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diff --git a/1495-h/1495-h.htm b/1495-h/1495-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed365e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/1495-h/1495-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11081 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!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" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Golf Course Mystery, by Chester K. Steele + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golf Course Mystery, by Chester K. Steele + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golf Course Mystery + +Author: Chester K. Steele + +Release Date: October, 1998 [EBook #1495] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLF COURSE MYSTERY *** + + + + +Produced by Polly Stratton, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE GOLF COURSE MYSTERY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Chester K. Steele + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> PUTTING OUT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + NINETEENTH HOLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> "WHY?” + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> VIOLA'S + DECISION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> HARRY'S + MISSION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> BY + A QUIET STREAM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> THE + INQUEST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> ON + SUSPICION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> 58 + C. H.—161* <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> A + WATER HAZARD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> POISONOUS + PLANTS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> BLOSSOM'S + SUSPICIONS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> CAPTAIN + POLAND CONFESSES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE + PRIVATE SAFE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> POOR + FISHING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> SOME + LETTERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> OVER + THE TELEPHONE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> A + LARGE BLONDE LADY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> "UNKNOWN” + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> A + MEETING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE + LIBRARY POSTAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THE + LARGE BLONDE AGAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. + </a> MOROCCO KATE, ALLY <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> STILL WATERS <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. PUTTING OUT + </h2> + <p> + There was nothing in that clear, calm day, with its blue sky and its + flooding sunshine, to suggest in the slightest degree the awful tragedy so + close at hand—that tragedy which so puzzled the authorities and + which came so close to wrecking the happiness of several innocent people. + </p> + <p> + The waters of the inlet sparkled like silver, and over those waters poised + the osprey, his rapidly moving wings and fan-spread tail suspending him + almost stationary in one spot, while, with eager and far-seeing eyes, he + peered into the depths below. The bird was a dark blotch against the + perfect blue sky for several seconds, and then, suddenly folding his + pinions and closing his tail, he darted downward like a bomb dropped from + an aeroplane. + </p> + <p> + There was a splash in the water, a shower of sparkling drops as the osprey + arose, a fish vainly struggling in its talons, and from a dusty gray + roadster, which had halted along the highway while the occupant watched + the hawk, there came an exclamation of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see that, Harry?” called the occupant of the gray car to a + slightly built, bronzed companion in a machine of vivid yellow, christened + by some who had ridden in it the “Spanish Omelet.” “Did you see that kill? + As clean as a hound's tooth, and not a lost motion of a feather. Some + sport-that fish-hawk! Gad!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a neat bit of work, Gerry. But rather out of keeping with the + day.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of keeping? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, out of tune, if you like that better. It's altogether too perfect a + day for a killing of any sort, seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're getting sentimental all at once, aren't you, Harry?” asked + Captain Gerry Poland, with just the trace of a covert sneer in his voice. + “I suppose you wouldn't have even a fish-hawk get a much needed meal on a + bright, sunshiny day, when, if ever, he must have a whale of an appetite. + You'd have him wait until it was dark and gloomy and rainy, with a + north-east wind blowing, and all that sort of thing. Now for me, a kill is + a kill, no matter what the weather.” + </p> + <p> + “The better the day the worse the deed, I suppose,” and Harry Bartlett + smiled as he leaned forward preparatory to throwing the switch of his + machine's self-starter, for both automobiles had come to a stop to watch + the osprey. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I don't know that the day has anything to do with it,” said the + captain—a courtesy title, bestowed because he was president of the + Maraposa Yacht Club. “I was just interested in the clean way the beggar + dived after that fish. Flounder, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, though usually the birds are glad enough to get a moss-bunker. Well, + the fish will soon be a dead one, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, food for the little ospreys, I imagine. Well, it's a good death to + die—serving some useful purpose, even if it's only to be eaten. Gad! + I didn't expect to get on such a gruesome subject when we started out. By + the way, speaking of killings, I expect to make a neat one to-day on this + cup-winners' match.” + </p> + <p> + “How? I didn't know there was much betting.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but there is; and I've picked up some tidy odds against our friend + Carwell. I'm taking his end, and I think he's going to win.” + </p> + <p> + “Better be careful, Gerry. Golf is an uncertain game, especially when + there's a match on among the old boys like Horace Carwell and the crowd of + past-performers and cup-winners he trails along with. He's just as likely + to pull or slice as the veriest novice, and once he starts to slide he's a + goner. No reserve comeback, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not so sure about that. He'll be all right if he'll let the + champagne alone before he starts to play. I'm banking on him. At the same + time I haven't bet all my money. I've a ten spot left that says I can beat + you to the clubhouse, even if one of my cylinders has been missing the + last two miles. How about it?” + </p> + <p> + “You're on!” said Harry Bartlett shortly. + </p> + <p> + There was a throb from each machine as the electric motors started the + engines, and then they shot down the wide road in clouds of dust—the + sinister gray car and the more showy yellow—while above them, + driving its talons deeper into the sides of the fish it had caught, the + osprey circled off toward its nest of rough sticks in a dead pine tree on + the edge of the forest. + </p> + <p> + And on the white of the flounder appeared bright red spots of blood, some + of which dripped to the ground as the cruel talons closed until they met + inside. + </p> + <p> + It was only a little tragedy, such as went on every day in the inlet and + adjacent ocean, and yet, somehow, Harry Bartlett, as he drove on with + ever-increasing speed in an endeavor to gain a length on his opponent, + could not help thinking of it in contrast to the perfect blue of the sky, + in which there was not a cloud. Was it prophetic? + </p> + <p> + Ruddy-faced men, bronze-faced men, pale-faced men; young women, girls, + matrons and “flappers”; caddies burdened with bags of golf clubs and + pockets bulging with cunningly found balls; skillful waiters hurrying here + and there with trays on which glasses of various shapes, sizes, and of + diversified contents tinkled musically-such was the scene at the Maraposa + Club on this June morning when Captain Gerry Poland and Harry Bartlett + were racing their cars toward it. + </p> + <p> + It was the chief day of the year for the Maraposa Golf Club, for on it + were to be played several matches, not the least in importance being that + of the cup-winners, open only to such members as had won prizes in hotly + contested contests on the home links. + </p> + <p> + In spite of the fact that on this day there were to be played several + matches, in which visiting and local champions were to try their skill + against one another, to the delight of a large gallery, interest centered + in the cup-winners' battle. For it was rumored, and not without semblance + of truth, that large sums of money would change hands on the result. + </p> + <p> + Not that it was gambling-oh, my no! In fact any laying of wagers was + strictly prohibited by the club's constitution. But there are ways and + means of getting cattle through a fence without taking down the bars, and + there was talk that Horace Carwell had made a pretty stiff bet with Major + Turpin Wardell as to the outcome of the match, the major and Mr. Carwell + being rivals of long standing in the matter of drives and putts. + </p> + <p> + “Beastly fine day, eh, what?” exclaimed Bruce Garrigan, as he set down on + a tray a waiter held out to him a glass he had just emptied with every + indication of delight in its contents. “If it had been made to order + couldn't be improved on,” and he flicked from the lapel of Tom Sharwell's + coat some ashes which had blown there from the cigarette which Garrigan + had lighted. + </p> + <p> + “You're right for once, Bruce, old man,” was the laughing response. “Never + mind the ashes now, you'll make a spot if you rub any harder.” + </p> + <p> + “Right for once? 'm always right!” cried Garrigan “And it may interest you + to know that the total precipitation, including rain and melted snow in + Yuma, Arizona, for the calendar year 1917, was three and one tenth inches, + being the smallest in the United States.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't interest me a bit, Bruce!” laughed Sharwell. “And to prevent + you getting any more of those statistics out of your system, come on over + and we'll do a little precipitating on our own account. I can stand + another Bronx cocktail.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm with you! But, speaking of statistics, did you know that from the + national forests of the United States in the last year there was cut + 840,612,030 board feet of lumber? What the thirty feet were for I don't + know, but—” + </p> + <p> + “And I don't care to know,” interrupted Tom. “If you spring any more of + those beastly dry figures—Say, there comes something that does + interest me, though!” he broke in with. “Look at those cars take that + turn!” + </p> + <p> + “Some speed,” murmured Garrigan. “It's Bartlett and Poland,” he went on, + as a shift of wind blew the dust to one side and revealed the gray + roadster and the Spanish Omelet. “The rivals are at it again.” + </p> + <p> + Bruce Garrigan, who had a name among the golf club members as a human + encyclopaedia, and who, at times, would inform his companions on almost + any subject that chanced to come uppermost, tossed away his cigarette and, + with Tom Sharwell, watched the oncoming automobile racers. + </p> + <p> + “They're rivals in more ways than one,” remarked Sharwell. “And it looks, + now, as though the captain rather had the edge on Harry, in spite of the + fast color of Harry's car.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” admitted Garrigan. “Is it true what I've heard about both + of them-that each hopes to place the diamond hoop of proprietorship on the + fair Viola?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess if you've heard that they're both trying for her, it's true + enough,” answered Sharwell. “And it also happens, if that old lady, Mrs. + G. 0. 5. Sipp, is to be believed, that there, also, the captain has the + advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “How's that? I thought Harry had made a tidy sum on that ship-building + project he put through.” + </p> + <p> + “He did, but it seems that he and his family have a penchant for doing + that sort of thing, and, some years ago, in one of the big mergers in + which his family took a prominent part, they, or some one connected with + them, pinched the Honorable Horace Carwell so that he squealed for mercy + like a lamb led to the Wall street slaughter house.” + </p> + <p> + “So that's the game, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And ever since then, though Viola Carwell has been just as nice to + Harry as she has to Gerry—as far as any one can tell-there has been + talk that Harry is persona non grata as far as her father goes. He never + forgives any business beat, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it anything serious?” asked Garrigan, as they watched the racing + automobiles swing around the turn of the road that led to the clubhouse. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know the particulars. It was before my time—I mean before I + paid much attention to business.” + </p> + <p> + “Rot! You don't now. You only think you do. But I'm interested. I expect + to have some business dealing with Carwell myself, and if I could get a + line—” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, but I can't help you out, old man. Better see Harry. He knows the + whole story, and he insists that it was all straight on his relatives' + part. But it's like shaking a mince pie at a Thanksgiving turkey to + mention the matter to Carwell. He hasn't gone so far as to forbid Harry + the house, but there's a bit of coldness just the same.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. And that's why the captain has the inside edge on the love game. + Well, Miss Carwell has a mind of her own, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed she has! She's more like her mother used to be. I remember Mrs. + Carwell when I was a boy. She was a dear, somewhat conventional lady. How + she ever came to take up with the sporty Horace, or he with her, was a + seven-days' wonder. But they lived happily, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Mrs. Carwell is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes-some years. Mr. Carwell's sister, Miss Mary, keeps The Haven up + to date for him. You've been there?” + </p> + <p> + “Once, at a reception. I'm not on the regular calling list, though Miss + Viola is pretty enough to—” + </p> + <p> + “Look out!” suddenly cried Sharwell, as though appealing to the two + automobilists, far off as they were. For the yellow car made a sudden + swerve and seemed about to turn turtle. + </p> + <p> + But Bartlett skillfully brought the Spanish Omelet back on the road again, + and swung up alongside his rival for the home stretch-the broad highway + that ran in front of the clubhouse. + </p> + <p> + The players who were soon to start out on the links; the guests, the + gallery, and the servants gathered to see the finish of the impromptu + race, murmurs arising as it was seen how close it was likely to be. And + close it was, for when the two machines, with doleful whinings of brakes, + came to a stop in front of the house, the front wheels were in such + perfect alignment that there was scarcely an inch of difference. + </p> + <p> + “A dead heat!” exclaimed Bartlett, as he leaped out and motioned for one + of the servants to take the car around to the garage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you win!” agreed Captain Poland, as he pushed his goggles back on + his cap. He held out a bill. + </p> + <p> + “What's it for?” asked Bartlett, drawing back. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I put up a ten spot that I'd beat you. I didn't, and you win.” + </p> + <p> + “Buy drinks with your money!” laughed Bartlett. “The race was to be for a + finish, not a dead heat. We'll try it again, sometime.” + </p> + <p> + “All right-any time you like!” said the captain crisply, as he sat down at + a table after greeting some friends. “But you won't refuse to split a + quart with me?” + </p> + <p> + “No. My throat is as dusty as a vacuum cleaner. Have any of the matches + started yet, Bruce?” he asked, turning to the Human Encyclopedia. + </p> + <p> + “Only some of the novices. And, speaking of novices, do you know that in + Scotland there are fourteen thousand, seven hundred—” + </p> + <p> + “Cut it, Bruce! Cut it!” begged the captain. “Sit in—you and Tom—and + we'll make it two bottles. Anything to choke off your flow of useless + statistics!” and he laughed good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + “When does the cup-winners' match start?” asked Bartlett, as the four + young men sat about the table under the veranda. “That's the one I'm + interested in.” + </p> + <p> + “In about an hour,” announced Sharwell, as he consulted a card. “Hardly + any of the veterans are here yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Carwell arrived?” asked Captain Poland, as he raised his glass + and seemed to be studying the bubbles that spiraled upward from the hollow + stem. + </p> + <p> + “You'll know when he gets here,” answered Bruce Garrigan. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked the captain. “Does he have an official announcer?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you'll hear his car before you see it.” + </p> + <p> + “New horn?” + </p> + <p> + “No, new car-new color-new everything!” said Garrigan. “He's just bought a + new ten thousand dollar French car, and it's painted red, white and blue, + and-” + </p> + <p> + “Red, white and blue?” chorused the other three men. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Very patriotic. His friends don't know whether he's honoring Uncle + Sam or the French Republic. However, it's all the same. His car is a + wonder.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have a brush with him!” murmured Captain Poland. + </p> + <p> + “Don't. You'll lose out,” advised Garrigan. “It can do eighty on fourth + speed, and Carwell is sporty enough to slip it into that gear if he needed + to.” + </p> + <p> + “Um! Guess I'll wait until I get my new machine, then,” decided the + captain. + </p> + <p> + There was more talk, but Bartlett gradually dropped out of the + conversation and went to walk about the club grounds. + </p> + <p> + Maraposa was a social, as well as a golfing, club, and the scene of many + dances and other affairs. It lay a few miles back from the shore near + Lakeside, in New Jersey. The clubhouse was large and elaborate, and the + grounds around it were spacious and well laid out. + </p> + <p> + Not far away was Loch Harbor, where the yachts of the club of which + Captain Gerry Poland was president anchored, and a mile or so in the + opposite direction was Lake Tacoma, on the shore of which was Lakeside. A + rather exclusive colony summered there, the hotel numbering many wealthy + persons among its patrons. + </p> + <p> + Harry Bartlett, rather wishing he had gone in for golf more devotedly, was + wandering about, casually greeting friends and acquaintances, when he + heard his name called from the cool and shady depths of a summer-house on + the edge of the golf links. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Minnie! How are you?” he cordially greeted a rather tall and dark + girl who extended her slim hand to him. “I didn't expect to see you + today.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I take in all the big matches, though I don't play much myself,” + answered Minnie Webb. “I'm surprised to find you without a caddy, though, + Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “Too lazy, I'm afraid. I'm going to join the gallery to-day. Meanwhile, if + you don't mind, I'll sit in here and help you keep cool.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't very hard to do that to-day,” and she moved over to make room + for him. “Isn't it just perfect weather!” + </p> + <p> + At one time Minnie Webb and Harry Bartlett had been very close friends—engaged + some rumors had it. But now they were jolly good companions, that was all. + </p> + <p> + “Seen the Carwells' new machine?” asked Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I've heard about it. I presume they'll drive up in it to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Viola run it?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't heard. It's a powerful machine, some one said-more of a racer + than a touring car, Mr. Blossom was remarking.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he ought to know. I understand he's soon to be taken into + partnership with Mr. Carwell.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” murmured Minnie, and she seemed suddenly very much + interested in the vein structure of a leaf she pulled from a vine that + covered the summer-house. + </p> + <p> + Bartlett smiled. Gossip had it that Minnie Webb and Le Grand Blossom, Mr. + Carwell's private secretary, were engaged. But there had been no formal + announcement, though the two had been seen together more frequently of + late than mere friendship would warrant. + </p> + <p> + There was a stir in front of the clubhouse, followed by a murmur of + voices, and Minnie, peering through a space in the vines, announced: + </p> + <p> + “There's the big car now. Oh, I don't like that color at all! I'm as + patriotic as any one, but to daub a perfectly good car up like that—well, + it's—” + </p> + <p> + “Sporty, I suppose Carwell thinks,” finished Bartlett. He had risen as + though to leave the summerhouse, but as he saw Captain Poland step up and + offer his hand to Viola Carwell, he drew back and again sat down beside + Minnie. + </p> + <p> + A group gathered about the big French car, obviously to the delight of Mr. + Carwell, who was proud of the furor created by his latest purchase. + </p> + <p> + Though he kept up his talk with Minnie in the summer-house, Harry + Bartlett's attention was very plainly not on his present companion nor the + conversation. At any other time Minnie Webb would have noticed it and + taxed him with it, but now, she, too, had her attention centered + elsewhere. She watched eagerly the group about the big machine, and her + eyes followed the figure of a man who descended from the rear seat and + made his way out along a path that led to a quiet spot. + </p> + <p> + “I think I'll go in now,” murmured Minnie Webb. “I have to see—” + Bartlett was not listening. In fact he was glad of the diversion, for he + saw Viola Carwell turn with what he thought was impatience aside from + Captain Poland, and that was the very chance the other young man had been + waiting for. + </p> + <p> + He followed Minnie Webb from the little pavilion, paying no attention to + where she drifted. But he made his way through the press of persons to + where Viola stood, and he saw her eyes light up as he approached. His, + too, seemed brighter. + </p> + <p> + “I was wondering if you would come to see dad win,” she murmured to him, + as he took her hand, and Captain Poland, with a little bow, stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “You knew I'd come, didn't you?” Bartlett asked in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I hoped so,” she murmured. “Now, Harry,” she went on in a low voice, as + they moved aside, “this will be a good time for you to smooth things over + with father. If he wins, as he feels sure he will, you must congratulate + him very heartily—exceptionally so. Make a fuss over him, so to + speak. He'll be club champion, and it will seem natural for you to bubble + over about it.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should I, Viola? I haven't done anything to merit his + displeasure.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. But you remember what a touch-fire he is. He's always held that + business matter against you, though I'm sure you had nothing to do with + it. Now, if he wins, and I hope he will, you can take advantage of it to + get on better terms with him, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm willing to be friends, you know that, Viola. But I can't + pretend—I never could!” + </p> + <p> + “You're stubborn, Harry!” and Viola pouted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps I am. When I know I'm right—” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't you forget it just once?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you provoke me! But if you won't you won't, I suppose. Only it would + be such a good chance—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll see him after the match, Viola. I'll do my best to be decent.” + </p> + <p> + “You must go a little farther than that, Harry. Dad will be all worked up + if he wins, and he'll want a fuss made over him. It will be the very + chance for you.” + </p> + <p> + “All right-I'll do my best,” murmured Bartlett. And then a servant came up + to summon him to the telephone. + </p> + <p> + Viola was not left long alone, for Captain Poland was watching her from + the tail of his eye, and he was at her side before Harry Bartlett was out + of sight. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'd like to come for a little spin with me, Miss Carwell,” said + the captain. “I just heard that they've postponed the cup-winners' match + an hour; and unless you want to sit around here—” + </p> + <p> + “Come on!” cried Viola, impulsively. “It's too perfect a day to sit + around, and I'm only interested in my father's match.” + </p> + <p> + There was another reason why Viola Carwell was glad of the chance to go + riding with Captain Poland just then. She really was a little provoked + with Bartlett's stubbornness, or what she called that, and she thought it + might “wake him up,” as she termed it, to see her with the only man who + might be classed as his rival. + </p> + <p> + As for herself, Viola was not sure whether or not she would admit Captain + Poland to that class. There was time enough yet. + </p> + <p> + And so, as Bartlett went in to the telephone, to answer a call that had + come most inopportunely for him, Viola Carwell and Captain Poland swept + off along the pleasantly shaded country road. + </p> + <p> + Left to herself, for which just then she was thankful, Minnie Webb drifted + around until she met LeGrand Blossom. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Lee?” she asked him in a low voice, and he smiled with + his eyes at her, though his face showed no great amount of jollity. + “You're as solemn as though every railroad stock listed had dropped ten + points just after you bought it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't quite as bad as that,” he said, as he fell into step beside + her, and they strolled off on one of the less-frequented walks. + </p> + <p> + “I thought everything was going so well with you. Has there been any hitch + in the partnership arrangement?” asked Minnie. + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you lost money?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't say that I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Then for goodness' sake what is it? Do I have to pump you like a + newspaper reporter?” and Minnie Webb laughed, showing a perfect set of + teeth that contrasted well against the dark red and tan of her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know that it's anything much,” replied LeGrand Blossom. + </p> + <p> + “It's something!” insisted Minnie. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, it is. And as it'll come out, sooner or later, I might as well + tell you now,” he said, with rather an air of desperation, and as though + driven to it. “Have you heard any rumors that Mr. Carwell is in financial + difficulties?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no! The idea! I always thought he had plenty of money. Not a + multi-millionaire, of course, but better off financially than any one else + in Lakeside.” + </p> + <p> + “He was once; but he won't be soon, if he keeps up the pace he's set of + late,” went on LeGrand Blossom, and his voice was gloomy. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, things don't look so well as they did. He was very foolish to buy + that ten-thousand-dollar yacht so soon after spending even more than that + on this red, white and blue monstrosity of his!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to tell me he's bought a yacht, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Osprey that Colonel Blakeson used to sport up and down the coast + in. Paid a cool ten thousand for it, though if he had left it to me I + could have got it for eight, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, twenty thousand dollars oughtn't to worry Mr. Carwell, I should + think,” returned Minnie. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't have, a year ago,” answered LeGrand. “But he's been on the + wrong side of the market for some time. Then, too, something new has + cropped up about that old Bartlett deal.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the one over which Harry's uncle and Mr. Carwell had such a + fuss?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Mr. Carwell's never got over that. And there are rumors that he lost + quite a sum in a business transaction with Captain Poland.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” sighed the girl. “Isn't business horrid! I'm glad I'm not a + man. But what is this about Captain Poland?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know? haven't heard it all yet, as Mr. Carwell doesn't tell me + everything, even if he has planned to take me into partnership with him. + But now I'm not so keen on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Keen on what, Lee?” and Minnie Webb leaned just the least bit nearer to + his side. + </p> + <p> + “On going into partnership with a man who spends money so lavishly when he + needs all the ready cash he can lay his hands on. But don't mention this + to any one, Minnie. If it got out it might precipitate matters, and then + the whole business would tumble down like a house of cards. As it is, I + may be able to pull him out. But I've put the soft pedal on the + partnership talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Carwell mentioned it of late?” + </p> + <p> + “No. All he seems to be interested in is this golf game that may make him + club champion. But keep secret what I have told you.” + </p> + <p> + Minnie Webb nodded assent, and they turned back toward the clubhouse, for + they had reached a too secluded part of the grounds. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Viola Carwell was not enjoying her ride with Captain Poland as + much as she had expected she would. As a matter of fact it had been + undertaken largely to cause Bartlett a little uneasiness; and as the car + spun on she paid less and less attention to the captain. + </p> + <p> + Seeing this, the latter changed his mind concerning something he had fully + expected to speak to Viola about that day, if he got the chance. + </p> + <p> + Captain Poland was genuinely in love with Viola, and he had reason to feel + that she cared for him, though whether enough to warrant a declaration of + love on his part was hard to understand. + </p> + <p> + “But I won't take a chance now,” mused the captain, rather moodily; and + the talk descended to mere monosyllables on the part of both of them. “I + must see Carwell and have it out with him about that insurance deal. Maybe + he holds that against me, though the last time I talked with him he gave + me to understand that I'd stand a better show than Harry. I must see him + after the game. If he wins he'll be in a mellow humor, particularly after + a bottle or so. That's what I'll do.” + </p> + <p> + The captain spun his car up in front of the clubhouse and helped Viola + out. “I think we are in plenty of time for your father's match,” he + remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she assented. “I don't see any of the veterans on the field yet,” + and she looked across the perfect course. “I'll go to look for dad and + wish him luck. He always wants me to do that before he starts his medal + play. See you again, Captain;” and with a friendly nod she left the + somewhat chagrined yachtsman. + </p> + <p> + When Captain Poland had parked his car he took a short cut along a path + that led through a little clump of bushes. Midway he heard voices. In an + instant he recognized them as those of Horace Carwell and Harry Bartlett. + He heard Bartlett say: + </p> + <p> + “But don't you see how much better it would be to drop it all—to + have nothing more to do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young man, you mind your own business!” snapped Mr. Carwell. + “I know what I'm doing!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any doubt of it, Mr. Carwell; but I ventured to suggest?” went + on Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your suggestions to yourself, if you please. I've had about all I + want from you and your family. And if I hear any more of your impudent + talk—” + </p> + <p> + Then Captain Poland moved away, for he did not want to hear any more. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Viola hurried back to the clubhouse, and forced herself to + be gay. But, somehow, a cloud seemed to have come over her day. + </p> + <p> + The throng had increased, and she caught sight, among the press, of Jean + Forette, their chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen my father since he arrived, Jean?” asked Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is somewhere about, I suppose,” was the answer, and it was given + in such a surly tone with such a churlish manner that Viola flushed with + anger and bit her lips to keep back a sharp retort. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Minnie Webb strolled past. She had heard the question and + the answer. + </p> + <p> + “I just saw your father going out with the other contestants, Viola,” said + Minnie Webb, “for they were friends of some years' standing. I think they + are going to start to play. I wonder why they say the French are such a + polite race,” she went on, speaking lightly to cover Viola's confusion + caused by the chauffeur's manner. “He was positively insulting.” + </p> + <p> + “He was,” agreed Viola. “But I shouldn't mind him, I suppose. He does not + like the new machine, and father has told him to find another place by the + end of the month. I suppose that has piqued him.” + </p> + <p> + While there were many matches to be played at the Maraposa Club that day, + interest, as far as the older members and their friends were concerned, + was centered in that for cup-winners. These constituted the best players—the + veterans of the game—and the contest was sure to be interesting and + close. + </p> + <p> + Horace Carwell was a “sport,” in every meaning of the term. Though a man + well along in his forties, he was as lithe and active as one ten years + younger. He motored, fished, played golf, hunted, and of late had added + yachting to his amusements. He was wealthy, as his father had been before + him, and owned a fine home in New York, but he spent a large part of every + year at Lakeside, where he might enjoy the two sports he loved + best-golfing and yachting. + </p> + <p> + Viola was an only child, her mother having died when she was about + sixteen, and since then Mr. Carwell's maiden sister had kept watch and + ward over the handsome home, The Haven. Viola, though loving her father + with the natural affection of a daughter and some of the love she had + lavished on her mother, was not altogether in sympathy with the sporting + proclivities of Mr. Carwell. + </p> + <p> + True, she accompanied him to his golf games and sailed with him or rode in + his big car almost as often as he asked her. And she thoroughly enjoyed + these things. But what she did not enjoy was the rather too jovial + comradeship that followed on the part of the men and women her father + associated with. He was a good liver and a good spender, and he liked to + have about him such persons-men “sleek and fat,” who if they did not + “sleep o' nights,” at least had the happy faculty of turning night into + day for their own amusement. + </p> + <p> + So, in a measure, Viola and her father were out of sympathy, as had been + husband and wife before her; though there had never been a whisper of real + incompatibility; nor was there now, between father and daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Fore!” + </p> + <p> + It was the warning cry from the first tee to clear the course for the + start of the cup-winners' match. In anticipation of some remarkable + playing, an unusually large gallery would follow the contestants around. + The best caddies had been selected, clubs had been looked to with care and + tested, new balls were got out, and there was much subdued excitement, as + befitted the occasion. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carwell, his always flushed face perhaps a trifle more like a mild + sunset than ever, strolled to the first tee. He swung his driver with + freedom and ease to make sure it was the one that best suited him, and + then turned to Major Wardell, his chief rival. “Do you want to take any + more?” he asked meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” was the laughing response. “I've got all I can carry. Not + that I'm going to let you beat me, but I'm always a stroke or two off in + my play when the sun's too bright, as it is now. However, I'm not + crawling.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better not!” declared his rival. “As for me, the brighter the sun + the better I like it. Well, are we all ready?” + </p> + <p> + The officials held a last consultation and announced that play might + start. Mr. Carwell was to lead. + </p> + <p> + The first hole was not the longest in the course, but to place one's ball + on fair ground meant driving very surely, and for a longer distance than + most players liked to think about. Also a short distance from the tee was + a deep ravine, and unless one cleared that it was a handicap hard to + overcome. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carwell made his little tee of sand with care, and placed the ball on + the apex. Then he took his place and glanced back for a moment to where + Viola stood between Captain Poland and Harry Bartlett. Something like a + little frown gathered on the face of Horace Carwell as he noted the + presence of Bartlett, but it passed almost at once. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here goes, ladies and gentlemen!” exclaimed Mr. Carwell in rather + loud tones and with a free and easy manner he did not often assume. + “Here's where I bring home the bacon and make my friend, the major, eat + humble pie.” + </p> + <p> + Viola flushed. It was not like her father to thus boast. On the contrary + he was usually what the Scotch call a “canny” player. He never predicted + that he was going to win, except, perhaps, to his close friends. But he + was now boasting like the veriest schoolboy. + </p> + <p> + “Here I go!” he exclaimed again, and then he swung at the ball with his + well-known skill. + </p> + <p> + It was a marvelous drive, and the murmurs of approbation that greeted it + seemed to please Mr. Carwell. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see anybody beat that!” he cried as he stepped off the tee to give + place to Major Wardell. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carwell's white ball had sailed well up on the putting green of the + first hole, a shot seldom made at Maraposa. + </p> + <p> + “A few more strokes like that and he'll win the match,” murmured Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “And when he does, don't forget what I told you,” whispered Viola to him. + </p> + <p> + He found her hand, hidden at her side in the folds of her dress, and + pressed it. She smiled up at him, and then they watched the major swing at + his ball. + </p> + <p> + “It's going to be a corking match,” murmured more than one member of the + gallery, as they followed the players down the field. + </p> + <p> + “If any one asked me, I should say that Carwell had taken just a little + too much champagne to make his strokes true toward the last hole,” said + Tom Sharwell to Bruce Garrigan. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” was the admission. “But I'd like to see him win. And, for the + sake of saying something, let me inform you that in Africa last year there + were used in nose rings alone for the natives seventeen thousand four + hundred and twenty-one pounds of copper wire. While for anklets—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll buy you a drink if you chop it off short!” offered Sharwell. + </p> + <p> + “Taken!” exclaimed Garrigan, with a grin. + </p> + <p> + The cup play went on, the four contestants being well matched, and the + shots duly applauded from hole to hole. + </p> + <p> + The turn was made and the homeward course began, with the excitement + increasing as it was seen that there would be the closest possible finish, + between the major and Mr. Carwell at least. + </p> + <p> + “What's the row over there?” asked Bartlett suddenly, as he walked along + with Viola and Captain Poland. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” inquired the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Among those autos. Looks as if one was on fire.” + </p> + <p> + “It does,” agreed Viola. “But I can see our patriotic palfrey, so I guess + it's all right. There are enough people over there, anyhow. But it is + something!” + </p> + <p> + There was a dense cloud of smoke hovering over the place where some of the + many automobiles were parked at one corner of the course. Still it might + be some one starting his machine, with too much oil being burned in the + cylinders. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the last hole!” exulted Mr. Carwell, as they approached the + eighteenth. “I've got you two strokes now, Major, and I'll have you four + by the end of the match.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not so sure of that,” was the laughing and good-natured reply. + </p> + <p> + There was silence in the gallery while the players made ready for the last + hole. + </p> + <p> + There was a sharp impact as Mr. Carwell's driver struck the little white + ball and sent it sailing in a graceful curve well toward the last hole. + </p> + <p> + “A marvelous shot!” exclaimed Captain Poland. “On the green again! Another + like that and he'll win the game!” + </p> + <p> + “And I can do it, too!” boasted Carwell, who overheard what was said. + </p> + <p> + The others drove off in turn, and the play reached the final stage of + putting. Viola turned as though to go over and see what the trouble was + among the automobiles. She looked back as she saw her father stoop to send + the ball into the little depressed cup. She felt sure that he would win, + for she had kept a record of his strokes and those of his opponents. The + game was all but over. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if there can be anything the matter with our car?” mused Viola, + as she saw the smoke growing denser. “Dad's won, so I'm going over to see. + Perhaps that chauffeur—” + </p> + <p> + She did not finish the sentence. She turned to look back at her father + once more, and saw him make the putt that won the game at the last hole. + Then, to her horror she saw him reel, throw up his hands, and fall heavily + in a heap, while startled cries reached her ears. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh! What has happened?” she exclaimed, and deadly fear clutched at + her heart—and not without good cause. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE NINETEENTH HOLE + </h2> + <p> + For several seconds after Mr. Carwell fell so heavily on the putting + green, having completed the last stroke that sent the white ball into the + cup and made him club champion, there was not a stir among the other + players grouped about him; nor did the gallery, grouped some distance + back, rush up. The most natural thought, and one that was in the minds of + the majority, was that the clubman had overbalanced himself in making his + stance for the putt shot, and had fallen. There was even a little + thoughtless laughter from some in the gallery. But it was almost instantly + hushed, for it needed but a second glance to tell that something more + serious than a simple fall had occurred. + </p> + <p> + Or if it was a fall caused by an unsteady position, taken when he made his + last shot, it had been such a heavy one that Mr. Carwell was overlong in + recovering from it. He remained in a huddled heap on the short-cropped, + velvety turf of the putting green. + </p> + <p> + Then the murmurs of wonder came, surging from many throats, and the + friends of Mr. Carwell closed around to help him to his feet-to render + what aid was needed. Among them were Captain Poland and Harry Bartlett, + and as the latter stepped forward he glanced up, for an instant, at the + blue sky. + </p> + <p> + Far above the Maraposa golf links circled a lone osprey on its way to the + inlet or ocean. Rather idly Bartlett wondered if it was the same one he + and Captain Poland had seen dart down and kill the fish just before the + beginning of the big match. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Horace? Sun too much for you?” asked Major Wardell, as + he leaned over his friend and rival. “It is a bit hot; I feel it myself. + But I didn't think it would knock you out. Or are you done up because you + beat me? Come—” + </p> + <p> + He ceased his rather railing talk, and a look came over his face that told + those near him something serious had happened. There was a rush toward the + prostrate man. + </p> + <p> + “Keep back, please!” exclaimed the major. “He seems to have fainted. He + needs air. Is Dr. Rowland here? I thought I saw him at the clubhouse a + while ago. Some one get him, please. If not—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get him!” some one offered + </p> + <p> + “Here, give him a sip of this—it's brandy!” and an automobilist, who + had come across the links from the nearest point to the highway, offered + his flask. + </p> + <p> + The major unscrewed the silver top, which formed a tiny cup, and tried to + let some of the potent liquor trickle between the purplish lips of the + unconscious victor in the cup-winners' match. But more of the liquid was + spilled on his face and neck than went into his mouth. The air reeked with + the odor of it. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened? Is he hurt?” gasped Viola, who made her way through + the press of people, which opened for her, till she stood close beside her + father. “What is it? Oh, is he—?” + </p> + <p> + “He fell,” some one said. + </p> + <p> + “Just as he made his winning stroke,” added another. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” and Viola herself reeled unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” a voice said in her ear, and though it was in the + ordinary tones of Captain Poland, to the alarmed girl it seemed as though + it came from the distant peaks of the hills. “He'll be all right + presently,” went on the captain, as he supported Viola and led her out of + the throng. + </p> + <p> + “It's just a touch of the sun, I fancy. They've gone for a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but, Captain Poland—father was never like this before—he + was always so strong and well—I never knew him to complain of the + heat. And as for fainting—why I believe I almost did it myself, just + now, didn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But father never did. Oh, I must go to him!” + </p> + <p> + She struggled a little and moved away from his half encircling arm, for he + had seen that her strength was failing her and had supported her as he led + her away. “I must go to him!” + </p> + <p> + “Better not just now,” said Captain Poland gently. “Harry is there with + him, the major and other friends. They will look after him. You had better + come with me to the clubhouse and lie down. I will get you a cup of tea.” + </p> + <p> + “No! I must be with my father!” she insisted. “He will need me when he—when + he revives. Please let me go to him!” + </p> + <p> + The captain saw that it was of little use to oppose her so he led her back + toward the throng that was still about the prostrate player. A clubman was + hurrying back with a young man who carried a small black bag. + </p> + <p> + “They've got a doctor, I think,” said Gerry. “Not Dr. Rowland, though. + However, I dare say it will be all right.” + </p> + <p> + A fit of trembling seized Viola, and it was so violent that, for a moment, + Captain Poland thought she would fall. He had to hold her close, and he + wished there was some place near at hand to which he might take her. But + the clubhouse was some distance away, and there were no conveyances within + call. + </p> + <p> + However, Viola soon recovered her composure, or at least seemed to, and + smiled up at him, though there was no mirth in it. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be all right now,” she said. “Please take me to him. He will ask for + me as soon as he recovers.” + </p> + <p> + The young doctor had made his way through the throng and now knelt beside + the prostrate man. The examination was brief—a raising of the + eyelids, an ear pressed over the heart, supplemented by the use of the + stethoscope, and then the young medical man looked up, searching the ring + of faces about him as though seeking for some one in authority to whom + information might be imparted. Then he announced, generally: + </p> + <p> + “He is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” exclaimed several. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” cautioned Harry Bartlett “She'll hear you!” + </p> + <p> + He looked in the direction whence Viola and Captain Poland were + approaching the scene. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, Dr. Baird?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Positive. The heart action has entirely stopped.” + </p> + <p> + “But might that not be from some cause—some temporary cause?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not in this case. Mr. Carwell is dead. I can do nothing for + him.” + </p> + <p> + It sounded brutal, but it was only a medical man's plain statement of the + case. + </p> + <p> + “Some one must tell her,” murmured Minnie Webb, who had been attracted to + the crowd, though she was not much of a golf enthusiast. “Poor Viola! Some + one must tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” offered Bartlett, and he made his way through a living lane that + opened for him. Then it closed again, hiding the body from sight. Some one + placed a sweater over the face that had been so ruddy, and was now so + pale. + </p> + <p> + Captain Poland, still supporting Viola on his arm, saw Bartlett + approaching. Somehow he surmised what his fellow clubman was going to say. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harry!” exclaimed Viola, impulsively holding out her hands to him. + “Is he all right? Is he better?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” began Harry, and then she seemed to sense what he was going + to add. + </p> + <p> + “He isn't—Oh, don't tell me he is—” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says he is dead, Viola,” answered Bartlett gently. “He passed + away without pain or suffering. It must have been heart disease.” + </p> + <p> + But Viola Carwell never heard the last words, for she really fainted this + time, and Captain Poland laid her gently down on the soft, green grass. + </p> + <p> + “Better get the doctor for her,” he advised Bartlett. “She'll need him, if + her father doesn't.” As Harry Bartlett turned aside, waving back the + curiosity seekers that were already leaving the former scene of excitement + for the latest, LeGrand Blossom came up. He seemed very cool and not at + all excited, considering what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “I will look after Miss Carwell,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you had better see to Mr. Carwell—Mr. Carwell's remains, + Blossom,” suggested Captain Poland. “Miss Carwell will be herself very + soon. She has only fainted. Her father is dead. + </p> + <p> + “Dead? Are you sure?” asked LeGrand Blossom, and his manner seemed a + trifle more naturally excited. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Baird says so. You'd better go to him. He may want to ask some + questions, and you were more closely associated with Carwell than any of + the rest of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I'll look after the body,” said the secretary. “Did the doctor + say what killed him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. That will be gone into later, I dare say. Probably heart disease; + though I never knew he had it,” said Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” added Blossom. “I'd be more inclined to suspect apoplexy. But are + you sure Miss Carwell will be all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Captain Poland, who had raised her head after sprinkling + in her face some water a caddy brought in his cap. “She is reviving.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baird came up just then and gave her some aromatic spirits of ammonia. + </p> + <p> + Viola opened her eyes. There was no comprehension in them, and she looked + about in wonder. Then, as her benumbed brain again took up its work, she + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn't true! It can't be true! Tell me it isn't!” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, but it seems to be but too true,” said Captain Poland gently. + “Did he ever speak of trouble with his heart, Viola?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, Gerry. He was always so well and strong.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better come to the clubhouse,” suggested Bartlett, and she went + with them both. + </p> + <p> + A little later the body of Horace Carwell was carried to the “nineteenth + hole”—that place where all games are played over again in detail as + the contestants put away their clubs. + </p> + <p> + A throng followed the silent figure, borne on the shoulders of some + grounds workmen, but only club members were admitted to the house. And + among them buzzed talk of the tragedy that had so suddenly ended the day + of sports. + </p> + <p> + “He looked all right when he started to play,” said one. “Never saw him in + better form, and some of his shots were marvelous.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd been drinking a little too much for a man to play his best, + especially on a hot day,” ventured another. “He must have been taken ill + from that, and the excitement of trying to win over the major, and it + affected his heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Never knew him to have heart disease,” declared Bruce Garrigan. + </p> + <p> + “Lots of us have it and don't know it,” commented Tom Sharwell. “I suppose + it will take an autopsy to decide.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather tough on Miss Carwell,” was another comment. + </p> + <p> + “That's true!” several agreed. + </p> + <p> + The body of Horace Carwell was placed in one of the small card rooms, and + the door locked. Then followed some quick telephoning on the part of Dr. + Baird, who had recently joined the golf club, and who had arrived at the + clubhouse shortly before Mr. Carwell dropped dead. + </p> + <p> + It was at the suggestion of Harry Bartlett that Dr. Addison Lambert, the + Carwell family physician, was sent for, and that rather aged practitioner + arrived as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + He was taken in to view the body, together with Dr. Baird, who was almost + pathetically deferential to his senior colleague. The two medical men were + together in the room with the body for some time, and when they came out + Viola Carwell was there to meet them. Dr. Lambert put his arms about her. + He had known her all her life—since she first ventured into this + world, in fact—and his manner was most fatherly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Uncle Add!” she murmured to him—for she had long called him by + this endearing title—Oh, Uncle Add! What is it? Is my father—is + he really—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear little girl, your father is dead, I am sorry to say. You must be + very brave, and bear up. Be the brave woman he would want you to be.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, Uncle Add. But, oh, it is so hard! He was all I had! Oh, what + made him die?” + </p> + <p> + She questioned almost as a little child might have done. + </p> + <p> + “That I don't know, my dear,” answered Dr. Lambert gently. “We shall have + to find that out later by—Well, we'll find out later, Dr. Baird and + I. You had better go home now. I'll have your car brought around. Is that—that + Frenchman here—your chauffeur?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was here a little while ago. But I had rather not go home with + him—at least, unless some one else comes with me. I don't like—I + don't like that big, new car. + </p> + <p> + “If you will come with me, Viola—” began Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Harry, I'll go with you. Oh, poor Aunt Mary! This will be a terrible + shock to her. I—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll telephone,” offered Dr. Lambert. “She'll know when you arrive. And + I'll be over to see you, Viola, as soon as I make some arrangements.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you look after—after poor father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you may leave it all to me.” + </p> + <p> + And so, while the body of the dead clubman remained at the nineteenth + hole, Viola Carwell was taken to 'The Haven' by Harry Bartlett, while + Captain Poland, nodding farewell to LeGrand Blossom and some of his other + friends, left the grounds in his gray car. + </p> + <p> + And as he rode down past the inlet where the tide was now running out to + the sea, he saw an osprey dart down and strike at an unseen fish. + </p> + <p> + But the bird rose with dripping pinions, its talons empty. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't get any one that time!” murmured the captain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. “WHY?” + </h2> + <p> + Through the silent house echoed the vibration of the electric bell, + sounding unnecessarily loud, it seemed. The maid who answered took the + caller's card to Miss Mary Carwell, Viola's aunt. + </p> + <p> + “He wants to see Miss Viola,” the servant reported. “Shall I tell her?” + </p> + <p> + “You had better, yes. She went to lie down, but she will want to see + Captain Poland. Wait, I'll tell her myself. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In the library, ma am. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I'll see him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carwell's sister literally swept down the stairs, her black silk dress + rustling somberly and importantly. She was a large woman, and her bearing + and air were in keeping. + </p> + <p> + “It was very good of you to come,” she murmured, as she sank, with more + rustling and shimmerings, into a chair, while the captain waited for her + to be settled, like a boat at anchor, before he again took his place. + “Viola will be down presently. I gave her a powder the doctor left for + her, and she slept, I hope, since we were both awake nearly all of last + night.” + </p> + <p> + “I should imagine so. The strain and shock must have been intense. But + please don't disturb her if she is resting. I merely called to see if I + could do anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much. We are waiting for the doctors' report. It was + necessary to have an autopsy, I understand?” she questioned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The law requires it in all cases of sudden and mysterious death.” + </p> + <p> + “Mysterious death, Captain Poland!” + </p> + <p> + Mary Carwell seemed to swell up like a fretful turkey. + </p> + <p> + “Well, by that I mean unexplained. Mr. Carwell dropped dead suddenly and + from no apparent cause.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was heart disease—or apoplexy—of course! What else + could it be?” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been one or the other of those, Miss Carwell, I am sure,” + the captain murmured sympathetically. “But the law requires that such a + fact be established to the satisfaction of the county physician.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Rowland.” + </p> + <p> + “Will there be a coroner's inquest, such as I have read about? I couldn't + bear anything like that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not at all necessary, Miss Carwell,” went on the captain. “The law + of New Jersey does not demand that in cases of sudden and unexplained + death, unless the county physician is not satisfied with his + investigation. In that matter New Jersey differs from some of the other + states. The county physician will make an autopsy to determine the cause + of death. If he is satisfied that it was from natural causes he gives a + certificate to that effect, and that ends the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then it will be very simple.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I imagine so. Dr. Rowland will state that your brother came to his + death from heart disease, or from apoplexy, or whatever it was, and then + you may proceed with the funeral arrangements. I shall be glad to help you + in any way I can.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very kind of you. This has been so terrible—so sudden and + unexpected. It has perfectly unnerved both poor Viola and myself, and we + are the only ones to look after matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, let me help,” urged Captain Poland. “I shall only be too glad. The + members of the golf club, too, will do all in their power. We had a + meeting this morning and passed resolutions of sympathy. I have also + called a meeting of our yacht club, of which your brother was a member. We + will take suitable action.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. And when do you think we may expect the certificate from Dr. + Rowland?” + </p> + <p> + “Very soon. He is performing the autopsy now, at the club. Dr. Lambert and + Dr. Baird are with him. It was thought best to have it there, rather than + at the undertaking rooms.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad when matters can proceed as they ought to proceed. This + publicity is very distasteful to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I can readily believe that, Miss Carwell. And now, if you will ask Miss + Viola if I may be of any service to her, I shall—” + </p> + <p> + “Before I call her, there is one matter I wish to ask you about,” said Mr. + Carwell's sister. “You are familiar with business, I know. I was going to + ask Mr. Bartlett, as this seemed more in his line, but perhaps you can + advise me.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do my best, Miss Carwell. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “One of the clerks came from my brother's office this morning with a note + from the bank. It seems that Horace borrowed a large sum for some business + transaction, and put up as collateral certain bonds. He often does that, + as I have heard him mention here time and again to Mr. Blossom, when they + sat in consultation in the library. + </p> + <p> + “But now it appears, according to the note from the bank, that more + securities are needed. There has been a depreciation, or something—I + am not familiar with the terms. At any rate the bank sends word that it + wants more bonds. I was wondering what I had better do. Of course I have + securities in my own private box that I might send, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't Mr. Blossom attend to this?” asked Captain Poland, a bit + sharply, it would have seemed to a casual listener. “That was his place. + He knows all about Mr. Carwell's affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked the clerk from the office why Mr. Blossom—did you ever hear + such an absurd name as he has?—LeGrand Blossom—I asked the + clerk why the matter was not attended to,” went on Miss Carwell, “and he + said Mr. Blossom must have forgotten it.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather odd,” commented the captain. “However, I'll look after it for you. + If necessary, I'll loan the bank enough additional securities as + collateral to cover the loan. Don't let it disturb you, Miss Carwell. It + is merely a small detail of business that often crops up. Securities in + these days so often fluctuate that banks are forced to call for more, and + different ones, to cover loans secured by them. I'll attend to the matter + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you so much. And now I believe I may safely call Viola. She would + not forgive me if she knew you had been here and she had not seen you to + thank you for your care of her yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was nothing. I was very glad—” + </p> + <p> + Captain Poland was interrupted by a ring at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that is a message from the doctors now,” suggested Miss Carwell. + </p> + <p> + “It is Dr. Lambert himself,” announced the captain, looking from a window + that gave a view of the front porch. “Dr. Baird is with him. They must + have completed the autopsy. Shall I see them for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Please do. And please tell me at once that everything is all right, and + that we may proceed with the funeral arrangements,” begged the sister of + the dead man. + </p> + <p> + “I will do so, Miss Carwell.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Poland, anticipating the maid, went into the hall and himself + opened the door for the medical men. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'm glad you're here!” exclaimed the rather gruff voice of Dr. + Lambert. “Yes, I'm glad you're here.” + </p> + <p> + The captain was on the point of asking why, when Dr. Lambert motioned to + him to step into a little reception room off the main hall. Somewhat + wonderingly, Captain Poland obeyed, and when the door had closed, shutting + him in with the two doctors, he turned to the older physician and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is anything the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we have completed the autopsy,” said Dr. Lambert. + </p> + <p> + “That's good. Then you are ready to sign a certificate, or at least get + Dr. Rowland to, so that we can proceed with the arrangements. Miss Mary + Carwell is anxious to have—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose the funeral will have to be held,” said Dr. Lambert + slowly. “That can't be held up very long, even if it was worse than it + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse than it is! What do you mean?” cried Captain Poland sharply. “Is + there any suspicion—” + </p> + <p> + “There is more than suspicion, my dear sir,” went on Dr. Lambert, as he + sank into a chair as though very, very tired. “There is, I regret to say, + certainty.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainty of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainty that my old friend, Horace Carwell, committed suicide!” + </p> + <p> + “Suicide!” + </p> + <p> + “By poisoning,” added Dr. Baird, who had been anxious to get in a word. + “We found very plain evidences of it when we examined the stomach and + viscera.” + </p> + <p> + “Poison!” cried Captain Poland. “A suicide? I don't believe it! Why should + Horace Carwell kill himself? He hadn't a reason in the world for it! There + must be some mistake! Why did he do it? Why? Why?” + </p> + <p> + And then suddenly he became strangely thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. VIOLA'S DECISION + </h2> + <p> + “That is the very question we have been asking ourselves, my dear + Captain,” said Dr. Lambert wearily. “And we are no nearer an answer now + than, apparently, you are. Why did he do it?” + </p> + <p> + The three men, two gravely professional, one, the younger, more so than + his elder colleague, and the third plainly upset over the surprising news, + looked at one another behind the closed door of the little room off the + imposing reception hall at The Haven. They were in the house of death, and + they had to do with more than death, for there was, in the reputed action + of Horace Carwell, the hint of disgrace which suicide always engenders. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” began Captain Poland, rather weakly, “that there can be no + chance of error He looked from one medical man to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Not the least in the world!” quickly exclaimed Baird. “We made a most + careful examination of the deceased's organs. They plainly show traces of + a violent poison, though whether it was irritant or one of the neurotics, + we are not yet prepared to say.” + </p> + <p> + “It couldn't have been an irritant,” said Dr. Lambert gently. It was as + though he had corrected a too zealous student reciting in class. Dr. Baird + was painfully young, though much in earnest. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not an irritant,” he agreed. “Though I know of no neurotic that + would produce such effects as we saw. + </p> + <p> + “You are right there,” said Dr. Lambert. “Whatever poison was used it was + one the effects of which I have never seen before. But we have not yet + finished our analysis. We have only reached a certain conclusion that may + ultimately be changed.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean as to whether or not it was suicide?” asked Captain Poland + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't see how we can get away from that,” said Dr. Lambert. “That + fact remains. But if we establish the kind of poison used it may lead us + to the motive. That is what we must find.” + </p> + <p> + “And we will find the kind of poison!” declared Dr. Baird. + </p> + <p> + The older medical man shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “There are some animal and vegetable poisons for which there is no known + test,” he said gently. “It may turn out to be one of these.” + </p> + <p> + “Then may it not develop that Mr. Carwell, assuming that he did take + poison, did it by mistake?” asked the captain. + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” murmured Dr. Lambert. + </p> + <p> + “But from the action of the poison, as shown by the condition of the + mucous coat of the alimentary canal, I hardly see how Mr. Carwell could + not have known that he took poison,” declared Dr. Baird. + </p> + <p> + “Yet he seemed all right except for a little pardonable exhilaration + during the game of golf,” remarked Captain Poland. “He was feeling 'pretty + good' as we say. I don't see how he could have taken poison knowingly or + unknowingly.” + </p> + <p> + “There are some poisons which, taken in combination, might mix and form a + comparatively harmless mixture,” said Dr. Lambert. “Though I confess this + is a very remote possibility. Some poisons are neutralized by an alcoholic + condition. And some persons, who may have been habitual users of a drug, + may take a dose of it that would kill several persons not so addicted.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that Mr. Carwell was a drug user?” demanded the captain. + </p> + <p> + “I would hesitate very long before saying so,” answered Dr. Lambert, “and + I have known him many years.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what was it? What in the world does it all mean?” asked Captain + Poland. “What's the answers in other words?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I knew,” replied Dr. Lambert, and he shook his head. Something + more than the weight of years seemed bowing him down. Dr. Baird seemed + duly impressed by the circumstances that had brought him—a young and + as yet unestablished physician—to a connection with such a startling + case in the well known and wealthy Carwell family. + </p> + <p> + As for Captain Gerry Poland, he was clearly startled by the news the + physicians had brought. He looked toward the closed door as though seeking + to see beyond it—into the room where Viola was waiting. To her, + sooner or later, the tragic verdict must be told. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you say anything?” he asked, a bit sharply, looking from one + physician to the other “Is this all you came to tell—that Mr. + Carwell was a suicide? Isn't there any mitigating circumstance?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he poisoned himself before he began his championship game,” + said Dr. Baird, with startling frankness—almost brutal it seemed. + </p> + <p> + “But why should he do such a thing?” demanded the captain, rather + petulantly. + </p> + <p> + “He may have taken some dope, thinking it would brace him up,” went on the + young medical man, “and it had the opposite effect—a depressing + action on the heart. Or, he may have taken a overdose of his favorite + drug. That is what we shall have to find out by making suitable inquiries + of members of the family.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, must we tell them,” exclaimed Captain Poland in startled tones. And + it was easy to determine by his voice that by “them” he meant Viola. “Must + we tell?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I must do my duty as a physician both to the public and to the family,” + said Dr. Lambert, and he straightened up as though ready to assume the + burden he knew would fall heavily on his shoulders. “I must also think of + Viola. I feel like another father to her now. I have always, more or less, + regarded her as my little girl, though she is a young lady now. But the + facts must come out. Even if I were disposed to aid in a concealment—which + I am far from doing—Dr. Rowland, the county physician, was present + at the autopsy. He knows.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he know the poison used?” asked Captain Poland quickly, and then, + almost as soon as the words had left his lips, he seemed sorry he had + uttered them. + </p> + <p> + “No, no more than we,” said Dr. Baird. “It will require some nice work in + medical jurisprudence, and also a very delicate analysis, to determine + that. I am inclined to think—” + </p> + <p> + But what he thought no one heard or cared to hear at that moment, for, + even as he spoke, the door of the little room was thrown hastily and + somewhat violently open, and Viola Carwell confronted the three men. Her + face showed traces of grief, but it had lost little of the beauty for + which she was noted. + </p> + <p> + Tall and dark, with hair of that blue—black sheen so rarely + observed, with violet eyes and a poise and grace that made her much + observed, Viola Carwell was at the height of her beauty. In a sense she + had the gentle grace of her mother and with that the verve and + sprightliness of her father mingled perfectly. It was no wonder that + Captain Poland and Harry Bartlett and many others, for that matter, were + rivals for her favors. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were here,” she said quietly to Dr. Lambert. “Oh, Uncle + Add, what is it? Tell me the truth!” she begged as she placed a hand on + his arm, a hand that trembled in spite of her determination to remain + calm. “Please tell me the truth!” + </p> + <p> + “The truth, Viola?” he questioned gently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm afraid you are trying to keep something back from me. This looks + like it—you men in here talking—consulting as to what is best + to do. Tell me. My father is dead. But that, I know, is not the worst that + can happen. Tell me! Is there-is there any disgrace? I know—” + </p> + <p> + Viola stopped as though she herself feared the words she was about to + utter. Dr. Lambert quickly spoke. + </p> + <p> + “There has been no disgrace, my dear Viola,” he said, gently. “We have + just come from the—from having made an investigation—Dr. Baird + and myself and Dr. Rowland. We discovered that your father was poisoned, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Poisoned?” she gasped, and started back as though struck, while her rapid + glances went from face to face, resting longest on the countenance of + Captain Poland. It was as though, in this great emergency, she looked to + him for comfort more than to the old doctor who had ushered her into the + world. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to have to say it, Viola, but such is the case,” went on the + family physician. “Your father was poisoned. But the kind of poison we + have not yet determined.” + </p> + <p> + “But who gave it to him?” she cried. “Oh, it doesn't seem that any one + would hate him so, not even his worst enemy. And he had so many + friends-too many, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't know that any one gave him the poison, Viola,” said Dr. Lambert, + gently. “In fact, it does not seem that any one did, or your father would + have known it. Certainly if any one had tried to make him take poison + there would have been a struggle that he would have mentioned. But he died + of poison, nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there can be but one other explanation,” she murmured, and her voice + was tense and strained. “He must have—” + </p> + <p> + “We fear he took it himself,” blurted out Dr. Baird, in spite of the + warning look cast at him by his colleague. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I won't believe that! It can't be true!” cried Viola, and she burst + into a storm of sobs. Dr. Lambert placed his arms about her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me it isn't true, Uncle Add! Tell me it isn't true!” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + The three men, looking at one another—Dr. Lambert's glance coming + over the bowed head of Viola—said nothing for a few moments. Then as + her sobs died away, and she became calmer, the old physician said: + </p> + <p> + “You must not take on so, Vi. I know it is hard, but you must meet the + issue squarely. At the same time you must realize that even the most + suspicious circumstances may be explained away. While it does look as + though your father had deliberately taken the poison, it may easily be + established by an investigation that it was an accident—an accident + of which even your father was ignorant.” + </p> + <p> + “There are so many poisons that do not manifest themselves for a long time—often + days—after they are taken, that there is every chance of proving + this to have been an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there must be an investigation!” was Viola's quick decision. There + were still tears in her eyes, but she looked through them now, as through + a veil that must be torn aside. “I can not believe that my father was a—a + suicide—” she halted at the awful word. “I will not believe it!” she + went on more firmly. “It can not be true!” + </p> + <p> + Hardly had she uttered the last word than a figure passed through the + hall, flitting past the half-opened door of the little room where Viola + stood with the three men. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” she called sharply, for she had spoken rather loudly, and + she did not want any of the servants to hear. “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I—Minnie,” was the answer. “Dear Viola, I have come to see if + I could do anything. I rang and rang, but no one answered the bell, and, + as the door was open, I walked in.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I didn't close it when I let you in,” said Captain Poland to + Dr. Lambert. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Viola!” said Minnie Webb, as she placed cheek against that of her + friend. “Is there anything I can do in your terrible trouble? Please let + me do something!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Minnie. You are very kind. I don't know. We are in such + distress. Tell me—” and Viola seemed to nerve herself for some + effort. “Tell me! Did you hear what I said just now—as you passed + the door?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean about not believing that your father was a suicide?” asked + Minnie, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I heard you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the only thing you can do is to help me prove otherwise,” said + Viola. “That would be the greatest help. It can't be true, and we want + that made plain. Father never killed himself. He was not that kind of man. + He did not fear death, but he would not go deliberately to meet it. It is + not true that he killed himself!” and Viola's voice seemed to ring out. + </p> + <p> + A strange look came over the face of Minnie Webb. There was a great pity + shining in her eyes as she said: + </p> + <p> + “I—I am sorry, Viola, but—but I am afraid it may be true.” + </p> + <p> + “What! That my father committed suicide?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” whispered Minnie. “I—I'm afraid it may be true!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. HARRY'S MISSION + </h2> + <p> + Minnie Webb's announcement affected her four hearers in four different + ways. It shocked Viola—shocked her greatly, for she had, naturally, + expected kindly sympathy and agreement from her friend. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baird, who had involuntarily begun to twist his small mustache at the + entrance of Miss Webb, looked at her in admiration of her good looks and + because she upheld a theory to which he felt himself committed—a + theory that Mr. Carwell was a plain out-and-out suicide. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Lambert was plainly indignant at the bald manner in which Minnie Webb + made her statement, and at the same time he had pity for the ignorance of + the lay mind that will pronounce judgment against the more cautious + opinions of science. And this was not the first poisoning case with which + the aged practitioner had dealt. + </p> + <p> + As for Captain Poland, he gazed blankly at Miss Webb for a moment + following her statement, and then he looked more keenly at the young + woman, as though seeking to know whence her information came. + </p> + <p> + And when Viola had recovered from her first shock this was the thought + that came to her: + </p> + <p> + “What did Minnie know?” + </p> + <p> + And Viola asked that very question—asked it sharply and with an air + which told of her determination to know. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please don't ask me!” stammered Minnie Webb. “But I have heard that + your father's affairs are involved, Viola.” + </p> + <p> + “His affairs? You mean anything in his—private life?” and the + daughter of Horace Carwell—“Carwell the sport,” as he was frequently + called—seemed to feel this blow more than the shock of death. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, nothing like that!” exclaimed Minnie, as though abashed at the + mere suggestion. “But I did hear—and I can not tell where I heard it—that + he was involved financially, and that, perhaps—well, you know some + men have a horror of facing the world poor and—” + </p> + <p> + “That can't be true!” declared Viola stoutly. “While I do not know + anything about my father's financial affairs, I know he had no fear of + failure—no fear of becoming poor.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe he would have feared to face poverty if there was need. + But there was not, I'm sure. Minnie, who told you this?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I can not tell!” said Minnie, with a memory of the insinuating + manner in which LeGrand Blossom had spoken. Bearing in mind her promise to + him not to mention the matter, she began to wish that she had not spoken. + </p> + <p> + “But you must tell!” insisted Dr. Lambert. “This amounts to an accusation + against a dead man, and you owe it to Viola to give the source of your + information.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Doctor, I can not! Please don't ask me, Viola. Oh, I shouldn't have + spoken, but I thought only to help you solve the problem.” + </p> + <p> + “You have only made it harder, unless you tell us more,” said Dr. Lambert + gently. “Why can not you tell us, Miss Webb?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I—I promised not to. Oh, can't you find out for yourselves—in + your own way, about his affairs? Surely an examination—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course, that would be the proper way,” said Dr. Lambert gravely. + “And it must be done, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “It will lead to nothing—it will prove nothing,” insisted Viola. “I + am sure my father's affairs were not involved. Wait, I'll call Aunt Mary. + She was in close touch with all the money matters of our household. Father + trusted her with many business matters. Call Aunt Mary!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes red with weeping, but bearing up bravely withal, Miss Mary + Carwell joined the conference. She, it seemed, had guessed something when + Dr. Lambert and Dr. Baird were closeted so long with Captain Poland. + </p> + <p> + “We must face the facts, however unpleasant they are,” said Dr. Lambert, + in a low voice. “We must recognize that this will be public talk in a + little while. A man—so well-known a character as was my old friend + Horace Carwell—can not die suddenly in the midst of a championship + golf game, and let the matter rest there.” + </p> + <p> + “The papers will take it up,” said Dr. Baird. + </p> + <p> + “The papers!” broke in Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, even now I have been besieged by reporters demanding to know the + cause of death. It will have to come out. The report of the county + physician, on which only a burial certificate can be obtained, is public + property. The bureau of vital statistics is open to the public and the + reporters. There is bound to be an inquiry, and, as I have said, Dr. + Rowland has already announced it as a suicide. We must face the issue + bravely.” + </p> + <p> + “But even if it should prove true, that he took the poison, I am sure it + will turn out to be a mistake!” declared Viola. “As for my father's + affairs being in danger financially—Aunt Mary, did you ever hear of + such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, your father kept his affairs pretty much to himself,” was + the answer of her aunt. “He did tell me some things, and only to-day + something came up that makes me think—Oh, I don't know what to think—now!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Dr. Lambert, quietly but firmly. “It is best to know + the worst at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say that it is the 'worst,'” replied Miss Carwell; “but there was + something about a loan to the bank, and not enough collateral to cover—Mr. + Blossom should have attended to it, but he did not, it seems, and—Won't + you tell them?” she appealed to Captain Poland. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he responded. “It is a simple matter,” he went on. “Mr. + Carwell, as all of us do at times, borrowed money from his bank, giving + certain securities as collateral for the loan. + </p> + <p> + “The bank, as all banks do, kept watch on this security, and when it fell + in market value below a certain point, where there was no longer + sufficient margin to cover the loan safely, demanded more collateral. + </p> + <p> + “This, for some reason, Mr. Carwell did not put up, nor did his clerk, Mr. + Blossom. I know nothing more in this respect than Miss Carwell told me,” + and he bowed to indicate the dead man's sister. “I offered to see to the + matter for her, putting up some collateral of my own until Mr. Carwell's + affairs could be straightened out. It is a mere technicality, I imagine, + and can have nothing to do with—with the present matter, even though + Miss Webb seems to think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so sorry if I have made a mistake!” exclaimed Minnie, now very + penitent. “But I only thought it would be helping—” + </p> + <p> + “It will be—to know the truth,” said Dr. Lambert. “Is this all that + you heard, Miss Webb?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was nothing like that. It had nothing to do with a bank loan. Oh, + please don't ask me. I promised not to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, we won't force you to speak,” said the family physician. “But + this matter must be gone into. What one person knows others are sure to + find out. We must see Blossom. He is the one who would have the most + complete knowledge of your father's affairs, Viola. Did I hear something + about his going into partnership with your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there was some such plan. Father decided that he needed help, and he + spoke of taking in Mr. Blossom. I know no more than that,” Viola answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then LeGrand Blossom is the person to throw more light on that subject,” + said Dr. Lambert. + </p> + <p> + To himself he added a mental reservation that he did not count much on + what information might come from the head clerk. Blossom, in the mind of + Dr. Lambert, was a person of not much strength of character. There had + been certain episodes in his life, information as to which had come to the + physician in a roundabout way, that did not reflect on him very well; + though, in truth, he felt that the man was weak rather than bad. + </p> + <p> + “Then is it to be believed that my father was a suicide?” asked Viola, as + though seeking to know the worst, that she might fight to make it better. + </p> + <p> + “On the bare facts in the case—yes,” answered Dr. Lambert. “But that + is only a starting point. We will make no hard and fast decision.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed we will not,” declared Viola. “There must be a most rigid + investigation.” + </p> + <p> + And when the others had gone, Dr. Lambert to make funeral arrangements for + his old friend, Captain Poland to see the bank officials, Dr. Baird to his + office, taking Minnie Webb home in his car, and Miss Garwell to her room + to lie down, Viola, left alone, gave herself up to grief. She felt utterly + downcast and very much in need of a friend. + </p> + <p> + And perhaps this feeling made her welcome, more cordially than when she + had last seen him, Harry Bartlett, who was announced soon after the others + left. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Harry, have you heard the terrible news?” faltered Viola. + </p> + <p> + “You mean about your father? Yes,” he said gently. “But I do not believe + it. I may as well speak plainly, Viola. Your father, for some reason best + known to himself, did not care for me. But I respected him, and in spite + of a feeling between us I admired him. I feel sure he did not commit + suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “But they say it looks very suspicious, Harry! Oh, tell me what to do!” + and, impulsively, Viola held out her hands to him. Bartlett pressed them + warmly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll serve you in any way I can,” he said, gazing fondly into her eyes. + “But I confess I am puzzled. I don't know what to do. Perhaps it would be + better, as Dr. Lambert says, to look into your father's affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I want more than that!” declared Viola. “I want his name cleared + from any suspicion of suicide. And I want you to undertake it, Harry!” + </p> + <p> + “You want me?” he exclaimed, drawing back. “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I feel that you will do better than any one else. Oh, you will help + me, won't you?” she pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Viola. But I don't know how.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me tell you,” and she seemed to be in better control of herself + than at any time that day. “This must be gone into systematically, and we + can best do it through a detective.” + </p> + <p> + “A detective!” cried Harry Bartlett, and he started from his chair. “Why, + my dear Viola, a detective would be the worst possible person to call in + on a case like this! Let me investigate, if you think it wise, but a + detective—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not speaking of an ordinary detective, Harry. I have in mind an + elderly man who was a friend of my father. He has an extraordinary + reputation for solving mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, if you know the man it makes a difference.” Bartlett + eyed the girl curiously. “I didn't know you knew any detectives.” + </p> + <p> + “The man I have in mind was in some business deal with my father once, and + they became very well acquainted. I met him several times, and liked him + immensely. He is well along in years, but I think sharper than many + younger men. But there is one difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” + </p> + <p> + “More than likely he will shy at having anything to do with the case. He + told my father he was going to retire and devote his leisure time to + fishing—that being his great pastime.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! he can't be much of a detective if he wants to spend most of his + time fishing,” was Bartlett's comment. + </p> + <p> + “You're mistaken, Harry. My father, and other men too, considered him one + of the greatest detectives in the world, even though he sometimes works in + a very peculiar and apparently uninterested manner.” “All right then, + Viola. If you say so, I'll look up this wonderful detective for you and + get him to take hold of the case.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. BY A QUIET STREAM + </h2> + <p> + Drooping willows dipped their pendant branches in the stream that foamed + and rippled over green, mossy stones. In a meadow that stretched fair and + wide on either side of the water, innumerable grasshoppers were singing + their song of summer. On a verdant bank reclined a man, whose advanced age + might be indicated in his whitening locks, but whose bright eyes, and the + quick, nervous movements as he leafed the pages of a small, green-covered + book, made negative the first analysis. A little distance from him, where + the sun beat down warmly, unhindered by any shade, lolled a colored man + whose look now and then strayed to the reading figure. + </p> + <p> + A glance over the shoulder of the reader, were one so impolite as to take + that liberty, would have disclosed, among others, this passage on the + printed page: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “But yet you are to note, that as you see some willows or + palm trees bud and blossom sooner than others do, so some + trouts be, in rivers, sooner in season; and as some hollies + or oaks are longer before they cast their leaves, so are + some trouts in rivers longer before they go out of season.” + </pre> + <p> + The gray-haired man closed the book, thereby revealing the title “Walton's + Compleat Angler,” and looked across the stream. The sunlight flickered + over its rippling surface, and now and then there was a splash in the + otherwise quiet waters—a splash that to the reader was illuminating + indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Shag!” he suddenly exclaimed, thereby galvanizing into life the somnolent + negro. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel! Yes, sah!” came the response. + </p> + <p> + “Hum! Asleep, weren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no, sah. Not zactly asleep, Colonel. I were jest takin' the fust of + mah forty winks, an'—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, postpone the rest for this evening. I think I'll make some casts + here. I don't expect any trout, my friend Walton to the contrary. Besides + they're out of season now. But I may get something. Get me the rod, Shag!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel! Yes, sah!” + </p> + <p> + And while the fishing paraphernalia was being put in readiness by his + colored servant, Colonel Robert Lee Ashley once more opened the little + green book, as though to draw inspiration therefrom. And he read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Only thus much is necessary for you to know, and to be + mindful and careful of, that if the pike or perch do breed + in that river, they will be sure to bite first and must + first be taken. And for the most part they are very large.” + </pre> + <p> + “Well, large or small, it doesn't much matter, so I catch some,” observed + the colonel. + </p> + <p> + Then he carefully baited the hook, after he had taken the rod and line + from Shag, who handled it as though it was a rare object of art; which, + indeed, it was to his master. + </p> + <p> + “I think we shall go back with a fine mess of perch, Shag,” observed the + fisherman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel, dat's what we will,” was the cheerful answer. + </p> + <p> + “And this time we won't, under any consideration, let anything interfere + with our vacation, Shag.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sah, Colonel. No, sah!” + </p> + <p> + “If you see me buying a paper, Shag, mind, if you ever hear me asking if + the last edition is out, stop me at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “And if any one tries to tell me of a murder mystery, of a big robbery, or + of anything except where the fish are biting best, Shag, why, you just—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll jest natchully knock 'em down, Colonel! Dat's what I'll do!” + exclaimed the colored man, as cheerfully as though he would relish such + “Well, I can't advise that, of course,” said the colonel with a smile, + “but you may use your own judgment. I came here for a rest, and I don't + want to run into another diamond cross mystery, or anything like it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sah, Colonel. But yo' suah did elucidate dat one most expeditious + like. I nevah saw sech—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do now, Shag. I don't want to be reminded of it. I came here to + fish, not to work, nor hold any post-mortems on past cases. Now for it!” + and the elderly man cast in where a little eddy, under the grassy bank, + indicated deep water, in which the perch or other fish might lurk this + sunny day. + </p> + <p> + And yet, in spite of his determination not to recall the details of the + diamond cross mystery to which Shag had alluded, Colonel Ashley could not + help dwelling on one or two phases of what, with justifiable pride, he + regarded as one of the most successful of his many cases. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Robert Lee Ashley was a detective by instinct and profession, + though of late years he had endeavored, but with scant success, to turn + the more routine matters of his profession over to his able assistants. + </p> + <p> + To those who have read of his masterly solution of the diamond cross + mystery the colonel needs no introduction. He was a well known character + in police and criminal circles, because of his success in catching many a + slippery representative of the latter. + </p> + <p> + He had served in the secret service during the Spanish-American war, and + later had become the head of the police department of a large Eastern + city. From that he had built up a private business of his own that assumed + large proportions, until advancing age and a desire to fish and reflect + caused him virtually to retire from active work. And now, as he had so + often done before, he had come to this quiet stream to angle. + </p> + <p> + And yet, even as he dropped his bait into the water, he could not keep his + active mind from passing in rapid review over some of the events of his + career—especially the late episode of the Darcy diamond cross. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad I helped out in that case,” mused the colonel, as he sat + up more alertly, for there came a tremor to his line that told much to his + practiced and sensitive hands. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the reel clicked its song of a strike, and the colonel got + first to his knees and then to his feet as he prepared to play his fish. + </p> + <p> + “I've hooked one, Shag!” he called in a low but tense voice. “I've hooked + one, and I think it's a beauty!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel! Yes, sah! Dat's fine! I'll be ready as soon as yo' + is!” + </p> + <p> + Shag caught up a landing net, for, though the colonel was not anticipating + any gamy fish in this quiet, country stream, yet for such as he caught he + used such light tackle that a net was needed to bring even a humble perch + to shore. + </p> + <p> + “I've got him, Shag! I've got him!” the colonel cried, as the fish broke + water, a shimmering shower of sparkling drops falling from his sides. + “I've got him, and it's a bass, too! I didn't think there were any here! + I've got him!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel! Yo' suah has!” exclaimed the delighted George + Washington Shag. “You suah has got a beauty!” + </p> + <p> + And as Shag started forward with the landing net, while the colonel was + playing with the skill of long years of practice the fish which had + developed unexpected fighting powers, there was a movement among the + bushes that lined the stream below the willows, and a young man, showing + every evidence of eagerness, advanced toward the fisherman. Shag saw him + and called: + </p> + <p> + “Keep back! Keep back, sah, if yo' please! De Colonel, he's done got a + bite, an'—” + </p> + <p> + “Bite! You mean that something's bitten him?” asked the young man, for he + could not see the figure of the colonel, who, just then, in allowing the + bass to have a run, had followed him up stream. + </p> + <p> + “No, he's catchin' a fish—he's got a strike—a big one! Don't + isturb him.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must see him. I've come a long distance to—” + </p> + <p> + “Distance or closeness don't make no mattah of diffunce to de colonel when + he's got a bite, sah! I'm sorry, but I can't let yo' go any closer, an' + I'se got to go an' land de fish. Aftah dat, if you wants to hab a word wif + de colonel, well, maybe he'll see yo', sah,” and Shag, with a warning + gesture, like that of a traffic policeman halting a line of automobiles, + started toward the colonel, who was still playing his fish. + </p> + <p> + Harry Bartlett, for he it was who had thus somewhat rudely interrupted the + detective's fishing, stopped in the shade of the willows, somewhat + chagrined. He had come a long way for a talk, and now to be thus held back + by a colored man who seemed to have no idea of the importance of the + mission was provoking. + </p> + <p> + But there was something authoritative in Shag's manner, and, being a + business man, Harry Bartlett knew better than to make an inauspicious + approach. It would be as bad as slicing his golf ball on the drive. + </p> + <p> + So he waited beside the silent stream, not so silent as it had been, for + it was disturbed by the movements, up and down, of Colonel Ashley, who was + playing his fish with consummate skill. + </p> + <p> + Seeing a little green book on the grass where it had fallen, Harry + Bartlett picked it up. Idly opening the pages, he read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “There is also a fish called a sticklebag, a fish without + scales, but he hath his body fenced with several prickles. + I know not where he dwells in winter, nor what he is good + for in summer, but only to make sport for boys and women + anglers, and to feed other fish that be fish of prey, as + trout in particular, who will bite at him as at a penk, and + better, if your hook be rightly baited with him; for he may + be so baited, as, his tail turning like a sail of a + windmill, will make him turn more quick than any penk or + minnow can.” + </pre> + <p> + “I guess I've got the right man,” said Harry Bartlett with a smile. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE INQUEST + </h2> + <p> + “Ready, now, Shag! Ready!” called Colonel Ashley, in tense tones. “Ready + with the net!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah! All ready!” + </p> + <p> + “I've got him about ready for you! And he's better than I thought!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel! I won't miss!” + </p> + <p> + “If you do you may look for another place!” At this dire threat Shag + turned as white as he would ever become, and took a firmer grip on the + “Ready now, Shag!” called the colonel, at the same time directing his + helper to come down the bank toward a little pool whither he was leading + the now well-played fish. “Ready!” + </p> + <p> + Shag did not speak, but while the colonel slowly reeled in and the tip of + the slender pole bent like a bow, he slipped the net into the water, under + the fish, and, a moment later, had it out on the grass. + </p> + <p> + “There!” exclaimed the famous detective, with a sigh of relief. “There he + is, and as fine a fish as I've ever landed in these parts! Now, Shag—” + </p> + <p> + But there came an interruption. Reasoning that now was a most propitious + time to make his appeal, Harry Bartlett advanced to where the colonel and + Shag were bending over the panting bass. As the detective, with a smart + blow back of its head, put his catch out of misery, Bartlett spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” he said, deferentially enough, for he saw the type of man + with whom he had to deal, “but are you not Colonel Ashley?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, sir!” and the colonel looked up as he slipped the fish into his + grass-lined creel. + </p> + <p> + “I am Mr. Bartlett. I followed you here from New York, and I wish to—” + </p> + <p> + “If it's anything about business, Mr. Bartlett, let me save your time and + my own—both valuable, I take it—by stating that I came here to + fish, and not to talk business. Excuse me for putting it thus bluntly, but + I see no reason for many words. I can not consider any business. That is + all attended to at my New York office, and I am surprised that they should + even have given you my address. I told them not to.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no easy matter to get it, Colonel, I assure you,” and—Bartlett + smiled genially. “And please don't blame any one in your office for + disclosing your whereabouts. I did not get your address from them, I + assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “From whom, then, if I may ask?” + </p> + <p> + “From Spotty.” And again Bartlett smiled. + </p> + <p> + “What? Spotty Morgan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you—do you know him?” and the detective could not keep the + interest out of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Rather well. I saved him from drowning once some years ago, and he hasn't + forgotten it. It was at a summer resort, and Spotty, though he is a good + swimmer, didn't estimate the force of the undertow. I pulled him out just + in time.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange,” murmured the colonel. “A strange coincidence.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon,” said Harry politely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing,” went on the detective. “Only, as it happens, Spotty saved + my life some time ago. It's just a coincidence, that's all. So Spotty gave + you my address, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I had called at your New York office, and, as you say, your clerks + had orders not to disclose your whereabouts. I used every cajolery and + device of which I was master, but it was no avail. I urged the importance + it was to myself and others to know where you were, but they were + obdurate. I was coming out, much disappointed, when I saw Spotty emerging + from an inner office. He knew me at once, though it is years since we met, + and going down in the elevator I mentioned that I was looking for you. I + told him something of the reason for wanting to find you and—Well, + he told me you were here.” + </p> + <p> + “And he is about the only person in New York outside of my most + confidential man who could have done that,” observed the colonel, as he + slowly reeled up his line. “One reason why the clerks in my office could + not give you my address was because they did not have it. So Spotty, who + must just have finished his bit, told.” + </p> + <p> + “But please don't hold that against him,” urged Bartlett. “If he violated + a confidence—” + </p> + <p> + “He did, in a way, yes,” observed the disciple of Izaak Walton. “But I + shall have to forgive him, I suppose. It must have been rather a strong + reason that induced him to tell you where I had gone.” + </p> + <p> + “It was, Colonel Ashley, the strongest reason in the world. It is to help + clear up the mystery—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” fairly shouted the colonel. “If it's a detective case I don't want + to hear it! Not a word! Shag, show this gentleman the door—I beg + your pardon, I didn't mean to be rude,” went on the colonel with his usual + politeness. “But I really can not listen. I came here to rest and fish, + not to take up new detective cases. You know where my office is. They will + attend to you there. I have given up business for the time being.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, Colonel Ashley, the person who sent me will have no one but you. + She says you are the only one who can get at the bottom of the puzzling + case.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself the colonel's face lighted up at the words “puzzling + case,” but as his eyes fell on the creel containing his fish he turned + aside. “No,” he said, “I am sorry, but I can not listen to you. Shag, + kindly—” + </p> + <p> + Harry Bartlett was not a successful business man for nothing. He knew how + to make an appeal. “I came to see you at the request of Miss Viola + Carwell,” he said slowly. “She sent me to find you—told me not to + come back to her without you. A change came over the colonel's face at the + mention of Viola's name. + </p> + <p> + “You came from her—from the daughter of Horace Carwell?” he asked + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” answered Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, that might make a difference. I hope my old friend is + not in trouble—nor his daughter,” and there was a new quality in the + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carwell's troubles are all over—if he had any,” returned + Bartlett simply. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + “He is dead.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel uttered an exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my rather brusk reception of you,” he apologized. “I did not know + that. Was it recently—suddenly?” + </p> + <p> + “Both recently and suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know that I seldom read the papers, and have not looked at one + lately. I had not heard that he was ill.” + </p> + <p> + “'He wasn't, Colonel Ashley. Mr. Carwell died very suddenly on the + Maraposa Golf Club links, after making a stroke that gave him the + championship.” + </p> + <p> + “Heart disease or apoplexy?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither one. It was poison.” + </p> + <p> + “You amaze me, Mr.—er—Mr.—” + </p> + <p> + “Bartlett. Yes, Mr. Carwell died of poison, as the autopsy showed.” + </p> + <p> + “'Was he—did he—” + </p> + <p> + “That is what we want to find out,” interrupted the messenger eagerly. + “The county physician says Mr. Carwell is a suicide. His daughter, Miss + Viola, can not believe it. Nor can I. There has been some talk that his + affairs are involved. As you may have known, he was somewhat of a—” + </p> + <p> + “His sporting proclivities were somewhat different from mine,” said the + old detective dryly. “You needn't explain. Every man must live his own + life. But tell me more.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Bartlett gave the details as he knew them, bearing on the death + of the father of the girl he loved. + </p> + <p> + “And she sent you to find me?” asked the detective. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Miss Viola said you were an old friend of her father's, and if any + one could solve the mystery of his death you could. For that there is a + mystery about it, many of us believe.” + </p> + <p> + “There may be. Poison is always more or less of a mystery. But just what + do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Come back with me if you will, Colonel Ashley. Miss Carwell wants you to + aid her—aid all of us, for we are all at sea. Will you? She sent me + to plead with you. I went to your New York office, and from Spotty Morgan + learned you were here. I—” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I shall have to forgive Spotty,” murmured the fisherman. + </p> + <p> + “They told me at the hotel you had come here,” went on Bartlett, “so I + followed. I was lucky in finding you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” murmured the colonel, smiling. “It may be + unfortunate. Well, I am deeply shocked at my old friend's death—and + such a tragic taking off. Horace Carwell was my very good friend. He once + did me a great service, when I needed money badly, by helping me make an + investment in copper that turned out extremely well. I feel myself under + obligations to him; and, since he is no more, I must transfer that + obligation to his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll come with me to see her, Colonel Ashley?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Shag, pack up! We're going back to civilization.” + </p> + <p> + The colored man's face was a study. He looked at the quiet stream, at the + drooping willows, at the fish rod in his master's hand, and at the creel. + He opened his mouth and spoke: + </p> + <p> + “But, Colonel, yo' done tole me t'—” + </p> + <p> + “No matter what I told you, Shag, these are new orders. Pack up!” came the + crisp command. “We're going back to town. I'll do what I can in this + case,” he went on to Bartlett. “I came here for some quiet fishing, and to + get my mind off detective work. I was dragged into a diamond cross mystery + not long since, sorely against my will, and now—” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry—” began Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, it can't be helped,” the colonel said. “I'd give up more than a + fishing trip for a daughter of Horace Carwell. You may let her know that + I'll come, if it will give her any comfort. Though, mind you,” the + colonel's manner was impressive, “I promise nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “That is understood,” said Bartlett eagerly. “I'll wire her that you are + coming. There's a train that leaves right after supper. We can get that—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take it!” decided the colonel. Now that he had given up his + cherished fishing he was all business again. “Shag!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel!” + </p> + <p> + “Pack up for the evening train. Give that fish to the cook and have it + served for Mr. Bartlett and myself. You'll dine with me,” he went on. It + was an order, not an invitation, but Bartlett understood, and accepted + with a bow. + </p> + <p> + A few hours later he and the colonel left the little town where the + detective had gone for such a short vacation, and were on their way to + Lakeside, which they reached early in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Now if you'll tell me the best hotel to stop at here,” said the colonel, + as they alighted from the train, “I'll put up there and see Miss Carwell.” + </p> + <p> + “She requested me to bring you at once to her home,” said Bartlett. “You + are to be her guest. She thought perhaps you would want to examine the— + to see Mr. Carwell's body—before—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. I suppose I had better. Then the funeral has not been held?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was postponed at the request of the county physician.” + </p> + <p> + “Has there been a coroner's inquest?” + </p> + <p> + “No. None was deemed necessary at the time I left, at the solicitation of + Miss Carwell, to get you.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Inquests are less often held in New Jersey than in some of the + other states. Well, then I suppose I may as well go to the Carwell home + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I wired for my car to meet us. It's here I see. Right over here.” + </p> + <p> + Bartlett led the way, the colonel following, and Shag bringing up the rear + with the bags. + </p> + <p> + As the machine started from the station Bartlett looked up to the morning + sky. There was a little speck in it, no larger than a man's hand. It grew + larger, and became an osprey on its way to the sea in search of a fish. + </p> + <p> + As the car drew up in front of the Carwell mansion, from the bell of which + fluttered a dismal length of crepe, a man stepped from the shadow of the + gate posts and held out a paper to Harry Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “A subpoena,” was the rather gruff answer. + </p> + <p> + “A subpoena? What for?” + </p> + <p> + “The coroner's inquest. You'll have to appear and give evidence. They're + going to have an inquest to find out more about Mr. Carwell's death. + That's all I know. I'm from police headquarters. I was told to wait around + here, as you were expected, and to serve that on you. Don't forget to be + there. It's a court order,” and the man slunk away. + </p> + <p> + “An inquest,” murmured Bartlett, as he looked at the paper in his hand. “I + thought they weren't going to have any,” and he glanced quickly at Colonel + Ashley. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. ON SUSPICION + </h2> + <p> + Colonel Robert Lee Ashley was used to surprises. This was natural, + considering his calling, and at some of the surprises he was a silent + spectator, while at others he furnished the surprise. In this case he + served in his former capacity, merely noting the rather startled look on + the face of Harry Bartlett when handed the subpoena to the coroner's + inquest. + </p> + <p> + “I thought they weren't going to have any,” Bartlett repeated, but whether + to himself in a sort of daze, to Colonel Ashley, or to the man from + headquarters was not clear. At any rate Colonel Ashley answered him by + saying: + </p> + <p> + “You never can tell what Jersey justice is going to do. Coroner's inquests + are not usual in this state, but they are lawful.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do they consider one necessary?” asked Bartlett, as they prepared + to enter the house of death. + </p> + <p> + “That, my dear sir, I don't know. Perhaps the county physician may have + requested it, or the prosecutor of the pleas. He may want to be backed up + by the verdict of twelve men before taking any action.” + </p> + <p> + “But if Mr. Carwell's death was due to suicide who can be held guilty but + himself?” + </p> + <p> + “No one. But I thought you said there was a doubt as to its being + suicide,” commented the detective. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carwell doubts,” returned Bartlett; “and I admit that it does seem + strange that a man of Mr. Carwell's character would do such a thing, + particularly when he had shown no previous signs of being in trouble. But + you can never tell.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you can never tell,” agreed Colonel Ashley, and none knew, better + than himself, how true that was. + </p> + <p> + “But why should they subpoena me?” asked Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Don't fret over that,” advised his companion, with a calm smile. “You + probably aren't the only one. A coroner's inquest is, as some one has + said, a sort of fishing excursion. They start out not expecting much, not + knowing what they are going to get, and sometimes they catch nothing—or + no one—and again, a big haul is made. It's merely a sort of clearing + house, and I, for one, will be glad to listen to what is brought out at + the hearing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then I suppose it will be all right,” assented the young man, but + the manner in which he looked again at the legal document was distinctly + nervous. + </p> + <p> + “Had we better tell—her?” and he motioned to the house, on the steps + of which they stood, Shag having pressed the bell for his master. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carwell probably knows all about it,” said Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + They found Viola waiting for them in the library, passing on their way the + darkened and closed room which held all that was mortal of the late owner + of The Haven—no, not quite all of him, for certain portions were, + even then, being subjected to the minute and searching analysis of a + number of chemists, under the direction of the county prosecutor. + </p> + <p> + “It was very good of you to come, Colonel Ashley,” said Viola quietly. “I + appreciate it more than I can express—at this time.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very glad to come,” said the colonel as he held her hand in his warm, + firm clasp. “I am only sorry that it was necessary to send for me on such + an occasion. Believe me, I will do all I can for you, Miss Carwell. Your + father was my very good friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. What most I want is to clear my father's name from the + imputation of having—of having killed himself,” and she halted over + the words. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you suspect—” began Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know what to think, and certainly I don't dare suspect any + one!” exclaimed Viola. “It is all so terrible! But one thing I would like + all father's friends to know—that he did not take his own life. He + would not do such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Colonel Ashley, “we must show that it was either an accident—that + he took the fatal dose by mistake or that some one gave it to him. Forgive + me for thus brutally putting it, but that is what it simmers down to.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have thought of that,” returned Viola, and her shrinking form and + the haunted look in her eyes told what an ordeal it was for her. “I leave + it all to you, Colonel Ashley. Father often spoke of you, and he often + said, if ever he had any mystery to clear up, that you were the only man + he would trust. Now that I am alone I must trust you,” and she smiled at + the colonel. It was something of her former smile—a look that had + turned many a man's head, some even as settled in life and years as + Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll do my best for the sake of you and your father,” replied the + detective. “I don't mind saying that I hoped I was done with all mystery + cases, but fate seems to be against me. + </p> + <p> + “Mind, I am not complaining!” he said quickly, as he saw Viola about to + protest. “It's just my luck. And I can't promise you anything. From what + Mr. Bartlett told me, there seem to be very few suspicious circumstances + connected with the case.” + </p> + <p> + “I realize that,” answered Viola. “And that makes it all the stranger. But + tell me, Colonel, haven't you often found that the cases which, at first, + seemed perfectly plain and simple, afterward turned out to be the most + mysterious?” + </p> + <p> + “Jove, but that's true!” exclaimed the former soldier. “You spoke the + truth then, Miss Viola. My friend Izaak never put a statement more + plainly. And that's the theory I always go on. Now then, let me have all + the facts in your possession. And you too,” he added, turning to Bartlett. + “You might remain while Miss Carwell talks to me, and you can add anything + she may forget, while she can do the same in your case. I suppose you know + there is to be a coroner's inquest?” he added to the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. “I have received a subpoena. I think it is well to + have it, for it will show the public how mistaken a verdict arrived at + when all the facts are not known may be. I shall attend.” + </p> + <p> + “I just received a summons,” said Bartlett, and he seemed to breathe more + easily. + </p> + <p> + “Shag—Where's that black boy of mine?” exclaimed the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I sent him to the servants' quarters,” said Miss Mary Carwell, coming in + just then. “How do you do, Colonel Ashley. I don't know whether you + remember me, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do. And I remember that the last time I dined with you we had + chicken and waffles that—well, the taste lingers yet!” and the + colonel bowed gallantly, which seemed to please Miss Carwell very much + indeed. “So you have looked after Shag, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We have plenty of spare rooms, and I thought you'd want him near + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I want him this moment,” said the detective. “If you will be so good as + to send him here I'll get him to open my bag and take out a note-book I + wish to use.” + </p> + <p> + A little later Colonel Ashley had thrown himself heart and soul into the + “Golf Course Mystery,” as he marked it on a page in his note-book. + </p> + <p> + On the preceding page were the last entries in a case, the beginning of + which was inscribed “The Diamond Cross Mystery.” It was thus that Colonel + Ashley kept the salient facts of his problems before him as he worked. + </p> + <p> + Between them Viola Carwell and Harry Bartlett told the colonel such facts + leading up to the death of Mr. Carwell as they knew. They spoke of the day + of the big golf matches, and the exhilaration of Mr. Carwell as he + anticipated winning the championship contest. + </p> + <p> + The scene at the links was portrayed, the little excitement among the + parked cars, caused, as developed later, by a blaze in a machine standing + next the big red, white, and blue car belonging to Mr. Carwell, and then + the sudden collapse of Carwell as he make his winning stroke. The finding + of some peculiar poison in the stomach and viscera of the dead man was + spoken of, and then Viola made her appeal again for a disclosure of such + truth as Colonel Ashley might reveal. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do my best,” he promised. “But I believe it will be better to wait + until after the inquest before I take an active part. And I think I can + best work if I remain unknown—that is if it is not published + broadcast that I am here in my official capacity.” + </p> + <p> + To this Viola and Bartlett agreed. As neither of them had, as yet, spoken + of bringing the colonel into the case, it was a comparatively easy matter + to pass him off as an old friend of the family; which, in truth, he was. + </p> + <p> + So Colonel Ashley was given the guest chamber, Shag was provided with + comfortable quarters, and then Viola seemed more content. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” she said to her aunt, “that the truth will be found out now.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose the truth is more painful than uncertainty, Viola?” + </p> + <p> + “How can it be?” asked the girl, as tears filled her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” answered Miss Carwell softly. “It is all so terrible, that + I don't believe it can be any worse. But we must hope for the best. I + trust business matters will go along all right. I confess I don't like the + forgetting, on the part of LeGrand Blossom, of attending to the bank + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “It was probably only an oversight.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But it has started a rumor that your poor father's affairs might not + be in the best shape. Oh, dear, it's all so terrible!” + </p> + <p> + But there were other terrors to come. + </p> + <p> + Following his plan of acting merely as a guest and an old friend of the + family who had journeyed from afar to attend the funeral, Colonel Ashley + went about as silent as though on a fishing trip. He looked and listened, + but said little. He was not yet ready for a cast. He was but inspecting + the stream—several streams, in fact, to see where he could best toss + in his baited hook. + </p> + <p> + And it was in this same spirit that he attended the coroner's inquest, + which was held in the town hall. Over the deliberations, which were, at + best, rather informal, Coroner Billy Teller presided. + </p> + <p> + The office of coroner was, in Lakeside, as in most New Jersey cities or + towns, much of an empty title. At every election the names of certain men + were put on the ticket to be voted for as coroners. + </p> + <p> + Few took the trouble to ballot for them, scarcely any one against them, + and they were automatically inducted into office by reason of a few votes. + </p> + <p> + Just what their functions were few knew and less cared. There used to be a + rumor, perhaps it is current yet in many Jersey counties, that a coroner + was the only official who could legally arrest the sheriff in case that + official needed taking into custody. As to the truth of this it is not + important. + </p> + <p> + Certain it is that Billy Teller had never before found himself in such + demand and prominence. He was to act in the capacity of judge, though the + verdict in the case, providing one could be returned, would be given by + the jury he might impanel. + </p> + <p> + There was a large throng in attendance at the town hall when the inquest + began. Reporters had been sent out by metropolitan papers, for Horace + Carwell was a well known figure in the sporting and the financial world, + and the mere fact that there was a suspicion that his death was not from + natural causes was enough to make it a good story. + </p> + <p> + Billy Teller was, frankly, unacquainted with the method of procedure, and + he confessed as much to the prosecutor, an astute lawyer. As the latter + would have the conducting of the case for the state in case it came to a + trial in the upper courts, Mr. Stryker saw to it that legal forms were + followed in the selection of a jury and the swearing in of the members of + the panel. Then began the taking of testimony. + </p> + <p> + The doctors told of the finding of evidences of poison in Mr. Carwell's + body. Its nature was as yet undetermined, for it was not of the common + type. + </p> + <p> + This much Dr. Lambert stated calmly, and without attempting to go into + technical details. Not so Dr. Baird. He spoke learnedly of Reinsch's test + for arsenic, of Bloxam's method, of the distillation process. He juggled + with words, and finally, when pinned down by a direct but homely question + from Billy Teller, admitted that he did not know what had killed Mr. + Carwell. + </p> + <p> + Testimony to the same effect was given by several chemists who had + analyzed the stomach and viscera of the dead man. There was a sediment of + poison present, they admitted, and sufficient had been extracted in a free + state to end the lives of several guinea pigs on which it had been tested. + But as to the exact nature of the poison they could not yet say. More time + for analysis was needed. + </p> + <p> + It was certain that Mr. Carwell had come to his death by an active agent + in the nature of some substance, as yet unknown, which he either swallowed + purposely, by accident, or because some one gave it to him either + knowingly or unknowingly. This was a sufficiently broad hypothesis on + which to base almost anything, thought Colonel Ashley, as he sat and + listened in the corner of the improvised courtroom. + </p> + <p> + There was a stir of excitement and anticipation when Viola was called, but + beyond testifying that her father was in his usual health when he went + with her to the golf game, she could throw no light on the puzzle, nor + could the dead man's sister or any of the servants. + </p> + <p> + “Call Jean Forette,” said the prosecutor, and the chauffeur, a decidedly + nervous man on whom the excitement of testifying plainly told, came to the + stand. + </p> + <p> + He made a poor showing, and there were several whispers that ran around + the courtroom, but poor Jean's rather distressing manner was improved when + Mr. Stryker took him in hand to question him. The prosecutor, observing + that the man was more frightened than anything else, soon put him at his + ease, and then the witness told a clear and connected story. He admitted + frankly that because he had not the faculty, or, perhaps, the desire to + drive the big, new car, he and his late employer were to part company at + the end of the month. That was no secret, and there were no hard feelings + on either side. It was in the course of business, and natural. + </p> + <p> + Yes, he had driven Mr. Carwell and his daughter to the links that day in + the big red, white and blue machine. Mr. Carwell had been in his usual + jolly spirits, and had greeted several acquaintances on the road. + </p> + <p> + Had they stopped at any place? Oh, yes. The golfer was thirsty, and halted + at a roadhouse for a pint of champagne—his favorite wine. Jean had + alighted from the car to get it for him, and Viola, recalled to the stand, + testified that she had seen her father drink some of the bubbling liquor. + It was obvious why she had not spoken of it before, and that point was not + pressed. It was known she did not share her father's love for sports and + high living. + </p> + <p> + A little delay was caused while the innkeeper was sent for, but pending + his arrival some other unimportant witnesses were called, among them Major + Wardell, who was Mr. Carwell's rival in the golf game. + </p> + <p> + Had he heard his friend speak of feeling ill? No, not until a moment + before the final stroke was made. Then Mr. Carwell had said he felt + “queer,” and had acted as though dizzy. The major, who was himself quite a + convivial spirit, attributed it to some highballs he and his friend had + had in the clubhouse just prior to the game. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carwell had drunk nothing during his round of golf, and had associated + during the progress of the game with no one except the players who were + with him from the start to the finish. He was not seen to have taken any + tablets or powders that might have contained poison, and a thorough search + of his person and clothing after his death had revealed nothing. + </p> + <p> + At this point the innkeeper appeared. He testified to having served Mr. + Carwell's chauffeur with a pint of champagne which Jean Forette was seen + to carry directly from the cafe to the waiting automobile. The champagne + was from a bottle newly opened, and the innkeeper himself had selected a + clean glass and carefully washed it before pouring in the wine. He knew + Mr. Carwell was fastidious about such matters, as he had often spent many + hours in the roadhouse. + </p> + <p> + “LeGrand Blossom!” + </p> + <p> + Now something might come out. It was known that Blossom was Mr. Carwell's + chief clerk, and more than one person knew of the impending partnership, + for Mr. Carwell was rather talkative at times. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blossom,” asked the prosecutor, after some preliminary questions, “it + has been intimated—not here but outside—that the financial + affairs of Mr. Carwell were not in such good shape as might be wished. Do + you know anything about this?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir. + </p> + <p> + “Tell what you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he was hard pushed for money, and had to get loans from the bank + and otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that unusual?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was. Before he bought the big car and the yacht he carried a good + balance. But I told him—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what you told him or he told you. That is not admissible under + the circumstances. Just tell what you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then I know that Mr. Carwell's affairs were in bad shape, and that + he was trying to raise some ready cash.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know this?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he asked me to put a large sum into his business and become a + member of the firm.” + </p> + <p> + “He asked you to invest money and become a partner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is not unusual, is it? Many a business man might do the same + if he wanted to branch out, mightn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But before this Mr. Carwell had offered to take me into partnership + without any advance of money on my part. Then he suddenly said he needed a + large sum. He knew I had inherited eleven thousand dollars and had, + moreover, made from investments.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you agree to it?” + </p> + <p> + “I said I'd think it over. I was to give him my answer the day he died.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What would have been your answer?” + </p> + <p> + “It would have been 'no.' I didn't think I wanted to tie up with a man who + was on the verge of ruin; and if you ask me I'll say I think he committed + suicide because he was on the verge of financial ruin and couldn't face + the music, and—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do!” came sternly from the prosecutor. “We didn't ask your + opinion as to the suicide theory, and, what is more, we don't want it. I + ask, your honor,” and he turned to Billy Teller, who was secretly + delighted at being thus addressed, “that the last remark of the witness be + stricken from the record.” + </p> + <p> + “Rub it out,” ordered the coroner, looking over at the stenographer; and + the latter, with a smile, ran his pen through the curious hooks and curves + that represented the “opinion” of LeGrand Blossom. + </p> + <p> + He was allowed to leave the stand, and Harry Bartlett was called next. He + nodded and smiled at Viola as he walked forward through the crowd, and + Captain Poland, who was sitting in front, waved his hand to his rival. For + the young men were friends, even if both were in love with Viola Carwell. + </p> + <p> + “Mr Bartlett,” began the prosecutor, after some unimportant preliminary + questions, “I have been informed that you had a conversation with Mr. + Carwell shortly before his death. Is that true?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we had a talk.” + </p> + <p> + Viola started at hearing this—started so visibly that several about + her noticed it, and even Colonel Ashley turned his head. + </p> + <p> + “What was the nature of the talk?” asked Mr. Stryker. + </p> + <p> + “That I can not tell,” said Bartlett firmly. “But it had nothing to do + with the matter in hand.” + </p> + <p> + There was a rustle of expectancy on hearing this, and the prosecutor + quickly asked: + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by 'the matter in hand'?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, his death.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally you didn't talk about his death, for it hadn't taken place,” + said Mr. Stryker. “Nor could it have been foreseen, I imagine. But what + did you talk about?” + </p> + <p> + “I decline to answer.” + </p> + <p> + There was a gasp that swept over the courtroom, and Billy Teller banged + the gavel as he had seen real judges do. + </p> + <p> + “You decline to answer,” repeated the prosecutor. “Is it on the ground + that it might incriminate you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must insist on an answer. However, I will not do so now, but at + the proper time. I will now ask you one other question, and I think you + will answer that. Did you resume friendly relations with Mr. Carwell after + your quarrel with him that day?” and Mr. Stryker fairly hurled the + question at Harry Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + If this was a trap it was a most skillfully set one. For there must be an + answer, and either no or yes would involve explanations. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me!” exclaimed the prosecutor. “Did you make up after the + quarrel?” + </p> + <p> + There was a tense silence as Bartlett, whose face showed pale under his + tan, said: + </p> + <p> + “I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you admit that you had a quarrel with Mr. Carwell?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but—” + </p> + <p> + Just at this moment Viola Carwell fainted in the arms of her aunt, the + resultant commotion being such that an adjournment was taken while she was + carried to an anteroom, where Dr. Lambert attended her. + </p> + <p> + “We will resume where we left off,” said the prosecutor, when Bartlett + again took the stand, and it might have been noticed that during the + temporary recess one of the regular court constables from the county + building at Loch Harbor remained close at his side. “Will you now state + the nature of your quarrel with Mr. Carwell?” asked Mr. Stryker. + </p> + <p> + “I do not feel that I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” was the calm rejoinder. “Then, your honor,” and again Billy + Teller seemed to swell with importance at the title, “I ask that this + witness be held without bail to await a further session of this court, and + I ask for an adjournment to summon other witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “Granted,” replied Teller, who had been coached what to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Held!” exclaimed Bartlett, as he rose to his feet in indignation. “You + are going to hold me! On what grounds?” + </p> + <p> + “On suspicion,” answered the prosecutor. + </p> + <p> + “Suspicion of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Of knowing something concerning the death of Mr. Carwell.” + </p> + <p> + An exclamation broke from the crowd, and Bartlett reeled slightly. He was + quickly approached by the same constable who had remained at his side + during the recess, and a moment later Coroner Billy Teller adjourned + court. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. 58 C. H.—161* + </h2> + <p> + There was considerable excitement when it became known to the crowd, as it + speedily did, that Harry Bartlett, almost universally accepted as the + fiance of Viola Carwell, had been held as having vital knowledge of her + father's death. Indeed there were not a few wild rumors which insisted + that he had been held on a charge of murder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can't believe it! I can't believe it!” exclaimed Viola, when they + told her. “It can't be possible that they can hold him on such a charge. + It's unfair!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” gently admitted Dr. Lambert. “The law is not always fair; but + it seeks to know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + Viola and her aunt were again in the room where Viola had been revived + from her indisposition caused by the shock of Bartlett's testimony. + Colonel Ashley, who, truth to tell, had been expecting some such summons, + went with Dr. Lambert. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, isn't it terrible, Colonel?” began Viola. “Have they a right to—to + lock him up on this charge?” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't exactly a charge, Viola, my dear, and they have, I am sorry to + say, a right to lock him up. But it will not be in a cell.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in a—a cell?” + </p> + <p> + “No, as a witness, merely, he has a right to better quarters; and I + understand that he will be given them on the order of the prosecutor.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be in jail, though, won't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but in very decent quarters. The witness rooms are not at all like + cells, though they have barred windows.” + </p> + <p> + “But why can't he get out on bail?” asked Viola, rather petulantly. “I'm + sure the charge, absurd as it is, is not such as would make them keep him + locked up without being allowed to get bail. I thought only murder cases + were not bailable.” + </p> + <p> + “That is usually the case,” said Colonel Ashley. “But if this is not a + suicide case it is a murder case, and though Harry is not accused of + murder, in law the distinction is so fine that the prosecutor, doubtless, + feels justified in refusing bail.” + </p> + <p> + “But we could give it—I could—I have money!” cried Viola. + “Aunt Mary has money, too. You'd go his bail, wouldn't you?” and the girl + appealed to her father's sister. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Viola, I—of course I'd do anything for you in the world. You + know that, dearie. But if the law feels that Harry must be locked up I + wouldn't like to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Mary!” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, he says he did quarrel with your father,” went on Miss Carwell. + “And he won't say what it was about. I don't want to talk about any one, + Vi, but it does look suspicious for Mr. Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Mary! Oh, I'll never forgive you for that!” and poor Viola broke + into tears. + </p> + <p> + They left the courtroom and returned to The Haven. Harry Bartlett sent a + hastily written note to Viola, asking her to suspend judgment and trust in + him, and then he was taken to the county jail by the sheriff—being + assured that he would be treated with every consideration and lodged in + one of the witness rooms. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there some process by which we could free him?” asked Viola. “Seems + to me I've heard of some process—a habeas corpus writ, or something + like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Often persons, who can not be gotten out of the custody of the law in any + other way, may be temporarily freed by habeas corpus proceedings,” said + Colonel Ashley. “In brief that means an order from the court, calling on + the sheriff, or whoever has the custody of a prisoner, to produce his body + in court. Of course a live body is understood in such cases. + </p> + <p> + “But such an expedient is only temporary. Its use is resorted to in order + to bring out certain testimony that might be the means of freeing the + accused. In this case, if Harry persisted in his refusal not to tell about + the quarrel, the judge would have no other course open but to return him + to jail. So I can't see that a habeas corpus would be of any service.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, no,” sighed Viola. “But, oh, Colonel Ashley, I am sure + something can be done. You must solve this mystery!” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to try, my dear Viola. I'll try both for your sake and that of + the memory of your father. I loved him very much.” + </p> + <p> + The day passed, and night settled down on the house of death. Throughout + Lakeside and Loch Harbor, as well as the neighboring seaside places, talk + of the death of Mr. Carwell under suspicious circumstances multiplied with + the evening editions of many newspapers. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley in his pleasant room at The Haven—more pleasant it + would have been except for the dark chamber with its silent occupant—was + putting his fishing rod together. There came a knock on the door, and Shag + entered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he exclaimed at the sight of the familiar equipment. “Is we—is + yo' done on dish yeah case, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Shag. I haven't even begun yet.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. I've just heard that there's pretty good fishing at one end + of the golf course that's so intimately mixed up in this mystery, and I + don't see why I shouldn't keep my hand in. Come here, you black rascal, + and see if you can make this joint fit any better. Seems to me the ferrule + is loose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel, I'll 'tend to it immejite. I—er I done brung in—you + ain't no 'jections to lookin' at papers now, has you?” he asked + hesitatingly. For when he went fishing the mere sight of a newspaper + sometimes set Shag's master wild. + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the answer. “In fact I was going to send you out for the latest + editions, Shag.” + </p> + <p> + “I'se done got 'em,” was the chuckling answer, and Shag pulled out from + under his coat a bundle of papers that he had been hiding until he saw + that it was safe to display them. + </p> + <p> + And while Shag was occupied with the rod, the colonel read the papers, + which contained little he did not already know. + </p> + <p> + The next day he went fishing. + </p> + <p> + It was on his return from a successful day of sport, which was added to by + some quiet and intensive thinking, that Viola spoke to him in the library. + The colonel laid aside a paper he had been reading, and looked up. + </p> + <p> + In lieu of other news one of the reporters had written an interview with + Dr. Baird, in which that physician discoursed learnedly on various poisons + and the tests for them, such as might be made to determine what caused the + death of Mr. Carwell. The young doctor went very much into details, even + so far as giving the various chemical symbols of poison, dwelling long on + arsenious acid, whose symbol, he told the reporter, was As2O5, while if + one desired to test the organs for traces of strychnine, it would be + necessary to use “sodium and potassium hydroxide, ammonia and alkaline + carbonate, to precipitate the free base strychnine from aqueous solutions + of its salts as a white, crystalline solid,” while this imposing formula + was given: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “C21H22 + NaOH C21H22 + H20 + NaNO3.” + </pre> + <p> + And so on for a column and a half. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Colonel! Have you found out anything yet?” the girl besought. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of importance, I am sorry to say.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are working on it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. Have you anything to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “No; except that I am perfectly miserable. It is all so terrible. And we + can't even put poor father's body in the grave, where he might rest.” + </p> + <p> + “No, the coroner is waiting for permission from the prosecutor. It seems + they are trying to find some one who knows about the quarrel between Harry + and your father.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe there was a quarrel—at least not a serious one. + Harry isn't that kind. I'm sure he is not guilty. Harry Bartlett had + nothing to do with his death. If my father was not a suicide—” + </p> + <p> + “But if he was not a suicide, for the sake of justice and to prove Harry + Bartlett innocent, we must find out who did kill your father,” said the + colonel. + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe Harry did it, do you?” Viola asked appealingly. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley did not answer for a moment. Then he said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Viola, if some one were ill of a desperate disease, in which the + crisis had not yet been passed, you would not expect a physician to say + for certainty that such a person was to recover, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am in much the same predicament. I am a sort of physician in this + mystery case. It has only begun. The crisis is still far off, and nothing + can be said with certainty. I prefer not to express an opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not afraid!” cried Viola. “I know Harry Bartlett is not guilty!” + </p> + <p> + “If he is not—who then?” asked the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know! I don't know what to think! I suspect—No, I + mustn't say that—Oh, I'm almost distracted!” And, with sobs shaking + her frame, Viola Carwell rushed from the room. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley looked after her for a moment, as though half of a mind to + follow, and then, slowly shaking his head, he again picked up the paper he + had been reading, delving through a maze of technical poisoning detection + formulae, from Vortmann's nitroprusside test to a consideration of the + best method of estimating the toxicity of chemical compounds by blood + hemolysis. The reporter and young Dr. Baird certainly left little to the + imagination. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley read until rather late that evening, and his reading was + not altogether from Izaak Walton's “Compleat Angler.” He delved into + several books, and again read, very carefully, the article on the effects + of various poisons as it appeared in the paper he had been glancing over + when Viola talked with him. + </p> + <p> + As the colonel was getting ready to retire a servant brought him a note. + It was damp, as though it had been splashed with water, and when the + detective had read it and had noted Viola's signature, he knew that her + tears had blurred the writing. + </p> + <p> + “Please excuse my impulsiveness,” she penned. “I am distracted. I know + Harry is not guilty. Please do something!” + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to,” mused the colonel as he got into bed, and turned his + thoughts to a passage he had read in Walton just before switching off his + light. It was an old rhyme, the source of which was not given, but which + seemed wonderfully comforting under the circumstances. It was a bit of + advice given by our friend Izaak, and as part of what a good fisherman + should provide specified: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My rod and my line, my float and my lead, + My hook and my plummet, my whetstone and knife. + My basket, my baits, both living and dead, + My net and my meat (for that is the chief): + Then I must have thread, and hairs green and small, + With mine angling purse—and so you have all.” + </pre> + <p> + “And,” reflected Colonel Ashley, as he dozed off, “I guess I'll need all + that and more to solve this mystery.” + </p> + <p> + The detective was up betimes the next morning, as he would have said had + he been discoursing in the talk of Mr. Walton, and on going to the window + to fill his lungs with fresh air, he saw a letter slipped under his door. + </p> + <p> + “From Viola, I imagine,” he mused, as he picked it up. “Unless it's from + Shag, telling me the fish are biting unusually well. I hope they're not, + for I must do considerable to-day, and I don't want to be tempted to stray + to the fields. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't from Shag, though. He never could muster as neat a pen as this. + Nor yet is it from Viola. Printed, too! The old device to prevent + detection of the handwriting. Well, mysterious missive, what have you to + say this fine morning?” + </p> + <p> + He opened the envelope carefully, preserving it and not tearing the + address, which, as he had said, was printed, not written. It bore his + name, and nothing else. + </p> + <p> + Within the envelope was a small piece of paper on which was printed this: + </p> + <p> + “Ask Miss Viola what this means. 58 C. H.—161*.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley read the message through three times without saying a word. + Then he held the paper and envelope up to the light to see if they bore a + water mark. Neither did, and the paper was of a cheap, common variety + which might be come upon in almost any stationery store. The colonel read + the message again, looked at the back and front of the envelope, and then, + placing both in his pocket, went down to breakfast, the bell for which he + heard just as he finished his simple breathing exercises. + </p> + <p> + The morning papers were at his place, which was the only one at the table. + Either Viola and her aunt had already breakfasted, or would do so later. + The colonel ate and read. + </p> + <p> + There was not much new in the papers. Harry Bartlett was still held as a + witness, and the prosecutor's detectives were still working on the case. + As yet no one had connected Colonel Ashley officially with the matter. The + reporters seemed to have missed noting that a celebrated—not to say + successful—detective was the guest of Viola Carwell. It was an hour + after the morning meal, and the colonel was in the library, rather idly + glancing over the titles of the books, which included a goodly number on + yachting and golfing, when Viola entered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't know you were here!” she exclaimed, drawing back. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come in! Come in!” invited the colonel. “I am just going out. I was + wondering if there happened to be a book on chemistry here—or one on + poisons.” + </p> + <p> + “Poisons!” exclaimed the girl, half drawing back. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I have one, but I left it in New York. If there happened to be one—Or + perhaps you can tell me. Did you ever study chemistry?” + </p> + <p> + “As a girl in school, yes. But I'm afraid I've forgotten all I ever knew.” + </p> + <p> + “My case, too,” said the colonel with a laugh. “Then there isn't a book + giving the different symbols of chemicals?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I know of,” Viola answered. “Still I might help you out if it + wasn't too complicated. I remember that water is H two O and that + sulphuric acid is H two S O four. But that's about all.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you know what fifty-eight C H one sixty-one, with a period after + the C, a dash after the H and a star after the last number was?” the + colonel asked casually. + </p> + <p> + Viola shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I wouldn't,” she answered. “That is too complicated for me. + Isn't it a shame we learn so much that we forget?' + </p> + <p> + “Still it may have its uses,” said the colonel. “I'll have to get a book + on chemistry, I think.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to go out. + </p> + <p> + “Have you learned anything more?” Viola asked timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing to speak about,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wish you would find out something—and soon,” she murmured. + “This suspense is terrible!” and she shuddered as the detective went out. + </p> + <p> + It was late that afternoon when Colonel Ashley, having seen Miss Mary + Carwell and Viola walking at the far end of the garden, went softly up the + stairs to the room of the girl who had summoned him to The Haven. With a + skill of which he was master he looked quickly but carefully through + Viola's desk, which was littered with many letters and telegrams of + condolence that had been answered. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley worked quickly and silently, and he was about to give up, a + look of disappointment on his face, when he found a slip of paper in one + of the pigeon holes. And the slip bore this, written in pencil: + </p> + <p> + 58 C. H.—171* <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. A WATER HAZARD + </h2> + <p> + “Isn't there some place where you can take her for a few days—some + relative's where she can rest and forget, as much as possible, the scenes + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is,” replied Miss Mary Carwell to Colonel Ashley's question. + “I'll go with her myself to Pentonville. I have a cousin there, and it's + the quietest place I know of, outside of Philadelphia,” and she smiled + faintly at the detective. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he announced. “Then get her away from here. It will do you both + good.” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the case—solving the mystery? Won't you want either + Viola or me here to help you?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do very well by myself for a few days. Indeed I shall need the + help of both of you, but you will be all the better fitted to render it + when you return. So take her away—go yourself, and try to forget as + much of your grief as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will stay—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stay here, yes. Shag and I will manage very nicely, thank you. I'm + glad you have colored help. I can always get along with that kind. I've + been used to them since a boy in the South.” + </p> + <p> + And so Viola and Miss Carwell went away. + </p> + <p> + It was after the sufficiently imposingly somber funeral of Horace Carwell, + for since the adjourned inquest—adjourned at the request of the + prosecutor—it was not considered necessary to keep the poor, maimed + body out of its last resting place any longer. It had been sufficiently + viewed and examined. In fact, parts of it were still in the hands of the + chemists. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Shag, that we're left to ourselves—” said Colonel Ashley, + when Viola and Miss Carwell had departed the day following the funeral, + “now that we are by ourselves—” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon as how you'll fix up as to who it were whut done killed de + gen'man, an' hab him 'rested, won't yo', Colonel, sah?” asked Shag, with + the kindly concern and freedom of an old and loved servant. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I'll do nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Colonel Ashley. “I'm going + fishing, Shag, and I'll be obliged to you if you'll lay out my Kennebec + rod and the sixteen line. I think there are some fighting fish in that + little river that runs along at the end of the golf course. Get everything + ready and then let me know,” and the colonel, smoking his after-breakfast + cigar, sat on the shady porch of The Haven and read: + </p> + <p> + “O, Sir, doubt not that angling is an art: is it not an art to deceive a + trout with an artificial fly? a trout! that is more sharp-sighted than any + hawk you have named, and more watchful and timorous than your high-mettled + merlin is bold; and yet I doubt not to catch a brace or two to-morrow for + a friend's breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Um,” mused the colonel. “Too bad it isn't the trout season. That passage + from Walton just naturally makes me hungry for the speckled beauties. But + I can wait. Meanwhile we'll see what else the stream holds. Shag, are you + coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah! Comin' right d'rectly, sah! Yes, sah, Colonel!” and Shag + shuffled along the porch with the fishing tackle. + </p> + <p> + And so Colonel Ashley sat and fished, and as he fished he thought, for the + sport was not so good that it took up his whole attention. In fact he was + rather glad that the fish were not rising well, for he had entered into + this golf course mystery with a zest he seldom brought to any case, and he + was anxious to get to the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want to get into that diamond cross affair, but I was dragged in + by the heels,” he mused. “And now, just because some years ago Horace + Carwell did me a favor and enabled me to make money in the copper market, + I am trying to find out who killed him, or if, in a fit of despondency, he + killed himself.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, if it was despondency, he disguised it marvelously well. And if + it was an accident it was a most skillful and fateful one. How he could + swallow poison and not know it is beyond me. And now to consider who might + have given it to him, arguing that it was not an accident.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel had walked up and down the stream at the turn of the Maraposa + golf course, Shag following at a discreet distance, and, after trying out + several places had settled down under a shady tree at an eddy where the + waters, after rushing down the bed of the small river, met with an + obstruction and turned upon themselves. Here they had worn out a place + under an overhanging bank, making a deep pool where, if ever, fish might + he expected to lurk. + </p> + <p> + And there the colonel threw in his bait and waited. + </p> + <p> + “And now, that I am waiting,” he mused, “let me consider, as my friend + Walton would, matters in their sequence. Horace Carwell is dead. Let us + argue that some one gave him the poison. Who was it?” + </p> + <p> + And then, like some file index, the colonel began to pass over in his mind + the various persons who had come under his observation, as possible + perpetrators of the crime. + </p> + <p> + “Let us begin with one the law already suspects,” mused the fisherman. + “Not that that is any criterion, but that it disposes of him in a certain + order—disposes of him or—involves him more deeply,” and the + colonel looked to where a ground spider had woven a web in which a small + but helpless grass hopper was then struggling. + </p> + <p> + “Could Harry Bartlett have given the poison?” the colonel asked himself. + And the answer, naturally, was that such could have been the case. + </p> + <p> + Then came the question: “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Had he an object? What was the quarrel about, concerning which he refuses + to speak? Why is Viola so sure Harry could not have done it? I think I can + see a reason for the last. She loves him as much as he does her. That's + natural. She's a sweet girl!” + </p> + <p> + And, being unable to decide definitely as to the status of Harry Bartlett, + Colonel Ashley mentally passed that card in his file and took up another, + bearing the name Captain Gerry Poland. + </p> + <p> + “Could he have had an object in getting Horace Carwell out of the way?” + mused the detective. “At first thought I'd say he could not, and, just + because I would say so, I must keep him on my list. He also is in love + with Viola,—just as much as Bartlett is. I shall list Captain Poland + as a remote possibility. I can't afford to eliminate him altogether, as it + may develop that Mr. Carwell objected to his paying his attentions to + Viola. Well, we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + The next mental index card bore the name Jean Forette; and concerning him + Colonel Ashley had secured some information the day before. He had got, by + adroit questioning, a certain knowledge of the French chauffeur, and this + was now spread out on the card that, in fancy, Colonel Ashley could see in + his filing cabinet. + </p> + <p> + “Forette? Oh, yes, I know him,” the mechanician of the best garage in + Lakeside had told the detective. “He's a good driver, and knows more about + an ignition system than I ever shall. He's a shark at it. But he's a queer + Dick.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sometimes he's a regular devil at driving. Once he had a big Rilat + car in here for repairs. He had to tell me what was wrong with it, as I + couldn't dope it out. Then when we got it running for him, he took it out + for a trial run on the road. Drive! Say, it's a wonder I have any hair on + my head!” + </p> + <p> + “Did he go fast?” + </p> + <p> + “Fast? Say, a racing man had nothing on that Forette. And yet the next + day, when he came to take the car away, after we'd charged the storage + battery, he drove like a snail. One of my men went with him a little way, + to see that everything was all right, for Mr. Carwell is very particular—I + mean he was—and Forette didn't let her out for a cent. My man was + disappointed, for he's a fast devil, too, and he asked the Frenchman why + he didn't kick her along.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the chauffeur say?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it wasn't so much what he said as how he acted. He was as nervous + as a cat. Kept looking behind to see that no other machine was coming, and + when he passed anything on the road he almost went in the ditch himself to + make sure there was room enough to pass.” + </p> + <p> + “Seemed afraid, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it. And considering how bold he was the day I was out with him, I + put it down that he must have had a few drinks when he took me for a— + Well, I never saw him, but how else can you account for it? Drink will + make a man drive like old Nick, and get away with it, too, sometimes, + though the stuff'll get 'em sooner or later. But that's how I sized it + up.” + </p> + <p> + “He might have taken something other than drink.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Dope!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I s'pose so, and him bein' French might account for it. Anyhow + he was like two different men. That one day he was as bold as brass, and I + guess he'd have driven one of them there airships if any one had dared him + to. Then, the next day he was like a chap trying for his license with the + motor inspector lookin' on. I can't account for it. That Jean Forette sure + is a card!” + </p> + <p> + “Then he really seemed afraid to speed the Dilat car?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it. And he spoke of Mr. Carwell going to get a more powerful + French machine. He said then he'd never driven it to the limit, and didn't + want to handle it at all. And he spoke the truth, for I heard that he and + the old man didn't get along at all with that red, white and blue devil + Mr. Carwell imported.” + </p> + <p> + “So they say. Forette was to leave at the end of the month. Well, I'm much + obliged to you. A friend of mine was going to engage him, but if he has + such a reputation—not reliable, you know, I guess I'll look farther. + Much obliged,” and the colonel, who, it is needless to say, had not + revealed his true character to the garage owner, turned aside. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wouldn't want what I said to keep Forette out of a place!” + protested the man quickly. “If I'd thought that—” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't worry. You haven't done him any harm. He's out of a place + anyhow, since Mr. Carwell died, and I'll treat what you told me in strict + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would. You know we have to be careful.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand.” + </p> + <p> + And this information passed again in review before the mind of the + fisherman as he took Jean Forette's card from the pack. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he can be a dope fiend?” mused the colonel. “It's worth + looking up, at any rate. He'd be a bad kind to drive a car. I'm glad he + isn't in my employ, and I'm better pleased that he won't take Viola out. + This dope—bad stuff, whether it's morphine, cocaine, or something + else. We'll just keep this card up in front where we can get at it + easily.” + </p> + <p> + The next mental card had on it the name of LeGrand Blossom. + </p> + <p> + “Curious chap, him,” mused the detective. “He's very fond of the sound of + his own voice, particularly where he can get an audience, as he had at the + inquest. Well, I don't know anything about you, Mr. Blossom, neither for + nor against you, but I'll keep your card within reach, also. Can't neglect + any possibilities in cases like this. And now for some others.” + </p> + <p> + There were many cards in the colonel's index, and he ran rapidly over them + as he waited for a bite. They bore the names of many members of the golf + and yachting clubs of which Mr. Carwell had been a member. There were also + the names of the household servants, and the dead man's nearest relatives, + including his sister and Viola. But the colonel did not linger long over + any of these memoranda. The card of Viola Carwell, however, had mentally + penciled on it the somewhat mystic symbol 58 C. H.—161* and this the + colonel looked at from every angle. + </p> + <p> + “I really must get a book on chemistry,” he mused. “I may need it to find + out what kind of dope Forette uses—if he takes any.” + </p> + <p> + And thus the colonel sat in the shade, beside the quiet stream, the little + green book by his side. But he did not open it now, and though his gaze + was on his line, where it cut the water in a little swirl, he did not seem + to see it. + </p> + <p> + “Shag!” suddenly exclaimed the colonel, breaking a stillness that was + little short of idyllic. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel! Yes, sah!” and the colored man awoke with a skill + perfected by long practice under similar circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Shag, the fishing here is miserable!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel. Shall we-all move?” + </p> + <p> + “Might as well. I haven't had a nibble, and from the looks of everything—even + the evidence of Mr. Walton himself—it ought to have been a most + choice location. However, there will be other days, and—” + </p> + <p> + The colonel's voice was cut short by a shrill call from his delicate reel, + and a moment later he had leaped to his feet and cried: + </p> + <p> + “Shag, I'm a most monumental liar!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel. Dat's whut yo' suah is!” + </p> + <p> + “I've got the biggest bite I ever had! Get that landing net and see if you + can forget that you're a cross between a snail and a mud turtle!” cried + the colonel excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah!” + </p> + <p> + Shag moved on nimble feet, and presently stood down on the shore, near the + edge of the stream, while the colonel, on the bank above the eddy, played + the fish that had taken his bait and sought to depart with it to some + watery fastness to devour it at his leisure. But the hook and tackle held + him. + </p> + <p> + Up and down in the pool rushed the fish, and the colonel's rod bent to the + strain, but it did not break. It had been tested in other piscatorial + battles and was tried and true. + </p> + <p> + The battle progressed, not so unequal as it might seem, considering the + frail means used to ensnare the big fish. And the prize was gradually + being brought within reach of the landing net. + </p> + <p> + “Get ready now, Shag!” ordered the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, I'se all ready!” + </p> + <p> + There was a final rush and swirl in the water. Shag leaned over, his eyes + shining in delight, for the fish was an extraordinarily large one. He was + about to scoop it up in the net, to take the strain off the rod which was + curved like a bow, when there came a streak of something white sailing + through the air. It fell with a splash into the water so close to the fish + that it must have bruised its scaly side, and then, in some manner, the + denizen of the stream, either in a desperate flurry, or because the blow + of the white object broke its hold on the hook, was free, and with a dart + scurried back into the element that was life itself. + </p> + <p> + For a moment there was portentous silence on the part of Colonel Ashley. + He gazed at his dangling line and at the straightened pole. Then he + solemnly said: + </p> + <p> + “Shag!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel!” + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” + </p> + <p> + “By golly, Colonel! dat's whut I'd laik t' know. Must hab been a shootin' + star, or suffin laik dat! I never done see—” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a drawling voice from somewhere back of the fringe of trees + and bushes broke in with: + </p> + <p> + “I fancy I made that water hazard all right, though it was a close call. + Which reminds me of the perhaps interesting fact that forty-five and + sixty-four hundredths cylindrical feet of water will weigh twenty-two + hundred and forty pounds, figuring one cubic foot of salt water at + sixty-four and three-tenths pounds, if you get my meaning!” and there was + a genial laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't get it, and I don't care to,” was the rejoinder. “But I'm + ready to bet you a cold bottle that you've gone into instead of over that + water hazard.” + </p> + <p> + “Done! Come on, we'll take a look!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. POISONOUS PLANTS + </h2> + <p> + Colonel Ashley still stood, holding his now useless rod and line, gazing + first at that, then at Shag and, anon, at the little swirl of the waters, + marking where the big fish had disappeared from view. + </p> + <p> + “Shag!” exclaimed the colonel in an ominously, quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what that was?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sab, Colonel, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was a spirit manifestation of Izaak Walton. It was jealous of + my success and took that revenge. It was the spirit of the old fisherman + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Good land ob massy!” gasped Shag. “Does yo'—does yo' mean a—ghost?” + </p> + <p> + “You might call it that, Shag. Yes, a ghost.” + </p> + <p> + The colored man looked frightened for a moment, and then a broad grin + spread over his face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sah, Colonel,” he began, deferentially, “maybe yo' kin call it dat, + but hit looks t' me mo' laik one ob dem li'l white balls de gen'mens an' + ladies done knock aroun' wif iron-headed clubs. Dat's whut it looks laik + t' me, sah, Colonel,” and Shag picked up a golf ball from the water, where + it floated. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” exclaimed the fisherman. “If it was that—” + </p> + <p> + His indignant protest was interrupted by the appearance, breaking through + the underbrush on the edge of the stream, of two men, each one carrying a + bag of golf clubs. + </p> + <p> + “Did you—” began one, and then, as he caught sight of Shag holding + up in his black fingers the white ball, there was added: + </p> + <p> + “I see you did! Thank you. You were right, Tom. I did go into the water. I + sliced worse than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + Then the two men seemed, for the first time, to have caught sight of + Colonel Ashley. They noticed his attitude, the dangling line and his + disappointed look. + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon,” said the one who had already spoken, “but did we interfere + with your fishing?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you interfere with it?” stormed the colonel. “You just naturally + knocked it all to the devil, sir! That's what you did!” And then, as he + saw a curious look on the faces of the two men, he added: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said that. I'm an interloper, I + realize—a trespasser. It's my own fault for fishing so near the golf + course. But I—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” broke in the other man. “But you are Colonel Ashley, aren't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Sharwell—Tom Sharwell, and this is Bruce Garrigan. I + thought I had seen you at the club. Pray excuse our interruption of your + sport. We had no idea any one was fishing here.” + </p> + <p> + “It's entirely my fault,” declared the colonel, as he removed his cap and + bowed, a courtesy the two golfers, after a moment of hesitation, returned. + “I was taking chances when I threw in here.” + </p> + <p> + “And did we scare the fish?” asked Garrigan. “I suppose so. Never was much + of a fisherman myself. All I know about them is seventeen million, four + hundred and eighty-eight thousand nine hundred and twenty one boxes of + sardines were imported into the United States last year. I read it in the + paper so it must be true. I know I ate the one box.” + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet, Bruce,” said Sharwell in a low voice, but the colonel smiled. + There was no affront to his dignity, as the golfer had feared. + </p> + <p> + “I had on a most beautiful catch,” said the colonel, “and then what I + thought, at first, was the embodied spirit of Izaak Walton suddenly came + zipping into the water just as Shag was about to land the beauty, and + knocked it off the hook. Since then I have been informed by my servant + that it was no spirit, but a golf ball.” + </p> + <p> + “It was mine,” confessed Garrigan. “I'm all kinds of sorry about it. Never + had the least notion any one was here. Never saw any one fish here before; + did we, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought there were fish here, and events proved I was right,” + said the colonel. “I hope the water isn't posted?” he inquired anxiously, + for he was a stickler for the rights of others. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, nothing like that!” Garrigan hastened to add. “You're welcome to + fish here as long and as often as you like. Only, as this water hazard is + often played from the fifth hole, it would be advisable to post a sign + just outside the trees, or station your man there to give notice.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it after this,” said the colonel, as he reeled in. + </p> + <p> + “You're not going to quit just because I was so unfortunate as to spoil + your first catch, are you?” asked Garrigan. + </p> + <p> + “I think I'd better,” the colonel said. “I don't believe I could land + anything after what happened. The fish must have thought it was a + thunderbolt, from the way that ball landed.” + </p> + <p> + “I did drive rather hard,” admitted Garrigan. “But we can cut this out of + our game, take a stroke apiece and go on with the play. That is, I'm + willing. I don't feel very keen for the game to-day. How about you, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready to quit, and I think the least we can do, considering that we + have spoiled Colonel Ashley's day, is to ask him if he won't share with us + the bottle I won from you on the water hazard.” + </p> + <p> + “Done!” exclaimed Garrigan. “There were eleven million, four hundred and + ten thousand six hundred and six dollars' worth of soya beans imported + into the United States in 1917,” he added, “which, of course, has nothing + to do with the number of cold bottles of champagne the steward, at the + nineteenth hole, has on the ice for us. So I suggest that we adjourn and—” + </p> + <p> + “I will, on one condition,” said Sharwell. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked his companion. + </p> + <p> + “That you kindly refrain from telling us how many spools of thread were + sent to the cannibals of the Friendly Islands for the fiscal year ending + June 30, 1884.” + </p> + <p> + “Done!” cried Garrigan with a laugh. “I'll never hint of it. Colonel, will + you accept our hospitality? I believe you are already put up at the club?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Carwell was kind enough to secure a visitor's card for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let's forget our sorrows; drown them in the bubbling glasses with + hollow stems!” cried Garrigan, gayly. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Shag,” called the colonel, as he gave his rod to his colored + servant. “I don't know when I'll be back.” + </p> + <p> + “Well said!” exclaimed Sharwell. + </p> + <p> + Then they adjourned to the nineteenth hole. + </p> + <p> + If it is always good weather when good fellows get together, it was + certainly a most delightful day as the colonel and his two hosts sat on + the shady veranda of the Maraposa Golf Club. They talked of many things, + and, naturally, the conversation veered around to the death of Mr. + Carwell. Out of respect to his memory, an important match had been called + off on the day of his funeral. But now those last rites were over, the + clubhouse was the same gay place it had been. Though more than one veteran + member sat in silent reverie over his cigar as he recalled the friend who + never again would tee a ball with him. + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is queer why Harry Bartlett doesn't come out and say what it + was that he and Mr. Carwell had words about,” commented Sharwell. “There + he stays, in that rotten jail. Bah! I can smell it yet, for I called to + see if I could do anything. And yet he won't talk.” + </p> + <p> + “It is queer,” said Garrigan. “If he'd only let his friends speak for him + it could be cleared. We all know what the quarrel was about.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked the colonel. He had his own theory, but he wanted to see how + it jibed with another's. + </p> + <p> + “It's an old story,” went on Bruce Garrigan. “It goes back to the time, + about three years ago, when the fair Viola and Harry began to be talked + about as more than ordinary friends. Just about then Mr. Carwell lost a + large sum of money in a stock deal, or a bond issue, or something—I've + forgotten what—and he always said that Harry and his clique + engineered the plan by which he was mulcted.” + </p> + <p> + “And did Mr. Bartlett have anything to do with it?” asked the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Well, some say he did, and some say he didn't. Harry himself denied all + knowledge of it. Anyhow the colonel lost a stiffish sum, and some of + Harry's people took in a goodly pile. Naturally there was a bit of + coldness between the families, and I did hear Harry was told his presence + around Viola wasn't desired. + </p> + <p> + “If he was so warned he didn't heed it, for they went out together as much + as ever, though I can't say he called at the house very often.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think it was about this he and Mr. Carwell quarreled just before + Mr. Carwell was stricken?” asked the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I think so, yes,” answered Garrigan. “And I think Harry refuses to admit + it, from a notion that it would be dragging in a lady's name. But it + wouldn't be airing anything that isn't already pretty well known. Mr. + Carwell has a violent temper—or he had one—and Harry isn't + exactly an angel when he's roused, though I'll say say for him that I have + rarely seen him angry. And there you are. Boy, another bottle, and have it + colder than the last.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” mused the colonel, “there you are—or aren't, according to + your viewpoint.” + </p> + <p> + And so the day grew more sunshiny and mellow, and Colonel Ashley did not + regret the fish that the golf ball cheated him of, for he added several + new cards to his index file and jotted down, mentally, new facts on some + already in it. + </p> + <p> + “Will return to-morrow. Viola too restless here.” + </p> + <p> + That was the telegram Colonel Ashley received the day following his + acquaintance at the nineteenth hole with Bruce Garrigan and Tom Sharwell. + </p> + <p> + “She stayed away longer than I thought she would,” mused the detective, + “Yes, sah!” + </p> + <p> + “See if that French chauffeur, Forette, can drive me into town.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + A little later Jean brought the roadster to the front of the house and + waited for Colonel Ashley. The latter came forth holding a slip of paper + in his hand, and, to the chauffeur, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where Dr. Baird lives?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me there, please. He was one of the physicians called in when Mr. + Carwell was poisoned, was he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” and the chauffeur nodded and smiled. “You are not ill, I hope, + monsieur. If you are, there is a physician nearer—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I'm all right. I just want to have a talk with the doctor. Did + you ever consult him?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? Oh, no, monsieur, I have no need of a doctor. I am never sick. I feel + most excellent!” and certainly he looked it. There was a sparkle in his + eyes—perhaps too brilliant a sparkle, but he did not look like a + “dope fiend.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are in a hurry,” went on the chauffeur, “I can—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no hurry,” responded the colonel. “Why, do you feel like driving + fast?” + </p> + <p> + “Very fast, monsieur. I always like to drive fast, only there is seldom + call for it. Mr. Carwell, he at times would like speed, and again he was + like the tortoise. But as for me—poof! What would you?” and he + shrugged his shoulders and reverted to his own tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Hum,” mused the colonel. “Rather a different story from the garage man's. + However, we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Baird was in. In fact, being a very young doctor indeed, he was rather + more in than out—too much in to suit his own inclination and + pocketbook, for, as yet, the number of his patients was small. + </p> + <p> + “I did not come to see you for myself, professionally,” said Colonel + Ashley, as he took a seat in the office, and introduced himself. “I am + trying to establish, for the satisfaction of Miss Carwell, that her father + was not a suicide, and—” + </p> + <p> + “What else could it be?” asked Dr. Baird. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. But I read with great interest the interview, you gave the + Globe on the effects and detection of various poisons.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” and young Dr. Baird rubbed his hands in delight, and stroked his + still younger moustache. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I called to ask what poison or chemical symbol that might be.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel extended a paper on which was inscribed: 58 C. H.—161* + </p> + <p> + “That! Hum, why that is not a chemical symbol at all!” promptly declared + Dr. Baird. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Positive.” + </p> + <p> + “Could it be some formula for poison?” + </p> + <p> + “It could not. Of course that is not to say it could not be some person's + private memorandum for some combination of elements. C might stand for + carbon and H for hydrogen. But that would not make a poison in the + ordinary accepted meaning of the term. I am sure you are mistaken if you + think that is a chemical symbol.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, also,” said the detective with a smile. “I just wanted your + opinion, that is all. Then those letters and figures would mean nothing to + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all. Wait though—” + </p> + <p> + Young Dr. Percy Baird looked at the slip again. “No, it would mean nothing + to me,” he said finally. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + He came out of the physician's office to find Jean Forette calmly reading + in his side of the car. The paper was put away at once, and with a whirr + from the self-starter the motor throbbed. + </p> + <p> + “It there a free public library in town, Jean?” asked the detective. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur. + </p> + <p> + “Take me there.” + </p> + <p> + The library was one built partly with the money donated by a celebrated + millionaire, and contained a fair variety of books. To the main desk, + behind which sat a pretty girl, marched Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any books on poisons?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Poisons?” She looked up at him, startled, a flush mantling her fair + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Any works on poisons—a chemistry would do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, we have books on poisons. I'll jot down the numbers for you. We + have not many, I'm afraid. It is—it isn't a pleasant subject.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I imagine not.” + </p> + <p> + She busied herself with the card index, and came back to him in a moment + with a slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” said the pretty girl, “but we seem to have only one book on + poisons, and I'm afraid that isn't what you want. It is entitled + 'Poisonous Plants of New Jersey,' and is one of the bulletins of the New + Jersey Agricultural Experiment Station at New Brunswick. But it is out at + present. Here is the number of it, and if it comes in—” + </p> + <p> + “I should be glad to see it,” interrupted the colonel pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the number,” and the pretty girl extended to him a slip which + read: 58 C. H—161* + </p> + <p> + “What is the star for?” asked the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “It indicates that the book was donated by the state and was not purchased + with the endowment appropriation,” she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “And it is out now. I wonder if you could tell me who has it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir. Just a moment.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at some more cards, and came back to him. She looked a bit + disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “The book, 'Poisonous Plants of New Jersey' was taken out by Miss Viola + Carwell,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. BLOSSOM'S SUSPICIONS + </h2> + <p> + Characteristic as it was of Colonel Ashley not to show surprise, he could + hardly restrain an indication of it when he reached The Haven, and found + Miss Mary Carwell and Viola there. They were not expected until the next + day, but while her niece was temporarily absent Miss Carwell explained the + matter. + </p> + <p> + “She couldn't stand it another minute. She insisted that I should pack and + come with her. Something seemed to drive her home.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said the Colonel gently, “that she didn't imagine that I wasn't + doing all possible, under the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, it wasn't anything like that. She just wanted to be at home. And + I think, too,” and Miss Carwell lowered her voice, after a glance at the + door, “that she wanted to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bartlett! There's no use disguising the fact that his family and ours + aren't on friendly terms. I think he did a grave injustice to my brother + in a business way, and I'll never forgive him for it. I don't want to see + Viola marry him—that is I didn't. I hardly believe, now, after he + has been arrested, that she will. But there is no doubt she cares for him, + and would do anything to prove that this charge was groundless.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, I suppose that's natural,” assented the detective. “I'd be + glad, myself, to believe that Harry Bartlett had nothing to do with the + death of Mr. Carwell.” + </p> + <p> + “But you believe he did have, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't yet made up my mind,” was the cautious answer. “The golf course + mystery, I don't mind admitting, is one of the most puzzling I've ever run + across. It won't do to make up one's mind at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But my brother either committed suicide, or else he was deliberately + poisoned!” insisted Miss Carwell. “And those of us who knew him feel sure + he would never take his own life. He must have been killed, and if Harry + Bartlett didn't do it who did?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” frankly replied the colonel. “That's what I'm going to try + to find out. So Miss Viola feels much sympathy for him, does she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And she wants to go to see him at the jail. Of course I know they + don't exactly call it a jail, but that's what I call it!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Carwell was nothing if not determined in her language. + </p> + <p> + “Would you let her go if you were I—go to see him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you are going to prevent it,” replied the colonel. “Miss + Viola is of legal age, and she seems to have a will of her own. But I + hardly believe that she will see Mr. Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but she said she was going to. That's one reason she made me come + home ahead of time, I believe. She says she's going to see him, and what + she says she'll do she generally does.” + </p> + <p> + “However I don't believe she'll see him,” went on the detective. “The + prosecutor has given orders since yesterday that no one except Mr. + Bartlett's legal adviser must communicate with him; so I don't believe + Miss Viola will be admitted.” + </p> + <p> + This proved to be correct. Viola was very insistent, but to no avail. The + warden at the jail would not admit her to the witness rooms, where Harry + Bartlett paced up and down, wondering, wondering, and wondering. And much + of his wonder had to do with the girl who tried so hard to see him. + </p> + <p> + She had sent word by his lawyer that she believed in his innocence and + that she would do all she could for him, but he wanted more than that. He + wanted to see her—to feast his hungry eyes on her—to hold her + hand, to—Oh, well, what was the use? he wearily asked himself. Would + the horrible tangle ever be straightened out? He shook his head and + resumed his pacing of the rooms—for there were two at his disposal. + He was weary to death of the dismal view to be had through the barred + windows. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see him?” asked her aunt, when Viola, much dispirited, returned + home. + </p> + <p> + “No, and I suppose you're glad of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I am. There's no use saying I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Mary, I think it's perfectly horrid of you to think, even for a + moment, that Harry had anything to do with this terrible thing. He'd never + dream of it, not if he had quarreled with my father a dozen times. And I + don't see what they quarreled about, either. I'm sure I was with Harry a + good deal of the time before the game, and I didn't hear him and my father + have any words.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, as it was about you, they took care you shouldn't hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Who says it was about me?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you easily guess that it was, and that's why Harry doesn't want to + tell?” asked Miss Mary. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe anything of the sort!” declared Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” sighed Miss Carwell, “I don't know what to believe. If your poor, + dear father wasn't a suicide, some one must have killed him, and it may + well have been—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't dare say it was Harry!” cried Viola excitedly. “Oh, this is + terrible! I'm going to see Colonel Ashley and ask him if he can't end this + horrible suspense.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish that as eagerly as you do,” said Miss Mary. “You'll find the + colonel in the library. He's poring over some papers, and Shag, that funny + colored man, is getting some fish lines ready; so it's easy enough to + guess where the colonel is going. If you want to speak to him you'd better + hurry. But there's another matter I want to call to your attention. What + about our business affairs? Have we money enough to go on living here and + keeping up our big winter house? We must think of that, Viola.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we must think of that,” agreed the girl. “That's one of the reasons + why I wanted to come back. Father's affairs must be gone into carefully. + He left no will, and the lawyer says it will take quite a while to find + out just how things stand. If only Harry were here to help. He's such a + good business man.” + </p> + <p> + “There are others,” sniffed Miss Mary. “Why don't you ask the colonel—or + Captain Poland?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Poland!” exclaimed Viola, startled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He helped us out in the matter of the bank when more collateral was + asked for, and he'll be glad to go over the affairs with us, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want him to!” snapped Viola. “Mr. Blossom is the proper one to do + that. He is the chief clerk, and since he was going to form a partnership + with father he will, most likely, know all the details. We'll have him up + here and ask him how matters stand.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that will be wise,” agreed Miss Carwell. “But I can't forget how + careless LeGrand Blossom was in the matter of the loan your father had + from the bank. If he's that careless, his word won't be worth much, I'm + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, any one is likely to make a mistake,” said Viola. “I'll telephone to + Mr. Blossom and ask him to come here and have a talk with us. It will give + me something to think about. Besides—” + </p> + <p> + She did not finish, but went to the instrument and was soon talking to the + chief clerk in the office Mr. Carwell maintained while at his summer home. + </p> + <p> + “He'll be up within an hour,” Viola reported. “Now I'm going to have a + talk with the colonel,” and she hastened to the library. + </p> + <p> + The old detective was smoking a cigar, which he hastened to lay aside when + Viola made her entrance, but she raised a restraining hand. + </p> + <p> + “Smoke as much as you like,” she said. “I am used to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” and he pulled forward a chair for her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, haven't you found out anything yet?” she burst out. “Can't you say + anything definite?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley shook his head in negation. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I'm just as sorry about it as you are. But I + have seldom had a case in which there were so many clews that lead into + blind allies. I was just trying to arrange a plan of procedure that I + thought might lead to something.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you?” she asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't finished yet. What I need most is a book on poisons-a + comprehensive chemistry would do, but I haven't been able to find one + around here,” and he glanced at the books lining the library walls. “Your + father didn't go in for that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “No. But can't you send to New York for one?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I could—yes. I wonder if they might have one in the local + library?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know,” and Viola leaned over to pick a thread from the + carpet. “I don't draw books from there. When it was first opened I took + out a card, but when I saw how unclean some of the volumes were I never + afterward patronized the place.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you wouldn't know whether they had a book on poisons, or poison + plants or not?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't in the least,” she answered, as she arose. “As I said, I don't + believe I have been in the place more than twice, and that was two years + ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll have to inquire myself,” said the colonel, and he remained + standing while Viola left the room. And for some little time he stood + looking at the door as it closed after her. And on Colonel Ashley's face + there was a peculiar look. + </p> + <p> + LeGrand Blossom came to The Haven bearing a bundle of books and papers, + and with rather a wry face—for he had no heart for business of this + nature. Miss Mary Carwell sat down at the table with him and Viola. + </p> + <p> + “We want to know just where we stand financially,” said Viola. “What is + the condition of my father's affairs, Mr. Blossom?” + </p> + <p> + The confidential clerk hesitated a moment before answering. Then he said + slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Well, the affairs are anything but good. There is a great deal of money + gone, and some of the securities left are pledged for loans.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean my father spent a lot of money just before he died?” asked + Viola. + </p> + <p> + “He either spent it or—Well, yes, he must have spent it, for it is + gone. The car cost ten thousand, and he spent as much, if not more, on the + yacht.” + </p> + <p> + “But they can be sold. I don't want either of them. I'm afraid in the big + car,” said Viola, “and the yacht isn't seaworthy, I've heard. I wouldn't + take a trip in her.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know anything about that,” said LeGrand Blossom. “But even if the + car and yacht were sold at a forced sale they would not bring anything + like what they cost. I have gone carefully over your father's affairs, as + you requested me, and I tell you frankly they are in bad shape.” + </p> + <p> + “What can be done?” asked Miss Carwell. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” LeGrand Blossom frankly admitted. “You may call in an + expert, if you like, to go over the books; but I don't believe he would + come to any other conclusion than I have. As a matter of fact, I had a + somewhat selfish motive in looking into your father's affairs of late. You + know I was thinking of going into partnership with him, and—and—” + He did not finish. + </p> + <p> + Viola nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I might say that he was good enough to offer me the chance,” the + young man went on. “And, as I was to invest what was, to me, a large sum, + I wanted to see how matters were. So I examined the books carefully, as + your father pressed me to do. At that time his affairs were in good shape. + But of late he had lost a lot of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it make any difference to us?” and Viola included her aunt in her + gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you, Miss Carwell,” and Blossom nodded to the older lady, “have + your own money in trust funds. Mr. Carwell could not touch them. But he + did use part of the fortune left you by your mother,” he added to Viola. + </p> + <p> + “I don't mind that,” was her steady answer. “If my father needed my money + he was welcome to it. That is past and gone. What now remains to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Very little,” answered LeGrand Blossom. “I may be able to pull the + business through and save something, but there is a lot of money lost—spent + or gone somewhere. I haven't yet found out. Your father speculated too + much, and unwisely. I told him, but he would pay no heed to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he knew, before his death, that his affairs were in such bad + shape?” asked the dead man's sister. + </p> + <p> + “He must have, for I saw him going over the books several times.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think this knowledge impelled him to--to end his life?” faltered + Viola. + </p> + <p> + LeGrand Blossom considered a moment before answering. Then he slowly said: + </p> + <p> + “It was either that, or—or, well, some one killed him. There are no + two ways about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe some one killed him!” burst out Viola. “But I think the + authorities have made a horrible mistake in detaining Mr. Bartlett,” she + added. “Don't you, Mr. Blossom?” + </p> + <p> + “I—er—I don't know what to think. Your father had some + enemies, it is true. Every business man has. And a person with a temper + easily aroused, such as—” + </p> + <p> + LeGrand Blossom stopped suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “You were about to name some one?” asked Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was about to give, merely as an instance, Jean Forette the + chauffeur. Not that I think the Frenchman had a thing to do with the + matter. But he has a violent temper at times, and again he is as meek as + any one I ever knew. But say a person did give way to violent passion, + such as I have seen him do at times when something went wrong with the + big, new car, might not such a person, for a fancied wrong, take means of + ending the life of a person who had angered him?” + </p> + <p> + “I never liked Jean Forette,” put in Miss Carwell, “and I was glad when I + heard Horace was to let him go.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think—do you believe he had anything to do with my father's + death?” asked Viola quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Not the least in the world,” answered the head clerk hastily. “I just + used him as an illustration.” + </p> + <p> + “But he quarreled with my father,” the girl went on. “They had words, I + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they did, and I heard some of them,” admitted LeGrand Blossom. “But + that passed over, and they were friendly enough the day of the golf game. + So there could not have been murder in the heart of that Frenchman. No, I + don't mean even to hint at him: but I believe some one, angry at, and with + a grudge against, your father, ended his life.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that, too!” declared Viola firmly. “And while I feel, as you + do, about Jean, still it is a clew that must not be overlooked. I'll tell + Colonel Ashley.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy he knows it already,” said LeGrand Blossom. “There isn't much + that escapes that fisherman.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. CAPTAIN POLAND CONFESSES + </h2> + <p> + When LeGrand Blossom had taken his departure, carrying with him the books + and papers, he left behind two very disconsolate persons. + </p> + <p> + “It's terrible!” exclaimed Mr. Carwell's sister. “To think that poor + Horace could be so careless! I knew his sporting life would bring trouble, + but I never dreamed of this.” + </p> + <p> + “We must face it, terrible as it is,” said Viola. “Nothing would matter if + he—if he were only left to us. I'm sure he never meant to spend so + much money. It was just because—he didn't think.” + </p> + <p> + “That always was a fault of his,” sighed Miss Mary, “even when a boy. It's + terrible!” + </p> + <p> + “It's terrible to have him gone and to think of the terrible way he was + taken,” sighed Viola. “But any one is likely to lose money.” + </p> + <p> + She no more approved of many of her late father's sporting proclivities + than did her aunt, and there were many rather startling stories and rumors + that came to Viola as mere whispers to which she turned a deaf ear. Since + her mother's death her father had, it was common knowledge, associated + with a fast set, and he had been seen in company with persons of both + sexes who were rather notorious for their excesses. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Blossom will do the best he can, I suppose,” said Miss Carwell, + with rather an intimation that the head clerk's best would be very bad + indeed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he will,” assented Viola. “He knows all the details of poor + father's affairs, and he alone can straighten them out. Oh, if we had only + known of this before, we might have stopped it.” + </p> + <p> + “But your father was always very close about his matters,” said his + sister. “He resented even your mother knowing how much money he made, and + how. I think she felt that, too, for she liked to have a share in all he + did. He was kindness itself to her, but she wanted more than that. She + wanted to have a part in his success, and he kept her out—or she + felt that he did. Well, I'm sure I hope all mistakes are straightened out + in Heaven. It's certain they aren't here.” + </p> + <p> + Viola pondered rather long and deeply on what LeGrand Blossom had told + her. She made it a point to go for a drive the next afternoon with Jean + Forette in the small car, taking a maid with her on a pretense of doing + some shopping. And Viola closely observed the conduct of the chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + On her return, the girl could not help admitting that the Frenchman was + all a careful car driver should be. He had shown skill and foresight in + guiding the car through the summer-crowded traffic of Lakeside, and had + been cheerful and polite. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you are going to leave us, Jean,” she said, when he had + brought her back to The Haven. + </p> + <p> + “I, too, am regretful,” he said in his careful English. “But your father + had other ideas, and I—I am really afraid of that big new car. It is + not a machine, mademoiselle, it is—pardon—it is a devil! It + will be the death of some one yet. I could never drive it.” + </p> + <p> + “But if we sold that car, Jean, as we are going to do—” + </p> + <p> + “I could not stay, Miss Viola. I have a new place, and to that I go in two + weeks. I am sorry, for I liked it here, though—Oh, well, of what + use?” and he shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Was there something you did not like? Did my father not treat you well?” + asked Viola quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that, mademoiselle, I should not speak. I liked your father. + We, at times, did have difference; as who has not? But he was a friend to + me. What would you have? I am sorry!” And he touched his hat and drove + around to the garage. + </p> + <p> + As Viola was about to enter the house she chanced to look down the street + and saw Minnie Webb approaching. She looked so thoroughly downcast that + Viola was surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Minnie!” she exclaimed pleasantly. “Anything new or startling?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” was the somewhat listless reply. “Is there anything new here?” + and Minnie Webb's face showed a momentary interest. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say that there is,” returned Viola. She paused for a moment. + “Won't you come in?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so-not to-day,” stammered the other girl. And then as she + looked at Viola her face began to flush. “I—I don't feel very well. + I have a terrible headache. I think I'll go home and lie down,” and she + hurried on without another word. + </p> + <p> + “There is certainly something wrong with Minnie,” speculated Viola, as she + looked after her friend. “I wonder if it is on account of LeGrand + Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + She did not know how much Minnie Webb was in love with the man who had + been her father's confidential clerk and who was now in charge of Mr. + Carwell's business affairs, and, not knowing this, she could, of course, + not realize under what a strain Minnie was now living with so many + suspicions against Blossom. + </p> + <p> + Divesting herself of her street dress for a more simple gown, Viola + inquired of the maid whether Colonel Ashley was in the house. When + informed that he had gone fishing with Shag, the girl, with a little + gesture of impatience, took her seat near a window to look over some mail + that had come during her absence. + </p> + <p> + As she glanced up after reading a belated letter of sympathy she saw, + alighting from his car which had stopped in front of The Haven, Captain + Gerry Poland. He caught sight of her, and waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” exclaimed Viola. “If he hadn't seen me I could have said I was + not at home, but now—” + </p> + <p> + She heard his ring at the door and resigned herself to meeting him, but if + the captain had not been so much in love with Viola Carwell he could not + have helped noticing her rather cold greeting. + </p> + <p> + “I called,” he said, “to see if there was anything more I could do for you + or for your aunt. I saw Blossom, and he says he is working over the books. + I've had a good deal of experience in helping settle up estates that were + involved. I mean—” he added hastily—“where no will was left, + and, my dear Viola, if I could be of any assistance—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” broke in Viola rather coldly, “I don't know that there is + anything you can do. It is very kind of you, but Mr. Blossom has charge + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course I realize that,” went on Captain Poland quickly. “But I + thought there might be something.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing,” and now the yachtsman could not help noticing the + coldness in Viola's voice. He seemed to nerve himself for an effort as he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Viola”—he paused a moment before adding—“why can't we be + friends? You were decent enough to me some days ago, and now—Have I + done anything—said anything? I want to be friends with you. I want + to be—” + </p> + <p> + He took a step nearer her, but she drew back. + </p> + <p> + “Please don't think, Captain Poland, that I am not appreciative of what + you have done for me,” the girl said quickly. “But—Oh, I really + don't know what to think. It has all been so terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it has,” said the captain, in a low voice. “But I would like to + help.” + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps you can!” suddenly exclaimed Viola, and there was a new note + in her voice. “Have you been to see Harry Bartlett in—in jail?” and + she faltered over that word. + </p> + <p> + “No, I have not,” said the captain, and there was a sharp tone in his + answer. “I understood no one was allowed to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true enough,” agreed Viola. “They wouldn't let me see him, and I + wanted to—so much. I presume you know how he comes to be in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't exactly a prison.” + </p> + <p> + “To him it is-and to me,” she said. “But you know how he comes to be + there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I was present at the inquest. By the way, they are to resume it this + week, I heard. The chemists have finished their analyses and are ready to + testify.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't know that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But, speaking of Harry—poor chap—it's terrible, of + course, but he may be able to clear himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Clear himself, Captain Poland? What do you mean?” and indignant Viola + faced her caller. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I mean—” He seemed in some confusion. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know something,” went on Viola. “Did you bring it to the + attention of the coroner or the prosecutor that Harry Bartlett saw my + father just before-before his death, and quarreled with him? Did you tell + that, Captain Poland?” + </p> + <p> + Viola Carwell was like a stem accuser now. + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” she demanded again. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” answered Captain Poland, not, however, without an effort. “I felt + that it was my duty to do so. I merely offered it as a suggestion, + however, to one of the prosecutor's detectives. I didn't think it would + lead to anything. I happened to hear your father and Harry having some + words-about what I couldn't catch-and I thought it no more than right that + all the facts should be brought out in court. I made no secret about it. I + did not send word anonymously to the coroner, as I might have done. He + knew the source of the information, and he could have called me to the + stand had he so desired.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have told the same story on the stand?” + </p> + <p> + “I would. It was the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Even if it sent him—sent Harry to jail?” + </p> + <p> + “I would—yes. I felt it was my duty, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-duty!” + </p> + <p> + Viola made a gesture of impatience. + </p> + <p> + “So-you-you told, Captain Poland! That is enough! Please don't try to see + me again.” + </p> + <p> + “Viola!” he pleaded. “Please listen—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean it!” she said, sternly. “Go! I never want to see you again! Oh, to + do such a thing!” + </p> + <p> + The captain, nonplussed for a moment, lingered, as though to appeal from + the decision. Then, without a word, he turned sharply on his heel and left + the room. + </p> + <p> + Viola sank on a sofa, and gave way to her emotion. + </p> + <p> + “It can't be true! It can't!” she sobbed. “I won't believe it. It must not + be true! Oh, how can I prove otherwise? But I will! I must! Harry never + did that horrible thing, and I will prove it! + </p> + <p> + “Why should Captain Poland try to throw suspicion on him? It isn't right. + He had no need to tell the detective that! I must see Colonel Ashley at + once and tell him what I think. Oh, Captain Poland, if I—” + </p> + <p> + Viola twisted in her slender hands a sofa cushion, and then threw it + violently from her. + </p> + <p> + “I'll see Colonel Ashley at once!” she decided. + </p> + <p> + Inquiry of a maid disclosed the fact that the colonel was still fishing, + and from Patrick, the gardener, she learned that he had gone to try his + luck at a spot in the river at the end of the golf course where Patrick + himself had hooked more than one fish. + </p> + <p> + “I'll follow him there,” said Viola. “I suppose he won't want to be + interrupted while he's fishing, but I can't help it! I must talk to some + one—tell somebody what I think.” + </p> + <p> + She donned a walking skirt and stout shoes, for the way to the river was + rough, and set out. On the way she thought of many things, and chiefly of + the man pacing his lonely walk back and forth behind windows that had + steel bars on them. + </p> + <p> + Viola became aware of some one walking toward her as she neared the bend + of the river whither Patrick had directed her, and a second glance told + her it was the faithful Shag. + </p> + <p> + He bowed with a funny little jerk and took off his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Is the colonel there?” and she indicated what seemed to be an ideal + fishing place among the willows. + </p> + <p> + “He was, Miss Viola, but he done gone now.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone? Where? Do you mean back to the house?” + </p> + <p> + “No'm. He done gone t' N'York.” + </p> + <p> + “New York?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. On de afternoon train. He say he may be back t'night, an' mebby + not 'twell mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “But New York-and so suddenly! Why did he go, Shag?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know all de 'ticklers, Miss Viola, but I heah him say he got t' + git a book on poisons.” + </p> + <p> + “A book on poisons?” and Viola started. + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. He done want one fo' de case he's wukin' on, an' he can't git none + at de library, so he go to N'York after one. I'se bringin' back his + tackle. De fish didn't bite nohow, so he went away, de colonel did.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + Viola stood irresolute a moment, and then turned back toward the house, + Shag walking beside her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE PRIVATE SAFE + </h2> + <p> + Divided as she was among several opinions, torn by doubts and sufferings + from grief, Viola Carwell found distinct relief in a message that awaited + her on her return to the house after her failure to find Colonel Ashley. + The message, given her by a maid, was to the effect: + </p> + <p> + “The safe man has come.” + </p> + <p> + “The who?” asked Viola, not at first understanding. + </p> + <p> + “The safe man. He said you sent for him to open a safe and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I understand, Jane. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In the library, Miss Viola.” + </p> + <p> + Viola hastened to the room where so many fateful talks had taken place of + late, and found there a quiet man, beside whose chair was a limp valise + that rattled with a metallic jingle as his foot brushed against it when he + arose on her entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Have you come from the safe company?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I understood that there was one of our safes which could not be + opened, and they sent me. Here is the order,” and he held out the paper. + </p> + <p> + He spoke with quiet dignity, omitting the “ma'am,” from his salutation. + And Viola was glad of this. He was a relief from the usual plumber or + carpenter, who seemed to lack initiative. + </p> + <p> + “It is my father's private safe that we wish opened,” she said. “He alone + had the combination to it, and he—he is dead,” she added softly. + </p> + <p> + “So I understood,” he responded with appreciation of what her grief must + be. “Well, I think I shall be able to open the safe without damaging it. + That was what you wanted, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Father never let any one but himself open the safe when he was + alive. I don't believe my mother or I saw it open more than ten times, and + then by accident. In it he kept his private papers. But, now that he is—is + gone, there is need to see how his affairs stand. The lawyer tells me I + had better open the safe. + </p> + <p> + “When we found that none of us knew the combination, and when it was not + found written down anywhere among father's other papers, and when his + clerk, Mr. Blossom, did not have it, we sent to the company.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said the safe expert. “If you will show me—” + </p> + <p> + Viola touched a button on the wall, a button so cleverly concealed that + the ordinary observer would never have noticed it, and a panel slid back, + revealing the door of the safe. + </p> + <p> + “It was one of father's ideas that his strong box was better hidden this + way,” said Viola, with a little wan smile. “Is there room enough for you + to work? The safe is built into the wall.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there is plenty of room, thank you. I can very easily get at it. It + isn't the first safe I've had to work on this way. Many families have + safes hidden like this. It's a good idea.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the safe, noted the manufacturer's number, and consulted a + little book he carried with him. Then he began to turn the knob gently, + listening the while, with acute and trained ears, to the noise the + tumblers made as they clicked their way, unseen, amid the mazes of the + combination. + </p> + <p> + “Will it be difficult, do you think?” asked Viola. “Will it take you + long?” + </p> + <p> + “That is hard to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind if I watch you?” she asked eagerly. She wanted something to + take her mind off the many things that were tearing at it as the not far + distant sea tore at the shore which stood as a barrier in its way. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” answered the expert. Then he went on with his work. + </p> + <p> + In a way it was as delicate an operation as that which sometimes confronts + a physician who is in doubt as to what ails his patient. There was a + twisting and a turning of the knob, a listening with an ear to the heavy + steel door, as a doctor listens to the breathing of a pneumonia victim. + Then with his little finger held against the numbered dial, the expert + again twirled the nickel knob, seeking to tell, by the vibration, when the + little catches fell into the slots provided for them. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a lengthy operation, and he tried several of the more common + and usual combinations without result. As he straightened up to rest Viola + asked: + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you can manage it? Can you open it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. It will take a little time, but I can do it. Your father + evidently used a more complicated combination than is usually set on these + safes. But I shall find it.” + </p> + <p> + Viola's determination to open the safe had been arrived at soon after the + funeral, when it was found that, as far as could be ascertained, her + father had left no will. A stickler for system, in its many branches and + ramifications, and insisting for minute detail on the part of his + subordinates, Horace Carwell did what many a better and worse man has done—put + off the making of his will. And that made it necessary for the surrogate + to appoint an administrator, who, in this case, Viola renouncing her + natural rights, was Miss Mary Carwell. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather you acted than I,” Viola had said, though she, being of age + and the direct heir, could well and legally have served. + </p> + <p> + Miss Carwell had agreed to act. Then it became necessary to find out + certain facts, and when they were not disclosed by a perusal of the papers + of the dead man found in his office and in the safe deposit box at the + bank, recourse was had to the private safe. LeGrand Blossom knew nothing + of what was in the strong box-not even being entrusted with the + combination. + </p> + <p> + “There! It's open!” announced the expert at length, and he turned the + handle and swung back the door. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Viola. Then, as she looked within the safe, she + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there is an inner compartment, and that's locked, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Only with a key. That will give no trouble at all,” said the man. He + proved it by opening it with the third key he tried from a bunch of many + he took from his valise. + </p> + <p> + That was all there was for him to do, save to set the combination with a + simpler system, which he did, giving Viola the numbers. + </p> + <p> + “Was it as easy as you thought?” she asked, when the expert was about to + leave. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite—no. The combination was a double one. That is, in two + parts. First the one had to be disposed of, and then the other worked.” + </p> + <p> + “Why was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is on the same principle as the safe deposit boxes in a bank. + The depositor has one key, and the bank the other. The box cannot be + opened by either party alone. Both keys must be used. That insures that no + one person alone can get into the box. It was the same way with this safe. + The combination was in two parts.” + </p> + <p> + “And did my father set it that way?” + </p> + <p> + “He must have done so, or had some one arrange the combination for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he—he must have shared the combination with some one else!” + There was fright in Viola's eyes, and a catch in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented the expert. “Either that or he set it that way merely for + what we might call a 'bluff,' to throw any casual intruder off the track. + Your father might have possessed both combinations himself.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet he might have shared them with—with another person?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And the other—the other person”—Viola hesitated noticeably + over the word—“would have to be present when the safe was opened?” + She did not say “he” or “she.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not necessarily,” answered the expert. “He might have had the + combination in two parts, and used both of them himself. It is often done. + Though, of course, he could, at any time, have shared the secret of the + safe with some one else.” + </p> + <p> + “That would only be in the event of there being something in it that both + he and some other person would want to take out at the same time; + something that one could not get at without the knowledge of the other; + would it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally, yes. But, as I say, it might be the other way—that the + double combination was used merely as an additional precaution.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Viola. + </p> + <p> + She sat for several minutes in front of the opened safe after the expert + had gone, and did not offer to take out any of the papers that were now + exposed to view. There was a strange look on her face. + </p> + <p> + “Two persons!” she murmured. “Two persons! Did he share the secrets of + this safe with some one—some one else?” + </p> + <p> + Viola reached forth her hand and took hold of a bundle of papers tied with + a red band-tape it was, of the kind used in lawyers' offices. The bundle + appeared to contain letters—old letters, and the handwriting was + that of a woman. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if I had better get Aunt Mary?” mused the girl. “She is the + administrator, and she will have to know. But there are some things I + might keep from her—if I had to.” + </p> + <p> + She looked more closely at the letters, and when she saw that they were in + the well-remembered hand of her mother she breathed more easily. + </p> + <p> + “If he kept—these—it must be—all right!” she faltered to + herself. “I will call Aunt Mary.” + </p> + <p> + The two women, seeing dimly through their tears at times, went over the + contents of the private safe. There were letters that told of the past—of + the happy days of love and courtship, and of the early married life. Viola + put them sacredly aside, and delved more deeply into the strong box. + </p> + <p> + “It was like Horace to keep something away from every one else,” said his + sister. “He did love a secret. But we don't seem to be getting at + anything, Viola, that will tell us where there is any more money, and + that's what we need now, more than anything else. At least you do, if + LeGrand Blossom is right, and you intend to keep on living in the style + you're used to.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't have to do that, Aunt Mary. Being poor would not frighten me.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think it would. Fortunately I have enough for both of us, though + I won't spend anything on a big yacht nor a car that looks like a Fourth + of July procession, however much I love the Star Spangled Banner. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, we mustn't dream of keeping the big car nor the yacht,” said + Viola. “They are to be sold as soon as possible. I only hope they will + bring a good price. But here are more papers, Aunt Mary. We must see what + they are. Poor father had so many business interests. It's going to be a + dreadful matter to straighten them all out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, LeGrand Blossom and Captain Poland will help us.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Poland?” questioned Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why not? He is a fine business man, and he has large interests of + his own. Have you any objection?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. Of course not!” she added quickly, as she caught sight + of a rather odd look on her aunt's face. “If we have to—I mean if + you find it necessary, you can ask his advice, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, I believe I would—just as a matter of business.” + </p> + <p> + Viola's voice was calm and cool, but it might have been because her + attention was focused on a bundle of papers she was taking from the safe. + And a casual perusal of these showed that they had a bearing on subjects + that might explain certain things. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Aunt Mary!” the girl exclaimed. “Father seems to have kept a diary. + It tells—it tells about that trouble he had with Harry—Rather, + it wasn't with Harry at all. It was Harry's uncle. It's that same old + trouble father so often referred to. He always declared he was cheated in + a certain business deal, but I always imagined it was because he didn't + make as much money as he thought he ought to. Father was like that. But + see-this puts a different face on it.” + </p> + <p> + Together they looked over the papers, and among them-among the memoranda, + copies of contracts and other documents—was a diary, or perhaps it + might be called a business man's journal. Both Viola and her aunt were + familiar enough with business to understand the import of what they read. + </p> + <p> + It was to the effect that Mr. Amos Bartlett, Harry's paternal uncle, had + been associated with Mr. Carwell in several transactions involving some + big business deals. Mr. Bartlett had been smart enough, by forming a + directorate within a directorate and by means of a dummy company, to get a + large sum to his credit, while Mr. Carwell was left to face a large + deficit. + </p> + <p> + “And Harry Bartlett acted as agent for his uncle in the transactions!” + exclaimed Miss Carwell as she looked over the papers. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't believe he knew anything wrong was being done!” declared + Viola. “I'm positive he didn't. Harry isn't that kind of a man.” + </p> + <p> + “These papers don't say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally you wouldn't expect father to say a good word for one he + considered his business rival, not to say enemy. I don't believe Harry had + anything more to do with it than he had with—with poor father's + death.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Carwell said nothing. She was busy looking over some other papers + which the opening of the private safe had revealed. And then, while her + aunt was engaged with these, Viola found a little bundle that had on it + her name. + </p> + <p> + For a moment she debated with herself whether or not to open it. The + handwriting was that of her father, and it seemed as though something + stayed her. But she broke the string at last and there tumbled into her + lap some photographs of herself, taken at different ages, a number of them—in + fact, most of them—amateur attempts, some snapped by her mother and + some by her father, as Viola knew from seeing them. She recalled some very + well—especially one taken on the back of a little Shetland pony. On + the reverse of this picture Mr. Carwell had written: “My dear little + girl!” + </p> + <p> + Viola burst into tears, and her aunt, seeing the cause, felt the strings + of her heart being tugged. + </p> + <p> + “Well, one thing seems to be proved,” said the older woman, when they were + again going over the papers, sorting out some to be shown to the lawyer + who was advising them on the conduct of the estate, “and that is that your + father didn't think very much of Harry Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “That was his fault—I mean father's,” retorted Viola. “He had no + reason for it, even with what this paper says. I don't believe Harry would + do such a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose the quarrel could have been about this?” and Miss Carwell + held out the journal. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to think,” said Viola. “But here is another memorandum. + We must see what this is.” + </p> + <p> + Together they bent over the remaining documents the safe had given up—secrets + of the dead. + </p> + <p> + As they read a strange look came over Viola's face. + </p> + <p> + Miss Carwell, perusing a document, recited: + </p> + <p> + “Memo. of certain matters between Captain Poland and myself. And while I + think of it let me state that but for his timely and generous financial + aid I would have been ruined by that scoundrel Bartlett. Captain Poland + saved me. And should the stock of the concern ever be on a paying basis I + intend to repay him not only all he advanced me but any profit I may + secure shall be divided with him in gratitude. That there will be a profit + I very much doubt, though this does not lessen my gratitude to Captain + Poland for his aid.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little gasp from Viola as she heard this. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Poland saved father from possible ruin,” she murmured, “and I—I + treated him so! Oh! oh!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. POOR FISHING + </h2> + <p> + “Have a drink, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I said—Here, boy! A Scotch high and a mint julep.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley, roused from his reverie as he sat in his club, gazing out + on the busy, fashionable, hurrying, jostling, worried, happy, sad, and + otherwise throngs that swept past the big Fifth avenue windows, shifted + himself in the comfortable leather chair, and looked at his cigar. It had + gone out, and he decided that it was not worth relighting. + </p> + <p> + “Cigars, too!” ordered Bruce Garrigan. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, were you speaking to me?” and the colonel seemed wholly awake now. + </p> + <p> + “Not only to you, but in your interests,” went on Garrigan, with a smile. + “Hope I didn't disturb your nap, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” the colonel hastened to assure his companion with his usual + affability. “I had finished sleeping.” + </p> + <p> + “So I inferred. Do you know how many hours, minutes and seconds the + average human being has passed in sleep when he reaches the age of + forty-five years?” and Garrigan smiled quizzically. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” answered Colonel Ashley, “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I,” confessed Mr. Garrigan as he sank down in a chair beside + the colonel and accepted the glass from a tray which the much-buttoned + club attendant held out to him. “I don't know, and I don't much care.” + </p> + <p> + Then, when cigars were glowing and the smoke arose in graceful clouds, an + aroma as of incense shrouding the two as they gazed out on the afternoon + throngs, Garrigan remarked: + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you were here. In fact, I didn't know you were a member of + this club.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't know it if my attendance here were needed to prove it,” said + the colonel with a smile. “I don't get here very often, but I had to run + up on some business, and I found this the most convenient stopping place.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going back to Lakeside?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” There was prompt decision in the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Then you haven't finished that unfortunate affair? You haven't found out + what caused the death of Mr. Carwell?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know what killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “But not who?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hold to the suicide theory?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't hold to anything, my dear Mr. Garrigan,” answered the colonel, + who was in a sufficiently mellow mood to be amused by the rather vapid + talk of his host—for such he had constituted himself on the ordering + of the drinks and cigars. “That is I haven't such a hold on any theory + that I can't let go and take a new one if occasion warrants it.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. And so you came up to get away from the rather gruesome atmosphere + down there?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. I came up on business—I have a business in New York + you know, in spite of the fact that I am here,” and the colonel smiled as + he looked about the room where were gathered men of wealth and leisure, + who did not seem to have a care or worry in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know that,” agreed Garrigan. “Well, has your trip been + satisfactory?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't say that it has. In fact it's pretty poor fishing around here, + and I'm thinking of going back. I want to hear the click of the reel and + the music of the brook. I wasn't cut out for a city man, and the longer I + stay here the worse I hate the place, even if I do have a business here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't care for—this,” and Garrigan waved his hand at the + congestion of automobiles and stages which had come to a halt opposite the + big windows of the exclusive and fashionable club. + </p> + <p> + It was four in the afternoon, just when traffic both of automobiles and + pedestrians is at its height on the avenue. Of horse-drawn equipages they + were so few as to be a novelty. + </p> + <p> + “I care so little for it that I am going back to-night,” the detective + responded. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have found what you came looking for?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you the fishing was very poor,” said the colonel with a smile. “My + friend Mr. Walton, were he alive now, would never forgive me for deserting + the place I left to come here. When did you come up?” + </p> + <p> + “Last night. They insisted I had to put in an appearance at the office + merely to take away the salary that's been accumulating for me—said + it cluttered up the place. So I obliged. Do you know how many automobiles + pass this window every twenty-four hours?” Garrigan asked suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. It would be interesting to know, however. I think I shall + count them, when I have nothing else to do. I understand there is a + checking or tabulating machine made for such purposes. But perhaps I am + keeping you from—” + </p> + <p> + “You are merely keeping me from ordering another portion of liquid + refreshment,” interrupted the colonel with a smile. “Boy!” + </p> + <p> + And once again there was diffused the aroma of mint and the more + pronounced odor of the Scotch. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's pretty poor fishing,” mused the colonel, when Garrigan had gone + off to engage in a game of billiards with some insistent friends, whose + advent the detective was thankful for, as he wanted to be alone. He was + gregarious by nature, but there were times when he had to be alone, and it + was because of this trait in his nature that he had taken up with the rod + and reel, becoming a disciple of Izaak Walton. + </p> + <p> + Until dusk began to fall, changing the character of the throngs on the + avenue, the colonel lingered in his easy chair before the broad, plate + windows. And then, as the electric lights began to sparkle, as had the + diamonds on some of the over-dressed women in the afternoon, he arose and + started out. + </p> + <p> + “Will you be dining here, sir?” asked one of the stewards. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Garrigan asked me to inquire, sir, and, if you were, to say that he + would appreciate it if you would be his guest.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank him for me, and tell him I can't stay.” And the colonel, tossing + aside the cigar which had gone out and been frequently relighted, soon + found himself making a part of the avenue's night throng. + </p> + <p> + It was a warm summer evening-altogether too warm to be in New York when + one had the inclination and means to be elsewhere, but the colonel, in + spite of the fact that he had been in a hurry to leave the club, seemed to + find no occasion for haste now. + </p> + <p> + He sauntered along, seemingly without an object, though the rather + frequent consultations he made of his watch appeared to indicate + otherwise. Finally, he seemed either to have come to a sudden decision or + to have noted the demise of the time he was trying to kill, for with a + last quick glance at his timepiece he put it back into his pocket, and, + turning a corner where there was a taxicab stand, he entered one of the + vehicles and gave an order to the chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “Columbia College-yes, sir!” and the driver looked rather oddly at the + figure of the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder what he teaches, and what he's going up there this time of night + for?” was the mental comment of the chauffeur. “Maybe they have evening + classes, but this guy looks as though he could give em a post-graduate + course in poker.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley sat back in the corner of the cab, glad of the rather long + ride before him. He scarcely moved, save when the sway or jolt of the + vehicle tossed him about, and he sat with an unlighted cigar between his + teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he murmured once, “pretty poor fishing. I might better have stayed + where I was. Well, I'll go back to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Leaving the taxicab, the colonel made his way along the raised plaza on + which some of the college buildings front, and turned into the faculty + club, where he stayed for some time. When he came out, having told his man + to wait, he bore under his arm a package which, even to the casual + observer, contained books. + </p> + <p> + “Pennsylvania station,” was the order he gave, and again he sat back in + the corner of the cab, scarcely glancing out of the window to note the + busy scenes all about him. + </p> + <p> + It was not until he had purchased his ticket and was about to board the + last Jersey Shore train, to take him back to the scene of the death of + Horace Carwell, that Colonel Ashley, as he caught sight of a figure in the + crowd ahead of him, seemed galvanized into new life. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he gazed at a certain man, taking care to keep some women + with large hats between the object of his attention and himself. And then, + as he made sure of the identity, the colonel murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Poor fishing did I say? Well, it seems to me it's getting better.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at his watch, made a rapid calculation that showed him he had + about five minutes before the train's departure, and then he hurried off + to his right and down the stairs that led to the lavatories. + </p> + <p> + It was Colonel Robert Lee Ashley, as Bruce Garrigan had seen him at the + Fifth Avenue club, who entered one of the pay compartments where so many + in-coming and out-going travelers may, for the modest sum of ten cents, + enjoy in the railroad station a freshening up by means of soap, towels and + plenty of hot water. + </p> + <p> + But it was a typical Southern politician, with slouch hat, long frock + coat, a moustache and goatee, who emerged from the same private wash-room + a little later, carrying a small, black valise. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to do this,” said Colonel Ashley, making sure the spirit gum + had set, so his moustache and goatee would not come off prematurely, “but + I have to. This fishing is getting better, and I don't want any of the + fish to see me.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went down the steps to the train that soon would be whirling him + under the Hudson river, along the Jersey meadows, and down to the cool + shore. He passed through the string of coaches until he came to one where + he found a seat behind a certain man. Into this vantage point the colonel, + looking more the part than ever, slumped himself and opened his paper. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the fishing is getting better—decidedly better,” he mused. “I + shouldn't wonder but what I got a bite soon.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. SOME LETTERS + </h2> + <p> + When Jean Forette, whose month was not quite up and who had not yet + completed arrangements for his new position, alighted from the Shore + Express at Lakeside and made his way-afoot and not in a machine—to + the Three Pines, the picturesque figure of the Southern gentleman + followed. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” mused Colonel Ashley, “whether he takes Scotch Highballs or + absinthe, and what dope he mixes with it? Absinthe is rather hard to get + out here, I should imagine, but they might have a green brand of whiskey + they'd sell for it. But that Frenchman ought to know the genuine stuff. + However, we'll see.” + </p> + <p> + Carrying his limp, leather bag, which had served him in such good stead + when he entered the lavatory, the colonel slouched silently along the + road. It was close to midnight, and there would be no other trains to the + shore that day. + </p> + <p> + The lights of the Three Pines glowed in pleasant and inviting fashion + across the sandy highway. Out in front stood several cars, for the tavern + was one much patronized by summer visitors, and was a haven of refuge, a + “life-saving station,” as it had been dubbed by those who fancied they + were much in need of alcoholic refreshment. + </p> + <p> + Jean Forette entered, and Colonel Ashley, waiting a little and making sure + that the “tap room,” as it was ostentatiously called, was sufficiently + filled to enable him to mingle with the patrons without attracting undue + notice, followed. + </p> + <p> + He looked about for a sight of the chauffeur, and saw him leaning up + against the bar, sipping a glass of beer, and, between imbibitions, + talking earnestly to the white-aproned bartender. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to hear what they're saying,” mused the colonel. “I wonder if I + can get a bit nearer.” + </p> + <p> + He ordered some rye, and, having disposed of it, took out a cigar, and + began searching in his pockets as though for a match. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are!” observed a bartender, as he held out a lighted taper. + </p> + <p> + The colonel had anticipated this, and quickly moved down the mahogany rail + toward the end where Jean Forette was standing. At that end was a little + gas jet kept burning as a convenience to smokers. + </p> + <p> + “I'll use that,” said the colonel. “I don't like the flavor of burnt wood + in my smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Fussy old duck,” murmured the barkeeper as he let the flame he had + ignited die out, flicking the blackened end to the floor. + </p> + <p> + And, being careful to keep his face as much as possible in the shadow of + his big, slouch hat, Colonel Ashley lighted his cigar at the gas flame. + </p> + <p> + And, somehow or other, that cigar required a long and most careful + lighting. The smoker got the tip glowing, and then inspected it + critically. It was not to his satisfaction, as he drew a few puffs on it, + and again he applied the end to the flame. + </p> + <p> + He sent forth a perfect cloud of smoke this time, and it seemed to veil + him as the fog, blowing in from the sea, veils the tumbling billows. Once + more there was a look at the end, but the “fussy old duck” was not + satisfied, and, again had recourse to the flame. + </p> + <p> + All this while Colonel Ashley was straining his ears to catch what Jean + Forette was saying to the attendant who had drawn the frothing glass of + beer for him. + </p> + <p> + But the men talked in too low a tone, or the colonel had been a bit too + late, for all he heard was a murmur of automobile talk. Jean seemed to be + telling something about a particularly fast car he had formerly driven. + </p> + <p> + “The fishing isn't as good as I hoped,” mused the colonel. + </p> + <p> + Then, as he turned to go out, he heard distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “Sure I remember you paying for the drink. I can prove that if you want me + to. Are they tryin' to double-cross you?” + </p> + <p> + “Something like that, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you leave it to me, see? I'll square you all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” murmured Jean, and then he, too, turned aside. + </p> + <p> + “There may be something in it after all,” was the colonel's thought, and + then he, too, hurried from the Three Pines, passing beneath the big trees, + with their sighing branches, which gave the name to the inn. + </p> + <p> + On toward The Haven, through the silence and darkness of the night, went + the detective. And at a particularly dark and lonely place he stopped. The + pungent, clean smell of grain alcohol filled the air, and a little later a + man, devoid of goatee and moustache, passing out into the starlight, while + a black, slouch hat went into the bag, and a Panama, so flexible that it + had not suffered from having been thrust rather ruthlessly into the + valise, came out. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like that sort of detective work,” mused the colonel, “but it has + its uses.” + </p> + <p> + Viola Carwell, alone in her room, sat with a bundle of letters on a table + before her. They were letters she had found in a small drawer of the + private safe—a drawer she had, at first, thought contained nothing. + The discovery of the letters had been made in a peculiar manner. + </p> + <p> + Viola and Miss Carwell, going over the documents, had sorted them into two + piles—one to be submitted to the lawyer, the other being made up of + obviously personal matters that could have no interest for any but members + of the family. + </p> + <p> + Then Miss Carwell had been called away to attend to some household + matters, and Viola had started to return to the safe such of the papers as + were not to go to the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + She opened a small drawer, to slip back into it a bundle of letters her + mother had written to Mr. Carwell years before. Then Viola became aware of + something else in the drawer. It was something that caught on the end of + her finger nail, and she was stung by a little prick-like that of a pin. + </p> + <p> + “A sliver-under my nail!” exclaimed Viola. “The bottom of the wooden + drawer must be loose.” + </p> + <p> + It was loose, as she discovered as soon as she looked in the compartment. + But it was a looseness that meant nothing else than that the drawer had a + false bottom. + </p> + <p> + It was not such a false bottom as would have been made use of in the + moving pictures. That is to say it was very poorly made, and an almost + casual glance would have revealed it. All that had been done was to take a + piece of wood the exact size and shape of the bottom of the drawer, and + fit it in. This extra piece of wood covered anything that might be put in + the drawer under it, and then, on top of the false bottom other things + might be placed so that when they were taken out, and the person doing it + saw bare wood, the conclusion would naturally follow that all the contents + of the drawer had been removed. + </p> + <p> + But such was not the case. Beneath the smooth-fitting piece of wood, which + had sprung loose and been the means of driving a splinter under Viola's + nail, thus apprising her of the fact that there was something in the + drawer she had not seen, had been found some letters. And Viola had not + told her aunt about them. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see what they are myself, first,” the girl decided. + </p> + <p> + Now they were spread out on her dressing table in front of her. She sat + with her glorious blue-black hair unbound, and falling over her shoulders, + which gleamed pink through the filmy thinness of her robe. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if I shall be shocked when I read them?” she mused. + </p> + <p> + That was what Viola had been living in continual fear of since her + father's death—that some disclosure would shock her—that she + might come upon some phase of his past life which would not bear the full + light of day. For Horace Carwell had not stinted himself of the pleasures + of life as he saw them. He had eaten and drunk and he had made merry. And + he was a gregarious man—one who did not like to take his pleasures + alone. + </p> + <p> + And so Viola was afraid. + </p> + <p> + The letters were held together with an elastic band, and this gave some + hope. + </p> + <p> + “If they were from a woman, he wouldn't have used a rubber band on them,” + reasoned Viola. “He was too sentimental for that. They can't be mother's + letters—they were in another compartment. I wonder—” + </p> + <p> + Viola had done much wondering since her mother's death, and considerable + of it had been due to the life her father led. That he would marry again + she doubted, but he was fond of the society of the men, and particularly + the women of their own set, and some sets with which Viola preferred to + have nothing to do. + </p> + <p> + And if Mr. Carwell had no intentions of marrying again, then his interest + in women— + </p> + <p> + But here Viola ceased wondering. + </p> + <p> + With a more resolute air she reached forth hand to the bundle of letters + and took one out. There was distinct relief in her manner as she quickly + turned to the signature and read: “Gerry Poland.” + </p> + <p> + And then, quickly, she ascertained that all the letters comprised + correspondence between her father and the yacht club captain. + </p> + <p> + “But why did he hide these letters away?” mused Viola. “They seem to be + about business, as the others were—the others showing that Captain + Poland perhaps saved my father from financial ruin. Why should they be + under the false bottom of the drawer?” + </p> + <p> + She could not answer that question. + </p> + <p> + “I must read them all,” she murmured, and she went through the entire + correspondence. There were several letters, sharp in tone, from both men, + and the subject was as Greek to Viola. But there was one note from the + captain to her father that brought a more vivid color to her dark cheeks, + for Captain Poland had written: + </p> + <p> + “You care little for what I have done for you, otherwise you would not so + oppose my attentions to your daughter. They are most honorable, as you + well know, yet you are strangely against me. I can not understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” murmured Viola. “It is as if I were being bargained for! How I hate + him!” + </p> + <p> + Almost blinded by her tears she read another letter. It was another appeal + to her father to use his influence in assisting the captain's suit. + </p> + <p> + But this letter—or at least that portion of it relating to Viola—had + been torn, and all that remained was: + </p> + <p> + “As members of the same lo—” + </p> + <p> + “What can that have meant?” she mused. “Is it the word 'lodge'?” + </p> + <p> + She read on, where the letter was whole again: + </p> + <p> + “I must ask you to reconsider your actions. Let me hear from you by the + twenty-third or—” + </p> + <p> + Again was that mystifying and tantalizing tear. Viola hastily searched + among the other letters, hoping the missing pieces might be found. + </p> + <p> + “I simply must see what it meant,” she said. “I wonder if they can be in + another part of the safe? I'm going to look!” + </p> + <p> + She started for her bath robe, and, at that moment, with a suddenness that + unnerved her, there came a knock on her door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. OVER THE TELEPHONE + </h2> + <p> + Viola's first movement was of concealment—to toss over the scattered + letters on her desk a lace shawl she had been wearing earlier in the + evening. Then satisfied that should the unknown knocker prove to be some + one whom she might admit—her Aunt Mary or one of the maids—satisfied + that no one would, at first glance, see the letters which might mean + nothing or much, Viola asked in a voice that slightly trembled: + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to disturb you,” came the answer, and with a sense of + relief Viola recognized the voice of Colonel Ashley. “But I have just + returned from New York, and, seeing a light under your door, I thought I + would-report, as it were.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you-thank you!” the girl exclaimed, relief evident in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything I can do for you?” the colonel went on, as he stood + outside the closed door. “Has anything happened since I went away?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no,” said Viola, rather hesitatingly. “There is nothing new to + tell you. I was sitting up—reading.” + </p> + <p> + Her glance went to the desk where the letters were scattered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” answered the colonel. “Well, don't sit up too late. It is getting on + toward morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you anything to tell me, Colonel Ashley?” asked Viola. “Did you + discover anything?” + </p> + <p> + There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment, and then + came the answer, given slowly: + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing to report. I will have a talk with you in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + And then the footsteps of the detective were heard, lessening in their + sound, as he made his way to his room. + </p> + <p> + Viola, perplexed, puzzled, and bewildered, went back to her desk. She took + up the letters again. The torn one with its strange reference: “As members + of the same—” + </p> + <p> + What could it be? Was it some secret society to which her father and Gerry + Poland belonged, the violation of the secrets of which carried a death + penalty? + </p> + <p> + No, it could not be anything as sensational as that. Clearly the captain + was in love with her—he had frankly confessed as much, and Viola + knew it anyhow. She was not at all sure whether he loved her for her + position or because she was good to look upon and desirable in every way. + </p> + <p> + As for her own heart, she was sure of that. In spite of the fact that she + had tried to pique him that fatal day, merely to “stir him up,” as she + phrased it, Viola was deeply and earnestly in love with Harry Bartlett, + and she was sure enough of his feeling toward her to find in it a glow of + delight. + </p> + <p> + Then there was in the letter the hint of a threat. “Let me hear from you + by the twenty-third, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what does it mean? What does it mean?” and Viola bent her weary head + down on the letters and her tears stained them. Puzzled as she was over + the contents of the letters—torn and otherwise—which she had + found hidden in the drawer of the private safe, Viola Carwell was not yet + ready to share her secret with her Aunt Mary or Colonel Ashley. These two + were her nearest and most natural confidants under the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “I would like to tell Harry, but I can't,” she reasoned, when she had + awakened after a night of not very refreshing slumber. “Of course Captain + Poland could explain—if he would. But I'll keep this a secret a + little longer. But, oh! I wonder what it means?” + </p> + <p> + And so, when she greeted Colonel Ashley at the breakfast table she smiled + and tried to appear her usual self. + </p> + <p> + “I did not hear you come in,” said Miss Carwell, as she poured the coffee. + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not want to disturb any one,” answered the colonel. “I saw a + light under Miss Viola's door, and reported myself to her,” he went on. + “But I don't imagine you slept much more than I did, for your eyes are not + as bright as usual,” and he smiled at the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't they?” countered Viola. “Well, I did read later than I should. But + tell me, Colonel Ashley, are you making any progress at all?” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer for a moment. He seemed very much occupied in buttering + a piece of roll—trying to get the little dab of yellow in the exact + center of the white portion. Then, when it was arranged to his + satisfaction, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I am making progress, that is all I can say now.” + </p> + <p> + “And does that progress carry with it any hope that Harry Bartlett will be + proved innocent?” asked Viola eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “That I can not say—now. I hope it will, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for that!” exclaimed Viola earnestly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Carwell said nothing. She had her own opinion, and was going to hold + to it, detectives or no detectives. + </p> + <p> + “Will you send Shag to me?” the colonel requested a maid, as he arose from + the table. “Tell him we are going fishing.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there anything you can do—I mean toward—toward the—case?” + faltered Viola. “Not that I mean—of course I don't want to seem—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand, my dear,” said the colonel gently. “And I am not going + fishing merely to shirk a responsibility. But I have to think some of + these puzzles out quietly, and fishing is the quietest pastime I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know,” Viola hastened to add. “I shouldn't have said anything. + I wish I could get quiet myself. I'm almost tempted to take your recipe.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you?” urged the colonel. “Come along with me. I can soon teach + you the rudiments, though to become a finished angler, so that you would + be not ashamed to meet Mr. Walton, takes years. But I think it would rest + you to come. Shall I tell Shag to fit you out with one of my rods?” + </p> + <p> + Viola hesitated a moment. This might give her an opportunity for talking + with the colonel in secret and confidence. But she put it aside. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” she answered. “I'll go another time. I must stop at the + office and leave some bills that have come here to the house. Mr. Blossom + attends to the payment.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me leave them for you,” offered the colonel. “I have to go into town + for some bait, and I can easily stop at the office for you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will be so good,” returned Viola, and she got the bundle of bills—some + relating to Mr. Carwell's funeral and others that had been mailed to the + house instead of to the office. + </p> + <p> + The colonel might have sent Shag to purchase the shedder crabs he was + going to use for bait that day in fishing in the inlet, and the colored + servant might have left the bills. But the colonel was particular about + his bait, and would let none select it but himself. Consequently he had + Jean Forette drive him in, telling Shag to meet him at a certain dock + where they would drop down the inlet and try for “snappers,” young + bluefish, elusive, gamy and delicious eating. + </p> + <p> + “You have not yet found a place?” asked the colonel of the chauffeur, as + they rolled along. + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur—none to my satisfaction, though I have been offered + many. One I could have I refused yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “You liked it with Mr. Carwell, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly the situation was in itself delightful. But I could not manage the + big car as he liked, and we had to part. There was no other way.” + </p> + <p> + The detective narrowly observed the driver beside whom he sat. Jean did + not look well. He had much of the appearance of the “morning after the + night before,” and his hand was not very steady as he shifted the gear + lever. + </p> + <p> + “How much longer have you to stay here, Jean?” + </p> + <p> + “About two weeks. My month will be up then.” + </p> + <p> + “And then you go—” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, monsieur. Probably to New York. That is a great + headquarters.” + </p> + <p> + “So I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “If monsieur should hear of a family that—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll bear you in mind, Jean. You are steady and reliable, I + presume?” and the colonel smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I have most excellent letters!” he boasted, and for the moment he seemed + to rouse himself from the sluggishness that marked him that morning. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bear it in mind,” said the colonel again. + </p> + <p> + But as they drove on, and Colonel Ashley noted with what exaggerated care + Jean Forette passed other cars—giving them such a wide berth that + often his own machine was almost in the ditch—the impression grew on + the detective that the Frenchman was not as skillful as he would have it + believed. + </p> + <p> + “He drives Like an amateur, or a woman out alone in her machine for the + first time,” mused the colonel. “He'd never do for a smart car. Wonder + what ails him. He wasn't drunk last night by any means, and yet—” + </p> + <p> + They reached the town, and paused at the only place where there was any + congestion of traffic—where two main seashore highways crossed in + the center of Lakeside. Jean held the runabout there so long, waiting for + other traffic to pass, that the officer who was on duty called: + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter—going to sleep there?” + </p> + <p> + Then Jean, with a start, threw in the clutch and shot ahead. + </p> + <p> + “That's queer,” mused the colonel. “He seems afraid.” + </p> + <p> + The purchase of the shedder crabs was gone into carefully, and having + questioned the bait-seller as to the best location in the inlet, the + detective again got into the machine and was driven to the office of the + late Horace Carwell. It was a branch of the New York office, and thither, + every summer, came LeGrand Blossom and a corps of clerks to manage affairs + for their employer. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley, who by this time was known to the office boy at the outer + gate, was admitted at once. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blossom is at the telephone,” said the lad, “but you can go right in + and wait for him.” + </p> + <p> + This the colonel did, having left Jean outside in the car. + </p> + <p> + The telephone in LeGrand Blossom's private office was in a booth, put + there to get it away from the noise of traffic in the street outside. And, + as the boy had said, Blossom was in this booth as Colonel Ashley entered. + </p> + <p> + It so happened that the chief clerk was standing in the booth with his + back turned to the main door, and did not see the colonel enter. And the + latter, coming in with easy steps, as he always went everywhere, heard a + snatch of the talk over the telephone that made him wonder. + </p> + <p> + Though the little booth was meant to keep sounds from entering, as well as + coming out, the door was not tightly closed and as LeGrand Blossom spoke + rather loudly Colonel Ashley heard distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the head clerk over the wire, “I'll pay the money tonight + sure. Yes, positive.” There was a period of waiting, while he listened, + and then he went on: “Yes, on the Allawanda. I'll be there. Yes, sure! Now + don't bother me any more.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley, through the glass door of the telephone booth, saw LeGrand + Blossom make a move as though to hang up the receiver. And then the + detective turned suddenly, and swung back, as though he had entered the + room at the moment Blossom had emerged from the booth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed the head clerk, and, for a second, he seemed nonplused. + But Colonel Ashley took up the talk instantly. + </p> + <p> + “I will keep you but a minute,” he said. “Miss Viola asked me to leave + these bills for you. I came in to town to buy some bait. There they are. + I'm going fishing,” and before LeGrand Blossom could answer the colonel + was saying good-bye and making his way out. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” mused the colonel, as he started for the car where Jean + awaited him, “what or who or where the Allawanda is? I must find out.” + </p> + <p> + He found further cause for wonder as he started off in the car with the + French chauffeur for the boat dock, at the conduct of Jean himself. + </p> + <p> + For the man appeared to be a wholly different person. His face was all + smiles, and there was a jaunty air about him as though he had received + good news. His management of the car, too, left nothing to be desired. He + started off swiftly, but with a smoothness that told of perfect mastery of + the clutch and gears. He took chances, too, as he dashed through town, + cutting corners, darting before this car, back of the other until, used as + the colonel was to taxicabs in New York, he held his breath more than + once. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter—in a hurry?” he asked Jean, as they narrowly + escaped a collision. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, monsieur, but this is the way I like to drive. It is much more—what + you call pep!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” mused the colonel to himself, “it's pep all right. But I wonder + what put the pep into you? You didn't have it when we started out. Some + French dope you take, I'll wager. Well, it may put pep into you now, but + it'll take the starch out of you later on.” + </p> + <p> + Jean left the colonel at the dock, whither Shag had already made his way, + coming in a more prosaic trolley car from The Haven, and soon they were + ready to row down the inlet in a boat. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I call for you?” asked Jean, as he prepared to drive back. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the colonel, “I can't tell what luck I'll have. We'll come + home when it suits us.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + And so the colonel went fishing, and his thoughts were rather more on the + telephone talk he had overheard than on his rod and line. + </p> + <p> + Contrary to the poor luck that had held all week, so the dockman said, the + colonel's good luck was exceptional. Shag had a goodly string of snappers + of large size to carry back with him. + </p> + <p> + “How'd you do it?” asked the boatman, as he made fast the skiff. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they just bit and I hauled 'em in,” said the colonel. “By the way,” + he went on, “is there a place around here called Allawanda?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there's a little village named that, about ten miles back in the + country,” said the boatman. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing there, though, but a few houses and one store.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I thought it might be quite a place.” + </p> + <p> + “No, and nobody'd know it was there if there wasn't a boat around here + named after it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a boat called that?” asked the colonel, and he tried to keep the + eagerness out of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The ferryboat that runs from Lakeside to Loch Elarbor is named that. + Seems that one of the men in the company that owns it used to live at + Allawanda when he was a boy, and he called the boat that. It's an old tub + of a ferry, though, about like the town itself, I guess. Well, you sure + did have good luck!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” agreed the colonel, and his luck was better than the + boatman guessed, and of a different kind. + </p> + <p> + It was in pursuance of this same luck that caused the colonel, later that + day, when the shadows of evening were falling, to take his limp satchel + and slip out of the house. He went afoot to the ferry dock, and when the + Allawanda floundered in like a porpoise he went on board. It was his first + visit to this part of the inlet that separated Lakeside from Loch Harbor, + and this means of getting to the yachting center was seldom used by any + guests of The Haven. They went around by the highway in automobiles. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” mused the colonel, as he went to the men's cabin with his limp + valise, “I hope Mr. Blossom keeps his promise and comes here to-night. I + shall be interested in noting to whom he pays the money.” + </p> + <p> + Then, seeing that the little cabin of the ramshackle boat was deserted at + that hour, the colonel went to a dark corner, and from it emerged, a + little later, with a beard on that would have done credit to the most + orthodox inhabitant of New York's Ghetto. + </p> + <p> + Still the colonel did not look like a Jew, and he was not going to attempt + that character. He made his way to the stern of the craft, where he could + watch all who came aboard, and finding a deck hand who was sweeping, said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm not feeling very well. Thought maybe a ride back and forth across the + inlet would do me good if I stayed out in the air. So if you see me here + don't think I'm trying to beat my fare. Here's a dollar, you may keep the + change.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks—ride all you like,” said the man. At five cents a trip, with + the boat stopping at midnight, there would still be a good tip in it for + him. The colonel ensconced himself in a dark corner and waited. + </p> + <p> + The first two trips over and back were fruitless as far as his object was + concerned. But just as the Allawanda was about to pull out for her third + voyage across the inlet, there came on board a woman, with a shawl so + closely wrapped about her that her features were completely hidden. There + were only a few oil lamps on the old-fashioned craft, and the illumination + was poor. + </p> + <p> + The colonel thought there was something vaguely familiar about the figure, + but he was not certain. He tried to get near enough to her, in a casual + walk up and down the deck, to view her countenance, but, either by + accident or design, she turned away and looked over the rail. He was close + enough, however, to note that the shawl was of fine texture and of a + peculiar pattern. + </p> + <p> + Retiring again to his corner in the stern of the boat, and noting that the + woman kept her place there, Colonel Ashley waited in patience. And he had + his reward. + </p> + <p> + The Allawanrda was whistling to tell the deck hands to cast off the + mooring ropes, when LeGrand Blossom came running down the inclined gangway + and got on board. He seemed in a hurry and excited, and, apparently + unaware of the presence of the detective in the dark corner, he went + directly to the woman in the shawl. The boat began to move from her slip. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think I was never coming?” asked LeGrand Blossom. + </p> + <p> + “No, I was detained,” the woman answered, and at the sound of her voice + Colonel Ashley started and uttered a smothered exclamation. “I but just + arrived,” the woman went on. “Did you bring it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Yes. Not so loud. Some one may hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no one here. One man, with a heavy beard, passed by me as I came + on board. At first I thought it was you, disguised, but when I saw it was + not I kept to myself. There is no one here.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” murmured LeGrand Blossom, as he looked cautiously around. + The after deck was but dimly lighted. + </p> + <p> + For a time the woman and man talked in tones so low that the detective + could hear nothing, and he dared not leave his hidden corner to come + closer. + </p> + <p> + But, just as the Allawanda was nearing her slip on the other side, the man + spoke in louder tones. “And so we come to the end!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, please don't say that!” begged the woman. + </p> + <p> + “I must,” Blossom answered. “We can't go on this way any longer. Here is + what I promised you. It is all I can raise, and I had a hard time doing + that. Every one is suspicious, and that detective is all eyes and ears. It + is the best I can do. You must not bother me any more.” + </p> + <p> + The lights from a passing boat fell on the couple as they stood close to + the rail, and, from his vantage point in the darkness, the colonel saw + LeGrand Blossom hand the woman in the shawl a package. She took it + eagerly, and thrust it into her bosom. Then, turning to the man, she said + reproachfully: + </p> + <p> + “You say this is the end. Then you don't love me any more?” + </p> + <p> + LeGrand Blossom did not answer for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “You don't—do you?” the woman insisted. + </p> + <p> + “No,” was the slow reply. “I might as well be brutally frank about it, and + say I don't. And you don't care either.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do! I do!” she eagerly protested. + </p> + <p> + “No, you only think you do. It is better for both of us to have it end + this way. But let us make sure that it is an end. There must be no more of + it. I have given you all I can. You must go away as you promised.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose I must,” and her voice was broken. “Oh, I wish I had never + met you!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it would have been better that way,” was Blossom's cold response. + “However, it's too late for that now. Good-bye,” he added, as the boat was + grating her way along the Loch Harbor slip. “I'm not going to get off. + Don't telephone me again. This is all I can ever give you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I suppose, now you've finished, you can get rid of me. Well, let + it be so,” she said bitterly. And then, as the boat bumped to a landing + she cried: “If I could only find—” + </p> + <p> + But the rattle of the chains and the clatter of the wheels on the ferry + bridge drowned her voice. She rushed away from LeGrand Blossoms's side + and, clutching her shawl close around her as if to make sure of the + package the man had given her, she disappeared into the interior of the + ferryboat. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley started to follow, but as LeGrand Blossom remained on board + he decided to watch him instead of the woman, though he was vaguely + disquieted trying to remember where he had heard her voice before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. A LARGE BLONDE LADY + </h2> + <p> + Reaching The Haven, Colonel Ashley, who had trailed LeGrand Blossom to the + latter's boarding place without anything having developed, was met by + Shag, who was up later than usual, for it was now close to midnight. + </p> + <p> + “What now, Shag!” exclaimed the colonel. “Don't tell me there are any more + detective cases for me to work on. I simply won't listen. I wish I hadn't + to this one. It's getting more and more tangled every minute, and the fish + are biting well. Hang it all, Shag, why did you let me take up this golf + course mystery?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't do it, Colonel, no, sah!” + </p> + <p> + “What's the use of talking that way, Shag! You know you did!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, Colonel. Dat's whut I did!” confessed Shag with a grin. When + the colonel was in this mood there was nothing for it but to agree with + him. + </p> + <p> + “And it's the worst tangle you ever got me into!” went on Shag's master. + “There's no head or tail to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Den it ain't laik a fish; am it?” asked Shag, with the freedom of long + years of faithful service. + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't—worse luck!” stormed the colonel. “I never saw such a + case. The diamond cross mystery was nothing like it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought, Colonel, sah, dat de mo' of a puzzle it were, de bettah + yo' laiked it!” ventured Shag. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley tried to repress a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Get to bed, you black rascal!” he said with an affectionate pat on Shag's + back. “Get to bed! What are you staying up so late for, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “To gib yo' a message, Colonel, sah,” answered Shag. “Miss Viola done say + I was t' wait up, an', when yo' come in, t' tell yo' dat she wants t' see + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right. Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “In de liberry, Colonel, sah!” + </p> + <p> + The detective made his way through the dimly-lighted hall, and, on tapping + at the library door, was bidden by Viola to enter. + </p> + <p> + “Still up?” he asked. “It was time for you to be asleep long ago if you + want your eyes to keep as bright as they always are.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't feel very bright,” she answered, with a little laugh. “They + seem to be full of sticks. But I wanted to ask you something—to + consult with you—and I didn't want to go to sleep without doing it. + I want you to read these,” and she spread out before him the letters she + had found hidden in the drawer of the safe. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley, in silence, looked over one document after another, + including the torn ones. When he had finished he looked across the table + at Viola. + </p> + <p> + “What do you make of it?” she asked. “I don't know,” he frankly confessed. + “But we must find out if your father owed the captain anything—for + money advanced in an emergency, or for anything else. Who would know about + the money affairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blossom. He has full charge of the office now, and access to all the + books. Aunt Mary and I have to trust to him for everything. It is all we + can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so,” agreed the detective. And he did not speak of the + scene of which he had recently been a witness. + </p> + <p> + “Then if you will come with me, we will go the first thing in the morning + to father's office and see LeGrand Blossom,” decided Viola. “We will ask + Mr. Blossom if he knows anything about the debt between my father and + Captain Poland.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be wise, I think.” + </p> + <p> + And as the colonel retired that night he said, musingly: + </p> + <p> + “Another angle, and another tangle. I must read a little Izaak Walton to + compose my mind.” + </p> + <p> + So he opened the little green book and read this observation from the + Venator: + </p> + <p> + “And as for the dogs that we use, who can commend their excellency to that + height which they deserve? How perfect is the hound at smelling, who never + leaves or forsakes his first scent, but follows it through so many changes + and varieties of other scents, even over and in the water, and into the + earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” mused the colonel, “I think I must cling to my first scent, and + follow it through or over the water or into the earth.” + </p> + <p> + Then, laying aside the little green book, with its atmosphere of calm + delight, he picked up a little thin volume, which bore on its title page + “The Poisonous Plants of New Jersey.” + </p> + <p> + And in that he read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The water hemlock (Cicuta maculata L.) is the most + poisonous plant in the flora of the United States, and has + probably destroyed more human lives than all our other + toxic plants combined. As a member of the parsley family + (Umbellifera) it resembles in general appearance the carrot + and parsnip of the same group of plants. It grows in swampy + land. The poisoning of the human is chiefly with the fleshy + roots. + + “The active principle of this cicuta is the volatile + alkaloid canine, common also to the poison hemlock (Conium + macula turn L.) The symptoms of the poisoning are many, + including violent contraction of the muscles, dilated pupils + and epilepsy... No antidote for canine poisoning is known... + The active canine... was the poison employed by the Greeks + in putting prisoners to death, Socrates being one of its + illustrious victims.” + </pre> + <p> + And having read that much, Colonel Ashley looked at a little slip in the + book. It bore the penciled memorandum “58 C. H.—~161*.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder—I wonder,” mused the colonel, and so wondering, and with + fitful dreams attending his slumbers, he passed the night. + </p> + <p> + Jean Forette drove the colonel and Viola to the office. They arrived + rather early. In fact LeGrand Blossom was not yet in, and when he did + enter, a few minutes later, he was plainly surprised to see them. + </p> + <p> + “Is anything the matter?” asked the confidential clerk, as he quickly + opened his desk. “I am sorry I was late this morning. But I had some + matters to look after—” + </p> + <p> + “No apology necessary,” said Colonel Ashley, quickly. “We have not been + waiting long. We have discovered something.” + </p> + <p> + If his life had depended on it LeGrand Blossom could not, at that moment, + have concealed a start of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You mean you have found out who killed Mr. Carwell?” he asked, and his + tongue went quickly around his dry lips. + </p> + <p> + “Not that,” the colonel answered. “But we have found some letters that + seem to need explaining. Here they are.” + </p> + <p> + Then when Viola had told how she discovered them, she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Did my father ever owe Captain Poland any money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered LeGrand Blossom, frankly, “he did.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it ever paid back?” asked Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot say,” replied the head clerk. “The papers in that + particular transaction are missing. I looked for them the other day, but + failed to find them. I was intending to ask you, Miss Carwell, if you knew + anything about them. Now, it seems you do not. The fact remains that your + father was at one time indebted to the captain for fifteen thousand + dollars. Whether it was repaid I can not say.” + </p> + <p> + “Who would know?” asked Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Captain Poland, of course,” answered Mr. Blossom. “One would think + that it would be paid by check, but in that case the canceled one would + come back from the bank, which it has not. It is possible that Mr. Carwell + had an account in some other bank, or he may have paid the captain in + cash. In either case a receipt would be given, I should say. Captain + Poland is the only one who now would know.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we had better see him,” suggested Colonel Ashley. “Shall we call on + him, Viola?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment before answering, and then replied in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “I think it would be better. We must end this mystery!” + </p> + <p> + They left LeGrand Blossom and again entered the car. Jean Forette was + driving, and the detective again noticed the strange and sudden change in + his manner. Whereas he had been morose and sullen the first part of the + trip, timid and watchful of every crossing and turning, now he put on full + speed and drove with the confidence of an expert. + </p> + <p> + “He must have had another shot of dope,” mused the colonel. “I'll have to + keep an eye on you, my Frenchie, else you may be ramming a stone wall when + you're feeling pretty well elated.” + </p> + <p> + They were half way to the home of Captain Poland when Viola suddenly + changed her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't believe I care to go to see him,” she said. “Can't you go + without me, Colonel Ashley? You can find out better than I can. I—I + really don't feel equal to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I can,” was the ready answer. “Drive Miss Carwell home, Jean, + and then I'll go on to see Captain Poland myself.” + </p> + <p> + The car was swung around, and was soon in front of The Haven. The colonel, + with his usual gallantry, walked with Viola to the steps. As the maid + opened the door she said to her mistress: + </p> + <p> + “There is a lady to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady to see me?” exclaimed Viola, in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She is in the library, waiting. I said I did not know how long you + would be away, but she said she was a friend of the family and would + wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” asked Viola. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. But she is a large, blonde lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't imagine,” murmured Viola. “Won't you come in, Colonel Ashley? It + may be some one I would want you to see, also.” + </p> + <p> + As Viola, followed at a little distance by the colonel, entered the + library, a large, blonde woman arose to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “I am so glad to see you, my dear Miss Carwell,” began the woman, and then + Colonel Ashley had one of his questions answered. The voice was the same + as that of the shawled woman LeGrand Blossom had met on the ferryboat the + night before, and it was the voice of Annie Tighe, alias Maude Warren, + alias Morocco Kate, one of the cleverest of New York's de luxe crooks. + </p> + <p> + “So you have a hand in the game, have you, my dear?” mused the colonel, as + he caught the now well-remembered tones. “Well, I guess you don't want to + see me right away, and I don't want you to.” + </p> + <p> + He had kept behind Viola during the walk down the hall, and the large + blonde had not noticed him, he hoped. He whispered to Viola, who stood + just at the entrance to the room: + </p> + <p> + “Learn all you can from her. I'll be back pretty soon—as soon as she + has gone. Find out where she's stopping. Don't mention me.” + </p> + <p> + The hall was dimly lighted, and he had a chance to say this to Viola + without getting into full view of the caller, and without her overhearing. + Then, turning quickly, Colonel Ashley hurried out of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Morocco Kate,” he mused as he got into the car again, and told Jean to + drive to Captain Poland's. “Morocco Kate! I wonder if she is just + beginning her game, or if this is merely a phase of it, started before Mr. + Carwell's death? Another link added to the puzzle.” + </p> + <p> + He was still pondering over this when he reached the captain's home. It + was a rather elaborate summer “cottage,” with magnificent grounds, and the + captain's mother kept house for him. But there was a curious deserted air + about the place as Jean drove up the gravel road. A man was engaged in + putting up boards at the windows. + </p> + <p> + “Is the captain here?” asked the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “The place is being closed for the season, sir,” answered the man, + evidently a caretaker. + </p> + <p> + “Closed? So early?” exclaimed the colonel, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “The captain has gone away,” the man went on. “I got orders yesterday to + close the place for the season. Captain Poland will not be back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” softly exclaimed the colonel. And then to himself he added: “He + won't be back! Well, perhaps I shall have to bring him back. Another link! + There may be three people in this instead of two!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. “UNKNOWN” + </h2> + <p> + “So sweet of you to see me, Miss Carwell, in all your grief, and I must + apologize for troubling you.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Tighe, alias Morocco Kate, fairly gushed out the words as she + extended a hand to Viola in the library. The first glance at the “large + blonde,” as the maid had described her, shocked the girl. She could hardly + repress a shudder of disgust as she looked at the bleached hair. But, + nerving herself for the effort, Viola let her hand rest limply for a + moment in the warm moist grip of Miss Tighe. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you sit down?” asked Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I won't detain you long. I called merely on business, though I + suppose you think I'm not a very business-like looking person. But I am + strictly business, all the way through,” and she tittered. “I find it pays + better to really dress the part,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “I was so sorry to hear about your dear father's death. I knew him—quite + well I may say—he was very good to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” murmured Viola, and somehow her heart was beating strangely. What + did it all mean? Who was this—this impossible person who claimed + business relations, yes, even friendliness, with the late Mr. Carwell? + </p> + <p> + “And now to tell you what I came for,” went on Miss Tighe. “Your dear + father—and in his death I feel that I have lost a very dear friend + and adviser—your dear father purchased many valuable books of me. I + sell only the rarest and most expensive bindings, chiefly full morocco. + Your father was very fond of books, wasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + Viola could not help admitting it, as far as purchasing expensive, if + unread, editions was concerned. The library shelves testified to this. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, he just loved them, and he was always glad when I brought + his attention to a new set, my dear Miss Carwell. Well, that is what I + came about now. Just before his terrible death—it was terrible, + wasn't it? Oh, I feel so sorry for you,” and she dabbed a much-perfumed + handkerchief to her eyes. “Just before his lamented death he bought a + lovely white morocco set of the Arabian Nights from me. Forty volumes, + unexpurgated, my dear. Mind you that—unexpurgated!” and Morocco Kate + seemed to dwell on this with relish. “As I say, he bought a lovely set + from me. It was the most expensive set I ever sold—forty-five + hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Forty-five hundred dollars for a set of books!” exclaimed Viola, in + unaffected wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, that is nothing. These were some books,” and she winked + understandingly. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't everybody who could get them! The edition was limited. But I + happened on a set and I knew your father wanted them, so I got them for + him. He made the first payment, and then he died—I read it in the + papers. Naturally I didn't want to bother you while the terrible affair + was so fresh, so I waited. And now I'm here!” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to be—very much so, as she settled herself back in the + big leather chair, and made sure that her hair was properly fluffed around + her much-powdered face. + </p> + <p> + “You are here to—” faltered Viola. “To get the balance for the books—that's + it, dear Miss Carwell. Naturally I'm not in for my health, and of course I + don't publish books myself. I'm only a poor business woman, and I work on + commission. The firm likes to have all contracts cleaned up, but in this + case they didn't press matters, knowing Mr. Carwell was all right; or, if + he wasn't, his estate was. I've sold him many a choice and rare book—books + you don't see in every library, my dear. Of course there were—ahem—some + you wouldn't care to read, and I can't say I care much about 'em myself. A + good French novel is all right, I say, but some of 'em well, you know!” + and she winked boldly, and dabbed her face with the handkerchief which was + quickly filling the room with an overpowering odor. + </p> + <p> + “You mean my father owes you money?” faltered Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Well, not me, exactly—the firm. But I don't mind telling you I get + my rake-off. I have to so I can live. The balance is only three thousand + dollars, and if you could give me a check—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” interrupted Viola, “but I have nothing to do with the + business end of my father's affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “You're his daughter, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And you'll get all his property?” Morocco Kate was getting vindictive + now. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot discuss that with you,” said Viola, simply. “All matters of + business are attended to at the office. You will have to see Mr. Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! LeGrand Blossom! No use seeing him. I've tried. But I'll try again, + and say you sent me.” The voice was back to its original dulcet tones now. + “That's what I'll do, my dear Miss Carwell. I'll tell LeGrand Blossom you + sent me. He needn't think he can play fast and loose with me as he has. If + he doesn't want to pay this bill, contracted by your father in the regular + way—and I must say he was very nice to me—well, there are + other ways of collecting. I haven't told all I know.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” demanded Viola hotly. “Oh, there's time enough to tell + later,” was the answer. “I haven't been in the rare edition business for + nothing, nor just for my health. But wait until I see LeGrand Blossom. + Then I may call on you again!” And with this rather veiled threat Morocco + Kate took her leave. + </p> + <p> + “What horrible person was that?” asked Miss Mary Carwell, who met Viola in + the hail after her visitor's departure. “She was positively vulgar, I + should say, though I didn't see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she was just a book agent. I sent her to Mr. Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “To Mr. Blossom, my dear! I didn't know he was literary.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither was this person, Aunt Mary. I think I shall go and lie down. I + have a headache.” + </p> + <p> + And as she locked herself in her room shed bitter tears on her pillow. Who + was this person who seemed to know Mr. Carwell so well, who boasted of how + “good” he was to her? Why did Colonel Ashley want to gain all the + information he could about her? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what does it all mean?” asked Viola in shrinking terror. “Is there to + be some terrible—some horrible scandal?” + </p> + <p> + She put the question to Colonel Ashley a little later. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this woman?” + </p> + <p> + The colonel considered a moment before replying. Then, with a shrewd look + at Viola, he replied: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, she isn't your kind, of course, but I've known her, and + known of her, for several years. She, and those she associates with, work + the de luxe game.” + </p> + <p> + “The de luxe game? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “In brief, it's a blackmailing scheme. A woman of the type of Miss Tighe, + to give her one of her names, associates herself with some men. They + arrange to have a set of some books—usually well known enough and of + a certain value—bound in expensive leather—full morocco—hand + tooled and all that. They call on rich men and women, and induce them to + buy the expensive and rare set, of which they say there is only one or two + on the market. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes the sales are straight enough—particularly where women + are the buyers—but the books, even if delivered, are not worth + anything like the price paid. + </p> + <p> + “But, in the case of wealthy men the game is different.” + </p> + <p> + “Different?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, particularly where a woman like Morocco Kate is the agent. They are + not satisfied with the enormous profit made on selling a common edition of + books, falsely dressed in a garish binding, but they endeavor to + compromise the man in some business or social way, and then threaten to + expose him unless he pays a large sum,—ostensibly, of course, for + the books. + </p> + <p> + “Morocco Kate, who called on you, has more than one killing to her credit + in this game, and she has managed to keep out of jail because her victims + were afraid of the publicity of prosecuting. And it was so foolish of them + for, in most cases, it was just mere foolishness on their part, and + nothing criminally, or even morally, wrong, though they may have been + indiscreet.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think my father—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know anything about it, Viola, my dear!” was the prompt answer. + “Your father may have dealt in a legitimate way with this woman, buying + books from her because she cajoled him into it, though he could have done + much better with any reputable house. As I say, he may have simply bought + some books from her, and not have made the final payments on account of + his death. Whether the contract he entered into is binding or not I can't + say until I have seen it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I found nothing about books among his papers!” + </p> + <p> + “No? Then perhaps it was a verbal contract. Or he may have been—” + The colonel stopped. Viola guessed what he intended to say. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he was—Do you think this woman may make trouble?” she + asked bravely. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. We must find out more about her. If she comes again, hold + her and send for me. I didn't want her to see me to-day to know that I was + on this case. But I don't mind now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, suppose there should be some—some disgrace?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about that, Viola. But now, I have some rather startling news + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, more—” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly trouble. But Captain Poland has gone away—his place is + closed.” + </p> + <p> + “The captain gone away!” faltered the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I wondered if you knew he was going. Did he intimate to you anything + of the kind?” + </p> + <p> + The colonel watched Viola narrowly as he asked this question. + </p> + <p> + “No, I never knew he contemplated ending the season here so early,” Viola + said. “Usually he is the last to go, staying until late in October. Is + there anything—” + </p> + <p> + “That is all I know—he is gone,” said the detective. “I wanted to + ask him about that fifteen-thousand-dollar matter, but I shall have to + write, I suppose. And the sooner I get the letter off the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Please write it here,” suggested Viola, indicating the table where pens, + ink and stationery were always kept. “I am going to look again among the + papers of the private safe to see if there was anything about books—the + Arabian Nights, she said it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's her favorite set. But don't worry, my dear. Everything will + come out all right.” + </p> + <p> + And as Viola left him alone in the library, the detective added to + himself: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if it will?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley wrote a brief, business-like letter to Captain Poland, + addressing it to his summer home at Lakeside, arguing that the yachtsman + would have left some forwarding address. + </p> + <p> + Then, lighting a cigar, the colonel sat back in a deep, leather chair—the + same one Morocco Kate had sat in and perfumed—and mused. + </p> + <p> + “There are getting to be too many angles to this,” he reflected. “I need a + little help. Guess I'll send for Jack Young. He'll be just the chap to + look after Jean and follow that French dope artist to his new place, + provided he leaves here suddenly. Yes, I need Jack.” + </p> + <p> + And having telephoned a telegram, summoning from New York one of his most + trusted lieutenants, Colonel Ashley refreshed himself by reading a little + in the “Compleat Angler.” + </p> + <p> + Jack Young appeared at Lakeside the next day, well dressed, good looking, + a typical summer man of pleasing address. + </p> + <p> + “Another diamond cross mystery?” he asked the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “How is your golf?” was the unexpected answer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess I can manage to drive without topping,” was the ready answer. + “Have I got to play?” + </p> + <p> + “It might be well. I'll get you a visitor's card at the Maraposa Club + here, and you can hang around the links and see what you can pick up + besides stray balls. Now I'll tell you the history of the case up to the + present.” + </p> + <p> + And Jack Young, having heard, and having consumed as many cigarettes as he + considered the subject warranted, remarked: + </p> + <p> + “All right. Get me a bag of clubs, and I'll see what I can do. So you want + me to pay particular attention to this dope fiend?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if he proves to be one, and I think he will. I'll have my hands full + with Blossom, Morocco Kate and some others.” + </p> + <p> + “What about Poland and Bartlett?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Harry is still held, but I imagine he'll be released soon, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing on him?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't go so far as to say that. You know my rule. Believe no one + innocent until proved not guilty. I can keep my eye on him. Besides, he's + pretty well anchored.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean by Miss Viola?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How about the captain?” + </p> + <p> + “He's a puzzle, at present. But I wish you'd find out if that chauffeur + has a girl. That's the best way to do, or undo, a man that I know of. Find + out if he has a girl. That'll be your trick.” + </p> + <p> + “All right—that and golf. I'm ready.” + </p> + <p> + And Jack Young worked to such good advantage that three days later he had + a pretty complete report ready for his chief. + </p> + <p> + “Jean Forette has a girl,” said Jack; “and she's a little beauty, too. + Mazi Rochette is her name. She's a maid in one of the swell families here, + and she's dead gone on our friend Jean. I managed to get a talk with her, + and she thinks he's going to marry her as soon as he gets another place. A + better place than with the Carwells, she says he must have. This place was + pretty much on the blink, she confided to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Or words to that effect,” laughed the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I'm not much on the French, you know. Still I got along pretty + well with her. She took a notion to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you might be able to get something in that direction,” said the + colonel with a smile. “Did you learn where Jean was just prior to the golf + game which was the last Mr. Carwell played?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was with her, the girl says, and she didn't know why I was + asking, either, I flatter myself. I led around to it in a neat way. He was + with her until just before he drove Mr. Carwell to the links. In fact, + Jean had the girl out for a spin in the new car, she says. She's afraid of + it, though. Revolutionary devil, she calls it.” + </p> + <p> + “Hum! If Jean was with her just before he picked up Carwell to go to the + game—well, the thing is turning out a bit different from what I + expected. Jack, we still have plenty of work before us. Did I tell you + Morocco Kate was mixed up in this?” + </p> + <p> + “No! Is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Seems to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, nurse! Whew! If he fell for her—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe he did, Jack. My old friend was a sport, but not that + kind. He was clean, all through.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to hear you say so, Colonel. Well, what next?” + </p> + <p> + They sat talking until far into the night. + </p> + <p> + There was rather a sensation in Lakeside two days later when it became + known that the coroner's jury was to be called together again, to consider + more evidence in the Carwell case. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” Viola asked Colonel Ashley. “Does it mean that Harry + will be—” + </p> + <p> + “Now don't distress yourself, my dear,” returned the detective, + soothingly. “I have been nosing around some, and I happen to know that the + prosecutor and coroner haven't a bit more evidence than they had at first + when they held Mr. Bartlett.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that mean Harry will be released?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it mean he will be proved innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “That I can't say. I hardly think the verdict will be conclusive in any + case. But they haven't any more evidence than at first—that he had a + quarrel with your father just before the fatal end. As to the nature of + the quarrel, Harry is silent—obstinately silent even to his own + counsel; and in this I can not uphold him. However, that is his affair.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm sure, Colonel, that he had nothing to do with my father's death; + aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “If I said I was sure, my dear, and afterward, through force of evidence + and circumstance, were forced to change my opinion, you would not thank me + for now saying what you want me to say,” was the reply. “It is better for + me to say that I do not know. I trust for the best. I hope, for your sake + and his, that he had nothing to do with the terrible crime. I want to see + the guilty person discovered and punished, and to that end I am working + night and day. And if I find out who it is, I will disclose him—or + her—no matter what anguish it costs me personally—no matter + what anguish it may bring to others. I would not be doing my full duty + otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I realize that, Colonel. Oh, it is hard—so hard! If we only + knew!” + </p> + <p> + “We may know,” said the colonel gently. + </p> + <p> + “Soon?” she asked hopefully. + </p> + <p> + “Sooner than you expect,” he answered with a smile. “Now I must attend the + jury session.” + </p> + <p> + It was brief, and not at all sensational, much to the regret of the + reporters for the New York papers who flocked to the quiet and fashionable + seaside resort. The upshot of the matter was that the chemists for the + state reported that Mr. Carwell had met his death from the effects of some + violent poison, the nature of which resembled several kinds, but which did + not analyze as being any particular one with which they were, at present, + familiar. + </p> + <p> + There were traces of both arsenic and strychnine, but mingled with them + was some narcotic of strange composition, which was deadly in its effect, + as had been proved on guinea pigs, some of the residue from the stomach + and viscera of the dead man having been injected into the hapless animals. + </p> + <p> + Harry Bartlett was not called to the stand, but, pale from his + confinement, sat an interested and vital spectator of the proceedings. + </p> + <p> + The prosecutor announced that the efforts of his detectives had resulted + in nothing more. There was not sufficient evidence to warrant accusing any + one else, and that against Harry Bartlett was of so slender and + circumstantial a character that it could not be held to have any real + value before the grand jury nor in a trial court. + </p> + <p> + “What is your motion, then?” asked the coroner. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know that I have any motion to make,” said Mr. Stryker. “If + this were before a county judge, and the prisoner's counsel demanded it, I + should have to agree to a nolle pros. As it is I simply say I have no + other evidence to offer at this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the jury may consider that already before it?” asked Billy Teller. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You have heard what the prosecutor said, gentlemen,” went on the coroner. + “You may retire and consider your verdict.” + </p> + <p> + This they did, for fifteen minutes—fifteen nerve-racking minutes for + more than one in the improvised courtroom. Then the twelve men filed back, + and in answer to the usual questions the foreman announced: + </p> + <p> + “We find that Horace Carwell came to his death through poison administered + by a person, or persons, unknown.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, and then, as Bartlett started from his + seat, a flush mantling his pale face, Viola, with a murmured “Thank God!” + fainted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. A MEETING + </h2> + <p> + Harry Bartlett walked from the court a free man, physically, but not + mentally. He felt, and others did also, that there was a stain on him—something + unexplained, and which he would not, or could not, clear up—the + quarrel with Mr. Carwell just before the latter's death. And even to + Viola, when, in the seclusion of her home, she asked Harry about it after + the trial, or rather, the verdict, he replied: + </p> + <p> + “I can not tell. It was nothing that concerns you or me or this case. I + will never tell.” + </p> + <p> + And Colonel Ashley, hearing this, pondered over it more and more. + </p> + <p> + The little green book was all but forgotten during these days, and as for + the rods, lines, and reels, Shag arranged them, polished them and laid + them out, in hourly expectation of being called on for them, but the call + did not come. The colonel was after bigger fish than dwelt in the sea or + the rivers that ran into the sea. + </p> + <p> + It was a week after the rather unsatisfactory verdict of the coroner's + jury that Bartlett, out in his “Spanish Omelet,” came most unexpectedly on + Captain Gerry Poland, some fifty miles from Lakeside. The captain was in + his big machine, and he seemed surprised on meeting Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Then you are—” + </p> + <p> + “Out, at any rate,” was the somewhat bitter reply. “Where have you been, + Gerry?” + </p> + <p> + “Away. I couldn't stand it around there.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you know they have been looking for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Looking for me? Oh, you mean Colonel Ashley wanted some information about + certain business matters. Well, I didn't see that I owed him any + explanation about private matters between Mr. Carwell and myself, so I + didn't answer. + </p> + <p> + “You know what the imputation is, Gerry?” questioned Bartlett, as each man + sat in his car, near a lonely stretch of woods. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that I do,” was the calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Viola has told me of the finding of the papers in her father's + private safe. I told her I would see you, if I could, and get an + explanation. I did not think I would find you so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you were looking, Harry, or I would have come to you. What + do you mean about papers in a private safe?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean those which indicate that Mr. Carwell owed you fifteen thousand + dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he did owe me that,” said the captain calmly. + </p> + <p> + “He did?” and Harry Bartlett accented the last word. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it was paid. He did not owe me a dollar at the time of his + death.” + </p> + <p> + “That is astonishing news! There is no record of the money having been + paid!” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless the debt is canceled,” insisted the captain. “I sent the + receipt and the canceled note to LeGrand Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “It's false!” cried Bartlett. “He hasn't any such documents!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Captain Poland seemed about to leap from his car and attack + the man who had given him the lie direct. Then, by an effort, he composed + himself, and quietly answered: + </p> + <p> + “I can prove every word I say, and I will take immediate steps to do so. + Mr. Carwell paid me the fifteen thousand dollars on the twenty-third, and + I—” + </p> + <p> + “He paid you the money on the twenty-third? the very day he died?” cried + Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—Why, good heavens, man! Don't you see what this means? It + means you were with him just before his death, the same as I was. We're + both in the same boat as far as that goes!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I admit that I was with him, and that he paid me the fifteen + thousand dollars shortly before his unfortunate end,” returned Captain + Poland. “But our meeting was a most peaceful one, even friendly, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that I—Oh, I see!” and Bartlett's voice was full of + meaning. “So that's what you are driving at. Well, two can play at that + game. I've learned something, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + There was a grinding of gears, and the “Spanish Omelet” shot away. Captain + Poland watched it for a moment, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, + threw in the clutch and speeded down the road in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + Harry Bartlett lost no time in acquainting Colonel Ashley with the + admission made by Captain Poland. + </p> + <p> + “So the wind is veering,” the detective murmured. “I shall watch him. I + wondered why he didn't answer my letters. Now we must see LeGrand + Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll come with you,” offered Bartlett. “I want to see this thing through + now. Shall we tell her?” and he motioned toward Viola's room. + </p> + <p> + “Not now. We'll see Blossom first.” + </p> + <p> + If the head clerk was perturbed at all by the visit to the office of + Colonel Ashley and Harry Bartlett, he did not disclose it. He welcomed the + two visitors, and took them to his private room. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley went bluntly into the business in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any papers to show that Captain Poland acknowledged the receipt + of the fifteen thousand dollars owed to him by Mr. Carwell?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not,” was the frank answer. “I have been searching for something + to prove that the debt was paid, as I knew of its contraction. It was not + canceled as far as I can find.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet Captain Poland says it was paid,” said Bartlett, “and that he sent + you the receipt.” + </p> + <p> + “I never got it!” insisted LeGrand Blossom. Harry Bartlett and Colonel + Ashley looked at one another, and then the detective, with an effort at + cheerfulness which he did not feel, said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, perhaps in the confusion the papers were mislaid. I shall ask + Viola about them. Another search must be made.” + </p> + <p> + And so the two went back to The Haven, not much more enlightened than when + they left it. + </p> + <p> + “'What is to be done?” asked Bartlett. “Blossom says he knows nothing of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I must know a little more about Mr. Blossom,” mentally decided the + colonel. “I think I shall shadow him a bit. It may prove fruitful.” + </p> + <p> + And when two nights later LeGrand Blossom left his boarding place and met + a veiled woman at a lonely spot on the beach, Colonel Ashley, who had been + waiting as he so well knew how to do, hid himself on the sand behind some + sedge grass and began to think that the game was coming his way after all. + </p> + <p> + “For a man who pretends to be open and above board, his actions are very + queer,” mused the detective, as he silently crawled nearer to where + LeGrand Blossom and the woman stood talking in low tones on the lonely + sands. “I don't see what object he could have in making away with Carwell, + and yet it begins to look black for him. Maybe there is more than the + fifteen thousand dollars involved. There are so many angles to the case + now. I must find out who this woman is.” + </p> + <p> + And when she spoke in louder tones than usual, drawing from LeGrand + Blossom an impatient “Hush!” the colonel had his answer. + </p> + <p> + “Morocco Kate again! What's her part now?” + </p> + <p> + The detective was near enough now to hear some of the talk. + </p> + <p> + “Did you bring it?” asked the woman eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! can't you?” snapped LeGrand Blossom. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! What's the harm? There's no one in this lonely place! It gives me + the creeps. Li'l ole Broadway for mine!” + </p> + <p> + “You never know who's anywhere these days!” muttered LeGrand. “That + infernal detective seems to be all over. He looks at me—oh, he looks + at me, and I don't like it.” + </p> + <p> + Morocco Kate laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” ordered the head clerk. “Do you think this is funny?” + </p> + <p> + “It used to be,” was the answer. “It used to be funny, when you thought + you were in love with me. Oh, it was delicious!” + </p> + <p> + “I was a bigger fool than I ever thought I'd be!” growled LeGrand Blossom. + </p> + <p> + “You aren't the only one,” was the consoling answer. “But what I'm + interested in now, is—did you bring the mazumma—the cush—the + dope?” + </p> + <p> + “All I could get,” was the answer. “I'm in a devil of a mess, and the + estate hasn't been settled yet. I may get some more out of it then, but + you'll have to quit bleeding me. I'm through with you, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not with you,” was the sharp rejoinder. “I'll take this now, but + I'll need more. The game isn't going as it used to. Mind, I'll need more, + and soon.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't get it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, won't I? Well, there are others that'll pay well for what I'm able to + tell, I guess. I rather think you'll see me again, Lee. So-long now, but + I'll see you again!” + </p> + <p> + She moved off in the darkness, laughing mirthlessly, and with muttered + imprecations LeGrand Blossom turned in the opposite direction, passing + within a few feet of the hidden detective. “Blackmail, or is it a division + of the spoils?” mused Colonel Ashley. “I've got to find out which. Mr. + Blossom, I think I'll have to stick to you until you fall into the sear + and yellow leaf.” + </p> + <p> + The next day as Colonel Ashley sat trying to fix his attention on a + passage from Walton, a messenger brought him a note. It was from a young + man who, at the colonel's suggestion, had been given a clerical place in + the office of the late Horace Carwell. Not even Viola knew that the young + man was one of the colonel's aides. + </p> + <p> + “Blossom just sent out a note to a Miss Minnie Webb,” the screed, which + the colonel perused, read. “He's going to meet her in the park at Silver + Lake at nine to-night. Thought I'd let you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad he did,” mused the detective. “I'll be there.” + </p> + <p> + And he was, skillfully though not ostentatiously attired as a loitering + fisherman of the native type, of which there were many in and about + Lakeside. + </p> + <p> + The fisherman strolled about the little park in the center of which was a + body of fresh water known as Silver Lake. It was little more than a pond, + and was fed by springs and by drainage. In the park were trees and + benches, and it was a favorite trysting spot. + </p> + <p> + Up and down the paths walked Colonel Ashley, his clothes odorous of fish, + and he was beginning to think he might have his trouble for his pains when + he saw a woman coming along hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + It needed but a second glance to disclose to the trained eyes of the + detective that it was none other than Minnie Webb, whom he had met several + times at the home of Viola Carwell. Minnie advanced until she came to a + certain bench, and she stopped long enough to count and make sure that it + was the third from one end of a row, and the seventh from the other end. + </p> + <p> + “The appointed place,” mused the colonel as he sauntered past. And then, + making a detour, he came up in the rear and hid in the bushes back of the + bench, where he could hear without being observed—in fact the bench + was in such shadow that even the casual passerby in front could not after + darkness had fallen tell who occupied it. + </p> + <p> + Minnie Webb sat in silence, but by the way she fidgeted about the colonel, + hearing the shuffling of her feet on the gravel walk, knew she was nervous + and impatient. + </p> + <p> + Then quick footsteps were heard coming along through the little park. They + increased in sound, and came to a stop in front of the bench on which sat + the shrouded and dark figure of the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie?” + </p> + <p> + “LeGrand! Oh, I'm so glad you came! What is it? Why did you send me a note + to meet you in this lonely place? I'm so afraid!” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid? Lonely? Why, it's early evening, and this is a public park,” the + man answered in a low voice. “I wanted you to come here as it's the best + place for us to talk—where we can't be overheard.” + </p> + <p> + “But why are you so afraid of being overheard?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, things are so mixed up—one can't be too careful. Minnie, we + must settle our affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Settle them? You mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean we can't go on this way. I must have you! I've waited long enough. + You know I love you—that I've never loved any one else as I've loved + you! I can't stand it any longer without you. I have asked you to marry me + several times. Each time you have put it off for some reason or other. Now + we must settle it. Are you going to marry me or not? No matter what your + folks say about me and this Carwell affair. Do you—do you care for + me?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was so low and so muffled that the colonel was glad he could + not hear it. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it all!” he murmured, “that's the worst of this business! I + don't mind anything but the love-making. I hate to break in on that!” + </p> + <p> + There was an eloquent silence, and then LeGrand Blossom said: + </p> + <p> + “I am very happy, Minnie.” + </p> + <p> + “And so am I. Now what shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + “Get married as soon as possible, of course. I've got to wind up matters + here, and as soon as I can I may take up an offer that came from Boston. + It's a very good one. Would you go there with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, LeGrand. I'd go anywhere with you—you know that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad I do, my dear. It may be necessary to go very soon, and—well, + we won't stop to say good-bye, either.” + </p> + <p> + “Why! what do you mean,” and the hidden detective knew that the girl had + drawn away from the young man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I mean that we won't bother about the fuss of a farewell-party. I'm + not tied to the Carwell business. In fact I'd be glad to chuck it. There's + nothing in it any more, since there's no chance for a partnership. We'll + just go off by ourselves and be happy—won't we, Minnie?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, LeGrand. But must we go away? Can't you get something else + here?” + </p> + <p> + “I think we must, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't had trouble with—with Viola, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. What made you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was just a notion. Well, if we have to leave we will. I shall hate + to go, however. But, I'll be with you—” and again the words were + smothered. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what sort of a double-cross game he's playing,” mused the + colonel when the two had left the park and he, rather stiff from his + position, shuffled to the lonely spot where he had before made a change of + garments. Attired as his usual self, he went back to The Haven, and spent + rather a restless night. + </p> + <p> + Minnie Webb was perplexed. She loved LeGrand Blossom—there was no + doubt of that—but she did not see why he should have to leave the + vicinity of Lakeside where she had lived so many years—at least + during the summer months. All her friends and acquaintances were there. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if Viola has given him notice to leave since she came into her + father's property,” mused Minnie. “I'm going to ask her. He may never get + such a good place in Boston as he has here. I'll see if I can't find out + why he wants to leave. It can't be just because father does not care much + for him.” + </p> + <p> + So she called on Viola, as she had done often of late, and found her + friend sitting silent, and with unseeing eyes staring at the rows of books + in the library. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Minnie, it was so good of you to come! I'm very glad to see you. + Since father went it has been very lonely. You look extremely well.” + </p> + <p> + “I am well—and—happy. Oh, Viola, you're the first I have told, + but—but Mr. Blossom has—asked me to marry him, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how lovely! And you've said 'yes!' I can tell that!” and Viola smiled + and kissed her friend impulsively. “Tell me all about it!” + </p> + <p> + “And so it's all settled,” went on Minnie, after much talk and many + questions and answers. “Only I'm sorry he's going to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Going to leave me!” exclaimed Viola. Her voice was incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I mean going to give up the management of your business. I'm sure + you'll miss him.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall indeed! But I did not know Mr. Blossom was going to leave. He has + said nothing to me or Aunt Mary about it. In fact, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is there something wrong?” asked Minnie quickly, struck by something + in Viola's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, nothing wrong, as far as we know. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please tell me!” begged Minnie. “I am sure you are concealing + something.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will tell you!” said Viola at last. “I feel that I ought to, as + you may hear of it publicly. It concerns fifteen thousand dollars,” and + she went into details about the loan, which one party said had been paid, + and of which Blossom said there was no record. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” gasped Minnie Webb. “Oh, what does it mean?” and, worried and + heartsick, lest she should have made a mistake, she sat looking dumbly at + Viola... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE LIBRARY POSTAL + </h2> + <p> + “My dear, I am sorry if I have told you anything that distresses you,” + said Viola gently. “But I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it is best to know,” was the low response. “Only—only I + was so happy a little while ago, and now—” + </p> + <p> + “But perhaps it may all be explained!” interrupted Viola. “It is only some + tiresome business deal, I'm sure. I never could understand them, and I + don't want to. But it does seem queer that there is no record of that + fifteen thousand dollars being paid back.” + </p> + <p> + “What does Captain Poland say about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he told Harry, very frankly, that father paid the money, and that the + receipt was sent to Mr. Blossom. But the latter says it can not be found.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you suspect Mr. Blossom?” asked Minnie, and her voice held a + challenge. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” answered Viola slowly, “there isn't much of which to suspect him. + It isn't as if Captain Poland claimed to have paid father the fifteen + thousand dollars, and the money couldn't be found. It's only a receipt for + money which the captain admits having gotten back that is missing. But it + makes such confusion. And there are so many other things involved—” + </p> + <p> + “You mean about the poisoning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Oh, I wish it were all cleared up! Don't let's talk of it. I must + find out about Mr. Blossom going away. We shall have to get some one in + his place. Aunt Mary will be so disturbed—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that I told you!” cautioned Minnie. “Perhaps I should not have + mentioned it. Oh, dear, I am so miserable!” And she certainly looked it. + </p> + <p> + “And so am I!” confessed Viola. “If only Harry would tell what he is + keeping back.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean about that quarrel with your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And he acts so strangely of late, and looks at me in such a queer + way. Oh, I'm afraid, and I don't know what I'm afraid of!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm the same way, Viola!” admitted Minnie. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder why we two should have all the trouble in the world?” + </p> + <p> + And the two were miserable together. + </p> + <p> + They were not the only ones to suffer in those days. Captain Gerry Poland + could not drive Viola from his mind. To the yachtsman, she was the most + beautiful woman he had ever met, and he wondered if fortune would ever + make it possible for him to approach her again on the subject that lay so + close to his heart. + </p> + <p> + And then there was Bartlett. It was true he walked the streets—or + rather rode around them in his “Spanish Omelet”—a free man; yet the + finger of suspicion was constantly pointed at him. + </p> + <p> + More than once in the town he met people who sneered openly at him, as if + to say, “You are guilty, but we can't prove it.” And once on the golf + course he went up to three men who had formerly been quite friendly and + suggested a game of golf, upon which one after another the others made + trivial excuses and begged to be excused. Upon this occasion the young man + had rushed away, his face scarlet, and he had only calmed down after a mad + tour of many miles in his racing machine. + </p> + <p> + “It's an outrage!” he had muttered to himself. “A dastardly outrage! But + what is a fellow going to do?” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Colonel Ashley and Jack Young were puzzling their heads over + many matters connected with the golf course mystery. Jack had obeyed the + colonel's instructions to the letter. He had played many rounds on the + links and had gotten to a certain degree of friendship with Jean Forette. + He had even formed a liking for Bruce Garrigan, who, offhand, informed him + that the amount of India ink used in tattooing sailors during the past + year was less by fifteen hundred ounces than the total output of radium + salts for 1916, while the wheat crop of Minnesota for the same period was + 66,255 bushels. All of which information, useful in a way, no doubt, was + accepted by Jack with a smile. He was there to look and listen, and, well, + he did it. + </p> + <p> + “But I've got to pass it up,” he told Colonel Ashley. “I've stuck to that + Jean chap until I guess he must think I want him for a chauffeur if ever + I'm able to own a car bigger than a flivver. And aside from the fact that + he does use some kind of dope, in which he isn't alone in this world, I + can't get a line on him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't expect you would,” said Colonel Ashley, with a smile. “But + are you well enough acquainted with him to have a talk with his + sweetheart?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Mazi?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I s'pose I might get a talk with her. But what's the idea?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing special, only I'd like to see if she tells you the same story she + told me. Have a try at it when you get a chance.” + </p> + <p> + “On the theory, I suppose, of in any trouble, look for the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat, yes.” + </p> + <p> + They were talking in The Haven, for Jack had been put up there as a guest + at the request of Colonel Ashley. And when the bell rang, indicating some + one at the door, they looked at one another questioningly. + </p> + <p> + Then came the postman's whistle, for Lakeside, though but a summer resort, + with a population much larger in summer than in winter, boasted of mail + delivery. + </p> + <p> + A maid placed the letters in their usual place on the hall table, and the + colonel quickly ran through them, for he had reports sent him from his New + York office from time to time. + </p> + <p> + “Here's one for you, Jack,” he announced, handing his assistant a letter. + </p> + <p> + While Jack Young was reading it the colonel caught sight of a postal, with + the address side down, lying among the other missives. It was a postal + which bore several lines of printing, the rest being filled in by a pen, + and the import of it was that a certain library book, under the number 58 + C. H—161* had been out the full time allowed under the rules, and + must either be returned for renewal, or a fine of two cents a day paid, + and the recipient was asked to give the matter prompt attention. + </p> + <p> + The colonel turned the card over. It was addressed to Miss Viola Carwell + at The Haven. + </p> + <p> + “So the book is out on her card,” murmured the detective. “I must look for + her copy of 'Poison Plants of New Jersey,' and see if it is like the one I + have.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you speaking to me?” asked Jack, having finished his letter. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I will now. We've got to get busy on this case, and close it up. + I've been too long on it now. Shag is getting impatient.” + </p> + <p> + “Shag?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he wants me to go fishing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see. Well, I'm ready. What are the orders?” + </p> + <p> + Two busy days on the part of Colonel Ashley and his assistant followed. + They went on many mysterious errands and were out once all night. But + where they went, what they did or who they saw they told no one. + </p> + <p> + It was early one evening that Colonel Ashley waited for his assistant in + the library of The Haven. Jack had gone out to send a message and was to + return soon. And as the colonel waited in the dim light of one electric + bulb, much shaded, he saw a figure come stealing to the portieres that + separated the library from the hall. Cautiously the figure advanced and + looked into the room. A glance seemed to indicate that no one was there, + for the colonel was hidden in the depths of a big chair, “slumping,” which + was his favorite mode of relaxing. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if some one is looking for me?” mused the colonel. “Well, just + for fun, I'll play hide and seek. I can disclose myself later.” And so he + remained in the chair, hardly breathing the silent figure parted the heavy + curtains, within, dropped something white on the floor, and then quickly + hurried away, the feet making no sound on the thick carpet of the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” mused the colonel to himself, “I wonder that is a note for me, or a + love missive for one the maids from the butler or the gardener, who too + bashful to deliver it in person. I'd better look.” + </p> + <p> + Without turning on more light the colonel picked up the thing that had + fluttered so silently to the floor. It was a scrap of paper, and as he + held it under the dimly glowing bulb he saw, scrawled in printed letters: + </p> + <p> + “Viola Carwell has a poison book.” + </p> + <p> + “As if I didn't know it!” softly exclaimed the colonel. + </p> + <p> + And then, as he resumed his comfortable, but not very dignified position, + he heard some one coming boldly along the hall, and the voice of Jack + asked: + </p> + <p> + “Are you in here, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, come in. Did you get a reply?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely. Your friend must have been waiting for your telegram.” + </p> + <p> + “I expected he would be. Let me see it,” and the detective read a brief + message which said: + </p> + <p> + “Thomas much better after a long sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” mused the colonel. “I'm very glad Thomas is better.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Thomas, by any chance, a cat?” asked Jack, who read the telegram the + colonel handed him. + </p> + <p> + “He is—just that—a cat and nothing more. And now, Jack, my + friend, I think we're about ready to close in.” + </p> + <p> + “Close in? Why—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there are a few things I haven't told you yet. Sit down and I'll just + go over them. I've been on this case a little longer than you have, and + I've done some elimination which you haven't had a chance to do.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have eliminated all but—” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Poland and LeGrand Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Jack started, and made a motion of silence. They were still + in the library, but more lights had been turned on, and the place was + brilliant. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” asked the colonel, quickly. “I thought I heard a + noise in the hall,” and Jack stepped to the door and looked out. But + either he did not see, or did not want to see, a shrinking figure which + quickly crouched down behind a chair not far from the portal. + </p> + <p> + “Guess I was mistaken,” said Jack. “Anyhow I didn't see anything.” Did he + forget that coming out of a light room into a dim hall was not conducive + to good seeing? Jack Young ought to have remembered that. + </p> + <p> + “One of the servants, likely, passing by,” suggested the colonel. “Yes, + Jack, I think we must pin it down to either the captain or Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really think Blossom could have done it?” + </p> + <p> + “He could, of course. The main question is, did he have an object in + getting Mr. Carwell out of the way?” + </p> + <p> + “And did he have?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he did. I've been trailing him lately, when he didn't suspect it, + and I've seen him in some queer situations. I know he needed a lot of + money and—well, I'm going to take him into custody as the murderer + of Mr. Carwell. I want you to—” + </p> + <p> + But that was as far as the detective got, for there was a shriek in the + hall—a cry of mortal anguish that could only come from a woman—and + then, past the library door, rushed a figure in white. + </p> + <p> + Out and away it rushed, flinging open the front door, speeding down the + steps and across the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” cried Colonel Ashley. “Who was that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know!” answered Jack. “Must have been the person I thought I + heard in the hall.” + </p> + <p> + “We must find out who it was!” went on the detective. “You make some + inquiries. I'll take after her.” + </p> + <p> + “Could it have been Miss Viola?” + </p> + <p> + The question was answered almost as soon as it was asked, for, at that + moment, Viola herself came down the front stairs. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked the two detectives. “Who cried out like that? Is + some one hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” answered Colonel Ashley. “Mr. Young and I were talking in + the library when we heard the scream. Then a woman rushed out.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been Minnie Webb!” cried Viola. “She was here a moment ago. + The maid told me she was waiting in the parlor, and I was detained + upstairs. It must have been Minnie. But why did she scream so?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley did not stop to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Look after things here, Jack!” he called to his assistant. “I'm going to + follow her. If ever there was a desperate woman she is.” + </p> + <p> + And he sped through the darkness after the figure in white. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE LARGE BLONDE AGAIN + </h2> + <p> + The trail was not a difficult one to follow. The night was particularly + black, with low-hanging clouds which seemed to hold a threat of rain, and + the wind sighed dolefully through the scrub pines. Against this dim + murkiness the figure of the woman in white stood out ghostily. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Minnie Webb!” mused Colonel Ashley, as he hurried on after her. “She + must be desperate now—after what she heard. I wonder—” + </p> + <p> + He did not put his wonder into words then, but his suspicion was confirmed + as he saw her head for the bridge that spanned a creek, not far from where + the ferry ran over to Loch Harbor. + </p> + <p> + At certain times this creek was not deep enough to afford passage for + small rowboats, but when the tide was in there was draught enough for + motor launches. + </p> + <p> + “And the tide is in now,” mused the colonel, as he remembered passing + among the sand dunes late that afternoon, and noting the state of the sea. + “Too bad, poor little woman!” he added gently, as he followed her. “Not so + fast! Not so fast! There is no need of rushing to destruction. It comes + soon enough without our going out to meet it. Poor girl!” + </p> + <p> + He went on through the darkness, following, following, following + distracted Minnie, who, with the fateful words still ringing in her ears, + hardly knew whither she hurried. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley, in spite of the desperate manner in which the chase had + begun, felt that he was safe from observation. He had on dark clothes, + which did not contrast so strongly with the night as did the light and + filmy dress of Minnie Webb. Besides, she was too distracted to notice that + she was being followed. + </p> + <p> + “She is going to the bridge, and the tide is in,” mused the detective. “I + didn't think she had that much spunk—for it does take spunk to + attempt anything like this in the dark. However, I'll try to get there as + soon as she does.” + </p> + <p> + The fleeing girl in white passed over an open moor, fleeced here and there + with scanty bushes, which gave the detective all the cover he needed. But + the girl did not look back, and the night was dark. The clouds were + thicker too, and the very air seemed so full of rain that an incautious + movement would bring it spattering about one's head, as a shake of a tree, + after a shower, precipitates the drops. + </p> + <p> + And then there suddenly loomed, like grotesque shadows on the night, two + other figures at the very end of the bridge that Minnie Webb sought to + cross. They seemed to bar her way, and yet they were as much startled as + she, for they drew back on her approach. + </p> + <p> + And Colonel Ashley, stealing his way up unseen, heard from Minnie Webb the + startled ejaculation: + </p> + <p> + “LeGrand! You here? And who—who is this?” + </p> + <p> + Then, as if in defiance, or perhaps to see who the challenger was, the + figure standing beside that of LeGrand Blossom flashed a little pocket + electric torch. And by the gleam of it Colonel Ashley saw the large blonde + woman again. + </p> + <p> + “Morocco Kate!” he murmured. “So she is mixed up in it after all! I think + I begin to see daylight in spite of the darkness. Morocco Kate!” + </p> + <p> + Then, crouching down behind some bushes, he waited and listened and + thought swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me!” implored Minnie of the young man. “What does it mean, + LeGrand? Why are you here with—with—” + </p> + <p> + “He knows my name well enough, if he wants to tell it,” broke in the + other. “I'm not ashamed of it, either. But who are you, I'd like to know? + I never saw you before!” and the blonde woman flashed her light full on + Minnie's white face. + </p> + <p> + And as the girl shrank back, Morocco Kate, so called, sneered: + </p> + <p> + “Some one else he's got on a string, I suppose! Ho! It's a merry life you + lead, LeGrand Blossom!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” the young man exclaimed. “I can't let you go on this way. Minnie, + please leave us for a moment. I'll come to you as soon as I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! Of course!” sneered the other. “She's younger and prettier than + I—quite a flapper. I was that way—once. And I suppose you said + the same thing to some one else you wanted to get rid of before you took + me on. Oh, to the devil with the men, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + Minnie gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Shocked you, did I, kid? Well, you'll hear worse than that, believe me. + If I was to tell—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” and LeGrand Blossom snapped out the words in such a manner that + the desperate woman did stop. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie, go away,” he pleaded, more gently. “I'll come to you as soon as I + can, and explain everything. Please believe in me!” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't believe I can—again, LeGrand,” faltered Minnie. “I—I + heard what you said to her just now—that you couldn't do anything + more for her. Oh, what have you been doing for her? Who is she? Tell me! + Oh, I must hear it, though I dread it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you shall hear it!” cried LeGrand Blossom, and there was desperation + in his voice. “I was going to tell you, anyhow, before I married you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're really going to marry her, are you?” sneered the blonde. + “Really? How interesting!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you be quiet?” said LeGrand, and there was that in his voice which + seemed to cow the blonde woman. + </p> + <p> + “Minnie,” went on LeGrand Blossom, “its a hard thing for a man to talk + about a woman, but sometimes it has to be done. And it's doubly hard when + it's about a woman a man once cared for. But I'm going to take my + medicine, and she's got to take hers.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm no quitter! I'm a sport, I am!” was the defiant remark. “So was Mr. + Carwell—Old Carwell we used to call him. But he had more pep than + some of you younger chaps. + </p> + <p> + “Leave his name out of this!” growled LeGrand, like some dog trying to + keep his temper against the attacks of a cur. + </p> + <p> + “This woman—I needn't tell you her name now, for she has several,” + he went on to Minnie. “This woman and I were once engaged to be married. + She was younger then—and—different. But she began drinking and—well, + she became impossible. Believe me,” he said, turning to the figure beside + him, “I don't want to tell this, but I've got to square myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” and the other's voice was broken. “I may as well give up now as + later. If anything can be saved out of the wreck—my wreck—go + to it! Shoot, kid! Tell the worst! I'll stand the gaff!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that makes it easier,” resumed Blossom. “We were going to be + married, but she got in with a fast crowd, and I couldn't stand the pace. + I admit, I wasn't sport enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you weren't,” murmured Minnie, her breast heaving. + </p> + <p> + “The result was,” went on Blossom, “that she and I separated. It was as + much her wish as mine—toward the end. And she married a Frenchman + with whom she seemed to be fascinated.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he sure had me hypnotized,” agreed the blonde woman. “It was more my + fault than yours, Lee. Perhaps if you'd taken a whip to me, and made me + behave—Some of us women need a beating now and then. But it's too + late now.” Of a sudden she seemed strangely subdued. + </p> + <p> + LeGrand Blossom went on with the sordid tale. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the marriage didn't turn out happily. It was—” + </p> + <p> + “It was hell! I'm not afraid to use the word!” interrupted the blonde. “It + was just plain, unadulterated hell! And I went into it with my eyes open. + That's what it was—hell! I've had such a lot here on earth that + maybe they'll give me a discount when I get—well, when I get where + I'm going!” and she laughed, but there was no mirth in it. + </p> + <p> + Minnie shuddered, and drew nearer to LeGrand. And it did not seem to be + because of the chill night wind, either. + </p> + <p> + “It was the same old story,” went on the clerk. “No need of going over + that, Minnie. It doesn't concern the question now. In the end the + Frenchman cast her off, and she had to live, somehow. She came to me, and + I, for the sake of old times, agreed to help her. I didn't think I was + doing anything wrong; but it seems I was. I thought the rare and expensive + book publishing business she said she was in was legitimate. Instead it + was—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a blackmailing scheme!” interrupted Morocco Kate, not without + some curious and perverted sense of pride. “I admit that. I got you in + wrong, LeGrand, but it wasn't because I hated you, for I didn't. I really + loved you, and I was a fool to take up with Jean. But that's past and + gone. Only I didn't really mean to make trouble for you. I thought you + might be able to wiggle out, knowing business men as you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Instead,” said the clerk, “I only became the more involved. It began to + look as though I was a partner in the infernal schemes, and she and those + she worked with held the threat over my head to extort money from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, LeGrand, I didn't do that willingly,” interrupted Morocco + Kate. “The others had a hold over me, and they forced me to use you as + their tool. They bled me, as I, in turn, bled you. Oh, it was all a rotten + game, and I'm glad the end's at hand. I suppose it's all up now?” she + asked Blossom. + </p> + <p> + “The end is, as far as it concerns you and me,” he said. “I'm going to + confess, and take my medicine. Minnie, I've lied to give this woman money + to prevent her exposing me. Now I'm through. I've told my last lie, and + given my last dollar. Thank God—who has been better to me than I + deserve—thank God! I'm still young enough to make good the money + I've lost. The lies I can't undo, but I can tell the truth. I'm going to + confess everything!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, LeGrand!” cried Minnie, and she held out her hands to him. “Not—not + everything!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the whole rotten business. That's the only way to begin over again, + and begin clean. I'll come through clean!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” murmured Minnie. “It will be so—so hard!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” and LeGrand gritted his teeth, “it isn't going to be easy; but + it'll be a bed of roses compared to what I've been lying on the last year. + This woman had such a hold on me that I couldn't clear myself before—that + is, clear myself of grave charges. But now I can. This is the end. I can + prove that I wasn't mixed up in the Roswell de luxe book case, and that's + what she's been holding over me.” + </p> + <p> + “The Roswell case!” faltered Minnie. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you don't know about it, but I'll tell you, later. Now I'm free. + This is the end. I came here to-night to tell her so. How you happened to + follow me I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't follow, LeGrand. It was all an accident.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it's a lucky accident, Minnie. This is the end. From now on—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's the end!” bitterly cried the other woman. “It's the end of + everything. Oh, if I could only make it the end for Jean Carnot, I'd be + satisfied. He made me what I am—an outcast from the world. If I + could find Jean Carnot—” + </p> + <p> + And then, with the suddenness of a bird wheeling in mid air, the blonde + woman turned and rushed away in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + For an instant Colonel Ashley hesitated in his hiding place. And then he + murmured: + </p> + <p> + “I guess you'll keep, LeGrand Blossom, and you, too, Minnie Webb. Morocco + Kate needs watching. And I think, now, she'll lead me right where I've + been wanting to go for a long time. The darkness is fast fading away,” + which was a strange thing to say, seeing that the night was blacker than + ever. + </p> + <p> + Back on the desolate moor, near the bridge under which the black tide was + now hurrying, murmuring and whispering to the rushes tales of the deep and + distant sea, stood two figures. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in me, Minnie?” asked the man brokenly. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. The murmuring of the tide grew louder, and it seemed to + sing now, as it rose higher and higher. + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” he repeated, wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the whispered reply. “And, Lee, I'll help you to come through—clean! + I believe in you!” + </p> + <p> + And the tide washed up the shores of the creek so that, even in the + darkness, the white sands seemed to gleam. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER. XXIII. MOROCCO KATE, ALLY + </h2> + <p> + “Who are you? Who is trailing me? Is that you, LeGrand?” + </p> + <p> + The challenge came sharply out of the darkness, and Colonel Ashley, who + had been following Morocco Kate, plodding along through the sand, + stumbling over the hillocks of sedge grass, halted. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” was the insistent demand. “I know some one is following me. + Is it you, LeGrand Blossom? Have you—have you—” + </p> + <p> + The voice died out in a choking sob. “She's gamer than I thought,” mused + the detective. “And, strange as it may seem, I believe she cares.” Then he + answered, almost as gently as to a grieving child: + </p> + <p> + “It is not LeGrand Blossom. But it is a friend of his, and I want to be a + friend to you. Wait a moment.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as he came close to her side and flashed on his face a gleam from an + electric torch he always carried, she started back, and cried: + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Ashley! Heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” he chuckled. “You didn't expect to see me here, did you? Well, + it's all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're not after me for—” She gasped and could not go on. + “That last deal was straight. I'm not the one you want.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't get Spotty's habit, and throw up your hands just because you see + me, Kate,” went on the colonel soothingly. “I'm not after you + professionally this time. In fact, if things turn out the way I want, I + may shut my eyes to one or two little phases of your—er—let us + call it career. I may ignore one or two little things that, under other + circumstances, might need explaining.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you want me for a stool pigeon?” + </p> + <p> + “Something like that, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose I refuse?” + </p> + <p> + “That's up to you, Kate. I may be able to get along without you—I + don't say I can, but I may. However it would mean harder work and a delay, + and I don't mind, seeing it's you, saying that I'd like to get back to my + fishing. So if you'll come to reason, and tell me what I want to know, it + will help you and—Blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “Blossom!” she gasped. “Then you know—” + </p> + <p> + “I may as well tell you that I was back there—a while ago,” and the + colonel nodded vaguely to the splotch of blackness from whence Morocco + Kate had rushed with that despairing cry on her lips. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a friend of LeGrand Blossom's—at least, I am now since I + overheard what he had to say to you and Miss Webb,” went on the detective. + “Now then, if you'll tell me what I want to know, I'll help him to come + across—clean, and I'll help you to the extent I mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + Morocco Kate seemed to be considering as she stood in the darkness. Then a + long sigh came from her lips, and it was as though she had come to the end + of everything. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell,” she said simply. “What do you want to know? But first, let me + say I didn't no more have an idea that Sport Carwell was going to die than + you have. Do you believe that?” she asked fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, Kate. Now let's get down to brass tacks. Who is Jean + Carnot, and where can I find him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she murmured. “You want him?” + </p> + <p> + “Very much, I think. Don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do! I—I would like to tear out his eyes! I'd like to—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Kate, be nice! No use losing your temper. That's got you into + trouble more than once. Try to play the lady—you can do it when you + have to. Calling names isn't going to get us anywhere. Just tell me where + I can find your former husband—or the one you thought was your + husband—Jean Carnot.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Colonel Ashley, I did think him my husband,” said Morocco + Kate simply. “And when I found out he had tricked me by a false marriage, + and wouldn't make it good—well, I just went to the devil and hell—that's + all.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Kate, and I appreciate your position. I'm not throwing any + stones at you. I've seen enough of life to know that none of us can do + that with impunity. Now tell me all you can. And I'll say this—that + after this is all over, if you want to try and do as Blossom is going to + do—come through clean—I'll help you to the best of my + ability.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you, Colonel?” the big blonde woman asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I will—and here's my hand on it!” + </p> + <p> + He reached out in the darkness, but there was no answering clasp. The + woman seemed to shrink away. And then she said: + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it would be of any use. I guess I'm too far down to crawl + up. But I'll help you all I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't give up, Kate!” said the detective gently. “I've seen lots worse + than you—you notice I'm not mincing words—I've seen lots worse + than you start over again. All I'll say is that I'll give you the chance + if you want it. There's nothing in this life you're leading. You know the + end and the answer as well as I do. You've seen it many a time.” + </p> + <p> + “God help me—I have!” she murmured. “Well, I—I'll think about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “And, meanwhile, tell me about this Jean Carnot,” went on the colonel. + “You were married to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I was.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of man was he? Come, sit down on this sand dune and tell me all + about it. I think I want that man.” + </p> + <p> + “No more than I do,” she said fiercely. “He left me as he would an old + coat he couldn't use any more! He cast me aside, trampled on me, left me + like a sick dog! Oh, God—” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she could not go on. But she calmed herself and resumed. + Then, by degrees, she told the whole, sordid story. It was common enough—the + colonel had listened to many like it before. And when it was finished, + brokenly and in tears, he put forth his hand on the shoulder of Morocco + Kate and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, Kate, let's get down to business. Are you willing to help me finish + this up?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do all I can, Colonel Ashley. But I don't see how we're going to + find this devil of a Jean.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave that to me. Now where can I find you when I want you—in a + hurry, mind. I may want you in a great hurry. Where can I find you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm stopping in the village. I'll arrange to be within call for the next + few days. Will it take long?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not very. If I can I'll clean it all up tomorrow. Things are + beginning to clear up. And now allow me the pleasure of walking back to + town with you. It's getting late and beginning to rain. I have an + umbrella, and you haven't.” + </p> + <p> + And through the rain which began to fall, as though it might wash away + some of the sordid sin that had been told of in the darkness, the + strangely different couple walked through the dark night, Morocco Kate as + an ally of Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + The clean, fresh sun was shining in through the windows of Colonel + Ashley's room at The Haven when he awakened the next morning. As he sprang + up and made ready for his bath he called toward the next apartment: + </p> + <p> + “Are you up, Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “Just getting. Any rush?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think this may be our busy day, and again it may not. Better + tumble out.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you say. How you feeling, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Never better. I feel just like fishing, and you—” + </p> + <p> + “'Nough said. I'm with you.” + </p> + <p> + And then, as he started toward his bath, the colonel saw a dirty slip of + paper under the door of his room. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” he ejaculated. “Another printed message. The writer is getting + impatient. I think it's time to act.” + </p> + <p> + And he read: + </p> + <p> + “Why does not the great detective arrest the poisoner of her father? If he + will look behind the book case he will find something that will prove + everything—the poison book and—something else.” + </p> + <p> + The printed scrawl was signed: “Justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, 'Justice,' I'll do as you say, for once,” said the colonel softly, + and there was a grim smile on his face. + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that after his bath and a breakfast Colonel Ashley, + winking mysteriously to Jack Young, indicated to his helper that he was + wanted in the library. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Jack, when they were alone in the room. “A new clew?” + </p> + <p> + “No, just a blind trail, but I want to clean it up. Help me move out some + of the bookcases.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night! Some job! Are you looking for a secret passage, or is there a + body concealed here?” and Jack laughed as he took hold of some of the + heavy furniture and helped the colonel move it. + </p> + <p> + Not until they had lifted out the third massive case of volumes was their + search successful. There was a little thud, as though something had fallen + to the floor, and, looking, the colonel said: + </p> + <p> + “I have it.” + </p> + <p> + He reached in and brought out a thin volume. Its title page was inscribed + “The Poisonous Plants of New Jersey.” + </p> + <p> + Something was in the book—something more bulky than a mere marker; + and, opening the slender volume at page 4, a spray of dried leaves and + some thin, whitish roots were disclosed. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody trying to press wild flowers?” asked Jack. “Why all this trouble + for that? Hum! Doesn't smell like violets,” he added, as he picked up the + spray of leaves and roots. + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn't,” agreed the colonel. “But if you are not a little careful + in handling it you'll be a fit subject for a bunch of violets—tied + with crepe.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + Jack was startled, and he dropped the dried leaves on the library floor. + </p> + <p> + “A specimen of the water hemlock,” went on the colonel. “One of the + deadliest poisons of the plant world. And as we don't want any one else to + suffer the fate of Socrates, I'll put this away.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the compound leaves, the dried flowers, small, but growing in + the characteristic large umbels, and at the cluster of fleshy roots, + though now pressed flat, and noted the hollow stems of the plant itself. + The bunch of what had been verdure once had made a greenish, yellow stain + in the book, which, as the colonel noted, was from the local public + library, and bore the catalogue number 58 C. H.—161*. + </p> + <p> + “Well, maybe you see through it, but I don't,” confessed Jack. “Now, + what's the next move?” + </p> + <p> + “Get these book cases back where they belong.” + </p> + <p> + This was done, and then the colonel, sitting down to rest, for the labor + was not slight, went on: + </p> + <p> + “You are sure that the French chauffeur has been told that The Haven is to + be closed, and that he will be no longer required here, nor in the city? + That he must leave at once though his month is not up?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I heard Miss Viola tell him that herself. She told me she didn't + see why you wanted that done, but as you had charge of the case the house + would be closed, even if they had to open it again, for they stay here + until late in the fall, you know. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. Then you are sure Forette thinks they are all going away and + that he will have to go, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he's all packed. Been paid off, too, I believe, for he was + sporting a roll of bills.” + </p> + <p> + “And he is to see Mazi—when?” + </p> + <p> + “This evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Now I don't want you to let him out of your sight. Stick to + him like a life insurance agent on the trail of a prospect. Don't let him + suspect, of course, but follow him when he goes to see the pretty little + French girl to-night, and stay within call.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “For now, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? I'm going fishing. I haven't thrown a line in over a week, and I'm + afraid I'll forget how. Yes, I'm going fishing, but I'll see you some time + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + And a little later Shag was electrified by his master's call: + </p> + <p> + “Get things ready!” + </p> + <p> + “Good lan' ob massy, Colonel, sah! Are we suah gwine fishin'?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what we are, Shag. Lively, boy!” + </p> + <p> + “I'se runnin', sah, dat's whut I'se doin'! I'se runnin'!” And Shag's hands + fairly trembled with eagerness, while the colonel, opening a little green + book, read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Of recreation there is none + So free as fishing is alone; + All other pastimes do no less + Than mind and body both possess; + My hand alone my work can do, + So I can fish and study too!” + </pre> + <p> + “Old Isaac never wrote a truer word than that!” chuckled the colonel. “And + now for a little studying.” + </p> + <p> + And presently he was beside a quiet stream. + </p> + <p> + Luck was with the colonel and Shag that day, for when they returned to The + Haven the creel carried by the colored man squeaked at its willow corners, + for it bore a goodly mess of fish. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Colonel, I've been so anxious to see you!” exclaimed Viola, when the + detective greeted her after he had directed Shag to take the fish to the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry I delayed so long afield,” he answered with a gallant bow. “But the + sport was too good to leave. What is it, my dear? Has anything happened?” + Her face was anxious. + </p> + <p> + “Well, not exactly happened,” she answered; “but I don't know what it + means. And it seems so terrible! Look. I just discovered this—or + rather, it was handed to me by one of the maids a little while ago,” and + she held out the postal from the library, telling of the overdue book. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the colonel, though he could guess what was coming. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I haven't drawn a book from the library here for a long time,” went + on Viola. “I did once or twice, but that was when the library was first + opened, some years ago. This postal is dated a week ago, but the maid just + gave it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely it was mislaid.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I supposed. But I went at once to the library, and I found + that the book had been taken out on my card. And, oh, Colonel Ashley, it + is a book on—poisons!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “You know it! And did you think—” + </p> + <p> + “Now don't get excited. Come, I'll show you the very book. It's been here + for some time, and I've known all about it. In fact I have a copy of it + that I got from New York. There isn't anything to be worried about.” + </p> + <p> + “But a book on poisons—poisonous plants it is, as I found out at the + library—and poor father was killed by some mysterious poison! Oh—” + </p> + <p> + She was rapidly verging on an attack of hysterics, and the colonel led her + gently to the dining room whence, in a little while, she emerged, pale, + but otherwise self-possessed. + </p> + <p> + “Then you really want Aunt Mary and me to go away?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for a day or so. Make it appear that the house is closed for the + season. You dismissed Forette, didn't you, as I suggested?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and paid him in full. I never want to see him again. He's been so + insolent of late—he'd hardly do a thing I asked him. And he looked + at me in such a queer, leering, impudent way.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about that, my dear. Everything will soon be all right.” + </p> + <p> + “And will—will Harry be cleared?” + </p> + <p> + The colonel did not have time to answer, for Miss Mary Carwell appeared + just then, lamenting the many matters that must be attended to on the + closing of the house for even a short time. The colonel left her and Viola + to talk it over by themselves. + </p> + <p> + On slowly moving pinions, a lone osprey beat its way against a quartering + south-east wind to the dead tree where the little birds waited impatiently + in the nest, giving vent to curious, whistling sounds. Slowly the osprey + flew, for it had played in great luck that day, and had swooped down on a + fish that would make a meal for him and his mate and the little ones. The + fish was not yet dead, but every now and then would contort its length in + an effort to escape from the talons which were thrust deeper and deeper + into it, making bright spots of blood on the scaly sides. + </p> + <p> + And a man, walking through the sand, looked up, and in the last rays of + the setting sun saw the drops of blood on the sides of the fish. + </p> + <p> + “A good kill, old man! A good kill!” he said aloud, and as though the + osprey could hear him. “A mighty good kill!” + </p> + <p> + When it was dark a procession of figures began to wend its way over the + lonely moor and among the sand dunes to where a tiny cottage nestled in a + lonely spot on the beach. From the cottage a cheerful light shone, and now + and then a pretty girl went to the door to look out. Seeing nothing, she + went back and sat beside a table, on which gleamed a lamp. + </p> + <p> + By the light of it a woman was knitting, her needles flying in and out of + the wool. The girl took up some sewing, but laid it down again and again, + to go to the door and peer out. + </p> + <p> + “He is not coming yet, Mazi?” asked the woman in French. + </p> + <p> + “No, mamma, but he will. He said he would. Oh, I am so happy with him! I + love him so! He is all life to me!” + </p> + <p> + “May you ever feel like that!” murmured the older woman. + </p> + <p> + Soon after that, the first of the figures in the procession reached the + little cottage. The girl flew to the door, crying: + </p> + <p> + “Jean! Jean! What made you so late?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not help it, sweetheart. I but waited to get the last of my + wages. Now I am paid, and we shall go on our honeymoon!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jean! I am so happy!” + </p> + <p> + “And I, too, Mazi!” and the man drew the girl to him, a strange light + shining in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + They sat down just outside the little cottage, where the gleam from the + lamp would not reflect on them too strongly, and talked of many things. Of + old things that are ever new, and of new things that are destined to be + old. + </p> + <p> + The second figure of the procession that seemed to make the lonely cottage + on the moor a rendezvous that evening, was not far behind that of the + lover. It was a figure of a man in a natty blue serge suit. A panama hat + of expensive make sat jauntily on top of his head on which curled close, + heavy black hair. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if the colonel is coming?” mused Jack Young, as he stopped to + let Jean Forette hurry on a little in advance. Then a backward glance told + him that two other figures were joining the procession. These last two—a + man and a woman—walked more slowly, and they did not talk, except + now and then to pass a few words. + </p> + <p> + “Then the marriage was legal, after all?” the woman asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Kate, it was,” answered Colonel Ashley. “You are his lawful wife.” + </p> + <p> + “And he only told me I wasn't, so as to shame me—to make me leave + him, and render me desperate?” + </p> + <p> + “That, and for other reasons. But the fact remains that you are his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “And this other ceremony—this other woman?” + </p> + <p> + “No legal wife at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is but a girl. If I had known in time I might have stopped it. + But it is too late now. Is he there, Jack?” he asked, as he joined the man + in the panama hat. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sitting outside with Mazi. Going to close in?” + </p> + <p> + “Might as well. Watch him carefully. He's desperate, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I know—full of dope. Well I'm ready for him.” + </p> + <p> + And so the trio—the last of the procession, if we except Fate—went + closer to the cottage whence so cheerfully gleamed the light. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + It was the snarling voice of Jean Forette, late chauffeur for the + Carwells, challenging. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The three figures came on. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a blinding flash, and the gleam from a powerful + electric torch shone in the faces of Jack Young, Morocco Kate and Colonel + Ashley. + </p> + <p> + There was a gasp of surprise and terror from the man beside Mazi—the + man who had thrust out the torch to see who it was advancing and closing + in on him through the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sneered the Frenchman, recovering his self-possession. “It is my + friend the officer. Ah, I am glad to see you—but just now—not!” + and he seemed to spit out the words. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe not. I can't always come when I'm expected, nor where I'm wanted,” + said Colonel Ashley coolly. “Now, my friend—Jack!” he cried sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I've got him, Colonel,” was the cool answer, and there was a cry of agony + from the chauffeur as his wrist was turned, almost to the breaking point, + while there dropped from his paralyzed hand a magazine pistol, thudding to + the sand at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Colonel,” said Jack, who had slipped off to one side, out of the + focus of the glaring light, just in time to prevent Jean Forette from + using the weapon he had quickly taken from a side pocket. “Go on, close + in. I've drawn his stinger.” + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs, what does this mean?” demanded the girl beside Jean. “Who are + you? What do you want? Ah, it is you—and you!” and she turned first + to Colonel Ashley and then to Jack Young. “You who have talked so kindly + to me—who have asked me so much about—about my husband! It is + you who come like thieves and assassins! Speak to them, Jean! Tell them to + go!” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman was breathing heavily, for Jack had a merciless grip on him. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to them, Jean!” implored the girl, while her mother, standing in + the door with her knitting, looked wonderingly on. “Why do they come to + take you like a traitor?” + </p> + <p> + “It—it's all a mistake!” panted the chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “You've got me wrong, messieurs. I—I didn't do it. It was all an + accident. He—I—Oh, my God! You!” and he started back as + Morocco Kate stepped toward him, pulling from her face the veil that had + covered it when the glaring light showed. Jack Young now held the electric + torch. + </p> + <p> + “You!” he murmured hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I!” she cried. “The woman you kicked out like a sick dog! I've found + you at last, and now I'll make you suffer all I did and more—you—devil!” + </p> + <p> + “Softly, Kate, softly!” murmured the colonel. But she did not heed him. + </p> + <p> + “You—you spawn of hell!” she cried. “It was you who sent me down + where I am—where not a decent woman will look at me and a decent man + won't speak to me. You did it—you left me to rot in my shame so you + could find some one else—some one younger and prettier to fondle and + kiss and—Oh, God!” + </p> + <p> + She sank in a shuddering heap on the sand at the feet of the man who had + broken her body and spirit, and lay there, sobbing out her anger. + </p> + <p> + “Let her stay there a little,” said the colonel softly. “She'll feel + better after this outburst.” + </p> + <p> + “Jean! Jean! What is it all about?” begged the girl who still maintained + her place beside him. “Oh, speak to me! Tell me! Who is she?” and she + pointed to the huddled figure on the sand. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you who she is,” said Colonel Ashley. “She is the legal wife of + Jean Carnot, alias Jean Forette, and—” + </p> + <p> + A scream from Mazi stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me it isn't true, Jean! Tell me it isn't true!” begged the girl. + </p> + <p> + Jean Carnot did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “He knows it is true,” said the colonel. “And now, my French auto friend, + I've come to take you into custody on a charge of—” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't do it! I didn't do it!” cried the man. “I swear I didn't do it. + I was going to throw the glass away but he grabbed it from me, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I arrest you on a charge of bigamy,” went on the calm voice of Colonel + Ashley. And then, as he saw Mazi stagger as though about to fall, he + added: + </p> + <p> + “All right, Jack. I'll take care of her. You put the bracelets on him. And + see that they're good and tight. We don't want him slipping out and + getting married again. He doesn't have much regard for bonds of any sort, + matrimonial or legal.” + </p> + <p> + And then he lifted poor, little Mazi up and carried her into the cottage, + while Morocco Kate got slowly to her feet and sat down on the bench in the + darkest shadows, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. STILL WATERS + </h2> + <p> + “The records show that Henri Margot, alias Jean Carnot alias Jean Forette + was married to Isabel Pelubit in Paris on March 17, four years ago, and + that she died under suspicious circumstances three months later, leaving + her husband all of a snug little fortune she possessed. + </p> + <p> + “All lies, monsieur—all lies! I do not believe anything you tell + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's very foolish of you, Mazi, for you can easily prove for + yourself everything I tell you, and it will be better for you, in the end, + if you do believe.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not. But go on with—more lies!” She shrugged her shoulders + contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley leafed over a sheaf of papers he had spread out on the + table in front of him. He and Mazi sat in a room in police headquarters in + Lakeside. It was the day following the procession to the cottage on the + moor. + </p> + <p> + “The records show,” went on the detective, “that Henri Margot was arrested + in Paris, charged with having poisoned his wife so that he might spend on + another woman the money she possessed. But he was not convicted, chiefly + because the chemists could not agree on the kind of poison that had caused + death.” + </p> + <p> + “All lies—I do not believe,” said Mazi, stolidly. + </p> + <p> + “Um!” mused the colonel. “Well, Mazi, you're more stubborn than I thought. + But it doesn't make any difference to me, you know. I'm paid for all this. + Now let's see—what's next? Oh, yes. Then the records show that + Henri, or Jean, whichever you choose to call him, came to this country. He + fell in love with a pretty girl—she wasn't as pretty as you, Mazi, + I'll say that—but he fell in love with her and married her—or + pretended to. However, it was a fake ceremony, and she couldn't prove + anything when he had spent all her money and tossed her aside. So there + wasn't anything we could do to him that time.” + </p> + <p> + “More lies,” said Mazi, calmly—or at least with the appearance of + calmness. + </p> + <p> + “The records show,” went on the inexorable voice of Colonel Ashley, “that + next Jean Carnot, as he called himself then, became infatuated with a + pretty girl—and this time I'll say she was just about as pretty as + you, Mazi—and her name was Annie Tighe. She was an Irish girl, and + she insisted on being married by a priest, so there wasn't any faking + there. Jean was properly married at least.” + </p> + <p> + “What do I care for all these lies?” sneered the girl, impatiently tapping + her foot on the floor. “Why do you bore me? I am not interested! I should + like to see Jean. Ha! Where have you put him?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll see him soon enough, Mazi. I've got just a few more records to + show you, and then I'm done. Now we come to the time when, after he found + he couldn't get out of a legal marriage, Jean put his foot in it, so to + speak. He was tied right, this time, so he took refuge in a lie when he + wanted to shake off the bonds of matrimony, as my friend Jack Young would + say. He told his wife—and she was his wife, and is yet—he told + her the ceremony was a fake, that the priest was a false one, in his pay.” + </p> + <p> + “All lies! What do I care?” sneered Mazi, again shrugging her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now let's get along. After our friend Jean found he was tired of + his wife he shamed her into leaving him and she went—well, that + isn't pleasant to dwell on, either. Except that he's the villain + responsible for her going to the dogs. He sent her there just as he would + have sent you, Mazi, except for what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean he is not my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe you. It is all lies. These women are but jealous. + Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “That's about all there is to it, Mazi, except to show you the letter from + your own priest, who confirms the fact that the priest who married Jean + Carnot and Annie Tighe was legally authorized to do so, both by the laws + of his own church and those of New York State, where the ceremony took + place. You will believe Father Capoti, won't you?” and he laid beside the + girl a letter which she read eagerly. + </p> + <p> + This time she said nothing about lies, but her face turned deadly pale. + </p> + <p> + “And this is the last exhibit,” went on the colonel, as he laid a + photograph before Mazi. It showed a man and a girl, evidently in their + wedding finery, and the face of the man was that of Jean Forette, and that + of the girl was of the woman who had groveled on the sand at the feet of + the chauffeur the night before,—Morocco Kate. + </p> + <p> + “Look on the back,” suggested the detective, and when Mazi turned the + photograph over she read: + </p> + <p> + “The happiest day of my life—Jean Carnot.” + </p> + <p> + “If you happen to have any love letters from him—and I guess you + have,” went on the colonel, “you might compare the writing and—” + </p> + <p> + “I have no need, monsieur,” was the low answer. “I—God help me.—I + believe now! Oh, the liar! If I could see him now—” + </p> + <p> + “I rather thought you'd want to,” murmured the colonel. “Bring him in!” he + called. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and, handcuffed to a stalwart officer, in slunk Jean of + the many names. + </p> + <p> + Mazi sprang to her feet, her face livid. She would have leaped at the + prisoner, but the colonel held her back. But he could not hold back the + flood of voluble French that poured from her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Liar! Dog!” she hissed at him. “And so you have deceived me as you + deceived others! You lied—and I thought he lied!” and she motioned + to the colonel. “Oh, what a silly fool I've been! But now my eyes are + open! I see! I see!” + </p> + <p> + With a quick gesture, before the colonel could stop her, she tore in half + the picture that had swept away all her doubts. + </p> + <p> + “Mustn't do that!” chided the colonel, as he picked up the pieces which + she was about to grind under her feet. “I'll need that at the trial.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you beast!” whispered the girl, but the whisper seemed louder + than a shout would have been. “You beast! No longer will I lie for you. + Why you wanted me to, I do not know. Yes, I do! It was so that you might + be with some one else when you should have been with me. Listen, all of + you!” she cried, as she flung her arms wide. “No longer will I shield him. + He told me to say that he was with me when that golf man—Monsieur + Carwell died—before he died—but he was not. No more will I lie + for you, Jean of the many names! You were not with me! I did not even see + you that day. Bah! You were kissing some other fool maybe! Oh, my God! I—I—” + </p> + <p> + And the colonel gently laid the trembling, shrieking girl down on a bench, + while the eyes of the shrinking figure of Jean the chauffeur followed + every movement. + </p> + <p> + He raised his free hand, and seemed to be struggling to loosen his collar + that appeared to choke him. For a moment the attention of Colonel Ashley + was turned toward Mazi, who was sobbing frantically. Then, when he saw + that she was becoming quieter, he turned to the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “You heard all that went on, I know,” said the detective. “That's why I + put you in the next room.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I heard,” was the calm answer. “But what of it? You can prove + nothing only that women are fools. I shall hire a good lawyer and—poof! + What would you have—a man must live. Bigamy, it is not such a + serious charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, there are worse,” said the colonel calmly. “You're going to hear + one presently. She told me just what I wanted to know, as I thought she + would if I could get her roused up enough against you. So, you weren't + riding, as you said, with her the day Mr. Carwell came to his end. I never + thought you were, Jean of the many names. And now, officer, if you'll take + him back and lock him up, I guess this will be about all to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “But I want to get bail!” exclaimed the prisoner. “I have a right to be + bailed. My lawyer says so.” + </p> + <p> + “There isn't any bail in your case,” said the detective. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Nonsense! Bigamy, it is not such a serious charge.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, didn't I tell you? I meant to,” said the colonel gently. “You're + under another accusation now. Jean Forette, to call you by your latest + alias, you're under arrest, charged with the murder, by poison, of Horace + Carwell, and I think we'll come pretty near convicting you by the + testimony of Mazi. Ah, would you—not quite!” + </p> + <p> + He struck down the hand the prisoner had raised to his mouth, and there + rolled over the floor a little capsule. The top came off and a white + powder spilled out. + </p> + <p> + “Don't step on it!” warned the colonel as several other officers came in + to assist in handling the prisoner, who was struggling violently. “It's + probably the same poison, mixed with French dope, that killed Mr. Carwell. + Jean had it hidden in the collar band of his shirt ready for emergencies. + But you shan't cheat the chair, Jean of the many names!” + </p> + <p> + They led the Frenchman away, struggling and screaming that he was + innocent, that it was all a mistake. By turns he prayed and blasphemed + horribly. + </p> + <p> + “That's the way they usually do when they can't get a shot of their dope,” + said the jail physician, after he had visited the prisoner and given him a + big dose of bromide. “He'll be a wreck from now on. He's rotten with some + French drug, the like of which I've never seen used before.” + </p> + <p> + The coroner's jury had been called together again. Once more the sordid + evidence was gone over, but this time there was more of it, and it had to + do with a story told weepingly on the stand by Mazi, and corroborated by + Colonel Ashley. + </p> + <p> + And a little later, when the jury filed in, it was to report: + </p> + <p> + “We find that Horace Carwell came to his death through poison administered + by Jean Carnot, alias Jean Forette, with intent to kill.” + </p> + <p> + And a little later, when the grand jury had indicted him, the man's nerve + failed him completely, because his supply of drug was kept from him and he + babbled the truth like a child, weeping. + </p> + <p> + He had stolen two hundred dollars from the pocketbook of Mr. Carwell the + day before the championship golf game, and, the crime having been detected + by Viola's father, the chauffeur had been given twenty-four hours in which + to return the money or be exposed. He was in financial straits, and, as + developed later, had stolen elsewhere, so that he feared arrest and + exposure and was at his wit's end. He had spent much of the money on Mazi, + whom he induced to go through a secret marriage ceremony with him. + </p> + <p> + Then Jean, like a cornered rat, and crazy from the drug he had filled + himself with, conceived the idea of poisoning Mr. Carwell. That would + prevent arrest and exposure, he reasoned. + </p> + <p> + The chauffeur found his opportunity when he was ordered to stop the big + red, white and blue car at a roadhouse just prior to the game. Mr. Carwell + was thirsty, and in bad humor, and ordered the chauffeur to bring out some + champagne. It was into this that Jean slipped the poison, mixed with some + of his own drug which he knew would retard the action of the deadly stuff + for some time. And it worked just as he had expected, dropping Mr. Carwell + in his tracks about two hours later, as he made the stroke that won the + game. + </p> + <p> + “But how did a chauffeur know so much about poison and dope as to be able + to mix a dose that would fool the chemists?” asked Jack Young of his + chief, a little later. + </p> + <p> + “Jean's father was a French chemist, and a clever one. It was there that + Jean learned to mix the powder dope he took, and he learned much of other + drugs. I suspect, though I can't prove it, that he poisoned his first + wife. A devil all the way through,” answered the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “But what did Bartlett and Mr. Carwell quarrel about so seriously that + Bartlett wouldn't tell?” + </p> + <p> + “It was about Morocco Kate. Harry learned that she had sold Mr. Carwell a + set of books, and, knowing her reputation, he feared she might have + compromised Mr. Carwell because of his sporting instincts. So Harry begged + Viola's father to come out plainly and repudiate the book contract. But + Mr. Carwell was stiff about it, and told Harry to mind his own business. + That was all. Naturally, after Harry found that Morocco Kate really was + mixed up in the case—though innocently enough—he didn't want + to tell what the quarrel was about for fear of bringing out a scandal. As + a matter of fact there never was any shadow of one.” + </p> + <p> + “And the mysterious notes to you about Viola having a poison book?” + </p> + <p> + “All sent by Jean, of course, to throw suspicion on her. I heard it + rumored, in more than one quarter, that Viola strongly disapproved of her + father's sporty life, and it was said she had stated that she would rather + see him dead than disgraced. Which was natural enough. I've said that + myself many a time about friends. + </p> + <p> + “Jean found Miss Carwell's library card, and took out the poison book in + her name, afterward anonymously sending me word about it. I admit that, + for a moment, I was staggered, but it was only for a moment. Here is what + I found in his room.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Ashley held out a piece of paper. There was no writing on it, but + it bore the indentations, identical with one of the penciled, printed + notes. + </p> + <p> + “He wrote it on a pad,” said the colonel, “and tore off the top sheet. But + he used a hard pencil, and the impression went through. Just one of the + few mistakes he made.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine work on your part, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “As for Captain Poland, the money transactions did look a bit queer, but + we've since found the receipt and it's all right. A new clerk in Carwell's + office had mislaid it. It wasn't Blossom's fault, either. He's a weak + chap, but not morally bad. The worst thing he did was to fall for Morocco + Kate. But better men than he have done the same thing. However, they won't + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she hasn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; nothing as rash as that. She's going to take a new route, that's + all. She's a natural born saleswoman, and I've gotten her a place with a + big firm that owes me some favors.” + </p> + <p> + “And did Blossom come through 'clean' as he said he would?” + </p> + <p> + “He did, and he didn't. It seems that a year or so ago he inherited eleven + thousand dollars. He invested half of the money in copper and made quite a + little on the deal. Then, a short while before Carwell died, he got + Blossom to lend him some money, which he was to pay back inside of a month + or two. When Carwell's death occurred, Blossom was in financial + difficulties on account of the demands of Morocco Kate. He could not get + hold of the money he had invested, nor could he get hold of the money he + had loaned Carwell. In his quandary he took certain securities belonging + to Carwell and hypothecated them, expecting, later on, to make good as + soon as he got some of his own money back. Of course the whole transaction + was a rather shady one, and yet I still believe the young fellow wanted to + be honest.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he stand now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he has managed to get hold of some of his money, and with that got + back the Carwell securities. And, of course, the Carwell estate will have + to settle with him later on, and Viola and Miss Mary Carwell are going to + keep him in his present position. + </p> + <p> + “He and Minnie Webb are to be married very soon—which reminds me + that I have an invitation for you.” + </p> + <p> + “For me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It's to the wedding of Viola and Harry Bartlett. The affair is going + to be very quiet, so you can come without worrying about a dress-suit, + which I know you hate as much as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so!” + </p> + <p> + “And did Bartlett's uncle really mulct Mr. Carwell in that insurance + deal?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's according to how you look at the ins and outs of modern high + finance. It was a case of skin or be skinned, and I guess Harry's uncle + skinned first and beat Mr. Carwell to it. It was six of one and a half + dozen of the other. The deal would have been legitimate either way it + swung, but it made Mr. Carwell sore for a time, and that, more than + anything else, made him quarrel with Harry when Morocco Kate was + mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + The letters in the secret drawer, which had so worried Viola, proved to be + very simple, after all. They referred to a certain local committee, + organized for an international financial deal which Mr. Carwell was + endeavoring to swing with Captain Poland. The latter thought, because of + his intimate association with Viola's father, that the latter might use + his influence in the captain's love affair. But that was not to be. So + Viola's worry was for naught in this respect. + </p> + <p> + And so the golf course mystery was cleared up, though even to the end, + when he had paid the penalty for his crime, the chauffeur would not reveal + the nature of the poison he had mixed with the dope which had made him a + wreck. + </p> + <p> + Beside the still water, that ran in a deep eddy where the stream curved + under the trees, Colonel Ashley sat fishing. Beside him on the grass a + little boy, with black, curling hair, and deep, brown eyes, sat clicking a + spare reel. Off to one side, in the shade, a colored man snored. + </p> + <p> + “Hey, Unk Bob!” lisped the little boy. “Don't Shag make an awful funny + noise?” + </p> + <p> + “He certainly does, Gerry! He certainly does!” + </p> + <p> + “Just 'ike a saw bitin' wood.” + </p> + <p> + “That's it, Gerry! I'll have to speak to Shag about it. But now, Gerry, my + boy, you must keep still while Unk Bob catches a big fish.” + </p> + <p> + “Ess, I keep still. But you tell me a 'tory after?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll tell you a story.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me how you was a fissin', an' a big white ball comed an', + zipp! knocked ze fiss off your hook? Will you tell me dat fiss 'tory?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Gerry, I'll tell you that if you'll be quiet now.” + </p> + <p> + And Shag's snores mingled with the gentle whisper of the water and the + sighing of the wind in the willows. + </p> + <p> + And then, when the creel had been emptied and Colonel Robert Lee Ashley + sat on the porch with Gerry Ashley Bartlett snugly curled in his lap and + told the story of the golf ball and the fish, while Shag cleaned the fish + fresh from the brook, two figures stood in the door of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Harry!” softly said the woman's voice. “Isn't that a picture?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed, my dear. Gerry adores the colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder. I do myself. Oh, by the way, Harry, I had a letter from + Captain Poland today.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you? Where is he now?” asked Harry Bartlett, as his eyes turned + lovingly from the figure of his little son in the colonel's lap to that of + his wife beside him. + </p> + <p> + “In the Philippines. He says he thinks he'll settle there. He was so + pleased that we named the Boy after him.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he?” and then, as his wife went over to steal up behind her little + son and clasp her hands over his eyes, the man, standing alone on the + porch, murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Poor Gerry!” And it was of the lonely man in the Philippines he was + speaking. + </p> + <p> + In the silent shadows Colonel Robert Lee Ashley fished again. This time he + was alone, save for the omnipresent Shag. And as the latter netted a fish, + and slipped it into the grass-lined creel, he spoke and said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Young, he done ast me to-day when we gwine back t' de city. He done + say dere's a big case waitin' fo' you, Colonel, sah. When is we-all gwine + back?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, Shag!” + </p> + <p> + “Nevah, Colonel, sah?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'm going to spend all the rest of my life fishing. I've resigned + from the detective business! I'll never take another case Never!” + </p> + <p> + And Shag chuckled silently as he closed the creel. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Golf Course Mystery, by Chester K. 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