CHAPTER SIX
THE event that had driven Caruth to seek Bristow’s aid was the appearance of a man who called himself Tom Wilkins and claimed to be a brother of the deceased valet.
Tom Wilkins was a tall, well built, red-faced individual with a projecting chin and small, sharp eyes. He bore a general resemblance to his brother James, but his eyes had a fiery gleam that Caruth had never noticed in those of his late valet. Perhaps the difference came by nature and perhaps by training; or perhaps there was no difference, the valet having merely hidden his soul behind discreetly down-dropped lids. Since he had played the trick that had led to his death, Caruth had been very uncertain as to his real character.
But he was in little doubt concerning that of Tom Wilkins. The man, he decided almost at first glance, was distinctly dangerous. Years of life in the West had rubbed away any smugness that might have characterized him in early life, and had made him bold and aggressive. The quickly arising necessities of the frontier had developed him, implanting or improving the power of quick decision and action, until it was almost automatic. Caruth had neverknown a Western “bad man,” but he felt instinctively that Tom Wilkins would fall into that category.
On his first visit to the Chimneystack Building Wilkins had said little to Caruth, but that little had been calculated to disturb the younger man, and to show him how thin was the ice over which he was skating.
“There ain’t been no special affectation lost between me and Jim,” he declared. “I ain’t laid eyes on him for years. Jim stayed here in the effete East and played the human doormat; I went West and played pretty nearly everything and everybody in reach. Once in so often I’d hear of a chance in stocks or horses or something that Jim could use, and I’d put him wise about it. Now and then Jim would learn of something that I could use, and he’d put me wise. Jim cat-footed through life, and I bulled through it. We played into each other’s hands reasonable well.”
“Yes?”
“Yes! I got sort of tired last month, an’ made up my mind to emigrate. I had a bunch of sheep over on the Gunnison that I’d been herdin’, and I was yearning for the company of something that wouldn’t say baa whenever you addressed ’em. Playing collie to a bunch of muttons ain’t what it used to was when shepherds carried crooks and wore loose effects, and I found it mighty monumentous and unsatiated, so I shakes the job and lines out for Denver, and there I finds a letter from Jim telling me to come to New York P. D. Q. So I comes,and gets here to find he got croaked just about the time his essay was postmarked. How about it?”
As gently as he could, Caruth repeated the gist of his tale concerning the theft of the money and the murder. It was a somewhat delicate matter to tell this violent-looking individual that his brother was a thief, and Caruth stumbled more or less over the details.
Wilkins, however, did not seem worried. “I never thought Jim would go into the hold-up business,” he commented, “especially for a measly one thousand eight hundred dollars. Maybe you don’t know it, but Jim was gettin’ tolerable plethoric. He was mighty saving and propinquous, Jim was; and he had some property out West—maybe ten thousand dollars’ worth. I’m his heir, and as I ain’t been in no ways intimidated with him, of course I ain’t inconsolable about his decease, nor I ain’t pretendin’ to be. But this hold-up story don’t explain none about that letter from Bill that he sent me.”
Caruth’s heart stopped for an instant; then raced madly. “What letter?” he questioned, as calmly as he could.
“This one.” Wilkins drew a paper from his pocket. “Jim enclosed it with a note of his own. He says: ‘Come at once. Millions in sight, but mighty dangerous. Bill’s letter explains.’ Bill’s letter is monumentous—mighty monumentous; but it ain’t to say illuminatin’. Maybe Jim forgot tosend the key. I ’spose you don’t know anything about it?”
Caruth thought for a moment. To cover his pause, he poured out a drink and shoved the bottle across to Wilkins, who promptly followed his example.
“Perhaps I do,” he said at last. “About an hour before your brother’s flight, a special delivery letter arrived here from some place in Europe. It was addressed to me, but when I opened it, I found it enclosed another, stained and rumpled, which was addressed in my care. The name of the person for whom it was intended had been washed out. Your brother saw it and claimed it was for him. He asked me to open it and see if it was not addressed to ‘Jim’ and signed ‘Bill.’ I found that it was, and gave it to him. Perhaps that is the letter he sent you.”
“I reckon it is. And you don’t know nothing more about it? I don’t ’spose Jim showed it to you. But he might have intimidated something about it. You don’t know nothin’ at all?” Plainly the Westerner was disappointed.
“Nothing.”
“Well, I’ll tell you unequivalent, Mr. Caruth! I don’t believe Jim robbed you none. Jim warn’t a damn fool; none whatever! An’ nobody but a damn fool would rustle that money the way you think he did. I’m apostrophizing that the same parties stole it that did for Jim. An’ I’ve got an idea they croaked him to get this here crypto cable. I’m gamblin’ that it’s worth a good deal more’nany eighteen hundred dollars, if a man could only elusivate it. Sure you don’t know nothin’ more about it?”
“No!” Caruth’s lips were dry and his tones were not convincing.
The big plainsman studied him for a moment. “Well,” he said, “I’ve told you how I feel. Jim’s dead, and I don’t say I’d go out of my way to envenom him. But I do say that I want some light on this missive, and I’m going to have it. And if anybody gets hurt in consequence of my sloshing around, it won’t be my fault. You said you didn’t know no more about it, didn’t you?”
Caruth jumped up, white but vicious looking. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that,” he exploded. “Do you mean to insinuate——”
“Not at all! Not the least bit in the world. I’m just theologizing. You’ve treated me square, and I ain’t dangerous to nobody who does that. But I’m exacerbated over that letter. I wouldn’t mind doing the ingenuous thing by anybody that helped me to guess it.”
The frown faded from Caruth’s face, and an expression of thought took its place. “I’m too much in the dark to help you much,” he parried.
Without the least hesitation the plainsman thrust forward the letter. “Maybe this’ll help you,” he suggested. “This here is a copy. I’ve got the aboriginal cached where it’ll be safe. But this is all to the accurate except that it’s got two or three namesof places left out. I ain’t givin’ the whole thing away, you understand.”
Caruth took the letter with a hand that trembled in spite of himself. He did not want to read it; to do so seemed a sort of dishonor—a lack of consideration for the desires of Miss Fitzhugh. On the other hand, it would be madness to let slip what might very well be his only chance to acquaint himself with a letter she had bought and paid for and with facts that might spell life and death to him and to her.
His uncertainty must have showed in his face, for the other encouraged him. “Go ’long!” he said. “Read it. It won’t bite none.”
Caruth opened the letter. It read as follows:
Dear Jim:There’s been a fight and everybody on board is dead or dying. TheOrkneyis sinking, and we’re all due to drown if we live long enough. It was the gold. A million pounds and more. Petroff told us about it, and we jumped the officers. They fought hard, but we worried ’em down. Then the second mate fired the magazine. Petroff and I are fixing a bottle. We are in the * * * between * * * Get the gold if you can. No more fromYour BrotherBill.
Dear Jim:
There’s been a fight and everybody on board is dead or dying. TheOrkneyis sinking, and we’re all due to drown if we live long enough. It was the gold. A million pounds and more. Petroff told us about it, and we jumped the officers. They fought hard, but we worried ’em down. Then the second mate fired the magazine. Petroff and I are fixing a bottle. We are in the * * * between * * * Get the gold if you can. No more from
Your Brother
Bill.
Caruth’s hands dropped, and he looked up. His cheeks were white. So this was the explanation? The girl’s quest was for gold. The letter she sought contained, not the names of revolutionists, as he had inferred, but information as to the whereabouts of gold that seemed already to have cost many mentheir lives. It all seemed very sordid to Caruth. He had never earned or lacked a penny in his life, and to struggle for mere money seemed to him little short of disgraceful. It speaks volumes for the impression Marie Fitzhugh had made upon him that it never even occurred to him to misdoubt her interest in the matter, or to question whether she might not be a mere adventuress, the tool of private thieves rather than the agent of public conspirators. Perhaps, after all, this was because he was tenacious of his beliefs, and, once having formed them, did not readily change.
One thing, however, stood out in his consciousness: He must discover her whereabouts and tell her that her letter had been found. He had no qualms in regard to Wilkins. The man had forced his confidence upon him, and he was under no obligation to preserve it. Miss Fitzhugh owned the letter. She had bought it from its owner and had paid for it, and was entitled to know its contents. His part was to find out if she still wanted it, and to make sure that the man who held it would be available if she did.
He turned to Wilkins, who had waited patiently for him to speak. “I can’t help you off-hand,” he declared, “but perhaps I may be able to do so later. Perhaps I can trace that letter. I don’t know whether I can or not, but I will try. Certainly I can learn something about the wreck of theOrkney, and that ought to help. Your brother’s room isvacant. Suppose you occupy it to-night, and meanwhile I will see what I can learn. And if I were you, I should keep that letter to myself.”
The man’s lips curled contemptuously. “Don’t you worry about me none!” he responded grimly. “I ain’t takin’ no chances. I’ve had time to arrange things. Do you know what would eventuate if I didn’t show up for such and such a time? Well, I’ll tell you. Copies of this here letter would go to half a dozen newspapersmucho pronto. An’ I judge that would queer the game some for the folks that did for Jim.”
It was this interview that had caused Caruth to consult Bristow and to tell that clever newspaper man a great deal more than he had dreamed of doing when he began, though, for some reason not entirely intelligible to himself, he did not touch on the arrival of the Westerner. It was the interview, too, that led him to the presence of his charmer.