CHAPTER LII.
THE VERDICT OF AN EXPERT.
Late in the afternoon of the day following that on which Carnegie theExpert had received his commission from the Chief of the detectives, heappeared again in the presence of that personage.
He carried his "documents" in a small packet, which he laid upon thedesk, and he turned upon the Chief a face as cheerful and as full ofsuppressed activity as usual.
"Well?" queried the Chief, glancing down at the packet, "have you done?"
"Yes;" beginning to open the packet with quick, nervous fingers.
"And you found--" He paused and looked up at the Expert.
Carnegie took from the packet the letter addressed to Alan Warburton,and written in the scrawling, unreadable hand. This he spread open uponthe desk. Then he took another letter, written in an elegant hand, andwith various vigorous ornamental flourishes. This he laid beside thefirst, pushing the remaining letters carelessly aside as if they were ofno importance.
"I find--" he said, looking hard at the Chief, and putting oneforefinger upon the elegant bit of penmanship, the other upon theunreadable scrawl;--"I find that these two were written by the samehand."
The Chief leaned forward; he had not been able to see the writing fromthe place in which he sat. He leaned closer and fixed his eyes upon thetwo signatures. The one he had seen before; the other wassigned--_Vernet_.
Slowly he withdrew his eyes from the signature, and turned them upon theface of the Expert.
"Carnegie," he asked, "do you ever make a mistake?"
"_I?_" Carnegie's look said the rest.
"Because," went on the Chief, scarcely noticing Carnegie's indignantexclamation, "if you _ever_ made a mistake, I should say, I should wishto believe, that this was one."
"It's no mistake," replied the Expert grimly. "I never saw a clearercase."
"Carnegie, do you ever make a mistake?"--page 376.]
The Chief passed his hand across his brow, and seemed to meditate,while the Expert gathered up the heap of letters and arranged them oncemore into a neat packet.
"If you are still in doubt," he said tartly, "you might try--somebodyelse."
"No, no, Carnegie," replied the Chief, rousing himself, "you are right,no doubt. You must be right."
Carnegie snapped a rubber band about the newly-arranged packet, andtossed it down beside the two letters.
"Then," he said, taking up his hat, "I suppose you have no further usefor me?"
"Not at present, Carnegie."
The Expert turned sharply, and without further ceremony whisked out ofthe room.
For some moments the Chief sat wrinkling his brow and gazing upon thetwo letters outspread before him.
Then he took up the elegantly-written epistle, folded it carefully, andthrust it in among those in the rubber-bound packet. This done he ranghis bell, and called for Sanford.
The latter came promptly, and stood mutely before his Chief.
"Sanford," said that gentleman, pointing to the packet upon the table,"you may try your hand as an Expert."
"How, sir?"
"Take those letters, and this," pushing forward the outspread scrawl,"and see if you can figure out who wrote it."
Sanford took up the packet, looked earnestly at his superior, andhesitated.
"Carnegie has given his opinion," said the Chief, in answer to thislook. "I want to see how you agree."
Sanford took up the scrawl, scanned it slowly, folded it and slipped itunderneath the rubber of the packet.
"Is that all, sir?" he asked quietly.
"That is all. Take your time, Sanford; take your time."
Sanford bowed and went slowly from the room.
A few moments longer the Chief sat thinking, a look of annoyance uponhis face. Then he slowly arose, unlocked a drawer, and taking from it asmall, thick diary, reseated himself.
"I must review this business," he muttered. "There's something about itthat I don't--quite--understand."
He turned the leaves of the diary quickly, running the pages backward,until he reached those containing an account of the events of one or twodays five weeks old upon the calendar. Here he singled out the notesconcerning the Raid and its results, following which were the outlinesof the accounts of that night as given him by Vernet and Stanhope.
Now, in giving his account of that night, Van Vernet had said little ofhis experience with Alan Warburton, and at the masquerade. And in givinghis account of the Raid and its failure, he had omitted the fact that hehad accepted and used "Silly Charlie" as a guide, speaking of him onlyas a spy and rescuer. Hence the Chief had gained anything but a correctidea of the part actually played by this bogus idiot.
On the other hand, Stanhope had described at length the events of themasquerade, as they related to himself, but had said little concerningLeslie and the nature of the service she required of him, referring toher only as Mr. Follingsbee's client. He had related his misadventureswith the Troubadour and the Chinaman, leaving upon their shoulders theentire blame of his failure and non-appearance at the Raid. And he hadnever once mentioned Vernet's presence, nor the part the latter hadplayed to gain the precedence with his Chief.
In thus omitting important facts, each had his motive; and the omissionshad not, at the time, been noted by the Chief. Now, however, as he readand re-read his memoranda--recalling to mind how he had shared withVernet his chagrin at the failure of the Raid, and laughed with Stanhopeover his comical mishaps--he seemed to read something between the lines,and his face grew more and more perplexed as he closed the diary, andsat intently thinking.
"There's a mystery here that courts investigation," he muttered, as hearose at last and put away the diary. "I'd give something, now, fortwenty minutes' talk with Dick Stanhope."
Early on the following morning, Sanford presented himself before hisChief, the bundle of letters in his hand, and a troubled look upon hisface.
"Well, Sanford, is it done?"
"I wish," said Sanford, as he placed the packet upon the table, "I wishit had never been begun--at least by me."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to believe the evidence of my senses."
"There's a sentiment for a detective! Out with it man; what have youfound?"
Sanford took two papers from his pocket and held them in his handirresolutely.
"I hope I am wrong," he said; "if I am--"
"If you are, it will rest between us two. Out with it, now."
"There's only one man among us that I can trace this letter to,"beginning to unfold the troublesome scrawl, "and he--" He opened thesecond paper and laid it before his Chief.
The latter dropped his eyes to the vexatious paper and said,mechanically: "Vernet!"
"I'm sorry," began Sanford, regretfully. "I tried--"
"You need not be," interrupted the Chief. "It's Carnegie's verdict too."
Sanford sat down in the nearest seat, and looked earnestly at his Chief,saying nothing.
After a moment of silence, the latter said:
"Sanford, I want Vernet shadowed."
Sanford started and looked as if he doubted his own ears.
"I don't want him interfered with," went on the Chief slowly, "andwatching him will be a delicate job; but I wish it done. I want to beinformed of every move he makes. You must manage this business. I shalldepend upon you."
Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives Page 53
