CHAPTER XIIISo—peacefully, slept the un-shrouded dead,Beyond caring whether they stoned or kissed her;Till a Ministering Angel came instead,In the guise of a Salvation Army Sister.Poor “Skagway Kate”Brightly, ah, so brightly, the rays of the early morning sun flooded that sad room with their golden radiance, lighting up with a veritable halo of glory the still, peaceful face of one for whom the weary troubles and pain of this world had ceased.The door opened softly and Musgrave, standing in its aperture, surveyed a scene that awed and shook evenhiscynical nature to its very depths. For some minutes he remained with bowed head, perfectly motionless, a picture of silent sympathy then, tip-toeing noiselessly forward, he shook the still sleeping Benton gently, and a haggard, drawn face was slowly upturned to his.“Come, old man,” he said quietly. “Rouse yourself. You can do no more good here now.”And, stiff and cold, the Sergeant arose and followed him out like a child.Wearily he returned to the detachment and, with mechanical instinct, tidied up the place. Then, duly attending scrupulously to his personal toilet, he went down to the hotel, where he forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls of food and a cup of coffee. Later he repaired to the room of Musgrave’s patient and, after subjecting that unfortunate individual to a somewhat lengthy examination, he formally placed him under arrest. These duties despatched, he departed with a heavy heart to the station to await the incoming west-bound train, which was over an hour late.Gradually, under the influence of his surroundings and the fresh morning air, mind and body, from constant habit, returned, naturally, to their normal state of soldierly alertness. To all outward appearance he became once more the composed, practical guardian of the Law, resourceful and ready for any duty that claimed him. Presently he was joined by the station agent, who greeted him with a sort of miserable heartiness.“Well, Sergeant,” he began, “and how are we this morning? Some doings last night, eh? What about that ear of yours? You look as if you’d sure come through a rough house, with that bandage on. What’s the other feller look like?”Ellis did not answer for a moment, but a faint grin overspread his haggard face as he regarded the other’s tell-tale countenance attentively.“We!” he echoed, with quiet derision. “I’m afraidwedoesn’t feel very well this nice mornin’, Carey. Ear stings like the devil. As for the other fellow—you know whathelooks like, all right. You look as if you were just doin’ a ‘walk-march’ to yourownfuneral. You’d better keep a flask on your hip for emergencies, as you an’ me’ll be the star witnesses when this inquest comes off. I’m expectin’ the coroner an’ one of our inspectors on this train.”“Oh, I don’t think I’ll fall off the perch just yet,” said the agent, with a sheepish smile. “I’ve got the other key off Petersen,” he continued significantly. “One or two of the curious ones came nosing around, but I warned ’em off the course, quick. Hello! here she comes. Well, I’ll see you later, Sergeant.” And he hurried away about his duties.Inspector Purvis, a dark, heavy-set, middle-aged man, wearing the South African and Riel Rebellion campaign ribbons, acknowledged Benton’s salute punctiliously and, turning, introduced his companion.“This is Dr. Sampson, the coroner, Sergeant Benton,” he said.And Ellis shook hands with a tall, gray-mustached, pleasant-faced man, whom he knew very well by sight. The latter glanced sharply at the policeman’s bandaged head.“Looks as if you’d been in the wars, Sergeant,” he said. “What’s happened you?”Ellis drew them on one side and briefly related his story, to which they listened with lively interest.“Well, well,” said the Inspector at its conclusion. “We’ll wait till this train pulls out, and let these people get away, and then we’ll go on down to this section hut and view this body.”Ten minutes later they stood in front of the shed, and Ellis unlocked the door and flung it open. An angry buzz greeted them, as their presence disturbed a hideous swarm of blue-bottle flies. Sharp exclamations of loathing and disgust escaped the two newcomers who, after gazing for a few seconds at thethingthat had once been a man, proceeded to note all details carefully, with the callous precision of men hardened to such sights.Once the Inspector’s glance traveled curiously, from the shattered head of the corpse, to the stern, bandaged face of the man beside him, who had caused this terrible transformation.“Some shootin’!” he observed, in a low voice, to the coroner.It seemed to be rather a doubtful compliment, though, under the circumstances, so the latter only nodded nonchalantly, and refrained from comment himself.“There’s absolutely no doubt about this being Shapiro, the man that’s wanted, sir,” said Ellis. “I saw the other man, Wilks, who’s lying sick up at the hotel, this morning. He confirms this man’s identity, and admits everything. I’ll take you up to see him later.”Presently the coroner straightened himself up.“All right!” he said. “I guess I’m through here, if you are, Inspector. Let’s go and view the other body at the house the Sergeant speaks of.”They turned to go, and Ellis locked the door again.“Oh, Benton!” said the Inspector, in a low tone, beckoning him aside. “Just a minute.”With a slightly uncomfortable presentiment of what was coming, the former obeyed.There was a moment’s silence, while the Inspector eyed him keenly, but not unkindly.“I understand this isn’t the first man you’ve shot and killed in the execution of your duty, Sergeant, since you’ve been in this Division,” he said.Ellis bowed his head in assent.“Well, in that case,” continued the Inspector briskly, “your previous experience has no doubt enlightened you, then, in regard to the customary procedure in such cases. You are, of course, aware that the finding of a coroner’s jury, while it may acquit you of all blame in causing a person’s death, doesn’t necessarily preclude any subsequent inquiry that theCrownmay see fit to institute later, although it would naturally carry considerable weight with it in such an eventuality....”He paused for a moment, and then went on in the slightly sententious tones of one who knows he has an unpleasant duty to perform:“I’ve the O.C.’s orders to place you under ‘open’ arrest, and take you back to the Post with me. There will be a formal charge laid against you, and you will have to face an inquiry in regard to this man’s death. Of course, I shall remain here until these inquests, etc., are over. That is all, Sergeant. Now we’ll go on down to this other place.”With a strange, indefinable feeling of reluctance, he conducted them thither. Awed, and filled with compassion at what they beheld, they halted irresolutely, a moment, on the threshold, and bared their heads reverently in the presence of the dead. Then, entering the chamber, they made a brief examination which, to Benton, standing idly there in his dumb misery, seemed almost in the light of a sacrilege.A whispered colloquy ensued between them for a few minutes, and then they gently withdrew and closed the door, Ellis following them out to receive his instructions.“Inspector,” began the coroner, “I would have liked, if possible, to have had this double inquest held here; but there’s not enough room, I’m afraid. Could you—”Ellis, with ready tact, broke in quietly: “I think I can arrange that, all right, doctor. I know the man who rents this cottage next door. He’s the day operator at the station. His wife’s away just now, so he’s staying with Mr. Carey, the station agent. There wouldn’t be any difficulty about obtaining the use ofhispremises to hold the inquiry in, and I could have the other body removed down here, so as to utilize this place as the morgue.”“Ah, very well,” said the coroner, with evident relief; “that will be entirely satisfactory. There’s just one other thing I would like you to see to, Sergeant. Kindly get some woman to attend to the necessary arrangements in this last case—lay her out decently, and so on—you understand?”“And afterwards,” supplemented the Inspector, “of course give Dr. Sampson all the assistance you can in empanelling a jury. Why, hello, doctor!” he exclaimed, turning to Musgrave, who had just joined them. “Youseem to have been getting yourself mixed up in stirring events around here, according to what Sergeant Benton tells me. Whatever brings you so far away from home? I guess we’ll need your evidence at these inquests.”The three men chatted awhile, then presently, the coroner and the Inspector departed for the hotel, leaving Musgrave and Benton together.An indefinable constraint seemed to have fallen upon them, for the gloomy memory of the past night was still vivid in their minds and oppressed them greatly. The doctor was the first to break the silence.“By gum!” he said; “I’d clean forgotten about your ear, Ellis. My bag’s still here. Let’s dress it again for you. Come inside again for a bit.”With deft hands he soon performed the operation and Benton, studiously avoiding the elder man’s eyes, thanked him and, with a slightly overdone yawn, prepared to leave and carry out the orders that he had previously received. Throughout Musgrave had talked incessantly on irrelevant subjects. It seemed as if he were maundering with design, beating about the bush of some communication he feared to make, and just talking against time.“Well! have you seen that patient of mine up at the hotel yet?” he inquired.The Sergeant, with a curious, apprehensive glance at the closed bedroom door, beckoned the other outside. As if, almost, he feared that the dead might hear.“Yes,” he said. “Saw him when I went up for breakfast He’s the man, all right—Herbert Wilks—admits everything. Seemed glad to get it off his chest. Told me the whole business. Sounds just like a dime novel yarn. Well, truth’s stranger than fiction, so they say. Appears he’s been a dissipated young beggar, and he got fired from the Trust Company for inattention to his work. The very day he got let out he happened to pick up a paper in the manager’s private office, which turned out to be nothing more or less than the combination of the safe. Suppose the manager—or whoeverhadthe combination—was scared to commit it to memory alone. Well, being, as I said before, a dissipated young scamp, he’d somehow got mixed up with this Shapiro chap in one or two dirty deals—women, I guess—an’ what not. Of course, he was pretty sore about gettin’ the push—went on a bust that night, an’ while he was ‘lit’ told Shapiro all about this paper he’d found. You just bet Mister ‘Harry the Mack’ wasn’t goin’ to let a chance like that go by, an’ soon got Wilks goin’ ... telling him what a good opportunity it was to get back at them, an’ all that. Well, they fixed everything up for two nights after, and brought in Lipinski along with them. Shapiro’d got a set of burglar’s tools and soon effected an entrance. He an’ Wilks crawled in, leaving Lipinski as a ‘look-out.’ Wilks messed with the combination for a bit an’ tried to open her up, but couldn’t work it. Might have been an old one that’d been changed two or three times since the scale’d been written on this paper. Anyway, there seemed nothing doin’ an’ ‘Harry,’ being a yegg, got tired, an’ suggested blowin’ it. He went out to get the ‘soup’ ... from a pal of his who lived a short distance away, leaving Wilks still there. While he was waiting, our friend hadanothergo at it, an’ thistimemanaged, somehow, to turn the trick.“He cleaned up everything, ashethought, and beat it in a hurry, leaving the safe open. Told Lipinski he’d be back in a minute—an’ skinned out. ‘Honor among thieves’—what? Well, naturally, the first idea that came into his head was to go back to his home town—Hamilton—and swank around there for a bit with this money, thinking, of course, though, that suspicion might fall on him right away, bein’ fired two days before, and the safe, not blown, but opened by the combination, he was cute enough not to attempt to get aboard the East-boundthere. Mr. Man gets some crooked pal of his—a chauffeur—to drive him in his automobile as far as Garstang. He laid up there till the ten-fifteen came along next morning. Then he got a bloomin’ fright. He was sitting in the first-class coach, all tickled up the back at makin’ his get-away so easy when, who should come an’ plank himself down on the seat alongside him but Mister ‘Harry the Mack.’ This chauffeur pal of his had double-crossed him after he’d driven back—told Shapiro everything who, you bet, wasn’t goin’ to get left like that.“All this is, of course, what Harry told him. He’d managed to get on the train all right, without bein’ spotted—taking—” He lowered his voice, and indicated the drawn blinds with a significant gesture—“with him. Partly to divert suspicion, I suppose ... look like respectable couple—man an’ wife. Well, naturally, Harry talked pretty ugly ... what he’d do to him, an’ all that, if he didn’t whack up; but Wilks wouldn’t ’come across’—kept bluffin’ that he’d divvy up later on, an’ so on—knowing that he was safe enough as long as he was amongst a crowd of people. Of course Harry never breathed a word about shootin’ the night-watchman. The first intimation Wilks had aboutthatwas in a paper at the hotel, here. It appears about ten minutes after he’d vamoosed with the money Harry came back with the ‘soup,’ to do the blowin’ act. Lipinski told him that Wilks would be back in a few minutes, so they waited a bit. As he showed no signs of returning, they decided to go ahead without him—Lipinski goin’ in with Harry this time, to give him a hand. It didn’t take ’em long to see what’d happened, you bet. Everything all strewn around and turned upside down. They found a hundred an’ fifty in a small drawer I guess he’d overlooked in his hurry an’, according to Lipinski’s statement, they’d just split this up when the poor, bloomin’ watchman happened along an’ Shapiro fixed him. Then they bolted an’ the patrolman on the beat shot at them an’ one skinned one way an’ one the other. Lipinski didn’t see Harry again after that—beat it on his own to Seattle later, an’ got nailed.“Well, it seems they kept up this chewin’ the rag an’ watching each other till the train got down as far as here. It was gettin’ dark, then. Harry’d got a bottle of whiskey in his grip when he’d come on the train. He started in to get primed up on this, an’ Wilks got scared, for Harry began to raise his voice an’ look at him pretty nasty, with his hand in his hip-pocket. They managed to kick up such a row between ’em that the con’ came along—gave ’em a callin’ down an’ threatened to chuck ’em off the train if they didn’t shut up. Harry started to give the con’ a whole lot of lip, an’ while these two were squabblin’ together, Mister Wilks slipped off—here—just as the train was on the move.“Of course Harry, as soon as he missed him, promptly got off at the next stop—Glenmore—fifteen miles east of here—an’ caught the West-bound back again in the morning. Went straight to the hotel an’ soon located his man. Didn’t speak to him, though. Didn’t register at the place, either—but that may have been because of the expense—hadn’t any too much ‘dough’ left, an’ p’r’aps figured he’d most likely have a long wait. He rented this furnished cottage instead, for a few days. It belongs to a chap named George Ricks, over at Beaver Dam. He comes into town an’ lives in it himself all the winter, but leaves it in charge of some chap here to rent to anybody who comes along during the summer. I guess Harry felt pretty safe, knowing that Wilks wasn’t exactly in the position to give him away. There’s absolutely no doubt what his intention was—”The Sergeant paused a moment and eyed his listener grimly. The latter, with an equally grim comprehensive gesture, nodded silently.“Well,” he went on, “here they camped, watchin’ each other’s every little movement. Shapiro never got much of a show to do anything, though, for Wilks took darned good care to keep inside the hotel most of the time. He admits he was scared to death, especially after reading about Harry shootin’ the watchman. Just dawdled around—couldn’t make up his mindwhatto do, knowing that he couldn’t shake Harry asecondtime. He was feeling pretty sick, too.... I guess this thing’s been comin’ on him some time, hasn’t it, Charley?”The doctor, nodding again, replied: “Yes, about a month, most probably.”“An’ that’s how the case stands,” concluded Ellis wearily. “If you hadn’t gone into his room that time when you did, Harry’d most likely put the kibosh on him right there. Choked him, p’r’aps. I got the money off him, O. K. About a hundred short—what he’d paid for his ticket through to Hamilton, a bribe to that chauffeur, Kelly, his hotel bill here, an’ odds an’ ends. The New Axminster men’ll get their hooks on that chauffeur quick, I’ll bet, when the O.C. forwards them my crime report. Don’t know whether they’ll be able to make a charge stick or not—may do. I turned the money into the bank for safe keeping. Inspector Purvis’ll take it down with him when we go back to the Post.”There was a long pause. “Well, what’ll happen to this fellow now?” inquired Musgrave.“Guess Churchill’ll have to keep an eye on him,” said Ellis indifferently. “Take him in to the Post soon as he’s able to travel. He’ll be held there till a New Axminster man comes for him. Feel sorry, in a way, for the poor sick devil, but that’s all that can be done withhim, now. Well, I must be getting—lots o’ work to do. See you later, Charley.”The elder man laid a detaining hand on the Sergeant’s shoulder, and his voice shook ever so little as he said slowly:“Wait a bit. There’s something I want to tell you before you go.” He swallowed and hesitated slightly in his agitation. “It’s about that—that—that poor girl,” he continued, in strained, unnatural tones. “Ellis, old man, you don’t know how sorry I am that I sneered at you last night.... About being a moral reformer, and all that.... I hardly meant it at the time. And I’ve been feeling pretty bad since—since—”His voice broke, and he left the sentence unfinished. This was a great concession from Musgrave, and his hearer thought so, as he grasped the other’s arm with a sympathetic pressure.“Charley,” he said gently, “Charley.... Don’t think of that again.... See here; look! I don’t take you in earnest, every time. You’re the best friend I’ve got ... an’ the very first man I’d think of comin’ to, if I was in trouble. Maybe you don’t know it, but I tell you that same sarcastic tongue o’ yours has cured me of lots o’ dam’-fool notions—time an’ again.”They remained silent awhile, after this, then Musgrave went on, in a stronger voice:“This is what I wanted to say. Seems very apparent, they—this—unfortunate couple, have little or no money—”The Sergeant nodded, and cleared his throat. “Very little,” he said. “Man’s got a few dollars left—seven-fifty, or something like that.”“Well, now; look!” said the doctor. “These two will have a decent burial in the cemetery here, at my expense. It’s my wish.” And, as Ellis raised a protesting hand, “No, no, my boy—let be!You’renot immaculate, God knows, but, by the Lord Harry! you’re a better man than I am, and I respect you for many things.... ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’... It’s thirty years since I heard that text; I forgot it the same day, and never thought of it again till now. There may be truth in it. I say, for the peace of my soul, let me do this thing; and little though it is—may the Recording Angel—if there is one—remember it as something in my favor when my time comes.”Ellis never forgot those words, nor the weary, bitter, hopeless look that accompanied them; and, long years afterwards, their remembrance rushed back to his mind with vivid distinctness, as he held poor Musgrave’s dying head.Drearily he wended his way up the main street, his mind preoccupied with the problem of fulfilling the coroner’s final request. He knew comparatively few of the male—let alone, the female, community, of the little town and, somehow, he instinctively shrank at the thought of having to approach strange women anent such a delicate duty. In his perplexity he went to Carey, and besought the latter’s advice.The agent mused a space. “Let’s see,” he said. “There’s Mrs. Steele—she’s head of the Women’s Church Guild here, and there’s Mrs. Parsons, and Mrs. Macleod. You go and see them. They ought to be able to help you out. I’ll tell you where they live.”With a vague feeling of uneasiness, Ellis departed, and presently found himself at Mrs. Steele’s abode. A gray-haired, elderly woman, with a high-featured, severe face, answered his summons and, with some trepidation, he broached the subject of his visit. She listened impatiently, her hard eyes narrowing and her thin lips compressing themselves into a straight line.“No!” she snapped coldly, as he ended. “Idon’t—an’ what’s more ... I wouldn’t think of asking—or expecting—any decent woman to go getting herself mixed up in such a scandalous business as this.”And she began to slowly thrust the door to. “Such shockin’ goin’s on in a decent, God-fearing neighborhood!” she shrilled. “Wicked hussies walkin’ the street, an’—an’ men being shot—an’ all, an’ all.... God help the town that has to depend on the likes of you policemen to keep such bad characters away!”The virulence with which she uttered this last somewhat unjust, remark, stung him sharply.“Aye, madam,” he echoed bitterly. “An’ God help all poor, unfortunate souls that are dependent upon the likes of you for Christian mercy, too!”But his words only greeted empty air, for the door was slammed violently to in his face.Feeling sick at heart, he wandered away, only meeting with more or less indifference at the other addresses that Carey had given him. By this time a strange nervousness, entirely foreign to his nature, began to assail him. Men he understood and could deal with. But women—ah, that was a very different matter.He was just on the point of abandoning his quest in despair when he beheld a woman coming out of a store opposite to where he stood. The light of a great relief immediately lit up his troubled eyes for, in the plain, homely, blue-serge uniform that she wore, with its red-barred bonnet, he recognized at a glance the all-familiar badge of the Salvation Army—that long-suffering and too frequently disparaged organization which, nevertheless, spreads its gospel of humility and help to the ends of the earth; whose followers, whilst always remaining nobly indifferent to the shafts of misguided ridicule leveled against them from time to time by members of many far less charitable sects, never shrink from entering the lowly dwellings of the poorest of the poor—aye—and the foulest dens of iniquity—in thepracticalfulfilment of their creed of genuine Christian mercy and succor.Ellis looked eagerly at the slight figure for a moment. Why not try her? he reflected. Surely she wouldn’t turn him down, like the rest? Didn’t the Salvationists always hold a service for the prisoners in the guardroom every Sunday morning? And didn’t they help out all the poor devils who were down and out when their sentences were expired—giving them shelter, food, and clothes, and finding them jobs? Yes, he would askher!He crossed over and, with a few quick strides, overtook the little woman, who stopped at his salutation and turned a worn, patient face to his, regarding him with astonishment meanwhile, out of a pair of kindly brown eyes.Why did he stammer and hesitate like that? she wondered. Surely he could not be afraid ofher? For the Sergeant’s voice and manner betrayed a curious timidity just then, that was strangely out of keeping with his bronzed, hard-bitten face and athletic figure. His recent experiences had rendered him decidedly nervous in approaching women. She listened to his request with passive interest, and nodded her acquiescence, gazing intently, all the time, at his bandaged head.“I’m afraid you must have got hurt bad,” she said sympathetically. “It was all in this morning’s paper, an’ everybody’s full of it. I came up on the early train to nurse a sick woman here. I remember seeing you once before, a long time ago, at the Barracks. I was in the Female Gaol, talking to Mrs. Stratford, the matron, an’ you came over from the guardroom.”“Would to God you’d been here last night!” he blurted out passionately.“Aye, would to God I had!” she echoed, with a wistful sadness. “Give me the key, then, Sergeant. I’ll go right on down there now.”Silently he handed it over, and tried to thank her, but somehow—the words would not come. He only looked at her, with a dumb gratitude showing in his tired eyes, swallowed a little, and turned quickly away.
CHAPTER XIIISo—peacefully, slept the un-shrouded dead,Beyond caring whether they stoned or kissed her;Till a Ministering Angel came instead,In the guise of a Salvation Army Sister.Poor “Skagway Kate”Brightly, ah, so brightly, the rays of the early morning sun flooded that sad room with their golden radiance, lighting up with a veritable halo of glory the still, peaceful face of one for whom the weary troubles and pain of this world had ceased.The door opened softly and Musgrave, standing in its aperture, surveyed a scene that awed and shook evenhiscynical nature to its very depths. For some minutes he remained with bowed head, perfectly motionless, a picture of silent sympathy then, tip-toeing noiselessly forward, he shook the still sleeping Benton gently, and a haggard, drawn face was slowly upturned to his.“Come, old man,” he said quietly. “Rouse yourself. You can do no more good here now.”And, stiff and cold, the Sergeant arose and followed him out like a child.Wearily he returned to the detachment and, with mechanical instinct, tidied up the place. Then, duly attending scrupulously to his personal toilet, he went down to the hotel, where he forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls of food and a cup of coffee. Later he repaired to the room of Musgrave’s patient and, after subjecting that unfortunate individual to a somewhat lengthy examination, he formally placed him under arrest. These duties despatched, he departed with a heavy heart to the station to await the incoming west-bound train, which was over an hour late.Gradually, under the influence of his surroundings and the fresh morning air, mind and body, from constant habit, returned, naturally, to their normal state of soldierly alertness. To all outward appearance he became once more the composed, practical guardian of the Law, resourceful and ready for any duty that claimed him. Presently he was joined by the station agent, who greeted him with a sort of miserable heartiness.“Well, Sergeant,” he began, “and how are we this morning? Some doings last night, eh? What about that ear of yours? You look as if you’d sure come through a rough house, with that bandage on. What’s the other feller look like?”Ellis did not answer for a moment, but a faint grin overspread his haggard face as he regarded the other’s tell-tale countenance attentively.“We!” he echoed, with quiet derision. “I’m afraidwedoesn’t feel very well this nice mornin’, Carey. Ear stings like the devil. As for the other fellow—you know whathelooks like, all right. You look as if you were just doin’ a ‘walk-march’ to yourownfuneral. You’d better keep a flask on your hip for emergencies, as you an’ me’ll be the star witnesses when this inquest comes off. I’m expectin’ the coroner an’ one of our inspectors on this train.”“Oh, I don’t think I’ll fall off the perch just yet,” said the agent, with a sheepish smile. “I’ve got the other key off Petersen,” he continued significantly. “One or two of the curious ones came nosing around, but I warned ’em off the course, quick. Hello! here she comes. Well, I’ll see you later, Sergeant.” And he hurried away about his duties.Inspector Purvis, a dark, heavy-set, middle-aged man, wearing the South African and Riel Rebellion campaign ribbons, acknowledged Benton’s salute punctiliously and, turning, introduced his companion.“This is Dr. Sampson, the coroner, Sergeant Benton,” he said.And Ellis shook hands with a tall, gray-mustached, pleasant-faced man, whom he knew very well by sight. The latter glanced sharply at the policeman’s bandaged head.“Looks as if you’d been in the wars, Sergeant,” he said. “What’s happened you?”Ellis drew them on one side and briefly related his story, to which they listened with lively interest.“Well, well,” said the Inspector at its conclusion. “We’ll wait till this train pulls out, and let these people get away, and then we’ll go on down to this section hut and view this body.”Ten minutes later they stood in front of the shed, and Ellis unlocked the door and flung it open. An angry buzz greeted them, as their presence disturbed a hideous swarm of blue-bottle flies. Sharp exclamations of loathing and disgust escaped the two newcomers who, after gazing for a few seconds at thethingthat had once been a man, proceeded to note all details carefully, with the callous precision of men hardened to such sights.Once the Inspector’s glance traveled curiously, from the shattered head of the corpse, to the stern, bandaged face of the man beside him, who had caused this terrible transformation.“Some shootin’!” he observed, in a low voice, to the coroner.It seemed to be rather a doubtful compliment, though, under the circumstances, so the latter only nodded nonchalantly, and refrained from comment himself.“There’s absolutely no doubt about this being Shapiro, the man that’s wanted, sir,” said Ellis. “I saw the other man, Wilks, who’s lying sick up at the hotel, this morning. He confirms this man’s identity, and admits everything. I’ll take you up to see him later.”Presently the coroner straightened himself up.“All right!” he said. “I guess I’m through here, if you are, Inspector. Let’s go and view the other body at the house the Sergeant speaks of.”They turned to go, and Ellis locked the door again.“Oh, Benton!” said the Inspector, in a low tone, beckoning him aside. “Just a minute.”With a slightly uncomfortable presentiment of what was coming, the former obeyed.There was a moment’s silence, while the Inspector eyed him keenly, but not unkindly.“I understand this isn’t the first man you’ve shot and killed in the execution of your duty, Sergeant, since you’ve been in this Division,” he said.Ellis bowed his head in assent.“Well, in that case,” continued the Inspector briskly, “your previous experience has no doubt enlightened you, then, in regard to the customary procedure in such cases. You are, of course, aware that the finding of a coroner’s jury, while it may acquit you of all blame in causing a person’s death, doesn’t necessarily preclude any subsequent inquiry that theCrownmay see fit to institute later, although it would naturally carry considerable weight with it in such an eventuality....”He paused for a moment, and then went on in the slightly sententious tones of one who knows he has an unpleasant duty to perform:“I’ve the O.C.’s orders to place you under ‘open’ arrest, and take you back to the Post with me. There will be a formal charge laid against you, and you will have to face an inquiry in regard to this man’s death. Of course, I shall remain here until these inquests, etc., are over. That is all, Sergeant. Now we’ll go on down to this other place.”With a strange, indefinable feeling of reluctance, he conducted them thither. Awed, and filled with compassion at what they beheld, they halted irresolutely, a moment, on the threshold, and bared their heads reverently in the presence of the dead. Then, entering the chamber, they made a brief examination which, to Benton, standing idly there in his dumb misery, seemed almost in the light of a sacrilege.A whispered colloquy ensued between them for a few minutes, and then they gently withdrew and closed the door, Ellis following them out to receive his instructions.“Inspector,” began the coroner, “I would have liked, if possible, to have had this double inquest held here; but there’s not enough room, I’m afraid. Could you—”Ellis, with ready tact, broke in quietly: “I think I can arrange that, all right, doctor. I know the man who rents this cottage next door. He’s the day operator at the station. His wife’s away just now, so he’s staying with Mr. Carey, the station agent. There wouldn’t be any difficulty about obtaining the use ofhispremises to hold the inquiry in, and I could have the other body removed down here, so as to utilize this place as the morgue.”“Ah, very well,” said the coroner, with evident relief; “that will be entirely satisfactory. There’s just one other thing I would like you to see to, Sergeant. Kindly get some woman to attend to the necessary arrangements in this last case—lay her out decently, and so on—you understand?”“And afterwards,” supplemented the Inspector, “of course give Dr. Sampson all the assistance you can in empanelling a jury. Why, hello, doctor!” he exclaimed, turning to Musgrave, who had just joined them. “Youseem to have been getting yourself mixed up in stirring events around here, according to what Sergeant Benton tells me. Whatever brings you so far away from home? I guess we’ll need your evidence at these inquests.”The three men chatted awhile, then presently, the coroner and the Inspector departed for the hotel, leaving Musgrave and Benton together.An indefinable constraint seemed to have fallen upon them, for the gloomy memory of the past night was still vivid in their minds and oppressed them greatly. The doctor was the first to break the silence.“By gum!” he said; “I’d clean forgotten about your ear, Ellis. My bag’s still here. Let’s dress it again for you. Come inside again for a bit.”With deft hands he soon performed the operation and Benton, studiously avoiding the elder man’s eyes, thanked him and, with a slightly overdone yawn, prepared to leave and carry out the orders that he had previously received. Throughout Musgrave had talked incessantly on irrelevant subjects. It seemed as if he were maundering with design, beating about the bush of some communication he feared to make, and just talking against time.“Well! have you seen that patient of mine up at the hotel yet?” he inquired.The Sergeant, with a curious, apprehensive glance at the closed bedroom door, beckoned the other outside. As if, almost, he feared that the dead might hear.“Yes,” he said. “Saw him when I went up for breakfast He’s the man, all right—Herbert Wilks—admits everything. Seemed glad to get it off his chest. Told me the whole business. Sounds just like a dime novel yarn. Well, truth’s stranger than fiction, so they say. Appears he’s been a dissipated young beggar, and he got fired from the Trust Company for inattention to his work. The very day he got let out he happened to pick up a paper in the manager’s private office, which turned out to be nothing more or less than the combination of the safe. Suppose the manager—or whoeverhadthe combination—was scared to commit it to memory alone. Well, being, as I said before, a dissipated young scamp, he’d somehow got mixed up with this Shapiro chap in one or two dirty deals—women, I guess—an’ what not. Of course, he was pretty sore about gettin’ the push—went on a bust that night, an’ while he was ‘lit’ told Shapiro all about this paper he’d found. You just bet Mister ‘Harry the Mack’ wasn’t goin’ to let a chance like that go by, an’ soon got Wilks goin’ ... telling him what a good opportunity it was to get back at them, an’ all that. Well, they fixed everything up for two nights after, and brought in Lipinski along with them. Shapiro’d got a set of burglar’s tools and soon effected an entrance. He an’ Wilks crawled in, leaving Lipinski as a ‘look-out.’ Wilks messed with the combination for a bit an’ tried to open her up, but couldn’t work it. Might have been an old one that’d been changed two or three times since the scale’d been written on this paper. Anyway, there seemed nothing doin’ an’ ‘Harry,’ being a yegg, got tired, an’ suggested blowin’ it. He went out to get the ‘soup’ ... from a pal of his who lived a short distance away, leaving Wilks still there. While he was waiting, our friend hadanothergo at it, an’ thistimemanaged, somehow, to turn the trick.“He cleaned up everything, ashethought, and beat it in a hurry, leaving the safe open. Told Lipinski he’d be back in a minute—an’ skinned out. ‘Honor among thieves’—what? Well, naturally, the first idea that came into his head was to go back to his home town—Hamilton—and swank around there for a bit with this money, thinking, of course, though, that suspicion might fall on him right away, bein’ fired two days before, and the safe, not blown, but opened by the combination, he was cute enough not to attempt to get aboard the East-boundthere. Mr. Man gets some crooked pal of his—a chauffeur—to drive him in his automobile as far as Garstang. He laid up there till the ten-fifteen came along next morning. Then he got a bloomin’ fright. He was sitting in the first-class coach, all tickled up the back at makin’ his get-away so easy when, who should come an’ plank himself down on the seat alongside him but Mister ‘Harry the Mack.’ This chauffeur pal of his had double-crossed him after he’d driven back—told Shapiro everything who, you bet, wasn’t goin’ to get left like that.“All this is, of course, what Harry told him. He’d managed to get on the train all right, without bein’ spotted—taking—” He lowered his voice, and indicated the drawn blinds with a significant gesture—“with him. Partly to divert suspicion, I suppose ... look like respectable couple—man an’ wife. Well, naturally, Harry talked pretty ugly ... what he’d do to him, an’ all that, if he didn’t whack up; but Wilks wouldn’t ’come across’—kept bluffin’ that he’d divvy up later on, an’ so on—knowing that he was safe enough as long as he was amongst a crowd of people. Of course Harry never breathed a word about shootin’ the night-watchman. The first intimation Wilks had aboutthatwas in a paper at the hotel, here. It appears about ten minutes after he’d vamoosed with the money Harry came back with the ‘soup,’ to do the blowin’ act. Lipinski told him that Wilks would be back in a few minutes, so they waited a bit. As he showed no signs of returning, they decided to go ahead without him—Lipinski goin’ in with Harry this time, to give him a hand. It didn’t take ’em long to see what’d happened, you bet. Everything all strewn around and turned upside down. They found a hundred an’ fifty in a small drawer I guess he’d overlooked in his hurry an’, according to Lipinski’s statement, they’d just split this up when the poor, bloomin’ watchman happened along an’ Shapiro fixed him. Then they bolted an’ the patrolman on the beat shot at them an’ one skinned one way an’ one the other. Lipinski didn’t see Harry again after that—beat it on his own to Seattle later, an’ got nailed.“Well, it seems they kept up this chewin’ the rag an’ watching each other till the train got down as far as here. It was gettin’ dark, then. Harry’d got a bottle of whiskey in his grip when he’d come on the train. He started in to get primed up on this, an’ Wilks got scared, for Harry began to raise his voice an’ look at him pretty nasty, with his hand in his hip-pocket. They managed to kick up such a row between ’em that the con’ came along—gave ’em a callin’ down an’ threatened to chuck ’em off the train if they didn’t shut up. Harry started to give the con’ a whole lot of lip, an’ while these two were squabblin’ together, Mister Wilks slipped off—here—just as the train was on the move.“Of course Harry, as soon as he missed him, promptly got off at the next stop—Glenmore—fifteen miles east of here—an’ caught the West-bound back again in the morning. Went straight to the hotel an’ soon located his man. Didn’t speak to him, though. Didn’t register at the place, either—but that may have been because of the expense—hadn’t any too much ‘dough’ left, an’ p’r’aps figured he’d most likely have a long wait. He rented this furnished cottage instead, for a few days. It belongs to a chap named George Ricks, over at Beaver Dam. He comes into town an’ lives in it himself all the winter, but leaves it in charge of some chap here to rent to anybody who comes along during the summer. I guess Harry felt pretty safe, knowing that Wilks wasn’t exactly in the position to give him away. There’s absolutely no doubt what his intention was—”The Sergeant paused a moment and eyed his listener grimly. The latter, with an equally grim comprehensive gesture, nodded silently.“Well,” he went on, “here they camped, watchin’ each other’s every little movement. Shapiro never got much of a show to do anything, though, for Wilks took darned good care to keep inside the hotel most of the time. He admits he was scared to death, especially after reading about Harry shootin’ the watchman. Just dawdled around—couldn’t make up his mindwhatto do, knowing that he couldn’t shake Harry asecondtime. He was feeling pretty sick, too.... I guess this thing’s been comin’ on him some time, hasn’t it, Charley?”The doctor, nodding again, replied: “Yes, about a month, most probably.”“An’ that’s how the case stands,” concluded Ellis wearily. “If you hadn’t gone into his room that time when you did, Harry’d most likely put the kibosh on him right there. Choked him, p’r’aps. I got the money off him, O. K. About a hundred short—what he’d paid for his ticket through to Hamilton, a bribe to that chauffeur, Kelly, his hotel bill here, an’ odds an’ ends. The New Axminster men’ll get their hooks on that chauffeur quick, I’ll bet, when the O.C. forwards them my crime report. Don’t know whether they’ll be able to make a charge stick or not—may do. I turned the money into the bank for safe keeping. Inspector Purvis’ll take it down with him when we go back to the Post.”There was a long pause. “Well, what’ll happen to this fellow now?” inquired Musgrave.“Guess Churchill’ll have to keep an eye on him,” said Ellis indifferently. “Take him in to the Post soon as he’s able to travel. He’ll be held there till a New Axminster man comes for him. Feel sorry, in a way, for the poor sick devil, but that’s all that can be done withhim, now. Well, I must be getting—lots o’ work to do. See you later, Charley.”The elder man laid a detaining hand on the Sergeant’s shoulder, and his voice shook ever so little as he said slowly:“Wait a bit. There’s something I want to tell you before you go.” He swallowed and hesitated slightly in his agitation. “It’s about that—that—that poor girl,” he continued, in strained, unnatural tones. “Ellis, old man, you don’t know how sorry I am that I sneered at you last night.... About being a moral reformer, and all that.... I hardly meant it at the time. And I’ve been feeling pretty bad since—since—”His voice broke, and he left the sentence unfinished. This was a great concession from Musgrave, and his hearer thought so, as he grasped the other’s arm with a sympathetic pressure.“Charley,” he said gently, “Charley.... Don’t think of that again.... See here; look! I don’t take you in earnest, every time. You’re the best friend I’ve got ... an’ the very first man I’d think of comin’ to, if I was in trouble. Maybe you don’t know it, but I tell you that same sarcastic tongue o’ yours has cured me of lots o’ dam’-fool notions—time an’ again.”They remained silent awhile, after this, then Musgrave went on, in a stronger voice:“This is what I wanted to say. Seems very apparent, they—this—unfortunate couple, have little or no money—”The Sergeant nodded, and cleared his throat. “Very little,” he said. “Man’s got a few dollars left—seven-fifty, or something like that.”“Well, now; look!” said the doctor. “These two will have a decent burial in the cemetery here, at my expense. It’s my wish.” And, as Ellis raised a protesting hand, “No, no, my boy—let be!You’renot immaculate, God knows, but, by the Lord Harry! you’re a better man than I am, and I respect you for many things.... ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’... It’s thirty years since I heard that text; I forgot it the same day, and never thought of it again till now. There may be truth in it. I say, for the peace of my soul, let me do this thing; and little though it is—may the Recording Angel—if there is one—remember it as something in my favor when my time comes.”Ellis never forgot those words, nor the weary, bitter, hopeless look that accompanied them; and, long years afterwards, their remembrance rushed back to his mind with vivid distinctness, as he held poor Musgrave’s dying head.Drearily he wended his way up the main street, his mind preoccupied with the problem of fulfilling the coroner’s final request. He knew comparatively few of the male—let alone, the female, community, of the little town and, somehow, he instinctively shrank at the thought of having to approach strange women anent such a delicate duty. In his perplexity he went to Carey, and besought the latter’s advice.The agent mused a space. “Let’s see,” he said. “There’s Mrs. Steele—she’s head of the Women’s Church Guild here, and there’s Mrs. Parsons, and Mrs. Macleod. You go and see them. They ought to be able to help you out. I’ll tell you where they live.”With a vague feeling of uneasiness, Ellis departed, and presently found himself at Mrs. Steele’s abode. A gray-haired, elderly woman, with a high-featured, severe face, answered his summons and, with some trepidation, he broached the subject of his visit. She listened impatiently, her hard eyes narrowing and her thin lips compressing themselves into a straight line.“No!” she snapped coldly, as he ended. “Idon’t—an’ what’s more ... I wouldn’t think of asking—or expecting—any decent woman to go getting herself mixed up in such a scandalous business as this.”And she began to slowly thrust the door to. “Such shockin’ goin’s on in a decent, God-fearing neighborhood!” she shrilled. “Wicked hussies walkin’ the street, an’—an’ men being shot—an’ all, an’ all.... God help the town that has to depend on the likes of you policemen to keep such bad characters away!”The virulence with which she uttered this last somewhat unjust, remark, stung him sharply.“Aye, madam,” he echoed bitterly. “An’ God help all poor, unfortunate souls that are dependent upon the likes of you for Christian mercy, too!”But his words only greeted empty air, for the door was slammed violently to in his face.Feeling sick at heart, he wandered away, only meeting with more or less indifference at the other addresses that Carey had given him. By this time a strange nervousness, entirely foreign to his nature, began to assail him. Men he understood and could deal with. But women—ah, that was a very different matter.He was just on the point of abandoning his quest in despair when he beheld a woman coming out of a store opposite to where he stood. The light of a great relief immediately lit up his troubled eyes for, in the plain, homely, blue-serge uniform that she wore, with its red-barred bonnet, he recognized at a glance the all-familiar badge of the Salvation Army—that long-suffering and too frequently disparaged organization which, nevertheless, spreads its gospel of humility and help to the ends of the earth; whose followers, whilst always remaining nobly indifferent to the shafts of misguided ridicule leveled against them from time to time by members of many far less charitable sects, never shrink from entering the lowly dwellings of the poorest of the poor—aye—and the foulest dens of iniquity—in thepracticalfulfilment of their creed of genuine Christian mercy and succor.Ellis looked eagerly at the slight figure for a moment. Why not try her? he reflected. Surely she wouldn’t turn him down, like the rest? Didn’t the Salvationists always hold a service for the prisoners in the guardroom every Sunday morning? And didn’t they help out all the poor devils who were down and out when their sentences were expired—giving them shelter, food, and clothes, and finding them jobs? Yes, he would askher!He crossed over and, with a few quick strides, overtook the little woman, who stopped at his salutation and turned a worn, patient face to his, regarding him with astonishment meanwhile, out of a pair of kindly brown eyes.Why did he stammer and hesitate like that? she wondered. Surely he could not be afraid ofher? For the Sergeant’s voice and manner betrayed a curious timidity just then, that was strangely out of keeping with his bronzed, hard-bitten face and athletic figure. His recent experiences had rendered him decidedly nervous in approaching women. She listened to his request with passive interest, and nodded her acquiescence, gazing intently, all the time, at his bandaged head.“I’m afraid you must have got hurt bad,” she said sympathetically. “It was all in this morning’s paper, an’ everybody’s full of it. I came up on the early train to nurse a sick woman here. I remember seeing you once before, a long time ago, at the Barracks. I was in the Female Gaol, talking to Mrs. Stratford, the matron, an’ you came over from the guardroom.”“Would to God you’d been here last night!” he blurted out passionately.“Aye, would to God I had!” she echoed, with a wistful sadness. “Give me the key, then, Sergeant. I’ll go right on down there now.”Silently he handed it over, and tried to thank her, but somehow—the words would not come. He only looked at her, with a dumb gratitude showing in his tired eyes, swallowed a little, and turned quickly away.
So—peacefully, slept the un-shrouded dead,Beyond caring whether they stoned or kissed her;Till a Ministering Angel came instead,In the guise of a Salvation Army Sister.Poor “Skagway Kate”
So—peacefully, slept the un-shrouded dead,Beyond caring whether they stoned or kissed her;Till a Ministering Angel came instead,In the guise of a Salvation Army Sister.Poor “Skagway Kate”
So—peacefully, slept the un-shrouded dead,
Beyond caring whether they stoned or kissed her;
Beyond caring whether they stoned or kissed her;
Till a Ministering Angel came instead,
In the guise of a Salvation Army Sister.
In the guise of a Salvation Army Sister.
Poor “Skagway Kate”
Brightly, ah, so brightly, the rays of the early morning sun flooded that sad room with their golden radiance, lighting up with a veritable halo of glory the still, peaceful face of one for whom the weary troubles and pain of this world had ceased.
The door opened softly and Musgrave, standing in its aperture, surveyed a scene that awed and shook evenhiscynical nature to its very depths. For some minutes he remained with bowed head, perfectly motionless, a picture of silent sympathy then, tip-toeing noiselessly forward, he shook the still sleeping Benton gently, and a haggard, drawn face was slowly upturned to his.
“Come, old man,” he said quietly. “Rouse yourself. You can do no more good here now.”
And, stiff and cold, the Sergeant arose and followed him out like a child.
Wearily he returned to the detachment and, with mechanical instinct, tidied up the place. Then, duly attending scrupulously to his personal toilet, he went down to the hotel, where he forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls of food and a cup of coffee. Later he repaired to the room of Musgrave’s patient and, after subjecting that unfortunate individual to a somewhat lengthy examination, he formally placed him under arrest. These duties despatched, he departed with a heavy heart to the station to await the incoming west-bound train, which was over an hour late.
Gradually, under the influence of his surroundings and the fresh morning air, mind and body, from constant habit, returned, naturally, to their normal state of soldierly alertness. To all outward appearance he became once more the composed, practical guardian of the Law, resourceful and ready for any duty that claimed him. Presently he was joined by the station agent, who greeted him with a sort of miserable heartiness.
“Well, Sergeant,” he began, “and how are we this morning? Some doings last night, eh? What about that ear of yours? You look as if you’d sure come through a rough house, with that bandage on. What’s the other feller look like?”
Ellis did not answer for a moment, but a faint grin overspread his haggard face as he regarded the other’s tell-tale countenance attentively.
“We!” he echoed, with quiet derision. “I’m afraidwedoesn’t feel very well this nice mornin’, Carey. Ear stings like the devil. As for the other fellow—you know whathelooks like, all right. You look as if you were just doin’ a ‘walk-march’ to yourownfuneral. You’d better keep a flask on your hip for emergencies, as you an’ me’ll be the star witnesses when this inquest comes off. I’m expectin’ the coroner an’ one of our inspectors on this train.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll fall off the perch just yet,” said the agent, with a sheepish smile. “I’ve got the other key off Petersen,” he continued significantly. “One or two of the curious ones came nosing around, but I warned ’em off the course, quick. Hello! here she comes. Well, I’ll see you later, Sergeant.” And he hurried away about his duties.
Inspector Purvis, a dark, heavy-set, middle-aged man, wearing the South African and Riel Rebellion campaign ribbons, acknowledged Benton’s salute punctiliously and, turning, introduced his companion.
“This is Dr. Sampson, the coroner, Sergeant Benton,” he said.
And Ellis shook hands with a tall, gray-mustached, pleasant-faced man, whom he knew very well by sight. The latter glanced sharply at the policeman’s bandaged head.
“Looks as if you’d been in the wars, Sergeant,” he said. “What’s happened you?”
Ellis drew them on one side and briefly related his story, to which they listened with lively interest.
“Well, well,” said the Inspector at its conclusion. “We’ll wait till this train pulls out, and let these people get away, and then we’ll go on down to this section hut and view this body.”
Ten minutes later they stood in front of the shed, and Ellis unlocked the door and flung it open. An angry buzz greeted them, as their presence disturbed a hideous swarm of blue-bottle flies. Sharp exclamations of loathing and disgust escaped the two newcomers who, after gazing for a few seconds at thethingthat had once been a man, proceeded to note all details carefully, with the callous precision of men hardened to such sights.
Once the Inspector’s glance traveled curiously, from the shattered head of the corpse, to the stern, bandaged face of the man beside him, who had caused this terrible transformation.
“Some shootin’!” he observed, in a low voice, to the coroner.
It seemed to be rather a doubtful compliment, though, under the circumstances, so the latter only nodded nonchalantly, and refrained from comment himself.
“There’s absolutely no doubt about this being Shapiro, the man that’s wanted, sir,” said Ellis. “I saw the other man, Wilks, who’s lying sick up at the hotel, this morning. He confirms this man’s identity, and admits everything. I’ll take you up to see him later.”
Presently the coroner straightened himself up.
“All right!” he said. “I guess I’m through here, if you are, Inspector. Let’s go and view the other body at the house the Sergeant speaks of.”
They turned to go, and Ellis locked the door again.
“Oh, Benton!” said the Inspector, in a low tone, beckoning him aside. “Just a minute.”
With a slightly uncomfortable presentiment of what was coming, the former obeyed.
There was a moment’s silence, while the Inspector eyed him keenly, but not unkindly.
“I understand this isn’t the first man you’ve shot and killed in the execution of your duty, Sergeant, since you’ve been in this Division,” he said.
Ellis bowed his head in assent.
“Well, in that case,” continued the Inspector briskly, “your previous experience has no doubt enlightened you, then, in regard to the customary procedure in such cases. You are, of course, aware that the finding of a coroner’s jury, while it may acquit you of all blame in causing a person’s death, doesn’t necessarily preclude any subsequent inquiry that theCrownmay see fit to institute later, although it would naturally carry considerable weight with it in such an eventuality....”
He paused for a moment, and then went on in the slightly sententious tones of one who knows he has an unpleasant duty to perform:
“I’ve the O.C.’s orders to place you under ‘open’ arrest, and take you back to the Post with me. There will be a formal charge laid against you, and you will have to face an inquiry in regard to this man’s death. Of course, I shall remain here until these inquests, etc., are over. That is all, Sergeant. Now we’ll go on down to this other place.”
With a strange, indefinable feeling of reluctance, he conducted them thither. Awed, and filled with compassion at what they beheld, they halted irresolutely, a moment, on the threshold, and bared their heads reverently in the presence of the dead. Then, entering the chamber, they made a brief examination which, to Benton, standing idly there in his dumb misery, seemed almost in the light of a sacrilege.
A whispered colloquy ensued between them for a few minutes, and then they gently withdrew and closed the door, Ellis following them out to receive his instructions.
“Inspector,” began the coroner, “I would have liked, if possible, to have had this double inquest held here; but there’s not enough room, I’m afraid. Could you—”
Ellis, with ready tact, broke in quietly: “I think I can arrange that, all right, doctor. I know the man who rents this cottage next door. He’s the day operator at the station. His wife’s away just now, so he’s staying with Mr. Carey, the station agent. There wouldn’t be any difficulty about obtaining the use ofhispremises to hold the inquiry in, and I could have the other body removed down here, so as to utilize this place as the morgue.”
“Ah, very well,” said the coroner, with evident relief; “that will be entirely satisfactory. There’s just one other thing I would like you to see to, Sergeant. Kindly get some woman to attend to the necessary arrangements in this last case—lay her out decently, and so on—you understand?”
“And afterwards,” supplemented the Inspector, “of course give Dr. Sampson all the assistance you can in empanelling a jury. Why, hello, doctor!” he exclaimed, turning to Musgrave, who had just joined them. “Youseem to have been getting yourself mixed up in stirring events around here, according to what Sergeant Benton tells me. Whatever brings you so far away from home? I guess we’ll need your evidence at these inquests.”
The three men chatted awhile, then presently, the coroner and the Inspector departed for the hotel, leaving Musgrave and Benton together.
An indefinable constraint seemed to have fallen upon them, for the gloomy memory of the past night was still vivid in their minds and oppressed them greatly. The doctor was the first to break the silence.
“By gum!” he said; “I’d clean forgotten about your ear, Ellis. My bag’s still here. Let’s dress it again for you. Come inside again for a bit.”
With deft hands he soon performed the operation and Benton, studiously avoiding the elder man’s eyes, thanked him and, with a slightly overdone yawn, prepared to leave and carry out the orders that he had previously received. Throughout Musgrave had talked incessantly on irrelevant subjects. It seemed as if he were maundering with design, beating about the bush of some communication he feared to make, and just talking against time.
“Well! have you seen that patient of mine up at the hotel yet?” he inquired.
The Sergeant, with a curious, apprehensive glance at the closed bedroom door, beckoned the other outside. As if, almost, he feared that the dead might hear.
“Yes,” he said. “Saw him when I went up for breakfast He’s the man, all right—Herbert Wilks—admits everything. Seemed glad to get it off his chest. Told me the whole business. Sounds just like a dime novel yarn. Well, truth’s stranger than fiction, so they say. Appears he’s been a dissipated young beggar, and he got fired from the Trust Company for inattention to his work. The very day he got let out he happened to pick up a paper in the manager’s private office, which turned out to be nothing more or less than the combination of the safe. Suppose the manager—or whoeverhadthe combination—was scared to commit it to memory alone. Well, being, as I said before, a dissipated young scamp, he’d somehow got mixed up with this Shapiro chap in one or two dirty deals—women, I guess—an’ what not. Of course, he was pretty sore about gettin’ the push—went on a bust that night, an’ while he was ‘lit’ told Shapiro all about this paper he’d found. You just bet Mister ‘Harry the Mack’ wasn’t goin’ to let a chance like that go by, an’ soon got Wilks goin’ ... telling him what a good opportunity it was to get back at them, an’ all that. Well, they fixed everything up for two nights after, and brought in Lipinski along with them. Shapiro’d got a set of burglar’s tools and soon effected an entrance. He an’ Wilks crawled in, leaving Lipinski as a ‘look-out.’ Wilks messed with the combination for a bit an’ tried to open her up, but couldn’t work it. Might have been an old one that’d been changed two or three times since the scale’d been written on this paper. Anyway, there seemed nothing doin’ an’ ‘Harry,’ being a yegg, got tired, an’ suggested blowin’ it. He went out to get the ‘soup’ ... from a pal of his who lived a short distance away, leaving Wilks still there. While he was waiting, our friend hadanothergo at it, an’ thistimemanaged, somehow, to turn the trick.
“He cleaned up everything, ashethought, and beat it in a hurry, leaving the safe open. Told Lipinski he’d be back in a minute—an’ skinned out. ‘Honor among thieves’—what? Well, naturally, the first idea that came into his head was to go back to his home town—Hamilton—and swank around there for a bit with this money, thinking, of course, though, that suspicion might fall on him right away, bein’ fired two days before, and the safe, not blown, but opened by the combination, he was cute enough not to attempt to get aboard the East-boundthere. Mr. Man gets some crooked pal of his—a chauffeur—to drive him in his automobile as far as Garstang. He laid up there till the ten-fifteen came along next morning. Then he got a bloomin’ fright. He was sitting in the first-class coach, all tickled up the back at makin’ his get-away so easy when, who should come an’ plank himself down on the seat alongside him but Mister ‘Harry the Mack.’ This chauffeur pal of his had double-crossed him after he’d driven back—told Shapiro everything who, you bet, wasn’t goin’ to get left like that.
“All this is, of course, what Harry told him. He’d managed to get on the train all right, without bein’ spotted—taking—” He lowered his voice, and indicated the drawn blinds with a significant gesture—“with him. Partly to divert suspicion, I suppose ... look like respectable couple—man an’ wife. Well, naturally, Harry talked pretty ugly ... what he’d do to him, an’ all that, if he didn’t whack up; but Wilks wouldn’t ’come across’—kept bluffin’ that he’d divvy up later on, an’ so on—knowing that he was safe enough as long as he was amongst a crowd of people. Of course Harry never breathed a word about shootin’ the night-watchman. The first intimation Wilks had aboutthatwas in a paper at the hotel, here. It appears about ten minutes after he’d vamoosed with the money Harry came back with the ‘soup,’ to do the blowin’ act. Lipinski told him that Wilks would be back in a few minutes, so they waited a bit. As he showed no signs of returning, they decided to go ahead without him—Lipinski goin’ in with Harry this time, to give him a hand. It didn’t take ’em long to see what’d happened, you bet. Everything all strewn around and turned upside down. They found a hundred an’ fifty in a small drawer I guess he’d overlooked in his hurry an’, according to Lipinski’s statement, they’d just split this up when the poor, bloomin’ watchman happened along an’ Shapiro fixed him. Then they bolted an’ the patrolman on the beat shot at them an’ one skinned one way an’ one the other. Lipinski didn’t see Harry again after that—beat it on his own to Seattle later, an’ got nailed.
“Well, it seems they kept up this chewin’ the rag an’ watching each other till the train got down as far as here. It was gettin’ dark, then. Harry’d got a bottle of whiskey in his grip when he’d come on the train. He started in to get primed up on this, an’ Wilks got scared, for Harry began to raise his voice an’ look at him pretty nasty, with his hand in his hip-pocket. They managed to kick up such a row between ’em that the con’ came along—gave ’em a callin’ down an’ threatened to chuck ’em off the train if they didn’t shut up. Harry started to give the con’ a whole lot of lip, an’ while these two were squabblin’ together, Mister Wilks slipped off—here—just as the train was on the move.
“Of course Harry, as soon as he missed him, promptly got off at the next stop—Glenmore—fifteen miles east of here—an’ caught the West-bound back again in the morning. Went straight to the hotel an’ soon located his man. Didn’t speak to him, though. Didn’t register at the place, either—but that may have been because of the expense—hadn’t any too much ‘dough’ left, an’ p’r’aps figured he’d most likely have a long wait. He rented this furnished cottage instead, for a few days. It belongs to a chap named George Ricks, over at Beaver Dam. He comes into town an’ lives in it himself all the winter, but leaves it in charge of some chap here to rent to anybody who comes along during the summer. I guess Harry felt pretty safe, knowing that Wilks wasn’t exactly in the position to give him away. There’s absolutely no doubt what his intention was—”
The Sergeant paused a moment and eyed his listener grimly. The latter, with an equally grim comprehensive gesture, nodded silently.
“Well,” he went on, “here they camped, watchin’ each other’s every little movement. Shapiro never got much of a show to do anything, though, for Wilks took darned good care to keep inside the hotel most of the time. He admits he was scared to death, especially after reading about Harry shootin’ the watchman. Just dawdled around—couldn’t make up his mindwhatto do, knowing that he couldn’t shake Harry asecondtime. He was feeling pretty sick, too.... I guess this thing’s been comin’ on him some time, hasn’t it, Charley?”
The doctor, nodding again, replied: “Yes, about a month, most probably.”
“An’ that’s how the case stands,” concluded Ellis wearily. “If you hadn’t gone into his room that time when you did, Harry’d most likely put the kibosh on him right there. Choked him, p’r’aps. I got the money off him, O. K. About a hundred short—what he’d paid for his ticket through to Hamilton, a bribe to that chauffeur, Kelly, his hotel bill here, an’ odds an’ ends. The New Axminster men’ll get their hooks on that chauffeur quick, I’ll bet, when the O.C. forwards them my crime report. Don’t know whether they’ll be able to make a charge stick or not—may do. I turned the money into the bank for safe keeping. Inspector Purvis’ll take it down with him when we go back to the Post.”
There was a long pause. “Well, what’ll happen to this fellow now?” inquired Musgrave.
“Guess Churchill’ll have to keep an eye on him,” said Ellis indifferently. “Take him in to the Post soon as he’s able to travel. He’ll be held there till a New Axminster man comes for him. Feel sorry, in a way, for the poor sick devil, but that’s all that can be done withhim, now. Well, I must be getting—lots o’ work to do. See you later, Charley.”
The elder man laid a detaining hand on the Sergeant’s shoulder, and his voice shook ever so little as he said slowly:
“Wait a bit. There’s something I want to tell you before you go.” He swallowed and hesitated slightly in his agitation. “It’s about that—that—that poor girl,” he continued, in strained, unnatural tones. “Ellis, old man, you don’t know how sorry I am that I sneered at you last night.... About being a moral reformer, and all that.... I hardly meant it at the time. And I’ve been feeling pretty bad since—since—”
His voice broke, and he left the sentence unfinished. This was a great concession from Musgrave, and his hearer thought so, as he grasped the other’s arm with a sympathetic pressure.
“Charley,” he said gently, “Charley.... Don’t think of that again.... See here; look! I don’t take you in earnest, every time. You’re the best friend I’ve got ... an’ the very first man I’d think of comin’ to, if I was in trouble. Maybe you don’t know it, but I tell you that same sarcastic tongue o’ yours has cured me of lots o’ dam’-fool notions—time an’ again.”
They remained silent awhile, after this, then Musgrave went on, in a stronger voice:
“This is what I wanted to say. Seems very apparent, they—this—unfortunate couple, have little or no money—”
The Sergeant nodded, and cleared his throat. “Very little,” he said. “Man’s got a few dollars left—seven-fifty, or something like that.”
“Well, now; look!” said the doctor. “These two will have a decent burial in the cemetery here, at my expense. It’s my wish.” And, as Ellis raised a protesting hand, “No, no, my boy—let be!You’renot immaculate, God knows, but, by the Lord Harry! you’re a better man than I am, and I respect you for many things.... ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’... It’s thirty years since I heard that text; I forgot it the same day, and never thought of it again till now. There may be truth in it. I say, for the peace of my soul, let me do this thing; and little though it is—may the Recording Angel—if there is one—remember it as something in my favor when my time comes.”
Ellis never forgot those words, nor the weary, bitter, hopeless look that accompanied them; and, long years afterwards, their remembrance rushed back to his mind with vivid distinctness, as he held poor Musgrave’s dying head.
Drearily he wended his way up the main street, his mind preoccupied with the problem of fulfilling the coroner’s final request. He knew comparatively few of the male—let alone, the female, community, of the little town and, somehow, he instinctively shrank at the thought of having to approach strange women anent such a delicate duty. In his perplexity he went to Carey, and besought the latter’s advice.
The agent mused a space. “Let’s see,” he said. “There’s Mrs. Steele—she’s head of the Women’s Church Guild here, and there’s Mrs. Parsons, and Mrs. Macleod. You go and see them. They ought to be able to help you out. I’ll tell you where they live.”
With a vague feeling of uneasiness, Ellis departed, and presently found himself at Mrs. Steele’s abode. A gray-haired, elderly woman, with a high-featured, severe face, answered his summons and, with some trepidation, he broached the subject of his visit. She listened impatiently, her hard eyes narrowing and her thin lips compressing themselves into a straight line.
“No!” she snapped coldly, as he ended. “Idon’t—an’ what’s more ... I wouldn’t think of asking—or expecting—any decent woman to go getting herself mixed up in such a scandalous business as this.”
And she began to slowly thrust the door to. “Such shockin’ goin’s on in a decent, God-fearing neighborhood!” she shrilled. “Wicked hussies walkin’ the street, an’—an’ men being shot—an’ all, an’ all.... God help the town that has to depend on the likes of you policemen to keep such bad characters away!”
The virulence with which she uttered this last somewhat unjust, remark, stung him sharply.
“Aye, madam,” he echoed bitterly. “An’ God help all poor, unfortunate souls that are dependent upon the likes of you for Christian mercy, too!”
But his words only greeted empty air, for the door was slammed violently to in his face.
Feeling sick at heart, he wandered away, only meeting with more or less indifference at the other addresses that Carey had given him. By this time a strange nervousness, entirely foreign to his nature, began to assail him. Men he understood and could deal with. But women—ah, that was a very different matter.
He was just on the point of abandoning his quest in despair when he beheld a woman coming out of a store opposite to where he stood. The light of a great relief immediately lit up his troubled eyes for, in the plain, homely, blue-serge uniform that she wore, with its red-barred bonnet, he recognized at a glance the all-familiar badge of the Salvation Army—that long-suffering and too frequently disparaged organization which, nevertheless, spreads its gospel of humility and help to the ends of the earth; whose followers, whilst always remaining nobly indifferent to the shafts of misguided ridicule leveled against them from time to time by members of many far less charitable sects, never shrink from entering the lowly dwellings of the poorest of the poor—aye—and the foulest dens of iniquity—in thepracticalfulfilment of their creed of genuine Christian mercy and succor.
Ellis looked eagerly at the slight figure for a moment. Why not try her? he reflected. Surely she wouldn’t turn him down, like the rest? Didn’t the Salvationists always hold a service for the prisoners in the guardroom every Sunday morning? And didn’t they help out all the poor devils who were down and out when their sentences were expired—giving them shelter, food, and clothes, and finding them jobs? Yes, he would askher!
He crossed over and, with a few quick strides, overtook the little woman, who stopped at his salutation and turned a worn, patient face to his, regarding him with astonishment meanwhile, out of a pair of kindly brown eyes.
Why did he stammer and hesitate like that? she wondered. Surely he could not be afraid ofher? For the Sergeant’s voice and manner betrayed a curious timidity just then, that was strangely out of keeping with his bronzed, hard-bitten face and athletic figure. His recent experiences had rendered him decidedly nervous in approaching women. She listened to his request with passive interest, and nodded her acquiescence, gazing intently, all the time, at his bandaged head.
“I’m afraid you must have got hurt bad,” she said sympathetically. “It was all in this morning’s paper, an’ everybody’s full of it. I came up on the early train to nurse a sick woman here. I remember seeing you once before, a long time ago, at the Barracks. I was in the Female Gaol, talking to Mrs. Stratford, the matron, an’ you came over from the guardroom.”
“Would to God you’d been here last night!” he blurted out passionately.
“Aye, would to God I had!” she echoed, with a wistful sadness. “Give me the key, then, Sergeant. I’ll go right on down there now.”
Silently he handed it over, and tried to thank her, but somehow—the words would not come. He only looked at her, with a dumb gratitude showing in his tired eyes, swallowed a little, and turned quickly away.