The Social Gangster

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE ABSOLUTE ZERO

  "Isn't there some way you can save him, Professor Kennedy? You _must_come out to Briar Lake."

  When a handsome woman like Mrs. Fraser Ferris pleads, she isirresistible. Not only that, but the story which she had not trustedeither to a message or a messenger was deeply interesting, for, already,it had set agog the fashionable country house colony.

  Mrs. Ferris had come to us not as the social leader now, but as amother. Only the night before her son, young Fraser, had been arrestedby the local authorities at Briar Lake on the charge of homicide. I hadread the meager dispatch in the morning papers and had wondered what thewhole story might be.

  "You see, Professor Kennedy," she began in an agitated voice as soon asshe arrived at the laboratory and introduced herself to us, "day beforeyesterday, Fraser was boxing at the Country Club with another young man,Irving Evans."

  Kennedy nodded. Both of them were well known. Ferris had been theAll-America tackle on the University football team a couple of yearsprevious and Evans was a crack pitcher several years before.

  "Irving," she continued, adding, "of course I call him Irving, for hismother and I were schoolgirls together--Irving, I believe, fellunconscious during the bout. I'm telling you just what Fraser told me.

  "The other men in the Club gymnasium at the time carried him into thelocker-room and there they all did what they could to revive him. Theysucceeded finally, but when he regained consciousness he complained of aburning sensation in his stomach, or, rather, as Fraser says, just belowthe point where his ribs come together. They say, too, that there was ared spot on his skin, about the size of a half-dollar.

  "Finally," she continued with a sigh, "the other men took Irvinghome--but he lapsed into a half-comatose condition. He never got better.He--he died the next day--yesterday."

  It was evidently a great effort for Mrs. Ferris to talk of the affairwhich had involved her son, but she had made up her mind to face thenecessity and was going through it bravely.

  "Of course," she resumed a moment later, "the death of Irving Evanscaused a great deal of talking. It was natural in a community like BriarLake. But I don't think anything would have been thought about it, outof the way, if the afternoon after his death--yesterday--the body of oneof the Club's stewards, Benson, had not been found jammed into a trunk.Apparently, it had been dumped off an automobile in one of the mostlonely sections of the country.

  "In fact," she went on, "it was the sort of thing that might have takenplace, one would say, in the dark alleys of a big city. But in a countryresort like Briar Lake, the very uncommonness of such a case calledadded attention to it."

  "I understand," agreed Craig, "but why did they suspect your son?"

  "That's the ridiculous part of it, at least to me," hastened the motherto her son's defense. "Both Irving and my son, as you know, were formerUniversity athletic stars, and, as in all country clubs, I suppose, thatmeant popularity. Irving was engaged to Anita Allison. Anita is one ofthe most beautiful and popular girls in the younger set, a splendidgolfer, charming and clever, the life of the Club at the dances andteas."

  Mrs. Ferris paused as though she would convey to us just the socialstatus of everyone concerned.

  "Of course," she threw in parenthetically, "you know the Allisons arereputed to be quite well off. When old Mr. Allison died, Anita'sbrother, Dean, several years older than herself, inherited the brokeragebusiness of his father and, according to the will, assumed theguardianship of his younger sister."

  She seemed to be considering something, then suddenly to make up hermind to tell it. "I suppose everyone knows it," she resumed, "and youought to know it, too. Fraser was--er--one of Anita's unsuccessfulsuitors. In fact, Anita had been sought by nearly all of the mosteligible young fellows of the Club. I don't think there were many whohad not at some time or other offered her his whole heart as well as hisfortune.

  "I didn't encourage Fraser--or try to discourage him. But I could seethat it lay between Fraser and Irving."

  "And the rather strange circumstances of the death of Evans, as well asof the steward, occasioned a good deal of gossip, I suppose," chimed inKennedy.

  "Yes. Somehow, people began to whisper that it was revenge or hate orjealousy that had prompted the blow,--that perhaps the steward, Benson,who was very popular with the young men, knew or had seen something thatmade him dangerous.

  "Anyhow, gossip grew until it seemed that, in some way which no one hasever said definitely, a deliberate attempt was made on Irving Evans'slife, and finally the local authorities, rather glad to take up ascandal in the Club set, took action and arrested my Fraser--under acharge of homicide."

  She blurted the words out fiercely and defiantly, but it was allassumed. Underneath, one could see the woman fighting loyally with everyweapon for her son, keenly alive to the disgrace that even the breath ofscandal unrefuted might bring to his name.

  "How about the other admirers?" asked Craig quickly.

  "That's another queer thing," she replied eagerly. "You see, they haveall suddenly become very busy and have made perfect alibis. But therewas Allan Wyndham--he's a friend of the Allisons,--why shouldn't theysuspect him? In fact, there was quite a group of young fellows closelyassociated with Dean Allison in speculation. Irving Evans was one. But,"she added, with a glance at Kennedy as if she realized that it was likecatching at a straw, "with Fraser, of course,--there is that blow. Wecan't deny that."

  "What does Miss Allison think?" queried Craig.

  "Oh, I believe Anita is all broken up by the tragedy to her fiance. Shewas at the Club at the time--in the tea room. No one dared to tell heruntil Irving had been taken home. Then her brother, who was in thegymnasium when the thing happened and had been one of those to carryIrving into the locker-room, was naturally chosen by the rest, afterthey had done all they could to revive Irving, to break the news asgently as he could to his sister. She took it calmly. But I think itwould have been better if she had given way to her real feelings. Theysay she has secluded herself in the Allison house and won't see a soul."

  Kennedy's brow puckered in thought.

  "You can't imagine what a terrible shock this thing has been to me,"pleaded Mrs. Ferris. "Oh, the horror of it all! You _must_ come out toBriar Lake with me!"

  There was, naturally, no doubt of the poignancy of her feelings as shelooked from Kennedy to myself, imploringly. As for Craig, he did notneed to betray the sympathy he felt not only for the young man who hadbeen arrested and his mother, but for the poor girl whose life might beblasted by the tragedy and the unhappy victim who had been snatched awayso suddenly almost on the very eve of happiness.

  It was not half an hour later, that, with a very grateful mother, wewere on our way out to Briar Lake in Mrs. Ferris's touring car.

  As we whirled along past the city limits, Kennedy leaned back on thecushions and for some minutes seemed absorbed in thought.

  "Of course it is possible," he remarked at length, noticing that bothMrs. Ferris and I were watching him nervously, "that Miss Allison mayknow something that will throw some light on the affair. But it may beof an entirely private nature. I don't know how we'll get her to talk,but we must--if she knows anything. I'd like to stop at the Allisonhouse, first."

  "Very well," agreed Mrs. Ferris, leaning forward and directing thechauffeur to turn off before we reached Briar Lake on the main road.

  We sped along and I could not help feeling that the young man who wasdriving the car was quite as eager as anyone else to bring help to hisyoung master.

  The Allison house proved to be a roomy, old-fashioned place on a rise ofground just this side of Briar Lake, for the Allisons had been among thefirst to acquire estates at the exclusive colony.

  Mrs. Ferris remained in the car, while Kennedy and I went in tointroduce ourselves.

  We found the young society girl evidently now in full possession of hernerves. She was slender, fair, with deep blue eyes, not merely pretty,but with a face that show
ed character.

  Anita Allison had been seated in the library, and, as we entered, Icould see that she had hastily shoved some papers, at which she had beenlooking, into a drawer of the desk.

  "Miss Allison," began Kennedy, "this is a most unfortunate affair and Imust beg your pardon--"

  "Yes," she interrupted, "I understand. As if I didn't feel badlyenough--oh--they have to make it all so much harder to bear by arrestingFraser--and then all this notoriety,--it is awful."

  I confess that I had not expected that we would see her so easily. Yet Ifelt that there was some constraint in her manner, in spite of that.

  "I want to speak frankly with you, Miss Allison," went on Craig gently."Is there anything about the matter--of a personal nature--that youhaven't told? I want to appeal to you. Remember, there is another lifeat stake, now."

  She looked at us searchingly. Did she suspect that we knew something orwas she herself seeking information?

  "No, no," she cried. "There isn't a thing--not a thing that I know thatI haven't told--nothing."

  Kennedy said nothing himself, but watched her, apparently assuming thatshe would go on.

  "Oh," she cried, "if I could only _do_ something--anything. It might getmy mind off it all. But I--I can't even cry!"

  Plainly there was little except a sort of mental vivisection of hergrief to be gained from her yet--even if she suspected something, ofwhich I was not entirely sure.

  We excused ourselves and left her, sunk deeply into a leather chair, herface buried in her hands, but not weeping.

  "Is Mr. Allison at home?" inquired Craig as we passed out through thehall, meeting the butler at the door.

  "No, sir," he replied. "He went to New York this morning, sir, and saidhe'd be at the Club later this afternoon."

  We climbed into the car and Kennedy looked at his watch. "It's gettingwell along in the afternoon," he remarked. "I think I'll go over to theClub. We may find Allison there now."

  As we turned out into the main road our driver had to swerve for a carwhich turned off, coming from the city, as we had come a few minutesbefore. He looked around at it blackly, as it went up the road to theAllison house, for he had had to stall his own engine to avoid acollision. There was no one in the other car but a driver with a visoredhat.

  "Whose car was that?" asked Craig quickly.

  "Allan Wyndham's," answered our driver, starting his engine.

  "H'm," mused Craig. "Wyndham must have sent her a message from town. Toobad we hurried so to get up here."

  At last, as we turned a bend in the main road, the broad chimneys, whitecolumns and wide balustrades of the Briar Lake Country Club loomed insight.

  The Country Club was a most pretentious building, yet, unlike many suchclubs, had a very hospitable air in spite of its aristocratic andhandsome appearance.

  There was something very inviting about its wide sweep of roof and amplepiazzas, some enclosed in glass, as we approached by the broad graveleddriveway that swung in from the highway between the gentle curves ofgreen lawns whose expanse was broken by the tall pines through which wecaught a glimpse of the hills. It was indeed a beautiful country.

  We entered a wide hall and came to the reception room crowded withluxurious armchairs and cozy corners. In a glass case stood the usualtrophies.

  Grouped about a huge deep fire was a knot of people, and here and thereothers were talking earnestly. One could feel that this was one of thosesocial institutions not to be in which argued that one was decidedlyout of things. I could almost visualize the close scrutiny that newapplicants would undergo, not so much as men among men, but through theeyes of the women folk, dissecting the wives and daughters of thefamily.

  Founded originally because of the interest of the older members inhorses and the hunt, the Club had now extended its activities to poloand motors, golf, tennis, squash, with a fine old English bowling greenand ample shooting traps.

  I could not blame Mrs. Ferris for not wishing to enter the Club justyet. She had left us at the door, promising to send the car back for ourdisposal.