by Jack Steele
CHAPTER XXX
OVERTURES FROM THE ENEMY
Leaving Spikeman's office, Garrison walked aimlessly away, reflectingon the many complications so recently developed, together with thefactors in the case, and all its possibilities. He was shutting fromhis mind, as far as possible, the thoughts of Fairfax, Dorothy'shusband, whose coming he had feared by intuition from the first.
The actual appearance of a husband on the scene had come as a shock,despite his many warnings to himself. What could develop along thatparticular line was more than he cared to conjecture. He felt himselfrobbed, distracted, all but purposeless, yet knew he must still go onwith Dorothy's affairs, though the other man reap the reward.
Forcing his mind to the Hardy affair, he found himself standing as oneat the edge where things ought to be patent; nevertheless a fog wasthere, obscuring all in mystery.
Some man had entered Hardy's room and tampered with Dorothy's cigars.This did not necessarily absolve Charles Scott, the insurancebeneficiary, from suspicion, yet was all in his favor. The HiramCleave was an unknown quantity. Unfortunately the general descriptionof the man who had entered Hardy's room tallied closely with Dorothy'sdescription of Foster Durgin, whom she herself suspected of the crime.He had been in Hickwood, lurking near his uncle for several days. Hehad since run away and was apparently in hiding.
Intending to make an endeavor to seek out young Durgin and confront himwith Barnes, who had seen the intruder in Hardy's room, and intendingalso to visit the dealer in tobacco from whom Dorothy had purchased hercigars, Garrison made his way to the railway station to return oncemore to New York.
The matter of finding Hardy's will was on his mind as a constant worry.It had not been found among his possessions or on his person. It couldhave been stolen from his room. If this should prove to be the case itwould appear exceedingly unfavorable for Durgin. It was not at allunlikely that he might have been aware of something concerning thetestament, while Hiram Cleave, if such a person existed, would have hadno special interest in the document, one way or another.
Another possibility was that Hardy had hidden the will away, but thisseemed rather unlikely.
Comfortably installed on a train at last, Garrison recalled his firstdeductions, made when he came upon the fact of the poisoned cigars.The person who had prepared the weeds must have known very many ofHardy's personal habits--that of taking the end cigar from a box, andof biting the point instead of cutting it off with his knife, forinstance. These were things with which Foster, no doubt, would be wellacquainted. And in photographic work he had handled the deadly poisonemployed for Hardy's death.
Again, as he had a hundred times before, Garrison accused himself ofcrass stupidity in permitting someone to abstract that cigar from hispocket. It might have been lost: this he knew, but he felt convincedit had been stolen. And since he was certain that Dorothy was not theone, he could think of no chance that a thief could have had to extractit without attracting his attention.
When at length he arrived once more in Manhattan, he proceeded at onceto the shop on Amsterdam Avenue where Dorothy had purchased her cigars.Here he found a short individual in charge of a general business,including stationery, candy, newspapers, and toys, in addition to thearticles for smokers.
Garrison pulled out his memorandum concerning that box of cigars stillin possession of Pike, at Branchville.
"I dropped in to see if by any chance you recall the sale of a box ofcigars some little time ago," he said, and he read off the name of thebrand. "You sold them to a lady--a young lady. Perhaps you remember."
"Oh, yes," agreed the man. "I don't sell many by the box."
"Did anyone else come in while she was here, or shortly after, and buysome cigars of this same brand?" He awaited the dealer's slow processof memory and speech with eager interest.
"Y-e-s, I think so," said the man after a pause. "Yes, sure, a smallman. He bought a box just the same. Two boxes in one evening--I don'tdo that every day."
"A man, you say--a small man. Was he young?"
"I don't remember very well. He was sick, I think. He had ahandkerchief on his face and his hat was pulled far down."
"But surely you remember whether he was young or not," insistedGarrison. "Try to think."
A child came in to buy a stick of candy. The dealer attended to herneeds while Garrison waited. When he returned he shook his head.
"So many people come," he said, "I don't remember."
Garrison tried him with a score of questions, but to no avail. Hecould add nothing to what he had supplied, and the vagueness thatshadowed the figure of the man had not been illumined in the least.Beyond the fact that a small man had followed Dorothy inside the storeand purchased the duplicate of her cigars, there was nothing ofsignificance revealed.
Disappointed, even accusing himself of dullness and lack of resourcesin the all-important discovery of his unknown man's identity. Garrisonwent out upon the street. He felt himself in a measure disloyal toDorothy in his growing conviction that young Foster Durgin was guilty.He was sorry, but helpless. He must follow the trail wheresoever itled.
He ate a belated luncheon, after which he went to his office.
There were two letters lying on the floor, neither one addressed in ahand he knew. The first he opened was from Theodore. It was brief:
DEAR SIR:
If you can find the time to grant me an interview, I feel confident Ican communicate something of interest.
Yours truly, THEODORE ROBINSON.
His street address was written at the top.
Garrison laid the letter on the desk and opened the second. If thefirst had occasioned a feeling of vague wonder in his breast, the otherwas far more potently stirring. It read:
DEAR MR. GARRISON:
I called once, but you were out. Shall return again about four-thirty.
Trusting to see you, FOSTER DURGIN.
Without even halting to lock the door as he fled from the placeGarrison hastened pell-mell to the telegraph-office, on the entrancefloor of the building, and filed the following despatch:
JAMES PIKE, Branchville, N. Y.:
Get Will Barnes on train, headed for my office, soon as possible.
GARRISON.
As he stepped in the elevator to return to his floor, he found Tuttlein the corner of the car.
