The Brand of Silence

by Harrington Strong

  CHAPTER XX

  UP THE RIVER

  Coadley had not gone for more than an hour when Detective Jim Farlandarrived at the hotel and made his way immediately to Sidney Prale'ssuite.

  He found Prale pacing the floor angrily, and Murk sitting in a cornerand watching him. The police detective, after doing duty for a few days,had been withdrawn, as it seemed evident that Prale had no intention ofjumping his bail or eluding trial in any other way.

  "What's the trouble now?" Farland asked.

  "Coadley has just been here," Prale replied. "He has quit us. Ourfriends the enemy have reached him."

  "You couldn't get any sort of an explanation out of him?" Farland asked.

  "Nothing at all. He simply informed me that he was done, and that I hadto get another lawyer."

  "I'll try to find an honest one for you," Farland declared. "I happen toknow a clever young chap who probably will take the case, especially ifI explain the thing to him, for he loves a fight. There is no specialhurry, but I'll try to attend to it some time to-day."

  "Anything new?" Prale asked.

  "That is what I am waiting to hear. What did you do last night, Murk?"

  Murk related his adventure at length, while Jim Farland listenedgravely, nodding his head now and then, and looking puzzled at times.

  "I'd like to know the identity of that masked man," the detective said,when Murk had finished. "The main trouble in this case is that we do notknow the people we are fighting. We know that Kate Gilbert is one ofthem, and have reason to suspect that George Lerton is another. Butthere is somebody bigger behind, and that's a fact."

  "What are you going to do next?" Prale asked.

  "I'm going to pay a little attention to the Rufus Shepley murder case.I'm going to find out, if I can, who killed Shepley, and why. I am ofthe opinion that the murder is distinct from this other trouble, Sid.Perhaps a clew to the murder, however, will give us a clew to the wholething, for it is certain that somebody has attempted to hang that crimeon you."

  "How about George Lerton?" Prale asked.

  "We know that he tried to help smash your alibi by telling a falsehood,and by sending those notes to the barber and the merchant. But we do notknow his motive, unless it is simply a hatred of you, Sid, and envy ofthe million dollars you got in Honduras. I'm going to get out of herenow, and get busy."

  "Anything for us to do?" Prale asked.

  "Keep out of trouble--that is the principal thing. It appears that everytime either of you goes out, you get knocked on the head. I'll reportagain as soon as I can."

  Jim Farland left them and hurried from the hotel. He went to thehostelry where Rufus Shepley had met his death, was admitted to thesuite, and made an exhaustive investigation, which revealed nothing ofimportance.

  He visited the New York offices of the company in which Shepley had beeninterested, and questioned officials and clerks, but got no inkling of astate of affairs that might have led to a murder. He was told that thecompany's business was in proper shape, and that Rufus Shepley had hadno financial trouble of any sort so far as his associates knew.

  Farland left the office and continued his investigations. In the eveninghe went to his home for a meal, and admitted to himself that he did notknow any more than when he had started out that morning.

  "It gets my goat!" he said to his reflection in the bathroom mirror."I'll have to begin working from some other starting point. I've made amistake somewhere, or overlooked something that I should have seen.Makes me sore!"

  The telephone bell rang, and Farland went to the instrument to hear thevoice of a man he did not know.

  "I understand that you are interested in the Shepley murder case," hiscaller said.

  "I am working on it, yes. Who is talking?" Farland demanded.

  "I'm not ready to mention any names. If you want to hang up, go aheadand you'll miss something important. Or if you want to listen for aminute----"

  "I'll listen!" Farland said.

  "I know a lot about that Shepley case, but I am in a position where Ihave to be careful. If you'll do as I say, you can learn something you'dlike to know."

  "What do you want me to do?" Farland asked.

  "Meet me in some place where nobody will see us talking, and I'll tellyou a few things. But I must have your promise that you'll not revealthe source of the information."

  "I'll protect you, unless you are mixed up in it to such an extent thatI'd dare not do so," Farland said. "I'm not guaranteeing to shield anymurderer or accessory."

  "I had nothing to do with the murder, if that is what you mean," camethe reply.

  "Then where do you want me to meet you--and when? Can you make it thisevening?"

  "Yes; and suppose that you set the meeting place, one that you know willbe all right for both of us."

  Farland was glad to listen to that sentence. He had half believed thatthis was nothing more than a trap, that some of Sidney Prale'smysterious enemies were attempting to lure him to some out-of-the-wayplace and get him in their power. But if he was to be allowed to namethe meeting place, it seemed to indicate that everything was all rightin that regard.

  Farland though a moment, and then suggested a certain famous restauranton Broadway and a table in a corner of the main room, where a man couldlose himself in the crowd. But that did not meet with the approval ofthe man at the other end of the telephone wire.

  "Nothing doing in that place," he said. "One of the men interested inthis thing hangs out there almost every evening. He'd be sure to see us,he knows how much I know about it, and he'd suspect things in a secondif he saw me talking to you. Then it'd be made hot for me. I've got toprotect myself, of course."

  "Suggest a place yourself," Farland said.

  "Make it outside somewhere. How about some place in Riverside Park?"

  "Suits me," Farland replied.

  The man at the other end of the wire gave the directions after muchseeming speculation and many changes. Jim Farland was to go to Grant'sTomb, and from there to a certain place near the river. The other manwould be in the neighborhood watching, he said, would recognize Farlandas he passed the Tomb, and then would follow and speak to him whennobody else was near.

  Farland agreed, and made the engagement for an hour and a half later,saying that he could not get there before that time. It would not be thefirst time that Jim Farland had obtained an important clew becausesomebody interested had grown disgruntled and had turned against hispals; and he supposed this to be a case of that sort.

  Before leaving home, Farland made sure that his automatic was inexcellent condition, and that he had his handcuffs and electric torchand other paraphernalia of his trade. He made his way to ColumbusCircle, having decided to walk to the rendezvous. Farland was in nohurry. He observed all who passed him, and he frequently madeexperiments to ascertain whether he was being followed. He decided,after a time, that if he was being shadowed the person doing it was tooclever for him.

  He came to Riverside Drive through a cross street, and approached thefamous Tomb as cautiously as possible, keeping in the shadows, alert todiscover anybody who might be acting at all suspiciously. Farland feltsure that this was no trap, but he was not taking chances. He always hadbeen known to his friends as a cautious man.

  He reached the Tomb finally, and glanced around. Half a dozen personswere passing, some men and some women, some alone and others in couples,but none were of suspicious appearance.

  Farland glanced at his watch to be sure that it was the appointed time.He strolled around the Tomb and waited ten minutes longer, for he didnot care to find later that he had left the appointed spot too early andthat the other man had not seen and followed him.

  At the end of the extra ten minutes, Farland lighted one of his big,black cigars and started walking toward the river, following the routethe other man had designated over the telephone. He walked slowly andnot for an instant did he throw caution aside.

  Here and there were dark spots where Farland expected to hear his namespoken
, spots where an attack might be made if one was contemplated byfoes.

  It was as he was passing one of these that a whisper came from thedarkness:

  "Mr. Farland!"

  The detective whirled toward the sound, one hand diving into a coatpocket and clutching his automatic.

  "Well?"

  "Be as silent as possible. Do not flash your torch yet; you may do sopresently, so you can see who is talking. I am the man who called you upby telephone."

  "Come out where I can get a glimpse of you," Farland commanded, readyfor trouble.

  He could see a shadow detach itself from the patch of gloom in front ofhim and approach.

  "That is close enough for the present!" Farland said. "I'm not takingchances on you until I know who's talking to me."

  "I don't blame you, Mr. Farland, under the circumstances. If you aresure there is nobody approaching, I'll come out into the light so youcan see my face."

  Farland glanced up and down the walk quickly. As he did so, he heard astep behind him. He whirled, the automatic came from his pocket readyfor use--and a man crashed into him.

  The one who had been talking from the patch of shadow rushed forward atthe same instant. Farland managed to fire once, but the shot went wild.Then a third man rushed from the darkness, and the detective had theautomatic torn away, and found that he had a battle on his hands.

  One man was upon his back, throttling him so that he could not utter acry. The others were trying to throw him to the ground. Farland wonderedwhether that single shot had been heard, whether assistance would reachhim, for he knew that here was a battle he could not win by force.

  Finally they got him down. Something was thrust into his mouth andbandaged there, effectually gagging him. He was turned over on his face,and his wrists were lashed behind him. Then his ankles were fastened,and two of the men, at the whispered instruction of the third, pickedhim up like a sack of meal and carried him into the deep shadows.

  They did not stop there, but continued toward the river, holding aconversation in whispers at times, and stopping now and then for amoment to rest and listen. Farland had been quiet, gathering hisstrength, and suddenly he began to struggle.

  It was nothing worse than annoyance for his opponents. He was unable tomake an outcry that would attract attention, and he was unable to put upan effective fight. They threw him upon the ground again and held himthere.

  "Another little trick like that, and we'll give you something to keepyou quiet," one of the men whispered into his ear. "We've got you, andyou'd better let it go at that!"

  Once more they picked him up and went toward the river. They reached it,and one of the men hurried away while the other two guarded Farland.Five minutes passed, and then a powerful motor boat slipped toward theshore. An instant later Farland was aboard it, a prisoner, and the boatwas rushing through the great river toward the north.

  Farland made an attempt to watch the lights along the shore, but one ofthe men threw a sack over his face, so that he could not see. And so hemerely listened to the beating of the boat's engine, and tried toestimate with what speed they were running and how much mileage thecraft was covering.

  The sack was heavy, and Jim Farland felt himself half smothered, theperspiration pouring from his face and neck. He had grown angry for amoment, angry at himself for walking into the trap even while suspectingthat one might exist, angry at these three men who had captured him soclose to Riverside Drive.

  Then his rage passed. He was experienced enough to know that an angryman is at a disadvantage in a game of wits, and that wits and nothingelse could get him out of the present predicament.

  Finally, he felt the boat turning, the speed was cut off, and it driftedagainst something. Farland was lifted out of the motor boat, but one ofthe men held the sack over his head, and he was unable to see. Once morehe was carried, this time away from the river, and he could tell nothingexcept that the men who carried him were struggling up a sharp slope.

  Farland made no attempt to fight or struggle now, knowing that it wouldavail him nothing to attempt to throw off these three men. He haddecided to conserve his strength, and to trust to his usual good fortuneto get a chance later to even things by turning the tables on hiscaptors.

  Suddenly the sack was taken from his head, and he was able to breathebetter. He found that he was beside a road in which stood an automobile.Two of the men lifted him, tossed him inside the machine, and then gotin themselves. The driver started the engine, threw in the clutch, andsoon the car was being driven at a furious pace along the winding road.

  "Look around all you want to!" one of Farland's captors growled at him."You won't even know where you are when you get there!"