THREE INTERVIEWS.
It must be remembered that the examination of Carlos had taken place
on Friday, and that on that evening followed his escape, as well as the
secret visit of Geoffrey Haywood to Rocky Beach.
On Saturday morning the news of the prisoner’s flight spread like
wild-fire through Dalton. Officer George Johnson was not a hero on that
occasion. The time of the townspeople was divided between commenting
on his inefficiency and lack of vigilance, and the probability of
the recapture of Carlos. It was almost universally agreed that, since
Leonard Lester had succeeded so well in obliterating all traces of his
movements, Carlos had like means of making his way to parts unknown.
Still all efforts were made to trace the fugitive. The surrounding
country was scoured, and brief telegrams were sent to the police of
the different cities.
The body of Colonel Conrad was still lying in the mansion at Elm Grove.
The funeral was appointed to take place on the following day――Sunday.
During Saturday Geoffrey Haywood was full of business. This was to be
expected, considering the importance of the case and the emergencies
that had arisen. And what was more natural and proper than that Mr.
Haywood, the nephew of Colonel Conrad, and the intimate, trusted friend
of the family, should be active in all measures which the exigencies of
the occasion called up? He was his usual, calm, serene self, dignified,
guarded, and forbidding in manner.
During the forenoon he called on Timothy Tibbs, Esq., the lawyer to
whom the envelope was addressed that had been found on Colonel Conrad’s
table. Lawyer Tibbs was somewhat advanced in years, and long devotion
to business had rendered his face an impenetrable array of clear-cut
features. He was called a hard business man, yet one of strict
integrity. He had been Colonel Conrad’s confidential attorney and
counselor.
“You will pardon me,” said Haywood, “for introducing the subject
of my lamented uncle’s affairs so soon after his melancholy death.
But circumstances have occurred, as you know, that render immediate
investigation and action necessary.”
“You refer to the escape of young Conrad?”
“I refer to the escape of the murderer. You had charge, I believe, of
some of the business matters of the late Colonel Conrad.”
“I had the honor, I may say, of conducting whatever legal transactions
he was engaged in.”
“Exactly. You drew up his deeds, mortgages, conveyances, and――his will.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are aware, I suppose,” said Haywood, “that on the morning of the
discovery of the murder, an envelope directed to yourself was found on
his table.”
“I am aware that such was the case.”
“But it contained no letter.”
“It contained no letter,” said Mr. Tibbs.
“Had he consulted you lately on any business matters of importance?”
The lawyer coughed slightly, as if he did not quite approve of the
question. He replied:
“As to what you might regard as a business matter of importance I
have not, perhaps, a clear idea. And the term ‘lately’ is rather an
indefinite one.”
“Well, we will say within a week,” said Mr. Haywood, ignoring the first
clause of Mr. Tibbs’ remark.
“I have not seen him within a week.”
“And have you had no intimation that he wished to consult you? Has he
sent you no message? Has he sought no advice――or aid――in reference to
making――in reference to the disposal of his property?”
The lawyer looked at Haywood sharply before replying. Then he said,
slowly and distinctly:
“Colonel Conrad, the day before his death, requested the loan of a
book containing forms and directions for making wills, and I sent such
a book to him. I have had no word from him since.”
Haywood felt an inward thrill as he heard these words, but repressed
any outward manifestation. He had obtained the information he was
seeking, and proceeded at once to cover his tracks.
“You mistake what I am trying to get at, Mr. Tibbs,” he said. “I trust
I am not so mercenary as to have any thought concerning his will thus
early. I am thinking of the box of money he received. It cannot be
found about the house, nor was it deposited in the bank, and I imagined
that you might possibly know something concerning its disposal, as you
have aided him in placing several of his investments.”
“I know nothing about the money,” replied Mr. Tibbs, coldly. “If I had,
I should have appeared at the examination to testify in regard to it.
Is it not supposed that the murderer or his accomplice made way with
it?”
“Yes; such, I believe, is the supposition,” said Haywood,
apologetically, “but the inquiry I have made suggested itself to my
mind this morning, and――well, there certainly is no harm done. However,
I will not detain you longer, Mr. Tibbs. Good-morning.”
“Good-morning,” returned the lawyer.
As Haywood left he congratulated himself on his shrewd management of
the conversation; but Mr. Tibbs was not entirely blinded. He muttered
to himself:
“I wonder what Haywood was driving at. His concern about the box of
gold was a pretense to cover something else. Can it be the colonel’s
will that he is worried about?”
And Mr. Tibbs resolved to be guarded and watchful toward Haywood.
Haywood next called on Mr. Royalton, the lawyer, who had acted in
behalf of Carlos at the examination.
“So your client has escaped, Mr. Royalton,” he said, as he entered the
lawyers’ office.
“I understand that he has,” was the reply, delivered with a cool bow.
“A very unwise proceeding, I should judge, if your boast yesterday
amounted to anything.”
“To what boast do you refer, sir?”
“Why, to those remarks in your closing speech to the effect that the
natives were to be astonished by some very startling developments that
would shield the young villain from harm. But, perhaps, the escape was
the grand stroke of policy you referred to.”
“If you intend that as a jest, Mr. Haywood, we will consider it a witty
one, and let it pass.”
Haywood bit his lips at this rejoinder, and looked askant into
Mr. Royalton’s face, which certainly did not bear an expression of
warm cordiality.
“Well, Mr. Royalton,” he said, after a moment, “I have come to ask
you a question. You are aware that an envelope directed to Mr. Timothy
Tibbs was found on Colonel Conrad’s table, and the supposition is that
it was intended to convey a letter or message of some kind. What I want
to ask is, if your client made mention of discovering any such letter
when he com――when the murder was committed.”
“Has it struck you, Mr. Haywood, that it is rather an absurd proceeding
for a man to question a lawyer concerning his client’s admissions or
actions?”
“But this is nothing that need criminate him or affect his prospects
one way or the other,” said Haywood, uneasily.
“Of that you will allow me to be the judge. However, I have no
objection to answering your question. Young Conrad found no letter.”
“Nor any portion of one?”
This was an incautious question. Haywood’s eagerness had led him to
overstep himself. The lawyer was upon him in a moment. With a piercing
glance and a sharp voice, he asked, quickly:
“Why do you say ‘_portion of one_?’ Mr. Haywood?”
It was only on rare occasions that Geoffrey Haywood found himself
confused. This was one of them. He had made a blunder, and was for the
instant alarmed. He stammered forth:
“Why, because――that is, for no particular reason; but every little clew
is worth following up.”
“Clew to what?” demanded Mr. Royalton, with an offensive voice and
frown which he knew well how to assume.
“Why, to his guilt, or to Colonel Conrad’s last wishes. As a friend to
him and his family, you know, I am bound to take all measures to serve
their interests.”
“And, sir, as my client’s attorney, I am bound to serve his interests
in every proper way. I am free to say, however――overlooking your
singular presumption in trying to pump me――that I believe his flight
was an unwise proceeding; for I am confident that in the end we should
have _beaten you_.”
“I don’t believe it,” retorted Haywood, angrily, rising from the chair
in which he was sitting. “I will bid you good-day, Mr. Royalton.”
“Ha, ha!” chuckled the lawyer, when Haywood was gone. “Two points made;
I frightened him and provoked him. My dear sir, you ♦mustn’t leave such
plain tracks, or the hounds of justice will soon be upon you.”
Haywood left Mr. Royalton’s office in no very amiable mood. But his
serene demeanor, when once in the street, betrayed no disquieting
emotions.
His next visit was to Elm Grove. After passing a few moments with
Florence, uttering well-chosen words of consolation and condolence,
he sought Barker, the servant, found him walking idly about the
garden, pulling a weed now and then, or removing a stone from a choice
flower-bed. He seemed downcast and forlorn.
Illustration: HE PASSED A FEW MOMENTS WITH FLORENCE, UTTERING
WELL-CHOSEN WORDS OF CONDOLENCE.
“Good-morning, Barker,” said Mr. Haywood, joining him in his walk.
“This calamity affects you as well as the rest of us. Colonel Conrad
was a man we all loved.”
“Yes, sir, that he was,” replied Barker.
“And you have been very faithful and considerate in this time of
trouble, Barker.”
“Thank you, sir. I don’t know as I’ve done more than my duty.”
“To do one’s duty well is praiseworthy,” replied Mr. Haywood. “And
now, Barker, I want to ask you a few questions. There is a great deal
of mystery surrounding the affair, and the escape of young Conrad will,
I am afraid, complicate matters still worse. I want to know if Colonel
Conrad seemed to have any important business on hand shortly before his
death.”
“Well, sir, I think he did. He was writing all the day before, more
especially after you called. He didn’t allow any one to see him or
speak to him except when he wanted some little service of me.”
“You were in his room, then? Did you see him writing?”
“Yes, sir; and perhaps I should say that once toward evening he called
me and Polly, the kitchen girl, in, and made us sign something.”
“Ah!” Haywood was evidently affected by this information. He was silent
for an interval before trusting his voice to speak again. “What was it
that you signed?”
“That I couldn’t say, sir. I didn’t read it.”
“Are you sure it was not a receipt for wages he had paid you?”
“No, sir, it was not that. There would be no occasion for Polly’s
signing such a receipt with me. And I hope you don’t think I shall be
asking for any wages that have been paid once. He might never take a
receipt, and I wouldn’t do that.”
“No, no, Barker, I had no such thought. Even if you were disposed to
such a course, which I know you are not, I could put you beyond the
necessity for it.”
“How, sir?”
“I will tell you presently. But just try to recollect something about
the nature of the document you signed.”
“I can’t do that,” insisted Barker. “I tell you I didn’t read it. Polly
and I, the colonel said, were to be witnesses, whatever that meant.”
“Did you notice whether the colonel had signed it?”
“Oh, yes, sir. He wrote his name right before our eyes.”
“So that you would know that it was his signature?”
“Yes, sir, that was it.”
“Well, Barker,” said Mr. Haywood, after a pause, “would you like to
earn a hundred dollars easily?”
“Of course I would, sir.”
“Listen, then. You can do it by solemnly promising, in the eyes of your
Maker, that you will never breathe a word to any living soul concerning
that document you signed.”
“That won’t be much of a job, sir.”
“But wait; how about Polly? She must remain silent, also.”
“I think I can manage her,” said Barker, with a grin. “I caught her
stealing some of the silver plate once, and since that time she has
been――well, she’s sort of under my thumb. She won’t dare do anything
I forbid her.”
“So much the better. Tell her not to breathe a word, and give her any
reason you like.”
“I’ll see to it”, replied Barker. “Were you going to do as handsomely
by her as you have promised to do by me?”
“I don’t know. It won’t be necessary now.”
“You might give me her share,” said Barker, with a leer.
“Oh, ho!” laughed Haywood. “You would be getting a double portion in
that case.”
“I know it,” replied Barker; and his leer transformed itself into an
impudent stare. “But isn’t it worth it to you?”
“To me?” said Haywood, uneasily, for Barker’s humble demeanor had
changed to something that looked very much like a disposition to
grasp at a real or fancied advantage. “I don’t know as it is to me
personally.”
“Oh, sir, I am sure it is. You had better give me the two hundred
dollars.”
His tone was that of a demand, rather than a suggestion. He had
immediately divined that Haywood had some secret object in view, and
was evidently resolved not to sell himself too cheaply.
Haywood took a look at the man, and read him.
“All right,” he replied. “The money shall be yours. Here are one
hundred dollars, and I will give you the balance on Monday.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And mind you keep the secret well.”
“As close as the lips of the dead man in the house, sir.”
“And if you ever want any little service done, Barker, come to me.”
“I will, sir,” replied Barker, grinning significantly, after Haywood’s
back was turned.
The two men then separated, having completed their evil compact.
On the morrow, under the solemn Sabbath skies, they were to appear
as mourners in the train that was to convey the body that lay in the
stricken house to its last resting-place, one bowed in humble grief,
as befitted his station, and the other in ostentatious, stately sorrow.