"Five thousand dollars, Uncle David." This time it was the boy who
trembled. Five thousand dollars was the amount of cash Boothy Wilkes had
drawn from the bank.
"Signed by whom?"
"By Otis Wilkes."
Without haste the doctor folded the check twice, and tore it into bits.
"Write another check," he ordered quietly. "This time write it for
fourteen thousand nine hundred forty dollars. This time sign your own
name. Sign it Boothy Wilkes."
To Joe Morrow the world went topsy-turvy. Through an incredulous haze he
saw a snarling man sign a check and almost hurl it into his uncle's face.
As they came out upon the porch with Lady, Captain Tucker's car swung
into the driveway from the road.
"I'll have men here in half an hour. Where's Otis, Doctor?"
"Gone. Boothy's inside."
"Boothy?"
"Otis, if you like that name better," the doctor said pleasantly.
For the second time that day Captain Tucker's jaw sagged. Dr. Stone
brought out his pipe, filled it, and puffed with calm enjoyment.
"You see," he said, "Jud Cory told us the truth. When he arrived with the
information that he knew of the money that was his, it was like plunging
a knife into Boothy's heart. Money has rather been Boothy's god. The way
to save the money came with Jud's threat to kill him that so many persons
overheard. Boothy went to the bank, drew out five thousand dollars, wrote
the will and the note that you found, wrote himself the letter he showed
you, and went to Baltimore to await the results he knew would follow.
When it was discovered he was gone people remembered Jud's threat. And so
Jud was arrested, and you wrote Otis to come on, and the search began for
a body that would never be found.
"Boothy had it figured out nicely. As Otis he would have five thousand
dollars to live on. There was no hurry. Let Jud Cory stew in jail. He
would never be tried for murder, for without a corpse no murder could be
proved. Public opinion, though, might try Jud for threatening life, or
for disturbing the peace, or for something else. He might even be sent to
the county penitentiary for nine months. All right; let him go. When he
was released he would be so sick of the game, so glad to be at liberty
again, that he'd take the first train out and never come back. And then,
after an interval, Boothy would reappear. What story would he have told?
Well, he might have claimed a complete loss of memory--aphasia, as it is
called. And there he'd be with his nine thousand dollars intact and Jud
Cory gone for good."
Captain Tucker had recovered from his chagrin. "I can see all that now,
Doctor. But how did you know he was Boothy? Man, he had me completely
fooled."
"There were several signs," Dr. Stone answered. "An apple orchard, for
one; a hat for another. But the real give-away--" He passed the pipe
under his nose and inhaled the aroma of the burning tobacco. "You wear
false teeth, Captain?"
"What has that to do with it?" Captain Tucker demanded impatiently.
"Took you a while to get used to them, didn't it?"
"Of course."
"There's the answer. Boothy didn't take time to get used to them. They
kept straggling out of place and interfering with his speech."
"What are you talking about?" Captain Tucker cried impatiently. "False
teeth?"
"No," the blind man said mildly. "False whiskers."