PLUCKING A BRAND FROM THE BURNING
"Good day, my friends!" was the greeting of the detective as he closed
the door behind him, strode forward and saluted Mike, who, after his
exclamation, rose from his chair and, open mouth and staring eyes, limply
clasped the hand that was offered him.
"I wasn't looking for you, Mike, but I was searching for Hor--I beg
pardon, Orestes Noxon. I hope I see you well, barring the slight injury
to the leg inflicted by Mr. Gerald Buxton last night."
And what did the officer do but shake hands with Noxon, who kept his seat
as if in a daze? Mike, who was watching the couple, instantly noted a
significant fact. Beyond question the two were acquaintances. The face of
the young man flushed scarlet and he said faintly:
"Well, Mr. Calvert, you have got me at last."
"Yes; and a right merry chase you have led me. You won't get away this
time."
"I suppose not."
"Sit down, Mike," said the caller, drawing up a chair for himself. "I
have something I would like very much to say to thee, Orestes."
At this moment Aunt Maggie swung through the door again. She had seen the
man enter and wished to know what it meant. Calvert sprang to his feet
and bowed.
"I have found a couple of good friends of mine, who I am sure are greatly
indebted to you for your hospitality. One cannot fail to tell by your
looks that you have a wonderfully kind heart----"
"Arrah, now," replied Mrs. McCaffry, pushing away the hair in front of
her face with her fat hand, "but ye are the worst blarney of thim all.
I'll have nothing to do wid ye till dinner time, whin I'll stuff ye all
so full of roast pig and praties that ye'll be obleeged to kaap quiet
regarding dacent folks."
She knew the three wished to talk over private matters, and made sure
they were left alone for the next hour or two.
"Mr. Calvert," said Noxon, "Mike here has proved himself a true friend to
me--so you may talk freely before him. He doesn't know my right name and
says he doesn't care to know. So we will let that pass. What caused you
to look here for me?"
"Warner Hagan met me in Wiscasset yesterday to give what help he could in
running Kit Woodford and his gang to earth. Early this morning we heard
of the attempted robbery of the Beartown post office. We hired a launch
and got there as soon as we could. Nobody in Beartown suspects our
business. It did not take us long to pick up all that was known. We
learned that one of the three got peppered with bird shot, and managed to
limp off in the woods. Of course I recognized the three young gentlemen
who were accepting the hospitality of Mrs. Friestone, the postmistress.
They required no immediate attention and were sure to turn up all right
in the end.
"I left Hagan in Beartown to look into matters further while I set out to
hunt for the fellow who had limped off in the woods, after turning the
tables so cleverly on Mr. Buxton. Without any reason that I could explain
I formed the suspicion that this member of the gang was you, Noxon (I
believe that is your travelling name). It was represented that he was
hurt much worse than I am glad to say was the fact. I inquired at each
house along the road between here and Beartown and hit it at last.
"Now," added the visitor as if seated with his intimate friends, "since
you tell me to talk freely in Mike's presence, I shall do so. Are you
ready, Noxon, to go to your home with me?"
"Begging yer pardin, Mr. Calvert, I beg to say that has been sittled. The
dearest hope of Noxy's heart is to return to his parents."
"Is that so?" asked the detective of the young man.
"I would give my right hand," he solemnly replied, holding it up, "if I
could go back three months in my life and have things as they were."
"You can't do that as regards time, but it will bring sunshine and
happiness to your loved ones when the wandering boy comes to their
waiting arms. All being true, we have got to travel the 'rocky road to
Dublin.' You have committed a serious crime against the United States
laws, and if convicted nothing can save you from a long term in prison."
"Then what hope is there for me?"
"You haven't been convicted yet, but I won't deny that you are in serious
danger of it."
"How shall I escape?"
"I thought that over while on the road from Beartown. This, I believe, is
your third essay as a burglar. Am I right?"
Noxon nodded.
"Once would be enough to send you to Atlanta, but let that go for the
present. Are you willing to turn state's evidence?"
Noxon moved uneasily in his seat. The proposition was distasteful.
"You needn't feel any compunctions. Kit Woodford and that cub who calls
himself Graff Miller have handed out the double cross many a time, and
stand ready to do it again if it promises the slightest advantage to
them. They have run off in the hope of taking care of their own hides,
without caring the snap of a finger what became of you."
"There is no mistake about _that_, Mr. Calvert?"
"I wouldn't deceive you for an instant. Their own actions prove it. They
have done the same thing before, and to-day they did not give you a
thought, when danger threatened them."
"I shall do whatever you wish."
"Good! You may not know that, although I am a Pinkerton detective, I am
under promise to my lifelong friend to do all I can to save you from
yourself."
"Does father know I am in this business, Mr. Calvert?"
"He doesn't dream of such a thing. The shock would kill him. Therefore, I
shall strain every nerve to keep him from ever learning the truth. I have
a plan in mind, but before trying it you must answer a few questions."
"I am ready."
"In the first place, where do this gang with whom you have been
associated have their headquarters?"
"I can guide you to the exact spot."
"It is not that little patch of ground in the cove at the southern end of
Barter Island?"
"No; the character of the islet forbids. Miller ran the launch in there
one night when he thought some one was watching, to throw him off the
scent. Have you a pencil and bit of paper anywhere about you?"
Calvert produced the articles from an inner coat pocket and handed them
to Noxon. Placing the paper on the table in the middle of the room, he
spent several minutes in drawing a diagram. He was apt at the work and
did it with no little skill. By and by he handed paper and pencil to the
owner with the remark:
"That will answer your question."
"It is a production of art," said the detective admiringly. "No
professional artist could beat it."
Noxon had not only drawn a perfect representation of the neighborhood
which he had in mind, but lettered it so that no mistake was possible. It
pictured a part of the eastern shore of Westport Island, opposite Barter,
and only a short distance north of the inlet where the _Water Witch_ had
been visited some nights before. Noxon leaned forward and placed the tip
of his finger on the different points.
"Right there is one of a hundred similar coves among the waters of
southern Maine. It is smaller than the others, and a little way back is
an island, which resembles except in size those that you see in every
part of these waters. You know they rise above the surface like vast
bouquets, with trees growing down to the edge of the river or sea. It is
not so with that bit of earth you first asked about, but it is so with
the islet in that cove which I show on that piece of paper."
"What about this one?"
"It is what you may call the headquarters of the Woodford gang of post
office robbers. And, yet, it seems hardly right to call it that, for it
is sort of hiding place to which they flee when things begin to grow
warm."
"You have been there?"
"Several times. I will go again with you."
"No need; I can't go wrong with such directions. Why, Mike himself can
understand it."
He gravely held up the drawing before the Irish youth, who squinted one
eye and carefully scrutinized it.
"I must say I don't make sure whither it's a picter of yersilf, Mr.
Calvert, or a view of an automobile trying to climb a tree."
"What did I tell you, Orestes? Isn't he bright?"
"An unnicessary question," said Mike loftily; "as Auntie McCaffry would
answer if ye asked her which was the handsomest and cutest and smartest
one among her three guests."
"Noxon," said Calvert, with a smile over the repartee of the Irish lad,
"do either Kit Woodford or Graff Miller know your right name?"
"They never asked me and it was never given in their presence."
"You said as much before. Do they know where you came from?"
"They haven't the slightest knowledge. I am as unknown to them as regards
my real identity as if I never existed."
"That will help my plan, which, I may say to you and Mike, is simply
this: get you out of this neighborhood to your home. There, of course,
you will assume your true identity and no one need ever be the wiser."
"What of the testimony of Woodford and Miller when they are released from
jail?"
"You and they will be so much older that neither will recognize the
other. Have no fear on that score. The thing is to run you out of the
State of Maine. The hunt for these post office robbers has become so hot
that it isn't going to be an easy job, but I believe I can work it.
There's some sort of a mix-up of motor boats, which as yet I can't get
the hang of, but when I do I shall try my plan. Mike, how was it you were
here with Noxon when I called? Can you tell me anything about your launch
or the _Water Witch_?"
Thereupon the Irish youth related his story, and when it was finished the
detective smiled.
"If I'm not mistaken that is going to help us a big lot."