Archie's eyes fell upon the bizarre photograph of a dead man with which
the page was illustrated, and he choked on a fragment of grapefruit as
he read the inscription: "Dead Thief, Identity Unknown."
It was a ghastly thing with which to be confronted; and his perturbation
increased as he read an account of the killing. It was in the house of
Mr. Waldo S. Cummings, a cottager, that the man had been shot, the
mortal wound being inflicted by the householder's son, after an exciting
battle. The dead body of the burglar had been found on the shore and the
whole coast was being searched for his accomplice.
"That's poor old Hoky all right," murmured the Governor, buttering a
piece of toast reflectively. "How indecent to prop up a corpse that way
and take a snapshot merely to satisfy the morbid curiosity of a silly
public! As you seem to be entranced with the literary style of our
Bailey Harbor correspondent, I shall take the liberty of helping you to
a fried egg."
However, Archie's appetite was pretty effectually spoiled by this
paragraph:
An odd circumstance, more or less remotely connected with the
killing of the burglar in the fashionable colony still remains to
be explained. Officer Yerkes shortly before two o'clock, the hour
at which the thief was shot in Mr. Cummings's home, saw a man
hurrying through Water Street. He bore the appearance of a
gentleman, and the officer did not accost him, thinking him a
yachtsman from one of the boats in the harbor who had been visiting
friends ashore. Yerkes says that the man walked oddly, pausing now
and then as though in pain, and was carrying his right hand upon
his left shoulder. Owing to the poor lighting of Water Street--a
matter that has been a subject of frequent complaint to the city
authorities--Yerkes was unable to catch a glimpse of the stranger's
features. This morning drops of blood were found on the board walk
crossed by the stranger where Officer Yerkes had seen him, and it
is believed that this was another of the burglar-gang who was
wounded in a struggle somewhere in the interior and was seeking the
help of his confederate, presumably the man shot in the Cummings
house.
As the paper fell from Archie's hand the Governor took it up.
"You seem agitated, Archie! You must learn to conceal your feelings!"
When he had read the paragraph he glanced quickly at Archie, whose fork
was beating a queer tattoo on his plate.
"Your work possibly?" murmured the Governor. "Compose yourself. That old
lady over there has her eye on you. I'm afraid you lied to me about the
drug store, for if you'd done any shooting in that neighborhood you
would never have got out of town alive! No!"--he held up his hand
warningly--"tell me nothing! But if we've got a murder behind us, we
shall certainly be most circumspect in our movements. That's all piffle
about Hoky having any confederate except me. And there's not a single
one of the great comradeship on this shore--I know that; no one who
knows the password of the inner door. You interest me more and more,
Archie! I congratulate you on your splendid nerve."
Archie's nerve was nothing he could admire himself, but a second cup of
coffee put warmth into his vitals and he recovered sufficiently to pay
the breakfast check. If it was Congdon he had shot there was still the
hope, encouraged by the newspaper, that the wounded man was in no haste
to report his injury to the police. But Archie found little comfort in
the thought that somewhere in the world there was a man he had shot and
perhaps fatally wounded.
He must conceal his anxious concern from the Governor; for more than
ever he must rely upon his strange friend for assistance in escaping
from the consequences of the duel in the Congdon cottage.