A SECOND EMPLOYMENT
For a moment, when he found himself alone, Garrison stood absolutely
motionless beside the door. Slowly he came to the desk again, and slowly
he assembled the bills. He rolled them in a neat, tight wad, and held
them in his hand.
Word for word and look for look he reviewed the recent dialogue, shaking
his head at the end.
He had never been so puzzled in his life.
The situation, his visitor--all of it baffled him utterly. Had not the
money remained in his grasp he might have believed he was dreaming.
"She was frightened, and yet she had a most remarkable amount of nerve,"
he reflected. "She might be an heiress, an actress, or a princess. She
may be actually married--and then again she may not; probably not, since
two husbands on the scene would be embarrassing."
"She may be playing at any sort of a game, financial, political, or
domestic--therefore dangerous, safe, or commonplace, full of intrigue, or
a mystery, or the silliest caprice.
"She--oh, Lord--I don't know! She is beautiful--that much is certain.
She seems to be honest. Those deep, brown eyes go with innocence--and
also with scheming; in which respect they precisely resemble blue eyes,
and gray, and all the other feminine colors. And yet she seemed, well,
helpless, worried--almost desperate. She must be desperate and helpless."
Again, in fancy, he was looking in her face, and something was stirring
in his blood. That was all he really knew. She had stirred him--and he
was glad of the meeting--glad he had entered her employment.
He placed the roll of money in his pocket, then looked across his desk at
the clean, white letter which the postman had recently delivered.
He took it up, paused again to wonder at the meaning of what had
occurred, then tore the envelope and drew forth the contents.
He had barely spread the letter open when a knock on the door startled
every thought in his brain.
His first conclusion was that Mrs. Fairfax had returned to repudiate her
bargain and ask the surrender of her money. With a smile for any fate,
he crossed the room and opened the door.
In the hallway stood a man--a little, sharp-faced, small-eyed, thin-nosed
person, with a very white complexion, and a large, smooth-shaved mouth,
open as if in a smile that never ceased.
"Garrison?" he said sharply. "Wicks--I'm Wicks."
"Wicks?" said Garrison. "Come in."
Mr. Wicks stepped in with a snap-like alacrity. "Read your letter," he
said--"read your letter."
Obediently Garrison perused the missive in hand, typed on the steel-plate
stationery of the New York Immutable Life Insurance Company:
"DEAR SIR:
"At the recommendation of our counsel, Mr. Sperry Lochlan, who is still
abroad, we desire to secure your services in a professional capacity.
Our Mr. Wicks will call upon you this afternoon to explain the nature of
the employment and conclude the essential arrangements.
"Respectfully yours,
"JOHN STEFFAS,
"Dep't of Special Service."
A wave of gratitude toward Lochlan, the lawyer who had first employed
him, and advised this New York office, surged with another, of almost
boyish joy, through Garrison's being. It seemed almost absurd that two
actual clients should thus have appeared within the hour. He looked up
at the little man with a new, keen interest.
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Wicks," he said. "Will you please sit down?
I am at your service."
Mr. Wicks snatched a chair and sat down. It was quite a violent
maneuver, especially as that sinister grin never for a moment left his
features. He took off his hat and made a vicious dive at a wisp of long,
red hair that adorned the otherwise barren top of his head. The wisp lay
down toward his left ear when thus adjusted. He looked up at Garrison
almost fiercely.
"Obscure, ain't you?" he demanded.
"Obscure?" inquired Garrison. "Perhaps I am--just at present--here in
New York."
"You are!" stated Mr. Wicks aggressively.
Garrison was not enamored of his manner.
"All right," he said--"all right."
Mr. Wicks suddenly leaned forward and fetched his index finger almost up
against the young man's nose.
"Good at murder?" he demanded.
Garrison began to suspect that the building might harbor lunatics,
several of whom had escaped.
"Am I good at murder?" he repeated. "Doing murder or----"
"Ferreting murder! Ferreting murder! Ferreting murder!" cried the
visitor irritably.
"Oh," said Garrison, "if you wish to employ me on a murder case, I'll do
the best I can."
"You worked out the Biddle robbery?" queried Mr. Wicks.
Garrison replied that he had. The Biddle robbery was the Lochlan
case--his first adventure in criminology.
"Take the case!" commanded Mr. Wicks in his truculent manner. "Two
hundred and fifty a month as long as you work. One thousand dollars
bonus if you find the murderer. Accept the terms?"
"Yes, I'll take the case," he said. "What sort of----"
Mr. Wicks made a sudden snatch at his wisp of hair, adjusted it quite to
the other side of his head, then as abruptly drew a paper from his pocket
and thrust it into Garrison's hand.
"Statement of the case," he interrupted. "Read it."
Garrison accepted the document, spread it open, and read as follows:
STATEMENT: Case of John Hardy.
Name--John Hardy.
Age--57.
Occupation--Real estate dealer (retired).
Residence--Unfixed, changed frequently (last, Hickwood, two days,
boarding).
Family--No immediate family (no one nearer than nephews and nieces).
Rating in Bradbury's--No rating.
Insured in any other companies--No.
Insured with us for what amount--Twenty thousand dollars.
Name of beneficiary--Charles Scott.
Residence--Hickwood, New York (village).
Occupation--Inventor.
Date of subject's death--May 27th.
Place of death--Village of Branchville (near Hickwood).
Verdict of coroner--Death from natural causes (heart failure or apoplexy).
Body claimed by--Paul Durgin (nephew).
Body interred where--Shipped to Vermont for burial.
Suspicious circumstances--Beneficiary paid once before on claim for
similar amount, death of risk having been equally sudden and unexplained.
Remarks--The body was found on the porch of an empty house (said by
superstitious neighbors to be haunted). It was found in sitting posture,
leaning against post of porch. No signs of violence except a green stain
on one knee. Deceased uncommonly neat. There is no grass growing before
the empty house, owing to heavy shade of trees. No signs of struggle
near house. Details supplied by old woman, Mrs. Webber, whose son found
deceased. Our company not represented, either at inquest or afterward,
as no notification of subject's death was filed until the 31st inst.
At the bottom, written in pencil, appeared the words:
"Quiet case. Steffas."
That was all. Garrison turned the paper. There was nothing on the
reverse. Placing it face upward on the table, he thrust his hands into
his pockets and looked at Mr. Wicks.
"I'm expected to fasten this crime on Scott?" he inquired. "Is that what
your company requires?"
"Fasten the crime on the guilty man!" replied the aggressive Mr. Wicks.
"If Scott didn't do it, we'll pay the claim. If he did, we'll send him
to the chair. It may not be murder at all."
"Of course," said Garrison. "Who wrote this report?"
"What's that to you?" said Wicks.
"I wondered why the writer drops out of the case," answered Garrison.
"That's all."
"I wrote it," said Wicks. "Scott knows me from the former case. If you
want the case, you will start this evening for Hickwood and begin your
work. Use your own devices. Report everything promptly--everything. Go
at once to the office and present your card for expenses and typed
instructions. Good-day!"
He had clapped on his hat. He strode to the door, opened it,
disappeared, and closed it again as if he worked on springs. Garrison
was left staring at the knob, his hand mechanically closed on the
statement intrusted to his keeping.
"Well," he said, "I'll be scalloped! Good old New York!"
He was presently out upon the street, a brisk, active figure, boarding a
Broadway car for the downtown office of the company.
At half past five he was back once more in his office with a second
hundred dollars in his pocket, fifty of which was for expenses.
He was turning away from his desk at last to leave for his lodgings,
thence to journey to Hickwood, when a messenger-boy abruptly appeared
with a telegram.
When Garrison had signed, he opened the envelope and read the following:
"Wire me you have arrived unexpectedly and will be here at eight, then
come.
"DOROTHY FAIRFAX."
He almost ran from the building, bought a five-dollar bunch of the
choicest roses, and, after wiring in accordance with instructions, sent
them to the house.