NORA FEARS FOR GARTH
From the moment of his solution of the Elmford affair Garth was
recognized at headquarters as the man for the big jobs--the city's most
serviceable detective. For one who accepted his success so modestly it
was difficult to breed jealous enemies. There was, to be sure, some
speculation as to how long such a man would chain his abilities by the
modest pay of the department, and a wish here and there that he would
find it convenient to free himself for broader fields in the near
future.
Garth realized that it was the inspector's attitude that had determined
his new standing. Under other circumstances things might have progressed
more slowly. The tie formed the night of the arrest of Slim and George
was still strong.
Garth arranged, when he went to bear the news of his discovery to Dr.
Randall in the Tombs, to catch a glimpse of the two. Their greeting
sufficiently defined the threat he had always known existed. In their
faces he read an intention from which he shrank, more for Nora's sake
than for his own. He didn't stay to argue. He walked on to Randall's
cell and told the stricken man that in a few minutes he would be free.
Garth had been a good prophet. Randall's first resentment gave way to a
gratitude, expressed with difficulty but genuine.
"It--it was exceptionally fine of you to let Thompson destroy those
things."
"I would want someone to do as much for me," he answered, "that is, if I
ever had the nerve to do what you did. That was the fine thing, doctor."
And Garth went away, aware that he had made a staunch friend.
The inspector was troubled when he heard of Slim and George's open
hatred. He saw the district attorney, and others whose ears he had. On
his return he sent for Garth.
"The district attorney tells me," he said, "that there isn't a loophole.
They'll be convicted and go to the chair as certain as that when the
moon shines lovers kiss. If they don't escape. Without suggesting that
every crook doesn't get the same attention, I've seen to it that those
chair warmers will be watched closer than Fido watches the butcher."
So again Garth put the matter out of his mind, and was aided by an
unexpected threat, apparently just as serious, that faced him a very
short time after.
On that fall morning he paused on the threshold of the inspector's
office, and, surprised and curious, glanced quickly within. It was not
so much that Nora sat by the window, clothed in her habitual black, nor
was his interest quickened by the fact that she knitted deftly on some
heavy, gray garment. Rather his concern centered on the inspector who
had left his desk and whose corpulent, lethargic figure moved about the
room with an exceptional and eccentric animation.
At Garth's step Nora glanced up, smiling. The inspector retarded his
heated walk. To ease the perceptible strain Garth spoke to Nora.
"Seems to me you knit no matter where you are."
"When one knits for the hospitals," she answered, "any place will do. I
had hoped my example might quiet father. I only dropped in for a chat,
and look at him. What a welcome! I'm afraid, Jim, he has something
disagreeable for you."
The inspector paused and sat on the edge of his desk.
"Maybe so. Maybe not," he rumbled. "I don't like working through the
dark, so I don't like to ask anybody else to do it. I've got to, though.
Cheer up, Garth. I'm asking you."
He raised his paper cutter and jabbed at the desk with a massive
petulance.
"Ever since I got down this morning," he went on, "I've been hounded by
telegrams and long-distance calls. Well? Do you want a holiday? It's apt
to be a hell of a holiday. Excuse me, Nora."
"I see," Garth said. "Something out of town."
The inspector's manner warned him. After long experience he knew it
veiled a grave distrust.
"Why," Nora asked, "don't you tell us what the case is?"
The inspector walked around the desk and with a sigh settled himself in
his easy chair.
"That's the rumpus," he answered, and Garth saw that his eyes were not
quite steady. "Don't know anything about it myself unless they'd like
Garth to chase a few spooks. Here's the lay-out. It's a man who's done
me a good many favors. There's no secret--political ones. I'm in his
debt, and he's asked me for a good detective to go up to his place in
New England--not as a detective, mind you, Garth. That's the queer side,
the side I don't like. He insists on his man's showing up as a guest,
knowing no more than a random guest would know. Sounds like tommy-rot,
but he isn't sure himself there's anything out of the way. He wants you,
if you take it up, to live quietly in the house, keeping your eyes
peeled. He expects you to put him wise to the trouble or to stake your
reputation that there isn't any trouble at all. Are you willing to jump
into a chase blindly that way? He'd like the fellow that swung the
Hennion job, but if you turned it down cold I couldn't help it, could
I?"
"Nonsense, chief," Garth answered. "Never heard of such a thing, but it
sounds interesting. I'll take a shot at it."
The inspector wrote hurriedly on a piece of paper.
"Here's his name and address. Catch the ten o'clock from the Grand
Central and you'll get up there to-night."
Garth took the slip. Before placing it in his pocket he glanced it over.
"Andrew Alden," he saw. "Leave Boston from North Station on four o'clock
train and get off at Deacon's Bay."
"I've heard of Mr.--" Garth began.
The inspector's quick, angry shake of the head in Nora's direction
brought him to an abrupt pause. He walked to Nora and took her hand.
"Then I won't see you until after my holiday," he said with a smile.
Her eyes were vaguely uneasy.
"I agree with father," she said. "It isn't safe to walk through the
dark. Won't you tell me where you're going?"
Garth's laugh was uncomfortable. He didn't pretend to understand, but
his course had been clearly enough indicated.
"I'll leave that for the inspector," he answered. "I have to rush to
pick up my things on the way to the train."
The uneasiness in her eyes increased.
"You know, Jim, as father says, you can turn it down. It might be
wiser."
His heart responded to her anxiety. In view of her fear it was a trifle
absurd that their farewell should project nothing more impulsive than a
hand-clasp. Its only compensation, indeed, was the reluctance with which
she let his fingers go.
When Garth had left, Nora arose and faced her father.
"What's all this mystery?" she demanded. "It's easy enough to guess
there's danger for Jim, and you know a lot more than you pretend."
"See here, Nora," the inspector grumbled, "I usually give the third
degree myself in this place."
She rested her hands on the desk, studying his uncertain eyes.
"Why," she asked, "wouldn't you let Jim tell me the man's name?"
His bluster was too apparently simulated.
"What did you come down for this morning anyway? No sense in your
getting upset. A detective bureau isn't a nursery."
She straightened slowly, her face recording an unwelcome assurance.
"Politics!" she cried. "And Jim's leaving from the Grand Central. I
know. He's going to Mr. Alden's at Deacon's Bay. I see why you wouldn't
let him tell me."
"Place is all right," the inspector said stubbornly. "You've seen it.
You were there with me two summers ago. What's the matter with the
place?"
"No use trying to pull the wool over my eyes," Nora answered. "It's the
loneliest place I've ever seen, and you ought to know I'd remember Mr.
Alden's big furnaces and machine-shop. I read the papers, father. He's
staying up so late this year on account of the enormous war orders he's
taken. You know as well as I do that that may mean real danger for Jim.
What did Mr. Alden tell you?"
The inspector spread his hands helplessly.
"I sometimes think, Nora, you'd make a better detective than any of us.
Alden's sick and nervous. I guess that's all it amounts to. He's
probably scared some German sympathizer may take a pot shot at him for
filling these contracts. And he's worried about his wife. She won't
leave him there alone, and it seems all their servants, except old John,
have cleared out."
"You said something to Jim about spooks," Nora prompted.
"Thought you'd come to that," the inspector said. "You're like your
mother was, Nora--always on the look-out for the supernatural."
"So, I gather, were the servants," she answered drily.
"Silly talk, Alden says, about the woods back of his house. You
remember. There was some kind of a fight there during the Revolution--a
lot of men ambushed and massacred. I guess you saw the bayonets and
gun-locks Alden had dug up. Servants got talking--said they saw things
there on foggy nights."
The inspector lowered his voice to a more serious key.
"The angle I don't like is that Alden's valet was found dead in those
woods yesterday morning. Not a mark on him. Coroner, I believe, says
apoplexy, but Alden's nervous, and the rest of the help cleared out. I
suppose they'll get somebody else up as soon as they can. Meantime Alden
and his wife are alone with old John. Confound it, Nora, I had to send
him somebody."
"But without a word of this!"
"I tell you I don't like it. I didn't want to do it. It was Alden's
idea--would have it that way. Frankly I don't make it out, but maybe,
being on the spot, he knows best."
"There's something here," she said, "that we can't understand--maybe
something big. It isn't fair to Jim."
The inspector looked up slyly.
"Jim," he said, "can take care of himself if anybody can. Seems to me
you're pretty anxious. Sure you haven't anything to tell me about you
and him? If you had, I might make a place for him watching these
ten-cent lunch joints to see that customers didn't carry away the
hardware and crockery. Then all the danger you'd have to worry about
would be that he might eat the food."
But Nora failed to smile. She glanced away, shaking her head.
"I've nothing to tell you, father," she answered. "Nothing now. I don't
know. Honestly I don't know. I only know I've been through one such
experience, and if anything happened to Jim that I could help, I'd never
forgive myself."