The New Boys at Oakdale

CHAPTER VI – THE SUSPICIONS OF SLEUTH

Osgood’s manner during the tedious homeward jaunt would not have led any one unaware of what had taken place to fancy that there had been the slightest unpleasantness. He was polite and affable to every one upon the buckboard, and when the boys sang, as they did once or twice, his fine baritone voice was sufficient to command admiration and applause.

This fellow had entered Oakdale Academy in the midst of the term of the previous autumn, and had maintained for a time a certain reserve which prevented his schoolmates from seeking to pry into his personal affairs. It was some time, indeed, before the naturally curious boys learned from him that he was a native of New York, but that, on account of his mother’s health, his parents had removed to California some years before, where his father had suddenly passed away from an attack of heart disease. Of this bereavement he continued to be disinclined to say much, and it was noticeable that while he seemed distinctly proud of his mother, his father was never mentioned in that manner.

Nevertheless, Edwin Osgood took pains to impress upon his associates that there was genuine blue blood in his veins, and his claim was that he was upon his mother’s side a direct descendant of Lord Robert Percival, Earl of Harcourt. Little by little at various times he let drop a few words which, pieced together, told of the banishing of a younger son of Lord Percival, who had brought upon his head the displeasure of the old Earl through his wild and wayward ways. This younger son had come to America, where he married, and Ned asserted that he was of the third generation in this country.

All this was apparently dragged reluctantly from his lips, and he even made some pretense of disdain for ancestry, although his stationery bore a crest, and those chaps who were favored by invitations to his rooms stated that they had seen various portraits of Osgood’s noble forebears.

Unlike other students at Oakdale who came from out of town, Ned did not simply room or board; he lived in the home of a widow by the name of Mrs. Chester, who had been induced to take him in through what was said to be a surprisingly liberal money consideration. In Mrs. Chester’s house he had a sitting-room and a bedroom with an adjacent bath, and it was said that the widow, perhaps a bit impressed by having such a young swell in her home, permitted him to do about as he pleased in his rooms.

Now a fellow like this might through snobbery easily make himself unpopular in a country school, but Osgood’s seeming whole-souled, manly boyishness, combined with an unusual knack at all-round sports and baseball in particular, had overcome the prejudice of many chaps who were inclined at the outset to regard him with disfavor. His staunchest friend, however, was Charley Shultz, with whom he had taken up almost immediately, and who seemed so remarkably different from him in every way that wonderment over their chumminess was justified. Shultz was rough and brusque and not infrequently positively boorish; furthermore, he was something of a bully, although, finding this bent disapproved by Osgood, he plainly sought to hold the inclination in check.

Among the village girls Ned was greatly admired, but with the boys a strong point in his favor was the fact that, although always pleasant and polite, he rarely attempted to play the gallant. He seemed to prefer fellows of his own age and with similar tastes in sports to the prettiest girl of the village or the school, and, although some of the misses were miffed over this, he rarely wasted time in their company.

Another point in his favor was the fact that, although he was known to have a pocket full of spending money and sometimes spent it generously on his companions, he managed to avoid patronism, and did not make the fellow less supplied with coin feel small or mean on that account. In short, he was generally sized up as “a jolly good fellow,” and, although they had not ventured to say as much, several members of the nine had thought that Nelson was rather too hasty and harsh in sending Osgood to the bench for his disregard of orders. Besides Jack Nelson, Rodney Grant and Ben Stone were almost the only ones who had not fallen powerfully beneath the spell of Osgood’s personality.

During the most of the homeward trip Shultz sat silent on a seat which also held Tuttle and Piper. Once or twice he had a few words to say, and he endeavored in saying them to give the impression that he, like Ned, had dismissed the incident of the game which had so nearly led to a personal encounter in the Wyndham gymnasium. But Shultz was no diplomat; subterfuge to him was a most difficult thing.

The result of the game had been telephoned to Oakdale, and the boys were welcomed with cheers as the buckboard rolled up the main street toward Hyde’s livery stable. At the stable they piled out with their bats and bags, shivering a little from the raw cold of the spring evening, which had crept into their bones in spite of overcoats.

At the door of the stable Osgood paused a moment, and, Springer, Hooker and Cooper joining him, he was heard to say:

“See you later, fellows. Don’t forget. So long. I’m hungry as a bear, and I won’t do a thing to Mrs. Chester’s grub to-night.” Carrying the bag that contained his uniform and mitt, he swung off with a vigorous, buoyant stride, whistling cheerfully.

A few low words passed between the trio left behind, after which they dispersed in starting for their various homes.

Jack Nelson was not the only one to perceive something mysterious in the action of these fellows; Sleuth Piper’s eyes and ears were wide open. When Shultz had likewise departed Nelson spoke to Grant.

“I don’t suppose it’s any of my business, but I’d really like to know what’s in the wind. Those fellows are up to something.”

“I reckon so,” nodded Rodney; “but I opine it’s no concern of mine.”

Both were startled as Piper noiselessly appeared beside them.

“There are things going on in this town,” said Sleuth, his voice discreetly lowered, “of which the general public is wholly unaware.”

“Hello!” laughed Rodney, lifting his eyebrows. “The great detective is on the job. I judge you have inside information, Pipe?”

“Very little,” answered Sleuth; “but if I set out to get it I’ll not be balked. Once I take up a case worthy of my attention, I am relentless as Fate.”

“Do you have an idea this matter is a case worthy of your attention?” asked Nelson, winking slyly at Grant.

“That I can’t answer,” confessed Sleuth; “but it’s my theory that persons whose movements are secretive and mysterious deserve to be watched. Possibly I can tell you one little fact of which you are unaware.”

“Let flicker,” invited Jack. “We’re listening, all agog.”

“For some little time,” said Sleuth, in answer to this invitation, “certain fellows have been meeting regularly every Saturday night in the rooms of Ned Osgood.”

“Is that all?” exclaimed Grant, disappointed. “Why, I suppose, as Osgood happens to be such a popular chap, they merely drop in on him for a social call.”

“Is there any reason why a fellow who is merely making a social call should shroud his movements in secrecy?” questioned Sleuth instantly. “If you were going to drop round to see Osgood for a little pleasant chat of a Saturday evening would you take pains to prevent the fact from becoming known? Or would you, if meeting a friend on your way, openly and frankly tell him where you were going?”

“I don’t opine I’d be covering up my tracks any whatever.”

“Not unless it was to be something more than a mere social call,” nodded Sleuth decisively. “By apparent chance it has happened that I have met on different occasions two or three of these fellows who were on their way to call upon Osgood, and when I asked them where they were going they either lied or begged the question. Ha! Now you perceive that there must be some hidden motive for this secrecy. A man who takes extreme pains to conceal his motives should be watched.”

“There’s certain some logic in that,” admitted the Texan; “but I’ll allow I don’t see what those fellows could be up to that would concern anybody but themselves.”

Nelson, however, was thoughtful, frowning the least bit.

“It may not concern any one else,” he said presently, “and, then again, it may. It may be my fault, but I can’t quite trust Osgood. I’ll admit that he acted pretty decent in practically acknowledging that he was wrong to-day; but all the time I couldn’t help feeling that he was playing policy, while thoroughly satisfied that he had been in the right and that I was a chump to call for the sacrifice. As a matter between us three, there’s a feeling of dissension on the team as well as in the school, and I’m sure that Osgood and Shultz are behind it. When I benched Osgood it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least if some of the players besides Shultz had made an objection. He has got a grip on them, and they think he knows more baseball than I or any of the old players. I’ve seen them imitating his methods and his style of play. When a ball team loses confidence in the judgment of its captain, that team soon gets into a bad way.”

“I didn’t like the talk Shultz made about Prof. Richardson,” said Grant. “The old boy may not take a natural modern interest in athletics, but you sure hit the nail on the head, Nelson, when you said that he does his work well in the class room and therefore makes a good principal. But I suppose I’d likely object to almost anything coming from Shultz. There’s something about that fellow that certain rubs my fur the wrong way.”

“He’s irritating,” agreed Jack; “but I can’t help thinking that Osgood is the more dangerous man. If there’s trouble, you’ll find that he will really be the leader.”

“Oh, I don’t judge there will really be any trouble,” said Rodney optimistically. “If there was any brewing, I think you nipped it in the bud, captain. I’ve got to hike home, or Aunt Priscilla will begin to worry; she always does if I’m late to meals. Good night.”

Sleuth pulled at Nelson’s sleeve. “Wait a minute,” he requested in a low tone. “I’ve a powerful suspicion that you’re right in thinking there’s trouble brewing – there’s something going on beneath the surface. I’m going to investigate. I’m going to take this matter up professionally. I’ll pierce the dark depths of the plot. I’ll lay it bare in all its heinous nakedness.”

“Go as far as you like, Sleuth,” smiled Nelson. “As far as I’m concerned you have free rein, but don’t drag me into it in any way.”

CHAPTER VII – YOUNG SPORTS

After shivering for more than half an hour beneath a tree across the street from Mrs. Chester’s home, Sleuth Piper finally decided to make a move. Since seeking the hiding shelter of that tree he had seen four boys ascend the widow’s steps, ring the bell and obtain admission. It was now some time since the last one had disappeared within the house, and Piper believed no more were to follow.

There was a light in Osgood’s room on the second floor, but the shades were closely drawn at the windows. Sleuth would have given much had he been able to look through those windows, but being prevented from doing so, he had decided on a bold move.

Swiftly crossing the road, he softly mounted the steps and hastily gave a single ring at the bell. After a few moments the summons was answered by a maid, and the boy boldly entered the moment the door swung open.

“I’m to see Osgood,” he said in a low tone. “I’m a little late. I presume the other fellows are ahead of me?”

“Mr. Osgood has several friends with him in his room,” said the girl. “He’s expecting you, isn’t he?”

“Why, sure,” returned Piper, although even in his “professional capacity” his conscience was troubled by the falsehood, which surely was something quite surprising in a detective.

By the muffled hall light the boy deliberately mounted the carpeted stairs. He heard the maid retire, and the sound of the door closing behind her was most gratifying to his ears.

There was little trouble in finding the door of Osgood’s room, for from behind it came the subdued murmur of voices; and, listening, Piper heard at intervals a queer, soft, irregular clicking sound. But when he would have taken a peep through the keyhole, he was much disappointed to find it either plugged or covered on the inside by something that baffled him.

“And that proves there’s something queer going on,” he whispered to himself. “They’re not talking loud, either; they’re keeping their voices down. A lot of fellows who get together and chat free and easy don’t bother to talk that way. Wish I could hear something more.”

After a time, growing desperate through the intensity of his increasing curiosity, he placed his hand gently on the knob of the door with his ear close to the panel, and, when the talk seemed to be a bit more general inside, he softly and slowly turned the knob.

The door was locked!

“That settles it,” he mentally exclaimed. “There’s something off color taking place here.”

Still with the utmost caution, he permitted the spring slowly to force the catch back into place and removed his hand from the knob.

“There’s just one thing to do now,” he decided; “I’ve got to put on a bold front. It’s the only play for me to make.”

Lifting his hand, he knocked softly upon the door.

Immediately the hum of voices ceased, and after a little Sleuth fancied he heard some one whisper within the room.

He knocked again.

There was the sound of a person stirring, and the key turned in the lock. The door was opened the tiniest crack, and the voice of Osgood asked:

“Who is it? What’s wanted?”

“Hello, Ned,” called Sleuth, as he again grasped the knob and gave the door a push which flung it wide open. “Thought I’d come round for a little call this – Why, you’ve got company! Excuse me.”

The scene beheld by Piper’s eyes caused them to grow unusually big and round. Within the room four boys remained seated around a table covered by a green cloth and lighted by a shaded suspension lamp. On that table were red, white and blue poker chips and some cards. In each fellow’s hand were also the cards which he had held when play had been interrupted by Sleuth’s knock. The young gamesters looked somewhat startled, an expression which gave way to annoyance as they recognized the unwelcome caller.

“How the dickens did you get into the house?” exclaimed Osgood, in a manner that was, for him, unusually rude.

“Why,” returned Sleuth instantly, “I just said I came round to make you a little call. But if I’m not welcome – ”

“Old Pipe always has his nose into everything,” laughed Chipper Cooper, one of the quartet at the table. “As long as he’s here to call, bring him in and let him do his calling in the game.”

The other three were Charley Shultz, Roy Hooker and Phil Springer. Shultz was scowling darkly and Hooker did not seem exactly pleased; but, like Cooper, Springer appeared to accept the situation good-naturedly.

“Bub-bub-bet he hasn’t any coin with him,” said Phil.

“Come in, Billy,” invited Osgood. “Your unexpected appearance rather upset us. I thought it might be Mrs. Chester or the maid, although we haven’t been making any noise.”

Piper was only too willing to accept the invitation. “You seem to be having a rather nice little game,” he said, as he entered the room and Osgood relocked the door. “What’s the limit?”

“Oh, we’re just playing for amusement,” assured the host. “It’s nothing but penny-ante, with a ten-cent limit; just enough to make it interesting, you know. Do you play?”

Now one of Sleuth’s weaknesses was cards, although his limited finances had never allowed him to play much for money. On this particular occasion, however, he happened to have in his pocket between two and three dollars, and, although he protested that he did not wish to butt in, he was more than willing to take a hand.

“It will get me on the inside with this bunch,” he thought, “and if there’s anything going on likely I’ll catch a hint of it.” So, to the surprise of Springer, he displayed his money, announcing that a ten-cent limit just suited him. A place was made for him between Osgood and Springer, and he sat down at the table.

“We’ll play this hand off,” said Ned; “you can come in on the next. You’re dealing, Cooper, and the pot is all level. I’ll take three cards.”

When that hand was played off Piper was given a dollar’s worth of chips, together with some advice about maintaining silence concerning what was taking place in Osgood’s room.

“The people in this village are so straightlaced and narrow,” said Ned blandly, “that they would regard a little game of this sort, played merely for amusement, as we play it, as something bordering on the criminal. I’m sure you won’t say a word about it, Piper.”

“Better impress it on him harder than that,” broke in Shultz offensively. “I’m not so sure.”

“What do you take me for?” exclaimed Piper, with a touch of indignation. “I’m playing in this game, ain’t I? Don’t I know what folks around here are? Think I’d take a hand and then go out and shoot my face off?”

“He thinks,” explained Osgood smoothly, “that you might let a careless word drop among the fellows, not realizing that they would be likely to spread it. That’s the way such things leak out; a fellow tells a friend under pledge of secrecy, and the friend tells another, and soon the secret is public property. We’ve taken pains to keep our little social gatherings very quiet.”

Sleuth was quite aware of this, and their efforts to keep the matter quiet had awakened his natural suspicions and led him to that room.

“If I’m fool enough to blow about it after playing,” said he, “any one or the whole of you will have the liberty to kick me good and hard. I think I can keep a secret when it’s necessary.”

“Sleuthy won’t pup-pup-peach when he talks like that,” said Springer. “Go on with the gug-game.”

Even though it seemed that he had done some bad guessing regarding the object of these quiet meetings in Osgood’s rooms, Piper was, after the first throb of disappointment, rather glad of it; for, in a way, he was not very popular with the boys of Oakdale. At one time they had regarded his aspirations to become a detective with considerable amusement and had taken no little pleasure in joshing him. But of late his ability to uncover secrets and lay bare unpleasant facts concerning people with whom he came in contact had changed ridicule to a certain respect that was not wholly free from apprehension, causing him to be avoided.

In desiring companionship and friends, Piper was perfectly normal, and he had felt the coldness and slights of his fellows. Even Nelson, although regarding him valuable as an outfielder on the nine, had seemed to hold him at a distance. And so, when the turn of affairs and the singular behavior of the Osgood clique had seemed to point to scheming of some sort, Sleuth had not hesitated to make a bid for Jack’s appreciation and gratitude by offering to discover and reveal what crookedness those chaps were planning.

It now appeared that he had been misled in his reasoning, for the secrecy of the boys who did not wish it generally known that they were playing poker seemed, in the light of his discovery, perfectly natural and excusable.

As Ned skilfully rippled the cards, passed them to Cooper to cut and began dealing, Sleuth sat back on his chair, feeling that Fate had served him a good turn by getting him in with this little gathering of “sports.” In these days nearly every fellow who really amounted to anything played cards, and it was surely far more interesting and shocking to play poker for pennies and dimes than to play it for matches or beans.

The room was rather warm, and both Shultz and Hooker were in their shirt-sleeves. Osgood wore a handsome house coat, with a collar, lapels and cuffs of purple plush. He was really a fine-looking chap, with his clean-cut face and his curly dark hair, a lock of which had strayed over his forehead. His hands were shapely and well formed, and a rich seal ring adorned the one that held the pack of cards. He had lighted a fresh cigarette. Shultz was smoking a cigar. A thin haze of blueish tobacco smoke floated like incense in the room.

Sleuth’s swift appraising eyes had taken in the general appearance of that room as it could dimly be seen beyond the circle of light thrown over the table by the shaded hanging lamp. The furnishings were unusually excellent. Beneath his feet there was a thick carpet, soft and pleasant to the tread. There was a bookcase, a couch piled with cushions, and heavy portieres hung parted at the entrance to the adjoining bedroom. There were pictures on the walls and many photographs and knick-knacks belonging to Osgood upon the old-fashioned marble mantel, which had been hidden by a drapery. There were likewise banners, boxing-gloves, dumb-bells and a tennis-racket, disposed in various ways with a seeming carelessness that was really effective. Above the mantel hung some dim old portraits, which Sleuth immediately fancied must be the pictures of Osgood’s titled ancestors.