Out of a Labyrinth Part 38

Still no answer from Dr. Hess.

Jim Long came forward with a touch of his old impatience and accustomed quaintness in his words and manner.

"_I'm_ in favor of the city doctor," he said, looking, not at Dr. Hess, but straight into my face. "And I'm ent.i.tled to a voice in the matter.

The patient's mine by right of discovery."

Miss Barnard gave him a quick glance of grat.i.tude, and I rallied from the surprise occasioned by the mention of "our old woman," to say:

"I think you said that this gentleman is a _relative_ of Dr. Bethel's; if so, he should be sent for by all means."

"He is Dr. Bethel's uncle," said Miss Barnard.

"Then," I repeated, with decision, "as a relative he should be sent for at once."

"Most certainly," acquiesced Dr. Hess, who now saw the matter in, to him, a more favorable light. "Send for him; the sooner the better."

"Oh," breathed the anxious girl, "I wish it could be done at once."

"It can," I said, taking my hat from the table as I spoke. "Fortunately there is a new night operator at the station; he came to-night, or was expected. If he is there, we shall save time, if not, we must get Harris up."

"Oh, thank you."

Dr. Hess went to take a look at his patient, and came back, saying:

"I will remain here until morning, I think."

"And I will come back as soon as possible," I responded, turning to go.

Jim Long caught up his hat from the floor, where he had flung it on entering.

"I reckon I had better go along with you," he said, suddenly a.s.suming his habitual drawl; "you may have to rout Harris up, and I know right where to find him."

I was anxious to go, for a reason of my own, and I was not sorry to have Jim's company. "Now, if ever," I thought, "is the time to fathom 'the true inwardness' of this strange man."

We waited for no more words, but set out at once, walking briskly through the night that seemed doubly dark, doubly silent and mysterious, at the witch's hour of one o'clock.

We had walked half the distance to the station; in perfect silence, and I was studying the best way to approach Jim and overcome his reticence, when suddenly he opened his lips, to give me a glimpse of his "true inwardness," that nearly took me, figuratively, off my feet.

"Men are only men, after all," he began, sententiously, "and _detectives_ are only common men sharpened up a bit. I wonder, now, how you are going to get the address of this Dr. Denham?"

I started so violently, that he must have perceived it, dark though it was.

What a blunder! I had walked away from the cottage forgetting to ask for Dr. Denham's address.

Uttering an exclamation of impatience, I turned sharply about.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I'm going back after the address, of course."

"I wouldn't do that; time's precious. Do you go ahead and send the message. I'll run back and ask after the address."

"Long," I said, sharply, "what do you mean?"

"I mean this," he replied, his tone changing suddenly. "I mean that it's time for you and I to understand each other!"

CHAPTER XXV.

IN WHICH I TAKE JIM ON TRUST.

"It is time for you and I to understand each other. Don't stop there looking moon-struck! Go ahead, and don't waste time. I'll run back and ask for the address. Miss Barnard, if she scented a secret, might be trusted with it. But, Dr. Hess--his brain has not kept pace with the steps of the universe."

With these remarkable words, Jim Long lowered his head, compressed his elbows after the fashion of a professional prize-runner, and was off like a flying shadow, while I stood staring after him through the darkness, divided betwixt wonder at his strange words and manner, and disgust at my own stupidity.

What did he mean? Had he actually discovered my ident.i.ty? And, if so, how?

While waiting for a solution to these riddles, it would be well to profit by Jim's advice. So I turned my face toward the village, and hurried forward.

As I approached the station, a bright light from the operator's window a.s.sured me that I should not find the office empty, and coming stealthily toward it, I peered in, to see, seated in the most commodious office chair, Gerald Brown, of our agency, the expected "night operator."

On a lounge opposite the window, lay Charlie Harris asleep.

I tapped softly on the open cas.e.m.e.nt, and keeping myself in the shadow whispered:

"Come outside, Gerry, and don't wake Harris."

The night-operator, who knew the nature of the services required of him in Trafton, and who doubtless had been expecting a visit, arose quietly and came out on the platform with the stealthy tread of a bushman.

After a cordial hand-clasp, and a very few words of mutual inquiry, I told Brown what had happened at the doctor's cottage, and of my suspicions regarding Blake Simpson; and, then, using a leaf from my note-book, and writing by the light from the window, I wrote two messages, to be sent before Harris should awake.

The first was as follows:

DOCTOR CHARLES DENHAM,

No. 300 ---- street, N. Y.

Carl Bethel is in extreme danger; requires your professional services. Come at once.

BATHURST.

The second was addressed to our office, and was much longer. It ran thus:

CAPT. B., A----, N. Y.

Murder was attempted last night; Bethel the victim. See that Denham comes by the first train to attend to him. Give him some hints before starting. Look out for B. S. If he returns to the city in the morning, keep him shadowed. Will write particulars.