AMY'S APPEAL
Tinkling glasses formed a friendly rampart between Colonel Ashley and
Spotty Morgan. Spotty looked narrowly and shrewdly at the detective.
"I didn't expect to see you here," remarked the gunman, speaking out of
the side of his mouth, with scarcely a motion of his lips--a habit
acquired through long practice in preventing prison keepers from
finding out that he was disobeying the rules regarding silence. "Not
for a minute did I expect to run across you here, Colonel As--"
"Not that name, Spotty, if you please," and the fisherman-detective
smiled in easy fashion. "You know my little habits in that regard.
I'm known here as Brentnall, and, if it's all the same to you, just use
that. As for you, if Spotty--"
"Oh, that suits me as well as any other. I can change whenever I
like." Spotty raised a glass to his lips, and, with a murmured "here's
how," let the contents slide down his always-parched throat.
"That's so, Spotty. Well, I didn't expect to see you here, I give you
my word. When did you leave New York?"
"Well, I come away--"
"Hold on!" interrupted the colonel. "Don't answer. I shouldn't have
asked. I forgot you saved my life just now. Gad! it isn't the first
time I've nearly passed over, but--not in that way!" and he reached for
his glass to conceal the shudder that passed over him as he thought of
the rumbling wheels of the thundering truck.
"Well, Colonel, I--"
"Never mind, Spotty. Perhaps the less you talk the better off you'll
be. Does anybody in town know you're here?"
"Well, my picture--"
"Yes, it is probably down at headquarters. But they're too busy to
look for it now. But they may--later. So far you haven't been
recognized then?"
"Only by you, and it'd take a pretty clever guy--"
"No compliments, Spotty. We've gotten over that. You disguised
yourself very well, but the freckles show through."
"Yes, damn 'em!" heartily exploded the gunman. "I can't cover 'em up.
I've tried everything, but I guess I'll have to go togged up like a
colored man to fool the other bulls. As for you, Colonel--"
"There you go again! Cut it out! This is business."
"Yes, good business for you, but bad for me. I didn't think you'd get
after me so soon, Colonel!"
"I'm not after you, Spotty."
The detective spoke quietly, but the effect on the man sitting across
the table from him, in one of the less conspicuous cafes in Colchester,
had the effect of a shout.
"Not after me? You _ain't_?" and Spotty drew away from the array of
glasses and bottles so suddenly that he overturned a tumbler with its
tinkling chunk of ice. "Not after me, Colonel?"
"No, I came here for a quiet bit of fishing, and I just stumbled on
this case against my will. I'm not even working on it, and I'm not
going to. Nobody knows I'm in town except my man Shag--and you. I
know I can depend on Shag, and as for you--"
"I'm with you till the cows come to roost, Colonel. I'm strong fer
you! I kin forget I ever saw you."
"That's good. I thought you'd be that way. So, as no one knows I'm in
town (the colonel knew nothing of what Shag had said to the newsboy), I
can keep under cover and have my fishing as I like it--quiet. I don't
intend any one shall know I'm here, either.
"Now, Spotty, I'm a plain-spoken man when there's occasion for it, and
this is one of those times, I guess. You saved my life just now, I
know that. Of course I realize I might just have been badly hurt, and
perhaps have lingered on in a hospital for some years--but that would
be worse than death. I consider that you saved my life. I couldn't
have moved out of the way of that truck any more than I could have
flown. I realize it more and more. You did me the biggest service one
man can do another, and I'm not going to forget it, Spotty."
"No, I guess remembering is your long suit, Colonel."
"Well, that's all in a day's work. I didn't forget you, Spotty. Now,
as I said, you saved my life. I believe in turning the tables, and
though I can't do for you what you did for me, maybe I can help in a
way."
"You kin gamble on that, Colonel!"
"Listen to me, Spotty," and the detective leaned forward and spoke in a
low, tense voice. "Just now, as I say, I'm not in this case. Not
being a public official, I'm not bound to use what knowledge or
suspicions I have regarding this matter, and I'm not particularly
interested--as yet. So I'm going to give you a chance, just as you
gave me mine now. It isn't exactly the same, for maybe you wouldn't
lose your life. You've been devilishly lucky, and gotten through more
narrow places than I'd ever give you credit for.
"So it may seem that I'm not quite squaring the account, but it's all I
can do--now. I'm going to give you your chance. I'm not going to ask
you any questions. You know what you know and I know what I know.
Now, Spotty, streak it out of town as fast as a train can take you,
and--_don't come back_!"
Spotty Morgan made little wet rings on the table with his empty glass.
A waiter, hovering near by, caught the glint of his eye and brought the
liquor. Then Spotty, after a libation, spoke.
"Colonel," he said slowly, "most of what you has been spielin' is like
the lawyer guys git off in court. I don't quite tumble, but I take it
you mean you're goin' t' let me go."
"That's it, Spotty! I'm going to let you go this time!"
"No double crossin'?"
"You know me better than that! I'll give you twenty-four hours to get
out of town. After that I may happen to know more than I know now, and
it would be my duty--whether I'm officially on the case or not--to
arrest you.
"But now you're free. It's your life and liberty for mine--maybe not
quite an even exchange, since you'd have more than even chances if it
came to a trial, I suppose. But it's the best I can do. I'm giving
you this chance. I'd be a dirty dog if I didn't. But remember this,
Spotty! I give you only one chance, just as you gave me--just as you
took one and saved me. If I see you again, and this thing hangs over
you, I may have to pull you up."
"All right, Colonel. That's a square deal. But don't worry. You
won't see me if I see you first. I didn't dream you'd be after me so
soon for the job I only done last night. I'd oughter cleared out, but
I was waitin' for a pal, an--Oh, well, it was just like you to come
around early."
"Man, don't you understand? I'm not after you! I didn't for an
instant think you had a hand in it until just now. And I'm not
admitting, even yet, that you did have. I haven't done a tap of work
on the case, and I'm not going to. My advise to you is to get out of
town before I may get into this thing against my will. Skip, Spotty!
It's the only way I can pay my debt to you!"
The colonel made as though to hold out his hand to the freckle-faced
man opposite him, and then changed the motion of his arm and picked up
his glass.
"Skip, Spotty!" he murmured again.
"All right, Colonel, I will! I know when the goin's good. So long.
And--thanks!"
Spotty, still talking through the corner of his mouth, gave a quick
glance around the room and slid out of a side door like an eel,
disappearing into the rain and mist.
For some little time the colonel sat before the glasses, in which the
cracked ice was rapidly melting. He, too, made little rings of water
on the table.
"I wonder--" he mused, "I wonder if I did right."
His hand sought his pocket, and came out empty.
"I guess I must have left it on the bed," he murmured. "But I can
remember it."
Then, as though reading from the little green book, he recited:
"But if the old salmon gets to the sea . . . and he recovers his
strength, and comes next summer to the same river, if it be
possible. . ."
"Spotty is a veritable salmon," mused the colonel, "even if he is
speckled like a trout. I wonder, if he gets into the sea of New York,
if I'll ever be able to land him?
"Well, he gave me my life, and I just _had_ to give him a chance for
his. It was all I could do. Now to fish and forget everything!"
It was a fair morning in April, with the sun just right, with the "wind
in the west when the fish bite best," and Colonel Robert Lee Ashley,
with the faithful Shag to carry his rods, creel and a lunch basket,
sallied forth from his hotel for a day beside a no-very-distant stream,
the virtues of which he had heard were most alluring as regarded trout.
"Shag!" exclaimed the colonel, when they were tramping through a field
near the river, having reached that vantage point by a most prosaic
trolley car, "this is a beautiful day!"
"It suah am, sah!"
"And I'm going to catch some fine fish!"
"I suah does hope so, Colonel!"
"All right then! Now don't say another word until I speak to you.
We'll be there pretty soon, and if there's one thing more than another
that I hate, it's to have some one talking when I'm fishing."
"Yes, sah, Colonel!"
"Um! Well, see that you mind!"
Selecting with care a fly from his numerous collection, and hoping the
appetites of the fish would incline them to consider it favorably that
morning, Colonel Ashley proceeded to make his casts, standing not far
from a bent, gnarled and twisted elm tree, that overhung the bank of
the stream where the current had cut into the soil, making a deep eddy,
in which a lazy trout might choose to lie in wait for some choice
morsel.
Lightly as a falling feather, the fisherman let his fly come to rest on
the sun-lit water, and, hardly had it sent the first, few faint ripples
circling toward shore than there was a shrill song of the reel, and the
rod became a bent bow.
"By the bones of Sir Izaak!" cried the colonel, "I've hooked one, Shag!"
"De Lord be praised! So yo' has, Colonel!" cried the negro.
"Shut up!" ordered the colonel, who was beginning to play his fish.
"Did I tell you to speak?"
But Shag only laughed. He knew his master.
After ten minutes of skilful work, during which time the trout nearly
got away by shooting under a submerged log like an undersea boat diving
beneath a battle cruiser, the colonel landed his fish, dropping it,
panting, on the green grass. Then he looked up at Shag and remarked:
"Didn't I tell you this was a perfectly beautiful day?"
"Yo' suah did, Colonel," was the chuckling answer. "Yo' suah did!"
And so much at peace with himself and all the world was Colonel Robert
Lee Ashley just then that, when the crackling of the underbrush behind
him, a moment later, gave notice that some one was approaching, there
was even a smile on his face, though, usually, he could not bear to be
intruded upon when fishing.
Rather idly the colonel, having mercifully killed his fish by a blow on
top of the head and slipped it into the grass-lined creel, looked up to
see approaching a young lady and a tall and somewhat lanky boy. There
was some thing vaguely familiar about the boy, though the fisherman did
not tax his mind with remembering, then, where or when he had seen him
before.
"There he is," went the words of the boy, as he and the young woman
came in sight of the colonel and Shag--but it was at the detective the
lad pointed. "There he is!"
The girl rushed impulsively forward, and, as she held out her hands in
a voiceless appeal, there was worry and anguish depicted on her face.
"Are you Colonel Brentnall?" she asked.
The colonel was sufficiently familiar with his alias not to betray
surprise when it was used.
"I am," he said, and the peaceful, joyous look that had come into his
eyes when he had landed his fish gave way to a hard and professional
stare.
"Oh, Colonel Brentnall! I've come to ask you to help me--help him!
You will, won't you? Don't say you won't!"
The girl's face, her blue eyes, the outstretched hands, the very poise
of her lithe, young body voiced the appeal.
"My dear young lady," began the colonel. But she interrupted with:
"You're the detective, aren't you?"
"Well--er--I--Say rather _a_ detective, for there are many, and I am
only one."
"But you are the one from New York?"
"I am though I don't know how you guessed it. I am not here
professionally, though--in fact, I've practically retired--and I would
much prefer--"
"But you wouldn't refuse to help any one who needed it, would you? You
wouldn't, I'm sure!" and the girl smiled through the tears in her blue
eyes.
"Oh, of course, as a matter of humanity, I would not refuse to help any
one. But, professionally--well, really, I'm not here in my detective
role. I really can not consider anything at this time. I don't want
to seem harsh, or impolite, but I can't--"
"Not even for double your usual fee? Listen! I am prepared to pay
well for anything you can do for me--and him. My father is well off.
I have money in my own right. I'd spend the last dollar of that. And
dad said, when I told him where I was going--Dad said he'd do the
same. We both believe Jimmie is innocent, and we want to prove it to
everybody as soon as we can. That's why I came right on to see you. I
couldn't wait! Oh, perhaps I did wrong, coming this way--I'm sorry if
I've spoiled your fishing. But this is such--such a _big_ thing--it
means so much to him--to me! I--I--"
She faltered, looking from Shag to the colonel and then to the
sympathetic colored man again, for on his face was a look of pity.
"How did you know I was here?" asked Colonel Ashley.
"I went to your hotel. The clerk told me you had come to this stream.
It's the only good one for trout around here besides the one on my
father's farm."
"Has your father a trout stream?" and the eyes of the colonel took on a
kindly gleam.
"He has, and it's well stocked. But please, won't you help me? You
are the only one who can!"
"I'm not sure of that, my dear young lady. And, really, I hardly
understand what it's all about. You say the hotel clerk told you I was
here. I can understand that, for I asked him the best way to reach
this place. But how did you know I was a detective and stopping at the
Adams House?"
"He told me!" She pointed to the lanky youth.
The colonel and Shag turned their eyes on him. Shag gave a start of
surprise. The colonel began to leaf over the brain tablets of his
memory system. He was beginning to place the lad.
"Mah good land of massy!" ejaculated the negro. "It's de train newsboy
whut yo' give a dollar to las' night, Colonel!"
"The one who wanted to sell me a detective story?"
"I'm him, Colonel Brentnall," answered the lad, a smile of triumph
lighting up his face. "Your man told me who you was, and I heard you
tell the taxi man where to drive you. I didn't think anything more
about it until I read about the murder."
"The murder!" exclaimed the colonel. Somehow that seemed to follow him
as a Nemesis.
"Yes--old Mrs. Darcy--the jewelry store lady," went on the boy. "This
young lady," and he nodded toward his companion, "when I told her--"
"Perhaps you had better let me explain, Tom," broke in the girl. "You
see it's this way," she went on, addressing the colonel. "This boy is
Tom Tracy. He sells papers on the express. He was once a jockey for
my father, but he got hurt--stiff arm--and we had to get him something
else to do. Dad always looks out for his boys, and so Tom went on the
road."
"I had to do _something_ that had motion in it," Tom explained in an
aside.
"Yes, it was as near to horseback riding as he could come," said the
girl, and she smiled, though the grief did not leave her blue eyes.
"Well, as he has told you, he heard who you were, Colonel, from your
man. Then when he read about the murder, and found how--how close home
it came to _me_, he hurried out to our place and said I should engage
you to help--"
"He's the biggest detective in New York!" broke in Tom. "And that's
what we need--a big New York detective!"
"But what's it all about?" asked the colonel. "This is talking in
riddles, though I begin to see a little--"
"I beg your pardon," said the girl. "I should have told you who I am.
My name is Amy Mason, and--"
"Ah! You are engaged to be married to James Darcy, who
is--er--detained as a--er--as a _witness_ in the murder of his cousin?"
"I am," and she seemed to glory in it. "As soon as I heard what had
happened--to him--I wanted to help. They would not let me see Jimmie
at police headquarters, but I sent word that dad and I were going to
work for him every minute."
"That must have cheered him."
"I hope it did. But I want to do more than that. I want to help him!
I want to get the best detective in the country to work on the case and
prove that Jimmie didn't do this--this terrible thing of which he is
accused."
"He isn't exactly accused yet, as I understand it, Miss Mason."
"Oh, well, it's just as bad. He is suspected. Why, Jimmie wouldn't
have caused Mrs. Darcy a moment of pain, to say nothing of striking
her--killing her! Oh, it's horrible--horrible!" and she covered her
face with her hands.
"I don't quite understand," began the colonel, "why you came to me, or
how--"
"I told her it was the only thing to do," broke in the newsboy. "Soon
as I read about Carroll and Thong being on the case I knew it would
take a fly one to put anything over on them. I tried on the train to
sell you a detective book, not knowing who you was. You treated me
white, and when I heard Miss Mason was in trouble--or her friend was--I
said to myself right away that you was the one to fix things. I went
out to her farm last night and she was all broke up."
"It was a terrible shock to me when I heard Jimmie was under arrest,"
said the girl. "I didn't know what to do. Tom, here, proposed coming
to see you, and when dad heard who you were, though we knew nothing of
you, he said the same thing. He told me I could have all the money I
wanted, and I have some of my own if his isn't enough."
"It isn't always a question of money," began the colonel, gently.
"I know!" broke in Amy. "But if I add the inducement of all the trout
fishing--"
"You are strongly tempting me, my dear young lady. But finish your
story."
"Well, there isn't much more to tell. Tom suggested that I come to see
you and ask you to take Mr. Darcy's case--to prove that he had no hand
in the murder--for I'm sure he did not.
"Tom stayed at our house at Pompey all night. I wanted to come to your
hotel at once, but the storm got too bad, so I waited until this
morning, and then we motored in. We found you had gone fishing, and we
followed you here. It was, perhaps, not just the thing to do. But I
was so anxious! I want to tell Jimmie that something is being done for
him. You will help us, won't you?" and again she held out her hands
appealingly.
"I don't know anything about police or detectives," she went on, "but
I'm sure there must be some way of proving that my--that Jimmie had no
hand in this. Some terrible thief--a burglar--must have killed Mrs.
Darcy. Oh, Colonel Brentnall, you will help us--won't you?"
She stood there, a beautiful and pathetic picture. The wind sighed
through the trees and the murmur of the rippling water filled the air.
"Please!" she whispered. Her hands seemed to waver. Her body swayed.
"Shag, you black rascal!" cried the colonel. "The lady's going to
faint! Catch her!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel!"
"No! Stand back! I'll attend to her myself! I've given up detective
work, but--"
And a moment later Amy Mason sank limply into the colonel's arms.