THE CLUE
What transpired the next day seemed to the Khaki Boys more in the nature
of a wild nightmare than stark reality. As Bob had foreseen, morning
brought a flock of newspaper men from not too far distant cities to the
scene of the disaster.
Excitement, however, reached fever heat when the latest editions of the
evening papers flaunted black scareheads such as, "Soldier Suspected of
Poisoning His Comrades." "Incriminating Evidence Found Among Soldier's
Belongings." "Franz Schnitzel, a German-American, Accused as Poisoner,"
and similar glaring headlines.
That same morning a guard detail had entered Company E's barracks with
instructions to search the belongings of such of the kitchen men
detained on suspicion who were housed in those barracks. Nothing of
importance had been unearthed except in the suitcase of Schnitzel. What
had been found there was deemed sufficiently serious in character to
warrant holding him on a charge of murder, to await trial by a court
martial. Not only had a medium-sized bottle of powdered glass been taken
from the suitcase, but also a typed sheet of paper, listing various
poisons, together with annotations as to the effect, length of time
required to act, and the more or less deadly qualities of each.
"I'll never believe it of Schnitz. Never!" exclaimed Jimmy Blaise
passionately. Tucked into a corner of the "Y" writing room, with Roger
and Bob, the three had just finished reading the account of the affair,
as set forth in the evening papers. "Schnitz isn't guilty any more than
I am."
"Schnitz isn't guilty, of course." Bob gave a contemptuous snort. "In
the first place, I don't believe it was powdered glass that went into
that pudding. I'll bet the findings of the autopsy and chemical analysis
will prove that it was something else."
"Then he'll be cleared of the charge, won't he?" eagerly asked Jimmy.
"Cleared nothing," was the gloomy retort. "He'll be third degreed to a
frazzle to make him confess that he used the poison that did the
killing. That list of poisons and the bottle of powdered glass are too
strong evidence against him to be overlooked. He's been caught with the
goods, you might say. _I_ say he's been caught in a trap laid by an
_enemy_."
"You don't mean you think that----" Jimmy paused.
"I do mean just that. But before I say more, let me ask you something.
Was Bixton in the squad room all last evening while I was out?"
"I don't remember." Jimmy frowned reflectively. "Let me think. I saw him
sitting on his cot around seven o'clock. After that----"
"He _did_ go out," interrupted Roger. "I saw him go. It was about
half-past seven, I guess. He came back in a great hurry, too, about ten
minutes before Taps sounded. I was just turning in. You fellows were
both in bed. I was thinking about poor Schnitz when I saw Bixton and
Eldridge hustle in."
"He's done it then; queered Schnitz just as he threatened." Bob's
accusation contained savage conviction. "He put that stuff in Schnitz's
suitcase some time during the night. It would be a cinch for him,
because he bunks next to Schnitz."
"But how and where could he get the glass in such a hurry?" demanded
Jimmy. "There's the list, too. Bixton's not smart enough to make any
such list himself. Besides, he wouldn't be able to get hold of a book on
poisons in this camp, and he certainly wasn't away from camp in that
short time."
"Those are some of the things we must figure out." Bob's lips set in a
straight line. "This is no joke. It's a life or death proposition for
Schnitz. Very well. Now we're going to keep close mouths and run this
thing down."
"Let's go to the K. O. and tell him about it," proposed Jimmy eagerly.
"He'd take it up in a hurry."
"Where's your proof to back it?" shrugged Bob. "You can't accuse a man
offhand of such a serious thing. No; we must watch and wait and work,
and spring the trap on Bix just the way he watched and waited, and
sprang the trap on Schnitz."
"We might be too late to do any good," demurred Roger gravely.
"Don't you believe it," disagreed Bob. "This affair won't come to a head
in a hurry. There'll be more or less delay and argument over the poison
itself. Then there'll be a merry chase for more evidence. The K. O.'s
not anxious to see one of our men condemned for murder. There are so
many German plots floating around that this business will be thoroughly
sifted first. Suppose the poison had been mixed in the rice before it
was cooked or put in the milk. All that has to be looked into and it
will be. The papers say that the Secretary of War intends to investigate
this thing to the limit. That means he's going to give Schnitz a chance
for his life."
"Maybe Bixton had something to do with the poisoning," Jimmy theorized.
"He's a slacker. We know that. Maybe _he's_ a traitor, too."
"Nothing doing." Bob shook his head. "He's only mixed up in queering
Schnitz. He saw his chance and grabbed it. I'd sooner think it might be
one of the fellows on kitchen detail with Schnitzel than Bixton. Bix and
Iggy both finished their kitchen detail at the same time."
"Tough luck." Jimmy vented his feelings in his favorite expression.
"Tough it is, but maybe not forever. My fighting blood is up, and I'm
going to camp on the trail of that hound, Bixton, until I get something
definite to hang on him," vowed Bob. "I want you two to keep an eye on
him whenever you can. Watch where he goes, what he does, and the men he
talks with. Be careful not to let him catch you at it, though. That'll
be your part of the scheme." Bob rose and rolled up the newspaper he had
been reading.
"What are _you_ going to do. What's your part going to be?" Jimmy wanted
to know.
"Same as yours, only more so," grinned Bob. "I'm going to gather
information about that kitchen detail, Bixton, Eldridge and anyone else
who needs looking up. I'm going to be an investigator."
Bob's earnest proposal that the three of them take to sleuthing on their
own hook fired the enthusiasm of both Roger and Jimmy. Here was a real
mystery to solve, more baffling than any they had ever followed in
fiction. On their ability to ferret it out rested not only Schnitzel's
life, but the saving of his good name from eternal dishonor.
The next two days, however, were painfully devoid of results. Close and
constant watch on Bixton developed nothing that could be used against
him.
Ignace had now returned to the fold a paler and slightly thinner edition
of himself. According to himself he had been "'ver' seek, but no so seek
som' other." He was greatly cast down over Schnitzel's plight, and
sturdily expressed his belief in the other's innocence. He was equally
eager to do whatever Bob advised, and solemnly promised, "Watch all
time."
On the afternoon of the third day after Schnitzel's arrest, Jimmy, Roger
and Ignace received a summons to headquarters. At a loss to recollect
any misdemeanor on their part, they went, wondering mightily why the K.
O. should wish to see them. Once in the presence of their commanding
officer they met with a shock. Before them, spread out on the major's
desk, lay several letters, minus their envelopes, which reposed beside
them. Each man was in turn requested to glance over the letter to which
was affixed his signature, and state whether he had written it and at
what time. It is needless to say that all told the same story. The
letters on the major's desk were the letters that had so mysteriously
vanished during the Khaki Boys' first week in camp.
Having duly explained this to the K. O.'s satisfaction, they were
treated to a second bewildering surprise. These very letters, it seemed,
had been found in Schnitzel's suitcase. Major Stearns had opened them,
as a point of duty, and had claimed the right to withhold them in order
to make an inquiry. Shown to Schnitzel, he had stubbornly denied ever
having seen them before.
"You state, Blaise, that these letters were stolen from a shelf over
your cot on the same night that they were written?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you any reason for believing that it was Schnitzel who stole
them?"
"No, sir. I _know_ Schnitzel didn't steal them." Jimmy emphasized the
'know' strongly.
"Why are you so positive that he did not?"
"Because, sir, Schnitzel wasn't that sort. He's a true man, and he's
innocent of the crime he's charged with." Jimmy's sympathies overcame
his awe of Major Stearns.
"Humph!" The K. O. allowed this opinion to stand unrebuked. He was fond
of Jimmy, and rather admired him for his staunch defense of the accused
soldier. "Is that your only reason?"
Tardily recalling Bob's injunction to secrecy regarding Bixton, Jimmy
hesitated, then cautiously answered: "We were not acquainted with
Schnitzel, sir, at the time we wrote those letters. There was no reason
why he should want to take them."
"Still you can't give me any proof that he didn't, can you?"
"No, sir." Jimmy breathed freely again.
Receiving this negative, the major proceeded to question first Roger,
then Ignace, with practically the same result. Profiting by Jimmy's
mistake, neither volunteered more than was necessary. In the end they
left headquarters without their letters. The fact that these had been
stolen added to the case against Schnitzel.
The Khaki Boys left headquarters in a state of intense excitement,
manifested in their eager exchange of remarks the moment they were
safely outside the building. Directly after the disappearance of their
letters they had suspected Bixton of the theft. His later attempt to get
at Jimmy's equipment had strengthened the suspicion. Now the lost
letters had, at this late date, turned up in Schnitzel's suitcase.
Actual proof against Bixton they had none. That did not matter so much
at present. It would come. Why? Because at last they had a clue, or what
seemed to them a clue. At least, it was a circumstance that connected
Bixton with Schnitzel. If Bixton had stolen the letters that were found
in Schnitzel's suitcase, it followed that no one save Bixton would have
placed them there, and not only the letters but the bottle of powdered
glass and the poison list.