The Black Eagle Mystery Part 11

Dannie shook his head.

"I ain't told it to a soul till this mornin', when I couldn't hold it no more and let out to Paw and Maw."

"Why didn't you tell?"

"I was scairt. I didn't want to. I kep' dreamin' of it at night and I didn't know what to do. And this mornin' when Paw and Maw was ga.s.sin'

about the suicide I just busted out. I-I--" his lips trembled and the tears welled into his eyes.

"It's thrue what he says, every word," said Mrs. Meagher. "It's sick he's been ever sence, and me crazy not knowin' what was eatin' into him.

And this mornin' he breaks into a holler and out it comes."

As she was speaking the old man patted the thin hand, eyeing the child with a deep, quiet kindliness.

"You're a wise boy, Dannie," said he. "And you want to keep on being a wise boy and not tell anyone. Will you answer a question or two, saying when you don't know or don't remember? I'll see that you get something pretty nice afterward, if you do."

"Yes," says Dannie, "I'll answer."

"Could you see what the man looked like, the man that was alive?"

"No-I wasn't near enough. They was like-like"-he paused and then said, his eyes showing a troubled bewilderment-"like shadows."

"He would have seen the figures in silhouette," George explained, "black against the lit window."

"That's it," he turned eagerly to George. "And it was acrost the street and the houses on Broadway."

"Um," said the chief, "too far for any detail. Well, this man, the one that went on his hands and knees, was he a fat man?"

The child shook his head.

"No, sir. He-he was just like lots of men."

"Now look over these three gentlemen," said the chief, waving his hand at us. "Which of them looks most like him? Not their faces, but their bodies."

Dannie looked at us critically and carefully. His eye pa.s.sed quickly over Babbitts, medium height, broad and stocky, lingered on me, six feet two with the longest reach in my cla.s.s at Harvard, then brought up on George, who tips the beam at one hundred and sixty pounds.

"Most like him," he said, pointing a little finger at the junior member of Whitney & Whitney. "Skinny like him."

"Very well done, Dannie," said the old man, then turned to George.

"Lightly built. He would have no means of judging height."

George took up the interrogation:

"Could you see at all what kind of clothes he wore?"

"No-he went too quick."

"And he looked over at your building?"

"Yes-but he couldn't have seen anything. Maw's floors was all dark."

"Did you see him come out of the room again?"

"No. I was that scairt I crep' away back to where Maw was."

"Come in to me like a specter," said Mrs. Meagher. "And not a word out of him only that he was cold."

"Well, Mrs. Meagher," said the chief, "this is a great service you've done us, and it's up to us to do something for you."

"Oh, your Honor," she answered, "it's not pay I'm wantin'. It was my dooty and I done it. Now, Dannie boy, it's time we was gettin' home."

"Wait a moment," said the old man. "You say your husband's a drayman.

Tell him to come and see me-my home's the best place-this evening if possible. And tell him-and this applies as much to you"-his bushy brows came down over his eyes and his expression grew lowering-"not to mention one word of this. If you keep your mouths shut, your future's made. If you blab"-he raised a warning finger and shook it fiercely in her face-"G.o.d help you."

Mrs. Meagher looked terrified. She clutched Dannie and drew him against her skirts.

"It's not a word I'll be after sayin', your Honor," she faltered. "I'll swear it before the priest."

"That's right. I'll see the priest about it." He suddenly changed, straightened up, and was the genial old gentleman who could put the shyest witness at his ease. "The little chap doesn't look strong. New York's no place for him. He ought to run wild in the country for a bit."

"Ah, don't be after sayin' it," she shook her head wistfully. "That's what the doctor tolt me. But what can a poor scrubwoman do?"

"Not as much, maybe, as a lawyer can. You leave that to me. I'll see he goes and you'll be along. All I ask in return is"-he put his finger on his lips-"just one word-silence."

She tried to say something, but laughing and pooh-poohing her attempts at thanks, he walked her to the door.

"There-there-no back-talk. Hustle along now, and don't forget, I want to see Dan Meagher tonight. Ask the clerk in the waiting room for the address. Good-bye." He shook hands with her and patted Dannie on the shoulder. "A month on a farm and you won't know this boy. Good-bye and good luck to you!"

As the door shut on her his whole expression and manner changed. He turned back to the room, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, his eyes, under the drooping thatch of his hair, looking from one to the other of us.

"Well, gentlemen?" he said.

"_Murder!_" came from George on a rising breath.

"Murder," repeated his father. "A fact that I've suspected since the inquest."

CHAPTER VII

MOLLY TELLS THE STORY

_Murder!_ Will I ever forget that night when Babbitts told me, the two of us shut in our room! I can see his face now, thrust out toward me, all strained and staring, his voice almost a whisper. As for me-I guess I looked like the Village Idiot, with my mouth dropped open and my eyes bulged so you could cut 'em off with a shingle.

The next day the same word went out to us that was given to Mrs.

Meagher-_silence_. Not a whisper, not a breath! Neither the public, nor the press, nor the police must get an inkling. All there was to go upon was the story of a child, and until this could be confirmed by other facts, the outside world was to know nothing. _If_ corroborative evidence were found it would be the biggest sensation the Whitney office had ever had. Babbitts was promised the scoop, but if he gave away a thing before the time was ripe it would be the end of us as far as Whitney & Whitney went.