_RASCOMB’S EXPLANATION_
Motioning for Flash to follow, Captain Johns strode across the empty
lobby to the desk. Curtly he questioned the sleepy-eyed clerk as to the
occupant of Room 47.
“Number 47? It was assigned about a half hour ago to Herbert Rascomb.”
“I’m going up there to see a man,” informed the captain. “Now get this
straight. If I fail to return to the lobby within twenty minutes, notify
Major Hartgrove in Room 267. Tell him to join me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. Twenty minutes.”
Flash and the captain walked up a flight of stairs to the first floor.
The door of Room 47 was opened by a dignified looking man of forty-five
who wore glasses and was slightly bald.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said in a polished voice. “I should not
have invited you here at such a late hour, but certain misunderstandings
must be cleared up before further harm is done.”
Mr. Gordon glanced significantly at Flash as if to imply that he
deliberately and needlessly had created trouble.
A man sat at the window, his face swathed in bandages. Flash stopped
short as he recognized him.
“Rascomb!”
“Evans, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you alive!”
Rascomb arose painfully, and taking a step forward, extended his hand.
“I met Doyle downstairs a few minutes ago,” he explained. “He told me of
your miraculous escape from the fire! I can’t make you understand the
feeling which went over me.”
“You are an excellent actor,” Flash retorted, ignoring the proffered
hand. “But I don’t doubt you were surprised to learn I was in Excelsior
City. You thought you had taken care of me for several days at least!”
“My dear young man,” Rascomb said soothingly, “you seem to be laboring
under some delusion. Doyle warned me, but I found it most difficult to
believe.”
“Let’s sit down and talk this over in a sensible way,” interposed Mr.
Gordon. “Through Mr. Doyle we have learned that Evans here has been
making false and libelous accusations against Mr. Rascomb.”
“False!” exclaimed Flash angrily. “I can prove every statement I’ve
made!”
“You most certainly will be given the opportunity,” the lawyer said.
“Possibly in court.”
“Now I don’t want to be too hard on you, Evans,” spoke Rascomb quietly.
“You have gone through an ordeal tonight, enough to break an iron man.
Slight wonder you became confused and thought your friends were
enemies.”
“So I imagined that you struck me over the head with an oar? And later
that you locked me in the cabin?”
Rascomb gazed despairingly at Captain Johns. Turning to Flash once more,
he said:
“How can I convince you of the truth? Doyle will support my story. You
were thrown into the water when our boat accidentally upset. You may
have struck your head on a rock or submerged log. I know you failed to
come to the surface. Doyle and I searched as long as we dared.”
“And did I lock myself in the lodge?”
“No,” admitted Rascomb, smiling faintly. “Fleur shut you up there.”
“Fleur?” questioned the captain.
“My caretaker. Evans raved so much and told such an outlandish story
that Fleur considered him out of his head. He locked him up and
telephoned me. I immediately ordered his release.”
“Your story is very smooth,” said Flash, “but there’s one little detail
you can’t gloss over. How about that scar on your cheek?”
“I have no scar.”
“Prove it,” Flash challenged. “Take off those bandages!”
Mr. Gordon spoke with exasperation.
“We are trying to be patient. You make it most difficult. In returning
to Excelsior City this evening from his hunting lodge, Mr. Rascomb was
in a motor accident. Hence the bandages.”
“A very convenient accident!”
“I shall be glad to remove the bandages whenever my doctor grants
permission,” said Rascomb with dignity. “Possibly by tomorrow. However,
I assure you I have no scar, unless I may bear some slight mark as a
result of today’s accident.”
Flash glanced toward Captain Johns who had listened attentively to the
argument. Rascomb’s story was so flimsy that he did not think the army
man could place the slightest confidence in it.
To his amazement, Johns gave every indication of being impressed.
There was a moment of silence. Then Rascomb inquired:
“Are there any other questions you wish to ask me? I have nothing to
hide.”
“One question,” said Captain Johns. “Why did you have a picture of
Albert Povy in your possession?”
Rascomb’s eyes became wary, but he did not lose poise.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”
“This picture.”
The army man displayed the photograph which Flash had given him a few
minutes before, but did not place it in Rascomb’s outstretched hand.
“Oh, that picture,” the sportsman said carelessly. “I found it among
Povy’s personal effects. His luggage was sent to me after I claimed the
body.”
“And why were you so interested in Povy?” pursued Captain Johns. “I must
say that you bear a remarkable resemblance to him.”
Rascomb drew a deep sigh.
“I had hoped to be spared this confession,” he said. “Povy was distantly
related to me—a second cousin. You may be sure I never was proud of the
kinship. I knew my cousin had an unsavory reputation, and his activities
never ceased to alarm and embarrass me. Heartless as it may seem, his
death came as a relief to me.”
“You changed your story,” observed Flash. “Yesterday Povy was a stranger
you befriended.”
“I told you that, I admit. However, I considered your questions somewhat
impertinent. And I never have willingly admitted my relationship to
Albert Povy. He was the one black sheep in an otherwise honorable and
distinguished family.”
The telephone rang. Mr. Gordon arose to answer it.
“For you, Captain,” he announced.
Captain Johns glanced at his watch and picked up the receiver.
“What’s that?” he demanded incredulously into the transmitter.
“Impossible!”
Hanging up the receiver, he turned to face the surprised group.
“Not bad news I hope?” inquired Rascomb.
Captain Johns did not answer. His eyes roved about the room, glinting
with anger as they fastened upon Flash.
“Evans,” he said sharply, “you have misled me. We shall consider this
investigation closed.”
A triumphant smile crossed Herbert Rascomb’s face. He offered his hand
to Captain Johns who shook it firmly.
“You are a just and reasonable man, Captain. I was certain I could
convince you of the truth. Evans meant well, but he allowed his
imagination to run away with him.”
“He did that. My apologies, Mr. Rascomb.”
“Don’t be too hard on Evans,” Rascomb replied with a show of solicitude.
“A day in the hospital and he’ll feel like himself again.”
Flash started to speak and changed his mind. With the Captain against
him he had no chance. Angrily, he started for the door.
“Wait!” commanded Captain Johns. “I have a few words to say to you.”
Reluctantly, Flash paused. The captain politely bade Gordon and Rascomb
good evening, and departed.
Once in the hallway his manner immediately altered. Grasping Flash’s
arm, he guided him toward the elevator.
“Don’t take what I said too seriously, Evans,” he advised. “There’s
something wrong here. While we were with Rascomb an attack was made on
the Major!”