The Case and the Girl
CHAPTER XIX
THE COMING OF A MESSAGE
The situation once realized, West worked rapidly. If this bound man wasSexton, the quicker he could be released the better. Hobart had alreadyrevealed his plans, and might appear at any moment for the purpose ofexecuting them. If escape was to be achieved, it must be accomplished atonce. In the darkness his fingers could do nothing with the knot, but thesharp blade of a knife quickly severed the twisted cloth, and the gag wasinstantly removed from between the clinched teeth. The man moaned,breathing heavily, but made no other sound while West slashed at thecords lashing his limbs, finally freeing them entirely. Not until thishad been accomplished did he pause long enough to ask questions.
"There; that's the last. Now who are you--Sexton?"
"Yes, sir," weakly, and in a mere whisper, "an' I know yer voice, sir.Thank God, yer found me, sir."
"It was a bit of luck; but we'll talk that over later. Now we've got toget out of here. Can you walk?"
"I don't know, sir; after a fashion, maybe. I'm mighty stiff andnumb, sir. Oh, Lord, but that hurts; give me a hand, an' perhaps Ican make it."
"Take it easy; work your legs up and down like that; good, that willrestore the circulation. How long have you been lying here?"
"I don't know, sir," his voice strengthening. "I must have been hit, theway my head aches. The first thing I knew after I went into that roomwith you, I was lyin' here in the dark. I couldn't move or speak, sir,an' it was so black, I kind of got it into my head maybe I was dead andburied. If it hadn't been for my hearing things--voices talking, and allthat--I guess I would have gone clear batty. Maybe I didn't geteverything straight, sir, but one o' them fellows was Hobart, wasn't he?"
"Yes; we walked right into his trap. The fellow who came over to thetable and talked to us was Jim Hobart. He knew me at first sight itseems, and easily guessed what we were there for."
"And was Miss Coolidge here too, sir?"
"Yes, she was; I had a talk with her that has mixed me all up, Sexton.She seems to be hand in glove with these fellows. But how did you suspectshe was here?"
"I heard her voice, sir; up there somewhere, sir, soon after I come tomy senses. She and some man went along outside. Sounded like he wasmakin' her go with him. I couldn't get much of what was said, but hesure talked awful rough, an' she seemed to be pleadin' with him. Theywasn't there but just a minute, an' then, a little later, I heard anautomobile start up."
"You have no idea how long ago this was?"
"No, I ain't, sir. I been lyin' here about half dead, I guess, an' Idon't seem to have known anything after that, until those fellows comedown here with the lantern. Were they hunting after you?"
"Yes; I outwitted them up stairs, and jumped from a window. But that isenough talk now; we'll go over the whole affair when we are safely awayfrom this place. How is it? do you think you can navigate?"
Sexton responded by getting slowly to his feet. He trembled, and was souncertain, as he attempted to grope forward, that West grasped himfirmly, helping him slowly toward the foot of the steps. Even thiseffort, however, helped the man to recover somewhat the use of hisnumbed limbs, while his breathing became much easier. The two crept upthe stairs cautiously, and surveyed the cluttered up yard as best theymight in the dim light of the distant street lamp. It appeared entirelydeserted, nor was there any evidence that the building above wasoccupied. No doubt lights were burning within, but if so the shades musthave been drawn closely, allowing no reflection to escape. No betteropportunity for evading notice could be hoped for, and West, alert now toevery chance, made instant decision.
"They are all inside. Creep along behind that pile of lumber to where yousee the hole in the fence. I'll be just behind you. That's the way."
The narrow alley was much lighter, yet still dark enough to conceal theirmovements, as they clung close to the deeper shadows. Except for an oldcart it was unoccupied, the surface covered with ashes, so packed as toleave no trace of wheels. Ahead of them at the end of the block, glowedthe only street lamp visible. Sexton, by now largely recovered from hislate experiences, broke into a run, with West following closely behind.Both were eager to escape from the immediate neighbourhood unseen.Suddenly Sexton stumbled, but arose almost instantly to his feet again,grasping something which gleamed like silver in his hand.
"Not hurt, are you?" asked West anxiously.
"No; what's this I found?"
The other took it impatiently.
"What is it? Why a small pocket knife, of course. Come on, man, don'tstand mooning there." He slipped the article carelessly into his pocket."Let's get out into the open while the road is clear."
"Where are you going?" Sexton panted, endeavouring to keep beside him."Have you anything planned out?"
"Not very much; Milwaukee Avenue first. There is sure to be an all-nightrestaurant somewhere in sight. Telephone for a taxi, don't dare to risk astreet car, we both look too tough."
"Suppose they will follow us?"
"Hardly; they will have no idea which way we went, or how long we'll havebeen gone. All Hobart will think about now will be getting out of sighthimself. Once we turn off this street, we'll be safe enough."
It was considerably past midnight when the two men finally reached theUniversity Club; they had lunched at an all-night restaurant, washed andmade themselves as presentable as possible, yet were hardly recognizableas they entered the Club lobby. Neither possessed a hat; Sexton was inhis shirt sleeves, while West's coat clung to him in rags. Withoutwaiting to explain anything to the servant in charge, except to statebriefly that Sexton would be his guest for the night, the Captain hurriedinto the waiting elevator, and accompanied by his companion, ascended tohis apartment above.
The reaction from the excitement of the evening left Sexton dull anddrowsy once he felt secure from any possible danger. His only desire wasto lie quiet, and forget. Stretched out on a comfortable lounge, he fellasleep almost instantly, making no effort even to remove his clothes.West was of a different temperament, his mind far too active to findsleep possible. His only desire was to think, plan, decide upon somefuture course of action. With mind busy, forgetful of the very presenceof his companion, he indulged in a bath, again dressed himself, and,lighting a cigar, settled back into an easy chair to fight the whole outalone with himself.
The adventures of the night had greatly changed his conception of thisaffair in which he had become so strangely involved. The mysteryconfronting him appeared more difficult of solution than ever. His firstvague theory of the case had already gone completely to smash. Questionafter question rose before him which remained unanswered. He was morethoroughly convinced than ever that Percival Coolidge had been murdered;that the act had been committed either by Hobart himself, or under hisdirection. He possessed no proof, however, nor could he figure out amotive for the crime. Who was this Jim Hobart? That was one of the firstthings to be learned. Was he in any way personally interested in thefortune left by Stephen Coolidge? Or did he hold any special relationshipwith the murdered man? How could he expect to profit by the sudden deathof Percival? More important still, what peculiar influence did the fellowexert over the girl? Here was by far the deeper mystery, the one thattroubled him most. The others seemed possible of explanation, but thesudden change in Natalie Coolidge was beyond all understanding.
Except in face, form, dress, outward appearance, she no longer seemed toWest as being the same woman he had formerly known. His original interestin her had vanished; he had learned to distrust and doubt her sincerityand truth. Beyond all question she was openly playing an important partin this tragedy under Hobart's direction, but for the life of him hecould not figure out to what end. Still the very mystery of it had itsfascination. While he felt no longer any special desire to serve her, tofurther risk his life in her cause, yet he experienced a fiercedetermination to learn what all this really meant; to uncover the objectthese conspirators had in view. Although he imagined love no longerspurred him on, his real interest in the aff
air became even more intense,with an aroused desire to read the riddle. He convinced himself that fromhenceforth this was to be his only object--not the girl, nor anyattraction she once had for him, but a stern determination to solve thiscrime, and bring its perpetrators to justice. If she was involved itcould not be helped, she would have to suffer with the rest; his own dutywas clear.
Yet how could he begin action? What clue did he possess which could befollowed? Practically none. Before morning, that saloon on Wray Streetwould unquestionably be deserted, except perhaps by its proprietor, andMike would simply deny everything. A search of the place would beuseless, for Hobart would be too sly a fox to leave any trail. Twopossibilities remained; the police might have some record of the fellow,might know his favourite haunts, even be able to locate his next probablehiding place. If not, the only hope remaining would seem to be NatalieCoolidge. She would undoubtedly return to Fairlawn; was probably therealready, and, by shadowing her, the whereabouts of Hobart would surely berevealed either sooner or later.
But possibly there was a quicker way to learn their purpose than bythus seeking to find either. If it was the Coolidge fortune which wasat stake, why not endeavour to learn in whose trust it was being held,and what steps were being taken to safe-guard it? This investigationought not to be particularly difficult, even though he possessed noauthority; he could explain the nature of his interest to an attorney,and be advised how to proceed. Determined to take all three steps thefirst thing next day, West rested back comfortably in the chair,already half asleep. One hand rested in his pocket, and as his fingersfumbled some object there, he suddenly recalled the knife Sexton hadfound in the alley.
He drew the article forth curiously, and looked at it under the glow ofthe electric light--it was a small silver handled pen-knife, such as alady might carry, a rather strange thing to be discovered in a dirt alleyback of Wray Street. The incongruity struck him forcibly, and he sat up,wide awake once more, seeking for some mark of identification on thepolished handle. There was none, not an inscription of any kind, but henoted that the single slender blade did not fit closely down into itsplace. He opened it idly to learn the cause--beneath appeared the whitegleam of tightly folded paper.