UNDER THE SURFACE
Early in January there arrived in El Toyon a gentleman with a scrubbing
brush moustache, a pleasant, portly personality, a pair of twinkling
black eyes, a seemingly limitless amount of leisure, discriminating
taste for liquors and cigars, a fountain pen and a check book. The
name he wrote upon the hotel register was Edward Kinsell. He disabused
the mind of the proprietor, Charlie Granger, by assuring him that he
was not a drummer. In his genial way he was quite ready to tell all
about himself. He was an old bachelor, counting upon becoming the
husband of a great little woman just as soon as the courts had disposed
of the present incumbent. He had been rolling down the rocky trail at
a pretty swift gait in town, and his doctor had warned him that the
lady In question would have been set free and would no doubt have
chosen and elected another life partner before Mr. Kinsell found his
way to the church unless he took up the simple life.
So Mr. Kinsell, having availed himself for a week or two of Charlie
Granger's hospitality, found at last a vine twined cottage not too far
from the hotel kitchen and barroom, and leased it forthwith. He played
many games of poker, apparently possessed of a rare ability to play
good hands badly and poor hands well so that while he generally lost he
lost but little; he took up sleighing with great delight, usually
taking a small boy along with him to drive; he amused himself writing
daily letters or picture postcards to the great little woman; he became
a friend of all the dogs in town; he bought drinks for the village
vagabonds; altogether he disported himself harmlessly and pleasantly
quite as a portly old bachelor with a scrubbing brush moustache should
do while seeking rejuvenation and awaiting a decree. He was always
upon the verge of entering some local project which he never entered.
He made more friends in the six months of his stay--he left in
June,--than any other man in El Toyon had made in a year.
He dined with the preacher and talked infant psychology with the
teacher; he bet Charlie Granger ten dollars on a dog-fight over which
he waxed red faced and enthusiastic; he got himself catalogued by the
saloon loungers as a hot sport; he evinced a warm interest in the
country races to be run in the Spring. In that connection he learned
that Granger held stakes amounting to ten thousand dollars on a single
race that would never be run; he was informed that the money was
already as good as Sledge Hume's. He became interested in Hume and in
Red Reckless; he even went to the length of travelling into the Dry
Lands to get a squint at Endymion, and then sought out Big Bill and
studied Little Saxon's good points. Everything in the world seemed to
interest Edward Kinsell.
The winter slipped by and the herds went back to the mountain ranges.
The Lelands were again at the Echo Creek. Time and a natural strong
affection had cooled the heat of passion in father and daughter. Love
and consanguinity narrowed the breach which lay between them, although
the rupture, if it ever healed completely, would leave its scar. Each
nature came to make certain allowances for the other; their
intercourse, though not intimate, was amicable. Neither made any
reference before the other to Wayne Shandon. And, as naturally as this
condition arose, Wanda and her mother drew closer together.
Upon the Bar L-M Big Bill was competent, hard working foreman. He
still hoped for the impossible, he still obeyed orders and sought
tirelessly to make Little Saxon all that Shandon could have done.
Willie Dart, growing as time wore on hollow eyed from his nocturnal
vigils, slept in a hay loft with a shot gun perilously near his eager
right hand.
Shandon was yet in the mountains, his headquarters Wanda's cave. It
seemed at times to his impatient desires that Brisbane was doing
nothing; that just the evidence he himself had told the lawyer that
night in White Rock should have led long before now to the arrest of
Sledge Hume. But he refused to brood over it, telling himself doggedly
that if Brisbane were doing nothing there was nothing to be done. He
knew his man. And already Shandon had found an occupation which was to
keep him busy and far from unhappy day and night.
News of the outside world came to him in the few meetings with Wanda
which were bright highlights in his life. She dared not come too often
for MacKelvey himself or one of his deputies was a frequent and
unheralded guest at Leland's. But she came when she could, meeting him
below the cliffs, her camera serving as her reason for going into the
forests, bringing him books, little delicacies surreptitiously prepared
by her own hands, a newspaper now and then rescued from Julia's wood
box, prints of the pictures she had taken. Wanda still saw Dart
frequently, and from his gossiping lips brought word of what occurred
upon the Bar L-M. Garth Conway, she had not seen. Her father heard
from him by post, saw him now and then in the outside world; she did
not know what Conway was doing but imagined that he was keeping in
touch with Leland for the sake of the irrigation scheme which seemed a
still born failure.
Through Wanda and Dart a meeting between Shandon and Big Bill was
arranged. The two men met after dark near the head of Laughter Lake;
Shandon gave his detailed orders to his foreman, assuring him that
Brisbane was at work upon the case and that before long word would come
from him for the fugitive to give himself up; there would be a quick
preliminary hearing and he would be released. Shandon's optimism
glowed into warmer life with the warming of the spring sun. Little
Saxon must be kept in condition; arrangements must be made for the open
handed welcome and hospitality to be afforded the crowds that would
come up for the races in June. There would be much for Big Bill to
superintend: choice beeves must be brought up for the barbecue; a rude
platform must be constructed for the dance which was to conclude the
day of festivity. In every detail Big Bill took his orders gravely and
obeyed them to the letter.
In another matter Big Bill had long ago acted, having been informed in
the early winter of Shandon's wishes. Ettinger was told that sooner or
later the man whose property controlled the upper waters of the river
flowing from Laughter Lake would come back. When he did return he was
going to do just the thing Ettinger himself had suggested. Ettinger
was to hold out, and induce the others to hold out with him if he
could. And, since Leland was stubborn, since the whole matter was in
the air just now, Ettinger saw nothing better to do than accept the tip
which Big Bill gave him. A similar message went to Helga Strawn.
May came in, radiant and glowing, and men from many miles away visited
the Bar L-M to look over the course upon which the race meet was to be
held. MacKelvey spent weary days and nights driving his relentless
quest; Sledge Hume seemed sullenly idle; Helga Strawn coolly
Indifferent to the world about her; and still Wayne Shandon received no
encouraging word from Brisbane. May ran through half its allotted days
of thaw and bursting seeds; the day for the race was less than a month
away, and still Shandon clung to his solitudes, wondering, beginning to
doubt.
And then one day he had a visitor.
It was after sunset. He had been out all day, upon the higher table
land where he had set rudely constructed traps for rabbits. He had
returned in the early dusk, finding his way down the fissure from the
rocks above to his cave. And as he made his fire and began the
preparations for his evening meal, he heard a very discreet cough at
the entrance of the cave.
The cough was repeated, and then there entered the cavern a portly,
pleasant looking gentleman with a scrubbing brush moustache.
"Howdy-do, Mr. Shandon?" he said genially, removing his hat to mop his
moist forehead and then coming closer to extend his hand. "I was
passing and thought I'd drop in."
Shandon who had been squatting by the fire got to his feet and stared.
"Well?" he demanded sharply. He fully expected to hear other voices in
a moment, MacKelvey's voice, perhaps Sledge Hume's.
"My card," smiled the genial gentleman pleasantly. "One of my various
cards, rather." He extended it, adding, "I thought I'd run in and
bring you a handful of cigars. You must be in sad need of them, eh?"
The card explained that its owner was Mr. Edward Kinsell. The name
meant nothing to Shandon and he said so bluntly.
"To be sure," acknowledged Mr. Kinsell. He extended the other hand
with the cigars, took a stool by the fire, crossed his knees and added
drily, "I've been on the lay, though, for pretty close to six months.
Great chap, Brisbane, isn't he? By the way here is a note from him."
The note, dated several months earlier, simply stated that Edward
Kinsell could be depended upon to do all that any man could in the
matter of gathering up the evidence he was being paid by Shandon to
get. Shandon's eyes, suddenly bright, an eager note in his voice, he
shot out his hand warmly, and cried,
"You have found something?"
"My dear Mr. Shandon," smiled Kinsell, "I have found out so many things
that it's a wonder I don't have a continual headache. You'll pardon my
not having called upon you sooner? I have really been so busy--"
"You knew where to find me all the time?" incredulously.
Kinsell nodded and smiled approvingly as Wayne lighted a cigar.
"Of course. I always make it a point to be in a position to get into
close touch with my principal in case of urgent need."
"Then there is urgent need now?" eagerly. "You have got the deadwood
on Hume?"
"Not exactly. But I've got the old kettle boiling and she's due to
bubble over most any old time."
"For God's sake," cried Shandon, "tell me something. I didn't know
that you were at work even, I don't know a thing that has happened,
that is happening."
"And quite naturally you are interested? Just so." Kinsell very
carefully placed the finger tips of one hand against those of the
other, apparently giving his whole attention to the action. "Let me
see. Presently, in a few weeks at most, I'll be putting in a little
bill and you'll want to know what I've been doing to earn my money.
That's businesslike and proper. In most matters to be thorough, Mr.
Shandon, one must begin at the beginning. In my business it is
different; I have to begin in the middle and go back to a point before
the beginning. Having availed myself of Mr. Brisbane's knowledge of
the subject it became up to me to do one thing: find the man who,
before your brother's murder, was in a position to be benefitted by the
commission of the crime, or the man with a strong emotional reason for
committing it."
He paused, looking thoughtfully at the steep pitched roof his fingers
had constructed, shifted quick, measuring glance at Shandon and turned
his attention again to his fingers.
"There are three men," he resumed, "who occupy positions demanding
investigation. First, you. Your brother's heir, a man with a hot
temper, a man who had recently quarrelled with the murdered man; you
would benefit financially, you had the reputation of generally needing
money, you had the name of being a reckless, headlong sort of devil.
Second, Sledge Hume. A man as smooth running as a machine ordinarily,
cool headed, emotionless. But investigation shows that he had
knowledge of the fact that your brother was carrying on his person the
twenty-five thousand dollars; research also discloses there are times
when the man's nature changes, when he flies into a towering rage that
might well become violent; and finally, we have found that shortly
after the crime he paid the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars to
Helga Strawn for her interest in the Dry Lands. Third, there is Martin
Leland."
"Martin Leland!" cried Shandon.
Kinsell nodded thoughtfully.
"Martin Leland is the man who advanced the money," he said drily. "He
has shown himself in the matter of the mortgage and foreclosure a man
to be reckoned with. You see all three men mentioned were in positions
to have previous knowledge that your brother was in possession of that
sum of money; all three were in positions to menace his life for merely
sordid reasons; and, strangely enough, all three were men whose tempers
are such that in a moment of rage, in a hot quarrel, they might have
committed such a crime. Six months ago, Mr. Shandon, I think that it
would have gone very hard with you at a trial. The concensus of
opinion was pretty strong against you. Making a fugitive of yourself
made matters worse. But since then I think things have changed. There
are many men who, having learned of the deal Leland and Hume tried to
put over on you, have come to look upon them as crooks, and are willing
to suspect either of them of having killed Arthur Shandon."
"But Martin Leland suspected," muttered Shandon. "It seems--"
"Exactly," smiled Kinsell. "It seems rather like the finger of God,
doesn't it? Now we'll go on. I have learned that Sledge Hume bought
Helga Strawn's interest in the Dry Lands about two weeks after the
murder. At that time Hume had something like five thousand dollars in
the bank. I have had the record of the deed looked up. The deed is
noncommittal in the matter in which I was interested. Like so many
documents of its nature it says merely that in consideration of the sum
of ten dollars, the receipt of which is herein acknowledged, and so
forth, Helga Strawn deeded the property to Hume. That's common enough.
All right. Next, I find that Hume doesn't take the world into his
confidence ordinarily but that he has been free enough to tell a good
many people sneeringly that a woman is a fool and that he bought from a
woman for five thousand dollars. I find that the five thousand dollars
in his bank had been drawn out, a draft for that amount having been
sent to Helga Strawn, New York. That looked all right, didn't it? But
then you told Brisbane that Helga Strawn told you that Hume had paid
her twenty-five thousand. Eh?"
"Yes," Shandon returned. "Have you asked her?"
Kinsell laughed softly.
"I don't do business that way. Usually in this sort of a game if you
want to catch nice fat lies fish with question marks for hooks. She is
one of the cleverest women I ever knew, is Helga Strawn, almost as
clever as Jeanette Compton. Quite as clever, perhaps, but Jeanette has
the bulge on her in that she's got her eyes on Helga all the time that
Helga has her eyes on Hume."
"Who's Jeanette Compton?"
"She's Helga Strawn's new maid. The old one quit; bribed her myself.
You'll find the item in the bill later on. Also Jeanette Compton is
the finest little girl on our staff."
"And you're watching Helga Strawn too?"
"With both of Jeanette's bright little eyes, all the time. To go on:
we've found through our men in New York that fifteen days after the
death of your brother, Helga Strawn placed on deposit in her bank in
New York two drafts. One for five thousand dollars, one for twenty
thousand. We have found that after Sledge Hume had drawn his five
thousand here he was out of the country for two days. We have
questioned every bank, Wells Fargo office and post office within a
day's range of El Toyon. Last week I got what I wanted from a bank in
Reno. A man, evidently a mining man, claiming to be in town from a
strike in Tonopah, deposited twenty-five thousand dollars at the
Merchants' and Citizens' Bank. It was in cash. The depositor gave his
name as--what do you guess?"
Shandon looked at him blankly. Kinsell smiled and said abruptly,
"He gave his name as Wayne Shandon. How does that strike you? It all
happened while you were going East with your brother's body; I believe
that it occurred while your train was being held up a few minutes in
Reno."
Shandon's bewilderment seemed to please Kinsell. He chuckled softly,
and then, his face growing thoughtful again, he went on.
"You'll remember that the train is scheduled to stop for fifteen
minutes in Reno? Well, the man made his deposit, and ten minutes later
he came back, said that his plans had changed, that he was going to
take the train with a friend he had seen on board, and asked to have
his money back. It was given to him, at his request, in twenty-five
bank notes of the thousand dollar denomination. He signed for them,
writing your name, excusing an almost illegible signature by the need
of haste and by a finger tied up as though it were badly hurt. So much
for what the cashier of the Merchants' and Citizens' Bank of Reno knows
about it."
"It was Hume?"
"From evidence so far given it might have been Hume or you! All right.
The man with the big roll of bills went out with the train. He might
have gone on to New York; he might have dropped off at Sparks and taken
the next train back in half an hour. He might have got back to
Sacramento the next morning. We find the rather interesting fact that
in Sacramento a man, giving his name as Arnold Wentworth paid to Wells
Fargo and Company the sum of twenty thousand dollars in bills of a
thousand dollars each for an order payable to Helga Strawn in New York.
Now do you see where Helga Strawn comes in?"
Shandon, merely puzzled, shook his head at the bright eyes suddenly
turned upon him.
"Assuming," went on Kinsell, "that it was Hume and not yourself who
made that deposit at the Reno bank, don't you see that as things stand
he has piled up a pretty piece of evidence against you? You might have
done just that thing, deposited the money while the train waited,
became alarmed at something, and gone back for it. I wonder if a
cashier, after two years' time, would remember the features of a
stranger so that he could say whether it was you or Hume? All right.
Next, there's Helga Strawn. If she'd talk, if she'd tell us that she
had a draft of five thousand and a Wells Fargo order for twenty
thousand, that Hume had sent one and had explained that a friend would
send the other, we'd have Mr. Hume in a certain place that men don't
like to think of."
"Make her tell!" cried Shandon.
Kinsell arched his brows.
"She's out here for blackmail, isn't she? Let her understand what
conditions are, and what's a clever woman's clever play? She'd go to
Hume and say, 'Look here, Mr. Hume. I can crook my little finger and
swing you off into space at the end of a rope. Or I can keep still and
you can stand pat.' I fancy she'd do that. And she'd get her Dry
Lands back."
"She can't be as bad as that!"
"Can't she? Wait until you have a talk with Jeanette Compton."
"It all depends upon Helga Strawn, then? There is a deadlock until you
can get her to talk?"
"By no means. I'm just making a sort of unofficial report, you
understand. I wanted you to know that while some people suspect you
and some suspect Leland we are going ahead and getting the cards into
our own hands. And I wanted to ask you what you thought of that mining
proposition on the old McIntosh property? It's adjacent to yours,
isn't it? Just the other side of Laughter Lake?"
"The McIntosh property, yes. The ridge rising on the other side of the
lake is my boundary line. I hadn't heard of any mining being done
there."
"No? Well, it seems a mining concern has found something. At any rate
men are at work, a tunnel has been driven into the base of the ridge,
and--I wonder what would happen if a charge of dynamite went off in due
time and blew a hole right through, into the lake?"
"Good heaven!" cried Shandon angrily. "You mean that Hume and Leland
are actually trying to steal my water?"
"I don't think Leland is in on this," replied Kinsell quietly. "He
doesn't seem to me to be _quite_ the crook Hume is."
"But," muttered Shandon, "if they once tear the side of that mountain
out--"
"The milk will be spilt so badly that it cannot be put back into the
pan? And the mining company, a Chicago firm, I believe, at any rate a
crowd of men hired by a Chicago man, will claim that they were on their
territory all of the time; that not one of their men, but some man
hired by you, put in the charges that did the damage. It's a bold
play, but then when it's make or break with a man he hasn't much
picking and choosing to do."
"It won't take me long to get there," said Shandon grimly. "And I'm
getting tired of this thing."
"But, surely," smiled Kinsell, "you don't object to having Hume pay for
a part of the work you'll have to do soon or late, do you? Let him go
ahead. Just before they get ready to do the real damage, we'll slap a
little injunction on them."
"But how will we know?"
"That's all right. One of their foremen is drawing wages from you
right now. You'll find a lot of interesting things in the expense
account I put in, Mr. Shandon."