OKIU ONCE MORE
The Japanese nodded and smiled in his peculiarly meaningless fashion,
the black, intent eyes going from one to the other.
"I was getting a breath of air," said he, "and reading a favorite book,
when I happened to see you here. I trust you are well?"
"Quite well," returned Ashton-Kirk, with equal politeness.
Okiu laid a heavy book upon a bench, patting it gently as he did so, as
though it were a living thing.
"The old books," smiled he, and his voice was soft and purring, "are
always hard to handle. The ancient makers did not know their trade as
well as these of modern days. But," and the gracefully flexible hands
gestured a pardon, "they had something to put into them. The old poets
told of wonderful things in most wonderful ways."
"Every age has its own excellences," said the secret agent, "and perhaps
mechanical efficiency _is_ the high mark of our own."
"I fear that it is," said Okiu, in a gentle, regretful tone. "Even in my
own country, once so peaceful and content with the old things, this
fierce desire to perform wonders has taken root. Everywhere you see the
sign of the times--in the people, in the schools, in the governments,
and," here Ashton-Kirk saw the heavy lids quiver over the intent eyes,
"in the army and navy."
"Ah, yes," said the secret agent; "the army and navy. We have heard of
them."
"And Russia," said Okiu, softly, "has also heard of them." Fuller, a
flush staining his cheeks, was about to reply to this; but a look from
his employer restrained him. And after a moment's pause, Okiu went on in
another tone: "Last night I offered my services if they were needed;
to-day I repeat the offer, sir."
"You are very good," said Ashton-Kirk. "But the police have the matter
in hand; and they resent interference, as I have found."
"I have read the morning papers with great attention," said the
Japanese. "The matter as a whole is a most singular one. But, no doubt,
the arrest of this young man, Warwick, will shed a light upon a great
deal that is now shadowy."
"It will explain some things, no doubt."
"Some things!" The Japanese bent his head forward inquiringly. "Then you
do not think it will explain all?"
"What I personally think," said Ashton-Kirk, "is of no great
consequence."
The other laughed quietly.
"You are modest," remarked he. "And sometimes, if the real truth were
known, the knowledge of the man who says little is of great value." He
stood back a trifle, the yellow, finely-kept hands softly clasped; the
round, lineless face beaming like that of a child. "And for all I know,"
he added, purringly, "you may know a great deal."
"You are very kind to think so," said Ashton-Kirk, and the tone was so
open and pleasant that Fuller wondered if he had been at fault when he
had fancied that he had caught a second meaning in the words of the
Oriental.
"I am only a student," resumed Okiu, "but I may be of assistance here.
And since there is nothing that I can do for _you_, perhaps the police
would----" A gesture finished the sentence.
"Mr. Osborne, who has charge of the matter, is at the gate--or was a few
moments ago," returned the secret agent.
"Thank you. I will speak to him."
With a nod the Japanese left them and walked around to the front of the
house; Ashton-Kirk, without a word of comment upon him or his sayings,
bent down and once more studied the foot-prints. One spot in particular
seemed to attract him; it was about five feet from the window and the
ground seemed a good deal scuffed and trampled.
"Just here," said the secret agent, "the two who were within there spent
some little time in talk. There may have been some sort of an
altercation between them; at least the indications are that they stamped
about more than is usual in an ordinary talk. After a space the man went
around by the rear of the house, for here you see his prints lost in the
confusion. But the woman went the other way, as these three sharp
impressions indicate," pointing. "However, the grass becomes thicker
here and the sod tougher, and the signs fail. We can judge that she
continued in that direction only by the fact that we fail to find any
returning impressions."
They continued here for a little longer, then they made their way to the
rear door and entered the kitchen.
Old Nanon was busily scouring some pans. By the range sat Drevenoff.
"Good-morning," said the secret agent, as he entered.
"Good-morning," they both returned.
Drevenoff arose and stood as though at their service. But the old Breton
woman was as severe and erect as ever; her thin-lipped mouth was set
firmly, her keen gray eyes looked out from under the thick gray brows.
"I am going to go over the house once more," said Ashton-Kirk, "but," to
the old woman, "I shall not ask you to accompany me this time."
"You are not like the regular police, then," said she. "They had me up
and down with them for hours. And the other----"
"The coroner's man," suggested Drevenoff.
"Yes, that is the one. He was even worse than the others. And the
questions! Mother of God! I never heard anything like them before."
As the two young men passed through the kitchen Drevenoff spoke again.
"Is there anything new, gentlemen?" he asked.
"Nothing as yet," replied Ashton-Kirk.
"I have read the papers," said the young Pole, "and I am sorry for Mr.
Warwick. He was a good-natured man."
"Good-natured!" said the old woman, in a tone of contempt "Ah, yes,
good-natured."
"I knew," said Drevenoff, "that he quarreled very often with the doctor
toward the last, but I never thought it would come to this."
Here the pan slipped from the old woman's fingers, upset the scouring
powder and fell to the floor. Muttering angrily she stooped to pick it
up.
"Quarreled!" said Ashton-Kirk. He paused in the doorway and looked at
the Pole with interest.
"It was about Miss Stella, I think," said Drevenoff. "To be sure I know
very little about it, and----"
"You know nothing about it, Drevenoff," said the Breton woman. "If you
knew Simon Morse," she continued, turning upon the secret agent, "you
would not wonder that any one had words with him."
"Ah, no, perhaps not," said Ashton-Kirk, carelessly. "I understand that
his temper was not of the sweetest." He was about turning away when he
asked of Drevenoff: "How are you getting?"
"I'm better to-day than I have been for a week," was the answer. "But it
won't be for long. Before I came here I worked in a construction gang
for the Virginia and North Carolina Railroad and the worst of the line
was through low country. Sickness is thick down that way."
"I hope I shall not disturb Miss Corbin," said Ashton-Kirk to Nanon. She
gestured in the negative.
"She is sitting with Simon in the room opposite the one where he died,"
said the woman. "She has been there for hours. She does not pray and she
does not cry. She just sits and stares."
The secret agent and his aide reached the second floor by the rear
stairs; as they paused by a window which overlooked the house occupied
by Okiu, Fuller said:
"There is something which I have been turning over in my mind for the
past hour; it occurred to me as soon as we reached here this morning. Do
you recall that first drawing which Warwick showed you? It was the one
which looked like this."
With his forefinger the young man drew upon the dust of the window glass
the design:
[Illustration]
"From the very first," said Fuller, "that thing struck me as being a
sort of ground plan, so to speak. As you stood talking with Osborne a
while ago, I got looking about. It seemed to me that Okiu's house and
this one were very much of a size and that the connecting plots of
ground were very long and very narrow. Here," and Fuller indicated one
of the squares at the end of his drawing, "might be Okiu's house, and
here," pointing to the second square, "might be that of Dr. Morse. The
intervening space might be the adjoining lawns."
Ashton-Kirk looked at the speaker, a curious light in his eyes.
"I wonder," said he, "how far you are from the truth?"
Fuller entered the bathroom to remove the dust from his finger-tips; and
as he was toweling briskly away he caught a glimpse, through the partly
open door of a closet, of a pair of soiled shoes. In an instant he had
them out.
"By George," he breathed, "here's a find."
The shoes were light and made upon a slim, well-shaped last; the heels
were high, the instep arched; except for a caking of yellowish looking
soil about the edges of the soles they were the quintessence of feminine
elegance.
"That is the color of the soil outside there," said Fuller, "and the
only person in this house to whom they could belong is Miss Corbin."
Ashton-Kirk took the shoes in his hand and examined them carefully at
the bathroom window, which stood open. Fuller, watching him expectantly,
saw his lips forming the first words of a reply. But it was never
uttered. Something without attracted him, for he put down the shoes and
protruded his head from the window. The latter overlooked the north side
of the house; and the secret agent leaned from it motionless for some
moments.
At length, however, he drew in his head, and Fuller was surprised to see
a perplexed look upon the keen face, a baffled eagerness in the singular
eyes.
"What is it?" he asked.
Ashton-Kirk indicated the window silently. In turn Fuller looked out,
and what he saw almost made him cry out. Okiu stood below; from a window
of the room in which Nanon had said she was watching the dead leaned
Stella Corbin, and the two were engaged in a low-pitched, earnest
conversation.