MYSTERIES ARE EXPLAINED.
If the wrathful Uncle Tommy Waters could have looked in upon his
home at the time Harvey Hamilton was telling his story, he would
have seen there was no ground for misgiving so far as the partner of
his joys was concerned.
A muscular woman, with a big iron poker in hand, a massive dog
nosing about the house and ready at instant call, surely had little
to fear from a man whose wrists were encircled by steel bracelets
and who was swathed like a mummy in a network of rope, no matter how
sinister his mood might be. She, too, had heard from her husband the
story of the kidnapping of little Grace Hastings, and having a child
of her own of about the same age, she gave it as her honest opinion
that every one of the criminals should be burned at the stake,
thrown head first into a well, tumbled over the highest precipice in
the world, and then left to perish with cold in the region
discovered by Commander Peary and not discovered by Dr. Cook.
When she found herself alone with the horrible villain, she told
Peggy to go outside and play with the dog, while she had a little
talk with the prisoner.
She seated herself a couple of paces in front of him, and looking
piercingly into his glittering black eyes, demanded in a low,
ominous voice:
“Now, what do you think of yourself? Don’t speak a word or I’ll bang
you with this poker,” and she raised the stiff rod threateningly.
Understanding what was said to him, the prisoner prudently held his
peace.
“I asked you what you thought of yourself. What oughter be done with
a scamp that steals a little child from its father and mother?
Hanging is too good for him. Ain’t you ashamed? Look out! Don’t you
dare open your mouth!”
And again the primitive weapon was brandished close to the captive’s
crown, whose shaggy wealth of hair could not have shielded it had
the poker descended.
“You ask me what I think,” finally blurted Pierotti in desperation;
“you say you strike if I open mouth; I think you are mighty big
fool,—that’s what I think—now you know.”
As the Italian sat he faced the open door, toward which the back of
the woman was turned. While striving to grasp the meaning of the
broken sentences, she saw from the expression of the impish
countenance that he was looking at some one behind her. She whirled
about, and almost fell from her chair, for standing in the doorway
was a second member of the Black Hand, in the person of Amasi
Catozzi, who had been slightly wounded by the revolver of Detective
Pendar.
This criminal, quick to read the meaning of the departure of the
officer with the young aviator, in an outburst of uncontrollable
passion fired at him, and then made all haste to the headquarters in
the woods, whither his companion had preceded him. He was still
running when the explosion told its horrifying story. He knew what
had taken place as well as if he had been an eyewitness, with the
exception of the personal results to his two associates. With a
raging chagrin which no one can comprehend, he saw that the princely
ransom which he had felt in the itching palm of his hand had slipped
away forever. All that remained to him was to save his own neck, as
well as that of the survivors, if so be there were any, provided he
could bring about such a consummation without adding to his own
peril.
Skilfully keeping out of sight in the wood, he saw Alessandro
Pierotti handcuffed and driven to the cabin as a prisoner. Catozzi
would have felt a gleeful delight in shooting the man with whom he
had already exchanged shots, but to do that would have intensified
his own danger, since it would have added ardor to the efforts to
run him to earth. The certain result of such disaster would be a
verdict of murder, when kidnapping at most involved only a sentence
to a long term of imprisonment, with the cheering prospect of a
speedy pardon in the background, or a release upon parole, and the
opportunity to resume his atrocious misdeeds. Consequently, Catozzi
did not interfere during the first part of the proceedings.
As stealthily as a red Indian he peered out from the depth of the
forest. Waiting until the detective and child accompanied the young
aviator in his flight to Chesterton and were gone long enough for
him to feel no fear of their return, he went forward and presented
himself in the door while the pointed and somewhat one-sided
conversation was going on between Mrs. Waters and the bound prisoner
in the chair.
It would have pleased the new arrival to give the woman her final
quietus, but he was restrained by the same knowledge that stayed his
hand when he might have shot Simmons Pendar. She was so terrified
that she could only stare in a daze at Catozzi, with a limp grasp
upon the simple weapon in her hand. She would have begged for mercy
had she not quickly seen that it was not necessary. The Italian
merely glanced at her, and striding forward to the chair, speedily
cut the thongs and the prisoner rose to his feet. The loosening of
the handcuffs would require more time and could wait. The two talked
briefly in their own language. Pierotti indulged in the luxury of a
hideous grimace at the woman as he was following his companion out
of the door and across the clearing to the forest, into which they
plunged and were immediately lost to sight.
This explanation will make clear the disappointment of the mob which
swarmed out of the wood soon afterward, with the panting Uncle Tommy
still at the head, and the worried detective beside him. He had
turned over the care of Grace Hastings to Harvey Hamilton, who
remained behind at Chesterton. In his flurry and eagerness Uncle
Tommy caught the toe of his boot at the threshold and sprawled on
his hands and knees into the “parlor” of his residence.
“Is my lamb safe?” he asked, scrambling to his feet and gazing at
the pudgy figure still seated and maintaining a somewhat stronger
grip upon the poker.
“You old simpleton! Why don’t you clean your boots?” was the loving
response of his life partner, who quickly regained her natural
disposition when she saw that all danger had gone by.
Her story was quickly told. The disappointment to all, except the
detective, was keen, and his feelings were solely due to his respect
for law and order. Uncle Tommy was asked whether his dog could not
take the scent of the two fugitives and run them down, but the
weather prophet replied that the canine wasn’t worth a shoestring
for such work.
“You never will be able to find the couple in the woods,” said
Pendar; “there are too many hiding places; they can dodge you for
weeks; the only course is for us to return to Chesterton at once,
and for me to telegraph to all the surrounding towns, asking the
authorities to be on the lookout for them. They will have to leave
the woods sooner or later and there is a fair chance of catching
both.”
He added in a lower voice:
“What is left of one of them lies a little way from here; the body
must not be neglected.”
The announcement caused a striking change in the moods of all. Three
of the men walked forth with the detective and viewed all that
remained of the Black Hander. One of them carried a blanket which
was tenderly laid over the body.
“It is best not to remove it until the coroner has given
permission,” explained the officer; “since there has been a death he
must make an investigation.”
The party straggled back to town, Uncle Tommy being the only one who
stayed behind. Detective Pendar having decided upon his course acted
promptly. When he entered the telegraph office he found a long
message from Mr. Hastings awaiting him. It was so fervent in its
expressions of gratitude that the eyes of the detective filled and
he could not command his voice for some minutes. The telegram
contained a loving message to the child, and the assurance that the
father would start for Chesterton at once to bring her home.
Pendar sent notices to all the nearby towns and to the large cities,
doing his work so thoroughly that he said to himself as he lighted a
cigar and leaned back in his chair:
“If those two fellows can break through the net that I have spread
round them, they will almost deserve to get away. They may keep in
hiding for several days, but sooner or later they will be gathered
in.”
Harvey Hamilton proposed to carry Grace in his aeroplane to
Philadelphia, confident that by starting early the next morning he
could reach her home by noon, but his friend showed him the folly of
anything of that nature. She was unaccustomed to riding in the air,
and an accident was more than likely. Moreover, her father was due
in Chesterton on the afternoon of the morrow.
“The child has already passed through too much to incur any more
danger from which it is possible to save her. And that reminds me,
Harvey,” added the detective with a smile, “you have decided by this
time who it was that chopped up your aeroplane.”
“It must have been Catozzi and Caprioni.”
“Beyond a doubt.”
“Why did they do it?”
“They may have seen a possible danger in the presence of a machine
like that in the neighborhood of Chesterton and decided to put it
out of commission.”
“Why didn’t they do the same with my second?”
“It would have involved a great deal more risk, and could have
accomplished little or nothing for them. Besides, we mustn’t forget
the element of unadulterated cussedness that actuates so many
members of mankind. Professor Morgan took a fancy to inspect your
machine at close range without the chance of meeting you, and so he
made a visit early in the morning, only to find it smashed to
everlasting smithereens. He left, your colored boy being just in
time to gain a glimpse of him, and straightway telegraphed your
father, and you know what followed.”
This part of my story may be summed up in a few sentences. On the
morrow the coroner entered into an official investigation, as in
duty bound, of the death of the Italian supposed to be Giuseppe
Caprioni, blown up by the explosion of a bomb. The testimony of
Professor Milo Morgan was much needed, but he had departed no one
knew whither, and that of Simmons Pendar supplied its place. The
verdict was in accordance with the facts, so far as they could be
ascertained, and the body was buried in Potter’s Field.
The next day the gratifying intelligence came that both Catozzi and
Pierotti had been captured in Groveton, only twelve miles from
Chesterton. Driven out by hunger they had applied at a house for
food, and were quickly arrested. They were tried, found guilty and
sentenced to the longest terms possible in State Prison, where it is
to be hoped they will spend the remainder of their days.
Horace Hastings reached Chesterton by special train earlier than was
expected and took his child home with him.