HENRY UNDERWOOD IS ARRESTED
Burton's policeman picked up two other men on the way, and, thus
reënforced, they made their way to Rowan street. It was away past
midnight and as they went through the silent streets, Burton had a
queer feeling that he was taking a part in some strange melodrama in
an alien world. Never before had he come into direct personal contact
with the world where policemen were important people, and where the
primitive affairs he had supposed represented the dregs of human
nature were matters of every-day occurrence. Why hadn't Henry
Underwood had sense enough to be satisfied with his narrow escape of
the night before?
There was a light burning in the surgery as they approached the
house,--a fact to which Higgins, the first policeman, called
attention.
"That light sometimes burns all night," he said, pursing up his lips.
"Any city ordinance against it?" asked Burton.
Higgins looked up with a slow question in his eyes.
"You will stay with me, Mr. Burton," he said quietly. "O'Meara and
Hanna, you go to the rear of the house and see that he doesn't make a
get-away."
He rang the bell at the front door, and stepped instantly back, so
that he could keep an eye on the whole front of the house. In a minute
the door was opened wide and Dr. Underwood, in a dressing-gown, stood
there peering out into the dark.
"Who wants me?" he asked.
Higgins stepped quickly inside, and as soon as Burton, who followed in
his wake, had entered, he closed the front door, turned the key and
slipped it into his pocket.
"Excuse me," he said, in a brisk undertone. "No one wants you, Doctor.
I want Mr. Henry Underwood."
"_You_ want him, Higgins? What for?"
"Assault."
"Assault? Henry? You're crazy. Henry hasn't spirit enough to assault
any one. I'd bail him out with the greatest joy in the world, if he
did. Whom did he assault, in the name of Goshen?"
"Mr. Hadley."
"Hadley! Well, there may be something to the boy, after all. When did
this happen?"
"Just now, tonight. I don't want any trouble, but I don't want any
foolishness, either. I've got to arrest him, you know, Doctor. It
ain't what I may choose to do about it. So will you take me up to his
room at once, before he hears me or takes an alarm?"
"You always were an unfortunate man, Higgins, but it is mighty hard
luck that you should have to show the whole community what an idiot
you are. It is kind of hard to be made a fool of in such a public way.
Henry is abed and asleep and has been for hours."
"Then I'll have to wake him and if you'll excuse me, Doctor, I can't
let you give him any more time by this palaver. Will you take me to
his room, or shall I hunt for it myself?"
Underwood glanced at Burton and wrinkled his face into an unbetraying
mask, but as he led the way upstairs he walked more slowly and
draggingly than he had done in the afternoon, and Burton's heart ached
for him.
"That's his room," he said, pointing to a closed door. The gleam of
light along the lower edge showed plainly that the occupant was still
up.
Higgins went to the door with a catlike silence and swiftness and laid
his hand on the knob. It turned without resistance and he burst in
upon Henry Underwood, half undressed. The bed had not been disturbed.
The scattered clothing on the chairs showed that he had just come in
from outdoors.
"What does this mean?" Henry demanded, with a look of amazement.
"You are under arrest," said Higgins. "Don't try any tricks. My men
are about the house."
"What am I arrested for?"
"For assault on Mr. Hadley. And I warn you that anything you may say
will be used against you."
"This is all foolishness, you know," Henry said, but his voice was
spiritless and unconvincing, and Dr. Underwood groaned involuntarily.
"I haven't anything to do with that. All I have to do is to carry out
orders. And I'll have to ask you to change your shoes. No, you don't!"
He sprang forward and caught Henry roughly as the latter, at the word,
rubbed his muddy shoe upon the rug on which he was standing. "We want
your shoes, fresh mud and all. Just take them off, will you?"
"Take them off yourself," growled Henry, with a black look.
Higgins whistled and the two other men answered, one by
melodramatically dropping in through the open window, and the other by
appearing at the door. "Take off his shoes,--carefully, mind you. We
want that mud on them. And get another pair for him, if you can find
them."
He motioned Henry to sit down, but instead of dropping obligingly into
the nearest chair, Henry stalked indignantly across the room and threw
himself down on an upholstered lounge. Then he thrust out both feet
before him with an arrogant air, and the two policemen, who had
followed him closely, dropped on their knees and unfastened and
removed his shoes. Higgins, who was proud of himself for thinking of a
detail which might prove important, watched the process so closely
that he paid no attention to anything else. Underwood, who leaned
heavily against the door-casing, watched his son's face with a look
that was something like despair. But Burton, who stood silently at one
side, watched Henry, and so saw an apparently casual motion that took
his right hand from the vicinity of his breast pocket to the inner
edge of the upholstered seat of the lounge.
"Well, what next?" Henry asked brusquely, when the men had shod him.
"You will come with us," said Higgins.
He rose without a word, and reached for his hat and coat.
"Henry!" The word broke from Dr. Underwood like a cry. "Have you
anything to say to me?"
Henry gave him one look, and then dropped his eyelids.
"I think not," he said, with a curious air of deliberation.
"I'll come and see you to-morrow, my boy."
Henry nodded carelessly, and turned to Higgins.
"I'm ready," he said briefly.
"One moment," said Burton. "How is your cut finger? I think I'd better
look at it before you go." And without waiting for permission, he
picked up Henry's hand and examined the forefinger which had been
cut the evening before. Henry had dressed it carelessly with
court-plaster, but it was evident that the finger was both stiff and
sore.
But Henry was far from being a model patient. He pulled his hand away
with a look of surprise and resentment at Burton's touch. "That's
nothing," he said impatiently. "What are you waiting for, Higgins?"
"You," replied Higgins succinctly, slipping his hand under Henry's
elbow.
Dr. Underwood followed the little procession downstairs and did not
notice that Burton lingered for a moment in the room. He lingered
without moving until Henry was out of eyeshot, and then jumped to the
sofa and ran his long fingers between the upholstered back and seat.
It did not take more than a minute to satisfy his curiosity. Then he
hurried downstairs, where he found a forlorn group.
Mrs. Underwood, tragically calm, sat like a classic statue of despair
in a large armchair, while the doctor, who had evidently been
explaining the situation to his family, limped painfully and
restlessly about the room. Leslie, erect, and with hands clenched and
head thrown back, followed him with her eyes.
"I think Henry is insane," she said deliberately.
Dr. Underwood glanced apprehensively at Burton, who just then appeared
in the doorway. Then he dropped into a chair with a groan.
"I forgot my confounded ankle," he said, in lame explanation.
Mrs. Underwood turned her gaze slowly upon him. "Don't prevaricate,
Roger," she said coldly. "You did not groan because of your ankle, but
because Henry's sin has found him out. I should think that you would
at least see the importance of keeping clear of future sin."
"May I come in?" asked Burton. There was something strange in his
voice,--a quality that made every one turn toward him expectantly, as
though he brought a message. "May I venture a word? Of course you know
that I know what has happened. I came here with the officer because I
felt that my interest in everything touching the honor of your family
warranted me in seeing this unfortunate affair through as far as
possible. I say unfortunate, because of course it must add to your
annoyance temporarily. But I do not think it will do more than that.
In fact, I think it may be the means of really getting at the truth
that lies under this mass of misunderstanding. I do not think that
Henry Underwood is insane,--or that he had anything to do with Mr.
Hadley's plight. I believe him innocent and honorable, and I am going
to bend every energy I possess to proving him so."
He had spoken to all, but his eyes rested eagerly on Leslie, and at
his last words she sprang impulsively forward and caught his hand in
both her own.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cried.
"Leslie, control yourself," said Mrs. Underwood, in calm reproof.
Dr. Underwood got upon his feet, with entire disregard of his ankle,
and crossed the room to Burton.
"Have you any ground for that opinion, beyond an optimistic
disposition and a natural desire to spare the family of your patient?"
he demanded. "God knows I want to believe you,--but--" He broke off
and shook his head.
Burton hastily realized that he was hardly justified, at this point,
in making his own grounds for assurance public.
"Well,--his cut finger is sufficient. He couldn't tie all the knots
that bound Hadley with that stiff finger," he said, with a would-be
astute air.
Underwood could not conceal his disappointment. "You have nothing
definite, then, to go upon?"
"Perhaps my evidence, in the present stage, would not be conclusive in
court. But that is what I hope to make it. That is what I am
definitely undertaking to do. And I believe I shall succeed." He
smiled at Leslie, and though she did not repeat her impulsive
demonstration of gratitude, he was satisfied with the look in her
eyes.
On his way back to the hotel, he suddenly stopped under the trees and
spoke to himself impatiently. What difference did it make to him what
sort of a look there was in the eyes of Philip's betrothed? He would
be better employed in considering the situation of the Underwoods in
the light of this new revelation about the silent Henry. If Henry was
in love with Miss Hadley--and why else should he carry a locket with
her portrait in his breast pocket and think first of all of concealing
this trinket when threatened with arrest and fearing a search?--then
there was a reasonable explanation of his prowling in the neighborhood
of the Hadley house. Burton had thrust the locket back into its
hiding-place in the upholstered lounge, but he could not be mistaken.
It was the same face that he had seen looking up at Selby,--Hello! No
need to hunt further for an explanation of the antagonism between the
two men! The look on Selby's face when he talked so earnestly to Miss
Hadley was one of the few human expressions that can neither be
concealed nor counterfeited. And since nothing could be more reckless,
hopeless and bitter, than love between the daughter of the pompous
banker and the scapegoat of the town, why, of course, that was the
mine that Cupid would fire.
But if Henry was innocent, who was the man who was so bent on making
him appear guilty? Who really was behind the High Ridge mystery? The
problem was not solved. It was merely made more complicated. And
Burton had to acknowledge that his guess was not evidence that would
convince the public. Indeed, now that he was half an hour away from
it, he began to wonder at his own confidence. It had come to him like
a revelation, but it needed verification.
Very well, he said doggedly, he would verify a part of it at once. He
would call on Miss Hadley to-morrow.