THE HIGHWAYMAN'S MASK IS FOUND
Burton had jumped to his feet. "Let me help you to a couch," he said,
offering his arm as a support. "Not into this room," Dr. Underwood
sputtered, wincing with pain as he spoke. "Good land, man, do you
suppose a man with a sprained ankle who isn't going to be able to walk
for the rest of his natural life, and then will have to go on crutches
for a while, wants to sit down on one of those spindle-legged chairs
that break if you look at them? Get me into the surgery. And Leslie,
if you have an atom of filial feeling, you might show him the way
instead of standing there like a classical figure of despair on a
monument smiling at a bloody temple. I'm ashamed of you. Where's your
equanimity? Ouch! Jerusalem! Sante Fe! You don't need to try to carry
me, man. I can walk. Leslie, if you haven't any religious scruples
against really opening the door while you are about it, perhaps
this procession could get through without scraping the skin off its
elbows,--"
Burton had slipped his shoulder under the doctor's arm, and, guided by
Leslie, he got him through a hall which seemed interminably long, and
into the room which he had called the surgery. Burton helped him to
the leathern couch.
"Get me some hot water," he said in a hasty aside to Leslie, and she
quickly left the room.
He stripped off Dr. Underwood's shoe, and began to manipulate the
swollen ankle.
"This isn't going to be serious," he said soothingly. "It's merely a
strain, not a dislocation. It will be painful for a while,--"
"Will be! Jerusalem, what do you think it is now? You are a doctor."
"No. But I have had some experience with accidents. If you want me to
go for a doctor,--"
"You are all I can stand at present, thank you. I know you are a
doctor by your confounded nerve. Will be painful! I wish it were your
ankle, confound you. And I'll never grumble again when my patients
swear at me. I never realized before what a relief it is to swear at
your doctor. How did you happen to be here? I suppose it was an
accident and not a special dispensation of Providence."
"I was the bearer of a message to your daughter, and so happened to be
on hand at the right moment, that's all. My name is Burton,--Hugh
Burton, Putney, Massachusetts."
"A message? From whom? What about?"
"There, doesn't that begin to feel more comfortable?"
"Humph! That's a neat way of telling me to mind my own business."
Burton merely laughed. "Let me look at this cut in your temple. So!
Any more damages?"
"My little finger was knocked out of joint, but I think I put it back.
I guess that's all they had time to get in,--"
"Who?"
The sharp monosyllable made them both start. Leslie had returned with
Mrs. Bussey, who was carrying a kettle of hot water; but in her
surprise at her father's remark, she was very effectively blocking the
way for the timid servant.
"Leslie, your curiosity unfits you for any useful career," her father
exclaimed, with a great show of irritation. "Do you suppose Dr. Burton
wanted that hot water to meliorate the temperature of the room? If so,
it will probably be just as well to keep Mrs. Bussey holding it in the
doorway; but if you think he possibly meant to use it as a
fomentation,--"
"You needn't think you are going to put me off in that way," said
Leslie, making way for Mrs. Bussey. "I am just as sorry as I can be
that you are hurt, you know, but that isn't all. I want to know what
has happened now."
"Dr. Burton assures me it is merely a strain, though he goes so far as
to admit that if I make the worst of it, I may be able to imagine that
it hurts. But of course it doesn't really. It will merely be nerves."
"Can I help you with that hot application, Mr. Burton?" Leslie asked.
"Mrs. Bussey can do this. Do you know where to find some
court-plaster? And scissors?"
She got the required articles deftly, and watched in silence while he
dressed the doctor's temple. Then she asked: "May he talk now?"
"I should not undertake to prevent him."
"Now, father,--"
"Well, those little imps of Satan that live in that tumble-down house
on King Street, where you went Friendly Visiting,--"
"The Sprigg children?"
"That's the name. They have heard Aristides called the unjust so long
that they thought they would throw a stone or two to mark their ennui,
but they misunderstood the use of the stone, and so they threw it at
me instead of for me--"
"Do you mean that they stoned you?"
"Oh, I shouldn't have minded the little devils, but they threw stones
at Dolly, and they might easily have broken her leg. That's what made
me jump out of the buggy to go after them, because I thought they
needed a lesson, but I jumped on one of their infernal stones and it
turned my foot and that's how I twisted my ankle. So I got back into
the buggy, and was glad I didn't have far to go to get to it. Then I
came on home. I never knew that walk from the street to the front door
was so long."
"But your face--?"
"Oh, that was one of the stones that flew wide of the mark. The little
heathen don't know how to throw straight. They ought to be kept under
an apple-tree with nothing to eat until they learn how to bring down
their dinner with the first throw."
Leslie clenched her hands.
"It is outrageous. I don't see how you can treat it so lightly. That
they should dare to stone you,--to try deliberately to hurt you,
perhaps to kill you! Oh, they would never dare if it were not for this
shameful, unendurable, wicked persecution!"
"Leslie, after the example which I have always carefully given you of
moderation in language,--"
"It is wicked. It is unendurable. I feel as though I were in a net
that was drawing closer and closer about me. It is the secrecy of it
that makes me wild. If I could only fight back! But to have some one
watching in the dark, and not to know who or what it is,--to suspect
everybody,--"
"Leslie, don't you realize that Dr. Burton will think you delirious if
you talk like this? If you are jealous of my temporary prominence as
an interesting patient,--"
Leslie turned swiftly to Burton.
"My father has been made the object of a most infamous persecution by
some unknown person. The most outrageous stories are circulated about
him, the most unjustifiable things are done,--like this. Those
children don't go around stoning people in general; they have been put
up to it by some one who is always watching a chance,--some one who
has used them as an instrument for his malice!"
"You must make some allowance for the intemperate zeal of a daughter,
Dr. Burton," said Dr. Underwood. A twinge of pain twisted his smile
into a grimace. He had a wide, flexible mouth, and when he grinned he
looked a caricature. Burton reflected that a man must be sustained by
an unusually strong consciousness of virtue to risk his character on
such a grin,--or else it was the very mockery of virtue.
"Then you think Miss Underwood overstates the case?" he asked
thoughtfully. He was glad to have them talk about the matter. It was a
curious situation, even without considering its possible effect on
Philip's life.
"Well, I have seen too many queer things that turned out to be mere
coincidences to be so sure that there is really a conspiracy against
me," Underwood said quietly. "Public opinion is a queer thing. It
takes epidemics. At present it seems to have an epidemic of suspicion
of me. It will probably run its course and recover."
"What form does it take?"
"The latest and for the time being the most embarrassing form is that
it takes me for a highwayman. I have been pretty hard up at times, but
I confess I never had the originality to think of that method of
relieving my necessities. And yet, confound the sarcasm of the idiots,
they are determined to give me the discredit without the cash. If I
had only got Selby's money,--I've no doubt he got it by holding up his
customers in his turn,--I wouldn't mind these innuendoes so much."
"Oh, well, so long as the Grand Jury doesn't think it worth
mentioning, you can probably afford to take it with equal
indifference," said Burton lightly.
But Leslie turned upon him with immediate dissent.
"I should much rather have the matter taken up and sifted to the
bottom. Then there might be some chance of finding out who is behind
all these mysterious happenings. They don't happen of themselves. As
it is, there is talk, and suspicion, and sidelong looks, and general
ostracism, and I go around hating everybody, because I don't know whom
to hate! Oh, if I were only a man! I would do something."
"I have done something now, Leslie," said her father. "I have invited
a committee to come here this evening and make a search, as those fool
bills suggested."
"This evening?"
"Yes. You will have to do the honors, if I am going to be laid up. I
don't suppose your mother will care to see them. And Henry is not
exactly the one." A shadow passed over his face, and he fell suddenly
silent.
"What do you mean by a search, if I may ask?" Burton put in. They were
so frank in their attitude, he felt that his interest would not be
regarded as an impertinence.
"Why, ever since this rumor went abroad that I had held up Selby,
there have been handbills distributed about town,--posted up on fences
and thrust in open doors,--urging that my house be searched. It got on
Leslie's nerves. So, just to let her see that something was doing, I
told them today to come and search, and be hanged to them."
"And they are coming this evening?"
"Yes. That's the plan."
"Is Selby one of them?" asked Burton with sudden interest.
"Oh, yes. He's the one I spoke to about it. I understand he takes an
interest in the matter."
"Well, have you made ready for them?"
"What do you mean?" asked Dr. Underwood.
"Have you searched yourself?" laughed Burton.
"I don't understand you," said Dr. Underwood. His tone was stern, and
his manner indicated plainly that he considered it a matter of
politeness not to understand.
"Mrs. Bussey, may I trouble you to bring some more hot water? This is
getting too cold. Thank you." He closed the door behind her, and came
back to Dr. Underwood's couch. "It seems to me my suggestion is
perfectly simple and the reason for it perfectly obvious. Some enemy
is urging that your house be searched. I say enemy, because it must be
clear that no friend would urge it in that manner. Now, if it is an
enemy, he is not doing it for your benefit. He must have an idea that
a search would injure you. How could he have that idea unless he knew
that it would result in discovering something that, we will say for
the sake of argument, he had previously concealed where it would be
found at the right time? And here you are walking right into the trap,
by inviting a public search without taking the precaution to make a
preliminary search yourself."
Leslie had listened with breathless eagerness, never moving her eyes
from Burton's face. Now she turned with earnest reproach to her
father.
"Now, father!" she said.
Dr. Underwood shook his head impatiently. "Do you mean that you would
have me ask them to come here to make a search, and then look the
place over first and remove anything that they might think
incriminating? That would be a farce. I should be ashamed of myself."
Leslie turned her reproachful eyes upon Burton.
"Of course," she said, with that same earnestness.
Burton laughed. "Why, what nonsense! Beautiful nonsense, if you will,
but utter nonsense, all the same. According to your own account, you
are dealing with some unscrupulous person who is trying to turn
suspicion upon you. Why should you help him? He certainly wouldn't be
trying to bring about an investigation unless it would help on his
purpose,--assuming that he has the purpose Miss Underwood attributes
to him."
Dr. Underwood moved restlessly.
"I should feel mighty cheap," he said.
"Do you happen to have one of those handbills you speak of about?"
asked Burton.
"There's one on the mantel. Give it to him, Leslie."
Burton crossed to the mantel and picked up the paper. It was a single
sheet, typewritten. It read: "Search Underwood's rooms. You will find
proof."
"These have been distributed generally?"
"Not many at a time, but a few one place one night and another place
the next night. Every day since that damnable hold-up, I have heard
directly or indirectly that some one has received or seen some such
notice."
Burton's eye wandered around the room. "When they come, I suppose they
will begin here. This is the room where you would be most likely to
conceal the evidence of your crimes, I take it. Now, let me consider
where you would hide it. There might be a hiding place beneath the
bricks in front of the fireplace, or behind some of the loose tiles
back of the mantel. I see that one book has recently been disturbed in
that set of medical encyclopedias,--the dust on the shelf shows it.
Did you put something behind it?"
Laughingly he pulled out the volume he had indicated, and with it a
handkerchief which had been thrust behind it. He shook it out, and
then he laughed no more. There were two holes cut in the handkerchief
for eyelets, and the wrinkled corners showed that it had been knotted
hard, as a kerchief that had been tied over a man's face would have
been.
"Santa Fe!" gasped Dr. Underwood, wrinkling up his face in one of his
peculiar grimaces. It served to conceal his emotions as effectively as
a mask.
Leslie sprang to her feet and stared hard at the rag, with a
fascinated look. She had unconsciously clasped her hands together, and
there was a look of fright in her eyes.
"Now do you see?" she cried. "That's the sort of thing we have to
expect all the time."
Burton crushed the kerchief in his hand. "A very crude device. Your
committee would have to be very special fools to believe that a man
would preserve such a damning piece of evidence when there was a
fireplace in the room, and matches were presumably within reach. Shall
I burn it up?"
"No," said Dr. Underwood suddenly. "Give it to me. I feel in honor
bound to show it to the committee and tell them just how and where it
was found."
Burton shrugged his shoulders. "I am rather inclined to believe that
you need a business manager, my dear Dr. Quixote."
The door opened and the gray-haired woman whom Burton had seen reading
in the garden entered the room. Her composure was so insistent that
Burton felt suddenly convicted of foolish excitability.
"Mrs. Bussey understood that you had been hurt," she said, going up to
the couch and looking down calmly at the doctor.
Dr. Underwood squirmed. "Yes, Angelica, some sin or other has found me
out, I suppose, for I have hurt my ankle. This is Mr. Burton, who
happened to be on hand to take the place of Providence."
Mrs. Underwood acknowledged Burton's bow with a slight inclination of
the head, but with no slightest indication of curiosity. She sat down
beside her husband's couch and thoughtfully placed her finger on his
pulse.
"Land of the living, Angelica, my ankle hasn't gone to my heart,"
muttered Dr. Underwood, with some impatience.
Leslie spoke aside to Burton.
"What can we do? It isn't this thing only; this is just an instance.
You don't know how horrible it is to have the feeling that some enemy
is watching you in the dark. And my father is not practical,--you see
that. We have no friends left!"
"That is not so," he said quickly.
"You mean that you will help him?" she asked eagerly. "Oh, if you
would! There is no one to whom I can turn for advice."
It was not exactly what he had meant, but he recognized at once that
it was what he should have meant. If ever there were two babes in the
wood, needing the kind attentions of a worldly and unoccupied robin--!
Aside from that, if this girl were going to marry into the Overman
family, he certainly owed it to Rachel to see that she came with a
clean family record, if any efforts that he could make would establish
a fact that should have been beyond question from the first.
"Let me be present this evening, when this committee comes," he said,
slowly. "I will consider the matter and tell you what I think I can
do, after I have seen and heard them."
"Stay and dine with us, then," she said quickly. "That will give me a
chance to tell you some of the other things that have happened,--the
things that father would like to call coincidences but that I know are
all parts of one iniquitous conspiracy."
"Thank you, I shall be glad to," he answered. "If I am going to
undertake this case, I certainly want all the facts that have any
bearing upon it."
Leslie turned quickly to her mother.
"Mother, Mr. Burton will stay for dinner."
Mrs. Underwood had risen and she turned her calm eyes from her husband
to Leslie. "Will he?" she said placidly. Then she drew her shawl about
her shoulders and walked out of the room.
Leslie exchanged a look with her father.
"I'll speak to Mrs. Bussey," she said, and with one of her
characteristically swift movements, she crossed the room and threw
open the door which led to the rear of the house.
"Why, Mrs. Bussey!" she exclaimed, with surprise and annoyance. That
faithful servant, doubtless on the theory that her further attendance
might be required, had been crouching so close to the door that the
sudden opening of it left her sitting like a blinking mandarin in the
open doorway. She rose somewhat stiffly to her feet, and turned a
reproachful look upon her young mistress. Leslie shut the door with
some emphasis, as she went out to the housekeeper's domain.
Dr. Underwood laughed softly.
"Poor old soul, it's hard on one with such an appetite for news to get
nothing but the crumbs that float through the keyhole. I'm mighty glad
that you are going to stay, Doctor."
"Thank you. But your giving me that title makes me uncomfortable. I am
not a physician. I'm afraid I am not much of anything but a
dilettante."
"You are a good Samaritan to come to the rescue of the outcast," said
the doctor. "Perhaps you didn't know what an outcast I am,--or did
you?" he added keenly, warned by some subtle change in Burton's face.
"On the contrary, I thought when I saw your patience to your servant
that you were the good Samaritan," said Burton quickly. This old man
was so sharp that it was dangerous to think before him!
The doctor's manner changed. "The poor woman is a fool, but she can't
help that," he said. "We keep her for the sake of her son. Ben is a
cripple,--paralyzed from a spinal injury. He has no other home. Are
you to be in High Ridge for some time?"
"That will depend on circumstances. By the way, Miss Underwood has
asked me to be present this evening when the committee comes. If you
have any objection--"
Dr. Underwood looked quietly at the young man for a moment before
replying. When he spoke, it was with courtesy in his tone, but he made
no apology for his hesitation.
"Not in the least. You will put me under further obligations by
staying. Anyhow, if Leslie has asked you to stay, I know my place too
well to object. Did you meet Leslie in Washington?"
"I never had the pleasure of meeting Miss Underwood before, but I have
heard a great deal of her from my friend, Philip Overman."
"Oh!" said Dr. Underwood, with a keen look. Then he threw his head
back, closed his eyes, and murmured: "I am glad you arrived in time to
meet the other investigating committee in active operation, Mr.
Burton. The theatrical attractions in High Ridge are dull just now."
"I am finding High Ridge anything but dull," said Burton, ignoring the
covert thrust of that "other." "And I can see possibilities of much
entertainment here. For instance, in investigating your investigating
committee, while your investigating committee is investigating you."
He laughed as he spoke, little guessing how far afield the pursuit of
that entertainment was going to carry him.