RECOGNITION
Through a maze of crossing and winding roads the car made its way, now
over highways as smooth as a city pavement, and now over rough mileage
that jolted the occupants and threatened the springs with destruction.
Jim Farland did not recognize this particular district. He did not even
know upon which side of the river he was being hauled along as a
prisoner. In the city proper, his abductors would have found it very
difficult to take him to a section where he could not have recognized
some sort of a landmark, but here they had him at a serious
disadvantage.
The night was dark, too, and a fine drizzle was falling. Farland tugged
at his bonds when he could, and finally convinced himself that they
would not give. He tried to work one end of the gag from the corner of
his mouth and found that he could not do that. He was utterly helpless
for the time being, at the mercy of the three men who had kidnaped him,
and the chauffeur, and whoever might be where they were going.
For half an hour longer the car made its way across the country, and
then Farland noticed that it left the principal thoroughfare and turned
into a rough, narrow lane that was bordered with big trees. At the end
of a quarter of a mile of this lane, the chauffeur brought the car to a
stop. Farland could see a building that had the appearance of being an
abandoned farmhouse.
He was lifted from the car and carried to the door. One of the men threw
it open, and Farland was carried inside. They took him through a hall,
turned into a room, and tossed him upon a couch in a corner there. One
of them struck a match, lighted a lamp, and then they turned to survey
him.
Farland glared at them, waited for them to speak. They were making no
attempt to hide their features. Typical thugs they were, the three of
them, and Farland supposed that the chauffeur, who had not come into the
house with the others, belonged to the same class.
One of them stepped forward and removed Farland's gag, while another
went into another room and presently returned with a dipper of water,
which he held to Farland's lips. He drank greedily, for the gag had
parched his mouth and throat.
"Bein' as how you are a copper, I'd slip a knife between your ribs and
call it a good job," one of the men told him, "but we are supposed to
treat you nice and keep you in condition for a little talk with the
boss. So you needn't tremble with fear any."
"It'd take more than three bums like you to make me afraid!" Farland
told him.
"Nasty, ain't you? Maybe we'll get a little chance to beat you up later,
especially if your little talk with the boss ain't what they call
productive of results. You've got some reputation as a dick, but I
reckon it's all a fake. We didn't have much trouble gettin' you and
bringin' you here."
"Isn't that enough to make you worry a bit?" Farland asked.
"How do you mean?"
"Did you ever stop to think that maybe I wanted to be captured and
hauled here? Have you any idea how many men watched and trailed us?
You've led me to where I wanted to come, to a place I wanted to find,
perhaps."
"That bluff won't work," came the reply. "We had a couple of men
watchin' for that very thing, and they'd have given us a high sign if we
had been followed. You're here all by your lonesome, and so you'd better
be good."
Two of the men left the room, and the third sat down by the table to act
as guard. Fifteen minutes passed, during which Jim Farland and the man
by the table exchanged pleasant remarks concerning each other, neither
getting much the best of the argument.
Then the hall door was opened again, and a masked man entered the room!
Remembering what Murk had related to him concerning his experience of
the night before, Jim Farland looked up at this newcomer with sudden
interest.
This man, undoubtedly, was a sort of leader, one who had hired others to
help him in his work and who knew the identities of Sidney Prale's
mysterious enemies, and why they were working against him; perhaps,
also, the man who could tell a good deal about the murder of Rufus
Shepley.
Farland did not betray too much interest, though, for he sensed that he
was opposed to a person of brains and cunning, a different type from the
thugs he hired to work for him. So the detective merely blinked his eyes
rapidly as he looked up at the other and waited for him to speak.
"You are Jim Farland, a detective?"
The voice was low and harsh, a monotone, a disguised voice in fact. Jim
Farland knew that at once.
"That's my name, and some people are kind enough to say that I am a
detective," Farland replied. "What's the idea of treating me rough like
this?"
"I regret that violence was necessary to get you here, Mr. Farland," the
masked man replied, "but it seemed to be the only way in which I could
get a chance to talk to you freely without subjecting myself to danger."
"Why regret?" Farland asked.
"Because I want you for my friend instead of my enemy, Mr. Farland, and
I fancy that we may be able to come to terms. I shall send this man of
mine from the room and submit a proposition to you. I hope you see fit
to accept it."
He motioned for the other man to leave, which he did immediately,
closing the hall door behind him. Then the masked man sat down in the
chair by the table.
Farland was watching him closely now. The collar of his coat and the
handkerchief mask effectually shielded his face and head. But, as Murk
had told, this man did not have the common sense to cover his hands, and
Farland looked at them when he could, careful not to let the other
suspect his object.
"I am the man who talked to Mr. Prale's valet last night," Farland heard
the other say. "In some manner, the valet escaped, and so we were
obliged to have you brought here instead of to the place where we had
him, and which was considerably nearer the city. I regret it if the long
ride annoyed you, but you will appreciate that it was necessary for my
men to bind and gag you."
"It certainly was if they expected to get me here!" Jim Farland
declared.
He heard the masked man chuckle.
"I understand that you have been engaged by Sidney Prale to clear him of
the charge of murdering Rufus Shepley."
"I don't mind admitting that, since the whole city knows it," said
Farland.
"And also to aid Sidney Prale in outwitting certain persons who are
trying to punish him for something he did."
"I don't know anything about that. I do know that some people are trying
to make things hot for Sid Prale, and he doesn't deserve it, and----"
"Pardon me, if I interrupt!" the masked man said. "You say that he does
not deserve it. Do you believe that influential persons would persecute
him if he did not deserve it?"
"Sid Prale doesn't know what it is all about!"
"That is what he told the valet, too. But believe me when I say that he
does know what it is all about, and is deceiving you when he says
otherwise."
"What has all this to do with me?" Jim Farland demanded. "Did you have
me brought here to argue the case with me?"
"I had you brought here because I want you to cease working for Sidney
Prale. I want you to go back to him and tell him that you are done."
"As Coadley, the attorney, did?"
"Exactly!"
"Your people must be men of influence if they can buy off Coadley like
that!"
"Perhaps Coadley was shown that it would wreck his future if he
continued working for Prale."
"Well, you can't wreck my future, because I haven't any," Farland told
him.
"Do not be too sure of that, Mr. Farland. Agree to my proposition and
you may have a great future. You may find business thrown your way. You
may find yourself able to spread out, have a protective service, become
a wealthy man. If you give up the Prale case, we'll see that you are
paid cash immediately, of course, in lieu of the fee you would receive
from Prale--and considerably more than he would pay you."
"I suppose that would appeal to a lot of men," Jim Farland said, "but it
isn't the right bait to use if you are eager to catch me. I have all the
business I want. I can make a living for myself and my small family, and
we do not hanker after riches. A larger business would make me a human
machine, and I'd rather just drift along and be an ordinary good husband
and father. I'd rather be running a little, third-rate detective agency
as I am, making just enough to get along, and have a lot of friends. I
wouldn't throw down a friend for a million dollars! I suppose I'm the
only man in town that thinks this way, but I'm a sort of peculiar duck!"
"You mean to tell me that you are not anxious to better yourself, to get
along in the world?"
"Oh, I manage to get along!" Jim Farland replied. "I even eat meat now
and then. I haven't seen the face of the famous wolf outside my door for
some time. What is money?"
"Everything!" the masked man replied.
"That's what you think. It gives me an inkling as to what sort of man
you are. I happen to know a fellow to whom money is everything--and I
have reason to suspect that he is considerably interested in the case of
Sidney Prale. Be careful you do not betray your identity to me!"
Farland had the satisfaction of hearing the masked man gasp, and he
chuckled.
"Well, what is the proposition?" Farland inquired. "You seem to waste a
lot of time."
"We want you merely to tell Sidney Prale that you will not work on the
case any more--that you are done. Then go about your regular business.
We'll have you watched, and as soon as we are satisfied that you are
keeping faith with us, we'll send you ten thousand dollars in cash. If
you make the agreement with me, I'll give you a thousand cash to-night
before you leave this place, as a sort of retainer and expression of our
sincerity. Then, following the fee of ten thousand dollars, you'll find
that much business is flowing your way. All you have to do to get all
this is to withdraw from the Prale case at once."
"You must be afraid that I am finding out some things," Jim Farland
suggested.
"That is scarcely the reason," the masked man answered. "We want Sidney
Prale to stand alone, to be without help of any sort--that is all."
"But I am more than Sidney Prale's employee. I am his friend!" Farland
protested.
"You were his friend ten years ago, sir, but a man may change a great
deal in ten years. Are you quite sure that the Sidney Prale of to-day is
the boyish, friendly Sidney Prale of ten years ago?"
"I am quite sure; and that is why I am trying to help him," Jim Farland
declared.
"I fear that he is fooling you--as he is deceiving others. He is not
worthy of such friendship as you are giving him."
"How do I know that?" Farland asked. "If I could have some sort of an
explanation----"
He awaited the other's reply. If he could get some inkling as to why
Prale had powerful enemies, it might help a lot.
"I can tell you this much: Sidney Prale did something that wrecked and
ruined several lives. Certain prominent persons have decided to punish
him. He is to have his life made miserable, he is to have his fortune
taken away from him, he is to be subjected to petty annoyances and hard
blows alike, driven from this, his home town, forced to realize that a
man cannot do what he did and escape retribution."
"Sounds like he murdered a nation!" Jim Farland commented. "Did he wreck
the national treasury or turn traitor to the flag?"
"I am not jesting, Mr. Farland."
"Neither am I. My eyes have got to be opened, sir. You've got to come
clean with me. Prale's enemies may strike at him from the dark, but Jim
Farland never works in the dark! I want to see where I'm stepping. I
never like to trip over anything."
"I have told you all that I can at present."
"Why?"
"Because I do not care to give you information if you are still to work
for Prale."
"You say that Prale knows his enemies and why they are fighting him. If
he does, he never has told me. Tell me that much--since you say Sid
Prale knows it already. It couldn't hurt your side at all."
"We might tell you later."
"You've got some very good reason for not telling me!" Farland accused.
"It is the truth, isn't it, that Prale does not know a single thing
about it. You are afraid to tell me because I may inform him of what you
say, and we may straighten out the tangle? I can see through you, sir,
as easily as through a newly cleaned window."
"I see that you have faith in Sidney Prale," the masked man said. "But I
assure you that your faith is misplaced. Is there any way in which I can
get you to stop your work for him?"
"Meaning against his influential enemies, or on the Rufus Shepley murder
case?" Farland asked.
"We simply want you to stop working for him. If he stands alone, we can
punish him the sooner."
"I understand about that, of course. But how about the murder case? Do
you think Sid Prale is guilty of that crime?" Farland asked.
"I do not know, I am sure. I understand that the evidence against him is
damaging. But we are not awaiting the outcome of that. He may manage to
have the charge against him dismissed, and we are going ahead with our
plans for punishment."
"Then you want me to quit Prale so I won't be helping him work against
his enemies, and not because you are afraid that, in clearing him of the
murder charge, I may find something detrimental to other persons?"
"That is the idea," the masked man replied. "The murder case can take
care of itself, I suppose."
"Suppose I refuse to make this deal with you?"
"In that event, we may feel called upon to detain you--and perhaps to
use further violence."
"Then you might as well start!" Jim Farland cried. "For you are lying to
me like blazes! It's the murder case that's worrying you, and you know
it! And I know _you_! I've been trying to place those hands of yours and
I have succeeded. Besides, you have said one or two things that have
convinced me----"
The masked man gave a shriek and started toward the couch, his hands
reaching out, clutching. Two of the thugs ran in from the hall.