Ira brought water in a pan. The blind man, shifting the leash, stumbled
against the dog and tottered. Joe, with a cry of alarm, sprang forward.
But the doctor's arms, outstretched, had gone around the hired man; they
slipped along the stout body, down, down--. He caught himself and stood
erect. Ira Close swore morosely and swung an arm.
"That finger?" Dr. Stone asked, concerned. "I warned you. Why didn't you
have a doctor see it?"
"I fixed it myself."
"Nonsense. Here; give it to me."
After a moment of hesitation the hand was held out. Joe watched his
uncle's fingers move as though they had eyes. The tweezers came out of
the kit. Abruptly the doctor's body was between him and the throbbing
wound.
"Fever in here," the blind man said; "infected." Ira Close cried aloud.
Joe glimpsed a corner of his uncle's face, intent, strained; then there
was the drip of iodine, and Dr. Stone stepped back. The blind eyes were
bland and serene.
"Have Mrs. Foster bandage it," he said.
Ira went into the house. The kitchen door slammed shut, and immediately
tranquility left the doctor.
"Tucker, stay here. Joe, this way. A few minutes, Foster; just a few
minutes."
Back where the broken plate had lain yesterday, Dr. Stone unhooked the
leash and gave the dog the scent of the cap.
"Lady, find," he urged. The tawny dog, as though puzzled by the absence
of the leash, looked up inquiringly. "Find," the man said again.
Lady, nose down, padded toward the orchard.
"Take me back, Joe."
The boy had the feeling that they hung in air. Ira Close came out of the
house with a finger freshly bandaged. Captain Tucker gave an exclamation
of surprise.
"Doctor! Where's the dog?"
Lady made her own answer. From some place in the near distance they heard
her deep-toned, full-throated, insistent bark.
"Foster," Dr. Stone said quietly, "I think Lady has found your boy."
Two men began to run--Foster toward the orchard, Ira Close toward the
road. To Joe Morrow the world whirled and spun. Dr. Stone cried, "Look
out, Tucker; he has a gun." The policeman leaped, and the hired man went
down. With amazing quickness brawny arms turned Ira over, and the first
shaft of sunlight glinted on a blue barrel.
"See if there are two exploded cartridges," the doctor called.
Captain Tucker broke the gun. "Two," he said. "What does this mean,
Doctor?"
"It means you have your kidnaper."
And so it came that Ira Close, snarling and venomous, sat handcuffed in
Captain Tucker's police car.
"Where's the boy, Doctor?"
"In the barn, most likely. Not a bad idea, was it? Snatch the boy and
hide him away three hundred feet from his home. Who'd think of looking
for him there? Why should anybody look for him there when the hue and cry
had gone out for an organ-grinder who had disappeared after trying to
disguise himself?
"Why did Ira do it? You'll have to ask him. The papers have been full of
kidnapings and ransoms. Probably, with a greed for money, he'd been
turning the thing in his mind for a long time. Then came the
organ-grinder, and that brought inspiration. But there was one point,
Tucker, you failed to take into account, and that was why I was not
surprised to learn the Italian had boarded the train alone. A man,
fleeing after a crime, does not shave off his mustache and leave the
clipped hairs behind him to advertise his disguise.
"Ira snapped Billy up yesterday afternoon. The boy had never liked him;
there was a momentary struggle. The signs of it lay upon the ground.
Probably he hid the boy in the barn loft and gagged him. With the coming
of night there was alarm in the Foster home. 'Ira, go see if you can find
Billy!' He had anticipated that command. And so he went forth, and
managed to run a noose up his arms, and came back with the note and a
cock-and-bull story. He was loosely tied. Did you ever see a captive who
was not tied tightly? For this Italian to tie Ira, a taller man, he would
have to put away his gun. Can you picture 185-pound Ira allowing a
135-pound stripling, no longer flourishing a pistol, to wind him with a
rope? It didn't hold together.
"Nor was that the only point where the story didn't hold together. Ira
made positive identification of the organ-grinder. He identified him
through a foreign accent. But he said nothing of a previous meeting until
Joe told of seeing them in conversation. Where had that conversation been
held? Outside the bank. Not significant in itself, but strikingly
significant when we find Ira suddenly announcing to Foster that he had
drawn three hundred dollars from the bank to send to his sister and that
it had been stolen from his pocket.
"What's your guess about that three hundred dollars, Tucker? Mine is that
it went to the organ-grinder. The Italian is guilty of no wrong. All he
knows is that a stranger offered him three hundred dollars to shave off
his mustache, abandon his organ and monkey, disappear quietly and leave
the train before reaching the station for which he had purchased a
ticket. Why did Ira tell us about the three hundred dollars? What's your
guess, Tucker? Mine is that he was suddenly touched with a cold fear. The
withdrawal of the money was a matter of record at the bank. The money was
taken out the day of the kidnaping, the day of the organ-grinder's
disappearance. These facts might have given rise to a few unpleasant
questions."
Joe, breathless, looked at Captain Tucker. The policeman frowned
doubtfully.
"How about that shot in the finger, Doctor? Do you mean he shot himself?"
"What's your guess?" Dr. Stone asked mildly. "Mine is that, when he was
sent out to look for Billy, he fired a shot in the air as an
after-thought. Do you remember, when we got there, that his hand pained?
He kept rubbing it as though it throbbed. Infection doesn't set in so
quickly, Captain; there must be a period of incubation. He had cut that
finger earlier in the day. He objected to going to a doctor even after I
warned him of lock-jaw. Why? Because he didn't fear the lock-jaw that may
follow a gun-shot wound. Because he knew that no doctor would look at
that wound and believe it came from a bullet. Of course, he let me handle
it; but, then, I am blind. He figured I didn't count. My guess is that,
in running the rope over his arms, he reopened a wound he had received
earlier in the day."
"By the Eternal," Captain Tucker burst out, "this seems to be nothing but
guesses. You guess this and you guess that. How about a few facts. We
have placed this man in irons. If Billy isn't found you and I may
discover ourselves in a sweet peck of trouble."