The Mark of Cain

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XIII FIBSY FIBS

  As the district attorney had surmised, Stryker was in hiding, under theprotection of his daughter. Mrs. Adler was a clever young woman, andhaving undertaken to keep her father safe from the police investigation,she did so remarkably well.

  But being assured that there was no reason for apprehension if he had notcommitted the murder, Stryker decided to face the music. He had fearedbeing railroaded to jail because of his handkerchief having been found inthe wood, but a certainty of fair play gave him courage, and he emergedfrom the house of his daughter's neighbor, with a trembling step, but anexpression of face that showed plainly relief at the cessation of strain.

  "Yes, I kept father over to Mrs. Gedney's," said Mrs. Adler, "'cause Iwasn't going to have him all pestered up with an everlastin' troop o'p'licemen, when he handn't done nothin'. I have my sick husband to nurseand wait on, and I can't have detectives traipsin' in here all the time.Oh, don't talk to me about the law. I ain't afraid. My father is asinnercent as a babe, but he flusters awful easy, and a policeman afterhim makes him that put about, he don' know where he's at. So, I says,I'll jest put him out o' harm's way fer a while till I see how the catjumps."

  "But as an intelligent woman, Mrs. Adler," began Mr. Groot, "you mustknow----"

  "I know what I know; and I'm a wife and a daughter long 'fore I'm anintellergent woman. Don't you come none o' that kind of talk over me. Youwant my father, there he is. Now talk to him, if you can do so peaceably,but don't give him no third degree, nor don't fuss him all up with a loto' law terms what he don't understand. Talk nice to him an' he'll tellyou a heap more'n if you ballyrag him all to pieces!"

  Groot realized the force of this argument, "talked nice" to Stryker, helearned the old man's story.

  He had been anxious to take out an insurance policy for his daughterbefore it became too late for him to do so; but, he affirmed, he did notkill his master for the purpose. The agent had been after him frequently,of late, to urge him to borrow the money for the premium. But this, Mrs.Adler did not want him to do, for, she argued, the interest on the loanand the premiums would counterbalance the value of the policy. They hadhad many discussions of the subject, for Mr. Adler, a very sick man, hadwanted to die knowing that his wife had some provision for her old age.His illness precluded any insurance on his own life.

  Not interested in these minute details, Groot questioned Stryker closelyabout the handkerchief.

  "I don't know," Stryker said. "I don't know, I'm sure, how my kerchiefgot into those woods, but I do know I didn't take it there."

  "Could it have been taken from your room?"

  "It must 'a' been. Leastways, unless it was taken from the clothes lineon a wash day,--or mebbe it blew off and was picked up by somebodypassin'."

  Though not extremely probable, these were possibilities, and they had notbeen thought of before by Groot or his colleagues.

  "There's something in that," he agreed, "now, Mr. Stryker, don't getexcited, but where were you Tuesday afternoon, the day that Mr.Trowbridge was killed?"

  "I know all where I was, but it's sort o' confused in my mind. I was tothe insurance agent's; and I was to the doctor's to be sized up for thatsame insurance, if I did decide to take it out; and then I dropped in tosee my daughter, and her man was so sick I thought his last hour hadcome, and I ran over for a neighbor, and somehow I was so upset andbothered with one thing and another that the more I try to straighten outin my mind the order of those things, the more mixed up I get. You see,it was my day out, and that always flusters me anyhow. I'm not so youngas I was, and the onusualness of getting into street clothes and goingout into the world, as it were, makes me all trembly and I can't rememberit afterward, like I can my routine days. And then when I did go homethat night, first thing I knew master didn't come home to dinner! Thatnever had happened before, unless we knew beforehand. Well, then Mis'Black she ate alone, and Miss Avice, she didn't eat at all, and there waswhisperin' and goin's on, and next thing I knew they told me master wasdead. After that nothing is clear in my mind. No, sir, everything is ablur and a mist from that time on. That there inquest, now, that's justlike a dream,--a bad dream."

  "Then," and Groot egged him gently on, "then, about the night you leftthe Trowbridge house. Why did you do that?"

  Stryker looked sly, and put his finger to his lips. "Ah, that night!Well, if you'll believe me, I heard them talking in the library. Youknow, sir, I've a right anywhere on the two floors. I ain't like theother servants, I've a right,--so as I was a passin', I overheard Mr.Duane say as how _I_ was the murderer! Me, sir! Me, as loved my mastermore than I can tell you. Sir, I didn't know what I was doing then, Ijust got out. I heard 'em say they had pos'tive proof, and somethin'about a handkerchief, and I remembered the sight of that handkerchief I'dseen--oh, well, oh, Lord--oh, Lord! _I_ didn't do it!" The old man'svoice rose to a shriek and Mrs. Adler exclaimed. "There now, you've sethim off! I knew you would! Now, he'll have hystrics, and it'll take meall night to get him ca'med down, and me with Mr. Adler on my hands andhim always worse at night----"

  "Wait a minute," commanded Groot. "I'm nearly through, and then I'll goaway and he can have his hysterics in peace. Go on, Stryker, finish upthis yarn. What did you do when you heard Mr. Duane accuse you?"

  Stryker looked at him solemnly and blinked in an effort to concentrate.Then he said, "Why, I pretended I'd had a telephone call from Molly, andI ran around here as fast as I could, and Molly she says, they'll beafter you, go over to Mrs. Gedney's and stay there. And I did, till youspied me out."

  "All right," and Groot rose to go. "Your father is all right, Mrs. Adler.Don't coddle him too much. It makes him childish. Keep him here with you,and my word for it, no suspicion will rest on him. I had his alibi prettywell fixed up anyway, between the insurance agent and the doctor, and hisstory just about completes it. There isn't one chance in a thousand thathe'll be accused, so keep him here and keep him quiet, and I'll see youagain in a day or two. But if your father tries to run away or to hideagain, then he _will_ find himself in trouble."

  Mrs. Adler proved amenable to these orders and Groot went away to beginhis hunt for the purloiner of Stryker's handkerchief.

  "You won't have to look far," Whiting said, when he heard the detective'sstory. "If you wanted one more thread in the strand of the rope for youngLandon's neck, that's it. Of course, he got the handkerchief some way,whether from the housekeeper or not. Go to it and find out how."

  Indirectly and by bits, Avice learned of Groot's discoveries, and keepingher own counsel, she worked on a side line of her own devising.

  As a result, one morning when she went to see Alvin Duane with, what shefelt sure he must call real evidence, he was very much interested indeed.

  "I hunted and hunted all through my uncle's desk," she said, fairlyquivering with excitement, "and at last I was rewarded by finding this.It was tucked away in a pigeon-hole, and is evidently unfinished."

  She gave Mr. Duane a slip of paper with a few typewritten words on it.The paper was torn and a little soiled, but perfectly legible. "Should Iever be found dead by some alien hand," the paper read, "do not try totrack down my murderer. I do not anticipate this event, but should itoccur, it will be the work of John Hemingway. Do not search for him; hecannot be found. But his motive is a just one, and if----"

  The writing ended abruptly, as if the writer had been interrupted and hadnever finished the tale.

  "Who is John Hemingway?" asked Duane.

  "I have no idea," said Avice; "I never heard uncle speak of him. Butthere can be no doubt of the authenticity, as this is the writing of myuncle's typewriter. I recognize the type."

  "Show me where you found it, Miss Trowbridge," and going home with thegirl, Duane examined the desk where she said she found the paper.

  "I wonder it was overlooked so long," he mused.

  "No one has thought to go through the desk so thoroughly as I did," shereturned, with a w
istful look in her eyes. "Will it save Kane?"

  "It may go far toward it," was the reply; "we must hunt up this man."

  "But my uncle says distinctly not to do that."

  "Such instructions cannot be regarded. In a case like this, he must befound."

  But no trace of the man named Hemingway could be discovered. However, thefact of the message having been written turned the tide of suspicion awayfrom Landon to a degree, and to the best men of the force was assignedthe task of discovering the identity or getting some knowledge ofHemingway.

  It was a few days later that Judge Hoyt had a caller at his office. Acard was brought in, on which, in straggling letters, he read:

  "Terence McGuire."

  "That Fibsy!" he said, smiling at the card. "Show him in."

  So in walked Fibsy, into the office of the great lawyer, with an air ofself-respect if not self-assurance.

  "Judge Hoyt," he began, without greeting; "I want to talk to you."

  "Very well, Terence, talk ahead."

  "But I want you to listen to what I say, 'thout makin' fun o' me. Willyou?"

  "Yes, I promise you that. But, I must tell you, I am a busy man, and Ican't spare much time this morning."

  "I know it, Judge; I haven't been with Mr. Trowbridge five years fernothin'! I know all about business."

  "You know a lot, then."

  "I mean, I know how busy a boss is, an' how he hates to see anybuddy,'cept by appointment, an' all that. Yes, I've kep' up with the guv'nor'sideas, an' I'm not the fool I look!"

  Fibsy glanced up, as if surprised not to hear some humorous or sarcasticreply to this speech, but Judge Hoyt nodded, as if to a more self-evidentobservation.

  "You see I'm aimin' to be a big man, myself."

  "Ah, a lawyer?"

  "No, sir; I'm goin' to be a detective! I've got a notion to it an' I'mgoin' to work at it till I succeed. But that's what I came to see youabout. You know this here Trowbridge murder case?"

  "Yes, I know it."

  "Well, you know that feller Landon ain't guilty."

  "Indeed, this is important information. Are you sure?"

  "Now you're makin' fun o' me. Well, I can't blame you, I s'pose I am onlya kid, and an ignerant one at that. But, Judge, I've found clues. I found'em up on the ground, right near where they found the guv'nor's body."

  "And what are your clues?"

  "Well, when I told that Pinckney reporter about 'em, he snorted. Promiseme you won't do that, sir."

  "I promise not to snort," said Hoyt, gravely. "Now, go ahead."

  "Well, sir, I found a button and a hunk o' dirt." It was with some littledifficulty that the lawyer kept his promise. Though he might have used amore graceful term, he certainly felt like "snorting." However, he onlysaid, gravely, "What sort of a button?"

  "A suspender button," said Fibsy. And immediately he observed to himself,"Gee! I wonder why I lied then! Guess I'm born that way."

  But for some reason, he did not correct his mis-statement, and say truly,that it was a shoe button.

  "Yes," said Hoyt; "and the mud? What was the interest of that?"

  "Well, you see, sir, it had a mark in it."

  "What sort of a mark?"

  "The print of a boot heel." And again Fibsy communed with himself. "Doneit again!" he observed, in silent soliloquy. "Well, when I lie,onexpected, like that, I'm always glad afterward!"

  Surely, the boy was well named! He had gone to Mr. Hoyt, fully intendingto tell him of his "clues" and he had falsified in both instances.

  Judge Hoyt was as attentive and considerate in manner as if talking to anequal.

  "I know Terence," he said, "that in the detective stories you aredoubtless fond of, the eagle eyed sleuth sees a footprint, andimmediately described the villain at full length. But I have never yetseen a footprint that amounted to anything as proof. Why, ninety-nine menout of a hundred would fit into the same footprint. Or, heelprint, Ibelieve you said. Which, of course, would be even less distinctive."

  Fibsy looked at the speaker in genuine admiration. "That's just true,sir!" he cried, eagerly. "The stories are full of footprints, but I'vetracked out lots of 'em and I never found a good one yet."

  "Just what do you mean by 'tracked them out'?"

  "Why, I've watched by chance of a rainy day, when lots of men track mudinto the outer office, and afterward, I fit my own shoe to 'em an' byjiminy, sir, it fits inter every bloomin' track!"

  Hoyt looked interested. "You have gone into the subject carefully, almostscientifically."

  "Well, I've read such rediklus tales of such things, I wanted to see formyself. You know, I'm goin' to be a detective."

  "If you have such ingenious views, you may succeed. But what about thebutton?"

  "Well, you see," and Fibsy's face grew blank, "you can't tell much by asuspender button, 'cause they're all alike. If it had been a coat button,now, or----"

  The judge looked at the boy thoughtfully. "Terence," he said, "I promisednot to laugh at you, and I won't. But I think it only fair to tell youthat I can't take much interest in your 'clues.' But your conversationhas made me realize that you're a bright boy. Knowing that, and as youwere the office boy of my very good friend, I'd like to do something foryou. Have you obtained a place yet?"

  "No, sir, I haven't."

  "Well, then, I'd like to help you to get a good position. And would thatwipe out your disappointment that I can't make use of your clues?"

  "Yes, sir! I'd like to have a recommendation from you, sir."

  "All right. Go away now and return this afternoon at three. I may havefound a place for you by that time."

  Fibsy went away, thinking deeply. "Ain't I the limit?" he inquired ofhimself. "Why in the dickens did I tell him those lies? It's funny, butsometimes I 'spect to tell a straight yarn and sumpin inside o' me jestups an' lies! But it didn't make any difference this time fer he wouldn'ta' cared if I'd told him it was a shoe button, or if I'd told him thetruth about the hunk o' dirt. An' anyway, a detective has to be awfulsicretive, an' it don't do to alwus tell the truth."

  At three the untruthful one returned for his news.

  "Well, Terence," was the greeting, "I've a good position for you inPhiladelphia."

  Fibsy's face fell. "I'd ruther be in New York."

  "Is that so. Well, you're not obliged to take this place, but I shouldadvise you to do so. It's office boy to a first-class lawyer, and youshould be able to pick up a lot of odds and ends of information thatmight be useful to you in your detective career."

  "Sounds good to me," and Fibsy's face cleared. "What's the weekly numbero' bones?"

  "You will receive ten dollars a week, if you make good."

  Fibsy almost fell over. "Gee! Mr. Hoyt, I ain't worth it!"

  "That's for your new employer to judge. I've been telephoning him, and hewants a boy who is wide-awake and not stupid. You ought to fill thatbill."

  "Yep, I can do that. Honest, Judge, I'll do me best, and I'm orflyobliged, sir."

  "Not at all. Can you go this afternoon?"

  "Today! Why, I s'pose I can. But it's terrible sudden."

  "I know it. But Mr. Stetson wants to go away tomorrow, for a few days,and he wants to break you in before he leaves."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. But, oh, say, now,--I jest can't go off soswift,--honest I can't Judge, sir."

  "No? And why not?"

  "Well, you see, I gotter get some clo'es. Yes, sir, some clo'es. And mysister, she alwus goes with me to buy 'em, an' she can't get a day offtill tomorrow. An' then, if the clo'es has to be let out, or let in, youknow, why it'd take a little longer. Yes sir, I see now, I couldn't getoff 'fore the first of the week."

  "I'm not sure Mr. Stetson will hold the place for you as long as that."

  "Pshaw, now, ain't that jest my luck! Can't you pussuade him,Judge,--pussuade him, as it were?"

  "I'll try," and smiling involuntarily, Judge Hoyt dismissed his caller.

  "At it again!" said Fibsy, to himself, as he passed along
the corridor."Gee! what whoppers I did tell about them clo'es!"