diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-0.txt | 7282 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-0.zip | bin | 123539 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-h.zip | bin | 622416 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-h/66051-h.htm | 9462 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-h/images/colophon.png | bin | 11689 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 208133 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-h/images/cover2.jpg | bin | 100174 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-h/images/divine-fire.jpg | bin | 7859 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66051-h/images/frontispiece.jpg | bin | 179373 -> 0 bytes |
12 files changed, 17 insertions, 16744 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..407159c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66051 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66051) diff --git a/old/66051-0.txt b/old/66051-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a9b1291..0000000 --- a/old/66051-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7282 +0,0 @@ -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 *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/66051-0.zip b/old/66051-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3ead2c7..0000000 --- a/old/66051-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66051-h.zip b/old/66051-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index eb91f79..0000000 --- a/old/66051-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66051-h/66051-h.htm b/old/66051-h/66051-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 4659232..0000000 --- a/old/66051-h/66051-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9462 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Millbank Case, by George Dyre Eldridge—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - body {margin: 0 10%;} - div.chapter, div.section {page-break-before: always;} - h1, h2 {text-align: center; clear: both; page-break-before: avoid;} - h1 span {font-size: .6em;} - h2 {line-height: 2em; font-size: 1.4em;} - h2 span {font-size: .9em; line-height: 1em; font-family: "Old English Text MT", "Edwardian Script ITC Regular", serif;} - p {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1em;} - p.left {text-align: left;} - em, cite {font-style: italic;} - cite span {font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;} - - /* General */ - .p180 {font-size: 1.8em;} - .p140 {font-size: 1.4em;} - .p120 {font-size: 1.2em;} - .p80 {font-size: .8em;} - .noi {text-indent: 0;} - .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - .mt3 {margin-top: 3em;} - .mt2 {margin-top: 2em;} - .mb3 {margin-bottom: 3em;} - .lh {line-height: 3em ;} - - /* Drop caps */ - span.dropcap {clear:left; float:left; font-size:3em; line-height:0.8; - vertical-align: top;} - span.dropcap2 {font-size: .3em; line-height: 100%; vertical-align: top;} - - /* Notes */ - ins {text-decoration: none;} - .tn {width: 60%; margin: 2em 18%; background: #ededef; padding: 1em;} - li {margin-bottom: .5em;} - ul {list-style: square;} - - /* Horizontal rules */ - hr {border-color: #ededef;} - hr.full, hr.full-double {width: 100%; margin: .1em 0;} - hr.full-double {border-top: double;} - hr.divider {width: 65%; margin: 4em 17.5%;} - hr.divider2 {width: 40%; margin: 4em 30%;} - hr.tiny {width: 10%; margin: 0 45%;} - hr.double {width: 50%; margin: 4em 25%; border-top: double;} - - /* Page numbers */ - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 2%; text-indent: 0em; - text-align: right; font-size: x-small; - font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; - color: #999; border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid; - background-color: inherit; padding: .01em .4em;} - - /* Images */ - .figcenter {margin: 2em auto; text-align: center; page-break-inside: avoid; max-width: 100%;} - .figleft {float: left;} - img {max-width: 100%; width: 100%; height: auto;} - .width800 {max-width: 800px;} - .width500 {max-width: 500px;} - .width120 {max-width: 120px;} - .width100 {max-width: 100px;} - - /* Table */ - table {margin: auto; border-collapse: collapse; max-width: 40em;} - th {font-size: .8em;} - td {padding-bottom: .5em;} - .tdl {vertical-align: top; text-align: left; margin-left: 0; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -1em;} - .tdr, .tdr2 {text-align: right;} - .tdr {vertical-align: top;} - .tdr2 {vertical-align: bottom;} - - /* Books */ - .hang {padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} - .book-container {max-width: 30em; width: 30em; margin: auto;} - span.publisher { display:inline-block; text-align:left; width:49%; } - span.city { display:inline-block; text-align:right; width:49%; } - - @media print { - hr.divider, hr.divider2 {border-width: 0; margin: 0;} - a:link, a:visited, a:hover, a:active {text-decoration: none; color: inherit;} - } - - /* ebookmaker */ - body.x-ebookmaker {margin: .5em; padding: 0; width: 98%;} - .x-ebookmaker p {margin-top: .1em; margin-bottom: .1em;} - .x-ebookmaker table {width: 98%;} - .x-ebookmaker img {width: 80%;} - .x-ebookmaker .tn {width: 80%; margin: 2em 10%; background: #ededef; padding: 1em;} - .x-ebookmaker .book-container {width: 98%;} - .x-ebookmaker .width800 {width: 98%;} - .x-ebookmaker .width500 {width: 32em;} - .x-ebookmaker .width120 {width: 8em;} - .x-ebookmaker .width100 {width: 6em;} - .x-ebookmaker .figleft {float: left;} - /*.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;}*/ - x-ebookmaker-drop, .x-ebookmaker-drop {} - .x-ebookmaker span.dropcap { - clear:left; float:left; font-size:3em; line-height:0.8; - vertical-align: top; } - .x-ebookmaker span.dropcap2 { - font-size: .3em; line-height: 100%; vertical-align: top;} - </style> - </head> -<body> -<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—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—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.</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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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<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—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<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—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—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—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.</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—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—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—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—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.”</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—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—that is, tremendous -in its imperative force.”</p> - -<p>“But what could be the motive—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—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——”</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—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——”</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—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—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—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—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.”</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—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;—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—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——”</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—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—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:</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 -& 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 -& 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—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.</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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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——”</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—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—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.</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—deuce you did!” he exclaimed. “I wish—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—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—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—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—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——”</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—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!”</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—but that’s -incidental. You want to know who murdered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span> -Wing—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—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——”</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——”</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—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—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——”</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—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—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—for he did not for one -instant separate them—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—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—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—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——” 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—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——”</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—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.”</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—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—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——”</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—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—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”—he seemed searching -for a word—“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—perhaps forever.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span> -“And this fellow’s name—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—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—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—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—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—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—<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le -bon Dieu</i>—and the good Saint Anne—<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la bonne -sainte Anne</i>—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<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—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—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—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:</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—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.”</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—right -down honestly satisfied—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—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—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—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—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——” 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—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—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,—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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—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——”</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—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—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.”</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—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—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—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—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—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——”</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—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—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—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—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—a hollow cavity which had been -devised in the early days for hiding purposes—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—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—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!”</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—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—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—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<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——”</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—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—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—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—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.”</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——”</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——”</p> - -<p>“Henry! My God!” exclaimed Charles Matthewson, -stepping hastily forward. “You haven’t——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</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—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>:—“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.”</p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">N. Y. Tribune</span>:—“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>:—“Everybody who likes clever fiction should -read it.”</p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Literary World</span>:—“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>:—“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>:—“A brilliant piece of work.”</p> - -<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Washington Star</span>:—“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>:—“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>:—“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>”—<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—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—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> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <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> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/66051-h/images/colophon.png b/old/66051-h/images/colophon.png Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2a929c1..0000000 --- a/old/66051-h/images/colophon.png +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66051-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/66051-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 98ed5fc..0000000 --- a/old/66051-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66051-h/images/cover2.jpg b/old/66051-h/images/cover2.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 45e7d05..0000000 --- a/old/66051-h/images/cover2.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66051-h/images/divine-fire.jpg b/old/66051-h/images/divine-fire.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7d3d279..0000000 --- a/old/66051-h/images/divine-fire.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66051-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/old/66051-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 18d8207..0000000 --- a/old/66051-h/images/frontispiece.jpg +++ /dev/null |
