ANNABEL MAKES A DISCOVERY.
When Mary Louise, Annabel and Theodore came home for the summer
vacation there was genuine disappointment to all in finding Will Carden
absent from Bingham. But I think none missed him so sincerely as
Annabel.
She drove over to see Mrs. Carden and Flo and chatted with them for an
hour; but it was not until she found time to be alone with her father,
“for one of our good talks, daddy,” that she learned the truth about
Will’s mission abroad. In that connection Mr. Williams was obliged
to tell her something of his suspicions of Mr. Jordan, and the girl
listened earnestly to all he said.
“I never did like the man, dear,” she declared; “nor does Will like
him, although Mr. Jordan was so good to his dead father. But why don’t
you force the secretary to tell you the real secret of the process,
when you are entitled to it?”
“I mean to, when the proper time comes,” was the reply. “But I cannot
get rid of the idea that Jordan has some other object than to withhold
this knowledge.”
“I suppose he thinks that as long as you are ignorant of the real
secret of the process you cannot discharge him, or stop the payment of
his royalties,” she said, musingly.
“The secret is no longer so important as it was formerly,” said Mr.
Williams, somewhat gloomily. “That Birmingham discovery worries me more
than I can explain. The English steel is even a better grade than my
own, and if its makers choose to invade this country their competition
would seriously affect my business, and might even ruin it.”
“I’m sure Will can find out all you wish to know,” she returned. “Don’t
fret, papa. Let us wait until he gets back.”
Shortly after this conversation the manufacturer met Doctor Meigs, who
asked:
“How is Jordan conducting himself these days?”
“Rather strangely,” said Mr. Williams. “I sometimes think he’s getting
ready to run away.”
“Think so?”
“Yes. I have paid the fellow over a hundred thousand dollars in
royalties, and this money, which has been accumulating in the same bank
in the city that I myself use, and am also a director of, has suddenly
been withdrawn and placed elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“I do not know.”
“Perhaps he has invested it.”
Mr. Williams shook his head, doubtfully.
“Then, during the last few weeks,” he continued, “he has been nervously
rushing out our orders and getting the goods delivered, when there is
no need at all of haste.”
“Why?”
“Because as soon as delivery is made he is entitled to his royalty,
which he draws promptly, and sends away. It looks to me as though he is
trying to get together all the money he can, and then skip out.”
“But why should he do that?” enquired the doctor, who was plainly
puzzled by this statement.
“I can’t explain it, unless that foreign competition has frightened
him. Ever since we had that conversation in my office, at which you
were present, Jordan has been a different man. Little things seem to
startle him, whereas he used to be the coolest man I ever met. He looks
up sharply at every one who enters the office, and gets very irritable
over small things that never before annoyed him. I’ve been watching him
closely, you see.”
“Could he possibly know we have sent Will to England?”
“I believe that secret is safe. Only Mrs. Carden knows it, and she
would never betray it to Jordan, you may be sure.”
“What will you do?” asked the doctor.
“Keep an eye upon him, and if he attempts to get away hold him until he
tells me truly the secret of the process that he sold me. Otherwise he
is free to go wherever he pleases.”
“Have you heard from Will?”
“No, and it is rather strange that I have not. He has cabled me that
Mrs. Williams will arrive on the _Baltic_, which is due in New York
next week; but he said not a word about himself or the business matters
on which he is engaged.”
“Perhaps there is nothing yet to say,” suggested the doctor, and with a
handshake the friends parted.
On Sunday afternoon Annabel asked her father to join her in a walk, as
the day was delightfully pleasant. He agreed at once, and they strolled
along the lanes until they came to the Carden house, where they stopped
for a little visit with Will’s mother. Mrs. Carden had greatly
improved in health since being relieved of so much of the drudgery
of housework, and the increased prosperity of the family fortunes
had rendered her brighter and more cheerful than of old. Possessed
of an excellent education and much native refinement of manner, Mrs.
Carden had formerly been one of the most popular women in Bingham, and
although her husband’s tragic loss had greatly embittered her life
during the past dozen years, she was gradually resuming her natural
sweetness and charming personality.
So both Annabel and her father passed a pleasant hour at the house, and
then started on to resume their walk.
“Let us go by the grove,” said the girl. “It’s Mr. Jordan’s favorite
walk, and Will says he never misses an evening unless there’s a
hurricane to stop him.”
“And hurricanes are uncommon,” added her father, smiling. “Well, it
looks cool and pleasant under the trees, so we’ll walk that way. But
why do you suppose Mr. Jordan takes such long journeys every evening?”
“For exercise, I imagine. Will says he starts right after supper and
tramps a good five miles. And when he gets back he shuts himself in his
room and sees no one until morning.”
“A strange man,” said Mr. Williams, musingly; “and either extremely
simple or extremely shrewd. I can’t decide which.”
There was little other conversation between the two until they reached
the grove; but as they passed between the great trees Annabel suddenly
said:
“Do you know, papa, I almost suspect Mr. Jordan is crazy?”
“No; why do you think that?”
“Because he does such funny things. I remember Will’s telling me once
about a queer thing that happened in this very grove.”
“What was it?” asked her father, absently.
“Mr. Jordan used to stop at a certain tree, and after looking around to
find out if anyone was near he would pass his hand swiftly up and down
the bark of the tree, as secretly as if he were committing some crime.”
Mr. Williams turned to gaze upon his daughter’s face with wonder.
“Then,” said Annabel, “he would come back to the path, and resume his
walk.”
“Which tree was it?” asked her father, earnestly.
“Why, I think I can find it, for twice Will has pointed it out to
me when we were walking here. Let me see. Here is the turn in the
path--and here is where Mr. Jordan always stopped * * * and there--no,
not that one--the big oak just beside it * * * that’s the very tree,
papa! Will once found the tracks of Mr. Jordan’s feet in the snow,
where he’d walked up to it. Isn’t it funny?”
Mr. Williams shook his head. There was a puzzled expression upon his
face. He stared at the tree for a time as if in a brown study. The
incident just related was singular enough to be interesting, but the
old oak was just like a dozen other oaks that stood around. Why should
Mr. Jordan pay especial attention to that particular tree?
“Where are you going, papa?”
“I’m going to examine the tree more closely.”
He walked straight up to it, and stood minutely examining the bark.
Then he passed his hand over it.
“Higher up,” said Annabel. “He used to feel about on a level with his
head, Will told me, and he’s taller than you are, papa.”
Mr. Williams touched the bark higher up, and looked mystified. Surely
there had been no reason for Mr. Jordan’s action. Perhaps the man was
mad, after all, and this was one of his crazy notions.
Wait a moment though! Wasn’t that a crack in the rough bark? Mr.
Williams took out his pocket knife, and inserted the blade into the
crack. Yes, the bark had separated slightly at this point. He followed
the line with his knife blade, with growing excitement. It zig-zagged
this way and that, keeping first to the right, then upward almost as
far as he could reach, then to the left on almost a straight line; then
down again to the starting point.
Mr. Williams withdrew the blade and took a long breath.
“That square of bark is separate from the rest,” he said.
“How odd!” answered Annabel, her eyes bigger than usual.
Her father looked around, and espied an old root lying near. He dragged
this over to the tree, and standing upon it was able to place his face
close to the bark.
Then he indulged in a low whistle, for he had discovered a blackened
screw-head half hidden by the roughness of the surface. Again he drew
out his pocket-knife and deliberately snapped one of the blades in
half. With this improvised screw-driver he set to work, and shortly had
the screw removed.
Mr. Williams had been a mechanic in his younger days. He knew just what
to do under the present circumstances.
Annabel watched him with an interest that became more intense every
moment.
He found a second screw, and removed it; a third, and then a fourth.
With this the piece of bark came away in his hand, revealing a hollow
cavity in the tree behind it.
Mr. Williams took out his handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from
his forehead. Then he thrust his hand into the cavity, and when he
withdrew it he was clutching a bundle of papers, tied together with a
cotton cord.