CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH ASHTON-KIRK HEARS MATTERS OF INTEREST

The special detective smiled and nodded.

“Just a moment,” said he; “there are a few little indications which I want to make sure of, then I’ll talk to you.” Swiftly he worked with the glass and a small ivory rule; then pocketing these he resumed the blue glasses and arose to his feet. “I gather from your words and your expression of face that you’re a trifle surprised!”

“It’s a clean knock-out,” announced Bat. He looked closely at the other and then shook his head. “I never understood before how much a man’s eyes had to do with his appearance,” said he.

“Hide the eyes,” said Ashton-Kirk, “and you are half disguised already. Then a change in the voice and the dress and you are complete, only needing some acting along the line of your assumed character. The rôle of a sick man is one of the easiest to assume, as perhaps any physician could tell you. The blue glasses are natural, then; also the tinted skin and the huskiness of voice. A suit of clothes three or four sizes too large at once sets you down as having lost a great deal of weight; and then some intimate conversation regarding your particular complaint places you above suspicion.”

“Intimate conversation is good,” said Mr. Scanlon. “You talked about yours with the freedom and knowledge of a man who had bred one for years. But without that I’d not have recognized you; you fitted so well into place among that outfit of crooks that I never thought of you being something else.”

“Crooks!” said Ashton-Kirk. “So you have found that out.”

“Well, I should say yes. Since I’ve come here I’ve found out two things at least; and they are that a man might be rolled in a chair and still be a fairly competent criminal; and also that a man might cough and cough, and be a villain still.”

“I think you might go further than Alva and Shaw,” said Ashton-Kirk, “and still be fairly safe.”

“You mean the man with the crutch?”

The crime specialist nodded.

“Also the landlord,” said he.

Bat whistled at this and stared. The other went on:

“On our first visit there I fancied I caught a certain undertone of insincerity; an indefinite air of pre-arrangement pervaded the place; there were moments when I had the feeling that a sort of stage play had been arranged for our benefit. This, with some other things, made me somewhat curious, and yesterday I made a few queries at a small hotel some miles away. As I expected, the proprietor was perfectly willing to talk. He told me, as you did, that the innkeeper over yonder had only had the place for about six months, and that his present guests came at practically the same time.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Scanlon.

“Other guests had gone there from time to time, but things were very unpleasant, and as no attempt was made to put them right, the newcomers had never remained long.”

“The unpleasantness was made to order, eh?” observed Bat. “The new guests were not wanted.” He looked at the detective for a moment, then he added: “That house is headquarters for the whole movement against Campe.”

“I have taken the liberty of learning the size and peculiarities of the footprints made by the various gentlemen holding forth there, and I find they correspond exactly with those of persons whose movements hereabouts show an intense interest in Schwartzberg.”

“Well,” said Bat, “I see there are various ways of coming at a fact. You began with a mental impression and ended with the impression of a foot; and I started with the expression of a lady’s face, and finished with an expression of amazement.”

“You’ve also been having some experiences then,” said Ashton-Kirk, interest in his voice. “I rather fancied you would. And as there will be no better time than the present, suppose you tell me just what they were.”

They seated themselves upon a flat rock out of eyeshot of Schwartzberg, and Bat began a report of his adventures. He told of his meeting with Miss Knowles on the road and her agitation at the thought of a fresh visit from the crime specialist; of the soft-looking man who stood in the lane writing in a leather-covered book; of Miss Knowles and her interest in the direction of the wind; of his seeing her at the window overlooking that point afterward; of the man in the chair and his strange actions; of the meeting with the man with the cough and the peppery little doctor; of the happening on the river bank; of his talk with Mrs. Kretz; of the laying low of the soft man; of the whispered conversation between the housebreaker and the woman in the darkened hall; of the escape of the latter; of the disappearance of Miss Knowles from the room, followed by the liberation of the prisoner.

When Bat had finished--and he did not slight a detail--his friend laughed softly.

“Experiences--yes,” said he. “And you have a most excellent memory. When you came to me the other day you complained of everything being elusive and difficult to make head or tail of. It would seem, from what you have told me now, that this had changed.”

“Altogether,” said Scanlon. “I don’t know a great deal more of the truth, but there’s no end to the happenings. As a matter of fact, I seem to be squaring up to something all the time.”

“And something of undoubted interest,” said Ashton-Kirk. He looked toward the river and added, “That, I suppose, is the place where you heard the man tumble into the water last night?”

“Yes,” replied Bat; “there where the bank is broken.”

“I’ll remember that,” said the other. “Indeed, it was in the hope of coming upon something of the sort that I came this way.”

Bat looked at him in surprise, but before he could speak the other went on:

“The matter of the northwest wind has a rare sound, and the affair of the sword will in the end, I have no doubt, prove of much interest.” He was silent for a space as though thinking, and then proceeded: “And so Mrs. Kretz is inclined to suspect the girl of foul work?”

Bat nodded.

“She is,” said he. “And, much against my will, I’m inclined to do the same.”

“You say you heard her talk to Shaw in the dark hall; and afterwards when she had suspected something wrong because of the lights further along being turned off, she came back to learn who had done it.”

“She did,” said Bat. “I saw her as plainly as I see you.”

“Things fall together very oddly at times,” said the crime specialist, more to himself than to Bat. “Very oddly.” Then to Scanlon: “Miss Knowles, you say, was interested to know if Shaw had taken any of the papers at which he was looking?”

“Yes,” replied Bat.

“I, also, am a trifle curious as to that.” The soulless blue glasses were fixed upon the big man steadily. “What did Campe have to say in the matter?”

“Nothing,” replied Bat. “At least nothing that I heard.”

“It’s curious,” said Ashton-Kirk, “how a man will hold to silence regarding some things. In the midst of happenings which sap his courage and weaken his will in everything else, this young man keeps his mouth shut as to the cause of it.”

“If it’s something which began with his father,” said Bat, “and you think it might be, as your sending your man to Mexico shows--isn’t it possible that Campe doesn’t know what it is?”

But the crime specialist shook his head.

“No,” said he. “If this were so, he would not hesitate to call in the police.”

“That’s true,” said Bat. “It never occurred to me.”

“Your crippled man, in his chair on the hilltop, watching the moon on the towers of Schwartzberg, is a pleasing thought,” said Ashton-Kirk. The keen, complete form which he gave every word showed intense interest. “He smiled, you say, and closed his eyes?”

“And a couple of times he laughed,” answered Scanlon.

“The hill is northwest of the castle, is it?”

“Almost exactly, as far as I can make out.”

“And Miss Knowles stood in a window facing in that direction?”

“Yes.”

“A little while before she had expressed, by certain mannerisms, an odd sort of interest in that particular point of the compass?”

“That was plain enough,” stated Bat. “Anybody who was there could see it.”

“It looks,” and again the vacant blue glasses fixed themselves upon Mr. Scanlon, “it looks quite a bit like something pre-arranged. A signal, perhaps.”

But Scanlon shook his head.

“No,” said he. “The hill is too far away. And another thing: moonlight, no matter how bright, is uncertain. You can’t be dead sure of getting an eye full of anything.”

Ashton-Kirk nodded; the blue glasses looked rounder and more vacant than before. But there was a deep wrinkle at the top of the nose between them which told Scanlon that the detective had marked the incident well.

“It means something,” the big man told himself. “And he’ll hit on it before he’s through. But _what_ it means and how he’s going to work on it is too much for me.”

After a little Ashton-Kirk arose.

“Stay here,” said he. “I’ll not be more than a few minutes.”

But he was gone a good half hour, and in that time Bat could see him prowling up and down along the river bank, the blue glasses off and the magnifying lens in his hands. The rocks in particular seemed to interest him; and when he returned he carried a bit of one in his hand.

“Soft, and almost crying its age aloud,” said he. “I know of no region of such little interest to a geologist.”

He stood for a space, the long yellow fingers crumbling the surface of the soft stone; then he said:

“The recent activity around here seems to prove one thing to me; and that is that Campe’s enemies have made up their minds to end what might very well be called the siege of Schwartzberg.”

“Right,” said Mr. Scanlon. “They are pushing the job to its finish. And I can tell you why. The girl has tipped them off that you are here, and has handed them your record. They mean to rush the fight from now on, afraid that you’re coming back.”

“As you are not quite sure as to the people inside the castle,” said the detective, “I will recommend that you keep even a keener watch than before. But do so in such a way as not to attract attention. Especially watch for small events; they are more apt to be of value to us than showier ones; people as a rule are guarded as to the big things, while the small ones are gone through often with no care.”

“When do you hope to hear from Fuller?” asked Scanlon.

“It will take the greater part of a week for him to reach the place of operation, and with the best of luck two days will be taken up in gathering the facts I want.”

“A lot of things may happen in that time,” remarked the big man. “It might be that before you get his report we’ll meet the rush of the invalid corps in such a way that we’ll put them down for the count.”

Ashton-Kirk made no reply; the big man waited for a moment or two; the vacant blue glasses were fixed upon a point some little distance away. Scanlon turned and looked in the same direction.

“Hello!” said he, in a low tone. “Who’s that?”

A man walked along the river bank, his head bent, his eyes upon the ground. But as the two looked the head lifted and he saw them. He started and stiffened suddenly. Then his hand went up in a salute, and he moved toward them.

It was the German sergeant-major, Kretz.