Death Points A Finger Part 30

He paused and leaned forward earnestly.

"Truth, Mr. McCall, sometimes hangs on a very thin thread. Snap the thread and--you have something other than truth.

"It is not a mere coincidence that Boyle was arrested, charged with the killing of Miller and 'Fingy' Smith arrested, charged with the killing of Schurman. It was a vital part of the entire devilish pattern. Miller's death was a splendid imitation of suicide. The revolver was placed in his hand before rigor mortis set in leaving his fingerprints on the weapon.

"But the powder marks spoiled the picture of suicide for me. The rest was merely a matter of routine. The same was true of the Schurman affair. It was made to look to the casual observer like suicide. If you did not accept the suicide theory, you were given an alternative theory, the mode of entrance, the big meal, the eggs, the nail file with positive fingerprints. The one thing that spoiled that was the apple. Remember the apple?

"To satisfy me the murderer would have to be identified with the apple. You see arresting 'Fingy' left the apple unaccounted for.

In the Miller case the murderer would have to be identified with a rope that came from a farmyard that contained a boxwood hedge, a sorrel horse, leghorn chickens, a collie dog and some other items.

He would also have to be identified with a hat factory."

"What do you mean by saying that these two men were arrested charged with those murders?"

"I mean that it was a foregone conclusion that if the suicide theory was exploded, these men would be charged with the crime?"

"A foregone conclusion in whose mind, Professor?"

"In the mind of the--murderer, Mr. McCall. You see, don't you, the thin line of demarcation that lies between truth and falsehood?

When the difference between the two may mean the difference between life and death it behooves me to be extremely careful. I am not holding a brief for the defendant or the state, Mr.

District Attorney, I am seeking the truth."

Chapter XVIII

Jimmy had not been sleeping well nights. On this night he dreamed that he was alone in the city room of the Eagle doing the dog watch. He was reading a history of the Civil War in which was stressed the reconstruction period with its harrowing details, a period under which serious dismemberment of the country was threatened. While he was reading this, the telegraph instrument in the telegraph room kept up its intermittent tapping.

He awoke with the tapping still in his ears, as though in continuation of his dream. He lay still thinking of the eccentricities of dreams in general when the tapping of which he had been conscious in his dreams was repeated at his window. This time it did not sound like a telegraph instrument. It seemed that a number of pebbles had struck the upper window panes, the lower being open. He distinctly heard some of the pebbles strike the floor. He lay still when he was aware of a repet.i.tion of the sound.

He got out of bed and went to the window. Standing in the graying dawn was his youthful pilot, Harry Stoy. The youth was beckoning earnestly for Jimmy to come down stairs. Slipping on some clothes and a pair of soft soled moccasins Jimmy stole out of the house being careful not to awaken any of its inmates.

Harry held his finger to his mouth as a signal for silence and led the way down to the water front. Here he whispered excitedly:

"Say, Mr. Hale, I think I know where the kid is?"

Jimmy stared at the youth who was shivering with excitement.

"You mean Tommy, Harry?"

"Yeah, Tommy. Let's row out a little bit in the boat then start it where your folks can't hear the motor. Come on, Mr. Hale. Are you game?"

Jimmy grinned and tingled. His first thought was that he ought to call Jack; he decided against it. There was the danger of awakening Professor Brierly and Norah. He did not want to arouse any false hopes, the kid might be mistaken. He also did not want to lose face in the eyes of this youngster. The question of whether he was game decided him. He stole back into the house where he took from the drawer of the living-room table a loaded revolver; he decided against a shotgun or rifle.

When they got out far enough to start the motor without fear of waking up those in the house, Harry spoke. He was panting with excitement.

"This place we're goin' to Mr. Hale is about five miles up the lake, and about two miles in on the other side. There's a sort of farm up there. A guy by the name of Brown lives up there alone.

He's got a small airplane there too.

"He's a nice sort of guy but he's funny, kind of, like a man who has a secret, if you know what I mean. When I heard Mr. Matthews tell what a fast motor the man had who got away from him, I kinda thought it might be this Brown, 'cause he's got a fast motor, one of the fastest on the lake.

"So I been watchin', Mr. Hale. When I seen him up in the plane, I went over there. He's got a collie dog, but no dog ever bites me, Mr. Hale, they all make friends with me and I like 'em too. I went up there late this evenin' meanin' last night, when you told me you wouldn't need me any more.

"The plane was gone and the collie was in the yard. But I made friends with the dog. The house was locked up. I clumb up the porch and there in an upstairs room I seen Tommy asleep. I was gonna take him and bring him home, but just then I heard the plane, or I thought I did.

"I hid in the woods and it wasn't the plane at all, I was mistaken. Gee, just think of it, Mr. Hale, I coulda got the kid all by myself, then I thought I better come for you. Mebbe while I was takin' the kid, this Brown might come and what could I do alone. And the kid might be hurt, see?"

A lump rose in Jimmy's throat. He was rather unnerved from the recent ordeal. He noticed that Harry did not once mention the possible danger to himself. The phrase rang in his mind: "And the kid might be hurt, see?"

Harry ran the small boat into a tiny cove where it might be hidden, both from the water and from the sh.o.r.e. For several hundred feet from the sh.o.r.e there was a clear, well-defined path running nearly straight westward through the woods.

After a short distance Harry swung off from this path; then he took several turns. He seemed to know the way. At the end of a half hour's walk, Jimmy judged they had gone about two miles.

Harry put his hand on Hale's arm as a signal for caution.

Ahead of Jimmy lay a large, well-tilled and well-cared for farm.

There was the loud, ringing, penetrating bark of a collie, then all was silence. Harry uttered an exclamation of disappointment.

He pointed and Jimmy understood. About two hundred yards away at one end of a large level field a small plane was plainly visible in its hangar. Brown, the owner of the farm, was evidently home.

Jimmy debated swiftly and fiercely with himself on his course of action. Tommy was there; a false step and Tommy might be hurt. He might even be killed. No consideration of personal safety would have prevented Jimmy from taking immediate action. But--looming large in his mind--was a picture of the little boy and his grieving mother on the other side of the lake.

To Harry's vast disappointment, his hero, James Hale, the star reporter, turned and retraced his steps, Harry perforce following him. Harry had looked up at his hero doubtfully. He had been certain in his mind that they would return home triumphant, bearing the kidnapped boy. Gee, he could have done it himself, almost. But his hero turned tail. Feet of clay! Harry did not know the phrase, but all his thoughts expressed it very well.

The trip back was made in silence. The sun, a red, brilliant ball of fire was in their eyes as they retraced their steps through the woods. Still in silence, Harry started the boat, and pushed to its capacity of speed, the fast sea sled made short work of the five miles separating them from their camp.

Here Jimmy found that there was no need for silence. All the household was awake. Indeed, Norah, in her anxiety had not slept at all, and she said that she had heard Jimmy leave with the boy.

Matthews was restlessly pacing the short stretch of beach when the boat tied up to the wharf. Norah and Professor Brierly joined Matthews as Jimmy and Harry Stoy got out of their boat.

Harry burst out:

"Gee, Mr. Matthews, we found Tommy. We would have brought him home but Mr. Hale thought--he thought we'd better come back for help."

Three wide-eyed persons, each reflecting his emotions in his own way stared at the youth; from the youth to Jimmy. Jimmy with tight lips, explained.

"Oh, Jack, Jack, Professor," panted Norah. "Let us go, let us--"

Jack did not hear. He was racing toward the shack. He returned ready for the trip, a rifle in his hand.

Professor Brierly suggested:

"The mounted police--"

"No!" Matthews shook his head emphatically. "We won't need the mounted police or any help. There's only one man."

"I shall go with you," announced Professor Brierly.

"No, Professor. We must make speed. We'll take both sea sleds, but then there's a long tramp."

"But you do not understand, John. This man's name is Brown. It is Amos Brown, the man we are looking for. I traced him up to Canada.

It was only a question of a day or two before I should have found him. I must be there, John."