Boy Scouts in the Northwest; Or, Fighting Forest Fires

by G. Harvey Ralphson

  CHAPTER VII.--A KEY WITH A BROKEN STEM.

  The lights were burning low in a bachelor flat on a noisy street cornerin the city of San Francisco, and a man of perhaps thirty lay on a couchwith his eyes closed. There were in this sitting room, which faced oneof the noisy streets, a grand piano, a costly music cabinet, a walnutbookcase filled with expensively bound volumes, numerous lazy chairs ofleather, and the rug on the polished floor was rich and soft. Theoccupant of the flat evidently enjoyed luxurious things and had themoney to pay for them.

  When a clock in a distant steeple struck midnight there came a knock atthe locked door in the main corridor which connected with the privatehallway on which the flat opened. A Japanese servant, small, obsequious,keen-eyed, opened the door, after the hesitation of a moment, and peekedout. He would have closed it again instantly, seeing a stranger there,only Ned Nestor, who had anticipated some action of the kind, thrust ashoe into the opening, and, reaching in, unfastened the chain.

  "I wish to see Mr. Albert Lemon," he said.

  The Jap tried to force the door back and lock it, but was unsuccessful.

  "No savvy!" he cried, as Ned brushed past him and stood in the privatehall.

  Ned paid no further attention to him, but entered the sitting room andat once advanced to the couch where the man lay. The figure on the couchdid not move, but the Jap forced himself in the boy's way with his cryof "no savvy!"

  "Opium?" Ned asked, pointing down to the man.

  "No savvy!"

  "Hit the pipe?" he asked, putting the question in a new way.

  "No savvy! No savvy!"

  "Dope, then?" Ned went on. "Tell me if this man has been doping himselfinto unconsciousness. Dope, eh?"

  Ned lifted his voice, half hoping that the man on the couch would showsome signs of life, but there was no movement of the eyelids.

  "No savvy!" grunted the Jap.

  Ned took the servant by his shoulders, pushed him gently out of theroom, and closed and locked the door, the key being in the lock on theinside.

  "No savvy! No savvy!"

  The words came through the thin panel of the door in quick successionfor a minute and then silence. Again Ned advanced to the side of thecouch and looked down upon the semi-unconscious man.

  It was clear to the boy that the fellow sensed what was taking place,but was too well satisfied with the drugged condition in which he lay todisturb his poise of mind by taking note of anything whatever. Thefigure of the fellow was dressed in expensive clothes of latest cut, butthey were soiled, and even torn in places.

  The disreputable condition of the garments reminded Ned of a suit inwhich he had once been hauled through a briar patch and pulled into apond at the hands, or horns, rather, of a village cow, assisted by arope. His clothes, it is true, had not been expensive ones at the timeof the occurrence, but the looks of the clothes the drugged man worereminded him of the damage his cheaper ones had sustained.

  The face of the man on the couch was deadly pale, with the drawn lookabout the skin which comes of much familiarity with the drug made of thepoppy. It was still an attractive face, even in its degradation, and theforehead was that of a capable man.

  Ned drew a chair to the side of the couch and sat down. Even if heshould at that time succeed in attracting the attention of the man, thefellow was in no condition to answer the important questions he wasthere to ask.

  Presently the Jap, or some one else, came and rapped lightly on thedoor, and Ned opened it a trifle and looked out.

  "No savvy!" cried the Jap, repeating the words like a parrot, standingin the hall with many signs of fright on his yellow face.

  "All right!" Ned said, shutting the door in his face, "you don't haveto."

  "I can't blame him for thinking this a cheeky invasion," Ned smiled, ashe returned to his chair at the side of the couch. "It isn't exactly thething to walk into a man's private room in this manner."

  Ned had decided to sit by the side of the half conscious man until hereturned to his full mentality. Questions now might produce only pipedreams, for the imagination is rather too active under suchcircumstances.

  Five days before Ned had left the boys in a cup on the western slope ofthe Rocky Mountains, not far from the summit, after explaining to themthat he was going to the city to investigate a clue connected with themurder of the man who had been found in the cavern. Leaving theaeroplane safely hidden at Missoula, he had traveled by rail to SanFrancisco.

  In his handbag on this trip were two seemingly unimportant articles--apiece of tape cut from the inner side of the collar of the dead man'scoat, and a small, odd-shaped key with the stem broken off so that itwas only about an inch in length. The key had been the only articlefound in the dead man's pockets. The strip of tape bore the name of aSan Francisco tailor.

  The directory had assisted him in finding the tailor, and the tailor hadinformed him that the coat had been made for one Albert Lemon, whoseaddress he gave. So here he was, in Lemon's apartment, seekinginformation concerning the dead man, while Lemon, supposedly Lemon, layin an opium daze on the couch.

  But Ned's time, waiting for the man to come back to consciousness, wasnot all wasted. Moving carefully about the room, he found that thebroken key fitted a writing desk which stood between two windows. Thelock which it fitted, however, was not in good condition, for the bolthad been pried back, damaging the polished edge of the casing which heldthe socket. The desk contained nothing of importance, and Ned left it ashe found it.

  Sitting there in the soft light of the room, he did not know whether theman on the couch was Albert Lemon or whether the man who had died in thecavern was Albert Lemon. He believed, however, that the outlaws he hadencountered in the mountains, had murdered the man, and felt that thesurest way to trace the crime to them was to find out why the man hadjoined them--why he was there in the tunnel back of the cupboard. Thiswould be likely to bring out a motive for the deed.

  He did not, of course, know whether the dead man had stood as an enemyto the outlaws, or whether he had stood as a friend. But that could makeno difference with the quest he was on. He believed that the outlawswere the men he had been instructed to hunt down, and knew that proofcould be obtained only by an intimate knowledge of their associations,their ways, their motives. The friends of the dead man he thought, wouldknow something about them, perhaps be able to place them in the circlein which they lived when not in the hills.

  In work of this kind it is the first task of an investigator to "place"the man he is pursuing. The burglar is as good as taken when he istraced back to those he associates with in his hours of leisure. In theabsence of a clue pointing to a person, the investigator busies himselfin finding a motive. Ned believed that he now had the personal clue. Themotive would place the proof in his hands.

  So his Secret Service work for the government was leading him into theinvestigation of a murder mystery. He smiled as he held up the key andwondered if the facts when discovered would bear out the suspicions inhis mind. Again he asked himself the question:

  "Is this Albert Lemon, or was the dead man Albert Lemon?"

  After a long time the man on the couch opened his eyes and looked aboutthe room. His glance rested for an instant on the figure in the chair athis side, but the fact of its being there did not appear to surprise himin the least.

  "Jap!" he called faintly.

  There was a sound at the door, but it was still locked, and the servantwas unable to obey the summons.

  "Bring me a pipe!" were the next words.

  The Jap clamored at the door, but did not gain admission. The racketseemed to disturb the man not at all.

  "I think," Ned said, "that you have had all the dope you need to-night.Besides, I want you to answer a few questions."

  "Perhaps I have," the man said, "but, supposing that to be the case,where do you come in? You are a new one on me, and I hope you won't flopout of a window or go up through the roof, as some of the others havedone. I want to have congenial company to-night. Who are you?
"

  "Ned Nestor," was the quiet reply.

  "So," said the man on the couch. "I've heard of you--read about you andthe Canal Zone in the newspapers. But you're only a kid. What aboutthat?"

  "I can't help being young," laughed Ned. "Anyway, that is a fault I'llsoon get over. We all have it at first."

  "And get over it too quickly," said the other, with a sigh. "Well, whatdo you want here?"

  "Are you Albert Lemon?" asked Ned abruptly.

  "Yes," was the reply, "I'm Albert Lemon. What about it?"

  The man was gaining mental strength every moment now, and seemed tosense the strange situation.

  "Stiles is your tailor?" the boy went on.

  "Look here," said the other, rising to a sitting position and passing ashaking hand across his brow, as if to brush away the fancies of thepoppy, "when you convince me that you have a laudable interest in mypersonal affairs I'll be glad to answer your questions."

  Ned took the strip of tape from his pocket and held it out to the man onthe couch.

  "Do you recognize that?" he asked.

  Lemon nodded coolly, but a look of wonder and alarm was growing in hisbloodshot eyes, and his jaw dropped a trifle.

  "I still lack the proof of laudable interest," he said, with a twistingof the face intended for a smile.

  "Answer the question," Ned replied, "and I'll inform you of my interestin this article--and in you."

  "Yes, I recognize it as the private mark of Stiles, my tailor," Lemonanswered, in a moment. "Where did you get it? If you insist on askingpersonal questions I must insist on the right to do the same thing."

  "I cut this private mark," Ned said, "from the collar of a coat found onthe back of a dead man in Montana, somewhere near the main divide of theRocky Mountains. Do you know how it came there?"

  "Yes and no," was the reply.

  "Kindly answer the affirmative proposition first," Ned said, with asmile.

  "Well," said the other, "about three months ago an old college friend ofmine, one Felix Emory, came to me from Boston. He was in bad with hispeople, and was out of money. I took him in here and tried to brace himup. I couldn't do it. His moral stamina was gone."

  Lemon paused a moment, and, with a deprecatory smile, pointed to anopium pipe which lay on the rug near the couch.

  "I understand," Ned said.

  "I fed him, and clothed him, and introduced him at the club, and gavehim every chance in the world to get a brace, but he fought me off. Allhe cared for was a pipe and a pill and a place to sleep it off."

  "And so you gave him up as a bad proposition?" asked Ned.

  "Not exactly. He wanted to go to the mountains on a hunting trip. Well,I thought it would benefit his health, so I rigged up an outfit for hisuse and let him go. You say the man was dead?"

  "Quite dead," Ned replied.

  "Too much poppy, I presume?" Lemon asked with an ashamed smile.

  "Too much steel," Ned answered, sharply.

  Lemon stared at the boy for an instant, his eyes more anxious than ever,and arose shakingly to his feet.

  "Do you mean that he was murdered?" he asked.

  Ned nodded.

  "Where?" was the next question.

  "I found the body in a cavern on the western slope of the Rockies," wasthe reply. "He had been dead only a few hours."

  Albert Lemon maintained a thoughtful silence for a time, during whichNed eyed his changing expression keenly.

  "And what do you wish me to do about it?" he then asked.

  "A crime has been committed," Ned replied, "and it seems to me that youought to do all in your power to assist in bringing the criminal topunishment."

  "Granted, sir. Tell me what to do."

  "First, tell me about the men your friend went away with."

  "That brings me to the negative proposition," the other answered. "Ihave told you how Felix came by my coat, but I can't tell you whetherthe man the coat was found on was Felix. You must see that for yourself.He might have given the garment away, or he might have sold it in thecity to get money for opium. In short, the coat might have been on thebody of a man I never saw."

  "Then you can't tell me who Emory went away with?" asked Ned.

  "Certainly not," was the reply. "I don't know whether he went away atall or not."

  This was disappointing, but Ned had one more lever with which the man'sindifference might be lifted, he thought. Before speaking again Lemonarose and turned the key in the lock of the door, against which theservant was still pounding. The Jap entered and stood by the door,looking intently at Ned.

  "When you gave him the suit of clothes he went away in," the boy wenton, shifting his position so that both men would be under his eyes,"what articles, if any, remained in the pockets?"

  "Not a thing," was the reply. "I looked out for that."

  "Then anything discovered in the pockets of the dead man," Ned said,taking the key from his pocket and toying carelessly with it, "must havebelonged to him?"

  Ned saw Lemon give a quick start at sight of the key. The Jap advanced astep as if to get a closer view of it. Then both men turned their eyesfor an instant to the broken lock of the writing desk. Ned had gainedhis point. The men recognized the key.

  "Where is the body you speak of?" Lemon asked, presently.

  "Buried near the cavern in the mountains," was the reply.

  "Perhaps you can give me a description of the body," Lemon said. "Imight be able to say, then, whether the man was Felix."

  "Look in the mirror," Ned replied, "and you will see there a fairly goodrepresentation of the dead man. About the same in height, in size, and,yes, in feature."

  "Then it must have been Felix," the other said. "His remarkableresemblance to myself has often been remarked. Poor fellow! I'm sorrythat his end should come in so ghastly a form."

  There was a short silence, during which Lemon's eyes flitted from thekey in Ned's fingers to the writing desk.

  "I said a moment ago," he observed then, "that I searched the pockets ofthe clothes before I gave them to him, or words to that effect. Iremember now that I ordered Jap to do it. Did you obey orders?" heasked, turning to the servant.

  Ned saw the Jap give a quick start, then regain control of himself.Lemon, too, looked crestfallen for a moment, then addressed the Jap inanother tongue.

  "I was talking in English," he said, "and forgot for the moment that hewould not understand me."

  There followed a short conversation between the two, and then Lemonannounced that the Jap had forgotten to look in the pockets of theclothes. Ned ignored the explanation and put the key in his pocket. Heknew now that the Jap could understand English, and also that the keybelonged to Albert Lemon, alive or dead.

  ILLUSTRATION No. 3]

  Lemon arose and, going to a table, secured a tobacco pouch and a book ofcigaret papers. As he rolled a cigaret Ned observed that the middlefinger of his left hand carried, just below the nail, a blue spot, as ifhe had been using a typewriter since cleaning his hands. Ned noticed itparticularly, as he himself used a double keyboard machine and usuallysmutted that finger on the ribbon when he rolled the platen.

  "Well," Lemon said, "I'll have to ask you to excuse me now. I've beenoff on a long country tramp. You see how mussed up I am. I think Icrawled through briar patches and wire fences and fell into cow ponds."

  Ned turned away without a word, with plenty of food for thought in hismind.