THE PRISONER AND HIS CAPTORS.
Leonard Lester had no means of knowing when morning arrived, save by
consulting his watch. The light of day could not penetrate into that
dismal place. The hours of six, seven, and eight o’clock came, and a
lantern that Snags had left shed its feeble rays with dim steadiness.
Leonard grew weary and impatient, but still his opportunity for
meditation was uninterrupted. He chafed under his confinement, and was
oppressed by the utter silence and loneliness that reigned. But he had
only to wait.
He knew that Colonel Conrad had been murdered; he was conscious that
the circumstances were likely to involve Carlos in some way; but of the
exact form or extent of the danger that threatened his cousin, he was
ignorant. He longed to be free, so as to offer him aid.
Could he have seen and foreseen all that was taking and was destined to
take place, he would have blessed the stars that made him a prisoner.
About the middle of the forenoon he heard a noise at the door. It was
soon opened, and a frowzy-looking man entered. He was short, thickset,
with uncombed hair and beard, and blear eyes. His face was infinitely
more ferocious and devilish in its expression than that of Snags. He
was dressed in common, rough garments, and was armed with a pistol and
a knife. The door was closed after him, and, advancing, he scrutinized
the prisoner.
“Captain Jeremiah Roake, at your service,” he finally said. “Your name?”
“Leonard Lester,” replied the prisoner.
“Correct. Now we know each other. My stay must be short, for I come
simply to ask you a question. What is it about this infernal piece of
paper that Snags has been blowing about?”
“I don’t know,” said Leonard. “What are you talking about?”
“Snags must have asked you for it. Tell me what he said.”
“I have nothing to tell. What do you suppose I know about it?
You are aware that Snags captured the wrong man when he took me. Find
the right one, and seek the information of him.”
“I believe that you are lying――that you know more than you will tell.”
“I can’t help what you believe. Search me, if you wish, and see if you
can find anything you want.”
Roake paused, apparently, in doubt what course to pursue. At last he
said:
“Well, your cousin has been arrested. The whole town thinks him guilty
of murdering Colonel Conrad. He is to be examined, and then he will
probably show it.”
“Show what?”
“The paper, if he has any.”
“Very well, let him. I don’t see what harm can come to him, or what
good to you, by his showing any paper he is likely to have. At all
events, you will not gain anything by bothering me about it.”
Leonard was not in the slightest degree disposed to violate the promise
he had given to Snags. He did not care to have Roake know that the
fragment supposed to be in the possession of Carlos was of any value.
But Roake’s words awoke in him a feeling of concern.
If what Snags had said was true, then indeed would the murderer have
just the information he wanted in the event of Carlos making public the
contents of the missing fragment.
At that instant he wondered if he could not convey a caution to Carlos
in some way. But he did not betray these thoughts to Roake. Despite the
fact that his brain was suddenly beset by a new train of reflection, he
maintained his indifferent air.
Roake finally turned to go saying:
“If he does show it, I’ll know what there is of it. I read the papers.”
Leonard called him back.
“I should like to get a message to my cousin, in some way. I’ll give
you ten dollars if you will have it delivered.”
“Ten dollars!” contemptuously. “That’s nothing to me, young man. I made
a haul of a thousand last night. No, you shall send no message to him!”
Roake refused to listen to the urgent appeal that Leonard was about to
make, but went from the apartment quickly and left the prisoner alone.
“This affair grows in mystery,” thought Leonard. “Where am I, and who
are these ruffians to whom intelligence of the arrest of Carlos comes
so quickly? There must be some secret villainy going on right under the
very shadows of orderly society. I’ll find out all I can about it.”
He then reflected long and intently, striving to devise some plan of
conveying a message to Carlos. That his captors could serve him in
this way, if they chose, he was convinced. It was evident that they had
some means of quick communication with Dalton, else how could they so
soon have learned that Carlos had been taken into custody? But he was
equally sure that they would not permit him to send any message that
would expose or implicate themselves, or put Carlos on his guard. Still
he was powerless without their aid, and must contrive some way to bribe
or deceive them. The former, he felt would be impossible; the latter
might be accomplished.
In the midst of his thoughts the door was again opened, and Roake
thrust in a plate of food and a can of water. This done, he quickly
withdrew and closed the door.
The sight of the food reminded Leonard that he was hungry, though his
occupation of mind had prevented him from thinking of it before. He ate
of the coarse fare, and afterward took a cigar from his pocket and lit
it.
He felt refreshed and strengthened, and his mind became more clear and
active. Reclining on the pile of rough bed-clothes which lay in one
corner of the apartment, he smoked and pondered.
At length his countenance was illumined by a sudden thought.
“I have it!” he exclaimed.
He forthwith took a number of letters from his pocket. A few were from
Europe, his business relations having led him to engage in foreign
correspondence, and were written in the German language. He selected
one which occupied about two pages and a half.
Then, taking a gold pen and a portable inkstand from another pocket,
he composed himself to write. He reflected for some moments before
beginning, for he wished to comprise as much intelligence as possible
within a few words.
Having arranged his thoughts into satisfactory shape, he began. First
erasing the signature of the letter, he wrote an apparent continuation,
in the German language, on the lower blank half of the third page. To
this he appended another signature, so that the letter looked, in its
new form, like a complete whole.
“So far so good,” he murmured; “and now for a visit from Snags. It
won’t do to approach Roake. Snags, if anybody, will do the _small_
favor I shall ask.”
The day wore wearily on. There was absolutely nothing to relieve the
tedium of the passing hours. Leonard alternately walked, lay down,
endeavored to sleep, and examined his prison. He fumed in impotent
irritation at the sense of confinement.
Not until the day was gone, and the hands of his watch indicated the
hour of nine in the evening, was he disturbed again.
This time his hopes were realized. Snags was his visitor.
“Have you heard anything more from Carlos?” asked Leonard, eagerly.
Snags smiled.
“You seem mighty anxious about him,” he said.
“Of course I am. Tell me all you know.”
“Oh, I know enough. I have heard several things. Some of them might not
please you, though.”
“Never mind. Go on.”
“Well,” said Snags, “he’s in jail, and will be tried to-morrow.
Everybody is aroused against him, and if he’s let off the people would
lynch him; at least that’s the talk among some. But it isn’t likely
that he’ll be let off. Another thing, people have got it into their
heads that you were his pal in the murder, which was done for burglary,
and that you made off with the spoils, and that he knows where you are.”
“What consummate absurdity.”
“Oh, no. Things look that way. The evidence will show that it’s not
unlikely. I don’t know but that it would be a good plan to take you out
of here and drop you somewhere where you’d be sure to be caught, and
then both of you would go to prison, or something worse.”
“No,” said Lester, “that wouldn’t work. I was at Rocky Beach until one
o’clock in the morning. The man that attends to the boats could testify
to that.”
“Rocky Beach!” exclaimed Snags, with a peculiar look of surprise. Then
he added: “But the man that ’tends the boats is deaf and dumb. He’d be
a nice one to testify.”
“So I observed. But he could write his testimony.”
“How do you know?”
“I suppose he can write.”
“Well, perhaps he can,” said Snags, with a furtive smile.
“But _can’t_ he?”
“What do you suppose I know about him?” Then, changing his tone, Snags
said: “But there’s no use in talking about that. I guess, after all, we
will keep you here for a while. By the way, your cousin has engaged a
good lawyer.”
“Who?”
“Royalton――Charles H. Royalton――a mighty sharp fellow, they say. If
there is any loop-hole, he’ll pull him through. But I don’t think there
is any.”
“You don’t?”
“No; the case is strong against him.”
“See here, Mr. Snags,” said Leonard, “I would like to know how you keep
so well posted about matters in Dalton. I shouldn’t think you would
dare show yourself there.”
“Why not? Perhaps I don’t――but never you mind. You mustn’t be too
curious.”
There was a lull in the conversation.
Leonard now made up his mind that the time had come to make his appeal.
“Snags,” he said, earnestly, “I want you to do a favor for me――two
favors, in fact. It is intolerably dull in here. I want something to
occupy my mind. Can’t you bring me a newspaper once in a while? Bring
me the papers containing accounts of the trial. I should like to read
about it. I’ll pay you well.”
“I don’t know but I might do that,” replied ♦Snags. “Yes, I will.”
“Thank you. And now another thing. My cousin is a nervous young fellow,
easily discouraged, and all that. Won’t you take a message to him from
me?”
Snags’ countenance instantly assumed a forbidding look.
“Not much of a message,” continued Leonard, ♦urgently, “only a few
words. You may see me write them.”
Snags hesitated.
“Nothing that can do you any harm or afford a hint as to where I am.”
“What do you want to send it for, then?”
“Only to let him know that I am alive. That might do him some good.”
“Well,” said Snags, slowly and doubtfully, “let me see what you want to
write.”
Leonard drew the letters from his pocket, and, selecting one,
apparently at random, tore off a piece, one side of which was blank. It
is needless to say that it was the portion on which he had previously
written his message in German.
“This old letter is of no use,” he said, crumpling the other half in
his hand and throwing it on the floor.
Snags picked it up, and glanced at it idly. He saw it was in a language
he did not understand.
“Dutch?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied Leonard. “I am, or was, connected with an importing
house in New York.”
“Queer writing, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” replied Leonard.
He was apparently absorbed in preparing his message, but he was really
in the utmost trepidation lest his ruse should be detected.
But Snags had no suspicions. He threw the portion of the letter on the
floor again, and waited patiently.
The following was what Leonard submitted to him:
“I am a prisoner, but unharmed. I have learned of your situation,
and pray that you may be safely delivered from it. Do not
concern yourself about me. I am guarded closely, but treated
well enough. I am helpless to serve you.
L. L.”
Snags read it carefully.
“I don’t see anything objectionable about that,” he said. He gave a
cursory glance at the other side, and saw that it was covered with
German characters. “Yes, I’ll deliver it, or see it delivered. Perhaps
I had better put it in the post-office. I could do it secretly, and no
one would know where it came from.”
“If you do that, direct it like this: ‘To Carlos Conrad, or his
attorney, Charles H. Royalton.’ Then it will be sure to reach its
destination.”
“Yes.”
“And do it as soon as possible.”
“I will.”
“Thanks. And now take this.”
He extended to Snags a five-dollar gold piece, which was accepted.
“Mind,” said Snags, “that you don’t say anything of this to Roake. I
know it can’t hurt us any, but he’s as contrary as a mule.”
“I’ll be silent,” said Leonard.
“Here’s some more victuals,” said Snags, producing a slice of cold meat
and a loaf of bread; “and something to cheer you up,” drawing from his
pocket a bottle of wine.
“Thank you, Snags; you’re very kind. You will lose nothing by it.”
Snags opened the door to leave; but, before withdrawing, he turned his
head and said, in a low tone:
“See here, Mr. Lester, the colonel is the first man I ever stuck, and
I’m blamed if I ain’t kept awake nights thinking about it.”
In another instant he was gone.