THE PRODIGAL RETURNS
Inspector Sewell was late in keeping his appointment with Basil that
morning; in fact, he almost forgot it entirely. He had stepped out
for a brief walk and had become so absorbed in speculations over
the murder that he had gone much farther than he intended. When he
arrived at the jail, however, he found Basil cheerfully talking with
Pete, his assistant.
‘Sorry to be so late, Stacey,’ apologized Sewell with a friendly nod.
‘I kind of lost track of time for a bit, I guess.’
‘Hard on the trail, eh?--Well, I’ve been well entertained by Pete
here,’ grinned Basil.
‘Good. Then you ain’t really missed me much. Pete’s some talker, I
know, an’ some folks say he’s my only rival in that line.--But that
ain’t neither hare nor hound. Seein’ as I kept you waitin’ so long,
I’ll just ask you to stay to dinner with me to make up, if you’d like
to.’
‘Decidedly. It’ll be the first time I ever ate in or accepted an
invitation to a jail, Sewell.--My suit is fortunately striped, so I
guess I’m already dressed for the part!’
Sewell laughed heartily at the joke, dismissing Pete with a nod
and settling down to a comfortable smoke. Under guise of a general
conversation he probed Basil about his business, displaying an
unexpected knowledge of financial matters. Basil expanded readily,
in fact, almost succeeded in making a sale of some speculative stocks
to the inspector. It was not definitely closed, however, Sewell
deciding with Yankee caution to sleep on the matter. Then the latter
began to prepare the meal, taking Basil into his small kitchen while
he cooked with appetizing skill and lack of effort.
Over the food the conversation veered around to the affair of the
murder, when Basil abruptly asked Sewell if he hadn’t forgotten to
feed his prisoner, Ruel.
‘Oh, I’ll tend to him later. It don’t do him no harm to wait a bit.
About all a man in a cell has to think over is his next meal, an’
they say anticipatin’ is better than gettin’, you know.’
‘I see. And a little hunger sometimes loosens a man’s tongue, eh?’
Sewell nodded and winked slyly.
‘Don’t do no harm, anyways. But I thought as you was a friend of his.
Sounds like you kind of expected him to confess to somethin’.’
‘I do--and I don’t, Sewell. I’ve been thinking over matters a lot
recently, and it seems inevitable--his having something to do with
it at least. I know you must feel the same way or you wouldn’t keep
him a prisoner.--As to his being a friend of mine--well, it’s hard
to express myself clearly. He is, in a casual sort of way, mostly
because he was a friend of King’s.’
‘An’ Miss Hawley’s?’ added Sewell suggestively.
A faint but unmistakable frown momentarily crossed Basil’s face.
‘Of course.--You understand I like him myself too. He always seemed
a solid kind of man, if you know what I mean, not exactly quick and
keen, but quiet, almost to the point of dullness in comparison with
the people I know. I suppose that’s the New-Englandism of him.’
‘Maybe, though he ain’t always lived in these parts an’ he’s been to
college. Guess he would make a kind of hard man to beat in anythin’
he really wanted.’
‘Some things, but not others,’ smiled Basil assuredly. ‘Perhaps
it’s just that he doesn’t seem to fit in with King’s other friends,
in a way. But what I’m getting at is this. As far as I can see,
all the evidence points to him and it’s only his denials and half
explanations that oppose it. I’d be the last man to suspect him of
guilt myself, yet he must be guilty until proved innocent, to twist
the phrase, and that doesn’t look very promising of accomplishment.’
‘But suppose he was shieldin’ some one else?’ put in Sewell.
‘Some one else?--You don’t mean--Sylvia?’
‘I certain sure do.’
‘That’s ridiculous. It only goes to show his method of insinuation if
he’s been trying to throw suspicion that way on an innocent person.
Confidentially, that’s one of the reasons I don’t like him, Sewell.
He doesn’t seem to know his place at times, assumes liberties, if you
know what I mean. I’m afraid it’s rank jealousy.’
‘You mean you an’ her?’
‘Between ourselves, yes. We have an--er--understanding.’
‘I see. That sort of clears up some things a bit,’ mused Sewell
aloud. ‘It makes some of his remarks kind of more forceful an’ I’m
glad you warned me.’
‘It wasn’t a pleasant duty, but after all I’m glad you know.’ Basil’s
manner was quite convincingly relieved, though his smile was a trifle
smug.
‘Now there’s one or two questions I’d like to ask you as might be
important in that connection. First off, when he came out of the room
after the play, you was standin’ there by the window.--Which side was
it?’
‘On the right as you face the window from the outside. I remember
that distinctly.’
‘An’ you’d just been standin’ there all the time?’
‘Exactly--waiting for him.’
‘That’s that. Now the other thing’s about the burglary business when
those papers was taken. You don’t remember anythin’ about them?
Seems queer, because Ruel was here in jail an’ if he was the guilty
party----’
‘But the two don’t necessarily have any relation, surely.’
‘Some one took advantage of King’s death to get them papers, seems
like to me.’
‘Coincidence! Besides, the thief was an outsider, so might have done
it without even knowing King was dead.’
‘Maybe, but I doubt it.--You don’t know any one as wanted any of his
papers, then?’
Basil shook his head silently, but did not meet Sewell’s gaze.
‘Well, now, I tell you what we’ll do. I’ve kind of got a scheme. You
sneak out into the next cell to Ruel’s when I open the door into the
corridor, an’ listen while I ask some questions, see? Better step
right inside the cell in case he comes close to the bars, because you
can hear just as good an’ won’t be seen. You listen close, an’ later
we’ll compare notes, see?’
Basil fell in with the plan eagerly. When Sewell opened the door and
motioned to him, Basil dodged into the empty cell, drawing its door
almost closed behind him and listening as Sewell stepped to Ruel’s
cell, calling gruffly, ‘Now, prisoner, I’ve decided we’ll have a
little show-down an’ get back of some of this lyin’. Not one bite
more food do you get, my man, until you tell the truth an’ the whole
of it, see? There’s ways of makin’ a man tell the truth, an’ I’d
advise you not to make me use too many of ’em.’
Basil waited for a response, pressing against the bars to listen. He
scarcely noticed the slight click as the lock snapped into place,
but Sewell was listening for it. Suddenly the inspector stepped down
closer to the bars of Basil’s cell.
‘You heard what I said?’ he called.
Basil nodded silently, thinking it was a double question both for
his and Ruel’s benefit, but he was surprised when Sewell continued,
addressing him directly:
‘Good land, Stacey, you’ve locked yourself in there an’ I can’t get
you out. The key’s mislaid!’
Basil stared at him helplessly, scarcely comprehending what this
situation might mean.
‘But you must!’ he cried, his voice raised sharply as he tugged at
the bars. ‘I refuse to stay cooped up in this----’
‘Oh, you ain’t exactly a prisoner, young man, if that’s what you
mean. Of course I haven’t got any right nor reason to keep you
against your will, only you see I can’t let you out without a key,
can I?’ There was a hint of mockery in his tone that did not escape
Basil. ‘You should have gone into the other cell, anyway. Guess you
must have made a mistake again about your directions.’
‘Directions? You told me to come here and if you don’t----’
‘Hold on. It don’t seem as if I’d instruct you to lock yourself in a
cell without a key, now, does it? Besides, if you got into the wrong
one, I’m not so surprised, though I can’t see why a man should get
all confused over which is his right an’ which his left hand. But
there have been cases. Take a man I know, for instance, who stands on
the left of a window, yet insists it was the right. You’d think he’d
know better, wouldn’t you?’
‘What do you mean? What are you babbling about?’ yelled Basil, but
the color came and went in his cheeks with great rapidity.
‘An’ since it looks as if you’d have to stay here a bit till I get
somethin’ to let you out with--them bars are mighty stout--here’s
another little puzzle you might kind of think over for somethin’ to
occupy your mind. When I come back, we’ll talk it over some more,
perhaps. You see I’m sort of wonderin’ about a certain man I know. He
committed a theft of some papers like, an’ sent ’em away by mail----’
‘You mean to insinuate I----You’re keeping me here illegally for----’
‘Hold on, Stacey. No need to get all roiled up that way. I ain’t
said no names at all, have I? I was just explainin’ some interestin’
ideas of mine an’ you seem to think they fit you so well you’re
denyin’ ’em all! As to keepin’ you here, that ain’t my fault. I
didn’t lock you up or anythin’, did I? It was just an accident like.
Of course I can’t hold you even if I’d wanted to. But knowin’ you’re
so anxious to help out in this mystery, maybe you’ll overlook any
inconvenience of bein’ here--until I can find that key to let you
out, see? Meanwhile, I guessed you’d like somethin’ to think about
an’ pass the time.’
Sewell’s words were apologetic, but his tone was not sincere, so that
their double meaning was obvious. Basil was not a prisoner, yet he
might be held there until he satisfied Sewell’s purpose and would
have no cause for objection later. He began to storm and bluster, but
the inspector turned away, muttering that he had better set about
looking for that key. Then Basil called aloud to Ruel to witness his
plight, but when he received no answer, Sewell poked his head in the
corridor door for a final gibe.
‘Guess you won’t get no response out of Ruel just now. Maybe you’d
like to figure out why!’ Then he closed the door with a bang and
sat down to think. That his ruse would quickly scare a confession
from Basil he felt certain, but that this confession would prove
of little real value he also felt decided. From his talk with this
man and a study of his character, Sewell had evolved a theory that
quite plausibly explained everything. Basil was greedy--a sharper
in business. He had stolen back some stocks which, if found, would
somehow react to his loss or discredit. That accounted for the
robbery.
As to the rest, he did not seem either cunning or brainy enough to
have planned and executed this murder. His presence on the wrong
side of the window when Ruel came out, no doubt had some simple
explanation. Also his attitude toward Miss Hawley was quite clear.
He was trying to force her into marriage to obtain King’s legacy.
He had spoken of an ‘understanding,’ had acted confidently, but not
until to-day. Obviously he had been talking to her, probably held
some threat over her. This would account for her strangely upset and
nervous condition.
Sewell’s contemplations had reached this point when they were
suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Judge Brant, who had just
returned on the afternoon train from Boston. He was quite red in the
face and excited.
‘Just dropped in for a little call, Sewell,’ he began, glancing about
the room quickly.
‘Glad to see you, Judge. Sit down. I was wantin’ to have a talk with
you,’ answered Sewell, noting his eagerness questioningly. ‘Been to
the city? Have a good trip?’
‘Yes, quite an interesting one,’ said the Judge, sticking a cigar in
the corner of his mouth and preferring to chew it rather than light
it. ‘How is the case progressing, Inspector?’
‘Slow, slow. But things are headin’ up some.’
‘And how is your prisoner?’
‘Prisoner? Well, he’s kind of restless, but I gave him somethin’ to
occupy his mind for a bit.’
‘He’s still in his cell, of course?’
‘Locked up, snug as you please.’
‘Then I’d like to see him for a moment.’
‘Now, Judge, don’t know as I can allow that,’ answered Sewell without
change of expression, but becoming alert. ‘Don’t see as that would be
policy just now.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, you see he’s a guilty man, one that’s under suspicion, at
least, an’ not one to receive callers. Besides, you’re sort of an
interested party an’ that makes it bad.’
‘Interested in finding the murderer, yes. But I want to see your
prisoner for a minute.’
‘Then I’ve got to know why, Judge. Don’t seem to me you’d have any
real important reason for seein’ him as I can figure out.’
‘Oh, I won’t speak to him if you forbid that,’ answered the judge
rather testily.
‘Hm. Then why disturb him at all?’
‘Why? I’ll tell you why. Because I don’t believe he’s there at all!
You’re lying to me, Sewell, and I’m dissatisfied with the way you’re
handling this affair. I almost hired a real detective to-day, and now
I’m sorry I didn’t!’
‘You mean to say you don’t believe I have a prisoner?’ remarked
Sewell, apparently not at all disturbed by this accusation. ‘But I
swear he’s there safe an’ sound.’
‘Then why this hesitation about letting me prove it for myself?’
‘An’ if I might say the same to you, why this sudden notion of yours
that he ain’t?’
‘Because I’ve seen him with my own eyes--in Boston, that’s why!’
Sewell was not entirely unprepared for this answer, so he was able
to conceal his thoughts. It complicated matters quite badly. The
judge was suspicious and antagonistic. It would be hard to explain
matters to him without either drawing in Mrs. Bascom, which would be
disastrous in every way, or without further exposing himself to the
charge of incompetence in his official capacity. His eyes flitted
about the room for an instant, paused at the open window behind the
judge’s back, then returned to his accuser’s face placidly.
‘Sure you weren’t mistaken in thinkin’ you saw Ruel in Boston?’ His
voice was unnecessarily loud and sharp.
‘Positive. I met him almost face to face, but was so astonished he
slipped away before I could think to call the police.’
‘Queer. Seems like it must have been his double, then.’
‘Why not prove it without further hedging?’ snapped the judge puffing
to his feet with determination.
‘All right, I will, seein’ as you insist,’ said Sewell, standing up
in turn. ‘We’ll go in there,’ he motioned with his thumb toward the
closed door into the cell corridor, ‘an’ I’ll prove you’re wrong.
But first I’ve got a question or two to ask you myself, Judge. If
you don’t mind comin’ into my bedroom so there’s no chance of bein’
overheard, I’d like to tell you somethin’ confidential, an’ then I’ll
prove Ruel is there in his cell all right.’
His assurance nettled the judge, but he nodded assent briefly. Sewell
led the way into the inner room and closed the door behind him.
‘Now, then, Judge, you’re accusin’ me of bein’ slow. Well, maybe
I have been, but I’ve heard some things, right enough--more’n I’d
have heard by threatenin’ an’ accusin’ people right and left. For
instance, I’ve got the knife as was used to kill King; I know who did
the thievin’ after his death; I know how the murder was done exactly,
where the man stood----’
‘The man or the woman,’ interrupted the judge. Though obviously
impressed by Sewell’s manner and words, he appeared equally innocent
of any foreknowledge of these facts.
‘No, I said “man.” You’re basin’ too much on Miss Hawley’s attitude
about things.’
‘Wait. Since you know so much, let me add something you haven’t
learned. There is more than mere suspicion about that will which
makes me mistrust her.--The night of the theft, now. You rather
convinced me that Mrs. Bascom did not go to my room, but some
one else did, of that I was sure. Again, King had told me of his
intention to redraw his will, leaving a more generous share of his
estate to her, that is, Miss Hawley, but certainly not all of it.
That kept recurring to my mind unpleasantly. Of course she had access
to his papers, so--to cut directly to the point--I searched her room
on the chance of finding something further. I also searched Mrs.
Bascom’s. In Miss Hawley’s, I did find something--quite interesting.’
He paused for a too obvious dramatic effect, rather overdoing it.
‘I found a draft of that will King had spoken about--the one
containing her legacy. It was signed by him, but not witnessed,
hence not legal. And that’s not all. It was hand-written in the
same ink as the one used in the play, and was almost exactly the
same in provisions as his former will except for this new bequest.
That proves he really meant it to stand and that this play one was
somehow a mistake, see?--Now, why was Miss Hawley concealing this and
insisting on the probating of the false one? Answer me that!’
The inspector shook his head gravely; he could not answer it.
‘One thing more. Whatever Miss Hawley’s reasons are for acting this
way, I’m firmly convinced Mrs. Bascom not only is aware of them, but
is abetting her. I’ve noticed many little things and I’m positive
they understand each other.’
‘Perhaps I agree with you there, Judge. Anyway, I thank you for
tellin’ me this, an’ I think it’ll help quite a lot.’
‘How? I don’t see.’
‘Nor I either--definitely. But I’ve got a plan to try out an’, unless
I miss my guess, I’ll know quite a lot more before night.’
‘You mean you have a concrete suspicion? If so, why don’t you _do_
something.’
‘I’m goin’ to, only knowin’ some things an’ people as I do, it don’t
seem wise to be too hasty about it. I think----Hold on, there’s the
telephone.’
Sewell opened the door into the office, inwardly thankful for the
interruption. He took down the receiver and before he could speak a
woman’s voice challenged him.
‘That you, Ezra Sewell?’
‘Certain sure, Ellen B.’
‘I want to talk with you. It’s something important I have to tell.’
‘About time,’ answered Sewell cheerfully, ‘only better not say it
over the ’phone if it’s important.’
‘When will you be up here?’ she cut in, ignoring his provocative
taunt on her common sense.
‘Soon as I can, Ellen.’
The receiver clicked in his ear. It must be truly important, thought
Sewell, for she had sounded quite humble and disturbed, had not
flashed back at him at all. Probably she had discovered the loss of
the knife, eh?
‘Now, then, Judge, if you want to see the prisoner with your own
eyes, come along,’ said Sewell aloud. He opened the door into the
corridor and pointed to Ruel’s cell.
Judge Brant stepped forward and looked in at the barred door. There
lay a man on the cot, apparently asleep. At that moment, however, he
stirred, twisting his head slightly around so that the judge could
see his face. It was Ruel! The skepticism faded from the judge’s face
as he turned to Sewell with a nod.
‘I’m satisfied, though I could have sworn that was Ruel in Boston.’
At the sound of his voice, Basil suddenly appeared in his cell,
then quickly drew back again. His first impulse had been to call
out, but he checked it. After all, he did not wish to announce
his predicament, make it worse by explaining himself to the judge
unnecessarily. But as soon as he had heard the judge leave the jail,
Basil called to Sewell, who came to his cell at once.
‘Has he gone?’
‘Who, Judge Brant? Yep, he’s gone.’
‘Then listen, Sewell. I swear to you this is gospel truth. I did
take some papers from the drawer of King’s desk. They were an--an
unfortunate investment I’d made for him--some stocks, you see. I
mailed them to my office, as you evidently found out somehow, in
order to rectify the error. I swear he--or rather his heir--won’t
lose by it. They were technically my stocks, in a way, and I----’
‘Never mind tryin’ to excuse yourself, Stacey. You admit you took
’em.--An’ you don’t know nothin’ else about his death?’
‘On my word of honor--no.’
‘What about that matter of bein’ on the wrong side of the window
after the play?’
‘I’d been trying to get those stocks then. While Ruel was carrying on
the play, I ran to the house, knowing no one would be there. But the
drawer was locked and I hadn’t time to get the stocks. I hurried back
just as Ruel came out.’
‘Didn’t notice anythin’ else? How did you come back, which way, I
mean?’
‘Around the front of the barn and up the hill. It was the quicker
way.’
‘Didn’t happen to notice anythin’ unusual--toward the back, say?’
‘Not a thing. What do you mean?’
‘Never mind.--Guess I believe you this time, Stacey, only take
warnin’. It don’t pay to tell fibs. You always get found out an’
maybe get into bad trouble.’
Basil’s mind was taken up at that moment with something more
important to him.
‘Have you found the key yet?’ he asked anxiously.
‘The key? Well, now, seems as if I’d just thought of where it might
be!’
Sewell shuffled away to return a moment later and unlock the door.
Immediately Basil stepped out with a sigh of relief.
‘There’s no need for any one to know about--about this business and
my being shut up here, is there, Sewell?’
‘Maybe not. Can’t tell yet. But I’d kind of advise you to stay pretty
close to King’s house for the next day or two, Stacey.’
‘Don’t worry. I will. I’m afraid not to--now.’ He glanced curiously
in at the sleeping Ruel. ‘I’ve got a lot more sympathy for him after
this experience.’
Sewell chuckled mildly, but made no reply as Basil hurried out of
the jail, anxious to get as far away from it as possible. As soon as
he had left the corridor, Ruel opened one eye experimentally, then
jumped to his feet.
‘Gosh a’mighty, Ruel, I’m glad to see you again,’ exclaimed Sewell
fervently. ‘Give me the key so I can come in.--It was kind of nip an’
tuck for a while back there. When I saw you peekin’ in at the window,
while I was stallin’ the judge, I almost let out a yell an’ spoiled
it all. An’ I’m glad you took the hint an’ snuck in here.’
‘I was on the same train with him,’ explained Ruel. ‘I knew he’d seen
me in Boston and I’d completed my job, anyway.’
‘Didn’t find what she’d sent you for, eh?’
‘She?--Then you know?--But I did, Ez. I found out King had lived in
Boston, only--well, I hated to dig up his past, Ez, once I found its
trail. It may establish a motive, but, for God’s sake, let’s leave
his past buried otherwise.’
‘As bad as that, Ruel?’
‘Yes.’ Slowly he withdrew a photograph, and some papers covered with
penciled writing from his pocket, placed them before the inspector,
then began his story in a low, vibrant tone.