While driving down from the North Shore, Forrester decided to ascertain
as soon as possible if either Green or the detective bureau had ever
heard of the strange rumors regarding the oak tree, for it seemed to him
that to the trained detective mind this might offer some suggestion.
Forrester did not believe in the supernatural. Such occurrences must be
backed by a human agency of some sort, and the knowledge of the
existence of these occult manifestations, if carefully analyzed, might
lead to the formation of a definite clue.
It was late in the afternoon when Forrester reached the city, but he did
not delay his inquiries. He went first to Green's office, finding, of
course, that the detective had already left to carry out his plan of
night observation, although Green's office girl, trained to secrecy,
said that she did not know anything about the detective's movements.
Forrester then went to the detective bureau and related his story. Far
from attaching any importance to the matter, the men there simply
laughed at and ridiculed the story of a haunted tree, ascribing it
solely to the well-known superstitious nature of colored people. They
assured Forrester that it could have no bearing whatsoever upon the
case, and he left the detective bureau more impressed than ever with the
idea that the solution of the problem was entirely in his hands.
Humphrey's general analysis now assumed greater importance in
Forrester's eyes, for the reporter had predicted that Forrester would
discover clues unnoticed or disregarded by the detectives. Here was a
quick fulfilment of Humphrey's prophecy!
As Forrester closed the front door, after reaching home, his mother and
sister hurried out into the hall to meet him. Mrs. Forrester threw her
arms around his neck, while Josephine sympathetically took one of his
hands in both her own.
"My poor boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Forrester. "Why didn't you tell us you
were worried to death?"
"Worried!" echoed Forrester. "Where did you get the idea that I was
worried?"
"Oh, Bob," explained Josephine, "we read that article in the _Times_
this morning, and people have been calling us up all day."
"Why didn't you tell us you received one of those dreadful notices?"
queried Mrs. Forrester.
"Because I didn't think it amounted to anything," answered Forrester.
"There was no use upsetting you with a little thing like that."
"A little thing like that!" exclaimed Josephine. "Why they _killed_ poor
Mr. Nevins! When we didn't hear anything from you all day we were sure
you had met with an accident."
"And the paper said you were so frightened, Bob," added his mother,
"that we thought perhaps you had run away and hidden somewhere without
letting us know."
"Damn!" exploded Forrester. "Wait until I get my hands on that
reporter!"
"Arn't you really frightened?" asked Josephine.
"Do I look frightened?" retorted Forrester. "You mustn't believe all the
rubbish you see in the newspapers. Those reporters have to invent half
the stuff they write."
"But you _did_ get a notice, didn't you, Son?" asked Mrs. Forrester.
"Certainly, but it's nothing to get excited about," grumbled Forrester.
"I'll just put the money in that tree Saturday night and the whole thing
will be forgotten. Prentice told me he had had the same experience once,
and you see nothing ever happened to him."
"Oh, don't wait until Saturday," protested Mrs. Forrester. "Take it up
right now and get the thing off our minds. The decorators are through
and before we saw that newspaper article I had made all arrangements to
move out to 'Woodmere' Saturday morning."
"Yes," added Josephine, "fix it up right now as Mother suggests, Bob. We
would never dare move out into the country with this threat hanging over
you, and I do so want to leave the hot city. Practically all our friends
are up in the country now."
"Now look here, folks," protested Forrester, releasing himself from the
embraces of his mother and sister, and throwing back his shoulders. "I'm
the head of this house, and I command you to say nothing more about this
matter. Let your arrangements for moving Saturday morning go ahead just
as you had planned. I cannot do anything about delivering this money
before Saturday night, as these men would not be expecting it until that
time. Now, mind what I say and forget about it. It's all nonsense,
coddling and worrying about a man who has come safely through the war.
The police are working on the case right now and you have absolutely no
cause for worry or fear."
"But Mr. Nevins...." began Josephine.
"His case has nothing to do with mine," interrupted Forrester. "He was
an old man in the first place; and in the second, he didn't take any
precautions."
"But there have been others...." started Mrs. Forrester.
"Now, _now_, NOW!" exclaimed Forrester. "Don't say another word! You can
safely leave this whole matter to me. Now then, Mother, have dinner
served at once. I didn't have any luncheon and I'm hungry as a bear."
During dinner Mrs. Forrester referred to the fact that Mr. Nevins'
funeral would take place on Thursday afternoon at three o'clock, and
after promising to attend, Forrester did not again allow them to refer
to the matter in any way. Dinner over, Forrester retired to a corner of
the library, ostensibly to read, but though he occasionally turned a
page of his book to keep up the pretense, his mind was absorbed in the
problem of the "Friends of the Poor" and the working out of a plan of
action for the following day.
----
At eight o'clock Thursday morning Forrester left home in his roadster
and went straight to Green's office. The detective had had two nights
and a day for investigation, and Forrester was anxious to know what
facts he might have in his possession before continuing his own
researches.
Green was at his desk when Forrester entered the office, and the young
man noted the detective's dusty clothes, sickly pallor and the shadows
under his eyes. Green must have been working hard, Forrester thought,
and therefore would have information of importance.
"How-do," grunted Green, without rising.
"Good morning," returned Forrester, drawing a chair up to Green's desk.
"I have an idea that you are going to give me some news."
"My God!" gasped Green, with such vehemence that the usual unlighted
cigar dropped from his mouth and remained unnoticed on the floor.
"Well," queried Forrester, "what are you so upset about? Did you get a
notice, too?"
"I've been through hell," groaned Green. "Ain't been to bed all night.
Couldn't eat any breakfast. Damn Prohibition anyway! What I need right
now is a whole goblet o' whiskey!"
Forrester laughed. "I can get that for you if I decide you need it for
medicinal purposes, Green. But I should like to hear your story first."
"Couldn't you arrange the drink first, Mr. Forrester?" pleaded Green.
"No," returned Forrester, "I'd have to take you up to our country house,
'Woodmere', to get that for you, and I'm afraid you couldn't stand the
trip until you get this trouble off your mind. Come on, pull yourself
together and tell me what has happened."
"I hate to repeat it, Mr. Forrester. God knows, I don't even like to
think about it!"
"You make me curious, Green. I'll bet you have got a clue--for it begins
to look like you'd had a real fight with those men."
Forrester glanced down at Green's dusty clothes.
"Men?" snorted Green. "There ain't no men!"
Forrester gave a startled exclamation and looked at Green in amazement
for a moment. The reply was curiously like that which the negro had made
to him the day before.
"Mr. Forrester," continued Green, "I've been doin' police and detective
work for twenty years. I ain't afraid o' no man livin'. Just show me a
bunch o' tough mugs and I'll jump right in and clean 'em up. But I'm
damned if I'll ever sit out in the woods at night again with rustlin'
leaves, bodiless voices and burnin' hands! No, _sir_--never again! You
don't want no detective to solve this case, Mr. Forrester--you want a
spiritualist, or somethin' like that!"
"Look here, Green!" exclaimed Forrester. "You're too old and experienced
a man--you've got too much common sense--to believe in stuff like that.
Who has been telling you all these things?"
"Tellin' me?" gasped Green. "My God! I seen 'em myself, with my own
eyes; heard 'em with my own ears. Nobody don't have to _tell_ me
nothin'. _I seen it!_"
"Mere trickery!" scoffed Forrester. "Someone was playing a joke on you."
"Damn it all!" cried Green, jumping up and pounding a huge fist on his
desk. "Don't tell me I didn't see what I seen. I never had no
superstition till last night, but believe me! You can tell me any kind
o' a ghost story now and I'll _swear_ to it. Take it from me, Sir Oliver
Lodge and all them people ain't so cracked as we thought they was. I
thought them city detectives was a bunch o' boneheads, but I apologize
to 'em now--every one. I tell you, Mr. Forrester, here's a case that'll
never be solved. It's some imp o' hell that leaves those notices at
people's doors. No wonder they're found asphyxiated when they don't pay.
It's coal-gas straight from hell that comes out and suffocates 'em.
You'll never catch nobody takin' that money out o' that tree, 'cause you
can take my word for it, when you put it in there, a ghostly, flamin'
hand reaches over your shoulder and pulls it out again. Believe me, no
human eyes is goin' to see the people that gets that money."
"Now look here, Green!" exclaimed Forrester. "I'm willing to admit that
something or other has given you a bad scare, and that you've lost your
grip. What you need is a good breakfast and some hot coffee. Come on out
with me and get your breakfast. You can tell me the whole story while
you're eating."
Green mumbled objections, but Forrester continued to urge him until the
man put on his hat and accompanied Forrester to a nearby restaurant.
There, between gulps of food and the consuming of several cups of hot
coffee, Green told his story across the table to Forrester.
At its close, Forrester lit a cigarette and sat in deep thought. To
Forrester, Green's original theory that some or all of the "Friends of
the Poor" lived near the tree, seemed extremely plausible. Crude as the
detective might be, his reasoning in this regard apparently had a sound
basis in the weird happenings as related by Joshua, and now confirmed by
Green's experience. Combining the theories of both Green and Humphrey,
and fitting them in with the negro's story and Green's tale, threw
several hitherto unnoticed figures into the limelight. Forrester did not
doubt for a minute that the woman revealed by Green's light was the girl
referred to by Joshua. If so, then the man who had attacked Green was
probably the big negro himself. A third person to be considered was the
peculiar negress, said to live in the woods near the tree. Forrester
remembered with a start Humphrey's triangulation theory. Here were three
prominent figures with which to lay down a triangle. Surely he was
making more progress in the quest than any of the detectives. These
occurrences might only be indefinite spirit clues, but they pointed
accusing fingers at several very definite people.
Though he had little faith in Green's ability as a detective, it was
possible that the man's very stupidity might force him to stumble upon
worth while clues, as in this instance; clues which Forrester later
could make use of in his own deliberations. Thinking along these lines,
Forrester decided that he would not allow Green to leave the case, as
the man had intimated he would do.
"Green," said Forrester, at length, "you spoke in your office as if you
wished to drop this case."
"You bet I do!" returned Green, emphatically.
"That would be foolish," remonstrated Forrester. "There's a good deal of
money in it for you, and your reputation won't lose anything if you are
on the ground when the case is solved."
"It'll never be solved," affirmed Green, positively.
"Yes, it will," declared Forrester. "I'm going to do it, with your
help."
Green stared. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," he protested.
"Now, listen to me," went on Forrester. "On Saturday morning we open our
country house. I want you to come up on the noon train with enough
baggage to last you all summer, or until we settle this case. You are to
be my body-guard when I am home, and watch the house while I am away.
Occasionally I may want you to look up certain things for me, but I will
promise you right now that I won't ask you to go near that tree again
unless I am with you. Our chauffeur has a nice place over the garage and
I'll have him give you a room there, so you can be close at hand. Now,
that's settled. The noon train, remember. And here's the address."
Forrester tore off a corner of a menu and wrote out directions for
reaching "Woodmere."
Green wavered. "Well, I dunno," he said, hesitatingly.
Forrester leaned across the table.
"Green," he said, smiling, "we have a little private stock left in the
cellar up there. Our guests are permitted to use it."
Green's eyes twinkled. "That might help to keep them ghosts away. One
poison sometimes counteracts another, so I guess one kind o' spirits
_might_ chase away the other kind."
"Then the matter is settled?" asked Forrester.
"Sure thing," grinned the mollified detective. "But remember--I've got
to have regular protection against ghosts."