Leftalone, Elisha gloomily pursued his way to his own cottage and entering it by the side door passed through the back hall and upstairs.
From the shed he could hear May Ellen, his housekeeper, singing lustily as she mopped the floor to the refrain ofSmile, Smile, Smile.
The sentiment jarred on him. He could not smile.
Going to the closet, he took out his Sunday suit, shook it, and with the air of one making ready his shroud, spread it upon the bed. It exhaled a pungent, funereal mustiness, particularly disagreeable at the moment.
Next he produced a boiled shirt, a collar, and a black tie.
It took him some time to assemble these infrequently used accessories, and he was dismayed to find no collar-button.
Nervously he searched the drawers, tossing their contents upside down in fruitless quest for this indispensable article.
A collar-button was the corner-stone of his toilet—the object on which everything else depended. Should it fail to be forthcoming, the game was up. He could not administer the law without it.
Perhaps, viewing the matter from every angle, itsdisappearance was a fortunate, rather than an unfortunate, omen.
Now that he had had time for sober reflection, the enterprise on which he had embarked appeared a foolhardy—almost mad undertaking. To grapple with an experienced criminal was suicidal. It was bad enough to do so if forced into the dilemma by chance. But to seek out such an issue deliberately! He wondered what he had been thinking of. Excitement had swept him off his feet and put to rout both his caution and his common sense.
He wished with all his heart he had never mentioned the matter to Eleazer. But for that, he could pull out of it and no one would be the wiser.
Suppose the criminal did escape? Were not lawbreakers doing so every day?
One more at large could make little difference in the general moral tone of society. Anyway, no criminal—no matter what a rascal he might be, was worth the sacrifice of a man's life—particularly his life, argued Elisha.
But, alas, there was Eleazer to whom he had precipitately confided the entire story!
No, there was no possibility of his backing out of the affair now and washing his hands of it. He must go through with it.
Nevertheless, he would postpone the moment for action as long as he was able.
Therefore, instead of donning his official garb, he went down stairs to hunt up his badge and handcuffs. These he kept in the drawer of the tall secretary in the sitting-room and although he had not seen them for months, he felt certain they would still be there.
In order to make no noise and arouse May Ellen's phenomenal curiosity, he took off his shoes.
To his consternation, the drawer was empty!
And not only was it empty but it had been left open as if a marauder possessed of sticky hands had hastily abandoned it.
Elisha paused, confounded. Who could have taken these symbols of the law? Who would wish to take them? Certainly not May Ellen.
Even if her inquiring mind had prompted her to ransack his property, she was far too honest a person to make off with it. Furthermore, what use could a peaceable woman have for a sheriff's badge and a pair of handcuffs?
Unwilling to believe the articles were gone, Elisha peered feverishly into every corner the piece of furniture contained. He even hauled out the books and ran his hand along the grimy shelves behind them. But beyond a thick coating of dust, nothing rewarded his search.
At length, as a last resort, he reluctantly shouted for May Ellen.
She came, a drab woman—thin-haired, hollow-chested with a wiry, hipless figure and protruding teeth.
"Wal, sir?"
"May Ellen, who's been explorin' this secretary of mine? Some of the things that oughter be in it, ain't," blustered he.
"What things?"
The woman's eye was faded, but it held a quality that warned the sheriff she was not, perhaps, as spiritless as she looked.
"Oh—oh, just some little things I was huntin' for," he amended, adopting a more conciliatory tone.
"If I knew what they was, I could tell you better where they might be lurkin'."
Alas, there was no help for it!
"I'm lookin' for my handcuffs an' sheriff's badge," answered Elisha.
"There ain't been a crime? You ain't goin' to arrest somebody?"
"I ain't at liberty to answer that question just now," replied Elisha with importance.
"Mercy on us! You don't tell me a crime's been committed in Wilton! I guess it's the first time in all the town's history. Won't folks be agog? It'll stir up the whole community."
The sentiment held for Elisha a vaguely familiarring. As he speculated why, he recalled with dismay that it was he himself who, not a week ago, had brazenly willed the very calamity that had now befallen the village.
To be sure, he spoke in jest. Still it behooved a man to be careful what he wished for. Providence sometimes took folks at their word and answered prayers—even idle ones.
"You mustn't peep about this outside, May Ellen," he cautioned. "Was you to, no end of harm might be done. The criminal, you see, is still at large an' we want to trap him 'fore he suspects we're after him."
"I see," replied the woman with an understanding nod. "I won't breathe a breath of it to a soul. But while we're mentionin' it, I would dearly like to know who the wretch is."
"That's a secret of the law. I ain't free to publish it. You shall be told it, though, soon's the arrest is made. Now 'bout the badge an' handcuffs. You see how important 'tis I should have 'em. They was in the drawer an' they'd oughter be there now. Instead, the whole place is messed up an' sticky as if some person who had no business meddlin' had overhauled it."
He saw May Ellen's faded eyes dilate with sudden terror.
"It's that miserable Tommy Cahoon!" interrupted she. "His mother left him an' Willie here with me a week ago when she went to Sawyer Falls shoppin'. I saw 'em playin' policeman out in the back yard, an' noticed one of 'em was wearin' a badge, but I thought nothin' of it, supposin' they'd brought it with 'em. The little monkeys must 'a' sneaked indoors when I wasn't lookin' an' took that an' the handcuffs. I'm dretful sorry. Still, boys will be boys, I reckon," concluded she with a deprecatory smile and a shrug of her angular shoulders.
"But—but—good Heavens—" sputtered Elisha.
"I'm sure we can find the missin' articles, unless the children took 'em home—which I doubt," went on the woman serenely. "Last I saw of the imps they was out yonder under the apple trees. S'pose we have a look there."
Almost beside himself with an indignation he dared not voice, Elisha followed May Ellen out of doors.
Yes, trampled into the sodden ground lay the badge—its gleaming metal surface defaced by mud, and its fastening broken. There, too, lay the handcuffs, tightly snapped together and without a trace of a key to unlock them.
Elisha, livid with rage, opened his lips prepared to consign to the lower regions not only Tommy and Willie Cahoon, but their mother and May Ellen as well.
Before he could get the words out of his mouth, however, the suave voice of his housekeeper fell gently on his ear.
"'Course you can't lay this mishap up against me, Elisha," she was saying. "I ain't no more responsible for the children's thievin' than you are for the crime of the criminal you're preparin' to arrest. The actions of others are beyond our control. All we can do is to live moral lives ourselves."
"But—but—"
"If you do feel I'm to blame, you'll just have to get somebody else to do your work. I wouldn't stay in no situation an' be regarded as—"
"I ain't blamin' you a mite, May Ellen," Elisha hurriedly broke in, panic-stricken lest his domestic tranquillity trembling so delicately on the brink of cataclysm topple into the void and be swallowed up. "As you say, the doin's of others are somethin' we can't take on our shoulders. Thank you for helpin' me hunt up these things."
As he spoke, he dubiously eyed the muddy objects in his hand. Well, at least, thought he, everything was not lost. He had gained time.
To wear his badge until a new pin was soddered to it was out of the question. In addition, the handcuffs were of no use at all unless a key could be found to unlock them.
He felt like a doomed man who had been granted an unlooked-for reprieve.
Eleazer would be nettled.
When he came steaming back with the revolver he would storm and rage like a bluefish in a net.
Nevertheless, accidents were unavoidable and in the meantime, while the emblems of the law were being repaired, who could tell what might happen?
Stanley Heath might escape and take the jewels with him—escape to some other part of the world and pass on to a larger and more competent party of criminal investigators the unenviable task of arresting him.
Elisha was quite willing to forego the honor.
No longer did he desire to see his picture emblazoned on the front pages of the papers or behold his name in print. If he could shrink back into being merely a humble, insignificant citizen of Cape Cod, it was all he asked.
As he turned to reënter the house, Eleazer hailed him.
"I've had the devil of a time with this revolver," announced he, puffing into the yard and jauntily flourishing the weapon.
"Take care, Eleazer! Don't you go pointin' that thing at me!" Elisha yelled.
"I ain't pointin' it at you. Even if I was, there'd be no chance of it hurtin' you. 'Tain't loaded."
"That's the kind that always goes off," the sheriff insisted. "For Heaven's sake, wheel it the other way, can't you? Or else aim it at the ground."
"Wal, since you're so 'fraid of it, I will. But for all that, there ain't an atom of danger." Then regarding his comrade's greenish countenance, he remarked abruptly, "Say, what's the matter with you, 'Lish? You ain't got on your other suit, nor your badge, nor nothin'. What in thunder have you been doin' all this time? I've been gone 'most an hour."
Elisha told his story.
"Wal, if that ain't the ole Harry!" fumed Eleazer. "That's goin' to ball us all up. There's no use doin' this thing if it ain't done in bang-up style. We don't want a lot of city cops jeerin' at us. We got to get that badge soddered an' them handcuffs unlocked 'fore another move can be made. I s'pose mebbe Nate Harlow over to Belleport could help us out."
"An' go blabbin' all over town the predicament the Wilton sheriff was in? No—sir—ee! Not if I know it. I wouldn't turn to a Belleport man for aid was the criminal to rush from hidin' an' go free. The only thing to do is to motor to Sawyer Falls an' hunt up Pete McGrath, the blacksmith. He's a wizard with tools. I never knew no job to stump him yet. He'll know what to do. The notion of goin' over there ain't such a bad one, neither, 'cause Artie Nickerson, the station-master's, got a relation on theChicago police force an' had oughter be able to give us a few pointers 'bout how folks is arrested."
Accordingly the two men set forth on their errand.
As the shabby Ford rattled over the sandy thoroughfare, Elisha's strained countenance began gradually to relax.
"Nice day for a ride," remarked he glancing toward the sea. "Fine weather's certainly on the way. Air's mild as summer. 'Fore long we'll be havin' days worth noticin'."
"So we will. April's 'bout over an' May'll be on us 'fore we know it. Then June'll come—the month of brides an' roses."
The allusion was an unfortunate one.
Elisha stiffened in his seat.
Amid the whirlwind happenings of the day, he had forgotten that the man at his elbow was his rival.
"You plannin' to wed in June, Eleazer?" asked he disagreeably.
"That's my present intention."
"It's mine, too," said Elisha.
"Humph! Expectin' to live at the Homestead?"
Elisha nodded.
"So'm I," grinned Eleazer.
"Hope you'll invite me over, now and then," Elisha drawled sarcastically.
"Hope you'll do the same," came from Eleazer.
For an interval they rode on in uncomfortable silence.
"Them boats is pretty heavy loaded," Eleazer presently volunteered, gazing off towards the horizon where a string of dull red coal barges trailed along in the wake of a blackened tug.
"Makin' for New York, I reckon," Elisha responded, thawing a little.
"Wouldn't be s'prised if that Heath chap came from New York," ruminated Eleazer.
"Confound Heath! I wish I'd never laid eyes on him!" exploded Elisha.
"Oh, I dunno as I'd go so fur as to say that," came mildly from his companion. "Ain't Heath's comin' goin' to put Wilton on the map? Bad's he is, we've got him to thank for that. With him safely handed over to the authorities, our fortune's made. What you plannin' to do with your half of the reward?"
Here was a delightful topic for conversation!
Elisha's eyes brightened.
"I ain't decided yet," smiled he.
"Wonder how much 'twill be? Oughter come to quite a sum, considerin' the risk one takes to get it."
Elisha's newly captured good-humor vanished. Lapsing into moody silence, he did not speak again until the white spire of the Sawyer Falls church appeared and, rounding the bend of the road, the car rolled into the town.
Compared to the villages of Wilton or Belleport, this railroad terminus was quite a metropolis. It boasted two dry-goods stores, an A & P, a drug store, a coal office, a hardware shop, and a grain shed. Around its shabby station clustered a group of motor cars, a truck or two, and the usual knot of loitering men and boys.
In spite of his depression, Elisha's spirits took another upward turn.
It was interesting to see something different, something more bustling and novel than his home town.
"S'pose we drop in an' get a moxie," he suggested.
"'Twould go kinder good. I want to buy a roll of lozengers, too, an' some cough drops now I'm here."
"Come ahead."
"Don't you s'pose we'd oughter go to the smithy first an' leave the badge? It may take some little time to get it mended," Eleazer said.
The badge!
Would the man never cease dangling before his vision the wretched memories Elisha was struggling so valiantly to forget?
With an ungracious, wordless grunt, he grudgingly turned the nose of the car toward the railroad.
The small shed where the forge stood was close by the tracks and as he pulled up before it, he espied through its doorway not only Peter McGrath, the blacksmith, but also the rotund figure of Artie Nickerson, the Sawyer Falls station agent.
"Art's inside! Ain't that luck?" he remarked, clambering out of the car. "The station must be closed an' he's come across the road to neighbor with Pete."
They went in and after the usual greetings, Elisha stated his errand.
McGrath took the handcuffs and badge to the light and examined them.
"Humph! Looks as if you'd been in some sort of a scrimmage," he commented.
"I ain't. Things get weared out in time. The pin on that badge warn't never right. 'Twouldn't clasp. As for the handcuffs, I reckon they're O.K. 'cept for the key bein' gone. Think you can make me one?"
"Sure. That ain't no trick at all. I can hammer you out a skeleton key which, though 'twon't take no prize as to beauty, will do what you want it to. I can sodder some sort of a pin an' catch on the badge, too. S'pose you ain't in no 'special hurry for 'em. There don't 'pear to be a cryin' need round here for such articles," he concluded with a chuckle.
"Nevertheless, I would like 'em," Elisha demurred. "You see I'm plannin' to take 'em back with me. I don't often get over here an' you never can tell these days when such things may be wanted."
"Just as you say. I'll start on 'em straight away.I ain't busy on nothin' that can't be put aside."
Elisha strolled over to a box and sat down to wait.
"How are you, Art?" he inquired.
"Tol'able. Havin' some rheumatism, though. Reckon we've all got to expect aches an' pains at our age."
"That's right. Speakin' of handcuffs an' badges, didn't you have a nephew or a cousin 'sociated with a police force somewheres?"
"Bennie, you mean? Oh, yes. He's a policeman out in Chicago."
"How's he gettin' on?"
"Fine! Fine! Just now he's laid up in the hospital, but he 'spects to be out again 'fore long. Got shot through the arm a couple of weeks ago."
"You don't say? Huntin'?" Elisha queried pleasantly.
"Huntin'? Mercy, no! He got winged by a stray bullet while chasin' up a guy that had broke into a store. The shrimp hit him. Luckily he didn't kill him. Ben thought he got off pretty easy."
Elisha's smile faded.
"These fellers that's at large now don't give a hang who they murder," went on the station agent affably. "They're a desperate crew. They'd as soon kill you as not. Bennie landed his man, though, 'spite of bein' hurt. 'Twill, most likely, mean a promotion for him. He'd oughter be promoted, too, for he'sdone great work on the force. Been shot three or four times while on duty. 'Tain't a callin' I myself would choose, but he seems to get a big kick out of it."
Elisha, pale to the lips, suddenly decided he had heard enough of Bennie and shifted the subject.
"S'pose you're still goin' round in the same ole treadmill over at the station, Art," he observed.
"Yep. Same ole rut. Two trains a day as usual. I've had, though, a bit more telegraphin' to do of late than formerly. It's all come from your part of the world, too. Know a feller over to Wilton named Heath? He's sent off several wires."
Both Elisha, perched on the box, and Eleazer astride a keg straightened up.
"Heath? Yes, indeed. He's stoppin' in town for a while."
"So I gathered. Lives in New York at one of them big hotels."
"Who told you that?" Eleazer demanded.
"He sent a wire to his wife. Leastways, I figger 'twas his wife. He signed himselfLovingly, Stanley, an' addressed it to Mrs. Stanley Heath."
"You don't say! That's news to me," Elisha cried. He darted a glance at Eleazer.
Artie, gratified at seeing he had created a sensation, beamed broadly.
"'Course I ain't permitted to divulge messagesthat go through my hands. They're confidential. But for that I could tell you somethin' that would make your eyes pop outer their sockets."
"Somethin' about Heath?"
"Somethin' he said in a telegram."
"You might give us a hint," Eleazer suggested.
"I couldn't. Was I to, I might lose my job."
"Oh, I ain't askin' you to repeat no private wire."
"I couldn't even if you did."
Emphatically Artie shook his head.
Then Elisha had an inspiration.
"S'pose I was to ask you officially?" he suggested. "S'pose it's important for me to know what was in that message? S'pose I demanded you tell me in the name of the law?"
"Shucks, 'Lish. You don't get round me that way," the station agent laughed.
"I ain't attemptin' to get round you. I'm askin' you seriously as sheriff of the town of Wilton."
"Are you in earnest? What do you want to know for?" Artie asked.
"Never you mind. That's my business. I've a right to the information."
"Oh, that's different. Still, I reckon it's as well I shouldn't repeat what Heath said word for word. 'Twouldn't interest you, anyhow. The wire was just sent to a friend. The part that astonished me was its beginnin'. It ran somethin' like this:
"'Safe on Cape with my lady. Shall return with her later.'"
Simultaneously Elisha shot up from the box on which he was sitting and Eleazer sprang from the keg of nails.
"What interested me," droned on Artie, "was who this lady could be. Heath, apparently, is a married man. What business has he taggin' after some Wilton woman an' totin' her back to New York with him when he goes?"
"He ain't got no business doin' it," Eleazer shouted. "He's a blackguard—that's what he is! But don't you worry, Artie. He ain't goin' to put no such scurvy trick over on any Wilton woman. Me an' 'Lish'll see to that. We're onto him an' his doin's, we are. How much more tinkerin' have you got to do on them trinkets, Pete? The sheriff an' me is in a hurry to get home."
"You'll have to give me a good half hour more."
"The deuce we will!"
"Can't do it in less."
"That'll mean we won't fetch up at Wilton 'til after dark," Eleazer fretted.
"Sorry. I'm workin' at top speed. I can't go no faster. You've set me quite a chore."
"There's no use goin' up in the air an' rilin' Pete all up, Eleazer," Elisha intervened. "We'll just have to be patient an' put off what we was plannin'to do until tomorrow. I reckon mornin'll be a better time, anyway. Certainly 'twill do just as well."
"Mebbe," Eleazer grumbled. "Still, I'm disappointed. Wal, that bein' the case, s'pose you an' me step over to the drug store while we're hangin' round an' do them errands we mentioned."
Elisha agreed.
A faint flush had crept back into his cheeks and his eyes had regained their light of hope.
Chance was on his side.
He had wrested from Fate another twelve hours of life, and life was sweet.
Dawnwas breaking over Wilton and the first shafts of sunlight transforming its pearly sands into sparkling splendor and its sea into spangled gold, when a trim motor car, bearing a New York number plate, slipped quietly into the village and drew up at the town garage.
From it stepped a man, small and somewhat bent, with rosy cheeks, kindly brown eyes, a countenance schooled to stolidity rather than naturally so, and hair touched with grey.
"May I leave my car here?" he inquired of the lad who was sweeping out the building.
"Sure!"
"Fill her up for me, please. And you might clean her a bit. Some of the roads were pretty soft."
"They always are at this season of the year, sir. You are astir early. I thought I was, but I reckon you've beaten me. Come far?"
"New York."
"Been riding all night?"
The stranger nodded.
"I like traveling at night," he volunteered. "Less traffic. Can you tell me where a Mr. Heath is staying?"
"Heath? The chap who ran aground on theCrocker Cove sand bar?"
"He came in a boat," replied the other cautiously.
"Then he's your party. He's over to The Widder's."
"The Widow's?"
"U—h—aah."
"Where's that?"
"New round here, ain't you? If you warn't, you wouldn't be askin' that question. The Widder lives out yonder at the Homestead."
"How does one get there?"
"Wal, there are several ways. When the tide's low, folks walk. It's even possible to motor round by the shore if you've a light car. The quickest way, though, an' the only way to reach the house when the tide's full, as 'tis now, is to row."
Although the keen eyes of his listener narrowed, they expressed no surprise. Apparently he was accustomed to obstacles, and the surmounting of them was all in the day's work.
"Where'll I find a boat?"
"That I couldn't say. The Widder keeps hers t'other side of the channel. Mebbe, though, if you was to go down to the beach some fisherman would give you a lift across. 'Most any of 'em would admire to if you're a friend of Marcia Howe's."
The stranger bowed but offered no comment. Ifcuriosity stirred within him concerning the information the lad vouchsafed, at least he gave no sign.
"Thank you," he replied briefly. "You'll see the car is put in good shape?"
"The very best."
"Much obliged. Will this road take me to the beach?"
"Straight as an arrow. Pity you have to tote that suit-case."
"I'm used to carrying luggage. It never bothers me. Good morning."
Without wasting additional words or time, the stranger nodded and started off briskly in the direction indicated. Nevertheless, swiftly as he moved, his eyes missed none of the panorama stretched before him.
The swelling expanse of sea, rising and falling to the rhythm of its own whispered music, caught his ear; he noted the circling gulls that dipped to the crests of the incoming waves or drifted in snowy serenity upon the tide; saw the opalescent flash of the mica-studded sands. Twice he stopped to fill his lungs with the fresh morning air, breathing deeply as if such crystalline draughts were an infrequent and appreciated luxury.
When he reached the beach he halted, glancing up and down its solitary crescent and scanning eagerly the silvered house beyond the channel. Discovering no one in sight, he dragged from the shore a yellow dory, clambered into it, and catching up the oars began to row toward the dwelling silhouetted against the water and the glory of the morning sky.
In the meantime, both Marcia and Sylvia had wakened early and were astir.
The kitchen fire was already snapping merrily in the stove, however, and the table was spread before the latter made her appearance.
She came in, sweater and beret in hand, and carrying a thick envelope with its dashingly scrawled address still wet.
"Why, Sylvia, how you startled me!" Marcia exclaimed. "I did not hear you come down stairs. Why are you up so early?"
"I'm going to town to catch the morning mail."
"The mail? But, my dear child, why such haste?"
Sylvia colored.
"I have to get off this letter."
"Have to?"
"Yes—to Hortie. You see, if I didn't answer promptly he might think the candy had gone astray," explained the girl stepping to the mirror and arranging a curl that rippled distractingly above her forehead.
"Oh, of course, you must thank him for thecandy," Marcia agreed. "Still, is it necessary to do so in such a rush—to walk to the village this morning?"
"I mean to row over."
"I'm afraid you can't, dear. I discovered last night the boat was gone. Eleazer Crocker must have appropriated it when he was here yesterday."
"How horrid of him! What earthly right had he to take it?"
"None at all."
"Didn't he ask if he might?"
"No. To tell the truth, I went to find a book for him and was gone so long he apparently became either peeved or impatient at my delay and like a silly small boy went home mad, taking the boat with him—at least that's my version of the story."
"Perhaps he did it to punish you."
"Perhaps. Anyway, whether he took it as a joke or as a reprisal, I shall give him a good lecture when I see him. It is a serious thing to be left out here with no way of getting to land. We might have needed the dory sorely. In fact, here we are with this tremendously important letter that must be posted immediately—willy-nilly."
With eyes brimming with laughter, Marcia shot a mischievous glance at her companion.
"It isn't just to thank Hortie for the candy that I'm writing," that young lady replied sedately."You see, he asked if he might come to Wilton for his summer vacation. He has to know so he can make his plans."
"But it is only the last of April, beloved."
"Men need to know such things well in advance. They have to adjust their business," returned Sylvia magnificently.
"I see," smiled Marcia. "Under such conditions, I suppose the sooner the letter is sent the better."
She did not say precisely what conditions were in her mind, but evidently the comment mollified Sylvia who, after wriggling her mop of curls through the neck of her blue sweater, tossed beret and letter into a chair and began, in high spirits, to help with the breakfast.
Yet notwithstanding she did so graciously, it was quite obvious her eyes were on the clock and that she was fidgeting to be off; so as soon as the coffee and toast were ready, Marcia begged her not to delay.
The girl needed no urging.
"The sooner I start, the sooner I shall be back, I suppose," she answered with feigned reluctance. "Men are so unreasonable. It's a perfect nuisance to trot to Wilton with this letter at this hour of the morning, especially if I must go the long way round. Still, there's no other way to get it there. Any errands?"
"Not today, thanks. Just the mail."
"I'll wait for it."
The eagerness betrayed by the reply left not the slightest doubt that Sylvia would wait, and gladly.
As the door closed behind her, Marcia smiled whimsically.
She continued to smile, even to hum softly to herself while she prepared Heath's breakfast tray, and she was just about to take it upstairs when there was a gentle knock at the kitchen door.
A stranger stood upon the threshold.
"Is Mr. Stanley Heath staying here?" inquired he.
"Yes."
"I am Currier. Mr. Heath sent for me."
"Of course! Come in, won't you? Mr. Heath is expecting you. I'll tell him you are here."
"You needn't do that, madam. Mr. Heath is quite accustomed to my coming to his room at all hours. If you will just show me where he is—"
"At the head of the stairs."
"Very good. Thank you, madam. I will go up."
"Tell him I am bringing his breakfast very soon."
"I will, madam."
"Have you breakfasted yourself?"
"I? No, madam. But I beg you will not—"
"I'll bring coffee and toast enough for both of you."
"Please—"
"It is no trouble."
"I will come back and fetch Mr. Heath's breakfast, madam. Afterward, if I may have a snack here in the kitchen, I shall be grateful."
"Any way that you prefer."
Marcia saw rather than heard the stranger mount the staircase.
His step was like velvet. So noiseless was it, it made not a sound either on the broad creaking staircase, or on the floor overhead.
Nevertheless, he must have entered Stanley Heath's room, for soon she detected the invalid's voice, imperative and eager, each sentence ending with an interrogation. The lapses of silence which intervened and which at first she took to be pauses, she presently decided represented the inaudible and subdued replies of Currier.
To judge from the sounds, Heath was pouring out an avalanche of questions.
Sometimes he choked as if words came faster than he could utter them; and once he broke into peals of hearty laughter, followed by a paroxysm of coughing.
Still, Currier failed to return for the waiting tray.
"He has forgotten all about it," murmured Marcia. "The coffee will be stone cold and the toast ruined. I'll carry them up myself."
She mounted the stairs softly that her coming might break in as little as possible upon the conversation of her two guests.
"She was alone in the library when I went in," Heath was saying, "and turned so white I feared she might faint or scream. Luckily she did neither. Steadying herself against the table, she faced me.
"'You know what I'm after,' I said—'the jewels.'
"She hedged a moment.
"'What makes you think I have them?'
"'I know. Come, hand them over.'
"At that, she began to cry.
"'Quickly,' I repeated. 'Someone may come.'
"With that, she fumbled under her skirt and produced the jewel-case, pouring out a torrent of explanations.
"I stopped no longer than I had to, I assure you. With the jewels in my hand, I slipped through the French window and made for the landing where I had left the boat. In no time I had made my get-away. Every detail of my plan would have gone smoothly but for the fog. I lost my bearings completely. Imagine my amazement at finding myself here."
Marcia waited to hear no more.
Her knees trembled beneath her.
So Heath really had taken the jewels—taken them from the resisting woman who owned them—taken them against her will and made off with them!
He owned it!
Nay, more! Far from regretting what he haddone, in his tone rang a note of satisfaction in his accomplishment.
She had never believed him guilty.
Even with the gems spread out before her and every evidence of crime apparent, she had not believed it.
Not until she heard the bitter, irrevocable confession from his own lips did she waver, and even then she battled against the truth, refusing to be convinced. There must be some explanation, she told herself. Nevertheless, the shock of what she had learned was overwhelming.
It seemed as if every ounce of strength left her body. Her head swam. Her heart beat wildly.
"I must not give way!" she reiterated to herself. "I must put on a brave front. He must not suspect I know."
It took a few moments for her to regain her grip on herself, to quiet her throbbing heart, to drag back her ebbing strength.
Then she knocked at the door.
"Here is your coffee, Mr. Heath," she called.
She hoped his friend would open the door and relieve her of the tray that she might immediately withdraw, but instead, Heath himself responded:
"Come in, Mrs. Howe. I'm afraid we've delayed you. I had entirely forgotten about breakfast and so, I'll be bound, had Currier. You met my right-hand man down stairs, I take it. By traveling all night, he made very good time."
"He must be tired after his trip!"
"Oh, Currier is used to traveling at all hours. Night or day are both alike to him," laughed Heath.
"You found the house without trouble?" Marcia inquired, making an effort to address the newcomer in a natural, off-hand manner.
"Yes, Mrs. Howe. A young man at the garage directed me to the beach and there I discovered a yellow dory which I appropriated. I don't know as I should have taken it, but as I needed a boat, I pressed it into service."
"The boat happens to be mine."
"Indeed. Then perhaps you will pardon my using it."
"Certainly. In fact, I am glad you did. It was left on the mainland by mistake."
As Marcia turned to go, her unfailing courtesy prompted her to add:
"Mr. Currier is welcome to stay if he wishes to, Mr. Heath. We can put him up perfectly well."
"Oh, no. He is returning directly. It seems wiser for him to go back in the boat and leave the car for me to use here. Nevertheless, I greatly appreciate your kindness."
"Mrs. Heath is anxious," put in Currier. "She begged me to come home as soon as possible that shemight know how Mr. Heath was. Naturally she has been much worried."
"There, there, Currier—that will do," broke in Stanley Heath, flushing. "And now, since Mrs. Howe is here and is in our secret, I may as well break to you something I have not yet had the chance to tell you. Part of the mission on which you came cannot be accomplished. You cannot take the gems back with you to New York. A calamity has befallen them."
"A calamity, sir?"
The small, grey-haired man looked from Stanley Heath to Marcia, and for the first time, his imperturbable countenance betrayed mingled amazement and distress. Presently, however, he had it under control and as if he had donned a mask, it became as expressionless as the sphinx while he waited for the rest of the story.
"Mrs. Howe helped me conceal the jewels downstairs in a hiding-place under the kitchen floor," continued Stanley Heath. "When she went to get them, they were gone."
"You don't tell me so, sir!"
"It is all very mysterious," broke in Marcia, taking up the tale. "I cannot in any way account for their disappearance and am much distressed."
"Naturally so, madam—naturally so," responded Currier politely. "And you have searched the placecarefully? Sometimes such things get misplaced."
"I've looked everywhere. They are not there."
"Have you any theory as to who could have taken them?" inquired Currier with more animation than he had up to the moment displayed.
"Absolutely none. I cannot even see how anybody had the chance to take them. No one knew they were there."
"Would you be willing to show me where they were hidden and allow me to investigate?"
"Certainly. I fear, however, search will be useless."
"Still I should like to look."
"I'll take you downstairs then, while we have the opportunity. You must have something to eat, too, for you must be hungry after your long ride."
"I could do with a cup of coffee, if convenient."
"You shall have more than that—a hearty breakfast. I am sure you need it. When do you start back?"
"That is for Mr. Heath to decide."
"Right off. As soon as you can get under way," Stanley Heath said decisively. "It is a fine day and you had better make the most of the tide."
"That certainly would be wise, sir."
"Go down now with Mrs. Howe, since she is so gracious, and have your breakfast. Examine, too, the place where we concealed the jewel-case. Youmay discover a clue she has missed."
"That is extremely unlikely, I fear, sir," was the man's modest answer. "Still, I will look."
"I am sick at heart about all this," Marcia murmured as the two descended the stairs. "You see, it was I who suggested to Mr. Heath where to hide the gems. We were hurried and had no time to think up a place. I had used this hide-out before and as it had always proved safe, I thought it would be so now. I feel responsible—as if this loss was my fault."
"It is a great pity," was Currier's ambiguous reply.
Preceding him into the kitchen, Marcia went straight to the hearth and pointed to the brick at her feet.
"It was here we put the jewel-case," she said.
"I think, with your permission, I will take up the brick," the little man at her elbow quietly announced.
"Certainly," acquiesced Marcia wearily.
"There might be some crevice, some opening—"
"I fear there isn't. Still you can try."
Taking out his knife, Currier knelt and soon had the brick out of its hole.
Beneath it lay the jewel-case, wrapped as before in Stanley Heath's monogrammed handkerchief.
Marcia could not believe her eyes.
"But—but—it wasn't there when I looked. I could swear it wasn't."
"Who could have taken it out? And if someonedid why return anything so valuable?" Currier inquired.
"I don't know. I do not understand it at all," the woman replied, passing a hand across her forehead in complete bewilderment. "There is something uncanny about the whole affair."
"Well, at any rate, the gems are here now," said Currier in a matter-of-fact tone. "Mr. Heath will be much relieved. Their loss must, I am sure, have distressed him deeply. Shall I go up and—"
"I'll go," Marcia cried. "It won't take me a minute. I'll be right back."
"As you prefer, madam."
Off flew Marcia.
Her haste, the radiance of her face must have suggested to the stranger a thought that had not occurred to him before, for after she had gone, he stood immovable in the middle of the floor looking after her.
Then a slow, shadowy smile passed across his features.
Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he took two or three meditative strides up and down the room.
"So—ho!" he muttered. "So—ho!"
It happened he had quite an opportunity for thought before his hostess returned and he employed it to the utmost.
He was still absorbed in reverie when Marcia,breathless and flushed, rejoined him.
She made no apology for her absence.
Perhaps she did not realize the length of time she had been gone.
"Well," queried she, "what conclusion have you arrived at?"
"A very interesting one," Currier returned promptly.
"Really? What is it?"
The man appeared taken aback.
"I misunderstood your question," he faltered. "I had something else in mind."
"I don't see how you could have. I can think of nothing but the jewels and their recovery. I am so happy I had completely forgotten your breakfast. Forgive me. You shall have it right away."
"If you would allow me, I can prepare it myself. I am accustomed to doing such things."
"No, indeed. Scrambled eggs take only a few moments; and bacon. You might run up to see Mr. Heath while I am getting them ready."
"I will do that. I shall be leaving at once and he may have final orders for me, or perhaps a letter for Mrs. Heath."
"Mrs. Heath!" Marcia repeated, as if the name suddenly brought before her consciousness something hitherto forgotten. "Yes, yes! Of course!"
Then turning her head aside, she inquired with studied carelessness:
"How long, I wonder, does Mr. Heath plan to remain in Wilton?"
"I could not say, madam."
"I think," hurried on the woman, "that as soon as he is able to make the journey he would better go home. This climate is—is—damp and he will, perhaps, pick up faster away from the sea. If you have any influence with him, won't you please advise it?"
The man's small, grey eyes narrowed.
"I have no influence with Mr. Heath," replied he. "Mrs. Heath has, however. Shall I tell her?"
"I wish you would."
An hour laterMy Unknown Ladyweighed anchor and on the breast of the high tide, rounded the Point and disappeared out to sea, carrying with her Currier and the jewels.
Marcia watched until the last snowy ripple foaming in her wake had disappeared. When the infinitesimal, bobbing craft was no longer visible, she sank into a chair and brushed her hand across her eyes.
The lips which but a short time before had curled into smiles were now set and determined.
"And that's the end of that foolishness!" she muttered. "The end!"
Inspite of Elisha's indignation toward Stanley Heath, and his resolve to go to the Homestead with the break of dawn, it was noon before he and Eleazer got under way.
In the first place, the two men disagreed as to the proper method of arresting the alleged criminal.
"You can't take him on no warrant, 'Lish," Eleazer objected, "'cause you ain't actually got proof he's guilty."
"Proof? Ain't I got a clear case? Ain't I roundin' him up with the loot on him?" blustered Elisha.
"Mebbe. Still, it's my opinion you can't do more'n take him on suspicion."
"Suspicion!" Elisha repeated scornfully. "Suspicion! Would you call a fistful of diamonds suspicion? I wouldn't."
"P'raps—p'raps you didn't really see the jewels," Eleazer quavered. "Sometimes folks get to imaginin' things—seein' what ain't there. Are you plumb certain you saw them things?"
"Certain?"
"Come, come! Don't go up in the air, 'Lish. I ain't doubtin' your word. Nothin' of the sort. I just want to make sure we don't take no missteps an' make jackasses of ourselves," Eleazer explained."This is a big affair. We've got to move careful."
"Humph! You're shifty as the sands. You didn't talk like this yesterday."
"No, I didn't. But after sleepin' on the matter, I've thought more 'bout it."
"Sleepin' on it! You were lucky if you could sleep on it. I didn't. I never closed my eyes from the time I went to bed 'till mornin'. Heard the clock strike every hour. You can't 'cuse me of not thinkin'. I'll bet I've done full as much thinkin' as you—mebbe more. Had you the prospect of bein' shot ahead of you, you'd think—think pretty hard, I figger," Elisha growled.
"No doubt I would," conceded Eleazer mildly. "Wal, 'long's we've both chewed the matter over, I reckon there's nothin' more to be done now but go ahead."
"Take Heath on suspicion, you mean? Humph! Seems an awful cheap sort of way to do it, in my opinion. Kinder meechin'. There ain't no dignity to it."
"What's the use of standin' here bickerin' half the mornin', 'Lish?" Eleazer said fretfully. "Let's get started. Next we know Heath may get wind of what we're up to an' light out."
"No danger of that with the Homestead dory on this side of the channel," Elisha sniffed.
"For all that, no purpose is served by puttin' offthe evil hour. I say we get under way," Eleazer urged. "Have you got everythin'?"
"I—I—guess so," Elisha said weakly.
"Pete fixed up your badge in great shape, didn't he?" was Eleazer's cheerful comment. "It's bright as a new dollar. Anybody could see it a mile away."
Elisha offered no reply.
"An' the handcuffs, too—they look grand. Why don't you kinder dangle 'em so'st they show? Why stuff 'em in your pocket? Was I in your place, I'd stalk into the Homestead with the handcuffs in one hand an' the pistol in the other."
"You ain't in my place!" Elisha snapped. "I wish to heaven you were."
"No, I ain't," his confederate returned promptly. "I'm only playin' second fiddle on this job. The whole responsibility's yours."
"Don't I know it? Why rub it in?"
"I ain't rubbin' it in. I'm just sorter cautionin' myself. You see when I'm mixed up in a job, I get so interested I'm liable to forget an' go ahead as if the whole enterprise was my own."
"You're welcome to shoulder this one if you want to. I give you permission," Elisha said eagerly.
"Oh, I wouldn't think of doin' that, 'Lish. I wouldn't want to steal the glory from you. You're the big shot on this occasion," cajoled Eleazer. "Wal, what do you say to our settin' out?"
Elisha did not move.
"Don't it 'most seem as if we'd oughter eat somethin' 'fore we go? I might turn faint doin' arrestin' on an empty stomach."
"But man alive, you et your breakfast, didn't you?"
"That was some little while ago," argued Elisha. "I'm feelin' a wee mite gone a'ready. I'd oughter have a lunch or somethin'."
"Wal, since you mention it, I could do with a couple of doughnuts an' slab of cheese myself," Eleazer confessed.
This information delighted Elisha.
"We might put off goin' 'til after dinner," he suggested. "Then we'd be primed by a good square meal an' be braced for it."
"Oh, we can't wait that long," his comrade immediately objected.
"N—o, I s'pose we can't. Wal, anyhow, I'll go hunt up a snack of somethin'."
"Don't bring nothin' but doughnuts an' cheese," Eleazer bellowed after him. "We can munch on them while walkin' to the beach."
The stroll to Crocker's Cove was not a hilarious one, even May Ellen's twisted crullers failing to stimulate Elisha's rapidly ebbing strength. With each successive step his spirits dropped lower and lower.
"You walk like as if you was chief mourner at your own funeral, 'Lish," Eleazer fretted. "We'll never make the Cove if you don't brace up."
"My shoes kinder pinch me."
"Walk on your toes."
"It's my toes that hurt."
"Walk on your heels then. Walk anywhere that's most comfortable, only come along."
"I am comin'."
"At a snail's pace," Eleazer retorted. "Soon folks will be comin' from the noon mail an' what we're doin' will get noised abroad."
Reluctantly Elisha quickened his steps.
At last they came within sight of the bay.
"Where'd you leave the boat?" Eleazer questioned.
"I pulled her up opposite the fish-shanty."
"She ain't here."
"Ain't here!"
"No. Look for yourself."
"My soul an' body!"
"I told you you hadn't oughter dally. What's to be done now?"
"I reckon we'll just have to give it all up," the sheriff responded with a sickly grin. "Call it off."
"Call it off? But you can't call it off. Officers of the law have got to do their duty no matter what."
"Yes—yes! Of course. I only meant we'd callit off for the present—for today, p'raps."
"An' let the thief escape? No sir—ee! We've got to go through with this thing now we've started if it takes a leg. We'll walk round by the shore."
"It's too far. My feet would never carry me that distance."
"They've got to. Come along."
"I can't walk in all these clothes. This collar is murderin' me."
"Oh, shut up, 'Lish. Quit whinin'."
"I ain't whinin'. Can't a man make a remark without your snappin' him up, I'd like to know? Who's sheriff anyhow—me or you?"
Eleazer vouchsafed no reply.
In high dudgeon the two men plodded through the sand, its grit seeping into their shoes with every step.
It was not until they came within sight of the Homestead that the silence between them was broken.
"Wal, here we are!" Eleazer announced more genially.
"Yes—here—here we are!" his comrade panted. "S'pose we set down a minute an' ketch our breath. My soul an' body—what a tramp! There's blisters on both my heels. I can hardly rest 'em on the ground."
"You do look sorter winded."
"I'm worse'n winded. I'm near dead! It's thisinfernal collar. It's most sawed the head off me," groaned Elisha.
"I don't see how it could. Every mite of starch is out of it. It's limp as a pocket handkerchief."
"Mebbe. Still, for all that, it's sand-papered my skin down to the raw. Collars are the devil's own invention. Nobody oughter wear 'em. Nobody oughter be made to wear 'em," raged Elisha. "Had I known when I was made sheriff I'd got to wear a collar, I'd never have took the job—never. 'Twarn't fair play not to tell me. In fact, there was nothin' fair 'bout any of it. This arrestin', now! I warn't justly warned 'bout that."
"Mebbe not," Eleazer agreed. "Still, I don't see's there's anything to be done 'bout all that now. You're sheriff an' your duty lies straight ahead of you. You've got to do it. Come along."
"Wait a minute, Eleazer. Just hold on a second. Let's take 'count of stock an' decide how we're goin' to proceed. We've got to make a plan," pleaded Elisha.
"But we've made a plan a'ready."
"No, we ain't—not a real plan. We've got to decide 'xactly how we'll go 'bout the affair," contradicted his companion. "After you've knocked at the door an' gone in—"
"I knocked an' gone in?"
"Yes, yes," Elisha repeated. "After that, you'llsorter state the case to Marcia, 'xplainin' why we've come an' everythin'—"
"An' what'll you be doin' meantime?" Eleazer inquired, wheeling sharply.
"Me? Why, I'll be waitin' outside, kinder loiterin' 'til it's time for me to go in—don't you see?"
"I don't. The time for you to go in is straight after the door is opened. It's you that'll enter first an' you who'll do the explainin'."
"But—but—s'pose Heath was to put up a fight an' rush past me?"
"Then I'll be outside to stop him," Eleazer cut in. "That's where I'm goin' to be—outside."
"You promised you'd stand by me," reproached Elisha with an injured air.
"Wal, ain't I? If I stay outside ready to trip up the criminal should he make a dash for freedom, ain't that standin' by you? What more do you want?"
"I think 'twould be better was you to go ahead an' pave the way for me. That's how it's done in plays. Some kinder unimportant person goes first an' afterward the hero comes in."
"So you consider yourself the hero of this show, do you?" commented Eleazer sarcastically.
"Ain't I?"
"Wal, you don't 'pear to me to be. Where'd you 'a' got that pistol but for me? Who egged you onan' marched you here—answer me that? You'd 'a' given up beat hadn't I took you by the scruff of the neck an' hauled you here," Eleazer burst out indignantly. "If you ain't the most ungrateful cuss alive! I've a big half mind to go back home an' leave you to do your arrestin' alone."
"There, there, Eleazer, don't misunderstand me," Elisha implored. "I was only jokin'. 'Course it's you an' not me that's the hero of the day. Don't I know it? That's why I was sayin' 'twas you should go into the house first. In that way you'll get all the attention an'—"
"An' all the bullets!" supplemented Eleazer grimly. "No—sir—ee! You don't pull the wool over my eyes that way, 'Lish Winslow. You're goin' to be the first one inside that door an' the last one out. See? You're to do the arrestin'. If there's undertakin' to be done afterwards, I 'tend to do it. You get that clear in your head. Otherwise, I go home."
"Don't do that, Eleazer, don't do that!" Elisha begged. "Don't go home an' leave me—now—at the last minute."
"You'll do the knockin' at the door? The announcin' of our errand?"
"Yes. Yes. I swear I will."
"Very well," Eleazer agreed magnificently. "Then I'll remain an' give you my moral support."
"I hope you'll do more'n that," urged Elisha timidly.
"I may. I'll see how matters work out," Eleazer returned pompously.
With lagging feet, the sheriff approached the door of the big grey house.
"There's the dory," observed Eleazer, pointing in the direction of the float. "Somebody's rowed it over."
"I wonder who?"
"P'raps an accomplice has arrived to aid Heath. What's the matter? You ain't sick, are you?"
"I dunno. I feel kinder—kinder queer."
"Indigestion! Them doughnuts most likely. You et 'em in a hurry," was Eleazer's tranquil reply. "Want a soda mint? I most generally carry some in my pocket."
"No. I—I—I think it's my heart."
"Heart—nothin'. It's just plain indigestion—that's what it is. I often have it. Don't think 'bout it an' 'twill go away. Put your mind on somethin' pleasanter—the arrestin' of Heath."
"That ain't pleasanter."
"Wal, think of somethin' that is then. Anything. An' while you're thinkin', be walkin' towards the house. You can think as well walkin' as settin' still, I reckon."
"I don't believe I can."
"Wal, try it, anyhow."
Eleazer had a compelling personality. Under the force of his will, Elisha found his own weaker one yielding.
He got up and, dragging one foot after the other, moved toward the house.
"Now knock," commanded the dictator.
Twice the sheriff reached forth his hand, wavered and withdrew it.
"Why don't you knock, man?" Eleazer demanded.
"I'm goin' to."
Tremulously he tapped on the door.
No answer came.
"Knock, I tell you! That ain't knockin'. Give the door a good smart thump so'st folks'll hear it an' be made aware somethin' important's goin' on. I'll show you."
Eleazer gave the door a spirited bang.
"Law, Eleazer! A rap like that would wake the dead," Elisha protested.
"I want it should—or at any rate wake the livin'," Eleazer frowned.
"I hear somebody. Stand by me, Eleazer. Where are you goin'? Come back here, can't you? You promised—"
"I didn't promise to go in first, remember. We had that out an' settled it for good an' all. Youwas to do that," Eleazer called from his vantage ground round the corner.
"But—but—" Elisha whimpered.
There was no more time for argument.
The door swung open and Marcia stood upon the sill.