The man called Teneyke had decided to give his confidence to Cottar.
He had reached the limit of his detective powers and needed aid. All
research in the way of telephone books and directories of the region
round about Meadow Brook had failed to bring forth any one whose name
fitted the letters of the paper which he treasured carefully, wrapped
in clean tissue paper and further enshrined in a dirty envelope, in his
inside pocket.
He sought Cottar early in the evening in his own home, a dull little
clapboard house with a side gate and a brick walk. The front door was
always locked and one entered by the kitchen door at the side into a
room lighted by a kerosene lamp on a little high shelf, and misty with
the smoke of Cottar’s pipe. Cottar’s old wife was deaf as a post, and
went pottering round with a little shoulder shawl across her neck and
took no notice of anybody. When Teneyke came in Cottar signed to her
and she lit a candle and went up a shallow stairway into the wall.
One could hear her shuffling tread overhead. The two men waited till
the boards overhead stopped creaking. Then Cottar lifted his bushy
eyebrows, and let his beady, wise little eyes peer out speculatively.
“Wal, Tyke?”
“All safe?”
“All safe.”
Tyke got out the paper and unwrapped it. Cottar put on his spectacles.
Together they silently studied the writing. “oyce Radw.” It seemed
to mean nothing to Cottar at first. But Tyke produced a page filched
from a public telephone book. There were three R’s that might have been
possible, Radwan, Radwanski, and Radwell. The shrewd Cottar decided
that the first two were too foreign. The handwriting looked plain and
well formed, not as he thought a foreigner would write. Radwell might
be the name. He could think of no other. The first name they decided
must be Boyce, although that was a boy’s name and not a girl’s, and
would, if correct, throw them off the track altogether. Perhaps it was
a middle name. So they speculated.
Cottar made a careful, painstaking copy of the writing and folded it
away in his grimy pocket for further use.
“Well, I don’t figger it out _yet_, but there’s ways. If she’s a Meadow
Brook dame we’ll find her out. Just keep yer mouth shet an’ yer eyes
open an’ most things comes out. Gimme time.”
Came a tap on the door, and Bill entered:
“Man, I had a hard time findin’ ye!” he said, casting a furtive glance
about with his restless, bloodshot eyes. “Hey there, Tyke, I thought
you got pinched!”
“What, me! Think again, Bill. Take a slicker guy’n that cop to lay
hands on me. I double crossed him, I did. Seen Taney?”
“Yep. Got him hid in the Hazels down on the Point. Gonta watch all
night. Taney’s all right fer that. He’s on the job. Nothin’ won’t get
by him. We figger this would be the night fer another lot to land
there if they had any sorta greement about it. There ain’t no other
spot this side o’ the lights, an’ he’s bound to connect along this
coast somewheres. He ain’t goin’ fur away, you needn’t think. He’s got
his good buyers all around this part. No sir, he thinks he’s got us
buffaloed all right with that there two hundred bucks, an’ now he’s
figgerin’ to work it alone, the young devil!”
“Been to the cem’try, Bill?”
“Yep. Went this a.m. fore dawn. Jest light ’nough t’see t’spade.
Opened her all up. Nothin’ there but a bed of broken glass. Slick job!
Cleaned the whole thing out. Must think we’re takin’ nourishment out
of a bottle yet, we can’t see through that. Say, boys, whaddaya say we
take a little trip through the ole buryin’ ground up by the state road?
He’s bound to get another location fer his business, an’ that’s good
an’ lonely. I found out he’s got a sister an’ she’s got some kids. Be
a good idee to buddy up to ’em, Tyke. You’re good at that business.
They live down to Meadow Brook on Orchard Street, third house from the
corner, opposite to the garage.”
Tyke narrowed his eyes and nodded.
The next day Tyke happened along Orchard Street as Lib Knox was
starting to school.
“Yer uncle at home?”
She eyed him shrewdly.
“Whaddaya wanta know for?” she demanded, cold-eyed.
“Just wantta see him on a message.”
“Well, he ain’t in,” she said loftily. “You better leave the message.”
She started down the street with her armful of books, and Dorothea,
approaching from the corner, joined her. Tyke followed them and lounged
along beside them.
“Say, kid,” he said, bringing out the greasy envelope, “donno but I
will. I c’n confide in you. I see you’re a pretty good sort o’ kid.
Looka here!”
But Lib Knox was not the easily flattered sort. She eyed him with
suspicion, and looked coldly at the bit of paper he held out to her.
When she caught sight of the writing her eyes narrowed and she gave him
a quick, veiled glance beneath their fringes. Dorothea, behind her, as
ever curious, stretched her neck to see the writing also.
“Know whose name that is?” The man asked the question with alluring
mystery in his tone, as if he knew the name himself and had some
wonderful information to impart concerning it. But Lib was a smart girl.
“Don’t look like any name at all to me,” she said contemptuously.
“Looks like just a piece of writing. Where’d you get it?”
“That I ain’t tellin’ till I find out what you know about it. If you
can tell me the name I’ll tell you something your uncle would like real
well to know. Most like he’ll give you a box of candy if you tell him.”
Lib tossed her head angrily.
“My uncle ain’t that kind and I can get candy when I want it. I tell
you that ain’t anybody’s name at all. It’s just scribbling. Come on,
Dorrie, we’ll be late to school.”
But Dorothea had got a good vision of the writing at last.
“Why, that’s my cousin’s name!” she exclaimed eagerly, wondering if she
could possibly get that box of candy. “Joyce Ra--”
But a firm little hand was laid smotheringly over her mouth.
“Shut up!” said Lib Knox fiercely. “Don’t you know you mustn’t talk to
strange men on the street? Come on, I hear the last bell ringing--” and
she seized her young slave and dragged her at full tilt down the street.
Tyke stood still on the pavement, his red hair reflecting the morning
sun, and his unholy face broad with a leer of triumph. Let them go. He
had his clue, Joyce! Strange he hadn’t thought of that name before.
Even when he used the whole alphabet, somehow he didn’t figure out that
name. The rest would be easy to get. He sauntered down after the flying
children and noted the location of the school house. School would be
out at noon of course--or would afternoon be better? Ah, there was a
tall hedge across the way, an excellent point of vantage to watch as
the children filed out at the end of the day.
And so it happened, quite late in the afternoon after Lib Knox and
Dorothea had written their misspelled words five hundred times and
stayed in an extra half-hour for talking deaf and dumb language in
class, and when they had visited the public garage for an hour and
played with the five blind puppies that had recently arrived there, and
had said a lingering and fond farewell for the afternoon and parted,
that Dorothea started on her reluctant way home to supper.
As she turned the corner out of sight of Lib Knox, Tyke stepped up as
if he had just been walking down that way.
“Hello, kid,” he said in his insinuating way. “I jest been lookin’ fer
you. Bought that box of candy awhile ago an’ thought I’d like to give
it to you. You like chocolates, don’t you, kid?”
Dorothea quickly assured him that she did, her eyes round with
eagerness.
He produced a pound box tied with a red ribbon.
“Well, you’re a nice kid,” he went on. “I knowed it the minute I saw
you. So that girl was your cousin, was she? Joyce, wha did ya say her
name was? I ferget without the writin’ in front of me.”
“Joyce Radway,” eagerly supplied Dorothea, her eyes on the candy box.
“Yes, that’s it, Joyce Radway. Of course. How did I come to ferget
that? Well, now this Joyce Radway, she’s a great friend of that other
girl’s uncle, ain’t she?”
“Why, I guess so,” said Dorothea. “He came to the house to see her the
other night.”
“Oh, he did, did he? Yes, of course he would. Then your cousin is home,
ain’t she?” insinuatingly.
“No, she ain’t home, not now,” said Dorothea, annoyed, wondering when
he was going to give her the box. “She’s gone away.”
“Oh! She has?” his eyes narrowed as he watched her. “Did she go away
with him?”
“Oh, no,” said Dorothea garrulously. “She just went away by herself.
She was mad. Daddy scolded her, and she just went.”
“Yes?” said the young man ingratiatingly, fumbling with the red ribbon
as if he were about to untie it. “Suppose you tell me all about it, and
then I’ll give you the candy. You say your daddy scolded her? What for?
Didn’t he like the boys coming to see her?”
“Oh, no,” said Dorothea quite earnestly, trying to think how to answer
so she would get the candy quickly. “She never had any boys. It was
just the ’lectric light. Daddy said she burned it too much, and he
didn’t like her taking ’zaminations and all. Where’dya get the candy? I
saw a box like that down to the drug store.”
“Yes, that’s where I got it. It’s good candy. I suppose you’ll give
your cousin some when you get home.”
“Oh, she hasn’t come home. I couldn’t--” said the little girl with
virtuous satisfaction.
“Hasn’t got home? Why, where is she?” plied her questioner.
“Why, we don’t know. Daddy’s most crazy. Say, if you know where she is
you better tell me, fer there’s something ’bout her having to be home
for Judge Peterson to read the will and give us our house. Do you know
where cousin Joyce is?”
“Why, I might be able to find out, kiddie,” said the oily voice. “Where
do you live? You tell me where you live and I’ll let you know if I find
she’s in the place I think she is.”
“Why, I live right up there in that white house with green blinds,”
said Dorothea eagerly. “I wish you’d let me know tonight. I’ll come
out to the gate and wait for you if you will. Daddy would be awful
pleased with me if I told him where Joyce was. I think he’d get me a
new bicycle if I did.”
“Well, we’ll see what can be done,” said Tyke wickedly. “Here’s yer
candy, kid, and p’raps ye’ll hear from me soon.”
Tyke handed over the candy and Dorothea flew home, pausing behind the
lilac bush to extract one luscious mouthful from the box, then rushing
up to her room to secrete the rest where Junior would not find it,
under the mattress of her bed.
Tyke went on his evil way rejoicing. Shrewd little Lib Knox saw him as
he passed her house and scuttled behind the hedge, sticking out her
tongue behind his back as he passed, and thought she had frustrated
his intentions, while five blocks away Dorothea was gorging herself on
Dutch creams and wondering why Lib didn’t like that nice young man.