Out of a Labyrinth
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"Amy was reading her letter to Grace. I could tell that by the hum of her voice, but I could not catch a word, until Grace exclaimed, sharply, 'What! the 17th?' 'Yes, the 17th, hush,' Amy answered, and then went on with her reading. I could not catch a single word more, so I went back down-stairs. It was then about the ninth of the month, and I thought it might be as well to keep my eyes open on the 17th, though it might have meant last month, or any other month, for all I could guess. After that Amy seemed in better spirits than usual, and Grace was gay and nervous by turns. On the 17th the girls stayed in their room, as usual – that was four days ago."
She paused a moment, during which my eyes never left her face; she sighed heavily, and resumed:
"I felt fidgety all day, as if something was going to happen. I expected to see the girls preparing for company, or to go somewhere, but they did no such thing. When evening came, they went to their room earlier than usual, but I sat up later than I often do. It was almost eleven o'clock when I went up-stairs, and then I could not sleep. I stopped and listened again at the door of the girls' room, but could hear nothing. They might both have been asleep.
"It was very warm, and I threw open my shutters, and sat down by the window, thinking that I was not sleepy, and, of course, I fell asleep. All at once something awoke me. I started and listened; in a moment I heard it again; it was the snort of a horse. There was no moon, and the shrubbery and trees made the front yard, from the gate to the house, very dark. As I heard no wheels nor hoofs, of course I knew that the horse was standing still, and the sound came from the front. I sat quite still and listened hard. By-and-by I heard something else. This time it was a faint rustling among the bushes below – it was not enough to have aroused even a light sleeper, but I was wide awake, and all ears. 'Somebody is creeping through my rose bushes,' I said to myself, then tip-toed to my bureau, got out the pistol you gave me, and slipped out, and down-stairs, as still as a mouse.
"The girls slept in a room over the parlor, and their windows faced west and south; mine faced north and west, so you see I had no view, from my bed-room, of the south windows of their room. The croquet ground was on the south side of the house, and there was a bit of vacant lawn in front of the parlor, also. The windows below were all closed and so I could not hear the rustling any more.
"I sat down by one of the parlor windows and peeped out. Presently I saw something come out from among the bushes; it was a man; and he came into the open space carrying a ladder. Then I knew what the rustling meant. He had taken the ladder from the big harvest-apple tree in front, where the girls had put it that afternoon, and was bringing it toward the house.
"The man stopped opposite the south windows of the girls' room, and began to raise the ladder. Then I knew what to do. I slipped the pistol into my pocket, went out through the dining-room, unbolted the back door as quietly as I could, crept softly to the south corner of the house, and peeped around. The ladder was already up, and somebody was climbing out of the window, while the man steadied the ladder. It was one of the girls, but I could not tell which, so I waited. When she stood upon the ground not ten feet away from me, I knew by her height that it was Grace, and Amy had started down before Grace was off the ladder. Just then the man stepped back, so that I had a fair chance at him. I took aim as well as I could, and fired.
"The man yelled. Grace screamed and tumbled over on the grass, just as I expected her to. Amy Holmes jumped from the ladder, ran to the man, and said, "quick! come!" I fired again, and Grace raised herself suddenly with such a moan that I thought in my haste I had hit her.
"I threw down the pistol, ran and picked her up as if she were a baby, and took her around to the back door. By the time I found out that she was not hurt, and had got back to the ladder, the man and Amy were gone, and I heard a buggy going down the road at a furious rate."
She paused and sighed deeply, looked at me for a moment, and then, as I made no effort to break the silence, she resumed:
"It's not a pleasant story for a mother to tell concerning her own daughter, but when I think of Nellie Ewing I know that it might accidentally have been worse.
"I commanded Grace to tell me the whole truth. She cried, and declared that she was under oath not to tell. After a little she grew calmer, and then told me that she meant no harm. Amy had a lover who was not a favorite with her guardian, who lives somewhere South. Amy was about to run away and be married, and Grace was to accompany her as a witness. They both expected to be safely back before daylight. Of course I did not believe this, and I told her so. Her actions after that made me wish that I had not disputed her story. I have used every argument, and I am convinced that nothing more can be got out of Grace. She is terribly frightened and nervous, but she is stubborn as death. Whatever the truth is, she is afraid to tell it."
"And Miss Holmes; what more of her?"
"Nothing more; she went away in the buggy with the others."
"The others?"
"Yes; I am sure there were two, for I found the place where the buggy stood waiting. It was not at the gate, but further south. There was a ditch between the wheel marks and the fence, and nothing to tie to. Some one must have been holding the horses."
"And this is all you know about the business?"
"Yes, everything."
"Where is your daughter now?"
"At home, under lock and key, with a trusty hired man to stand guard over her and the house until I get back, and with Freddy and the hired girl for company."
"Does she know why you came to the city?"
"Not she. I told her I was coming to make arrangements for putting her to school at a convent, and I intend to do it, too."
Making no comment on this bit of maternal discipline, I again had recourse to my note-book.
"You are fixed in your desire not to have your daughter further interviewed?" I asked, presently.
"I am," she replied. "I don't think it would do any good, and she is not fit to endure any more excitement. I expect to find her sick in bed when I get home."
"Do you think your shot injured the man?"
"I know it did," emphatically. "I aimed at his legs, intending to hit them, and I did it. He never gave such a screech as that from sheer fright; there was pain in it. Amy must have helped him to the carriage."
"Is this escapade known among your neighbors?"
"No. I hushed it up at home, giving my girl and hired man a different story to believe. I could not get away by the morning train from Sharon, and so started the next evening. I left them all at home with Grace, and drove alone to Sharon, leaving my horse at the stable there."
"You certainly acted very wisely, although I regret the delay. Miss Holmes and her two cavaliers have now nearly four days the start of us. Did you notice the size of the man at the ladder?"
"Yes; he was not a large man, if anything a trifle below the medium height."
"You think, then, that Miss Holmes made a willful effort to deceive you, when she told you that the album verse was written by Professor Bartlett? By-the-by, is there a Professor Asa Bartlett at Amora?"
"Yes, he is the Principal. If you could see him, you would never accuse him of having written a silly verse like that. I am sure Amy meant to deceive me, and I am sure that she posted Grace about it, in case I should ask her."
"But you did not ask her?"
"No. One does not care to make one's own child tell an unnecessary lie. Grace would have stood by Amy, no doubt."
It was growing late in the afternoon. There was much to do, much to think over, and no time to lose. I was not yet prepared to give Mrs. Ballou the benefit of my opinion, as regarded her daughter's escapade, so I arranged for a meeting in the evening, promising to have my plans decided upon and ready to lay before her at that time.
She wished, if possible, to return home on the following day, and I told her that I thought it not only possible, but advisable that she should do so.
Then I called a carriage, saw her safely ensconced therein, en route for her hotel, and returned to my Chief.
I had now two interests. I much desired to arrive at the bottom of the Groveland mystery, and thought, with the information now in hand, that this was quite possible; and I also desired to remain at my post among the Traftonites. I at once decided upon my course. I would tell my Chief Mrs. Ballou's story, and then I would give him a brief history of our sojourn in Trafton and its motive. After that, we would decide how to act.
There was no pause for rest or food, or thought, until I had given my Chief a history of Mrs. Ballou's vigil and excellent pistol exploit, and followed this up by the story of my Trafton experience.
His first comment, after he had listened for an hour most attentively, brought from my lips a sigh of relief; it was just what I longed to hear.
"Well, you need have no fear so far as this office is concerned. 'Squire Brookhouse has not called for its services."
CHAPTER XV.
PREPARATIONS OF WAR
"Bathurst," my Chief said, settling back in his chair, and eyeing me with great good humor, "I don't see but that you are getting on swimmingly, and I don't feel inclined to dictate much. Your Groveland affair is looking up. You may have as many men as you need to look after that business. As for Trafton, I think you and Carnes have made good use of your holiday. I think you have struck something rich, and that you had better remain there, and work it up; or, if you prefer to go to Groveland yourself, return there as soon as possible."
"I am glad to hear you talk as I think," I replied. "I believe that Trafton is ripe for an explosion, and I confess that, just at present, I am more interested in Trafton than in Groveland, besides – . In my report from Groveland, you may remember that I mentioned going to the station to fetch Miss Amy Holmes?"
"Yes."
"And that this young lady was accompanied on that day by a handsome young gentleman?"
"Yes."
"Well, I have since made the acquaintance of this young man."
"Ah!"
"At first I thought it only a coincidence, and dismissed the matter from my mind. Since I have heard Mrs. Ballou's story, a queer thought has entered my head."
"Explain."
"This young gallant, whom I first saw in the company of the runaway Miss Holmes, is Mr. Arch, or Archibald Brookhouse, of Trafton."
"I see," thoughtfully.
"And the initials following that album verse are A. B."
"A. B.! Archibald Brookhouse! There may be something in it, but should you feel justified in suspecting this young man as the possible author of your anonymous letter?"
"If he is the writer of the album lines, yes."
"What do you propose to do?"
"First," said I, "we must call in the dummy."
"Yes."
"Then I want a good man to go to Groveland in search of information. I want him to find out all that he can concerning the character of this Johnny La Porte, who attended school at Amora, and was a fellow-student with Nellie Ewing, Mamie Rutger, and Grace Ballou."
"Good."
"Then he must learn if any of the Groveland youths have become lame since last Sunday, and if any of these same gentry was missing, or absent from home, during the night of the 17th, for, of course, Miss Amy Holmes being on his hands, the driver of the carriage which Mrs. Ballou routed that night must have been absent sometime, if he belonged in the community. He surely had to dispose of Miss Holmes in some way."
"Do you think it probable that some Groveland Lothario was mixed up in this elopement business?"
"I think it not improbable. The first search was made, seemingly, upon the supposition that all Groveland was above suspicion, and that search failed. I intend to hold all Groveland Lotharios upon my list of suspected criminals until they are individually and collectively proven innocent."
"Quite right."
"On second thought we had better let the dummy remain until we have put a new man in the field; by this time he must know something about the people he is among. Who can you send to Groveland?"
"Wyman, I think."
"Capital; Wyman is good at this sort of thing. He had better present himself in person to our dummy, hear all that he can tell, and then deliver your letter of recall, and see him safely on his way to the city before he has time to open his mouth for the benefit of any one else."
"Very good; Wyman is at your disposal."
I drew toward me a large portfolio containing State and county maps. It lay at all times upon the office table, convenient for reference.
While I was tracing the eccentric course of a certain railroad, I could feel my Chief's eyes searching my countenance.
"Bathurst," he said, after some moments of silence, and leaning toward me as he spoke, "I believe you have a theory, or a suspicion, that is not entirely based upon Mrs. Ballou's revelation."
"You are right," I replied, "and it is a suspicion of so strange a sort that I almost hesitate to give it utterance, and yet I think it worthy of attention. I want to shadow this cavalier, Arch Brookhouse."
"Yes."
"I find by this map that the town of Amora is situated twenty-five miles from Groveland, and thirty miles from Trafton. Sharon, the nearest railroad communication with Groveland, is thirty miles from Amora, so that the distance from Trafton to Sharon is sixty miles, and the seminary town is midway between."
My Chief made a sign which meant "I comprehend; go on."
"Now, it is possible that accident or business brought Mr. Arch Brookhouse to Sharon, and that his meeting with Miss Holmes was quite accidental, and his attendance upon Miss Holmes and Grace Ballou merely a chance bit of gallantry. But when you consider that he seemed equally well known to both young ladies, that Sharon is a small town, and a dull one, and that Miss Holmes came from Amora that morning, is it not just as probable that Mr. Brookhouse traveled from Trafton to Amora for the purpose of escorting Miss Holmes to Sharon? Now, young men of our day are not much given to acts of courtesy extending over sixty miles of railroad; therefore, if Arch Brookhouse visited Sharon for the sole purpose of meeting these two young ladies, and basking in their society for a brief half hour, it is fair to presume that he is more than ordinarily interested in one of them."
"You are right, Bathurst; at least it would seem so."
"Now let me tell you all that I know concerning the Brookhouses."
Once more I gave a minute description of my first meeting with Arch Brookhouse, and of the second, when I recognized him at Trafton. Then I told him of my interview with the telegraph operator, of the telegram sent by Fred Brookhouse from New Orleans, and of the reply sent by Arch, and last I told him how Louis Brookhouse had come home, accompanied by another young man, on the day after the attempted flight of Grace Ballou, and how Dr. Bethel had been called upon to attend him, he having met with an accident.
My Chief stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"I see," he said, slowly, "you have some nice points of circumstantial evidence against these young gentlemen. How do you propose to use them?"
"First, I must know what motive took Arch Brookhouse to Sharon, and find out if either of the Brookhouse brothers have been students at Amora. I want therefore to send a second man to Amora."
"Very good."
"If I find that either, or both, of the younger brothers have been fellow-students with Grace Ballou, and the missing girls, then I shall wish to extend my search."
"To New Orleans?"
"To New Orleans."
"Is there anything more?"
"Yes; one thing. If Carnes goes to New Orleans I shall want a telegraph operator in Trafton."
"Then you wish to remain in Trafton?"
"Yes, and this takes me back to the other matter. I quite expected that a man like 'Squire Brookhouse would have called upon you for help. If he has employed men from either of the other offices, we can easily find out who they are."
"Easily."
"I shall wish to inform myself on this point, and if possible, return to Trafton to-morrow night. I am to see Mrs. Ballou again to-night; now I think I will have some supper."
I arose, but stood, for a moment, waiting for any word of command or suggestion my Chief might have to offer.
He sat for many seconds, seemingly oblivious of my presence. Then he looked up.
"I shall make no suggestions," he said, waving his hand as if to dismiss both the subject and myself. "I will instruct Wyman and Earle at once. When you come in after seeing Mrs. Ballou, you will find them at your disposal, and give yourself no trouble about those other detectives. I will attend to that."
I thanked him and withdrew. This curt sentence from the lips of my Chief was worth more to me than volumes of praise from any other source, for it convinced me that he not only trusted me, but that he approved my course and could see none better.
I saw Mrs. Ballou again that evening, and put to her some questions that not only amazed her, but seemed to her most irrelevant, but while she answered without fully comprehending my meaning or purpose, some of her replies were, to me, most satisfactory.
After I had heard all that she could tell me concerning Mr. Johnny La Porte, I gave her a minute description of Arch Brookhouse, and ended by asking if she had ever seen any one who answered to that description.
I was puzzled, but scarcely surprised, at her answer, which came slowly and after considerable reflection.
Yes, she had seen such a young man; I had described him exactly. She had seen him twice. He came to her house in company with Ed. Dwight. Dwight was an agent for various sewing machines; he was a jolly, good-natured fellow, very much liked by all the young Grovelanders; he had traveled the Groveland route for two years, perhaps three. He was quite at home at Mrs. Ballou's, and, in fact, anywhere where he had made one or two visits. The young man I had described had been over the Groveland route twice with Ed. Dwight, each time stopping for dinner at Mrs. Ballou's. His name, she believed, was Brooks, and he had talked of setting up as an agent on his own responsibility.
Did she know Mr. Dwight's place of residence?
He lived on the C. & L. road, somewhere between Sharon and Amora. Mrs. Ballou could not recall the name of the town.
I did not need that she should; a sewing machine agent whose name I knew, and who lived somewhere between Amora and Sharon, would not be difficult to find.
"How did Mr. Dwight travel?"
"In a very nice covered wagon, and with a splendid team."
"How long since Mr. Brooks and Mr. Dwight paid a visit to Groveland?"
Mrs. Ballou thought it was fully six months since their last visit.
"That would be nearly two months before Mamie Rutger and Nellie Ewing disappeared?"
"Yes."
"Have you seen Dwight since?"
"Oh, yes; he comes at stated times, as usual."
It was growing late, and I was more than satisfied with my interview with Mrs. Ballou. I advised her to keep Grace for the present under her own eye and, promising that she should see or hear from me soon, took my leave.
Mrs. Ballou had announced her intention to return by the morning train.
We could not be traveling companions, as I was not to leave the city until afternoon.
Reaching my room I sat into the small hours looking over my notes, jotting down new ones, smoking and thinking.
The next morning I saw Wyman and Earle, gave them full instructions, and arranged to receive their reports at the earliest possible moment, by express, at Trafton.
At noon I was in possession of all that could be learned concerning the identity of the detectives employed by 'Squire Brookhouse. No officer of any of the regular forces had been employed. Mr. Brookhouse had probably obtained the services of private detectives.
Private detectives, of more or less ability, are numerous in the city, and I was personally known to but few of these independent experts. Most of those could be satisfactorily accounted for, and I turned my face toward Trafton, feeling that there was little danger of being "spotted" by a too knowing brother officer.
CHAPTER XVI.
FLY CROOKS IN TRAFTON
My train, which left the city early in the afternoon, would arrive in Trafton at midnight. Foreseeing a long and, in my then state of mind, tedious ride, I had armed myself with a well-filled cigar case, and several copies of the latest editions of the city papers, and we had not been long on the wing before I turned my steps toward the smoking car, biting off the end of a weed as I went.
A group of four, evidently countrymen, were just beginning a game of cards. I took a seat opposite them and idly watched their progress, while I enjoyed my cigar.
Presently a gentleman from the front, seemingly attracted by their hilarity, arose and sauntered down the aisle, taking up his station behind the players, and quietly overlooking the game.
He did not glance at me, as he passed, but, from my lounging position, I could watch his face and study it at my leisure. At the first glance it struck me as being familiar; I had seen the man before, but where? Slowly, as I looked, the familiarity resolved itself into identity, and then I watched him with growing interest, and some wonder.
Seven months ago, while working upon a criminal case, I had made the acquaintance of this gentleman at a thieves' tavern, down in the slums. I was, of course, safely disguised at the time, and in an assumed character; hence I had no fear of being recognized now.
"Dimber1 Joe" had been doing Government service, in consequence of his connection with a garroting escapade, and had but just been released from "durance vile." His hair was then somewhat shorter than was becoming; his face was unshaven, and his general appearance that of a seedy, hard-up rascal. The person before me wore his hair a little longer than the ordinary cut; his face was clean shaven, his linen immaculate, and his dress a well-made business suit, such as a merchant or banker abroad might wear. But it was Dimber Joe.
Evidently fortune had dropped a few, at least, of her favors at Dimber Joe's feet, but it was quite safe to conjecture that some one was so much the worse off for his present prosperity.
What new mischief was on foot? for it was hardly likely that Dimber Joe, late the associate of river thieves, was now undertaking an honest journey.
I resolved to watch him closely while our way was the same, and to give my Chief an account of our meeting, together with a description of Joe's "get up," at the first opportunity.
Accordingly, I remained in the smoking car during the entire journey, but no suspicious or peculiar movement, on the part of Dimber Joe, rewarded my vigilance, until the brakeman called Trafton, and we pulled into that station.
Then Dimber Joe arose, stretched himself, flung a linen duster across his arm, and, swinging in his hand a small valise, quitted the car, stepped down upon the shadowy platform just ahead of me; and, while I was looking about for Carnes, vanished in the darkness.
"Well, Carnes," I said, when we were once more alone in our room at the hotel, "what has happened? Have you seen anything that looks like a detective?"
"Niver a wan," he replied. "I've kept an open eye on every train from both ways, but the only arrival in this city, worth making mintion of, has been – who d'ye think?"
"Myself, I suppose."
"No, sir! Not a bit of it. It's a cove that means no good to Trafton, you may depend. It's Blake Simpson, and he's rooming in this very house."
"Blake Simpson! are you sure?"
"Av coorse I'm sure! Did ye ever know me to miss a face? I never saw the fellow before he came here, but I've made the acquaintance of his phiz in the rogue's gallery. He came yesterday; he wears good togs, and is playing the gentleman; you know he is not half a bad looking fellow, and his manner is above suspicion. He is figuring as a patent-right man, but he'll figure as something else before we see the last of him in Trafton, depend upon it."