The Secret Toll
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Green was enlightened in a few minutes. The music ceased and immediately afterward he saw Mary Sturtevant appear in the window. Glancing hastily about, probably to make sure that she was not observed, the girl quickly stepped through the window and into the shadow at one side. A low, peculiar whistle came from the man, and the girl instantly reappeared as she approached him. Green could not hear their greeting, but they turned and moved toward his place of concealment, evidently seeking the shadow of the tree for a conference. Green cautiously moved around the tree, placing its massive trunk between himself and the approaching couple. They came so near that Green dared not look around the trunk at them. He stood with his back pressed against the tree and listened.
"And now, tell me how matters stand tonight," requested the man, evidently ending a report of his own.
"No one has left the room except Mr. Forrester," replied Mary Sturtevant. "He started for the tree a few minutes ago."
"Take anyone with him?"
"I'm not sure. He arrived with that private detective and he may have taken him along."
"Very likely," assented the man. "And there will be city detectives there, too, that I know. It will be very difficult for anybody to approach that tree tonight. It may spoil our plans."
"Mr. Forrester's case certainly seems to be attracting more attention than the others," commented the girl.
"That's because he is putting up a real fight. To tell you the truth, I have my doubts about the package of money he is putting in the tree tonight. It probably isn't worth the danger involved to get it."
"Do you think he will take the risk? Surely he knows that punishment would be certain."
"I think it will take a lot to scare that chap. He will probably still be fighting after we have listed other victims. I must hurry now if I am to get there on time. I'll phone you after you get home."
"Yes, do; I shall be worried until I hear from you," urged the girl.
Green waited a moment before cautiously peering around the tree trunk. The man had disappeared as quietly as he had come, and Mary Sturtevant was just passing back into the house through the window.
"Gee!" muttered Green. "I've got the dope now. I'm wastin' time here – me for the tree!"
He started off at a run.
—By going north along the road on which the Prentice estate was located, Forrester could reach the western end of Jasper lane. He began his journey at a brisk pace. The night was clear but dark, the white strip of roadway being barely distinguishable. Forrester knew the way well, however, and arrived at the lane without further adventure than the keeping out of the way of occasional motors that flashed by. As the headlights of these cars threw his figure into prominence against the background of the night he thought with amusement of the wonder of the occupants at seeing a hatless man in evening clothes straying along a deserted road.
Forrester did not make any effort to conceal himself as he approached the great oak. Both the detectives and the emissaries of the "Friends of the Poor" would be expecting him. For the time being at least he had nothing to fear, and it would be well for all those who might be watching to know definitely when the package was deposited.
He paused for a moment in front of the tree and listened. Nothing was to be seen, and there was no sound save the distant wail of a locomotive whistle and the faint rustling of leaves overhead. Cautiously picking his way through the darkness so as not to disturb the detectives' strings if they were in place, Forrester reached the tree, found the opening and placed the package in it. Then he carefully returned to the road and walked noisily along it for a short distance. Suddenly he leaped aside and paused. When he was assured that everything remained quiet he crept silently back in the direction of the tree, but on the opposite side of the road, and close to the woods. He had slightly lost his bearings during these maneuvers in the darkness, and had difficulty in again locating the tree. By glancing toward the sky from time to time he finally saw the huge bulk of the oak against the stars. Feeling around for an opening in the underbrush directly opposite the tree, Forrester moved back a little way from the road and waited.
As the minutes slipped by without incident, Forrester grew restless. The necessity of remaining absolutely motionless to prevent making any noise cramped his muscles, and the continued silence in the impenetrable darkness grated upon his nerves. He had expected action of some kind, yet it almost seemed now as if he were doomed to disappointment. He remembered that on other occasions detectives had waited there throughout the night, only to discover in the morning that their quarry had come and gone. Was this about to happen once more? Had the package over which he and the detectives were watching already been removed? It hardly seemed possible, in view of the precautions which the detectives had taken. He had a feeling, too, that somewhere in that silent darkness, others beside the detectives and himself were concealed. He did not hear a sound, however, outside of the occasional stirring of the leaves as a gentle breeze passed through the woods.
Suddenly, far down the lane, Forrester heard a slight creak that seemed to him like the application of the brake on an automobile. Listening intently, he felt sure that he could also hear the soft purr of an idling engine. At last they must be coming!
Strain his ears as he might, however, Forrester could detect no other sound. If anyone were approaching the tree it was with a catlike tread that no human ear could hear.
Then, in a moment, everything changed. There was a short, sharp exclamation, followed by stifled oaths and the rush of feet. Forrester could tell from the rustling of leaves on the ground and the cracking of twigs that a struggle was taking place. He longed to rush forward and help, yet reason told him that it was better to leave the matter in the hands of the detectives until they were sure of their men. The next moment the darkness was scattered by two electric pocket lamps and Forrester recognized Cahill and O'Connor standing halfway between the road and the tree, each with a man in his grasp.
Forrester darted across the road, but at the same moment there came a blinding flash of light that blotted out everything about him. This was followed by shouts and oaths and several pistol shots. The flash had lasted for only a second, but the intensity of the light, followed by utter darkness, left Forrester practically blinded, and he stood helpless in the road.
He did not know which way to turn, or what had happened, until an electric pocket lamp once more spread its rays across the road. Forrester then saw that the man who held it remained alone in front of the tree, and he hurried over to join him.
"What happened?" cried Forrester.
"That's what I'd like to know," growled the man, who proved to be Cahill.
Just then another pocket lamp flashed out. It was held by O'Connor, who now approached from the roadway and joined them.
"No use," groaned O'Connor, "they got away. I stood no chance chasin' an automobile."
"What do you know about that?" muttered Cahill. "Those Dagos right in our hands! Then that flash went off and blinded us, and piff – they were gone!"
"That'll make some picture!" came a gleeful exclamation, and Humphrey appeared within the circle of light cast by the pocket lamps.
"Picture, hell!" bellowed Cahill. "They got away!"
Humphrey stared around with a bewildered air. "Why," he exclaimed, "when you turned on your lights I thought you had them fast. I decided that was the time to set off my flash light and shoot a picture of you in the very act of capturing your prisoners."
"Bright idea, young fellow," snorted Cahill, "but in one second you killed a whole year's detective work!"
At this moment a wheezing sound was heard in the road. All turned in that direction and saw Green come staggering up, out of breath and almost speechless with his exertions.
"Did – you – get – him?" gasped Green, with an effort.
"Don't see any strangers hanging around, do you?" sneered Cahill.
"Well – the – man – started – for – the tree," declared Green, "and I – followed him." He gave a gulp and partly recovered his breath. "Just as I turned in – from the main road – down here – I heard the rumpus – and I thought you had got the man."
"THE man?" exclaimed Cahill. "What are you talking about?"
"Why – I was keepin' watch at a house – up the road here – for Mr. Forrester. I heard a man arrangin' to come down to the tree – to get the package."
"Well, he split into two by the time he got here," sneered Cahill. "You've been looking through last year's almanac, partner."
Forrester took the puffing Green by the arm and pushed him to one side. "If you know anything," he whispered, "keep it to yourself. We'll talk it over later."
"Look here," said O'Connor, suddenly, turning to Humphrey, "What you goin' to do with that picture you took?"
"Put it in the paper tomorrow," answered Humphrey, triumphantly. "A big headline across the top will read: 'Friends of the Poor' caught while trying to collect their secret toll."
"Don't do it!" commanded O'Connor. "They ain't caught yet. Keep it quiet about that picture. Give the negative to us. We'll have the faces enlarged. Perhaps we can pick up these Dagos from their photos."
"I get you," assented Humphrey. "I see I spoiled the game all right; and I'll do all I can to help you. I'll have that negative over at the detective bureau first thing in the morning."
"O'Connor don't talk much," observed Cahill, "but when he does, he says something. You get that picture to us quick, young fellow, and we'll close this thing up with a bang! There's no question about who the 'Friends of the Poor' are now."
"Did those fellows get my package?" inquired Forrester.
"Not on your life!" returned Cahill. "They never got near enough to the tree for that."
"Then," said Forrester, turning to Green, "you would better get that package and we'll take it back with us. It may come in handy some other time."
Green went to the tree and inserted his hand in the opening. He felt carefully around, then withdrew his arm and turned to face the others. In the dim light of the pocket lamps they saw that his eyes were staring wildly.
"It's gone!" he cried.
CHAPTER XIII – A PUZZLING WARNING
"Whatever happened to you last night, Son?" exclaimed Mrs. Forrester.
Forrester had just strolled into the dining room, late for the one o'clock Sunday dinner. The excitement of the incident at the tree, together with the strange occurrence related to him by Green, had caused Forrester a sleepless night. It was nearly dawn when he had finally fallen asleep and in his state of nervous and physical exhaustion he had not again awakened until just in time to dress for dinner.
"It seems to me, Bob," observed Josephine, "that of late it has become quite an event when you honor us with your company."
"You apparently forget," returned Forrester, testily, as he sat down, "that I have had something more important on my mind this last week than regular attendance at meals and dances."
"No, Bob," smiled Josephine, "I had not overlooked the great event that has come into your life during the past week. It is a well-known fact that a man in love usually loses his appetite. I have not told Mother before, but the last time I saw you, you were engaged in an earnest conversation with Miss Sturtevant. When you disappeared so completely I concluded that she had probably sent you forth to tilt with windmills."
"I gather from your words, young lady," retorted Forrester, "that you look upon me as a modern combination of Don Juan and Don Quixote. Let me inform you that I am neither of these – but simply a re-incarnation of M. Lecoq, the great detective."
"This repartee bewilders me and does not answer my question," declared Mrs. Forrester. "We missed you right after dinner last night, Bob, and Diana asked for you several times. She said that she had not had one dance with you – not even a word except a formal 'good-evening' when you arrived."
"If you have forgotten, Mother, at least Josephine must remember that last night was the night on which I was to place that extortion money in the big oak in Jasper lane."
"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Forrester. "You assured me, Bob, that you had fixed that matter up and that there was nothing for us to worry about. Did you pay them the money they asked for?"
"I put a package in the tree last night as instructed," returned Forrester, evasively. "There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about, Mother."
"I hope you gave them all they asked for, Son, and have not trifled with them. You know what happened to dear Mr. Nevins, and others who opposed them."
"It's all fixed up, Mother. Just go on with your dinner and forget about it. By the way, have you seen the Nevins since the funeral?"
"No, but I talked with Mrs. Nevins over the telephone yesterday," explained Mrs. Forrester. "They will not open their house here this summer. Just now they plan to travel for a while, and then stay at their place near Pittsfield, in the Berkshires, until fall."
"I must try to see Charlie before he leaves," said Forrester. "So many things have happened in the last few days that the time has seemed like weeks instead of days."
"Incidentally, Bob," informed Josephine, a moment later, "you will be interested to know that you have been quite a hero during the past week because of that demand made upon you. It seemed as if every group I approached last evening was discussing it, and when your continued absence was discovered, it caused considerable concern."
"You should have assured them," returned Forrester, "that I had a trusty body-guard."
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Josephine, "William was telling me about that man, Green. I must get a look at him. I don't know that I ever saw a real live detective before."
"Any time you want to peek through the window, Josephine, you will probably see him," replied Forrester, laughing. "He has instructions to hang around outside the house and keep his eyes open."
"But of course you will let him go, now that everything is settled," asserted Mrs. Forrester.
"Yes, of course," returned Forrester, "but I thought it might be just as well if he stayed around for a few days longer." Then he added, diplomatically, "It is a great protection against burglars and tramps to have a detective near the house."
Dinner over, Forrester joined Green in the pergola. Green had selected this spot as his permanent station because it formed a splendid vantage ground from which he could keep an eye on the principal living rooms of the house, and have both the north and south entrance gates under his observation as well.
Green had been stunned when he learned of the actual appearance of the Italians at the tree on Saturday night. While he frankly confessed that an explanation was beyond him, he refused to believe that the city detectives were correct in their surmises. He stoutly maintained that the real "Friends of the Poor" were undiscovered, and cited the mysterious disappearance of the dummy package as proof of this claim. Forrester was inclined to agree with him, and before parting for the night the two men had decided to go ahead with their investigations, independently of the police. Green, after the conversation he had overheard, was in thorough accord with Forrester in the conviction that Miss Sturtevant was in some way the key to the problem.
After conferring with Green along these lines for some time, Forrester left the detective to watch the house, and taking his roadster, started out to visit the girl.
To reach the house which Mary Sturtevant had rented it was necessary for Forrester to pass through Jasper lane. He stopped his car in front of the tree and made a careful examination of the ground in every direction. From the trampled condition of the undergrowth, and some withered leaves which had been burned by the flashlight, Forrester was able to locate the spot across the road where Humphrey had been concealed. The wooden pegs which the detectives had placed in the ground near the tree were still there, though the strings had been broken off and scattered during the struggle. He found no other indications of anyone having been at the tree. How the package had been removed without discovery was a baffling puzzle. Standing there in the brilliant daylight, Forrester felt as though the whole thing were a nightmare. It was hard to associate the stories of weird voices, rattling chains and the notes of a ghostly bell with this peaceful woodland spot. The flaming hand which Green still maintained he had actually seen was too fantastic for credence. Forrester re-entered his car, more than a little depressed with the hopelessness of the situation, and continued his journey.
Miss Sturtevant and her companion, Mrs. Morris, were sitting on the front porch when Forrester arrived. The girl was frankly pleased to see him, rising from her chair and coming part way down the steps as he approached.
Under the spell of her presence Forrester's recent depression took flight. The startling happenings of the past week seemed like mere phantasmagoria to him as he dropped into the chair she indicated. He settled back with a sigh of relief that did not escape the girl. Her eyes softened as she looked at him and had Forrester turned at that moment he would have been greatly encouraged by the flush which stole over her cheeks when she perceived his attitude toward her.
"You are tired," she observed, sympathetically. "It has been a great strain. I am sorry the case remains unsolved."
Forrester glanced around sharply, recalling Green's information about the promised telephone message.
"You have heard what happened last night?" he queried.
Miss Sturtevant stiffened perceptibly, and the guarded nature of her reply was evident.
"Your dejected attitude tells a plain story, Mr. Forrester. Whatever happened at the oak, I am sure you are still perplexed."
"I am," admitted Forrester, shortly.
"I have heard, Mr. Forrester, that you are making a determined effort to unmask these people; that you have taken grave risks which should have been assumed by others more experienced. Do you think you are wise?"
"What do you think I should do?" asked Forrester.
"Go away!" she answered, quickly, emphatically.
"Until when?"
"Until – ," she paused a moment, "until the police have cleared this matter up."
"Permanent banishment!" laughed Forrester. But immediately his face grew grave. Why did she want him to go away? Did she really feel a personal interest in him, and desire to save him from the retribution she knew was sure to come, or had he actually become a menace to the rogues who apparently held her allegiance? Did this advice come from her heart, or had she been instructed to warn him? Forrester was confused in a tangle of hopes, doubts and conjectures. Then a passionate longing for the girl surged within him. In spite of his suspicions and the enigmatic occurrences in which she was a prominent figure, he knew that he felt a restfulness and enjoyment in her company that was inexplicable. Always when he was near her it seemed as if he had reached the end of a difficult journey. Despite their short acquaintance Forrester knew that he was deeply and irretrievably in love. With his usual impulsiveness he swung his chair to face hers and burst out:
"Mary, I love you!"
The girl regarded him steadily, a serious, searching look in her brown eyes that held Forrester fascinated and for the moment incapable of further speech. Then she broke the spell.
"How can you," she asked, "in so short a time?"
"Mary, I am old enough to know my mind and heart. I have danced and dined and flirted with the women of two continents without a desire for any one of them. But from the moment I saw you, I wanted you – just you. Sometimes love may grow as the result of long friendship or close association; but when a man meets his real mate he knows it – instantly."
"Robert," said the girl, timidly, and Forrester thrilled at the sound of this name on her lips for the first time. It showed at least a partial victory. "The fate that has so strangely thrown us together still holds us in its hands. Both of us are entangled in the meshes of a malignant force and until such time as fate relinquishes its present hold upon us I cannot give you the answer you are seeking."
This admission from Mary Sturtevant startled Forrester. Yet its greatest effect upon him was to further strengthen his resolve to pull her back from the black pit of disaster before it was too late.
"I have known from the first that some hidden influence controlled you," imparted Forrester. "It is that knowledge which impelled me to disclose my feelings toward you so soon. I want to save you from these people who are dragging you down. I want to save you from yourself. If you will marry me, now, we can go away and leave this hideous nightmare behind."
As Forrester made this statement a peculiar expression drifted over the girl's face. Then her eyes sparkled as she extended her hand and laid it caressingly upon one of his which grasped the arm of her chair.
"Do you think that I am involved in this affair of the 'Friends of the Poor' – that I have guilty knowledge of it?" she asked.
"I have suspected it," assented Forrester. "Many of your actions have implicated you seriously. You must remember," he added, "that I have been playing the detective myself."
"And you still want to marry me?" she queried.
"Yes; I want you more every minute I know you."
"Then, I know you really love me," she murmured. "But, Robert – I cannot draw back now. If you will wait until this thing reaches its inevitable end – and you still feel that you want me – then I will answer you."
Mary Sturtevant rose to her feet and Forrester knew that she was dismissing him. Her companion had long since discreetly disappeared and the dusk of approaching evening already threw the porch into shadow. Realizing that they were free from observation, and acting on a sudden impulse, Forrester took the girl in his arms and held her close to him. She neither resisted nor responded, but her soft, warm body aroused in Forrester a feeling of reckless determination to solve the mystery quickly and at any cost. Releasing her, he left without a word, dashing down the steps and across the drive to his car.
CHAPTER XIV – THE INTRUDERS
Several days passed without incident, and so far as Green or Forrester were concerned, no progress had been made. Each day Green went to his post in the pergola and lolled in an easy chair while consuming Forrester's cigars at an alarming rate. With the lake rippling at his feet, birds calling in the trees around him, and gentle breezes tempering the increasing heat of advancing summer, Green was in paradise. The monotonous hours of his watch were relieved by occasional visits from William, the chauffeur, and flirtations with the maids.
Forrester, on the other hand, existed in a state of feverish but profitless activity. He secured several books on criminology and studied them conscientiously in the quiet of the library; he spent hours in the woods watching the tree or spying upon the negress, Lucy. He could not free himself from the idea that this eerie colored woman was in some way connected with the mystery, although Green scoffed at its possibility.
"You're wastin' time on that Jamaica nigger woman," counseled Green. "That type can't stand prosperity. If she had her fingers on any o' them dollars, she wouldn't be rustin' away in the woods. I'd risk a bet that she's just hidin' from her past."
Once Forrester called on Mary Sturtevant during this quiescent interval, and twice met her at social functions to which both had been invited. On these latter occasions the girl had eluded all his efforts to be alone with her. In fact, Forrester had a feeling that she purposely avoided any appearance of more than a mere acquaintance with him.
He was not deceived by these eventless days. Surmising that the "Friends of the Poor" were holding off some act of retaliation merely to lull him into a sense of false security and thus take him off his guard, Forrester maintained a constant watchfulness of everything about him. This caution at times may have made him appear churlish; in such instances as a refusal to accept assistance from passing motorists when he had trouble with his car on the road.