CHAPTER XI Callahan Collapses
"Nonsense!" snorted Callahan, chewing on the end of his cigar. "He'sprobably downstairs."
"No, sir, I looked! Jim ain't so well. He's been sick, and this is thefirst time he's been out on a job in quite a while," the workman said."He's a swell feller. I've known him a long time. I'm afraid he's hurt."
"How could he be hurt? He hasn't even begun to work. Show me the room youwere in." The contractor spoke disgustedly.
They all started for the room across the hall. The men were in variouskinds of working clothes, one or two wearing ordinary business suits.These were the better class, who needed the work. Then there were regularhouse-wreckers in stout shoes and overalls. As a background there werethe girls in their smart riding habits and bright scarfs followingCallahan, whose cigar was now reduced to a soggy brown mass.
In the room from which the man Jim Danton had disappeared was aconglomeration of furniture. Old chairs and a rickety table piled in agroup in one corner, a huge wicker clothes hamper that had been turnedupside down, perhaps in the hope that Jim would fall out.
The girls could not suppress a giggle, it was so silly, and some of themen snickered too. But Jim was nowhere to be seen.
"Here's where I last saw him standing. Right here; but he wasn't therewhen I looked." The man who had been about to begin work with the missingJim indicated the far end of the room.
Callahan strode over with Napoleon-like firmness. A door was closed,there; a closet door. With a huge red hand the contractor grasped theknob and wrenched it open. There was an expectant silence, then Callahantook a step forward to see better. The closet was empty!
The group pressed nearer. Three sides of dark wood but nothing more. Thecontractor thumped the walls vigorously.
"You're crazy, man!" he said to the puzzled wrecker. "Jim neverdisappeared from here."
"Well, he disappeared from some place. He's not here now," insisted thefriend of Jim.
Callahan was clearly disgusted. Just when everything seemed to be goingwell at last, something new had to crop up. What silly persons these menwere. Like a bunch of sheep. Because a few not too intelligent Negroesclaimed they had seen a ghost, these men, who ought to have more sense,were already showing signs of fright because one of their group could notbe found. The contractor pulled his battered gray hat down over one eyeand produced a new cigar from an apparently endless supply. Then beganthe slapping of his pockets for matches. He looked vaguely at Sim asthough remembering that she had come to his rescue before, but this timeshe stared back at him uncomprehending.
Callahan went to the head of the stairs and shouted over the banister."Danton!" he called, his powerful voice booming through the house. "JimDanton!"
But not even an echo answered him and, giving the cigar a vicious bite,he strode over to the window. "Hey, you, Danton, come here!" he shouted,but the result was the same as before.
"Maybe he got sick and started home," timidly suggested Sim in a voicethat sounded ridiculously small after the Gargantuan tones of Mr.Callahan.
"Oh, no, miss," answered the worried worker. "He couldn't go back tillthe truck came to take him and all of us out the main road. He lives toofar. Besides, this job meant a lot to Jim. It's the first work he's hadin months."
There was a discontented murmur growing among the men, and Arden couldsee the man whom Titus Ellery called "Nick" circulating among them andsaying something in an insistent low tone. They were talking in a littlegroup near the door of the room while Callahan questioned Jim'sparticular friend more closely.
Arden stepped to the open door of the closet and peered inside. Then shestooped down, and when she straightened up again she held up a smallgrimy object.
She turned and faced the awe-struck company, for what she was displayingwas a glove such as workmen wear, of a dull white color with a dark-blueknitted band at the wrist.
"That's his glove!" exclaimed the man near Mr. Callahan. "I was with himwhen he bought the pair. Jim said his hands were soft from not working inso long; he needed gloves."
At this discovery the men who had been talking quietly now showed openrevolt. One fellow dropped a crowbar he had been carrying. It fell with acrash and seemed to startle them all into activity.
"Not quitting, are you?" the contractor asked, sneering. "Fine bunch ofmen, you are!"
"We sure are quitting, Mr. Callahan! We don't mind ghosts; but when a mandisappears in broad daylight, that's too much." It was the sinister Nickwho spoke. Arden thought he seemed pleased at his announcement.
The men near by shook their heads in agreement, and some put on theircoats as they prepared to leave.
The weary Callahan sank helplessly down on a pile of boards and pushedhis hat back on his head. This, surely, was the last straw! The menstraggled out of the old house. The girls followed them. In a littlewhile the contractor also came out.
The Mystery of Jockey Hollow Page 11
