"Hold on!" said Oakes. "You are in the most dangerous part; don't be rash. Here, Stone, you gofirst—and Moore, you follow about ten feet behind, without a light, in order that you may be undetected. Take matches. I'll stay here with the taper, and watch. When you get to the other end, don't go up the steps leading to the ground until both Mike and Cook show themselves. We know nothing about them, you know. Be cautious. The man we want went out this way, whoever he is."
I threw the light ahead and advanced some ten feet. I heard Moore following. "Careful!" said he in a whisper.
Again I threw the light ahead, and beheld only the walls of the square tunnel. I could hear the breathing of Moore behind me. I knocked on the wall here and there with my revolver; it rang true and solid. We gradually advanced until we beheld the daylight and saw the men waiting at the head of the stone steps.
I ascended. Moore took the lantern and called back to Oakes, addressing him as Clark. In a moment he came.
"Stay where you are, Stone," said he to me. "Come here, Mike."
Mike descended willingly enough. I watched Cook and looked all around.
"Open that door." Oakes pointed to a little wooden opening in the side of the stairs. Mike obeyed, but instantly closed it again with a bang.
"A man!" said he.
Oakes and Moore levelled their revolvers.
"Come out," said the detective, "or take the consequences. I shall shoot."
Mike opened the door again, hiding his figure behind it for protection as it swung out. I expected to see some one shot, but Moore threw the light in, and instantly Oakes dived forward into the alcove of stone. We could hear him chuckle. Cook, at my side, was standing on one leg in his excitement. Then Dr. Moore burst into laughter.
"What is it? What's the matter?" I cried. I could not see very well, and ran half-way down. Oakes was standing beside Moore, trying to look grave. In his hand was a red paper mask and a long black robe!
O'Brien looked on, his eyes twinkling, but his faceserious. "I'm thinking it's lucky, Mr. Clark, sorr, that ye saved yer ammunition," said he.
"Yes," retorted Oakes, "and it's still more fortunate you're a good actor."
O'Brien's somewhat insolent manner changed instantly to one of civility, and Oakes turned to us.
"No wonder some said there was a woman in this affair."
Then he ordered the hatch door nailed down, and handed the things to me. "Please take these upstairs, Stone; we must investigate this more fully," and we withdrew to discuss our findings.
"What do you think of O'Brien, Oakes?" I asked. "He seems to be a cool sort of a customer."
"Yes, he is no ignoramus. He's a shrewd fellow, and a deep one; but I have learned a few things."
CHAPTER XI
The Night Walk
Events were following each other rapidly at the Mansion. After leaving the cellar, Oakes led us back through the grounds, around the south side of the house. There was no entrance to the cellar there, apparently.
When we reached our rooms and I had deposited the mask and gown on my table, Oakes turned to the care-taker, Cook, who accompanied us: "You have been several years here, have you not?"
"Yes, Mr. Clark."
"When did the first trouble begin?"
"About three years ago, sir, following some repairs that were made after Mr. Odell Mark bought the place from his brother."
"What do you know of those repairs?"
"Well, sir, as perhaps you have noticed, the door from the dining-room to the parlor opens on a short hall about three feet deep. Now, sir, Mr. OdellMark had the wall thickened between the rooms; he thought it was weak, and this hall represents the thickness of the wall."
Oakes stood at the window, his hands in his pockets, looking out.
"Did you see that wall being built yourself, Cook?"
"I didn't notice particularly, sir."
"Well, Stone, we'll try the simplest theory first. Will you kindly go with Cook up to the roof and look around carefully. I have an idea that the wall is double, and that you will find an opening up there somewhere."
We went, and, as Oakes had surmised, soon found a small opening like a chimney, grated in solidly and protected by a covering, and so reported.
"Good!" said Oakes. "The wall is double—in part at least—and the opening was carried into the cellar room and a door placed there."
"What for?" said I.
"Perhaps to ventilate it. We may find some other reason."
"We seem to be solving the mystery," was Moore's comment.
Oakes looked at him quizzically. "Are you satisfied, Doctor, that there is a physical agent at work here?"
Moore grew red. "Certainly," he said. And Quintus smiled.
"I thought probably you would be convinced in time. A thorough licking is an excellent argument. It is my belief that the escapes were made through that double wall, and that we shall find movable panels in the dining-room."
"But the motive! We are strangers; we gave no provocation," I cried.
"We have yet to learn the motive; alsowhya man should wear a robe. The mask is sensible enough, but why he impeded himself with a robe is beyond us as yet. It would hide his body, to be sure, as the mask would hide his face, but it would certainly greatly affect his chances of escape, if pursued. Cook, why was no investigation ever made before?"
"I don't know, sir. Mr. Odell was very timid."
"Did you ever go through the tunnel to the well?"
"Yes, sir. I used to go before the mystery began, but never afterward."
"How about the place in the stairs where the robe was found?"
"That was always there, sir, and used for the gardener's tools."
"Then the gardener knew of it?"
"Maloney, the older one, did, I am sure; he has been here a long time."
"Was he here before the mysteries?"
"Yes, sir, he has been five years on the place."
"Cook, what do you think of the murder of Winthrop Mark?"
It was one of those sudden questions that sometimes bring results.
"I don't know, sir—it is terrible, sir, of course."
"Where was Maloney yesterday, Cook?"
The man looked long at us. "He was here when I got up at six o'clock, raking the leaves on the front walk."
"Indeed!" said Oakes. We could not tell whether the answer surprised him, or not.
"I suppose Mike worked all day?"
"Yes, sir, he was about on the place the entire time."
Oakes made no remark whatever at this, but dismissed Cook.
"We cannot go too far in presence of the servants," said he, "for I am only Clark the agent here, you remember. The time is coming when we may have to declare ourselves and we may need police help to make arrests, but," he smiled, "we have Hallen as a friend, I guess."
Oakes was calmly sanguine, I could see, but of course he did not know that collateral events were brewing of grave importance to us all.
"Now for the robe and mask," said he.
I handed over the mask, an old affair and considerably worn from usage. A piece of it was missing, which Oakes replaced with the fragment of paper picked up in the cellar; it fitted exactly, settling the fact that the mask had been worn by the man who fought him in that place.
The detective looked it all over and said: "This is such as was sold in New York years ago. It isordinary, and offers no clue as to the owner or the place of purchase. I know the kind."
The robe was fairly long, and made of old velvet lined with satin, quite shiny inside and out. The name of its maker had been carefully cut away. It was spotted with blood—Oakes's, no doubt—for it was fresh.
"It served a good purpose this time, anyway," said I; "saved the man's clothes from being marked."
"Medium chest measure," said Oakes. "Try it on, Stone."
I did so, and it just met around me.
"Good! The fellow who wore it is not a giant in chest measure, at all events, though larger than you, probably, since he wore it next to his undershirt."
"How in the world do you know that, Oakes?" said the doctor.
"Look at the discoloration of the lining on the shoulders, and also across the chest and back. The soil is old, but there is a moisture about the front yet, the moisture of fresh perspiration—it has beenused quite recently.Thatwould not have come through a coat or a vest. I should not be surprised if he had worn it over his naked chest."
"Where do you suppose the outfit came from?" I asked.
"Probably a relic of some masquerade ball of many years ago. This house used to be a popular place for entertainments."
"What did you pick up in the cellar when you stooped for the match?"
"Oh, you noticed that? See for yourselves," and he showed us an old-fashioned heavy-calibre cartridge.
"And how about the closet in the steps, from which you took the robe?" I pursued.
"I happened to see the door, although both of you missed it. The person who hid the disguise there is quite familiar with that exit, evidently. That narrows the search considerably," said Oakes. "But the robe is a mystery; it is a senseless thing to use under such circumstances."
"Yes—senseless; that is the word," spoke up Moore.
Oakes's eyes searched the physician's, but the latter made no further remark. I thought Oakes was sizing him up as pretty far from "senseless" himself.
We now examined the robe more carefully, and saw that it was soiled with what appeared to me to be soot. Oakes shook his head. "No, it seems to be wood ash of some kind; see how light some of it is," he said.
He ran his hand along the inside of the robe, and found a small, well-worn slit—an opening to a deep pocket. Instantly he turned it inside out, and a small roll of paper dropped from it. He carefully unfolded it and spread it on the table.
"It is a piece of an old newspaper," said he, "and has been read much. It has been thumbed till it is ready to fall apart. Read it, Stone. Your eyes are best."
I studied a while, and then began:
"Daily News,October 30, 189-.—The body was found face downward, on the main Highway, just below the crest of the Mona Hill. It was first seenby John Morney, who was going to the reservoir in advance of his gang of laborers. They were in sight when he discovered it; the time was therefore shortly before seven. The men were going to work at 6.30 from Mona. They recognized it instantly as the body of Orlando Smith, our beloved and esteemed citizen. Death had occurred only a short time before, and the murder must have been done about daybreak. It was evident that Mr. Smith was returning from his factory, where he had spent the night, the shift having been doubled recently, owing to the pressure of business. Later examinations showed that the bullet entered the chest and was from a large revolver, a 44 or 45 calibre. The ball was not found."We are unable to give any more particulars now, before the time of going to press."
"Daily News,October 30, 189-.—The body was found face downward, on the main Highway, just below the crest of the Mona Hill. It was first seenby John Morney, who was going to the reservoir in advance of his gang of laborers. They were in sight when he discovered it; the time was therefore shortly before seven. The men were going to work at 6.30 from Mona. They recognized it instantly as the body of Orlando Smith, our beloved and esteemed citizen. Death had occurred only a short time before, and the murder must have been done about daybreak. It was evident that Mr. Smith was returning from his factory, where he had spent the night, the shift having been doubled recently, owing to the pressure of business. Later examinations showed that the bullet entered the chest and was from a large revolver, a 44 or 45 calibre. The ball was not found.
"We are unable to give any more particulars now, before the time of going to press."
"That is all," I said.
We remained standing while we thought over the matter. There was a satisfied air about the detective that I could not quite fathom, and Dr. Moore seemed to be quite pleased also.
"Well, what is it?" I asked.
With a voice that betrayed traces of elation, Oakes answered me: "The man in the cellar wore this robe; if he thumbed this paper, the murder of Smith interested him. The murder of Mark was similar, and I believe our Mansion affair is going to involve us in a peck of unexpected trouble. The clues are showing now, and we must know more about the Smith murder, as well as the Mark affair."
"Yes," put in Moore, "and all about the suspected motives in the Smith affair."
Oakes smiled. "Don't be too previous, my boy. If Hallen looks for our help, well and good. Otherwise, remember, I have given my word not to interfere with his search at present. Meanwhile, we must get into town and look around."
"You must remain here," said Moore. "You cannot go out until that wound begins to heal—in a day or so."
"That is so," said Oakes. "But perhaps Stone can find out what is going on."
So it was arranged that I should call on Chief Hallen that evening and spend a few hours in Mona.
At supper, Oakes said that tomorrow he would have men from the city who would make a complete search of the walls, and perhaps tear down some partitions. "Masons, and other workmen, you know," said he; and I saw a twinkle in his eyes and realized that he was going to surround himself with men, in case of an emergency.
"Are you expecting trouble?" I asked.
"No," said he, grave again in a second, "but I believe in being forearmed. This matter is capable of developing into a very serious affair for all hands, especially if we have a band of conspirators against us."
"A band!" said I.
"Yes, certainly. Has it never occurred to you that there may be several desperate characters in this affair and the murder? This is no boy's play; we are facing unknown dangers. Now, Stone, go about town carefully, and send this cipher to New York first thing. When you come back, tell Chief Hallen that I want you escorted to the Mansion by two men. Remember! He will understand, for he spoke to me of the advisability of giving me aid."
It all seemed strange to me, but I was not fearful when I left just at seven for the town.
I took the short cut over the bridge, and up the hill beyond, and they watched me as I crossed the rolling plains to Mona.
It was a clear night, and I could see well over the hills, the three-quarters moon giving me excellent light. I could not help thinking how careful was this man Oakes, and what a peculiar nature was his; alert, severe even to austerity at times; then solicitous, friendly and even fond of a joke. I was more than glad that I came, although I realized that perhaps it was foolish to interfere in such affairs. Of course, that murder of Mark had been cast upon our notice by curious circumstances, and unexpectedly.
As I walked over the rolling ground, I kept my eyes well upon my surroundings; but not a living thing did I see except myself and the night birds until I entered the town.
There was an air of subdued excitement about the place. As I walked to the post-office to send my despatches the loungers seemed numerous, and somewere amiss in their greetings; others, whom I knew, approached in an affable manner enough, but there seemed no genuine friendliness.
The telegraph manager took the cipher and smiled when he saw it. Then he said to me in a whisper: "Tell Mr. Clark there is trouble coming."
To my look of surprise he answered: "Oh, that's all right; I had a visit from your friend before he went to the Mansion."
Again I recognized the work of careful Oakes, and understood why he did not hesitate to send the cipher—a thing unusual in a small town.
The indications of impending trouble in town were quite impressed upon me. The little hotel was the centre of a lounging crowd, large, and composed of representative men as well as the usual hangers-on. There were evidences of much interest around the police building also—much more than would occur under normal circumstances in a town of this size, and even more than was present the night before.
I noticed a couple of brawls, and considerable raising of voices; many men were walking about as though watching the others. The prairie fire hadbeen lighted; the sparks were burning near the roots of the grass; the air was uneasy—ready to rush in as wind, to fan and feed the first flame.
I visited the Chief, who was with his subordinates. He invited me into the private room, and then said:
"Mr. Stone, I am doing all I can to detect this murderer and to satisfy the public demand for his apprehension, but the clues are practically worthless. The populace is uneasy and suspicious."
Then he detailed to me all that he knew. I then told him how the people's actions had impressed me.
"I am going to have all I can do to keep order. I am going to ask your friend Oakes to take a hand."
"He will do it," I said, "for he is greatly interested."
"It is for the welfare of the town which I serve that I ask him to join me in this matter. Go to him, and tell him I shall see him in the morning if possible."
I was glad that affairs were taking such a turn,for I knew the facts in our possession, and that Oakes's counsel would be valuable.
I then requested an escort of two men to accompany me on my return to the Mansion, as Oakes had suggested.
"Certainly! I had no intention of letting you go back alone," he said; and then he summoned two of his men clad in citizen's clothes and introduced them to me. "Now take a walk to the outskirts, and return the same way by which you came. My men will follow you at a short distance."
Before I left I noticed my companions—fine-looking fellows both of them—and saw the tell-tale pouching of the hip pockets, and knew that we were all well armed.
"In order not to attract attention, we will walk some distance behind you. We will keep you within sight and hearing. If we fire a shot, return to us."
I started across the rolling country, and saw the two figures behind me. Why were they so careful? Why did they not accompany me? They separated, and we advanced, I myself following the narrow path.
The night was still. I halted occasionally and looked back—a dim figure would halt on my left and on my right. It was lonesome, but I felt I had company.
I neared the slope to the pond, and looked down; there was nothing visible, and I began to descend with an easy stride. Although nearing the Mansion, I felt an unaccountable dread. This was the trying part of the journey, and my followers were now invisible to me, being on the plain above the crest of the hill. I gripped my revolver firmly, and stepped rapidly on to the bridge; but as I did so I heard a pistol shot from above, and knew instantly that I was in danger—that my companions had signalled me to return.
I faced about, and commenced my ascent of the hill.
From somewhere near a voice came to me clearly. "Run for your life," it said.
I could see nothing, but retreated hurriedly, and was soon with the others at the top of the hill.
"Why did you tell me to run?" I panted.
They looked at me. "We said nothing," was theanswer; "we merely signalled you to come back."
"Well, someone ordered me to run for my life."
"Ah!" said they. "We thought we heard a voice. We saw a figure at the other side of the pond. We came over the crest cautiously, and he did not expect us. He was crossing in range of the light from the Mansion gate when we detected him. So much for following you!"
"Well, but who spoke to me? He could not have done so; his voice would not have sounded so near."
"No, evidently someone near you was watching him; he was about to waylay you, and the watcher knew it and warned you."
We heard a commotion and saw a figure dash from the bridge, away toward the north end of the pond, and disappear.
Then another figure showed at the crest on the River Road and followed him at breakneck speed.
"See—the man on the bridge was the fellow who warned you. The other is after him. He won't catch him, however."
"Come!" I cried; and we darted down and overthe bridge to the road above, but nothing was visible. Suddenly a couple of figures emerged from the darkness by the Mansion gate. We recognized Oakes and Moore, who had been awaiting us.
We related the circumstances of our return to the Mansion to them.
"Yes," said Oakes, "we were watching the man near the road. He had a gun, and was evidently waiting for you. We were just going to make a rush at him when we saw you run back at the signal."
"Who was he?" asked I.
"I will answer the question by asking: Who was the man who warned you?"
"I haven't the least idea," said I.
"You see, you were in great danger, and only that man's foresight saved your life. But there aretwounknowns now—the friend and the enemy."
We watched my escorts descend and cross the bridge, mount the ascent and disappear over the crest toward Mona. Then the moonlight silhouetted their figures for an instant, as they turned and waved a farewell.
CHAPTER XII
The Witness
Mr. George Elliott, aristocratic, well-to-do clubman and all-round agreeable fellow, lived in bachelor apartments on the upper West side of New York.
He was engaged now in the brokerage business, but, times having been dull, he found it rather difficult to occupy himself and was anticipating taking a vacation—but where, he had not yet decided.
Events were shaping themselves, however, to bring him into the happenings at Mona as one of our party.
On the corner, near the apartment, was a boot-blacking stand, presided over by one Joe, an intelligent and wide-awake colored youngster, whose general good-nature and honesty had made him popular with many. Among his patrons and general well-wishers was Mr. Elliott, to whom Joe had taken a particular liking, and whose opinions the youngnegro had often sought in an off-hand way; for, despite his general air of reserve and hauteur, Elliott was kindness itself at heart, and a man who could be easily approached by those who were suffering from worry and hardship.
At about the time of the beginning of this story, Joe's mother had been taken sick and had died in Troy, and the boy had gone up there for a few days.
Then he had gone to Lorona, a little town farther south, and from thence to Mona on his way home to New York. At Mona he had seen a terrible thing—a murder.
Bewildered, frightened, overawed by his fateful knowledge, he had managed, however, to reach New York, where he sought out Mr. Elliott for counsel; he knew the latter was kind and good and would tell him what to do. Joe realized that he needed advice—that he was in a terrible fix, being the only witness, so far as he knew, of a crime of the worst kind.
As Joe told Mr. Elliott the things he had witnessed, that gentleman realized the tremendous value of the evidence being told him.
By adroit questioning, he determined that thecelebrated Quintus Oakes was in Mona. The boy said he recognized him, for he had frequently "shined" Mr. Oakes's shoes in times past on Broadway. Elliott realized that as he was called Clark at the inquest—according to Joe—the people in Mona did not know him as Oakes; he must be travelling under analias, on important business probably. Elliott also grasped the fact that Oakes was there at the time of the murder by coincidence only. He had read of the affair in the evening paper, but only in a careless manner. It was all of deep interest now.
What should he do with Joe?
If he allowed the boy to think that he was in a tight place, he might run away, and that would defeat justice. There was the alternative of telling the police;thatwould mix himself up in an unpleasant affair, and Joe might not be believed—might be falsely accused of the murder.
Again, he knew Mr. Oakes. He had seen him at the Club, and he did not desire to frustrate whatever investigations the detective might be making.
The best solution would be to find Quintus Oakesand tell him. He certainly would be able to give some attention to the murder, even if not in Mona for that purpose. Meanwhile, he himself would hold the boy at all hazards.
With skill scarcely to be expected from one of his easy-going type, he told Joe to remain and sleep in his flat that night and that he would fix things for him. The terror-stricken negro was only too glad of sympathy and protection from one of Mr. Elliott's standing, and complied; for he was at the mercy of his friends. What could he, a colored boy, do alone?
After tired nature had asserted herself and Joe had fallen asleep in a room which had been given him, Elliott called up Oakes's office by telephone. In less than an hour a dapper young man sought admission to the apartment, and was met by Elliott. He introduced himself as "Martin—from Oakes's place." In a few words Elliott explained matters, and Martin said:
"Let Joe go to his boot-blacking stand in the morning. Get your shoes shined, and place yourhand on his shoulder in conversation, so that he can be identified before you leave. Our men will be in sight. Then meet me at the elevated station, and we will go to Mona together, if you care to do so."
"Good!" said Elliott. "I am willing; I will take my vacation that way."
And that was how, several hours later, Joe went to his boot-blacking stand, feeling secure in being near friends, and oblivious of the fact that strange eyes were watching all his movements.
A little later Elliott patronized the stand, and in leaving placed his hand on Joe's shoulder and said: "Nobody will trouble you, old fellow. Don't say a word; it will all come out right. I will back you to the limit."
And after that several pairs of eyes watched every movement of the boot-black. Several affable strangers gave him quarters for ten-cent shines. Joe was not in the police net, but he was in the vision of those silent men whom one cannot detect—those experts employed by men like Oakes. Escape was impossible for the negro.
Joe remained in good spirits, for had not Mr. Elliott befriended him? He was ignorant of the doings of those brief hours when he slept.
Elliott's going to Mona was perhaps unnecessary, but he felt a natural curiosity to know Oakes better, as well as to see the outcome of the case and the effect of the evidence the negro possessed. He was also actuated by a desire to do all he could to establish the accuracy of the boy's statement, and to see that he obtained as good treatment as was consistent with the ends of justice.
He and Martin arrived at Mona the day after the murder—our first one at the Mansion. The two stayed at the hotel and studied the town, finding it impossible to go to the Mansion without creating talk.
As Martin said: "We must go slowly and not appear too interested in Oakes, or rather Clark, as he is known up here—so the office informed me. So far as we know he has nothing to do with the murder case, and we, being strangers and consequently subject to comment, must be guarded in our actions. I have seen and heard enough to realize that there ismuch suppressed excitement among the people. We must communicate with Oakes quietly, and find whether it is wise to see him. He may not desire our presence at the Mark place."
CHAPTER XIII
The Plan of Campaign
Next day, as we were at breakfast at the Mansion, the masons and carpenters came. Curiously enough, one of them brought a note from Martin, asking if it would be convenient for him to bring a stranger, with valuable information, to see Mr. Oakes that morning; and the man found it convenient to drop into town a little later and incidentally to meet Martin and let him know that Oakes expected him. Then he went to the hardware store and bought a few trifling things, as any carpenter or mason might do.
"Looks as though I am going to hold a reception this morning," said Oakes: "The Chief of Police making an engagement last night for an interview this morning, and now Martin asking for another."
"What is Martin doing up here?" asked Moore.
"Well, don't get impatient. He has something important, anyway. Just wait." I think Moorefelt aggravated at Oakes's apparent indifference. Of course it was simulated, but he seemed so calm and oblivious of the mass of happenings that had put Moore and myself in a state of extreme excitement.
It was not long before Martin and Mr. Elliott were with us. Oakes received Elliott in a most agreeable manner, which placed us all at ease. He said he knew Mr. Elliott by sight, and esteemed it greatly that he should extend information to him. Also he was sure it must be of great value, since the gentleman had travelled all the way from New York to place him in possession of it. And this was said before any information was given. We saw that our friend was a diplomat.
Quickly Mr. Elliott gave all the particulars of the negro's confession, and the detective said: "If I am called into the case by Chief Hallen, I shall want to see the boy; if not, the information should be given to the Chief, as the matter belongs to his jurisdiction."
Looking out of the window at that moment, I espied Hallen coming up the walk.
"Good!" said Oakes. "Now, Mr. Elliott, willyou kindly retire with Dr. Moore, while Stone, Martin and I hear what the Chief has to say."
When Hallen came up, he seemed very cordial, but worried, and made no attempt to disguise the fact that he anticipated trouble with the unruly element in Mona by Saturday night.
"You see," he said, "we are few here, and I have been kept busy with the brewing uneasiness in town and cannot handle the murder affair satisfactorily. I have come to ask you to help me, if you are sufficiently at leisure. We cannot get any clues at all, save that the man was killed by a bullet of large calibre in the hands of a good shot, as the distance from which it was fired would seem to show. The road has been searched but nothing found, and the crowd that went with you to the dying man's side trampled away all clues on the ground.
"My men have reported to me the curious affair of last night," continued the Chief. "I suppose you have a explanation for it; in any event, it must be followed up. The people must be diverted, and more must be done at once than I can do. Will you help me?"
"Yes," said Oakes. "Of course!"
"Hello, what ails your head?" said the Chief, after thanking him.
And then Oakes told him as much as was necessary of the events of the day before.
"I am very glad yourcarpentershave arrived," said the Chief; "they may help." He smiled, as did Oakes. They understood one another—they were in similar lines of business.
"Now that I have a hand in this thing, let's all get acquainted," said Oakes; and he called in Moore and Elliott, and the discussion became general.
Elliott was admitted unreservedly to our councils, especially as Oakes knew that he held the keys to the conviction of the assassin—the witness.
Oakes, in his fluent style, acquainted the Chief with the fact that the negro was already under surveillance and that, in his opinion, he should be brought to Mona for further examination.
"Yes, but we must smuggle him in. It would be unwise to let the populace know we have him now; they might infer he was the murderer and violencewould certainly be done him. At present, I have all I can do to keep order in the town," said Hallen.
Then he gave a lucid account of the wave of suspicion and of the evidences of nervous tension the citizens were showing.
"Why," said he, "almost every man suspects his neighbor. Life-long friends are suspicious of one another and business is nearly at a standstill. One man looked at another in an absent-minded sort of a way to-day, and the other retaliated with a blow and an oath, and asked him if he would look at his own arms—not his neighbor's."
"Yes," said Oakes, "we have here a great mental emotion—suspicion—to deal with, which may amount to a public calamity unless checked. One must always take account of the actions and reasonings of communities. Emotional waves rush through them as through individuals sometimes. Look at history, and consider the waves of religion, emotional in character, that have occurred. Look at the unreasonableness developed in our own country from ignorance and fear, when witches were burned at the stake!"
"Oakes," said Moore with a smile, "you seem to make mental processes and conditions as much of a study as the physician does."
"Certainly," Oakes replied. "It is most important. Did we not study the workings of a criminal's mind, for instance, we would often be baffled. You see, the determination of the probable condition of such a one's mind is often paramount, especially in such a case as this. In other words, was themotiveone that would naturally sway an ordinary healthy individual under the conditions appertaining to the crime—the so-calledsanemotive? Or was it in any way dependent upon peculiarities of the criminal's reasoning—a motive built up of something unreal, adelusionin the mind of one not in his right senses?"
I myself had frequently had cause to study such mental processes in the practice of my profession, but I was amazed at the knowledge shown by Oakes, and stated in such a broad, untechnical manner. The man was no ordinary one, to be sure, but I had scarcely expected him to show such education in these matters.
I now recalled what Moore had once told me of Oakes's all-round attainments.
Dr. Moore broke the silence.
"You are a lalapazooza, Oakes."
Oakes did not notice the remark, but said: "I don't know what other men do, but I have tried to bear in mind such things."
"Yes," said Hallen, "and consequently there is onlyoneQuintus Oakes."
"It seems to me," continued Hallen, "that your work here at the Mansion will soon lead to results, and I trust that you will find time to consider the murder also."
"Gentlemen," said Oakes very seriously, "from what I saw after the Mark murder in town and from what you report, I feel that Mona is in a very serious plight. I shall make time, Hallen, to do what little I can."
And thus Quintus Oakes became the leader in the unravelling of the Mark murder mystery.
After a few remarks of no particular consequence and a more or less general conversation, he resumed:
"Suppose, Chief, that we now smuggle the negro into Mona as soon as possible, and bring him here. I believe that if Mr. Elliott goes back with Martin and they explain things to the boy, he will come without much trouble. It must be impressed upon him that he is regarded in the light of ahero: appeal to the innate weakness of the race—desire for flattery."
"I believe we can bring him here easily," said Elliott, "for he has confidence in me."
"If he refuses to come," said Hallen, "we can get him here in plenty of ways."
"Yes," said Oakes, "Martin knows how; leave it to him. Only, we must have him soon, and he must come here by way of another station, incognito, lest the people become too excited."
This being agreed upon, the conversation became more general, and in answer to questions we found that Oakes had not as yet formulated any solution to the mystery of the identity of the murderer. As he said, the affair of downstairs might be connected with the murder, indirectly or directly, but as yet we had not had sufficient opportunities for studyingthe surroundings of the house or the life of its attachès to venture an opinion. He laid particular stress upon the fact that opinions should never be formed on poor evidence, since a biased mind was incapable of appreciating new discoveries or new clues. To theorize too much was very easy, but sometimes fatal to detection of crime. He preferred to work along several lines of investigation before concentration on any one idea.
"The affair of last night, in my estimation," said he, "is one of very grave import. Unquestionably, from what you saw, Stone, and from the evidence of us all, there were two men near the place you were going to pass. That the first one warned you and was, in a sense, a friend, is mysterious enough—it needs solution; but that the man who warned you should have run away and been pursued by the other is peculiar, to say the least. The signals of your companions were heard by the man at the bridge undoubtedly, and he ran to escape detection himself. The other—the one on this side, who was a probable assassin—would under ordinary circumstances have run away when he saw you werewarned. He did run, but it was after the man who warned you."
"To my mind, the explanation is this," continued the detective. "The man at the bridge is friendly, but cannot expose his identity or risk capture. The would-be assassin was convinced that the man who warned you knew of his purpose. He therefore pursued him—to finish him in self-protection."
"I don't see why," said Moore; "he could have escaped instead."
"Exactly," said Oakes. "He could have done so, but he did not wish it. He has not completed what he wants to do around here. He wished to come back, and to do so with safety he must rid himself of the one who knew of his doings."
"Looks as though he was planning more trouble. He may have been the man of the robe, or the man with the arms," I ventured.
"Or both," said Oakes.
"At all events," said Hallen, "I wish that we could divert the minds of the people in town; the tension is great—too great for safety."
"Perhaps, Chief," said Oakes, "that you and Ican arrange a little matter that will distract their attention and which will tend to make them believe that progress is being made."
He laughed as he spoke, and we knew that he was thinking over some little scheme to help Hallen back into popular favor.
CHAPTER XIV
Clues
The carpenters and masons came and went in a very business-like way all that morning, while we were closeted upstairs with our companion and Chief Hallen.
After he left us, Moore and I walked down to the gate and around the grounds, leaving Oakes to attend to details with Martin. Carpenters were very busy around the dining-room, carrying in boards and implements, and examining the woodwork and the balcony.
A few of the masons were about the grounds, engaged on small details, and all seemed to be on good terms with Cook and his wife, and Annie. Mike was busy at one end of the garden, and Maloney was not far off.
"This, Stone, is to be a day of events here. But things are being done very quietly, are they not? You would suspect nothing out of the way—far lessa hunt for a murderer or the investigation of a mystery, would you?"
"No; were I not informed, I should think that Oakes had merely a gang of laborers at work."
"He has that; but he has also a body of the best detectives, for the purpose, to be had. Maloney and Mike are puzzling him considerably, Stone; they are very close to one another always, and seem quite intimate."
"Yes," I replied. "I have noticed it. They both show a great deal of interest in these alterations. Have you noticed how Maloney is watching O'Brien? He keeps him continually in sight."
We had approached the front door of the Mansion as we spoke. Oakes was standing just outside, his eyes likewise upon the two gardeners. Our last remarks were made in his presence, and he entered the conversation with a quiet observation to the effect that Maloney seemed to fear that Mike might not attend to his business, but that Mikewould, nevertheless.
I was obliged to acknowledge that I did not quite understand.
"Oh, Mike is a good laborer," he explained; "he needs no such watching," and there seemed to be a peculiar significance in his words. They were stated in a slow, indifferent manner that caused me to look at the speaker, but his face wore the inscrutable expression which I had frequently seen before, and I learned nothing. I knew him well enough by this time, however, to realize that something was taking shape in his thoughts.
"Now, let us go inside," said he. "After lunch we will attack the final solution of the manner in which these mysterious assaults were performed. Like all such things, it will be simple enough, I know, and the point remaining to determine will be nothowit was done, butby whom.
"I feel confident that that door in the cellar room leads upward to an interspace which communicates with the dining-room through panels in the walls. The peculiar noise—the swish—that I heard, resembled the sudden sliding of a board, and it was the conviction that the person who assaulted Moore disappeared into the wall which made me run downstairs. I felt sure there would be some explanation of it below."
That afternoon a systematic search of the entire house was made. The cellar room in which the assault upon Oakes had occurred was thoroughly lighted and examined. The heap of rubbish which Mike had been investigating at our previous visit proved to be composed of plaster and bricks.
The wall in which the door was cut was found to be about three feet thick, and one of the foundations of the house. It was solid, save for a chimney-like opening which had been trapped with the door. Above, at the level of the dining-room floor, the great wall ceased. From one edge was continued upwards the original partition between that room and the next—the parlor; but it was thin, and had evidently been recently strengthened by another wall, slightly thicker, and built from the opposite edge of the foundation, leaving a space between the two. Into this space entered, at a certain point, the opening from the cellar room below.
It was a peculiar arrangement. As Oakes remarked, the new wall had been made with no regard to the economizing of space; for, had it been built immediately back of the old, considerable roomwould have been saved for the parlor. One of the "carpenters" thought that the original idea had been to utilize the space for closets. The only other possible use for it, so far as we could discover, was the one which Oakes had surmised—ventilation for the cellar. Still, to our ordinary minds, a chimney would have answered that purpose quite as well.
A little further investigation, however, showed the top of the foundation wall to be covered with cement well smoothed, and the walls themselves were plastered. It was generally conceded, therefore, that the first idea had been to use it as closet room, which could easily have been done by cutting doors through the walls. As Oakes said, the notion had evidently met with opposition and been abandoned, so communication had been made with the cellar instead, and the roof opened to afford ventilation.
The opening into the cellar was large. A man could easily enter it, and, standing, reach the top of the foundation wall; then, by a little exertion, he could raise himself into the intermural space. Oakes, Moore and I proved this by actual experiment andfound that the passage was quite wide enough to accommodate a man of average proportions.
I have said that the dining-room was finished in oak panels. These had been reached from our side of the wall by removing the bricks and mortar—the same stuff evidently which helped to form the rubbish heap in the room below. One of the larger panels had been made to slide vertically. It had been neatly done and had escaped detection from the dining-room because of the overlapping of the other panels. Some dèbris still remained between the walls.
"The fellow we are after knew of the space between the walls and worked at the panel after the repairs were completed," was Oakes's remark.
"How do you know that?" asked Moore.
Oakes looked at him and smiled, then said: "Moore, where is your reasoning ability? Do you think, if the panel had been tampered with at the time the repairs were made, that the dèbris would have been left behind? No! It would have been removed with the rest of the dirt."
We had gone to our rooms upstairs while the menwere hunting through the tunnel to the well. They found nothing; everything was as we had left it after our adventures there.
It seemed to us that, all things considered, the work on the panel must have been done by someone within the household, or, at least, that some of its members must have been involved in the matter.
"It may have been accomplished at night, however, and by an outsider," said Oakes. "The servants' quarters are separate from the house. Anyone might easily have entered the cellar by the tunnel route. Still, there may have been collusion also."
"It seems a nonsensical idea to leave the dèbris in the cellar," I said.
"No, I think not," was the answer. "The care-takers are afraid even to enter that place. The miscreant knew that detection would be probable at the hands of strangers only."
That evening Elliott and Martin left for New York. They were to bring the negro boy, Joe, to Mona. Late at night, before we retired, Oakes asked us to go with him into the parlor.
"What for?" said I.
"To forge another link in the chain—the strongest yet," he said.
"What?"
"Do you remember the cartridge I found in the cellar?"
"Yes, yes; but you did not pay much attention to it, I thought."
He looked gravely at me. "Stone, that cartridge probably corresponds in calibre to the one which was used in the murder of Mark."
"Ah!" said Moore. "I had a notion of that myself. Why did you not tell us your opinion before?"
"Because, when I found it, we were working on the Mansion affair only. I divined the value of the find; but why should I have mentioned it? I was not hunting the Mark murderer then."
"Quintus, you consummate fox—you worked Hallen well!"
"Not at all; business is business. What is the use of gossiping? There are no ladies to be entertained inmyprofession, Doctor."
He led the way to the parlor—we meekly following—to where a clusterof arms hung upon the wall: one of those ornaments of crossed swords, guns and a shield, so common in old houses.
He remarked that he had noticed these arms on his previous visit. He looked at a revolver hanging across the shield, with a pouch beneath it, and then suddenly, in surprise, said: "Last time I was here, a few weeks ago, there was a large old-fashioned revolver here of 44 or 45 calibre. I remember it well, being interested in firearms.
"This one now here is of a similar pattern and appearance, but of smaller calibre, and newer. Look! The cartridges in this pouch are of about 45 size; they belong to the old weapon and cannot be used with this one."
"Again, some of them are missing; there were at least a dozen before, now there are only three or four. The old revolver and some cartridges have been taken away, and a newer weapon substituted."
"Indeed! But why?" said Moore sceptically.
"Partly because"—and Oakes was decisive, curt, master of the situation—"because this one cannot be loaded. See!" He then tried to turn thechamber and showed us that the mechanism was faulty.
"The old revolver," said he in a low tone, "and some cartridges were taken away, and in order that its absence should be less noticeable, this one was left here—it being useless.
"Now, boys, the cartridge I found downstairs on the cellar floor is a 45-calibre and belongs to those of the pouch and the original revolver, as you see."
He took it from his pocket and showed us that it didnotfit the weapon in his hand but matched the cartridges in the pouch. It belonged to theoldweapon.
"We are closing in," said I.
"Yes—the man of the robe has the old revolver and cartridges; he took them within the last few days, finding his own weapon out of order. It is he who is responsible for the mystery in this house—and in all probability it is he who shot Winthrop Mark. You remember, the evidence at the inquest showed that a heavy revolver had been used—a 44 or 45 calibre—exactly such an one as the old weapon which I saw here."
"Excellent, Oakes," remarked Moore. "There's only one objection."
"Yes, I know," said Oakes. "You were going to ask why the fellow did not take all these cartridges and put his own in the pouch to match the weapon he left here."
"Exactly," said Moore.
"Well," said the detective, "he either had no cartridges of his own handy, or else, like all criminals, however smart, he tripped—the brain of no man is capable of adjusting his actions precisely in every detail."
"Guess you're right. No man can be perfect in his reasoning, and, no matter how clever the criminal, he is almost certain to make an error sooner or later," said Moore.
"Yes, but it takes peculiar power to discover it," I chirped. The events of the day had tired me, and my mind was growing confused. I desired to go to bed.
Oakes smiled slightly. "No, Stone; it takes study, worry and patient reasoning to discover thefaulty link in a clever criminal's logic—that is why there is a profession like mine."
I was half asleep, but I heard him continue: "We may consider we have excellent cause to look for a man who has in his possession an ancient revolver and some very old dirty cartridges covered with verdigris, like these here."
"Murder will out," I interpolated.
"Yes, eventually, sometimes. However, it is easy to say, 'he who had that revolver did the murder,' but as it may have been destroyed since then, or thrown into the river, it is another thing to find theman."
We were crestfallen. Oakes himself looked wearied.
"I wish the whole Mansion was in the river, and there were a decent cafè round here," protested Moore.
"You're a vigorous pair of assistants, I must say," said Quintus. "I have some samples in my room. Come!" and we all adjourned.
CHAPTER XV
The Ruse
After all, however, the doctor and I decided to spend the night at the hotel and acquire any information that we could as to occurrences in town.
We chose to walk along the River Road to the Corners, keeping ourselves on the alert for any treachery. The night was cool and bracing and the sky cloudless. As we journeyed, the moon rose, throwing its rays athwart the tangled outline of the wood. The great high trees were just beginning to drop their leaves. Occasionally a woody giant, separated from the rest, would fix our attention, standing silhouetted against the background of forest—majestic, alone, like a sentinel guarding the thousands in column behind. An occasional flutter of a night bird or the falling and rustling of the dead leaves was all that we heard as we walked rapidly the mile to the Corners.
As we were about to round into the Highway andleave the forest of the estate behind us, Moore grasped my arm, and led me to the deep shadow of a tree by the roadside.
"Hark! That sounds peculiar," he said. We listened, and heard a thumping sound, repeated at intervals.
"An uneasy horse standing somewhere in the woods hereabouts," said I.
"Yes. What is he doing there at this time of night—and inthese particularwoods?"
We consulted together and waited. Then, having satisfied ourselves that the noise came from the woods of the estate near the crest of the hill, we decided to investigate as quickly as possible, and entered the forest stealthily and with but little noise. Unused to the life of the woods, we doubtless made more rustling than was necessary, but we were favored by the fact that the trees were not very close together, and in consequence the carpet of dead leaves was not thick.
Halting behind the trunks of trees occasionally, we listened for the sound which came from further within the wood. Soon we came to an opening—a glade—perhaps two hundred feet from the road. The moonlightfell upon the far side, but on the side next us all was shadow—dark and sombre. We stood well within it among the trees. I fancied I heard a horse whinny. The animal was certainly restive. I saw the doctor take out his revolver and lie carefully down behind a tree; I remained standing. We both waited; we were within a few feet of one another, but did not speak.
Suddenly, on the far side we saw a figure walking towards the shade and heard him say a few words to the horse. Quickly he led the animal away into what appeared to be a path. Moore whispered to me: "Watch the road; he is going there."
We retraced our steps and soon saw the horse appear on the edge of the wood. He was a large, powerful animal, and seemed to act as though he understood what was expected of him. The man was still leading the horse, but was now also speaking in a low voice to someone else, who disappeared toward the town and came out on the Highway further down, walking rapidly toward the village, as any belated citizen might.
"See!" said Moore. "He brought the horse and is going back. Watch the rider."
The latter had been standing in the shade looking after the man who had gone, when suddenly, seeming satisfied that he was not watched, he vaulted into the saddle. He came out into the moonlight in a second or two and rode rapidly up River Road, past the Corners and northward away from the town. We had managed to get near the road, and as he dashed into the open we saw that he held the reins with the left hand, his right resting on the horse's neck, and in it, as we both recognized, a revolver.
"A splendid rider," was my remark.
"Yes," said Moore. "Did you recognize him? It was Mike, I thought."
"Yes, Mike it was, and acting in a very suspicious manner. He has done this before, evidently—knew the road and the horse, and was on the lookout for trouble, for he was armed."
We decided to follow the first man, it being useless to attempt to overtake the rider. Taking the darkest side of the road, we walked on after the figure in the distance.
Soon my companion's spirits began to rise and he laughed at ouradventure, as he called it.
"Stone, I cannot help thinking that you and I are destined to become great sleuths. We have been away from the Mansion only a short half-hour, and already have detected a man on horseback who is carrying a revolver—and have identified him as Mike."
"Yes, we're improving—but why did you lie down behind that tree? Afraid?"
"No!" answered Moore, with a laugh. "I have been studying caution. I want to see Broadway again." Then he continued: "Stone, this adventure is becoming more and more complicated, and occasionally I wonder if I was not foolish in coming here. It is so different from practising surgery—this being assaulted by invisible foes—seeing victims of murder and things like that, to say nothing of men chasing one another by moonlight."
He was half-serious, and I acknowledged that the affairwasrather nerve wearing. Then we looked ahead, and suddenly realized that the figure we were following had vanished.
Moore gasped in astonishment. "Hang it all! we certainly are a pair of apes to let that fellow get away. Won't Oakes be disgusted?"
"Yes, and he will have good cause."
The lesson was a needful but costly one. Thenceforth when on business we ceased to discuss our feelings and endeavored to use our eyes and ears more, and our tongues less.
We received a cordial welcome from the people at the hotel and gossiped around the corridor for some time. The crowd outside was sullen, but within the atmosphere seemed less strained. We learned that Chief Hallen had made several arrests that afternoon, a measure which had had a sobering effect. The saloons had been warned not to abuse their privileges. Many persons spoke of the work done by Hallen as excellent; indeed, we were both impressed by the fact that the sentiment toward him, of the better citizens, was friendly. Considerable disgust was expressed, however—privately, of course—at the lack of evidence, so far, bearing upon the murder itself. In the course of the evening we managed to see Reilly the porter, and he pointed out several men to us.
"These fellows are new in town—they must be detectives. If they discover things, well and good; but if they don't, the people here won't stand it—they will resent what they call 'outside' work."
"Hallen must have gone in for business," said I.
Reilly grew confidential. "No, it ain't Hallen, they say. There's a lot of talk about some New York man coming up here to run things."
"Who?"
"Oh, they say that Quintus Oakes—you've heard of him, of course—is coming soon, and these are some of his men."
"Indeed!" And Moore and I exchanged glances.
"But, say," continued the porter, "that is confidential; only we fellows round here know it."
We parted from Reilly. Moore said: "If they know about it in here, of course half of the town has heard already."
"Yes. The tale was doubtless started by Hallen as a great secret; he knew it would spread."
"Evidently Oakes has not been recognized by the people as yet."
"No," I rejoined, "but the fact that the rumor is out shows to my mind that Hallen and Oakes have some little scheme on hand. At any rate, we must know nothing of Oakes; remember that he isClarkto all but a select few."
We decided to go to one of the newspaper offices, after a brief call on Chief Hallen, who gave us no news of value, but was nevertheless very agreeable. He advised us to see Dowd, and gave us a note to him. We found the newspaper man at his office, just finishing his night's work. He was very attentive in furnishing us back copies of his rival's paper, the "Daily News." He said he kept them filed as samples of "daring journalism." "I have only been a couple of years in this business, but I have the pedigree of the town in these newspapers. I got them from people who had saved them—as country people will. Skinner would not sell me any—the rascal. Whenever he grows fresh and criticises things improperly, I investigate what he has previously said on the subject and then publish a deadly parallel column. He has a rather poor memory—and I worry him once in a while," he remarked with a laugh.
We found the paper which corresponded in date to the piece we had taken from the robe. There was a full account of the murder of Smith, which we read, but nothing that seemed to us of any value. On that occasion no clues whatever had been found.Only, again the local physicians had thought the wound was made by a large ball.
The old chief of that time had been succeeded by Hallen, who had never been able to gain any definite clue to the murderer. The interest had then died out, and the mystery became a thing of the past.
Dowd discussed the similarity of the recent murder to that of Smith, and hinted, moreover, that he knew the identity of our friend Clark. He said Hallen had made a confidant of him, as he might want to make use of his newspaper.
"By the way, speaking of the old murder, there is something that has never been published, but which some of the old codgers about here have cherished as perhaps relating to it."
"What is it?" asked the doctor.
"Well, a couple of old men who have since died, both milkmen, used to say that once or twice theyhad seen a woman near the scene of the murder at that hour in the morning. Also, that she always ran into the woods, and was dressed in black."
"Who were those old men?"
"Well, they were both reliable fellows. Their tales were laughed at, so they refused to discuss the matter any more. They both claimed to have seen her at a distance, however; and since they were on different wagons, their stories seemed to corroborate each other."
We expressed our great interest in the news, and Dowd advised us to see Reilly the porter, who had heard the story of the woman from the men themselves.
We returned to the hotel, feeling much elated at the courtesy of Dowd and at the prospect of learning something not generally known, and bearing upon the murder.
Soon we managed to find Reilly. He came to our rooms on the excuse that we had some orders to give concerning baggage that had not yet arrived from New York.
The porter was decidedly intelligent, having beenreduced to his present position through adversity, as we already knew. It took only a little questioning to elicit his story, which he told about as follows: