The Last Stroke: A Detective Story

by Lawrence L. Lynch

  CHAPTER IV.

  FERRARS.

  Robert Brierly caught his breath.

  "And your reason?" he gasped, "for you have a reason other than the merefact of the bullet-wound in the neck."

  "I have seen just such deeds in the wild west and I know how they aredone. But this is also professional knowledge. Besides, man, call reasonto your aid! Oh, I expect too much. The hurt is too fresh, you can onlyfeel now, but the man shot by accident, be it by his own hand or that ofanother, is not shot twice."

  "Good heavens, no!"

  "But when one who creeps upon his victim unawares, shoots him frombehind, and, as he falls, fearing the work is not completed, shootsagain, the victim, as you must see, receives the wound further to thefront as the body falls forward and partially turns in falling. Do yousee? Do you comprehend?"

  "Yes." Brierly shuddered.

  "Brierly, this talk is hurting you cruelly. Let us drop details, orpostpone them."

  "Not the essential ones. I must bear what I must. Go on, doctor. I quiteagree with you. It looks like a murder, and we must--I must know thetruth--must find the one who did the deed. Doctor, advise me."

  "About----"

  "How to begin, no time should be lost."

  "That means a good detective, as soon as possible. Do you chance to knowany of these gentry?"

  "I----No, indeed! I suppose a telegram to the chief of police----"

  "Allow me," broke in Doctor Barnes. "May I make a suggestion?"

  "Anything. I seem unable to think."

  "And no wonder! I know the right man for you if he is in Chicago. Yousee, I was in hospital practice for several years, and have also had myshare of prison experience. While thus employed I met a man namedFerrars, an Englishman, who for some years has spent the greater part ofhis time in this country, in Chicago, in fact. There's a mystery and aromance attached to the man, or his history. He's not connected withany of the city offices, but he is one of three retireddetectives--retired, that is, from regular work--who work together atneed when they feel a case to be worth their efforts. I think a caselike this will be certain to attract Ferrars."

  "And he is your choice of the three?"

  The doctor smiled. "The others are married," he said, "and not so readyto go far afield as is Ferrars."

  "You think him skilful?"

  "None better."

  "Then, do you know his address?"

  Brierly got up and began to walk about, his eyes beginning to glow withthe excitement so long suppressed. "Because we can't get him here toosoon."

  "I agree with you. And now one thing more. To give him every advantagehe should not be known, and the inquest should not begin until he ishere."

  "Can that be managed?"

  "I think so."

  Brierly was now nervously eager. He seemed to have shaken off the stuporwhich at first had seemed to seize upon and hold him, and his questionsand suggestions came thick and fast. It ended, of course, in his puttinghimself into the doctor's hands, and accepting his plans and suggestionsentirely. And very soon, Dr. Barnes, having given his factotum distinctinstructions as regarded visitors, and inquiries, had set off, hismedicine case carried ostentatiously in his hand, not for the telegraphoffice, but for the cottage, close by, where Hilda Grant found a home.

  It was a small, neatly-kept cottage, and Mrs. Marcy, a gentle, kindlywidow, and the young teacher were its only occupants.

  The widow met him at the door, her face anxious, her voice the merestwhisper.

  "Doctor, tell me; do you think she will really be ill?"

  "Why no, Mrs. Marcy; at least not for long. It has been a shock, ofcourse; a great shock. But she----"

  "Ah, doctor, she is heart-broken. I--I think I surely may tell you. Itwill help you to understand. They were engaged, and for a little while,such a pitiful little while it seems now, they have been so happy."

  The doctor was silent a moment, his eyes turned away.

  "And now," went on the good woman, "she will be lonelier than ever. Youknow she was very lonely here at first. She has no relatives nearer thana cousin anywhere in the world, to her knowledge. And he has never beento see her. He lives in Chicago, too, not so far away."

  "Yes, surely he ought to visit her now, really. Just ask her if I maycome up, Mrs. Marcy. I--I'm glad you told me of this. Thank you. It willhelp me."

  Ten minutes later Doctor Barnes was hastening toward the telegraphoffice, where he sent away this singular and wordy message:

  "Frank Ferrars, No. ... Street, Chicago--

  "Your cousin, Miss Hilda Grant, is ill, and in trouble. It is a case in which you are needed as much as I. Come, if possible, by first evening train.

  "WALTER BARNES."

  "That will fetch him," he mused, as he hastened homeward. "Ferrars neverbreaks a promise, though I little expected to have to remind him of itwithin the year."

  "Well," began Brierly, when he entered his own door. "Have you seen her?Was she willing?"

  "Willing and anxious. She is a brave and sensible little woman. She willdo her part, and she has never for one moment believed in the theory ofan accident."

  "And she will receive me?"

  "This evening. She insists that we hold our council there, in herpresence. At first I objected, on account of her weakness, but she isright in her belief that we should be most secure there, and Ferrarsshould not be seen abroad to-night. We will have to take Mrs. Marcy intoour confidence, in part at least, but she can be trusted. We will all beobserved, more or less, for a few days. But, of course, I shall putFerrars up for the night. That will be the thing to do after he hasspent a short evening with his cousin."

  Brierly once more began his restless pacing to and fro, turningpresently to compare his watch with the doctor's Dutch clock.

  "It will be the longest three hours I ever passed," he said, and a greatsigh broke from his lips.

  But, before the first hour had passed, a boy from the telegraph officehanded in a blue envelope, and the doctor hastily broke the seal andread--

  "Be with you at 6.20.

  "FERRARS."

  When the first suburban train for the evening halted, puffing, at thevillage station, Doctor Barnes waiting upon the platform, saw a man ofmedium height and square English build step down from the smoking carand look indifferently about him.

  There was the usual throng of gaping and curious villagers, and some ofthem heard the stranger say, as he advanced toward the doctor, whowaited with his small medicine case in his hand--

  "Pardon me; is this doctor--doctor Barnes?" And when the doctor noddedhe asked quickly, "How is she?"

  "Still unnerved and weak. We have had a terrible shock, for all of us."

  When the two men had left the crowd of curious loungers behind them thedoctor said--

  "It is awfully good of you, Ferrars, to come so promptly at my call. Ofcourse, I could not explain over the wires. But, you understand."

  "I understand that you needed me, and as I'm good for very little, savein one capacity, I, of course, supposed there was a case for me. Theevening paper, however, gave me--or so I fancy--a hint of the business.Is it the young schoolmaster?"

  The doctor started. It seemed impossible that the news had already foundits way into print.

  "Some one has made haste," he said, scornfully.

  "Some one always does in these cases, and the _Journal_ has a 'specialcorrespondent' in every town and village in the country almost. It wasonly a few lines." He glanced askance at his companion as he spoke. "Andit was reported an accident or suicide."

  "It was a murder!"

  "I thought so."

  "You--why?"

  "'The victim was found,' so says the paper, 'face downward, or nearlyso.' 'Fallen forward,' those were the words. Was that the case?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, did you ever see or hear of a suicide who had fallen directlyforward and face downward, supposing him to have shot himself?"

  "No, no."


  "On the other hand, have you ever noted that a man taken unawares, shotfrom the side, or rear, falls forward? If shot standing, that is. It isonly when he receives a face charge that he falls backward."

  "I had not thought of that, and yet it looks simple and rationalenough," and then, while they walked down the quiet street runningparallel with Main, and upon which Mrs. Marcy's cottage stood, thedoctor told the story of the morning, briefly but clearly, adding, atthe end, "In telling this much, I am telling you actually all that Iknow."

  "All--concerning Miss Grant, too?"

  "Everything."

  The doctor did not lift his eyes from the path before them, and againthe detective shot a side glance from the corner of his eye, and theshadow of a smile crossed his face.

  "How does it happen that this brother is here so--I was about tosay--opportunely?"

  "He told me that he came by appointment, but on an earlier train than hehad at first intended to take, to pass Sunday with his brother."

  "Now see," mused Ferrars, "what little things, done or left undone,shape or shorten our lives! If he had telegraphed to his brotherannouncing his earlier arrival, there would have been no targetpractice, but a walk to the station instead."

  The doctor sighed, and for a few moments walked on in silence. Then, asthey neared the cottage he almost stopped short and turned toward thedetective.

  "I'm afraid you will think me a sad bungler, Ferrars. I should have toldyou at once that Robert Brierly awaits us at Mrs. Marcy's cottage."

  "Robert Brierly? Is that his name? I wonder if he can be the RobertBrierly who has helped to make one of our morning papers so bright andbreezy. A rising young journalist, in fact. But it's probably another ofthe name."

  "I don't know. He has not spoken of himself. Will it suit you to meethim at once?"

  "We don't often get the chance to begin as would best suit us, wehunters of our kind. I would have preferred to go first to the scene ofthe death, but I suppose the ground has been trampled over and over,and, besides, I don't want to advertise myself until I am betterinformed at least. Go on, we will let our meeting come as it will."

  But things seldom went on as they would for long, when Frank Ferrars wasseeking his way toward a truth or fact. They found Mrs. Marcy at thedoor, and she at once led them to the upper room which looked out uponthe side and rear of the little lawn, and was screened from inlookers,as well as from the sun's rays, by tall cherry trees at the side, andthick and clinging morning glory vines at the back.

  "You'll be quite safe from intrusion here," she murmured, and left themas she had received them at the door.

  If Doctor Barnes had feared for his patient's strength, and dreaded theeffect upon her of the coming interview, he was soon convinced that hehad misjudged the courage and will power of this slight, soft-eyed,low-voiced and unassertive young woman. She was very pale, and her eyeslooked out from their dark circles like wells of grief. But no tearsfell from them, and the low pathetic voice did not falter when she said,after the formal presentation, and before either of the others hadspoken:

  "I have asked to be present at this interview, Mr. Ferrars, and am toldthat it rests with you whether I am admitted to your confidences.Charles Brierly is my betrothed, and I would to God I had yielded to hiswish and married him a week ago. Then no one could have shut me out fromought that concerns him, living or dead. In the sight of heaven he is myhusband, for we promised each other eternal faithfulness with our handsclasped above his mother's Bible."

  Francis Ferrars was a singular mixture of sternness and gentleness, ofquick decision at need and of patient considerateness, and he now tookone of the cold little hands between his own, and gently but firmly ledher to the cosy chair from which she had arisen.

  "You have proved your right to be here, and no one will dispute it. Wemay need your active help soon, as much as we need and desire yourcounsel and your closer knowledge of the dead man now."

  In moments of intense feeling conventionalities fall away from us andstrong soul speaks to strong soul. While they awaited the coming of thedoctor and Francis Ferrars, Hilda Grant and Robert Brierly had beenunable to break through the constraint which seemed to each to be themental attitude of the other, and then, too, both were engrossed withthe same thought, the coming of the detective, and the possibilitiesthis suggested, for underlying the grievous sorrow of both brother andsweetheart lay the thought, the silent appeal for justice as inherent inour poor human nature as is humanity itself.

  But Hilda's sudden claim, her prayer for recognition struck down thebarrier of strangeness and the selfishness of sorrow, than whichsometimes nothing can be more exclusive, in the mind and heart of RobertBrierly, and he came swiftly to her side, as she sank back, pallid andpanting, upon her cushions.

  "Miss Grant, my sister; no other claim is so strong as yours. It was tomeet you, to know you, that I set out for this place to-day. In my poorbrother's last letter--you shall read it soon--he said, 'I am going togive you something precious, Rob; a sister. It is to meet her that Ihave asked you to come just now.' I claim that sister, and need her nowif never before. Don't look upon me as a stranger, but as Charlie'sbrother, and yours." He placed his hand over hers as it rested weaklyupon the arm of her chair, and as it turned and the chill little fingersclosed upon his own, he held it for a moment and then, releasing itgently, drew a seat beside her and turned toward the detective.

  "Mr. Ferrars, your friend has assured me that I may hope for your aid.Is that so?"

  "When I have heard all that you can tell me, I will answer," repliedFerrars. "If I see a hope or chance of unravelling what now looks likea mystery--should it be proved a mystery--I will give you my promise,and my services."

  He had seated himself almost opposite Hilda Grant, and while he quietlystudied her face, he addressed the doctor.

  "Tell me," he said, "all you know and have been told by others, and besure you omit not the least detail."

  Beginning with the appearance of Mr. Doran at his office door, with thepanting and perspiring black pony, the doctor detailed their drive andhis first sight of the victim, reviewing his examination of the body indetail, while the detective listened attentively and somewhat to thesurprise of the others, without interruption, until the narrator hadreached the point when, accompanied by Brierly, he had followed thehearse, with its pitiful burden, back to the village. Then Ferrarsinterposed.

  "A moment, please," taking from an inner pocket a broad, flatletter-case and selecting from it a printed card, which, with a pencil,he held out to the doctor. "Be so good," he said, "as to sketch upon theblank back of this the spot where you found the dead man, the mound infull, with the road indicated, above and beyond it. I remember you usedto be skilful at sketching things."