The Mystery of Murray Davenport Part 21

CHAPTER XII.

LARCHER PUTS THIS AND THAT TOGETHER

Two or three days after this, Turl dropped in to see Larcher, incidentally to leave some sketches, mainly for the pleasanter pa.s.sing of an hour in a gray afternoon. Upon the announcement of another visitor, whose name was not given, Turl took his departure. At the foot of the stairs, he met the other visitor, a man, whom the servant had just directed to Larcher's room. The hallway was rather dark as the incomer and outgoer pa.s.sed each other; but, the servant at that instant lighting the gas, Turl glanced around for a better look, and encountered the other's glance at the same time turned after himself. Each halted, Turl for a scarce perceptible instant, the other for a moment longer. Then Turl pa.s.sed out, the servant having run to open the door; and the new visitor went on up the stairs.

The new visitor found Larcher waiting in expectation of being either bored or startled, as a man usually is by callers who come anonymously.

But when a tall, somewhat bent, white-bearded old man with baggy black clothes appeared in the doorway, Larcher jumped up smiling.

"Why, Mr. Bud! This _is_ a pleasant surprise!"

Mr. Bud, from a somewhat timid and embarra.s.sed state, was warmed into heartiness by Larcher's welcome, and easily induced to doff his overcoat and be comfortable before the fire. "I thought, as you'd gev me your address, you wouldn't object--" Mr. Bud began with a beaming countenance; but suddenly stopped short and looked thoughtful. "Say--I met a young man down-stairs, goin' out."

"Mr. Turl probably. He just left me. A neat-looking, smooth-faced young man, smartly dressed."

"That's him. What name did you say?"

"Turl."

"Never heard the name. But I've seen that young fellow somewhere. It's funny: as I looked round at 'im just now, it seemed to me all at wunst as if I'd met that same young man in that same place a long time ago. But I've never been in this house before, so it couldn't 'a' been in that same place."

"We often have that feeling--of precisely the same thing having happened a long time ago. d.i.c.kens mentions it in 'David Copperfield.' There's a scientific theory--"

"Yes, I know, but this wasn't exactly that. It was, an' it wasn't. I'm dead sure I did reely meet that chap in some such place. An' a funny thing is, somehow or other you was concerned in the other meeting like you are in this."

"Well, that's interesting," said Larcher, recalling how Turl had once seemed to be haunting his footsteps.

"I've got it!" cried Mr. Bud, triumphantly. "D'yuh mind that night you came and told me about Davenport's disappearance?--and we went up an'

searched my room fur a trace?"

"And found the note-book cover that showed he had been there? Yes."

"Well, you remember, as we went into the hallway we met a man comin' out, an' I turned round an' looked at 'im? That was the man I met just now down-stairs."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure's I'm settin' here. I see his face that first time by the light o'

the street-lamp, an' just now by the gaslight in the hall. An' both times him and me turned round to look at each other. I noticed then what a good-humored face he had, an' how he walked with his shoulders back. Oh, that's the same man all right enough. What yuh say his name was?"

"Turl--T-u-r-l. Have you ever seen him at any other time?"

"Never. I kep' my eye peeled fur 'im too, after I found there was no new lodger in the house. An' the funny part was, none o' the other roomers knew anything about 'im. No such man had visited any o' them that evening. So what the d.i.c.kens _was_ he doin' there?"

"It's curious. I haven't known Mr. Turl very long, but there have been some strange things in my observation of him, too. And it's always seemed to me that I'd heard his name before. He's a clever fellow--here are some comic sketches he brought me this afternoon." Larcher got the drawings from his table, and handed them to Mr. Bud. "I don't know how good these are; I haven't examined them yet."

The farmer grinned at the fun of the first picture, then read aloud the name, "F. Turl."

"Oh, has he signed this lot?" asked Larcher. "I told him he ought to.

Let's see what his signature looks like." He glanced at the corner of the sketch; suddenly he exclaimed: "By George, I've seen that name!--and written just like that!"

"Like as not you've had letters from him, or somethin'."

"Never. I'm positive this is the first of his writing I've seen since I've known him. Where the deuce?" He shut his eyes, and made a strong effort of memory. Suddenly he opened his eyes again, and stared hard at the signature. "Yes, sir! _Francis_ Turl--that was the name. And who do you think showed me a note signed by that name in this very handwriting?"

"Give it up."

"Murray Davenport."

"Yuh don't say."

"Yes, I do. Murray Davenport, the last night I ever saw him. He asked me to judge the writer's character from the penmanship. It was a note about a meeting between the two. Now I wonder--was that an old note, and had the meeting occurred already? or was the meeting yet to come? You see, the next day Davenport disappeared."

"H'm! An' subsequently this young man is seen comin' out o' the hallway Davenport was seen goin' into."

"But it was several weeks subsequently. Still, it's odd enough. If there was a meeting _after_ Davenport's disappearance, why mightn't it have been in your room? Why mightn't Davenport have appointed it to occur there? Perhaps, when we first met Turl that night, he had gone back there in search of Davenport--or for some other purpose connected with him."

"H'm! What has this Mr. Turl to say about Davenport's disappearance?"

"Nothing. And that's odd, too. He must have been acquainted with Davenport, or he wouldn't have written to him about a meeting. And yet he's left us under the impression that he didn't know him.--And then his following me about!--Before I made his acquaintance, I noticed him several times apparently on my track. And when I _did_ make his acquaintance, it was in the rooms of the lady Davenport had been in love with. Turl had recently come to the same house to live, and her father had taken him up. His going there to live looks like another queer thing."

"There seems to be a hull bunch o' queer things about this Mr. Turl. I guess he's wuth studyin'."

"I should think so. Let's put these queer things together in chronological order. He writes a note to Murray Davenport about a meeting to occur between them; some weeks later he is seen coming from the place Murray Davenport was last seen going into; within a few days of that, he shadows the movements of Murray Davenport's friend Larcher; within a few more days he takes a room in the house where Murray Davenport's sweetheart lives, and makes her acquaintance; and finally, when Davenport is mentioned, lets it be a.s.sumed that he didn't know the man."

"And incidentally, whenever he meets Murray Davenport's other friend, Mr.

Bud, he turns around for a better look at him. H'm! Well, what yuh make out o' all that?"

"To begin with, that there was certainly something between Turl and Davenport which Turl doesn't want Davenport's friends to know. What do _you_ make out of it?"

"That's all, so fur. Whatever there was between 'em, as it brought Turl to the place where Davenport disappeared from knowledge, we ain't takin'

too big chances to suppose it had somethin' to do with the disappearance.

This Turl ought to be studied; an' it's up to you to do the studyin', as you c'n do it quiet an' unsuspected. There ain't no necessity o' draggin'

in the police ur anybody, at this stage o' the game."

"You're quite right, all through. I'll sound him as well as I can. It'll be an unpleasant job, for he's a gentleman and I like him. But of course, where there's so much about a man that calls for explanation, he's a fair object of suspicion. And Murray Davenport's case has first claim on me."

"If I were you, I'd compare notes with the young lady. Maybe, for all you know, she's observed a thing or two since she's met this man. Her interest in Davenport must 'a' been as great as yours. She'd have sharp eyes fur anything bearin' on his case. This Turl went to her house to live, you say. I should guess that her house would be a good place to study him in. She might find out considerable."

"That's true," said Larcher, somewhat slowly, for he wondered what Edna would say about placing Turl in a suspicious light in Florence's view.

But his fear of Edna's displeasure, though it might overcloud, could not prohibit his performance of a task he thought ought to be done. He resolved, therefore, to consult with Florence as soon as possible after first taking care, for his own future peace, to confide in Edna.

"Between you an' the young lady," Mr. Bud went on, "you may discover enough to make Mr. Turl see his way clear to tellin' what he knows about Davenport. Him an' Davenport may 'a' been in some scheme together. They may 'a' been friends, or they may 'a' been foes. He may be in Davenport's confidence at the present moment; or he may 'a' had a hand in gettin' rid o' Davenport. Or then again, whatever was between 'em mayn't 'a' had anything to do with the disappearance; an' Turl mayn't want to own up to knowin' Davenport, for fear o' bein' connected with the disappearance.

The thing is, to get 'im with his back to the wall an' make 'im deliver up what he knows."

Mr. Bud's call turned out to have been merely social in its motive.

Larcher took him to dinner at a smart restaurant, which the old man declared he would never have had the nerve to enter by himself; and finally set him on his way smoking a cigar, which he said made him feel like a Fi'th Avenoo millionaire. Larcher instantly boarded an up-town car, with the better hope of finding Edna at home because the weather had turned blowy and snowy to a degree which threatened a howling blizzard.

His hope was justified. With an adroitness that somewhat surprised himself, he put his facts before the young lady in such a non-committal way as to make her think herself the first to point the finger of suspicion at Turl. Important with her discovery, she promptly ignored her former partisanship of that gentleman, and was for taking Florence straightway into confidence. Larcher for once did not deplore the instantaneous completeness with which the feminine mind can shift about.

Edna despatched a note bidding Florence come to luncheon the next day; she would send a cab for her, to make sure.