EZRA MAKES A PROFESSIONAL CALL
‘Feel sort of confidin’ now, son?’
Ruel ceased his pacing and whirled on the balls of his feet to face
Inspector Sewell.
‘You’ve found her?’
Sewell shook his head sorrowfully as he unlocked the bars and entered
the cell. Ruel continued his pacing without a glance at the door
which the inspector had left half open.
‘Nope, nothin’ to tell about that, yet.--You got anythin’ to tell me
though, Ruel?’ His voice was almost wheedling as he perched on the
edge of the cot, drawing up his knees and resting his chin upon them.
‘No?--Then it ain’t done no good, has it?’
‘What?’
‘Solitary confinement--sunlight makin’ patterns of the bars on the
floor--remorseful thoughts, an’ such,’ replied Sewell, tapping one
palm with the bulky key to the cell. ‘Now that you’re a formal
prisoner, arrested good an’ proper an’ all, seems as if you ought to
be feelin’ different, ’cordin’ to these here psychologists!’
‘The only remorseful thoughts I have are that I ever came here so
meekly in the first place, didn’t break away to look for Sylvia
myself before you had me arraigned before the local judge late last
night.’
‘Any particular reason why _you_ should feel that way?--No, don’t
answer, bein’ as it’s personal an’ unnecessary. Besides, I guess
them as know you an’ her like I do, can dope out a pretty close
answer, eh?’
‘There’s--there’s no definite reason--yet,’ stammered Ruel.
Sewell nodded, turned his head toward the corridor and called out,
‘Pete, soon as that Basil Stacey gets here, step him along in, will
you?’
A voice from the office answered laconically, ‘Yep.’
It was nine o’clock in the morning of the day after the tragedy.
The night had passed agonizingly for Ruel. He had not slept at
all, spending the time either pacing his cell or hunched with
his head in his hands, reliving each thought and action of that
fatal play with its subsequent revelations, striving to recall
something--anything--that might give a key to these events. But the
process had been in vain--only served to bewilder him more than ever.
His brain ached with the exertion, while his body suffered from the
lack of it. His face was pallid, his hair and clothes disheveled,
and his eyes seemed to have receded into his head. Yet all this
only added to the strength and determination of his face, the weary
dejection of his expression.
Ezra Sewell also showed the effects of his all-night search for
Sylvia Hawley, yet his eyes were alert and keen. A sparse cowlick
over his forehead made a sleek contrast to his otherwise tousled
hair, and as he perched there, his arms encircling his drawn-up
knees, he seemed a rather whimsical, weather-beaten sort of elf.
‘Look here, Ruel, it ain’t doin’ no good ragin’ round like a loco
pig. Set down now, so we----’
‘Pigs?--I’d forgotten mine. I suppose now they will----’
‘I ain’t. Pete’s tendin’ to them an’ feedin’ ’em all right.--But what
I mean to say is this: we’re doin’ all we can to find Miss Hawley,
an’ don’t mistake me neither. We’ve got to find her.’
‘I know, but I can’t stay here doing nothing. Let me help, Ez.’
‘No, son, can’t do that. Me--I’d turn you loose in a shake, only
don’t you see I ain’t me, now. I’m an inspector. I’m the law, you
might say, an’ if people saw you runnin’ loose after this, they’d
never respect it no more. It’s little enough they do, as it is.’
‘Oh, I appreciate that, Ez, but it’s hard----’
‘Most things as are right, is. But I’m doin’ all I can to make it
easy, Ruel.--Now let’s talk sensible. You been thinkin’ over things,
eh?’
Ruel laughed jerkily. ‘Yes, but it’s no use. All I know is that I
didn’t kill King.’
‘Of course you never, but all the evidence is against you, an’ it’s
embarrassin’. Take that blood, for instance, how’d it come to be on
your handkerchief?’
‘I don’t know unless----Well, you see I wore these old clothes to
carry out my part in the play. The handkerchief was in them, not a
fresh one. I suppose I cut myself--I’m always doing so--and stopped
the blood with it, then stuffed it into that pocket and forgot it.’
‘When did you do that?’
‘That’s the trouble, Ez. I can’t remember any specific time, and I
heal quickly.’ He spread out his calloused hands; they were scarred
in several places, but no very recent cuts were visible.
‘Not very convincin’ to a jury.--That play now, Ruel, seems kind of
foolish an’ far-fetched in a way. Was----’
‘But not so much as you think, Ez. That was the reason I hated
to take part in it--so much of it was near the truth. It made me
uncomfortable, especially when King played his part so--so literally.
I hadn’t expected him to stick to actual facts, you see.’
‘You mean usin’ your own names an’ you--er--you an’ Sylvia like?’
‘Yes, and more. King had actually lent me money for my farm, and I
still owed it to him. When he brought that into the play, gave me
that receipt and all, I----’
‘You still got it?’
Ruel took a paper from his pocket and handed it to Sewell.
‘Hmm. How much did you owe him, Ruel?’
‘Five thousand--about.’
‘I thought so. This looks like a genuine receipt for that amount in
full!’
‘What? Let me see! I hadn’t looked before.--But of course he didn’t
mean it seriously. Here, let me tear it up.’
‘Hold on. We ain’t destroyin’ nothin’. You see it might prove he was
expectin’ somethin’ to happen--preparin’ for it, like, though it’d be
just like him to do it on purpose, he was that kind an’ generous.’
‘You mean he might have been forewarned? But then you must suspect
some one else. Who is it?’
‘There now, I knew you’d ask that pretty soon, only I was sort of
hopin’ you wouldn’t, in a way. Maybe it will kind of make it simpler
if I tell you right out plain--plough right along into it, ‘stead of
only furrowin’ round the edges. ’Course I s’pose no matter how easy
like I put it, you’ll get all riled up, so here it is. You see, I
suspect Sylvia Hawley----’
Ready as he was for Ruel’s protests, Sewell was not prepared for the
sudden onslaught that followed. Without a word, Ruel charged like an
angry bull at the mention of Sylvia’s name, his muscles bulging, his
hands reaching out as if to tear away that word from the inspector’s
lips. But when he bent forward to seize and shake him, Sewell
suddenly straightened his knees, driving his feet straight forward.
It was not a very dignified way to end an imminent fight, but it was
an effective one. His feet landed neatly against Ruel’s chest. The
force of the blow sent the latter reeling backward until he sprawled
against the wall which saved him from falling. Then Sewell calmly
reached over with one foot, swung shut the door with a slam, and
resumed his former position.
‘Guess it would be better, shuttin’ that door--keep the bull in the
pen, eh?’ he drawled. ‘Too bad you didn’t give your head a crack
against the wall--knock some sense into it maybe. Such a temper would
most make me believe you might have killed King in anger, if I didn’t
know you better.--Suppose you didn’t sleep much, though. Don’t know
as I blame a young fellow like you--might have done the same thing
myself, if I felt that way about a girl.’
He was talking against time to allow Ruel to compose himself. This
the latter did abruptly, crossing over to the bed and sitting down
beside Sewell. He still twitched nervously, and dropped his head into
his hands.
‘Sorry, Ez. I--I won’t interrupt again.’
‘Hope not--at least, not so violent. You’ll feel better, gettin’ it
out of your system too. Now I can tell you the whole thing, includin’
the fact she ain’t the only one I suspect of knowin’ a lot about
this. Understand me, too, I ain’t said I suspected her of guilt,
just of knowin’ somethin’ as might help. I suspect every one right
now--except you!’
Sewell’s manner changed as he began to recount the discoveries he
had made after Ruel’s arrest. He spoke in short, concise sentences,
clipping his words instead of drawling them, dropping his voice
from its rather high pitch to an emphatic, low staccato. Intently
he watched Ruel’s face and followed his expression of surprise and
incredulity carefully. It was too sincere to be mere acting. Beyond
a doubt, Ruel knew nothing about that mysterious number. This much
accomplished, Sewell relapsed into his former conversational manner.
‘There’s a lot she’s got to explain, certain sure, d’you see? But
that don’t mean she can’t set things to rights in a jiffy, far as
she’s concerned. It don’t stand to reason she’d disappear without
some reason. She’ll probably turn up with some simple explanation
when the time comes.’
‘And probably some one else typed that line, left it on purpose to
cast suspicion on her.’
‘It’s possible--so’s anythin’ for all we know yet,’ assented Sewell
gravely. ‘But I ain’t surmisin’ things. I just told you the facts as
I found ’em, so as to sort of prepare you. If you should remember
anythin’ about that number----’
‘I don’t, Ez. It means absolutely nothing to me.’
‘Well, let’s try somethin’ else. About Sylvia, now. You don’t suppose
she just went off for some reason of her own? A relative, maybe,
or----’
‘She hadn’t any. She was an orphan, Ez. She said she hadn’t a real
friend--outside this village. Mr. King met her at Basil Stacey’s
office and brought her here when he bought that house a year ago.
She’s been here ever since, even when he went on trips to New York or
anywhere.’
‘Hmm. I’d forgotten she worked for Stacey.--Suppose you know all
about her, where she came from an’ so on? All I know is she’s a
mighty nice, interestin’ woman.’
‘Why--no. I never asked her, and she didn’t seem to like to talk much
about her past. You aren’t insinuating----’
‘No, I ain’t. Guess I can tell good folks from bad without no
autobiography, young man. But you let somethin’ like this happen,
an’ sure as I’m alive, of all the cussed complications an’----Why,
I’d have said I knew Sylvia Hawley from A to Izzard before this.
Ask me now, an’ I’m as bad as you, sayin’ she’s mighty sweet an’
all, without knowin’ nothin’ to drive a spike into. Seems like that
reminds me of some others too. You take----’
‘Step right along in. He’s waitin’ for you,’ interrupted Pete’s nasal
voice from the office, followed by Basil’s appearance at the bars.
Sewell handed him the key and Basil unlocked the door and entered,
leaving it open behind him.
‘The last of the guests have gone, even the doctor and judge, to
arrange their affairs. Any news?’
He nodded to Ruel, but they did not bother to shake hands or greet
each other.
It was useless to ask him the same question, for his eagerness
betrayed his own lack of it. Unlike Ruel, though he had been up most
of the night in his fruitless search for Sylvia, his face seemed
as fresh, his manner as jaunty as if he had just awakened from a
refreshing sleep. It was the contrast between a man used to regular
hours and outdoor life, as opposed to one accustomed to the rush and
irregularity of city life.
‘We’ve been mullin’ things over a bit, but ain’t arrived no place in
particular,’ said Sewell. ‘You might tell us about lookin’ for Miss
Hawley.’
‘I searched everywhere, and there’s no trace of her. There was no
train out of here after she was last seen in the play, and I checked
up on all the known automobiles and conveyances in the village or
house. No one saw her after the play and she couldn’t have come down
the stairs from the loft without being seen by Mrs. Dobson who was in
the barn below.’
‘That only leaves two ways, then. Number one is to have sneaked out
that window----’
‘Impossible, Sewell, if you mean the one we used in the show. In the
first place, she’d have been seen against the light; in the second,
I’d have seen her, for I was waiting just outside there for Ruel to
finish and come out.’
‘As far as I can figure out, nobody saw nothin’ important an’ did see
lots as was unimportant. That’s always the way with human critters in
a crisis, seems like.--You was standin’ close to the window?’
‘At the right of it as you face it from outside, wasn’t it, Ruel? I’d
been waiting there in the shadow for some time.’
Ruel nodded absently.
‘Then she didn’t come out there, that’s certain.’
Ruel opened his lips suddenly to speak, but as neither of the
men appeared to be looking at him, he changed his mind, scowled
thoughtfully, and glanced sidewise at Basil, then remained silent.
Sewell noticed this expression of doubt, but made no comment on it
just then. ‘She must have climbed out one of the little windows then,
the one where the dust was streaked on the sill an’ dropped--let’s
see--nigh on to fifteen feet to the ground. Hump! That don’t seem
logical, not to me it don’t. I dunno why she’d try such a thing.’
‘Her disappearance is all illogical,’ echoed Basil. ‘She couldn’t
leave that room--yet she did. Even if some one tried to force her
away, I don’t see how it could have been accomplished.’
‘Nor me, neither.--Hold on.--Now kick me if I ain’t the fool Ellen
B. says I was! An’ me livin’ around farms most all my life! Why, look
here. There’s a door in the end of the barn there an’ the hoistin’
tackle an’ rope for pullin’ up hay to the loft. She might have slid
down that neat as a whistle an’ no one the wiser.’
‘Not Sylvia,’ said Ruel firmly. ‘Sliding down a rope is no easy task
for a woman in evening clothes. Besides, there was no rope there, I
know. King had taken it down.’
‘I s’pose you’re right,’ grunted Sewell, nodding his head to
emphasize his words, ‘but just the same it’s possible.--Say, you
haven’t heard all of it--what I found after you left, Basil.’
The inspector turned to the latter and again rapidly told of the
papers with the numbers on them. Basil was obviously incredulous,
vehemently denying any suspicion of Sylvia’s guilt, but his vehemence
did not take any physical form as Ruel’s had done. Instead he scoffed
at the idea of her knowing anything about the numbers, and dismissed
them as unimportant.
‘This Mrs. Bascom,’ continued Basil, changing the subject abruptly,
‘she is certainly shrewd--the way she worked out the play and took
charge afterward.’
‘Shrewd? Hump! Don’t need to have no one tell me about that critter.
She’d be up to most anythin’.’
‘I wonder!’ murmured Basil, as if to himself.
‘What’s that? You insinuatin’ Ellen B. had somethin’--? Say, young
man, what gave you such a fool notion?’
‘I don’t know. She seemed to be the only level-headed one--she solved
the mystery and was pretty calm about things mostly. She saw what no
one else seemed to take in, and after all she was there in the room.’
‘So was quite a few others--all of ’em as much suspected as her.’
‘I was just theorizing, Sewell, thinking out loud and trying to help
somehow,’ replied Basil apologetically.
‘Sure, I need help, but none about them as I know as well as Ellen B.
I guess I know her, all right--darned well!’
For several minutes thereafter, under Sewell’s prodding, Basil gave
miniature characterizations of each of the guests, whom he knew quite
intimately, save for Dr. New. In this latter case, however, he was
able to repeat King’s own eulogy of his friend and physician. The
result was not illuminating beyond the fact that they seemed a gay,
likable set, devoted to Mr. King and without exception feeling the
loss of his friendship as a decidedly personal one.
This naturally brought the conversation to King himself and rapidly
developed the fact that, although he was accepted everywhere, admired
and looked up to, comparatively few intimate details were known
about his life. A year ago he had bought a large farmhouse about a
mile from the center of Crookshaven and spent a small fortune on
repairing it. He had moved in at once, bringing Miss Hawley with him
and establishing Mr. and Mrs. Dobson in charge of the grounds and
household.
The repairs and modernizing of the house had been skillfully executed
so as to make it thoroughly comfortable and livable, yet not offend
the charm of its age. Externally, wherever repairs were made, a
replica of what had to be removed was put back in its place, then a
coat of stain, rather than paint, applied, so tempered and tinted
that its protective coating enhanced the illusion of boards grown
gray-green with time. Inside, rooms were thrown together in some
instances, restored and redecorated with the same general plan in
mind. Electric lights were added, the plumbing modernized, but
otherwise the effect was of comfortable antiquity.
King had taken an eager, personal interest in all this, spending
lavishly and refurnishing the house with antiques. Two stipulations
were made with regard to the furniture: each piece must be a genuine
antique, but also it must pass a test of comfortableness in the case
of chairs and such appointments. Miss Hawley’s enthusiasm and good
taste had been a material assistance in the work.
At first regarded somewhat in awe because of his wealth and power,
Mr. King had rapidly overcome the village’s reserve and ingratiated
himself with its inhabitants, sharing their hopes, plans, and
sentiments as if he had always lived among them. His generosity
became a byword with them, whereas normally such matters as money
or personal problems were seldom discussed openly; his approval and
advice were sought on many occasions and never proved wanting. In a
year’s time, he called most of them by their first names, could ask
after their children both present or absent, discuss their affairs
and encourage them in periods of stress like a relative.
Yet now that Sewell began to look farther back, he abruptly
discovered little or nothing was known of King himself before his
advent into the village.
Basil was able to trace his history one step farther, yet without
adding materially to it. He had first met King in New York in a
matter of business which had resulted in their friendship. King had
proved himself a shrewd business man, honest, yet capable of matching
wits with the keenest brains and singularly able to get his own way
once his mind was made up on any matter. He had quickly gathered a
circle of friends about him, a somewhat cosmopolitan group, to be
sure, but one that was at bottom sincere in its relations to him
and each other. He enjoyed having them about him, took a special
pleasure in entertaining them without thought of reciprocation or
those formalities of social life that can prove a bane as well as a
blessing.
For two years King had lived alone, enlarging his income by clever
ventures into business where everything seemed to turn to his profit.
Then his hobby--the writing of stories and intricate mysteries--grew
from a pastime to a major work, and he retired to Crookshaven to
gratify it. Yet he could be reticent, and always was, concerning his
past life. He referred to it in generalities, such as to mention some
city or country he had visited or some personal reminiscence that
had apparently been the basis of one of his stories, but he avoided
specific details. Some accused him of having been a detective at
one time because of his knowledge of their ways and methods, but he
smiled without affirming or denying the fact.
‘Seems funny,’ commented Sewell mournfully as Basil completed his
scanty account of King’s city life. ‘It don’t seem right as I should
be the one to play detective for him. He was smart along those lines
himself, an’ it ought to have been the other way around, like.--But
I guess it ain’t the first or last time life’s mixed things up all
wrong. One thing’s certain sure, the person that killed King has got
a lot of enemies in this village an’ a lot of eyes workin’ against
him.’
‘But that hasn’t solved the mystery--or found Sylvia yet,’ said Ruel.
‘No, and I say let’s _do_ something, get busy. This talking will
never get us anywhere.’
‘Don’t be too sure of that, my man. There’s times to act an’ times to
talk, an’ most of us do a whole lot more talkin’ than actin’, so it
stands to reason discussin’ ain’t always a waste of time. Personally,
I guess I’ve learned lots since I came here to-day.’
Sewell got slowly to his feet and yawned, kicking out one leg after
the other to increase the circulation after his cramped position.
‘Basil, you go crank up my auto out there an’ we’ll amble up to the
house for another look around by daylight. There’s a couple of places
I want to see now it ain’t rainin’. I’ll be along soon as I hear the
thing goin’.’
The inspector fumbled with the key, inserting it in the outside of
the lock and delaying until Basil had gone. Then he turned back to
Ruel.
‘Just what was you thinkin’ back there a spell when he said he was
standin’ waitin’ outside the window? I saw you had somethin’ on your
mind.’
For a moment Ruel hesitated, then looked Sewell straight in the eyes
as he answered: ‘I thought it was unimportant--kept still rather
than--well, than appear to be throwing suspicion on a man’s word. I
guess he forgot, but he was not on the right of the window and not
standing still. I know because I took a couple of steps down the
slope on the left when I came out. He met me there and he’d been
running or something, as he was breathing fast.’
‘Hmm. You did right, tellin’ me, son. Now why should he have said he
was standin’ still waitin’?’
‘I don’t know, but I don’t think he meant it as an attempt to cover
up some--some guilty act.’
‘Maybe not, but he kind of made a point of it, seems to me.--Well,
don’t forget, Ruel, I expect to hear everythin’ like that as may
come to your mind, see? Little details turn out big, you know, quite
often.’
At that moment the telephone bell rang and Pete answered it, received
some message evidently, for the receiver clicked down again after a
brief pause without his making any remark. Then Pete shuffled out of
the office with a chuckle and addressed his superior familiarly.
‘Message for you, Ruel,’ he grinned again, ‘an’ one for you, Ez.’
‘Not--not Miss Hawley----’
‘About her, yep. She’s back, Ruel.’
‘Thank God. Where was she? Is she all right?’
‘Yep, so Mrs. B. says.’
‘Ellen B.?’ interrupted Sewell. ‘What did she say? Give it plain an’
literal, Pete.’
‘She says--“Tell Ruel Moore I’ve found Sylvia. She’s shook up a bit,
but she’s safe an’ all right now.”’
‘But where--where was she?’
‘Don’t know, Ruel. All else she says was--“An’ if Inspector Sewell
wants to know where she was, tell him for me it was where any one
with sense, especially an inspector like him, would have looked first
thing.”’
‘Hump. I notice she didn’t look there herself--first thing,’ grunted
Sewell testily. ‘Why didn’t you hold on to the wire, Pete?’
‘’Twasn’t no use when she hung up, Ez. Guess I know Ellen B.!’
A loud report and chugging from the yard announced that the auto was
ready to perform its duty. Sewell slammed the cell gate and, ignoring
Ruel’s pleas to be allowed to accompany him, stamped hurriedly away.