Out of a Labyrinth

by Lawrence L. Lynch

  CHAPTER XIV.

  MRS. BALLOU'S PISTOL PRACTICE.

  Half an hour after my arrival in the city, I was seated in the privateoffice of our Chief, with Mrs. Ballou opposite me.

  I had telegraphed from a way station, so that no time might be lost. Ifound the Chief and the lady awaiting me; and, at the first, he hadsignified his wish that I should listen to her story, and then give himmy version of it.

  "She seems ill at ease with me," he said, "and frankly told me that shepreferred to make her statement to you. Go ahead, Bathurst; above all wemust retain her confidence."

  Mrs. Ballou looked careworn, and seemed more nervous than I had supposedit in her nature to be.

  She looked relieved at sight of me, and, as soon as we were alone,plunged at once into her story, as if anxious to get it over, and hearwhat I might have to say.

  This is what she told me in her own plain, concise, and very sensiblelanguage, interrupted now and then by my brief questions, and heroccasional moments of silence, while I transferred something to mynote-book.

  "I presume you have wanted to know what I did with that letter I took,"she began, smiling a little, probably in recollection of her adroittheft. "I will tell you why I took it. When you first showed it to me,the printed letters had a sort of familiar look, but I could not thinkwhere I had seen them. During the night it seemed to come to me, and Igot up and went into the parlor." Here she hesitated for a moment, andthen went on hurriedly: "Grace--my girl, you know--has a large autographalbum; she brought it home when she came from the seminary, andeverybody she meets that can scratch with a pen, must write in it. Ifound this precious album, and in it I found--this."

  She took from her pocket-book a folded paper and put it in my hand. Itwas a leaf torn from an album, and it contained a sentimental couplet,_printed_ in large, bold letters.

  I looked at the bit of paper, and then muttering an excuse, wenthurriedly to the outer office. In a moment I was back; holding in myhand the printed letter of warning, which I had confided to the care ofmy Chief.

  I sat down opposite Mrs. Ballou with the two documents before me, andscrutinized them carefully.

  They were the same. The letter of warning was penciled, and boreevidence of having been hastily done; the album lines were in inkcarefully executed and elaborately finished, but the lettering was thesame. Making allowances for the shading, the flourishes, and the extraprecision of the one, and looking simply at the formation of theletters, the height, width, curves, and spacing of both, and theresemblance was too strong to pass for a mere coincidence.

  I studied the two papers thoughtfully for a few moments, then looked atMrs. Ballou.

  "You should have told me of this at once," I began; but she threw up herhand impatiently.

  "Wait," she said, with almost her ordinary brusqueness, seeming to loseher nervousness as she became absorbed in the task of convincing me thatshe thoroughly understood _herself_. "There was no time to compare thewriting that night. I had not decided what to do, and I was not surethen that they were the same. I left the album, just as I found it, andwent out and harnessed the horses. While I was helping you with yourcoat, I managed to get the letter."

  "You were certainly very adroit," I said. "Even now I can recall nosuspicious movements of yours."

  "I made none," she retorted. "I saw where you put the letter, and it waseasy to get it while helping you."

  She paused a moment, then went on:

  "When I went home, after driving you to the station, everybody wasasleep. I knew they would be; I always have to wake them all, from Fredto the hired girl. I waked them as usual that morning, told them that Ihad discharged you for impertinence, and for abusing the horses, andthat settled the matter. In the afternoon the girls went over toMorton's; it's only a mile across the fields, and a clear path. I madeup my mind that I'd have them safe back again before dark, and I knowwhere I could get a good man to take your place; he was high-priced, butI knew he was to be trusted, and I had made up my mind to keep a closeeye on the girls, and to send some one with them wherever they went.After they were gone, I took the album to my room, locked Fred out, andcompared the letter with the album verse. I thought the writing was thesame."

  She hesitated a moment, brushed her handkerchief across her lips, andthen went on.

  "I didn't know what to do, nor what to think--my first thought was tosend for you, then I became frightened. I did not know what you mighttrace out, with this clue, and I did not know how it might affect mydaughter. Grace is lively, fond of all kinds of gayety, especially ofdancing. She is always surrounded with beaux, always has half a dozenintimate girl friends on hand, and is constantly on the go. There are somany young people about Groveland that picnics, neighborhood dances,croquet parties, buggy rides, etc., are plenty; and then, Grace oftenhas visitors from Amora."

  "Where is Amora?" I interrupted.

  "It is about twenty-five miles from Groveland. Grace went to school atAmora."

  I made an entry in my note-book, and then asked:

  "Is there a seminary in Amora?"

  "Yes."

  "How long since your daughter left Amora, Mrs. Ballou?"

  "She was there during the Winter term."

  "Yes. Did Nellie Ewing ever attend school at Amora?"

  "Yes."

  "When?"

  Mrs. Ballou moved uneasily.

  "Nellie and Grace were room-mates last Winter," she replied.

  "And Mamie Rutger? Was she there, too?"

  "She began the Winter term, but was expelled."

  "Expelled! For what?"

  "For sauciness and disobedience. Mamie was a spoiled child, and not fondof study."

  I wrote rapidly in my note-book, and mentally anathematized myself, andmy employers in the Ewing-Rutger case. Why had I not learned before thatNellie Ewing and Mamie Rutger were together at Amora? Why had their twofathers neglected to give me so important a piece of information?

  Evidently they had not thought of this fact in connection with thedisappearance of the two girls, or the fact that Mamie was expelled fromthe school may have kept Farmer Rutger silent.

  I closed my note-book and asked:

  "Did any other young people from Groveland attend the Amora school? Tryand be accurate, Mrs. Ballou."

  "Not last Winter," she replied; "at least, no other girls. Johnny LaPorte was there."

  "Who is Johnny La Porte?"

  "His father is one of our wealthiest farmers. Johnny is an only son. Heis a good-looking boy, and a great favorite among the young people."

  "Do you know his age?"

  "Not precisely; he is not more than twenty or twenty-one."

  "Where is Johnny La Porte at present?"

  "At home, on his father's farm."

  "Now, Mrs. Ballou, tell me who is Miss Amy Holmes?"

  She started and flushed.

  "Another school friend," she replied, in a tone which said plainly, "thebottom is reached at last."

  Evidently she expected some comment, but I only said:

  "One more, Mrs. Ballou, why have you held back this bit of paper untilnow?"

  "I am coming to that," she retorted, "when you have done with yourquestions."

  "I have finished. Proceed now."

  Once more she began:

  "I was worried and anxious about the papers, but, on second thought, Idetermined to know something more before I saw or wrote you. I did notthink it best to ask Grace any questions; she is an odd child, and veryquick to suspect anything unusual, and it would be an unusual thing forme to seem interested in the autographs. It was two days before I foundout who wrote the lines in the album. I complained of headache that day,and Grace took my share of the work herself. Amy was in the parlorreading a novel. I went in and talked with her a while, then I began toturn over the leaves of the album. When I came to the printed lines, Ipraised their smoothness, and then I carelessly asked Amy if she knewwhat the initials A. B. stood for. She looked up at me quickly, glancedat the album, hesita
ted a moment as if thinking, and then said: 'Oh,that's Professor Bartlett's printing, I think, his first name is _Asa_.He is an admirable penman.'

  "I don't think Amy remembered the lines, or she would not have saidthat. I don't think Professor Bartlett would begin an album verse: 'Idrink to the eyes of my schoolmate, Grace.' I knew that Amy had told afalsehood, and I watched her. She took the first opportunity, when shethought I did not see her, to whisper something to Grace. I saw thatGrace looked annoyed, but Amy laughed, and the two seemed to agree uponsomething.

  "I thought I would come to the city the next day, but in the morning myboy was very sick; he was sick for more than two weeks, and I had notime to think of anything else. Amy helped Grace, and was so kind anduseful that I almost forgave her for telling me a fib. I had sent yourletter back during Fred's illness, and, when he began to mend, I thoughtthe matter over and over. I knew it would be useless to question Grace,and I did not know what harm or scandal I might bring upon my owndaughter by bringing the matter to your notice. I tried to convincemyself that the similarity of the printing was accidental, and, as I hadnot the letter to compare with the album, it was easier to believe so. Iconcluded to wait, but became very watchful.

  "One night Fred brought in the mail; there was a letter for Amy; sheopened it and began to read, then she uttered a quick word, and lookedmuch pleased. I saw an anxious look on my girl's face and caught aglance that passed between them. By-and-by they both went up-stairs, andin a few minutes I followed, and listened at the door of their room.

  "Amy was reading her letter to Grace. I could tell that by the hum ofher voice, but I could not catch a word, until Grace exclaimed, sharply,'What! the 17th?' 'Yes, the 17th, hush,' Amy answered, and then went onwith her reading. I could not catch a single word more, so I went backdown-stairs. It was then about the ninth of the month, and I thought itmight be as well to keep my eyes open on the 17th, though it might havemeant last month, or any other month, for all I could guess. After thatAmy seemed in better spirits than usual, and Grace was gay and nervousby turns. On the 17th the girls stayed in their room, as usual--that wasfour days ago."

  She paused a moment, during which my eyes never left her face; shesighed heavily, and resumed:

  "I felt fidgety all day, as if something was going to happen. I expectedto see the girls preparing for company, or to go somewhere, but they didno such thing. When evening came, they went to their room earlier thanusual, but I sat up later than I often do. It was almost eleven o'clockwhen I went up-stairs, and then I could not sleep. I stopped andlistened again at the door of the girls' room, but could hear nothing.They might both have been asleep.

  "It was very warm, and I threw open my shutters, and sat down by thewindow, thinking that I was not sleepy, and, of course, I fell asleep.All at once something awoke me. I started and listened; in a moment Iheard it again; it was the snort of a horse. There was no moon, and theshrubbery and trees made the front yard, from the gate to the house,very dark. As I heard no wheels nor hoofs, of course I knew that thehorse was standing still, and the sound came from the front. I sat quitestill and listened hard. By-and-by I heard something else. This time itwas a faint rustling among the bushes below--it was not enough to havearoused even a light sleeper, but I was wide awake, and all ears.'Somebody is creeping through my rose bushes,' I said to myself, thentip-toed to my bureau, got out the pistol you gave me, and slipped out,and down-stairs, as still as a mouse.

  "The girls slept in a room over the parlor, and their windows faced westand south; mine faced north and west, so you see I had no view, from mybed-room, of the south windows of their room. The croquet ground was onthe south side of the house, and there was a bit of vacant lawn in frontof the parlor, also. The windows below were all closed and so I couldnot hear the rustling any more.

  "I sat down by one of the parlor windows and peeped out. Presently I sawsomething come out from among the bushes; it was a man; and he came intothe open space _carrying a ladder_. Then I knew what the rustling meant.He had taken the ladder from the big harvest-apple tree in front, wherethe girls had put it that afternoon, and was bringing it toward thehouse.

  "The man stopped opposite the south windows of the girls' room, andbegan to raise the ladder. Then I knew what to do. I slipped the pistolinto my pocket, went out through the dining-room, unbolted the back dooras quietly as I could, crept softly to the south corner of the house,and peeped around. The ladder was already up, and somebody was climbingout of the window, while the man steadied the ladder. It was one of thegirls, but I could not tell which, so I waited. When she stood upon theground not ten feet away from me, I knew by her height that it wasGrace, and Amy had started down before Grace was off the ladder. Justthen the man stepped back, so that I had a fair chance at him. I tookaim as well as I could, and fired.

  "Just then the man stepped back, so that I had a fairchance at him. I took aim as well as I could, and fired."--page 177.]

  "The man yelled. Grace screamed and tumbled over on the grass, just as Iexpected her to. Amy Holmes jumped from the ladder, ran to the man, andsaid, "quick! come!" I fired again, and Grace raised herself suddenlywith such a moan that I thought in my haste I had hit her.

  "I threw down the pistol, ran and picked her up as if she were a baby,and took her around to the back door. By the time I found out that shewas not hurt, and had got back to the ladder, the man and Amy were gone,and I heard a buggy going down the road at a furious rate."

  She paused and sighed deeply, looked at me for a moment, and then, as Imade no effort to break the silence, she resumed:

  "It's not a pleasant story for a mother to tell concerning her owndaughter, but when I think of Nellie Ewing I know that it mightaccidentally have been worse.

  "I commanded Grace to tell me the whole truth. She cried, and declaredthat she was under oath not to tell. After a little she grew calmer, andthen told me that she meant no harm. Amy had a lover who was not afavorite with her guardian, who lives somewhere South. Amy was about torun away and be married, and Grace was to accompany her as a witness.They both expected to be safely back before daylight. Of course I didnot believe this, and I told her so. Her actions after that made me wishthat I had not disputed her story. I have used every argument, and I amconvinced that nothing more can be got out of Grace. She is terriblyfrightened and nervous, but she is stubborn as death. Whatever the truthis, she is afraid to tell it."

  "And Miss Holmes; what more of her?"

  "Nothing more; she went away in the buggy with the others."

  "The others?"

  "Yes; I am sure there were two, for I found the place where the buggystood waiting. It was not at the gate, but further south. There was aditch between the wheel marks and the fence, and nothing to tie to. Someone must have been holding the horses."

  "And this is all you know about the business?"

  "Yes, everything."

  "Where is your daughter now?"

  "At home, under lock and key, with a trusty hired man to stand guardover her and the house until I get back, and with Freddy and the hiredgirl for company."

  "Does she know why you came to the city?"

  "Not she. I told her I was coming to make arrangements for puttingher to school at a convent, and I intend to do it, too."

  Making no comment on this bit of maternal discipline, I again hadrecourse to my note-book.

  "You are fixed in your desire not to have your daughter furtherinterviewed?" I asked, presently.

  "I am," she replied. "I don't think it would do any good, and she is notfit to endure any more excitement. I expect to find her sick in bed whenI get home."

  "Do you think your shot injured the man?"

  "I _know_ it did," emphatically. "I aimed at his legs, intending to hitthem, and I did it. He never gave such a screech as that from sheerfright; there was _pain_ in it. Amy must have helped him to thecarriage."

  "Is this escapade known among your neighbors?"

  "No. I hushed it up at home, giving my girl and hired man a
differentstory to believe. I could not get away by the morning train from Sharon,and so started the next evening. I left them all at home with Grace, anddrove alone to Sharon, leaving my horse at the stable there."

  "You certainly acted very wisely, although I regret the delay. MissHolmes and her two cavaliers have now nearly four days the start of us.Did you notice the size of the man at the ladder?"

  "Yes; he was not a large man, if anything a trifle below the mediumheight."

  "You think, then, that Miss Holmes made a willful effort to deceiveyou, when she told you that the album verse was written by ProfessorBartlett? By-the-by, _is_ there a Professor Asa Bartlett at Amora?"

  "Yes, he is the Principal. If you could see him, you would never accusehim of having written a silly verse like that. I am sure Amy meant todeceive me, and I am sure that she posted Grace about it, in case Ishould ask her."

  "But you did not ask her?"

  "No. One does not care to make one's own child tell an unnecessary lie.Grace would have stood by Amy, no doubt."

  It was growing late in the afternoon. There was much to do, much tothink over, and no time to lose. I was not yet prepared to give Mrs.Ballou the benefit of my opinion, as regarded her daughter's escapade,so I arranged for a meeting in the evening, promising to have my plansdecided upon and ready to lay before her at that time.

  She wished, if possible, to return home on the following day, and I toldher that I thought it not only possible, but advisable that she shoulddo so.

  Then I called a carriage, saw her safely ensconced therein, _en route_for her hotel, and returned to my Chief.

  I had now two interests. I much desired to arrive at the bottom of theGroveland mystery, and thought, with the information now in hand, thatthis was quite possible; and I also desired to remain at my post amongthe Traftonites. I at once decided upon my course. I would tell my ChiefMrs. Ballou's story, and then I would give him a brief history of oursojourn in Trafton and its motive. After that, we would decide how toact.

  There was no pause for rest or food, or thought, until I had given myChief a history of Mrs. Ballou's vigil and excellent pistol exploit, andfollowed this up by the story of my Trafton experience.

  His first comment, after he had listened for an hour most attentively,brought from my lips a sigh of relief; it was just what I longed tohear.

  "Well, you need have no fear so far as this office is concerned.'Squire Brookhouse has not called for its services."