Rayton: A Backwoods Mystery Part 32

Reginald had been driven off to his bed by Nash only a few minutes before. An air of gloom and mystery pervaded the room. Doctor Nash alone showed an undaunted bearing. He talked loudly, and slammed the back of his right hand into the palm of his left continually.

"Banks is no fool!" he exclaimed, for the tenth time. "Do you think he'd walk out of this house and lose himself on a night like this? Rot!

Tell me who set fire to Davy Marsh's camp, who tied old Fletcher up in that blanket, and who shot Rayton, and I'll tell you who knows where Banks is. It may be one man, or it may be a gang doing the work; but there's one man at the back of it all. Same with the marks on the cards.

At first I put it all down to you, Jim; but I couldn't see why you should tie up old Fletcher. Now, I see it pretty straight. That Fletcher business was all a bluff. He _let_ somebody tie him up--and, as I've told you a dozen times, that somebody is old Wigmore. What do you say, d.i.c.k?"

The others all turned and stared at the trapper with anxious, sleep-shadowed eyes.

"I ain't sayin' yes or no yet a while, doc," replied Goodine. "What you say sounds pretty reasonable; but I wouldn't swear to it. I ain't a fancy detective, but when I see a lot of smoke I can guess at fire as well as the next man. Old Fletcher's vanished, anyhow--an' so has Mr.

Banks. I don't hold that what happened to Reginald has anything to do with the other queer business. Accidents will happen! But I guess Captain Wigmore is lyin' when he says Tim Fletcher went to New York; an' I guess he was actin' the goat when he let on as how he thought Doc Nash marked them cards. But guessin' won't find Mr. Banks!"

"Of what do you accuse Captain Wigmore?" asked Jim Harley, gripping d.i.c.k's arm. "I've heard a lot of hinting, but no straight charge. Speak up like a man and be done with it. Say what you mean. I'm sick of listening to hints against the old man behind his back."

In the silence that followed, the trapper looked steadily into Harley's eyes, and gently but firmly unfastened the grip of the fingers on his arm.

"Keep cool, Jim," he said. "Keep a tally on yer words."

"I'll keep cool enough, d.i.c.k. Don't worry about me," retorted Jim. "But answer a few questions, will you? A few straight questions?"

The trapper nodded.

"Do you think Captain Wigmore had anything to do with the marks on the cards?" asked Harley. "Give me a straight yes or no to that."

"A straight yes or no! Right you are! Yes, I do!"

"You do! Why?"

"Because I do, that's all. Ask your other questions, an' be darned quick about it. My temper's short."

"Have you any proof that he marked the cards?"

"No. And you haven't any proof that he didn't, neither."

The others crowded close around d.i.c.k Goodine and Jim Harley.

"And do you think he had anything to do with Davie Marsh's troubles?"

"Can't say. Don't know."

"Do you think he shot old Reginald Rayton?"

"No, I don't."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I shot him myself."

A gasp went up from the group of anxious and astonished men.

"You!" exclaimed Harley. "I don't believe it."

"It's the truth, anyhow. I mistook him for a buck. He knows all about it."

"Took him for a buck?"

"That's what I said; an' if any man here thinks I'm lyin' he'd better not say so, or he'll get his face pushed in."

"It's a mistake that's bin made before," said Samson.

Others nodded.

"Well, there you are!" said Harley. "If you hadn't wounded Rayton yourself, you'd say that Captain Wigmore did it. But all this talk won't help Banks. What are we to do next?"

"Have some breakfast and a nap, an' then start in huntin' him again,"

said Benjamin Samson. "We simply got to find him, or there'll be terrible things printed in the New York papers about this here settlement."

All left the house for their own homes except Goodine and Doctor Nash.

As Goodine busied himself at the stove, preparing breakfast, Nash said: "That was a startler, d.i.c.k. Is it straight that you plugged Rayton in the shoulder?"

"Just as I said, doc," replied the trapper.

"Does Wigmore know you did it?"

"Guess not, or he would have said so before this. He put it onto you."

"He did, the old skunk. But he knew he was lyin' when he said it. If it wasn't you, d.i.c.k, I'd think Wigmore had paid some one to take a shot at Rayton. My idea is that he works the cards and then gets some one else to make the trouble."

"Maybe so. He didn't get me to do that shootin', anyhow. I guess he's the man who works the cards, all right; but I'd like to know what he does it for."

"My idea is that he had heard that story about the cards before and is trying to scare people away from Nell Harley. The old fool is soft as mush on her himself, you know."

"Well, doc, what we'd best do now is to eat a snack an' then turn in an'

get a couple of hours' sleep; an' if we don't find Mr. Banks to-day we'll just up an' ask old Wigmore the reason why."

Two hours later Captain Wigmore himself arrived at Rayton's house. Nash, Goodine, and young Bill Long were in the kitchen, pulling on their moccasins and overcoats. The captain looked exceedingly tired, but very wide awake.

"I've found a clue!" he exclaimed. "Look at this knife! Did you ever see it before, any of you?"

He placed a big clasp knife on the table.

"Why, it's Banks' knife," cried Doctor Nash. "I've seen it several times. I'd swear to it."

"Yes, it's his. And there's H. P. B. cut on the handle," said d.i.c.k.

"I found it this morning, on the Blue Hill road," said the captain.

"On the Blue Hill road? How far out?"

"About three miles from my place. I've been hunting for Banks since sunrise, and this is all I've found."