"I went for Billy like Mr. Foster said." The man's voice was a low
rumble. "Down by the Howard's woodlot there's a bang and I know I'm
shot."
"The right thumb," said Captain Tucker. "The bullet creased the skin."
"It bled," Ira Close said unemotionally, and Joe saw blood on the
handkerchief-bandage. "He tells me not to move, and ties my arms behind,
and puts the note in my pocket."
"He," Dr. Stone said. "What he, Ira?"
"The organ-grinder."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Did you see him?"
"No; I have my back turned. He does not talk our kind of American."
Captain Tucker gave a grunt of exasperation. "That's too thin for
identification. A thousand men within twenty miles might talk with a
foreign accent. I can't understand this, Doctor. If somebody wanted to
use Ira to carry a message why did they shoot close enough to hit him?"
"I wonder," Dr. Stone said gravely. His hand went into his pocket and
this time came out with the pouch. Slowly, almost leisurely, he filled
the pipe.
Joe Morrow, groping in the dark for light, abruptly grasped the cords of
memory. "Ira could have known his voice," the boy cried, excited.
"How's that?" Captain Tucker barked.
"I saw Ira talking to the organ-grinder yesterday in front of the bank."
"I asked him about the monkey," Ira said stolidly. "I thought maybe I
might buy one for Billy."
"Why didn't you tell us that?" Captain Tucker flared in a temper. "Here
we're wasting time----"
"And my boy being taken farther away every minute," Mr. Foster groaned in
sick despair. "Do something! I tell you I can't stand this waiting,
waiting! Do something!"
"Perhaps," Dr. Stone said gently, "we have already done something. How
was Ira tied, Tucker? Tight?"
"I've seen them tied tighter. Didn't have to cut the rope--slipped it
down over his elbows. A botchy job."
"This organ-grinder?"
"Swarthy, with a heavy mustache. Not over four and one-half feet tall and
weighing about 135."
"How much do you weigh, Ira?" the doctor asked.
The hired man answered without interest. "One hundred eighty-five
pounds."
Joe, trying to read his uncle's face, found it inscrutable. And yet the
question meant something. The pipe had gone out; Dr. Stone lighted it
again.
"Let's try to reconstruct this crime, Tucker. At four o'clock Billy left
the house with feed for the rabbits. After that--a blank. Did he feed the
rabbits and wander on? Did he ever reach the warren?"
"No," Mr. Foster choked. "Whatever happened to him happened here."
And then, for the first time, Joe saw what lay upon the ground in the
moonlight--the shattered pieces of a blue plate, scraps of lettuce and
carrot, and a boy's cap. Evidently, Billy Foster had never reached the
rabbit warren with the feed. While Captain Tucker described the scene to
the blind man, Joe picked up the cap. Why, they were in full view of the
house. Could a boy be kidnaped in broad daylight from his own doorstep?
"It couldn't have happened," Captain Tucker insisted testily. "Not here.
The place is too open. Probably something startled the boy and he dropped
the plate."
"If he were frightened," Dr. Stone asked mildly, "why didn't he run to
the house? What frightened him? Did whatever happen happen so quickly
that there was no time to run? And then there's something else."
"What?" Captain Tucker snapped.
"The cap. It would take quite a fright to pop a cap off a boy's head."
The blind man put the pipe back in his pocket. "You've kept track of this
organ-grinder, haven't you, Tucker? Where has he been staying?"
"Petey Ring's shack on the river."
"I think," Dr. Stone said, "it might be worth our while to go down toward
the river." A dozen steps toward Captain Tucker's car he paused. "You'd
better have that finger looked at, Ira. Gun-shot wounds can develop
lock-jaw."
"Doctors want money," Ira Close said resentfully.
"It's a common failing," the blind man observed pleasantly.
Joe tingled. Something lay behind those four words. But again the bland
face was expressionless.
Petey Ring, unkempt and wrapped in a soiled apron, met them in the frowsy
public room of this river "hotel."
"Cap," he said, "I was just thinking of giving you a buzz. You know that
bird who's been penny snatching with a monk?"
Joe's mouth fell open, and Dr. Stone stopped dead in his tracks.
"Where is he?" Captain Tucker demanded.
"Ask me. I ain't clapped a peeper on him since this morning. Looks to me
like he's taken it on the lam. You got a line out for him, Cap?"
The captain shrugged. "Just checking up, Petey. What time did he shove
off."
"You're asking me? I thought he was out working his graft. Then there's a
jabbering from his room, and there's the monk all alone in there throwing
fits."