Part 7

"Good!" said Oakes. "Now, Mr. Elliott, will you kindly retire with Dr. Moore, while Stone, Martin and I hear what the Chief has to say."

When Hallen came up, he seemed very cordial, but worried, and made no attempt to disguise the fact that he anticipated trouble with the unruly element in Mona by Saturday night.

"You see," he said, "we are few here, and I have been kept busy with the brewing uneasiness in town and cannot handle the murder affair satisfactorily. I have come to ask you to help me, if you are sufficiently at leisure. We cannot get any clues at all, save that the man was killed by a bullet of large calibre in the hands of a good shot, as the distance from which it was fired would seem to show. The road has been searched but nothing found, and the crowd that went with you to the dying man's side trampled away all clues on the ground.

"My men have reported to me the curious affair of last night," continued the Chief. "I suppose you have a explanation for it; in any event, it must be followed up. The people must be diverted, and more must be done at once than I can do. Will you help me?"

"Yes," said Oakes. "Of course!"

"Hello, what ails your head?" said the Chief, after thanking him.

And then Oakes told him as much as was necessary of the events of the day before.

"I am very glad your _carpenters_ have arrived," said the Chief; "they may help." He smiled, as did Oakes. They understood one another--they were in similar lines of business.

"Now that I have a hand in this thing, let's all get acquainted," said Oakes; and he called in Moore and Elliott, and the discussion became general.

Elliott was admitted unreservedly to our councils, especially as Oakes knew that he held the keys to the conviction of the assassin--the witness.

Oakes, in his fluent style, acquainted the Chief with the fact that the negro was already under surveillance and that, in his opinion, he should be brought to Mona for further examination.

"Yes, but we must smuggle him in. It would be unwise to let the populace know we have him now; they might infer he was the murderer and violence would certainly be done him. At present, I have all I can do to keep order in the town," said Hallen.

Then he gave a lucid account of the wave of suspicion and of the evidences of nervous tension the citizens were showing.

"Why," said he, "almost every man suspects his neighbor. Life-long friends are suspicious of one another and business is nearly at a standstill. One man looked at another in an absent-minded sort of a way to-day, and the other retaliated with a blow and an oath, and asked him if he would look at his own arms--not his neighbor's."

"Yes," said Oakes, "we have here a great mental emotion--_suspicion_--to deal with, which may amount to a public calamity unless checked. One must always take account of the actions and reasonings of communities. Emotional waves rush through them as through individuals sometimes. Look at history, and consider the waves of religion, emotional in character, that have occurred. Look at the unreasonableness developed in our own country from ignorance and fear, when witches were burned at the stake!"

"Oakes," said Moore with a smile, "you seem to make mental processes and conditions as much of a study as the physician does."

"Certainly," Oakes replied. "It is most important. Did we not study the workings of a criminal's mind, for instance, we would often be baffled. You see, the determination of the probable condition of such a one's mind is often paramount, especially in such a case as this. In other words, was the _motive_ one that would naturally sway an ordinary healthy individual under the conditions appertaining to the crime--the so-called _sane_ motive? Or was it in any way dependent upon peculiarities of the criminal's reasoning--a motive built up of something unreal, a _delusion_ in the mind of one not in his right senses?"

I myself had frequently had cause to study such mental processes in the practice of my profession, but I was amazed at the knowledge shown by Oakes, and stated in such a broad, untechnical manner. The man was no ordinary one, to be sure, but I had scarcely expected him to show such education in these matters.

I now recalled what Moore had once told me of Oakes's all-round attainments.

Dr. Moore broke the silence.

"You are a lalapazooza, Oakes."

Oakes did not notice the remark, but said: "I don't know what other men do, but I have tried to bear in mind such things."

"Yes," said Hallen, "and consequently there is only _one_ Quintus Oakes."

"It seems to me," continued Hallen, "that your work here at the Mansion will soon lead to results, and I trust that you will find time to consider the murder also."

"Gentlemen," said Oakes very seriously, "from what I saw after the Mark murder in town and from what you report, I feel that Mona is in a very serious plight. I shall make time, Hallen, to do what little I can."

And thus Quintus Oakes became the leader in the unravelling of the Mark murder mystery.

After a few remarks of no particular consequence and a more or less general conversation, he resumed:

"Suppose, Chief, that we now smuggle the negro into Mona as soon as possible, and bring him here. I believe that if Mr. Elliott goes back with Martin and they explain things to the boy, he will come without much trouble. It must be impressed upon him that he is regarded in the light of a _hero_: appeal to the innate weakness of the race--desire for flattery."

"I believe we can bring him here easily," said Elliott, "for he has confidence in me."

"If he refuses to come," said Hallen, "we can get him here in plenty of ways."

"Yes," said Oakes, "Martin knows how; leave it to him. Only, we must have him soon, and he must come here by way of another station, incognito, lest the people become too excited."

This being agreed upon, the conversation became more general, and in answer to questions we found that Oakes had not as yet formulated any solution to the mystery of the identity of the murderer. As he said, the affair of downstairs might be connected with the murder, indirectly or directly, but as yet we had not had sufficient opportunities for studying the surroundings of the house or the life of its attachés to venture an opinion. He laid particular stress upon the fact that opinions should never be formed on poor evidence, since a biased mind was incapable of appreciating new discoveries or new clues. To theorize too much was very easy, but sometimes fatal to detection of crime. He preferred to work along several lines of investigation before concentration on any one idea.

"The affair of last night, in my estimation," said he, "is one of very grave import. Unquestionably, from what you saw, Stone, and from the evidence of us all, there were two men near the place you were going to pass. That the first one warned you and was, in a sense, a friend, is mysterious enough--it needs solution; but that the man who warned you should have run away and been pursued by the other is peculiar, to say the least. The signals of your companions were heard by the man at the bridge undoubtedly, and he ran to escape detection himself. The other--the one on this side, who was a probable assassin--would under ordinary circumstances have run away when he saw you were warned. He did run, but it was after the man who warned you."

"To my mind, the explanation is this," continued the detective. "The man at the bridge is friendly, but cannot expose his identity or risk capture. The would-be assassin was convinced that the man who warned you knew of his purpose. He therefore pursued him--to finish him in self-protection."

"I don't see why," said Moore; "he could have escaped instead."

"Exactly," said Oakes. "He could have done so, but he did not wish it. He has not completed what he wants to do around here. He wished to come back, and to do so with safety he must rid himself of the one who knew of his doings."

"Looks as though he was planning more trouble. He may have been the man of the robe, or the man with the arms," I ventured.

"Or both," said Oakes.

"At all events," said Hallen, "I wish that we could divert the minds of the people in town; the tension is great--too great for safety."

"Perhaps, Chief," said Oakes, "that you and I can arrange a little matter that will distract their attention and which will tend to make them believe that progress is being made."

He laughed as he spoke, and we knew that he was thinking over some little scheme to help Hallen back into popular favor.

_CHAPTER XIV_

_Clues_

The carpenters and masons came and went in a very business-like way all that morning, while we were closeted upstairs with our companion and Chief Hallen.

After he left us, Moore and I walked down to the gate and around the grounds, leaving Oakes to attend to details with Martin. Carpenters were very busy around the dining-room, carrying in boards and implements, and examining the woodwork and the balcony.

A few of the masons were about the grounds, engaged on small details, and all seemed to be on good terms with Cook and his wife, and Annie. Mike was busy at one end of the garden, and Maloney was not far off.

"This, Stone, is to be a day of events here. But things are being done very quietly, are they not? You would suspect nothing out of the way--far less a hunt for a murderer or the investigation of a mystery, would you?"

"No; were I not informed, I should think that Oakes had merely a gang of laborers at work."

"He has that; but he has also a body of the best detectives, for the purpose, to be had. Maloney and Mike are puzzling him considerably, Stone; they are very close to one another always, and seem quite intimate."

"Yes," I replied. "I have noticed it. They both show a great deal of interest in these alterations. Have you noticed how Maloney is watching O'Brien? He keeps him continually in sight."

We had approached the front door of the Mansion as we spoke. Oakes was standing just outside, his eyes likewise upon the two gardeners. Our last remarks were made in his presence, and he entered the conversation with a quiet observation to the effect that Maloney seemed to fear that Mike might not attend to his business, but that Mike _would_, nevertheless.

I was obliged to acknowledge that I did not quite understand.

"Oh, Mike is a good laborer," he explained; "he needs no such watching," and there seemed to be a peculiar significance in his words. They were stated in a slow, indifferent manner that caused me to look at the speaker, but his face wore the inscrutable expression which I had frequently seen before, and I learned nothing. I knew him well enough by this time, however, to realize that something was taking shape in his thoughts.

"Now, let us go inside," said he. "After lunch we will attack the final solution of the manner in which these mysterious assaults were performed. Like all such things, it will be simple enough, I know, and the point remaining to determine will be not _how_ it was done, but _by whom_.

"I feel confident that that door in the cellar room leads upward to an interspace which communicates with the dining-room through panels in the walls. The peculiar noise--the swish--that I heard, resembled the sudden sliding of a board, and it was the conviction that the person who assaulted Moore disappeared into the wall which made me run downstairs. I felt sure there would be some explanation of it below."

That afternoon a systematic search of the entire house was made. The cellar room in which the assault upon Oakes had occurred was thoroughly lighted and examined. The heap of rubbish which Mike had been investigating at our previous visit proved to be composed of plaster and bricks.

The wall in which the door was cut was found to be about three feet thick, and one of the foundations of the house. It was solid, save for a chimney-like opening which had been trapped with the door. Above, at the level of the dining-room floor, the great wall ceased. From one edge was continued upwards the original partition between that room and the next--the parlor; but it was thin, and had evidently been recently strengthened by another wall, slightly thicker, and built from the opposite edge of the foundation, leaving a space between the two. Into this space entered, at a certain point, the opening from the cellar room below.

It was a peculiar arrangement. As Oakes remarked, the new wall had been made with no regard to the economizing of space; for, had it been built immediately back of the old, considerable room would have been saved for the parlor. One of the "carpenters" thought that the original idea had been to utilize the space for closets. The only other possible use for it, so far as we could discover, was the one which Oakes had surmised--ventilation for the cellar. Still, to our ordinary minds, a chimney would have answered that purpose quite as well.

A little further investigation, however, showed the top of the foundation wall to be covered with cement well smoothed, and the walls themselves were plastered. It was generally conceded, therefore, that the first idea had been to use it as closet room, which could easily have been done by cutting doors through the walls. As Oakes said, the notion had evidently met with opposition and been abandoned, so communication had been made with the cellar instead, and the roof opened to afford ventilation.

The opening into the cellar was large. A man could easily enter it, and, standing, reach the top of the foundation wall; then, by a little exertion, he could raise himself into the intermural space. Oakes, Moore and I proved this by actual experiment and found that the passage was quite wide enough to accommodate a man of average proportions.

I have said that the dining-room was finished in oak panels. These had been reached from our side of the wall by removing the bricks and mortar--the same stuff evidently which helped to form the rubbish heap in the room below. One of the larger panels had been made to slide vertically. It had been neatly done and had escaped detection from the dining-room because of the overlapping of the other panels. Some débris still remained between the walls.

"The fellow we are after knew of the space between the walls and worked at the panel after the repairs were completed," was Oakes's remark.

"How do you know that?" asked Moore.

Oakes looked at him and smiled, then said: "Moore, where is your reasoning ability? Do you think, if the panel had been tampered with at the time the repairs were made, that the débris would have been left behind? No! It would have been removed with the rest of the dirt."

We had gone to our rooms upstairs while the men were hunting through the tunnel to the well. They found nothing; everything was as we had left it after our adventures there.

It seemed to us that, all things considered, the work on the panel must have been done by someone within the household, or, at least, that some of its members must have been involved in the matter.

"It may have been accomplished at night, however, and by an outsider," said Oakes. "The servants' quarters are separate from the house. Anyone might easily have entered the cellar by the tunnel route. Still, there may have been collusion also."

"It seems a nonsensical idea to leave the débris in the cellar," I said.

"No, I think not," was the answer. "The care-takers are afraid even to enter that place. The miscreant knew that detection would be probable at the hands of strangers only."

That evening Elliott and Martin left for New York. They were to bring the negro boy, Joe, to Mona. Late at night, before we retired, Oakes asked us to go with him into the parlor.

"What for?" said I.

"To forge another link in the chain--the strongest yet," he said.

"What?"

"Do you remember the cartridge I found in the cellar?"

"Yes, yes; but you did not pay much attention to it, I thought."

He looked gravely at me. "Stone, that cartridge probably corresponds in calibre to the one which was used in the murder of Mark."

"Ah!" said Moore. "I had a notion of that myself. Why did you not tell us your opinion before?"

"Because, when I found it, we were working on the Mansion affair only. I divined the value of the find; but why should I have mentioned it? I was not hunting the Mark murderer then."

"Quintus, you consummate fox--you worked Hallen well!"

"Not at all; business is business. What is the use of gossiping? There are no ladies to be entertained in _my_ profession, Doctor."

He led the way to the parlor--we meekly following--to where a cluster of arms hung upon the wall: one of those ornaments of crossed swords, guns and a shield, so common in old houses.

He remarked that he had noticed these arms on his previous visit. He looked at a revolver hanging across the shield, with a pouch beneath it, and then suddenly, in surprise, said: "Last time I was here, a few weeks ago, there was a large old-fashioned revolver here of 44 or 45 calibre. I remember it well, being interested in firearms.

"This one now here is of a similar pattern and appearance, but of smaller calibre, and newer. Look! The cartridges in this pouch are of about 45 size; they belong to the old weapon and cannot be used with this one."

"Again, some of them are missing; there were at least a dozen before, now there are only three or four. The old revolver and some cartridges have been taken away, and a newer weapon substituted."

"Indeed! But why?" said Moore sceptically.

"Partly because"--and Oakes was decisive, curt, master of the situation--"because this one cannot be loaded. See!" He then tried to turn the chamber and showed us that the mechanism was faulty.

"The old revolver," said he in a low tone, "and some cartridges were taken away, and in order that its absence should be less noticeable, this one was left here--it being useless.

"Now, boys, the cartridge I found downstairs on the cellar floor is a 45-calibre and belongs to those of the pouch and the original revolver, as you see."

He took it from his pocket and showed us that it did _not_ fit the weapon in his hand but matched the cartridges in the pouch. It belonged to the _old_ weapon.

"We are closing in," said I.

"Yes--the man of the robe has the old revolver and cartridges; he took them within the last few days, finding his own weapon out of order. It is he who is responsible for the mystery in this house--and in all probability it is he who shot Winthrop Mark. You remember, the evidence at the inquest showed that a heavy revolver had been used--a 44 or 45 calibre--exactly such an one as the old weapon which I saw here."

"Excellent, Oakes," remarked Moore. "There's only one objection."

"Yes, I know," said Oakes. "You were going to ask why the fellow did not take all these cartridges and put his own in the pouch to match the weapon he left here."

"Exactly," said Moore.

"Well," said the detective, "he either had no cartridges of his own handy, or else, like all criminals, however smart, he tripped--the brain of no man is capable of adjusting his actions precisely in every detail."

"Guess you're right. No man can be perfect in his reasoning, and, no matter how clever the criminal, he is almost certain to make an error sooner or later," said Moore.

"Yes, but it takes peculiar power to discover it," I chirped. The events of the day had tired me, and my mind was growing confused. I desired to go to bed.

Oakes smiled slightly. "No, Stone; it takes study, worry and patient reasoning to discover the faulty link in a clever criminal's logic--that is why there is a profession like mine."

I was half asleep, but I heard him continue: "We may consider we have excellent cause to look for a man who has in his possession an ancient revolver and some very old dirty cartridges covered with verdigris, like these here."

"Murder will out," I interpolated.

"Yes, eventually, sometimes. However, it is easy to say, 'he who had that revolver did the murder,' but as it may have been destroyed since then, or thrown into the river, it is another thing to find the _man_."

We were crestfallen. Oakes himself looked wearied.

"I wish the whole Mansion was in the river, and there were a decent café round here," protested Moore.

"You're a vigorous pair of assistants, I must say," said Quintus. "I have some samples in my room. Come!" and we all adjourned.

_CHAPTER XV_

_The Ruse_

After all, however, the doctor and I decided to spend the night at the hotel and acquire any information that we could as to occurrences in town.

We chose to walk along the River Road to the Corners, keeping ourselves on the alert for any treachery. The night was cool and bracing and the sky cloudless. As we journeyed, the moon rose, throwing its rays athwart the tangled outline of the wood. The great high trees were just beginning to drop their leaves. Occasionally a woody giant, separated from the rest, would fix our attention, standing silhouetted against the background of forest--majestic, alone, like a sentinel guarding the thousands in column behind. An occasional flutter of a night bird or the falling and rustling of the dead leaves was all that we heard as we walked rapidly the mile to the Corners.

As we were about to round into the Highway and leave the forest of the estate behind us, Moore grasped my arm, and led me to the deep shadow of a tree by the roadside.

"Hark! That sounds peculiar," he said. We listened, and heard a thumping sound, repeated at intervals.

"An uneasy horse standing somewhere in the woods hereabouts," said I.

"Yes. What is he doing there at this time of night--and in _these particular_ woods?"

We consulted together and waited. Then, having satisfied ourselves that the noise came from the woods of the estate near the crest of the hill, we decided to investigate as quickly as possible, and entered the forest stealthily and with but little noise. Unused to the life of the woods, we doubtless made more rustling than was necessary, but we were favored by the fact that the trees were not very close together, and in consequence the carpet of dead leaves was not thick.

Halting behind the trunks of trees occasionally, we listened for the sound which came from further within the wood. Soon we came to an opening--a glade--perhaps two hundred feet from the road. The moonlight fell upon the far side, but on the side next us all was shadow--dark and sombre. We stood well within it among the trees. I fancied I heard a horse whinny. The animal was certainly restive. I saw the doctor take out his revolver and lie carefully down behind a tree; I remained standing. We both waited; we were within a few feet of one another, but did not speak.

Suddenly, on the far side we saw a figure walking towards the shade and heard him say a few words to the horse. Quickly he led the animal away into what appeared to be a path. Moore whispered to me: "Watch the road; he is going there."

We retraced our steps and soon saw the horse appear on the edge of the wood. He was a large, powerful animal, and seemed to act as though he understood what was expected of him. The man was still leading the horse, but was now also speaking in a low voice to someone else, who disappeared toward the town and came out on the Highway further down, walking rapidly toward the village, as any belated citizen might.

"See!" said Moore. "He brought the horse and is going back. Watch the rider."