Ashton-Kirk, Investigator Part 40

"He told you of the deaf-mute, Locke," said Ashton-Kirk; "and also other things, which seem to have induced you to visit Locke at the Inst.i.tute near Cordova on the night before last."

Miss Vale elevated her brows in surprise; her att.i.tude was one of wonderment.

"I don't think I understand."

"And you did not seem to understand yesterday when I called upon you.

You fancied that I was not sure that I had seen you, and had come expecting you to admit the visit to Locke. And as I went away, you also fancied that you had thrown me off the scent." He smiled at the recollection, in spite of his evident resentment of her position. "But the fact of the matter was that I knew your fiance had been the cause of your visit to the mute. You had seen Morris, you knew where he was, and I thought it would be a useful thing for me to be also acquainted with his whereabouts."

"But," protested Miss Vale in a faint voice, but still acting her chosen role to the best of her gifts, "if I had known and desired to conceal his whereabouts, surely you did not expect me to tell you of it."

"Not directly. But, if you remember, I dropped a hint that his hiding-place was about to be discovered. This was true; you were about to disclose it. I had only to wait and follow as you rushed off to warn him."

She leaned back in her chair and regarded him strangely, but he proceeded with evenness:

"Your work upon the road was very clever; I congratulate you upon it.

But it was scarcely sufficiently inspired to deceive an old hand."

Here he waited, apparently expecting her to speak. But as she did not take advantage of the pause, he went on:

"I called this morning to acquaint you with these things and to advise you on your future course. I must admit that I rather admire your steadfastness in following out what Allan Morris has desired of you; however, it is a great mistake for a strong nature to submit to the clamorings of a weaker one."

She sat suddenly erect; protest was in her eyes, and one hand went up in denial. But, though her lips opened as though she were about to speak, no words came; once more she sank back in the chair with the air of one compelled to admit a bitter truth.

"I am not so sure as to how deep Morris is in this murder," continued the investigator, "but I have some ideas on the subject. On the other hand I am quite sure that you are promised to aid him, and that you feel duty bound to do so to the end, according to his not very wise instructions."

He arose and stood looking down at her kindly.

"My advice to you," he went on--"and I speak with a fair knowledge of the facts--is that you do nothing more. Be content with what you have attempted; allow me to act for you in anything further which you have in mind. Or, if you cannot give me your confidence, let me carry the thing on in my own way, as you proposed at the first."

There was a pause of some length; then the girl spoke.

"I am just a trifle bewildered at all this," she said; "and I really cannot say, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, that I altogether follow you."

He smiled, but the disapproving wrinkle still showed between his eyes.

"I see that you are still determined to hold to your att.i.tude," he said. "I am sorry, of course, but then one is called upon at times to do as one thinks best, and I suppose that is what you are doing." He turned toward the door, and she arose and touched the bell. "Good-by."

"Good-by," she returned.

He stood for a moment in the doorway regarding her with mingled annoyance and admiration. As he caught the steps of the approaching servant in the hall, he said:

"Possibly I can save you some little trouble. You need not call at the Rangnow Apartments. Up to last night, Allan Morris had not notified Mr. Tobin as to his new hiding-place. However, if you feel that you _must_ see him, you can call at my place at this hour on the day after to-morrow. I am not sure, of course, but it occurs to me that he will be there."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SECRET OF THE PORTRAIT

The morning papers had all announced the fact that the detail of police would that day be withdrawn from the scene of the murder in Christie Place. With them it had been a mere matter-of-fact news item, but with the evening sheets it was different. They had had time to digest the matter, and their view of the order was one of surprise.

Two or three allowed this feeling to expand itself into headlines of some size; a few also commented on the situation editorially.

Superintendent Weagle had been interviewed. He stated that he could not be expected to maintain a detail at 478 indefinitely; even with the police withdrawn from within, so he maintained, the place would be as effectually guarded as were other buildings. What more was required?

Ashton-Kirk read all this with some satisfaction in the late afternoon.

"They have given the thing even more publicity than I had hoped for,"

he said, as he helped Pendleton in the details of a rough-looking costume which that worthy was donning. "It must be a bad day for news, and they have plenty of s.p.a.ce. At any rate, anyone who is at all interested in the fact, is now aware that after six o'clock this evening, 478 Christie Place will be unguarded, except for the regular patrolman. Of course," with a glance at Pendleton and another in a mirror at himself, "if a brace of rough-looking characters are hidden away within, there will only be a few who know it."

He opened a drawer and took out two black shining objects; the short barrels and blocky shapes told Pendleton that they were automatic revolvers.

"They will throw ten slugs as thick as your little finger while you're winking your eye as many times," said Ashton-Kirk.

They each slipped one of the squat, formidable weapons into a hip pocket; then they made their way out at the rear of the house. With the collars of their sack coats turned up and their long visored cloth caps pulled down, they hurried along among the dull-eyed throngs that bartered and quarreled and sought their own advantage.

And when, in the uncertain dusk, a wagon drew up at 478 and two sack-coated, cloth-capped men began carrying parcels up the stairs, is it any wonder that Berg, watching from the window of his delicatessen store, said to his clerk:

"Dot furrier that rents der rooms by der third floor is putting some more things in storage over the summer, yet."

And when the wagon finally drove away, neglectfully leaving the two men behind, it is not surprising that the fancy grocer did not notice it. And, then, when the two policemen who had been on duty during the afternoon, came out, carelessly left the door unlocked, looked up to make sure that they had left none of the windows open, and then strode away with a satisfied air that follows a duty well done, who so keenly watched as to suspect?

The shadows on the second floor lengthened and grew grayer; they thickened in the corners; pieces of furniture grew vague and monstrous as the darkness began to cling to them and their outlines became lost; suits of armor loomed menacingly out of the gloom, the last rays of light striking palely upon helm or gorget; hideous G.o.ds of wood and stone smiled evilly at the two watchers.

"There was food in the bundles which we carried up, then," commented Pendleton, as he lay back on the old claw-footed sofa.

"Yes," answered his friend. "The person or persons whom we expect will hardly come to-night, though we, of course, don't know; if they fail to appear we shall be forced to stick close to these rooms during the whole of to-morrow and also to-morrow night. Perhaps it will even be longer."

"In that case," said Pendleton, a little disconsolately, "the eatables will be very welcome. But I hope we won't have to stay long enough to finish them."

"Perhaps," said Ashton-Kirk, "I've let you in for too hard a task in this, Pen?"

The other rose up instantly.

"You couldn't give me too much to do in this matter," declared he, earnestly. "I would do it alone if you were not here, and I had brains enough, Kirk. The thing must _end_. If it goes on much longer and I keep seeing those infernal insinuations in the papers, I'll go completely off my chump."

There was a little silence; then Ashton-Kirk said:

"I never knew that you were--ah--this way, old chap, until the other day. How long has it been going on?"

"Why, for years, I think," answered Pendleton. "Being very distantly related, Edyth and I saw quite a deal of each other when she was a slip of a girl. And she was a stunner, Kirk, even then. Kid-like, I fancied I'd get it all over with when the proper time came; but somehow I never got around to it. She turned out to be a d.i.c.kens of a strong character, you see; and she expected so much of life that I got the notion that perhaps I wasn't just the right sort of fellow to realize her ideals.

"You know, old boy, there are times when a man thinks quite a bit of himself. This is more especially so before he's twenty-five. But then again there are times when he sees his bad points only, and then of all the unutterable dolts in the universe, he gets the notion that he is the worst. When we were at college and I held down that third base position and hit 320 in the first season, I was chesty enough. I suppose you remember it. And when I came into my money and began to make collections of motor cars, yachts and such things, I thought I had taken life by the ears and was making it say 'uncle.'

"Well, we're only grown-up boys, after all. I recall that I thought I'd dazzle Edyth with my magnificence, just as Tom Sawyer did the little girl with the two long braids of yellow hair--do you remember?

And it was after I discovered that she was not to be dazzled that I sort of gave up. I wasn't anybody--I never would be anybody; and Edyth would be the sort of woman who would expect her husband to take the front at a jump. And no sensible person could imagine me at the front of anything, unless it was a procession on its way to the bow-wows."