A Husband by Proxy

by Jack Steele

  CHAPTER XXIX

  NIGHT-WALKERS

  Tuttle had returned by the time Garrison came once more to his office.He entered the room behind his chief, and Garrison closed the door.

  "Well?" said Jerold, "any news?"

  "I got a line on young Robinson," answered Tuttle. "He's gone to asmall resort named Rockbeach, up on the coast of Massachusetts, but hisfather doesn't know his business, or if he does he denies it."

  "Rockbeach?" said Garrison, who realized at once that Theodore had gonethere to search out the justice of the peace who had married Dorothyand Fairfax. "Is he up there still?"

  "He hadn't come home this morning."

  What so long an absence on Theodore's part might signify was a matterpurely of conjecture. There was nothing more to be done but awaitdevelopments. Whatever young Robinson's scheme, it might be whollydisorganized by the latest will that John Hardy had drawn.

  "What about the two dagos--the fellows who attacked me in the park?"inquired Garrison. "Have you found out anything concerning them?"

  Tuttle replied with a question. "Haven't you seen it in the papers?"

  "Seen what?"

  "Why, the bomb explosion and the rest of it--all Black Hand businesslast night," answered Tuttle. "One of our pair was killed outright,and the other one's dying, from a premature explosion of one of theirgas-pipe cartridges. They attempted to blow up a boiler, under atenement belonging to a man they'd tried to bleed, and it got 'em both."

  He took from his pocket a two-column clipping from a morning newspaper,and placed it on the desk.

  "Out of my hands, then; no chance to help send them up," commentedGarrison reflectively, as he glanced through the article. "I'll keepthis, if you don't mind," he added. "It may be useful withRobinson--in helping to warm up his blood."

  "I tried to carry out instructions," said Tuttle, "but I couldn't findout where they were till this came out in print. I hope there'ssomething else I can do."

  Garrison thought for a moment.

  "How many times have you been here to report?"

  "Two or three times every day."

  "Have you noticed a tall, light-haired man, with a long mustache,around here at all, either to-day or yesterday?"

  "If he's got blue eyes and wears a brown striped suit, he was here thismorning and asked me where he could find you," Tuttle answered. "Isthat your man?"

  "The same. His name is Fairfax. He's the real Fairfax. He'll belikely to return. Until Robinson appears again, you can keep your eyeon this office, spot Fairfax, and then keep him shadowed for a time.Find where he lives, where he goes, and what he does."

  "Anything more?"

  "Keep track of old man Robinson, and let me know as soon as Theodorereturns."

  Tuttle rose as if to go. He hesitated, turning his hat in his hands.

  "Would it be asking too much if I suggested I need a little money?" heinquired. "The Robinsons pay with hot air."

  "I can let you have twenty-five," said Garrison, pulling out hisrapidly diminishing roll. "That do?"

  "Fine," said Tuttle, receiving the bills. "When shall I----"

  A messenger boy came plunging in at the door without the slightestformality.

  "Telegram for Garrison," he said. "Sign here."

  "Wait half a minute, Tuttle," said Garrison, tearing open the envelope,as the boy was departing, and he read the wire almost at a glance.

  It was dated from Branchville.

  Come up here as soon as possible. Important.

  JAMES PIKE.

  For a moment Garrison failed to remember the personality of James Pike.Then it came with a flash--the coroner! Aware at once that the tale ofpossible murder in the Hardy case had been spread and discussed allover the State, he realized that Pike, and others who had beenconcerned when John Hardy's body was found in their jurisdiction, mighthave come upon new material.

  "Nothing to add to instructions," he said to Tuttle. "I shall be outof town to-night, and perhaps a part of to-morrow."

  Tuttle took his leave. Garrison paced up and down the office floor forhalf an hour. He was very much in hopes that word might come fromDorothy as to where she had chosen a room. The afternoon was gone, andhe was famished.

  He left at last, went to a restaurant, ate a hearty meal, and returnedto the office rather late. On the floor lay a notification of aspecial delivery letter, to be had at the nearest substation.

  He was there in the shortest possible time.

  The letter was from Dorothy. It began "Dear Jerold," but it merelyinformed him she had found apartments on Madison Avenue, not far fromTwenty-ninth Street.

  He wrote her a note to acquaint her with the fact that new developmentscalled him at once to Branchville, whence he might continue to Albany,and this, with a dozen magnificent roses, he sent by special messengerto Miss Jeraldine Root.

  He was still enabled to catch a fairly early train from Grand CentralStation.

  A little after eight o'clock he arrived in Branchville, found JamesPike's real-estate office ablaze with light, and walked in on that busygentleman, who rose in excitement to grasp him by the hand.

  "You got my wire?" demanded Mr. Pike. "I'm awful glad you came. Iturned up something in the Hardy case that I think you ought to know.Got a man coming 'round here in fifteen minutes who read up on themurder suspicions and the rest of it, and he saw a stranger, down inHickwood the night of Hardy's death, get into Hardy's room at Mrs.Wilson's. It just struck me you ought to know, and so I wired."

  "Thank you very much," said Garrison. "I consider this highlyimportant. Who is your man?"

  "He ain't a man, he's a boy; young Will Barnes," amended the coroner."Most people think he's just a lazy, no-account young feller, but I'vealways said he was growin'. Goes fishin' a good deal, of course,but---- There he goes, now!" He ran to the door, through the glass ofwhich he had seen a tall, lanky youth across the way.

  "Hi, Will!" he yelled, "come over, the New York man is waiting!"

  Young Barnes came slowly across the highway.

  "I've got to git some hooks," he said. "If I don't get 'em now thestore'll close."

  "This is more important than hooks," answered Pike. "Come in here.Mr. Garrison, this is Mr. Barnes. Will, Mr. Garrison, the New Yorkdetective."

  Quite unimpressed by Garrison's personality or calling, Will advancedand shook his hand.

  Garrison looked him over quickly.

  "You're the man who saw a stranger going into Hardy's room, at Mrs.Wilson's, the night that Hardy died, I believe?" he said. "How did youhappen to be there?"

  "He lives right near," volunteered Mr. Pike.

  "I was gettin' night-walkers," said Will.

  "Night-walkers?" repeated Garrison. "People?"

  "Fishin' worms," supplied Mr. Pike. "Angleworms walk at night and Willgits 'em for bait. Goes out with a dark lantern and picks 'em up."

  "I see," said Garrison. "What sort of a looking person was the man whogot into Mrs. Wilson's house?"

  "A little shaver, that's all I could see," said the youthful angler.

  The description tallied closely with all that Garrison had heard beforeof Hiram Cleave, or Foster Durgin.

  "Very good," he said. "Did you see what he did in the room?"

  "Didn't do nuthin' but steal a couple of cigars," informed the discipleof Walton. "He wasn't there more'n about a minute."

  "But he _did_ steal a couple of cigars?" echoed Garrison, keenly alertto the vital significance of this new evidence. "Did he take them fromthe table?"

  "Nope. Took 'em out of a box."

  "Then came out by the window and departed?"

  "Yep, he sneaked."

  "Why didn't you tell anyone of this before?"

  "Nobody asked me."

  "And he ain't got no use for Mrs. Wilson, nor she for him,"supplemented the coroner. "But I thought you ought to know."

  "Would you know the man again if you should see him?" Garrison inquired.

&
nbsp; "Sure."

  "Do you know where he went when he left the house, or yard? Did youfollow him at all?"

  "No, the night-walkers was too thick."

  Garrison knew the lay of the yard at Mrs. Wilson's. He knew the room.There was no particular reason for visiting the scene again. There wasnothing, in fact, to do at all except to visit the dealer in New Yorkwho had sold the cigars to Dorothy, and hope for news of Foster Durginor the speedy arrival of the photograph of Cleave, which the old man inRockdale had promised. He asked one more question.

  "Was he young or old?"

  "Don't know," said Will, grinning. "He didn't say."

  Garrison rose to go.

  "This is all of the utmost importance. I may be obliged to have youcome down to New York--if I can find the man. But when you come itwill be at my expense."

  "The fishin's awful good right now," objected Will. "I don't knowabout New York."

  "You can pick yourself out a five-dollar rod," added Garrison. "I'llwire you when to come."

  Garrison left for Albany at once. He found himself obliged to take aroundabout course which brought him there late in the night.

  In the morning he succeeded in running down a John W. Spikeman, who hadserved as Hardy's lawyer for many years.

  The man was ill in bed, delirious, a condition which had lasted forseveral days. Naturally no word concerning the Hardy affair had cometo his notice--hence his silence on the subject, a silence whichGarrison had not heretofore understood.

  He could not be seen, and to see him would have been of no avail, sincehis mind was temporarily deranged.

  The utmost that Garrison could do was to go to the clerk at his office.This man, a very fleshy person, decidedly English and punctilious, wasmost reluctant to divulge what he was pleased to term the professionalsecrets of the office.

  Under pressure of flattery and a clever cross-examination, he at lengthadmitted that Mr. Hardy had drawn a will, within a week of his death,that Mr. Spikeman had declared it perfect, and that he and another hadsigned it as witnesses all in proper form. Concerning the contents ofthe document he was absolutely dumb. No amount of questioning,flattery, or persuasion would induce him to divulge so much as a wordof what he had witnessed.

  Garrison gave up with one more inquiry:

  "Was the will deposited here in Mr. Spikeman's vault?"

  "No, sir," said the clerk; "Mr. Hardy took it with him when he went."

  Garrison's hopes abruptly wilted.