The Confession
Peter Boots arranged and rearranged his plans for the _seance_ many
times.
Though still living under the name of Louis Bartram, he had cast aside
fear of having his real identity discovered, pretty sure, now, that it
must come sooner or later.
His present concern was with the discovery of Blair's murderer, and
thereby the freeing of his sister's fiance. These accomplished he would
consider the case of his own restored identity, if it were not by that
time a foregone conclusion.
Pennington Wise came back from the West, and was let into the secret.
His amazement was beyond all bounds when Zizi took him over to the
Brooklyn hotel and he met Peter Crane.
"This thing has never been equaled in my experience," he declared. "And
no one but Zizi could have found you out, unless you chose to make
yourself known. Now, we must move warily,--your quarry may get away."
"You know whom I suspect?" asked Peter in astonishment.
"Of course I do, and I've had the same suspect from the beginning. But I
couldn't get a shred of evidence,--haven't any yet,-- I say, Mr. Crane,
suppose you confide in me fully. You'll have no cause to regret it."
So Peter Boots and Pennington Wise and Zizi had a long confab, in which
all cards were laid on the table, and all details of the plan settled.
Wise agreed that it would be a fearful blow to Benjamin Crane's pride,
but he held that the author of the book about Peter would receive no
blame and the fame of the affair would be world-wide, which would make
up for the blow to the author's vanity.
Peter was not convinced of this, but agreed to go ahead as Wise
suggested. Indeed, he had no choice, for it now rested on his statements
whether an innocent man was tried for crime or not.
The medium was completely suborned. She was instructed that if she
obeyed orders implicitly and succeeded in fulfilling the desires of her
new employers, she would be paid a large sum of money, and enabled to
leave the country secretly and safety.
For, after all, she was doing no more than the great army of "mediums"
all over the world, and if she achieved good at last, they wished no
harm to come to her.
"Moreover," as Peter said, "she was a great comfort to my parents in my
absence, and when they know of my presence, they'll have no further use
for Madame!"
The _seance_ was staged in the Crane home.
It was a simple matter for Madame Parlato to persuade Benjamin Crane to
allow her to hold a session there, promising him a probable
materialization of his son, if allowed to attempt it in the scenes
familiar to Peter Boots.
It was pathetic to see the hope and joy on the faces of Peter's father
and mother as they were offered this experience. Gladly they accepted
the proposition, and when the medium further advised them to invite a
few friends, they willingly did so.
It was not announced that materialization was expected,--Madame Parlato
preferred it should not be, she said; so the friends were merely asked
to a _seance_.
After all, Zizi, who had charge of the invitations informed them,
interest must be falling off, for no one was coming except Miss Harper,
who would also bring Mr. Shelby.
However, with the Crane household, that made quite a group, and as
Detective Weston had heard about it, and asked to be present he also had
a seat, in the rear of the room.
There was no air of secrecy, the waiting audience were receptive,
hopeful or skeptical as their natures prompted.
Shelby and Carlotta whispered to each other that they were glad to see
a specimen of the genius that had hoaxed so able a mind as Benjamin
Crane's. Julie was out of sorts and sad, for she disliked the whole
subject, and pitied her father and mother for their absorption in it.
At last Madame Parlato appeared.
She was an impressive looking woman, tall, slender, and with the
traditional long green eyes and red hair. Her face was very white, but
she was calm and well-poised, and seemed to feel a great sense of
responsibility.
She had not been informed of Peter's identity, but she knew him to be
acquainted with the man whom she still considered dead, and she knew
that Mr. Bartram was to impersonate Peter Crane.
She asked the eight people present to sit in a circle and join hands,
allowing herself to make one of them.
Weston flatly refused to do this, saying he preferred to sit alone at
the back of the room. He did so, and took his place near the door of the
small library of Mr. Crane's, the session being held in the large living
room.
The medium requested that the lights be shut entirely off, saying that
sufficient illumination would come in from the street to prevent total
darkness.
This proved to be true, and the dim light was just enough for them to
distinguish one another's forms but not faces.
"Poppycock," whispered Shelby to Carlotta, as he held her hand.
Zizi, who sat on Shelby's other side, heard it and answered,
"Absolutely."
Then the usual things happened. The medium went into a trance state, and
the regular proceedings took place.
She gave messages to Mr. Crane, purporting to be from his dead son. She
gave messages to Julie and to Peter's mother, all vapid and meaningless
and mentally scoffed at by all present, except the two elderly
listeners.
At last the medium said, "I am weary,--weary,--I would sleep. The spirit
of Peter Crane himself would speak to you."
"Will you?" eagerly asked Benjamin Crane, "will you speak yourself,
Peter?"
"Yes, father," came a reply, and everybody started.
Surely that was Peter's own voice! Not loud, almost a whisper, but with
the unmistakable cadence and tone of Peter, himself.
"That's Peter!" cried Julie, excitedly, "oh, father, is it?"
"Hush, dear," her father said, himself greatly agitated. "One must be
very calm and quiet on these occasions. Peter Boots, will you talk with
us?"
"Gladly, Dad," came the voice again,--seeming to emanate from behind
Detective Western's chair,--as indeed it did.
"Then tell us of yourself, my boy."
Mrs. Crane said no word, but sat, her hand in that of her husband, full
of faith in the genuineness of it all, and ready to listen and believe.
"I am very happy here, father," Peter's voice declared,--and Zizi bit
her lip to keep from smiling at the hackneyed phrase uttered by mortal
tongue!
"You sound so real, Peter," Julie said, bluntly. "Is it always like
this?"
For Julie had never attended a _seance_ before.
"No, sister," the voice said, speaking more clearly with every word;
"this is an unusual occasion. Perhaps,--perhaps the medium can bring
about materialization to-night."
"Oh, don't," Julie cried out, "I'm scared!"
"Don't be frightened, Julie," Peter said, his voice faint again, "I
won't hurt you."
The well-remembered gentleness reassured Julie, and she held tight to
her parents' hands and listened.
"I have a message for each of you," the voice went on; "or you may each
ask me a question, as you prefer."
"I'll ask," Julie exclaimed; "Peter, dear Peter Boots, tell me that Mac
never killed Gilbert. I know it, yet I want you to say so. They told me
you didn't know, and that you were misinformed and all that. You do
know, don't you, Peter?"
"Yes, Julie, I know. And Mac didn't kill Gilbert at all. But I know who
did. Shall I tell?"
"Yes," cried out several in chorus.
And then, from out the dark shadows behind Weston's chair, there slowly
appeared a dark, cloaked form. A black-draped, hooded figure, that moved
slowly toward them. A tall, big figure that seemed to loom out of the
darkness, and then the hood fell back a little, a white ghostly face
appeared dimly and a slowly raised hand pointed to Kit Shelby.
"Thou art the man!" came in low, accusing tones, and they were
unmistakably Peter's.
Julie shrieked, and the accused man gave a strange, guttural sound,
expressive of abject fear, and as the tall figure drew nearer, he rose
to flee from its avenging shape.
Shelby didn't go far, for his progress was stopped by the burly form of
Detective Weston, who advised him to sit down.
"Confess!" went on the figure that seemed to be Peter, and with wild
eyes, fairly starting from their sockets at the sight, Shelby cried out,
"I did, oh, Peter, I did!" and then he fell in a convulsion of fright
and terror.
And then, Peter Boots himself switched on the lights, threw off his long
cloak, and turned to take his mother in his arms.
"My boy, my boy!" she said, knowing intuitively and instantaneously
that it was her son, alive and found.
Benjamin Crane was a picture of utter perplexity. Unable to accept the
obvious, he tried for a moment to believe in a marvelous
"materialization," but Peter came to him, smiling and holding out an
eager hand.
"Welcome me home, Dad," he said, a quiver in his strong voice. "I know
what a shock it is, but brace up and meet it,-- I'm here, and very much
alive. In fact, I never have been dead at all."
"Peter,--Peter," his father muttered, and fearing ill effects, Zizi came
quickly to his side.
"Yes, Mr. Crane," she said in her brisk little way. "Peter Boots, home
again. Never mind the spook stuff now. Cut it out,--forget it,--let him
tell us of his adventures."
And now Carly came toward Peter.
One glance passed between them, and she was in his arms, a smiling,
sweet Carly, who kissed him right before everybody, and said
triumphantly, "I knew you'd come back!"
"Of course," said Peter, happily holding her to him. "I had to, the
gypsies prophesied it, you know. They didn't mean come back as a silly
old spirit, they meant come back in the flesh, and here I am. Kit, old
man, I'm sorry."
And there was infinite sorrow and pity in the face that Peter turned on
Shelby, who was still trembling and mouthing in a vain effort to speak.
"Get his confession," said Wise, lest when the shock wore off Shelby
might dare deny it all.
But he couldn't speak, and out of very pity, Peter said, "I'll tell the
details, and Shelby can nod assent."
"Go ahead," said Weston, his eye on his prisoner.
"I'll not tell of my experiences now, only to say there is no blame to
be attached to Shelby or to Blair or to the guide for my accident. I
fell in the snow, and somehow so managed to double my half-frozen legs
under me that the silly things both broke. I floundered in the drifts
but couldn't get up, nor could I make the boys hear my shouts, for the
wind was against me. Well, I was picked up--after many hours--by some
lumbermen and my tale of woe thereafter would fill a set of books. But
never mind that now, I got home just as soon as I possibly could, having
been absolutely unable to get a letter here any sooner than I could come
myself. I came back to find that Dad, supposing me dead, had written a
book,--oh, my eye! Dad, how you did butter me! Well, then I was up a
stump to know whether to make my joyous presence known and spill the
beans entirely or whether to sneak off, disappear forever and leave Dad
to his laurel and bay."
"Peter! how could you dream of such a thing!" Benjamin Crane was himself
now. "I'd a million times rather have you back than to have written all
the books in the world!"
"But, father, think what people will say! I understand your book is read
and discussed from pole to pole----"
"And it may be hooted at from pole to pole for all I care! Oh, Peter!
Peter Boots! Good old chap!"
Peter's blue eyes beamed. The thing that had worried him most had turned
out all right. Moreover, Carly seemed still kindly disposed toward him.
Remained only the dreadful business of Shelby and that must be put
through.
"Then," Peter resumed, "I came home, and found old Gilbert Blair was
dead. Murdered. And Mac Thorpe arrested for the crime.
"I know Thorpe, and I know he never did it. And I wondered. Then I read
in father's book about that old tobacco pouch of mine being
'materialized.' So I knew there was trickery afoot. For I had handed
that pouch to Kit only a short time before I fell down. And he hadn't
handed it back. So, that accounted for its presence in the possession of
the medium, though it didn't necessarily incriminate Shelby. He might
have lost it or had it stolen from him.
"But, next I went to the Picture Show of 'Labrador Luck.' That, or at
least the plot, the backbone of it, was Blair's and mine. Together we
doped it out, sitting by our camp fire up there in the wilds, old Kit
dozing near by. He talked with us about it now and then, but his plans
were different from ours. All for a monster, spectacular production
which he has achieved, while Blair and I planned a little light comedy
affair. But the plot, the great theme of the thing, was Blair's,--and I
denounce Kit Shelby as the murderer of Gilbert Blair for the purpose of
using that plot alone and in his own way! Another motive lay in the fact
of his admiration for Carlotta Harper, whom, he thought, Blair was about
to marry.
"And, if these do not seem to you, Mr. Weston and Mr. Wise, sufficient
motive for murder, I will inform you that Blair had discovered Shelby's
visits to the medium, Parlato, and had learned that it was he who was
responsible for the tobacco pouch, the handkerchief and that forged
letter. Blair discovered or suspected all this, and went to the medium
and forced her to admit he was correct.
"Wherefore, Shelby had to be exposed and ruined, or--had to close
Blair's lips forever. He chose the latter course. The method was by a
poisoned soda mint, as has been suspected, and this I know, because
Shelby and I talked over methods of murder, when we were discussing
detective stories, and he detailed to me the very plan that I am sure he
used himself, that of putting one poisoned pellet in a bottle of plain
ones, and letting the result happen when it might. His argument was,
that the murderer would be far from the scene at the time death took
place. These statements I submit, and if Christopher Shelby can deny or
refute them, none will be more glad than I."
Shelly maintained a sullen silence, refusing to look at Peter at all.
But Weston adjured him to reply to the accusations with either
confession or denial, and he muttered: "Of course it's all true. I got
in deeper and deeper and there was no way out but to do for Blair. I
began giving the medium things just for fun,--the whole matter seemed to
me such rubbish, and I never dreamed Mr. Crane would take it so
seriously. Then when he did, and when Blair found out I had primed the
medium, and when I wanted his play and he wouldn't let me have it, and
when I wanted his girl,--and when he declared he would expose the medium
business,--I fell for the temptation. That's all."
He lapsed again into utter dejection and Weston led him away before he
should collapse utterly.
"Now, Julie, you can have your Mac," Peter went on, smiling at his
sister. "It's too late to-night----"
"Not a bit of it," declared Penny Wise, "come along, Miss Crane, I'll
take you to him, and let you tell him yourself, and I shouldn't be
surprised if he came back with you."
The two went off joyfully, leaving Peter to be lionized and petted by
his adoring people.
Madame Parlato had long since disappeared, being allowed to get away
unmolested because of the help she had been.
Then Peter and his parents had a talk, while Carlotta just sat and
looked at the group, knowing her turn would come. Zizi, too, like a
little _dea ex machina_, sat, gloating over the outcome of it all.
Benjamin Crane utterly refused to listen to a word of regret at his
discredited book,--he only laughed happily and declared it was a joke on
himself, and he didn't care what the result might be or what loss he
might suffer in reputation or in pocketbook.
Mrs. Crane said little but she held tight to the hand of her boy, and
lost herself in an oblivion of happiness.
And then, turning to Carlotta, Peter said, "And you thought I'd never
come back?"
"Peter," Carly said, "I'm an expert Ouija Boarder. I have the reputation
of making the Board say whatever I want it to. But my own theory is,
that the little pointer always goes straight to the message that the
performer wants. And whenever I tried it alone, and asked it if you'd
come back to me,--it said you would."
Peter smiled at her, a little quizzically.
"I don't know, Carly, whether you're making that up or whether you mean
it, but it doesn't matter, I did come back,--and I came back to
you,--and for you. Which, being interpreted, means, that when you're
ready to go home, I'll walk along with you. I'll have time to see the
family here to-morrow."
Whereupon Carly smiled happily, and they two "walked along."
THE END