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The Last Stroke: A Detective Story

Page 13

by Lawrence L. Lynch


  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE "LAKE COUNTY HERALD."

  "Has Doran been here, doctor?"

  These were the detective's first words when he entered the sanctum uponhis return from the Marcy cottage, and before his host could do morethan shake his head, Ferrars dropped into a seat beside him and went onin a lower tone.

  "The fact is, doctor, I've got myself interested in a thing which, afterall, may lead me astray. Do you take the _Lake County Herald_?"

  "Upon my word!" ejaculated the doctor. "I do; yes. Want to peruse thesheet?"

  "I don't suppose you file them?" went on Ferrars.

  "File the _Herald_! No, I fire them, or Jude does."

  "I wish you had not. The fact is I want very much to get hold of a copydated November last, the 27th. Do you recall the bit of paper I tookfrom Charles Brierly's desk-top to demonstrate that something had beenhastily pulled from the letter file by that clever boy of whom Mrs. Frycould tell so little?"

  "Yes; surely." The doctor now began to look seriously interested.

  "Well, the stolen paper was a newspaper clipping, cut from the _Herald_of November 27th last."

  "Upon my word! But there, I won't ask questions."

  "You need not. Did you not observe me looking over the papers in therack?"

  "Yes."

  "Possibly you saw me with a paper in my hand soon after?"

  The doctor stared and shook his head. "I've no eye for sleight-of-hand,"he grumbled.

  "Decidedly not, for I folded up that paper and thrust it in a breastpocket before your very eyes. I kept that tiny bit, too, which I pickedup on my forefinger. It fitted into a column from which a piece had beencut, and that's how I know that the stolen article came from that paper.Very simple, after all, you see!"

  "For you, yes."

  "The fact that the clipping was thought worth stealing, makes me fancyit worth a perusal. I tried for it here in town, in a quiet way, butfailed. Then I appealed to Doran, and he has written to Lake, to theeditor, whom he happens to know."

  "It would be hard to find hereabouts a man of any importance whateverwhom Sam Doran does not know. He grew up in Lake County, and has heldhalf the offices in the county's gift."

  "There may be a clue for us in that clipping. I discovered another thingin that room. The dead man wrote, or began, a letter to his brother. Ilearned this from a scrap, dated and addressed, which I found in thewaste basket, and I am led to believe the letter was re-written, orrather begun anew, and sent, from the fact that a fresh blotter showed afragment of Brierly's name, and the city address. That letter, ifmailed, must have passed him as he came down. Did he mention gettingit?"

  Doctor Barnes shook his head.

  "He said nothing about such a letter," he replied. "Does he know aboutthis--this newspaper business?"

  "Not a word. No one knows it but yourself. If it should prove to be aclue in my hands, it may be better, it will be better, I am sure, tokeep it at present between us two. I think, however, that I may decideto show Miss--my cousin--that anonymous letter, and tell her somethingabout that mysterious boy and his visit to her lover's rooms." And thenFerrars turned from this subject to explain to the doctor his presentplans. How he had determined to continue his masquerade, and to remainfor a time in Glenville; and, though Mrs. Jamieson's name was notuttered, the doctor found himself wondering, as had Hilda Grant, if thedetective had not found the place attractive for personal, as well asbusiness reasons; and if a detective's heart must needs be of adamantafter all.

  Next morning Samuel Doran, who knew the detective only as "Hilda Grant'scousin and a right good fellow," drove ostentatiously to the door totake "Mr. Grant" for a drive.

  "I've had a line from Joe Howlett," he began the moment they were uponthe road. "He was just setting out for a run out of town, but he says hetold the boys to look up that paper and send it along. So, I guess we'llsee it soon, if it's in existence." And Doran chirrupped to his team andpromptly changed the subject. He did not know why this man beside him somuch wished to obtain a six-months-old copy of a country newspaper, andhe did not trouble himself to worry or wonder. "It was none of hisbusiness," he would have said if questioned, and Samuel Doran attendedto his own business exclusively and was by so much the more a reliablehelper when, his aid being asked, the business of his neighbour becamehis own.

  Ferrars was learning to know his man, and he knew that the time mightsoon come when Doran would be his closest confidant and strongestassistant in Glenville.

  "We look for Brierly in a day or two," the detective said, casually, asthey bowled along. "He will bring a professional gentleman with him,"and he turned his head and the eyes of the two met. Ferrars had foundthat Doran could extract much meaning from a few words, at need.

  "Something in the detective line, for instance? 'S that it?"

  "That explanation will do for Glenville, Doran."

  "Cert. Glenville ought to know it, too. We've been thinking 'twas abouttime one of 'em appeared," and Doran grinned.

  Ferrars smiled, well satisfied. He knew that the dignified family lawyerand friend, who was coming to Glenville with Robert Brierly by his owndesire, would be promptly accepted as the tardy and eagerly looked for"sleuth" who would "solve the mystery" at once and with the utmost ease.

  And that is what happened.

  The two men arrived a day earlier than they had been expected, and themoment Robert Brierly found himself alone with Ferrars he drew from hispocket a letter, saying, as he unfolded it with gentle, careful touch:

  "This letter, Mr. Ferrars, is the last written me by my brother. It wasin the city, passing me on the way, before I had arrived here, and Ifound it, among others, at the office. I have not spoken of it even tothe doctor. Read it, please."

  Ferrars took the letter and read:

  "MY DEAR ROB.,--Since writing you, I have found in an old newspaper, quite by accident, something which has almost set my head to spinning. I know what you will say to that, old boy. It brings up something out of the past; something of which I may have to tell you and which should have been told you before. It's the only thing, concerning myself that is, which you do not know as well as I, and if I have not confided this to you, it was because I almost feared to. But then, why try to explain and excuse on paper when we are to meet, please God, so soon. Brother mine, what if that flood tide which comes, they say, to each, once in life, was on its way to you and to me? Well, it shall not separate us, Rob.; not by my will. But stop. I shall grow positively oracular if I keep on, (no one ever could understand an oracle, you know) and so, till we meet, adieu.

  "BROTHER CHARLIE."

  When Ferrars had read this strange missive once, he sat for a moment asif thinking, and then deliberately re-read it slowly, and with here andthere a pause; when at last he handed it back to Brierly, he asked:

  "Do you understand that letter?"

  "No more than I do the riddle of the sphinx, Ferrars," he leaned forwardeagerly as he put a question, and his eyes were apprehensive, though hisvoice was firm. "Do you connect that letter in any way with my brother'sdeath?"

  For a moment the detective was silent, thinking of the newspaper and themissing clipping. Then he replied slowly as if considering between thewords.

  "Of course it's possible, Mr. Brierly, but as yet I cannot give anopinion. If you will trust that letter to me for a few days, however,perhaps I may see more clearly. It's a surprise, I'll admit. I had fullydecided in my own mind that howsoever much the murderer may havepremeditated and planned, his victim was wholly unaware of an en-- ofhis danger."

  "You were about to say, of an enemy!"

  "Yes. It is what I have been saying before seeing that letter." He putout his hand, and as Brierly placed the letter in it, he added, "Let usnot discuss this further. Does your friend, Mr. Myers, know of it?"

  "Not a word."

  "Then for the present let it rest between us."

  Two days after this intervie
w Doran dropped in at the doctor's office,and before he left had managed to put a newspaper, folded small, intothe hands of the detective, quite unperceived by the other occupants ofthe room. For while since Brierley's return, accompanied by his friend,these two had occupied together the rooms at Mrs. Fry's, the doctor'scottage was still headquarters for them all, while Ferrars now hadsolitary possession of the guest chamber, formerly assigned to Brierly.

  Mr. Myers was a shrewd lawyer, as well as a faithful family friend. Hehad felt from the first that there was mystery as well as crime behindthe death of Charles Brierly, who had been near and dear to him, as dearas an own son, for the two families had been almost as one ever sinceJohn Myers and the elder Brierly, who had been school friends and fellowstudents, finally entered together the career of matrimony.

  There had been no children in the Myers homestead, and the two ladssoon learned to look upon the Myers' house as their second home, and"Uncle" John Myers had ranked, in their regard, only second to theirwell beloved father. So that when the young men were left alone, in abroken and desolate home, that other door opened yet wider, and claimedthem by right of affection.

  Mr. Myers had been taken to the scene of the murder, had visited HildaGrant, and by his own desire had examined the books, papers, andmanuscripts in Charles Brierly's rooms, and on the day of Doran's call,a longer drive than he had yet taken had been arranged. He was going,accompanied by Brierly and driven by Doran, to look at the skiff, stillunclaimed and waiting upon the lake shore below the town.

  Ferrars, much to Doran's regret, had declined to accompany them from thefirst, and when he found himself in possession of the coveted newspaper,he joined the others in their desire that Doctor Barnes should take thefourth seat in the light surrey behind Doran's pet span; and the daybeing fine, and business by no means pressing, that gentleman consented.

 

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