CHAPTER XXIV.
Comprehensive talkers are apt to be tiresome when we are not athirst for information; but to be quite fair, we must admit that superior reticence is a good deal due to lack of matter. Speech is often barren; but silence also does not necessarily brood over a full nest.--GEORGE ELIOT--(_Felix Holt_).
It did not take Detective Dearborn long to find out that Jack hadengaged a cab early in the morning and had then removed some luggagefrom his rooms. This confirmed him in the idea that the crime had been acarefully planned one. But his trouble lay in not being able to find thedriver of the cab. This man had driven off somewhere on a trip that tookhim apparently out of town, and Dearborn began to wonder whether Jackhad been driven to some neighboring town, so as to proceed in a lessconspicuous way by some railway.
Late at night, however, Jehu turned up at his own house very drunk. Thehorses had brought him home without being driven. He had been down atLeslieville all day, with some "sports," who were enjoying apigeon-shooting match at that place, and who had retained cabby atregulation rates and all he could drink--a happy day for him. Dearbornfound he could tell him nothing about the occurrence of the morning ofthe same day, or where he had gone with Jack's valises; so, perforce, hehad to let him sleep it off till morning.
The first rational account the detective could get out of him was at teno'clock on the morning following. He then found out why the valises hadnot been seen at the railway stations, or at any of the usual points ofdeparture. The caretaker of the yacht club could only tell him, when hecalled, that Mr. Cresswell had been at the club somewhere about noon theday before, and had gone away in his boating-clothes, rowing east roundthe head of the wharf close by.
"I must tell you," said Dearborn to the caretaker, "that Mr. Cresswell'sfriends are alarmed at his absence and have sent me to look after him.Would you know the boat he went in if you saw it?"
"Oh, yes. I handle it frequently, in one way and and another. I paintedit for him last spring."
"Well, if you don't mind making a dollar, I'd be glad if you would walkalong the docks and help me find it."
"Come along," said the caretaker. "There is nothing to do here, at thishour, but watch the club-house, and I certainly can't make an extradollar doing that. We'll call it two dollars if I find the boat, seeingas how I'm dragged off from duty."
"All right," said Dearborn, who had _carte blanche_ for expenses fromthe bank.
They walked off together at a good pace.
"You say that none of the yachts left the harbor yesterday?"
"No. There they are, over there, every one of them."
"Well, what size was the skiff he went off in?"
"An ordinary fourteen-foot shooting-skiff. One of old Rennardson's. Youmind old Rennardson? He built a handy boat, did the old man."
"Could it cross the lake?"
"Well it could, perhaps, on six days in the week, in summer. Perhaps onthe seventh the best handling in the world wouldn't save her. But theyare a fine little boat, for all that I've crossed the bay myself in themwhen there was an all-fired sea runnin'."
"Could it have crossed the lake yesterday?"
"I don't think Mr. Cresswell would be such a fool as to try. Perhaps hecould have done it if anybody could. But risks for nothing ain't hisstyle. Not but what he'll run his chances when the time comes. Youshould have seen him bring in that Ideal last fall, in the race I sailedwith him. The wind sprung up heavy in the afternoon. Lord! it was asight to see that boat come in to the winnin' buoy with the mast hangingover her bows like a Greek fruiter. You see, he had the wind dead afterhim, blowin' heavy, and he'd piled rags on to her, wings and all, tillshe was in a blind fury and goin' through it like a harpooned whale. Theowner was a-standing by him a-watchin' for everythin' to carry out ofher. 'Jack,' says he, 'she can't do it. The backstays won't do thework.' 'Slack them up, then, four inches, and let the mast do its ownpart of the work,' says Mr. Cresswell. And he kept on easin' backstaysto give fair play all round, till the mast was hangin' forward like acornstalk; but I'm dummed if he'd lift a rag on her till she passed thegun. Perhaps you don't care for that sort of thing. I follered the seamyself formerly. Lord! it was immense, that little sail! And thirtyseconds ain't a great deal to win on. Nothin' but bull-head grit wouldha' done it."
Mr. Dearborn was not much comforted by all this talk. Cresswell mighthave crossed the lake in his skiff. Evidently he was a man who would doit if he wished. They continued their search on every wharf and throughevery boat-house, which occupied a good deal of time.
Suddenly, near Yonge Street wharf, the caretaker said: "Give us your twodollars, mister. There's the skiff on the deck of the stone-hooker."
Inquiries soon showed that Jack had gone off on the schooner North Starto Oswego, and then Mr. Dearborn began to look grave. The schooner hadgot a long start. He was well acquainted with all different routes todifferent places, and he finally decided to go on the Eleusinian bywater to Oswego. Possibly he might be able to come across the schoonerin the lake before she arrived at Oswego, and bribe the captain to landhim and his prisoner on Canadian soil, where his warrant would be good.He had still half an hour to spare, so he dashed off in a cab to thechief's office, and wired the Oswego police to arrest Jack, on thearrival of the North Star, on the charge of bringing stolen money intothe States.
Of course, Dearborn knew he could not extradite Jack from Oswego for hisoffense, but he thought that after being locked up the money could bescared out of him, when he found that he could get a long sentence inthe States on the above charge, which Dearborn knew could be proved ifthe stolen bills were found in his possession.
If Geoffrey had known what the able Mr. Dearborn had ferreted out, andwhat his plans were, he would have felt more uneasy.
As the afternoon wore on, it was interesting to watch two veryunconcerned people at the bow of the upper deck of the Eleusinian. Thesteamer was making excellent time--plowing into the eye of the wind withall the power that had so nearly dragged the life out of the poor Idealin the preceding summer. Nina was sitting in an arm-chair, cushionedinto comfort by the assiduous second officer, who found that his dutiesmuch required his presence in that portion of the boat where Ninahappened, to be. She was sitting, looking through the spyglasses fromtime to time at every sail that hove in sight, and seeming disinclinedto leave the deck.
Mr. Dearborn was tempting providence by smoking a cigar close by. Thesteamer went almost too fast to pitch much, but there was a decided riseand fall at the bows. He noticed that the officer suggested to Nina thatby sitting further aft she would escape some of the motion, and that shedeclined the change, saying she liked the breeze and was a good sailor.Once they passed close to a vessel with three masts. Dearborn hadascertained, before leaving, that the North Star had only two masts, sohe was not anxious. Nina, however, knew nothing about the rig of theNorth Star, and she was up standing beside the bulwarks gazing intentlythrough the binoculars at the crew. She seemed disappointed when shelowered the glasses, and Dearborn began to wonder whether this was "thewoman in the case." He afterward watched her as she attempted to read anovel, and noticed that she continually stopped to scan the horizon.Still, nearly every person does this, more or less, and his idea ratherwaned again as he thought that this was quite too fine a person tobother her head about a poor bank-clerk--such a man as he was hunting.Mr. Dearborn, perhaps owing to the peculiar formation of his jaw,generally lost all idea of the respectability of a man as soon as he goton his trail. He might have the benefit of all doubts in his favoruntil the warrant for his arrest was placed in Mr. Dearborn's hands.After that, as a rule, the individual, whether acquitted or not at hissubsequent trial, took no high stand in Mr. Dearborn's mind. Ifacquitted, it was only the result of lawyers' trickery; not on accountof innocence. Men who ought to know best say that if a prize-fighterwishes to win he must actually hate his antagonist--must fight to reallykill him; and that only when he is entirely disabled is it time enoughto hope that he will not
die. Mr. Dearborn, similarly, had that tenacityof purpose that made every attempt at escape seem to double theculprit's guilt, and in a hard capture this supplied him with that"gall" which could meet and overcome the desperate courage of a man atbay.
Soon another schooner loomed up in the moist air of the east wind, and,when the hull was visible, Mr. Dearborn approached Nina and said:
"Would you oblige me, madame, by allowing me to look through yourglasses?"
"Certainly," said Nina; "they belong to the ship--not to me."
Dearborn took a long look at the approaching vessel. The North Star hadbeen described to him as having a peculiar cut-away bow, and the vesselcoming across their track had a perpendicular bow.
Nina then looked through the glasses intently, and for a moment theystood beside each other.
"I wonder why all the vessels seem to be crossing our track, instead ofgoing in our direction," she said to quiet-looking Mr. Dearborn.
"I don't know much about sailing, miss. But I know that vessels can'tsail straight into the wind. They seesaw backward and forward, first oneway and then the other. How they get up against the wind I could neverunderstand. They are like lawyers, I think. They see a point ahead ofthem, and they just beat about the bush till they get there. Some ofthese things are hard to take in."
Nina smiled.
"A good many of these vessels," added Mr. Dearborn, while he watched hisfair companion, "are going to Oswego."
"Oh, indeed!" said Nina, unconsciously brightening.
"And the wind is ahead for that trip," said Dearborn.
"Is it?"
Nina had been round Lake Ontario in a yacht, and she had had an Englishboarding-school finish. She could have told the general course of theGanges or the Hoang-ho, but she had no idea in what direction she wasgoing on her own lake to Oswego. In English schools Canada is a land notworth learning about, and where hardly any person would livevoluntarily. People go about chiefly on snow-shoes, and it is easy inmost places to kill enough game for dinner from your own doorstep.
"Yes, it would take a sailing vessel a long time, I should think, to getto Oswego."
"How long do you suppose?" asked Nina.
"I don't really know. It depends on the vessel. I suppose a smart yachtcould do it in a pretty short time. That Toronto yacht, the Ideal, Isuppose, could--"
"Oh, you know the Ideal?"
"No. She was pointed out to me once. They say she's a rare one to go,and no mistake. That young fellow, Treadwell, that sails her--they sayhe is one of the finest yachtsmen in Canada."
"Oh," said Nina, laughing and blushing. It was funny to hear this quietstranger praising Jack. She felt proud of his small glory.
"Yes," said Dearborn, rubbing his forehead, as if trying to recollect."That's his name--Treadwell. However, it does not matter."
"Not at all," said Nina. She was somewhat more on her guard now againststrangers since her experience with the Rev. Matthew Simpson. Butevidently this man did not even know Jack's name, and did not want toknow it for any reason.
Dearborn was hanging "off and on," as sailors say, thinking that if sheknew anything about this Cresswell she would perhaps give him a lead.Not getting any lead, he muttered half aloud, by way of coming back tothe point:
"Treadwell--Treadwell--no--that's not the name." Then aloud. "It'sprovoking when one can not remember a name, madame."
He then fell to muttering other similar sounding names, and Nina couldnot refrain from smiling at his stupid, mild way of bothering himselfabout what was clearly no use to him.
"Ah! I have it! What a relief it is to succeed in a little thing likethat! Cresswell. That's the name!"
The air of triumph on the mild-eyed man was amusing, and Nina laughedsoftly to herself.
He turned from gazing over the water and saw her laughing. Then hesmiled, too, as if he wished to join in, if there was anything to laughat.
"You are amused, madame. Perhaps you know this gentleman quite well--andare laughing at my stupidity?"
"I ought to," said Nina, unable to resist the temptation to paralyzethis well-behaved person of the middle classes. "I am his wife." And shelaughed heartily at her little joke.
If ever a man did get a surprise it was detective Dearborn. For a bareinstant, it threw him off his guard. He saw too much all at once. Herewas the woman who perhaps had all the $50,000 on her person. He tried toshow polite surprise and pleasure at the intelligence; but it was toolate. For an instant he had looked keen. Comparatively, Nina wasbrighter nowadays. Danger and deception had sharpened her faculties. Shewas thoughtless enough, certainly, to mention who she was; but she didnot see any reason why she should not. She might as well call herselfMrs. Cresswell now as when she got to Oswego, where she would have to doso. Mr. Dearborn had gone almost as far in self-betrayal. He longed fora warrant to arrest her, and get the money from her, but he said in hissubdued, abstracted sort of way:
"How strange that is! No wonder you laugh! However, I said nothingagainst him--quite the contrary--and that is always a comfort when wefeel we have been putting our foot in it. I was wondering, Mrs.Cresswell, who you were. It seemed to me I had seen you on the street inToronto."
He spoke very politely. No one could take any exception to this tone.Even when he made the following remark it did not seem very much morethan the ordinary growth of a chance conversation among travelers. Headded:
"Let me see--a? Your maiden name was--a?" He raised his eyebrows withwould-be polite inquiry; but it did not work. He had looked keen for thetenth part of a second, and now he might as well go in and rest himselffor the remainder of the night.
Nina drooped her eyelids coldly.
"I do not know that that is a matter of any consequence."
She gave a little movement, as if she drew herself to herself, and sheleisurely returned the glasses to their case.
Mr. Dearborn saw he had got his _conge_, and he wanted to kill himself.He felt rather awkward, and could not think of the right thing to say.
The writer of Happy Thoughts has not provided mankind with the bestreply to a snub that comes "straight from the shoulder." Even aChesterfield may be unequal to the occasion.
"I hope you will not think me inquisitive?" he said lamely.
"Not at all," said Nina quickly. She slightly inclined her head, withoutlooking at him, as she moved away to her chair--not wishing to appeartoo abrupt.
She sat there wondering who this man was, and thinking she had beenfoolish to say anything about herself. The evening came on chill, windy,and foggy, and she grew strangely lonely. She had got the idea that thisman was watching her. It made her very nervous and wretched. She longedfor some strong friend to be with her--some one on whom she could rely.
Everything had conspired to depress her in the past few weeks. She hadnow left her home and a kind father--never to return. She was out in theworld, with no one to look to but Jack. This would be a long night forher, she thought. She was too nervous to go to sleep. She felt so tiredof all the unrest of her life. What would she not give to have all herformer chances back before her again! How she longed for the mentalpeace she had known until lately. Oh, the fool she had been! thewickedness of it all! How she had been forced from one thing to anotherby the consequences of her fault! She was terribly wretched, poor girl,as the evening wore on. She went to her cabin and undressed for bed. Shesaid her prayers kneeling on the damp carpet. She prayed for Jack'ssafety and for her own, and for the man who assisted her to all hermisery. Still her despair and forlornness weighed upon her more andmore. The sense of being entirely alone, without any protection from anameless fear, which the idea of being watched all day by an unknown mangreatly increased; the terrible doubt about everything in thefuture--all this culminated in an absolute terror. She lay in bed andtried to pray again, and then an idea she acquired when a child came toher, that prayers were unavailing unless said while kneeling on the hardfloor. In all her terror, the conviction of wickedness almost made herfaint, and to make things worse
, she got those awful words into herhead, "the wages of sin is death," and she could not get them out.Yielding to the idea that her prayers would be better if said kneeling,she climbed out panic-stricken to the cold floor, which chilled her tothe bone, and terrified by the words ringing in her head she almostshrieked aloud:
"O God, take those words away from me! O God, thou knowest I havesuffered! O God, I am terrified! I am alone. O God, protect me! Forgiveme all things, for I do repent."
Here she felt that if she prayed any more she would be hysterical andbeyond her own control. She crept back into bed; but all she could thinkof until she dropped to sleep, exhausted, was, "The wages of sin isdeath--The wages of sin--is _Death_."