Part 2

"Lady, search. Fetch."

Joe was conscious of the black bulk of the house, a black tower that was the tree, and a blurred shadow moving noiselessly in the grass. Minutes passed, and his heart pounded in his chest. One moment the dog was near him, and the next it was gone. And then the shadow stood motionless beside his uncle.

"Lady, again," Dr. Stone urged. "Search. Fetch."

For what? Joe racked his brain and tried to find an answer. Once he heard the soft sniff of the dog, but could not see it. Suddenly it was beside his uncle again, motionless as before. How long it had been there he did not know.

"We'll go to the house now," Dr. Stone said.

They crossed to the porch and rang the bell. The living room was all at once alight, and Harley Kent opened the door.

"I thought you might be along, Doctor. Come in; come in. It looks as though we've cleared this thing up."

"Then the necklace was recovered?" Dr. Stone asked.

"No--not exactly. They'll sweat Donovan and make him come through. They took him away this afternoon."

"So I heard," the doctor said without emotion. "Under arrest?"

"Technically, no. They took him down for questioning, but--you know how those things are worked. Keep after him until he opens up and then book him. The maid slipped."

"The maid?"

"Yes. They dragged it out of her a little at a time. Donovan wanted her to marry him. Yesterday he urged her to marry him and leave for the West at once. That sounded suspicious, Doctor. With so many now out of work, why should a man marry and at once throw up his job? To do this he'd have to have quite a bit of money--and Donovan didn't have any. Or else he'd have to know how he could raise money very quickly. Get it?"

"Perfectly."

"So we sent out the maid and brought in Donovan. He had a smug answer to the reason for that trip to the West. A friend owned a taxi company in a western city and wanted him to come on and take the job of manager."

"He had this friend's letter, of course?"

Harley Kent laughed. "You're not as easily fooled as that, Doctor? Of course not. Said he had lost it. So the troopers took him away."

"That's that," Dr. Stone said after a silence.

"Exactly. And a lucky thing the girl talked. Up to that point we had nothing. No finger prints, no sign as to how the window had been forced, no sign of the necklace. Nothing but an open window and an open safe. It was as though a bird had flown in and had flown off with the jewels."

"A bird," Dr. Stone said slowly, and tapped his cane against the floor. "Nobody thought of that seriously though?"

"A bird?" Harley Kent stared.

To Joe's amazement, his uncle appeared in earnest. "Because if they had taken a bird seriously the next step----"

"The next step what?" Harley Kent demanded sharply.

The cane had ceased to tap the floor. "The next step," Dr. Stone said softly, "would be to look where a bird would naturally fly with such a bauble."

Something electric, something unsaid, hung in the air, and Joe shook with a strange chill. Whatever that something was, it spoke to Lady. The dog grew restless and growled in its throat.

"I think we'll be going, Kent," said the doctor.

"Good night," said Harley Kent.

Joe clung to his uncle's arm and swallowed with difficulty. A hundred feet down the road the man halted.

"Can you see the house from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me when the downstairs lights go out." The man found his pipe and struck a match to the bowl.

A whippoorwill called musically through the night, and distance softened the hoot of an owl. Frogs croaked in a meadow and a rabbit stirred in the brush. Joe shifted from foot to foot, and wondered what was to come next. Twice cars passed them going into town, and off over the hill a dog howled. And then, without warning, the oblongs of downstairs windows disappeared and the roof was a dark patch against the sky.

"The lights are out," the boy whispered.

Dr. Stone put away the pipe. "Joe, you'd better run home."

The boy had not expected this. "But----"

"Sorry, Joe. I can handle this better alone. You might only be in the way. Run along, and I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

"But if----"

"No ifs. Lady's here, and I'll be perfectly all right. Off, now."

Without another word the boy trudged away. Once he looked back, and could just distinguish his uncle's form. Again he looked back, and man and dog were gone. His steps slowed and ceased. He stood listening.

The whippoorwill had ceased to call, and only the chorus of frogs broke the stillness of the night. By and by he moved again, back the way he had come. The sneaks made his progress almost soundless. Had Uncle David told him to wear them so that they could go unnoticed to the pine tree? Why the tree?

Man and dog were gone from where he had left them. The tree lingered in his mind. Avoiding the driveway he crept across the grass. A dark pillar, darker than the night, loomed ahead. It was the tree. He dropped to the ground and, hugging his knees, sat there and was almost afraid to breathe.

There was no moon, and the gloom was filled with subtle alarms. Donovan was probably in a cell, caged and helpless. What would happen to the maid? And why that intangible something that had hung between Uncle David and Harley Kent? He grew cramped and shifted his position. It must be late. Where was his uncle? He strained his eyes toward the tree but could see nothing.

Suddenly every faculty was sharpened and drawn tight. He thought he had heard a sound. Slowly he relaxed. It must have been the wind. And then he heard it again. This time there could be no mistake. There had been a subdued, almost indistinct scraping.

Silence again, and darkness, and that vague alarm. The silence grew painful. A leaf, fluttering down, touched his face and a chill ran through his bones. Why should a leaf fall from a tree in early spring? And then the stillness was broken by a ringing call:

"Kent, it's no go."

A voice strangled and strained, came down out of the tree. "Who the devil are you?"

"Dr. Stone. You can't get away with it, Kent. Tell them any story you like, but be sure you have Donovan released at once. Lady, home!"

Man and dog emerged out of the night, and Joe flattened out and hugged the ground.

"Come along, Joe," the doctor said.

The boy stood up, abashed, and took his uncle's arm. "How did you know I was there?"

"Ears--a blind man's ears. When you came in Lady remained quiet. That meant she recognized someone she trusted. There could be only one answer--you. Do you realize you might have ruined everything? That's why I sent you home. One suspicious sound from outside the house and our quarry might have taken alarm."

Joe wet his lips. "It was Mr. Kent?"

"Of course. Donovan? I had my doubts from the start. Kent told a smooth story. He had had to give Donovan the combination, and the safe had been opened by combination. It was a tall man's safe, and Donovan was a tall man. It fitted together perfectly, Joe--too perfectly. Remember when I asked Kent to lead me to the door? I wanted to learn something--and I learned it. Kent is a tall man, too. I might have asked you, but to a boy all men seem tall."

"The maid's story was perfect, too," Joe said hesitatingly.

"Two perfect stories," Dr. Stone agreed. "It became a matter of picking the true from the false, and Kent rang false from the start."

"I don't understand, Uncle David."

"Let's analyze it. When Kent came to the house Lady sneezed and drew away. Two weeks ago I upset a bottle of bay rum; it ran into her eyes and nose. She's been shy of bay rum since. When Kent said he'd lost his lighter and asked for a match he reeked with bay rum and talcum. The maid had awakened him at six o'clock, and he reached our house at eight. Two striking facts, Joe. Does a man, finding his house robbed in the night, calmly go upstairs and make a careful toilet? Does he wait two hours before going to a telephone to call the police?

"Well, we went to his place. He wasn't home, and we wandered about the grounds. That was pure luck. We found the wet suit. I asked you if there was a pine tree on the place."

"Why, Uncle David?"

"Because that suit reeked with pine. We found that the tree was only six feet from the house and heavy-branched, which meant that some of the branches grew close to the house. And so now we had a robbery in the rain, a pine tree, and a dripping suit of Harley Kent's that reeked with pine. The facts were all unrelated, but I began to wonder if the tree had played a part in the robbery.

"Then Kent came back, and his first thought was to look in the wet suit for the missing lighter. When I mentioned the suit on the line he said nothing to indicate alarm. But a blind man's ears are sharp. They are quick to catch shades of sound in a voice. I knew he was disturbed because we had chanced upon that suit. Now, why should he be upset? Wet clothing is not uncommon after a wild rainstorm.

"We went to town for tobacco, and ran into Tom Bloodgood. That was another stroke of luck. For Bloodgood told me Kent had called him to the house to value a necklace. The jewelry market has fallen this last year, and Tom gave Kent a valuation of about $15,000. The moment Bloodgood told me that I thought I saw the picture.

"Kent's a market speculator. Evidently he had been hit and needed money. Apparently he didn't want to have the necklace appraised in New York where he was fairly well known--such things leak out and sometimes affect a man's credit. After he learned what the necklace would bring in the market he must have done some thinking. If he sold it, he'd realize $15,000. If it were stolen he'd collect $25,000 from the insurance company. The reason he had shaved and waited two hours to call the police took on significance. It began to look as though Kent had staged a convenient robbery. Collect for the jewels and still have them. Later he might break up the necklace and sell the pearls separately. It's been done before."

"Why didn't you tell Captain Tucker, Uncle David?"

"Oh, no. Tucker would have immediately searched the tree, and Kent could have got the incriminating suit out of the way and made the charge that Donovan had hidden the necklace in the pine. There was only one way. Scare Kent. Send him out into the tree in a panic. And then catch him in the act.

"So tonight we called upon Kent. I was searching for a way to alarm him, and he opened the door himself by mentioning birds. The moment I spoke of a search of a tree he froze. After that it was merely a matter of waiting for him to come forth to remove the proof of his guilt."

They were almost at Joe's house. The boy turned a puzzled thought in his mind.

"But, Uncle David----"

"Yes."

"Even if there was pine on his coat it wouldn't be proof he'd been in a pine tree."

"True," Dr. Stone agreed. "That's what sent me searching for the absolute proof."

Light broke upon the boy. "I see it now. You found something?"

"This." The man held out his hand.

In the darkness the boy could not see what lay in the hand. "What is it, Uncle David?"

"The missing cigar lighter," Dr. Stone said quietly. "It fell out of Kent's pocket while he was hiding the jewels. Lady found it for me under the tree."

VOICES IN THE NIGHT

"Go on ahead, Joe," Dr. David Stone said. "The boat will probably need bailing. I'll have Jerry fix your rod. Won't take ten minutes."

Joe Morrow gripped the can of worms and was gone. Dr. Stone said, "Right, Lady," and, gripping the harness-handle, followed the dog toward Jerry Moore's garage.

Sound came to the doctor's ears--the rasp of a tool and, abruptly, the sharp tapping of a finger against glass. The dog deftly steered him around an automobile. Jerry's voice came from under the car.

"That you, Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Thought those were Lady's paws. With you in a few minutes."

Dr. Stone moved toward the little office. A voice said, "He's blind, Rog." The tapping had stopped.

But well able to hear, the doctor thought with grim humor, and listened from the doorway. Voices came from the garage floor--Jerry Moore's, the nervous voice that had said, "He's blind, Rog," and the mellow, genial tones of a third man.

"This brake-rod"--grunt--"sure was loose." That was Jerry. "Quite a contraption you've got under here."

"My own idea," the genial voice said. "Why smear up a car when you can pack them where they're out of the way?"

The job was done, and presently the car backed out of the garage. Jerry came to the office.

"What won't folks think up next?" he demanded. "Fishing fellows, those two who just went out. Stopping off to try Horseshoe Lake. Got a long metal box bolted in under the floor boards. Out of sight and out of the way. Got room in that box for a hundred pounds along with ice."

"Fish?" Dr. Stone asked a trifle sharply.

The garageman cackled. "Sure; a regular ice-box on wheels. How come they pick here for fishing? Nobody's taken a bass out of Horseshoe in years, and danged few pickerel. Want that rod mended?"

A horn blew at the pumps. Jerry put the rod down and hurried outside, and Dr. Stone walked to the door. A hoarse voice said: "Two quarts of medium." A moment later the voice rasped harshly: "Get away from that hood. Can't you see I've brought a can for the oil?"

"Easy, brother," Jerry soothed. "No harm done."

"Keep away from the hood, that's all."

The car rolled away, and filled the night with the low, smooth thunder of its exhaust. The doctor's ears registered and catalogued sounds. Only a high-priced motor could sound like that--and only a piece of tin could rattle as the car rattled. A queer intentness twitched at the corners of the blind man's mouth.

"That's queer," Jerry observed. "Two cars in a row, and they both had something hidden. This last boiler was all of seven-eight years old, and shabby as a beggar's coat. Had something under that hood, though, he was powerful anxious for no one to see. What do you make of it, Doctor?"

"Coincidence," the doctor said mildly. Two cars, and each with something hidden. Lady's tail thumped the floor, and Joe Morrow came into the office and stood around. The doctor's ears, registering an unseen world by sound, caught the tempo of the boy's restless feet. Bursting with something, the blind man decided. The rod mended at last, man and boy and dog came out to the street, and Lady led them toward the lake.

Joe's voice trembled. "A car pulled out just as I came back, Uncle David. You know that cobbled road that runs off from Main street, and goes down into the hollow behind the cottonwoods and rises to the back door of the bank?"

"The road the express wagon uses when it takes money to and from the bank?"

"Yes, sir." The boy swallowed with a gulp. "I saw that car in there twice today, just sort of hanging around."

An automobile, making speed, went up the street with a low drone of power.

"There she goes now," Joe cried, excited.

"A wonderful motor," said Dr. Stone.

"That's just it, Uncle David. A shabby old car with a pip of a motor. What for? A quick getaway?"

The doctor whistled softly under his breath, and said nothing. Through the black, moonless night Lady led them at her fast pace to an opening in the reeds and out upon planking that led to the boats. Joe got in first, steadied the craft, and helped in his uncle. The boy rowed with an almost soundless stroke, and presently shipped the oars and dropped anchor. And then they waited for the catfish to bite.

Joe marked Main street by a reflected ribbon of radiance thrown against the night sky. Water lapped against the boat, and moving lights crawled across the distant toll-bridge. Dr. Stone said, "Not much action, Joe," and the headlights of a car swept toward the lake. They stopped near the planking and snapped out. By and by oars creaked and splashed loudly, a dark shape moved toward the toll-bridge, and voices came across the water.

"Why the toll-bridge, Rog?" the sharp voice asked.

"Use your head," the genial voice answered. "There's plenty of light down there. Somebody may see us trying to haul in a big one."

"You're sure of the time?"

"We got the word, didn't we?"

"Fast work," the sharp voice said dubiously.

"Well, why not?" A genial chuckle came across the water. "Everybody knows you couldn't get a decent fish out of this lake with a dragnet. So we pull out."

The oars splashed and creaked, and the sharp voice was lost. And then the genial voice came again:

"We'll pull out about five, roll up and get in line, step on the gas, and make Baltimore in time for breakfast. After that, let John try to find us."

Joe got a bite and missed his fish. So these two men, whoever they were, planned to play hide and seek with somebody named John. But his mind, presently, came back to the shabby car with the powerful motor that had hidden itself twice in the cobbled road behind the cottonwoods where it could not be seen from Main street.

"What do you think that car was doing there, Uncle David?" the boy asked.

"If I knew," Dr. Stone said dryly, "I'd be able to give more attention to this fishing-line."

A tingling tremor ran along the boy's spine. So Uncle David thought that strange car worth worrying about! Lady moved in the boat, and the flat-bottomed craft pitched and wobbled. The fish weren't biting, and the dog was probably cramped. The boy pulled up the anchor. A steady, rhythmic splashing came through the night.

"They're rowing back," Dr. Stone said.

Joe's oars made scarcely a ripple. Tied up at the planking, he shipped the oars before helping his uncle from the boat. "No fish and a million mosquito bites," the doctor drawled, and they went up the soggy path through the reeds. Oars rattled behind them and somebody stamped on the planking. A car was parked in the high grass above the rutted road that paralleled the lake; even in the darkness there was a lustrous sheen of paint and of shining metal. One of Lady's harness straps had loosened. The doctor bent down to draw it tight, and footsteps came up the planking.

"Rog!" The sharp voice snapped. "There's somebody at the car."

"Don't move!" The genial voice was all at once icy and deadly. "If you've been monkeying----"

Joe shivered. Lady, as though recognizing the threat in that voice, had become stiff and taut. The boy's hand, feeling for her, met the bristling hairs along her spine.

Dr. Stone stood up. "No threats, if you please," he said coolly.

Joe marveled that, blind, his uncle could face this unknown hazard with unruffled calm. But then, of course, there was Lady. The dog was like a tempered spring, wound.

The man called Rog flew into a rage. "None of your soft talk. What are you doing at that car? By God, if----"

Lady gave an ominous, warning growl. The threat stopped as though a gag had been rammed down the speaker's throat.

"It's the blind man, Rog," the sharp voice said; "the blind man and a boy."

Lady continued to growl a deep warning. A form backed away quickly, and the deadly chill went out of Rog's voice, and he was genial and mellow.

"A thousand apologies, sir. The business of jacking up a car and stealing the tires has become so widespread----. You understand, sir?"

"Perfectly," Dr. Stone said blandly, and quieted the dog. The car backed around and lurched through the ruts, but not until it was well on its way were the lights turned on.

"What did they look like?" Dr. Stone asked.

"I couldn't see their faces," the boy answered; "it was too dark."

"What make of car?"

"I'm not sure."

"No matter." The doctor spoke to Lady and the dog, sure-footed, led them through the night. Jerry Moore was closing the garage and Ike Boles, the station agent, gave them a toothless grin.

"Hear about the telegram that came this afternoon, Doctor? Fellow named John's glad to hear the fishing's good and aims to come up tomorrow on the 8:11 from New York."

Memory jingled the wires in Joe's brain. Was this the same John Rog and his companion were anxious to avoid?

"Somebody," Dr. Stone said mildly, "is evidently playing a little joke on John. Who was the telegram for, Ike?"

"Fellow named Carl Metz. Can't find hide or hair of him hereabouts. Telegram's lying undelivered at the station. Anybody hear tell of a Carl Metz?"

The intent look that Joe knew so well had come to the corners of the doctor's mouth. "Jerry, remember the man with the husky voice who wouldn't let you lift the hood? He had a faint accent. What would you call it?"

"German," Jerry said promptly.

And Carl Metz was a German name. A slow excitement twitched through Joe's nerves, and he followed his blind uncle and the dog up the quiet street.

"Who's the man with the husky voice, Uncle David?"

"You've seen him."

"Where?"

"Hiding a shabby car in the cobbled road."

"But----" Heat throbbed in the boy's pulse. "But if he's the one who's expecting John, what about Rog and the other fellow? Why are _they_ running away from this John?"

"I don't know--yet," the doctor said.

Until late that night he smoked his pipe and paced the porch; and Lady, who read the signs of his unrest, gave the short whine of a worried dog and watched him narrowly. In the morning, when he awoke, Joe had already gone to school. Mrs. Morrow said: "Joe seemed frightfully excited about something, David." Tight lines formed about the sightless eyes. Bringing the lawn-mower from the side of the house, he began to cut the grass. The lawn was a map in his mind--so many paces to every walk and shrub. He was running the mower near the front gate when a droning throb of power roared up the road and stopped with a squeal of brakes.

"Stranger," said a husky voice, "they tell me there's a bad, little-traveled hill around here."

Seconds passed. "Why, yes," the doctor said slowly. "Three miles on there's a fork to the right; it takes you to Kill Horse Hill."

"Pretty steep?"

"It's downright wicked."

"Any chance," the hoarse voice asked, "of running into other cars out there?"

"None," the doctor assured him; and abruptly the car, rattling loosely, was gone.

The blind man pushed the mower aside and walked thoughtfully to the porch. At noon Joe arrived, breathless.

"Uncle David! I took a look into the cobbled road before school this morning. That car was there again, hidden behind the cottonwoods."

"I think," Dr. Stone said, "I'll walk into town this afternoon."

Something dark and sinister was going on under cover, and it was time somebody spoke to Police Captain Tucker and the bank. Lady, as though sensing a need for speed, led him toward the village at a pace faster than the pace of a man with sight. Suddenly heavy, rapid footfalls grew loud and clear. Somebody was running with mad haste. Somebody----? The doctor's ears, sharp as only a blind man's are sharp, picked a familiar rhythm from the furious stride.

"Joe! Why aren't you at school?"

The boy panted. "Wanted--to tell you--the bank----" Breath failed him.

"Robbed?" Dr. Stone demanded sharply.

"The--express wagon. Had money--for the bank--that came in--on No. 5."

"The cobbled road?"

"Yes, sir." The boy's breath was easier. "In that hollow behind the cottonwoods that you can't see from Main street. Captain Tucker was in the wagon with the driver. When they got into the hollow there was a man lying in a pool of blood. They jumped out, and it was only a stuffed figure, and the blood was red paint. Somebody they couldn't see said to put up their hands, and Captain Tucker started to spin around and a shot knocked off his cap."

"And after that he kept his hands up?"

"Yes, sir. Next thing a bag was over his head and one over the driver's, and they were tied up and chucked into the truck. By and by somebody found them and the money was gone."

"Much?"

"Twenty-two thousand dollars. They're looking for that shabby car."

"I don't think they'll have to look far," Dr. Stone said grimly. "Lady, forward." Again the rapid pace that ate up distance. "What time did the hold-up happen, Joe?"

"Twenty of twelve."