Quintus Oakes: A Detective Story

  _CHAPTER XXI_

  _The Attack_

  We had advanced along River Road to its junction with the Highway, andMartin had just closed in from behind as Dr. Moore started to saysomething about the dinner that was coming, when, just as we came intothe shadows of the great trees to our left, a flame, instantaneous,reddish-blue, streaked forth from the side of the road and a deep,muffled, crashing sound came to our ears. Everyone recognized itinstantly--it was not the high crack of a modern weapon such as wecarried, but the unmistakable guttural of an old-style heavy revolver.

  An instant, and the voice of Oakes rang out, cool, but intenselyearnest, "To cover"--and we covered. Never before had six men meltedfrom a close formation so rapidly, so silently, so earnestly.

  Dr. Moore, Elliott and I reached the trees on the other side together,and lost our identity trying to find a place for our hunted bodies. Welay down in a heap behind a burned tree-stump, and said "damn"together.

  Somewhere around was the fiend of Mona, and somewhere were Oakes, Hallenand Dowd, but not with us--we could swear to this, for we were in aclass by ourselves and we knew one another even in the darkness.

  We heard a sudden scuffle in the road, and saw a giant figure rush byus, throwing a silhouette on the roadway. It turned, faced about andcrouched as another figure darted from the woods across the road. Thenthe figure crouching made a spring, and the two swayed to and fro beforeus like great phantoms, and then the figures separated, and one starteddown the Highway followed by the other at breakneck speed. Then we heardthe voice of Oakes from somewhere:

  "Halt! or I'll shoot."

  The fugitives stopped, ducked, dashed toward us and by us, into thewoods, and after them came the report of Oakes's revolver--we knew it bythe quick, high-pitched note--and then--Oakes himself. It was evident tous he had fired in the air, for we all saw the small flame pointheavenward as his weapon was discharged.

  Neither fugitive slackened his speed, but both rushed across the plainseast by northeast into the face of the moon as it rose off the plateauof Mona.

  "What is who?" gasped Moore.

  "The which?" I answered, as a polar chill chased up my spine.

  "Oh, the d----l!" soliloquized Elliott.

  "See, the second man limps--he must be O'Brien; he is chasing the firstone," whispered the doctor as we gazed into the night.

  "And Oakes is cavorting after the bunch--I play him straight and place,"spoke Elliott; "he is gaining."

  We watched Oakes, fleeter than ever, steadier, disappear in the distanceas the moon entered a passing cloud-bank and all became lonesome anddark.

  "Let's get on the plain," said Elliott, and we crawled as best we couldout of the woods toward the place where the three were last seen by us.

  "Let's be in at the finish," I cried, and we started in the dim steelyhaze of the obscured moon to follow the chase. Darkness impenetrablecame on, and suddenly a wild moan of anguish reached us--an awful,convulsive cry of terror. It neared us and was in our veryneighborhood--in our midst--and again away; and with it came the rush offeet, heavy and tired, and soon the light tread of the pursuer--theathletic, soft tread of Oakes. I shall never forget that cry of terror.It was as though the soul had left the body in anguish--it was a cry offear greater than man seemed capable of uttering.

  From out of the darkness came the voice of Moore: "A maniac in terror!"Then the heavy tread was upon us again, a body darted past me, and theheavy revolver spoke again. I felt a stinging sensation in my arm, anumbness, a feeling of dread and of fear; then I reeled and recovered,and looking around me saw the figure dashing away like mad. The moon wasuncovering again, and the fighting instinct of the brute was arousedwithin me. I knew I was wounded, but it was a trivial matter. I felt thesurging of blood to my brain, the pumping of my heart, the warmth andglow of the body that comes when one rallies from fear or surprise, andthe next instant I was off in pursuit.

  Always a good runner, I seemed endowed with the speed of the wind;slowly I gained. The man before me ran rapidly but heavily; he wastired. He glanced around and moved his arms, and I realized that he wasunarmed. His weapon had fallen. I shut my mouth and saved my breath, andloosened joints which had not been oiled since the days of long ago,when I played on my college foot-ball team. Slowly I closed in--thecapture was to be mine--the honor for Stone, yours truly--lawyer. Iunreefed some more, and the ground went by under me like mad. I wasdizzy with elation and courage and bull-hearted strength, and then, justas I came within talking distance of the fleeing terror, there was areport and my right leg dragged, my stride weakened and tied itself intobowknots, and I dropped my revolver. I realized I was done for. We allknow the symptoms--the starboard front pulley of my new Broadwaysuspenders had "busted."

  The next instant the "terror" had turned and was upon me. I felt acrashing fist in my face and another in my neck, a swinging blow on myjaw and a quick upper cut in my solar plexus; and as the moon had justagain disappeared behind the cloud, I sank to the plain of Mona nearlyunconscious--overpowered. I felt hands with the power of ten men seizemy wrists. I felt them being tied together with handkerchiefs; I felt aheavy weight on my stomach, and realized that I was being used as asofa. Then I started to call for help, to speak and to struggle; but theterror who had murdered and frightened, and held up this part of theState, soaked me again with both fists. I thought of home and New Yorkand mint juleps, and of the two dollars I spent to railroad it up toMona, and realized that it was cheap for all I was getting. Then Istarted in to die; and the fiend struck a match in my face, and I nearlydid die. For it was that quiet, aristocratic Elliott. "You're thedarndest ass I ever saw," said he as he got off; "why didn't you tellwho you were?"

  "Couldn't," I muttered. "I was thinking of----"

  I never finished that remark, for the next instant Elliott was bornedown to the ground by the force of the impact of a great body. Herolled about with the unknown, and tore and twisted. I heard thedeafening blows rain on his head, and was powerless to aid, for my handswere tied and I was strangely weak--I was done for.

  "You d---- fiend! I've got you. You will murder Stone along with theothers, will you? You terror, you."

  I recognized the voice as I heard the handcuffs click on Elliott, andrealized it all.

  It was too much. "Hallen!" I murmured. "Thank God! Soak him again," andI heard the blows descend on Elliott's anatomy. Then I relented.

  "Spare him, Chief--it's Mr. Elliott."

  Hallen roared in surprise. "Then the murderer has gotten away, withOakes after him. I beg pardon--I--I--ha, ha!" and then the Chief roaredagain as he undid us and called for the others.

  Lanterns were now brought from the Mansion, and a crowd of Oakes's mencollected around us. I noticed that Moore and Hallen were looking at mecuriously; and then Oakes stepped to my side from somewhere out in thedarkness.

  "You're sick, old fellow!" he said softly.

  "Sick!" and then I realized that things were strangely distant, thatfaces seemed far, far away, and that Moore's voice was miles off as herushed to my side.

  "Wounded! Look at his arm," he cried.

  "Yes," I murmured; "it was that last shot--I forgot it."

  I tried to raise the arm and saw that a red-blue stream was running downand dripping from my hand upon the ground.

  I stepped forward to point to Hallen, and to tell about how he sluggedElliott; but as I moved I lurched forward, and a great strong arm closedabout me and a tender voice whispered--miles--miles away. It was Oakes'svoice.

  "Here, Hallen, give us a hand," and I felt myself lifted tenderly andcarried across the plateau. I was dimly conscious that Moore was workingsilently, rapidly, at my side, and that the strong, supple arm of Oakeswas about me, and that Hallen was helping. A great wave of affectioncame over me for these tender, dear fellows--and I talked long and loudas Elliott wiped my face; and I told Moore that Elliott was a pastmaster at slugging--and all the time the crowd grew. I heard the name ofMr. Clark shouted, and then my own; and then, as the
y bore me in at theMansion gate, I passed away off into the distance and went into a deep,dark tunnel where all was quiet and still. And then I again heardMoore's voice saying: "He has fainted, Oakes. Get him to bed, or he willfaint again."

  There was such gentle tenderness in the faces around me, such gentle,strong words, and such gentle, strong lifting of my body, that I sighedat the deliciousness of it all--the splendor, the beauty of myjourney--and all for two dollars' railroad fare.

  I heard some curious statements about great bravery in dashing after theunknown, and all that sort of thing--and I knew enough to realize thatthe crowd had things twisted. Oakes was speaking to me like a bigbrother, and Hallen had somehow quit all his bluster, and was quiet andgrave, and Moore and Elliott seemed foolishly attentive. I appreciatedtheir kindness, but did not quite understand, and their attentionsamused me. I should have laughed outright, but things were becomingconfused.

  Then I realized that they were worried. How peculiar it seemed! Theangel of friendship was about me. I felt a strange peacefulness as Ientered the great Mansion. It seemed like a palace with golden walls,and the familiar voices of welcome warmed me.

  Then I heard a deep, thumping, rhythmic tremor as it was borne throughthe air, and I knew that the boat on the river was passing the Mansion.I laughed long and loud at the peculiar words it was saying. I talked toit, commanded it to breathe more quietly, or it would disturb thoseasleep on the shore. Then I tried to explain to the judge that I was nota brave man--that it was all a mistake; that I had chased Elliottinstead of the murderer; that the jury had failed to understand--and Ilaughed again.

  My merriment grew as I caught sight of Oakes's face; it was sononsensical of him not to have perceived that the steamer was at thebottom of the whole mystery. I tried to explain, then I shouted attheir stupidity, and finally laughed angrily and in despair. I was inthe grip of delirium.

  * * * * *

  During the night they searched for the bullet, and found it--and sometime next day I awoke in my right mind.