The Oakdale Affair

thetopsy-turvy condition of the contents of the three rooms which Baggscalled home. As the victim still was unconscious no details of the crimewere obtainable. Yet even this atrocious deed had been capped by one yetmore hideous.

  Reginald Paynter had for years been looked upon half askance and yetwith a certain secret pride by Oakdale. He was her sole bon vivant inthe true sense of the word, whatever that may be. He was alwaysspoken of in the columns of The Oakdale Tribune as 'that well knownman-about-town,' or 'one of Oakdale's most prominent clubmen.' ReginaldPaynter had been, if not the only, at all events the best dressed manin town. His clothes were made in New York. This in itself had beensufficient to have set him apart from all the other males of Oakdale.He was widely travelled, had an independent fortune, and was far fromunhandsome. For years he had been the hope and despair of every Oakdalemother with marriageable daughters. The Oakdale fathers, however, hadnot been so keen about Reginald. Men usually know more about the moralsof men than do women. There were those who, if pressed, would haveconceded that Reginald had no morals.

  But what place has an obituary in a truthful tale of adventure andmystery! Reginald Paynter was dead. His body had been found besidethe road just outside the city limits at mid-night by a party ofautomobilists returning from a fishing trip. The skull was crushed backof the left ear. The position of the body as well as the marks in theroad beside it indicated that the man had been hurled from a rapidlymoving automobile. The fact that his pockets had been rifled led to theassumption that he had been killed and robbed before being dumped uponthe road.

  Now there were those in Oakdale, and they were many, who endeavored toconnect in some way these several events of horror, mystery, and crime.In the first place it seemed quite evident that the robbery at the Primhome, the assault upon Old Baggs, and the murder of Paynter had beenthe work of the same man; but how could such a series of frightfulhappenings be in any way connected with the disappearance of AbigailPrim? Of course there were many who knew that Abigail and Reginald wereold friends; and that the former had, on frequent occasions, riddenabroad in Reginald's French roadster, that he had escorted her toparties and been, at various times, a caller at her home; but no lesshad been true of a dozen other perfectly respectable young ladiesof Oakdale. Possibly it was only Abigail's added misfortune to havedisappeared upon the eve of the night of Reginald's murder.

  But later in the day when word came from a nearby town that Reginald hadbeen seen in a strange touring car with two unknown men and a girl,the gossips commenced to wag their heads. It was mentioned, casually ofcourse, that this town was a few stations along the very road upon whichAbigail had departed the previous afternoon for that destination whichshe had not reached. It was likewise remarked that Reginald, the twostrange men and the GIRL had been first noticed after the time ofarrival of the Oakdale train! What more was needed? Absolutelynothing more. The tongues ceased wagging in order that they might turnhand-springs.

  Find Abigail Prim, whispered some, and the mystery will be solved. Therewere others charitable enough to assume that Abigail had been kidnappedby the same men who had murdered Paynter and wrought the other lesserdeeds of crime in peaceful Oakdale. The Oakdale Tribune got out an extrathat afternoon giving a resume of such evidence as had appeared in theregular edition and hinting at all the numerous possibilities suggestedby such matter as had come to hand since. Even fear of old Jonas Primand his millions had not been enough to entirely squelch the newspaperinstinct of the Tribune's editor. Never before had he had such anopportunity and he made the best of it, even repeating the vaguesurmises which had linked the name of Abigail to the murder of ReginaldPaynter.

  Jonas Prim was too busy and too worried to pay any attention to theTribune or its editor. He already had the best operative that the bestdetective agency in the nearest metropolis could furnish. The man hadcome to Oakdale, learned all that was to be learned there, and forthwithdeparted.

  This, then, will be about all concerning Oakdale for the present. Wemust leave her to bury her own dead.

  The sudden pressure of the knife point against the breast of theOskaloosa Kid awakened the youth with a startling suddenness whichbrought him to his feet before a second vicious thrust reached him. Fora time he did not realize how close he had been to death or that he hadbeen saved by the chance location of the automatic pistol in his breastpocket--the very pistol he had taken from the dressing table of AbigailPrim's boudoir.

  The commotion of the attack and escape brought the other sleepers toheavy-eyed wakefulness. They saw Dopey Charlie advancing upon the Kid,a knife in his hand. Behind him slunk The General, urging the other on.The youth was backing toward the doorway. The tableau persisted but foran instant. Then the would-be murderer rushed madly upon his victim, thelatter's hand leaped from beneath the breast of his torn coat--there wasa flash of flame, a staccato report and Dopey Charlie crumpled to theground, screaming. In the same instant The Oskaloosa Kid wheeled andvanished into the night.

  It had all happened so quickly that the other members of the gang,awakened from deep slumber, had only time to stumble to their feetbefore it was over. The Sky Pilot, ignoring the screaming Charlie,thought only of the loot which had vanished with the Oskaloosa Kid.

  "Come on! We gotta get him," he cried, as he ran from the barn afterthe fugitive. The others, all but Dopey Charlie, followed in the wake oftheir leader. The wounded man, his audience departed, ceased screamingand, sitting up, fell to examining himself. To his surprise hediscovered that he was not dead. A further and more minute examinationdisclosed the additional fact that he was not even badly wounded. Thebullet of The Kid had merely creased the flesh over the ribs beneath hisright arm. With a grunt that might have been either disgust or relief hestumbled to his feet and joined in the pursuit.

  Down the road toward the south ran The Oskaloosa Kid with all thefleetness of youth spurred on by terror. In five minutes he had so faroutdistanced his pursuers that The Sky Pilot leaped to the conclusionthat the quarry had left the road to hide in an adjoining field. Theresultant halt and search upon either side of the road delayed the chaseto a sufficient extent to award the fugitive a mile lead by the time theband resumed the hunt along the main highway. The men were determinedto overhaul the youth not alone because of the loot upon his person butthrough an abiding suspicion that he might indeed be what some of themfeared he was--an amateur detective--and there were at least two amongthem who had reason to be especially fearful of any sort of detectivefrom Oakdale.

  They no longer ran; but puffed arduously along the smooth road,searching with troubled and angry eyes to right and left and ahead ofthem as they went.

  The Oskaloosa Kid puffed, too; but he puffed a mile away from thesearchers and he walked more rapidly than they, for his muscles wereyounger and his wind unimpaired by dissipation. For a time he carriedthe small automatic in his hand; but later, hearing no evidence ofpursuit, he returned it to the pocket in his coat where it had lain whenit had saved him from death beneath the blade of the degenerate Charlie.

  For an hour he continued walking rapidly along the winding country road.He was very tired; but he dared not pause to rest. Always behind him heexpected the sudden onslaught of the bearded, blear-eyed followersof The Sky Pilot. Terror goaded him to supreme physical effort.Recollection of the screaming man sinking to the earthen floor of thehay barn haunted him. He was a murderer! He had slain a fellow man.He winced and shuddered, increasing his gait until again he almost ran--ran from the ghost pursuing him through the black night in greaterterror than he felt for the flesh and blood pursuers upon his heels.

  And Nature drew upon her sinister forces to add to the fear which theyouth already felt. Black clouds obscured the moon blotting out the softkindliness of the greening fields and transforming the budding branchesof the trees to menacing and gloomy arms which appeared to hover withclawlike talons above the dark and forbidding road. The wind soughedwith gloomy and increasing menace, a sudden light flared across thesouthern sky followed by the reverberation of dista
nt thunder.

  Presently a great rain drop was blown against the youth's face; thevividness of the lightning had increased; the rumbling of the thunderhad grown to the proportions of a titanic bombardment; but he dared notpause to seek shelter.

  Another flash of lightning revealed a fork in the road immediatelyahead--to the left ran the broad, smooth highway, to the right a dirtroad, overarched by trees, led away into the impenetrable dark.

  The fugitive paused, undecided. Which way should he turn? The bettertravelled highway seemed less mysterious and awesome, yet would hispursuers not naturally assume that he had followed it? Then, of course,the right hand road was the road for him. Yet still he hesitated, forthe right hand road was black and forbidding; suggesting the entrance toa pit of unknown horrors.

  As he stood there with the rain and the wind, the thunder and thelightning, horror of the past and terror of the future his onlycompanions there broke suddenly