The Secret Toll

by Paul Thorne and Mabel Thorne

  CHAPTER V--THE HAUNTED TREE

  Twice before he retired that night Forrester sought information from thepolice. By one o'clock, however, when no report had been turned in, hedecided to wait until morning.

  Early Wednesday morning he called the detective bureau on the telephoneto find out what the police had accomplished. The voice at the other endof the wire was apologetic.

  "We're sorry, Mr. Forrester, but the men got away from us. Had it beenany other kind of a night we would have had them, sure. The fogprevented the detectives from seeing the car distinctly, so that afterit turned into the Lake Shore Drive, and mingled with other cars, it wasimpossible to pick it up again.

  "Our men were sure that their bullets struck the car. After giving upthe chase they spent half the night on the West Side trying to locate anautomobile with bullet holes, but were unsuccessful."

  "Then you have made no progress at all on the case," said Forrester.

  "No, I wouldn't say that," was the reply. "We now have some fairlydefinite people to look for. Before the incident of last night the wholething was a mystery that did not present a single tangible point onwhich to base our investigations. Now, we believe that these people arejust an ordinary auto bandit gang, and we know how to take steps to lookthem up."

  "If anything of a hopeful nature occurs," requested Forrester, "I willappreciate it if you will call me on the telephone and let me know aboutit."

  "We will be glad to do that," agreed the man at headquarters. "You mayexpect to hear from us at any time. And in the meanwhile, we will alsoappreciate any further tips similar to the one you gave us last night."

  Forrester then called the garage and ordered his roadster sent around tothe house.

  Although the police seemed to be trying, and were under the impressionthat they were making some progress, Forrester decided to make a fewefforts on his own account as he had originally planned. Even if he didnot get very far in his investigations, he at least might discoversomething that would be of assistance to the police. He had little faithin Green, yet he realized that with this private detective, the police,and himself all working along individual lines, it was possible that thesum of all their discoveries might convey some hint of the lines thatmust be followed to bring the criminals to justice.

  Forrester was not much impressed with Humphrey's triangulation theory.It was too far fetched and fanciful. Moreover, he realized that beforeputting even this surveying method into actual practice, he must firstlook over all the ground carefully. At the present moment, the onlyprominent and definite landmark in the case was the oak tree. He knewthat this had already been the starting point for all the detectives whohad been conducting investigations, but it was possible that because ofhis freedom from traditions, as Humphrey had put it, he might discoversomething which the more experienced detectives had overlooked. As soonas his roadster arrived, therefore, he planned to visit the oak tree inJasper lane.

  This analyzing of Humphrey's suggestions recalled to Forrester hissuspicions of the night before. He decided, before going further, tomake sure of Humphrey, so he got the _Times_ office on the wire andinquired for the reporter. He recognized the young man's voiceimmediately and it lifted a considerable load from his mind.

  "This is Forrester," he told Humphrey. "I called up to see if you hadany new information for me."

  "Oh, hello!" called Humphrey. "No, I haven't any new tips--but say--didyou see my article this morning?"

  "No," admitted Forrester, "I haven't had time to look at the paper."

  "Don't miss it!" cried Humphrey. "I'll bet I've killed any idea thosefellows might have had that you would put up a fight."

  "What did you say?" queried Forrester.

  "Why, I described how I called on you last night, and stated that Ifound you in a blue funk. Without actually saying so, I intimated thatthe cold sweat was standing out in beads on your forehead and thrills offear running up and down your spine."

  "I'm afraid," laughed Forrester, "that you have given my friends an ideathat I hid in a dugout all through the war."

  "Not on your life!" protested Humphrey. "You just read that article.You'll find that I'm an artist when it comes to descriptive writing."

  "All right," agreed Forrester, "I'll read it tonight. I'm starting outnow to have a look at that oak tree."

  "Good luck!" said Humphrey. "Let me know if you spot anything. I've gotto break away now. The Chief's shouting. Good-bye!"

  The most direct route to follow in starting out for the North Shorewould have been to go straight up the Lake Shore Drive and SheridanRoad. Forrester, however, had become cautious since his experience ofthe night before. He turned his car west and followed less usedthoroughfares as far as Devon Avenue, glancing back from time to time.The few cars which he saw at these times all turned off at variousstreets before he reached Devon Avenue. Forrester, confident that he wasnot followed, swung east on Devon Avenue and soon turned into the northbound traffic on Sheridan Road.

  Twice before reaching Jasper lane he stopped his car at the side of theroad and pretended to adjust his engine. What he really did, however,was to carefully inspect the cars which passed him so that if he met anyof them again they would be easily recognized. But when he turned intoJasper lane it was quite evident that no one had followed or paid anyattention to him.

  The surrounding country appeared lonely and deserted at the point whereJasper lane branched off from Sheridan Road. In this locality there wereonly large estates and vacant tracts of land, all heavily wooded. Jasperlane, which sloped slightly upward as it left Sheridan Road, was anunfrequented byway sometimes used as a short cut to a few large estatesthat lay along a prominent road farther to the west.

  Forrester figured that two hundred feet would bring him to the crest ofthe rise before him and he kept his eyes on the left side of the road ashe drove slowly along. He did not need any special guide to locate theoak tree, however, for its gigantic form towered above all the othertrees in the neighborhood. He turned his car to the opposite side of theroad, stopped his engine, and inspected the tree. The trunk, which wasfully six feet in diameter, rose to a height of about fifteen feet, atwhich point it branched into two parts. Forrester's engineering mindtook in this detail at once and it occurred to him that the space thusformed would make a roomy and comfortable perch from which to keep awatch over anything that might take place at the tree. He surmised thatthe detectives who had previously watched the tree had merely concealedthemselves in the surrounding undergrowth where clever people, familiarwith the locality, might have been able to espy and avoid them inapproaching the tree. If at any time he decided to do a little watchingon his own account, Forrester concluded that this was the point ofvantage which he would occupy.

  Forrester now jumped down from his car and strode across the road totake a closer view of the tree and its surroundings. The tree stood backfrom the road a few feet, and an open grass-covered space surrounded itfor a distance of about ten feet. Beyond this clear space were thickundergrowth and young saplings, and a little farther back the woodsbegan. From the road to the tree was a well-defined pathway. AsForrester approached the tree he found that this pathway wound around itand led off toward the right through the thick woods.

  The opening referred to in the demand he had received was noticeable atonce--a hole about a foot high by six or eight inches across. It hadprobably been caused by some fungus growth or insects eating into thetree and gradually rotting away part of the wood. The opening was aboutfour feet from the ground and Forrester had to stoop slightly to put hisarm into it. The space inside was comparatively small. Forrester wasunder the impression that oak trees were seldom, if ever, affected inthis way, but as he felt around, digging his fingers into the rottingwood, there seemed no reason to believe that the opening was other thana natural one. While his arm was still inside the tree, Forrester wasstartled to hear a voice close behind him, for he had not heard anyoneapproach.

  "What yo'all doin' dere?"

  Forrester withd
rew his hand and turned swiftly to find himself facing acoal black negro. Though Forrester was himself a tall man he found thathe had to slightly raise his eyes to look into those of the man beforehim. They looked each other over for a moment and then the negrorepeated his question.

  "What yo'all doin'?"

  "I don't know that that's any of your business," said Forrester.

  "Dat's all right, Boss. Ah don't mean no offense. Dat tree done have abad name, an' us folks aroun' yere has begun to kinda keep our eyesopen."

  "Well," inquired Forrester, "what do you think I'm doing at the tree?"

  "Ah dunno, Boss. Dat's what Ah'm tryin' to fine out."

  There was a slight pause as the two men again looked each other over. ToForrester, the negro, in spite of his size, appeared to be really aharmless individual. Possibly he was a gardener in the vicinity. Thenegro on his part could see that Forrester was a gentleman, andtherefore hardly likely to be one of the supposed blackmailing gang whohad made this tree famous for miles around. His changed attitude wasclearly apparent in the manner in which he next addressed Forrester.

  "Yo' mus' scuse me, suh, fo' buttin' in on yo' disaway, but mah Misseydone tole me to watch eberybody dat hung aroun' dis yere tree. Ah onlybeen doin' mah duty, suh."

  Forrester accepted this apology in the spirit in which it was tendered,and assumed a more tolerant attitude toward the negro.

  "You live around here, do you?" he inquired.

  "Yas, suh. Jes' a little way up de road on de oder side."

  "Gardener, I suppose," suggested Forrester.

  "Yas, suh. Dat an' some mo.' Mah wife, Marthy, an' me done be caretakahsfo' ole Mistah Bradbury. His house is jes' up de road aways. Him an' hiswife done be liben in Califo'ny, suh."

  "Well, arn't you and your wife afraid to live alone out in the woods,with bad men all around?" asked Forrester, with mock gravity.

  "Yas, suh. We done be mighty afeared sometimes. But we ain't alone nomo'."

  "I thought you said your folks were in California?"

  "Yas, suh, Ah done say dat. But we done got a young lady liben dere now,Boss. She ain't been dere long, suh--only since las' Sato'day. She's amighty fine young lady, Boss, an' Ah's skeered dis yere tree am goin' todribe her away. She done seem jes' fas'nated wif dis tree--hangin'aroun' all de time, Boss."

  "Well!" murmured Forrester, thoughtfully. It was strange that a youngwoman should take such an interest in this tree, associated as it waswith mystery, menace and the blood of victims. "You'd better look outfor her," he added. "Some of these bad men may get her."

  "Say, Boss, what yo' mean bad men?"

  Forrester looked his surprise.

  "Why," he explained, "the bad men who make people put money in this treeand then come and get it out."

  "Dat ain't no men, Boss!"

  "No men!" repeated Forrester.

  "No, Boss. Jes' hants!"

  "What nonsense are you talking now?" queried Forrester.

  "Dat ain't no nonsense, suh. Dere ain't nobody aroun' yere, 'ceptin'maybe dat bad niggah woman dat libes back in dem woods, dat would goneah dis tree in de night time."

  This was growing interesting, decided Forrester. He could not rememberhaving heard Prentice, the detectives, or anyone, refer to these uncannysurroundings. Possibly they had heard of them, but had scoffed at theidea. Perhaps, then, that had been one of the reasons why so littleprogress had been made. Forrester meant to get at the bottom of all thistalk.

  "What is your name?" he inquired.

  "Joshua, suh."

  "That's a good Bible name," commented Forrester. "I fancy a man with aname like that ought to tell the truth."

  "Ah does, Boss; hones' Ah does," protested Joshua. "Ah belibes in deLawd an' goes to church reg'lar. But de Lawd, he can't always stop dedebil puttin' hants in t'ings."

  "You really think this tree is haunted, do you, Joshua?"

  "Hones', Boss. Dat's de whole truf an' nuffin but de truf."

  "Tell me what makes you think the tree is haunted," requested Forrester.

  "Done make me hab de shibers ebery time Ah talk 'bout dat, Boss. Yo'see, dere's a bad Jamaica niggah woman libes back in dem woods. She an'her husband done come yere 'bout two yahs ago. Dis yere tree all rightden, but she done murdah her husban' one night."

  "If she murdered her husband," said Forrester, "how is it she is livinghere now? Why wasn't she hung or put in jail?"

  "De trouble was, Boss, dere wasn't no ebidence!"

  "Then how do you know she murdered her husband?"

  "Jes' a minute, Boss, jes' a minute! Yo' done got me all frustrated. Yo'done axe so many questions--an' axe dem so fas.'"

  "All right, Joshua," laughed Forrester. "You tell the story your ownway."

  "As Ah was sayin', Boss, she done murdah her husban.' Nobody done seeher do it, an' de polisman dat wen' huntin' roun' nebber foun' nuthin'.She said her husban' jes' run away. But we-all knows she done kill him,'cause eber since he been missin' he done hant dat tree."

  There was a slight pause as Joshua collected his wits. After theprevious warning Forrester remained silent until the colored man wasready to go on with his story.

  "One Sunday night, mah wife an' me come by yere on our way from church.An awful still night, Boss, an' ter'ble dark. When we got jes' yere, weheered a noise--click, click, click--jes' like dat. Den we heered cusswords--blasphemin' de Lawd something ter'ble. Den we heered mo' click,click. An' after dat--_sighs_. We don't wait to heah no mo', Boss. Wejes' runned home an' got our heads under de cobers--quick! Marthy'sawful fat, Boss, but mah goodness, how dat woman can run!

  "Nex' mo'nin' Ah says to Marthy: What yo'all t'ink dat was we heeredlas' night?

  "'Joshua,' she says, 'don't you know what dat was? Dat was dat Jamaicaniggah woman's husban' diggin' his own grave! Dey such bad peopull deLawd done sen' him away an' he had to come back yere an' dig a hole forhisself.'

  "Eber since den, Boss, folks has heered funny t'ings aroun' dat tree.Sighin's, an' chain rattlin's, an groans. An' some folks say dey doneseen funny lights floatin' roun'. Tain't no men gettin' dat money,Boss--no _suh_. It's de hant of dat Jamaica niggah woman's man gettin'money to gib to de debil! Boss, dere's lots of polismen done come fromde city an' watch dat tree. Dey neber seen or heered nuthin'--but in demo'nin' de money was gone! Dat means hants sure, Boss."

  Forrester stood for a moment, gazing thoughtfully across the roadway. Hewas sure that he had unearthed something worth while by allowing thiscolored man to talk. Whether the man actually believed what he had toldForrester, or was just repeating a prearranged story, which someone hadinstructed him to tell, Forrester could not now determine. One thing wascertain, however. Several singular and suspicious people _did_ live nearthis tree. He made up his mind to investigate the colored woman who wasreported to be living back in the woods, and also, at the firstopportunity, to secure information regarding the young woman who wastaking such an interest in the tree.

  "Joshua," said Forrester, suddenly, "have you told this story to theyoung lady who is now living at your house?"

  "Yas, Boss, Ah shuah did. De fus' time Ah foun' her at dis yere tree Ahdone tole her all 'bout it, an' wahned her to keep away. She jes'laughed at me, Boss, an' said dere wasn't no such t'ings as hants. Why,Boss, dat young lady done been comin' down to dis yere tree ebery nightsince Sunday! She come _all alone_--by _herself_--in de _dark_! Ah know,Boss, 'cause Ah done follow her. Ah got to keep mah eyes on dat youngMissey. Ah got to take keer of her, Boss."

  Forrester glanced at his watch. It was after one o'clock and he decidedto return to the city and think the situation over carefully before heundertook any further steps. Taking a coin from his pocket, he handed itto Joshua.

  "You're a good story teller, Joshua," declared Forrester. "Here's alittle present for you. I'm coming up to see you again sometime. PerhapsI'll drop over to your house to see you."

  "T'anks, Boss, t'anks," exclaimed Joshua, pocketing the coin, andForrester left him bowing and scraping as he went to
his car and startedback to the city.