Humphrey's visit marked a turning point in the mysterious case of the
"Friends of the Poor." His famous photograph was published in the
_Times_ and created a considerable stir. Fortunately, in the newspaper
reproduction only the prominent features were discernible, and as at
Forrester's request the reporter had omitted any reference to the
perplexing details which he had discovered, these possible clues
remained unknown to the police and public. All the newspapers showed a
tendency to ridicule and censure the police for their misdirected
activity, which aroused the department to redoubled efforts in the
solution of the case. This was further accentuated by pressure brought
to bear upon the chief of police, and even the mayor himself, by various
civic associations which had become alarmed at the inability of the
police to protect wealthy citizens from this terrible menace.
A small army of detectives was assigned to the case, and as Green
expressed it, "You can't turn a corner without steppin' on some bull's
toes." Police activity was largely expended in the form of espionage
upon persons who had in any way been connected with the case, and
careful investigation of all people who lived in the vicinity of the oak
tree. Green reported to Forrester that a man who was unquestionably a
detective was keeping the Forrester estate under surveillance, and
Forrester discovered that a detective was steadily on guard at the tree.
That the "Friends of the Poor" were undaunted by this display of police
action, and were prepared to flaunt their power in the very faces of the
police, was shown by the fact that one morning the detective who had
been on watch at the tree the night before was found dead. The police
surgeon stated it to be a clear case of asphyxiation, although how such
a thing had been accomplished in the open air he was not prepared to
say. This tragedy, however, terminated all efforts of the police to keep
an open watch over the tree, for it was evident that the mysterious
force which was at work could not be reached in this way.
On the same day Green had come to Forrester in a state of great
dejection. The detective had found one of the familiar wrapping paper
notes pinned to his chair in the pergola, which read:
_To_ _Detective Green and Robert Forrester_:
You have but ten days to live.
_Friends of the Poor._
Following the death of the detective at the tree, the negress, Lucy, was
arrested on suspicion, and Forrester learned from the newspapers that
the police had thoroughly ransacked her home in a search for
incriminating evidence, but without results. Forrester was impressed,
when he read this report, by the fact that Lucy persistently refused to
give any information regarding herself. As had been the situation at the
time of the reputed murder of her husband, there was absolutely no
evidence against her, and the police were forced to release her. To
Forrester, however, she still held her position as a possible though
puzzling element in the case.
Forrester also read with indignation that detectives had visited Mary
Sturtevant, closely questioning everyone in her household. Not a breath
of suspicion was raised against her as a result of this investigation,
which pleased Forrester, though it still further bewildered him in his
surmises regarding the girl. What chance had he in unearthing something
which a direct police investigation could not disclose? Forrester had
not seen Mary Sturtevant for some days, but this incident impelled him
to call on her, so early in the evening he took his roadster and drove
over to the girl's house.
Mary Sturtevant's apparent coldness toward him at their recent meetings
had worried Forrester, and he was greatly relieved when her greeting was
more cordial than ever and she showed every indication of pleasure at
seeing him.
"Robert," she said, as he drew his chair close to hers and sat down, "I
had about come to the conclusion that you had taken my advice and gone
away."
"You know," replied Forrester, "that I will not leave here until this
case is solved--unless you promise to go with me."
"That is impossible," she returned. "I am in no danger--not even from
the police," and she glanced at him with one of her old mischievous
smiles. Then added, gravely, "But you are risking your life every day
that you remain here."
"Mary," protested Forrester, "your attitude in this matter is
inexplicable. Won't you confide in me and let me help you?"
"Some day, Robert," she declared, earnestly, "I shall probably be able
to explain to you; but please for the present, say no more about it."
While absolutely certain of his own feelings toward her, Forrester was
still doubtful about her attitude toward him. The fact that she
continued to use his given name when they were alone encouraged him.
Beyond that, however, she gave little or no evidence of how she felt
toward him. Forrester was unwilling, therefore, to risk offending her by
further talk upon a subject which she so urgently requested him to drop.
He turned the conversation to other matters in which they were mutually
interested.
At ten o'clock Forrester rose to go, and the girl accompanied him to the
foot of the steps. There she held out her hand and as he took it, she
said, pleadingly, "Please, Robert, won't you go away for a little
while?"
Forrester leaned over and touched his lips to her hand.
"No," he returned shortly, and jumped into his car.
As he drove along Jasper lane Forrester was startled to hear a sharp
report behind him. It echoed through the still woods and for a moment he
thought that someone had fired a shot at him, but the immediate jarring
of his car signified that one of the rear tires had blown out. He
stopped the car, shut off the engine, and after adjusting the spotlight
so that he could see to work, threw his coat into the car and started
the job of changing tires.
He had nearly completed the task when he was suddenly seized in a strong
grip and something placed over his face!
Though taken at a disadvantage, and aware, from the peculiar odor which
assailed his nostrils, that his opponent was endeavoring to render him
unconscious by some sort of gas or drug, Forrester did not give up hope
but fought back courageously. His arms had been pinioned at his sides,
however, and he found it impossible to do more than struggle in the
grasp of his attacker. Realizing that he must soon lose consciousness,
Forrester made a supreme effort and succeeded in wrenching his arms
free. His first thought being to get air, he grasped at the object over
his face in an effort to pull it away. It was too late, for he already
felt faint and weak and could not exert the necessary strength.
Then he dimly heard several explosions like pistol shots and everything
became blank.
----
Forrester slowly opened his eyes and stared straight ahead for a minute
or two, trying to recollect what had happened and where he was. He was
in bed, but the room, so far as he could see in the dim light of a
distant, shaded lamp, was unfamiliar.
"Oh, Robert," cried a voice, "are you all right? How do you feel? Speak
to me!"
Languidly he turned his head and recognized Mary Sturtevant sitting by
the bedside. Then he discovered that one of his hands was held tightly
in both of hers.
"What has happened?" he queried, weakly.
"You met with an accident," she answered. "The doctor said we got there
just in time. You must not talk about it now, or ask any questions."
She dropped his hand, and jumping up, hurried across the room. In a
moment she returned with a glass, and holding his head up with one hand,
placed the glass at his lips.
"Drink this," she ordered.
Forrester drank a little from the glass and then she let his head drop
gently back on the pillow and sat down beside him. He watched her
dreamily for a moment or two, finally dropping off to sleep.
When Forrester again awoke the bright morning sun was streaming in
through a window at the foot of his bed. The first thing he saw was the
big colored man, Joshua, rocking in a chair near the window and crooning
to himself. Forrester tried to sit up, but found that he was very weak.
His effort attracted the attention of the negro.
"Yo' jes' lie still, Boss. Dem's mah orders."
"Hello, Joshua!" said Forrester, and was surprised at the feebleness of
his voice when he tried to speak. "What are you doing here?"
"Ah belong heah, Boss. Dis am Mistah Bradbury's house."
Forrester was puzzled. He knew that "Mr. Bradbury's house" was where
Mary Sturtevant lived.
"How did I get here, Joshua?" he inquired.
"Ah guess de hants done got yo', Boss. Mah Missey an' me done fine yo'
layin' in de road in front of dat tree wif a rubber t'ing in yo' han'."
"A rubber thing?" exclaimed Forrester. "What do you mean?"
"Ah dunno what it is, Boss."
"Where is it now?" asked Forrester.
"We-all done got it downstairs, Boss. Ah'll get it and show yo'."
Joshua left the room. He returned presently with a large, circular piece
of rubber which he placed in Forrester's hands. Forrester examined it
carefully. He found that it was flexible, somewhat oval in form, and
concave. At the back a piece of light rubber tubing, about one foot in
length, was attached. Forrester placed the rubber over his face for a
moment and found that its form made it fit like a mask. He withdrew it
hastily when he heard an exclamation at his side. It was Mary
Sturtevant, and as Forrester glanced up he saw her looking at him with
startled eyes.
"Joshua!" she cried, turning to the negro, "how did Mr. Forrester get
that?"
"Ah done brung it to him, mam."
The girl seized the piece of rubber from Forrester and handing it to
Joshua, directed, "Take it away instantly, Joshua. Put it in my room."
"Yassum!" and Joshua darted out of the room, mumbling to himself.
The events of the night came back to Forrester quite clearly now.
"Was that the thing my assailant used on me last night?" he asked,
looking up at the girl.
"Yes," she returned, "but you mustn't talk about it."
"But I want to talk about it," he exclaimed. "And I want it for
evidence!"
"Robert," she said seriously, "you must not tell a soul about what
happened last night, or refer to that piece of rubber. It is absolutely
vital that you do this for me. Please promise."
"I'll consider it," he said, "if you will tell me the whole story of
what happened."
"I am willing to tell you that," she returned, "but first you must have
your breakfast. I can tell you the story while you are eating. It is
very short."
She left the room, returning in a few minutes with a tray. After
assisting Forrester to sit up in bed, and arranging the pillows at his
back, she placed the tray in his lap. As he ate, she explained to him
what had happened.
"After you left, I stood on the steps listening to the hum of your
engine as you drove away. I was worried, Robert, to think of your
recklessness in driving around alone at night under the present
circumstances. Suddenly, I heard a report like a pistol shot, and as I
could no longer hear the sound of your engine, I feared that something
had happened to you.
"Calling Joshua, we ran along the road in the direction you had taken.
We soon saw the lights of your car, and I could see that two men were
struggling in the road. I knew that one of them must be you. I have
always carried my little automatic with me since I came to live in this
lonely neighborhood. Taking it out, I fired several shots in the air as
I ran. That frightened the man who was attacking you and he fled.
"Joshua carried you back to the house, and I telephoned for a doctor.
The doctor said that an attempt had been made to asphyxiate you. If we
had been a minute or two later he could not have saved you."
"My God!" cried Forrester, receiving a shocking revelation. "The
'Friends of the Poor'! That is how their victims have been killed! How
did you get that mask of death, Mary?"
"You had seized it with a deathlike grip. The doctor could hardly get it
out of your hands. When the man fled he had to break the tubing to carry
the rest of the apparatus away."
"What a wonderful piece of evidence!" exclaimed Forrester.
"Yes," admitted the girl, "but against whom will you use it?"