Green Fancy

by George Barr McCutcheon

  CHAPTER VIII

  A NOTE, SOME FANCIES, AND AN EXPEDITION IN QUEST OF FACTS

  Dillingford gave him a lighted candle at the desk and he startedupstairs, his mind full of the events and conjectures of the day.Uppermost in his thoughts was the dazzling vision of the afternoon, andthe fleeting smile that had come to him through the leafy interstices.As he entered the room, his eyes fell upon a white envelope at hisfeet. It had been slipped under the door since he left the room an hourbefore.

  Terse reminder from the prudent Mr. Jones! His bill for the day! Hepicked it up, glanced at the inscription, and at once altered hisopinion. His full name was there in the handwriting of a woman. For amoment he was puzzled; then he thought of Miss Thackeray. A note ofthanks, no doubt, unpleasantly fulsome! Vaguely annoyed, he ripped openthe envelope and read:

  "In case I do not have the opportunity to speak with you to-night, thisis to let you know that the little man who says he is a book-agent wasin your room for three-quarters of an hour while you were away thisafternoon. You'd better see if anything is missing. M.T."

  He read the note again, and then held it over the candle flame.Surprise and a temporary indignation gave way before the thrill ofexultation as the blazing paper fell upon the hearth.

  "'Gad, it grows more and more interesting," he mused, and chuckledaloud. "They're not losing a minute's time in finding out all they canabout me, that's certain. Thanks, my dear Miss Thackeray. You areundoubtedly deceived but I am not. This chap may be a detective but heisn't looking for evidence to connect me with last night's murders. Nota bit of it. He is trying to find out whether I ought to be shot thenext time I go snooping around Green Fancy. I'd give a good deal toknow what he put into the report he sent off a little while ago. AndI'd give a good deal more to know just where Mr. Jones stands in thisbusiness. Selling sets of Dickens, eh? Book-agent by day, secret agentby night,--'gad, he may even be a road-agent!"

  He made a hasty but careful examination of his effects. There was notthe slightest evidence that his pack had been opened or even disturbed.Naturally he travelled without surplus impedimenta; he carried thelightest outfit possible. There were a few papers containing notes andmemoranda; a small camera and films; a blank book to which hetransferred his daily experiences, observations and impressions; asmall medicine case; tobacco and cigarettes; a flask of brandy; copiesof Galworthy's "Man of Property" and Hutchinson's "Happy Warrior";wearing apparel, and a revolver. His purse and private papers rarelywere off his person. If the little book-agent spent three-quarters ofan hour in the room he managed most effectually to cover up all tracesof his visit.

  Barnes did not go to sleep until long after midnight. He now regardedhimself as definitely committed to a combination of sinister andpiquant enterprises, not the least of which was the determination tofind out all there was to know about the mysterious young woman atGreen Fancy.

  His operations along any line of endeavour were bound to be difficult,perhaps hazardous. Every movement that he made would be observed andreported; his every step followed. He could hope to disarm suspiciononly by moving with the utmost boldness and unconcern. Success restedin his ability to convince O'Dowd, Jones and the rest of them that theyhad nothing to fear from his innocuous wanderings.

  His interest in the sensational affair that had disturbed his firstnight's rest at Hart's Tavern must remain paramount. His theories,deductions and suggestions as to the designs and identity of Roon andPaul; the stated results of personal and no doubt ludicrousexperiments; sly and confidential jabs at the incompetentinvestigators, uttered behind the hand to Putnam Jones and, ifpossible, to the book-agent;--a quixotic philanthropy in connectionwith the fortunes of Rushcroft and his players; all these would have tobe put forward in the scheme to dispel suspicion at Green Fancy.

  It did not occur to him that he ought to be furthering the ends ofjustice by disclosing to the authorities his secret opinion of PutmanJones, the strange behaviour of Roon as observed by Miss Thackeray, andhis own adventure with the lady of the cross-roads. The chance thatJones, subjected to third degree pressure, might break down and revealall that he knew was not even considered.

  Back of all his motives was the spur of Romance: his real interest wascentred in the lovely lady of Green Fancy.

  He was confident that O'Dowd's system of espionage would quicklyabsolve him of all interest in or connection with the plans of AlbertRoon; it remained therefore for him to convince the Irishman that hehad no notions or vagaries inimical to the well-being of Green Fancy orits occupants. With that result achieved, he need have no fear ofmeeting the fate that had befallen Roon and his lieutenant; nothingworse could happen than an arrest and fine for trespass.

  The next day he, with other lodgers in the Tavern, was put through anexamination by police and county officials from Saint Elizabeth, andnotified that, while he was not under suspicion or surveillance, itwould be necessary for him to remain in the "bailiwick" untildetectives, already on the way, were satisfied that he possessed noknowledge that would be useful to them in clearing up what had nowassumed the dignity of a "national problem."

  O'Dowd rode down from Green Fancy and created quite a sensation amongthe officials by announcing that Mr. Curtis desired them to feel thatthey had a perfect right to extend their search for clues to all partsof his estate, and that he was deeply interested in the outcome oftheir investigations.

  "The devils may have laid their ambush on his property," said O'Dowd,"and they may have made their escape into the hills back of his placewithout running the risk of tackling the highways. Nothing, Mr. Curtissays, should stand in the way of justice. While he knows that you havea legal right to enter his grounds, and even his house, in the pursuitof duty, he urges me to make it clear to you gentlemen, that you arewelcome to come without even so much as a demand upon him. If I may beso bold as to offer my services, you may count on me to act as guide atany time you may elect. I know the lay of the land pretty well, andwhat I don't know the gardeners and other men up there do. You are tocall upon all of us if necessary. Mr. Curtis, as you know, is aninvalid. May I suggest, therefore, that you conduct your examination ofthe grounds near his home with as little commotion as possible?Incidentally, I may inform you, but one person at Green Fancy heard theshots. That person was Mr. Curtis himself. He rang for his attendantand instructed him to send some one out to find out what it was allabout. The chauffeur went down to Conley's, as you know. If youconsider it absolutely necessary to question Mr. Curtis as to the timethe shots were fired, he will receive you; but I think you may properlyestablish that fact by young Conley without submitting a sick man tothe excitement and distress of a--"

  The sheriff hastily broke in with the assurance that it was not at allnecessary to disturb Mr. Curtis. It wasn't to be thought of for amoment. He would, however, like to "run over the ground a bit" thatvery afternoon, if it was agreeable to Mr. O'Dowd.

  It being quite agreeable, the genial Irishman proposed that his friend,Mr. Barnes,--(here he bestowed an almost imperceptible wink upon theNew Yorker),--should join the party. He could vouch for theintelligence and discretion of the gentleman.

  Barnes, concealing his surprise, expressed himself as happy to be ofany service. He glanced at Putnam Jones as he made the statement. Itwas at once borne in upon him that the landlord's attitude toward himhad undergone a marked change in the last few minutes. The furtive,distrustful look was missing from his eyes and in its place was afriendly, approving twinkle.

  O'Dowd stayed to dinner. (Dinner was served in the middle of the day atHart's Tavern.) He made a great impression upon Lyndon Rushcroft, who,with his daughter, joined the two men. Indeed, the palavering Irishmanextended himself in the effort to make himself agreeable. He was vastlyinterested in the stage, he declared. As a matter of fact, he had beentold a thousand times that he ought to go on the stage. He had decidedtalent....

  "If you change your mind," said Mr. Rushcroft, "and conclude to try awhirl at it, just let me know.
I can find a place for you in my companyat any time. If there isn't a vacancy, we can always write in an Irishcomedy part."

  "But I never wanted to be a comedian," said O'Dowd. "I've always wantedto play the young hero,--the fellow who gets the girl, you know." Hebestowed a gallant smile upon Miss Thackeray.

  "You may take my word for it, sir," said Mr. Rushcroft with feeling,"heroism, and nothing less, is necessary to the man who has to playopposite most of the harridans you, in your ignorance, speak of asgirls." And he launched forth upon a round of soul-trying experienceswith "leading-ladies."

  The little book-agent came in while they were at table. He sat down ina corner of the dining-room and busied himself with his subscriptionlists while waiting for the meal to be served. He was still poring overthem, frowning intently, when Barnes and the others left the room.

  Barnes walked out beside Miss Thackeray.

  "The tailor-made gown is an improvement," he said to her.

  "Does that mean that I look more like a good chambermaid than I didbefore?"

  "If you would consider it a compliment, yes," he replied, smiling. Hewas thinking that she was a very pretty girl, after all.

  "The frock usually makes the woman," she said slowly, "but not alwaysthe lady."

  He thought of that remark more than once during the course of anafternoon spent in the woods about Green Fancy.

  O'Dowd virtually commanded the expedition. It was he who thought ofeverything. First of all, he led the party to the corner of the estatenearest the point where Paul was shot from his horse. Sitting in hisown saddle, he called the attention of the other riders to whatappeared to be a most significant fact in connection with the killingof this man.

  "From what I hear, the man Paul was shot through the lungs, directlyfrom in front. The bullet went straight through his body. He was ridingvery rapidly down this road. When he came to a point not far abovecross-roads, he was fired upon. It is safe to assume that he waslooking intently ahead, trying to make out the crossing. He was notshot from the side of the road, gentlemen, but from the middle of it.The bullet came from a point almost directly in front of him, and notfrom Mr. Curtis's property here to the left, or Mr. Conley's on theright. Understand, this is my whimsey only. I may be entirely wrong. Myidea is that the man who shot him waited here at the cross-roads tohead off either or both of them in case they were not winged by menstationed farther up. Of course, that must be quite obvious to all ofyou. My friend De Soto is inclined to the belief that they were tryingto get across the border. I don't believe so. If that were the case,why did they dismount above Conley's house, hitch their horses to thefence, and set forth on foot? I am convinced in my own mind that theycame here to meet some one to whom they were to deliver a verbal reportof vital importance,--some one from across the border in Canada. Thismessage was delivered. So far as Roon and Paul were concerned theirusefulness was ended. They had done all that was required of them. Thecause they served was better off with them dead than alive. Without theslightest compunction, without the least regard for faithful service,they were set upon and slain by their supposed friends. Now, you maylaugh at my fancy if you like, but you must remember that frightfulthings are happening in these days. The killing of these men adds but adrop to the ocean of blood that is being shed. Roon and Paul, suddenlyconfronted by treachery, fled for their lives. The trap had been setwith care, however; they rushed into it."

  "I am inclined to your hypothesis, O'Dowd," said Barnes. "It seemssound and reasonable. The extraordinary precautions taken by Roon andPaul to prevent identification, dead or alive, supports your whimsey,as you call it. The thing that puzzles me, however, is the singularfailure of the two men to defend themselves. They were armed, yetneither fired a shot. You would think that when they found themselvesin a tight place, such as you suggest, their first impulse would be toshoot."

  "Well," mused O'Dowd, squinting his eyes in thought, "there's somethingin that. It doesn't seem reasonable that they'd run like whiteheadswith guns in--By Jove, here's a new thought!" His eyes glistened withboyish elation. "They had delivered their message,--we'll assume thatmuch, of course,--and were walking back to their horses when they wereordered to halt by some one hidden in the brush at the roadside. Youcan't very well succeed in hitting a man if you can't see him at all,so they made a dash for it instead of wasting time in shooting at theair. What's more, they may have anticipated the very thing thathappened: they were prepared for treachery. Their only chance lay ingetting safely into their saddles. Oh, I am a good romancer! I shouldbe writing dime novels instead of living the respectable life I do.Conley heard them running for their lives. Assassins had been stationedalong the road to head them off, however. The man who had his placenear the horses, got Roon. The chances are that Paul did not accompanyRoon to the meeting place up the road. He remained near the horses.That's how he managed to get away so quickly. It remained for the manat the cross-roads to settle with him. But, we're wasting time with allthis twaddle of mine. Let us be moving. There is one point on which wemust all agree. The deadliest marksmen in the world fired those shots.No bungling on that score, bedad."

  In course of time, the party, traversing the ground contiguous to thepublic road, came within sight of the green dwelling among the trees.Barnes's interest revived. He had, from the outset, appreciated thefutility of the search for clues in the territory they had covered. Thesearchers were incapable of conducting a scientific examination. It waswork for the most skilful, the most practised, the most untiring oftracers. His second view of the house increased his wonder andadmiration. If O'Dowd had not actually located it among the trees forhim, he would have been at a loss to discover it, although it wasimmediately in front of him and in direct line of vision.

  "Astonishing, isn't it?" said the Irishman, as they stood side by side,peering ahead.

  "Marvellous is the better word," said Barnes.

  "The fairies might have built it," said the other, with something likeawe in his voice. He shook his head solemnly.

  "One could almost fancy that a fairy queen dwelt there, surrounded byPeter Pans and Aladdins," mused Barnes.

  "Instead of an ogre attended by owls and nightbirds and the devil knowswhat,--for I don't."

  Barnes looked at him in amazement, struck by the curious note in hisvoice.

  "If you were a small boy in knickers, O'Dowd, I should say that youwere mortally afraid of the place."

  "If I were a small boy," said O'Dowd, "I'd be scairt entirely out of meknickers. I'd keep me boots on, mind ye, so that I could run thebetter. It's me Irish imagination that does the trick. You never saw anIrishman in your life that wasn't conscious of the 'little people' thatinhabit the places that are always dark and green."

  De Soto was seen approaching through the green sea, his head appearingand disappearing intermittently in the billows formed by the undulatingunderbrush. He shook hands with Barnes a moment later.

  "I'm glad you had the sense to bring Mr. Barnes with you, O'Dowd," saidhe. "You didn't mention him when you telephoned that you werepersonally conducting a sight-seeing party. I tried to catch youafterwards on the telephone, but you had left the tavern. Mrs. Collierwanted me to ask you to capture Mr. Barnes for dinner to-night."

  "Mrs. Collier is the sister of Mr. Curtis," explained O'Dowd. Then heturned upon De Soto incredulously. "For the love of Pat," he cried"what's come over them? When I made so bold as to suggest last nightthat you were a chap worth cultivating, Barnes,--and that you wouldn'tbe long in the neighbourhood,--But, to save your feelings I'll notrepeat what they said, the two of them. What changed them over, DeSoto?"

  "A chance remark of Miss Cameron's at lunch to-day. She wondered ifBarnes could be the chap who wrote the articles about Peru and theIncas, or something of the sort, and that set them to looking up theback numbers of the geographic magazine in Mr. Curtis's library. Notonly did they find the articles but they found your picture. I had nodifficulty in deciding that you were one and the same. The atmospherecleared in a jiffy. It becam
e even clearer when it was discovered thatyou have had a few ancestors and are received in good society--bothhere and abroad, as the late Frederic Townsend Martin would have said.I hereby officially present the result of subsequent deliberation. Mr.Barnes is invited to dine with us to-night."

  Barnes's heart was still pounding rapidly as he made the ruefuladmission that he "didn't have a thing to wear." He couldn't think ofaccepting the gracious invitation--

  "Don't you think the clothes you have on your back will last throughthe evening?" inquired O'Dowd quaintly.

  "But look at them!" cried Barnes. "I've tramped in 'em for two weeksand--"

  "All the more reason why you should be thankful they're good andstout," said O'Dowd.

  "We live rather simply up here, Mr. Barnes," said De Soto. "There isn'ta dinner jacket or a spike tail coat on the place. It's strictlyagainst the law up here to have such things about one's person. Come asyou are, sir. I assure you I speak the truth when I say we don't dressfor dinner."

  "Bedad," said O'Dowd enthusiastically, "if it will make ye feel anymore comfortable I'll put on the corduroy outfit I go trout fishing in,bespattered and patched as it is. And De Soto will appear in the whiteduck trousers and blazer he tries to play tennis in,--though, God blesshim, poor wretch, he hates to put them on after all he's heard saidabout his game."

  "If they'll take me as I am," began Barnes, doubtfully.

  "I say," called out O'Dowd to the sheriff, who was gazing longingly atthe horses tethered at the bottom of the slope; "would ye mind leadingMr. Barnes's nag back to the Tavern? He is stopping to dinner. And,while I think of it, are you satisfied, Mr. Sheriff, with the day'swork? If not, you will be welcome again at any time, if ye'll onlytelephone a half minute in advance." To Barnes he said: "We'll send youdown in the automobile to-night, provided it has survived the day.We're expecting the poor thing to die in its tracks at almost anyinstant."

  Ten minutes later Barnes passed through the portals of Green Fancy.