"Just a moment, Captain," Dr. Stone said sharply. "Mr. Smith, did a
cashier resign eight or nine years ago?"
"Eight or nine years?" The banker considered. "That would be Herman Lang.
He resigned about that time."
"Do you know why he resigned?"
"Yes. He had an offer to join a land development company."
"Where?"
"In California."
Joe saw Captain Tucker's mouth sag, but his uncle's face was impassive.
Bryan Smith lowered his voice.
"Ordinarily, gentlemen, we do not discuss our depositors' business.
However, there is something I think you should know. Boothy Wilkes drew
out five thousand dollars in cash the day he vanished. Cash!"
The sag that had been in Captain Tucker's jaw was gone. Out in the car he
spoke a positive judgment.
"There's your motive, Doctor. Find Boothy's body and Cory'll soon tell us
what he did with the five thousand dollars. Anyway, we all know Boothy
kept a tight fist on a dime. Suppose he did rob the boy. Is that any
excuse for murder?"
"You haven't yet proved Jud did commit a murder," the blind man suggested
gently.
"The body?" Captain Tucker snapped an impatient finger. "That's only a
matter of time. It couldn't have been taken far."
Outside the village town hall a constable awaited their coming. Otis
Wilkes, he said, had arrived from Baltimore and was now at the Wilkes
farm. Captain Tucker turned the car about. Fifteen minutes later they
swung into a driveway between trees and skidded to a stop. On the Wilkes
porch a thin, wiry man paced back and forth restlessly.
"I'd know him for a Wilkes anywhere," Captain Tucker said in an
undertone. "Favors Boothy in looks, only this one's all whiskered. Mind
if I use Lady while you're here, Doctor?"
"What for?"
"Clues. She might scent us something."
As they left the car and came toward the house, Joe Morrow had eyes only
for the man on the porch. A voice called down to them across the railing.
"Captain Tucker?" The tone carried a high, nasal twang. "Land o' Goshen,
I've been a-waitin' for you until I'm like t' freeze." The sentence ended
in a choking, sputtering cough. The man spat violently with a burst of
breath. "Come in; come in out of the cold."
The house, untenanted for a week, was scarcely warmer than the outdoors.
But it was the house from which a man had disappeared, and Joe Morrow
kept staring about uneasily as though expecting to find a ghost. They
went into a front room that overlooked some of the land bordering the
road. Here, at least, there was sun.
"Did they get him?" Otis Wilkes demanded. "This Jud Cory?" Speech was
momentarily halted by that same choking cough, that same sputtering
outburst of breath. "This Jud Cory who killed Boothy."
Joe was conscious of a sudden, intent look on his uncle's face. Captain
Tucker answered very, very slowly.
"Did you stop at the police station, or did you come straight to the
house?"
"To the house, of course. Where else with maybe Boothy lying dead?"
"How did you know he was dead?" Captain Tucker demanded.
"He wrote me, Boothy did." One hand made a frantic reach for the inside
pocket of his coat and drew forth a folded paper. "Boothy said it was on
him. Here!"
Captain Tucker read the letter aloud:
Dear Otis: Like as not you'll be surprised to get this letter seeing as
we have not seen or heard of each other in twenty years. But when a man
feels he is going to be took, it is natural he should turn to his only
kin. I have wrote a will leaving everything to you, and you will be
notified when necessary. If anything should happen to me sudden, look
for Jud Cory. He has made talk of killing me, and I think he is the
kind to do it.
Your brother,
Boothy.
Captain Tucker folded the letter. "Well, Doctor?" he asked in
poorly-concealed satisfaction.
The blind man's face was inscrutable. "Does a man facing death, a man
known to keep a tight fist on a dime, stop to draw five thousand dollars
in cash from a bank?"
"Boothy was a-tryin' t' buy him off," Mr. Wilkes shrilled.
"How do you know that, Mr. Wilkes?"
"Reasonable, ain't it? Reckon a man would ruther pay five thousand
dollars than be laid out stiff. What about Jud Cory?"
"We have him," Captain Tucker answered, "but Boothy's missing. We believe
he's been murdered."
"Then why you standin' 'round wastin' time doin' nothin'?" Mr. Wilkes'
outburst arose to a tremulous falsetto. "Find him. I'll pay a reward."
"We're starting a search now with the dog," Captain Tucker soothed the
agitated man. "If you wish to come along----"
But Mr. Wilkes was seized with a shuddering reluctance. "It ain't fitten'
I should, seein' as folks might say I was powerful anxious t' find him
so's t' claim the property. Besides----" Straggling hairs again bothered
his mouth, and there was another spell of coughing and sputtering.
"Besides, I ain't so spry anymore and the cold gits into my bones. I'll
set here by the window in the sun an' watch out through the apple
orchard."
"It's a fine orchard," Captain Tucker observed.
"Boothy set great store by it," Mr. Wilkes said feelingly. "Blasted the
soil with dynamite before settin' out the trees."
"Coming, Captain?" Dr. Stone asked.
There was an undercurrent to the words. Joe, roused out of his
expectation of a ghost, saw that the strained lines were gone from his
uncle's mouth and that now the face was placid and serene. The boy knew
the sign. Once more Dr. Stone had touched something hidden in obscurity.
Light had come to the brain that lay behind those blind eyes. And so they
came outdoors, to the snow and the frozen ground.
"Careful, Doctor," Captain Tucker warned.
"Lady won't let me on ice," the doctor answered. "Search, old girl."
The dog winnowed through the snow, back and forth, ever advancing. The
quest took them past the house, on past the summer kitchen. Suddenly the
animal, no longer advancing, began to dig in the snow with her paws.
"She's found something," Joe cried.
Out from under the snow Lady dragged a hat. Captain Tucker seized it
eagerly.
"It's Boothy's, Doctor. Here are his initials. B. W."