coming out of the shadow of Pettingill’s
+potato warehouse to do so, so as not to be seen and recognized,”
+Trafford continued.
+
+The first part was a shrewd guess, but evidently it hit the mark, for
+the lawyer wheeled about and faced him before saying:
+
+“The devil! To what am I indebted for such close surveillance?”
+
+“Well,” drawled Trafford, with an irritating air of indifference, that
+he could at times assume, “perhaps you don’t know that a matter of some
+importance happened in Millbank that night and has led to our looking
+up all the strangers that were in town, especially those who did not
+seem to want to be seen.”
+
+“You refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”
+
+“I refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”
+
+“I regret Mr. Wing’s tragic death,” said the lawyer coldly; “and
+especially deplore the commission of such a crime. At the same time,
+I don’t think it as important as Millbank naturally thinks it, and I
+imagine the State will manage to wag along in spite of the great loss
+it has sustained.”
+
+It was not so much the words, ill-timed and out-of-taste as they
+were, as the air with which they were uttered, that constituted their
+significance. It was as if in the mind that originated them there was
+a lurking bitterness, that the speaker would willingly conceal, which
+yet was so intense that it must find vent. There was a cruel hardness
+in the tone that made the words themselves all but meaningless.
+Was it possible, Trafford asked himself, that the man was able to
+read the meaning of Judge Parlin’s story and knew that Wing was his
+half-brother? He dismissed the question with the asking, satisfied that
+something of which he was still ignorant was at the foundation of this
+outbreak. It was to be a question of the comparative shrewdness of the
+two men, whether he still remained ignorant when the interview closed.
+
+“You certainly don’t suppose that I shot Millbank’s leading citizen,
+do you?” the lawyer demanded, after a moment’s pause. It was, perhaps,
+an effort to recover what the lawyer could not fail to see that he had
+lost.
+
+“On the contrary, I’ve every reason to believe that he was still alive
+when you left town, and I still further believe that your visit had
+nothing to do, remotely or directly, with his death.”
+
+What was that odd flash that passed over the other’s face as Trafford
+said these last words? Seemingly, Trafford was not looking at the
+other’s face at the moment and it might have escaped him. Still, he
+would have been interested if he had seen it.
+
+“Thanks: but, in that event, what are you here for?”
+
+“I can’t let my beliefs or disbeliefs interfere with my investigation
+of facts. Here is something most unusual occurring, almost at the
+moment of the murder. It don’t make any difference whether I believe it
+has anything to do with it or not. It’s my business to know, and that’s
+what I’m here to do.”
+
+“And if I say I’ve nothing to tell you?”
+
+“The coroner’s enquiry will be public, while mine may remain private.”
+
+“What do you want to know?”
+
+“I simply want your assurance that your visit to Millbank had nothing
+to do, directly or remotely, with Theodore Wing.”
+
+“I can’t see what value such an assurance can have. If I went there to
+hire somebody to shoot him, I should, of course, not hesitate to give
+you the assurance--and probably you wouldn’t fail to find out the truth
+of the matter inside a week.”
+
+“That’s my business,” said Trafford. “If I’m content with your
+assurance, I don’t see why you should object to my being.”
+
+“Because there’s no certainty you’ll remain content with it. It’s
+one of those things where you could come back to-morrow with ‘newly
+discovered testimony’ that would upset the whole agreement.”
+
+“Oh, as for that,” said Trafford, “I propose to agree to nothing.
+As matters stand, the inquest ’ll go on within a day or two. I know
+you were in Millbank the night of the murder, and with no assurance
+from any one that your visit had nothing to do with the murder, I’m
+compelled, absolutely compelled, to ask the coroner to summons you.
+On the other hand, if I’m satisfied, there’s no reason for me to tell
+any one that I know you were there, and nothing to induce the coroner
+to summons you. At the same time, I don’t agree to anything as to the
+future. That must depend upon facts, and you know better than I do now
+whether there are any that would call for you.”
+
+“Humph!” grunted Matthewson; “then it’s this: I assure you what you ask
+and I’m not to be summoned until you see fit to summon me, and if I
+don’t, you see fit to summon me at once.”
+
+“That’s about it,” assented Trafford.
+
+Matthewson sat for a few minutes thinking, and Trafford sat
+watching him. He was tall and slim, with a rather prepossessing
+face--well-dressed, in fact, a “swell,” as Jim Shepard had said. His
+face was far from a dull one. His mother had evidently given him
+something of her personality. Yet, a man less on his guard against
+impressions than the detective might find something in his face that
+he did not like,--a look of cunning lurking in the half-closed eyes, a
+want of feeling in the lines of the mouth. He was a man who would go
+far to accomplish his ends, but would not be willingly cruel, perhaps
+because he could not understand that to be cruel which was for his own
+interest. Yet, what of a fight that involved life and honour? Trafford
+at least knew that it is only then that the hidden forces come to
+the surface and the man himself stands complete. Suddenly Matthewson
+turned, and with a side glance at the waiting detective said:
+
+“I assure you that my visit to Millbank had nothing to do directly or
+indirectly with Mr. Wing’s death.”
+
+“That’s all I want,” the detective said.
+
+“I gave him credit for being sharper than that,” Matthewson said to
+himself, as the door closed behind his visitor.
+
+“Now I’ve got to find out,” Trafford noted, “how that visit did concern
+Wing. I’ll test Matthewson’s conclusion before I accept it.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The Weapon is Produced
+
+
+The inquest reconvened with an increase rather than a decrease of
+interest on the part of the public. This was due in part to the
+renewed attention aroused by the funeral, which had been one of the
+most imposing ever had in Millbank; and in part to the rewards for the
+detection of the murderer offered by Mrs. Parlin and the selectmen of
+the town.
+
+In addition, the County Court had instructed the county attorney to be
+present at further sittings, to assist the coroner, and the town had
+employed its own counsel for the same purpose.
+
+Mary Mullin was the first witness.
+
+“You are the help at Mrs. Parlin’s?” the coroner asked.
+
+“I be.”
+
+“How long have you been so employed?”
+
+“Twenty-five year this coming July.”
+
+“You were at the house the evening and night of the tenth of May?”
+
+“Yep!”
+
+“Did you wait on the table at supper that evening?”
+
+“I passed the victuals, ef that’s what ye mean by wait;” with an air of
+defiance.
+
+“Who were at supper?”
+
+“Mis Parlin an’ Mr. Wing.”
+
+“Did either of them seem to you depressed or preoccupied?”
+
+“Nope.”
+
+“The meal was pleasant as usual, and both seemed in good spirits?”
+
+“Yep.”
+
+“Were you in the dining room when they left it?”
+
+“Nope; I left ’em thar an’ went back arter they were through an’
+cleaned up the table.”
+
+“When did you next see Mr. Wing?”
+
+“As he and Mis Parlin come back from the orchard.”
+
+“Did everything seem pleasant between them then?”
+
+“Why shouldn’t it?”
+
+“I asked you if it did?”
+
+“I’d scorn to answer sech a question, ef I warn’t under oath to answer
+what you axed. Yep!”
+
+“When did you see him next?”
+
+“Lyin’ a dead corpse on the doorstep at ten minutes arter six the next
+mornin’!”
+
+“You are certain you did not see him from the time he returned from the
+orchard, until you saw him dead?”
+
+“Didn’t I swear it?”
+
+“I asked you if you are certain?”
+
+“Yep!” indignantly.
+
+“Did you eat your supper before or after your mistress ate hers?”
+
+“What may ye mean by mistress?”
+
+“I mean, did you eat your supper before or after Mrs. Parlin ate hers?”
+
+“Arter.”
+
+She testified that she and Jonathan ate together; that she went to her
+room at nine o’clock, after shutting up the house “all but the front
+part,” and that she went at once to bed.
+
+“Did you at any time during the night hear a pistol or gun shot or any
+sound resembling one?”
+
+“I did not.”
+
+“Are you a sound sleeper?”
+
+“After I git to sleep, ye might carry me off an’ I’d never know it till
+mornin’.”
+
+“Then you think a pistol might have been fired at the south door of the
+house in the middle of the night without your hearing it, although that
+door was open?”
+
+“I think that one was.”
+
+“But do you believe, aside from what you think regarding what happened
+that night, that a pistol so fired would wake you?”
+
+“No, nor a cannon, ef ’twan’t too big.”
+
+Jonathan Oldbeg testified practically to what he had told Trafford, the
+detective, though with some amplification of details. On the question
+of the absolute recognition of the shadow on the window shades as that
+of Mr. Wing, he grew very positive, affirming that he knew the stoop
+of the shoulders and the movement of his head. The county attorney
+and the town counsel were quite strong at this point and suggested
+questions which finally confused the witness, though in the end he
+clung to his positive identification.
+
+The coroner seemed disposed to pass to the next witness, when Trafford
+handed up a paper, after reading which the coroner turned again to the
+witness and asked:
+
+“On the shades of which windows did you see the shadow?”
+
+“On all three of ’em.”
+
+“On which was it the highest and largest?”
+
+The witness paused as he began his answer and seemed in deep thought.
+Once he raised his head with a blank expression and then dropped it
+again. Finally he looked up and said:
+
+“On the curtain nighest the door.”
+
+“And the smallest?”
+
+“On the curtain nighest the road.”
+
+“The witness will step down a moment and Mr. Isaac Trafford will take
+the stand.”
+
+All necks were craned to see the detective, and every ear intent for
+his testimony. It was most disappointing.
+
+“Have you made any experiments,” the coroner asked; “as to the shadow
+thrown on the shades of Mr. Wing’s library, with relation to the
+position of the light?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“With what results?”
+
+“If the light is on the writing-desk, the highest and largest shadow is
+thrown on the shade nearest the street and none is thrown on the shade
+nearest the door. If the light is on the reading-table in front of
+the fireplace, or in the centre of the mantel over the fireplace, the
+highest and largest shadow is on the shade of the centre window. If the
+light is on the mantel near the safe, the largest and highest shadow is
+on the shade nearest the door, and the smallest and lowest on the shade
+nearest the road. If the light is on the safe itself, or on the stand
+near the safe, no shadow is thrown on the shade nearest the street.”
+
+“You have heard the testimony of the last witness as to the shadows he
+saw?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“What is your conclusion from that testimony as to the position of the
+light at the time the witness passed up the drive?”
+
+“That it was on the mantel nearly above the safe.”
+
+“Have you made any experiments to determine in what position any one
+would place the light, if he had the safe open and desired the best
+light on its contents?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“With what result?”
+
+“That he would place it on the mantel about a foot or a foot and a half
+west of the safe.”
+
+“Then the testimony of the witness and the result of your experiments
+would lead you to conclude that at the time the witness passed up the
+drive, the occupant of the room had the safe open and the light so
+placed that he could best see into it?”
+
+“It is entirely compatible with that assumption.”
+
+Mr. Trafford was dismissed and Oldbeg recalled. There was a buzz in the
+room.
+
+“What do you s’pose that was fur?” one man asked another.
+
+“For impression. It shows how mighty cute Trafford is, an’ lets folks
+know that there’s somebody arter ’em as knows what’s what.”
+
+“Onless Trafford got it up hisself fur advertisin’,” suggested the
+other, a hard-headed Yankee to whom shrewdness was a natural instinct.
+
+“Do you own a pistol?” demanded the coroner, as Oldbeg settled himself
+to his examination.
+
+Every eye turned towards the witness, who fidgeted before answering,
+as if he was in doubt what to say. At last, when attention was at its
+keenest, he found his tongue and said:
+
+“Nope.”
+
+“Yet you bought a thirty-two calibre one on May eighth.”
+
+It had already been testified that the fatal shot was fired from a
+thirty-two calibre revolver. Every person present was alive with the
+thought that a critical moment in the inquest had come.
+
+“Yep; but I gave it away.”
+
+“When?”
+
+“The night o’ May tenth.”
+
+“To whom?”
+
+“To Jim Shepard. Jest as he was jumpin’ on the train, I took it out o’
+my pocket an’ put it in his’n.”
+
+“Do you call that giving it away?”
+
+“Yep! That’s what I bought it fur. I don’t need one here; leastwise,
+I didn’t think so then; but he’s goin’ to a tarnel big place, an’ I
+thought he ought to had one, so I bought it an’ took it to the train
+with me that night an’ put it in his pocket.”
+
+“Did you say anything to him about it?”
+
+“I didn’t hev no time. I was goin’ to give it to him, but we hed to run
+for the train, an’ I clean forgot it till, jest as he struck the bottom
+step, I thought on it. All I could do was to chuck it into his pocket,
+whar his coat swung back.”
+
+“Did you see it go in?”
+
+“Nope: ’twas too dark.”
+
+“Was it loaded?”
+
+“All but one bar’l. I fired that off up in the woods that day an’
+furgot to load it again.”
+
+“Call James Shepard.”
+
+Oldbeg started, and when his cousin came from a door back of the
+coroner, stood as one struck dumb. It was difficult to say what emotion
+was expressed in his face. Trafford watched him and acknowledged his
+own uncertainty.
+
+“Do you desire to change your testimony last given?” asked the coroner.
+
+“I’ve told the truth; I hain’t got nothin’ to change,” he said sulkily.
+
+James Shepard gave his testimony regarding his leaving Millbank and
+answered the questions put to him with reference to the stranger
+who took the same train, which, of course, simply led up to his
+disappearance somewhere between Augusta and Brunswick. Then came the
+question which all were awaiting:
+
+“Did your cousin give you a pistol the night you left Millbank?”
+
+“Not that I knows on. It’s the fust time I ever heerd about it.”
+
+“Do you own a pistol?”
+
+“Nope. I hain’t got no use fur a pistol an’ never had.”
+
+“Call William Buckworth.”
+
+A stout, elderly man, head of the firm of Buckworth & Tompson, notion
+dealers, came to the stand. After the preliminary questions, the
+coroner took from a drawer a pistol and handed it to the witness.
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“A thirty-two calibre Woodruff revolver.”
+
+“Did you ever see it before?”
+
+“Yes. I sold it on the eighth of May to Jonathan Oldbeg.”
+
+“Are you certain of the identity?”
+
+The witness then proceeded to the identification, which was absolute.
+
+“Are the chambers charged?”
+
+“Four are. One is empty and has recently been fired.”
+
+“Isaac Trafford will take the stand.
+
+“Do you recognize this pistol, Mr. Trafford, as one you have before
+seen?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“State the circumstances.”
+
+“I found it on the morning of the twelfth of May hidden in the box
+hedge in the front yard of the Parlin house. It was in the box nearest
+the fence that separates the front yard from the driveway, and about
+twelve feet from the house.”
+
+“Was it in the same condition then as now?”
+
+“It was wet with dew and the rust is deeper now than then; otherwise it
+is in the same condition.”
+
+“Call Margaret Flanders.”
+
+At the name, Jim Shepard, who had taken a seat in the main room upon
+concluding his testimony, turned the colour of a peony and a giggle was
+started among a group of boys near him.
+
+Margaret Flanders, a buxom, healthy lass of about twenty, tripped into
+the room as if in enjoyment of the sensation she was creating. In
+answer to questions, her testimony ran:
+
+She lived at home, with her parents, on Canaan Street; the left-hand
+side as you went from River Road. Jim Shepard came sometimes to see her
+and was with her the evening of May tenth. He was going to Portland to
+work and he was to take the midnight train. He stayed till his cousin
+Jonathan Oldbeg called for him. It was then so late that she was afraid
+he would miss his train. Indeed, there was only five minutes to spare
+when he left the house. She waited on the front stoop till she heard
+the train go and then went to her room, which was on the second floor
+in the northwest corner, the nearest River Road and the Parlin house.
+She went right to bed, was in bed by quarter-past twelve, probably, and
+went right to sleep. Had slept a few minutes when she was wakened by a
+sound like a pistol shot. She jumped out of bed and went to the window,
+which was open, for she always liked plenty of fresh air; but saw
+nothing and heard nothing. There was a light in the Parlin house and
+she thought it was in the library, but could not tell certainly. She
+was at the window only a few minutes, when the clock struck one, but
+whether it was half-past twelve or one o’clock she could not tell. Then
+she went back to bed and fell asleep, and heard nothing more to disturb
+her that night.
+
+The coroner announced that this closed his witnesses, but at the
+request of the county attorney he recalled Mrs. Parlin. The county
+attorney put his questions through the coroner.
+
+“Have you ever had any question as to the genuineness of the statement
+which purports to be in the handwriting of your husband?”
+
+“None whatever.”
+
+“Was your husband accustomed to leave important papers without date or
+signature?”
+
+“This paper is in Judge Parlin’s handwriting.”
+
+“I hand you a letter here with the signature turned down. Can you
+identify the handwriting?”
+
+“I think it is the handwriting of Theodore Wing.”
+
+“Can you state positively?”
+
+“I cannot: but I have little doubt.”
+
+“I hand you another. Whose handwriting is that?”
+
+“Judge Parlin’s.”
+
+“Are you positive?”
+
+“Positive.”
+
+“Are you certain that the first letter is not in the handwriting of
+your late husband?”
+
+“It may possibly be; but I think it is in Mr. Wing’s handwriting.”
+
+“There was then a very strong resemblance between the handwriting of
+your late husband and that of Mr. Wing?”
+
+“A very strong resemblance. Theodore always admitted that he had tried
+to write like the judge, and of late years the resemblance was very
+close.”
+
+“Still you are confident as to the handwriting of the statement that
+has been produced here?”
+
+“Absolutely confident.”
+
+“When you hold this statement up to the light, do you discover any
+water-mark?”
+
+“Yes, a sheaf of something that looks like wheat with a circle around
+it.”
+
+“I hand you a blank sheet of paper. Has that any water-mark?”
+
+“It has the same water-mark.”
+
+“That will do. Mr. Trafford will take the stand.
+
+“I hand you this blank sheet of paper, which Mrs. Parlin has just
+stated contains the same water-mark as that on which the purported
+statement of Judge Parlin is written. Have you ever seen this sheet
+before?”
+
+“Yes. I took it from Mr. Theodore Wing’s writing-desk on the morning of
+May twelfth. It was one of a number of similar sheets I found there.”
+
+“Call Mr. Marmaduke.
+
+“You are the head of the stationery firm of Marmaduke & Co.?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“Did you supply the late Theodore Wing with writing paper?”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“Is this a sheet of the paper you furnished him?”
+
+“It is a sheet of the paper I furnished him for his home use. I never
+furnished it to him for office use.”
+
+“How long have you sold paper with this water-mark?”
+
+“About four years.”
+
+“Never before that?”
+
+“Never. I do not think it was made with that water-mark until about
+four years ago. At least, I never heard of it.”
+
+“Did you furnish paper to the late Judge Parlin, for home or office?”
+
+“For both.”
+
+“Did you ever furnish him, either for home or office, with paper
+bearing this water-mark?”
+
+“Never. I didn’t have paper with that water-mark for sale until nearly
+a year after Judge Parlin’s death. I got it at the special request of
+Mr. Wing, and that was after Judge Parlin’s death.”
+
+After consultation, the inquest was again adjourned. There was a
+general expectation that a warrant would issue for Oldbeg’s arrest,
+but neither the coroner nor the county attorney felt justified in so
+overt an act. The public might try, condemn, and all but execute a man
+on mere suspicion, but larger responsibility rested on the officers of
+the law. In consultation, Trafford was appealed to and agreed fully
+with the decision reached. He was not wholly pleased with the coroner’s
+haste in bringing out certain facts that in his opinion could have
+been left with safety to the adjourned session. The strength of his
+own work lay in minimising, rather than exaggerating, the importance of
+unsupported facts, which were almost sure to lead to wrong conclusions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford
+
+
+The wife of former Governor Matthewson was prominent--that is,
+respectably prominent--in church matters, as in all good works, and the
+booth over which she presided at the May Church Festival was one of the
+most attractive and profitable, albeit there was many another that had
+proved a centre for the younger men and larger boys. Mrs. Matthewson
+sat in the curtained space behind the main booth, for she was really
+tired. She was a tall woman, of commanding presence, who had just
+touched her sixtieth year and upon whom the consciousness of power, and
+ability to wield it, had left the impress of dignity and strength.
+
+The crowd was mainly in front of the booths, but occasionally some one
+strayed away to the quieter nooks shut off by the booths themselves. Of
+these were two men, one small and rather unimpressive in appearance,
+the other larger and more commanding, but with a strange deference
+towards his companion. The two passed where by accident, apparently,
+the smaller man had a view of the resting woman, without being too
+plainly seen himself. The larger man was speaking:
+
+“Public opinion is settling on the paper as a forgery.”
+
+“Has it discovered a motive?” There was almost a sneer in the tone.
+
+“No; nor for the crime; but it firmly believes that the woman never
+existed.”
+
+“It would think me mad or a liar then if I should affirm that she did
+exist; that she does exist; that in fact I could at a moment’s notice
+put my hand on Theodore Wing’s mother.”
+
+The other smiled.
+
+“One might almost imagine you thought her in this room.”
+
+“Stranger things have happened;” and the two moved on.
+
+If the woman had taken note of the conversation, there was nothing in
+her manner to indicate it. Had there been, Trafford would have felt
+keen disappointment, for he had observed her somewhat carefully, and
+had formed a higher opinion of her capabilities. At the same time, he
+had not so poor a conception of his own powers of observation as to
+doubt the correctness of his impression of a slight lifting of the
+eyebrows and critical scanning of his own face by Mrs. Matthewson, as
+he loitered slowly back towards the throng in front. He intended, if it
+was her wish to be able to recognise him again, that she should have
+the opportunity.
+
+After he had passed, she waited a sufficient time not to seem
+precipitate, then rose and sauntered slowly into the front part of
+the hall, whence came a constant babble of voices. She was a woman
+who had seen too many things to be afraid; but as well she was a
+woman too shrewd to neglect a warning and go on to punishment. She
+knew she had her warning; she knew that the man who had given it was
+prepared to deal with her, or he would not have given it; and she knew
+that boldness would secure the best terms. She had no question that
+blackmail was at the bottom of the affair.
+
+The public had generally accepted the statement as a forgery and was
+laughing at its clumsiness; but there would come a waking time when it
+realised that as a forgery it had no bearing upon the solution of the
+murder mystery, and that would be the moment of danger. She found her
+son, Charles Matthewson, and taking his arm went to the refreshment
+room.
+
+“You’re dead tired, mother,” he said. “A man of iron couldn’t stand
+these affairs.”
+
+“No,” she said. “It requires something finer than iron. Your man of
+iron is a poor simile for strength. It’s got to be better than that.”
+
+“By George; I only hope when I’m sixty, I can stand as much as you!”
+
+“Is that your tact, Charles, to mention a woman’s age in public? I know
+the people know my age, but I object to their knowing that I know.”
+
+“Much you care, mother. You can leave such stuff as that to the silly
+herd.”
+
+A man passed by and took his seat at a table out of ear range. He did
+not look in her direction as he passed, and she did not even glance
+in his; but she felt his presence, and knew also that Charles had
+seen him and recognised him. She ran on with her light chat, seemingly
+taking no note of her son’s distraught manner and absent-minded
+replies; but after she had let things go on for a safe space, she
+suddenly looked up with:
+
+“Really, Charles, I might as well save my foolishness for somebody
+who is less occupied than you seem to be. I should say you were more
+interested in that man over there than in me.”
+
+“Was I really giving attention to him?” the son demanded.
+
+“Most really, and I’m simply wondering where you learned your
+self-control, that you can do a thing so apparent to a whole roomful.”
+She had not asked a word regarding the man, certain as she was that he
+would tell her all he knew.
+
+“Do you know who that man is?” her son asked.
+
+“No; really,” she said, putting up her glasses, “I had simply noticed
+him as a man from whom you did not seem able to keep your eyes. Now I
+look at him, I don’t see anything particularly worth noticing.”
+
+“It’s Trafford, the detective. He’s said to be on this Wing murder
+case.”
+
+“Oh, is that so?” she said, raising her glasses again. “In that case, I
+suppose one’s permitted to look at him, since that’s largely his stock
+in trade. He doesn’t look smart.”
+
+“That’s his stock in trade too,” said Charles, a trifle impatiently for
+the son of such a woman. “If he looked half as smart as he is, he’d
+look too smart for his work, and if he was really as dull as he looks,
+he’d be too stupid.”
+
+“And they depend on him to unravel the Wing murder?” she asked.
+
+“Oh, the Wing murder,” echoed an acquaintance who was passing. “Why
+didn’t that stupid coroner arrest that fellow Oldman--if that was his
+name? My husband says if he takes the opportunity to run away, it may
+be interesting for the coroner. Of course, nobody has a doubt that he’s
+the murderer. You think so, Mr. Matthewson, don’t you?”
+
+“I think it will be a great wrong if such a wanton murder goes
+unpunished,” he answered.
+
+“Yes,” said the mother carelessly; “but the motive? Did he murder him
+because he was an illegitimate son of Judge Parlin?”
+
+“Oh, pshaw, Mrs. Matthewson, nobody believes that story. Why, they tell
+me Judge Parlin was a real nice man. He wouldn’t have had anything to
+do with such a woman as she would have been, if the story was true.”
+
+A crowd gathered and, in spite of Charles Matthewson’s efforts to
+change the subject, persisted in discussing the murder, which was still
+a live topic wherever Judge Parlin and Lawyer Wing had been known. To
+Matthewson’s increased annoyance, he noted that Trafford had moved to a
+nearer table, where he could catch the talk.
+
+“What kind of man would Judge Parlin have been, if the story were
+true?” Mrs. Matthewson asked listlessly.
+
+“Oh, yes; but you know that’s not the same. He was a mere youngster,
+and a designing woman you know can do anything with a man. Oh, no:
+it would be bad enough in him, but the woman--why, she’d be simply
+abominable; simply abominable.”
+
+“Well, if there was such a woman, she’s undoubtedly dead long ago,”
+Mrs. Matthewson said. “We might at least not begrudge her a grave. We
+came near making Judge Parlin chief justice.”
+
+Charles was uneasy. His mother was not accustomed to losing her head,
+but he had his suspicions at this moment, and tried again to draw her
+away; but she seemed not to notice his efforts, and showed herself not
+loath to go on with the conversation.
+
+“If the thing isn’t true,” broke in a woman who was fearful she
+might not make herself felt in the presence of the overbearing Mrs.
+Matthewson, “my husband says it’s a forgery; but what could that
+nice Mr. Wing have forged such a story as that for? Do you see, Mr.
+Matthewson?”
+
+“You must excuse me from expressing any opinion one way or the other,”
+he said, thus distinctly appealed to. “Murders and forgeries are not in
+my line, and I don’t think my opinion would have the value it might if
+I was a criminal lawyer or a detective.”
+
+“Oh, a detective!” some one interrupted. “What a dreadful nasty set of
+men detectives must be! It makes me crawl to think of their having
+anything to do with me.”
+
+“Then you mustn’t be a murderer or permit any one to murder you. It’s
+the only way I know to steer clear of the gang.”
+
+“Come, Charles,” interposed his mother. “Aren’t you a little hard? As
+long as we have criminals, we must have criminal catchers. We can’t
+spare them.”
+
+“But we needn’t make them our heroes, as some people do,” he replied,
+wondering in secret why his mother was chiming into his mood so
+completely. “I object to having them dragged into my company--almost as
+much as I’d object to being dragged into theirs.”
+
+It would have troubled Mrs. Matthewson to say why she felt a savage
+pleasure in thus baiting the detective, but she did feel it, and was
+too proud to deny the fact, even as she was too proud to deny that the
+fact was unworthy her own measure of herself.
+
+An hour later Charles had handed her into her carriage and gone back
+to the hall, as she bade him, to stand for the family during the
+remainder of the evening. A carriage in front blocked the way and a
+voice almost at her elbow, but on the side opposite that at which she
+had entered, said:
+
+“May I have the honour of calling in the morning?”
+
+She did not even turn her head, as she flung back the answer:
+
+“If it’s necessary.”
+
+“I think it necessary.”
+
+“At half-past ten, then.”
+
+She did not look to see, but knew that the place was vacant. None the
+less she yielded no whit, but held her upright position, as if she were
+already on trial before the world and bade it defiance.
+
+It was the same in the morning. She entered the small parlour as if
+it were she and not her visitor who was to ask explanations, and he,
+with his quick adaptation of himself to moods and conditions, not alone
+humoured her, but throughout bore himself with a courtesy and deference
+that went as far as anything could to salve her wounded pride.
+
+“I assume it is not necessary for me to explain who I am and why I
+have asked this interview,” he said, as an approach to a knowledge of
+the footing on which they stood.
+
+“It is not necessary,” she returned. “You are Isaac Trafford,
+detective: you are engaged in ferreting out the murder of Theodore
+Wing, and you think I am able to give you information that may aid you.
+I am sorry to say that I cannot. I am sorry for the crime: I’m always
+sorry for crime; but it can have no particular sting for me, because of
+the man who is its victim.”
+
+“I thought it might be otherwise,” he said quite simply.
+
+“You are mistaken.”
+
+“None the less,” he said, “you have read the statement left by Judge
+Parlin.”
+
+“I have read the statement purporting to be left by Judge Parlin,” she
+corrected him.
+
+“It is absolutely true from beginning to end. There can be no doubt
+that Judge Parlin left it, for only he and one other person at that
+time knew the facts.”
+
+“And that other person?” The question was without a tremor. Trafford
+felt like rising and saluting the woman, as her words came clean-cut
+and passionless.
+
+“Theodore Wing’s mother.”
+
+“She is, then, still alive?”
+
+“She is still alive,” he said; “and unless concerned in this recent
+tragedy, as safe as if the knowledge of the facts had remained locked
+in her breast, as they were at the time of Judge Parlin’s death. If she
+was concerned in this tragedy, then it is that, and not the fact that
+another has learned the truth, that destroys her safety.”
+
+Even at so serious a moment, she could not avoid playing with the
+subject:
+
+“Do you think her concerned in the murder?”
+
+“It is what I am not certain of,” he said frankly. “It is the murder
+that has revealed this--misfortune. I can find no motive that can
+account for her connection with the affair.”
+
+“I am of the opinion she had nothing to do with it,” she said, quite
+positively. “If all this is true, she would naturally have no love for
+the child of her mistake; but you surely cannot think on that account
+that she was guilty of murder--the cruelest murder one could imagine
+under the circumstances! Certainly, if there was anything to tempt to
+murder, anything that would have advantaged her, it passed long ago.”
+
+“I have thought of that,” he said, “but is it not possible that
+something may have occurred recently that alarmed her--something that
+made her feel it necessary to go to extremes to which, naturally, she
+would be unwilling to resort, excepting under the direst necessity?”
+
+“I do not think,” she said, lifting her head with some imperiousness,
+“that such a woman is likely to be alarmed. She would have lived that
+down long since. More than that, she would have brains enough to see
+that a crime, more than all else, would endanger her secret. This woman
+could not have been brainless.”
+
+“Far from it,” he assured her. “I am inclined to rate her as the ablest
+woman I have ever met.”
+
+She bowed as recognising a personal compliment.
+
+“You have met her, then?”
+
+“Yes,” he said. “I have met her.”
+
+“Would you mind telling me the impression she made on you--that is,
+as regards her possible connection with this crime? My curiosity is
+roused.”
+
+“I think she is now incapable of it,” he said. “That she might not have
+been at one time, I am less certain; but if there was such a time, it
+has passed. Success had mollified resentment and increased the feeling
+of safety. Still, if she believed herself in danger, I do not think she
+would hesitate at any extreme. It would, however, take much to arouse a
+conviction of danger.”
+
+“I am inclined to think your judgment sound,” she said. “What can you
+tell me of the man who now shares with her the knowledge of the facts
+in the case?”
+
+“That he would not assert such knowledge unless he possessed every
+detail and was absolutely able to identify every person connected
+with the affair and verify every date and place. You may take his
+assertion that he knows, as absolute evidence of this. His only object
+in searching this matter out was the unravelling of the mystery of
+a crime. If he thought for one instant that the revelation of the
+facts would aid in unravelling that crime, he would not hesitate at
+the revelation. Convinced that it would not aid, the secret is as safe
+with him as if it did not exist. At present the secret, as far as he is
+concerned, does not exist.”
+
+“Of course,” she said; “the woman would prefer, greatly prefer, that
+the secret should have died with the man who shared it with her.
+Failing that, she could not feel safer than to have it in the hands
+of such a man as you describe. There is, however, I should think, one
+further assurance that she might desire.”
+
+“I think if it were a possible thing to promise, the man as I know him
+would be disposed to promise.”
+
+“It is that if at any time in the future it should seem to him that
+the woman was concerned in the crime, if there arise any circumstances
+that call for explanation, he will come to her and first submit them to
+her. I think under these circumstances, he might largely rely upon her
+telling him the truth--at least, upon her not telling him a falsehood.”
+
+“Of course,” he said, “I speak only of my impression, but that is that
+she may rely absolutely upon his adopting this course.”
+
+“I trust this enables us to end this interview,” she said, with no
+relaxation of her dignity.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Hunting Broken Bones
+
+
+Millbank cherished its tragedy as something that gave it pre-eminence
+among its neighbours, and half the male population turned detectives on
+the spot. To many members of the community, however, the affair bore
+a most serious aspect, heightened by the conviction that no actual
+progress had been made towards the solution of the mystery. Such men
+as McManus, the county attorney, and the town counsel, looked upon
+the testimony which tended to implicate Oldbeg as a concession to the
+public demand that something should be done, and as covering rather
+than revealing the serious business of the investigation. They were
+inclined to be indignant at what they regarded as the direction of
+unjust suspicion against an innocent person, and the more so when they
+saw how public sentiment was roused against the unfortunate man.
+
+In fact, there were whispers among the least responsible that if the
+law was to interpose delays, it might become the duty of the citizens
+to take the execution of justice into their own hands. It was the
+county judge who first called attention to the danger to the town and
+county that lurked in such loose talk, indulged in at the start by idle
+men and boys, but working as a leaven that might finally affect the
+entire community.
+
+“There’s just the material down there to give your town a blacker
+tragedy than it’s had yet,” he said to McManus one day after court.
+“The guilty had better go unpunished than be punished through violation
+of the law.”
+
+McManus turned sharply, with that nervous quickness that made him
+forget the judge in the speaker:
+
+“The guilty! The guilty! No man is guilty till the law has found him
+so! How long since suspicion was proof?”
+
+The judge, who appreciated the strain which the death of his partner
+and friend had thrown upon McManus, let the brusqueness of the answer
+pass, but still was insistent:
+
+“It’s no time for refinements or phrasings. It isn’t the idle alone who
+expect impossibilities. Most of your people think Trafford’s failed
+before he’s had time to begin. There’s got to be something done to
+feed their impatience and gain time. A Yankee’s substitute for doing
+something is to hold a public meeting.”
+
+McManus shook his head.
+
+“With the chances that it would end in a hanging-bee,” he said.
+
+When, however, McManus returned to Millbank from the county town, he
+found affairs so far more menacing than he had anticipated as to lead
+him to take counsel with the more prominent citizens. Naturally almost
+the first man to whom he broached the matter was Charles Hunter, the
+head of the leading logging firm.
+
+Hunter was a man who at the age of thirty-five was already recognised
+as the first business man of the town. Succeeding to a business
+built up by his father, he had doubled it and doubled it again. Its
+operations extended over the entire northern part of the State, and
+into Canada, and were closely interlocked with the immense logging
+interests of the Penobscot and the Androscoggin. President of the
+Millbank National Bank, he was also on the Board of leading banks
+in Augusta, Bangor, and Portland, and as a member of the Governor’s
+staff he had attained the rank of colonel--that warlike title which so
+many exceedingly peaceful gentlemen parade with pride. In fact, his
+operations had touched all interests save politics, for his title had
+more of a social than a political significance.
+
+“Undoubtedly,” he said, “Trafford is entitled to make a show for
+the money he’s getting, and we can understand his giving us some
+horse-play; but it’s going too far when he endangers an innocent
+man, to say nothing of the good name of the town. The episode of the
+revolver found twenty-four hours after the murder is mere child’s play.
+I shouldn’t have thought it would have taken for a moment.”
+
+“You think Trafford put it there?”
+
+“I think he knew when to look for it and when not to. He looked for it
+at the right time, at any rate.”
+
+“I don’t think Trafford’s so much to blame for producing the pistol as
+Coroner Burke,” McManus said. “I was watching him at the time, and I
+thought him annoyed at the question.”
+
+“Whoever is to blame,” Hunter answered, with the positiveness of a man
+accustomed to rely much on his own judgment and to have others do the
+same, “the mischief’s done. Half the town is certain that Oldbeg is the
+murderer. It’s being whispered that Mrs. Parlin hired him to do it, so
+she could have the money, and the fact that she doesn’t discharge the
+man is held to be proof of the fact. Then, with the logic of dolts,
+they declare that she hired Trafford because she was afraid of him.”
+
+A look of horror showed in McManus’s face at this statement of the
+public attitude. Surely, Mrs. Parlin had suffered enough without having
+to bear this injustice.
+
+“But don’t they see,” he remonstrated, “if this was the case, Trafford
+would have been the last to turn suspicion upon Oldbeg?”
+
+“They don’t see anything!” exclaimed Hunter impatiently. “They’re
+simply hanging-mad. They believe Trafford too smart not to have
+solved this thing in a fortnight, and at the same time they believe
+him a big enough fool to have sold himself. They think Oldbeg guilty,
+because there’s nobody else in sight, and because they think him
+guilty, they must believe that Trafford and Mrs. Parlin are protecting
+him. Therefore, Mrs. Parlin must be guilty too, and therefore, again,
+Trafford must be trying to cover up the facts.”
+
+Hunter expressed in his somewhat querulous tone much of the feeling
+that prevailed in the business community. Men felt it a disgrace that
+an unprovoked murder could occur under their very eyes, as it were, and
+remain without the slightest progress towards solution for more than
+a fortnight. In a large community, the police would have come in for
+sneers and ridicule. In this case, the detective had to bear the brunt
+of the complaints.
+
+Hunter, intent for the good name of the town, suggested finally that a
+subscription reward be offered in addition to that of the county and
+town and that offered by Mrs. Parlin. He was willing to guarantee a
+substantial sum.
+
+“I think also,” he said, “we should put another detective to work. I
+can’t see any harm if Trafford is on the square, and it may do a lot of
+good if he isn’t.”
+
+“It’s against all principle to put a case into two men’s hands,”
+McManus objected. “We certainly ought to dismiss the one before we hire
+a second.”
+
+“We haven’t hired the first yet,” Hunter answered roughly. “We can’t
+object to Mrs. Parlin employing a detective, if she wants to; but she
+as certainly can’t object to our doing the same thing. If, however, we
+put a man to work, let him keep his hands off that statement of Judge
+Parlin’s.”
+
+McManus started.
+
+“You think it genuine?”
+
+Hunter looked as if the question tired him. He was a tall dark man,
+with an unusually expressive face, and was not accustomed to concealing
+his feelings.
+
+“That’s more of your horse-play. Whether the paper’s genuine or not
+can’t have any bearing on the murder. It isn’t to be imagined, if
+it’s a forgery, that there was a purpose to make it public after the
+principals in the affair were dead. It’s a false scent and meant to be
+a false scent.”
+
+On the very evening on which Charles Hunter urged the employment of an
+additional detective, Trafford was handed a telegram telling him that
+Charles Matthewson had left Augusta on the late afternoon train up the
+river. It had been an easy matter to ascertain that he had not left the
+train either at the main station in Millbank or at the Bridge-stop,
+but none the less the detective had an uneasy feeling that the man
+might be in town. If so, whom did he come to see and why did he come
+and go so mysteriously? He could see no possible connection between
+the relationship of Wing with Matthewson and the murder, and yet he
+could not divest his mind of the impression that there was some mystery
+going on before his very eyes which he had not fathomed, but which, if
+fathomed, would bear upon the discovery of the murderer.
+
+A half-hour or so before the down train was due to leave the Millbank
+station, he left the hotel and walked down Canaan Street to its
+junction with Somerset Street and the covered and enclosed bridge that
+spans the river at that point. Here, upon the very brink of the river,
+fifty feet above the water, stood the small brick building of the
+Millbank National Bank. The bridge and the bank lay in shadow, for it
+was a moonless night and the street lamp at the entrance of the bridge
+was not lighted. Above the bridge was the dash and roar of the falls;
+below, the steady murmur of the narrowed current, between its rocky
+walls that rise more than fifty feet from the water’s edge.
+
+“Thunder!” he thought, “there are some creepy places around this town,
+especially when they can’t sponge on the moon for light. If I was an
+inspired detective, I’d know whether there was any danger in that
+bridge. As I ain’t, I guess I’ll take the centre.”
+
+He advanced into the darkness of the drive, which was pitchy black,
+solid plank walls dividing it from the footwalk on either hand. He was
+half-way through, when he suddenly felt the presence of some one near
+him, though he could see or hear nothing. He stopped, and absolute
+stillness reigned, save the tumult of the water above and below. He
+had walked close to the wall on the down-river side, so that his form
+might not be outlined against the opening of the bridge, and he was
+conscious that he was as completely concealed, since he had advanced
+a rod into the darkness, as were his companions. It was a question of
+endurance, and in that his training gave him the advantage.
+
+Softly there came out of the darkness a noise as of the moving of a
+tired leg. Inch by inch Trafford crept close to the board wall, until
+now it was at his back, with one of the heavy timbers protecting his
+left arm. His right was free for defence. The sound indicated a man
+within a few feet of him on his left.
+
+Suddenly there was the sharp swish of a club in the air, and the thud
+of contact with a living body, followed by a loud cry of pain and
+
+“_Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!_”
+
+“_Mon dieu! Où est le chien?_”
+
+Two men rushed past toward the Millbank end, with a jabber of Canadian
+French, from which Trafford learned that the assailed feared that his
+shoulder was broken.
+
+“One marked for identification,” he chuckled, as he slid along in the
+deep shadow toward the farther end.
+
+He had satisfied himself of one thing he was anxious about, and with
+another at hand had no time to waste on a man who could be found in the
+morning for the mere asking. He was too keen on the question whether
+Charles Matthewson was in Millbank, to allow a needless diversion.
+If Matthewson was in town, it showed a terrible uneasiness at the
+bottom of his wanderings--an uneasiness that forbade his trusting to
+others for information and yet demanded information at first hands, so
+imperatively that he was willing to take enormous risks to obtain it.
+
+“It would have been a coincidence, if I’d been murdered to-night,”
+said Trafford, in his wonted confidential talk with himself; “with
+Matthewson in town as he was the night of the other murder.”
+
+Trafford crossed the railroad bridge and so attained the Millbank
+station without attracting attention. He saw every one of the
+half-dozen passengers who boarded the train, but found no trace of the
+man he was seeking. As the train slowed up for the Bridge stop, he
+swung off into the dark in time to catch sight of a figure swinging on
+from the same dark side. It was not Matthewson, and he was just turning
+away, when suddenly he changed his purpose and as the train moved off
+was again on the rear platform. He rode there to the next station, and
+then changed his quarters to the baggage car. He had identified his
+man; now he was after his destination.
+
+This proved to be Waterville. A private carriage was waiting, and into
+it the man jumped, driving away rapidly. There was but one way to
+follow and keep the carriage in sight, and Trafford made a half-mile
+in quick time, clinging to the back-bar and resting his weight on his
+hands and arms. He dropped to the ground and crept away as the carriage
+turned into the driveway of an extensive country place, which the
+detective recognised as that of Henry Matthewson, a younger brother of
+Charles, and a man largely interested in the logging business.
+
+“Humph,” he said. “This time he comes part way and they bring him the
+news. Well; it ain’t of my murder, though some folks may wish it was
+before many hours have passed.”
+
+Before daylight, he had his operatives on hand while he himself took
+the early train back to Millbank. The delicate work just now was to
+be done there, and this he would trust to no one save himself. His
+appreciation of the importance of the case and the sensation that would
+be produced when it was finally unravelled, had increased immensely
+since he crossed Millbank Bridge, and he had no purpose to see it
+botched by clumsy handling.
+
+After breakfast he went directly to Mr. Wing’s office and sought an
+interview with Mr. McManus.
+
+“I want,” he said, “to go through all the papers again in Wing’s safe
+and, if you have any private papers of his, through those as well. So
+far, we are absolutely adrift and we have a double task on our hands,
+for we’ve got to clear Oldbeg of suspicion as well as discover the real
+murderer.”
+
+“Then you dismiss all suspicion that Oldbeg had anything to do with the
+murder?”
+
+“If you can dismiss an idea you never entertained. In a certain sense
+every man in town was under suspicion--Oldbeg no more than another.
+This job, however, was not the work of a clumsy man like Oldbeg. When
+we find the murderer, you’ll find a man of quick motions, delicacy of
+touch, strong purpose, assured position, and considerable refinement.
+You’ll find a man to whom murder is repugnant and who resorted to it
+only as a last desperate chance. You’ll find therefore a man who was
+desperate, whose all was at stake, and who knew that Wing’s continued
+living meant the loss of that all. Now, if you can tell me where there
+is such a man, I’ll give you proof of his guilt so conclusive before
+night that no one will hesitate to approve his arrest.”
+
+As he spoke, McManus grew pale. Something brought a terrible picture
+before his eyes. As never before, he realised the desperate chase in
+which they were involved.
+
+“It was, then, in your opinion no mere desire for sordid gain that
+impelled to the crime?”
+
+“Who has gained by it? Some one that by it has been saved from loss,
+and tremendous loss. Don’t fool yourself. Don’t look for any common
+criminal, and above all don’t flatter yourself for one moment that
+the criminal will stop at any additional crime to prevent detection.
+If detected, he’s lost everything. He can’t lose any more with twenty
+murders to his charge.”
+
+McManus glanced over his shoulder, as if he expected to see the
+murderer rise out of vacancy in his own defence.
+
+“What connection then has Judge Parlin’s statement with the crime?” he
+asked uneasily.
+
+“It’s a mere incident--an accident, as you might say, that holds its
+place by its own sensational character and the tensity of nervous
+interest aroused in the public mind by the crime itself. It had nothing
+to do with the crime, or the cause that led up to it. I don’t believe
+the murderer knew of its existence. At the same time it’s one of those
+accidents that may lead to things to which it’s in no way related. It
+may be the very thing that’ll ultimately set us on the right track.
+Don’t lose sight of it for a moment.”
+
+McManus looked as if the caution were wholly uncalled for. There was
+not much danger of his losing sight of anything that had to do with
+the murder. One might have suspected from his looks that he wished he
+could.
+
+After making an appointment for three in the afternoon to examine
+papers, Trafford left the office and went to a little dingy room, in
+Gray’s Inn Lane, where he was joined almost immediately by a tall,
+seedy-looking man, evidently of Canadian stock, whose French was only
+a trifle worse than his English. He was a man whom few men would have
+trusted and whom Trafford had always found absolutely trustworthy.
+The man shook his head, with many a gestured negative. Not a man was
+missing from Little Canada; every man who was open to suspicion was
+accounted for, and not one of them showed a broken collar-bone or a
+shattered arm.
+
+“But there are other Canucks in town, outside Little Canada,” said
+Trafford.
+
+The report included all. The man had determined the whereabouts of
+every Canadian of sixteen years of age and upwards, and there was
+not one who bore marks of the blow delivered on the bridge the night
+before.
+
+“But he was a Canuck,” said Trafford, with positiveness that admits
+no question; “and it’s a bigger miracle than any of their relics ever
+performed before, if he don’t carry a broken bone to-day. There’s
+somebody missing.”
+
+The man shook his head. He had accounted for the last of them.
+
+“Do you think it was a dream or a nightmare?” Trafford demanded, with
+some asperity.
+
+The man shrugged and lifted his shoulders, in deprecation of the tone
+of the demand.
+
+“All right,” said Trafford at last. “Take the afternoon train to
+Augusta and resume your work there. I’ll give this personal attention.”
+
+The man hesitated a moment and then, coming close to him and lowering
+his voice, spoke rapidly and anxiously.
+
+“You are taking risks, Mr. Trafford. This is no ordinary case. You
+can’t tell what you’ve got against you. Two men can go safely where one
+can’t.”
+
+“And one can go safely sometimes where two are a danger. I’ve taken
+risks all my life--it’s my business to take ’em. You don’t suppose I
+chose this business because of its freedom from danger, do you?”
+
+“A brave man doesn’t court danger; he simply meets it bravely when it
+comes.”
+
+“Well, I’ll try to meet it that way if it comes. At present Millbank
+looks like a fairly safe place. I don’t think I’ll get my throat cut
+here.”
+
+“But you aren’t going to stay here,” the man urged. “You know you
+aren’t. You’re going----”
+
+“We’ll dispense with information as to where I’m going,” Trafford
+interrupted. “It’s probably safe to state, but it’s possibly not. We’ll
+keep on the absolutely safe side as long as possible. Your train leaves
+in fifteen minutes.”
+
+The gesticulating Canadian reappeared on the instant. Discipline
+asserted itself, and the man prepared to obey without further
+remonstrance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A Man Disappears
+
+
+Trafford sent a hasty note to McManus, postponing the afternoon
+appointment, and made ready to visit the logging drives at work along
+the Kennebec. It was certain that no physician in Millbank had set a
+broken shoulder or arm within the twenty-four hours; no man of the
+character sought had left by any of the trains or stages, and the river
+afforded the only unguarded means of escape. A canoe or river-driver’s
+boat could easily come and go unnoticed, and it tallied with other
+points in hand that the assailants were connected with the logging
+interests. Another point in the case was that, in almost all the large
+gangs of drivers, there was sure to be some one roughly skilled in
+surgery, who could attend to minor accidents and even, temporarily, to
+those of a severer nature, such as are apt to occur, often at points
+far distant from skilled practitioners. Such a man could, under
+emergency, even possibly have set the arm or shoulder, and could
+certainly have cared for it until a surgeon at Norridgewock or farther
+up the river was reached. As yet the logging drives were all above
+Millbank Falls, so that Trafford’s search pointed entirely in that
+direction.
+
+Every schoolboy or farmer’s lad is a walking directory to any logging
+drive within five miles, and Trafford had no difficulty in learning
+that the nearest drive was at the Bombazee Rips, above Norridgewock.
+Here he found the ordinary gang of a dozen men, with boats and the
+implements of their trade, at work on the logs which were beginning to
+jam against those that had first grounded on the ledge at the head of
+the rips. Full half of the gang were French Canadians, small, dark men
+of wonderful litheness and agility, men with a tenacity of life that
+seems to bid defiance to the wet and exposure of their trade. It was
+hard work by day, hard sleep by night, often in clothes soaked with the
+river water; yet cheerful, healthful good humour was evidenced in the
+loud chatter that came with every lull in the work. It was here that
+the grown lads of the Chaudière, Megantic, and St. François valleys
+secured that schooling in the English tongue from which race jealousy
+barred them at home.
+
+A roughly constructed shanty of pine slabs, the earth bountifully
+spread with clean straw, served for sleeping; while in front was an
+immense fire of logs, which served double purpose, for warmth in the
+evening and cooking in the daytime. An old woodsman, whose driving
+days were past, acted as cook and general camp care-taker. A group of
+boys flittered about the fire, shanty, and boats. The older ones made
+ventures upon the logs, and sometimes lent a hand to a driver, handling
+a pick or cant-hook, a feat that made one a hero with his fellows for
+the remainder of the day.
+
+It was entirely permissible for a countryman, such as Trafford
+appeared, on curiosity bent, to enter the sleeping-place or seat
+himself by the fire. Indeed, at mealtime he would scarcely fail, by
+virtue of his age, of an invitation to share in the coarse food,
+a privilege which the boys viewed with keen envy. These boys were
+unconscious spies, upon the sharpness of whose eyes Trafford counted
+much. They went everywhere and saw everything, and if there was an
+injured man in camp, it would take skill to keep him concealed from
+them.
+
+Trafford chatted pleasantly with the cook and joked the boys, before
+he opened in a general way the subject of accidents--of which he
+seemed to stand in apprehension, declaring that log-driving was in his
+opinion the most dangerous of trades. At that the boys raised a shout
+of derision and extolled the trade to the skies. There was not one of
+them but was consumed with desire for a driver’s life, exactly as he
+would be for any other life of freedom and activity whose claims for
+the moment were pressed upon him.
+
+The old man, on the other hand, admitted the element of danger, and
+thrilled his hearers with accounts of hairbreadth escapes which he had
+witnessed in the long years that he had been on the river. There had
+been deaths, too; deaths from drowning and from crushing in the log
+jams. Still, the life was a grand one for the man who was not afraid
+of hard work, and if he had his to live over, he would live it on the
+river again. There had been no accidents as yet, the jams were light
+and easily moved. It was only here and there with this water that any
+serious troubles were had. Oh, yes; Millbank Falls; that, of course,
+was different. There was a hard drive, and when they got there in the
+course of the next week, they would have a lively tussle.
+
+From camp to camp, Trafford worked up to the Forks of the River and
+then up the Dead River branch, and again across to the main river
+and up into the Megantic woods. Nowhere was there any trace of an
+injured man or a hint of knowledge of one. Wherever the camp was near
+a village, so that boys gathered around, they were of material aid in
+giving him information. In spite, however, of every device, he came
+back down the river unsuccessful and depressed. He had a feeling of
+defeat, as if in every camp some one were laughing at him as outwitted.
+He knew the unreason of the feeling and yet could not escape it.
+
+Nor was there, when he reached Millbank, any information from the lower
+part of the river or from any of the surgeons whom, within a radius of
+thirty miles, he had caused to be interrogated. It was if the earth
+had opened and swallowed up the man--or--and he stood above the falls
+and looked at the water rushing over them, as if he would question
+it and wrest an answer from it. It was certain that the man--a man,
+whose personality he could merely guess at--had disappeared. It was
+like ridding himself of a nightmare to throw off the uneasiness that
+oppressed him.
+
+Immediately on his return, Trafford sought an interview with Mrs.
+Parlin. The time was coming when the inquest must be reconvened, and as
+yet there was nothing of advance since the hour when it had adjourned.
+Even he was grown impatient and he could not marvel that a woman, under
+the nervous strain of his employer, should be fast becoming irritably
+so.
+
+“We have no right,” she said, “to leave an innocent man under suspicion
+as Jonathan has been left. If we can’t find the murderer, we can at
+least prove that it isn’t he.”
+
+“Unfortunately, until we find the man, the majority will believe him
+guilty,” Trafford replied.
+
+“What right had you to throw suspicion on him?” she demanded.
+
+“The right of the coroner to know every fact that bears on the case.
+It would have been as unjustifiable to conceal Oldbeg’s purchase of a
+revolver, as it would to conceal the finding of the weapon.”
+
+“Why wasn’t it there the morning of the eleventh?” she asked.
+
+“My dear madam,” he said with a gentle smile, “if we knew that, we’d
+know who the murderer is. We’d know it, that is: but possibly not in a
+way that we could prove.”
+
+“Precious little good that would do us,” she answered.
+
+“So much good that the chances are ninety-nine in a hundred that the
+proof would be forthcoming. There are few men who are shrewd enough to
+cover every trace.”
+
+“But these seem to be of the few,” she said.
+
+“We are not through with them yet,” he replied; and then suddenly: “Has
+the new detective, employed by Hunter and his friends, been here?”
+
+He had, and had made a critical examination of the house from cellar
+to attic; had been through the papers in the desk and safe, and had
+taken away a number of scraps from the former.
+
+“He didn’t get the writing-pad, though,” he said.
+
+“No; that disturbed him; especially when I told him you had it.”
+
+“The--deuce you did!” he exclaimed. “I wish--you hadn’t!”
+
+“I had no right to conceal so important a fact,” she said.
+
+Trafford bit his lip over this turn of his own argument, but made no
+retort. He recognised in this second detective a graver impediment than
+the cunning of the criminal--if, indeed, it was not the cunning of the
+criminal that had interjected the second detective into the affair.
+Working independently, it was scarcely possible that they could do
+otherwise than thwart each other. He had the feeling that the case was
+his and that no other had a professional right to throw himself into
+it. If he had been on the verge of success, he would have withdrawn
+from the case. As it was, the same professional pride that resented
+intrusion, forbade his taking such a course.
+
+For the twentieth time he asked:
+
+“He certainly did a large amount of work at home and must have had
+papers connected with the work here?”
+
+“Why, certainly,” she said. “He always had a lot of professional papers
+here.”
+
+Trafford looked at her as if doubting whether he should ask the
+question that hung on his lips. But he must have facts, and here if
+anywhere was the information he needed. Could he trust the woman?
+Finally he came and stood over her chair, as if he was afraid of the
+walls even, and asked:
+
+“Was this always his habit?”
+
+“No,” she answered; “not while the judge was living, and never indeed
+until about two years ago. Yes, it began about two years ago.”
+
+“It was not a habit learned from the judge, then?”
+
+“Oh, no! Of course, he brought papers home at times, and so did
+Theodore; but he never kept them at home until within the last two
+years.”
+
+“Did Cranston ask you about this?” Trafford demanded.
+
+“No,” she said, “no, he did not.”
+
+“If he does, avoid answering him, if possible.” Then he stopped as if
+he had gone too far, and she, seeing his embarrassment, checked the
+answer that came to her lips.
+
+He sat for some time silent, and then glanced up to intercept a look
+that she bent upon him.
+
+“What is it?” he asked.
+
+“Have you talked with Mr. Hunter--the one who was in Theodore’s office,
+I mean?”
+
+“Is he of the same family as Mr. Hunter who owns the great logging
+interests?”
+
+“His brother.”
+
+“How long has he been in the office?” he asked carelessly--so
+carelessly that she forgot he had not answered her question.
+
+“About two and a half years. I think Theodore thought him an
+acquisition and had great confidence in his ability.”
+
+“A good stock,” he said, “for pushing.” Then he added after a short
+pause:
+
+“Mrs. Parlin, at the inquest you expressed in the strongest terms your
+confidence that the statement presented was actually written by your
+husband. Have you had any cause since to change your mind?”
+
+“Not the slightest,” she said. “On the contrary, the facts there stated
+account for many things that were strange to me before. There is no
+question as to the facts, and none as to his having written them.”
+
+“That being the case, they can have nothing to do with the murder.
+The only other person who knew these facts was directly interested in
+keeping them concealed. Even admitting, as might be possible, that in
+order effectually to prevent exposure, she had been capable of killing
+or having her son killed, would she find any likelihood of this in a
+murder that would centre on him the interest of the entire State? Of
+course, she did not know of the existence of this paper, and she could
+not know that the murder would make the case public, but she would know
+that if he knew the facts, and had any interest in their publicity, he
+would have acted long ago. She would also know that if you knew the
+facts, your interest was that of secrecy, the chance of which would be
+diminished in the excitement of a murder case. Now that’s my reasoning,
+and through it I reach the conclusion that the facts revealed in that
+statement have nothing to do with the murder. I have since confirmed
+this by facts outside those from which I reasoned. I haven’t told a
+soul this before, not even McManus. I don’t want a soul save you to
+know it now; not even McManus. But now I’m going to ask you a question,
+which I believe has some bearing upon the causes of the murder, and
+that is: Why, if Mr. Wing had for two years been keeping many of his
+business papers at home, was there not one of them in his desk or safe
+the morning the murder was discovered?”
+
+“No papers in his desk or safe?” she said, while a look almost of
+terror came over her face. “You must be mistaken! Why, there was a
+package on his desk, lying right on the writing-pad, when I bade him
+good-night.”
+
+“Would you recognise it again if you saw it?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then look through the safe and see if you can find it.”
+
+He opened the safe and she went through it package by package, while
+he waited with that patience that comes of long training, until, the
+search finished, she looked up and said:
+
+“It isn’t here!”
+
+“It was here at nine o’clock on the night of the tenth; it wasn’t here
+at six on the morning of the eleventh. What do you make of that?”
+
+“It had been stolen!” she gasped, looking pale and perplexed.
+
+“There might be one other explanation,” he interposed; “and we are
+bound to look at that carefully. Mr. Wing might have burned them. He
+had a fire that evening.”
+
+“Yes,” she said, “he might.”
+
+“I made sure on that point,” he then explained, “the morning of the
+murder. Not from any suspicion that papers were missing, but on the
+principle of taking note of everything, even the most trivial. I can
+assure you that there were no papers of any amount burned in the
+fireplace the night before. We could scarcely expect it; but it would
+have been a stroke of genius if the thief had burned some papers to
+throw us off the track.”
+
+“The thief!” she repeated.
+
+“You must see,” he said, “that the theft of the papers presupposes a
+thief. I have been certain from the start that some one was in the room
+after the murder. What he was after I haven’t known until now. He was
+at the safe, which he must have found open. Some one who wanted those
+papers wanted them enough to induce him to commit this murder, and
+then to enter the room and search the safe, while the dead man lay at
+the door. It was a terrible risk--as terrible as that of the murder
+itself. Suppose Oldbeg had been a half-hour later in coming home. He
+would unquestionably have found the murdered man with the murderers in
+the room. By just that narrow margin this perplexing mystery escaped
+proving a mere blundering crime.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+“You are My Mother”
+
+
+Three men sat in conference in the small library at Henry Matthewson’s
+residence at Waterville, the morning after the bridge incident. These
+were Henry Matthewson himself, three years younger than his brother
+Charles, opposite whom was the man who had come from Millbank by the
+midnight train, Frank Hunter, brother of Charles Hunter and himself an
+attorney in the late Mr. Wing’s office.
+
+“The papers are not in the office,” Hunter was saying. “I was nearly
+certain he did not keep them there, but I made the search carefully.”
+
+“How about his private safe at home?” Henry Matthewson asked.
+
+“Of course I’ve had no opportunity to examine that----”
+
+“You should have made one,” said Charles Matthewson sternly.
+
+The remark threw a chill over the talk, that made it a little difficult
+to break the embarrassed silence that followed. At last, Hunter said:
+
+“It was too dangerous to risk turning any general question in that
+direction. Besides, Trafford had the first shy at that.”
+
+“Mr. Hunter is right,” Henry Matthewson said, with that tone that men
+described as “masterful,” and which generally prevailed with Charles,
+in part because it so much resembled his mother’s. “It would have been
+too much risk.”
+
+“What are you going to do?” demanded Charles; “let the papers fall
+into Trafford’s hands, to be used against us, or sold back to us at an
+enormous price? Wing’s death came at a strangely opportune time; are we
+going to throw the chance away?”
+
+“If there were papers,” Henry affirmed, “McManus or Trafford had them
+almost before we heard of the murder. We want to know whether there
+were papers or not, but we don’t want to advertise their existence. If
+we get a chance to buy, we may think ourselves lucky.”
+
+“Trafford!” said Hunter with a touch of scorn in his voice. “We owe
+them thanks for putting him on to the job.”
+
+“Are you certain of your grounds for judgment, Mr. Hunter?” Charles
+Matthewson asked. “I’m a little afraid you underrate his ability.”
+
+“Why, what’s he found out in his fortnight’s work?” demanded Hunter.
+
+“That’s just what I’d like to find out, but can’t,” said Matthewson.
+“Whatever he’s after, he acts as if he’d get it first and do his
+crowing afterwards.”
+
+“Trafford’s at the top, so far as ability is concerned,” said Henry;
+“and the next best man’s Cranston. If you’re going to set a man at
+work, you’d better take him. There are two things for him to do: First,
+keep track of Trafford and let him give us notice quick if he hears
+of the papers; second, work up the story of Wing’s birth. We’ve got
+to keep that more in the public eye. I can’t for the life of me see
+anything in it to lead to the murder, but the public think there’s some
+connection between the two, and we mustn’t let them lose sight of it.”
+
+“But there must have been some motive in the murder,” Hunter affirmed.
+
+“If we can get hold of the papers, we’ll let the motive take care of
+itself,” Charles interposed. “To think, I was in Millbank that very
+night--almost at the very moment! If I’d known--I’d have found out what
+was in that room before any detective had a chance!”
+
+He looked at Hunter with an implication of failure. He would gladly
+have defended himself, but he remembered that he might have been on the
+scene before McManus, and that he had dawdled over his breakfast and
+let the opportunity slip. No one would have refused him admission any
+more than McManus had been refused. How many anxious hours he might
+have saved himself!
+
+As a result of the conference, Cranston was sent for and put on the
+case. He listened to his instructions and then said:
+
+“I’ve got to know what you want, if I’m to work with any advantage to
+you or myself. You want to find out who Wing’s mother was--but that’s
+incidental. You want to know who murdered Wing--but that’s incidental.
+What is it I’m to do really?”
+
+Again Henry Matthewson showed his superior masterfulness by deciding
+and acting.
+
+“Mr. Wing had been for some time at work upon a matter that concerns
+materially the logging interests of this State. We simply know the
+fact, for he took no one into his confidence, and was so secretive as
+to keep the papers about him or in his private safe in his library.
+Without knowing what the papers contain, we believe if they should fall
+into the hand of a less scrupulous man than Mr. Wing, they might become
+dangerous--that is, a source of blackmail. We want to locate those
+papers, and if possible get possession of them.”
+
+“How far am I warranted in going in order to get hold of them?” he
+asked.
+
+“Only to locate them and report to me. We will decide then on the safe
+course.” It was Henry Matthewson who spoke, as always when prompt
+decision was demanded.
+
+“If they had not already been removed,” said Cranston, “Trafford and
+McManus have had a chance long since to secure them. I’m like to find
+them in their hands.”
+
+“Excepting that they might not know their value,” said Charles
+Matthewson.
+
+Cranston looked at the speaker quizzically.
+
+“I don’t know about your Mr. McManus,” he said. “He’s a lawyer. But as
+to Trafford, I can answer. If he’s had his hands on those papers, he
+knows their value.”
+
+“I don’t think,” said Hunter, after the detective had received his
+instructions and gone, “that my brother would quite approve time spent
+in discovering Wing’s mother. He doesn’t believe that affair had
+anything to do with the murder.”
+
+“How can any sensible man?” Henry Matthewson demanded impatiently; “but
+we don’t know where the enquiry is going to land us nor what help we
+may want before we’re through. If the judge’s statement is true, this
+woman has a high position to lose and has great influence with her
+husband, who holds a strong place politically. It can’t be a matter of
+much trouble to unravel that part of the affair, and it may give us
+some one whom we can use advantageously in case of an emergency. It
+may bring to our aid a force that naturally would be glad to crush us.
+I’ll take the risk at any rate!”
+
+“All right,” said Hunter. “I’m agreeable, though I thought it proper to
+state my brother’s position.”
+
+Cranston entered upon his work at once and with zeal. His first visit
+was to Millbank and the Parlin house, where, as has been said, he
+searched from top to bottom. He plied Mrs. Parlin with questions that
+finally got from her the story of the package of papers, which she was
+not conscious of having seen until his questions stirred her memory to
+recall a picture of the room the night before the murder. Then came
+out clearly and distinctly the package of papers lying on the desk.
+It was, however, equally certain that they were gone, and of this he
+was able to satisfy himself without letting Mrs. Parlin understand
+that he attached any importance to the matter. The task was left him
+of ascertaining whether Trafford or McManus had them. The episode of
+the writing-pad convinced him that Trafford was the man, and that the
+pad was simply a cover to the removal of the papers that were resting
+on it. It was this that caused the annoyance to which Mrs. Parlin had
+referred.
+
+He went over the ground under the consciousness that eyes at least
+as capable of seeing as his own had preceded him, and that there was
+little chance that anything had escaped them and less chance that, if
+there had, he would be able to discover it. It irritated him that men
+who wanted real service should call him in at so late an hour, and then
+seem to take it for granted that they had done all that was necessary.
+
+“Oldbeg has been here a good many years,” he said carelessly to Mrs.
+Parlin, who insisted on attending him in his investigation.
+
+“He’s been with us about six years; one year before the judge died.”
+
+“You have always found him faithful?”
+
+“There has been nothing particular to complain of. He’s been steady and
+has worked hard and usually shown good temper.”
+
+“Usually,” Cranston repeated. “Then sometimes he hasn’t.”
+
+“He has his off-days, the same as the rest of us; days when things
+don’t go right and he gets surly. But those spells pass quickly
+and he’s always sorry for them, seemingly. There aren’t any of us
+smooth-feathered all the time.”
+
+“When did he have one of these ‘off-days,’ as you call them, last?” The
+tone was careless, as if Cranston did not attach much importance to the
+enquiry, and yet made it, as in duty bound.
+
+“On the Sunday before----”
+
+“May ninth,” interrupted Cranston.
+
+“Yes. In the afternoon he was dressed up to go visiting. Theodore sent
+for him to put his driving horse into the light buggy, so he could
+drive to Norridgewock. Jonathan didn’t like it and said if he couldn’t
+have Sunday afternoons, he’d find some place where he could.”
+
+“Was that all there was to it?” Cranston asked, after waiting a moment
+for Mrs. Parlin to continue.
+
+“Why, about all. It’s all too silly to repeat.”
+
+“I’d rather judge of that,” Cranston said, more shortly perhaps than he
+intended.
+
+Mrs. Parlin grew cold and distant, with that poise of the head that, to
+her friends, at least, told of offence taken.
+
+“It was only irritation and he didn’t even mean that Theodore should
+hear him, but Theodore did and answered pretty sharply and----”
+
+“Please, what did he say?”
+
+“That he could go any time it suited him, and that, while he intended
+to give a man all the privileges he could, he intended also to have his
+services when he wanted them. Jonathan said if he wanted a man to work
+like a nigger, he’d better get one; and Theodore told him if he heard
+another word from him, he’d discharge him on the spot.” Mrs. Parlin had
+spoken formally and distantly, as if to assert the compulsion under
+which she complied with his demand.
+
+“Was that the end of it?” he asked.
+
+“Why, of course. Neither of them meant it, and the easiest way was to
+let it pass. Theodore understood that and didn’t refer to it again.
+It’s sometimes the best way to get along with hasty folks.”
+
+“But did Oldbeg forget it?” Cranston asked significantly.
+
+“Possibly not. He knew he was wrong and it made him uneasy, but of
+course, it all went when the terrible murder was discovered.”
+
+Cranston looked at her with a puzzled expression, and then smiled as he
+realised that she had not understood his question. He was glad that it
+was so, and at once passed to other matters.
+
+To Frank Hunter, however, that night he reported his conviction that
+the evidence pointed more strongly to Oldbeg as the murderer than he
+had supposed.
+
+“In fact,” he said, “there’s enough to justify his arrest, and with
+that I feel pretty certain he’ll break down and we’ll get the truth.”
+
+“But the papers,” said Hunter, impatiently. “Oldbeg could have had no
+knowledge of them, but they’re what we’re first of all interested in.”
+
+“Oh, as for them, Trafford’s got them beyond doubt. They were last
+seen on the writing-pad, and he made quite a show of taking that. It
+was nothing but a cover for the papers, of course. You’ve got to open
+negotiations with him for their purchase, but you can’t do that so long
+as he thinks they may have something to do with the murder. When the
+question of the murder’s out of the way, then the papers ’ll simply be
+papers and you can make quick work of ’em: another reason why you ought
+to arrest Oldbeg and get that settled.”
+
+“But my brother’s positive Oldbeg had nothing to do with the murder,
+and whatever his interest may be, he’s not going to let an innocent
+man suffer an unjust arrest. I’m confident, unless you can give him
+positive proofs in the matter, he’ll not allow it to be done.”
+
+“Well,” said the man sulkily, “I’m in your employ and shall obey
+orders, but if I was working on the case as a public matter, I’d have
+the arrest made and made quick.”
+
+Mr. Charles Hunter was obdurate. He declared that enough injustice had
+already been done in turning public suspicion against the man without a
+shred to hang it on, and he was not going to be a party to keeping it
+up.
+
+“It’ll take the man years to recover from it now,” he affirmed;
+“and an arrest would down him forever. Oh, yes, I know you bring in
+a motive in a petty fuss that occurred on Sunday--a thing that might
+happen anywhere and to any one. A man going to see his girl gets
+miffed because he has to harness a horse and is impertinent, and you
+conclude that that’s reason for his shooting his employer. It’s against
+all reason and common sense, and I won’t insult my intelligence by
+considering it.”
+
+“Most murders are against reason and common sense,” said the detective;
+“at least, that’s my experience, and more than that, nine murders out
+of ten are for absolutely trivial causes. Before you get through with
+this case, you’ll see Oldbeg arrested, or I’ll miss my guess.”
+
+“Well, I shan’t be responsible for it,” the other retorted.
+
+Thwarted in this part of his search, Cranston turned his attention
+to tracing Wing’s mother, to which both Hunter and the Matthewsons
+appeared to attach considerable importance--more, in fact, than he
+could find in it. Confessedly, it was a cover or subterfuge and meant
+the unearthing of a secret that might ruin a woman’s good name for a
+mistake made forty years before. It seemed to him a strange twist of
+conscience, which revolted at the arrest of a man for a crime of which
+circumstances tended to show him guilty, while it gave willing assent
+to bringing to light that which might have been lived down years before
+and redeemed by a clean life during more years than any of these men
+had lived.
+
+As soon, however, as he took up the matter, the spirit of the quest
+possessed him, and this grew strong as the facts unearthed began to
+point in a certain direction, while wonder and a low greed found seeds
+in the case as it unfolded. At last, with the truth before him, he
+was at the point where paths separated, with insistent necessity for
+him to take one or the other. Should he go to the woman and demand
+his price for silence; or should he give the sons the facts and make
+them the purchasers? Whichever he decided on, he would deal honestly
+as a man should, and he would not pit one against the other. Hence,
+the importance of the decision, for once made it barred him from
+negotiations with any one else. Preferably, he would keep the matter
+a secret from the sons, save that he had a shrewd suspicion that they
+were in a better position to pay the price than was the mother. On the
+other hand, the mother might prove the more defiant, especially if she
+credited his unwillingness to go to others. It was at best a delicate
+question, but fortunately it would “keep” and be as valuable a month
+hence as now. He could, therefore, wait and let development lead him in
+his decision.
+
+Then came the thought of Trafford. Trafford had, of course, followed
+up this clue and, equally of course, had unearthed the facts. He,
+therefore, was in the market, with the danger that he might not prove
+as “honourable” as Cranston purposed being, and, therefore, might
+damage the price that the latter had expected to obtain. Indeed, it
+was an awkward predicament for a man who had a valuable secret to sell
+and natural purchasers at hand, yet wished at the same time to shape
+his course to the demands of fair dealing and honour. Still, before he
+moved, it was necessary that he should ascertain, if possible, whether
+Trafford had approached either of the persons interested and if so,
+what he had done.
+
+It was the day on which Trafford returned from his fruitless visit to
+the logging drives. Charles Matthewson, uneasy and anxious, found his
+office more conducive to nervousness than work, and finally, throwing
+down his pen, had reached for his hat for a turn out of doors, when the
+door opened and his mother entered.
+
+“Why, mother,” he said, rising to meet her, and striving to stifle the
+apprehension her presence brought, “this is an unusual honour. It’s
+a pleasure I would not deny myself, yet I would have spared you the
+trouble if you had sent for me.”
+
+“I came to talk with you, Charles,” she said, as she took the proffered
+chair by the window; “and it was better and easier to talk here than at
+home.”
+
+“It is a matter of moment, mother?” he asked anxiously.
+
+Endowed though Charles Matthewson was with that relentless persistence,
+that knows no conscience save success in the pursuit of a purpose,
+which had carried the family so far, there was a gentler side to his
+nature that was wanting in his younger brother. The development of
+this was peculiarly in his relationship with his mother, who in turn
+gave him a tenderness of affection of which few dreamed her capable. A
+desire, born of all that was womanly in her masculine nature, had been
+fed by this son’s love, which was in strong contrast to the awe and
+deference accorded her by most of her relatives. It was no easy task
+for her to turn for aid to any one, but if she was forced to do so,
+it was naturally to Charles she would go. On the other hand, he knew
+her well enough to know that an appeal struck its roots deep before it
+could bring her to such a course.
+
+“Is it you, Charles, who are having this woman hunted down?”
+
+“What woman, mother?” he asked in surprise.
+
+She seemed to find difficulty in answering; but after a struggle,
+raised her head almost defiantly, and said in a hard, cold voice:
+
+“The mother of Theodore Wing.”
+
+His face hardened in turn to a strange resemblance to her own.
+
+“You have nothing to do with such a woman as that, mother.”
+
+“Every woman has to do with another who is being oppressed and wronged.
+Why is the dead past of that woman to be laid bare to the world?
+Are the years since her wrongdoing to count for nothing? Is this
+generation, that has grown up since all this happened, to be the judge
+of what she did before it was born? Is my son to be the one to allow
+the wrong?”
+
+This new phase of his mother’s character struck him strangely and not
+pleasantly. She was not wont to show large sympathy with her sex,
+though he would be far from accusing her of hardness or cruelty.
+Still she had left with him the impression of sympathies and feelings
+that were rather masculine than feminine; the impressions of one who,
+accepting the task of fighting her own way in the world, felt it no
+injustice or wrong to impose the same on others.
+
+“I have no wish, mother, to hunt down this or any other woman; but a
+terrible murder has been committed, a murder the more terrible because
+of its motiveless and mysterious character. I have been called in as
+counsel to those who are seeking to unravel this mystery and punish the
+murderer, and it’s my duty to use every means to accomplish this end.”
+
+“Then you are hunting this woman out and will expose her nakedness to
+the world!” The words were a cry, that had its force even more in the
+tone than in the words themselves.
+
+“I am certainly endeavouring to discover the woman. I could do no less
+under the circumstances. I think I have a fair prospect of success.”
+
+She rose from her chair and looked at him strangely and despairingly.
+Then she turned towards the door.
+
+“I will go,” she said. “This is no place for me. I will go.”
+
+He looked at her coldly, almost repellantly, as he said, checking her:
+
+“Mother, what does this mean?”
+
+No man who had once seen it, could forget the look she gave him. There
+was heartbreak in it; there was more than that, there was the crushing
+back of a life-long pride.
+
+“What can it mean?” she asked.
+
+His head fell on his breast. He had never guessed before the bitterness
+that life can have, that a moment of time can bring. She never took her
+eyes from his. Whatever the sentence, she would meet it as became her
+past. Slowly his head came up; slowly the misery in his eyes rose to
+hers. Then he came and laid his lips on her forehead and said:
+
+“You are my mother: I shall obey your wish.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A Second Murder?
+
+
+“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford, after they had completed the
+re-examination of Wing’s private papers at the office and in his safe
+at home, “was Mr. Wing of a peculiarly secretive disposition?”
+
+“If he had a fault,” McManus answered, “and since he was human, he must
+have had, it was his excessive frankness and openness.”
+
+“And yet we find him lugging papers on some affair, which he shared
+with no one, back and forth from office to house, and when not so
+doing, keeping them locked in a safe in his library to which only he
+had access. How do you account for this?”
+
+McManus glanced over his shoulder before answering and then dropped
+his voice almost to a whisper, although they were sitting in the very
+centre of the great library at the Parlin house, with the door closed.
+
+“I think he was afraid.”
+
+“Afraid!” repeated Trafford, almost thrown off his guard, but
+instinctively lowering his tone in sympathy with his companion. “Afraid
+of what?”
+
+“Just about two years ago, he found one morning that his desk at the
+office had been ransacked. Papers were turned topsy-turvy and packages
+of papers had been opened and tied up again hastily. The thoroughness
+with which the search was made showed that the person had a well-shaped
+purpose, while the fact that a considerable amount of money, which was
+loose in a drawer, was not touched, proved that it was not robbery. We
+made every effort to find out the culprit, but without success. We had
+at one time suspicion of an office-boy, but nothing positive, and Mr.
+Wing wouldn’t let him be discharged under circumstances that would do
+him a grave injustice if he were innocent. So we retained him.”
+
+“And he repeated the performance,” Trafford said in a tone of
+conviction.
+
+McManus looked at him, questioning whether this assertion came from
+knowledge of the affair or was merely a shrewd guess. Failing to
+satisfy himself, he went on:
+
+“The performance was repeated, but under conditions that made it
+impossible for the boy to be guilty. He was away on his vacation.”
+
+“Not shrewd of the culprit. You are certain it was some one in the
+office?”
+
+“Yes; but we never discovered his identity.”
+
+“And from that time Mr. Wing began carrying these papers back and forth
+and keeping them in this safe.”
+
+McManus nodded.
+
+“And the desk was never troubled again.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“Was it?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Trafford nodded his satisfaction and proceeded to elucidate:
+
+“When the object was removed and the watcher knew it, he would repeat
+the search only to cover his identity. Shrewd as he was, he either
+wasn’t shrewd enough for that or was indifferent. He gave away the
+fact that he was some one who knew of the removal of the papers.”
+
+“Then you think these papers were what he was after?”
+
+“Most assuredly.”
+
+“And that the removal of them----”
+
+“Became Wing’s death warrant,” Trafford completed the sentence. McManus
+hesitated and grew pale.
+
+“My God, Trafford; do you see what that leads to?”
+
+“I see what you think it leads to. You think it leads to the conclusion
+that Wing was murdered by somebody in your office, somebody who has
+been there at least two years. I think that’s what you lawyers call a
+_non sequitur_.”
+
+“At the office, the papers might be stolen; here they could be stolen
+only after the murder of Wing. Why shouldn’t the thief be one and the
+same in both cases?”
+
+“Because many a man will steal where only one will commit murder. It is
+possible, of course, that the two may be the same. The probabilities,
+however, are against it.”
+
+“What follows then?” demanded McManus.
+
+“That the actor in at least one case, and possibly in both, was not
+the principal; and that the more there are engaged in the affair, the
+better chance we have of discovery. It is the one-man affair that
+baffles.”
+
+None the less, when McManus was gone, Trafford summed up the successes
+of three weeks and found them mortifyingly few. A package of papers
+missed and not found; an innocent man under suspicion; a woman of
+prominence proved the mother of an illegitimate child; a thwarted
+attempt upon his own life; a wounded Canadian apparently wiped off the
+earth; and a respectable citizen traced on a midnight visit to another
+respectable citizen at Waterville. It was not on such achievements as
+these that he had built his reputation.
+
+With the thought of the missing Canadian, his anxiety returned. It
+was impossible that he had been spirited away to Canada, yet it was
+undeniable that he was gone. He went out and looked at the river.
+After two weeks of dry weather the water was falling. On the edge of
+the falls, rocks showed that a week before were under water. In eddies
+and shallow places he could see, as with his physical eye, drift and
+débris collecting, and sometimes in this drift and débris strange
+matter was thrown up. He had hesitated to do it, but he felt that
+he had no right to hesitate longer, and so he gave directions for a
+careful search of the river banks and shallow places from Millbank to
+Pishon’s Ferry. It was the last chance, and he had refused to consider
+it until it would be criminal to refuse longer.
+
+That was the physical part of the task, which he could set others to
+do; but there was another part, and that he took with him to his room
+in the hotel and spent much of the night with it. All the evening he
+turned and re-turned it, looking at every side and phase, and then
+went to bed and to sleep, with the knowledge that more than once that
+which the most earnest thought fails to unravel becomes by some strange
+alchemy clear under the magic of sleep. Would it be so with this?
+
+To that query, which came involuntarily, he answered with a doubt.
+
+“I’m fighting my conviction,” he said, almost plaintively, “instead of
+giving myself up to its free course. I can’t expect to be helped as
+long as I do that; but I can’t, I won’t believe. A man in my mood can’t
+solve anything!”
+
+So it came to pass that the night brought him no help, and he rose in
+the morning without that sense of rest which a single hour’s sleep
+brings under the stimulus of success.
+
+About noon, a country lad on horseback brought a message from a point
+some six miles below the village. Obeying the message, he started at
+once with the coroner and physician.
+
+On a tiny meadow that lay as a crescent of green along the border of
+cove where the current of the river sweeps in as an eddy, something
+was drawn up from the water and lay covered in an unrecognizable mass,
+which none the less had a strange repulsiveness about it. Back of the
+meadow great trees rose toward the early June sky; before it the river
+flashed in the June sunshine, and across its waters, the brown earth,
+dotted with the young corn, stretched away in the beauty of early
+summer. A few men and boys stood about the covered thing in strange
+silence, that seemed almost of fear; yet all pressed nearer when, by
+order of the coroner, the covering cloth was removed.
+
+Trafford and the doctor stooped and made a close examination of the
+hideous thing. No one spoke above his breath as they waited the report,
+yet by some strange magic the story of the finding went from man to
+man. At last the two men rose and went down to the river to wash their
+soiled hands. The coroner followed them:
+
+“What do you make of it?” he asked.
+
+Trafford waited until the doctor was forced to speak:
+
+“Plainly a Canuck, and I should say a log-driver. Certainly a working
+man. Been drowned a week and has come from above the Falls. You can
+see that by the way he’s battered up. That’s when he was whirled round
+under the Falls. Several bones broken, probably by the rocks, but that
+smashing of the collar bone came from a blow from above and before he
+was dead. It may have been that that knocked him into the water. Unless
+you find some particular mark on him, you won’t be able to identify
+him, he’s so smashed up. Better send up the river and see if any driver
+has been missing about a week. Beg pardon, Mr. Trafford, I fear I’m
+taking the words out of your mouth.”
+
+“Not at all,” the other answered. “I couldn’t have covered my findings
+better myself, excepting I was less certain about the breaking of the
+collar bone, whether it was before or after death. If he had gone over
+the Falls, for instance, head first, might he not have struck a rock
+and broken his collar bone, so as to give the appearance of its being
+shattered by a blow dealt from above?”
+
+“It’s not simply that,” said the doctor. “There’s the swelling of the
+living flesh that could not take place if the blow occurred after
+death. The injury must have occurred long enough before death to
+produce this effect.”
+
+“Then it could hardly have been the blow that knocked him into the
+water?”
+
+The doctor started at the question and, without answering, walked
+back to the body and re-examined the broken bone and some of the other
+bruises. Then he came back to where Trafford and the coroner waited him.
+
+“There can’t be any question that the broken clavicle antedates death,
+and antedates it some few hours. The man may have been injured at some
+distance from any one and have taken a boat to go for assistance and
+not been able to control it.”
+
+“He might have done any one of a dozen things,” Trafford interposed
+impatiently; “but the thing is to find out which one he did do. How
+did he get this injury, and how did he come to his drowning after the
+injury; for I take it you’ll admit when death came, it did come through
+drowning.”
+
+“I think we’ll have to admit that,” the doctor returned.
+
+“Then we have an injury, one, two, perhaps three hours before death;
+and then death by drowning. If all this was the result of accident,
+don’t you think he was having more than his fair share, crowded into a
+pretty small space of time?” It was Trafford’s question.
+
+“You mean,” demanded the coroner, a trifle uneasily, “that we’ve got
+another murder on our hands before the first one is cleared up?”
+
+“I mean,” said Trafford; “that if we have, it may prove easier to
+unravel two murders than one.”
+
+They walked slowly back and looked at the face that was gashed beyond
+human recognition. Was this he who had cried so piteously on Millbank
+Bridge, “_Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!_”? If so, what had been the history
+of the few hours that elapsed before he plunged into the river to the
+death meant for Trafford? How was that plunge made? Where was the
+Pierre who had struck the blow on the bridge, and who must be able to
+tell the story of the man’s drowning? These were the questions which
+were dinning themselves in Trafford’s brain and imperiously demanding
+an answer.
+
+The news of the finding of the body spread rapidly through Millbank,
+but with comparatively trifling sensation. Men were drowned each year
+in the river. The driving business was full of risks and men fell
+victims to it each spring. It was not like a murder--a blow from no
+one knew where, falling no one knew why. This drowning was a thing
+people were accustomed to expect. They shrugged, wondered if he had a
+family, and thought little more of an accident that left them “one less
+Canuck.” A solitary priest, poor and hard-worked, spent the night in
+prayers for the dead; for these men who come from the North to drive
+the river are almost without exception faithful children of the Church,
+which, through her ministry, mourns her bereavement and assails the
+gates of heaven for admission of the departed soul.
+
+Trafford sat alone in his room at the hotel. He had no doubt that this
+was the man on whom had fallen the blow which was intended for him.
+Disabled, so that he could not be concealed or taken away without
+discovery and recognition, it had been worth the while of those who had
+failed in their attempt on his own life, to murder the poor wretch,
+rather than take the chances of his being seen and questioned. Disabled
+as he was, his condition should have appealed to the hardest heart.
+He had tried to do faithfully the work given him and, failing, had
+been done to death for his fidelity. What was this hideous thing that
+played with murder, rather than let itself be discovered?
+
+As Trafford asked himself the question, he glanced uneasily at his
+windows. It was here, in this very town, within a stone’s throw of the
+very place where he sat, that murder stalked--murder that had once
+sought him as a victim and then had destroyed its own instrument, not
+trusting the man it had employed. It seemed like a lowering menace,
+ready to fall without warning, and almost for the first time since he
+had taken up this profession, he was conscious of the sense of personal
+fear. This merciless, unseen something, impressed him as standing just
+beyond the line of sight, watching with unseen eyes, to strike at him
+again. If it could be uncovered, what would it prove itself, to justify
+so desperate a chance? If it could not be uncovered, where was safety
+for himself or for any one who stood as a menace to its purposes?
+
+That the men who had committed these two murders and had tried a
+third--for he did not for one instant separate them--would stop at no
+chance, was beyond dispute or question. They had watched and waited on
+Wing for two years and, apparently, had not struck until every other
+means of securing what they wanted had failed. When they did strike,
+they had struck pitilessly and effectively. But they were still on
+their guard, as the assault on the Bridge and this wanton murder of a
+wounded man proved. They had gone so far; certainly they would not now
+retire from the game, nor would they show a scrupulousness they had
+failed to feel before they had so far committed themselves that retreat
+was impossible. It was a struggle to the death, with an unseen foe, by
+a man who at all times stood out as a plain mark. He had the sensation
+of one who stands with a lamp in his hands and peers into the deeper
+dark, to catch a glimpse of a foe that he simply knows lies in wait for
+him unseen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Already One Attempt
+
+
+“I won’t consent to any further chasing of this woman.”
+
+It was Charles Matthewson who spoke, standing in front of his brother
+in the library at Waterville, where the original interview regarding
+Cranston had taken place. It was a long time since Charles had spoken
+so positively to Henry, and the latter looked up half amused and half
+irritated, yet with an ugly expression on his face.
+
+“You have suddenly become very much concerned for this--woman. I’ll use
+your polite term,” he said.
+
+“I’ve suddenly become concerned for myself,” the other replied hotly.
+“I know, as you do, that she and her--misfortune have nothing to do
+with this murder; and I know, as you do, if you’ll stop to think a
+moment, that it’s a cowardly piece of business for men to engage in to
+hunt down a woman, simply because they may do so with the approval of
+the hunters.”
+
+Henry gave a low whistle.
+
+“Who’s been talking to you? You’ve got a sudden conversion as to this
+woman’s--misfortune.” He gave an ugly slur to that last word. “Time was
+when you’d call it by another name.”
+
+“Well, whether I would or not, Cranston’s got to be called off from
+that line: and he’s got to be called off quick!”
+
+“But Frank Hunter has been very insistent on this point. He seems to
+have some reason for thinking it important,” Henry answered.
+
+“Because he thinks that a sensation there will stop folks asking
+questions nearer home. If he can raise a dust behind which he can
+negotiate for those papers, he’s got all he’s looking for just now.”
+
+“Perhaps you don’t feel any interest in those papers,” Henry answered.
+
+“Interest or no interest, I’m not going to skulk any longer behind a
+petticoat. I’m ashamed to have done it so long.”
+
+“Good boy,” Henry said, making a motion as if to pat him on the
+shoulder. “I ask again, who’s been stirring up your conscience?”
+
+“Our mother,” said Charles simply.
+
+Henry stopped in his act, and a new look came over his face.
+
+“Does she think it unmanly?” he asked.
+
+“She thinks it cowardly and mean,” Charles said strongly.
+
+Not a sign of anger at these stinging words came into Henry’s face, but
+instead the look of a child justly reproved.
+
+“I guess she’s right, Charles,” he said. “I guess she’s right. I hadn’t
+thought of it before, but it is mean and cowardly. I’ll call Cranston
+off at once.”
+
+“And Hunter?” Charles asked in his turn.
+
+“He can find something else to raise a dust, or he can come out into
+the open and fight; but he shan’t fight longer behind this woman’s
+petticoat. I wish we hadn’t done it at all!”
+
+“I’d give more than I can tell,” Charles answered, giving cry to that
+bitterness of shame which, hidden in his heart, he dared not uncover.
+
+“Yes,” said Henry; “to think that mother should call our act mean and
+cowardly! I’d rather the old papers----” Then he stopped short.
+
+“Has it ever occurred to you that the papers may have had something to
+do with Wing’s death?” Charles asked.
+
+“Hush up!” exclaimed Henry roughly. “There are some things a man
+shouldn’t even dare think, much less say.”
+
+“But--by God,” Charles answered, “there are some things a man can’t
+help thinking and perhaps saying. I tell you, I’m not so certain I
+wouldn’t have shot Wing myself for the sake of getting hold of those
+papers!”
+
+“And if you’re going to keep on talking this way, you might as well
+have done it,” Henry answered bitterly. “I wouldn’t trust myself to
+think such things as you’re saying.”
+
+“But, Henry, think, just think----”
+
+“I won’t,” the other shouted in a wild passion. “I won’t think, and
+I forbid you to ask me to! The man is dead and the Lord only knows
+into whose hands those papers have fallen. There’s only one thing I
+keep thinking--thinking all the time,” and his voice dropped, while he
+looked anxiously over his shoulder, as if he feared the very walls of
+his library: “and that is that it was safer to have those papers in his
+hands, so long as we knew that they were there, than it is to have them
+in the hands of somebody--we don’t know who, for a purpose, we don’t
+know what.”
+
+Charles grew paler than Henry had ever seen him. There was a gasp in
+his voice, as if he found breathing difficult, and he almost clutched
+at his brother as he said:
+
+“That means that you are afraid, as I am, that the papers had some
+connection with his death, and you are trying to persuade yourself to
+the contrary. A month ago, you’d have jumped at the chance of somebody
+else having them, no matter who that somebody else might be: yet to-day
+you try to make me think that you believe it has increased the danger.
+_You know better._ I don’t care whose hands they’re in, we’re safer
+than we were when Wing had them. Now it’s only a question of money.”
+
+“Then why don’t we hear from them?”
+
+“It would be so safe, with matters as they are, for any one to offer to
+sell Wing’s papers,” sneered Charles.
+
+“Suppose whoever’s got them makes copies of them?” Henry suggested.
+
+“And you tell me not to think of these things!” Charles cried.
+
+Henry Matthewson at once called Cranston off from the Bangor matter
+and then sent for Frank Hunter. The latter came in the early evening,
+uneasy, restless, and irritable. The mood was confirmed when he
+discovered what had been done.
+
+“It’s that, or let him go to Millbank and keep excitement alive there,”
+he said. “Trafford strikes me as entirely capable of doing enough of
+that.”
+
+“As matters stand,” demanded Henry, regardless of the caution he had
+given his brother, “do you know who were most likely to profit by
+Wing’s death?”
+
+“We were,” answered Frank coldly. “Do you think I’ve ever failed to
+recognise that fact? I don’t do business that way.”
+
+“Then you mean to say that you have seen from the first that if men
+looked for motives, they’d fasten on us?”
+
+“I mean to say exactly that,” Frank Hunter answered; “and unless we can
+dig up something that shows that somebody else was in as bad a position
+as we, it will go hard with us, unless we can tire the detectives out
+and make them give it up as a bad job.”
+
+It was Henry Matthewson’s turn to look and feel uneasy. Born to
+affluence, raised in wealth, and encouraged to high ambition, he had
+already gone far for a young man, and it seemed a piteous thing that
+in his own house, with his wife and children almost within call of his
+voice, he should be told that unless men could be made to forget and
+so abandon their interest in the Wing murder, it might go hard with
+him--that he might become an object of suspicion.
+
+“I don’t mean,” Hunter said, “that we are in any danger of being
+convicted of Wing’s murder, or even of being arrested for it. That’s
+way beyond reason. But how much better off would we be, if the
+community should take up the suspicion that we were interested in
+Wing’s death; that we procured it? The public is an unreasoning brute.
+Look at poor Oldbeg!”
+
+“Poor Oldbeg!” repeated Matthewson. “What in the name of thunder makes
+you so tender of Oldbeg?”
+
+“It is Charles more than I,” Hunter said, referring to his brother.
+“He insists that the man is innocent; that there’s not a scintilla of
+proof against him, and he won’t consent that the unreasoning whim of
+the people shall do such injustice; and in fact, when I think that our
+time may come at any moment, I can’t help feeling a good deal that way
+myself.”
+
+In the shrubbery outside the window a man, who had followed Hunter
+from Millbank, listened and watched. He could hear nothing and see as
+little, but hour after hour he kept his post, with dogged patience,
+using a night to catch a single hint. Had Hunter known how closely he
+was followed and watched, he would have been still more uneasy and
+disturbed.
+
+“What is it about this new corpse that’s been found at Millbank?”
+Matthewson asked.
+
+“Oh, merely a drowned logger. Nobody knows him and he’s been
+unceremoniously put under ground. Nobody’d have thought anything of it
+at any other time, for there’s never a spring that one or more of them
+don’t turn up; but just now we are living on sensations, and it added
+to the interest that Trafford was on hand and almost the first on the
+spot.”
+
+“Wasn’t it one of Trafford’s men who found it?” the other asked.
+
+“So it’s said.”
+
+“Was he looking for it, or for something else?” Matthewson persisted.
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Why should Trafford have sent men to search the lower river, if he
+didn’t expect to find something? Had some one disappeared? You say a
+mere logger. What might Trafford say?”
+
+“I believe you see a bogy every time you turn round,” Hunter said
+impatiently.
+
+“‘’Tis conscience doth make cowards of us all,’” Matthewson answered.
+“I don’t like to be in this position. I don’t dare move to find the
+papers, for fear in doing so I stir suspicions concerning Wing’s
+death. I don’t dare leave the papers in the uncertain hands where they
+are, lest they arouse the very same suspicions. It’s a nice position
+for an innocent man to be in.”
+
+The curiosity of the public, no longer fed on rumours and inquests,
+had begun to flag, giving place to the inevitable sneers at the police
+and detective force, with renewed predictions daily made that the
+murder would remain an unsolved mystery. But for the occasional sight
+of Trafford, and the expectation that the inquest might be reconvened
+at almost any time, the village would already have begun to forget the
+murdered man, so easily does a sensation fade into the commonplace.
+
+But Trafford remained, or at least reappeared at unexpected moments,
+like an uneasy spirit that found no rest. He was working now on two
+murders, confident that if he found the perpetrator of the one, he
+would solve both. It was an aid to him that the public accepted the
+second as an accident, he alone having knowledge of the attempted
+murder of himself which, unaccomplished, had brought this fate on the
+unhappy wretch who was to be himself a murderer.
+
+About this time, however, he had proof that he had not ceased to
+interest some one. On returning to his room at the hotel one evening,
+he found that it had been entered during his absence and a thorough
+search of all his papers and luggage made. At first, he was inclined
+to complain to the landlord, but this purpose passed as quickly as it
+came, resulting in his taking apparently no notice of the affair.
+
+It called to mind very forcibly, however, the tale that McManus had
+told him of the rifling of Wing’s desk, and caused him to take a
+professional view of the incident. He had said at the time that a pair
+of trained eyes would have seen something of importance. He was thus
+placed on his mettle to prove his boast. In fact, there was little to
+see. It was evident that the intruder had come by a window opening on
+to the roof of a long porch. A dusty footprint on the carpet under the
+window, pointing inward, proved this, and Trafford was able to find
+traces along the roof to a hall window, but the returning tracks were
+not traceable. He was not so much offended at the liberty taken with
+his property as by the implication on his sagacity, in the expectation
+of finding anything he preferred should remain unfound.
+
+He had his suspicions as to the person who had ransacked Wing’s desk,
+and it was a satisfaction to be given an opportunity to test that
+suspicion by this later act. If he could bring it home to the possible
+culprit in the former case, he felt that a very considerable advance
+would be made. It was true that the method smacked a trifle of seeking
+facts with which to sustain a preconceived opinion, rather than
+permitting facts to lead up to judgment; but strict adherence to rule
+was not always possible, and this appeared a case in which exception
+was to be made.
+
+Because, however, of this yielding to temptation, possibly, it troubled
+him more to discover that the assumed trespasser on Wing’s desk could
+by no means be the culprit in the present case, for it was beyond
+controversy that the suspected individual had not been within many
+miles of the Millbank hostelry at the hour of the intrusion. It might
+be a touch of cunning, but the alibi was not to be questioned. None the
+less, here was the fact that Wing’s desk was broken open because he
+was believed to be in possession of certain papers of a compromising
+character, and that when it was believed that these papers had come
+into the possession of the detective, his room and papers were in turn
+ransacked. That there was connection of cause and effect between the
+facts was scarcely to be doubted, even though it was not as simple as
+he had at first supposed to establish it.
+
+Uncertainty as to the nature of the missing papers, and his inability
+to secure any definite information, were the tantalising features of
+the case. He questioned McManus only to find that his knowledge of the
+matter was no less hazy. These papers had been seen by no one in the
+office excepting in package. Whether they had been received by Wing
+from Judge Parlin or not was unknown. There was a general understanding
+that they had come from the judge, and that Wing had given a great deal
+of attention to them, so that they had grown materially in his hands.
+The scandal of the ransacking of the desk had caused a great deal of
+excitement in the office and no little discussion, but this had brought
+out no facts bearing on the subject-matter. That it involved some one
+was guessed, but even this guess was wild and general, rather than
+specific.
+
+“Unless something of certainty is arrived at,” Trafford said, “it
+will be impossible to delay the re-opening of the inquest more than a
+week longer, and in the present temper of the public mind a verdict
+implicating Oldbeg would not be impossible.”
+
+He said it half musingly, as if rather talking to himself than
+otherwise, and yet there was a look under the eyelids that would not
+have been quite reassuring to a close observer. McManus did not seem to
+note it, but took up the matter rather with Trafford’s own manner.
+
+“But there the papers stand as the insurmountable difficulty. Oldbeg
+could have no object in stealing them. He could scarcely have known of
+their existence--that is, as papers of value. If the connection could
+be made, it would be serious for him.”
+
+“But it can’t be made,” Trafford said, as if he were waking from his
+lethargic condition. “I’ve told you what kind of a man it was that did
+this murder, and when the murderer is discovered, as discovered he will
+be, you’ll find I’ve described him correctly. Those papers caused this
+murder and caused it because they were a menace to some one. That some
+one couldn’t have been Oldbeg----”
+
+“Yet the public mind is impressed with Oldbeg’s guilt and, if I mistake
+not, the jury is as well.”
+
+“You overlook the fact that nothing regarding these papers has appeared
+in the testimony.”
+
+McManus looked up suddenly as the fact was recalled to him.
+
+“That’s so,” he said. “We’ve discussed them so much that I had entirely
+lost sight of the fact. Of course, that’ll free Oldbeg when it is
+brought out in testimony.”
+
+“If it is brought out,” Trafford said.
+
+“But surely,” McManus urged; “you will not let so important a matter
+pass--let alone the fact that it is the cause of injustice to Oldbeg,
+who surely has suffered enough already.”
+
+“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford solemnly; “I’m at work to find the
+murderer of Mr. Wing. That’s the one purpose I have before me, and it
+is what the best interests of the public demand. If Oldbeg or another
+suffers unjustly for the moment, it is that the guilty man may suffer
+in the end. I’m sorry for Oldbeg, but I’m not responsible for the turn
+matters have taken. At present, the parties who are interested in these
+papers believe I have them, and the work I’m doing requires them to
+continue so to believe. I don’t conceive it to be my duty to produce at
+the inquest testimony that will undeceive them.”
+
+“Aren’t you taking a tremendous responsibility?” McManus asked.
+
+“It’s my business to take responsibility. I’ve taken it often to the
+extent of risking my life--I may do so again; but when there’s a
+murderer at large and I’m set to find him, I don’t stop because my
+life is endangered or because another is put to inconvenience. If
+Oldbeg’s held for the murder, it’ll be inconvenient for him, but not so
+inconvenient as it would be for me to be murdered because I’m on the
+track of the right man.”
+
+“And you are on the track of the right man?” McManus demanded.
+
+“I’ve been on his track from the moment I entered that library and knew
+that it had been searched by the man who fired the fatal bullet. I’ve
+been on his track from that day to this, and I shall keep on it until I
+catch up with him or he kills me; but as surely as that last happens,
+he’ll swing. It isn’t given to any man to commit murder twice and cover
+his tracks. If I go down, it’ll end in his going up.”
+
+“But really, Mr. Trafford, you take this thing more seriously than I
+imagined. You’re not in earnest in this talk of an attempt to murder
+you!”
+
+“So much in earnest that I never go out without thinking I may not come
+back.”
+
+“But why?”
+
+“Because already one attempt has been made.”
+
+“You astound me!” McManus exclaimed. “I agreed at the start to
+co-operate with you so long as you had the case in hand, but,
+certainly, I’m entitled to know something! Why do you say it’s because
+you are supposed to have the papers? Might it not be simply to shield
+the murderer? You leave the thing in a cloud that is”--he seemed
+searching for a word--“disturbing.”
+
+Trafford, however, refused to say more; but after McManus left, he sat
+for a few moments as if asking himself if he had done wisely, and then
+rousing up muttered:
+
+“We’ll see how far that’ll carry!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+At the Drivers’ Camp
+
+
+Two days later a message came which necessitated a trip up the Dead
+River branch, traversing the ground over which Trafford had gone ten
+days before. Already, however, the camps he had visited were deserted,
+the drivers having followed the body of logs moving towards the river
+itself. At the Forks, Trafford was joined by the assistant who had
+warned him that morning in Millbank. They had a long conference,
+in which there appeared no small amount of differing opinion. The
+assistant had tracked from a camp on Moosehead, to a cabin beyond the
+Madison Beeches above Millbank, two Canadians, who had left the lake
+suddenly on May 12. He was certain he had located one of the men, a
+great powerful fellow, in one of the Dead River driving gangs.
+
+“And the other?”
+
+“I can get no trace of him. They separated at Millbank--perhaps
+forever.”
+
+“And this fellow’s name--here on Dead River?”
+
+“Pierre Duchesney.”
+
+“And the other?”
+
+“Victor Vignon.”
+
+“It can scarcely have any bearing,” Trafford asserted after some
+thought. “Nothing definite in the way of plans could have been formed
+so promptly. The murder was only twenty-four hours old then.”
+
+“But they went to Millbank; spent four days in the old Indian hut back
+of Madison Beeches, and were not seen in Millbank during the entire
+time. Then, no one knows how, the one appears at Parlin Pond, and works
+from there over to Dead River. He’s a big, strapping fellow; the other
+one was medium height and size--much the slighter made of the two.”
+
+“But I tell you,” Trafford affirmed; “if they were called to Millbank,
+the call must have come before the murder was known--they came for
+something else than to assault the man supposed to have those papers.”
+
+“And were at hand conveniently to assault the man who was supposedly
+in possession of the papers, when it was found that they had
+involuntarily changed hands.”
+
+This view struck Trafford and he gave it some little thought, while the
+other waited as if for his final judgment.
+
+“As long as we’re here, we may as well have a look at your man,” said
+Trafford.
+
+The next day found them guests of the drive at the camp above the
+first rapids of Dead River, where use was being had of the last of
+the spring flow to get the tail of the winter’s cut into the main
+channel. Already the advance guard of the summer army was making its
+appearance, adventurous souls who love to see the year at its birth,
+and the presence of strangers excited no especial comment. They made it
+so apparent that they sought an invitation for the night that it became
+unavoidable, and so with the falling of dusk and the leap of the great
+flames of the camp fire among the trees, they came on to the time for
+the experiment agreed upon.
+
+Trafford had watched Pierre Duchesney at his work, a great,
+strong-limbed giant whose blow, intentional or not, could well work
+the crushing of lesser bones, and admitted that their purpose was
+well-nigh foolhardy. To take such a man, surrounded as he was by
+friends, was scarcely to be thought of, and in fact would not have been
+thought of, but for a chance remark that he was not going below the
+first rapids. When the jam was started here, he was to strike across
+to the head waters of the Androscoggin, which Trafford’s companion,
+intent in his belief that this was the man they wanted, interpreted as
+a purpose to bury himself in the wilds of the Canadian wilderness about
+Megantic.
+
+Trafford, himself, while yet in doubt as to the identity of the man,
+admitted that even if they lost him, it would be much gained if they
+could prove him, and so consented to the plan his assistant outlined,
+determined to take his chances in the matter of an actual capture.
+
+The men were stretched about the blazing logs, smoking, sleeping,
+chatting. Trafford among them watched the leap of the flames and the
+gradual reddening of the great logs into coals. The other stranger had
+left the circle some time before. Involuntarily Trafford kept his eye
+on Pierre’s huge form, where it was stretched in the full blaze and
+warmth of the logs, his eyes closed in a pleasant after-feeding doze.
+Suddenly out of the dark came a sharp Canadian voice, calling:
+
+“_Sacré, c’est moi, Pierre!_”
+
+Every one glanced up enquiringly, but the effect on Pierre Duchesney
+was startling in the extreme. His eyes stared wide from a face of ashy
+grey; he leaped to his feet, shaking as one with the ague. Trafford
+had sprung to his side at the instant of his leap from his recumbent
+position, and in time to catch from his blanched lips the convicting
+words:
+
+“_Mon dieu; Victor!_”
+
+Trafford’s hand was on his pistol, which he drew, with the sharp demand:
+
+“Quick, seize the man; he’s wanted for the murder of Victor Vignon!”
+
+At the word “murder,” the men drew back from the circle of light. They
+lived free and easy lives in the woods, and had little of the fear
+of the law before them in their fastnesses, but with murder and the
+murderer they had no share. All the other laws of God and man, they
+might violate, but to that one, “Thou shalt do no murder,” they bowed,
+the very defencelessness of their lives making murder doubly terrible
+to them. So, strong men as they were, they gazed wild-eyed on the
+scene, and some of the bravest trembled.
+
+On Pierre, the word acted like magic. No less pale he was than before,
+but it was a paleness in which the sense of self-preservation was
+awake, looking from his eyes, as it looks from those of hunted wild
+creatures brought suddenly to bay. He attempted no plea; he made no
+denial; but his form grew compact with the compactness of one about to
+spring. Trafford, wondering what course the others would take, brought
+his pistol to a steady aim, and said clearly and sharply:
+
+“Surrender, or I’ll shoot! Throw up your arms!”
+
+He felt, rather than saw, that on the edge of the light stood his
+assistant also covering the man with his revolver. The man moved as
+if to obey the order to throw up his arms, and then, with a quickness
+of which none guessed him capable, struck Trafford’s arm a blow that
+caused it to drop numbly by his side, sending the pistol’s discharge
+into the earth. With the same movement the man crouched half to
+earth, and thus escaped the other’s shot. Without rising, he darted,
+crouching, for the shelter of trees beyond the fire, but not so quickly
+as to save his right arm from the second shot by the assistant.
+Trafford, meantime, had changed his revolver into his left hand and was
+firing at the fleeing shadow that the man became before disappearing.
+With his second shot, he heard his assistant at his side.
+
+“You know now, but we’ve lost him.”
+
+“Into the woods; into the woods,” Trafford cried, seizing a blazing
+pine knot. “Quick, we’ll get him yet.”
+
+Not a man stirred save Trafford, and he made only a step or two.
+Glancing back, he saw the drivers huddled in an excited and
+gesticulating group that looked startlingly like mischief. Ahead was
+the heavy blackness of dense trees. Then he realised that the man had
+escaped.
+
+Meantime the men were aroused from the stupor of their first surprise
+and were in a dangerous mood, the active qualities of which were
+quieted by the gleam of Trafford’s badge, which he felt was the best
+introduction to the explanation to which they were clearly entitled.
+They listened patiently, but simply tolerantly, and their coolness
+was in marked contrast to their friendliness of a brief quarter of an
+hour earlier. There was no denial to Trafford and his companion of the
+hospitality of the camp, but they were made to feel that they were
+unwelcome guests, and they waited anxiously and impatiently for the
+first touch of morning to be on their way, as well from a desire to
+leave their surly companions, as from impatience to be where they could
+make use of their newly acquired information.
+
+They were not more than a mile from camp, after a hasty breakfast
+eaten amid strange silence, when, from the woods lying between the
+track they were following and the river, a lad of about sixteen years,
+whom they had seen in camp the night before, overhauled them. He had
+evidently run most of the way, and was anxious to get back before his
+absence attracted attention, but he was also intent on information. The
+conversation with him was carried on partly in the lad’s imperfect
+English, and partly in the French of Canada with Trafford’s companion,
+and by him translated to Trafford:
+
+“Victor Vignon: my cousin. You say, murdered--dead?”
+
+Trafford nodded.
+
+“_Non._ He go big lake. Go by Aten’s stage.”
+
+“Who told you so?” demanded Trafford.
+
+“Pierre--Pierre Duchesney. When he come, he say: Victor, he go big
+lake: he go by Aten’s stage.”
+
+“Well, he killed him. Drowned him in the river at Millbank, where the
+big Falls are.”
+
+“What for he kill him?” demanded the boy.
+
+“Who sent for your cousin at the big lake when he and Pierre went
+away?” Trafford demanded, and then, it being evident that the lad
+had not sufficient command of English to master this question, his
+companion repeated it in French.
+
+The lad’s face brightened as he heard his native tongue, and from that
+time he carried his part of the conversation mostly in that tongue.
+
+“The boss.”
+
+On questioning, it developed that the “boss” had said the “big man”
+had sent for Pierre and Victor; had said that they were to go to the
+Forks of the River and meet a gang, but when they got there the gang
+was gone and they had word to go somewhere else, and it was when Pierre
+came back and Victor had gone to the big lake, that the lad was told
+this by Pierre. The lad did not know where it was that Victor had gone,
+but he was to see him again when the drive was over and they were ready
+to go back to Canada before the feast of St. John.
+
+Oh, yes; the “big man” was somebody who lived down where the water went
+over the big Falls, and owned all the trees, and sent the boss money to
+pay them. He didn’t know his name, but he was a great big man--as big
+as the Seigneur at Rigaud-Vandreuil, the biggest man the lad had ever
+seen.
+
+“A bigger man than the boss?”
+
+Oh, yes; for he sent the boss money to pay them and owned the trees,
+while the boss wasn’t as big a man as Louis Blanchet, the notary, whom
+he, the lad, had often seen and talked with, and once had thrown mud at
+when he was drunk.
+
+No, he didn’t know the big man’s name; he had said that before, but
+anybody could tell them; anybody who knew, for he owned the trees; and
+the “boss” could tell them; his name was Kennett, Georges Kennett; not
+the boss here, for his name was Jean Busque, he was Canadian; but the
+other boss, the one who told Pierre and Victor to go to the Forks of
+the River.
+
+But he must go back, because the boss, the one here, would be angry
+and make him lose some of his money. He had heard them say something
+about Victor being killed, and he wanted to ask them and tell them it
+couldn’t be Victor, because he had gone to the big lake, as Pierre had
+said. What would Victor’s wife do if he was dead? The good God--_le bon
+Dieu_--and the good Saint Anne--_la bonne sainte Anne_--wouldn’t let
+him be dead, when there was Victor’s wife and three little ones and
+another coming in the summer, as Victor had told him. They must know
+that Victor couldn’t be dead, and if they saw him, they were to tell
+him that he--Étienne Vignon--had said this and would meet him at the
+big Falls to go back to la Beauce before the feast of Saint John, as
+Victor had promised Étienne’s mother when he took him away to go on
+the drive. And with these words, the lad dashed into the woods for his
+mile run back to camp.
+
+Trafford caught himself perilously near a sigh, as the lad disappeared
+among the trees.
+
+“It’s as plain as the nose on your face--that part of it,” he said.
+“Hunter sent for these men; had them go to the forks to join a
+pretended gang, and word was left there for ’em to go on to the hut
+back of the Madison Beeches.”
+
+“Hunter?” his companion asked.
+
+“Certainly. Isn’t he the man who owns the trees to such a simple lad as
+that? He don’t know the name--but we do, Charles Hunter of Millbank.”
+
+“Then he’s concerned in the murder?”
+
+“If you knew the things that aren’t to be seen as well as you do the
+things that you see, you’d beat us all,” Trafford answered. “If he
+was in the murder, he’d know where those papers are and wouldn’t have
+needed these men. His very desperation to get them shows he isn’t the
+murderer.”
+
+“Then Charles Hunter’s the man who’s afraid of those papers,” the
+other repeated, as if half dazed by the revelation.
+
+“One of ’em,” said Trafford. “I’ve known that much a long time.”
+
+“But if the men who are afraid of the papers aren’t the men who
+murdered him haven’t you knocked out the motive for the murder? That’s
+the thing that’s bothered all the time, and now that we’ve got hold of
+one, it’s a pity to lose it again.”
+
+“Beware of clues,” half laughed Trafford. “That’s the lesson you
+haven’t learned yet. I’ve said Hunter was one of the men who’s afraid
+of the papers. I haven’t said there weren’t others. Then it doesn’t
+follow that the only people who wanted to get the papers were those who
+were afraid of ’em. Given the papers, there’s a dozen things that might
+make ’em the motive of the murder besides being afraid of them.”
+
+After a silence that lasted some time, the other turned to Trafford and
+demanded:
+
+“Did you know Hunter was in this thing when you set me to hunting
+Canucks round Millbank?”
+
+“Certainly,” answered Trafford. “I’ve known it since a half-hour after
+the attack was made on me at the bridge. Why?”
+
+“Thunder! Hunter was one of the men of whom I thought it safe to make
+open enquiries about Canucks I was looking for.”
+
+“It’s never safe,” Trafford said, “to make enquiries of any one, unless
+you are willing that everybody should know, or anxious that one man
+should. In this case, ’twas just as well Hunter should know that we
+were on the track. He’s a man who makes his false slips when he’s the
+most anxious to escape.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The Priest’s Story
+
+
+They had their dinner that day at Nic’khal’s, at the Forks, eating in
+the shed that later in the season becomes the “summer kitchen.” The
+meal was primitive in material and cooking, but the sauce was hunger.
+An elderly priest, weary-looking and sad, was their sole companion,
+and he watched them through the meal, with a look that Trafford read
+as expressive of a desire to have talk with him. So, after the eating
+was over, Trafford put himself in the way of the clergyman, who quickly
+availed himself of the chance:
+
+“You are from above?” he asked, and Trafford assented.
+
+“Did you pass the logging camp at the first rapids?”
+
+“I spent the night there,” Trafford answered.
+
+“Was the night disturbed?”
+
+“An attempt was made to arrest a murderer, who escaped into the woods,
+but not without a severe wound, I think.”
+
+“I have a message for the man who attempted to make the arrest.”
+
+“You can deliver it to me,” said Trafford.
+
+“You say the man was a murderer. I have no wish to know his name; but
+I am charged only to speak to one man, and I shall know him by a name.
+You can give it me?”
+
+“If it’s my name you want, it’s Trafford. The murderer attempted first
+to rob or murder me in the covered bridge at Millbank, before he
+committed the actual murder,” answered the detective.
+
+“I did not doubt before,” the priest answered, with something of
+stateliness; “only when a trust is given, one must be certain. The
+message is that the man who was drowned was not murdered. It was an
+accident, in which the one barely escaped and was unable to save the
+other.”
+
+“Even so,” Trafford retorted, “the other might have had a chance to
+escape, if it hadn’t been for a broken collar-bone, and for that the
+man who denies the murder was responsible.”
+
+“But it was by mistake he inflicted it,” the priest answered.
+
+“By mistake, because he missed the man he intended to strike and hit
+his associate in crime. He was in the bridge to rob and probably to
+murder, and if the death of his companion was directly accidental, it
+came through a violation of the law and that makes it murder.”
+
+“In the eyes of the law, possibly,” the priest said; “but we look to
+the intent. The man did not intend to kill his associate. He died as
+the result of an accident.”
+
+“Are you permitted to give me details?” Trafford asked, wisely avoiding
+a discussion that might return again and again on itself without actual
+progress.
+
+“A wounded man found me asleep in a hut where he sought shelter, guided
+by the Blessed Virgin, I doubt not. I heard his confession. On that
+is the seal of the Church. He begged me to find you and give you this
+message, and what he said in that I will strive faithfully to repeat.
+It is all that I can say. He was not in the bridge to murder the man
+at whom he struck, but to seize him and take from his person certain
+papers. He struck in the dark in the direction of a noise made, as he
+supposed, by the man. He may have struck harder than he intended. At
+the least, he struck his companion and not the man, and with force
+sufficient to break the collar-bone. What they had been set to do, they
+were to do and then return to the woods without being seen. He had now
+the fear earned by failure, and the certainty that the man, having
+escaped, would call on the authorities, and he and his companion would
+be betrayed by the latter’s wound. He, therefore, persuaded him to bear
+his pain until they could get to a place of safety, and not daring to
+travel the roads, where they could be tracked, they struck to the river
+banks above the Falls, and followed these until they found a boat into
+which they got, turning its head upstream.
+
+“He had only an old and broken oar with which to paddle, but a driver
+can paddle with a single pole, and they easily reached the middle of
+the river. Here he turned at a groan from his companion and failed
+to see a floating log which struck their boat, and, worse still,
+knocked the oar out of his hand. Before he could recover himself, the
+boat was in the rapid current above the Falls, and rushing downstream
+with increasing force. His companion, roused at the growing roar of
+the waters, seemed to think that it was with intention that this was
+happening. He begged to be spared, and called loudly for help. The
+other told him what had happened and that he was powerless to prevent
+the boat going over the Falls, whereupon the wounded man sprang to
+his feet, with a prayer to the Virgin and Saint Anne, and leaped
+overboard, just as the boat touched the white water above the plunge.
+The other ran to the bow, which was shooting straight out, and stood
+there for a second of time until he felt it tremble for the dip, at
+which instant he jumped for the deeper water below the Falls, and by a
+miracle escaped the rocks at the very base of the plunge. As you know,
+the water there is very deep, so that although he sank, he did not
+touch bottom. He floated through the cañon and succeeded in landing
+just above the railroad bridge. He knew there was no use in looking
+for boat or companion, and so crept up the bank around the Falls,
+secured another boat, and finally towards morning landed just below the
+Bombazee Rips. He set the boat afloat and plunged into the woods. That
+is all I am permitted to tell you.”
+
+“But it is not all you know,” Trafford said.
+
+“It is all I know. If I heard anything more, I heard it under the seal
+of confession and know naught of it.”
+
+Trafford pondered on the story for some time, without speaking. The
+habits born of his profession held him, warning him to avoid hasty
+conclusion as well for the man as against him. It was his business to
+get the truth, not to find a confirmation or refutation of a previously
+formed opinion.
+
+The priest waited without a sign of impatience. At last Trafford raised
+his head and said:
+
+“I do not think it could have been done.”
+
+“What?” asked the priest.
+
+“The leap from the boat over the falls.”
+
+“I have been told by eye-witnesses that it has been done,” declared the
+priest.
+
+“I have seen it done,” Trafford said; “but it was in broad daylight,
+when the man could see, and determine the exact instant for the leap.
+The boat was a very long one, so that before it dipped, it had shot
+far out; the man was extremely powerful, and it was, after all, a mere
+matter of luck.”
+
+“We do not talk of luck,” the priest said, with a touch of sternness in
+his tone. “We will leave that. You admit it possible, because it has
+been done. Your man was extremely strong. This man seems to me such
+also. Your man had daylight to show him the tossing of the waters about
+him; the anxious faces peering at him; the vanishing shores, and the
+coming danger. This man had all his senses active and single to the
+work before him. The flash of white foam was enough to show him, even
+in the night, where he was. To that his sight was turned, for there
+was nothing to distract his full attention. He was leaping for life.
+Instinct would come to his aid. It was possible for the man you saw. I
+believe it was possible for this man.”
+
+Suddenly a thought struck Trafford. This priest could not reveal the
+secrets of the confessional; but neither could he prevent what he had
+heard in confession affecting his attitude towards this man and his
+story. He looked the priest full in the face and asked, solemnly,
+almost sternly:
+
+“Do you fully and absolutely credit this tale?”
+
+Without a shadow of hesitation or delay, the priest answered:
+
+“I do, absolutely and fully. In the story I bring you I have not a
+doubt that you have heard the truth, so far as it goes. You know how
+the death of the man you thought murdered actually occurred.”
+
+To Trafford’s mind there was left no ground for doubt.
+
+“I accept your story,” he said, “as the story of what actually
+occurred. Where is the man who told it to you?”
+
+The priest smiled and raised his hand in a sweep of the northern
+horizon:
+
+“I cannot track the wilderness. If you want him, you must ask the woods
+to give him up.”
+
+“There is a lad in the gang at the first rapids,” Trafford said, “who
+came with Victor Vignon from Beauce. Victor, who was his cousin, was
+to take him back before the Feast of St. John. He relies absolutely on
+this, and would not believe Victor dead. His name is Étienne Vignon and
+he needs comfort and help.”
+
+“I will go to him,” said the priest. “The thought is a kind one.”
+
+If the priest dreamed that he was thus finished with the detective, it
+was because he did not know the nature of the creature.
+
+“From Beauce I think you said the wounded man came,” said Trafford
+carelessly.
+
+If Trafford thought to surprise the priest, it was proof that he too
+was ignorant.
+
+“I do not recall having said so,” the priest answered.
+
+“But he was, wasn’t he?” demanded Trafford.
+
+“I did not ask him.”
+
+On the matter of the wound the priest talked freely. It was painful,
+but not serious. The small bone of the lower right arm was broken, but
+he had set it and was confident it would improve.
+
+“If the man has been unjustly accused, I hope it may prove so,”
+Trafford said. “He goes directly home, of course.”
+
+The priest smiled.
+
+“I did not expect to see him again, so had no occasion to know.”
+
+Convinced that the other was absolutely on guard, and that even if
+he knew anything beyond what he had told--of which Trafford felt
+considerable doubt--it was not to be extracted from him, Trafford again
+commended the lad Étienne to his care, and turned to the matter of a
+conveyance to Carrytunk on the road to Millbank. At parting, he said:
+
+“If I accept your assurance as to the innocence of this man, it is none
+the less true that some one employed him to rob me, and his companion
+lost his life because of the attempt. He could not have told of this
+without telling who that was.”
+
+The priest smiled, but not in a way that encouraged Trafford to hope
+for information, and the event proved him wise not to do so.
+
+“If he told me aught that I have not repeated,” the other answered, “it
+was to obtain God’s pardon, not to invoke man’s punishment on any. Its
+object accomplished, the words passed as they came to the priest and
+not to the man.”
+
+So Trafford was forced to let him go, none the wiser beyond what the
+priest chose that he should be; but as they hurried towards Millbank,
+he tried hard to look at all sides of the story and at last asked his
+companion:
+
+“What do you think of it?”
+
+“A batch of lies, told to a gossiping priest to be peddled out to us
+again,” was the curt judgment.
+
+Even this Trafford weighed carefully before commenting on it.
+
+“You evidently think the fellow a shrewd chap.”
+
+“No; any one can see he’s a stupid lout; just the kind of a thing to be
+used for a dirty job.”
+
+“Yet he had a long enough head to cheat the priest.”
+
+“Then you think the priest believed him?”
+
+“I haven’t a doubt of it,” said Trafford.
+
+Trafford’s judgments had something of the weight of oracles with this
+man, who was able to see things but not to form opinions; and this
+curt declaration was to the point and not to be mistaken. For the time
+being, and for present purposes, it was to be accepted, and having
+accepted it, the other had nothing to say. But it was not so easy for
+Trafford. He had, perhaps, to convince some budding doubt that had not
+found expression either in tone or words.
+
+“To doubt the truth of the fellow’s story, is to believe that he
+reasoned out the chance of the priest finding us and then deliberately
+employed what he regards as a sacrament--that is confession--to put in
+circulation a concocted story for the purpose of deceiving us. I don’t
+believe he’s that smart; and I don’t believe, with his belief in the
+Church, he’d dare do it.”
+
+“We seem to be in the business of acquitting everybody,” the other said
+in a surly tone.
+
+“It’s certainly not our business to convict, but to find out the
+truth,” Trafford answered. “We aren’t prosecuting attorneys.”
+
+“But our work lies in pointing out the guilty.”
+
+“Yes; but unless we do it as much for the sake of proving the innocence
+of the innocent as the guilt of the guilty, we only do half the work
+that we ought to do. I’d rather any time clear a man who is unjustly
+charged than prove a man, thought innocent, guilty,” answered Trafford.
+
+“Maybe so, but that isn’t the kind of work the world gives you most
+credit for. If you can hang a man, it thinks you’ve done something
+big; but if you stop them from hanging a man, they think they’ve been
+cheated.”
+
+“Well, I guess when all’s said and done, it’s more a question of what
+we think about the kind of work we’re doing, than what the world thinks
+of it, that counts. When I’m satisfied with myself--right down honestly
+satisfied--I find I can let the world think what it’s a mind to.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A Duel
+
+
+Mrs. Matthewson entered the little parlour, where she had met Trafford,
+for the purpose of keeping another appointment--one that she had not
+wanted to make and which she had not yet dared refuse. When she visited
+her son, she knew the name of the man who, under his direction, was
+hunting down Theodore Wing’s mother, but she did not know the man. Now
+she was to meet him face to face. She was afraid, and she bore herself
+with the air of a queen about to grant a favour to her humblest subject.
+
+Cranston felt her imperiousness in the very air as he entered, and
+rebel as he would, it daunted him and took a share of his bravado from
+him. She returned his salutation, but with the evident purpose not to
+aid him in the slightest in the delivery of his errand.
+
+“I regret the necessity,” he said, “of troubling you.”
+
+She bowed stiffly, but without other answer. He apparently had not
+struck the line of least resistance.
+
+“I have been employed,” he began, “upon the Wing murder case.” Then, at
+the look in her eyes, as if of all things on earth the Wing murder case
+had the least possible interest to her, he added desperately: “Among
+those who employed me were your sons.”
+
+“Then you should report to them.” These were the first words she had
+spoken and the tone was beyond measure forbidding, but they were at
+the least words and a recognition that she was taking part in the
+interview. As such they helped the man who, in spite of his experience,
+was floundering woefully.
+
+“I thought it in your interest that I should first report to you,” he
+said.
+
+“There’s nothing in which any one can serve me in the Wing murder
+case,” she said, not sparing herself even the word “murder.”
+
+He looked at her as if he would say that that was a very proper bluff
+for her to put up, but that he knew the facts and was not to be fooled
+thereby.
+
+“In doing thoroughly my work,” he floundered on; “it has been
+impossible for me to overlook the remarkable paper left by Judge
+Parlin.”
+
+Even as she caught the full import of his words, she had a
+consciousness of the hopeless bungling of this man, in comparison with
+the other man, Trafford. No less surely had Trafford told her that he
+had learned the history of her early life; but he had, with a natural
+instinct, taken from the telling every sting that was not ineffaceable.
+This man was so intent upon the telling as not to have a thought for
+her.
+
+She made no acknowledgment, save that frigid bend of the head that was
+less acknowledgment than repulsion, and which he felt as disdain. It
+stung him to more brutal speech than he had intended:
+
+“You would have me, perhaps, report my discoveries in that connection
+to your sons.”
+
+If he had expected her to shrink or lose self-control, his was the
+disappointment. She had lived too long with the possibility of meeting
+thus her past, to allow it to come with the shock of the unexpected.
+There had been no hour for forty years when these words might not be
+spoken to her. She did not even make the mistake of showing irritation
+in her answer:
+
+“I would know why you have sought this interview, that it may be ended.
+As to the results of your employment, they concern your employers, not
+me.”
+
+“I know who was the mother of Theodore Wing.” He spoke somewhat
+insistently, and not without a touch of menace in his voice. He had
+foreseen an easier task. He had a sense of personal wrong, in that she
+was making it so hard for him.
+
+“It is her secret,” she said, with just enough force to betoken
+impersonal indignation; “neither you nor the world have the right to
+drag it to the surface.”
+
+“I am willing it should remain a secret,” he answered.
+
+“Then you should never have told any one you knew it.”
+
+“You are the only one I have told,” he said; “and that was necessary.”
+
+Clearly he expected her to ask, “Necessary to what?” but she did not
+make the mistake. She remained silent and left him to reknit the broken
+strand of discourse.
+
+“The moment of real danger to her will come,” he said, after waiting
+vainly for her to speak, until waiting became a palpable embarrassment;
+“when Wing’s murderer is put on trial.” Then, as with a sudden change
+of his line of attack, he continued: “Have you ever thought why your
+sons employed me in this case?”
+
+“No; nor cared,” she said.
+
+He had expected her to deny that she had known.
+
+“Because they know who the murderer is.”
+
+It was a relief to the tension upon her that she could show resentment
+without personal defence.
+
+“Your remark is insulting,” she said. “I do not know the object of this
+visit, but whatever it is, that remark must be withdrawn before it can
+proceed.”
+
+“It is the last remark you should desire withdrawn, madam,” he said,
+with a calm significance of utterance; “for it is true.”
+
+She rose to dismiss him--rose haughtily and uncompromisingly, as if
+she had not the slightest suspicion of the drift of his purpose. There
+was a dangerous gleam in her eye; one that should have been a warning
+to the man, telling him to shield himself in some way and not carry
+out the threatened purpose. To this woman, that purpose was a cause
+of almost mastering terror, but this the will behind it controlled,
+leaving her seemingly strong to master the situation. He was compelled
+to decide quickly, yet with knowledge that anything that was tinctured
+with apology was a weakening of his position.
+
+“I am not implying guilt on their part,” he said; “nor am I speaking
+of knowledge that would be proof in court, but of that moral knowledge
+which makes one certain in mind, without being able to give evidence
+to justify such certainty. To make a public accusation based on such
+knowledge, would be to do the greatest wrong.”
+
+She remained standing, seemingly weighing this remark. In reality
+she was feeling the keen disappointment of having lost excuse for
+terminating the interview which she had supposed was hers.
+
+“I am averse,” she said, “to discussing questions bearing on this
+murder. I condemn the crime. Beyond that, it has no interest to me.”
+
+She knew that in thus speaking she was weakening the position she had
+taken at first. It was the natural sequence of having the ground cut
+from under her by Cranston’s half-apology. The other eagerly seized the
+opening presented:
+
+“Until Mr. Wing’s murderer is discovered and punished, nothing and no
+one in any way connected with his past will be spared. I have said that
+I know who is his mother.”
+
+She had resumed her seat and again had herself under full control, but
+with some loss of vantage.
+
+“What one man has discovered,” she said, “any other man may discover.
+The mere fact that it can be discovered, is the end of secrecy.”
+
+“There are innumerable things that can be discovered,” he said,
+“compared with the number of people who can discover them. There are
+hundreds who would like to know this one matter, but among them not
+more than one who knows how to find it out. If his mouth is closed, the
+secret is as safe as if it did not exist.”
+
+“The mere knowledge that a secret exists is revelation,” she answered.
+“A man who will sell himself once, simply waits a higher bidder to sell
+himself again.”
+
+“Possibly, if in concealing the identity of this woman, one concealed a
+fact bearing upon the discovery of the murderer. I can assure you that
+her identity has no bearing whatever upon the other question.”
+
+“Then why not let it drop into the oblivion from which you have dragged
+it?”
+
+She knew the danger of exchanging question and answer with him,
+but human endurance has its limit, and even she could not carry
+indifference beyond the breaking point. Still, she was not unconscious
+of the gleam of satisfaction in his face.
+
+“Because,” he said, “this woman has grown strong, powerful, and rich.
+Safety is doubly precious to her. There is no reason why she should
+not pay for it.”
+
+“You mean,” she said, and her eyes snapped, “blackmail!”
+
+She had not been the active partner for thirty-five years of a
+politician who had climbed from obscurity to the control of the State,
+without knowing what this word meant, nor without knowing the infinite
+deeps that yawn for the man or woman who shows the first sign of
+weakness to the blackmailer.
+
+“You are mistaken,” he said. He was on ground now that he had gone over
+in his mind again and again, in his preparation for this interview.
+“The essence of blackmail is threat. I make no threat. I have not said
+that I will expose you, if you do not pay me. I expressly disclaim any
+such intention. But safety is worth something to you; you are rich and
+have high social position. I offer you protection in your riches and
+position, and, for giving it, I ought to have recompense--simply a fair
+equivalent for what I do. Nothing more; but that much is fair; I think
+you cannot deny its fairness.”
+
+He knew he was sliding off into inanity; that all had been said that
+he purposed saying, and that he was simply repeating himself and
+repeating himself weakly. He stopped and waited her answer.
+
+On her part she held herself under restraint, resolved not to interrupt
+him until he had said all he had to say. His change from impersonal to
+personal, which he thought she did not notice, simply impressed her as
+unimportant. She felt fully the weakness and embarrassment of his final
+words, and even with the stress under which she waited, his feeble
+maudlinism affected her with a sense of pity.
+
+“Have you finished?” she asked, when he spoke no further.
+
+“I think there should be no need of saying more,” he answered.
+
+She did not even bend in assent to his proposition. She simply pointed
+to the door, and said:
+
+“Then you may go!”
+
+The change in tone and manner startled him, trained as he was to
+surprises. He had foreseen a storm and indignation, and was prepared
+to treat that as simulated. This impressed him as genuine--so genuine
+that he was forced to ask himself hastily if he could have made any
+mistake, and this notwithstanding he was absolutely certain of all the
+facts.
+
+“But----” he began, hesitatingly.
+
+“Go!” she said, permitting no further utterance, now that he had
+said what he had come to say. A passionate joy in her ability to
+deal harshly with him, regardless of the personal risk to herself
+in so doing, seized her. She had not subjected her line of action
+to the scrutiny of judgment. For once thoroughly a woman, in that
+she discarded the masculine caution which she had cultivated as a
+habit, she gave head to instinct, which carried her past all doubt,
+all weighing of chances, to the least dangerous course that, in her
+situation, was open to her.
+
+Almost an insane fury to send one final shaft that should sting in the
+breast of this woman seized this man who, by all of his traditions,
+should have held himself the better together, the farther his plans
+miscarried. Moving toward the door, he cried:
+
+“Shall I report to my employers--your sons?”
+
+To this she had the single word, “Go!”
+
+When he was gone, she did not break under the relaxation of strain; but
+rather held herself more proudly, as if to do otherwise would be to
+admit to herself, the most important individual concerned, the danger
+in which she stood. Under the calm surface, raged a storm of irritable
+impatience, aroused by the thought that time must elapse before she
+could be called upon to face publicly the charges this man would make.
+She wanted to do it, at this moment. It seemed as if she must rush
+forth and cry:
+
+“See; here am I--I, against whom this thing is charged! Look on me and
+feast your eyes on me and roll the sweet morsel under your tongue! Of
+course, you believe it; want to believe it; but I dare you to say other
+than that it is a slander!”
+
+If she could have done this, it seemed to her that she would have
+happiness again; but to wait; not to know when the blow would fall; to
+hold herself ready to meet it at any instant and to have no power to
+hasten it,--that was the madness of the situation, that the terror it
+had for her.
+
+She rose and stood before a long mirror and looked at herself; as if
+to see if this was a different manner of woman than she who had stood
+there the day before. To her eyes, looking into the reflected depths of
+the room, her own image was representative of the world, and in facing
+it she seemed to taste something of that defiance of public knowledge
+of the scandal for which she so longed.
+
+No thought disturbed her of her future relations to her husband or
+sons. For more than a third of a century, the lives of her husband and
+herself had flowed together, each relying on the other, each confident
+in the other. Breakage was not possible or to be thought of. He would
+not even ask her of this matter, and while that very fact would lay on
+her the greater weight of responsibility to tell him, the necessity did
+not put her under that fear which would have been the greatest burden
+to an ordinary woman. By this she did not mean that he would not feel
+the wound--feel it cruelly; but they had passed the crown of the road,
+their way lay downward, and she had no more doubt of him than she
+would have had of herself, if to him and not to her the parentage of
+Theodore Wing were brought home.
+
+Her bulwark with the public would be the loyalty of her husband and
+sons, and if it smacked of selfishness and unfeeling to rely on them
+and not give a fair portion of thought to the suffering which would
+be hidden by their calm exterior, it must be remembered that during
+the entire period of her wife- and mother-hood she had lived with this
+thing, which had grown dimmer and dimmer as the years receded, until it
+had come to have for her, and it seemed to her necessarily for these
+others, a different aspect than it would have borne in the days before
+she had given to husband and children the pledge of her long devotion.
+
+Before these years she would have reasoned of her husband’s attitude
+toward such a tale from the sense of outrage, not tempered by long
+possession and intimate association. No, she had no fear there, save
+of the inward sense of humiliation under which she had gone to her
+son’s office, and for fighting which she now faced her own reflection,
+as representative of the world of public opinion. She had become
+accustomed to make demands of the world, not requests, and the world
+had yielded. It should do so still. This thing had not destroyed the
+years of loyalty and work that buttressed her present position. It
+should not do so. She stood there to make her defiance, and the world
+should heed. But oh, the waiting! The waiting! That was the cruelty of
+the situation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+In Matthewson’s Chambers
+
+
+Charles Matthewson read with impatience the name on the card just
+brought him--Isaac Trafford. It was a breach of the understanding
+between them, that this man should trouble him further. He was on the
+point of refusing to see him, when he recalled Trafford’s possession of
+the papers taken from Theodore Wing’s desk after his murder. This he
+had not known at the time of their previous interview. It was possible
+that here was the opening of negotiations for their sale. He ordered
+him admitted. Still he could not avoid resenting the intrusion.
+
+“I understood you were not to trouble me further.”
+
+“Until I became satisfied that your visit to Millbank had something to
+do with Wing’s murder,” the detective answered.
+
+“Then I may take this visit as evidence that you are satisfied that it
+had to do with the murder!”
+
+Trafford nodded.
+
+“Why don’t you arrest me then?”
+
+“Because I am satisfied you did not murder him, but can tell me who
+did,” Trafford answered.
+
+“A sort of accessory after the fact?” Matthewson demanded.
+
+“No,” said Trafford. “I’m inclined to think you never suspected that
+you knew anything about it or that you could tell me. At the same time,
+I’m almost certain you saw the murderer and talked with him that night.”
+
+Matthewson started at this statement of the matter. He had not the
+nerve of either his mother or brother, and his power of concealing his
+emotions was greatly less than that of either. However, he quickly
+recovered himself.
+
+“I refuse to be put in the position of laying accusations. I’ve no
+objection to aid in convicting a criminal, but I don’t purpose holding
+one end of a drag-net, for the mere sake of catching some one who may
+or may not be guilty.”
+
+Trafford did not deem it best to answer this directly, but instead went
+on, as if nothing had been said of objection:
+
+“You saw Charles Hunter and his brother Frank--but were they all?”
+
+Matthewson drummed on his desk and looked out of the window. What was
+there, he asked himself, that was drawing him into this tragedy, of
+which he really knew nothing? Did this man know also what Cranston
+had discovered? Was there, after all, to grow out of this murder, of
+which he knew nothing, a scandal that was to overwhelm his family, and
+finally destroy the great influence they exercised in the State?
+
+While he asked these questions of himself Trafford waited, the model of
+patience. If he had anything to disturb his mind, he did not show it.
+Evidently, Matthewson could take his time and be sure that the other
+would be there to receive his answer, when he was ready to give it.
+Finally Matthewson turned to the detective and said:
+
+“I was in Millbank on my own private business. I saw the men whom that
+business concerned and no others. The men whom I saw are one and all
+as incapable of committing this murder as I am. I must decline to
+subject any of them to the annoyance I am now subjected to.”
+
+“I don’t know whether you are incapable of committing murder or not. I
+shouldn’t want to affirm it of any one--not even myself. I am convinced
+that you saw and talked with Wing’s murderer that night. I must know
+the name of every man you saw while in Millbank, and if I can’t find it
+out in one way, I will in another.”
+
+“It pleases you to threaten,” Matthewson said, not wholly unconscious
+of an uneasy feeling.
+
+“Not to threaten, but simply to show you that I am in earnest,”
+Trafford assured him. “Still, I may appeal to you on another ground. I
+have named two men whom you saw. If I am to suppose they were the only
+ones, then I must regard one or the other as the real murderer, and
+this because you persist in concealing from me the name of the man who
+may be guilty. Have you a right to do this?”
+
+“As much right,” retorted Matthewson hotly, “as you have to throw
+suspicion on these gentlemen, simply because of the coincidence of my
+meeting them during a hasty visit to Millbank on the night that Wing
+was murdered. It would be just as reasonable to suspect me of the
+murder.”
+
+“It is possible that I do,” said Trafford.
+
+“Come,” exclaimed Matthewson, “this is going a trifle far. It’s not
+five minutes since you said you were satisfied I did not murder him.”
+
+“But that was before you refused to tell me whom you met.”
+
+Just at that moment a loud voice was heard in the outer room, demanding
+to see Mr. Matthewson. He rose and turned the key in the door,
+notwithstanding a movement on Trafford’s part to stop him. As he turned
+to his desk, Trafford asked:
+
+“Do you recognise the voice?”
+
+“No,” said the other, shortly and indignantly; “but I propose to finish
+this matter here and now, so that there will be no need to reopen it.”
+
+“That’s Cranston, the detective whom you, your brother, and Charles
+Hunter have hired,” said Trafford. “I advise you to see him, and let
+me be in a cupboard or behind a screen while he is here.”
+
+“Superb!” said Matthewson, with a vicious sneer. “You’ll know all he’s
+found out--steal his thunder! Excellent!”
+
+“Mr. Matthewson,” Trafford said, with a touch of dignity in his voice
+that his companion could but note, “I would be justified in resenting
+such a remark, and you are not justified in making it. Cranston has
+discovered nothing that I haven’t known for weeks; but he’s been in
+Bangor, and I know what he could find out there. You sent him there
+and made a cruel mistake when you did it. I would have stopped it, if
+I could. He’s here now to tell you and, if I mistake not, to demand a
+price for his silence. If I’m wrong, no harm can come from my hearing.
+If I’m right, you’re the man who wants me to hear; it’ll be the best
+protection you can have in the future.”
+
+At the mention of Bangor, Matthewson turned pale and then flushed. That
+it was made with the purpose of informing him that the detective knew
+the secret of his mother’s early life, he could not doubt. There was
+but one thing that he ought to do, and that was to pitch the man out
+of his room. He would have done it, but for the man on the other side
+of the door, to whose presence he was recalled by the turning of the
+door-knob. In which of these men did he place the greater trust? He had
+only to ask the question to let it answer itself. But this new menace?
+He would know it at its worst. That was beyond question.
+
+“Pass through this door, into the next room,” he said. “There you will
+find the door of a closet, which has a second door opening into this
+alcove. After he has entered and looked into that alcove, as he may,
+come out of the closet and--listen.”
+
+Cranston, on entering, did exactly what Matthewson had predicted; he
+examined the alcove before taking the chair to which Matthewson pointed
+him.
+
+“There’s no one in there,” Matthewson said.
+
+“I can’t take any chances,” said the other insolently. “What I’ve got
+to say wants to be between us two--you’ll want it to be when you hear
+it.”
+
+Matthewson flushed and an angry retort leaped to his lips. This,
+however, he suppressed and made necessity to ask the cause of the visit.
+
+“I’ve come to report,” said Cranston. Then, as the other waited, he
+added:
+
+“I’ve been at work in Bangor.” Then, after another pause: “I’ve learned
+things in Bangor that you ought to know.”
+
+“It relates to the murder?”
+
+“No, not directly. It relates to Theodore Wing’s mother.” He said it
+defiantly; as if he was throwing down the gage of battle.
+
+It required a mighty effort on Matthewson’s part to control himself,
+and yet he knew that to fail meant that this terrible thing, which as
+yet remained unspoken, would be uttered in words and that he must hear
+it.
+
+“I have become satisfied,” he said slowly and with an effort to control
+himself and appear dispassionate, “that the identity of Wing’s mother
+has no bearing on the murder or on the discovery of the murderer.
+You will, therefore, drop that part of the investigation and confine
+yourself to the other features. In this all who were concerned in
+employing you are agreed.”
+
+“How long since?” the man demanded insolently.
+
+“That is of no consequence,” Matthewson said. “You are now informed of
+the fact, so that your new instructions date from this moment.”
+
+“It’s too late for you to accomplish anything by that dodge,” he said.
+“I’ve found out who Wing’s mother is. The story’s worth money. I’ll
+give you the first chance to buy. Do you want it?”
+
+Matthewson trembled, as he realised the full significance of this
+demand. More than his mother possibly could, he knew how such a story
+would be received; how impossible it would be, once set afloat, to stop
+it or overcome it. Still, he put on a bold front.
+
+“Whatever you may have learned, it was while you were under our pay.
+The information belongs to us and you can’t afford to make it a matter
+of barter.”
+
+“What I’ve found out,” Cranston returned defiantly, “is worth so much
+that I can afford to take some risks. If you want it, you can have it
+for a price. If not, the highest bidder gets it, and in a State where
+ex-Governor Matthewson’s got as many enemies as he’s got in Maine,
+there won’t be any trouble about finding buyers.”
+
+“There’s no need to drag in my father’s name,” Matthewson replied.
+
+“How do you know there ain’t?” the other demanded. “Maybe you’ll be
+surprised at the names that are dragged in before we’re through.”
+
+It was Matthewson’s impulse to throw the man out of doors, without
+regard to consequences; but before him came a face that had watched
+him lovingly and tenderly from his earliest memory--a face that he had
+seen only a few days before pleading to him, as he had never dreamed
+a woman’s face could plead. His hands clutched nervously; but for the
+sake of that face and that love, he held himself in restraint.
+
+“Well, to end this matter,” he said, “what do you want for this
+precious information?”
+
+“Hadn’t you better know first what it is?” demanded the other. “Oh,”
+he said, as he saw on Matthewson’s face what he regarded as a protest;
+“it won’t spoil the goods to show ’em. I’d just as lief tell you before
+as after. It’s silence I’m selling; not facts.”
+
+“I don’t need you to repeat your talk; and what’s more, it won’t be
+safe for you to,” Matthewson said. “I know perfectly well what it would
+be; but I warn you not to dare speak it.”
+
+The man in the alcove almost betrayed himself as he heard this
+astounding acknowledgment. After all, had he mistaken what he had seen,
+and was this the real secret he had been trying to unravel? Cranston
+was speaking again:
+
+“Threatened men live long. You’ll get just as much for as little money,
+if you keep a civil tongue. I’ve got silence to sell; but I’m just
+blamed fool enough, if you get me mad, to refuse to sell at any price.”
+
+“Then your proposition is that if I pay you your price, you’ll keep
+silence regarding your discovery as to Theodore Wing’s mother; and that
+if I do not, you’ll sell your information to any one who will pay you
+for it, regardless of the injury it may do me or any one connected with
+me?”
+
+“That’s about it, in plain English.”
+
+“It’s it, isn’t it?”
+
+“Yes, it’s it.”
+
+“And you think that this information, if made public, would do me and
+those connected with me harm.”
+
+“I don’t know what you call harm, if it wouldn’t. ’Twould be the end of
+the Matthewson family, socially and politically. They’d have to find
+another boss for Maine after this thing got out.”
+
+“It’s just as well,” said the lawyer, “to keep within bounds in your
+remarks; they’re as likely to accomplish your purpose.”
+
+But Cranston was smarting under his previous failure. He had tried to
+deal squarely with Mrs. Matthewson and had met refusal and insult.
+There was the possibility that, had he adopted a higher tone, he would
+have succeeded. He was resolved not to fail from the same cause this
+time.
+
+“I’m answering questions,” he said, “and I’ll answer ’em in my own
+way. If you don’t like it, you don’t need to.”
+
+It required a terrible effort on Matthewson’s part to prevent his
+openly resenting this insolence, and he was conscious of a distinctive
+loss of self-respect that he did not at once pitch the fellow out of
+the room.
+
+“Let’s get through with this thing and be done with it,” he said. “How
+much will your silence cost me?”
+
+“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” answered Cranston.
+
+Mr. Matthewson was startled at the figure.
+
+“Why, man, you’re crazy!” he exclaimed.
+
+“I know it,” said Cranston. “I ought to have a hundred, but I ain’t
+going to be hard. I’ve set my price at twenty-five.”
+
+“And you’ll take five,” retorted Matthewson.
+
+“I wouldn’t take twenty-four thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine
+dollars and ninety-nine cents,” answered Cranston. “I’ve fixed my
+price, and it’s that or nothing.”
+
+“I guess that’s right,” sneered Matthewson. “And how do you want this
+easy money?”
+
+“In good, crisp bank-notes that one can feel; and before I leave this
+room.”
+
+“Of course you’ll give a receipt when it’s paid over, setting out the
+terms of the bargain?”
+
+“Of course, I won’t!” retorted Cranston. “You’ll have to trust to my
+honour; that’ll be your protection.”
+
+“Then the bargain is, if I give you twenty-five thousand dollars,
+you’ll keep this story quiet. If I don’t, you’ll use it to my
+injury----”
+
+“To your ruin,” interrupted Cranston. “I’ll drive you and your family
+out of the State; I’ll destroy every shred of your influence, and I’ll
+do it with this story!”
+
+“There are no other terms; no other means by which I can stop you?”
+
+“You bet there isn’t; and if this gabble goes on much longer, I’ll
+double my price.”
+
+“Then we’ll stop it right here. I buy safety for twenty-five thousand
+dollars, and here’s five dollars to bind the bargain. I’m to send out
+and get the rest and pay to you before you leave. Are those the terms?”
+
+“Those are the terms, if you get the money quick enough.”
+
+“Then you can get out of this office, you skulking, blackmailing
+scoundrel, or I’ll throw you out of the window. Go, and don’t be slow
+about it, for my fingers are itching to get hold of you. I’m through
+with you!”
+
+For an instant, Cranston was dumbfounded by the sudden revulsion of
+position. He had believed the money practically in his grasp, and
+instead he encountered this dismissal of contempt and abuse. But his
+surprise was only for an instant. Then a flood of senseless anger,
+verging on madness, seized him. He had but one impulse and that was to
+punish the man who had led him on, only to throw him down. There was a
+flash of a pistol in his hand as he said:
+
+“But I’m not through with you, by God!”
+
+“You don’t need that to send you to State’s prison,” said a voice
+behind him, as a hand, seemingly of steel, grasped his and wrenched
+away the pistol. He turned and saw Trafford standing behind him.
+
+“By God, this is a dirty, contemptible trick, Trafford,” he gasped.
+
+“I guess that’s so, too,” Trafford answered, coolly, as he drew the
+charges from the revolver, before handing it back to Cranston; “but
+unfortunately there are some situations in life that can’t be reached
+by anything else, and this seems to be one of ’em.”
+
+“Now will you go?” demanded Matthewson, “while I’ve a notion to let
+you?”
+
+“I’ll go,” the man muttered; “but you aren’t through with me yet!”
+
+“When you feel a particular desire for free quarters at Thomaston, just
+meddle with my affairs again,” retorted Matthewson. “Until you do feel
+that way, you’d better let them alone.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The Range 16 Scandal
+
+
+“I guess I didn’t make any mistake in staying,” said Trafford, more to
+break the embarrassing silence which followed Cranston’s withdrawal,
+than with any definite purpose.
+
+Matthewson glanced up with the air of a man who had half lost
+consciousness of surrounding circumstances in a line of painful thought.
+
+“I am under deep obligation to you,” he said slowly; and then,
+apparently tracking back to his thoughts before Trafford spoke, he
+added, as it seemed, irrelevantly:
+
+“You said he could tell nothing you did not already know.”
+
+The pain which manifested itself in his face would have shown a far
+less keen man what the speaker had in mind, yet was not willing more
+directly to name.
+
+“He has not,” said Trafford quietly. “All that he hinted at I’ve known
+for weeks.”
+
+“Did you know it when you saw me before?”
+
+Trafford nodded.
+
+“Why did you conceal it?”
+
+“It’s not concealment not to talk of a thing. There was no call to talk
+of it so long as it had nothing to do with the murder.”
+
+“But are you certain,” the words came hard and with a painful ring,
+“that it did have nothing to do with the murder?”
+
+The question showed Trafford how far pain and numbing anguish had
+carried the man who, loyal even to the death of honour to the mother
+who bore him, on that very account was the deeper sufferer.
+
+“Absolutely!” Trafford threw into the word an intense depth of
+conviction. “On that point you may exclude every doubt.”
+
+Matthewson gave him a look of intense relief. He was reasonably certain
+as to Cranston; but if there was a chain of circumstances, as there
+well might be, between this story and the recent murder, what was to
+save them?
+
+“I owe you more than I can say,” he went on. “I won’t waste my
+gratitude in words. The only thing I can do now, that I see, is to
+answer your question of a half-hour ago. You’re entitled to that.”
+
+He wrote some names on a slip of paper and passed it over to Trafford.
+He watched him as he read, to detect, if possible, any movement of
+surprise, for this question of the murder, from a matter of comparative
+indifference, save as it touched the possession of certain papers, was
+growing into a vital thing, that seemed to meet him at every turn,
+filling him with alarm for the moment when it should uncover in all its
+hideous nakedness. But there was nothing to indicate that he had told
+anything which the other did not know already, until Trafford himself
+spoke. Then, even, the tone was most commonplace:
+
+“You have saved me the time and trouble it would have taken to complete
+the list.” He evidently had no question of his ability to do so. “I
+hope you’ll add to the obligation by answering one or two questions.
+Did you meet these men separately or together?”
+
+“I met the first two separately and the other alone.”
+
+“And discussed with the two the papers which were in Wing’s
+possession.” While pursuing the matter in apparently the most
+commonplace way, Trafford did not fail to note the quick air of sudden
+interest on Matthewson’s part which followed this reference to the
+mysterious papers. It was not a look that betokened fear, but rather
+eagerness, if the detective could read aright. He went on:
+
+“Was it on the same matter you saw the third man?”
+
+“Certainly,” answered Matthewson, as if eager now to give the
+information he had before withheld. “There was only one thing that took
+me to Millbank, and that was the papers.”
+
+“Did you see him before or after you saw the others?”
+
+“Before and after, both.”
+
+“Did they know you had seen him or were to see him?”
+
+“No. Rightly or wrongly, I suspected cross-purposes between them and
+was after a second string to my bow. They thought I took an earlier
+train, but I met him by arrangement. I’d sent him to see Wing and met
+him to get the report.”
+
+“Then he was with Wing during the evening?”
+
+“Did you not know it?” demanded Matthewson, turning cross-examiner.
+
+“A question does not always imply ignorance,” said Trafford, smiling,
+“but sometimes the bolstering up of knowledge not yet in the form we
+want it. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I knew Wing had a visitor
+that evening. This man was with him till late?”
+
+“He left him at eleven o’clock and met me. I parted with him in the
+shadow of Pettingill’s potato storehouse, when I ran to jump on the
+train.”
+
+“You sent him to try to get those papers from Wing, and he failed.”
+
+“Miserably failed. It was a desperate chance I took, of course; but I
+could do no less than take it. In fact it was a desperate thing to use
+this man, but it was my last hope, and I had no choice.”
+
+“Yet he’s square--if I’m rightly informed. No danger from him.”
+
+“I don’t mean that. I mean he’s not the kind of man to use in such a
+thing. He’s what you might call too high-toned--not given to that kind
+of work--that is, in a successful way. He wouldn’t take chances that
+another man might. I guess you know better than I can tell you what I
+mean.”
+
+“I know. I understand the type of man. He gave you no hope of securing
+the papers?”
+
+“None whatever. Wing positively refused every suggestion in regard to
+them, and left the impression on his mind that further attempt was
+useless. While I felt that another man might have done better, I was
+certain that his effort had uncovered Wing’s exact position; that Wing
+was determined to hold on to the papers and use them. He was convinced
+of the same thing.”
+
+“Still you urged him to make another effort.”
+
+“No. I was so convinced that it didn’t seem worth while--at least
+along those lines. While we were talking, I heard the warning bell and
+we hurried, turning off Somerset Street between Neil’s store and the
+post-office. As I left him, I remember saying that I’d give the man who
+would put those papers in my hands a hundred thousand dollars.”
+
+“A hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Trafford, for once at least
+showing his surprise.
+
+“Yes,” answered Matthewson, a strange hopefulness coming into his eyes;
+“I’ll give you that sum for the papers this minute.”
+
+“I wish I had ’em,” said Trafford, in a tone half regretful and half as
+if he was groping in his memory for something that bore on the matter.
+
+“Why, haven’t you got them?” demanded Matthewson, between incredulity
+and fear.
+
+“I!” exclaimed Trafford. “I got them! I’ve never even seen them. The
+man who fired the shot that killed Wing has got those papers. Find him,
+and you’re on the track of the papers.”
+
+Matthewson grew pale with revulsion of feeling. That Trafford had the
+papers, he had had no question. He believed that all this had been
+merely leading up to an offer and he had shaped his course, as he
+thought, shrewdly, to the naming of a sum which would make the man
+eager to deal. Instead, he was told in a tone that carried conviction,
+that not only had Trafford not got the papers, but that they were in
+the possession of an unknown man for whom the law was hunting. If he
+was found, the papers would pass into the possession of the State and
+the public!
+
+“In other words, we don’t know where they are?”
+
+“We do know,” answered Trafford, with the solemnity of a man who feels
+that he is approaching accomplished purpose, “that these papers were
+the cause of Wing’s death. Tell me the man who was most concerned in
+getting possession of these papers and I’ll give Wing’s murderer to the
+hangman--or would, if you hadn’t abolished the hangman in Maine.”
+
+Never had the case stood so naked before Matthewson as these
+words stripped it. For the murder itself he had felt comparative
+indifference, his interest in the papers overtopping all else. Since
+he was aware that the murdered man was his half-brother, he had been
+conscious of an approach to a feeling of relief that he was dead. Now,
+for the first time, he saw, as by lightning’s flash, the strife for
+the papers and the murder as cause and effect. The one danger grew into
+another, and each took fearfulness from the other. No effort of the
+will could quite quiet the nervous tremor which the realisation of this
+fact brought. His face was drawn with pain as he answered:
+
+“There can be no man more concerned than I to get these papers.”
+
+“Fortunately I know you were on the train when the shot was fired.”
+
+The answer implied that but for this Trafford would suspect him, and
+Matthewson so understood it; but his anxiety was too great for him even
+to resent the implication. His brother was no less interested than
+himself in the papers. He must warn him, warn him instantly. This man
+was pitiless when a task was set before him; Henry must not let himself
+be drawn into a trap.
+
+“We have supposed,” Matthewson said, as much to ease the situation,
+as from any particular bearing of the remark on the matter under
+discussion, “that you had taken the papers under cover of taking the
+blotter from the desk.”
+
+“I know,” nodded Trafford. “That was the reason you had me attacked in
+the bridge at Millbank. I would have been robbed of the papers--thrown
+into the river, perhaps. For the moment, I assumed that it was the same
+men who committed the murder. I saw my mistake, however, very quickly.”
+
+He added the last words, as it were, as an apology for the mistake
+itself. As a matter of fact, Matthewson had known nothing of the
+assault until some days after it took place, but he scorned a denial
+that must seem like an effort to escape responsibility, and so said
+nothing to disabuse the other’s mind of the belief that he had helped
+plan the assault.
+
+“The most serious aspect of that affair,” Trafford continued, “was the
+death of the Canuck--Victor Vignon.”
+
+But Matthewson was not in a mood to feel keenly the death of a mere
+logger, whom he had never seen and whose importance, in comparison
+with the good name and continued power of the Matthewson family, was
+as nothing. He did not care even to assume an interest for the sake of
+appearance. He was thinking, thinking fast, and only half hearing what
+Trafford was saying. Suddenly his attention was again aroused.
+
+“What is the nature of these papers?” the other was asking. “With
+knowledge of that, I could narrow the circle of interest, so that I
+would have to deal with only a few men.”
+
+“It can’t be the men who are interested in the papers by reason of
+their contents who did the murder,” said Matthewson, speaking rapidly.
+“I know them and can answer for every one of them--that is, so far as
+they knew of the existence of the papers. It is some one who regards
+them from the point of their saleability. It’s their money value.”
+
+Trafford had seen this possibility already, but it did not satisfy him.
+He felt that he could form a sounder judgment than this man, but to do
+it he must have the facts and this man must give them to him.
+
+“If you are correct,” he said, “you must see that you narrow the line
+of enquiry to three men. I must know what the papers were to determine
+which of these three is the man. I have asked you before, what is the
+nature of the papers?”
+
+“Do not think me ungrateful, if I decline to answer. I would trust you
+with everything, but the secret belongs to others no less than myself.”
+
+“Mr. Matthewson,” said Trafford seriously, “it is not pleasant to have
+to play hide and seek with you. I’ve had to remind you once before that
+the inquest is public. If I have this question asked there, you’ll have
+to answer or----”
+
+“Go to jail,” Matthewson said, completing the sentence. “I know. I’ve
+thought of that. I shouldn’t answer.”
+
+Matthewson drummed on the table and looked at his companion. Even his
+political power could not shield him from the consequence of a refusal
+to answer a question put to him at the inquest on such a murder as
+this. Surely the cause must be a serious one that induced him even to
+think of such an act. Trafford took up another line:
+
+“Have you thought that if you were summoned and refused to testify, it
+would be necessary for the government to supply as best it could the
+want of your testimony. Have you thought that in doing so, it could not
+be dainty as to means, and that it would not be impossible in such an
+event that it might stumble on the story that Cranston tried to sell
+you to-day?”
+
+“In other words, you would become the pedlar of scandal,” sneered
+Matthewson.
+
+“In other words, that justice might not fail, I’d get at the facts,
+even if they involved my own--brother. Don’t you see, Mr. Matthewson,
+I’m giving you a chance? If, with a knowledge of all the facts, I can
+bring this crime home to the murderer without bringing you into it,
+I’ll do so. If I can’t, I simply know in advance what all the world is
+bound to know finally. You’ve your chance. You can take it or leave it.”
+
+“You’re pressing your advantage. I’m to tell, or you’ll find out.
+Let me suggest you’ve been on the case some time and the sum of your
+finding is not large.”
+
+“So large, Mr. Matthewson, that I can make my arrest within twenty-four
+hours and, I’m certain, convict my man.”
+
+Matthewson started. There was no mistaking the tone. Still he would not
+yield.
+
+“In that event, you don’t need my answer.”
+
+“I must have your answer to shape my proof. You’ll give it to me here
+or on the witness stand. I’ll leave it to you to decide which.”
+
+Matthewson faced him like a man at bay; then, as he saw his unflinching
+purpose, he yielded and answered:
+
+“The papers purport to impugn titles to a million dollars’ worth of
+land and two millions’ worth of stumpage. They impugn too the honour of
+the men who hold those titles.”
+
+It was Trafford’s turn for surprise. The words took him back to the
+great scandal of the Public Lands Office, before and while Matthewson
+was Governor--the one storm that it had seemed for a time even his
+political resources could not weather. Then came the sudden collapse
+of the attack and the disappearance of documents that were relied on
+to support it. He recalled that Judge Parlin had been retained to
+prosecute the case, and that it was said that papers had been stolen
+from his office which it had never been possible to replace.
+
+“You mean,” he said, “the Range 16 scandal.”
+
+“I believe it was so called,” said Matthewson doggedly.
+
+“But it was said these papers had been stolen; it was supposed they had
+been destroyed. How came they in Wing’s hands?”
+
+“It is said they were stolen; but if so, not all. Parlin never was
+able to fill the place of those that were taken; but this man Wing,
+with devilish ingenuity and persistence, had worked and dug and pieced
+together until--well, until he had got enough to make us uneasy.”
+
+“And so you tried the old game a second time?”
+
+“We tried to get them out of his hands. The main thing we hope now is
+that as the price paid for them this time was murder, the man who got
+them has destroyed them, for fear their possession would betray him.”
+
+Trafford was silent for a few minutes, and then said:
+
+“Don’t hope. They’re not destroyed. The man who committed murder to get
+them, will not part with its price so easily. The man who holds papers
+that would ruin Governor Matthewson, his sons, Charles and Frank
+Hunter, and the Lord knows who else, knows that those papers would
+be his surest means of escape, if his identity was discovered. Those
+papers are in existence;” and he added to himself, “if I can’t convict
+without them, I won’t get out of the next assault so easy.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+The Story of the Papers
+
+
+Trafford went back to Millbank more seriously alarmed than at any time
+in his whole professional career. Matthewson would unquestionably
+inform the others that he had not the papers; and as certainly warn
+them he was after them, with the determination to secure them. It
+was well within reason that they would regard it as safer that they
+remained in the hands of a murderer whom they protected, than that they
+should fall into those of a detective, who would use them to convict
+and thus make them public. He felt that he must act promptly and
+energetically and bring to his aid every influence possible.
+
+Now, however, there was another matter tugging at him. Few men in
+Maine ever attained to the possession of a hundred thousand dollars.
+The income on such a sum would equal his average yearly earnings. He
+believed that if he could put his hands on the papers, they would
+yield him that sum or more. If he was in danger, he had but to let it
+be known in a certain quarter that on obtaining these papers, he would
+deliver them intact, and the danger disappeared. He was satisfied that
+the man who made public the facts relating to Range 16 scandal would
+never live to see the result. He was satisfied that if the papers were
+once located in any person’s possession, there would now be no further
+time wasted in negotiation, as there had been with Wing; but that
+effective steps would be taken to prevent their publicity.
+
+On arriving at Millbank, Trafford waited only to receive the report of
+his assistant, who had been left on guard, and then went at once to
+the Parlin homestead. He found Mrs. Parlin showing marks of the strain
+upon her of the last few weeks. Life had brought her many sorrows,
+and Wing’s tragic death had seemingly broken the last tie of joy.
+Trafford’s feverish impatience, rather than the trained restraint of
+his profession, spoke in the haste he showed to get at real issues.
+
+“Mrs. Parlin,” he began, as soon as formal greetings were over, “what
+can you tell me of the Range 16 affair and the papers relating thereto?”
+
+To his surprise Mrs. Parlin grew suddenly white and seemed on the point
+of fainting. He turned to her assistance, but by a strong effort she
+recovered a part of her usual self-possession, though the colour did
+not come back to her cheeks.
+
+“Nothing,” she said. “It is a matter on which I can’t talk. You must
+not; you shall not torture me with it.”
+
+“I would not willingly distress you in any way, Mrs. Parlin,” he said,
+with less abruptness; “but it is my duty to insist and I think it your
+duty to comply. Our whole search for Mr. Wing’s murderer may turn upon
+your answer.”
+
+“Oh, has that come up to curse us again! has that come up!” she cried,
+wringing her hands. “I can’t bear it; I can’t bear it!”
+
+Trafford was astounded at her growing agitation, and was half disposed
+to forego further questions, at least for the time; but behind him was
+the impulsion of his dread of, he scarcely knew what, driving him on to
+reckless impatience.
+
+“It has come up and we can’t rid ourselves of it. Those papers were the
+cause of Mr. Wing’s death.”
+
+“Those papers!” she repeated, with open lips, which scarcely moved as
+she spoke. “Those papers! But I hid them; no one knew where they were.
+Theodore did not even know of their existence.”
+
+“You hid them!” exclaimed Trafford, thunderstruck at the statement.
+“They were stolen, I understand. How could you hide them?”
+
+“Yes,” she said, like a bewildered child, admitting a fault; “they were
+stolen. I stole them.”
+
+It was Trafford’s turn to sit dazed beyond the power of clear thought.
+She had stolen the papers to which her husband had given long months of
+work and thought, and on which he had hoped to build a reputation that
+should overpass the bounds of the State and outlive his years. She was
+the thief; and if report said truly, that theft had hastened his death
+and added bitterness to his last days!
+
+“You can’t mean this, Mrs. Parlin,” he said gently. “I refer to the
+papers that were stolen from your husband’s desk some five years before
+he died; the papers that related to the Public Lands Office and the
+timber land and stumpage in Range 16; the papers that involved some
+men very high in the State and in the party--I won’t name them, if you
+please.”
+
+She nodded assent to each of his propositions, and when he had finished
+said:
+
+“Yes; those are the papers I mean. I stole them from his desk and hid
+them. I was going to destroy them; but I thought sometime they might be
+of use and not so dangerous, and so I hid them.”
+
+“Where did you hide them?”
+
+“First in the attic, then in the cellar, and finally under the bricks
+of the hearth in the parlour.”
+
+“It’s easy, then, to find if they’re still there.”
+
+Ten minutes sufficed to raise the bricks and show the hiding-place--a
+hollow cavity which had been devised in the early days for hiding
+purposes--empty.
+
+“They are gone!” she cried as she glanced into the hole.
+
+“Yes,” said Trafford, replacing the bricks and leading her back to
+Wing’s library, where they were less apt to be overheard, “they’re
+gone. Mr. Wing found them and, realising the alarm it would be to you
+to know that they were found, did not tell you. It was those papers
+that brought about his death.”
+
+When Mrs. Parlin was sufficiently calm, Trafford set himself to the
+task of extracting the details of the affair; letting her at first tell
+it in her own way, and later asking questions that completed the story.
+Condensed to the facts, it ran as follows:
+
+Nearly twelve years before, her husband, in the course of some
+investigation of a land title in the Public Lands Office, came across
+what appeared an error in an important entry. He was on the point
+of calling attention to it, so that it could be corrected, when a
+critical examination convinced him that it was not a mere error, but a
+carefully made change that involved the title to timber-land that was
+just becoming exceedingly valuable. Acting on the hint thus given, he
+went to work cautiously, but determinately, and personally got together
+a number of documents that revealed what seemed a systematic series
+of forgeries, relating to immense tracts of land that were formerly
+public. In some cases, the title to the land itself was involved; in
+others, that to the stumpage only.
+
+It was impossible to carry on these investigations without attracting
+attention, especially when they had gone so far as to show that in
+every case where the title was suspicious, the benefit accrued to the
+Matthewsons and to the Hunters at Millbank. Mr. Matthewson was then
+Governor, but he had formerly been at the head of the Public Lands
+Office, and his financial prosperity had appeared to date from about
+the time he held that position.
+
+A prying reporter got an inkling that something was going on, and in
+pursuing his enquiry revealed the hints he had discovered to Henry
+Matthewson. A position of financial importance was suddenly offered
+the reporter in a Western city and the story never was printed. But
+the Matthewsons were, from that moment, on their guard. A few months
+later, a fire broke out in the record room of the Public Lands Office
+and valuable records were destroyed. This did not attract especial
+attention, for the press had repeatedly called public attention to
+the existence of this very danger, and merely contented itself with
+shouting “I told you so,” with a great deal of strenuousness.
+
+What was not known, save to Judge Parlin and, probably, some of the
+office force, was the extreme discrimination shown by the fire in
+destroying the very books on which proof of the forgeries depended.
+Certain remarks incautiously dropped by Judge Parlin let out facts from
+which the scandal took shape, with charges freely made by political
+opponents of the Matthewsons, which could now be proved only by papers
+in Judge Parlin’s hands, since the destruction of the original books.
+This was the Range 16 Scandal in its original form.
+
+Up to this time, Judge Parlin had not even taken his wife into his
+confidence, but as the matter took more and more of public form,
+he deemed it necessary that she should know, especially as he had
+begun to suspect that the men who were against him would hesitate at
+nothing--not even murder, to conceal the truth. It was an incautious
+hint dropped by him to this effect that first alarmed her, and this
+alarm was speedily increased to terror by threats that were conveyed to
+the judge from time to time, though as to the source he was never able
+to reach a solution. “He laughed at them,” she said, telling of these
+threats; “but that is a man’s way. A woman sits and thinks and dreads,
+because she cannot act. In the dead night, I heard footsteps prowling
+about the place--or thought I did, and I lay in an agony of terror--not
+for myself, but because it was not for me that the danger threatened.
+When he was at Norridgewock at court and would drive home after dark,
+I sat and trembled until I had him again in my arms and knew that once
+more the chance had passed him by. If there came a ring at the bell
+late at night, I would plead that he let me answer it, until I wrought
+myself into a nervous terror that I cannot even now remember without
+a shudder. It was the worse because he was so brave and never for a
+moment felt afraid. When he laughed at the threats, I grew cold to my
+very heart, for my fear for him told me that the danger he scorned was
+so real that some day it would fall and crush him. A woman’s love knows
+some things that a man’s brain can’t compass!”
+
+It seemed, however, that he attached importance of one kind to these
+threats, such as to induce him to guard the papers carefully, pending
+the time when he could duplicate them and place one set where they
+could not possibly be reached. But before this was even undertaken,
+Mrs. Parlin had become so alarmed that she urged her husband to abandon
+the matter and destroy the papers and let this be known where it would
+cause a cessation of the annoyance to which they were both subjected.
+But here she found him inflexible, and at last her terror reached such
+a pitch that she determined herself to steal and destroy the papers.
+
+It was some time before she was able to carry this resolve into
+execution, and during the delay she reached a point of terror little
+short of insanity. At last, under the impulse of fear intensified by a
+particularly boldly expressed threat, she took desperate chances and,
+as desperate chances will do at times, succeeded. She took the papers
+from her husband’s desk almost under his very eyes, and ever after had
+the cruel pain of knowing that the trust she had betrayed was so great
+that no suspicion of the betrayal had ever crossed his mind.
+
+Once in possession of the papers, she had, as she told Trafford, failed
+in the courage to destroy them, and had easily persuaded herself
+that they might at some time be an actual means of protection to her
+husband. Therefore she had hidden them, as stated, and thus finally
+they had passed into Theodore Wing’s hands to prove his death warrant.
+
+The judge was much broken over the loss of the papers, the facts in
+regard to which could not be kept from the public. For a time, the
+scandal blazed up and the Matthewsons had to meet charges which could
+be proved by no one and which, therefore, they were the more bold in
+denying. Then public interest was turned to other issues, only to be
+aroused again for a time by Judge Parlin’s candidacy for the highest
+State court and his defeat, which he did not long survive.
+
+“But when,” she demanded, “could Theodore have found these papers?”
+
+“About two years ago, I should say; perhaps a little earlier,” said
+Trafford. “At least, it was then known that he had found them, for on
+no other theory can we explain the ransacking of his desk. He then
+began to carry them about with him, and the interests involved, which
+had rested quiet since your husband’s loss, and especially since his
+death, became disturbed again and active.”
+
+“Then it must be the Matthewsons or Hunters who murdered him,”
+exclaimed the woman, under a sudden breaking in of light.
+
+“It would seem a fair conclusion,” answered Trafford; “and yet I have
+evidence that satisfies me that they did not murder him and do not
+know who did. I don’t mean to say that they wouldn’t have done it
+finally; but they didn’t this time, and are not only puzzled, but much
+disturbed, over the mystery of the murder. We have gone so far on this
+matter that I can tell you in a word why they are disturbed. Whoever
+murdered him took the papers, and they are alarmed as to where they’ll
+turn up next.”
+
+Mrs. Parlin had by the act of telling her story recovered her
+self-control and power to think, and saw as clearly as Trafford the
+meaning of this uncertainty.
+
+“But who,” she asked, “could have done it, if they did not?”
+
+“Some one who knew he had the papers. Some one who knew something of
+their value, and some one who knows the safety there is in boldness,
+and had the nerve to carry through an affair that might break down at
+any point. I knew long since that some one was with Mr. Wing in the
+evening after you left him, and that the visitor stayed very late. I
+also know that, contrary to what was generally supposed, this room was
+visited after the murder. Some one passed over his dead body, entered
+the room, and took the papers. The question is, who was bold enough to
+commit the theft under such conditions?”
+
+The picture that Trafford drew of the murder and the theft stirred Mrs.
+Parlin, already wrought upon by the interview, to a state of nervous
+excitement that was most distressing. Too late, the detective realised
+that in such a state she was scarcely a safe custodian for the secret
+he had given into her keeping. She walked the room, wringing her hands
+and asking herself:
+
+“Why didn’t I burn them; why didn’t I burn them? I might at least have
+saved Theodore! I am his murderer.”
+
+It was late when Trafford had quieted her so that he dared trust her
+even with Mary Mullin. Even this he did not do, without first giving
+her a stern warning as to the necessity of self-restraint.
+
+“We’re on the last stretch now,” he said. “What’s done must be done
+quickly and silently. These men haven’t committed murder yet, but they
+wouldn’t hesitate to, if they were once convinced that safety lay
+in that direction. In forty-eight hours they’ll see that it’s safer
+for this murder to remain a mystery, and then it’ll be dangerous to
+move--it may mean death. Can you keep still on this subject two days?”
+
+“I kept still for eight years while I saw my husband crushed,” she said
+reproachfully.
+
+As he was turning away, oppressed with the thought that he was pitted
+against men who would hesitate at nothing and who, as soon as a
+conference was had, must see that their interests lay in thwarting his
+efforts, she caught him by the coat and drew him towards her.
+
+“There’s been blood enough shed,” she said. “These papers killed my
+husband, though I stole them in the hope of saving his life. They’ve
+killed Theodore. Don’t let them kill any more folks. Burn them, burn
+them, when you get hold of them!”
+
+“But you want me to catch Mr. Wing’s murderer, don’t you? You want him
+sent to Thomaston?”
+
+“Yes; yes!” Her eyes blazed with the desire of revenge. “Don’t let him
+escape! But burn the papers!”
+
+He lingered still, though he felt that he was wasting precious time. He
+seemed to be in the one place of safety, and a strange dread, which he
+knew foreign to his nature and profession, assailed him. He had never
+experienced it before and it seemed a premonition of coming evil. As he
+turned finally to go, she said again:
+
+“Don’t move alone. You can’t do better than take Mr. McManus’s
+advice. The judge had every confidence in him, and so, I think, had
+Theodore. You’ll be safer if some one knows what you are doing. Tell
+him everything and keep somebody by you all the time. Catch Theodore’s
+murderer, and when you get him and the papers, burn the papers: don’t
+let them cause any more bloodshed.”
+
+“I shan’t move without Mr. McManus,” he assured her. “He is cool-headed
+and resourceful. I’ll catch Mr. Wing’s murderer and I’ll put an end to
+the mischief those papers can do.”
+
+Nevertheless, there was the sense of oppression and danger hanging
+over him. He was doubting himself--doubting himself, from the moment
+Matthewson had assured him that he would give a hundred thousand
+dollars for the papers. Suppose he should find them, would he have
+strength to put that offer from him? As he asked this question, he
+realised that the fear that weighed on him was rather the fear born
+of a sense of moral degradation than fear of bodily harm. He knew as
+absolutely as if the thing was done that, if once he was in possession
+of the papers, he would sell them to Matthewson; and while he knew it
+and hated himself for being capable of doing it, he went steadily on
+the course which could have no other ending.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+The Man is Found
+
+
+McManus was unmarried and lived at the Millbank Hotel, where he
+indulged in the extravagance of two rooms, a sitting room and a
+bedroom. Trafford saw him at supper and arranged for an evening
+interview.
+
+“I’ll come to your room,” he said. “I’ve got nothing but a six by nine
+closet on the highest floor.”
+
+Supper over, he went for a short walk, to pass the time until the hour
+of appointment. He walked out on the river road where Charles Hunter’s
+great house stood, and found himself running over items of expense in
+maintaining such an establishment, all directed to the question whether
+a man on the income derivable from one hundred thousand dollars could
+afford a home like it. Disgusted with a train of thought he could not
+control, he hastened on, until at the top of Parlin Hill he saw the
+Parlin homestead and quite unexpectedly began asking himself if Mrs.
+Parlin was not likely to sell it and move into a smaller house.
+
+Whipped with the lash of his now ungovernable thoughts, he returned
+to the hotel and was confronted by Frank Hunter, whom he would dearly
+have liked to arrest and bind over to keep the peace. He was in what
+he called a “blue funk,” and did not regain his self-control until he
+found himself in McManus’s room, where a sense of security seemed to
+seize him.
+
+“I’ll put this window on to the porch down and draw the shades,” he
+said, suiting the action to the word. “I’ve got some things to say that
+mustn’t be overheard.”
+
+They were at the table with cigars lighted, before McManus responded
+with reference to the affair in hand:
+
+“Have you made any progress?”
+
+“I’ve got the thing down to a dot,” he answered; “with the one
+exception--you’ll say important--of the man. I can tell you how that
+murder was committed, and when I have, I think you’ll agree with my
+prediction of a fortnight ago as to the characteristics of the man who
+committed it. What I want of you is that when the thing is told, you’ll
+help me put my hands on the man.”
+
+“I’ll do my best,” replied McManus; “but don’t forget you are giving me
+the point on which you confess yourself at a loss.”
+
+Trafford laughed.
+
+“Isn’t that where we all want help?”
+
+“Yes; but not always where we get it.”
+
+“On the evening of May 10, a man came from somewhere below on the
+train due here at eight o’clock. He dropped off at the Bridge station,
+instead of coming into Millbank, and met another man, apparently by
+appointment, about half-way between the railroad and covered bridges.
+They talked about ten minutes----”
+
+“Hold on,” interrupted McManus; “you go too fast. Was the man he met a
+Millbank man?”
+
+“Oh, I forgot. It was Frank Hunter.”
+
+“Frank Hunter!” exclaimed McManus. “You’re still pointing to our
+office, as I said before. It’s a grave responsibility you’re taking,
+Mr. Trafford.”
+
+“I’m taking no responsibility. I’m simply giving you facts. Whoever
+was the murderer, I’m certain it wasn’t Frank Hunter. I’ll give you
+that for your comfort. As I was saying, they talked about ten minutes
+and then separated. Hunter went to his brother’s house and the stranger
+turned back, crossed the railroad bridge, and went down Somerset
+Street, meeting a man about a quarter of a mile below the Catholic
+church, where the street runs through the heavy maple grove. You know
+the spot?”
+
+McManus nodded, attempting no other interruption.
+
+“It was now about quarter to nine, and the two were together full
+half an hour. The stranger then came back up Somerset Street and went
+directly to Charles Hunter’s house. Ten minutes after, a man, who
+might have been the one whom the stranger met, crossed Eddy Street to
+Bicknell, came up Bicknell to Canaan, crossed Canaan to River Road,
+and went directly up River Road to the Parlin homestead. He reached
+there between half-past nine and quarter before ten and went to the
+side door, where he rang the right-hand bell, showing that he was
+acquainted with the peculiar arrangement of the bells. Mr. Wing came to
+the door and the two went into the library.”
+
+“Now,” continued Trafford after a pause, to enable McManus to grasp
+all of the details, “as to the time; it was nine-thirty when Mrs.
+Parlin left the room. Wing had not written his letter, so that we have
+got the time pretty closely fixed. He stayed with Wing until nearly
+eleven-thirty. The stranger seems to have left Hunter’s house under
+pretence of catching the freight that leaves at eleven, but in reality
+he went to Somerset Street and walked up and down that street until a
+quarter to twelve, when he was joined by a man, presumably the one who
+had come from Wing’s library. It was a pretty hazardous thing to do,
+this loafing up and down Somerset Street, but up to now I haven’t found
+a single person whose attention he particularly attracted and certainly
+not one who pretends to have recognised him, though I feel certain he
+has many acquaintances in this town.”
+
+“If the two Hunters saw him, why don’t you get his identity from them?”
+McManus demanded.
+
+“That’ll come in time. I’ve not wanted to take too many into my
+confidence, and there’s no danger of their running away. Of course,
+if there’d been any possibility that this visitor was the murderer,
+’twould be different, but as you’ll see, there isn’t.”
+
+“But he may have instigated the murder, without actually firing the
+shot,” said McManus. “You must pardon me, Mr. Trafford; but I can’t
+help feeling you’ve shown yourself somewhat derelict in this important
+matter.”
+
+“I hope I’ll be able to exonerate myself before I finish,” said
+Trafford. “At any rate, let me go on. The matters these men had to
+discuss were of such interest that the visitor came near missing the
+midnight train, which might have subjected me to the necessity of
+having him arrested, since he would then have been in town when the
+murder occurred. As it was, by hurrying through the alley between the
+post-office and Neil’s store, they got the train, the stranger coming
+from behind the potato warehouse, as has been testified. His companion
+remained there, or he might have been recognised by Oldbeg.”
+
+Trafford seemed disposed to muse over the possible result of such an
+event and as well over another matter to which he referred a moment
+later:
+
+“It would be a curious thing to know just what was said behind the
+storehouse, where they had their last words. It might throw a flood of
+light on things.”
+
+“Yes,” answered McManus, showing a feverish desire for the continuance
+of the narrative; “but you might as well try to guess where yesterday’s
+winds have blown to. You seem to have facts enough, without speculating
+on conversations.”
+
+“I suppose that’s true,” returned Trafford; “yet that last talk has
+a fascination for me. Who knows that it wasn’t just that that sealed
+Wing’s fate? You say this man may have instigated the murder. If so,
+may not that have been the moment of instigation?”
+
+“Scarcely possible,” returned McManus, as it were drawn against his
+will into the discussion. “If he did anything so important, he wouldn’t
+leave it for the last word and last moment.”
+
+“There I don’t agree with you,” Trafford retorted, showing a
+disposition to argue, which caused McManus a nervous irritation he
+could not conceal. “From my experience, that’s just what he would do.
+He’d hesitate to take the plunge; he’d wait to shape a phrase and then,
+at the last moment, when it had to be done, he’d throw it off in any
+form it presented itself. Actually, I’d give more to know what was said
+in that two minutes, before the stranger jumped for the train, than for
+all the talk of the whole evening.”
+
+“Well; have your own way,” said McManus brusquely; “but you can’t know.
+Let it rest there, and let’s go on to what happened next--if you know.”
+
+Trafford watched him intently, as he was speaking, but when he had
+finished seemed to find nothing in the speech, so he went on:
+
+“After the train pulled out, the man behind the storehouse waited some
+few minutes, till the station was closed, and the men had left, and
+then he stepped out and picked up something that he saw lying on the
+ground and had watched from the moment it had caught his eye. It was a
+revolver, one chamber of which had been discharged. We know now how
+it came there, and don’t need to go over that part. He skulked back
+through Gray’s Court, keeping in the shadows when he crossed Canaan
+Street, and so came again into River Road. A feverish haste had now
+taken control of him, and when he reached the driveway of the Parlin
+homestead, the light was still burning in the library--in fact, Mr.
+Wing was at his desk, just finishing the letter which he had intended
+to write early in the evening, and which the visit of this unknown man
+had prevented him from writing.”
+
+“There’s not the first thing,” interrupted McManus, who seemed now
+watchful of every detail as the tale approached its climax, “to show
+that he ever wrote that letter!”
+
+“There’s been no evidence yet produced,” replied Trafford; “but the
+evidence exists, and I can prove that it was written and the person
+to whom it was addressed. I can prove too that it never reached that
+person.”
+
+“Go on,” said McManus.
+
+“The man felt that what he had to do must be done quickly. Perhaps he
+knew that if he took time for thought, he wouldn’t have the courage or
+resolution to do the work. He went to the door where he had rung early
+in the evening, and rang the same bell. Then he stepped on to the grass
+east of the doorstep and waited, with the pistol he had found ready in
+his hand.”
+
+“Are you certain on that point?” demanded McManus.
+
+Trafford stopped and looked at McManus, as if pondering that question.
+Finally he answered:
+
+“I think so. He probably had a pistol of his own, but I’m confident he
+used the one he’d found. Everything points to his being a shrewd, keen
+man, and naturally he would not use his own pistol when he had another
+in his pocket.”
+
+McManus nodded, indicating that Trafford was to take up the story.
+
+“Wing came to the door, as before. He did not bring a lamp, but left
+the doors open behind him. Seeing no one, he stepped out on to the
+door-stone, when the man in hiding pressed the pistol against his
+temple and drew the trigger at the same instant. Wing fell in a heap
+on the step and threshold--his death was instantaneous.”
+
+McManus had listened to these last words as if fascinated by the
+terrible details so briefly stated. When Trafford paused on the last
+word, he seemed to catch his breath with the movement of one who in the
+last minute had forgotten everything but the picture before him.
+
+“If your tale is true,” he said, breathing deeply, “your description of
+the man is the man himself--a man of quick movements, strong purpose,
+assured position, and absolute control of nerves. The man must have
+been iron--at least while he was doing the job.”
+
+“And he needed to be adamant to complete it. There was nothing to him
+in Wing’s death, as a mere death. It saved him from nothing, though it
+might save others. It was positive, not negative, gain he was after.
+Perhaps, on the whole, he would rather Wing had lived. He felt it
+simply a necessity, and an unpleasant one at that, that he should die.
+But he was after something, and Wing’s death was only the preliminary
+to securing it. Having waited to make certain the shot had aroused no
+one, he stepped over the dead body and entered the library. He closed
+the door behind him, went to the safe, which was still open, and took
+from the upper left-hand pigeon hole a package of papers. Then he
+closed the safe and turned the knob, probably mechanically, showing
+that he was a man accustomed to deal with keyless safes. He went to
+the desk and took from it the letter which Wing had just sealed and
+directed----”
+
+“To whom?” interrupted McManus.
+
+“To the Governor, asking for an appointment for the following Thursday,
+the thirteenth.”
+
+McManus nodded and Trafford went on:
+
+“Then he put out the light, raised the shade of one window to make sure
+the coast was clear, and returned the way he had come. In doing so, he
+closed the library door behind him and drew the outer door to until
+it was stopped by the body of the dead man. Thus, you see, with all
+his shrewdness, he made four mistakes; he closed and locked the safe;
+he put out the light; he closed the library door, and he attempted to
+close the outer door.”
+
+“How mistakes?” asked McManus.
+
+“If he had left the safe open, it would have been supposed mere robbery
+was the purpose. If he had left the lamp burning, and the library and
+outer doors open, there would have been nothing to show that some one
+had visited the room after the murder.”
+
+“There was the missing letter,” suggested McManus, who seemed to be
+thinking with Trafford’s thoughts.
+
+“Yes,” replied Trafford; “that was mistake number five.”
+
+“But, of course,” went on McManus, “he had no means of knowing what was
+in it. If it had been still unsealed, it would have been different. As
+it was, he could not risk it; there was nothing else for him to do.”
+
+“Exactly,” replied Trafford; “still, I think we can count it a mistake.
+The package of papers was what he really wanted. He should have been
+content with that.”
+
+“But how did he know that he had got all in that single package? Would
+he not be likely to examine the safe, especially the cupboard?”
+
+“How would he have got at it? It was locked.”
+
+“Unless Wing’s keys were in the lock. That might have been. He would
+have taken them out when he closed the safe; it would not have closed
+otherwise. I understand they were found on the mantel.”
+
+“Who testified to that?” asked Trafford, as if trying to recall the
+fact.
+
+“I don’t remember,” said McManus. “Some one at the inquest, I think.”
+
+“I think it would have been natural for him to open the cupboard,
+though he must have seen the package when he was there early in the
+evening, and so knew what he was after. However, whether he examined
+further or not, he did not remain long. The next day he cleaned the
+chamber of the revolver and filled it, thus leaving only one empty, and
+during the night found opportunity to throw it over on to the box hedge
+in the front yard.”
+
+Trafford stopped as if he had finished his story, and McManus sat like
+one in a deep reverie. Suddenly, he looked up and asked:
+
+“Where then are the papers which were the cause of this tragedy?”
+
+“The man has not dared use them; he keeps them concealed until it is
+safe to sell them for the hundred thousand dollars which was offered
+for them.”
+
+“My God! man, how do you know these things?” demanded McManus, his face
+ghastly as that of a week-old corpse.
+
+“Do you dare deny one of them?” retorted Trafford.
+
+“What do you mean by that?” asked the other.
+
+“_That you are the man who murdered Wing!_”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+The Last of the Papers
+
+
+McManus had sprung to his feet as the accusation came from Trafford’s
+lips. His left hand was in the side pocket of his sack coat, and as
+Trafford also rose, there rang out the report of a pistol, fired
+without removing it from the pocket. The bullet just missed Trafford,
+cutting the sleeve of his coat.
+
+“Throw up your hands, or I’ll shoot,” came from the window, and there
+stood Trafford’s assistant, with pistol drawn and aimed at McManus.
+
+At the very beginning of the story, he had raised the window and had
+since been listening to the conversation. McManus glanced at Trafford,
+who was also covering him with a pistol.
+
+“I yield,” he said, “to force. You will find it all a hideous mistake
+before you get through.”
+
+“Handcuff him.” Trafford gave the order. “I’ll keep my pistol on him.”
+
+McManus turned toward the man who approached from the window. He seemed
+to have recovered his composure, and a puzzling smile was on his lips.
+Then, suddenly, the hand came up, without leaving the pocket, which was
+lifted with it; there was a slight turn of the hand seen through the
+cloth and the muffled report of the pistol. McManus fell, shot through
+the heart by his own hand.
+
+“A damned bungling piece of work, to let that be done,” said Trafford.
+“There ’re steps on the stairs. Don’t open the door for a minute.”
+
+He rushed into the bedroom, and seizing a tin box that stood on a stand
+by the bed, dropped it from the window into a dense mass of shrubbery
+that grew beneath. He was back in the room to answer the first knock at
+the door.
+
+Millbank slept but little that night. The streets were thronged with
+people, and the story of the tragedy, the discovery of the murderer and
+his suicide, was repeated and re-repeated, with new details at every
+repetition. Before midnight it was surprising to know how many people
+had all along suspected McManus and felt certain that he “was no
+better than he should be.”
+
+Frank Hunter came among the very first and went back and forth from
+the sitting room to the bedroom, with an uneasy air of searching for
+something and yet striving to conceal the fact. Trafford watched him
+with a curious expression on his face, as if he enjoyed the man’s
+awkwardness and embarrassment.
+
+When Charles Matthewson arrived on the latest train and went directly
+to the Hunter house, Trafford was instantly informed and at once made
+up his mind to his line of action. McManus’s suicide was confession,
+and the possession of the papers was no longer necessary to conviction.
+Trafford determined to have them off his hands at the earliest possible
+moment, and with Matthewson in town, that promised to be before
+daylight. At the first opportunity he stole out, recovered possession
+of the box, and hid it in a less exposed place.
+
+About midnight, matters had so quieted down that he was able to respond
+to Mrs. Parlin’s message begging him to come to her and, if possible,
+remain in the house the balance of the night. He took with him the
+box, containing what he now regarded as his fortune and his reward for
+work done in discovering the murderer.
+
+Mrs. Parlin was eager to hear the story, and it was some time after
+midnight before she left him and he was at liberty to follow his
+purpose. His judgment dictated waiting until morning, which would be
+a matter of but a few hours, but the box and its papers had become a
+growing burden, leaving him but one thought and that to be rid of them.
+From the library window he could see that a light still burned in the
+Hunter house. He was resolved to complete the matter before he slept.
+
+Leaving the house cautiously, with the box under his arm, he hurried
+down the hill, at the foot of which lay the heavy shadows of the
+great Lombardy poplars. It seemed to him that he had never seen the
+shadows so black as they were to-night. As he entered the blackness,
+he quickened his pace almost to a run, and was almost in the light
+again when there came what seemed to him a flash of flame, then deeper
+darkness and oblivion.
+
+How long he lay on the walk under the poplars he did not know,
+excepting that his first sensation of returning consciousness was of
+the soft white light that comes before the sun steals up from behind
+the earth. The next was of a heaviness of the head and a numbness that
+was giving way to pain. He put up his hand feebly, and brought it down
+again wet with blood.
+
+Then came the thought of the box. He reached out his hand and, groping,
+it fell upon it. He had barely strength enough yet to draw it to him,
+but at last succeeded, though not without much pain. He lifted it
+feebly and the lid fell back, showing the breakage where it had been
+wrenched from its hinges. With a paroxysm of strength born of terror,
+he sat upright and looked into the box. It was empty; not even a
+shred of paper remaining. For one instant he gazed in uncomprehending
+stupidity, and then, as the truth flashed on him, he fell again to the
+earth, and lost in temporary unconsciousness alike the sense of pain
+and the power to follow his interrupted quest.
+
+Almost at the very moment when Trafford discovered the loss of the
+papers, Henry Matthewson slipped through the grounds of the Hunter
+home, coming from the direction of the river, and entered by a side
+door. He went directly to the library, where his brother and the two
+Hunters had been in uneasy conference for some hours. As he entered,
+the three men started to their feet, first in surprise at his presence,
+and then in greater surprise at his appearance. His face was white
+and set, like the face of a man who has passed through some terrible
+struggle and has conquered or been conquered. One, looking at the
+inscrutable face, could not have decided which.
+
+“You!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson. “I have been trying to reach you
+all night.”
+
+“How could you reach here at this hour?” said Frank Hunter. “There’s no
+train.”
+
+Charles Hunter said nothing, but his quick understanding of men, and,
+perhaps, a quality in him that would have dared all that man could dare
+in a desperate case, told him more than either of his companions saw.
+For a moment he hesitated and then, seeing no denial in the face of the
+newcomer, said:
+
+“You have found the papers.”
+
+The others started and looked at the two men whom, instinctively, they
+knew to be stronger than themselves.
+
+“Yes,” said Henry Matthewson.
+
+“Where are they?” asked Charles Matthewson and Frank Hunter, in a
+breath.
+
+The other did not answer. Then Charles repeated the question:
+
+“Where are they?”
+
+“Where would they be now, if they had come into your hands a half-hour
+ago?” demanded Matthewson.
+
+“Destroyed!” said Charles Hunter unhesitatingly.
+
+“They are where they will never menace us or ours again,” said Henry
+Matthewson, “unless the river gives them up. I dropped them from the
+bridge into the pool below the Falls a half-hour ago.”
+
+“But where did you find them?” was Frank Hunter’s question.
+
+Charles Hunter looked again at the other’s face, and said:
+
+“How serious is the matter?”
+
+“The man is merely stunned,” said Henry. “I think some one should find
+him, under the poplars at the foot of the hill----”
+
+“Henry! My God!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson, stepping hastily
+forward. “You haven’t----”
+
+“I have done what was necessary to obtain the papers and save ourselves
+and--our mother. I hope there is no one here who would have done less.
+I accept full responsibility for acting where none but a coward could
+hesitate.”
+
+“Pray God, Trafford’s not dead!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson.
+
+“Amen,” said Henry, and then added; “but be that as it may, the papers
+are.”
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Two Noteworthy Detective Stories by Burton E. Stevenson
+
+
+The Marathon Mystery
+
+With five scenes in color by ELIOT KEEN
+
+4th printing. $1.50
+
+This absorbing story of New York and Long Island to-day has been
+republished in England. Its conclusion is most astonishing.
+
+_N. Y. Sun_: “Distinctly an interesting story--one of the sort that the
+reader will not lay down before he goes to bed.”
+
+_N. Y. Post_: “By comparison with the work of Anna Katharine Green ...
+it is exceptionally clever ... told interestingly and well.”
+
+_N. Y. Tribune_: “=The Holladay Case= was a capital story of crime and
+mystery. In =The Marathon Mystery= the author is in even firmer command
+of the trick. He is skillful in keeping his reader in suspense, and
+every element in it is cunningly adjusted to preserving the mystery
+inviolate until the end.”
+
+_Boston Transcript_: “The excellence of its style, Mr. Stevenson
+apparently knowing well the dramatic effect of fluency and brevity, and
+the rationality of avoiding false clues and attempts unduly to mystify
+his readers.”
+
+_Boston Herald_: “This is something more than an ordinary detective
+story. It thrills you and holds your attention to the end. But besides
+all this the characters are really well drawn and your interest in
+the plot is enhanced by interest in the people who play their parts
+therein.”
+
+_Town and Country_: “The mystery defies solution until the end. The
+final catastrophe is worked out in a highly dramatic manner.”
+
+
+The Holladay Case
+
+With frontispiece by ELIOT KEEN
+
+7th printing. $1.25
+
+A tale of a modern mystery of New York and Etretat that has been
+republished in England and Germany.
+
+_N. Y. Tribune_: “Professor Dicey recently said, ‘If you like a
+detective story take care you read a good detective story.’ This is
+a good detective story, and it is the better because the part of the
+hero is not filled by a member of the profession.... The reader will
+not want to put the book down until he has reached the last page. =Most
+ingeniously constructed and well written into the bargain.=”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  Publishers       New York
+
+
+
+
+Noteworthy Books by ARTHUR COLTON and what some authorities say of them.
+
+The Belted Seas
+
+A story of the wild voyages of the irrepressible Captain Buckingham in
+Southern seas. 12mo, $1.50
+
+_Evening Post_: “A whimsical Odyssey.... What Jacobs has done for the
+British seaman, Colton has done for the Yankee sailor.”
+
+_Cincinnati Enquirer_: “Never has the peculiar brand of humor which
+South America affords been more skilfully exploited than by Arthur
+Colton in =The Belted Seas=.... It is a joyous book, and he were a
+hardened reader indeed who would not chortle with satisfaction over Kid
+Sadler’s adventures at Portate.... Many of the stories are uproariously
+funny and recall Stockton at his best.”
+
+
+Port Argent 12mo, $1.50
+
+A romance of a few weeks in an Ohio city “with growing pains.”
+
+_Critic_: “A story of breathless events and of remarkable
+concentration.”
+
+_Bookman_: “Mr. Colton’s work is particularly worthy of praise.”
+
+_Life_: “Arthur Colton is a writer with a remarkably individual
+outlook. Port Argent is bright and full of characteristic Coltonisms.”
+
+_San Francisco Chronicle_: “A quiet story told with such restraint that
+it is only after laying down the volume that one realizes the bigness
+of the problems presented, in breadth and richness of thought, and the
+power of its action.”
+
+
+Tioba 12mo, $1.25
+
+Mr. Colton here depicts a gallery of very varied Americans. Tioba was a
+mountain which meant well but was mistaken.
+
+_Bookman_: “He is always the artist observer, adding stroke upon
+stroke with the surest of sure pens, ... an author who recalls the old
+traditions that there were once such things as good writing and good
+story-telling.”
+
+_Critic_: “In each of these stories he has presented some
+out-of-the-way fragment of life with faithfulness and power.... He has
+the artist’s instinct.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  Publishers      New York
+
+
+
+
+TWO ROMANCES OF TRAVEL
+
+
+The Lightning Conductor
+
+_The Strange Adventures of a Motor Car_
+
+By C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON
+
+12mo. $1.50
+
+The love story of a beautiful American and a gallant Englishman, who
+stoops to conquer. Two almost human automobiles, the one German,
+heavy and stubborn, and the other French, light and easy-going, play
+prominent parts. There is much humor. Picturesque scenes in Provence,
+Spain and Italy pass before the reader’s eyes in rapid succession.
+
+Twenty printings of this novel have been called for.
+
+_Nation_: “Such delightful people, and such delightful scenes.... It
+should be a good, practical guide to those about to go over the same
+course, while its charming descriptions of travel afford an ample new
+fund of pleasure, tinged with envy here and there to the stay-at-homes.”
+
+_N. Y. Sun_: “A pleasant and felicitous romance.”
+
+_Springfield Republican_: “Wholly new and decidedly entertaining.”
+
+_Chicago Post_: “Sprightly humor ... the story moves.”
+
+
+The Pursuit of Phyllis
+
+By J. HARWOOD BACON
+
+With two illustrations by H. LATIMER BROWN
+
+12mo. $1.25
+
+A humorous love story with scenes in England, France, China and Ceylon.
+
+_Boston Transcript_: “A bright and entertaining story of up-to-date men
+and women.”
+
+_N. Y. Tribune_: “Very enjoyable.... Its charm consists in its
+naturalness and the sparkle of the dialogue and descriptions.”
+
+_N. Y. Evening Post_: “The story is brisk, buoyant and entertaining.”
+
+_Bookman_: “Sparkling in fun, clean-cut and straightforward in style as
+the young hero himself.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  New York      Chicago
+
+
+
+
+2d printing of “A novel in the better sense of a word much sinned
+against.... It is decidedly a book worth while.”
+
+The Transgression of Andrew Vane
+
+By GUY WETMORE CARRYL
+
+12mo. $1.50.
+
+  TIMES’ SATURDAY REVIEW:--“A strong and original story; ... the
+    descriptions of conditions in the American colony [in Paris]
+    are convincingly clever. The story from the prologue--one of
+    exceptional promise in point of interest--to the climax ... is
+    full of action and dramatic surprise.”
+
+  N. Y. TRIBUNE:--“The surprising developments we must leave the
+    reader to find out for himself. He will find it a pleasant
+    task; ... the surprise is not brought forward until precisely
+    the right moment, and one is carried from the first chapter to
+    the last with curiosity, and concern for the hero’s fate kept
+    well alive.”
+
+  N. Y. EVENING SUN:--“Everybody who likes clever fiction should
+    read it.”
+
+  LITERARY WORLD:--“The prologue is as skilful a handling of
+    a repellent theme as has ever been presented. The book is
+    distinctly not one for the young person, but neither is it for
+    the seeker after the risqué or the erotic.... In this novel are
+    poured into a consistent and satisfying whole more of those
+    vivid phases of Paris at which the author has shown himself a
+    master hand.”
+
+  CHICAGO EVENING POST:--“The reader stops with regret in his mind
+    that Guy Wetmore Carryl’s story-telling work is done.”
+
+  CHICAGO TRIBUNE:--“A brilliant piece of work.”
+
+  WASHINGTON STAR:--“A more engaging villain has seldom entered the
+    pages of modern fiction; ... sparkles with quotable epigrams.”
+
+  BUFFALO EXPRESS:--“The sort of a story which one is very apt to
+    read with interest from beginning to end. And, moreover, ...
+    very bright and clever.”
+
+  NEW HAVEN JOURNAL:--“By far the most ambitious work he undertook,
+    and likewise the most brilliant.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  _29 W. 23d St._      _NEW YORK_
+
+
+
+
+“=From any point of view it is an unusual novel, as much better
+than some of the ‘best sellers’ as a painting is better than a
+chromo.=”--_World’s Work._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The Divine Fire
+
+BY MAY SINCLAIR
+
+$1.50
+
+
+6th printing of _The story of a London poet_.
+
+_Mary Moss in the Atlantic Monthly_: “Certain it is that in all our new
+fiction I have found nothing worthy to compare with ‘The Divine Fire,’
+nothing even remotely approaching the same class.”
+
+_New York Globe_: “The biggest surprise of the whole season’s fiction
+... you never once stop to question its style, or its realism, or the
+art of its construction. You simply read right on, deaf to everything
+and everybody outside of the compelling magic of its pages.”
+
+_Dial_: “A full-length study of the poetic temperament, framed in a
+varied and curiously interesting environment, and drawn with a firmness
+of hand that excites one’s admiration.... Moreover, a real distinction
+of style, besides being of absorbing interest from cover to cover.”
+
+_Catholic Mirror_: “One of the noblest, most inspiring and absorbing
+books we have read in years.”
+
+_Owen Seaman in Punch_ (London): “I find her book the most remarkable
+that I have read for many years.”
+
+
+The Diary of a Musician
+
+Edited by DOLORES M. BACON
+
+With decorations and illustrations by CHARLES EDWARD HOOPER and H.
+LATIMER BROWN
+
+$1.50
+
+Authorities agree that no particular musical celebrity is described or
+satirized; all review the book with enthusiasm, though some damn while
+others praise.
+
+_Times Review_: “Of extraordinary interest as a study from the inside
+of the inwardness of a genius.”
+
+_Bookman_: “Much of that exquisite egotism, the huge, artistic Me and
+the tiny universe, that gluttony of the emotions, of the whole peculiar
+compound of hysteria, inspiration, vanity, insight and fidgets, which
+goes to make up that delightful but somewhat rickety thing which
+we call the artistic temperament is reproduced.... The ‘Diary of a
+Musician’ does what most actual diaries fail to do--writes down a man
+in full.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  Publishers      New York
+
+
+
+
+TALES OF MYSTERY
+
+The House of the Black Ring
+
+By FRED. LEWIS PATTEE. $1.50
+
+A story oddly combining humor and horror. It tells of the squire, a
+sort of feudal lord, his enemies, his fate and of his daughter and how
+she would have her way in love. The weird influence of =The House of
+the Black Ring= dominates the little “pocket” in the Seven Mountains of
+Pennsylvania.
+
+_The Washington Star_: “An unusual combination of the weird and the
+humorous ... absorbing and often thrilling tale.... A forest fire ...
+is a dramatic episode which does Mr. Pattee exceptional credit in the
+restraint of his treatment and the effectiveness of his climaxes.”
+
+_N. Y. Evening Sun_: “An interesting story ... piques the reader’s
+curiosity and keeps him reading till the mystery is solved.”
+
+
+Red-Headed Gill
+
+By RYE OWEN. 4th printing. $1.50
+
+Red-Headed Gill is a splendid young country gentlewoman of Cornwall.
+Under a weird East Indian influence she is forced to live over again
+part of the life of a beauty of the days of Queen Bess--the famous Gill
+Red-Head.
+
+_New York Sun_: “A charming girl whom the reader will watch with
+interest to the end. The author manages to transport her back into the
+life of her Tudor ancestress over and again naturally, and with great
+effect.”
+
+_New York Times Review_: “There is much originality in the plot. The
+reader’s attention is at once enlisted, and is not allowed to flag.”
+
+
+In the Dwellings of the Wilderness
+
+By C. BRYSON TAYLOR. $1.25
+
+A ghost story so plausibly told that many may, like one of the chief
+characters, think it might all be explained by natural causes after
+all. It tells the astonishing adventures of three American engineers,
+excavating in the heart of an Egyptian desert.
+
+_Boston Transcript_: “The impression on the reader is so strong that he
+finds his grip on the book grow strained in spite of himself.”
+
+_N. Y. Globe_: “Strikes a note of weird horror, and sustains that note
+page after page.... A vividness that makes it difficult to banish the
+picture from your memory for many a day.”
+
+  Henry Holt and Company
+  Publishers      New York
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note:
+
+Punctuation has been standardised except spaces before ’ll and ’re
+have been retained as they appear in the original publication.
+Hyphenation and spelling have also been retained as published,
+except as follows:
+
+  Page 74
+    an’ let’s folks _changed to_
+    an’ lets folks
+
+  Page 124
+    must be re-convened _changed to_
+    must be reconvened
+
+  Page 139
+    visit was to Milbank _changed to_
+    visit was to Millbank
+
+  Page 232
+    man who want me _changed to_
+    man who wants me
+
+  Page 247
+    shadow of Pettengill’s potato storehouse _changed to_
+    shadow of Pettingill’s potato storehouse
+
+  Second page of book promotions
+    Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portaic _changed to_
+    Kid Sadler’s adventures at Portate
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MILLBANK CASE ***
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+<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Millbank Case, by George Dyre Eldridge</p>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world 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="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Millbank Case</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A Maine Mystery of To-day</p>
+  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Dyre Eldridge</p>
+  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Eliot Keen</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 12, 2021 [eBook #66051]</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
+  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MILLBANK CASE ***</div>
+
+<hr class="divider" />
+<h1>The Millbank Case<br />
+<span><i>A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY</i></span></h1>
+<hr class="divider2" />
+
+<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop figcenter width500" id="cover2">
+<img src="images/cover2.jpg" width="500" height="696" alt="Cover" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<div class="figcenter width800" id="frontispiece">
+  <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="800" height="553" alt="Frontispiece" />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<p class="center lh"><span class="p180">The Millbank Case</span><br />
+<i>A MAINE MYSTERY OF TO-DAY</i></p>
+
+<hr class="double" />
+
+<p class="center mt3"><span class="p120">BY</span><br />
+<span class="p140">GEORGE DYRE ELDRIDGE</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>With a <a name="Eliot" id="Eliot"></a><ins title="The color
+original could not be found for inclusion in this eBook">Frontispiece in Colour</ins></i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Eliot Keen</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter width100" id="colophon">
+  <img src="images/colophon.png" width="100" height="127" alt="Colophon" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="double" />
+
+<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />
+<span class="p120">HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</span><br />
+<span class="p80">1905</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1905<br />
+BY<br />
+HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</p>
+
+<hr class="tiny" />
+
+<p class="center"><i>Published May, 1905</i></p>
+
+<p class="center mt3">THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS<br />
+RAHWAY, N. J.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<h2 id="contents">CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+<table summary="Contents">
+<tr>
+<th class="tdr">CHAPTER</th>
+<th class="tdr2" colspan="2">PAGE</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">I.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Statement of the Case</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">II.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Mrs. Parlin Testifies</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">III.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Alive at Midnight</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">33</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">IV.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Trafford Gets an Assurance</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">51</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">V.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Weapon is Produced</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VI.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">85</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Hunting Broken Bones</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">VIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Man Disappears</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">119</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">IX.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">“You are My Mother”</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">X.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Second Murder?</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XI.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">Already One Attempt</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">167</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">At the Drivers’ Camp</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">185</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Priest’s Story</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiii">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIV.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">A Duel</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiv">212</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XV.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">In Matthewson’s Chambers</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xv">227</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVI.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Range 16 Scandal</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvi">243</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Story of the Papers</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvii">259</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XVIII.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Man is Found</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xviii">275</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">XIX.</td>
+<td class="tdl smcap">The Last of the Papers</td>
+<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xix">290</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>1</span>
+<p class="center p180">THE MILLBANK CASE</p>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="i">CHAPTER I<br />
+<span>A Statement of the Case</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEODORE WING had no known enemy in the
+world. He was a man of forty; “well-to-do,”
+as they say in New England; a lawyer by profession,
+and already “mentioned” for a county judgeship.
+He was unmarried, but there were those who had
+hopes, and there was scarce a spinster in Millbank
+who hadn’t a kindly word and smile for him&mdash;at
+times. He was not a church member, but it was
+whispered that his clergyman was disposed to look
+leniently on this shortcoming, for Wing was a regular
+attendant at service and liberal with money for
+church purposes, which, shrewd guessers said, some
+of the church members were not.</p>
+
+<p>Wing lived in the River Road, just at the top of
+Parlin’s Hill. He was from “over East, somewheres,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>2</span>
+and had come to Millbank as a law student,
+when old Judge Parlin was at the head of the Maine
+bar. He became in turn chief clerk, junior partner,
+and finally full partner to the judge, and when the
+latter died&mdash;of disappointment, it was said, due to
+failure to secure the chief justiceship&mdash;Wing became
+the head of the firm, and finally the firm itself;
+for he had a dislike for partnerships, and at forty his
+office associates were employés associated in particular
+cases, not partners in the general business.</p>
+
+<p>Judge Parlin was less than sixty years of age
+when he died and left a widow, the Parlin homestead,
+and an estate of private debts, that seemed to
+breed as Wing attempted to untangle affairs. For
+years his income had been large and his expenses
+small. His townsmen had rated him as their richest
+man who was not of the great Millbank logging
+firms. There was not a man but would have considered
+it an insult to the town to hint that Judge
+Parlin was worth less than a hundred thousand dollars.
+His investments turned out the veriest cats
+and dogs; and even in cases where the security
+might have been ample, the papers were often executed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>3</span>
+with such carelessness that collection rested
+on the honesty of the borrower and not on sufficiency
+of documentary evidence. In fact, the debts outvalued
+the resources two to one&mdash;that is, they seemed
+to, until it was announced that the Parlin homestead
+had been sold for a sum sufficient to pay all obligations
+and leave the widow a life income of five hundred
+dollars a year. People understood when it was
+learned that Wing himself was the purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin was fifty years of age at the time of
+her husband’s death&mdash;a woman to whom stateliness
+had come with white hairs and the growth of ambition.
+From the hour of the judge’s death, the
+devotion she had given him living turned to the protection
+of his good name. In a distant, cold way she
+had always shown a regard for Wing, which changed
+to more marked affection, when his interposition
+provided the means to meet the last of her husband’s
+debts. She harboured no suspicion that the price paid
+for the homestead was beyond value. Not only had
+it been her home throughout her married life, but
+the judge had always spoken of its value in the
+large terms that were habitual with him in dealing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>4</span>
+with personal matters, and, from the moment when
+Wing discovered the condition of the estate, he held
+before her constantly the idea that the homestead
+would bring a price sufficient to cover the indebtedness.
+Indeed, she felt that she was making a sacrifice,
+when she consented to waive her dower rights,
+and chiefly she rejoiced that the purchaser was Wing
+and not a stranger.</p>
+
+<p>It is possible that some suspicion attached in her
+mind to the purchase of the annuity, and this may
+have been confirmed by Wing’s insistence that he
+would consent to occupy the homestead only on condition
+that she should make it her home for her lifetime.
+If, however, this was so, she proved herself
+large-minded enough to understand that her happiness&mdash;so
+far as this was possible to her now dwarfed
+life&mdash;was the best acknowledgment she could make
+to such a man, and during the five years since the
+judge’s death, she had been the mistress of Wing’s
+home.</p>
+
+<p>The house stands at the crown of Parlin’s Hill.
+The estate embraces twenty acres, divided nearly
+equally between farm land, meadow, and woodland.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>5</span>
+The portion lying west of River Road is an apple
+orchard, covering the slope of the hill from the road
+to the river. The roll of the land is to the southwest,
+where all through the summer days the sun
+lies in warm splendour, that seems to live in the heart
+and juices of the red and yellow fruit, which is the
+pride of Millbank. To have apples from the Parlin
+orchard, is to have the best that Millbank can
+give.</p>
+
+<p>The house is near the road on the easterly side.
+The winter snows are too deep to warrant building
+far from the travelled roads, and for the same reason
+the buildings are connected one with another, under
+a continuous roof, so that the breaking of roads and
+paths is unnecessary for access to stock. The house
+is large and square, with a long wing stretching to
+the ample woodshed, through which one passes to
+the barns. The body of the buildings is white, and
+the shutters green. A drive runs to the south of the
+house, leading from the road to the doors of the
+great barn. It passes the side door of the main
+house, the door to the wing and the woodshed, and
+the buildings shelter it from the fierce northern<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>6</span>
+winds. In the flower-beds that border this drive,
+under the shelter of the house, the earliest flowers
+bloom in spring and the latest in autumn.</p>
+
+<p>Between the road and the front of the house is an
+enclosure of about half an acre&mdash;the “front yard,”
+as Millbank names it. A footpath runs from the
+front gate to the main door of the house, dividing the
+enclosure into two nearly equal parts. This enclosure
+is crowded with flower-beds and shrubbery; the
+paths are bordered with box hedges, while a few
+great evergreens tower above the roof, and make
+the place somewhat gloomy on dull days. In midsummer,
+however, when the sun turns the corner and
+thrusts strongly into the enclosure, the deep shadows
+of the great trees are cool and inviting.</p>
+
+<p>From the principal door, the main hall, broad and
+unencumbered, makes back until it is cut by the narrower
+hall from the south-side door. This side hall
+carries the stairs, and east of it are the dining room,
+kitchens, and pantries. The main hall goes on, in
+narrowed estate, between the dining room on the
+south and kitchens on the north, to the woodsheds.
+To the left, as one enters the house, is the great parlour,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>7</span>
+seldom used, and a sitting room, the gloomiest
+room on the floor, for it has a northern outlook
+only.</p>
+
+<p>In the angle of the two halls is the great room
+which Wing used as his library. It is some twenty-four
+by thirty-six feet, high-posted, and has a warm,
+sunny outlook to the south and west. It is lined
+with books and pictures; a great desk stands in the
+centre front, and lounges and easy chairs are scattered
+about in inviting confusion. The room above
+was his bedchamber, adjoining which is a bathroom,
+in its day the wonder and challenge of Millbank.
+An iron spiral stairway leads from the lower
+to the upper room, so that the occupant has the two
+rooms at his command independent of the remainder
+of the house. This was Wing’s special domain.
+Outside these two rooms, Mrs. Parlin ruled as undisputed
+as during her thirty years of wifehood.
+Within, Wing held control, and while no small share
+of his personal work was done here, the great room
+saw much of his private life of which his everyday
+acquaintances had little suspicion. The cases contained
+many a volume that belongs to literature<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>8</span>
+rather than law, and here he found that best of rest
+from the onerous demands of a constantly growing
+practice&mdash;complete change in matter and manner of
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>On the night of the 10th of May, 1880, the light
+burned late in Lawyer Wing’s library. It was the
+scandal of Millbank that this occurred often. The
+village was given to regarding the night as a time
+when no man should work. “Early to bed and early
+to rise” was its motto, and though an opposite practice
+had left Theodore Wing with more of health,
+wealth, and wisdom than most Millbankians possessed,
+he had never succeeded in reconciling his
+townsmen to his methods. But to-night conditions
+were more outrageous than usual. Mrs. Merrick,
+from the bed of an ailing grandchild, glanced up the
+hill at midnight and saw the light still burning.
+Old Doctor Portus, coming villageward from a confinement
+case, an hour later, saw the light as he
+passed the house and shook his head with dire prognostications.
+If Wing should be sick, old Doctor
+Portus would certainly not be called in attendance,
+and therefore he could measure this outrage of nature’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>9</span>
+laws with a mind uninfluenced by personal
+bias.</p>
+
+<p>At four o’clock, however, a farmer’s son, who had
+yielded the night to Millbank’s temptations, hurrying
+farmward to his morning chores, saw no light
+growing dim in the first flush of the spring morning
+to attract his attention to a scene that later knowledge
+revealed. At six, the hired man came down
+the back stairs and went through the woodshed to
+the barns. Turning the heavy wooden bar that held
+the great doors fast, he swung them open and let in
+the soft morning air.</p>
+
+<p>Then, his eye travelled along the stretch of
+house and he saw something that startled him. The
+side door was standing ajar&mdash;half open&mdash;and on the
+stone step was a huddled mass that looked strangely
+like a man, half lying and half crouching. Before
+the hired man had passed half the distance to the
+door, he knew that the huddled mass was Theodore
+Wing. His head and right arm rested on the
+threshold and held the door from closing; his body
+was on the stone step. There was blood spattered
+on the white of the westerly door-post, and the left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>10</span>
+temple of the man, which was upward as he lay,
+showed a spot around which the flesh was blackened
+as if powder-burnt, while between the head and the
+threshold a thin stream of blood still flowed and fell
+drop by drop on the stone below. The eyes were wide
+open and the look in them seemed to say that, suddenly
+as death had come, it had not come too suddenly
+for the man to realise that here had fallen the
+end of his hopes and ambitions, his strivings and accomplishments,
+in a form that left him powerless to
+strike a blow in his own behalf.</p>
+
+<p>This murder was the most tragic event that had
+ever happened in the history of Millbank. It caused
+the more terror in that, so far as any one could understand,
+it was absolutely without motive. It was
+not known that Theodore Wing had an enemy in the
+world. Millbank was proud of him with a wholesome,
+kindly pride, which found much of self-gratulation
+in having such a citizen. Yet this man had
+been struck down by a murderer’s hand, so silently
+that no sound had been heard, and the murderer
+had gone as he had come, without leaving trace of
+his coming or going.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>11</span>
+Contrary to expectation aroused by the first news,
+the house seemed not to have been entered. The
+whole of the crime was evidenced in the dead man on
+the stone step. Apparently, there had been a ring at
+the bell and a shot from a pistol, held close to the
+head of the man, as he stood in the doorway, by
+some one who had stationed himself at the easterly
+end of the doorstep, and who, his purpose accomplished,
+slipped into the darkness which had opened
+to give him way for this deed. It was uncanny in
+the extreme and gave a sense of insecurity to life that
+an ordinary murder, due to traceable causes, would
+have failed utterly to give.</p>
+
+<p>The closest inspection furnished no clue. There
+was no footprint on the drive, and the grass at the
+end of the step, where the murderer must have stood,
+gave no token. And yet&mdash;here was another fearsome
+fact&mdash;the deed had been done by some one
+who knew the house and its peculiarities. The door
+had two bell-pulls, one on either door-post. Originally
+there had been only the one on the right or
+easterly post, and this was the general bell. When
+Wing took the library as his special room, he had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>12</span>
+change made and the bell transferred to that room,
+so that his personal visitors could come and go without
+disturbing the house. In a little time, however,
+this proved very annoying, because most visitors
+came to this door, and he gave an order for a general
+bell to be put in. This he intended should also have
+a pull on the right-hand post, but the workman, who
+seemed to have no conception that one post could
+carry two pulls, put it on the left. Thus the post
+nearest Wing’s room carried the general bell, and
+the further post his own, and neither of the bells
+could be heard on the premises devoted to the other.
+At first, this condition gave rise to troublesome mistakes,
+and Wing talked often of a change, but gradually
+the visitors to the house became accustomed to
+the condition and the need of a change disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>It was clear, therefore, that whoever the murderer
+was, he had rung the bell which alone could be
+heard by the lawyer at his desk, and therefore must
+have been acquainted with the peculiarity of the bell-pulls.
+Had the lawyer had any cause to fear? Apparently
+not, for the shade to the window nearest his
+desk was raised and he evidently had answered the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>13</span>
+bell as a matter of course, not even taking with him a
+light. But, if he was seated at his desk, as seemed
+clearly the case, the man must have seen him as he
+came up the drive and might easily have shot him
+through the window. Why, then, had he called him
+to the door? The body had not been disturbed after
+it fell; the watch was in the fob, and money in the
+pocket. Murder was evidently the murderer’s purpose;
+yet he had summoned his victim, when clearly
+he had him in his power without so doing.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>14</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="ii">CHAPTER II<br />
+<span>Mrs. Parlin Testifies</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">I</span>N addition to the ill-fated lawyer, there were but
+three people in the Parlin household&mdash;the widow;
+a general house girl, Mary Mullin; and the hired man,
+Jonathan Oldbeg, a nephew of the Mullin woman.
+Oldbeg was about thirty, and his aunt forty. The
+widow’s room was in the northwest corner of the
+second floor, while that of the Mullin woman was
+over the kitchen. The hired man slept over the
+woodshed. All the windows of the three rooms gave
+to the north, excepting two in Mrs. Parlin’s room,
+which opened to the west, overlooking the orchard
+and the river.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin was a tall, striking woman who carried
+her head, crowned with waves of white hair,
+with an air that some named queenly, and others by
+that terrible New England word “conceited.” The
+death of her husband had been a terrible blow to her
+soaring ambitions; but this she had outlived, at least<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>15</span>
+to outward seeming. Childless, as well as husbandless,
+the dormant maternal instinct, which is a part
+of every true woman, had stirred to life under the
+care lavished upon her by Wing, whose years were
+sufficiently less than her own to give a natural tone to
+the pseudo relation of mother and son. Nevertheless,
+there had been something of the maternal in her
+relationship to the judge&mdash;of that phase of the maternal
+which gives to natural weakness courage for
+defence. It was not in personal finance alone that
+the judge was a grown-up boy. The sense of fear
+was so little developed as to amount scarce to caution.
+Scrupulous in duty, he gave no thought to
+the enemies or enmities he created, while she saw
+in these not alone threats to his professional career,
+but as well danger of a personal nature. Even she,
+standing guard as she did, had not been able to save
+him from enemies who defeated his noble ambition
+and would, as she believed, as readily have destroyed
+him. As the intensity of her grief softened with
+time, the solicitude with which she had followed her
+husband’s career, was transferred to Wing, but with
+less of the factor of self than it possessed of old, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>16</span>
+the result that she grew more lovable and companionable,
+and gained a friendly interest from the village
+which had not been hers during the judge’s
+lifetime.</p>
+
+<p>To this recovered peace of mind the tragic death
+of Wing came as a crushing blow, the full weight of
+which few realised until the broken, haggard woman
+was seen of the public for the first time at the
+inquest. Years seemed to have left their impress
+upon her, and there were many who noted that the
+immediate physical effect was as much more marked
+than that following the judge’s death, as Wing’s
+death had been the more tragic. Her husband’s
+death left to her the responsibility of protecting his
+name, in co-operation with his partner and friend.
+Wing’s death snatched away the last prop and stay
+of her years. Husbandless and childless, to her life
+had no further meaning, and while the community
+was whispering that she was again rich&mdash;for it was
+known that she was the principal legatee of the dead
+lawyer’s will&mdash;she was looking down the years with
+a dread that made hope impossible.</p>
+
+<p>Her testimony was of the briefest. She had said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>17</span>
+“good-night” to Wing at half-past nine. She had
+gone to the library for that purpose, as was her custom
+evenings when he did not sit with her in her
+own sitting room till her early bedtime.</p>
+
+<p>“Was it his custom to spend the evening in your
+sitting room or the library?” the coroner asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Two or three evenings a week he spent in my
+sitting room. The other evenings in the library, when
+he was at home.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was he away much, evenings?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only when he was at court in Augusta or Portland.
+When he had cases at Norridgewock he always
+drove home at night.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what time did you have supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“At six.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the night of the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness nodded, too much affected to speak
+her answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Who was present at supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Theodore and myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mary Mullin and Oldbeg did not eat with you?”</p>
+
+<p>This was a sore spot in Millbank’s estimate of the
+widow Parlin. The town still held it a Christian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>18</span>
+duty for “help” to eat at the same table with their
+employers. Every departure from this primitive
+rule was occasion for heart-burnings and recriminations.</p>
+
+<p>“They ate by themselves in the kitchen.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a slight raising of the head, a shadow,
+as it were, of the old self-assertive pride, which in
+other days would have made itself manifest in answering
+this question. So deep was Millbank in the
+tragedy that the audience almost lost the weight of
+the heinous fact confessed in this answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you go directly to your sitting room after
+supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, we went out into the front yard, to look at
+the flower-beds, and then crossed the road to the
+orchard and walked through that to the river-bank.”</p>
+
+<p>“From there you returned to the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you go on your return?”</p>
+
+<p>“To my sitting room. He lighted my lamp and
+then excused himself, because of some work he had
+to do.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>19</span>
+“When did you see him again?”</p>
+
+<p>“At half-past nine, when I went to bid him good-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain of the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; for I stopped to wind the clock as I went
+through the hall, and noticed that it was exactly half-past
+nine.”</p>
+
+<p>“There are two doors to the library, are there
+not&mdash;one from the main hall and one from the
+side?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“By which one did you enter the library?”</p>
+
+<p>“By the one from the side hall.”</p>
+
+<p>“Which is near the side door of the house?”</p>
+
+<p>Again she had to nod assent. This was the door
+through which Wing had passed to his death.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you knock at the door before entering?”</p>
+
+<p>“Always.”</p>
+
+<p>Again that slight suggestive raising of the
+head.</p>
+
+<p>“Did he open the door for you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. He knew my knock, and always came to
+open the door.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>20</span>
+“Did you notice anything peculiar about him or
+the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there anything to indicate whether he was
+writing or reading when you knocked?”</p>
+
+<p>“He had a book in his left hand and the light
+was on a small table by his reading chair.”</p>
+
+<p>“This reading chair and table, where were they
+in the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Before the fireplace, about the centre of the
+north side.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was there a fire in the fireplace?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; there were a few wood coals.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it a cold night?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; but he was very fond of a wood fire and
+when the evening was not too warm had one, even if
+he had to have a window open.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the window open that night?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; the one nearest the River Road, overlooking
+the driveway.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was the nearest window to the desk?”</p>
+
+<p>“The nearest of the south windows. The desk
+stood between the two west windows.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>21</span>
+“Did you notice whether the shades were
+drawn?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were drawn to the west windows, but
+were raised to all four of the south windows.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you long in the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only long enough to say ‘good-night’ and ask
+him not to read too late.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did he say to this?”</p>
+
+<p>“Laughed, as he always did, when I spoke of his
+sitting up late, and,” in a voice that was almost a
+sob; “said, ‘You know, mother, I can’t get over
+my bad habits, but really to-night I’m only going to
+read a chapter or two more, for I must write a letter
+and then go to bed. I’ve got a busy day to-morrow.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that all he said?”</p>
+
+<p>“Excepting ‘good-night.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you recall anything in his manner, tone, or
+words that indicated trouble or apprehension of any
+kind?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing. He was, as always, cheerful and,
+seemingly, happy, and laughed quite carelessly when
+he spoke of his bad habit.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>22</span>
+“When did you next see him?”</p>
+
+<p>The question came with a suddenness that startled
+every one who heard it, including the witness. She
+grew white and for a moment swayed as if she would
+fall. Dr. Rogers, her physician, stepped towards
+her, but before he could reach her side, she recovered
+by what seemed a supreme effort of the will,
+and, raising her head, answered:</p>
+
+<p>“In the morning, a little after six, lying dead on
+the threshold of the south door.”</p>
+
+<p>Then her head dropped on the table in front of
+her, and her face was hidden from the gaze of her
+curious neighbours, but not a sob was heard. She
+had spent her tears long before.</p>
+
+<p>At an adjourned session, she testified that she had
+heard no unusual noise during the night. She was
+a sound sleeper and did not wake easily. She had
+fallen asleep soon after hearing the clock strike ten.
+She did not recall awaking until aroused by the noise
+made by Mary Mullin knocking at her door, soon
+after six o’clock, to tell her of the discovery of the
+murder.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you believe that a pistol shot could have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>23</span>
+fired at your side door and you not hear it?” the
+coroner asked, with that sudden sharpness he had at
+times.</p>
+
+<p>“I am compelled to believe that it did occur;” and
+there was to more than one onlooker an air of defiance
+in the answer.</p>
+
+<p>“In advance of this, would you believe it possible?”
+he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him as if weighing the question and
+its purpose, and then said deliberately:</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>The answer manifestly accorded with the sense of
+the spectators, among whom there were sundry exchanges
+of glances not all friendly to the witness.
+But the coroner was speaking again:</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Parlin, what do you know of the parentage
+of the late Theodore Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>Every head was bent towards the witness to catch
+the answer to what the veriest dullard suspected was
+the most important question thus far asked. The
+witness grew pale&mdash;paler than she had been at any
+time, and there came into her bearing a touch of
+defiance rather felt than seen. She was apparently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>24</span>
+arming herself against coroner and spectators.</p>
+
+<p>“He was the son of Judge Parlin.”</p>
+
+<p>If she had aimed at sensation, she could not have
+hoped for greater success. A murmur of surprise
+ran about the room, and the confusion rose to a
+height that for a time defied the efforts of the coroner
+to preserve order. Curiosity to hear further questions
+and answers came to his aid, and silence was restored.</p>
+
+<p>“By a former marriage?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. He was born out of wedlock.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you first learn of this?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the eleventh of this month.”</p>
+
+<p>“The day succeeding the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you learn of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“From a paper in the judge’s handwriting, found
+in Theodore’s desk, and enclosed in an envelope
+addressed ‘Mrs. Amelia Parlin; Mr. Theodore
+Wing; to be opened and read by the survivor, in
+event of the death of either, and until such death to
+remain unopened.’”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>25</span>
+“Was this inscription also in the handwriting of
+your late husband?”</p>
+
+<p>Now many noted that she had said “Judge Parlin,”
+and not “my late husband,” as if she would
+remind them from the start of the public’s share in
+his acts, rather than of her own.</p>
+
+<p>“It was.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please produce that paper.”</p>
+
+<p>The witness drew forth a large square envelope
+and handed it to the coroner, who said to the jury:</p>
+
+<p>“I regret that I am compelled to read to you a
+paper which was evidently intended for one person’s
+reading only, and that Mrs. Parlin or Mr. Wing,
+according as the one or the other should be the longest-lived.
+The circumstances of the death which
+placed this in the hands of the other for perusal,
+leaves no alternative. Before reading, let me say,
+I was a townsman of Judge Parlin: I had the honour
+to know him intimately, and notwithstanding what
+I am about to read you, I still hold it an honour. He
+was an able lawyer, an upright judge, a good citizen,
+and, I may add, a noble man. If he sinned, who of
+us is there that is without sin? If there be such, let<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>26</span>
+him cast the first stone. I am not entitled to do
+so.”</p>
+
+<p>The widow sat with head held high, as if there had
+come to her again the old strength that so many felt
+was gone forever. When her husband was in question,
+her courage had no limit. She flinched from no
+eye that was turned towards her, but there was that
+in her own which seemed to resent even the kindly
+words of the coroner, as if in protest that they implied
+wrong in her husband’s past which she would
+not for one instant admit. It was not for them to
+accuse, still less to excuse. What he had done was a
+thing that concerned him and his God alone, and her
+look said more plainly than words, “neither do I accuse
+him!” The instinct of defence covered her as
+a shield.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime the coroner read:</p>
+
+<p>“‘There were three persons who had the right to
+know what I am about to write. One died many
+years ago. Until another dies, these words are not
+to be read. In the course of nature, it is probable
+that the reading will fall to Theodore, not to my
+wife. If so, I believe that when Theodore reads<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>27</span>
+them, I will already have been reunited to my wife
+and will have told her all that I write here, and so
+told it that she will feel my sincerity more clearly
+than I can make it felt by any written words.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Although born and raised in Millbank, I read
+law in the office of Judge Murdock in Bangor. My
+father had a great admiration for the judge and,
+dying early, before he had seen me admitted to the
+bar, asked his friend to take me into his office. If
+I have attained anything of note in my profession, I
+owe it largely to the fidelity with which Judge Murdock
+discharged his trust.</p>
+
+<p>“‘While in his office and shortly before I returned
+to Millbank, I became involved with a young woman
+of Bangor, who became by me the mother of the man
+now known as Theodore Wing&mdash;he will find his
+name legally established by action of the Legislature
+in 1841. Unfortunately, I can say little that is
+good of her; I will say nothing otherwise, if I can
+avoid it. I shirk no part of the responsibility for the
+wrong done. God alone knows that if she failed in
+true womanhood, then or after, it was not I who was
+wholly to blame. Thus much I can say, she was and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>28</span>
+is a woman of brilliant mind and shrewd resources,
+which have carried her far socially.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Fortunately I did not lack money, and so was
+able to provide comfortably for the woman and her
+child. As a matter of justice, I offered marriage,
+but she made it a condition that her child should be
+placed in some institution, urging that it would otherwise
+always be a stigma upon us. To this I would
+not consent, and her election to forego the vindication
+of marriage put me on my guard, for I could
+not believe that a woman of her temperament would
+deliberately elect to go through life encumbered with
+an unfathered child. The event proved me right,
+for within three months she had placed the infant in
+an institution for orphans, and returned to Bangor
+with a plausible tale accounting for her absence.</p>
+
+<p>“‘She, of course, counted safely on my silence,
+but I did not hesitate to make it a condition that I
+should take possession of the child for whom I provided,
+rearing him in such a way that he has taken
+a place in the world equal to that of his parents, and
+as untrammelled by his unsuspected birth as it is
+possible for one to be. My marriage has never been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>29</span>
+blessed with children, and thus to him and my wife
+of thirty years, the two on earth whose claim upon
+me is most sacred, I am able to leave all that I have
+accumulated.</p>
+
+<p>“‘He has been to me all that a son could be. Let
+this narrative be to him, if he ever reads it, an explanation
+of anything in which I have been less than
+a father to him.</p>
+
+<p>“‘I see no necessity for continuing this narrative
+further, save that it may be to my son a relief to
+know something more of his mother, and to my wife
+a joy to know that my wrong did not bring a woman
+to misery and worldly ruin. Within a year of her
+desertion of my son, I attended her wedding to a
+man of equal social rank, who has since risen to
+wealth and political power. She has been a notable
+aid to him, and her name is well-nigh as often pronounced
+in connection with his fortunes as is his own.
+She is the mother of children who have taken good
+social positions, and some of whom seem to have inherited
+their mother’s brilliance of mind and unflinching
+purpose and their father’s ability in money
+and power getting. To say more than this, even to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>30</span>
+the two dear ones, of whom one alone is to read
+these lines, would be an injustice to the woman herself
+and to her children. To her influence, exerted
+against me, I attribute my failure to secure the chief
+justiceship. As great as was the disappointment,
+I can write the fact to-day without bitterness toward
+her and without purpose to accuse her of injustice.
+If by meeting the penalty of my sin, I can avert it
+from others, I am content.’”</p>
+
+<p>Unless one knew the unbending spirit of the man
+in matters of right and wrong, he must fail to understand
+the keenness of feeling covered by the apparently
+cold, formal statement of fact to which
+Judge Parlin had confined his written words. To the
+witness on the witness rack, however, those words
+were as if the living man spoke again and laid bare
+a heart torn with the humiliation of self-condemnation,
+more terrible to him than the judgment of any
+human tribunal. Realising the bitterness of spirit in
+which he had spoken, she was stirred anew by that
+long-dead instinct of protection, which had made her
+weakness a shield in the past to his strength, and
+held high her head, too proud of her dead to allow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>31</span>
+any one to find in her the faintest blame for this
+strong spirit whose words she, and she alone, read
+to their last meaning.</p>
+
+<p>The hush that followed the reading was that
+strong suspension of every function which betokens
+deep emotion. Before the mass had recovered, the
+coroner’s voice broke harshly upon them:</p>
+
+<p>“When did you first know of the existence of this
+paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“The paper itself on the eleventh. I saw the
+envelope and its address by accident a week or ten
+days before.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can you fix the exact date?”</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot. I saw it by accident, as I have said,
+and I assumed it related to something Judge Parlin
+had desired done in the event named on the envelope.
+I asked no questions regarding it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you state on oath that you knew nothing
+of the contents of this paper until after the death of
+Mr. Theodore Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>The white head went up, and there was a sting of
+rebuke in the tone in which the answer came:</p>
+
+<p>“I was under oath when I gave my testimony. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>32</span>
+stated then that I first learned of this paper and its
+contents on May eleventh. I can add nothing to
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever suspect the relationship of your
+husband to Mr. Wing prior to the eleventh of this
+month, when you saw this paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would a knowledge of that relationship, if you
+had known it while he was living, have changed in
+any way your feeling towards Mr. Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness paused as if she would question her
+own heart before answering, and the coroner waited
+patiently, with apparent understanding of the need.
+A hush fell on the room, like that which had followed
+the reading of the remarkable paper. Then Mrs.
+Parlin looked directly at the coroner and answered
+distinctly and without a tremor in her voice:</p>
+
+<p>“I think it would.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you,” said the coroner. “I am sorry if
+I have in any way disturbed you unnecessarily in
+this examination. I know that you believe I have
+aimed simply at my duty.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>33</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="iii">CHAPTER III<br />
+<span>Alive at Midnight</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">A</span>N hour after the close of the day’s session, Mrs.
+Parlin was in her sitting room, with the door
+closed and the shades lowered. On the opposite side
+of the small light-stand sat a rather undersized man,
+plainly dressed, and of somewhat insignificant aspect.
+Distinctly, the woman in her was disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>“I have sent for you, Mr. Trafford,” she said,
+slowly and apparently reluctantly, “because both my
+husband and Theodore&mdash;Mr. Wing&mdash;had the utmost
+confidence in your ability. I want you to find Mr.
+Wing’s murderer. It’s not a matter of cost&mdash;I simply
+want him found.”</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, she gathered confidence, and the
+tone of her final words almost evidenced a belief that
+he could do what she asked. She stopped speaking,
+and the insignificance of the man’s appearance was
+again more real to her and sent a chill over her earnestness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>34</span>
+“If you entrust the case to me,” he said, in a tone
+singularly winning for a man in his station and of his
+personal appearance, “I shall do my best to sustain
+the confidence Judge Parlin and Mr. Wing gave me;
+but let me warn you, in my profession there is no
+royal road. I have no instinct that enables me to
+scent a murderer or other criminal. I reach results
+by hard work, close attention to details, and perseverance.
+I make it a condition of undertaking any case
+that nothing shall be concealed from me. I must
+start with at least the knowledge that my principal
+possesses.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve told everything to the coroner. If I’m not
+mistaken, you’ve heard the testimony.” She spoke
+with dignity, almost with hostility, in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I heard the testimony,” he said, “but are you
+sure you’ve told everything? There’s sometimes
+things that we know which aren’t facts&mdash;that is, not
+facts as the term is understood when one is giving
+testimony.”</p>
+
+<p>“For instance?”</p>
+
+<p>“You have impressions of what led up to this
+tragedy.” There was nothing of question in his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>35</span>
+tone. It was as if he stated what was indisputable.</p>
+
+<p>The statement seemed to strike her and to arouse
+a new train of thought. She was silent for some
+time, and he sat watching anxiously, but without a
+sign of impatience. At last she looked up and answered:</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken; I’m absolutely in the dark.
+There’s nothing to point in any direction.”</p>
+
+<p>He accepted the disappointment, but accepted it as
+absolute. He evidently had striven by the assertion
+so positively made to surprise her into new thought,
+with the hope that it might hit on something that in
+his skilled hands would have meaning. He saw not
+only that he had not succeeded, but that there was
+no ground for success.</p>
+
+<p>“That, in itself,” he said, “is significant. It
+shows that we must dig deeper in his life than we
+have yet done. The motive; we want the motive!”</p>
+
+<p>“There was no motive,” she said. “It was motiveless.
+There are men who do murder for murder’s
+sake.” Under sting of her life experience, she spoke
+with keen bitterness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>36</span>
+He leaned across the table, and for the instant she
+saw something in the man she had not seen before;
+something that flashed like a gleam of new intelligence
+and was gone with its very birth.</p>
+
+<p>“There are no motiveless crimes,” he said. “In
+this case, of all others, you may be sure a motive existed,
+and that when we put our hands on it, we
+shall find it a tremendous one&mdash;that is, tremendous
+in its imperative force.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what could be the motive&mdash;against a man
+like him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because he was such a man, we may be the more
+certain of motive,” he said. “Under other conditions
+it might have been Judge Parlin.” He spoke
+at hazard&mdash;perhaps; but the effect was something
+startling. She grew pale as at the inquest before
+she answered as to the first knowledge of Wing’s
+death, and her companion expected for the moment
+that she would faint. But she was a woman equal to
+noteworthy sudden efforts, and even as he watched
+she overcame the momentary weakness. Yet it was
+with pale lips she stammered:</p>
+
+<p>“I understand. It might have been the judge.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>37</span>
+Trafford waited, seemingly expecting something
+more, but when the pause grew awkward, he continued,
+“He told you he had a letter to write
+before he went to bed. Had he written it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. It’s a thing we never shall
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a thing that we will know, and that in a very
+short time. Who entered the room first that morning?”
+and there was a sense of action in his tone
+that caused her to look up with sudden interest.</p>
+
+<p>“I did. Mary told me expressly that she hadn’t
+dared open the door until I came, and Jonathan was
+by the body, outside.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the door closed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who closed it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have never asked. I supposed it hadn’t been
+open.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was open,” he said. “He came to the door
+without a light when the bell rang. Naturally, he
+left the door open so that the light from the room
+would shine through. He would leave it wide open,
+to get the full light. Somebody shut that door!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>38</span>
+Mary and Jonathan were called and questioned.
+The latter set the matter at rest. When he discovered
+the body he stooped over it to make certain that
+Mr. Wing was dead. Then, remembering to have
+heard that you must not touch a murdered man until
+the coroner comes, he arose without touching
+him and as he did so saw through the outer door that
+the door to the library was closed.</p>
+
+<p>“The outer door was wide open?” Trafford said.</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, ’twant neither. ’Twas against Mr.
+Wing’s head and arm. If it hadn’t been fur them,
+it would ’a’ shut too.”</p>
+
+<p>After the two had gone, Trafford declared he
+would see the room, but proposed first to do so alone.
+He entered from the main hall, set his light on the
+lamp-mat on the writing-desk, and took his station in
+front of the door from the side hall. Here he stood
+for at least ten minutes studying the room. Then
+he walked to a medium-sized safe that stood to the
+right of the fire-jamb and was partially hidden by
+book-shelves near the door from the side hall.</p>
+
+<p>Having studied this for some time, he made a
+minute examination of every part of the room, including<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>39</span>
+the blotting paper in the writing-pad on the
+desk, which he finally lifted carefully and held before
+the mirror to examine the few ink-marks it showed.
+Of these he took note in a small memorandum book.
+They seemed to be the only things that struck his
+attention particularly. Then he rang and told Mary
+to ask Mrs. Parlin to come to the library.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that the blotting-pad that was here that
+night?” he asked. “And you were the first one who
+came to this desk in the morning?” when she had
+answered him as to the identity of the pad. “And
+there was no letter on the desk?”</p>
+
+<p>“None.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then, evidently he had not written the letter he
+told you of?”</p>
+
+<p>“Evidently not,” she assented.</p>
+
+<p>“Then he must have been killed before he had
+time to write?”</p>
+
+<p>“It would seem so.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, therefore, probably very soon after you
+left him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can see no other conclusion, unless he changed
+his mind and didn’t write,” she assented.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>40</span>
+“Now we come to one of the impressions which
+you could not testify to as a fact, but which may be
+of far more value. Did he say he had a letter to
+write in a way that makes you think he may have
+changed his mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said. “I understood, from the way
+in which he said it, that it was the important thing
+he had to do before going to bed. I went away
+satisfied that he would write the letter early and then
+get to bed. He certainly meant that the next day
+was to be a busy one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then he probably was killed, very soon, since he
+had not written the letter.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, if you please, let me send for Jonathan
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>When the hired man came, he glanced over his
+shoulder in an uneasy way, as if he did not more
+than half like the room. Trafford motioned him to
+a chair and without any preliminaries suddenly demanded:</p>
+
+<p>“At what hour are you going to testify that you
+went to bed that night?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>41</span>
+Thus far Oldbeg had simply been called upon to
+testify to the finding of the body. The remainder of
+his testimony was to be given later.</p>
+
+<p>“About nine o’clock; not more’n five minutes one
+way or ’tother.”</p>
+
+<p>“What were you doing on Canaan Street at five
+minutes after midnight?”</p>
+
+<p>Oldbeg looked frightened, and Mrs. Parlin
+showed considerable anxiety in the look she cast on
+the two men.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” said Trafford sharply. “If I can find
+out you were there, I can find out why you were
+there. I’d rather hear it from you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was comin’ from the twelve-o’clock train. My
+cousin, Jim Shepard, went to Portland to work an’
+I saw him off.”</p>
+
+<p>“Be careful,” Trafford warned him. “If you
+were coming from the station, you’d have come up
+Somerset Street, not Canaan.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, ye see,” the man explained, placed at once
+at his ease in having something to tell of which he
+had knowledge; “Jim, he was spendin’ the evenin’
+with his gal, Miss Flanders, in Canaan Street, an’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>42</span>
+I was to call fur him thar; an’ he was so late we
+couldn’t get round to the station, an’ so we made a
+short cut through Gray’s Court an’ jest catched the
+train, an’ that was all. We had to run, or he’d ’a’
+missed it any way. So I come back that way, instead
+o’ through Somerset Street.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you came through Canaan Street to River
+Road&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I didn’t,” the other interrupted. “I cut
+across lots back o’ Burgess, ’cause ’twas shorter,
+an’ struck River Road down in front of Miller’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and then came up to the driveway and so
+into the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep!”</p>
+
+<p>“You must have got in about ten minutes after
+twelve.”</p>
+
+<p>“Jest to a dot!” he exclaimed in evident admiration
+of the other’s shrewdness. “Jest to a dot. I
+looked to my watch an’ ’twas jest ten minutes arter
+midnight.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you must have passed close to the
+side-door step?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>43</span>
+“Yess’r; fact, ye might say, I hit agin it, for I
+did knock my toe agin it as I passed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was Mr. Wing’s body there then?” The demand
+was quick and imperative.</p>
+
+<p>“No, siree! Do you s’pose I’d ’a’ waited till
+mornin’ to rout ’em out ef it had ben? Mr. Wing
+was in this ere room.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“I saw his shadder on the curtain. He was
+walkin’ up an’ down. I seed him turn as I come up
+the drive.”</p>
+
+<p>“But why didn’t you see him? The shade was up
+to that window, when he was found in the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep; but they was all down when I come up the
+drive, an’ I saw his shadder agin ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>Further questioning elicited no added information
+from the man, excepting the statement that as his
+cousin Jim swung on to the rear end of the car, another
+man had swung on to the front end, suddenly
+rushing out of the darkness. Jonathan did not know
+who it was; indeed, had hardly given the matter a
+thought, so anxious had he been lest Jim should be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>44</span>
+left. When he had gone, Trafford turned to Mrs.
+Parlin and asked:</p>
+
+<p>“When do you think Mr. Wing intended writing
+that letter, if he hadn’t written it at ten minutes after
+midnight?”</p>
+
+<p>“He must have changed his mind, after all,” she
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Evidently, he did,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>Then he took up the matter of Judge Parlin’s confession.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not wish to pain you,” he said, “but I
+would not be justified in letting that drop without
+going into it further. Have you any suspicion who
+Theodore’s mother was&mdash;or is, since she is still
+living, or was between five and six years ago?”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t the faintest suspicion,” she said.
+“But surely this has been raked open enough.
+You can let that wound heal.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can let nothing heal,” he said. “I don’t for
+the life of me see how that can have anything to
+do with this murder, but that’s no reason I may
+not find that it has lots to do with it. At any rate,
+I must find her out.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>45</span>
+“Can you do it on the feeble clue we have?” she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“On such a clue, I’ll trace her in a week and not
+half try. Your husband intended to shield her
+from discovery, and but for these untoward circumstances,
+we would be bound to respect his wishes.
+As it is, I must know the identity of the woman.
+I hope I’ll find nothing to compel me to go farther.
+In the meantime, I’m going to take with me this
+blotting-pad, and I want you to examine it so that
+you can identify it beyond question, blotter and all.
+It’s too important for any mistake.”</p>
+
+<p>Just then Mary Mullin brought word that Mr.
+McManus had come in response to a message sent
+earlier in the evening by Mr. Trafford. Mr. McManus
+had been with Mr. Wing for a number of
+years, and held the most confidential relation to his
+principal of any in the office. Since the murder he
+had naturally taken charge of his personal affairs.
+He was a man of thirty, tall and lithe, with a nervous
+force about him that was held well in control
+by strong will-power.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>46</span>
+“Do you know what special engagements Mr.
+Wing had for the eleventh, that caused him to expect
+a particularly busy day?” the detective asked.</p>
+
+<p>“None connected with office matters. It must
+have been a personal engagement.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you open this safe the day after the
+murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it properly closed and locked?”</p>
+
+<p>“So far as I could see.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d have given a hundred dollars if I’d been
+here,” Trafford said earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked at him in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” he said, “you don’t suspect robbery?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t suspect anything,” Trafford replied,
+somewhat brusquely. “Of all things, I avoid suspicion
+and guesses. I’d like you to open the safe
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus knelt, drew from his pocket a paper
+with a series of figures written on it, and following
+these with the turnings of the knob, threw open the
+door. Within was revealed a small iron door surrounded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>47</span>
+by pigeon-holes, the divisions of wood.
+Trafford dropped on his knees and gave peculiar
+scrutiny to the door, and especially the lock. Then
+he turned towards McManus:</p>
+
+<p>“These two empty pigeon-holes on the left;
+they were empty when you first opened the
+safe?”</p>
+
+<p>“Every paper is in the exact place I found it,”
+McManus answered sharply. “My profession has
+taught me some things!”</p>
+
+<p>“And this door?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was closed and locked. Here is the key.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford opened the door, revealing packages of
+letters, filling about half the space above the small
+drawer which was at the lowest portion.</p>
+
+<p>“You have examined these letters?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only sufficiently to be able to identify them.
+They relate to certain logging interests of firms employing
+Mr. Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the drawer?”</p>
+
+<p>“You have the key: there’s nothing there but
+trinkets and a little personal jewelry.” There was
+a personal tone of resentment over the failure to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>48</span>
+recognise the distance between a detective and an
+attorney.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford opened the drawer mechanically, then
+closed it and took out indifferently one of the packages
+of letters. These he returned and closed and
+locked the door, which he examined again with care.
+Then he pushed to the heavy outer door, turning the
+knob slowly and as if he was studying the fall of
+the wards.</p>
+
+<p>“If it had been planned to leave no trace,” he
+said, as if to himself, “it would be a success. Have
+you a suspicion of the motive for this murder, Mr.
+McManus?”</p>
+
+<p>“So far as I can see, it was motiveless,” McManus
+answered. “I can only conclude that it was the
+work of a lunatic, or a mere murder fiend. It was,
+in my opinion, merely an accident that it was Mr.
+Wing and not some one else.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hadn’t thought of that aspect of the case,”
+Trafford said. “Is there any unfortunate creature
+of that kind about here?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not that I know of; but might it not be a
+stranger that has wandered here?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>49</span>
+“Did you ever hear of one of that class that was
+content with mere killing? It’s mutilation that
+characterises all such crimes. Its absence in this
+case is one of the most prominent features. By
+the bye: was the night of the tenth windy?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary, it was a very still night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not wind enough to blow that door shut?”
+pointing to the door into the side hall.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly not.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford walked around to the different windows
+and finally pulled down the shades and placed the
+lamp on the writing-desk. Then he went outside
+and studied the reflection on the shades. When he
+returned, he said:</p>
+
+<p>“I shall be absent a few days. Will you see to
+it, Mr. McManus, that the coroner doesn’t reconvene
+the inquest until I can be here? Until we
+find a motive for this crime, we’re going to make
+slow headway in finding the criminal.”</p>
+
+<p>“So long as you have charge of the case,” McManus
+answered, “I shall follow your wishes; but
+you may as well understand that I’m not going to
+be content with failure on any one’s part. You’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>50</span>
+after the pay; I’m after punishment for the murderer.
+As long as our wishes run in the same
+line&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford interrupted him:</p>
+
+<p>“When a case is placed in your hands, you expect
+to manage it, I assume. This case has been
+placed in my hands, and as long as it remains there,
+I shall conduct it in my own way. That doesn’t
+mean I won’t take advice; it simply means, I’ll be the
+one to decide what I’ll do with it.”</p>
+
+<p>The two men faced each other for the moment
+almost with hostility. Then McManus’s face lightened
+and he held out his hand without a word of
+apology:</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll do, I guess. If the fellow escapes you,
+he’d deserve to&mdash;if he’d killed anybody but Theodore
+Wing. Whatever I can do to aid, call on me day
+or night. At the least, keep me posted.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>51</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="iv">CHAPTER IV<br />
+<span>Trafford Gets an Assurance</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD sat in his room in the hotel at
+Bangor the next evening and studied the copy
+of Judge Parlin’s statement.</p>
+
+<p>“Her brilliancy of mind has carried her far,” he
+said; “has aided her husband politically; and it was
+this influence that defeated him for the chief justiceship.
+It’s so easy that I can’t believe the solution.
+By George! I wonder if the old judge ever wrote
+that paper? I wish I’d examined the original more
+critically. If I’d been one of your inspired detectives,
+such as you find in novels, I’d probably have
+caught a forgery the first thing!”</p>
+
+<p>None the less, he put himself to the task of untangling
+the threads of the statement, with a result
+that set him to deep thinking. Bangor was not the
+direction from which had come opposition to the
+judge’s nomination. On the contrary, Judge Parlin
+had been rather a favourite than otherwise in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>52</span>
+Bangor, and his cause had received substantial aid.
+But the statement did not assert that Wing’s
+mother had remained in Bangor, or that it was there
+that she aided her husband politically. The most
+hostile influence that Judge Parlin had encountered
+was popularly credited to an ex-Governor, Matthewson,
+an Eastern Maine man, who at present held no
+office, but without whose countenance few men ventured
+even to aspire to office.</p>
+
+<p>“If it should prove that Matthewson’s wife is
+a Bangor woman, ’twould be so easy as to be absurd,”
+Trafford mused. “The old judge wasn’t
+silly enough to believe that what he wrote could conceal
+her identity. Either he meant it should be
+known to Wing or Mrs. Parlin, or&mdash;but what possible
+object could there be in forging such a paper?”</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he sat bolt upright and stared at the
+document in blank amazement. Then, with a low
+whistle, he folded it into his pocketbook.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll find Mrs. Matthewson Bangor-born, I’ll bet
+ten cents to a leather button!” he declared.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever had brought Trafford to this sudden
+conclusion, it proved absolutely correct, and the details<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>53</span>
+given of her brilliance and her aid to her husband
+fitted exactly to the character of the woman.
+This fact naturally raised the question, was it safe
+to go farther and, if so, how much farther? Mrs.
+Matthewson at least had been put on her guard by
+the published statement, and she was not a woman
+to remain in ignorance of any steps taken in consequence
+of that statement, or of the man who took
+them. The family was powerful and not credited
+with scrupulosity as to means employed to ends.
+On the other hand, it was manifest that if there
+was such an episode in her past, her husband was
+ignorant of it and she would stop at nothing to
+keep him so. The secret might be dangerous, but
+it might be valuable as well.</p>
+
+<p>Beyond this, however, was the joy of the chase,
+which is absent from no man and least of all from
+the trained detective. There was a problem to
+solve, and, danger or no danger, it was as impossible
+for Trafford to refuse to solve it as to refuse to
+breathe. Whatever use he was or was not to make
+of it, he would know the truth.</p>
+
+<p>He was not, however, so intent upon this one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>54</span>
+feature of the case as to neglect Jim Shepard. The
+second day, he slipped over to Portland and found
+that young countryman at work and exceedingly
+homesick in what was, to his narrow experience, a
+great city. Finding that Trafford knew Millbank,
+he threw his heart open to him and talked as freely
+as he would to Oldbeg himself. Trafford let him
+talk. There was a flood of irrelevant matter, but
+the detective’s experience was too broad for him to
+decide in advance what might and what might not
+be valuable. On the whole, however, it was a
+dreary waste, until he touched on the night he left
+Millbank.</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t the only feller,” he said; “that nigh
+missed that train. Jest as ’twas startin’, a feller
+rushed out from behind Pettingill’s ’tater storehouse
+and caught the front end of the car. I thought he
+was goin’ to miss an’ I swung back to see him drop
+off; but he clung like a good one an’ finally got his
+foot on the step. I tell you, he was nigh clean tuckered
+out when he came into the car, fur he was a
+swell an’ warn’t used to using his arms that-a-way.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>55</span>
+“Queer place for him to come from,” said the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>“Wall, ye see, if he’d come from Somerset Street
+way an’ out through ’tween Neil’s store and the post-office,
+he’d ’a’ come out jest thar; but he’d ’a’ had to
+know the lay o’ the land to done it. Ef he’d ben a
+stranger, he couldn’t help missing it an’ not half
+try.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you say he was a stranger and a swell,”
+Trafford suggested.</p>
+
+<p>“He was a swell, fast enough. City rig; kid
+gloves&mdash;one on ’em bust, hangin’ on to the rail, and
+got up in go-to-meetin’ style; but he must ’a’ knowed
+the way. He’d ben thar before, you bet!”</p>
+
+<p>“You seem to have got a pretty good look at
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wall, ye see he took the seat two in front o’ me,
+and every time I woke up&mdash;say, them air seats hain’t
+made to sleep comfortable in, be they&mdash;thar he was,
+till all of a sudden I woke up an’ he warn’t thar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you don’t know where he got off,” Trafford
+said, keeping the disappointment out of his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>56</span>
+“No. Ye see, when we pulled out of ’Gusta, he
+was thar, an’ I didn’t wake up ag’in till we got to
+Brunswick, an’ he warn’t thar. I meant to see
+whar he went to, but arter ’Gusta, I guessed he
+must be from Portland and that’s whar I got left.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you hear from Millbank&mdash;from Oldbeg,
+for instance.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wall,” he said, blushing a fiery red, “Jonathan
+hain’t no great hand to write: but I du hear sometimes.
+Say, du you s’pose a body could ’a’ heerd
+that thar shot from Parlin’s house down onto
+Canaan Street?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” said the detective carelessly, hiding
+his eagerness. “A still night, it might be;
+why?”</p>
+
+<p>“’Cause, a letter I got says that thar night she’d
+jest got to sleep when she woke up sudden, as if
+she’d heerd so’thing like a shot. She got up, but
+didn’t hear nothin’ more an’ so went back to bed.
+But the next mornin’ she guessed ’twas the shot
+she heerd from Parlin’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she say what time it was?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope: only she’d ben asleep about half a hour,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>57</span>
+an’ thet night she didn’t get to bed ’fore twelve
+o’clock. Fact, I guess she didn’t go till she heerd
+the train leave.”</p>
+
+<p>“But about this swell,” Trafford interposed.
+“Would you know him again if you saw him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess I would; leastwise ef I could see the
+top of his head. He took his hat off, an’ thar was
+the funniest little bald spot, jest the shape of a
+heart. ’Twas funny, an’ he warn’t more’n thirty
+years old. Say, when he gets to be fifty, he won’t
+hev no more hair’n I’ve got on the back o’ my
+hand.”</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon, a card was brought to Charles
+Matthewson, Esq., in his inner office in Augusta,
+and on the card he read, printed in small square
+letters:</p>
+
+<p class="center">“ISAAC TRAFFORD.”</p>
+
+<p>“What in thunder does Trafford want of me?”
+he asked himself. “He can’t possibly know!”</p>
+
+<p>He sat and looked at the card, while the boy
+waited and finally coughed to remind him he was
+still there. Matthewson looked up with a puzzled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>58</span>
+air. Evidently he did not care to see the man
+whose name was on the card, and as evidently he
+did not dare refuse him. Finally he said:</p>
+
+<p>“Show him in in five minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>When Trafford entered, in the very act of bowing,
+he cast a quick glance at the top of Matthewson’s
+head. There was the odd bald spot, shaped,
+as Jim Shepard had said, “Jest like a heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“What can I do for you, Mr. Trafford?” Matthewson
+asked, with the air of a busy man.</p>
+
+<p>“I want about ten minutes’ talk with you,” the
+detective answered, drawing a chair close to the
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>“Professional?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes;&mdash;my profession.”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer started. He was provoked with himself
+for doing so, but it was beyond his control.
+Trafford was not a man with whom it was comfortable
+to talk professionally&mdash;that is, from the standpoint
+of his profession.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, be quick about it, then. I’m busy, and
+it’ll be a favour to cut it as short as you can.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were in Millbank the evening of the tenth.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>59</span>
+“Well, you are short and to the point. Suppose
+I was?”</p>
+
+<p>“What were you there for?”</p>
+
+<p>“None of your business.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford chuckled. He was getting on. It was
+just the answer he expected.</p>
+
+<p>“Now let’s stick right to the point, as you wanted
+me to. If I have to whip round to get to it again,
+you mustn’t blame me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Mr. Trafford; you can’t deal with every
+one the same way. If you want to find out anything
+from me, you mustn’t go at it as if I was a
+country bumpkin whom your very name would
+scare.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bless you, I don’t,” said Trafford. “Now if
+you were a country bumpkin, as you are pleased to
+put it, I’d lead up to the matter gently and so have
+it all out of you before you knew what I was at.
+Not being a country bumpkin, I come at you fair and
+square to save your time and mine too. What were
+you doing in Millbank on the evening of the tenth?
+You weren’t at any of the hotels. You weren’t seen
+by any of the men who were likely to see you.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>60</span>
+“So you’ve peddled it all over Millbank that I was
+there that night, have you?” demanded the other,
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford looked at him with a mixture of amusement
+and spleen. At last he answered:</p>
+
+<p>“That isn’t the way I do my work. I don’t
+need to give away what I know to find out what
+other folks know. There’s nobody in Millbank any
+the wiser for the enquiries I’ve made.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you know so much and are so cunning,
+you know that I got there at eight o’clock and left
+at midnight&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Dropping off at the Bridge stop before the
+train crossed the river, and swinging on to the front
+end of the second car as the train was pulling out
+of the station, coming out of the shadow of Pettingill’s
+potato warehouse to do so, so as not to be
+seen and recognized,” Trafford continued.</p>
+
+<p>The first part was a shrewd guess, but evidently
+it hit the mark, for the lawyer wheeled about and
+faced him before saying:</p>
+
+<p>“The devil! To what am I indebted for such
+close surveillance?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>61</span>
+“Well,” drawled Trafford, with an irritating air
+of indifference, that he could at times assume, “perhaps
+you don’t know that a matter of some importance
+happened in Millbank that night and has led
+to our looking up all the strangers that were in town,
+especially those who did not seem to want to be
+seen.”</p>
+
+<p>“You refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“I refer, of course, to the Wing murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“I regret Mr. Wing’s tragic death,” said the
+lawyer coldly; “and especially deplore the commission
+of such a crime. At the same time, I don’t
+think it as important as Millbank naturally thinks
+it, and I imagine the State will manage to wag
+along in spite of the great loss it has sustained.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not so much the words, ill-timed and out-of-taste
+as they were, as the air with which they
+were uttered, that constituted their significance. It
+was as if in the mind that originated them there was
+a lurking bitterness, that the speaker would willingly
+conceal, which yet was so intense that it must
+find vent. There was a cruel hardness in the tone
+that made the words themselves all but meaningless.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>62</span>
+Was it possible, Trafford asked himself, that the
+man was able to read the meaning of Judge Parlin’s
+story and knew that Wing was his half-brother?
+He dismissed the question with the asking, satisfied
+that something of which he was still ignorant was at
+the foundation of this outbreak. It was to be a
+question of the comparative shrewdness of the two
+men, whether he still remained ignorant when the
+interview closed.</p>
+
+<p>“You certainly don’t suppose that I shot Millbank’s
+leading citizen, do you?” the lawyer demanded,
+after a moment’s pause. It was, perhaps,
+an effort to recover what the lawyer could not fail
+to see that he had lost.</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary, I’ve every reason to believe
+that he was still alive when you left town,
+and I still further believe that your visit had nothing
+to do, remotely or directly, with his death.”</p>
+
+<p>What was that odd flash that passed over the
+other’s face as Trafford said these last words?
+Seemingly, Trafford was not looking at the other’s
+face at the moment and it might have escaped him.
+Still, he would have been interested if he had seen it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>63</span>
+“Thanks: but, in that event, what are you here
+for?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t let my beliefs or disbeliefs interfere with
+my investigation of facts. Here is something most
+unusual occurring, almost at the moment of the
+murder. It don’t make any difference whether I
+believe it has anything to do with it or not. It’s
+my business to know, and that’s what I’m here to
+do.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if I say I’ve nothing to tell you?”</p>
+
+<p>“The coroner’s enquiry will be public, while mine
+may remain private.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want to know?”</p>
+
+<p>“I simply want your assurance that your visit
+to Millbank had nothing to do, directly or remotely,
+with Theodore Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t see what value such an assurance can
+have. If I went there to hire somebody to shoot
+him, I should, of course, not hesitate to give you
+the assurance&mdash;and probably you wouldn’t fail
+to find out the truth of the matter inside a
+week.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my business,” said Trafford. “If I’m<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>64</span>
+content with your assurance, I don’t see why you
+should object to my being.”</p>
+
+<p>“Because there’s no certainty you’ll remain content
+with it. It’s one of those things where you
+could come back to-morrow with ‘newly discovered
+testimony’ that would upset the whole agreement.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, as for that,” said Trafford, “I propose to
+agree to nothing. As matters stand, the inquest ’ll
+go on within a day or two. I know you were in
+Millbank the night of the murder, and with no
+assurance from any one that your visit had nothing
+to do with the murder, I’m compelled, absolutely
+compelled, to ask the coroner to summons you. On
+the other hand, if I’m satisfied, there’s no reason
+for me to tell any one that I know you were there,
+and nothing to induce the coroner to summons you.
+At the same time, I don’t agree to anything as to
+the future. That must depend upon facts, and you
+know better than I do now whether there are any
+that would call for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph!” grunted Matthewson; “then it’s
+this: I assure you what you ask and I’m not to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>65</span>
+summoned until you see fit to summon me, and if
+I don’t, you see fit to summon me at once.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s about it,” assented Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson sat for a few minutes thinking, and
+Trafford sat watching him. He was tall and slim,
+with a rather prepossessing face&mdash;well-dressed, in
+fact, a “swell,” as Jim Shepard had said. His face
+was far from a dull one. His mother had evidently
+given him something of her personality. Yet, a
+man less on his guard against impressions than the
+detective might find something in his face that he
+did not like,&mdash;a look of cunning lurking in the half-closed
+eyes, a want of feeling in the lines of the
+mouth. He was a man who would go far to accomplish
+his ends, but would not be willingly cruel,
+perhaps because he could not understand that to be
+cruel which was for his own interest. Yet, what
+of a fight that involved life and honour? Trafford
+at least knew that it is only then that the hidden
+forces come to the surface and the man himself
+stands complete. Suddenly Matthewson turned,
+and with a side glance at the waiting detective said:</p>
+
+<p>“I assure you that my visit to Millbank had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>66</span>
+nothing to do directly or indirectly with Mr. Wing’s
+death.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all I want,” the detective said.</p>
+
+<p>“I gave him credit for being sharper than that,”
+Matthewson said to himself, as the door closed behind
+his visitor.</p>
+
+<p>“Now I’ve got to find out,” Trafford noted,
+“how that visit did concern Wing. I’ll test Matthewson’s
+conclusion before I accept it.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>67</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="v">CHAPTER V<br />
+<span>The Weapon is Produced</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE inquest reconvened with an increase rather
+than a decrease of interest on the part of the
+public. This was due in part to the renewed attention
+aroused by the funeral, which had been one of
+the most imposing ever had in Millbank; and in part
+to the rewards for the detection of the murderer
+offered by Mrs. Parlin and the selectmen of the
+town.</p>
+
+<p>In addition, the County Court had instructed the
+county attorney to be present at further sittings,
+to assist the coroner, and the town had employed its
+own counsel for the same purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Mullin was the first witness.</p>
+
+<p>“You are the help at Mrs. Parlin’s?” the coroner
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I be.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long have you been so employed?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>68</span>
+“Twenty-five year this coming July.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were at the house the evening and night of
+the tenth of May?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep!”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you wait on the table at supper that evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“I passed the victuals, ef that’s what ye mean
+by wait;” with an air of defiance.</p>
+
+<p>“Who were at supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mis Parlin an’ Mr. Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did either of them seem to you depressed or
+preoccupied?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope.”</p>
+
+<p>“The meal was pleasant as usual, and both
+seemed in good spirits?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep.”</p>
+
+<p>“Were you in the dining room when they left
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope; I left ’em thar an’ went back arter they
+were through an’ cleaned up the table.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you next see Mr. Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>“As he and Mis Parlin come back from the
+orchard.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>69</span>
+“Did everything seem pleasant between them
+then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why shouldn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I asked you if it did?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d scorn to answer sech a question, ef I warn’t
+under oath to answer what you axed. Yep!”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you see him next?”</p>
+
+<p>“Lyin’ a dead corpse on the doorstep at ten
+minutes arter six the next mornin’!”</p>
+
+<p>“You are certain you did not see him from the
+time he returned from the orchard, until you saw
+him dead?”</p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t I swear it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I asked you if you are certain?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep!” indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you eat your supper before or after your
+mistress ate hers?”</p>
+
+<p>“What may ye mean by mistress?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean, did you eat your supper before or after
+Mrs. Parlin ate hers?”</p>
+
+<p>“Arter.”</p>
+
+<p>She testified that she and Jonathan ate together;
+that she went to her room at nine o’clock, after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>70</span>
+shutting up the house “all but the front part,” and
+that she went at once to bed.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you at any time during the night hear a
+pistol or gun shot or any sound resembling one?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you a sound sleeper?”</p>
+
+<p>“After I git to sleep, ye might carry me off an’
+I’d never know it till mornin’.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think a pistol might have been fired
+at the south door of the house in the middle of the
+night without your hearing it, although that door
+was open?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think that one was.”</p>
+
+<p>“But do you believe, aside from what you think
+regarding what happened that night, that a pistol
+so fired would wake you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, nor a cannon, ef ’twan’t too big.”</p>
+
+<p>Jonathan Oldbeg testified practically to what he
+had told Trafford, the detective, though with some
+amplification of details. On the question of the
+absolute recognition of the shadow on the window
+shades as that of Mr. Wing, he grew very positive,
+affirming that he knew the stoop of the shoulders<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>71</span>
+and the movement of his head. The county attorney
+and the town counsel were quite strong at this
+point and suggested questions which finally confused
+the witness, though in the end he clung to his
+positive identification.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner seemed disposed to pass to the next
+witness, when Trafford handed up a paper, after
+reading which the coroner turned again to the witness
+and asked:</p>
+
+<p>“On the shades of which windows did you see
+the shadow?”</p>
+
+<p>“On all three of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“On which was it the highest and largest?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness paused as he began his answer and
+seemed in deep thought. Once he raised his head
+with a blank expression and then dropped it again.
+Finally he looked up and said:</p>
+
+<p>“On the curtain nighest the door.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the smallest?”</p>
+
+<p>“On the curtain nighest the road.”</p>
+
+<p>“The witness will step down a moment and Mr.
+Isaac Trafford will take the stand.”</p>
+
+<p>All necks were craned to see the detective, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>72</span>
+every ear intent for his testimony. It was most
+disappointing.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you made any experiments,” the coroner
+asked; “as to the shadow thrown on the shades of
+Mr. Wing’s library, with relation to the position
+of the light?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“With what results?”</p>
+
+<p>“If the light is on the writing-desk, the highest
+and largest shadow is thrown on the shade nearest
+the street and none is thrown on the shade nearest
+the door. If the light is on the reading-table in
+front of the fireplace, or in the centre of the mantel
+over the fireplace, the highest and largest shadow
+is on the shade of the centre window. If the light
+is on the mantel near the safe, the largest and highest
+shadow is on the shade nearest the door, and
+the smallest and lowest on the shade nearest the
+road. If the light is on the safe itself, or on
+the stand near the safe, no shadow is thrown on the
+shade nearest the street.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have heard the testimony of the last witness
+as to the shadows he saw?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>73</span>
+“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is your conclusion from that testimony as
+to the position of the light at the time the witness
+passed up the drive?”</p>
+
+<p>“That it was on the mantel nearly above the
+safe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you made any experiments to determine
+in what position any one would place the light, if
+he had the safe open and desired the best light on its
+contents?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“With what result?”</p>
+
+<p>“That he would place it on the mantel about a
+foot or a foot and a half west of the safe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then the testimony of the witness and the result
+of your experiments would lead you to conclude that
+at the time the witness passed up the drive, the occupant
+of the room had the safe open and the light so
+placed that he could best see into it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is entirely compatible with that assumption.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Trafford was dismissed and Oldbeg recalled.
+There was a buzz in the room.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>74</span>
+“What do you s’pose that was fur?” one man
+asked another.</p>
+
+<p>“For impression. It shows how mighty cute
+Trafford is, an’
+<a name="lets" id="lets"></a><ins title="Original has 'let’s'">lets</ins>
+folks know that there’s somebody
+arter ’em as knows what’s what.”</p>
+
+<p>“Onless Trafford got it up hisself fur advertisin’,”
+suggested the other, a hard-headed Yankee
+to whom shrewdness was a natural instinct.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you own a pistol?” demanded the coroner,
+as Oldbeg settled himself to his examination.</p>
+
+<p>Every eye turned towards the witness, who
+fidgeted before answering, as if he was in doubt
+what to say. At last, when attention was at its
+keenest, he found his tongue and said:</p>
+
+<p>“Nope.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet you bought a thirty-two calibre one on
+May eighth.”</p>
+
+<p>It had already been testified that the fatal shot
+was fired from a thirty-two calibre revolver.
+Every person present was alive with the thought
+that a critical moment in the inquest had come.</p>
+
+<p>“Yep; but I gave it away.”</p>
+
+<p>“When?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>75</span>
+“The night o’ May tenth.”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom?”</p>
+
+<p>“To Jim Shepard. Jest as he was jumpin’ on the
+train, I took it out o’ my pocket an’ put it in his’n.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you call that giving it away?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep! That’s what I bought it fur. I don’t
+need one here; leastwise, I didn’t think so then;
+but he’s goin’ to a tarnel big place, an’ I thought he
+ought to had one, so I bought it an’ took it to the
+train with me that night an’ put it in his pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you say anything to him about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t hev no time. I was goin’ to give it to
+him, but we hed to run for the train, an’ I clean
+forgot it till, jest as he struck the bottom step, I
+thought on it. All I could do was to chuck it into
+his pocket, whar his coat swung back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see it go in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope: ’twas too dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it loaded?”</p>
+
+<p>“All but one bar’l. I fired that off up in the
+woods that day an’ furgot to load it again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call James Shepard.”</p>
+
+<p>Oldbeg started, and when his cousin came from a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>76</span>
+door back of the coroner, stood as one struck dumb.
+It was difficult to say what emotion was expressed
+in his face. Trafford watched him and acknowledged
+his own uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you desire to change your testimony last
+given?” asked the coroner.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve told the truth; I hain’t got nothin’ to
+change,” he said sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>James Shepard gave his testimony regarding his
+leaving Millbank and answered the questions put to
+him with reference to the stranger who took the
+same train, which, of course, simply led up to his
+disappearance somewhere between Augusta and
+Brunswick. Then came the question which all were
+awaiting:</p>
+
+<p>“Did your cousin give you a pistol the night you
+left Millbank?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not that I knows on. It’s the fust time I ever
+heerd about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you own a pistol?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nope. I hain’t got no use fur a pistol an’
+never had.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call William Buckworth.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>77</span>
+A stout, elderly man, head of the firm of Buckworth
+&amp; Tompson, notion dealers, came to the
+stand. After the preliminary questions, the coroner
+took from a drawer a pistol and handed it to the
+witness.</p>
+
+<p>“What is that?”</p>
+
+<p>“A thirty-two calibre Woodruff revolver.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever see it before?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I sold it on the eighth of May to Jonathan
+Oldbeg.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain of the identity?”</p>
+
+<p>The witness then proceeded to the identification,
+which was absolute.</p>
+
+<p>“Are the chambers charged?”</p>
+
+<p>“Four are. One is empty and has recently been
+fired.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isaac Trafford will take the stand.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you recognize this pistol, Mr. Trafford, as
+one you have before seen?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“State the circumstances.”</p>
+
+<p>“I found it on the morning of the twelfth of
+May hidden in the box hedge in the front yard of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>78</span>
+the Parlin house. It was in the box nearest the
+fence that separates the front yard from the driveway,
+and about twelve feet from the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it in the same condition then as now?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was wet with dew and the rust is deeper now
+than then; otherwise it is in the same condition.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Margaret Flanders.”</p>
+
+<p>At the name, Jim Shepard, who had taken a seat
+in the main room upon concluding his testimony,
+turned the colour of a peony and a giggle was
+started among a group of boys near him.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret Flanders, a buxom, healthy lass of about
+twenty, tripped into the room as if in enjoyment
+of the sensation she was creating. In answer to
+questions, her testimony ran:</p>
+
+<p>She lived at home, with her parents, on Canaan
+Street; the left-hand side as you went from River
+Road. Jim Shepard came sometimes to see her
+and was with her the evening of May tenth. He
+was going to Portland to work and he was to take
+the midnight train. He stayed till his cousin Jonathan
+Oldbeg called for him. It was then so late
+that she was afraid he would miss his train. Indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>79</span>
+there was only five minutes to spare when he
+left the house. She waited on the front stoop till
+she heard the train go and then went to her room,
+which was on the second floor in the northwest
+corner, the nearest River Road and the Parlin
+house. She went right to bed, was in bed by
+quarter-past twelve, probably, and went right to
+sleep. Had slept a few minutes when she was
+wakened by a sound like a pistol shot. She jumped
+out of bed and went to the window, which was open,
+for she always liked plenty of fresh air; but saw
+nothing and heard nothing. There was a light in
+the Parlin house and she thought it was in the
+library, but could not tell certainly. She was at the
+window only a few minutes, when the clock struck
+one, but whether it was half-past twelve or one
+o’clock she could not tell. Then she went back to
+bed and fell asleep, and heard nothing more to disturb
+her that night.</p>
+
+<p>The coroner announced that this closed his witnesses,
+but at the request of the county attorney he
+recalled Mrs. Parlin. The county attorney put his
+questions through the coroner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>80</span>
+“Have you ever had any question as to the
+genuineness of the statement which purports to be
+in the handwriting of your husband?”</p>
+
+<p>“None whatever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was your husband accustomed to leave important
+papers without date or signature?”</p>
+
+<p>“This paper is in Judge Parlin’s handwriting.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you a letter here with the signature
+turned down. Can you identify the handwriting?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it is the handwriting of Theodore
+Wing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can you state positively?”</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot: but I have little doubt.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you another. Whose handwriting is
+that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Judge Parlin’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you positive?”</p>
+
+<p>“Positive.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain that the first letter is not in the
+handwriting of your late husband?”</p>
+
+<p>“It may possibly be; but I think it is in Mr.
+Wing’s handwriting.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>81</span>
+“There was then a very strong resemblance between
+the handwriting of your late husband and
+that of Mr. Wing?”</p>
+
+<p>“A very strong resemblance. Theodore always
+admitted that he had tried to write like the
+judge, and of late years the resemblance was
+very close.”</p>
+
+<p>“Still you are confident as to the handwriting
+of the statement that has been produced
+here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely confident.”</p>
+
+<p>“When you hold this statement up to the light,
+do you discover any water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, a sheaf of something that looks like wheat
+with a circle around it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you a blank sheet of paper. Has that
+any water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“It has the same water-mark.”</p>
+
+<p>“That will do. Mr. Trafford will take the
+stand.</p>
+
+<p>“I hand you this blank sheet of paper, which Mrs.
+Parlin has just stated contains the same water-mark
+as that on which the purported statement of Judge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>82</span>
+Parlin is written. Have you ever seen this sheet
+before?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I took it from Mr. Theodore Wing’s
+writing-desk on the morning of May twelfth. It
+was one of a number of similar sheets I found
+there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call Mr. Marmaduke.</p>
+
+<p>“You are the head of the stationery firm of Marmaduke
+&amp; Co.?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you supply the late Theodore Wing with
+writing paper?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is this a sheet of the paper you furnished
+him?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is a sheet of the paper I furnished him for
+his home use. I never furnished it to him for
+office use.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long have you sold paper with this water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“About four years.”</p>
+
+<p>“Never before that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never. I do not think it was made with that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>83</span>
+water-mark until about four years ago. At least,
+I never heard of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you furnish paper to the late Judge Parlin,
+for home or office?”</p>
+
+<p>“For both.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever furnish him, either for home or
+office, with paper bearing this water-mark?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never. I didn’t have paper with that water-mark
+for sale until nearly a year after Judge Parlin’s
+death. I got it at the special request of
+Mr. Wing, and that was after Judge Parlin’s
+death.”</p>
+
+<p>After consultation, the inquest was again adjourned.
+There was a general expectation that a
+warrant would issue for Oldbeg’s arrest, but neither
+the coroner nor the county attorney felt justified in
+so overt an act. The public might try, condemn,
+and all but execute a man on mere suspicion, but
+larger responsibility rested on the officers of the law.
+In consultation, Trafford was appealed to and
+agreed fully with the decision reached. He was not
+wholly pleased with the coroner’s haste in bringing
+out certain facts that in his opinion could have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>84</span>
+left with safety to the adjourned session. The
+strength of his own work lay in minimising, rather
+than exaggerating, the importance of unsupported
+facts, which were almost sure to lead to wrong conclusions.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>85</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="vi">CHAPTER VI<br />
+<span>Mrs. Matthewson and Trafford</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE wife of former Governor Matthewson was
+prominent&mdash;that is, respectably prominent&mdash;in
+church matters, as in all good works, and the booth
+over which she presided at the May Church Festival
+was one of the most attractive and profitable,
+albeit there was many another that had proved a
+centre for the younger men and larger boys. Mrs.
+Matthewson sat in the curtained space behind the
+main booth, for she was really tired. She was a tall
+woman, of commanding presence, who had just
+touched her sixtieth year and upon whom the consciousness
+of power, and ability to wield it, had left
+the impress of dignity and strength.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd was mainly in front of the booths, but
+occasionally some one strayed away to the quieter
+nooks shut off by the booths themselves. Of these
+were two men, one small and rather unimpressive
+in appearance, the other larger and more commanding,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>86</span>
+but with a strange deference towards his companion.
+The two passed where by accident, apparently,
+the smaller man had a view of the resting
+woman, without being too plainly seen himself.
+The larger man was speaking:</p>
+
+<p>“Public opinion is settling on the paper as a
+forgery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Has it discovered a motive?” There was almost
+a sneer in the tone.</p>
+
+<p>“No; nor for the crime; but it firmly believes
+that the woman never existed.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would think me mad or a liar then if I should
+affirm that she did exist; that she does exist; that in
+fact I could at a moment’s notice put my hand on
+Theodore Wing’s mother.”</p>
+
+<p>The other smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“One might almost imagine you thought her in
+this room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Stranger things have happened;” and the two
+moved on.</p>
+
+<p>If the woman had taken note of the conversation,
+there was nothing in her manner to indicate it. Had
+there been, Trafford would have felt keen disappointment,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>87</span>
+for he had observed her somewhat carefully,
+and had formed a higher opinion of her capabilities.
+At the same time, he had not so poor a
+conception of his own powers of observation as to
+doubt the correctness of his impression of a slight
+lifting of the eyebrows and critical scanning of his
+own face by Mrs. Matthewson, as he loitered slowly
+back towards the throng in front. He intended, if
+it was her wish to be able to recognise him again,
+that she should have the opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>After he had passed, she waited a sufficient time
+not to seem precipitate, then rose and sauntered
+slowly into the front part of the hall, whence came
+a constant babble of voices. She was a woman who
+had seen too many things to be afraid; but as well
+she was a woman too shrewd to neglect a warning
+and go on to punishment. She knew she had her
+warning; she knew that the man who had given it
+was prepared to deal with her, or he would not have
+given it; and she knew that boldness would secure
+the best terms. She had no question that blackmail
+was at the bottom of the affair.</p>
+
+<p>The public had generally accepted the statement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>88</span>
+as a forgery and was laughing at its clumsiness;
+but there would come a waking time when it realised
+that as a forgery it had no bearing upon the solution
+of the murder mystery, and that would be the
+moment of danger. She found her son, Charles
+Matthewson, and taking his arm went to the refreshment
+room.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re dead tired, mother,” he said. “A man
+of iron couldn’t stand these affairs.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said. “It requires something finer
+than iron. Your man of iron is a poor simile for
+strength. It’s got to be better than that.”</p>
+
+<p>“By George; I only hope when I’m sixty, I can
+stand as much as you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that your tact, Charles, to mention a
+woman’s age in public? I know the people know my
+age, but I object to their knowing that I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Much you care, mother. You can leave such
+stuff as that to the silly herd.”</p>
+
+<p>A man passed by and took his seat at a table out
+of ear range. He did not look in her direction as he
+passed, and she did not even glance in his; but she
+felt his presence, and knew also that Charles had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>89</span>
+seen him and recognised him. She ran on with her
+light chat, seemingly taking no note of her son’s
+distraught manner and absent-minded replies; but
+after she had let things go on for a safe space, she
+suddenly looked up with:</p>
+
+<p>“Really, Charles, I might as well save my foolishness
+for somebody who is less occupied than you
+seem to be. I should say you were more interested
+in that man over there than in me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was I really giving attention to him?” the son
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“Most really, and I’m simply wondering where
+you learned your self-control, that you can do a
+thing so apparent to a whole roomful.” She had
+not asked a word regarding the man, certain as she
+was that he would tell her all he knew.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know who that man is?” her son
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“No; really,” she said, putting up her glasses,
+“I had simply noticed him as a man from whom
+you did not seem able to keep your eyes. Now I
+look at him, I don’t see anything particularly worth
+noticing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>90</span>
+“It’s Trafford, the detective. He’s said to be on
+this Wing murder case.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, is that so?” she said, raising her glasses
+again. “In that case, I suppose one’s permitted to
+look at him, since that’s largely his stock in trade.
+He doesn’t look smart.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s his stock in trade too,” said Charles, a
+trifle impatiently for the son of such a woman. “If
+he looked half as smart as he is, he’d look too smart
+for his work, and if he was really as dull as he looks,
+he’d be too stupid.”</p>
+
+<p>“And they depend on him to unravel the Wing
+murder?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, the Wing murder,” echoed an acquaintance
+who was passing. “Why didn’t that stupid coroner
+arrest that fellow Oldman&mdash;if that was his name?
+My husband says if he takes the opportunity to run
+away, it may be interesting for the coroner. Of
+course, nobody has a doubt that he’s the murderer.
+You think so, Mr. Matthewson, don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it will be a great wrong if such a wanton
+murder goes unpunished,” he answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said the mother carelessly; “but the motive?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>91</span>
+Did he murder him because he was an illegitimate
+son of Judge Parlin?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, pshaw, Mrs. Matthewson, nobody believes
+that story. Why, they tell me Judge Parlin was a
+real nice man. He wouldn’t have had anything to
+do with such a woman as she would have been, if
+the story was true.”</p>
+
+<p>A crowd gathered and, in spite of Charles
+Matthewson’s efforts to change the subject, persisted
+in discussing the murder, which was still a live
+topic wherever Judge Parlin and Lawyer Wing had
+been known. To Matthewson’s increased annoyance,
+he noted that Trafford had moved to a nearer
+table, where he could catch the talk.</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of man would Judge Parlin have
+been, if the story were true?” Mrs. Matthewson
+asked listlessly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; but you know that’s not the same. He
+was a mere youngster, and a designing woman you
+know can do anything with a man. Oh, no: it
+would be bad enough in him, but the woman&mdash;why,
+she’d be simply abominable; simply abominable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if there was such a woman, she’s undoubtedly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>92</span>
+dead long ago,” Mrs. Matthewson said.
+“We might at least not begrudge her a grave. We
+came near making Judge Parlin chief justice.”</p>
+
+<p>Charles was uneasy. His mother was not accustomed
+to losing her head, but he had his suspicions
+at this moment, and tried again to draw her
+away; but she seemed not to notice his efforts, and
+showed herself not loath to go on with the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>“If the thing isn’t true,” broke in a woman who
+was fearful she might not make herself felt in the
+presence of the overbearing Mrs. Matthewson, “my
+husband says it’s a forgery; but what could that
+nice Mr. Wing have forged such a story as that for?
+Do you see, Mr. Matthewson?”</p>
+
+<p>“You must excuse me from expressing any opinion
+one way or the other,” he said, thus distinctly
+appealed to. “Murders and forgeries are not in my
+line, and I don’t think my opinion would have the
+value it might if I was a criminal lawyer or a detective.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, a detective!” some one interrupted. “What
+a dreadful nasty set of men detectives must be! It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>93</span>
+makes me crawl to think of their having anything to
+do with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you mustn’t be a murderer or permit any
+one to murder you. It’s the only way I know to
+steer clear of the gang.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Charles,” interposed his mother. “Aren’t
+you a little hard? As long as we have criminals,
+we must have criminal catchers. We can’t spare
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we needn’t make them our heroes, as some
+people do,” he replied, wondering in secret why his
+mother was chiming into his mood so completely.
+“I object to having them dragged into my company&mdash;almost
+as much as I’d object to being dragged
+into theirs.”</p>
+
+<p>It would have troubled Mrs. Matthewson to say
+why she felt a savage pleasure in thus baiting the
+detective, but she did feel it, and was too proud to
+deny the fact, even as she was too proud to deny
+that the fact was unworthy her own measure of herself.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later Charles had handed her into her
+carriage and gone back to the hall, as she bade him,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>94</span>
+to stand for the family during the remainder of the
+evening. A carriage in front blocked the way and a
+voice almost at her elbow, but on the side opposite
+that at which she had entered, said:</p>
+
+<p>“May I have the honour of calling in the morning?”</p>
+
+<p>She did not even turn her head, as she flung back
+the answer:</p>
+
+<p>“If it’s necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“At half-past ten, then.”</p>
+
+<p>She did not look to see, but knew that the place
+was vacant. None the less she yielded no whit, but
+held her upright position, as if she were already on
+trial before the world and bade it defiance.</p>
+
+<p>It was the same in the morning. She entered the
+small parlour as if it were she and not her visitor who
+was to ask explanations, and he, with his quick
+adaptation of himself to moods and conditions, not
+alone humoured her, but throughout bore himself
+with a courtesy and deference that went as far as
+anything could to salve her wounded pride.</p>
+
+<p>“I assume it is not necessary for me to explain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>95</span>
+who I am and why I have asked this interview,” he
+said, as an approach to a knowledge of the footing
+on which they stood.</p>
+
+<p>“It is not necessary,” she returned. “You are
+Isaac Trafford, detective: you are engaged in ferreting
+out the murder of Theodore Wing, and you
+think I am able to give you information that may
+aid you. I am sorry to say that I cannot. I am
+sorry for the crime: I’m always sorry for crime;
+but it can have no particular sting for me, because
+of the man who is its victim.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought it might be otherwise,” he said quite
+simply.</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>“None the less,” he said, “you have read the
+statement left by Judge Parlin.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have read the statement purporting to be left
+by Judge Parlin,” she corrected him.</p>
+
+<p>“It is absolutely true from beginning to end.
+There can be no doubt that Judge Parlin left it, for
+only he and one other person at that time knew the
+facts.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that other person?” The question was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>96</span>
+without a tremor. Trafford felt like rising and
+saluting the woman, as her words came clean-cut
+and passionless.</p>
+
+<p>“Theodore Wing’s mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“She is, then, still alive?”</p>
+
+<p>“She is still alive,” he said; “and unless concerned
+in this recent tragedy, as safe as if the knowledge
+of the facts had remained locked in her breast,
+as they were at the time of Judge Parlin’s death. If
+she was concerned in this tragedy, then it is that,
+and not the fact that another has learned the truth,
+that destroys her safety.”</p>
+
+<p>Even at so serious a moment, she could not avoid
+playing with the subject:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think her concerned in the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is what I am not certain of,” he said frankly.
+“It is the murder that has revealed this&mdash;misfortune.
+I can find no motive that can account for her
+connection with the affair.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am of the opinion she had nothing to do
+with it,” she said, quite positively. “If all this is
+true, she would naturally have no love for the child
+of her mistake; but you surely cannot think on that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>97</span>
+account that she was guilty of murder&mdash;the cruelest
+murder one could imagine under the circumstances!
+Certainly, if there was anything to tempt to murder,
+anything that would have advantaged her, it passed
+long ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have thought of that,” he said, “but is it not
+possible that something may have occurred recently
+that alarmed her&mdash;something that made her feel it
+necessary to go to extremes to which, naturally, she
+would be unwilling to resort, excepting under the
+direst necessity?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think,” she said, lifting her head with
+some imperiousness, “that such a woman is likely
+to be alarmed. She would have lived that down long
+since. More than that, she would have brains
+enough to see that a crime, more than all else, would
+endanger her secret. This woman could not have
+been brainless.”</p>
+
+<p>“Far from it,” he assured her. “I am inclined
+to rate her as the ablest woman I have ever met.”</p>
+
+<p>She bowed as recognising a personal compliment.</p>
+
+<p>“You have met her, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he said. “I have met her.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>98</span>
+“Would you mind telling me the impression she
+made on you&mdash;that is, as regards her possible
+connection with this crime? My curiosity is
+roused.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think she is now incapable of it,” he said.
+“That she might not have been at one time, I am less
+certain; but if there was such a time, it has passed.
+Success had mollified resentment and increased the
+feeling of safety. Still, if she believed herself in
+danger, I do not think she would hesitate at any
+extreme. It would, however, take much to arouse
+a conviction of danger.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am inclined to think your judgment sound,”
+she said. “What can you tell me of the man who
+now shares with her the knowledge of the facts in
+the case?”</p>
+
+<p>“That he would not assert such knowledge unless
+he possessed every detail and was absolutely able
+to identify every person connected with the affair
+and verify every date and place. You may take his
+assertion that he knows, as absolute evidence of this.
+His only object in searching this matter out was the
+unravelling of the mystery of a crime. If he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>99</span>
+thought for one instant that the revelation of the
+facts would aid in unravelling that crime, he would
+not hesitate at the revelation. Convinced that it
+would not aid, the secret is as safe with him as if it
+did not exist. At present the secret, as far as he is
+concerned, does not exist.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course,” she said; “the woman would prefer,
+greatly prefer, that the secret should have died with
+the man who shared it with her. Failing that, she
+could not feel safer than to have it in the hands of
+such a man as you describe. There is, however, I
+should think, one further assurance that she might
+desire.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think if it were a possible thing to promise,
+the man as I know him would be disposed to promise.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is that if at any time in the future it should
+seem to him that the woman was concerned in the
+crime, if there arise any circumstances that call for
+explanation, he will come to her and first submit
+them to her. I think under these circumstances, he
+might largely rely upon her telling him the truth&mdash;at
+least, upon her not telling him a falsehood.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>100</span>
+“Of course,” he said, “I speak only of my impression,
+but that is that she may rely absolutely
+upon his adopting this course.”</p>
+
+<p>“I trust this enables us to end this interview,”
+she said, with no relaxation of her dignity.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>101</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="vii">CHAPTER VII<br />
+<span>Hunting Broken Bones</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>ILLBANK cherished its tragedy as something
+that gave it pre-eminence among its
+neighbours, and half the male population turned detectives
+on the spot. To many members of the community,
+however, the affair bore a most serious aspect,
+heightened by the conviction that no actual
+progress had been made towards the solution of the
+mystery. Such men as McManus, the county attorney,
+and the town counsel, looked upon the testimony
+which tended to implicate Oldbeg as a concession
+to the public demand that something should
+be done, and as covering rather than revealing the
+serious business of the investigation. They were
+inclined to be indignant at what they regarded as
+the direction of unjust suspicion against an innocent
+person, and the more so when they saw how public
+sentiment was roused against the unfortunate man.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, there were whispers among the least responsible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>102</span>
+that if the law was to interpose delays, it
+might become the duty of the citizens to take the
+execution of justice into their own hands. It was
+the county judge who first called attention to the
+danger to the town and county that lurked in such
+loose talk, indulged in at the start by idle men and
+boys, but working as a leaven that might finally
+affect the entire community.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s just the material down there to give
+your town a blacker tragedy than it’s had yet,” he
+said to McManus one day after court. “The
+guilty had better go unpunished than be punished
+through violation of the law.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus turned sharply, with that nervous
+quickness that made him forget the judge in the
+speaker:</p>
+
+<p>“The guilty! The guilty! No man is guilty till
+the law has found him so! How long since suspicion
+was proof?”</p>
+
+<p>The judge, who appreciated the strain which the
+death of his partner and friend had thrown upon
+McManus, let the brusqueness of the answer pass,
+but still was insistent:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>103</span>
+“It’s no time for refinements or phrasings. It
+isn’t the idle alone who expect impossibilities. Most
+of your people think Trafford’s failed before he’s had
+time to begin. There’s got to be something done
+to feed their impatience and gain time. A Yankee’s
+substitute for doing something is to hold a public
+meeting.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“With the chances that it would end in a hanging-bee,”
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>When, however, McManus returned to Millbank
+from the county town, he found affairs so far more
+menacing than he had anticipated as to lead him to
+take counsel with the more prominent citizens. Naturally
+almost the first man to whom he broached
+the matter was Charles Hunter, the head of the leading
+logging firm.</p>
+
+<p>Hunter was a man who at the age of thirty-five
+was already recognised as the first business man of
+the town. Succeeding to a business built up by his
+father, he had doubled it and doubled it again. Its
+operations extended over the entire northern part
+of the State, and into Canada, and were closely interlocked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>104</span>
+with the immense logging interests of the
+Penobscot and the Androscoggin. President of the
+Millbank National Bank, he was also on the Board
+of leading banks in Augusta, Bangor, and Portland,
+and as a member of the Governor’s staff he had attained
+the rank of colonel&mdash;that warlike title which
+so many exceedingly peaceful gentlemen parade with
+pride. In fact, his operations had touched all interests
+save politics, for his title had more of a social
+than a political significance.</p>
+
+<p>“Undoubtedly,” he said, “Trafford is entitled to
+make a show for the money he’s getting, and we
+can understand his giving us some horse-play; but
+it’s going too far when he endangers an innocent
+man, to say nothing of the good name of the town.
+The episode of the revolver found twenty-four hours
+after the murder is mere child’s play. I shouldn’t
+have thought it would have taken for a moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“You think Trafford put it there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think he knew when to look for it and when
+not to. He looked for it at the right time, at any
+rate.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>105</span>
+“I don’t think Trafford’s so much to blame for
+producing the pistol as Coroner Burke,” McManus
+said. “I was watching him at the time, and I
+thought him annoyed at the question.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whoever is to blame,” Hunter answered, with
+the positiveness of a man accustomed to rely much
+on his own judgment and to have others do the
+same, “the mischief’s done. Half the town is certain
+that Oldbeg is the murderer. It’s being whispered
+that Mrs. Parlin hired him to do it, so she
+could have the money, and the fact that she doesn’t
+discharge the man is held to be proof of the fact.
+Then, with the logic of dolts, they declare that she
+hired Trafford because she was afraid of him.”</p>
+
+<p>A look of horror showed in McManus’s face at
+this statement of the public attitude. Surely, Mrs.
+Parlin had suffered enough without having to bear
+this injustice.</p>
+
+<p>“But don’t they see,” he remonstrated, “if
+this was the case, Trafford would have been the
+last to turn suspicion upon Oldbeg?”</p>
+
+<p>“They don’t see anything!” exclaimed Hunter
+impatiently. “They’re simply hanging-mad. They<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>106</span>
+believe Trafford too smart not to have solved this
+thing in a fortnight, and at the same time they believe
+him a big enough fool to have sold himself.
+They think Oldbeg guilty, because there’s nobody
+else in sight, and because they think him guilty, they
+must believe that Trafford and Mrs. Parlin are protecting
+him. Therefore, Mrs. Parlin must be guilty
+too, and therefore, again, Trafford must be trying
+to cover up the facts.”</p>
+
+<p>Hunter expressed in his somewhat querulous tone
+much of the feeling that prevailed in the business
+community. Men felt it a disgrace that an unprovoked
+murder could occur under their very eyes, as it
+were, and remain without the slightest progress towards
+solution for more than a fortnight. In a
+large community, the police would have come in for
+sneers and ridicule. In this case, the detective had
+to bear the brunt of the complaints.</p>
+
+<p>Hunter, intent for the good name of the town,
+suggested finally that a subscription reward be
+offered in addition to that of the county and town
+and that offered by Mrs. Parlin. He was willing to
+guarantee a substantial sum.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>107</span>
+“I think also,” he said, “we should put another
+detective to work. I can’t see any harm if Trafford
+is on the square, and it may do a lot of good if he
+isn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s against all principle to put a case into two
+men’s hands,” McManus objected. “We certainly
+ought to dismiss the one before we hire a second.”</p>
+
+<p>“We haven’t hired the first yet,” Hunter answered
+roughly. “We can’t object to Mrs. Parlin
+employing a detective, if she wants to; but she as
+certainly can’t object to our doing the same thing.
+If, however, we put a man to work, let him keep
+his hands off that statement of Judge Parlin’s.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus started.</p>
+
+<p>“You think it genuine?”</p>
+
+<p>Hunter looked as if the question tired him. He
+was a tall dark man, with an unusually expressive
+face, and was not accustomed to concealing his feelings.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s more of your horse-play. Whether the
+paper’s genuine or not can’t have any bearing on
+the murder. It isn’t to be imagined, if it’s a forgery,
+that there was a purpose to make it public after the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>108</span>
+principals in the affair were dead. It’s a false scent
+and meant to be a false scent.”</p>
+
+<p>On the very evening on which Charles Hunter
+urged the employment of an additional detective,
+Trafford was handed a telegram telling him that
+Charles Matthewson had left Augusta on the late
+afternoon train up the river. It had been an easy
+matter to ascertain that he had not left the train
+either at the main station in Millbank or at the
+Bridge-stop, but none the less the detective had an
+uneasy feeling that the man might be in town. If
+so, whom did he come to see and why did he come
+and go so mysteriously? He could see no possible
+connection between the relationship of Wing with
+Matthewson and the murder, and yet he could not
+divest his mind of the impression that there was some
+mystery going on before his very eyes which he had
+not fathomed, but which, if fathomed, would bear
+upon the discovery of the murderer.</p>
+
+<p>A half-hour or so before the down train was due
+to leave the Millbank station, he left the hotel and
+walked down Canaan Street to its junction with
+Somerset Street and the covered and enclosed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>109</span>
+bridge that spans the river at that point. Here,
+upon the very brink of the river, fifty feet above the
+water, stood the small brick building of the Millbank
+National Bank. The bridge and the bank lay in
+shadow, for it was a moonless night and the street
+lamp at the entrance of the bridge was not lighted.
+Above the bridge was the dash and roar of the falls;
+below, the steady murmur of the narrowed current,
+between its rocky walls that rise more than fifty feet
+from the water’s edge.</p>
+
+<p>“Thunder!” he thought, “there are some creepy
+places around this town, especially when they can’t
+sponge on the moon for light. If I was an inspired
+detective, I’d know whether there was any danger
+in that bridge. As I ain’t, I guess I’ll take the
+centre.”</p>
+
+<p>He advanced into the darkness of the drive, which
+was pitchy black, solid plank walls dividing it from
+the footwalk on either hand. He was half-way
+through, when he suddenly felt the presence of some
+one near him, though he could see or hear nothing.
+He stopped, and absolute stillness reigned, save the
+tumult of the water above and below. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>110</span>
+walked close to the wall on the down-river side, so
+that his form might not be outlined against the opening
+of the bridge, and he was conscious that he was
+as completely concealed, since he had advanced a
+rod into the darkness, as were his companions. It
+was a question of endurance, and in that his training
+gave him the advantage.</p>
+
+<p>Softly there came out of the darkness a noise as
+of the moving of a tired leg. Inch by inch Trafford
+crept close to the board wall, until now it was at his
+back, with one of the heavy timbers protecting his
+left arm. His right was free for defence. The
+sound indicated a man within a few feet of him on
+his left.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there was the sharp swish of a club in
+the air, and the thud of contact with a living body,
+followed by a loud cry of pain and</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon dieu! Où est le chien?</i>”</p>
+
+<p>Two men rushed past toward the Millbank end,
+with a jabber of Canadian French, from which Trafford
+learned that the assailed feared that his shoulder
+was broken.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>111</span>
+“One marked for identification,” he chuckled, as
+he slid along in the deep shadow toward the farther
+end.</p>
+
+<p>He had satisfied himself of one thing he was anxious
+about, and with another at hand had no time
+to waste on a man who could be found in the morning
+for the mere asking. He was too keen on the
+question whether Charles Matthewson was in Millbank,
+to allow a needless diversion. If Matthewson
+was in town, it showed a terrible uneasiness at
+the bottom of his wanderings&mdash;an uneasiness that
+forbade his trusting to others for information and
+yet demanded information at first hands, so imperatively
+that he was willing to take enormous risks
+to obtain it.</p>
+
+<p>“It would have been a coincidence, if I’d been
+murdered to-night,” said Trafford, in his wonted
+confidential talk with himself; “with Matthewson
+in town as he was the night of the other murder.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford crossed the railroad bridge and so attained
+the Millbank station without attracting attention.
+He saw every one of the half-dozen passengers
+who boarded the train, but found no trace of the man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>112</span>
+he was seeking. As the train slowed up for the Bridge
+stop, he swung off into the dark in time to catch
+sight of a figure swinging on from the same dark
+side. It was not Matthewson, and he was just turning
+away, when suddenly he changed his purpose
+and as the train moved off was again on the rear
+platform. He rode there to the next station, and
+then changed his quarters to the baggage car. He
+had identified his man; now he was after his destination.</p>
+
+<p>This proved to be Waterville. A private carriage
+was waiting, and into it the man jumped, driving
+away rapidly. There was but one way to follow
+and keep the carriage in sight, and Trafford made
+a half-mile in quick time, clinging to the back-bar
+and resting his weight on his hands and arms. He
+dropped to the ground and crept away as the carriage
+turned into the driveway of an extensive
+country place, which the detective recognised as that
+of Henry Matthewson, a younger brother of Charles,
+and a man largely interested in the logging business.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph,” he said. “This time he comes part
+way and they bring him the news. Well; it ain’t of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>113</span>
+my murder, though some folks may wish it was before
+many hours have passed.”</p>
+
+<p>Before daylight, he had his operatives on hand
+while he himself took the early train back to Millbank.
+The delicate work just now was to be done
+there, and this he would trust to no one save himself.
+His appreciation of the importance of the case and
+the sensation that would be produced when it was
+finally unravelled, had increased immensely since he
+crossed Millbank Bridge, and he had no purpose to
+see it botched by clumsy handling.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast he went directly to Mr. Wing’s
+office and sought an interview with Mr. McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“I want,” he said, “to go through all the papers
+again in Wing’s safe and, if you have any private
+papers of his, through those as well. So far, we
+are absolutely adrift and we have a double task on
+our hands, for we’ve got to clear Oldbeg of suspicion
+as well as discover the real murderer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you dismiss all suspicion that Oldbeg had
+anything to do with the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you can dismiss an idea you never entertained.
+In a certain sense every man in town was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>114</span>
+under suspicion&mdash;Oldbeg no more than another.
+This job, however, was not the work of a clumsy
+man like Oldbeg. When we find the murderer,
+you’ll find a man of quick motions, delicacy of touch,
+strong purpose, assured position, and considerable
+refinement. You’ll find a man to whom murder is
+repugnant and who resorted to it only as a last
+desperate chance. You’ll find therefore a man who
+was desperate, whose all was at stake, and who knew
+that Wing’s continued living meant the loss of that
+all. Now, if you can tell me where there is such a
+man, I’ll give you proof of his guilt so conclusive
+before night that no one will hesitate to approve his
+arrest.”</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, McManus grew pale. Something
+brought a terrible picture before his eyes. As never
+before, he realised the desperate chase in which they
+were involved.</p>
+
+<p>“It was, then, in your opinion no mere desire
+for sordid gain that impelled to the crime?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who has gained by it? Some one that by it has
+been saved from loss, and tremendous loss. Don’t
+fool yourself. Don’t look for any common criminal,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>115</span>
+and above all don’t flatter yourself for one moment
+that the criminal will stop at any additional crime
+to prevent detection. If detected, he’s lost everything.
+He can’t lose any more with twenty murders
+to his charge.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus glanced over his shoulder, as if he
+expected to see the murderer rise out of vacancy in
+his own defence.</p>
+
+<p>“What connection then has Judge Parlin’s statement
+with the crime?” he asked uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a mere incident&mdash;an accident, as you might
+say, that holds its place by its own sensational character
+and the tensity of nervous interest aroused in
+the public mind by the crime itself. It had nothing
+to do with the crime, or the cause that led up to it.
+I don’t believe the murderer knew of its existence.
+At the same time it’s one of those accidents that may
+lead to things to which it’s in no way related. It
+may be the very thing that’ll ultimately set us on
+the right track. Don’t lose sight of it for a moment.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked as if the caution were wholly
+uncalled for. There was not much danger of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>116</span>
+losing sight of anything that had to do with the
+murder. One might have suspected from his looks
+that he wished he could.</p>
+
+<p>After making an appointment for three in the
+afternoon to examine papers, Trafford left the office
+and went to a little dingy room, in Gray’s Inn Lane,
+where he was joined almost immediately by a tall,
+seedy-looking man, evidently of Canadian stock,
+whose French was only a trifle worse than his English.
+He was a man whom few men would have
+trusted and whom Trafford had always found absolutely
+trustworthy. The man shook his head, with
+many a gestured negative. Not a man was missing
+from Little Canada; every man who was open to
+suspicion was accounted for, and not one of them
+showed a broken collar-bone or a shattered arm.</p>
+
+<p>“But there are other Canucks in town, outside
+Little Canada,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>The report included all. The man had determined
+the whereabouts of every Canadian of sixteen
+years of age and upwards, and there was not one
+who bore marks of the blow delivered on the bridge
+the night before.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>117</span>
+“But he was a Canuck,” said Trafford, with
+positiveness that admits no question; “and it’s a
+bigger miracle than any of their relics ever performed
+before, if he don’t carry a broken bone to-day.
+There’s somebody missing.”</p>
+
+<p>The man shook his head. He had accounted for
+the last of them.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think it was a dream or a nightmare?”
+Trafford demanded, with some asperity.</p>
+
+<p>The man shrugged and lifted his shoulders, in
+deprecation of the tone of the demand.</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Trafford at last. “Take the
+afternoon train to Augusta and resume your work
+there. I’ll give this personal attention.”</p>
+
+<p>The man hesitated a moment and then, coming
+close to him and lowering his voice, spoke rapidly
+and anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“You are taking risks, Mr. Trafford. This is
+no ordinary case. You can’t tell what you’ve got
+against you. Two men can go safely where one
+can’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“And one can go safely sometimes where two
+are a danger. I’ve taken risks all my life&mdash;it’s my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>118</span>
+business to take ’em. You don’t suppose I chose
+this business because of its freedom from danger, do
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“A brave man doesn’t court danger; he simply
+meets it bravely when it comes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll try to meet it that way if it comes.
+At present Millbank looks like a fairly safe place.
+I don’t think I’ll get my throat cut here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you aren’t going to stay here,” the man
+urged. “You know you aren’t. You’re going&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll dispense with information as to where I’m
+going,” Trafford interrupted. “It’s probably safe
+to state, but it’s possibly not. We’ll keep on the
+absolutely safe side as long as possible. Your train
+leaves in fifteen minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>The gesticulating Canadian reappeared on the
+instant. Discipline asserted itself, and the man prepared
+to obey without further remonstrance.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>119</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="viii">CHAPTER VIII<br />
+<span>A Man Disappears</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD sent a hasty note to McManus,
+postponing the afternoon appointment, and
+made ready to visit the logging drives at work along
+the Kennebec. It was certain that no physician in
+Millbank had set a broken shoulder or arm within
+the twenty-four hours; no man of the character
+sought had left by any of the trains or stages, and
+the river afforded the only unguarded means of escape.
+A canoe or river-driver’s boat could easily
+come and go unnoticed, and it tallied with other
+points in hand that the assailants were connected
+with the logging interests. Another point in the
+case was that, in almost all the large gangs of
+drivers, there was sure to be some one roughly skilled
+in surgery, who could attend to minor accidents and
+even, temporarily, to those of a severer nature, such
+as are apt to occur, often at points far distant from
+skilled practitioners. Such a man could, under<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>120</span>
+emergency, even possibly have set the arm or shoulder,
+and could certainly have cared for it until a surgeon
+at Norridgewock or farther up the river was
+reached. As yet the logging drives were all above
+Millbank Falls, so that Trafford’s search pointed
+entirely in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>Every schoolboy or farmer’s lad is a walking
+directory to any logging drive within five miles, and
+Trafford had no difficulty in learning that the nearest
+drive was at the Bombazee Rips, above Norridgewock.
+Here he found the ordinary gang of a
+dozen men, with boats and the implements of their
+trade, at work on the logs which were beginning
+to jam against those that had first grounded on the
+ledge at the head of the rips. Full half of the gang
+were French Canadians, small, dark men of wonderful
+litheness and agility, men with a tenacity of
+life that seems to bid defiance to the wet and exposure
+of their trade. It was hard work by day, hard
+sleep by night, often in clothes soaked with the river
+water; yet cheerful, healthful good humour was evidenced
+in the loud chatter that came with every lull
+in the work. It was here that the grown lads of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>121</span>
+Chaudière, Megantic, and St. François valleys secured
+that schooling in the English tongue from
+which race jealousy barred them at home.</p>
+
+<p>A roughly constructed shanty of pine slabs, the
+earth bountifully spread with clean straw, served for
+sleeping; while in front was an immense fire of logs,
+which served double purpose, for warmth in the
+evening and cooking in the daytime. An old
+woodsman, whose driving days were past, acted as
+cook and general camp care-taker. A group of boys
+flittered about the fire, shanty, and boats. The older
+ones made ventures upon the logs, and sometimes
+lent a hand to a driver, handling a pick or cant-hook,
+a feat that made one a hero with his fellows for the
+remainder of the day.</p>
+
+<p>It was entirely permissible for a countryman,
+such as Trafford appeared, on curiosity bent, to
+enter the sleeping-place or seat himself by the fire.
+Indeed, at mealtime he would scarcely fail, by virtue
+of his age, of an invitation to share in the
+coarse food, a privilege which the boys viewed with
+keen envy. These boys were unconscious spies, upon
+the sharpness of whose eyes Trafford counted much.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>122</span>
+They went everywhere and saw everything, and if
+there was an injured man in camp, it would take
+skill to keep him concealed from them.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford chatted pleasantly with the cook and
+joked the boys, before he opened in a general way
+the subject of accidents&mdash;of which he seemed to
+stand in apprehension, declaring that log-driving
+was in his opinion the most dangerous of trades. At
+that the boys raised a shout of derision and extolled
+the trade to the skies. There was not one of them
+but was consumed with desire for a driver’s life,
+exactly as he would be for any other life of freedom
+and activity whose claims for the moment were
+pressed upon him.</p>
+
+<p>The old man, on the other hand, admitted the
+element of danger, and thrilled his hearers with accounts
+of hairbreadth escapes which he had witnessed
+in the long years that he had been on the
+river. There had been deaths, too; deaths from
+drowning and from crushing in the log jams. Still,
+the life was a grand one for the man who was not
+afraid of hard work, and if he had his to live over,
+he would live it on the river again. There had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>123</span>
+no accidents as yet, the jams were light and easily
+moved. It was only here and there with this water
+that any serious troubles were had. Oh, yes; Millbank
+Falls; that, of course, was different. There
+was a hard drive, and when they got there in the
+course of the next week, they would have a lively
+tussle.</p>
+
+<p>From camp to camp, Trafford worked up to the
+Forks of the River and then up the Dead River
+branch, and again across to the main river and up
+into the Megantic woods. Nowhere was there any
+trace of an injured man or a hint of knowledge of
+one. Wherever the camp was near a village, so that
+boys gathered around, they were of material aid in
+giving him information. In spite, however, of every
+device, he came back down the river unsuccessful
+and depressed. He had a feeling of defeat, as if in
+every camp some one were laughing at him as outwitted.
+He knew the unreason of the feeling and
+yet could not escape it.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was there, when he reached Millbank, any
+information from the lower part of the river or
+from any of the surgeons whom, within a radius of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>124</span>
+thirty miles, he had caused to be interrogated. It
+was if the earth had opened and swallowed up the
+man&mdash;or&mdash;and he stood above the falls and looked
+at the water rushing over them, as if he would question
+it and wrest an answer from it. It was certain
+that the man&mdash;a man, whose personality he could
+merely guess at&mdash;had disappeared. It was like ridding
+himself of a nightmare to throw off the uneasiness
+that oppressed him.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately on his return, Trafford sought an interview
+with Mrs. Parlin. The time was coming
+when the inquest must be
+<a name="reconvened" id="reconvened"></a><ins title="Original has 're-convened'">reconvened</ins>,
+and as yet
+there was nothing of advance since the hour when
+it had adjourned. Even he was grown impatient
+and he could not marvel that a woman, under the
+nervous strain of his employer, should be fast becoming
+irritably so.</p>
+
+<p>“We have no right,” she said, “to leave an innocent
+man under suspicion as Jonathan has been
+left. If we can’t find the murderer, we can at least
+prove that it isn’t he.”</p>
+
+<p>“Unfortunately, until we find the man, the majority
+will believe him guilty,” Trafford replied.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>125</span>
+“What right had you to throw suspicion on
+him?” she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“The right of the coroner to know every fact that
+bears on the case. It would have been as unjustifiable
+to conceal Oldbeg’s purchase of a revolver, as it
+would to conceal the finding of the weapon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why wasn’t it there the morning of the
+eleventh?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“My dear madam,” he said with a gentle smile,
+“if we knew that, we’d know who the murderer is.
+We’d know it, that is: but possibly not in a way that
+we could prove.”</p>
+
+<p>“Precious little good that would do us,” she answered.</p>
+
+<p>“So much good that the chances are ninety-nine
+in a hundred that the proof would be forthcoming.
+There are few men who are shrewd enough to cover
+every trace.”</p>
+
+<p>“But these seem to be of the few,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“We are not through with them yet,” he replied;
+and then suddenly: “Has the new detective, employed
+by Hunter and his friends, been here?”</p>
+
+<p>He had, and had made a critical examination of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>126</span>
+the house from cellar to attic; had been through the
+papers in the desk and safe, and had taken away a
+number of scraps from the former.</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t get the writing-pad, though,” he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>“No; that disturbed him; especially when I told
+him you had it.”</p>
+
+<p>“The&mdash;deuce you did!” he exclaimed. “I wish&mdash;you
+hadn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“I had no right to conceal so important a fact,”
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford bit his lip over this turn of his own argument,
+but made no retort. He recognised in this
+second detective a graver impediment than the cunning
+of the criminal&mdash;if, indeed, it was not the
+cunning of the criminal that had interjected the second
+detective into the affair. Working independently,
+it was scarcely possible that they could do
+otherwise than thwart each other. He had the feeling
+that the case was his and that no other had a
+professional right to throw himself into it. If he
+had been on the verge of success, he would have
+withdrawn from the case. As it was, the same professional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>127</span>
+pride that resented intrusion, forbade his
+taking such a course.</p>
+
+<p>For the twentieth time he asked:</p>
+
+<p>“He certainly did a large amount of work at
+home and must have had papers connected with the
+work here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, certainly,” she said. “He always had
+a lot of professional papers here.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford looked at her as if doubting whether
+he should ask the question that hung on his lips.
+But he must have facts, and here if anywhere was
+the information he needed. Could he trust the
+woman? Finally he came and stood over her chair,
+as if he was afraid of the walls even, and asked:</p>
+
+<p>“Was this always his habit?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she answered; “not while the judge was
+living, and never indeed until about two years ago.
+Yes, it began about two years ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was not a habit learned from the judge,
+then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no! Of course, he brought papers home
+at times, and so did Theodore; but he never kept
+them at home until within the last two years.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>128</span>
+“Did Cranston ask you about this?” Trafford
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said, “no, he did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“If he does, avoid answering him, if possible.”
+Then he stopped as if he had gone too far, and she,
+seeing his embarrassment, checked the answer that
+came to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>He sat for some time silent, and then glanced up
+to intercept a look that she bent upon him.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you talked with Mr. Hunter&mdash;the one
+who was in Theodore’s office, I mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he of the same family as Mr. Hunter who
+owns the great logging interests?”</p>
+
+<p>“His brother.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long has he been in the office?” he asked
+carelessly&mdash;so carelessly that she forgot he had not
+answered her question.</p>
+
+<p>“About two and a half years. I think Theodore
+thought him an acquisition and had great confidence
+in his ability.”</p>
+
+<p>“A good stock,” he said, “for pushing.” Then
+he added after a short pause:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>129</span>
+“Mrs. Parlin, at the inquest you expressed in
+the strongest terms your confidence that the statement
+presented was actually written by your husband.
+Have you had any cause since to change
+your mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not the slightest,” she said. “On the contrary,
+the facts there stated account for many things
+that were strange to me before. There is no question
+as to the facts, and none as to his having
+written them.”</p>
+
+<p>“That being the case, they can have nothing to
+do with the murder. The only other person who
+knew these facts was directly interested in keeping
+them concealed. Even admitting, as might be possible,
+that in order effectually to prevent exposure,
+she had been capable of killing or having her son
+killed, would she find any likelihood of this in a murder
+that would centre on him the interest of the entire
+State? Of course, she did not know of the existence
+of this paper, and she could not know that the
+murder would make the case public, but she would
+know that if he knew the facts, and had any interest
+in their publicity, he would have acted long ago.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>130</span>
+She would also know that if you knew the facts, your
+interest was that of secrecy, the chance of which
+would be diminished in the excitement of a murder
+case. Now that’s my reasoning, and through it
+I reach the conclusion that the facts revealed in that
+statement have nothing to do with the murder. I
+have since confirmed this by facts outside those
+from which I reasoned. I haven’t told a soul this
+before, not even McManus. I don’t want a soul
+save you to know it now; not even McManus. But
+now I’m going to ask you a question, which I believe
+has some bearing upon the causes of the murder,
+and that is: Why, if Mr. Wing had for two years
+been keeping many of his business papers at home,
+was there not one of them in his desk or safe the
+morning the murder was discovered?”</p>
+
+<p>“No papers in his desk or safe?” she said, while
+a look almost of terror came over her face. “You
+must be mistaken! Why, there was a package on
+his desk, lying right on the writing-pad, when I
+bade him good-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would you recognise it again if you saw it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>131</span>
+“Then look through the safe and see if you can
+find it.”</p>
+
+<p>He opened the safe and she went through it package
+by package, while he waited with that patience
+that comes of long training, until, the search finished,
+she looked up and said:</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t here!”</p>
+
+<p>“It was here at nine o’clock on the night of the
+tenth; it wasn’t here at six on the morning of the
+eleventh. What do you make of that?”</p>
+
+<p>“It had been stolen!” she gasped, looking pale
+and perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>“There might be one other explanation,” he interposed;
+“and we are bound to look at that carefully.
+Mr. Wing might have burned them. He had a
+fire that evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, “he might.”</p>
+
+<p>“I made sure on that point,” he then explained,
+“the morning of the murder. Not from any suspicion
+that papers were missing, but on the principle
+of taking note of everything, even the most trivial.
+I can assure you that there were no papers of any
+amount burned in the fireplace the night before.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>132</span>
+We could scarcely expect it; but it would have been
+a stroke of genius if the thief had burned some
+papers to throw us off the track.”</p>
+
+<p>“The thief!” she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>“You must see,” he said, “that the theft of the
+papers presupposes a thief. I have been certain
+from the start that some one was in the room after
+the murder. What he was after I haven’t known
+until now. He was at the safe, which he must have
+found open. Some one who wanted those papers
+wanted them enough to induce him to commit this
+murder, and then to enter the room and search the
+safe, while the dead man lay at the door. It was a
+terrible risk&mdash;as terrible as that of the murder itself.
+Suppose Oldbeg had been a half-hour later in coming
+home. He would unquestionably have found
+the murdered man with the murderers in the room.
+By just that narrow margin this perplexing mystery
+escaped proving a mere blundering crime.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>133</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="ix">CHAPTER IX<br />
+<span>“You are My Mother”</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HREE men sat in conference in the small library
+at Henry Matthewson’s residence at
+Waterville, the morning after the bridge incident.
+These were Henry Matthewson himself, three years
+younger than his brother Charles, opposite whom
+was the man who had come from Millbank by the
+midnight train, Frank Hunter, brother of Charles
+Hunter and himself an attorney in the late Mr.
+Wing’s office.</p>
+
+<p>“The papers are not in the office,” Hunter was
+saying. “I was nearly certain he did not keep them
+there, but I made the search carefully.”</p>
+
+<p>“How about his private safe at home?” Henry
+Matthewson asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I’ve had no opportunity to examine
+that&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“You should have made one,” said Charles Matthewson
+sternly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>134</span>
+The remark threw a chill over the talk, that made
+it a little difficult to break the embarrassed silence
+that followed. At last, Hunter said:</p>
+
+<p>“It was too dangerous to risk turning any general
+question in that direction. Besides, Trafford
+had the first shy at that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Hunter is right,” Henry Matthewson said,
+with that tone that men described as “masterful,”
+and which generally prevailed with Charles, in part
+because it so much resembled his mother’s. “It
+would have been too much risk.”</p>
+
+<p>“What are you going to do?” demanded Charles;
+“let the papers fall into Trafford’s hands, to be
+used against us, or sold back to us at an enormous
+price? Wing’s death came at a strangely opportune
+time; are we going to throw the chance away?”</p>
+
+<p>“If there were papers,” Henry affirmed, “McManus
+or Trafford had them almost before we heard
+of the murder. We want to know whether there
+were papers or not, but we don’t want to advertise
+their existence. If we get a chance to buy, we may
+think ourselves lucky.”</p>
+
+<p>“Trafford!” said Hunter with a touch of scorn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>135</span>
+in his voice. “We owe them thanks for putting
+him on to the job.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain of your grounds for judgment,
+Mr. Hunter?” Charles Matthewson asked. “I’m
+a little afraid you underrate his ability.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, what’s he found out in his fortnight’s
+work?” demanded Hunter.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s just what I’d like to find out, but can’t,”
+said Matthewson. “Whatever he’s after, he acts
+as if he’d get it first and do his crowing afterwards.”</p>
+
+<p>“Trafford’s at the top, so far as ability is concerned,”
+said Henry; “and the next best man’s
+Cranston. If you’re going to set a man at work,
+you’d better take him. There are two things for
+him to do: First, keep track of Trafford and let
+him give us notice quick if he hears of the papers;
+second, work up the story of Wing’s birth. We’ve
+got to keep that more in the public eye. I can’t for
+the life of me see anything in it to lead to the murder,
+but the public think there’s some connection
+between the two, and we mustn’t let them lose sight
+of it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>136</span>
+“But there must have been some motive in the
+murder,” Hunter affirmed.</p>
+
+<p>“If we can get hold of the papers, we’ll let the
+motive take care of itself,” Charles interposed.
+“To think, I was in Millbank that very night&mdash;almost
+at the very moment! If I’d known&mdash;I’d have
+found out what was in that room before any detective
+had a chance!”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Hunter with an implication of failure.
+He would gladly have defended himself, but
+he remembered that he might have been on the scene
+before McManus, and that he had dawdled over his
+breakfast and let the opportunity slip. No one
+would have refused him admission any more than
+McManus had been refused. How many anxious
+hours he might have saved himself!</p>
+
+<p>As a result of the conference, Cranston was sent
+for and put on the case. He listened to his instructions
+and then said:</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got to know what you want, if I’m to work
+with any advantage to you or myself. You want
+to find out who Wing’s mother was&mdash;but that’s
+incidental. You want to know who murdered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span>
+Wing&mdash;but that’s incidental. What is it I’m to do
+really?”</p>
+
+<p>Again Henry Matthewson showed his superior
+masterfulness by deciding and acting.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Wing had been for some time at work upon
+a matter that concerns materially the logging interests
+of this State. We simply know the fact, for
+he took no one into his confidence, and was so secretive
+as to keep the papers about him or in his
+private safe in his library. Without knowing what
+the papers contain, we believe if they should fall
+into the hand of a less scrupulous man than Mr.
+Wing, they might become dangerous&mdash;that is, a
+source of blackmail. We want to locate those
+papers, and if possible get possession of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“How far am I warranted in going in order to
+get hold of them?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Only to locate them and report to me. We will
+decide then on the safe course.” It was Henry
+Matthewson who spoke, as always when prompt
+decision was demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“If they had not already been removed,” said
+Cranston, “Trafford and McManus have had a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>138</span>
+chance long since to secure them. I’m like to find
+them in their hands.”</p>
+
+<p>“Excepting that they might not know their
+value,” said Charles Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>Cranston looked at the speaker quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know about your Mr. McManus,” he
+said. “He’s a lawyer. But as to Trafford, I can
+answer. If he’s had his hands on those papers, he
+knows their value.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think,” said Hunter, after the detective
+had received his instructions and gone, “that my
+brother would quite approve time spent in discovering
+Wing’s mother. He doesn’t believe that
+affair had anything to do with the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“How can any sensible man?” Henry Matthewson
+demanded impatiently; “but we don’t know
+where the enquiry is going to land us nor what help
+we may want before we’re through. If the judge’s
+statement is true, this woman has a high position
+to lose and has great influence with her husband,
+who holds a strong place politically. It can’t be a
+matter of much trouble to unravel that part of the
+affair, and it may give us some one whom we can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>139</span>
+use advantageously in case of an emergency. It
+may bring to our aid a force that naturally would
+be glad to crush us. I’ll take the risk at any rate!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Hunter. “I’m agreeable,
+though I thought it proper to state my brother’s
+position.”</p>
+
+<p>Cranston entered upon his work at once and with
+zeal. His first visit was to
+<a name="Millbank" id="Millbank"></a><ins title="Original has 'Milbank'">Millbank</ins>
+and the Parlin
+house, where, as has been said, he searched from
+top to bottom. He plied Mrs. Parlin with questions
+that finally got from her the story of the package
+of papers, which she was not conscious of having
+seen until his questions stirred her memory to
+recall a picture of the room the night before the
+murder. Then came out clearly and distinctly the
+package of papers lying on the desk. It was, however,
+equally certain that they were gone, and of
+this he was able to satisfy himself without letting
+Mrs. Parlin understand that he attached any importance
+to the matter. The task was left him of
+ascertaining whether Trafford or McManus had
+them. The episode of the writing-pad convinced
+him that Trafford was the man, and that the pad<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>140</span>
+was simply a cover to the removal of the papers
+that were resting on it. It was this that caused the
+annoyance to which Mrs. Parlin had referred.</p>
+
+<p>He went over the ground under the consciousness
+that eyes at least as capable of seeing as his own had
+preceded him, and that there was little chance that
+anything had escaped them and less chance that, if
+there had, he would be able to discover it. It irritated
+him that men who wanted real service should
+call him in at so late an hour, and then seem to take
+it for granted that they had done all that was necessary.</p>
+
+<p>“Oldbeg has been here a good many years,” he
+said carelessly to Mrs. Parlin, who insisted on attending
+him in his investigation.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s been with us about six years; one year
+before the judge died.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have always found him faithful?”</p>
+
+<p>“There has been nothing particular to complain
+of. He’s been steady and has worked hard and
+usually shown good temper.”</p>
+
+<p>“Usually,” Cranston repeated. “Then sometimes
+he hasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>141</span>
+“He has his off-days, the same as the rest of us;
+days when things don’t go right and he gets surly.
+But those spells pass quickly and he’s always sorry
+for them, seemingly. There aren’t any of us
+smooth-feathered all the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did he have one of these ‘off-days,’ as
+you call them, last?” The tone was careless, as if
+Cranston did not attach much importance to the
+enquiry, and yet made it, as in duty bound.</p>
+
+<p>“On the Sunday before&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“May ninth,” interrupted Cranston.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. In the afternoon he was dressed up to
+go visiting. Theodore sent for him to put his driving
+horse into the light buggy, so he could drive
+to Norridgewock. Jonathan didn’t like it and said
+if he couldn’t have Sunday afternoons, he’d find
+some place where he could.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that all there was to it?” Cranston asked,
+after waiting a moment for Mrs. Parlin to continue.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, about all. It’s all too silly to repeat.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d rather judge of that,” Cranston said, more
+shortly perhaps than he intended.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>142</span>
+Mrs. Parlin grew cold and distant, with that
+poise of the head that, to her friends, at least, told
+of offence taken.</p>
+
+<p>“It was only irritation and he didn’t even mean
+that Theodore should hear him, but Theodore did
+and answered pretty sharply and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Please, what did he say?”</p>
+
+<p>“That he could go any time it suited him, and
+that, while he intended to give a man all the privileges
+he could, he intended also to have his services
+when he wanted them. Jonathan said if he
+wanted a man to work like a nigger, he’d better get
+one; and Theodore told him if he heard another
+word from him, he’d discharge him on the spot.”
+Mrs. Parlin had spoken formally and distantly, as
+if to assert the compulsion under which she complied
+with his demand.</p>
+
+<p>“Was that the end of it?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, of course. Neither of them meant it,
+and the easiest way was to let it pass. Theodore
+understood that and didn’t refer to it again. It’s
+sometimes the best way to get along with hasty
+folks.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>143</span>
+“But did Oldbeg forget it?” Cranston asked
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly not. He knew he was wrong and it
+made him uneasy, but of course, it all went when
+the terrible murder was discovered.”</p>
+
+<p>Cranston looked at her with a puzzled expression,
+and then smiled as he realised that she had not
+understood his question. He was glad that it was
+so, and at once passed to other matters.</p>
+
+<p>To Frank Hunter, however, that night he reported
+his conviction that the evidence pointed more
+strongly to Oldbeg as the murderer than he had
+supposed.</p>
+
+<p>“In fact,” he said, “there’s enough to justify his
+arrest, and with that I feel pretty certain he’ll break
+down and we’ll get the truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the papers,” said Hunter, impatiently.
+“Oldbeg could have had no knowledge of them,
+but they’re what we’re first of all interested in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, as for them, Trafford’s got them beyond
+doubt. They were last seen on the writing-pad,
+and he made quite a show of taking that. It was
+nothing but a cover for the papers, of course.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>144</span>
+You’ve got to open negotiations with him for their
+purchase, but you can’t do that so long as he thinks
+they may have something to do with the murder.
+When the question of the murder’s out of the way,
+then the papers ’ll simply be papers and you can
+make quick work of ’em: another reason why you
+ought to arrest Oldbeg and get that settled.”</p>
+
+<p>“But my brother’s positive Oldbeg had nothing
+to do with the murder, and whatever his interest
+may be, he’s not going to let an innocent man suffer
+an unjust arrest. I’m confident, unless you can
+give him positive proofs in the matter, he’ll not allow
+it to be done.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said the man sulkily, “I’m in your employ
+and shall obey orders, but if I was working on
+the case as a public matter, I’d have the arrest made
+and made quick.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Charles Hunter was obdurate. He declared
+that enough injustice had already been done in
+turning public suspicion against the man without
+a shred to hang it on, and he was not going to be
+a party to keeping it up.</p>
+
+<p>“It’ll take the man years to recover from it now,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>145</span>
+he affirmed; “and an arrest would down him forever.
+Oh, yes, I know you bring in a motive in a
+petty fuss that occurred on Sunday&mdash;a thing that
+might happen anywhere and to any one. A man
+going to see his girl gets miffed because he has to
+harness a horse and is impertinent, and you conclude
+that that’s reason for his shooting his employer.
+It’s against all reason and common sense,
+and I won’t insult my intelligence by considering
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Most murders are against reason and common
+sense,” said the detective; “at least, that’s my experience,
+and more than that, nine murders out of
+ten are for absolutely trivial causes. Before you
+get through with this case, you’ll see Oldbeg arrested,
+or I’ll miss my guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I shan’t be responsible for it,” the other
+retorted.</p>
+
+<p>Thwarted in this part of his search, Cranston
+turned his attention to tracing Wing’s mother, to
+which both Hunter and the Matthewsons appeared
+to attach considerable importance&mdash;more, in fact,
+than he could find in it. Confessedly, it was a cover<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>146</span>
+or subterfuge and meant the unearthing of a secret
+that might ruin a woman’s good name for a mistake
+made forty years before. It seemed to him a
+strange twist of conscience, which revolted at the
+arrest of a man for a crime of which circumstances
+tended to show him guilty, while it gave willing
+assent to bringing to light that which might have
+been lived down years before and redeemed by a
+clean life during more years than any of these men
+had lived.</p>
+
+<p>As soon, however, as he took up the matter, the
+spirit of the quest possessed him, and this grew
+strong as the facts unearthed began to point in a
+certain direction, while wonder and a low greed
+found seeds in the case as it unfolded. At last,
+with the truth before him, he was at the point where
+paths separated, with insistent necessity for him to
+take one or the other. Should he go to the woman
+and demand his price for silence; or should he give
+the sons the facts and make them the purchasers?
+Whichever he decided on, he would deal honestly
+as a man should, and he would not pit one against
+the other. Hence, the importance of the decision,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>147</span>
+for once made it barred him from negotiations with
+any one else. Preferably, he would keep the matter
+a secret from the sons, save that he had a shrewd
+suspicion that they were in a better position to pay
+the price than was the mother. On the other hand,
+the mother might prove the more defiant, especially
+if she credited his unwillingness to go to others. It
+was at best a delicate question, but fortunately it
+would “keep” and be as valuable a month hence as
+now. He could, therefore, wait and let development
+lead him in his decision.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the thought of Trafford. Trafford
+had, of course, followed up this clue and, equally
+of course, had unearthed the facts. He, therefore,
+was in the market, with the danger that he might
+not prove as “honourable” as Cranston purposed
+being, and, therefore, might damage the price that
+the latter had expected to obtain. Indeed, it was
+an awkward predicament for a man who had a valuable
+secret to sell and natural purchasers at hand,
+yet wished at the same time to shape his course to
+the demands of fair dealing and honour. Still, before
+he moved, it was necessary that he should ascertain,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>148</span>
+if possible, whether Trafford had approached
+either of the persons interested and if so,
+what he had done.</p>
+
+<p>It was the day on which Trafford returned from
+his fruitless visit to the logging drives. Charles
+Matthewson, uneasy and anxious, found his office
+more conducive to nervousness than work, and
+finally, throwing down his pen, had reached for his
+hat for a turn out of doors, when the door opened
+and his mother entered.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, mother,” he said, rising to meet her, and
+striving to stifle the apprehension her presence
+brought, “this is an unusual honour. It’s a pleasure
+I would not deny myself, yet I would have
+spared you the trouble if you had sent for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I came to talk with you, Charles,” she said, as
+she took the proffered chair by the window; “and
+it was better and easier to talk here than at home.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is a matter of moment, mother?” he asked
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>Endowed though Charles Matthewson was with
+that relentless persistence, that knows no conscience
+save success in the pursuit of a purpose, which had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>149</span>
+carried the family so far, there was a gentler side
+to his nature that was wanting in his younger
+brother. The development of this was peculiarly
+in his relationship with his mother, who in turn
+gave him a tenderness of affection of which few
+dreamed her capable. A desire, born of all that
+was womanly in her masculine nature, had been
+fed by this son’s love, which was in strong contrast
+to the awe and deference accorded her by most
+of her relatives. It was no easy task for her to
+turn for aid to any one, but if she was forced to do
+so, it was naturally to Charles she would go. On
+the other hand, he knew her well enough to know
+that an appeal struck its roots deep before it could
+bring her to such a course.</p>
+
+<p>“Is it you, Charles, who are having this woman
+hunted down?”</p>
+
+<p>“What woman, mother?” he asked in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>She seemed to find difficulty in answering; but
+after a struggle, raised her head almost defiantly,
+and said in a hard, cold voice:</p>
+
+<p>“The mother of Theodore Wing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>150</span>
+His face hardened in turn to a strange resemblance
+to her own.</p>
+
+<p>“You have nothing to do with such a woman as
+that, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Every woman has to do with another who is
+being oppressed and wronged. Why is the dead past
+of that woman to be laid bare to the world? Are
+the years since her wrongdoing to count for nothing?
+Is this generation, that has grown up since
+all this happened, to be the judge of what she did
+before it was born? Is my son to be the one to
+allow the wrong?”</p>
+
+<p>This new phase of his mother’s character struck
+him strangely and not pleasantly. She was not
+wont to show large sympathy with her sex, though
+he would be far from accusing her of hardness or
+cruelty. Still she had left with him the impression
+of sympathies and feelings that were rather masculine
+than feminine; the impressions of one who, accepting
+the task of fighting her own way in the
+world, felt it no injustice or wrong to impose the
+same on others.</p>
+
+<p>“I have no wish, mother, to hunt down this or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>151</span>
+any other woman; but a terrible murder has been
+committed, a murder the more terrible because of its
+motiveless and mysterious character. I have been
+called in as counsel to those who are seeking to unravel
+this mystery and punish the murderer, and
+it’s my duty to use every means to accomplish this
+end.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you are hunting this woman out and will
+expose her nakedness to the world!” The words
+were a cry, that had its force even more in the tone
+than in the words themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“I am certainly endeavouring to discover the
+woman. I could do no less under the circumstances.
+I think I have a fair prospect of success.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose from her chair and looked at him
+strangely and despairingly. Then she turned towards
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>“I will go,” she said. “This is no place for me.
+I will go.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her coldly, almost repellantly, as he
+said, checking her:</p>
+
+<p>“Mother, what does this mean?”</p>
+
+<p>No man who had once seen it, could forget the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>152</span>
+look she gave him. There was heartbreak in it;
+there was more than that, there was the crushing
+back of a life-long pride.</p>
+
+<p>“What can it mean?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>His head fell on his breast. He had never
+guessed before the bitterness that life can have, that
+a moment of time can bring. She never took her
+eyes from his. Whatever the sentence, she would
+meet it as became her past. Slowly his head came
+up; slowly the misery in his eyes rose to hers. Then
+he came and laid his lips on her forehead and said:</p>
+
+<p>“You are my mother: I shall obey your wish.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>153</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="x">CHAPTER X<br />
+<span>A Second Murder?</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>M</span>R. McMANUS,” said Trafford, after they
+had completed the re-examination of
+Wing’s private papers at the office and in his safe
+at home, “was Mr. Wing of a peculiarly secretive
+disposition?”</p>
+
+<p>“If he had a fault,” McManus answered, “and
+since he was human, he must have had, it was his
+excessive frankness and openness.”</p>
+
+<p>“And yet we find him lugging papers on some
+affair, which he shared with no one, back and forth
+from office to house, and when not so doing, keeping
+them locked in a safe in his library to which only
+he had access. How do you account for this?”</p>
+
+<p>McManus glanced over his shoulder before answering
+and then dropped his voice almost to a
+whisper, although they were sitting in the very
+centre of the great library at the Parlin house, with
+the door closed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>154</span>
+“I think he was afraid.”</p>
+
+<p>“Afraid!” repeated Trafford, almost thrown
+off his guard, but instinctively lowering his tone
+in sympathy with his companion. “Afraid of
+what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just about two years ago, he found one morning
+that his desk at the office had been ransacked.
+Papers were turned topsy-turvy and packages of
+papers had been opened and tied up again hastily.
+The thoroughness with which the search was made
+showed that the person had a well-shaped purpose,
+while the fact that a considerable amount of money,
+which was loose in a drawer, was not touched,
+proved that it was not robbery. We made every
+effort to find out the culprit, but without success.
+We had at one time suspicion of an office-boy, but
+nothing positive, and Mr. Wing wouldn’t let him be
+discharged under circumstances that would do him a
+grave injustice if he were innocent. So we retained
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he repeated the performance,” Trafford
+said in a tone of conviction.</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked at him, questioning whether this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>155</span>
+assertion came from knowledge of the affair or was
+merely a shrewd guess. Failing to satisfy himself,
+he went on:</p>
+
+<p>“The performance was repeated, but under conditions
+that made it impossible for the boy to be
+guilty. He was away on his vacation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not shrewd of the culprit. You are certain it
+was some one in the office?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but we never discovered his identity.”</p>
+
+<p>“And from that time Mr. Wing began carrying
+these papers back and forth and keeping them in
+this safe.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“And the desk was never troubled again.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded his satisfaction and proceeded
+to elucidate:</p>
+
+<p>“When the object was removed and the watcher
+knew it, he would repeat the search only to cover his
+identity. Shrewd as he was, he either wasn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>156</span>
+shrewd enough for that or was indifferent. He
+gave away the fact that he was some one who knew
+of the removal of the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think these papers were what he was
+after?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most assuredly.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that the removal of them&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Became Wing’s death warrant,” Trafford completed
+the sentence. McManus hesitated and grew
+pale.</p>
+
+<p>“My God, Trafford; do you see what that leads
+to?”</p>
+
+<p>“I see what you think it leads to. You think it
+leads to the conclusion that Wing was murdered
+by somebody in your office, somebody who has been
+there at least two years. I think that’s what you
+lawyers call a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">non sequitur</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“At the office, the papers might be stolen; here
+they could be stolen only after the murder of Wing.
+Why shouldn’t the thief be one and the same in
+both cases?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because many a man will steal where only one
+will commit murder. It is possible, of course, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>157</span>
+the two may be the same. The probabilities, however,
+are against it.”</p>
+
+<p>“What follows then?” demanded McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“That the actor in at least one case, and possibly
+in both, was not the principal; and that the more
+there are engaged in the affair, the better chance
+we have of discovery. It is the one-man affair that
+baffles.”</p>
+
+<p>None the less, when McManus was gone, Trafford
+summed up the successes of three weeks and
+found them mortifyingly few. A package of papers
+missed and not found; an innocent man under suspicion;
+a woman of prominence proved the mother
+of an illegitimate child; a thwarted attempt upon his
+own life; a wounded Canadian apparently wiped
+off the earth; and a respectable citizen traced on a
+midnight visit to another respectable citizen at
+Waterville. It was not on such achievements as
+these that he had built his reputation.</p>
+
+<p>With the thought of the missing Canadian, his
+anxiety returned. It was impossible that he had
+been spirited away to Canada, yet it was undeniable
+that he was gone. He went out and looked at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>158</span>
+river. After two weeks of dry weather the water
+was falling. On the edge of the falls, rocks showed
+that a week before were under water. In eddies and
+shallow places he could see, as with his physical eye,
+drift and débris collecting, and sometimes in this
+drift and débris strange matter was thrown up.
+He had hesitated to do it, but he felt that he had
+no right to hesitate longer, and so he gave directions
+for a careful search of the river banks and
+shallow places from Millbank to Pishon’s Ferry.
+It was the last chance, and he had refused to consider
+it until it would be criminal to refuse
+longer.</p>
+
+<p>That was the physical part of the task, which he
+could set others to do; but there was another part,
+and that he took with him to his room in the hotel
+and spent much of the night with it. All the evening
+he turned and re-turned it, looking at every side
+and phase, and then went to bed and to sleep, with
+the knowledge that more than once that which the
+most earnest thought fails to unravel becomes by
+some strange alchemy clear under the magic of
+sleep. Would it be so with this?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>159</span>
+To that query, which came involuntarily, he answered
+with a doubt.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m fighting my conviction,” he said, almost
+plaintively, “instead of giving myself up to its free
+course. I can’t expect to be helped as long as I do
+that; but I can’t, I won’t believe. A man in my
+mood can’t solve anything!”</p>
+
+<p>So it came to pass that the night brought him no
+help, and he rose in the morning without that sense
+of rest which a single hour’s sleep brings under the
+stimulus of success.</p>
+
+<p>About noon, a country lad on horseback brought
+a message from a point some six miles below the
+village. Obeying the message, he started at once
+with the coroner and physician.</p>
+
+<p>On a tiny meadow that lay as a crescent of green
+along the border of cove where the current of the
+river sweeps in as an eddy, something was drawn up
+from the water and lay covered in an unrecognizable
+mass, which none the less had a strange repulsiveness
+about it. Back of the meadow great
+trees rose toward the early June sky; before it the
+river flashed in the June sunshine, and across its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>160</span>
+waters, the brown earth, dotted with the young
+corn, stretched away in the beauty of early summer.
+A few men and boys stood about the covered thing
+in strange silence, that seemed almost of fear; yet
+all pressed nearer when, by order of the coroner,
+the covering cloth was removed.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford and the doctor stooped and made a close
+examination of the hideous thing. No one spoke
+above his breath as they waited the report, yet by
+some strange magic the story of the finding went
+from man to man. At last the two men rose and
+went down to the river to wash their soiled hands.
+The coroner followed them:</p>
+
+<p>“What do you make of it?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford waited until the doctor was forced to
+speak:</p>
+
+<p>“Plainly a Canuck, and I should say a log-driver.
+Certainly a working man. Been drowned a week
+and has come from above the Falls. You can see
+that by the way he’s battered up. That’s when he
+was whirled round under the Falls. Several bones
+broken, probably by the rocks, but that smashing of
+the collar bone came from a blow from above and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>161</span>
+before he was dead. It may have been that that
+knocked him into the water. Unless you find some
+particular mark on him, you won’t be able to identify
+him, he’s so smashed up. Better send up the river
+and see if any driver has been missing about a week.
+Beg pardon, Mr. Trafford, I fear I’m taking the
+words out of your mouth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not at all,” the other answered. “I couldn’t
+have covered my findings better myself, excepting
+I was less certain about the breaking of the collar
+bone, whether it was before or after death. If he
+had gone over the Falls, for instance, head first,
+might he not have struck a rock and broken his collar
+bone, so as to give the appearance of its being
+shattered by a blow dealt from above?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s not simply that,” said the doctor. “There’s
+the swelling of the living flesh that could not take
+place if the blow occurred after death. The injury
+must have occurred long enough before death to
+produce this effect.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it could hardly have been the blow that
+knocked him into the water?”</p>
+
+<p>The doctor started at the question and, without<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>162</span>
+answering, walked back to the body and re-examined
+the broken bone and some of the other bruises.
+Then he came back to where Trafford and the coroner
+waited him.</p>
+
+<p>“There can’t be any question that the broken
+clavicle antedates death, and antedates it some few
+hours. The man may have been injured at some
+distance from any one and have taken a boat to go
+for assistance and not been able to control it.”</p>
+
+<p>“He might have done any one of a dozen things,”
+Trafford interposed impatiently; “but the thing is
+to find out which one he did do. How did he get
+this injury, and how did he come to his drowning
+after the injury; for I take it you’ll admit when
+death came, it did come through drowning.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think we’ll have to admit that,” the doctor returned.</p>
+
+<p>“Then we have an injury, one, two, perhaps
+three hours before death; and then death by drowning.
+If all this was the result of accident, don’t you
+think he was having more than his fair share,
+crowded into a pretty small space of time?” It was
+Trafford’s question.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>163</span>
+“You mean,” demanded the coroner, a trifle uneasily,
+“that we’ve got another murder on our
+hands before the first one is cleared up?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean,” said Trafford; “that if we have, it
+may prove easier to unravel two murders than one.”</p>
+
+<p>They walked slowly back and looked at the face
+that was gashed beyond human recognition. Was
+this he who had cried so piteously on Millbank
+Bridge, “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré; c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”? If so, what
+had been the history of the few hours that elapsed
+before he plunged into the river to the death meant
+for Trafford? How was that plunge made? Where
+was the Pierre who had struck the blow on the
+bridge, and who must be able to tell the story of the
+man’s drowning? These were the questions which
+were dinning themselves in Trafford’s brain and
+imperiously demanding an answer.</p>
+
+<p>The news of the finding of the body spread rapidly
+through Millbank, but with comparatively trifling
+sensation. Men were drowned each year in the
+river. The driving business was full of risks and
+men fell victims to it each spring. It was not like
+a murder&mdash;a blow from no one knew where, falling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>164</span>
+no one knew why. This drowning was a thing
+people were accustomed to expect. They shrugged,
+wondered if he had a family, and thought little more
+of an accident that left them “one less Canuck.” A
+solitary priest, poor and hard-worked, spent the
+night in prayers for the dead; for these men who
+come from the North to drive the river are almost
+without exception faithful children of the Church,
+which, through her ministry, mourns her bereavement
+and assails the gates of heaven for admission
+of the departed soul.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford sat alone in his room at the hotel. He
+had no doubt that this was the man on whom had
+fallen the blow which was intended for him. Disabled,
+so that he could not be concealed or taken
+away without discovery and recognition, it had been
+worth the while of those who had failed in their
+attempt on his own life, to murder the poor wretch,
+rather than take the chances of his being seen and
+questioned. Disabled as he was, his condition should
+have appealed to the hardest heart. He had tried to
+do faithfully the work given him and, failing, had
+been done to death for his fidelity. What was this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>165</span>
+hideous thing that played with murder, rather than
+let itself be discovered?</p>
+
+<p>As Trafford asked himself the question, he
+glanced uneasily at his windows. It was here, in
+this very town, within a stone’s throw of the very
+place where he sat, that murder stalked&mdash;murder
+that had once sought him as a victim and then had
+destroyed its own instrument, not trusting the man
+it had employed. It seemed like a lowering menace,
+ready to fall without warning, and almost for the
+first time since he had taken up this profession, he
+was conscious of the sense of personal fear. This
+merciless, unseen something, impressed him as
+standing just beyond the line of sight, watching with
+unseen eyes, to strike at him again. If it could be
+uncovered, what would it prove itself, to justify so
+desperate a chance? If it could not be uncovered,
+where was safety for himself or for any one who
+stood as a menace to its purposes?</p>
+
+<p>That the men who had committed these two murders
+and had tried a third&mdash;for he did not for one
+instant separate them&mdash;would stop at no chance, was
+beyond dispute or question. They had watched and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>166</span>
+waited on Wing for two years and, apparently, had
+not struck until every other means of securing what
+they wanted had failed. When they did strike,
+they had struck pitilessly and effectively. But they
+were still on their guard, as the assault on the Bridge
+and this wanton murder of a wounded man proved.
+They had gone so far; certainly they would not now
+retire from the game, nor would they show a scrupulousness
+they had failed to feel before they had so
+far committed themselves that retreat was impossible.
+It was a struggle to the death, with an unseen
+foe, by a man who at all times stood out as a
+plain mark. He had the sensation of one who stands
+with a lamp in his hands and peers into the deeper
+dark, to catch a glimpse of a foe that he simply
+knows lies in wait for him unseen.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>167</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xi">CHAPTER XI<br />
+<span>Already One Attempt</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>I</span> WON’T consent to any further chasing of this
+woman.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Charles Matthewson who spoke, standing
+in front of his brother in the library at Waterville,
+where the original interview regarding Cranston
+had taken place. It was a long time since Charles
+had spoken so positively to Henry, and the latter
+looked up half amused and half irritated, yet with
+an ugly expression on his face.</p>
+
+<p>“You have suddenly become very much concerned
+for this&mdash;woman. I’ll use your polite term,”
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve suddenly become concerned for myself,” the
+other replied hotly. “I know, as you do, that she
+and her&mdash;misfortune have nothing to do with this
+murder; and I know, as you do, if you’ll stop to
+think a moment, that it’s a cowardly piece of business
+for men to engage in to hunt down a woman,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>168</span>
+simply because they may do so with the approval of
+the hunters.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry gave a low whistle.</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s been talking to you? You’ve got a sudden
+conversion as to this woman’s&mdash;misfortune.”
+He gave an ugly slur to that last word. “Time was
+when you’d call it by another name.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, whether I would or not, Cranston’s got to
+be called off from that line: and he’s got to be called
+off quick!”</p>
+
+<p>“But Frank Hunter has been very insistent on
+this point. He seems to have some reason for thinking
+it important,” Henry answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Because he thinks that a sensation there will
+stop folks asking questions nearer home. If he can
+raise a dust behind which he can negotiate for those
+papers, he’s got all he’s looking for just now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps you don’t feel any interest in those
+papers,” Henry answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Interest or no interest, I’m not going to skulk
+any longer behind a petticoat. I’m ashamed to have
+done it so long.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good boy,” Henry said, making a motion as if<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>169</span>
+to pat him on the shoulder. “I ask again, who’s
+been stirring up your conscience?”</p>
+
+<p>“Our mother,” said Charles simply.</p>
+
+<p>Henry stopped in his act, and a new look came
+over his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Does she think it unmanly?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“She thinks it cowardly and mean,” Charles said
+strongly.</p>
+
+<p>Not a sign of anger at these stinging words came
+into Henry’s face, but instead the look of a child
+justly reproved.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess she’s right, Charles,” he said. “I guess
+she’s right. I hadn’t thought of it before, but it
+is mean and cowardly. I’ll call Cranston off at
+once.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Hunter?” Charles asked in his turn.</p>
+
+<p>“He can find something else to raise a dust, or he
+can come out into the open and fight; but he shan’t
+fight longer behind this woman’s petticoat. I wish
+we hadn’t done it at all!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d give more than I can tell,” Charles answered,
+giving cry to that bitterness of shame which,
+hidden in his heart, he dared not uncover.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>170</span>
+“Yes,” said Henry; “to think that mother
+should call our act mean and cowardly! I’d rather
+the old papers&mdash;&mdash;” Then he stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>“Has it ever occurred to you that the papers may
+have had something to do with Wing’s death?”
+Charles asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Hush up!” exclaimed Henry roughly. “There
+are some things a man shouldn’t even dare think,
+much less say.”</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;by God,” Charles answered, “there are
+some things a man can’t help thinking and perhaps
+saying. I tell you, I’m not so certain I wouldn’t
+have shot Wing myself for the sake of getting hold
+of those papers!”</p>
+
+<p>“And if you’re going to keep on talking this way,
+you might as well have done it,” Henry answered
+bitterly. “I wouldn’t trust myself to think such
+things as you’re saying.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Henry, think, just think&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t,” the other shouted in a wild passion.
+“I won’t think, and I forbid you to ask me to!
+The man is dead and the Lord only knows into
+whose hands those papers have fallen. There’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>171</span>
+only one thing I keep thinking&mdash;thinking all the
+time,” and his voice dropped, while he looked anxiously
+over his shoulder, as if he feared the very
+walls of his library: “and that is that it was safer to
+have those papers in his hands, so long as we knew
+that they were there, than it is to have them in the
+hands of somebody&mdash;we don’t know who, for a purpose,
+we don’t know what.”</p>
+
+<p>Charles grew paler than Henry had ever seen
+him. There was a gasp in his voice, as if he found
+breathing difficult, and he almost clutched at his
+brother as he said:</p>
+
+<p>“That means that you are afraid, as I am, that the
+papers had some connection with his death, and
+you are trying to persuade yourself to the contrary.
+A month ago, you’d have jumped at the chance of
+somebody else having them, no matter who that
+somebody else might be: yet to-day you try to make
+me think that you believe it has increased the danger.
+<em>You know better.</em> I don’t care whose hands they’re
+in, we’re safer than we were when Wing had them.
+Now it’s only a question of money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why don’t we hear from them?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>172</span>
+“It would be so safe, with matters as they are,
+for any one to offer to sell Wing’s papers,” sneered
+Charles.</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose whoever’s got them makes copies of
+them?” Henry suggested.</p>
+
+<p>“And you tell me not to think of these things!”
+Charles cried.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Matthewson at once called Cranston off
+from the Bangor matter and then sent for Frank
+Hunter. The latter came in the early evening,
+uneasy, restless, and irritable. The mood was confirmed
+when he discovered what had been done.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s that, or let him go to Millbank and keep
+excitement alive there,” he said. “Trafford strikes
+me as entirely capable of doing enough of that.”</p>
+
+<p>“As matters stand,” demanded Henry, regardless
+of the caution he had given his brother, “do
+you know who were most likely to profit by Wing’s
+death?”</p>
+
+<p>“We were,” answered Frank coldly. “Do you
+think I’ve ever failed to recognise that fact? I don’t
+do business that way.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you mean to say that you have seen from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>173</span>
+the first that if men looked for motives, they’d fasten
+on us?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean to say exactly that,” Frank Hunter answered;
+“and unless we can dig up something that
+shows that somebody else was in as bad a position
+as we, it will go hard with us, unless we can tire the
+detectives out and make them give it up as a bad
+job.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Henry Matthewson’s turn to look and feel
+uneasy. Born to affluence, raised in wealth, and encouraged
+to high ambition, he had already gone far
+for a young man, and it seemed a piteous thing that
+in his own house, with his wife and children almost
+within call of his voice, he should be told that unless
+men could be made to forget and so abandon their
+interest in the Wing murder, it might go hard with
+him&mdash;that he might become an object of suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t mean,” Hunter said, “that we are in any
+danger of being convicted of Wing’s murder, or
+even of being arrested for it. That’s way beyond
+reason. But how much better off would we be, if
+the community should take up the suspicion that we
+were interested in Wing’s death; that we procured<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>174</span>
+it? The public is an unreasoning brute. Look at
+poor Oldbeg!”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Oldbeg!” repeated Matthewson. “What
+in the name of thunder makes you so tender of Oldbeg?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is Charles more than I,” Hunter said, referring
+to his brother. “He insists that the man is
+innocent; that there’s not a scintilla of proof
+against him, and he won’t consent that the unreasoning
+whim of the people shall do such injustice;
+and in fact, when I think that our time may come
+at any moment, I can’t help feeling a good deal that
+way myself.”</p>
+
+<p>In the shrubbery outside the window a man, who
+had followed Hunter from Millbank, listened and
+watched. He could hear nothing and see as little,
+but hour after hour he kept his post, with dogged
+patience, using a night to catch a single hint. Had
+Hunter known how closely he was followed and
+watched, he would have been still more uneasy and
+disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it about this new corpse that’s been
+found at Millbank?” Matthewson asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>175</span>
+“Oh, merely a drowned logger. Nobody knows
+him and he’s been unceremoniously put under
+ground. Nobody’d have thought anything of it at
+any other time, for there’s never a spring that one
+or more of them don’t turn up; but just now we are
+living on sensations, and it added to the interest
+that Trafford was on hand and almost the first on
+the spot.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wasn’t it one of Trafford’s men who found it?”
+the other asked.</p>
+
+<p>“So it’s said.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was he looking for it, or for something else?”
+Matthewson persisted.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should Trafford have sent men to search
+the lower river, if he didn’t expect to find something?
+Had some one disappeared? You say a
+mere logger. What might Trafford say?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe you see a bogy every time you turn
+round,” Hunter said impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“‘’Tis conscience doth make cowards of us all,’”
+Matthewson answered. “I don’t like to be in this
+position. I don’t dare move to find the papers, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>176</span>
+fear in doing so I stir suspicions concerning Wing’s
+death. I don’t dare leave the papers in the uncertain
+hands where they are, lest they arouse the very
+same suspicions. It’s a nice position for an innocent
+man to be in.”</p>
+
+<p>The curiosity of the public, no longer fed on
+rumours and inquests, had begun to flag, giving place
+to the inevitable sneers at the police and detective
+force, with renewed predictions daily made that the
+murder would remain an unsolved mystery. But
+for the occasional sight of Trafford, and the expectation
+that the inquest might be reconvened at almost
+any time, the village would already have begun to
+forget the murdered man, so easily does a sensation
+fade into the commonplace.</p>
+
+<p>But Trafford remained, or at least reappeared at
+unexpected moments, like an uneasy spirit that found
+no rest. He was working now on two murders, confident
+that if he found the perpetrator of the one, he
+would solve both. It was an aid to him that the
+public accepted the second as an accident, he alone
+having knowledge of the attempted murder of himself
+which, unaccomplished, had brought this fate on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>177</span>
+the unhappy wretch who was to be himself a murderer.</p>
+
+<p>About this time, however, he had proof that he
+had not ceased to interest some one. On returning
+to his room at the hotel one evening, he found that
+it had been entered during his absence and a
+thorough search of all his papers and luggage made.
+At first, he was inclined to complain to the landlord,
+but this purpose passed as quickly as it came,
+resulting in his taking apparently no notice of the
+affair.</p>
+
+<p>It called to mind very forcibly, however, the tale
+that McManus had told him of the rifling of Wing’s
+desk, and caused him to take a professional view
+of the incident. He had said at the time that a pair
+of trained eyes would have seen something of importance.
+He was thus placed on his mettle to prove
+his boast. In fact, there was little to see. It was
+evident that the intruder had come by a window
+opening on to the roof of a long porch. A dusty
+footprint on the carpet under the window, pointing
+inward, proved this, and Trafford was able to find
+traces along the roof to a hall window, but the returning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>178</span>
+tracks were not traceable. He was not so
+much offended at the liberty taken with his property
+as by the implication on his sagacity, in the expectation
+of finding anything he preferred should
+remain unfound.</p>
+
+<p>He had his suspicions as to the person who had
+ransacked Wing’s desk, and it was a satisfaction to
+be given an opportunity to test that suspicion by
+this later act. If he could bring it home to the possible
+culprit in the former case, he felt that a very
+considerable advance would be made. It was true
+that the method smacked a trifle of seeking facts
+with which to sustain a preconceived opinion, rather
+than permitting facts to lead up to judgment; but
+strict adherence to rule was not always possible, and
+this appeared a case in which exception was to be
+made.</p>
+
+<p>Because, however, of this yielding to temptation,
+possibly, it troubled him more to discover that the
+assumed trespasser on Wing’s desk could by no
+means be the culprit in the present case, for it was
+beyond controversy that the suspected individual had
+not been within many miles of the Millbank hostelry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>179</span>
+at the hour of the intrusion. It might be a touch of
+cunning, but the alibi was not to be questioned.
+None the less, here was the fact that Wing’s desk
+was broken open because he was believed to be in
+possession of certain papers of a compromising
+character, and that when it was believed that these
+papers had come into the possession of the detective,
+his room and papers were in turn ransacked. That
+there was connection of cause and effect between
+the facts was scarcely to be doubted, even though it
+was not as simple as he had at first supposed to establish
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Uncertainty as to the nature of the missing papers,
+and his inability to secure any definite information,
+were the tantalising features of the case. He questioned
+McManus only to find that his knowledge
+of the matter was no less hazy. These papers had
+been seen by no one in the office excepting in package.
+Whether they had been received by Wing from
+Judge Parlin or not was unknown. There was a
+general understanding that they had come from the
+judge, and that Wing had given a great deal of attention
+to them, so that they had grown materially<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>180</span>
+in his hands. The scandal of the ransacking of the
+desk had caused a great deal of excitement in the
+office and no little discussion, but this had brought
+out no facts bearing on the subject-matter. That
+it involved some one was guessed, but even this
+guess was wild and general, rather than specific.</p>
+
+<p>“Unless something of certainty is arrived at,”
+Trafford said, “it will be impossible to delay the
+re-opening of the inquest more than a week longer,
+and in the present temper of the public mind a verdict
+implicating Oldbeg would not be impossible.”</p>
+
+<p>He said it half musingly, as if rather talking to
+himself than otherwise, and yet there was a look
+under the eyelids that would not have been quite reassuring
+to a close observer. McManus did not
+seem to note it, but took up the matter rather with
+Trafford’s own manner.</p>
+
+<p>“But there the papers stand as the insurmountable
+difficulty. Oldbeg could have no object in
+stealing them. He could scarcely have known of
+their existence&mdash;that is, as papers of value. If the
+connection could be made, it would be serious for
+him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>181</span>
+“But it can’t be made,” Trafford said, as if he
+were waking from his lethargic condition. “I’ve
+told you what kind of a man it was that did this
+murder, and when the murderer is discovered, as
+discovered he will be, you’ll find I’ve described him
+correctly. Those papers caused this murder and
+caused it because they were a menace to some one.
+That some one couldn’t have been Oldbeg&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet the public mind is impressed with Oldbeg’s
+guilt and, if I mistake not, the jury is as well.”</p>
+
+<p>“You overlook the fact that nothing regarding
+these papers has appeared in the testimony.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus looked up suddenly as the fact was
+recalled to him.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so,” he said. “We’ve discussed them so
+much that I had entirely lost sight of the fact. Of
+course, that’ll free Oldbeg when it is brought out in
+testimony.”</p>
+
+<p>“If it is brought out,” Trafford said.</p>
+
+<p>“But surely,” McManus urged; “you will not
+let so important a matter pass&mdash;let alone the fact
+that it is the cause of injustice to Oldbeg, who surely
+has suffered enough already.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>182</span>
+“Mr. McManus,” said Trafford solemnly; “I’m
+at work to find the murderer of Mr. Wing. That’s
+the one purpose I have before me, and it is what the
+best interests of the public demand. If Oldbeg or
+another suffers unjustly for the moment, it is that
+the guilty man may suffer in the end. I’m sorry for
+Oldbeg, but I’m not responsible for the turn matters
+have taken. At present, the parties who are interested
+in these papers believe I have them, and the
+work I’m doing requires them to continue so to
+believe. I don’t conceive it to be my duty to produce
+at the inquest testimony that will undeceive them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t you taking a tremendous responsibility?”
+McManus asked.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s my business to take responsibility. I’ve
+taken it often to the extent of risking my life&mdash;I
+may do so again; but when there’s a murderer at
+large and I’m set to find him, I don’t stop because
+my life is endangered or because another is put to
+inconvenience. If Oldbeg’s held for the murder,
+it’ll be inconvenient for him, but not so inconvenient
+as it would be for me to be murdered because
+I’m on the track of the right man.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>183</span>
+“And you are on the track of the right man?”
+McManus demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been on his track from the moment I entered
+that library and knew that it had been searched
+by the man who fired the fatal bullet. I’ve been on
+his track from that day to this, and I shall keep on
+it until I catch up with him or he kills me; but as
+surely as that last happens, he’ll swing. It isn’t given
+to any man to commit murder twice and cover his
+tracks. If I go down, it’ll end in his going up.”</p>
+
+<p>“But really, Mr. Trafford, you take this thing
+more seriously than I imagined. You’re not in
+earnest in this talk of an attempt to murder you!”</p>
+
+<p>“So much in earnest that I never go out without
+thinking I may not come back.”</p>
+
+<p>“But why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because already one attempt has been made.”</p>
+
+<p>“You astound me!” McManus exclaimed. “I
+agreed at the start to co-operate with you so long
+as you had the case in hand, but, certainly, I’m entitled
+to know something! Why do you say it’s because
+you are supposed to have the papers? Might
+it not be simply to shield the murderer? You leave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>184</span>
+the thing in a cloud that is”&mdash;he seemed searching
+for a word&mdash;“disturbing.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford, however, refused to say more; but after
+McManus left, he sat for a few moments as if asking
+himself if he had done wisely, and then rousing
+up muttered:</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll see how far that’ll carry!”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>185</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xii">CHAPTER XII<br />
+<span>At the Drivers’ Camp</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>WO days later a message came which necessitated
+a trip up the Dead River branch, traversing
+the ground over which Trafford had gone ten
+days before. Already, however, the camps he had
+visited were deserted, the drivers having followed
+the body of logs moving towards the river itself.
+At the Forks, Trafford was joined by the assistant
+who had warned him that morning in Millbank.
+They had a long conference, in which there appeared
+no small amount of differing opinion. The assistant
+had tracked from a camp on Moosehead, to a
+cabin beyond the Madison Beeches above Millbank,
+two Canadians, who had left the lake suddenly on
+May 12. He was certain he had located one of the
+men, a great powerful fellow, in one of the Dead
+River driving gangs.</p>
+
+<p>“And the other?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can get no trace of him. They separated at
+Millbank&mdash;perhaps forever.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span>
+“And this fellow’s name&mdash;here on Dead River?”</p>
+
+<p>“Pierre Duchesney.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the other?”</p>
+
+<p>“Victor Vignon.”</p>
+
+<p>“It can scarcely have any bearing,” Trafford
+asserted after some thought. “Nothing definite in
+the way of plans could have been formed so
+promptly. The murder was only twenty-four hours
+old then.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they went to Millbank; spent four days in
+the old Indian hut back of Madison Beeches, and
+were not seen in Millbank during the entire time.
+Then, no one knows how, the one appears at Parlin
+Pond, and works from there over to Dead River.
+He’s a big, strapping fellow; the other one was
+medium height and size&mdash;much the slighter made of
+the two.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I tell you,” Trafford affirmed; “if they
+were called to Millbank, the call must have come before
+the murder was known&mdash;they came for something
+else than to assault the man supposed to have
+those papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“And were at hand conveniently to assault the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>187</span>
+man who was supposedly in possession of the papers,
+when it was found that they had involuntarily
+changed hands.”</p>
+
+<p>This view struck Trafford and he gave it some
+little thought, while the other waited as if for his
+final judgment.</p>
+
+<p>“As long as we’re here, we may as well have a
+look at your man,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>The next day found them guests of the drive at
+the camp above the first rapids of Dead River, where
+use was being had of the last of the spring flow to
+get the tail of the winter’s cut into the main channel.
+Already the advance guard of the summer army
+was making its appearance, adventurous souls who
+love to see the year at its birth, and the presence of
+strangers excited no especial comment. They made
+it so apparent that they sought an invitation for the
+night that it became unavoidable, and so with the
+falling of dusk and the leap of the great flames of
+the camp fire among the trees, they came on to the
+time for the experiment agreed upon.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford had watched Pierre Duchesney at his
+work, a great, strong-limbed giant whose blow, intentional<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>188</span>
+or not, could well work the crushing of
+lesser bones, and admitted that their purpose was
+well-nigh foolhardy. To take such a man, surrounded
+as he was by friends, was scarcely to be
+thought of, and in fact would not have been thought
+of, but for a chance remark that he was not going
+below the first rapids. When the jam was started
+here, he was to strike across to the head waters of
+the Androscoggin, which Trafford’s companion, intent
+in his belief that this was the man they wanted,
+interpreted as a purpose to bury himself in the wilds
+of the Canadian wilderness about Megantic.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford, himself, while yet in doubt as to the
+identity of the man, admitted that even if they lost
+him, it would be much gained if they could prove
+him, and so consented to the plan his assistant outlined,
+determined to take his chances in the matter
+of an actual capture.</p>
+
+<p>The men were stretched about the blazing logs,
+smoking, sleeping, chatting. Trafford among them
+watched the leap of the flames and the gradual reddening
+of the great logs into coals. The other
+stranger had left the circle some time before. Involuntarily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>189</span>
+Trafford kept his eye on Pierre’s huge
+form, where it was stretched in the full blaze and
+warmth of the logs, his eyes closed in a pleasant
+after-feeding doze. Suddenly out of the dark came
+a sharp Canadian voice, calling:</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Sacré, c’est moi, Pierre!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>Every one glanced up enquiringly, but the effect
+on Pierre Duchesney was startling in the extreme.
+His eyes stared wide from a face of ashy grey; he
+leaped to his feet, shaking as one with the ague.
+Trafford had sprung to his side at the instant of
+his leap from his recumbent position, and in time
+to catch from his blanched lips the convicting words:</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon dieu; Victor!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford’s hand was on his pistol, which he drew,
+with the sharp demand:</p>
+
+<p>“Quick, seize the man; he’s wanted for the murder
+of Victor Vignon!”</p>
+
+<p>At the word “murder,” the men drew back from
+the circle of light. They lived free and easy lives in
+the woods, and had little of the fear of the law before
+them in their fastnesses, but with murder and
+the murderer they had no share. All the other laws<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>190</span>
+of God and man, they might violate, but to that one,
+“Thou shalt do no murder,” they bowed, the very
+defencelessness of their lives making murder doubly
+terrible to them. So, strong men as they were, they
+gazed wild-eyed on the scene, and some of the bravest
+trembled.</p>
+
+<p>On Pierre, the word acted like magic. No less
+pale he was than before, but it was a paleness in
+which the sense of self-preservation was awake,
+looking from his eyes, as it looks from those of
+hunted wild creatures brought suddenly to bay. He
+attempted no plea; he made no denial; but his form
+grew compact with the compactness of one about to
+spring. Trafford, wondering what course the others
+would take, brought his pistol to a steady aim, and
+said clearly and sharply:</p>
+
+<p>“Surrender, or I’ll shoot! Throw up your
+arms!”</p>
+
+<p>He felt, rather than saw, that on the edge of the
+light stood his assistant also covering the man with
+his revolver. The man moved as if to obey the order
+to throw up his arms, and then, with a quickness of
+which none guessed him capable, struck Trafford’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>191</span>
+arm a blow that caused it to drop numbly by his side,
+sending the pistol’s discharge into the earth. With
+the same movement the man crouched half to earth,
+and thus escaped the other’s shot. Without rising,
+he darted, crouching, for the shelter of trees beyond
+the fire, but not so quickly as to save his right arm
+from the second shot by the assistant. Trafford,
+meantime, had changed his revolver into his left
+hand and was firing at the fleeing shadow that the
+man became before disappearing. With his second
+shot, he heard his assistant at his side.</p>
+
+<p>“You know now, but we’ve lost him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Into the woods; into the woods,” Trafford cried,
+seizing a blazing pine knot. “Quick, we’ll get him
+yet.”</p>
+
+<p>Not a man stirred save Trafford, and he made
+only a step or two. Glancing back, he saw the
+drivers huddled in an excited and gesticulating
+group that looked startlingly like mischief. Ahead
+was the heavy blackness of dense trees. Then he
+realised that the man had escaped.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime the men were aroused from the stupor
+of their first surprise and were in a dangerous mood,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>192</span>
+the active qualities of which were quieted by the
+gleam of Trafford’s badge, which he felt was the
+best introduction to the explanation to which they
+were clearly entitled. They listened patiently, but
+simply tolerantly, and their coolness was in marked
+contrast to their friendliness of a brief quarter of an
+hour earlier. There was no denial to Trafford and
+his companion of the hospitality of the camp, but
+they were made to feel that they were unwelcome
+guests, and they waited anxiously and impatiently
+for the first touch of morning to be on their way, as
+well from a desire to leave their surly companions,
+as from impatience to be where they could make use
+of their newly acquired information.</p>
+
+<p>They were not more than a mile from camp, after
+a hasty breakfast eaten amid strange silence, when,
+from the woods lying between the track they were
+following and the river, a lad of about sixteen years,
+whom they had seen in camp the night before, overhauled
+them. He had evidently run most of the way,
+and was anxious to get back before his absence attracted
+attention, but he was also intent on information.
+The conversation with him was carried on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>193</span>
+partly in the lad’s imperfect English, and partly in
+the French of Canada with Trafford’s companion,
+and by him translated to Trafford:</p>
+
+<p>“Victor Vignon: my cousin. You say, murdered&mdash;dead?”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Non.</i> He go big lake. Go by Aten’s stage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who told you so?” demanded Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“Pierre&mdash;Pierre Duchesney. When he come, he
+say: Victor, he go big lake: he go by Aten’s stage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, he killed him. Drowned him in the river
+at Millbank, where the big Falls are.”</p>
+
+<p>“What for he kill him?” demanded the boy.</p>
+
+<p>“Who sent for your cousin at the big lake when
+he and Pierre went away?” Trafford demanded,
+and then, it being evident that the lad had not sufficient
+command of English to master this question,
+his companion repeated it in French.</p>
+
+<p>The lad’s face brightened as he heard his native
+tongue, and from that time he carried his part of
+the conversation mostly in that tongue.</p>
+
+<p>“The boss.”</p>
+
+<p>On questioning, it developed that the “boss” had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>194</span>
+said the “big man” had sent for Pierre and Victor;
+had said that they were to go to the Forks of the
+River and meet a gang, but when they got there the
+gang was gone and they had word to go somewhere
+else, and it was when Pierre came back and Victor
+had gone to the big lake, that the lad was told this
+by Pierre. The lad did not know where it was that
+Victor had gone, but he was to see him again when
+the drive was over and they were ready to go back
+to Canada before the feast of St. John.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, yes; the “big man” was somebody who lived
+down where the water went over the big Falls, and
+owned all the trees, and sent the boss money to pay
+them. He didn’t know his name, but he was a great
+big man&mdash;as big as the Seigneur at Rigaud-Vandreuil,
+the biggest man the lad had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>“A bigger man than the boss?”</p>
+
+<p>Oh, yes; for he sent the boss money to pay them
+and owned the trees, while the boss wasn’t as big a
+man as Louis Blanchet, the notary, whom he, the
+lad, had often seen and talked with, and once had
+thrown mud at when he was drunk.</p>
+
+<p>No, he didn’t know the big man’s name; he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>195</span>
+said that before, but anybody could tell them; anybody
+who knew, for he owned the trees; and the
+“boss” could tell them; his name was Kennett,
+Georges Kennett; not the boss here, for his name
+was Jean Busque, he was Canadian; but the other
+boss, the one who told Pierre and Victor to go to the
+Forks of the River.</p>
+
+<p>But he must go back, because the boss, the one
+here, would be angry and make him lose some of his
+money. He had heard them say something about
+Victor being killed, and he wanted to ask them and
+tell them it couldn’t be Victor, because he had gone
+to the big lake, as Pierre had said. What would
+Victor’s wife do if he was dead? The good God&mdash;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le
+bon Dieu</i>&mdash;and the good Saint Anne&mdash;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la bonne
+sainte Anne</i>&mdash;wouldn’t let him be dead, when there
+was Victor’s wife and three little ones and another
+coming in the summer, as Victor had told him.
+They must know that Victor couldn’t be dead, and
+if they saw him, they were to tell him that he&mdash;Étienne
+Vignon&mdash;had said this and would meet him
+at the big Falls to go back to la Beauce before the
+feast of Saint John, as Victor had promised<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>196</span>
+Étienne’s mother when he took him away to go on
+the drive. And with these words, the lad dashed
+into the woods for his mile run back to camp.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford caught himself perilously near a sigh,
+as the lad disappeared among the trees.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s as plain as the nose on your face&mdash;that part
+of it,” he said. “Hunter sent for these men; had
+them go to the forks to join a pretended gang, and
+word was left there for ’em to go on to the hut
+back of the Madison Beeches.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hunter?” his companion asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly. Isn’t he the man who owns the
+trees to such a simple lad as that? He don’t know
+the name&mdash;but we do, Charles Hunter of Millbank.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then he’s concerned in the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you knew the things that aren’t to be seen as
+well as you do the things that you see, you’d beat
+us all,” Trafford answered. “If he was in the
+murder, he’d know where those papers are and
+wouldn’t have needed these men. His very desperation
+to get them shows he isn’t the murderer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then Charles Hunter’s the man who’s afraid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>197</span>
+of those papers,” the other repeated, as if half dazed
+by the revelation.</p>
+
+<p>“One of ’em,” said Trafford. “I’ve known that
+much a long time.”</p>
+
+<p>“But if the men who are afraid of the papers
+aren’t the men who murdered him haven’t you
+knocked out the motive for the murder? That’s
+the thing that’s bothered all the time, and now that
+we’ve got hold of one, it’s a pity to lose it again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Beware of clues,” half laughed Trafford.
+“That’s the lesson you haven’t learned yet. I’ve
+said Hunter was one of the men who’s afraid of
+the papers. I haven’t said there weren’t others.
+Then it doesn’t follow that the only people who
+wanted to get the papers were those who were afraid
+of ’em. Given the papers, there’s a dozen things
+that might make ’em the motive of the murder besides
+being afraid of them.”</p>
+
+<p>After a silence that lasted some time, the other
+turned to Trafford and demanded:</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know Hunter was in this thing when
+you set me to hunting Canucks round Millbank?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” answered Trafford. “I’ve known<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>198</span>
+it since a half-hour after the attack was made on
+me at the bridge. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Thunder! Hunter was one of the men of whom
+I thought it safe to make open enquiries about
+Canucks I was looking for.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s never safe,” Trafford said, “to make enquiries
+of any one, unless you are willing that everybody
+should know, or anxious that one man should.
+In this case, ’twas just as well Hunter should know
+that we were on the track. He’s a man who makes
+his false slips when he’s the most anxious to escape.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>199</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xiii">CHAPTER XIII<br />
+<span>The Priest’s Story</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEY had their dinner that day at Nic’khal’s,
+at the Forks, eating in the shed that later in
+the season becomes the “summer kitchen.” The
+meal was primitive in material and cooking, but the
+sauce was hunger. An elderly priest, weary-looking
+and sad, was their sole companion, and he
+watched them through the meal, with a look that
+Trafford read as expressive of a desire to have talk
+with him. So, after the eating was over, Trafford
+put himself in the way of the clergyman, who quickly
+availed himself of the chance:</p>
+
+<p>“You are from above?” he asked, and Trafford
+assented.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you pass the logging camp at the first
+rapids?”</p>
+
+<p>“I spent the night there,” Trafford answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Was the night disturbed?”</p>
+
+<p>“An attempt was made to arrest a murderer, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>200</span>
+escaped into the woods, but not without a severe
+wound, I think.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have a message for the man who attempted
+to make the arrest.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can deliver it to me,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“You say the man was a murderer. I have no
+wish to know his name; but I am charged only to
+speak to one man, and I shall know him by a name.
+You can give it me?”</p>
+
+<p>“If it’s my name you want, it’s Trafford. The
+murderer attempted first to rob or murder me in the
+covered bridge at Millbank, before he committed the
+actual murder,” answered the detective.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not doubt before,” the priest answered,
+with something of stateliness; “only when a trust
+is given, one must be certain. The message is that
+the man who was drowned was not murdered. It
+was an accident, in which the one barely escaped
+and was unable to save the other.”</p>
+
+<p>“Even so,” Trafford retorted, “the other might
+have had a chance to escape, if it hadn’t been for a
+broken collar-bone, and for that the man who denies
+the murder was responsible.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>201</span>
+“But it was by mistake he inflicted it,” the priest
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>“By mistake, because he missed the man he intended
+to strike and hit his associate in crime. He
+was in the bridge to rob and probably to murder, and
+if the death of his companion was directly accidental,
+it came through a violation of the law and
+that makes it murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“In the eyes of the law, possibly,” the priest
+said; “but we look to the intent. The man did not
+intend to kill his associate. He died as the result of
+an accident.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you permitted to give me details?” Trafford
+asked, wisely avoiding a discussion that might
+return again and again on itself without actual
+progress.</p>
+
+<p>“A wounded man found me asleep in a hut
+where he sought shelter, guided by the Blessed
+Virgin, I doubt not. I heard his confession. On
+that is the seal of the Church. He begged me to
+find you and give you this message, and what he
+said in that I will strive faithfully to repeat. It is
+all that I can say. He was not in the bridge to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>202</span>
+murder the man at whom he struck, but to seize
+him and take from his person certain papers. He
+struck in the dark in the direction of a noise made,
+as he supposed, by the man. He may have struck
+harder than he intended. At the least, he struck
+his companion and not the man, and with force
+sufficient to break the collar-bone. What they had
+been set to do, they were to do and then return to
+the woods without being seen. He had now the
+fear earned by failure, and the certainty that the
+man, having escaped, would call on the authorities,
+and he and his companion would be betrayed by
+the latter’s wound. He, therefore, persuaded him to
+bear his pain until they could get to a place of
+safety, and not daring to travel the roads, where
+they could be tracked, they struck to the river
+banks above the Falls, and followed these until they
+found a boat into which they got, turning its head
+upstream.</p>
+
+<p>“He had only an old and broken oar with which
+to paddle, but a driver can paddle with a single
+pole, and they easily reached the middle of the
+river. Here he turned at a groan from his companion<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>203</span>
+and failed to see a floating log which struck
+their boat, and, worse still, knocked the oar out of
+his hand. Before he could recover himself, the boat
+was in the rapid current above the Falls, and rushing
+downstream with increasing force. His companion,
+roused at the growing roar of the waters,
+seemed to think that it was with intention that this
+was happening. He begged to be spared, and called
+loudly for help. The other told him what had happened
+and that he was powerless to prevent the boat
+going over the Falls, whereupon the wounded man
+sprang to his feet, with a prayer to the Virgin and
+Saint Anne, and leaped overboard, just as the boat
+touched the white water above the plunge. The
+other ran to the bow, which was shooting straight
+out, and stood there for a second of time until he
+felt it tremble for the dip, at which instant he
+jumped for the deeper water below the Falls, and
+by a miracle escaped the rocks at the very base of
+the plunge. As you know, the water there is very
+deep, so that although he sank, he did not touch
+bottom. He floated through the cañon and succeeded
+in landing just above the railroad bridge.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>204</span>
+He knew there was no use in looking for boat or
+companion, and so crept up the bank around the
+Falls, secured another boat, and finally towards
+morning landed just below the Bombazee Rips. He
+set the boat afloat and plunged into the woods. That
+is all I am permitted to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it is not all you know,” Trafford said.</p>
+
+<p>“It is all I know. If I heard anything more, I
+heard it under the seal of confession and know
+naught of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford pondered on the story for some time,
+without speaking. The habits born of his profession
+held him, warning him to avoid hasty conclusion
+as well for the man as against him. It was
+his business to get the truth, not to find a confirmation
+or refutation of a previously formed opinion.</p>
+
+<p>The priest waited without a sign of impatience.
+At last Trafford raised his head and said:</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think it could have been done.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” asked the priest.</p>
+
+<p>“The leap from the boat over the falls.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have been told by eye-witnesses that it has
+been done,” declared the priest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>205</span>
+“I have seen it done,” Trafford said; “but it was
+in broad daylight, when the man could see, and
+determine the exact instant for the leap. The boat
+was a very long one, so that before it dipped, it had
+shot far out; the man was extremely powerful, and
+it was, after all, a mere matter of luck.”</p>
+
+<p>“We do not talk of luck,” the priest said, with
+a touch of sternness in his tone. “We will leave
+that. You admit it possible, because it has been
+done. Your man was extremely strong. This
+man seems to me such also. Your man had daylight
+to show him the tossing of the waters about
+him; the anxious faces peering at him; the vanishing
+shores, and the coming danger. This man had
+all his senses active and single to the work before
+him. The flash of white foam was enough to show
+him, even in the night, where he was. To that his
+sight was turned, for there was nothing to distract
+his full attention. He was leaping for life. Instinct
+would come to his aid. It was possible for
+the man you saw. I believe it was possible for this
+man.”</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a thought struck Trafford. This priest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>206</span>
+could not reveal the secrets of the confessional; but
+neither could he prevent what he had heard in confession
+affecting his attitude towards this man and
+his story. He looked the priest full in the face and
+asked, solemnly, almost sternly:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you fully and absolutely credit this tale?”</p>
+
+<p>Without a shadow of hesitation or delay, the
+priest answered:</p>
+
+<p>“I do, absolutely and fully. In the story I bring
+you I have not a doubt that you have heard the
+truth, so far as it goes. You know how the death
+of the man you thought murdered actually occurred.”</p>
+
+<p>To Trafford’s mind there was left no ground for
+doubt.</p>
+
+<p>“I accept your story,” he said, “as the story of
+what actually occurred. Where is the man who
+told it to you?”</p>
+
+<p>The priest smiled and raised his hand in a sweep
+of the northern horizon:</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot track the wilderness. If you want
+him, you must ask the woods to give him up.”</p>
+
+<p>“There is a lad in the gang at the first rapids,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>207</span>
+Trafford said, “who came with Victor Vignon
+from Beauce. Victor, who was his cousin, was to
+take him back before the Feast of St. John. He
+relies absolutely on this, and would not believe Victor
+dead. His name is Étienne Vignon and he
+needs comfort and help.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will go to him,” said the priest. “The
+thought is a kind one.”</p>
+
+<p>If the priest dreamed that he was thus finished
+with the detective, it was because he did not know
+the nature of the creature.</p>
+
+<p>“From Beauce I think you said the wounded man
+came,” said Trafford carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>If Trafford thought to surprise the priest, it was
+proof that he too was ignorant.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not recall having said so,” the priest answered.</p>
+
+<p>“But he was, wasn’t he?” demanded Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not ask him.”</p>
+
+<p>On the matter of the wound the priest talked
+freely. It was painful, but not serious. The small
+bone of the lower right arm was broken, but he had
+set it and was confident it would improve.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>208</span>
+“If the man has been unjustly accused, I hope
+it may prove so,” Trafford said. “He goes directly
+home, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>The priest smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I did not expect to see him again, so had no occasion
+to know.”</p>
+
+<p>Convinced that the other was absolutely on guard,
+and that even if he knew anything beyond what he
+had told&mdash;of which Trafford felt considerable doubt&mdash;it
+was not to be extracted from him, Trafford
+again commended the lad Étienne to his care, and
+turned to the matter of a conveyance to Carrytunk
+on the road to Millbank. At parting, he said:</p>
+
+<p>“If I accept your assurance as to the innocence of
+this man, it is none the less true that some one employed
+him to rob me, and his companion lost his
+life because of the attempt. He could not have
+told of this without telling who that was.”</p>
+
+<p>The priest smiled, but not in a way that encouraged
+Trafford to hope for information, and the
+event proved him wise not to do so.</p>
+
+<p>“If he told me aught that I have not repeated,”
+the other answered, “it was to obtain God’s pardon,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>209</span>
+not to invoke man’s punishment on any. Its object
+accomplished, the words passed as they came to
+the priest and not to the man.”</p>
+
+<p>So Trafford was forced to let him go, none the
+wiser beyond what the priest chose that he should
+be; but as they hurried towards Millbank, he tried
+hard to look at all sides of the story and at last
+asked his companion:</p>
+
+<p>“What do you think of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“A batch of lies, told to a gossiping priest to be
+peddled out to us again,” was the curt judgment.</p>
+
+<p>Even this Trafford weighed carefully before commenting
+on it.</p>
+
+<p>“You evidently think the fellow a shrewd chap.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; any one can see he’s a stupid lout; just the
+kind of a thing to be used for a dirty job.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet he had a long enough head to cheat the
+priest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think the priest believed him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t a doubt of it,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford’s judgments had something of the
+weight of oracles with this man, who was able to
+see things but not to form opinions; and this curt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>210</span>
+declaration was to the point and not to be mistaken.
+For the time being, and for present purposes, it
+was to be accepted, and having accepted it, the other
+had nothing to say. But it was not so easy for
+Trafford. He had, perhaps, to convince some budding
+doubt that had not found expression either in
+tone or words.</p>
+
+<p>“To doubt the truth of the fellow’s story, is to
+believe that he reasoned out the chance of the priest
+finding us and then deliberately employed what he
+regards as a sacrament&mdash;that is confession&mdash;to put
+in circulation a concocted story for the purpose of
+deceiving us. I don’t believe he’s that smart; and
+I don’t believe, with his belief in the Church, he’d
+dare do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“We seem to be in the business of acquitting
+everybody,” the other said in a surly tone.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s certainly not our business to convict, but
+to find out the truth,” Trafford answered. “We
+aren’t prosecuting attorneys.”</p>
+
+<p>“But our work lies in pointing out the guilty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but unless we do it as much for the sake
+of proving the innocence of the innocent as the guilt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>211</span>
+of the guilty, we only do half the work that we ought
+to do. I’d rather any time clear a man who is unjustly
+charged than prove a man, thought innocent,
+guilty,” answered Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe so, but that isn’t the kind of work the
+world gives you most credit for. If you can hang
+a man, it thinks you’ve done something big; but if
+you stop them from hanging a man, they think
+they’ve been cheated.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I guess when all’s said and done, it’s
+more a question of what we think about the kind
+of work we’re doing, than what the world thinks of
+it, that counts. When I’m satisfied with myself&mdash;right
+down honestly satisfied&mdash;I find I can let the
+world think what it’s a mind to.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>212</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xiv">CHAPTER XIV<br />
+<span>A Duel</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>RS. MATTHEWSON entered the little parlour,
+where she had met Trafford, for the
+purpose of keeping another appointment&mdash;one that
+she had not wanted to make and which she had not
+yet dared refuse. When she visited her son, she knew
+the name of the man who, under his direction, was
+hunting down Theodore Wing’s mother, but she did
+not know the man. Now she was to meet him face
+to face. She was afraid, and she bore herself with
+the air of a queen about to grant a favour to her
+humblest subject.</p>
+
+<p>Cranston felt her imperiousness in the very air as
+he entered, and rebel as he would, it daunted him
+and took a share of his bravado from him. She
+returned his salutation, but with the evident purpose
+not to aid him in the slightest in the delivery of his
+errand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>213</span>
+“I regret the necessity,” he said, “of troubling
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>She bowed stiffly, but without other answer. He
+apparently had not struck the line of least resistance.</p>
+
+<p>“I have been employed,” he began, “upon
+the Wing murder case.” Then, at the look in her
+eyes, as if of all things on earth the Wing murder
+case had the least possible interest to her, he added
+desperately: “Among those who employed me were
+your sons.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you should report to them.” These were
+the first words she had spoken and the tone was
+beyond measure forbidding, but they were at the
+least words and a recognition that she was taking
+part in the interview. As such they helped the man
+who, in spite of his experience, was floundering
+woefully.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought it in your interest that I should first
+report to you,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s nothing in which any one can serve me
+in the Wing murder case,” she said, not sparing
+herself even the word “murder.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>214</span>
+He looked at her as if he would say that that was
+a very proper bluff for her to put up, but that he
+knew the facts and was not to be fooled thereby.</p>
+
+<p>“In doing thoroughly my work,” he floundered
+on; “it has been impossible for me to overlook the
+remarkable paper left by Judge Parlin.”</p>
+
+<p>Even as she caught the full import of his words,
+she had a consciousness of the hopeless bungling of
+this man, in comparison with the other man, Trafford.
+No less surely had Trafford told her that
+he had learned the history of her early life; but he
+had, with a natural instinct, taken from the telling
+every sting that was not ineffaceable. This man
+was so intent upon the telling as not to have a
+thought for her.</p>
+
+<p>She made no acknowledgment, save that frigid
+bend of the head that was less acknowledgment than
+repulsion, and which he felt as disdain. It stung
+him to more brutal speech than he had intended:</p>
+
+<p>“You would have me, perhaps, report my discoveries
+in that connection to your sons.”</p>
+
+<p>If he had expected her to shrink or lose self-control,
+his was the disappointment. She had lived too<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>215</span>
+long with the possibility of meeting thus her past,
+to allow it to come with the shock of the unexpected.
+There had been no hour for forty years
+when these words might not be spoken to her.
+She did not even make the mistake of showing irritation
+in her answer:</p>
+
+<p>“I would know why you have sought this interview,
+that it may be ended. As to the results of your
+employment, they concern your employers, not me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know who was the mother of Theodore
+Wing.” He spoke somewhat insistently, and not
+without a touch of menace in his voice. He had
+foreseen an easier task. He had a sense of personal
+wrong, in that she was making it so hard for
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“It is her secret,” she said, with just enough
+force to betoken impersonal indignation; “neither
+you nor the world have the right to drag it to the
+surface.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am willing it should remain a secret,” he answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you should never have told any one you
+knew it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>216</span>
+“You are the only one I have told,” he said;
+“and that was necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>Clearly he expected her to ask, “Necessary to
+what?” but she did not make the mistake. She
+remained silent and left him to reknit the broken
+strand of discourse.</p>
+
+<p>“The moment of real danger to her will come,”
+he said, after waiting vainly for her to speak, until
+waiting became a palpable embarrassment; “when
+Wing’s murderer is put on trial.” Then, as with
+a sudden change of his line of attack, he continued:
+“Have you ever thought why your sons employed
+me in this case?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; nor cared,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>He had expected her to deny that she had known.</p>
+
+<p>“Because they know who the murderer is.”</p>
+
+<p>It was a relief to the tension upon her that she
+could show resentment without personal defence.</p>
+
+<p>“Your remark is insulting,” she said. “I do
+not know the object of this visit, but whatever it is,
+that remark must be withdrawn before it can proceed.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is the last remark you should desire withdrawn,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>217</span>
+madam,” he said, with a calm significance
+of utterance; “for it is true.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose to dismiss him&mdash;rose haughtily and uncompromisingly,
+as if she had not the slightest suspicion
+of the drift of his purpose. There was a
+dangerous gleam in her eye; one that should have
+been a warning to the man, telling him to shield
+himself in some way and not carry out the threatened
+purpose. To this woman, that purpose was a
+cause of almost mastering terror, but this the will
+behind it controlled, leaving her seemingly strong
+to master the situation. He was compelled to decide
+quickly, yet with knowledge that anything that
+was tinctured with apology was a weakening of his
+position.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not implying guilt on their part,” he said;
+“nor am I speaking of knowledge that would be
+proof in court, but of that moral knowledge which
+makes one certain in mind, without being able to
+give evidence to justify such certainty. To make
+a public accusation based on such knowledge, would
+be to do the greatest wrong.”</p>
+
+<p>She remained standing, seemingly weighing this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>218</span>
+remark. In reality she was feeling the keen disappointment
+of having lost excuse for terminating
+the interview which she had supposed was hers.</p>
+
+<p>“I am averse,” she said, “to discussing questions
+bearing on this murder. I condemn the
+crime. Beyond that, it has no interest to me.”</p>
+
+<p>She knew that in thus speaking she was weakening
+the position she had taken at first. It was the
+natural sequence of having the ground cut from
+under her by Cranston’s half-apology. The other
+eagerly seized the opening presented:</p>
+
+<p>“Until Mr. Wing’s murderer is discovered and
+punished, nothing and no one in any way connected
+with his past will be spared. I have said that I
+know who is his mother.”</p>
+
+<p>She had resumed her seat and again had herself
+under full control, but with some loss of vantage.</p>
+
+<p>“What one man has discovered,” she said, “any
+other man may discover. The mere fact that it
+can be discovered, is the end of secrecy.”</p>
+
+<p>“There are innumerable things that can be discovered,”
+he said, “compared with the number of
+people who can discover them. There are hundreds<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>219</span>
+who would like to know this one matter, but among
+them not more than one who knows how to find it
+out. If his mouth is closed, the secret is as safe as
+if it did not exist.”</p>
+
+<p>“The mere knowledge that a secret exists is
+revelation,” she answered. “A man who will sell
+himself once, simply waits a higher bidder to sell
+himself again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly, if in concealing the identity of this
+woman, one concealed a fact bearing upon the discovery
+of the murderer. I can assure you that her
+identity has no bearing whatever upon the other
+question.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why not let it drop into the oblivion from
+which you have dragged it?”</p>
+
+<p>She knew the danger of exchanging question
+and answer with him, but human endurance has its
+limit, and even she could not carry indifference beyond
+the breaking point. Still, she was not unconscious
+of the gleam of satisfaction in his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>“Because,” he said, “this woman has grown
+strong, powerful, and rich. Safety is doubly precious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>220</span>
+to her. There is no reason why she should
+not pay for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean,” she said, and her eyes snapped,
+“blackmail!”</p>
+
+<p>She had not been the active partner for thirty-five
+years of a politician who had climbed from obscurity
+to the control of the State, without knowing
+what this word meant, nor without knowing the
+infinite deeps that yawn for the man or woman who
+shows the first sign of weakness to the blackmailer.</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken,” he said. He was on ground
+now that he had gone over in his mind again and
+again, in his preparation for this interview. “The
+essence of blackmail is threat. I make no threat.
+I have not said that I will expose you, if you do not
+pay me. I expressly disclaim any such intention.
+But safety is worth something to you; you are rich
+and have high social position. I offer you protection
+in your riches and position, and, for giving it,
+I ought to have recompense&mdash;simply a fair equivalent
+for what I do. Nothing more; but that much
+is fair; I think you cannot deny its fairness.”</p>
+
+<p>He knew he was sliding off into inanity; that all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>221</span>
+had been said that he purposed saying, and that he
+was simply repeating himself and repeating himself
+weakly. He stopped and waited her answer.</p>
+
+<p>On her part she held herself under restraint, resolved
+not to interrupt him until he had said all he
+had to say. His change from impersonal to personal,
+which he thought she did not notice, simply
+impressed her as unimportant. She felt fully the
+weakness and embarrassment of his final words, and
+even with the stress under which she waited, his
+feeble maudlinism affected her with a sense of pity.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you finished?” she asked, when he spoke
+no further.</p>
+
+<p>“I think there should be no need of saying more,”
+he answered.</p>
+
+<p>She did not even bend in assent to his proposition.
+She simply pointed to the door, and said:</p>
+
+<p>“Then you may go!”</p>
+
+<p>The change in tone and manner startled him,
+trained as he was to surprises. He had foreseen a
+storm and indignation, and was prepared to treat
+that as simulated. This impressed him as genuine&mdash;so
+genuine that he was forced to ask himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>222</span>
+hastily if he could have made any mistake, and this
+notwithstanding he was absolutely certain of all the
+facts.</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;&mdash;” he began, hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Go!” she said, permitting no further utterance,
+now that he had said what he had come to say. A
+passionate joy in her ability to deal harshly with
+him, regardless of the personal risk to herself in so
+doing, seized her. She had not subjected her line
+of action to the scrutiny of judgment. For once
+thoroughly a woman, in that she discarded the
+masculine caution which she had cultivated as a
+habit, she gave head to instinct, which carried her
+past all doubt, all weighing of chances, to the least
+dangerous course that, in her situation, was open to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Almost an insane fury to send one final shaft that
+should sting in the breast of this woman seized this
+man who, by all of his traditions, should have held
+himself the better together, the farther his plans
+miscarried. Moving toward the door, he cried:</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I report to my employers&mdash;your sons?”</p>
+
+<p>To this she had the single word, “Go!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>223</span>
+When he was gone, she did not break under the
+relaxation of strain; but rather held herself more
+proudly, as if to do otherwise would be to admit
+to herself, the most important individual concerned,
+the danger in which she stood. Under the calm
+surface, raged a storm of irritable impatience,
+aroused by the thought that time must elapse before
+she could be called upon to face publicly the charges
+this man would make. She wanted to do it, at this
+moment. It seemed as if she must rush forth and
+cry:</p>
+
+<p>“See; here am I&mdash;I, against whom this thing is
+charged! Look on me and feast your eyes on me
+and roll the sweet morsel under your tongue! Of
+course, you believe it; want to believe it; but
+I dare you to say other than that it is a slander!”</p>
+
+<p>If she could have done this, it seemed to her that
+she would have happiness again; but to wait; not
+to know when the blow would fall; to hold herself
+ready to meet it at any instant and to have no power
+to hasten it,&mdash;that was the madness of the situation,
+that the terror it had for her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>224</span>
+She rose and stood before a long mirror and
+looked at herself; as if to see if this was a different
+manner of woman than she who had stood there the
+day before. To her eyes, looking into the reflected
+depths of the room, her own image was representative
+of the world, and in facing it she seemed to
+taste something of that defiance of public knowledge
+of the scandal for which she so longed.</p>
+
+<p>No thought disturbed her of her future relations
+to her husband or sons. For more than a third of
+a century, the lives of her husband and herself had
+flowed together, each relying on the other, each
+confident in the other. Breakage was not possible
+or to be thought of. He would not even ask her of
+this matter, and while that very fact would lay on
+her the greater weight of responsibility to tell him,
+the necessity did not put her under that fear which
+would have been the greatest burden to an ordinary
+woman. By this she did not mean that he would
+not feel the wound&mdash;feel it cruelly; but they had
+passed the crown of the road, their way lay downward,
+and she had no more doubt of him than she
+would have had of herself, if to him and not to her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>225</span>
+the parentage of Theodore Wing were brought
+home.</p>
+
+<p>Her bulwark with the public would be the loyalty
+of her husband and sons, and if it smacked of selfishness
+and unfeeling to rely on them and not give a
+fair portion of thought to the suffering which would
+be hidden by their calm exterior, it must be remembered
+that during the entire period of her wife- and
+mother-hood she had lived with this thing, which had
+grown dimmer and dimmer as the years receded,
+until it had come to have for her, and it seemed to
+her necessarily for these others, a different aspect
+than it would have borne in the days before she had
+given to husband and children the pledge of her
+long devotion.</p>
+
+<p>Before these years she would have reasoned of
+her husband’s attitude toward such a tale from the
+sense of outrage, not tempered by long possession
+and intimate association. No, she had no fear
+there, save of the inward sense of humiliation under
+which she had gone to her son’s office, and for
+fighting which she now faced her own reflection,
+as representative of the world of public opinion.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>226</span>
+She had become accustomed to make demands of the
+world, not requests, and the world had yielded. It
+should do so still. This thing had not destroyed the
+years of loyalty and work that buttressed her present
+position. It should not do so. She stood there
+to make her defiance, and the world should heed.
+But oh, the waiting! The waiting! That was the
+cruelty of the situation.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>227</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xv">CHAPTER XV<br />
+<span>In Matthewson’s Chambers</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">C</span>HARLES MATTHEWSON read with impatience
+the name on the card just brought him&mdash;Isaac
+Trafford. It was a breach of the understanding
+between them, that this man should trouble
+him further. He was on the point of refusing to see
+him, when he recalled Trafford’s possession of the
+papers taken from Theodore Wing’s desk after his
+murder. This he had not known at the time of
+their previous interview. It was possible that
+here was the opening of negotiations for their sale.
+He ordered him admitted. Still he could not avoid
+resenting the intrusion.</p>
+
+<p>“I understood you were not to trouble me further.”</p>
+
+<p>“Until I became satisfied that your visit to Millbank
+had something to do with Wing’s murder,”
+the detective answered.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>228</span>
+“Then I may take this visit as evidence that you
+are satisfied that it had to do with the murder!”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you arrest me then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I am satisfied you did not murder him,
+but can tell me who did,” Trafford answered.</p>
+
+<p>“A sort of accessory after the fact?” Matthewson
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Trafford. “I’m inclined to think
+you never suspected that you knew anything about
+it or that you could tell me. At the same time, I’m
+almost certain you saw the murderer and talked
+with him that night.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson started at this statement of the matter.
+He had not the nerve of either his mother or
+brother, and his power of concealing his emotions
+was greatly less than that of either. However, he
+quickly recovered himself.</p>
+
+<p>“I refuse to be put in the position of laying
+accusations. I’ve no objection to aid in convicting
+a criminal, but I don’t purpose holding one end of
+a drag-net, for the mere sake of catching some one
+who may or may not be guilty.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>229</span>
+Trafford did not deem it best to answer this
+directly, but instead went on, as if nothing had been
+said of objection:</p>
+
+<p>“You saw Charles Hunter and his brother Frank&mdash;but
+were they all?”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson drummed on his desk and looked out
+of the window. What was there, he asked himself,
+that was drawing him into this tragedy, of which he
+really knew nothing? Did this man know also what
+Cranston had discovered? Was there, after all, to
+grow out of this murder, of which he knew nothing,
+a scandal that was to overwhelm his family, and
+finally destroy the great influence they exercised in
+the State?</p>
+
+<p>While he asked these questions of himself Trafford
+waited, the model of patience. If he had anything
+to disturb his mind, he did not show it. Evidently,
+Matthewson could take his time and be sure
+that the other would be there to receive his answer,
+when he was ready to give it. Finally Matthewson
+turned to the detective and said:</p>
+
+<p>“I was in Millbank on my own private business.
+I saw the men whom that business concerned and no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>230</span>
+others. The men whom I saw are one and all as incapable
+of committing this murder as I am. I must
+decline to subject any of them to the annoyance I
+am now subjected to.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know whether you are incapable of committing
+murder or not. I shouldn’t want to affirm
+it of any one&mdash;not even myself. I am convinced
+that you saw and talked with Wing’s murderer that
+night. I must know the name of every man you
+saw while in Millbank, and if I can’t find it out in
+one way, I will in another.”</p>
+
+<p>“It pleases you to threaten,” Matthewson said,
+not wholly unconscious of an uneasy feeling.</p>
+
+<p>“Not to threaten, but simply to show you that I
+am in earnest,” Trafford assured him. “Still, I
+may appeal to you on another ground. I have
+named two men whom you saw. If I am to suppose
+they were the only ones, then I must regard
+one or the other as the real murderer, and this because
+you persist in concealing from me the name
+of the man who may be guilty. Have you a right
+to do this?”</p>
+
+<p>“As much right,” retorted Matthewson hotly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>231</span>
+“as you have to throw suspicion on these gentlemen,
+simply because of the coincidence of my meeting
+them during a hasty visit to Millbank on the
+night that Wing was murdered. It would be just
+as reasonable to suspect me of the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is possible that I do,” said Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” exclaimed Matthewson, “this is going
+a trifle far. It’s not five minutes since you said you
+were satisfied I did not murder him.”</p>
+
+<p>“But that was before you refused to tell me whom
+you met.”</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment a loud voice was heard in
+the outer room, demanding to see Mr. Matthewson.
+He rose and turned the key in the door, notwithstanding
+a movement on Trafford’s part to stop
+him. As he turned to his desk, Trafford
+asked:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you recognise the voice?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said the other, shortly and indignantly;
+“but I propose to finish this matter here and now,
+so that there will be no need to reopen it.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s Cranston, the detective whom you, your
+brother, and Charles Hunter have hired,” said Trafford.
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>232</span>
+“I advise you to see him, and let me be in a
+cupboard or behind a screen while he is here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Superb!” said Matthewson, with a vicious
+sneer. “You’ll know all he’s found out&mdash;steal his
+thunder! Excellent!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Matthewson,” Trafford said, with a touch
+of dignity in his voice that his companion could but
+note, “I would be justified in resenting such a remark,
+and you are not justified in making it. Cranston
+has discovered nothing that I haven’t known
+for weeks; but he’s been in Bangor, and I know
+what he could find out there. You sent him there
+and made a cruel mistake when you did it. I would
+have stopped it, if I could. He’s here now to tell
+you and, if I mistake not, to demand a price for his
+silence. If I’m wrong, no harm can come from my
+hearing. If I’m right, you’re the man who
+<a id="wants"></a><ins title="Original has 'want'">wants</ins>
+me to hear; it’ll be the best protection you can have
+in the future.”</p>
+
+<p>At the mention of Bangor, Matthewson turned
+pale and then flushed. That it was made with the
+purpose of informing him that the detective knew
+the secret of his mother’s early life, he could not
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>233</span>
+doubt. There was but one thing that he ought to
+do, and that was to pitch the man out of his room.
+He would have done it, but for the man on the
+other side of the door, to whose presence he was recalled
+by the turning of the door-knob. In which
+of these men did he place the greater trust? He
+had only to ask the question to let it answer itself.
+But this new menace? He would know it at its
+worst. That was beyond question.</p>
+
+<p>“Pass through this door, into the next room,” he
+said. “There you will find the door of a closet,
+which has a second door opening into this alcove.
+After he has entered and looked into that alcove, as
+he may, come out of the closet and&mdash;listen.”</p>
+
+<p>Cranston, on entering, did exactly what Matthewson
+had predicted; he examined the alcove before
+taking the chair to which Matthewson pointed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no one in there,” Matthewson said.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t take any chances,” said the other insolently.
+“What I’ve got to say wants to be between
+us two&mdash;you’ll want it to be when you hear
+it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>234</span>
+Matthewson flushed and an angry retort leaped
+to his lips. This, however, he suppressed and made
+necessity to ask the cause of the visit.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve come to report,” said Cranston. Then, as
+the other waited, he added:</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been at work in Bangor.” Then, after another
+pause: “I’ve learned things in Bangor that
+you ought to know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It relates to the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not directly. It relates to Theodore Wing’s
+mother.” He said it defiantly; as if he was throwing
+down the gage of battle.</p>
+
+<p>It required a mighty effort on Matthewson’s part
+to control himself, and yet he knew that to fail
+meant that this terrible thing, which as yet remained
+unspoken, would be uttered in words and that he
+must hear it.</p>
+
+<p>“I have become satisfied,” he said slowly and
+with an effort to control himself and appear dispassionate,
+“that the identity of Wing’s mother has no
+bearing on the murder or on the discovery of the
+murderer. You will, therefore, drop that part of
+the investigation and confine yourself to the other<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>235</span>
+features. In this all who were concerned in employing
+you are agreed.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long since?” the man demanded insolently.</p>
+
+<p>“That is of no consequence,” Matthewson said.
+“You are now informed of the fact, so that your
+new instructions date from this moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s too late for you to accomplish anything by
+that dodge,” he said. “I’ve found out who Wing’s
+mother is. The story’s worth money. I’ll give
+you the first chance to buy. Do you want
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson trembled, as he realised the full
+significance of this demand. More than his mother
+possibly could, he knew how such a story would be
+received; how impossible it would be, once set afloat,
+to stop it or overcome it. Still, he put on a bold
+front.</p>
+
+<p>“Whatever you may have learned, it was while
+you were under our pay. The information belongs
+to us and you can’t afford to make it a matter of
+barter.”</p>
+
+<p>“What I’ve found out,” Cranston returned defiantly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>236</span>
+“is worth so much that I can afford to
+take some risks. If you want it, you can have it
+for a price. If not, the highest bidder gets it, and
+in a State where ex-Governor Matthewson’s got as
+many enemies as he’s got in Maine, there won’t be
+any trouble about finding buyers.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no need to drag in my father’s name,”
+Matthewson replied.</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know there ain’t?” the other demanded.
+“Maybe you’ll be surprised at the names
+that are dragged in before we’re through.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Matthewson’s impulse to throw the man
+out of doors, without regard to consequences; but
+before him came a face that had watched him lovingly
+and tenderly from his earliest memory&mdash;a face
+that he had seen only a few days before pleading to
+him, as he had never dreamed a woman’s face could
+plead. His hands clutched nervously; but for the
+sake of that face and that love, he held himself in
+restraint.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, to end this matter,” he said, “what do
+you want for this precious information?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hadn’t you better know first what it is?” demanded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>237</span>
+the other. “Oh,” he said, as he saw on
+Matthewson’s face what he regarded as a protest;
+“it won’t spoil the goods to show ’em. I’d just as
+lief tell you before as after. It’s silence I’m selling;
+not facts.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t need you to repeat your talk; and what’s
+more, it won’t be safe for you to,” Matthewson
+said. “I know perfectly well what it would be;
+but I warn you not to dare speak it.”</p>
+
+<p>The man in the alcove almost betrayed himself
+as he heard this astounding acknowledgment.
+After all, had he mistaken what he had seen, and
+was this the real secret he had been trying to unravel?
+Cranston was speaking again:</p>
+
+<p>“Threatened men live long. You’ll get just as
+much for as little money, if you keep a civil tongue.
+I’ve got silence to sell; but I’m just blamed fool
+enough, if you get me mad, to refuse to sell at any
+price.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then your proposition is that if I pay you your
+price, you’ll keep silence regarding your discovery
+as to Theodore Wing’s mother; and that if I do not,
+you’ll sell your information to any one who will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>238</span>
+pay you for it, regardless of the injury it may do me
+or any one connected with me?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s about it, in plain English.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s it, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it’s it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you think that this information, if made
+public, would do me and those connected with me
+harm.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what you call harm, if it wouldn’t.
+’Twould be the end of the Matthewson family,
+socially and politically. They’d have to find
+another boss for Maine after this thing got
+out.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s just as well,” said the lawyer, “to keep
+within bounds in your remarks; they’re as likely to
+accomplish your purpose.”</p>
+
+<p>But Cranston was smarting under his previous
+failure. He had tried to deal squarely with Mrs.
+Matthewson and had met refusal and insult. There
+was the possibility that, had he adopted a higher
+tone, he would have succeeded. He was resolved
+not to fail from the same cause this time.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m answering questions,” he said, “and I’ll answer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>239</span>
+’em in my own way. If you don’t like it, you
+don’t need to.”</p>
+
+<p>It required a terrible effort on Matthewson’s part
+to prevent his openly resenting this insolence, and
+he was conscious of a distinctive loss of self-respect
+that he did not at once pitch the fellow out of the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s get through with this thing and be done
+with it,” he said. “How much will your silence
+cost me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” answered Cranston.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Matthewson was startled at the figure.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, man, you’re crazy!” he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>“I know it,” said Cranston. “I ought to have
+a hundred, but I ain’t going to be hard. I’ve set my
+price at twenty-five.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you’ll take five,” retorted Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t take twenty-four thousand, nine
+hundred and ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine
+cents,” answered Cranston. “I’ve fixed my price,
+and it’s that or nothing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>240</span>
+“I guess that’s right,” sneered Matthewson.
+“And how do you want this easy money?”</p>
+
+<p>“In good, crisp bank-notes that one can feel; and
+before I leave this room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you’ll give a receipt when it’s paid
+over, setting out the terms of the bargain?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, I won’t!” retorted Cranston.
+“You’ll have to trust to my honour; that’ll be your
+protection.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then the bargain is, if I give you twenty-five
+thousand dollars, you’ll keep this story quiet. If I
+don’t, you’ll use it to my injury&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“To your ruin,” interrupted Cranston. “I’ll
+drive you and your family out of the State; I’ll
+destroy every shred of your influence, and I’ll do it
+with this story!”</p>
+
+<p>“There are no other terms; no other means by
+which I can stop you?”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet there isn’t; and if this gabble goes on
+much longer, I’ll double my price.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we’ll stop it right here. I buy safety for
+twenty-five thousand dollars, and here’s five dollars
+to bind the bargain. I’m to send out and get the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>241</span>
+rest and pay to you before you leave. Are those
+the terms?”</p>
+
+<p>“Those are the terms, if you get the money quick
+enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you can get out of this office, you skulking,
+blackmailing scoundrel, or I’ll throw you out of
+the window. Go, and don’t be slow about it, for my
+fingers are itching to get hold of you. I’m through
+with you!”</p>
+
+<p>For an instant, Cranston was dumbfounded by
+the sudden revulsion of position. He had believed
+the money practically in his grasp, and instead he
+encountered this dismissal of contempt and abuse.
+But his surprise was only for an instant. Then a
+flood of senseless anger, verging on madness, seized
+him. He had but one impulse and that was to punish
+the man who had led him on, only to throw him
+down. There was a flash of a pistol in his hand as
+he said:</p>
+
+<p>“But I’m not through with you, by God!”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t need that to send you to State’s
+prison,” said a voice behind him, as a hand, seemingly
+of steel, grasped his and wrenched away the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>242</span>
+pistol. He turned and saw Trafford standing behind
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“By God, this is a dirty, contemptible trick,
+Trafford,” he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess that’s so, too,” Trafford answered,
+coolly, as he drew the charges from the revolver, before
+handing it back to Cranston; “but unfortunately
+there are some situations in life that can’t be
+reached by anything else, and this seems to be one
+of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now will you go?” demanded Matthewson,
+“while I’ve a notion to let you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go,” the man muttered; “but you aren’t
+through with me yet!”</p>
+
+<p>“When you feel a particular desire for free quarters
+at Thomaston, just meddle with my affairs
+again,” retorted Matthewson. “Until you do feel
+that way, you’d better let them alone.”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>243</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xvi">CHAPTER XVI<br />
+<span>The Range 16 Scandal</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap"><span class="dropcap2">“</span>I</span> GUESS I didn’t make any mistake in staying,”
+said Trafford, more to break the embarrassing
+silence which followed Cranston’s withdrawal, than
+with any definite purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson glanced up with the air of a man
+who had half lost consciousness of surrounding circumstances
+in a line of painful thought.</p>
+
+<p>“I am under deep obligation to you,” he said
+slowly; and then, apparently tracking back to his
+thoughts before Trafford spoke, he added, as it
+seemed, irrelevantly:</p>
+
+<p>“You said he could tell nothing you did not already
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>The pain which manifested itself in his face
+would have shown a far less keen man what the
+speaker had in mind, yet was not willing more
+directly to name.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>244</span>
+“He has not,” said Trafford quietly. “All that
+he hinted at I’ve known for weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know it when you saw me before?”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you conceal it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s not concealment not to talk of a thing.
+There was no call to talk of it so long as it had nothing
+to do with the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“But are you certain,” the words came hard and
+with a painful ring, “that it did have nothing to do
+with the murder?”</p>
+
+<p>The question showed Trafford how far pain and
+numbing anguish had carried the man who, loyal
+even to the death of honour to the mother who bore
+him, on that very account was the deeper sufferer.</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely!” Trafford threw into the word an
+intense depth of conviction. “On that point you
+may exclude every doubt.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson gave him a look of intense relief.
+He was reasonably certain as to Cranston; but if
+there was a chain of circumstances, as there well
+might be, between this story and the recent murder,
+what was to save them?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>245</span>
+“I owe you more than I can say,” he went on.
+“I won’t waste my gratitude in words. The only
+thing I can do now, that I see, is to answer your
+question of a half-hour ago. You’re entitled to that.”</p>
+
+<p>He wrote some names on a slip of paper and
+passed it over to Trafford. He watched him as he
+read, to detect, if possible, any movement of surprise,
+for this question of the murder, from a matter
+of comparative indifference, save as it touched
+the possession of certain papers, was growing into
+a vital thing, that seemed to meet him at every turn,
+filling him with alarm for the moment when it should
+uncover in all its hideous nakedness. But there was
+nothing to indicate that he had told anything which
+the other did not know already, until Trafford himself
+spoke. Then, even, the tone was most commonplace:</p>
+
+<p>“You have saved me the time and trouble it
+would have taken to complete the list.” He evidently
+had no question of his ability to do so. “I
+hope you’ll add to the obligation by answering one
+or two questions. Did you meet these men separately
+or together?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>246</span>
+“I met the first two separately and the other
+alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“And discussed with the two the papers which
+were in Wing’s possession.” While pursuing the
+matter in apparently the most commonplace way,
+Trafford did not fail to note the quick air of sudden
+interest on Matthewson’s part which followed this
+reference to the mysterious papers. It was not a look
+that betokened fear, but rather eagerness, if the detective
+could read aright. He went on:</p>
+
+<p>“Was it on the same matter you saw the third
+man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” answered Matthewson, as if eager
+now to give the information he had before withheld.
+“There was only one thing that took me to
+Millbank, and that was the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see him before or after you saw the
+others?”</p>
+
+<p>“Before and after, both.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did they know you had seen him or were to see
+him?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. Rightly or wrongly, I suspected cross-purposes
+between them and was after a second<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>247</span>
+string to my bow. They thought I took an earlier
+train, but I met him by arrangement. I’d sent him
+to see Wing and met him to get the report.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then he was with Wing during the evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you not know it?” demanded Matthewson,
+turning cross-examiner.</p>
+
+<p>“A question does not always imply ignorance,”
+said Trafford, smiling, “but sometimes the bolstering
+up of knowledge not yet in the form we want
+it. I don’t hesitate to tell you that I knew Wing
+had a visitor that evening. This man was with him
+till late?”</p>
+
+<p>“He left him at eleven o’clock and met me. I
+parted with him in the shadow of
+<a id="Pettingill"></a><ins title="Original has 'Pettengill’s'">Pettingill’s</ins>
+potato storehouse, when I ran to jump on the train.”</p>
+
+<p>“You sent him to try to get those papers from
+Wing, and he failed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miserably failed. It was a desperate chance I
+took, of course; but I could do no less than take it.
+In fact it was a desperate thing to use this man, but
+it was my last hope, and I had no choice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yet he’s square&mdash;if I’m rightly informed. No
+danger from him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>248</span>
+“I don’t mean that. I mean he’s not the kind of
+man to use in such a thing. He’s what you might
+call too high-toned&mdash;not given to that kind of
+work&mdash;that is, in a successful way. He wouldn’t
+take chances that another man might. I guess you
+know better than I can tell you what I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. I understand the type of man. He
+gave you no hope of securing the papers?”</p>
+
+<p>“None whatever. Wing positively refused every
+suggestion in regard to them, and left the impression
+on his mind that further attempt was useless.
+While I felt that another man might have done better,
+I was certain that his effort had uncovered
+Wing’s exact position; that Wing was determined
+to hold on to the papers and use them. He was convinced
+of the same thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Still you urged him to make another effort.”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I was so convinced that it didn’t seem
+worth while&mdash;at least along those lines. While we
+were talking, I heard the warning bell and we hurried,
+turning off Somerset Street between Neil’s
+store and the post-office. As I left him, I remember
+saying that I’d give the man who would put<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>249</span>
+those papers in my hands a hundred thousand dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“A hundred thousand dollars!” repeated Trafford,
+for once at least showing his surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” answered Matthewson, a strange hopefulness
+coming into his eyes; “I’ll give you that sum
+for the papers this minute.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish I had ’em,” said Trafford, in a tone half
+regretful and half as if he was groping in his memory
+for something that bore on the matter.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, haven’t you got them?” demanded Matthewson,
+between incredulity and fear.</p>
+
+<p>“I!” exclaimed Trafford. “I got them! I’ve
+never even seen them. The man who fired the shot
+that killed Wing has got those papers. Find him,
+and you’re on the track of the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson grew pale with revulsion of feeling.
+That Trafford had the papers, he had had no question.
+He believed that all this had been merely
+leading up to an offer and he had shaped his course,
+as he thought, shrewdly, to the naming of a sum
+which would make the man eager to deal. Instead,
+he was told in a tone that carried conviction,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>250</span>
+that not only had Trafford not got the papers, but
+that they were in the possession of an unknown man
+for whom the law was hunting. If he was found,
+the papers would pass into the possession of the
+State and the public!</p>
+
+<p>“In other words, we don’t know where they
+are?”</p>
+
+<p>“We do know,” answered Trafford, with the
+solemnity of a man who feels that he is approaching
+accomplished purpose, “that these papers were
+the cause of Wing’s death. Tell me the man who
+was most concerned in getting possession of these
+papers and I’ll give Wing’s murderer to the
+hangman&mdash;or would, if you hadn’t abolished the
+hangman in Maine.”</p>
+
+<p>Never had the case stood so naked before Matthewson
+as these words stripped it. For the murder
+itself he had felt comparative indifference, his interest
+in the papers overtopping all else. Since he
+was aware that the murdered man was his half-brother,
+he had been conscious of an approach to a
+feeling of relief that he was dead. Now, for the
+first time, he saw, as by lightning’s flash, the strife<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>251</span>
+for the papers and the murder as cause and effect.
+The one danger grew into another, and each
+took fearfulness from the other. No effort of the
+will could quite quiet the nervous tremor which
+the realisation of this fact brought. His face was
+drawn with pain as he answered:</p>
+
+<p>“There can be no man more concerned than I
+to get these papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fortunately I know you were on the train when
+the shot was fired.”</p>
+
+<p>The answer implied that but for this Trafford
+would suspect him, and Matthewson so understood
+it; but his anxiety was too great for him even to
+resent the implication. His brother was no less interested
+than himself in the papers. He must warn
+him, warn him instantly. This man was pitiless
+when a task was set before him; Henry must not let
+himself be drawn into a trap.</p>
+
+<p>“We have supposed,” Matthewson said, as much
+to ease the situation, as from any particular bearing
+of the remark on the matter under discussion, “that
+you had taken the papers under cover of taking the
+blotter from the desk.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>252</span>
+“I know,” nodded Trafford. “That was the reason
+you had me attacked in the bridge at Millbank.
+I would have been robbed of the papers&mdash;thrown
+into the river, perhaps. For the moment, I assumed
+that it was the same men who committed the murder.
+I saw my mistake, however, very quickly.”</p>
+
+<p>He added the last words, as it were, as an apology
+for the mistake itself. As a matter of fact, Matthewson
+had known nothing of the assault until
+some days after it took place, but he scorned a denial
+that must seem like an effort to escape responsibility,
+and so said nothing to disabuse the other’s mind of
+the belief that he had helped plan the assault.</p>
+
+<p>“The most serious aspect of that affair,” Trafford
+continued, “was the death of the Canuck&mdash;Victor
+Vignon.”</p>
+
+<p>But Matthewson was not in a mood to feel keenly
+the death of a mere logger, whom he had never
+seen and whose importance, in comparison with the
+good name and continued power of the Matthewson
+family, was as nothing. He did not care even
+to assume an interest for the sake of appearance.
+He was thinking, thinking fast, and only half hearing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>253</span>
+what Trafford was saying. Suddenly his attention
+was again aroused.</p>
+
+<p>“What is the nature of these papers?” the other
+was asking. “With knowledge of that, I could
+narrow the circle of interest, so that I would have
+to deal with only a few men.”</p>
+
+<p>“It can’t be the men who are interested in the
+papers by reason of their contents who did the murder,”
+said Matthewson, speaking rapidly. “I know
+them and can answer for every one of them&mdash;that
+is, so far as they knew of the existence of the
+papers. It is some one who regards them from the
+point of their saleability. It’s their money value.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford had seen this possibility already, but it
+did not satisfy him. He felt that he could form a
+sounder judgment than this man, but to do it he
+must have the facts and this man must give them
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>“If you are correct,” he said, “you must see that
+you narrow the line of enquiry to three men. I must
+know what the papers were to determine which of
+these three is the man. I have asked you before,
+what is the nature of the papers?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>254</span>
+“Do not think me ungrateful, if I decline to answer.
+I would trust you with everything, but the
+secret belongs to others no less than myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Matthewson,” said Trafford seriously, “it
+is not pleasant to have to play hide and seek with
+you. I’ve had to remind you once before that the
+inquest is public. If I have this question asked
+there, you’ll have to answer or&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Go to jail,” Matthewson said, completing the
+sentence. “I know. I’ve thought of that. I
+shouldn’t answer.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson drummed on the table and looked at
+his companion. Even his political power could not
+shield him from the consequence of a refusal to answer
+a question put to him at the inquest on such a
+murder as this. Surely the cause must be a serious
+one that induced him even to think of such an act.
+Trafford took up another line:</p>
+
+<p>“Have you thought that if you were summoned
+and refused to testify, it would be necessary for the
+government to supply as best it could the want of
+your testimony. Have you thought that in doing
+so, it could not be dainty as to means, and that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>255</span>
+would not be impossible in such an event that it
+might stumble on the story that Cranston tried to
+sell you to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“In other words, you would become the pedlar
+of scandal,” sneered Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“In other words, that justice might not fail, I’d
+get at the facts, even if they involved my own&mdash;brother.
+Don’t you see, Mr. Matthewson, I’m giving
+you a chance? If, with a knowledge of all the
+facts, I can bring this crime home to the murderer
+without bringing you into it, I’ll do so. If I can’t,
+I simply know in advance what all the world is
+bound to know finally. You’ve your chance. You
+can take it or leave it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re pressing your advantage. I’m to tell, or
+you’ll find out. Let me suggest you’ve been on the
+case some time and the sum of your finding is not
+large.”</p>
+
+<p>“So large, Mr. Matthewson, that I can make my
+arrest within twenty-four hours and, I’m certain,
+convict my man.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson started. There was no mistaking
+the tone. Still he would not yield.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>256</span>
+“In that event, you don’t need my answer.”</p>
+
+<p>“I must have your answer to shape my proof.
+You’ll give it to me here or on the witness stand.
+I’ll leave it to you to decide which.”</p>
+
+<p>Matthewson faced him like a man at bay; then,
+as he saw his unflinching purpose, he yielded and
+answered:</p>
+
+<p>“The papers purport to impugn titles to a million
+dollars’ worth of land and two millions’ worth of
+stumpage. They impugn too the honour of the
+men who hold those titles.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Trafford’s turn for surprise. The words
+took him back to the great scandal of the Public
+Lands Office, before and while Matthewson was
+Governor&mdash;the one storm that it had seemed for a
+time even his political resources could not weather.
+Then came the sudden collapse of the attack and the
+disappearance of documents that were relied on to
+support it. He recalled that Judge Parlin had been
+retained to prosecute the case, and that it was said
+that papers had been stolen from his office which it
+had never been possible to replace.</p>
+
+<p>“You mean,” he said, “the Range 16 scandal.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>257</span>
+“I believe it was so called,” said Matthewson
+doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>“But it was said these papers had been stolen; it
+was supposed they had been destroyed. How came
+they in Wing’s hands?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is said they were stolen; but if so, not all.
+Parlin never was able to fill the place of those that
+were taken; but this man Wing, with devilish ingenuity
+and persistence, had worked and dug and
+pieced together until&mdash;well, until he had got enough
+to make us uneasy.”</p>
+
+<p>“And so you tried the old game a second time?”</p>
+
+<p>“We tried to get them out of his hands. The
+main thing we hope now is that as the price paid
+for them this time was murder, the man who got
+them has destroyed them, for fear their possession
+would betray him.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford was silent for a few minutes, and then
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t hope. They’re not destroyed. The man
+who committed murder to get them, will not part
+with its price so easily. The man who holds
+papers that would ruin Governor Matthewson, his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>258</span>
+sons, Charles and Frank Hunter, and the Lord
+knows who else, knows that those papers would be
+his surest means of escape, if his identity was discovered.
+Those papers are in existence;” and he
+added to himself, “if I can’t convict without
+them, I won’t get out of the next assault so easy.”</p>
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>259</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xvii">CHAPTER XVII<br />
+<span>The Story of the Papers</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">T</span>RAFFORD went back to Millbank more seriously
+alarmed than at any time in his whole
+professional career. Matthewson would unquestionably
+inform the others that he had not the
+papers; and as certainly warn them he was after
+them, with the determination to secure them. It
+was well within reason that they would regard it as
+safer that they remained in the hands of a murderer
+whom they protected, than that they should fall into
+those of a detective, who would use them to convict
+and thus make them public. He felt that he must
+act promptly and energetically and bring to his aid
+every influence possible.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, there was another matter tugging
+at him. Few men in Maine ever attained to the possession
+of a hundred thousand dollars. The income
+on such a sum would equal his average yearly earnings.
+He believed that if he could put his hands on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>260</span>
+the papers, they would yield him that sum or more.
+If he was in danger, he had but to let it be known
+in a certain quarter that on obtaining these papers,
+he would deliver them intact, and the danger disappeared.
+He was satisfied that the man who made
+public the facts relating to Range 16 scandal would
+never live to see the result. He was satisfied that if
+the papers were once located in any person’s possession,
+there would now be no further time wasted
+in negotiation, as there had been with Wing; but
+that effective steps would be taken to prevent their
+publicity.</p>
+
+<p>On arriving at Millbank, Trafford waited only to
+receive the report of his assistant, who had been
+left on guard, and then went at once to the Parlin
+homestead. He found Mrs. Parlin showing marks
+of the strain upon her of the last few weeks. Life
+had brought her many sorrows, and Wing’s tragic
+death had seemingly broken the last tie of joy.
+Trafford’s feverish impatience, rather than the
+trained restraint of his profession, spoke in the haste
+he showed to get at real issues.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Parlin,” he began, as soon as formal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>261</span>
+greetings were over, “what can you tell me of the
+Range 16 affair and the papers relating thereto?”</p>
+
+<p>To his surprise Mrs. Parlin grew suddenly white
+and seemed on the point of fainting. He turned
+to her assistance, but by a strong effort she recovered
+a part of her usual self-possession, though the
+colour did not come back to her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” she said. “It is a matter on which
+I can’t talk. You must not; you shall not torture
+me with it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would not willingly distress you in any way,
+Mrs. Parlin,” he said, with less abruptness; “but
+it is my duty to insist and I think it your duty to
+comply. Our whole search for Mr. Wing’s murderer
+may turn upon your answer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, has that come up to curse us again! has that
+come up!” she cried, wringing her hands. “I can’t
+bear it; I can’t bear it!”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford was astounded at her growing agitation,
+and was half disposed to forego further questions,
+at least for the time; but behind him was the impulsion
+of his dread of, he scarcely knew what,
+driving him on to reckless impatience.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>262</span>
+“It has come up and we can’t rid ourselves of it.
+Those papers were the cause of Mr. Wing’s death.”</p>
+
+<p>“Those papers!” she repeated, with open lips,
+which scarcely moved as she spoke. “Those
+papers! But I hid them; no one knew where they
+were. Theodore did not even know of their existence.”</p>
+
+<p>“You hid them!” exclaimed Trafford, thunderstruck
+at the statement. “They were stolen, I
+understand. How could you hide them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, like a bewildered child, admitting
+a fault; “they were stolen. I stole them.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Trafford’s turn to sit dazed beyond the
+power of clear thought. She had stolen the papers
+to which her husband had given long months of
+work and thought, and on which he had hoped to
+build a reputation that should overpass the bounds
+of the State and outlive his years. She was the
+thief; and if report said truly, that theft had hastened
+his death and added bitterness to his last days!</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t mean this, Mrs. Parlin,” he said
+gently. “I refer to the papers that were stolen from
+your husband’s desk some five years before he died;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>263</span>
+the papers that related to the Public Lands Office
+and the timber land and stumpage in Range 16; the
+papers that involved some men very high in the
+State and in the party&mdash;I won’t name them, if you
+please.”</p>
+
+<p>She nodded assent to each of his propositions,
+and when he had finished said:</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; those are the papers I mean. I stole them
+from his desk and hid them. I was going to destroy
+them; but I thought sometime they might be of use
+and not so dangerous, and so I hid them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you hide them?”</p>
+
+<p>“First in the attic, then in the cellar, and finally
+under the bricks of the hearth in the parlour.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s easy, then, to find if they’re still there.”</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes sufficed to raise the bricks and show
+the hiding-place&mdash;a hollow cavity which had been
+devised in the early days for hiding purposes&mdash;empty.</p>
+
+<p>“They are gone!” she cried as she glanced into
+the hole.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Trafford, replacing the bricks and
+leading her back to Wing’s library, where they were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>264</span>
+less apt to be overheard, “they’re gone. Mr. Wing
+found them and, realising the alarm it would be to
+you to know that they were found, did not tell you.
+It was those papers that brought about his death.”</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Parlin was sufficiently calm, Trafford
+set himself to the task of extracting the details of the
+affair; letting her at first tell it in her own way, and
+later asking questions that completed the story. Condensed
+to the facts, it ran as follows:</p>
+
+<p>Nearly twelve years before, her husband, in the
+course of some investigation of a land title in the
+Public Lands Office, came across what appeared an
+error in an important entry. He was on the point
+of calling attention to it, so that it could be corrected,
+when a critical examination convinced him that it
+was not a mere error, but a carefully made change
+that involved the title to timber-land that was just
+becoming exceedingly valuable. Acting on the hint
+thus given, he went to work cautiously, but determinately,
+and personally got together a number of
+documents that revealed what seemed a systematic
+series of forgeries, relating to immense tracts of
+land that were formerly public. In some cases, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>265</span>
+title to the land itself was involved; in others, that
+to the stumpage only.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible to carry on these investigations
+without attracting attention, especially when they
+had gone so far as to show that in every case where
+the title was suspicious, the benefit accrued to the
+Matthewsons and to the Hunters at Millbank. Mr.
+Matthewson was then Governor, but he had formerly
+been at the head of the Public Lands Office, and his
+financial prosperity had appeared to date from about
+the time he held that position.</p>
+
+<p>A prying reporter got an inkling that something
+was going on, and in pursuing his enquiry revealed
+the hints he had discovered to Henry Matthewson.
+A position of financial importance was suddenly
+offered the reporter in a Western city and the story
+never was printed. But the Matthewsons were,
+from that moment, on their guard. A few months
+later, a fire broke out in the record room of the
+Public Lands Office and valuable records were destroyed.
+This did not attract especial attention, for
+the press had repeatedly called public attention to
+the existence of this very danger, and merely contented<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>266</span>
+itself with shouting “I told you so,” with a
+great deal of strenuousness.</p>
+
+<p>What was not known, save to Judge Parlin and,
+probably, some of the office force, was the extreme
+discrimination shown by the fire in destroying the
+very books on which proof of the forgeries depended.
+Certain remarks incautiously dropped by Judge Parlin
+let out facts from which the scandal took shape,
+with charges freely made by political opponents of
+the Matthewsons, which could now be proved only
+by papers in Judge Parlin’s hands, since the destruction
+of the original books. This was the Range 16
+Scandal in its original form.</p>
+
+<p>Up to this time, Judge Parlin had not even taken
+his wife into his confidence, but as the matter took
+more and more of public form, he deemed it necessary
+that she should know, especially as he had begun
+to suspect that the men who were against him
+would hesitate at nothing&mdash;not even murder, to conceal
+the truth. It was an incautious hint dropped by
+him to this effect that first alarmed her, and this
+alarm was speedily increased to terror by threats
+that were conveyed to the judge from time to time,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>267</span>
+though as to the source he was never able to reach a
+solution. “He laughed at them,” she said, telling
+of these threats; “but that is a man’s way. A
+woman sits and thinks and dreads, because she cannot
+act. In the dead night, I heard footsteps prowling
+about the place&mdash;or thought I did, and I lay in
+an agony of terror&mdash;not for myself, but because it
+was not for me that the danger threatened. When
+he was at Norridgewock at court and would drive
+home after dark, I sat and trembled until I had him
+again in my arms and knew that once more the
+chance had passed him by. If there came a ring at
+the bell late at night, I would plead that he let me
+answer it, until I wrought myself into a nervous terror
+that I cannot even now remember without a
+shudder. It was the worse because he was so brave
+and never for a moment felt afraid. When he
+laughed at the threats, I grew cold to my very heart,
+for my fear for him told me that the danger he
+scorned was so real that some day it would fall and
+crush him. A woman’s love knows some things that
+a man’s brain can’t compass!”</p>
+
+<p>It seemed, however, that he attached importance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>268</span>
+of one kind to these threats, such as to induce him to
+guard the papers carefully, pending the time when
+he could duplicate them and place one set where
+they could not possibly be reached. But before this
+was even undertaken, Mrs. Parlin had become so
+alarmed that she urged her husband to abandon the
+matter and destroy the papers and let this be known
+where it would cause a cessation of the annoyance to
+which they were both subjected. But here she found
+him inflexible, and at last her terror reached such a
+pitch that she determined herself to steal and destroy
+the papers.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before she was able to carry this
+resolve into execution, and during the delay she
+reached a point of terror little short of insanity. At
+last, under the impulse of fear intensified by a particularly
+boldly expressed threat, she took desperate
+chances and, as desperate chances will do at times,
+succeeded. She took the papers from her husband’s
+desk almost under his very eyes, and ever after had
+the cruel pain of knowing that the trust she had betrayed
+was so great that no suspicion of the betrayal
+had ever crossed his mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>269</span>
+Once in possession of the papers, she had, as she
+told Trafford, failed in the courage to destroy them,
+and had easily persuaded herself that they might at
+some time be an actual means of protection to her
+husband. Therefore she had hidden them, as stated,
+and thus finally they had passed into Theodore
+Wing’s hands to prove his death warrant.</p>
+
+<p>The judge was much broken over the loss of the
+papers, the facts in regard to which could not be
+kept from the public. For a time, the scandal blazed
+up and the Matthewsons had to meet charges which
+could be proved by no one and which, therefore, they
+were the more bold in denying. Then public interest
+was turned to other issues, only to be aroused
+again for a time by Judge Parlin’s candidacy for the
+highest State court and his defeat, which he did not
+long survive.</p>
+
+<p>“But when,” she demanded, “could Theodore
+have found these papers?”</p>
+
+<p>“About two years ago, I should say; perhaps a
+little earlier,” said Trafford. “At least, it was then
+known that he had found them, for on no other
+theory can we explain the ransacking of his desk.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>270</span>
+He then began to carry them about with him, and the
+interests involved, which had rested quiet since your
+husband’s loss, and especially since his death, became
+disturbed again and active.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it must be the Matthewsons or Hunters
+who murdered him,” exclaimed the woman, under
+a sudden breaking in of light.</p>
+
+<p>“It would seem a fair conclusion,” answered
+Trafford; “and yet I have evidence that satisfies
+me that they did not murder him and do not know
+who did. I don’t mean to say that they wouldn’t
+have done it finally; but they didn’t this time, and
+are not only puzzled, but much disturbed, over the
+mystery of the murder. We have gone so far on this
+matter that I can tell you in a word why they are disturbed.
+Whoever murdered him took the papers, and
+they are alarmed as to where they’ll turn up next.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin had by the act of telling her story
+recovered her self-control and power to think, and
+saw as clearly as Trafford the meaning of this uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>“But who,” she asked, “could have done it, if
+they did not?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>271</span>
+“Some one who knew he had the papers. Some
+one who knew something of their value, and some
+one who knows the safety there is in boldness, and
+had the nerve to carry through an affair that might
+break down at any point. I knew long since that
+some one was with Mr. Wing in the evening after
+you left him, and that the visitor stayed very late. I
+also know that, contrary to what was generally supposed,
+this room was visited after the murder. Some
+one passed over his dead body, entered the room, and
+took the papers. The question is, who was bold
+enough to commit the theft under such conditions?”</p>
+
+<p>The picture that Trafford drew of the murder and
+the theft stirred Mrs. Parlin, already wrought upon
+by the interview, to a state of nervous excitement
+that was most distressing. Too late, the detective
+realised that in such a state she was scarcely a safe
+custodian for the secret he had given into her keeping.
+She walked the room, wringing her hands and
+asking herself:</p>
+
+<p>“Why didn’t I burn them; why didn’t I burn
+them? I might at least have saved Theodore! I
+am his murderer.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>272</span>
+It was late when Trafford had quieted her so that
+he dared trust her even with Mary Mullin. Even
+this he did not do, without first giving her a stern
+warning as to the necessity of self-restraint.</p>
+
+<p>“We’re on the last stretch now,” he said.
+“What’s done must be done quickly and silently.
+These men haven’t committed murder yet, but they
+wouldn’t hesitate to, if they were once convinced
+that safety lay in that direction. In forty-eight
+hours they’ll see that it’s safer for this murder to
+remain a mystery, and then it’ll be dangerous to
+move&mdash;it may mean death. Can you keep still on
+this subject two days?”</p>
+
+<p>“I kept still for eight years while I saw my husband
+crushed,” she said reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>As he was turning away, oppressed with the
+thought that he was pitted against men who would
+hesitate at nothing and who, as soon as a conference
+was had, must see that their interests lay in
+thwarting his efforts, she caught him by the coat
+and drew him towards her.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s been blood enough shed,” she said.
+“These papers killed my husband, though I stole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>273</span>
+them in the hope of saving his life. They’ve killed
+Theodore. Don’t let them kill any more folks.
+Burn them, burn them, when you get hold of
+them!”</p>
+
+<p>“But you want me to catch Mr. Wing’s murderer,
+don’t you? You want him sent to Thomaston?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; yes!” Her eyes blazed with the desire of
+revenge. “Don’t let him escape! But burn the
+papers!”</p>
+
+<p>He lingered still, though he felt that he was wasting
+precious time. He seemed to be in the one place
+of safety, and a strange dread, which he knew
+foreign to his nature and profession, assailed him.
+He had never experienced it before and it seemed a
+premonition of coming evil. As he turned finally to
+go, she said again:</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t move alone. You can’t do better than
+take Mr. McManus’s advice. The judge had every
+confidence in him, and so, I think, had Theodore.
+You’ll be safer if some one knows what you are
+doing. Tell him everything and keep somebody by
+you all the time. Catch Theodore’s murderer, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>274</span>
+when you get him and the papers, burn the papers:
+don’t let them cause any more bloodshed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shan’t move without Mr. McManus,” he assured
+her. “He is cool-headed and resourceful.
+I’ll catch Mr. Wing’s murderer and I’ll put an end
+to the mischief those papers can do.”</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, there was the sense of oppression
+and danger hanging over him. He was doubting
+himself&mdash;doubting himself, from the moment Matthewson
+had assured him that he would give a hundred
+thousand dollars for the papers. Suppose he
+should find them, would he have strength to put that
+offer from him? As he asked this question, he
+realised that the fear that weighed on him was
+rather the fear born of a sense of moral degradation
+than fear of bodily harm. He knew as absolutely
+as if the thing was done that, if once he was in possession
+of the papers, he would sell them to Matthewson;
+and while he knew it and hated himself for
+being capable of doing it, he went steadily on the
+course which could have no other ending.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>275</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xviii">CHAPTER XVIII<br />
+<span>The Man is Found</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>cMANUS was unmarried and lived at the
+Millbank Hotel, where he indulged in the
+extravagance of two rooms, a sitting room and a
+bedroom. Trafford saw him at supper and arranged
+for an evening interview.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll come to your room,” he said. “I’ve got
+nothing but a six by nine closet on the highest floor.”</p>
+
+<p>Supper over, he went for a short walk, to pass the
+time until the hour of appointment. He walked
+out on the river road where Charles Hunter’s great
+house stood, and found himself running over items
+of expense in maintaining such an establishment, all
+directed to the question whether a man on the
+income derivable from one hundred thousand dollars
+could afford a home like it. Disgusted with a train
+of thought he could not control, he hastened on,
+until at the top of Parlin Hill he saw the Parlin
+homestead and quite unexpectedly began asking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>276</span>
+himself if Mrs. Parlin was not likely to sell it and
+move into a smaller house.</p>
+
+<p>Whipped with the lash of his now ungovernable
+thoughts, he returned to the hotel and was confronted
+by Frank Hunter, whom he would dearly
+have liked to arrest and bind over to keep the peace.
+He was in what he called a “blue funk,” and did
+not regain his self-control until he found himself in
+McManus’s room, where a sense of security seemed
+to seize him.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll put this window on to the porch down and
+draw the shades,” he said, suiting the action to the
+word. “I’ve got some things to say that mustn’t
+be overheard.”</p>
+
+<p>They were at the table with cigars lighted, before
+McManus responded with reference to the affair in
+hand:</p>
+
+<p>“Have you made any progress?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got the thing down to a dot,” he answered;
+“with the one exception&mdash;you’ll say important&mdash;of
+the man. I can tell you how that murder was
+committed, and when I have, I think you’ll agree
+with my prediction of a fortnight ago as to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>277</span>
+characteristics of the man who committed it. What
+I want of you is that when the thing is told, you’ll
+help me put my hands on the man.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll do my best,” replied McManus; “but
+don’t forget you are giving me the point on which
+you confess yourself at a loss.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t that where we all want help?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but not always where we get it.”</p>
+
+<p>“On the evening of May 10, a man came from
+somewhere below on the train due here at eight
+o’clock. He dropped off at the Bridge station,
+instead of coming into Millbank, and met another
+man, apparently by appointment, about half-way
+between the railroad and covered bridges. They
+talked about ten minutes&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Hold on,” interrupted McManus; “you go too
+fast. Was the man he met a Millbank man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I forgot. It was Frank Hunter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Frank Hunter!” exclaimed McManus. “You’re
+still pointing to our office, as I said before. It’s a
+grave responsibility you’re taking, Mr. Trafford.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m taking no responsibility. I’m simply giving<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>278</span>
+you facts. Whoever was the murderer, I’m certain
+it wasn’t Frank Hunter. I’ll give you that for your
+comfort. As I was saying, they talked about ten
+minutes and then separated. Hunter went to his
+brother’s house and the stranger turned back,
+crossed the railroad bridge, and went down Somerset
+Street, meeting a man about a quarter of a mile
+below the Catholic church, where the street runs
+through the heavy maple grove. You know the
+spot?”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded, attempting no other interruption.</p>
+
+<p>“It was now about quarter to nine, and the two
+were together full half an hour. The stranger then
+came back up Somerset Street and went directly to
+Charles Hunter’s house. Ten minutes after, a man,
+who might have been the one whom the stranger
+met, crossed Eddy Street to Bicknell, came up Bicknell
+to Canaan, crossed Canaan to River Road, and
+went directly up River Road to the Parlin homestead.
+He reached there between half-past nine and
+quarter before ten and went to the side door, where
+he rang the right-hand bell, showing that he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>279</span>
+acquainted with the peculiar arrangement of the
+bells. Mr. Wing came to the door and the two went
+into the library.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now,” continued Trafford after a pause, to
+enable McManus to grasp all of the details, “as to
+the time; it was nine-thirty when Mrs. Parlin left
+the room. Wing had not written his letter, so that
+we have got the time pretty closely fixed. He stayed
+with Wing until nearly eleven-thirty. The stranger
+seems to have left Hunter’s house under pretence of
+catching the freight that leaves at eleven, but in
+reality he went to Somerset Street and walked up
+and down that street until a quarter to twelve, when
+he was joined by a man, presumably the one who
+had come from Wing’s library. It was a pretty
+hazardous thing to do, this loafing up and down
+Somerset Street, but up to now I haven’t found
+a single person whose attention he particularly
+attracted and certainly not one who pretends to have
+recognised him, though I feel certain he has many
+acquaintances in this town.”</p>
+
+<p>“If the two Hunters saw him, why don’t you get
+his identity from them?” McManus demanded.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>280</span>
+“That’ll come in time. I’ve not wanted to take
+too many into my confidence, and there’s no danger
+of their running away. Of course, if there’d been
+any possibility that this visitor was the murderer,
+’twould be different, but as you’ll see, there isn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he may have instigated the murder, without
+actually firing the shot,” said McManus. “You
+must pardon me, Mr. Trafford; but I can’t help feeling
+you’ve shown yourself somewhat derelict in this
+important matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope I’ll be able to exonerate myself before I
+finish,” said Trafford. “At any rate, let me go on.
+The matters these men had to discuss were of such
+interest that the visitor came near missing the midnight
+train, which might have subjected me to the
+necessity of having him arrested, since he would
+then have been in town when the murder occurred.
+As it was, by hurrying through the alley between
+the post-office and Neil’s store, they got the train,
+the stranger coming from behind the potato warehouse,
+as has been testified. His companion remained
+there, or he might have been recognised by
+Oldbeg.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>281</span>
+Trafford seemed disposed to muse over the possible
+result of such an event and as well over another
+matter to which he referred a moment later:</p>
+
+<p>“It would be a curious thing to know just what
+was said behind the storehouse, where they had their
+last words. It might throw a flood of light on
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” answered McManus, showing a feverish
+desire for the continuance of the narrative; “but
+you might as well try to guess where yesterday’s
+winds have blown to. You seem to have facts
+enough, without speculating on conversations.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose that’s true,” returned Trafford; “yet
+that last talk has a fascination for me. Who knows
+that it wasn’t just that that sealed Wing’s fate?
+You say this man may have instigated the murder.
+If so, may not that have been the moment of instigation?”</p>
+
+<p>“Scarcely possible,” returned McManus, as it
+were drawn against his will into the discussion.
+“If he did anything so important, he wouldn’t leave
+it for the last word and last moment.”</p>
+
+<p>“There I don’t agree with you,” Trafford<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>282</span>
+retorted, showing a disposition to argue, which
+caused McManus a nervous irritation he could not
+conceal. “From my experience, that’s just what he
+would do. He’d hesitate to take the plunge; he’d
+wait to shape a phrase and then, at the last moment,
+when it had to be done, he’d throw it off in any
+form it presented itself. Actually, I’d give more to
+know what was said in that two minutes, before the
+stranger jumped for the train, than for all the talk
+of the whole evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well; have your own way,” said McManus
+brusquely; “but you can’t know. Let it rest there,
+and let’s go on to what happened next&mdash;if you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford watched him intently, as he was speaking,
+but when he had finished seemed to find nothing
+in the speech, so he went on:</p>
+
+<p>“After the train pulled out, the man behind the
+storehouse waited some few minutes, till the station
+was closed, and the men had left, and then he stepped
+out and picked up something that he saw lying on
+the ground and had watched from the moment it
+had caught his eye. It was a revolver, one chamber<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>283</span>
+of which had been discharged. We know now how
+it came there, and don’t need to go over that part.
+He skulked back through Gray’s Court, keeping in
+the shadows when he crossed Canaan Street, and so
+came again into River Road. A feverish haste had
+now taken control of him, and when he reached the
+driveway of the Parlin homestead, the light was still
+burning in the library&mdash;in fact, Mr. Wing was at
+his desk, just finishing the letter which he had intended
+to write early in the evening, and which the
+visit of this unknown man had prevented him from
+writing.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s not the first thing,” interrupted McManus,
+who seemed now watchful of every detail
+as the tale approached its climax, “to show that he
+ever wrote that letter!”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s been no evidence yet produced,” replied
+Trafford; “but the evidence exists, and I can prove
+that it was written and the person to whom it was
+addressed. I can prove too that it never reached
+that person.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go on,” said McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“The man felt that what he had to do must be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>284</span>
+done quickly. Perhaps he knew that if he took time
+for thought, he wouldn’t have the courage or resolution
+to do the work. He went to the door where
+he had rung early in the evening, and rang the same
+bell. Then he stepped on to the grass east of the
+doorstep and waited, with the pistol he had found
+ready in his hand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you certain on that point?” demanded McManus.</p>
+
+<p>Trafford stopped and looked at McManus, as if
+pondering that question. Finally he answered:</p>
+
+<p>“I think so. He probably had a pistol of his own,
+but I’m confident he used the one he’d found. Everything
+points to his being a shrewd, keen man, and
+naturally he would not use his own pistol when he
+had another in his pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded, indicating that Trafford was
+to take up the story.</p>
+
+<p>“Wing came to the door, as before. He did not
+bring a lamp, but left the doors open behind him.
+Seeing no one, he stepped out on to the door-stone,
+when the man in hiding pressed the pistol against his
+temple and drew the trigger at the same instant.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>285</span>
+Wing fell in a heap on the step and threshold&mdash;his
+death was instantaneous.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus had listened to these last words as if
+fascinated by the terrible details so briefly stated.
+When Trafford paused on the last word, he seemed
+to catch his breath with the movement of one who
+in the last minute had forgotten everything but the
+picture before him.</p>
+
+<p>“If your tale is true,” he said, breathing deeply,
+“your description of the man is the man himself&mdash;a
+man of quick movements, strong purpose, assured position,
+and absolute control of nerves. The man must
+have been iron&mdash;at least while he was doing the job.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he needed to be adamant to complete it.
+There was nothing to him in Wing’s death, as a
+mere death. It saved him from nothing, though it
+might save others. It was positive, not negative,
+gain he was after. Perhaps, on the whole, he would
+rather Wing had lived. He felt it simply a necessity,
+and an unpleasant one at that, that he should
+die. But he was after something, and Wing’s death
+was only the preliminary to securing it. Having
+waited to make certain the shot had aroused no one,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>286</span>
+he stepped over the dead body and entered the
+library. He closed the door behind him, went to
+the safe, which was still open, and took from the
+upper left-hand pigeon hole a package of papers.
+Then he closed the safe and turned the knob, probably
+mechanically, showing that he was a man accustomed
+to deal with keyless safes. He went to the
+desk and took from it the letter which Wing had
+just sealed and directed&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom?” interrupted McManus.</p>
+
+<p>“To the Governor, asking for an appointment for
+the following Thursday, the thirteenth.”</p>
+
+<p>McManus nodded and Trafford went on:</p>
+
+<p>“Then he put out the light, raised the shade of
+one window to make sure the coast was clear, and
+returned the way he had come. In doing so, he closed
+the library door behind him and drew the outer
+door to until it was stopped by the body of the dead
+man. Thus, you see, with all his shrewdness, he
+made four mistakes; he closed and locked the safe;
+he put out the light; he closed the library door, and
+he attempted to close the outer door.”</p>
+
+<p>“How mistakes?” asked McManus.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>287</span>
+“If he had left the safe open, it would have been
+supposed mere robbery was the purpose. If he had
+left the lamp burning, and the library and outer
+doors open, there would have been nothing to show
+that some one had visited the room after the murder.”</p>
+
+<p>“There was the missing letter,” suggested McManus,
+who seemed to be thinking with Trafford’s
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied Trafford; “that was mistake
+number five.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, of course,” went on McManus, “he had no
+means of knowing what was in it. If it had been still
+unsealed, it would have been different. As it was,
+he could not risk it; there was nothing else for him
+to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly,” replied Trafford; “still, I think we
+can count it a mistake. The package of papers was
+what he really wanted. He should have been content
+with that.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how did he know that he had got all in that
+single package? Would he not be likely to examine
+the safe, especially the cupboard?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>288</span>
+“How would he have got at it? It was
+locked.”</p>
+
+<p>“Unless Wing’s keys were in the lock. That
+might have been. He would have taken them out
+when he closed the safe; it would not have closed
+otherwise. I understand they were found on the
+mantel.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who testified to that?” asked Trafford, as if
+trying to recall the fact.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t remember,” said McManus. “Some one
+at the inquest, I think.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it would have been natural for him to
+open the cupboard, though he must have seen the
+package when he was there early in the evening,
+and so knew what he was after. However, whether
+he examined further or not, he did not remain long.
+The next day he cleaned the chamber of the revolver
+and filled it, thus leaving only one empty, and during
+the night found opportunity to throw it over on to
+the box hedge in the front yard.”</p>
+
+<p>Trafford stopped as if he had finished his story,
+and McManus sat like one in a deep reverie. Suddenly,
+he looked up and asked:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>289</span>
+“Where then are the papers which were the cause
+of this tragedy?”</p>
+
+<p>“The man has not dared use them; he keeps them
+concealed until it is safe to sell them for the hundred
+thousand dollars which was offered for them.”</p>
+
+<p>“My God! man, how do you know these things?”
+demanded McManus, his face ghastly as that of a
+week-old corpse.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you dare deny one of them?” retorted Trafford.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean by that?” asked the other.</p>
+
+<p>“<em>That you are the man who murdered Wing!</em>”</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>290</span>
+</div>
+
+<h2 id="xix">CHAPTER XIX<br />
+<span>The Last of the Papers</span></h2>
+
+<p class="noi"><span class="dropcap">M</span>cMANUS had sprung to his feet as the accusation
+came from Trafford’s lips. His left
+hand was in the side pocket of his sack coat, and as
+Trafford also rose, there rang out the report of a
+pistol, fired without removing it from the pocket.
+The bullet just missed Trafford, cutting the sleeve
+of his coat.</p>
+
+<p>“Throw up your hands, or I’ll shoot,” came from
+the window, and there stood Trafford’s assistant,
+with pistol drawn and aimed at McManus.</p>
+
+<p>At the very beginning of the story, he had raised
+the window and had since been listening to the conversation.
+McManus glanced at Trafford, who was
+also covering him with a pistol.</p>
+
+<p>“I yield,” he said, “to force. You will find it all
+a hideous mistake before you get through.”</p>
+
+<p>“Handcuff him.” Trafford gave the order.
+“I’ll keep my pistol on him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>291</span>
+McManus turned toward the man who approached
+from the window. He seemed to have recovered his
+composure, and a puzzling smile was on his lips.
+Then, suddenly, the hand came up, without leaving
+the pocket, which was lifted with it; there
+was a slight turn of the hand seen through the
+cloth and the muffled report of the pistol. McManus
+fell, shot through the heart by his own
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>“A damned bungling piece of work, to let that be
+done,” said Trafford. “There ’re steps on the
+stairs. Don’t open the door for a minute.”</p>
+
+<p>He rushed into the bedroom, and seizing a tin box
+that stood on a stand by the bed, dropped it from the
+window into a dense mass of shrubbery that grew
+beneath. He was back in the room to answer the
+first knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Millbank slept but little that night. The streets
+were thronged with people, and the story of the
+tragedy, the discovery of the murderer and his suicide,
+was repeated and re-repeated, with new details
+at every repetition. Before midnight it was surprising
+to know how many people had all along suspected<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>292</span>
+McManus and felt certain that he “was no
+better than he should be.”</p>
+
+<p>Frank Hunter came among the very first and
+went back and forth from the sitting room to the
+bedroom, with an uneasy air of searching for something
+and yet striving to conceal the fact. Trafford
+watched him with a curious expression on his face,
+as if he enjoyed the man’s awkwardness and embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>When Charles Matthewson arrived on the latest
+train and went directly to the Hunter house, Trafford
+was instantly informed and at once made up
+his mind to his line of action. McManus’s suicide
+was confession, and the possession of the papers was
+no longer necessary to conviction. Trafford determined
+to have them off his hands at the earliest possible
+moment, and with Matthewson in town, that
+promised to be before daylight. At the first opportunity
+he stole out, recovered possession of the box,
+and hid it in a less exposed place.</p>
+
+<p>About midnight, matters had so quieted down
+that he was able to respond to Mrs. Parlin’s message
+begging him to come to her and, if possible, remain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>293</span>
+in the house the balance of the night. He took with
+him the box, containing what he now regarded as
+his fortune and his reward for work done in discovering
+the murderer.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parlin was eager to hear the story, and it
+was some time after midnight before she left him
+and he was at liberty to follow his purpose. His
+judgment dictated waiting until morning, which
+would be a matter of but a few hours, but the box
+and its papers had become a growing burden, leaving
+him but one thought and that to be rid of them.
+From the library window he could see that a light
+still burned in the Hunter house. He was resolved
+to complete the matter before he slept.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the house cautiously, with the box under
+his arm, he hurried down the hill, at the foot of
+which lay the heavy shadows of the great Lombardy
+poplars. It seemed to him that he had never seen
+the shadows so black as they were to-night. As he
+entered the blackness, he quickened his pace almost
+to a run, and was almost in the light again when
+there came what seemed to him a flash of flame,
+then deeper darkness and oblivion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>294</span>
+How long he lay on the walk under the poplars he
+did not know, excepting that his first sensation of
+returning consciousness was of the soft white light
+that comes before the sun steals up from behind
+the earth. The next was of a heaviness of the head
+and a numbness that was giving way to pain. He
+put up his hand feebly, and brought it down again
+wet with blood.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the thought of the box. He reached
+out his hand and, groping, it fell upon it. He had
+barely strength enough yet to draw it to him, but at
+last succeeded, though not without much pain. He
+lifted it feebly and the lid fell back, showing the
+breakage where it had been wrenched from its
+hinges. With a paroxysm of strength born of terror,
+he sat upright and looked into the box. It was
+empty; not even a shred of paper remaining. For
+one instant he gazed in uncomprehending stupidity,
+and then, as the truth flashed on him, he fell again
+to the earth, and lost in temporary unconsciousness
+alike the sense of pain and the power to follow his
+interrupted quest.</p>
+
+<p>Almost at the very moment when Trafford discovered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>295</span>
+the loss of the papers, Henry Matthewson
+slipped through the grounds of the Hunter home,
+coming from the direction of the river, and entered
+by a side door. He went directly to the library,
+where his brother and the two Hunters had been in
+uneasy conference for some hours. As he entered,
+the three men started to their feet, first in surprise at
+his presence, and then in greater surprise at his
+appearance. His face was white and set, like the
+face of a man who has passed through some terrible
+struggle and has conquered or been conquered. One,
+looking at the inscrutable face, could not have
+decided which.</p>
+
+<p>“You!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson. “I
+have been trying to reach you all night.”</p>
+
+<p>“How could you reach here at this hour?” said
+Frank Hunter. “There’s no train.”</p>
+
+<p>Charles Hunter said nothing, but his quick understanding
+of men, and, perhaps, a quality in him that
+would have dared all that man could dare in a desperate
+case, told him more than either of his companions
+saw. For a moment he hesitated and then,
+seeing no denial in the face of the newcomer, said:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>296</span>
+“You have found the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>The others started and looked at the two men
+whom, instinctively, they knew to be stronger than
+themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Henry Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“Where are they?” asked Charles Matthewson
+and Frank Hunter, in a breath.</p>
+
+<p>The other did not answer. Then Charles repeated
+the question:</p>
+
+<p>“Where are they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Where would they be now, if they had come
+into your hands a half-hour ago?” demanded
+Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“Destroyed!” said Charles Hunter unhesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“They are where they will never menace us or
+ours again,” said Henry Matthewson, “unless the
+river gives them up. I dropped them from the
+bridge into the pool below the Falls a half-hour ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“But where did you find them?” was Frank
+Hunter’s question.</p>
+
+<p>Charles Hunter looked again at the other’s face,
+and said:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>297</span>
+“How serious is the matter?”</p>
+
+<p>“The man is merely stunned,” said Henry. “I
+think some one should find him, under the poplars at
+the foot of the hill&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Henry! My God!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson,
+stepping hastily forward. “You haven’t&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I have done what was necessary to obtain the
+papers and save ourselves and&mdash;our mother. I
+hope there is no one here who would have done less.
+I accept full responsibility for acting where none but
+a coward could hesitate.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pray God, Trafford’s not dead!” exclaimed
+Charles Matthewson.</p>
+
+<p>“Amen,” said Henry, and then added; “but be
+that as it may, the papers are.”</p>
+
+
+<p class="center p120 mb3">THE END</p>
+
+<!-- Books -->
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">Two Noteworthy Detective Stories by Burton E. Stevenson</p>
+
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Marathon Mystery</p>
+
+<p class="center">With five scenes in color by <span class="smcap">Eliot Keen</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">4th printing. $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>This absorbing story of New York and Long Island to-day
+has been republished in England. Its conclusion is most
+astonishing.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Sun</cite>: “Distinctly an interesting story&mdash;one of the sort that the
+reader will not lay down before he goes to bed.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Post</cite>: “By comparison with the work of Anna Katharine
+Green ... it is exceptionally clever ... told interestingly and well.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “<cite><span>The Holladay Case</span></cite> was a capital story of crime
+and mystery. In <cite><span>The Marathon Mystery</span></cite> the author is in even firmer
+command of the trick. He is skillful in keeping his reader in suspense,
+and every element in it is cunningly adjusted to preserving the mystery
+inviolate until the end.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “The excellence of its style, Mr. Stevenson
+apparently knowing well the dramatic effect of fluency and brevity, and
+the rationality of avoiding false clues and attempts unduly to mystify his
+readers.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Boston Herald</cite>: “This is something more than an ordinary detective
+story. It thrills you and holds your attention to the end. But besides all
+this the characters are really well drawn and your interest in the plot is
+enhanced by interest in the people who play their parts therein.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Town and Country</cite>: “The mystery defies solution until the end.
+The final catastrophe is worked out in a highly dramatic manner.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Holladay Case</p>
+
+<p class="center">With frontispiece by <span class="smcap">Eliot Keen</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">7th printing. $1.25</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>A tale of a modern mystery of New York and Etretat that
+has been republished in England and Germany.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “Professor Dicey recently said, ‘If you like a detective
+story take care you read a good detective story.’ This is a good
+detective story, and it is the better because the part of the hero is not
+filled by a member of the profession.... The reader will not want to
+put the book down until he has reached the last page. <strong>Most ingeniously
+constructed and well written into the bargain.</strong>”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">Noteworthy Books by ARTHUR COLTON and what some
+authorities say of them.</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Belted Seas</p>
+
+<p>A story of the wild voyages of the irrepressible Captain
+Buckingham in Southern seas. 12mo, $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Evening Post</cite>: “A whimsical Odyssey.... What Jacobs has
+done for the British seaman, Colton has done for the Yankee sailor.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Cincinnati Enquirer</cite>: “Never has the peculiar brand of humor which
+South America affords been more skilfully exploited than by Arthur Colton
+in <cite><span>The Belted Seas</span></cite>.... It is a joyous book, and he were a hardened
+reader indeed who would not chortle with satisfaction over
+<a name="Portate" id="Portate"></a><ins title="Original has 'Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portiac'">Kid
+Sadler’s adventures at Portate</ins>....
+Many of the stories are uproariously funny
+and recall Stockton at his best.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">Port Argent</p>
+<p class="center">12mo, $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center">A romance of a few weeks in an Ohio city “with growing pains.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Critic</cite>: “A story of breathless events and of remarkable concentration.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Mr. Colton’s work is particularly worthy of praise.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Life</cite>: “Arthur Colton is a writer with a remarkably individual outlook.
+Port Argent is bright and full of characteristic Coltonisms.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>San Francisco Chronicle</cite>: “A quiet story told with such restraint
+that it is only after laying down the volume that one realizes the bigness
+of the problems presented, in breadth and richness of thought, and the
+power of its action.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">Tioba</p>
+<p class="center">12mo, $1.25</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Colton here depicts a gallery of very varied Americans.
+Tioba was a mountain which meant well but was mistaken.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “He is always the artist observer, adding stroke upon
+stroke with the surest of sure pens, ... an author who recalls the
+old traditions that there were once such things as good writing and good
+story-telling.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Critic</cite>: “In each of these stories he has presented some out-of-the-way
+fragment of life with faithfulness and power.... He has the artist’s
+instinct.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center p120">TWO ROMANCES OF TRAVEL</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Lightning Conductor</p>
+
+<p class="center p120"><i>The Strange Adventures of a Motor Car</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">By C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON</p>
+
+<p class="center">12mo. $1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>The love story of a beautiful American and a gallant
+Englishman, who stoops to conquer. Two almost human
+automobiles, the one German, heavy and stubborn, and the
+other French, light and easy-going, play prominent parts.
+There is much humor. Picturesque scenes in Provence, Spain
+and Italy pass before the reader’s eyes in rapid succession.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty printings of this novel have been called for.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Nation</cite>: “Such delightful people, and such delightful scenes....
+It should be a good, practical guide to those about to go over the same
+course, while its charming descriptions of travel afford an ample new fund
+of pleasure, tinged with envy here and there to the stay-at-homes.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Sun</cite>: “A pleasant and felicitous romance.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Springfield Republican</cite>: “Wholly new and decidedly entertaining.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Chicago Post</cite>: “Sprightly humor ... the story moves.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Pursuit of Phyllis</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By J. HARWOOD BACON</p>
+
+<p class="center">With two illustrations by <span class="smcap">H. Latimer Brown</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">12mo. $1.25</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>A humorous love story with scenes in England, France,
+China and Ceylon.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “A bright and entertaining story of up-to-date
+men and women.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Tribune</cite>: “Very enjoyable.... Its charm consists in its
+naturalness and the sparkle of the dialogue and descriptions.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Evening Post</cite>: “The story is brisk, buoyant and entertaining.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Sparkling in fun, clean-cut and straightforward in style
+as the young hero himself.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">New York</span>
+<span class="city">Chicago</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">2d printing of “A novel in the better sense of a word much
+sinned against.... It is decidedly a book worth while.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Transgression of<br />
+Andrew Vane</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By GUY WETMORE CARRYL</p>
+
+<p class="center">12mo. $1.50.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Times’ Saturday Review</span>:&mdash;“A strong and original story; ... the
+descriptions of conditions in the American colony [in Paris] are
+convincingly clever. The story from the prologue&mdash;one of exceptional
+promise in point of interest&mdash;to the climax ... is full
+of action and dramatic surprise.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">N. Y. Tribune</span>:&mdash;“The surprising developments we must leave the
+reader to find out for himself. He will find it a pleasant task; ...
+the surprise is not brought forward until precisely the right moment,
+and one is carried from the first chapter to the last with curiosity,
+and concern for the hero’s fate kept well alive.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">N. Y. Evening Sun</span>:&mdash;“Everybody who likes clever fiction should
+read it.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Literary World</span>:&mdash;“The prologue is as skilful a handling of a
+repellent theme as has ever been presented. The book is distinctly
+not one for the young person, but neither is it for the seeker after
+the risqué or the erotic.... In this novel are poured into a consistent
+and satisfying whole more of those vivid phases of Paris at
+which the author has shown himself a master hand.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Chicago Evening Post</span>:&mdash;“The reader stops with regret in his
+mind that Guy Wetmore Carryl’s story-telling work is done.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Chicago Tribune</span>:&mdash;“A brilliant piece of work.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Washington Star</span>:&mdash;“A more engaging villain has seldom entered
+the pages of modern fiction; ... sparkles with quotable epigrams.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Buffalo Express</span>:&mdash;“The sort of a story which one is very apt to
+read with interest from beginning to end. And, moreover, ...
+very bright and clever.”</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">New Haven Journal</span>:&mdash;“By far the most ambitious work he
+undertook, and likewise the most brilliant.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher"><i>29 W. 23d St.</i></span>
+<span class="city"><i>NEW YORK</i></span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center">“<strong>From any point of view it is an unusual novel, as much better
+than some of the ‘best sellers’ as a painting is better than
+a chromo.</strong>”&mdash;<cite>World’s Work.</cite></p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div class="figleft mt2 width120" id="divine-fire">
+  <img src="images/divine-fire.jpg" width="120" height="99" alt="Flames" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center p180">The Divine Fire</p>
+
+<p class="center p120"><span class="smcap">By</span> MAY SINCLAIR</p>
+
+<p class="center">$1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>6th printing of <cite>The story of a London poet</cite>.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><i>Mary Moss in the</i> <cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite>: “Certain it is that in all
+our new fiction I have found nothing worthy to compare with
+‘The Divine Fire,’ nothing even remotely approaching the same
+class.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>New York Globe</cite>: “The biggest surprise of the whole season’s
+fiction ... you never once stop to question its style, or its realism,
+or the art of its construction. You simply read right on, deaf
+to everything and everybody outside of the compelling magic of
+its pages.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Dial</cite>: “A full-length study of the poetic temperament, framed
+in a varied and curiously interesting environment, and drawn
+with a firmness of hand that excites one’s admiration....
+Moreover, a real distinction of style, besides being of absorbing
+interest from cover to cover.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Catholic Mirror</cite>: “One of the noblest, most inspiring and absorbing
+books we have read in years.”</p>
+
+<p><i>Owen Seaman in</i> <cite>Punch</cite> (London): “I find her book the most
+remarkable that I have read for many years.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The Diary of a Musician</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">Edited by DOLORES M. BACON</p>
+
+<p class="center">With decorations and illustrations by <span class="smcap">Charles Edward
+Hooper</span> and <span class="smcap">H. Latimer Brown</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">$1.50</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p>Authorities agree that no particular musical celebrity is
+described or satirized; all review the book with enthusiasm,
+though some damn while others praise.</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><cite>Times Review</cite>: “Of extraordinary interest as a study from the inside
+of the inwardness of a genius.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>Bookman</cite>: “Much of that exquisite egotism, the huge, artistic Me and
+the tiny universe, that gluttony of the emotions, of the whole peculiar
+compound of hysteria, inspiration, vanity, insight and fidgets, which goes
+to make up that delightful but somewhat rickety thing which we call the
+artistic temperament is reproduced.... The ‘Diary of a Musician’ does
+what most actual diaries fail to do&mdash;writes down a man in full.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+</div>
+<div class="book-container">
+<p class="center p180">TALES OF MYSTERY</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">The House of the Black Ring</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By FRED. LEWIS PATTEE. $1.50</p>
+
+<p>A story oddly combining humor and horror. It tells of the
+squire, a sort of feudal lord, his enemies, his fate and of his
+daughter and how she would have her way in love. The weird
+influence of <cite><span>The House of the Black Ring</span></cite> dominates the little
+“pocket” in the Seven Mountains of Pennsylvania.</p>
+
+<p><cite>The Washington Star</cite>: “An unusual combination of the weird and
+the humorous ... absorbing and often thrilling tale.... A forest
+fire ... is a dramatic episode which does Mr. Pattee exceptional credit
+in the restraint of his treatment and the effectiveness of his climaxes.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Evening Sun</cite>: “An interesting story ... piques the reader’s
+curiosity and keeps him reading till the mystery is solved.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">Red-Headed Gill</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By RYE OWEN. 4th printing. $1.50</p>
+
+<p>Red-Headed Gill is a splendid young country gentlewoman of
+Cornwall. Under a weird East Indian influence she is forced
+to live over again part of the life of a beauty of the days of Queen
+Bess&mdash;the famous Gill Red-Head.</p>
+
+<p><cite>New York Sun</cite>: “A charming girl whom the reader will watch with
+interest to the end. The author manages to transport her back into the
+life of her Tudor ancestress over and again naturally, and with great
+effect.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>New York Times Review</cite>: “There is much originality in the plot.
+The reader’s attention is at once enlisted, and is not allowed to flag.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p180">In the Dwellings
+of the Wilderness</p>
+
+<p class="center p120">By C. BRYSON TAYLOR. $1.25</p>
+
+<p>A ghost story so plausibly told that many may, like one of the
+chief characters, think it might all be explained by natural
+causes after all. It tells the astonishing adventures of three
+American engineers, excavating in the heart of an Egyptian
+desert.</p>
+
+<p><cite>Boston Transcript</cite>: “The impression on the reader is so strong that
+he finds his grip on the book grow strained in spite of himself.”</p>
+
+<p><cite>N. Y. Globe</cite>: “Strikes a note of weird horror, and sustains that note
+page after page.... A vividness that makes it difficult to banish the
+picture from your memory for many a day.”</p>
+
+<hr class="full-double" />
+
+<p class="center p140">Henry Holt and Company</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="publisher">Publishers</span>
+<span class="city">New York</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="section">
+<hr class="full x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+<div class="tn">
+<p class="center p120">Transcriber’s Note:</p>
+
+<p class="noi left">Punctuation has been standardised except spaces
+before ’ll and ’re have been retained as they appear in the original
+publication. Hyphenation and spelling have also been retained as published,
+except as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="noi left">The <a href="#Eliot">title page</a> refers to a colour
+<a href="#frontispiece">frontispiece</a>. Unfortunately, a colour version
+could not be found at the time this eBook was prepared.</p>
+
+<ul>
+<li>Page 74<br />
+an’ let’s folks <i>changed to</i><br />
+an’ <a href="#lets">lets</a> folks</li>
+
+<li>Page 124<br />
+must be re-convened <i>changed to</i><br />
+must be <a href="#reconvened">reconvened</a></li>
+
+<li>Page 139<br />
+visit was to Milbank <i>changed to</i><br />
+visit was to <a href="#Millbank">Millbank</a></li>
+
+<li>Page 232<br />
+man who want me <i>changed to</i><br />
+man who <a href="#wants">wants</a> me</li>
+
+<li>Page 247<br />
+shadow of Pettengill’s potato storehouse <i>changed to</i><br />
+shadow of <a href="#Pettingill">Pettingill’s</a> potato storehouse</li>
+
+<li>Second page of book promotions<br />
+Kid Saddler’s adventures at Portaic <i>changed to</i><br />
+<a href="#Portate">Kid Sadler’s adventures at Portate</a></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MILLBANK CASE ***</div>
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