JAMES GILMORE
In the morning I returned to the office, for I could hardly expect my
partner to carry on the business alone very much longer. He was
extremely interested in the mystery because of my connection with it and
also because he knew Ruth personally, and asked me what progress we had
made so far. I told him all the various facts that McKelvie had dug up
and he looked very grave when he learned the truth about Dick's
pretended suicide. We were still discussing the matter when McKelvie
called me on the phone to say that he had word from Chicago and would
like me to hear what Dick's friend had to say.
"What is it, a new clue?" asked my partner curiously.
I repeated McKelvie's communication, saying that I was sorry to have to
abandon him again, but that I would be back as soon as I could get away.
My partner clapped me on the shoulder. "That's all right, old man, you
need not feel obliged to get back. I'll worry along somehow without
you," he said kindly, adding with a laugh, "besides, you're worse than
useless any way with this business uppermost in your mind. You'd be apt
to make a bear out of a bull market," and his eyes twinkled.
So I drove to McKelvie's house and found him in his living-room talking
to an old-young man of some thirty odd years, whose hair was quite gray
and whose skin had a peculiar dead look, as though he had spent a part
of his life shut away from the sunlight.
"Mr. Davies," said McKelvie when he had introduced me, "James Gilmore is
a friend of Dick Trenton, and he has come from Chicago in answer to my
request to relate to us what he knows of young Trenton's movements."
James Gilmore nodded. "If you have no objections I'm going to begin
further back a bit so that you will understand how I came to be mixed up
in this affair. Ten years ago I was a teller in the Darwin Bank. I was
twenty-one, ambitious, and eager to make as much money as my pals. My
salary was small, but the son of one of the directors, Philip Darwin,
who was just a few years older than myself, took a fancy to me and told
me that he could help me to make all the money that I wanted. I was
young and foolish and I trusted him. I took money from the bank and gave
it to him to speculate with, money that he feared to take himself,
though I blame only myself for my folly. I did not have to steal, for,
in a measure, I knew the risk I ran. But he was such a smooth fellow,
and being the son of a director he declared that he could prevent any
chance inspections, and I would have the money to replace long before an
accounting was made. I believed him, and two days after I had given him
the money we had an unexpected visit from the inspectors, and I was
caught short. I went to Darwin for the money, but he shrugged his
shoulders and said that the market had gone against him and that that
was a risk that I had to stand. There was nothing to do but face the
music, for, of course, his part in the affair never came to light at
all."
James Gilmore broke off to add with bitter emphasis, "He was the son of
a rich man, and I was poor, and so I paid for what he gained, for I
have since learned that he made money on that deal and kept it all, damn
him!
"Well, I got ten years, since it was my first offense," he continued
presently in a quieter tone, "and when I got out last March I vowed
vengeance upon him. I found out what he was doing and where he spent his
evenings, and one night in the beginning of April I ran across a chap
whom I had met in Sing Sing. He told me that he had been hired by a man
to quarrel at cards with some boy whom this man was trying to ruin. The
place was one of the resorts that Darwin attended and the scheme sounded
like the sort of thing he would be capable of, so I asked this fellow,
Coombs, if I could sit in at the game, and he answered. 'Yes, just drop
in and I'll say you're a pal of mine.'
"That night I repaired to a private room in the rear of the gambling den
and took a seat in a corner until Darwin and the boy had come in. They
were disguised, but Coombs gave me the wink, and instinct, a feeling of
antipathy, told me that the older man was Darwin, although I did not
really see his face, for the light was bad. When I joined them, Darwin
frowned, not because he recognized me (there was no danger of that--ten
years in jail make a difference in a man), but because he wanted no one
interfering with his plans. We began to play, and then Coombs, as per
orders, cheated, cheated so openly it was a farce. But the boy had been
drinking and he hadn't the wit to see that he was being made a fool of.
He accused Coombs of double dealing, and Coombs jumped up and made for
him with his chair, whereupon Darwin pulled out a gun and fired two
shots in rapid succession. The first one bowled Coombs over, but I
sensed what was coming and the second shot went over my head as I
ducked. However, I dropped to the floor, deeming discretion the better
part of valor. Then I saw Darwin press the pistol into the boy's hand,
firing another shot as he did so and exclaiming, 'You've done for him,
Dick, but don't worry, I'll get you away, never fear.'
"A terrific pounding ensued on the door at this moment and calls and
yells came from the main room. Darwin sprang for the light and
extinguished it, and seeing my chance I, too, sneaked away by the rear
entrance just as the inner door gave way. I didn't want to be accused of
having killed Coombs, and I knew that I could not implicate Darwin,
since at no time had I seen his face. I was an ex-convict, and he a
prominent and wealthy man. It was my word against his. What chance had I
of using my knowledge to account?
"The murder of Coombs came out in the paper, and there was quite a to-do
over it, and fearing that someone might recall that I had been there
lately, and that I also knew Coombs, I lit out for the West. In
September I drifted to Chicago, and having found a job, looked for a
boarding-place. I found a very respectable home and there made the
acquaintance of a handsome young fellow who called himself Richard
Trenton. I wondered about him, since he seemed above his surroundings,
but never was really intimate until I happened into his room to borrow a
book that he had offered to lend me and found him at his desk writing
the name Philip Darwin over and over on a sheet of paper.
"I was stunned for the moment, and then I found voice to say, 'You know
him, too?'
"'Yes,' he said bitterly. 'Do you?'
"I nodded. 'Yes, I ought to know him. I served ten years in jail on his
account,' I said.
"'Tell me about it,' he demanded.
"When I was through he sat for a while in silence and then he said, 'He
has harmed me, too, but only in taking advantage of my own folly,' and
then he told me the story that Philip Darwin had concocted for his
benefit, a story which he, Dick Trenton, was too drunk to have been able
to contradict. He had quarreled with a man and had pulled out a gun and
killed the fellow and Darwin, like an angel of mercy, had got him away
and saved him from the chair.
"When I heard that I let out a yell and told him the truth. He was mad
then, mad enough to kill, and he swore he would go back to New York to
have it out with Darwin. Then suddenly he seemed to recall something and
just collapsed, and when I urged him to go and revenge himself, all he
did was to shake his head.
"'He forced my sister to marry him to save my life.' he said hoarsely,
clenching his hands. 'I must free her first and then--he shall pay.'
"Under those circumstances things were different, so we concocted a
letter and sent it to Darwin, telling him we had proofs of his perfidy,
and he must promise to let his wife divorce him at once or face the
consequences. As soon as he got the letter there came a telegram from
him, saying that his lawyer, who was in his confidence, was on his way
to Chicago to confer with us. Well, we awaited the lawyer's arrival, and
he came to the house and asked for Trenton. He was a red-whiskered,
red-haired fellow called Cunningham, and he asked us for proofs of what
we knew.
"Trenton did the talking, and he said that he could prove that it was
Darwin who had fired the pistol, that he could produce several witnesses
to that effect, that he had been investigating the thing for months. All
this was pure bluff, of course, but the old chap came off his high horse
and said that his client had deceived him and that under the
circumstances he had nothing more to say. He would return to New York
and advise that Mrs. Darwin be allowed her divorce and after that why he
had no objections if we saw fit to punish Darwin.
"Seeing that we had won over the lawyer, we waited eagerly for news of
the divorce proceedings, but in the beginning of October there came a
long letter from Darwin. He explained that his lawyer had called on him
and that in view of the fact that we had the proofs he was willing to
grant Mrs. Darwin the chance to divorce him, but there was one
difficulty in the way of that. Mrs. Darwin did not want a divorce, and
he thought it was best for Dick to come to New York to see him
personally before any actions were taken. Then Dick could talk to his
sister and matters could be arranged to the satisfaction of all parties.
If this was agreeable Dick would find him home at eleven-thirty on the
night of October seventh.
"Well, we talked it over, and as Mrs. Darwin's letters had always been
very cheerful and never held any complaint about her married life, why,
we were in a quandary, for, of course, we couldn't expect Darwin to
denounce himself to her. So the upshot was that Dick telegraphed that he
would confer with Darwin. I told him to go armed, as I didn't trust
Darwin around the corner, and Dick promised, though he said with a laugh
that he knew where Darwin kept his pistol, and it would be easier to
borrow that than to try to buy a new one.
"I saw him off, and then on the evening of the eighth I read about the
murder in the papers. Right away I jumped to the conclusion that Dick
had fired the shot, but when I read further I was amazed to see that the
murder was the result of a quarrel between husband and wife and that
Dick hadn't been there at all. I wondered why he didn't send me word,
and then two days later I saw an account of his suicide in the papers. I
couldn't quite figure it out, and finally decided that he had arrived
too late to prevent the tragedy and drowned himself in a fit of grief."
James Gilmore shook his head in a perplexed way. "And now this gentleman
tells me that Dick didn't commit suicide, and I understand it less than
ever. There is one thing sure. He's not in Chicago. The police got your
message, and after combing the city went to his boarding-place for
information, and that's how I caught on that someone was looking for
news of Dick. I said to myself, 'You're the boy to give it,' and here I
am."
"And I am much obliged to you, I am sure," said McKelvie. "You have
helped me immensely. And now that we may be absolutely sure that no
mistake has been made, take a look at this picture and tell me whether
you recognize it."
He handed Gilmore a photograph of Dick, an old one, not the one which he
had blackened for Mrs. Blake, and Gilmore nodded quickly.
"Sure that's Dick Trenton, all right, except that he was wearing a very
full beard when I met him. He told me he grew it as a disguise, but that
he intended to shave it off the moment he reached New York. He said his
sister would disown him if he looked like Daniel Boone."
McKelvie nodded, and I added, "He evidently kept his word, since he had
only a stubble when he pretended suicide, poor boy."
"When you discover where he is, let me know," said Gilmore, rising.
"Take my word for it, he is somewhere in this burg. Well, I must be
going. There are some of my pals I want to look up before I go back to
Chi. I'll keep my top eye open, and if I get a hint I'll let you know."
"I wish you would. Thank you again," said McKelvie, escorting Gilmore to
the door.
When he returned his eyes were shining. "Well, that was worth-while
news," he said smiling.
"It certainly was, providing he hasn't--" I said with a gesture.
"We won't spoil it by dwelling on that fact. Remember what I said last
night. Stay for luncheon and then give me the benefit of your services
as chauffeur. I know you will want to go with me, for I am going to ask
Mr. Cunningham what advice he gave his client about this most
interesting affair."