RENFRO GETS A SHOCK.
Not until he was in Miss Turpin’s class did Renfro have an opportunity
to hear anything about the kidnaping of Helen Wier, otherwise than
that which had been in the morning newspaper. And in them had been the
statement that all clues offered by members of the detective force and
members of the Wier family had been followed down and led to nothing.
But in Miss Turpin’s class a late comer to school brought more news.
Judge Wier had received a letter that morning in the first mail. It was
just a note written by Helen herself, in her girlish scrawl. She was
well she said and comfortable. That was all.
But the note had been mailed in a city mail box directly across the
street from where Judge Wier lived. That gave the detectives a new
clue. They were--
And then Renfro remembered his clue--the missing eyebrows. With great
deliberation last night he had chosen his hiding place--between the
case and the pillow itself. But his father had called him late and he
had forgotten all about his valuable possessions.
At the close of the recitations he went to the dean, obtained
permission to use her private phone and slipped alone into her inner
office. He talked in a very low tone. First he called his home number.
And then he almost shouted over his own good fortune. Mary had answered
the call.
“Don’t talk, Mary,” he cautioned, “don’t say anything which would give
me away. It’s Hooch. Has anybody made up my bed yet?”
Mary herself had--just a little while before.
“Then you didn’t bother them--my clues,” he almost implored. “You know
what I mean Mary--those eye--eye--you know.”
Mary knew.
Then Renfro told her where he had put them. No, Mary hadn’t seen them,
but if he would wait she would run up stairs and see if she could find
them. A long wait followed during which Renfro counted several hundred
digits to make the time hurry and then he heard Mary’s voice once more.
It was terrible--full of tears, of fear and of grief. They were
gone--Renfro’s leading clues. She had shook his pillows, quite as was
her usual custom, had swept his floor and then and--
The rest of her speech was lost. Renfro had dashed the receiver back
onto the hook, slipped as fast as he could to his cloak room, donned
his cap and gloves and was down at the principal’s office. His white
face, his dark staring horror stricken eyes gave proof to his statement
that he was sick and he was excused for the rest of the morning.
Darting across streets in front of automobiles, down alleys thru which
he had not been in months, panting, puffing, and never stopping, Renfro
rushed into his own back gate, up the walk and into the kitchen where
Mary was weeping copiously. A few questions from him, a few answers
from her and they were both down in the basement, right into the
furnace room.
No, Mary didn’t remember where she had emptied the sweeper that
morning. She usually did but this morning she had been busy thinking
out excuses she could find for going out to Captain Pete’s and
discovering the condition of the old hunter’s eyebrows. She sobbed
audibly while she talked. Mrs. Horn had gone up town to a sale she
informed Renfro and she could cry loud and get all the comfort she
wanted out of so doing.
Together they searched thru the trash pile, then all over the basement
floor, and all the way up and down the dark stairway. And then Mary
remembered the garden plot. The ash man had asked her to empty her
sweepings on the ash pile. He often found pins and needles and
interesting knick knacks for his little girl in people’s ash piles.
And out there Renfro found one folded piece of paper and Mary the
other. They flew into each others arms. Back in the kitchen Mary found
her family Bible and made room in it for Renfro to place the precious
possessions along with the bit of her baby hair and one bridesmaid’s
dress and her long ago admirer’s picture. Mary informed him that
she was going to buy some black paper, some white paint and make a
reproduction of the eyebrows for their everyday use in hunting down
clues.
“The detective book said to make copies of everything you find in
regard to a crime,” she offered the proof of the wisdom of her
suggestion.
“Well you guard your Bible, Mary dear, and wait a little while,” Hooch
begged her, now restored to health again and ready to return to school.
It was Jimmie Noel who at noon suggested to Renfro that he go see his
route manager for suggestions about securing his new subscribers. “He’s
an old hand,” he advised, “and he can give you pointers which will save
you half of your energy.”
Renfro hesitated. That might mean a loss of time and he had determined
to go out to both Captain Pete’s and the big house that night. Still
“The Globe” was his business and a fellow’s own business came first.
Besides his father had given him permission to stay out late.
Renfro found Morrison rushing and fuming. Warren, route manager of
the north side, had boasted that his boys were going to win the most
turkeys. “I can’t have that,” Morrison was urging two of his best
carriers whom he had summoned in to act in an emergency. “Fellows, this
is just like a big basket ball game. Are you going to let your enemy’s
team beat you without a struggle?”
Then he saw Renfro, “Hello, Hooch Horn,” he said genially, “How can I
help you, old man?”
Renfro’s list of twenty new subscribers went onto the counter in front
of Morrison. “Two turkeys won already,” he smiled. “And I thought
perhaps you could give me some suggestions on how to win four more.”
A smile spread over Morrison’s face and then it stopped suddenly as he
examined the list of names. “Ward’s no good,” he ejaculated. “Didn’t
Andy tell you? He beat him out of a bill. And Newkirk did the same and
that Patterson woman--”
“But they all paid in advance,” Renfro interrupted.
Morrison stared at him. “They did!” he half shouted and drew his hand
across his forehead. “They did! Well how in the thunder did you get
money out of them before they got the paper? Boy, you must have a
wonderful line of talk.”
Arm in arm he and Renfro walked to the door. “Go to it, Hooch,” was
Morrison’s last advice, “win these turkeys and I’ll put up the best
feed in any hotel you choose. The south side always does take the
prizes. But for Old Grief to win first honors, Hooch, that would be the
surprise of the Globe during the sixty years it has been a paper.”
“Say,” he called Renfro back, “Bruce said you had guts, when he hired
you.”
Renfro remembered that statement of Bruce’s as he worked against great
obstacles for subscribers that afternoon. But he stuck, tho there
seemed nothing but obstacles in front of him and finally counted out
his five new names. “Turkey number three,” he laughed and pulled out
his watch.
Seven-thirty o’clock and a heavy darkness everywhere. The street lights
were dim tonight and there was almost no one out on East Washington.
Judge Wier’s house had been guarded by a detective, not because of the
discovery of a new clue but Mrs. Wier’s nerves from the morning’s note
had demanded one.
At the little corner grocery Renfro bought a hot dog sandwich and some
weak tea and ate and drank standing close to the door. No one passed
except a colored woman carrying home her “wash.” Out on the street he
hurried down toward the big house and the shack beyond.
He stumbled thru the underbrush at the side of the road, over the rail
fence and into the lane between the two orchards. A dark form loomed
before him. He held his breath and stood still. A low sniff came to
him, a joyous bark and Lang Tammy was against him, his big shaggy body
almost overturning Renfro. He grabbed one end of the bag and the usual
game of pulling followed.
“Like to play, old fellow?” Renfro patted his head. “Next time, old
boy, I’ll bring you a hot dog if I have to go without one myself.”
While he talked to the dog he caught a glimmer of light in the big
house, up on the second floor at the right side in the dormer window
where there were still shutters. It didn’t linger there long and when
it went out the whole house was left in darkness. Nor was it lighted
again.
Renfro turned his back on the big house and stumbled across the
field toward the shack. The orchard was desolate and rocky with a
few remnants of trees which never bore but in the darkness they were
formidable looking and their roots stumbling blocks.
After the orchard came the lane again and then the open space around
the shack. A gleam of light from the window told Renfro that Captain
Pete was at home. Before he crossed to the door Renfro ordered Lang
Tammy “to go home” and after a little the big dog slouched away.
“He’s been taught to mind all right,” Renfro watched the big creature
now an abject object of fear, slinking down the lane, “and he’s been
taught thru terrible cruelty.”
Captain Pete answered the knock. His shaggy head was uncovered and he
knitted his heavy white eyebrows all of which were intact. No, he did
not have any rabbits. The Elks had come out that afternoon and gotten
all he had for a big supper they were having. But he would have some
the next day for Renfro.
Then Renfro grew a bit bold. “Sometimes, Captain Pete,” he said
quietly, “I know your old house is haunted or something, for I’ve seen
lights in it. Now tonight--”
Captain Pete’s head shook a vigorous denial. “There wasn’t anybody
there,” he said. Why it was so full of wide open cracks that nobody
couldn’t stay there. And most of the tin roof was off by this time.
“Captain Pete may be innocent,” Renfro drawled, back on the road again,
“but he’s sure not ignorant.”