CHAPTER V
THE FARM-BOY TELLS A GHASTLY STORY AND AN IRISHMAN ENTERS
Barnes stared. "What do you mean?" he demanded sharply.
"I mean just what I said. What do you know about this business?"
"How should I know ANYTHING about it?"
"Well, we don't know who you are, nor what you're doing up here, norwhat your real profession is. That's why I ask the question."
"I see," said Barnes, after a moment. He grasped the situation and headmitted to himself that Jones had cause for his suspicions. "It hasoccurred to you that I may be a detective or a secret service man,isn't that the case? Well, I am neither. Moreover, this man and hiscompanion evidently had their doubts about me, if I am to judge by yourremark and your actions on the porch earlier in the evening."
"I only said that they were curious about you. The man named Roon askedme a good many questions about you while you were in at supper. Whoknows but what he was justified in thinkin' you didn't mean any good tohim and his friend?"
"Did you know any more about these two men, Mr. Jones, than you knowabout me?"
"I don't know anything about 'em. They came here like any one else,paid their bills regular, 'tended to their own business, and that'sall."
"What was their business?"
"Mr. Roon was lookin' for a place to bring his daughter who hasconsumption. He didn't want to take her to a reg'lar consumptivecommunity, he said, an' so he was lookin' for a quiet place where shewouldn't be associatin' with lungers all the time. Some big doctor inNew York told him to come up here an' look around. That was hisbusiness, Mr. Barnes, an' I guess you'd call it respectable, wouldn'tyou?"
"Perfectly. But why should he be troubled by my presence here if--"Miss Thackeray put an end to the discussion in a most effectual manner.
"Oh, for the Lord's sake, cut it out! Wait till he's dead, can't you?"she whispered fiercely. "You've got all the time in the world to talk,and he hasn't more than ten minutes left to breathe unless that rubedoctor gets here pretty soon. If you've GOT to settle the questionright away, at least have the decency to go out of this room."
Barnes flushed to the roots of his hair. Jones was aghast, dumb withsurprise and anger.
"You are right, Miss Thackeray," said the former, deeply mortified."This is not the time nor the place to----"
"He can't understand a word we say," said Putnam Jones loudly. "Youbetter get out of here yourself, young woman. This is a job for men,not--"
"I think he's going now," she whispered in an awe-struck voice. "Keepstill, all of you. Is he breathing, Mr. Barnes? That awful cough justnow seemed to--"
"Come away, please," said Barnes, taking her gently by the arm. "I--Ibelieve that was the end. Don't stay here, Miss Thackeray. Dillingford,will you be good enough to escort Miss--"
"I've never seen any one die before," she said in a low, tense voice.Her eyes were fixed on the still face. "Why--why, how tightly he holdsmy hand! I can't get it away--he must be alive, Mr. Barnes. Where isthat silly doctor?"
Barnes unclasped the rigid fingers of the man called Andrew Paul, and,shaking his head sadly, drew her away from the improvised bier. He andthe shivering Mr. Dillingford conducted her to the dining-room, where asingle kerosene lamp gave out a feeble, rather ghastly light. The tallBacon followed, the upper part of his person enveloped in the blanketPutnam Jones had hastily snatched from the mattress before it wasslipped under the dying man. Several of the women of the house,including the wife of the landlord, clogged the little entrance hall,chattering in hushed undertones.
"Would you like a little brandy?" inquired Barnes, as she sat downlimply in the chair he pulled out for her. "I have a flask upstairs inmy--"
"I never touch it," she said. "I'm all right. My legs wabble a littlebut--Sit down, Mr. Barnes. I've got something to say to you and I'dbetter say it now, because it may come in pretty handy for you lateron. Don't let those women come in here, Dilly."
Barnes drew a chair close beside her. Bacon, with scant regard forelegance, seated himself on the edge of the table and bent an ear.
"It's all rot about that man Roon being here to look for a place forhis daughter." She spoke rapidly and cautiously. "I don't know whetherJones knows, but that certainly wasn't what he was here for. The youngfellow in there was a sort of secretary. Roon had a room at the otherend of the hall from yours, on the corner, facing the road and alsolooking toward the cross-roads. Young Paul had the next room, with adoor between. I was supposed to make up their rooms after they'd goneout in the forenoon for a horseback ride. I kept out of their sight,because I knew they were the kind of men who would laugh at me. Theycouldn't understand, and, of course, I couldn't explain. Yesterdaymorning I found a sort of map on the floor under young Paul'swashstand. The wind had blown it off the table by the window and hehadn't missed it. It was in lead pencil and looked like a map of theroads around here. I couldn't read the notations, but it required onlya glance to convince me that this place was the central point. All ofthe little mountain roads were there, and the cross-roads. There wasn'tanything queer about it, so I laid it on his table and put a book on it.
"This afternoon I walked up in the woods back of the Tavern to go oversome lines in a new piece we are to do later on,--God knows when! Icould see the house from where I was sitting. Roon's windows wereplainly visible. I wasn't very far away, you see, the climb being toosteep for me. I saw Roon standing at a window looking toward thecross-roads with a pair of field-glasses. Every once in awhile he wouldturn to Paul, who stood beside him with a notebook, and say somethingto him. Paul wrote it down. Then he would look again, turning theglasses this way and that. I wouldn't have thought much about it ifthey hadn't spent so much time there. I believe I watched them for anhour. Suddenly my eyes almost popped out of my head. Paul had gone awayfrom the window. He came back and he had a couple of revolvers in hishands. They stood there for a few minutes carefully examining theweapons and reloading them with fresh cartridges. The storm was comingup, but I love it so that I waited almost until dark, watching theclouds and listening to the roar of the wind in the trees. I'm a queergirl in that way. I like turmoil. I could sit out in the most dreadfulthunder storm and just revel in the crashes. Just as I was about tostart down to the house--it was a little after six o'clock, and gettingawfully dark and overcast,--Roon took up the glasses again. He seemedto be excited and called his companion. Paul grabbed the glasses andlooked down the road. They both became very much excited, pointing andgesticulating, and taking turn about with the glasses."
"About six o'clock, you say?" said Barnes, greatly interested.
"It was a quarter after six when I got back to the house. I spoke toMr. Bacon about what I'd seen and he said he believed they were Germanspies, up to some kind of mischief along the Canadian border. Everybodyis a German spy nowadays, Mr. Barnes, if he looks cross-wise. Thenabout half an hour later you came to the Tavern. I saw Roon sneak outto the head of the stairs and listen to your conversation with Joneswhen you registered. That gave me an idea. It was you they werewatching the road for. They saw you long before you got here, and itwas--"
Barnes held up his hand for silence. "Listen," he said in a low voice,"I will tell you who they were looking for." As briefly as possible herecounted his experience with the strange young woman at thecross-roads. "From the beginning I have connected this tragedy with theplace called Green Fancy. I'll stake my last penny that they have beenhanging around here waiting for the arrival of that young woman. Theyknew she was coming and they doubtless knew what she was bringing withher. They went to Green Fancy to-night with a very sinister purpose inmind, and things didn't turn out as they expected. What do you knowabout the place called Green Fancy?"
He was vastly excited. His active imagination was creating all sorts ofpossibilities and complications, depredations and intrigues.
Bacon was the one who answered. He drew the blanket closer about hislean form and shivered as with a chill.
"I know this much about the place fr
om hearsay," he said in a gutturalwhisper. "It's supposed to be haunted. I've heard more than one ofthese jays,--big huskies too,--say they wouldn't go near the placeafter dark for all the money in the state."
"That's just talk to scare you, Ague," said Dillingford. "People liveup there and since we've been here two or three men visitors have comedown from the place to sample our stock of wet goods. Nothingsuspicious looking or ghostly about them either. I talked with a coupleof 'em day before yesterday. They were out for a horseback ride andstopped here for a mug of ale."
"Were they foreigners?" inquired Barnes.
"If you want to call an Irishman a foreigner, I'll have to say one ofthem was. He had a beautiful brogue. I'd never seen an Irishman inslick riding clothes, however, so I doubted my ears at first. You don'tassociate a plain Mick with anything so swell as that, you know. Theother was an American, I'm sure. Yesterday they rode past here with acouple of swell looking women. I saw them turn up the road to GreenFancy, so that knocks your ghost story all to smash, Bacon."
"It isn't MY ghost story," began Mr. Bacon indignantly. The arrival offour or five men, who stamped into the already crowded hallway from theporch outside, claimed the attention of the quartette. Among them wasthe doctor who, they were soon to discover, was also the coroner of thecounty. A very officious deputy sheriff was also in the group.
Before rejoining the crowd in the tap-room, Barnes advised hiscompanions, especially the girl, to say as little as possible aboutwhat they had heard and seen.
"This thing is going to turn out to be a whacking sensation, and it maybe a great deal more important than we think. You don't want to becomeinvolved in the investigation, which may become a national affair. I'dlike to have a hand in clearing it up. My head is chock-full oftheories that might--"
"Maybe Roon was right," said Dillingford, slowly, as he edged a step ortwo away from Barnes.
"In what respect?"
"He certainly thought you were a detective or something like that.Maybe he thought you came with that young woman, or maybe he thoughtyou were shadowing her, or--"
"There are a lot of things he may have thought," interrupted Barnes,smiling. "It is barely possible that my arrival may have caused him toact more hastily than he intended. That may be the reason why the jobended so disastrously for him."
Mrs. Jones called out from the doorway. "Mr. Barnes, you're wanted inthere."
"All right," he responded.
"Better let me get you a wet towel to wash your hand," said Bacon toMiss Thackeray. "My God, I wouldn't have THAT on my hand for a milliondollars."
The doctor had been working over the prostrate form on the tables. AsBarnes entered the room, he looked up and declared that the man wasdead.
"This is Mr. Barnes," said Putnam Jones, indicating the tall travellerwith a short jerk of his thumb.
"I am from the sheriff's office," said the man who stood beside thedoctor. The rest of the crowd evidently had been ordered to stand backfrom the tables. The sheriff was a burly fellow, whose voice shook in amost incongruous manner, despite his efforts to appear composed andotherwise efficient. "Did you ever see this man before?"
"Not until he was carried in here half an hour ago. I arrived here thisevening."
"What's your business up here, Mr. Barnes?"
"I have no business up here. I just happened to stroll in this evening."
"Well," said the sheriff darkly, "I guess I'll have to ask you to stickaround here till we clear this business up. We don't know youan'--Well, we can't take any chances. You understand, I reckon."
"I certainly fail to understand, Mr. Sheriff. I know nothing whateverof this affair and I intend to continue on my way to-morrow morning."
"Well, I guess not."
"Do you mean to say that I am to be detained here against my--"
"You got to stay here till we are satisfied that you don't knowanything about this business. That's all."
"Am I to consider myself under arrest, sir?"
"I wouldn't go as far as to say that. You just stick around here,that's all I got to say. If you're all right, we'll soon find it out.What's more, if you are all right you'll be willin' to stay. Do you getme?"
"I certainly do. And I can now assure you, Mr. Sheriff, that I'd likenothing better than to stick around here, as you put it. I'd like tohelp clear this matter up. In the meantime, you may readily find outwho I am and why I am here by telegraphing to the Mayor of New YorkCity. This document, which experience has taught me to carry for justsuch an emergency as this, may have some weight with you." He openedhis bill-folder and drew forth a neatly creased sheet of paper. This hehanded to the sheriff. "Read it, please, and note the date, thesignature, the official seal of the New York Police department, andalso the rather interesting silver print pasted in the lower left handcorner. I think you will agree that it is a good likeness of me. Eachyear I take the precaution of having myself properly certified by thepolice department at home before venturing into unknown and perhapsunfriendly communities. This, in a word, is a guarantee of goodcitizenship, good intentions and-good health. I was once taken up by arural Sherlock on suspicion of being connected with the theft of ahorse and buggy, although all the evidence seemed to indicate that Iwas absolutely afoot and weary at the time, and didn't have the outfitconcealed about my person. I languished in the calaboose fortwenty-four hours, and might have remained there indefinitely if thereal desperado hadn't been captured in the nick o' time. Have you readit?"
"Yes," said the sheriff dubiously; "but how do I know it ain't aforgery?"
"You don't know, of course. But in case it shouldn't be a forgery and Iam subjected to the indignity of arrest or even detention, you wouldhave a nasty time defending yourself in a civil suit for damages. Don'tmisunderstand me. I appreciate your position. I shall remain here, asyou suggest, but only for the purpose of aiding you in getting to thebottom of this affair."
"What do you think about it, Doc?"
"He says he's willing to stay, don't he? Well, what more can you ask?"snapped the old doctor. "I should say the best thing for you to do,Abner, is to get a posse of men together and begin raking the woods upyonder for the men that did the shooting. You say there is another onedead up at Jim Conley's? Well, I'll go over and view him at once. Thefirst thing to do is to establish the corpus delicti. We've got to beable to say the men are dead before we can charge anybody with murder.This man was shot in the chest, from in front. Now we'll examine hisclothes and so forth and see if they throw any additional light on thematter."
The most careful search of Andrew Paul's person established one thingbeyond all question: the man had deliberately removed everything thatmight in any way serve to aid the authorities in determining who hereally was and whence he came. The tailor's tags had been cut from thesmart, well-fitting garments; the buttons on the same had been replacedby others of an ordinary character; the names of the haberdasher, thehat dealer and the boot maker had been as effectually destroyed. Therewere no papers of any description in his pockets. His wrist watch boreneither name, date nor initials. Indeed, nothing had been overlooked inhis very palpable effort to prevent actual identification, either inlife or death.
Subsequent search of the two rooms disclosed the same extremeprecautions. Not a single object, not even a scrap of paper had beenleft there on the departure of the men at nine o'clock. Ashes in anold-fashioned fireplace in Roon's room suggested the destruction oftell-tale papers. Everything had vanished. A large calibre automaticrevolver, all cartridges unexploded, was found in Paul's coat pocket.In another pocket, lying loose, were a few bank notes and some silver,amounting all told to about thirty dollars.
The same thorough search of the dead body of Roon later on by thecoroner and sheriff, revealed a similar condition. The field-glasses,of English make, were found slung across his shoulder, and a fullyloaded revolver, evidently his, was discovered the next morning in thegrass beside the road near the point where he fell. There were severalhundred dollars in the roll of bills t
hey found in his inside coatpocket.
Roon was a man of fifty or thereabouts. Although both men weresmooth-faced, there was reason to suspect that Roon at least had butrecently worn a mustache. His upper lip had the thick, stiff look ofone from which a beard of long-standing recently had been shaved.
Later on it was learned that they purchased the two horses inHornville, paying cash for the beasts and the trappings. Thetransaction took place a day or two before they came to Hart's Tavernfor what had been announced as a short stay.
Standing on Jim Conley's front porch a little after sunrise, Barnesmade the following declaration:
"Everything goes to show that these men were up here for one of tworeasons. They were either trying to prevent or to enact a crime. Thelatter is my belief. They were afraid of me. Why? Because they believedI was trailing them and likely to spoil their game. Gentlemen, thosefellows were here for the purpose of robbing the place you call GreenFancy."
"What's that?" came a rich, mellow voice from the outskirts of thecrowd. A man pushed his way through and confronted Barnes. He was atall, good-looking fellow of thirty-five, and it was apparent that hehad dressed in haste. "My name is O'Dowd, and I am a guest of Mr.Curtis at Green Fancy. Why do you think they meant to rob his place?"
"Well," began Barnes drily, "it would seem that his place is the onlyone in the neighbourhood that would BEAR robbing. My name is Barnes. Ofcourse, Mr. O'Dowd, it is mere speculation on my part."
"But who shot the man?" demanded the Irishman. "He certainly wasn'twinged by any one from our place. Wouldn't we have known somethingabout it if he had attempted to get into the house and was nailedby--Why, Lord love you, sir, there isn't a soul at Green Fancy whocould shoot a thief if he saw one. This is Mr. De Soto, also a guest atGreen Fancy. He will, I think, bear me out in upsetting your theory."
A second man approached, shaking his head vigorously. He was a thin,pale man with a singularly scholastic face. Quite an unprepossessing,unsanguinary person, thought Barnes.
"Mr. Curtis's chauffeur, I think it was, said the killing occurred justabove this house," said he, visibly excited. "Green Fancy is at least amile from here, isn't it? You don't shoot burglars a mile from theplace they are planning to rob, do you? Is the man a native of thiscommunity?"
"No," said Barnes, on whom devolved the duties of spokesman. "By theway, his companion lies dead at Hart's Tavern. He was shot from hishorse at the cross-roads."
"God bless me soul," gasped O'Dowd. "The chauffeur didn't mention asecond one. And were there two of them?"
"And both of them dead?" cried De Soto. "At the cross-roads? My dearsir, how can you reconcile--" He broke off with a gesture of impatience.
"I'll admit it's a bit out of reason," said Barnes. "The second mancould only have been shot by some one who was lying in wait for him."
"Why, the thing's as clear as day," cried O'Dowd, facing the crowd. Hischeerful, sprightly face was alive with excitement. "They were nottrying to rob any one. They were either trying to get across the borderinto Canada themselves or else trying to head some one off who wascoming from that side of the line."
"Gad, you may be right," agreed Barnes instantly. "If you'd like tohear more of the story I'll be happy to relate all that we know atpresent."
While the coroner and the others were loading the body of Albert Rooninto a farm wagon for conveyance to the county-seat, Barnes, who hadtaken a sudden fancy to the two men from Green Fancy, gave them a briefbut full account of the tragedy and the result of investigations as faras they had gone.
"Bedad," said O'Dowd, "it beats the devil. There's something big inthis thing, Mr. Barnes,--something a long shot bigger than any of ussuspects. The extraordinary secrecy of these fellows, their evidentgentility, their doubtful nationality--why, bedad, it sounds like apenny-dreadful thriller."
"You'll find that it resolves itself into a problem for Washington tosolve," said De Soto darkly. "Nothing local about it, take my word forit. These men were up to some international devilment. I'm not sayingthat Germany is at the back of it, but, by Jove, I don't put anythingbeyond the beggars. They are the cleverest, most resourceful people inthe world, damn 'em. You wait and see if I'm not right. There'll be astir in Washington over this, sure as anything."
"What time was it that you heard the shots up at Green Fancy?" venturedBarnes.
"Lord love you," cried O'Dowd, "we didn't hear a sound. Mr. Curtis, whohas insomnia the worst way, poor devil, heard them and sent some oneout to see what all the racket was about. It wasn't till half an houror so ago that De Soto and I were routed out of our peaceful nests andordered,--virtually ordered, mind you,--to get up and guard the house.Mr. Curtis was in a pitiful state of nerves over the killing, and sowere the ladies. 'Gad, everybody seemed to know all about the businessexcept De Soto and me. The man, it seems, made such a devil of a racketwhen he came home with the news that the whole house was up in pajamasand peignoirs. He didn't say anything about a second Johnnie beingshot, however. I'm glad he didn't know about it, for that matter. He'llbe seeing one ghost for the rest of his days and that's enough, withouthaving another foisted upon him."
"I think I have a slight acquaintance with the chauffeur," said Barnes."He gave me the most thrilling motor ride I've ever experienced. 'Gad,I'll never forget it."
The two men looked at him, plainly perplexed.
"When was all this?" inquired De Soto.
"Early last evening. He took me from the cross-roads to Hart's Tavernin a minute and a half, I'll bet my soul."
"Last evening?" said O'Dowd, something like skepticism in his tone.
"Yes. He picked up your latest guest at the corners, and she insistedon his driving me to the Tavern before the storm broke. I've beenterribly anxious about her. She must have been caught out in all thatfrightful--"
"What's this you are saying, Mr. Barnes?" cut in De Soto, frowning. "Noguest arrived at Green Fancy last evening, nor was one expected."
Barnes stared. "Do you mean to say that she didn't get there, afterall?"
"She? A woman, was it?" demanded O'Dowd. "Bedad, if she said she wascoming to Green Fancy she was spoofing you. Are you sure it was oldPeter who gave you that jolly ride?"
"No, I am not sure," said Barnes, uneasily. "She was afoot, havingwalked from the station below. I met her at the corners and she askedme if I knew how far it was to Green Fancy, or something like that.Said she was going there. Then along came the automobile, rattling downthis very road,--an ancient Panhard driven by an old codger. She seemedto think it was all right to hop in and trust herself to him, althoughshe'd never seen him before."
"The antique Panhard fits in all right," said O'Dowd, "but I'm hangedif the woman fits at all. No such person arrived at Green Fancy lastnight."
"Did you get a square look at the driver's face?" demanded De Soto.
"It was almost too dark to see, but he was old, hatchet-faced, andspoke with an accent."
"Then it couldn't have been Peter," said De Soto positively. "He's old,right enough, but he is as big as the side of a house, with a face likea full moon, and he is Yankee to his toes. By gad, Barnes, the plotthickens! A woman has been added to the mystery. Now, who the devil isshe and what has become of her?"