IN WHICH I TAKE JIM ON TRUST.
"It is time for you and I to understand each other. Don't stop there
looking moon-struck! Go ahead, and don't waste time. I'll run back and
ask for the address. Miss Barnard, if she scented a secret, might be
trusted with it. But, Dr. Hess--his brain has not kept pace with the
steps of the universe."
With these remarkable words, Jim Long lowered his head, compressed his
elbows after the fashion of a professional prize-runner, and was off
like a flying shadow, while I stood staring after him through the
darkness, divided betwixt wonder at his strange words and manner, and
disgust at my own stupidity.
What did he mean? Had he actually discovered my identity? And, if so,
how?
While waiting for a solution to these riddles, it would be well to
profit by Jim's advice. So I turned my face toward the village, and
hurried forward.
As I approached the station, a bright light from the operator's window
assured me that I should not find the office empty, and coming
stealthily toward it, I peered in, to see, seated in the most commodious
office chair, Gerald Brown, of our agency, the expected "night
operator."
On a lounge opposite the window, lay Charlie Harris asleep.
I tapped softly on the open casement, and keeping myself in the shadow
whispered:
"Come outside, Gerry, and don't wake Harris."
The night-operator, who knew the nature of the services required of him
in Trafton, and who doubtless had been expecting a visit, arose quietly
and came out on the platform with the stealthy tread of a bushman.
After a cordial hand-clasp, and a very few words of mutual inquiry, I
told Brown what had happened at the doctor's cottage, and of my
suspicions regarding Blake Simpson; and, then, using a leaf from my
note-book, and writing by the light from the window, I wrote two
messages, to be sent before Harris should awake.
The first was as follows:
DOCTOR CHARLES DENHAM,
No. 300 ---- street, N. Y.
Carl Bethel is in extreme danger; requires your professional
services. Come at once.
BATHURST.
The second was addressed to our office, and was much longer. It ran
thus:
CAPT. B., A----, N. Y.
Murder was attempted last night; Bethel the victim. See that
Denham comes by the first train to attend to him. Give him some
hints before starting. Look out for B. S. If he returns to the
city in the morning, keep him shadowed. Will write particulars.
BATHURST.
"There," I said, as I passed them to Brown, "send them as soon as you
can, Gerry. The doctor will hardly receive his before morning, but the
other will be delivered at once, and then they can hurry up the "old
woman." As for Blake, he will probably take the morning train, if he
returns to the city, so they have ample time to prepare for him. Did you
see Carnes on the express?"
"Yes; but only had a moment's speech with him. He told me to tell you
that Blake left the train at Ireton, and that he went straight to a sort
of feed stable, kept by a man named Briggs--"
"Briggs!" I exclaimed, involuntarily.
"Yes, that was the name. At this stable he was furnished with a good
team and light buggy, and he drove straight south."
"Ah! he did. But my time is not at my disposal just now, Gerry; I have a
companion somewhere on the road. I suppose you got the bearings of this
Trafton business at the Agency?"
"Yes; I think I am pretty well posted. I have read all your reports."
"So much the better. Gerry, you had better take up your quarters at the
Trafton House. I am stopping there. It will be convenient, for more than
one reason."
Gerry agreed with me in this, and, as at that moment we heard footsteps
approaching, which I rightly guessed to be those of Jim Long, we
separated at once, and I went forward to meet Jim.
Before, I had deemed it necessary to press the siege, and lead Jim to
talk by beginning the attack in a voluble manner. Now, I was equally
intent upon holding my own forces in reserve, and letting him open the
engagement, which, after a few moments' silence, he did.
A few rods away from the depot stood a church, with broad, high steps
leading up from the street, and a deep, old-fashioned portico.
Here Jim came to an abrupt halt, for we had turned our steps southward,
and said, with more of courtesy in his voice than might have been
expected, considering his recent abruptness:
"Let us go up there, and sit under the porch. It's safer than to talk
while walking, and I fancy you would like me to explain myself."
I followed him in silence up the steps, and sat down beside him on the
portico.
"I wonder," began Jim, lowering his voice to insure himself against
possible eavesdroppers, "I wonder why you have not asked me, before this
time, how it happened that I was the first to discover Bethel's
condition, or, at any rate, the first to give the alarm."
"There has scarcely been time," I replied, guardedly. "Besides I, being
so nearly a stranger, thought that a question to be more properly asked
by Miss Barnard or the doctor."
"You are modest," said Jim, with a short laugh. "Probably it will not
occur to Miss Barnard to ask that question, until her mind is more at
ease concerning Bethel's condition. As for Dr. Hess, he had asked it
before he took off his nightcap."
"And did you answer it," asked I, maliciously, "in the same good English
you are addressing to me?"
"I hope not," he replied, laughing again. "I told him the truth,
however, in a very few words, and now I will tell it to you. Last
night--I suppose it is morning now by the clock--I spent the evening in
the village, principally about the Trafton House. I presume you are
wondering how it came that you did not see me there, for I happen to
know that you spent the entire evening in the office or on the porch.
Well, the fact is, I was there on a little private business, and did not
make myself very conspicuous for that reason. It was late when I came
home, and, on looking about the cabin, I discovered that my gun was
missing. My door, for various reasons, I always leave unlocked _when
absent_, so I did not waste any time in wondering how the thief got in.
I missed nothing else, and, after a little, I went outside to smoke, and
think the matter over. I had not been out many minutes before I heard
the report of a gun,--_my_ gun, I could have sworn. It sounded in the
direction of Bethel's cottage, and I was not many minutes in getting
there. I found the door open, and Bethel lying across the threshold,
wounded, as you have seen. He was almost unconscious then, but as I bent
above him he whispered one word, 'Louise.' I could not leave him lying
there in the doorway, so I lifted him and carried him to the bed, and
then, seeing that it was a shoulder wound, and that he still breathed, I
rushed off, stopping to tell Louise Barnard that her lover was wounded
and, maybe, dying, and then on again until I saw you, the very man whose
help I wanted."
"And why my help rather than that of another?"
"Because, next to that of a physician, the presence of a _detective_
seemed most necessary."
"Long," I said, turning upon him sharply, "this is the second time you
have referred to me as 'a detective.' Will you be good enough to
explain?"
"I have spoken of you as a detective," he replied, gravely, "because I
believe you to be one, and have so believed since the day you came to
Trafton. To explain in full would be to occupy more time than you or I
can well spare to story telling. I have watched you since you first came
to this place, curiously at first, then earnestly, then anxiously. I
believe you are here to ferret out the authors of the many robberies
that have happened in and about Trafton. If this is so, then there is no
one more anxious to help you, or who could have a stronger motive for so
doing, than Jim Long."
He paused for a moment, but I remained silent, and he began anew.
"I think you are interested in Bethel and his misfortunes. I think you
know him for the victim of those who believe him to be what you really
are."
"You think there are those who fear Bethel because they believe him to
be a detective? Is that your meaning?"
"That is my meaning."
"Long," I said, seriously, "you tell me that your gun was stolen last
night; that you recognized the sound of the report coming from the
direction of Bethel's house."
He moved closer to me and laid a hand on my shoulder.
"It was my gun that shot Bethel," he said, solemnly. "To-morrow that gun
will be found and _I_ shall be accused of the crime. If the devils had
possessed my knowledge, it would have been you, instead of Carl Bethel,
lying somewhere now, dying or dead. I say these things to you to-night
because, if my gun is found, as I anticipate, and I am accused of the
shooting, I may not be able to serve Carl Bethel, and he is not yet out
of danger. If he lives he will still be a target for his enemies."
He spoke with suppressed emotion, and my own feelings were stirred as I
replied:
"Long, you have been a mystery to me from the first, and I do not read
your riddle even now, but I believe you are a man to be trusted. Give me
your hand, and depend upon it you shall not rest long under a false
accusation. Carl Bethel, living, shall not want a friend; Carl Bethel,
dead, shall have an avenger. As for you, and myself--"
"We shall understand each other better," he broke in, "when the time
comes for me to tell you my own story in my own way."
"Then," I said, "let us go back to Bethel. I want to take a look about
the premises by the first streak of daylight."
"Ah!" ejaculated Jim, "that is what I wanted to hear you say."