The Secret Toll

  CHAPTER IV--THE CAR IN THE FOG

  Forrester glanced at his watch. It was just nine o'clock, not too lateto make his promised call on the Nevins.

  The Nevins' residence was on Dearborn Parkway, only a fifteen-minutewalk for Forrester, so he sauntered west after leaving the house. Aheavy mist was gathering on Lake Michigan and rolling through thestreets before a gentle breeze from the east, completely shutting fromview all but the nearest street lights and any pedestrians who might beabroad at this hour. Always a quiet neighborhood, the mist-hiddenstreets now seemed somber and deserted, and so still were hissurroundings that Forrester's attention was presently attracted to thesoft chug-chug of a motor somewhere in the fog behind him.

  When the sound first caught his ear it had made little impression, butas the purring of the engine continued, apparently always at the samedistance, it struck him as peculiar that the car did not catch up withand pass him. The threat which now hung over his head, as well as hisrecent interviews with detectives and the reporter from the _Times_, hadmade Forrester more alert than usual. He was keenly on the watch foranything that might appear out of the ordinary in character. Although hecontinued at the same pace without looking back, Forrester listenedattentively to the sound of the motor and noted instantly that as heturned north on Dearborn Parkway, the motor followed him. He wasconvinced that he was under surveillance, and as detectives were notlikely to keep guard over him from a motor car, it was clear that thepersons who followed him had some other motive.

  Forrester was well aware that auto bandits were active at all times inthe city streets, and it was more than likely that a foggy night wouldprove especially inviting. Still, he could not recollect ever havingheard of a hold-up of this character in his immediate neighborhood. Ashe deliberated on the matter, the suspicion grew stronger that the carwhich now followed him through the fog was connected in some way withthe "Friends of the Poor." If that were so, there seemed little risk inallowing them to follow him, for it was certain that the ten thousanddollars they had demanded was of more importance to them at this timethan his life, and as they had given him until midnight Saturday to paythe money, it did not appear likely that they would harm him before thattime.

  On the other hand, he realized that he had been especially active thatday in taking steps to thwart them. It was not improbable that anorganized band of this kind would have underground methods of gaininginformation and therefore might be familiar with everything he had done.Forrester recollected with a start that he had taken Humphrey forgranted. Might it not be possible that Humphrey had merely been a spysent to ascertain his attitude? As he recalled the young man's discourseit seemed strangely fanciful and might have been planned merely to addto his perplexities in seeking a solution. He had been extremely frankwith Humphrey, and the supposed reporter would have a very comprehensivetale to unfold to his associates. Informed that Forrester planned to gofurther in his fight against them than any previous victim they hadselected, was it not possible that they had decided to disregard hismoney, which might be easily replaced by a demand upon someone else, andmake away with him before he had an opportunity to disrupt their plans?Forrester admitted to himself that he felt decidedly nervous andquickened his pace. He glanced back once or twice and saw the blurredbut unmistakable outlines of a motor car without lights. Although thespeed of the car had been slightly increased when he hastened his steps,the distance between them was maintained, and Forrester's mind greweasier as he became convinced that the sole purpose of the car behindhim was to watch his movements. Very probably, he reflected, the"Friends of the Poor" kept track of their victims so that they could notescape by leaving the city or concealing themselves in someout-of-the-way place. Though he was probably safe for the moment,Forrester realized more fully now the dangerous nature of the task hehad set himself.

  By the time Forrester reached the Nevins home and rang the door-bell,the lesson had had its effect. He had acquired part of the attributes ofa good detective--caution, and a suspicion of everybody and everything.In the future, so he assured himself, he would be more guarded in hisconversation, not only with new acquaintances, but with his friends aswell. At this moment a servant opened the door and Forrester steppedinto the brilliantly lighted hallway with a feeling of relief.

  As he was well known in this home he went immediately to the librarywithout being announced. There he found his mother and sister with theNevins family. Evidences of grief were apparent on all their faces andafter a general exchange of subdued greetings, young Nevins ledForrester to a sofa in a corner and said, "I suppose you've heard aboutFather, Bob?"

  "Yes," replied Forrester, "and I'm mighty sorry, old man. It must havebeen a great blow."

  "It was a dreadful shock to Mother. You know when a person is ill, anddeath is momentarily expected, you are sort of prepared for the finalend, but when you find your father dead on the front steps, and you knowthat he has been murdered, it is an awful stroke."

  "If you don't mind talking about it, Charlie, I should like to hear someof the details."

  "I don't mind, Bob. The fact is, that is about all we have been able totalk about. There is very little to tell, however.

  "It seems that Father received a notice about two weeks ago from thisdamnable blackmailing society which calls itself the 'Friends of thePoor.' About that notice, and what happened subsequently, we knowpractically nothing outside of the few details we read in thenewspapers, and a little that the police were willing to tell us. Fathernever said a word to either Mother or myself about it. I believe he didnot even tell his business associates, simply putting the matter intothe hands of the police and going on about his business as usual. TheChief of Detectives called in person this morning, and during his visit,told me that he had offered Father a police guard, but that Fatherrefused it.

  "Last night Father attended a dinner of the _Midland Bankers'Association_, and as we naturally did not expect him home until quite alate hour, Mother and I retired at our usual time. The first we knew,therefore, that Father had not been home all night, was when we missedhim at breakfast. When a maid went up to call him she found his bedroomdoor open and saw that the bed had not been occupied. I was just aboutto call up the police when the patrolman on our street rang thedoor-bell and asked the maid who answered the door if she knew the manwho was lying on our steps. Of course, she immediately recognizedFather, and when we heard her scream we all hurried to the door. Thepatrolman helped me carry him in. This man waited until the doctor came,as he said he would have to make a report and he wanted to know if foulplay were suspected.

  "Our doctor lives just across the street. He was here in five minutes,but there was nothing that he could do. He said that Father hadunquestionably been dead for many hours."

  "Could he tell the cause of death?" inquired Forrester.

  "Yes," returned Nevins, "he stated that it was clearly a case ofasphyxia. Father, of course, had been murdered by the same method as allthe other victims of the 'Friends of the Poor.'"

  "But," protested Forrester, "how could they get at your father? It wasmy impression that he always went about in his car with a chauffeurdriving."

  "That is quite right," answered Nevins, "but Fate was with these peoplelast night. They had evidently been watching for just such anopportunity. When our chauffeur drove the car up at nine o'clock thismorning, which was his custom, to take Father down to the bank, I calledhim in and questioned him about last night.

  "He said he had called for Father at eleven o'clock, as he had beeninstructed to do, and they started for home. Just as they reached OakStreet something went wrong with the motor. The chauffeur spent ahalf-hour trying to discover the trouble and he says that Father grewvery impatient. Father, it seems, tried to get a taxicab, but all thecabs that passed were going north and had people in them. You know it isnot much of a walk from Oak Street up to the house, and the chauffeursaid that Father finally told him to take his time in fixing the car andhe would walk home. The chauffeur saw him start off up the Lake
ShoreDrive and that was the last anyone saw or heard of Father until he wasfound on our steps this morning."

  Forrester's thoughts reverted to the car which had followed him throughthe fog. There was little doubt in his mind that this same car hadfollowed the elder Nevins, waiting for the opportunity to strike.Forrester did not question that the banker's murderers were in that carnow. At this very moment they might be waiting outside for Forrester toreappear. It flashed through his mind what a simple matter it would befor him to notify the police and have them ready when he started out.

  "Mother," said Forrester, "how soon do you expect to go home?"

  "I suppose we could leave at any time now, Son," replied Mrs. Forrester.

  "How did you plan to go home? I did not see the car outside when I camein."

  "No," explained Mrs. Forrester, "it was such a pleasant evening that Itold William he need not return. After the excitement and worry we havebeen through I thought it would be good for us to walk home."

  "It is not at all nice out now," said Forrester. "A heavy fog has comeup. I think I would better call a taxicab."

  Forrester went to the telephone and ordered a taxicab. Then he whisperedto Nevins, "May I use a phone upstairs where I can talk without beingoverheard?"

  "Yes," informed Nevins, "you will find a phone in Father's room."

  Forrester went upstairs and called police headquarters. He brieflyexplained who he was, what had occurred on his walk over, and suggestedthat they watch for the strange car as he returned home.

  "Leave the house in exactly fifteen minutes," instructed the man atheadquarters, "and we'll be ready for you."

  After returning to the library Forrester took an occasionalsurreptitious look at his watch and was pleased to hear the taxi driverring the door-bell just as the fifteen minutes expired.

  As Forrester assisted his mother down the steps he glanced hastilyaround. The fog was still heavy. He could make out nothing save thetaxicab at the curb, but just as he was giving the address to the taxidriver he noticed a small man of slight build appear out of the fog.This man stopped quite near to him and lit a cigarette. Aside fromnoting the man's build and the fact that he wore a cap and had very darkhair, Forrester could make out no other details, for the man stood withhis back to Forrester and the lighted match really served only to throwhim out in silhouette. Forrester entered the cab and it started off. Ashe leaned back he reflected that the man he had seen was of too small astature to be a detective. His act of stopping so close to them mighthave been mere accident, but to Forrester the thing had a significancewhich could not be overlooked. He was confident that this was one of themen they wanted. He hoped that the police, although not visible in thefog, had arrived as promised. If so, he felt that their problems werepretty close to a final solution.

  They reached Bellevue Place without incident. The whir of the taxicab'sengine had effectually drowned any sound of pursuit and though he hadglanced back several times, Forrester had been able to see nothing savea wall of fog back of the cab. Yet somewhere in that fog-draped streethe was sure the murderers' car was lurking.

  There appeared to be no one around as they left the cab, but Forrester,after his mother and sister had gone into the house, lingered for amoment in the dark doorway. He could hear the hum of the taxicab'sengine as it passed down the street toward the Lake Shore Drive.Otherwise the night was silent.

  Suddenly Forrester heard the roar of opened mufflers in the otherdirection, and the next instant two black shapes passed swiftly bythrough the fog. Red flashes leaped out of the darkness and sharpreports resounded through the street as they passed the door.

  "The police are on the job!" exulted Forrester.

  He hastily stepped inside and closed the door, for his army experiencehad shown him the danger of stray bullets.