Quintus Oakes: A Detective Story

  _CHAPTER IX_

  _Distrust and Suspicion_

  The day following the murder of Winthrop Mark was one of uneasiness anddejection for the towns-people of Mona. The court scenes of the daybefore and the great excitement caused by the discovery of the crime hadleft their stamp. Disquietude was bred and nurtured by the crime itself,and the absence of clues save those of the arm. It was rumored andreiterated that Chief Hallen had failed to discover the slightestevidence as to the perpetrator, and that the bullet even had remainedunfound, as was most natural; but people look at things in a narrowlight sometimes, and this was an occasion of deep trouble and muchgossip for the town.

  The peculiar action of the negro, whom few had seen but all had heard,and who was pronounced a total stranger by those who had seen him,pointed strongly to him as the possible assassin. With his escape hadcome mutterings against Chief Hallen. Why had the court-house not beenwatched? Where were the local authorities? Why had he been allowed toget away so easily? All these questions remained unanswered, for fewstopped to think that there were _no_ local detectives, and only a fewlocal policemen.

  Then in the midst of these disgruntled thoughts and assertions appearedthe mental picture of Clark, known in the town before, and now the mostconspicuous man in it, towering above all in his active personality, asin his figure and sayings. Talk is cheap in such a place, and talk hasmade or unmade many a man. The great run of Clark to the victim's sideand the dramatic and terrible evidence he gave at the inquest was spokenof--at first with awe, and then with alarm. And to think he had gone tothe Mansion to spend a short time again, gone to the place of all othersthat one should avoid at this time--gone to the house where terror dweltand at the end of whose grounds the murder had been committed! Hallen,whose word was known to be "law," had vouched for this. The personalityof Clark--stood silhouetted on the sky of lowering discontent.

  The only clue worth having was that one relating to the arms of themurderer, and, given to the public as it purposely had been by Clark ina moment of suspense, it had found deep rooting place in all minds. Whowas the man with the great arms, and with the "blue cross" on one ofthem--the left?

  Here was a small town--perhaps one thousand grown men. Who had thecross--who? Might it be _anyone_? Yes, almost _anyone_! Did anyone knowof such a scar? No, but who knew of his neighbor's arms? Who could vouchfor his friend? Some few had been associated, one with another, as boys.What of that? It was years ago.

  Suspicion was growing like a prairie fire, first a light that goes out,then flickers again and smoulders, anon meeting resistance andapparently dying; but all the while treacherously gaining and advancingin the roots and the dry stubble below, then suddenly bursting intoflame. With the first flame comes the inrush of air; then come the heatand the smoke and the low wall of fire; then the glare, the roar andthe conflagration sweeping all before it.

  So came suspicion to Mona. And friendship, respect and brotherly lovefled at its breath, as wild animals of the prairie flee before theadvancing destruction.

  By evening of the second day the far-sighted and most influentialcitizens detected the condition of affairs. The older residents hadnoticed the peculiar similarity of this murder to that of Smith. Thecoincidence of time and place was another factor. Could it be the sameassassin? Had he dwelt with them all the while since? The most respectedand wealthy of the inhabitants shared the unenviable position of beingunder suspicion; there was no relief for anyone.

  The two local newspapers published "extras," and could scarcely supplythe demand. The murders of Smith and Winthrop were reviewed carefully,and their similarity much written about. The hotel and the two leadingbusiness streets were filled with suspicious, muttering groups.

  Nothing had been found missing from the dead man; his watch and moneywere untouched. His arrival by such an early train was not unusual. Hefrequently went to New York for an outing, and returned before breakfastto his magnificent place on the hill to the east of the town, where helived with two old maiden aunts--his mother's sisters.

  Now all this uneasiness and suspicion had been noted--by Hallen, theChief. He was a man who, after living in the country for many years, hadfinally pushed himself to the top of a large police force in a city ofimportance. The physical strain had told on him, however, and now hefound himself back in a small town, recovered in health, but shut in asto future prospects. The murder of Mark had come to him as a thunderboltfrom a clear sky, but he saw opportunities in it. When Oakes had visitedhim and made himself known, he had at first been jealous; but theformer, with his wonderful insight, had made a friend of him.

  "Hallen, if you manage this affair well, you will be famous. They arelooking for good men in New York all the while. My work is in theMansion; if our paths cross, let us work together."

  So had suggested Oakes. He had known about Hallen, as he knew thehistory of all police officers, and had thus given hope to the man whohad been used to better things. Instantly Hallen had seen that toantagonize Oakes would be foolish; to aid him, and perhaps obtain hisadvice and friendship, would ultimately redound to his own future creditand, possibly, advancement. For Oakes's work had brought him in contactwith police heads in all the large cities. His boldness and genius forferreting out mysteries were known to them all, and they had paid himthe compliment of studying his methods carefully.

  Hallen had agreed to have Oakes's testimony at the inquest taken at justthe proper moment for effect, and had agreed to call Dr. Moore as anexpert.

  Of course, the coroner did what the Chief asked.

  As Oakes had said: "If you want expert evidence, get it from Moore; ifyou don't ask him, you won't get it in Mona."

  The idea of Oakes bringing in his testimony as he did was part of theplan to watch the audience. The planning of the Chief and himself hadaccounted for the somewhat informal presentation of the evidence that Ihad noticed. In rural courts, affairs are not conducted as they are inthe city, and I had observed a quick swing to affairs, hardly accountedfor on the ground of practice. I recognized the hand of Quintus Oakes,and knew that the scene had been carefully manoeuvred.

  Hallen sat in his office on the evening of the day after the inquest,reviewing the happenings that had crowded so fast in Mona, and thinking,not without misgivings, of the wave of suspicion that was rising tointerfere with the affairs of the town.

  At this moment the editor of the "Mona Mirror" entered--a whole-souled,fat individual, breezy and decidedly agreeable. He was one of thenatives, a man of growing popularity and decided education. Dowd was hisname, and he hated _that fellow Skinner_, who edited the rivalnewspaper, the "Daily News."

  Skinner had "bossed" things in a free-handed fashion until Dowd (a clerkin the post-office until middle life) had decided to enter the field ofjournalism--less than two years before. Dowd was inexperienced, but hewas bright, and he wielded a pen that cut like a two-edged sword; andthe love that was lost between the two editors was not worth mentioning.

  As Dowd entered and found Hallen alone, he took off his hat andovercoat, and laughed sarcastically. He really liked Hallen, and was onintimate terms with him. Hallen looked up. "Well, what's ailing younow?" he said.

  "Oh, nothing. Only this town is going loony, sure as fate, Hallen. Whatare you going to do?"

  Hallen chewed the end of a cigar viciously. "I am going to do the best Ican to solve the mystery; if I cannot do that, I can at least keep orderhere. Give me a few 'specials' and the necessity, and I will make thesehalf-crazy people do a turn or two."

  The burly chief turned the conversation into other channels, but Dowdwas satisfied. He knew the speaker well.