II
THE MILL-OWNER
Big arc-lamps flared above the railroad track that crossed the yard ofthe Hulton factory, but except for a yellow glimmer from a few upperwindows, the building rose in a huge dark oblong against the sky. Thesharp clanging of a locomotive bell jarred on the silence, for the millhands had gone home and the wheels that often hummed all night werestill. It seemed to Foster, who glanced at his watch as he picked hisway among the lines, that the shadow of the recent tragedy brooded overthe place.
"I don't know that I'm imaginative; but I wouldn't like thenight-watchman's job just now," he remarked to Featherstone. "Hulton'sillness can't have spoiled his nerve, or he'd have asked us to meet himat his house, in view of what he probably wants to talk about."
"I suspect that Hulton's nerve is better than yours or mine, andalthough I'm sorry for the old man. It was a surprise to me when hebroke down," Featherstone replied. "This is the first time I've beenin the mill since Fred was shot, and I'll own that I'd sooner have comein daylight."
They went round a row of loaded cars to the timekeeper's office, wherea man told them that Hulton was waiting and they were to go right up.A dark passage, along which their footsteps echoed, led to a flight ofstairs, and they felt there was something oppressive in the gloom, buta small light burned near the top of the building, and when theyreached a landing Featherstone touched his partner. It was at thisspot Fred Hulton had been found lying on the floor, with a fouledpistol of a make he was known to practice with near his hand. Fostershivered as he noted the cleanness of the boards. It indicated carefulscrubbing, and was somehow more daunting than a sign of what hadhappened there.
A short night of stairs led to the offices of the head of the firm, andthe treasurer, whose assistant Fred Hulton had been. They went on andentered a small, plainly-furnished room, well lighted by electriclamps, where Hulton sat at a writing-table and signed them to sit down.His shoulders were bent, his clothes hung slackly on his powerfulframe, and Featherstone thought his hair had grown whiter since he sawhim last. He looked ill, but his face was hard and resolute, and whenhe let his eyes rest on the young men his mouth was firmly set.Hulton's business acumen and tenacity were known, and it was supposedthat the latter quality had helped him much in the earlier part of hiscareer. The other man, who sat close by, was the treasurer, Percival.
"To begin with, I want to thank you for the way you gave yourevidence," Hulton said to Featherstone, who had been one of the last tosee Fred Hulton alive.
"I don't know that thanks are needed," Featherstone replied. "I hadpromised to tell the truth."
"Just so. The truth, however, strikes different people differently,and you gave the matter the most favorable look you could. We'll letit go at that. I suppose you're still convinced my son was in hisusual health and spirits? Mr. Percival is in my confidence, and we cantalk without reserve."
"Yes, sir; I never found him morbid, and he was cheerful when I saw himlate that night."
"In fact, you were surprised when you heard what happened soon afteryou left?" Hulton suggested in a quiet voice.
"I was shocked. But, if I catch your meaning, I was puzzledafterwards, and had better say I see no light yet."
"Is this how you feel about it?" Hulton asked Foster.
"It is," said Foster, noting the man's stern calm, and Hulton turned toPercival.
"That's my first point! These men knew my son."
Then he looked at Featherstone. "Fred went with you now and then onhunting and prospecting trips, and that probably led to a certainintimacy. You say he was never morbid; did you ever find him anxiousor disturbed?"
Featherstone pondered. Fred Hulton, who was younger, had spent a yearor two in Europe before he entered the factory. He had moreover toldFeatherstone about some trouble he had got into there, but the lattercould not tell how much his father knew.
"You can talk straight," Hulton resumed. "I guess I won't be shocked."
"Very well. I did find him disturbed once or twice. Perhaps you knewhe had some difficulties in Paris."
"I knew about the girl," Hulton answered grimly. "I found that out notlong since; she was a clever adventuress. But I don't know where Fredgot the money he sent her. Did you lend it him?"
"I lent him some," Featherstone admitted, hesitatingly. "He told meafterwards she had promised to make no further claim, and I understandshe kept her word."
Hulton turned to the treasurer. "You will see Mr. Featherstone aboutthis to-morrow. I've cleared up another point; Fred was not beingurged to send more money." Then he asked Foster: "Do you know if hehad any other dangerous friends?"
"There was Daly. They were friends, in a way, and I wouldn't trust thefellow. Still, I don't know how far his influence went, and imagineFred hadn't much to do with him for some months. Besides, Daly wasn'tat the Crossing when----"
Hulton said nothing for the next few moments and Foster mused. FredHulton had been very likable, in spite of certain weaknesses, and hethought it cost his father something to talk about him as he did.Hulton, however, seldom showed what he felt and would, no doubt, takethe line he thought best with a stoic disregard of the pain it mightcause. He rested his elbow on the table, as if he were tired, and satvery quiet with his chin on his hand, until he asked Featherstone:
"Why did you lend Fred the money he sent the girl?"
"For one thing, because he was my friend," Featherstone answered with aflush. "Then I knew into what straits the need of money can drive ayoung man. I got into trouble myself some years ago."
Hulton nodded. "Thank you. You helped him out. You have no ground tothink he was embarrassed by the need of money on the night he died?"
"I feel sure he was not. He kept me some time talking cheerfully abouta hunting trip we meant to make."
"Well," said Hulton quietly, "you're going to be surprised now. I didnot give my evidence as frankly as you claim to have done, but keptsomething back. Mr. Percival was away for two or three weeks, and Fredwas the only person besides myself who knew the combination that opensthe safe. On the morning after we found him dead I examined the safe.A number of bonds and a wad of small bills for wages had gone. It wassignificant that Percival was due back next day."
Featherstone started, but his face was hot with scornful anger.
"That had no significance! I'd as soon suspect myself or my partner ofstealing the bonds, but the safe's being open throws a new light uponthe thing. Somebody you haven't thought of yet knew or found out thecombination."
"Then, in face of what you have heard, you do not believe my son firedthe shot that took his life?"
"No, sir," said Featherstone, with quiet earnestness. "I never thoughtit, and it is impossible to believe it now."
"My partner's opinion's mine," Foster broke in. Hulton looked from oneto the other and a curious steely glitter came into his eyes. Ithinted at a pitiless, unchangeable purpose, and bracing himself with aneffort he clenched his fist.
"Nor do I believe it! If necessary, I'll let my business and factorygo and spend the last dollar I've got to find the man who killed myboy."
Next moment he sank limply back in his chair, as if the strain andvindictive emotion, reacting on his physical weakness, had overcomehim, and there was silence until he recovered. Foster felt itsomething of a relief that the man's icy self-control had broken down.
"Very well," Hulton resumed in a shaky voice. "I brought you herebecause you knew my son and I wanted your support. Then I meant toconvince Percival, whose help I may need to clear the boy's good name.We'll let that go and try to be practical."
"Were the bonds negotiable?" Foster asked. "Could they be easily sold?"
Percival, who was about fifty years of age and had a reserved manner,answered: "Some were bearer bonds, and, if the thief acted quickly,would be as good as cash. Most, however, were registered stock, and itis probable that he would be afraid to sell them in Canada or America.The transfers would require to
be forged."
"What about Europe?"
"That is where the danger lies. If he had clever confederates, a largepart of the value of the bonds could be borrowed from a bank, or theymight be sold to unsuspecting buyers on a French or German bourse."
"But this would depend on the publicity you gave their theft."
"Exactly," Percival agreed with some dryness. "I have been trying tomake Mr. Hulton recognize it."
Hulton's tense look softened and he smiled. "Percival seems to haveforgotten that I am a business man. At the inquiry I shirked my dutyby keeping something back, and now he expects me to brand my son's goodname. The money must go. In a sense, it is a trifling loss."
"At last, you put me wise," said Percival. "But to prove that Fred wasinnocent you must find the thief."
"That's so. It must be done with skill and tact by the best New Yorkprivate investigation man that I can hire. The job's too delicate forthe regular police."
Featherstone, who had been sitting thoughtfully silent, looked up."Perhaps it's lucky the wage clerk went into the treasurer's officeafter I left, though I spoke to the watchman, Jordan, as I went out."
"No," said Percival sharply. "It wasn't Jordan's week on night-guard."
There was silence for a moment, and then Hulton asked: "Where did youmeet the man you thought was Jordan? Did he answer you?"
"He was going along the ground-floor passage in front of me, and theonly light was in the pay-office at the end. He stood in the doorwayas I passed and I said, 'It's a cold night, Tom.' I'd gone a few yardswhen he answered, 'It will be colder soon.'"
"Then as you passed the door he must have seen your face, though youcould not see his," said Hulton, who turned to Percival. "Clark was onnight-guard and his name's not Tom. Where was he when Mr. Featherstoneleft?"
"In the lathe-room at the other end of the building. The punch in thecheck-clock shows it," Percival replied.
Hulton pondered, knitting his brows, before he said, "Since you thoughtthe man was Jordan, you wouldn't know him again."
"No; he was about Jordan's height and build, but I only saw his figure.It showed dark and rather indistinct against the light."
"Well," said Hulton, "you see the importance of this. We havesomething to go upon; a stranger was in the factory." Then he got upwith a look of keen relief in his worn face. "I thank you and yourpartner; you have given me hope. Some day all who knew my boy willbelieve what you believe. Now I have something to say to Percival, andthen he must help me home to bed."
He shook hands with them and let them go. They left the factory insilence, but as they crossed the yard Foster remarked: "I'm sorry forHulton. For all his quietness, he takes the thing very hard."
"I imagine the fellow who shot Fred Hulton will need your pity most,"Featherstone replied. "The old man will run him down with thedetermination and energy that helped him to build up his business.Money with brains behind it is a power, but I wouldn't like Hulton onmy track if he hadn't a cent. There's something relentless about theman." He paused and resumed: "Well, he has a clew. It's curious Ididn't think of mentioning before that I spoke to the watchman, but Ithought the fellow was Jordan. I wonder how the thief will get thebonds across to Europe."
"There would be some danger in carrying them; anyhow, he'd imagine so,although it looks as if Hulton doesn't mean to tell the police muchjust yet. Of course, there's the mail, but the thief might be afraidto post the papers."
Featherstone nodded. "I think it's in Hulton's favor that he'll besatisfied with one of the private detective agencies to begin with,while the man he's looking for will be on his guard against the police.Besides, it's possible that the fellow won't take many precautions,since there's a plausible explanation of Fred Hulton's death."
"Do you think the man you passed saw you well enough to know you again?"
"He may have done so."
"Then if he imagined that you saw him, it would make a difference,"Foster said thoughtfully, "He'd reckon that you were the greatestdanger he had to guard against."
Featherstone stopped and caught his comrade's arm as the yardlocomotive pushed some cars along the track they were about to cross,and the harsh tolling of the bell made talking difficult. When thecars had passed they let the matter drop and went back to the hotelwhere they had left their automobile.