CHAPTER X
The Web
Just the manner of the man startled Anthony and caused him to hitch backin his chair and stare for an instant. Johnson Boller was not soaffected.
"Say, what's the matter with you, Hitchin?" he asked. "Are you a plainnut?"
Hitchin snapped his fingers at him angrily and continued his stare atAnthony Fry.
"Well?" he said tensely.
"Well, upon my soul, Hitchin!" Anthony stammered. "I believe Boller'sright!"
"Oh, no, you don't," Hobart Hitchin said quietly. "You know a great dealbetter and Boller knows a great deal better, but he has a good deal moreself-control than you have. Fry, where is David Prentiss?"
"Gone home, of course!" Anthony snapped.
"When did he go?"
"What? Last night!"
"And can you give me an idea of the hour?"
"Oh--half-past twelve, perhaps."
"At half-past twelve last night, David Prentiss left this apartment. Hewent down in the elevator?"
"I suppose so."
"And--just be patient, Fry." Hitchin smiled disarmingly. "Did the youngman wear from this apartment the clothes he wore into this apartment?"
It was perfectly apparent to Anthony that the wretched fool had takenwhat he fancied to be a scent of some sort; it was equally clear that,in his present state of mind, Anthony would answer perhaps three morequestions and then, losing himself completely, would smash theflower-vase over Hobart Hitchin's shining bald head solely as salve forhis nerves!
Doubtless the long coat and the down-pulled cap had started himoff--they were sufficiently mysterious-looking to impress a lesssensitive imagination than Hitchin's. Whatever troubled the crimespecialist, David Prentiss would have to be lied out of here in detail,lied home and lied to bed.
"Hitchin," said Anthony, "Heaven alone knows what concern of yours itcan be, but the Prentiss boy--the son of an old friend of mine who hasseen better days--came back here with me last night for some things,cast-offs, I had promised his unfortunate father. We met him on thestreet on the way home."
"Just around the corner," supplied Johnson Boller, who was growingsteadily more anxious to speak his mind to Anthony about the Mrs. Bollermatter.
"And having come upstairs with us and having selected the things hethought his father would like best," Anthony went on, "they were wrappedin a bundle or ordinary brown paper, tied up with ordinary,non-mysterious, crime-proof string and carried out by David, who, I haveno doubt at all, reached home within half an hour, gave the clothes tohis father, said his prayers and went to bed without further ado. Ifthere is anything else you'd like to know, ask!"
Hobart Hitchin had not blinked. Now he smiled strangely and shrugged hisshoulders.
"At least," said he, "you have perfected the story, haven't you?"
"I----"
"And now," Mr. Hitchin broke in incisively, "let us consider the facts!We will take them, one by one, and I beg that you will listen. Item one:I sat in the lobby downstairs until seventeen minutes of one o'clockthis morning, Fry. No David Prentiss passed me, going out. Nobody leftthis hotel with a bundle or a bag!"
"You didn't see him," Anthony said.
"Because he was not there! Listen, please, and do not interrupt, Fry. Ilike you, or I should not be here. I wish to help you, if such a thingis possible, or I should have gone at once to the police," said theremarkable Mr. Hitchin. "You, like many a man before you, forgetperfectly plain details. In this case, you have forgotten that myapartment is directly beneath yours--that the elevators here havelatticed gates, so that one can see from any floor whoever may bepassing in one of the cars--that sound travels perfectly in thisbuilding when the street is quiet, as at night. So to get to item two.About two o'clock this morning there was the sound of a heavy fall inthis very room!"
Johnson Boller was grasping the trend more rapidly than was Anthony, andhe was growing less comfortable.
"I fell!" he said.
"Did you really?" asked the demon detective. "Yet--you're in that room,I take it? Yet you got out of bed immediately after and walked in here;I heard your step. Don't flush, Boller! It takes practice to carry out athing of this kind and whatever the motive may have been, you gentlemenare not old hands. And so to item three: it must have been about fourwhen a policeman came to this door. _Why?_"
"There was supposed to be a burglar here. It was a false alarm," Anthonysaid, less collectedly.
Hitchin lighted the pipe he had filled and smiled.
"That is the tale they tell in the office," he said. "I confess thatthat detail puzzles me and as yet I haven't had time to get insideinformation from my good friend our police captain. However, we can wellcall this detail immaterial and pass to item four."
He gazed into the blue cloud of smoke and smiled again.
"The woman in the case!" he said in a deep, bass voice.
"There was no woman!" Anthony exploded. "And----"
"The Frenchwoman, Fry!" Hitchin corrected.
"Well, she----"
"Don't explain her," said Hobart Hitchin. "Let us see just what happenedwhen she was about. She came after daylight. She passed through theoffice downstairs so suddenly that nobody was able to stop her, and sheknew where to come. She was in the elevator naming her floor to theman--who supposed her to have been passed by the office--perhaps twoseconds after she entered the house itself. She came directly to thisapartment, Fry, and almost immediately she burst into hystericalweeping!"
His eyes were boring again and Hobart Hitchin also pointed the stem ofhis pipe accusingly at Anthony.
"Fry," he said, "what did that girl _see_, evidently at the end of thecorridor, which produced that outburst of grief?"
"Nothing," Anthony said thickly.
"There was nothing to cause her acute grief?"
"No, and----"
"Wait! She wept all the way down in the elevator; I saw her myself! Shewept so violently when she reached the street that an officer approachedher--and she fled from him and disappeared."
It was high time to say something and to say it well. Dignity had alwaysserved Anthony, and while it was an effort he eyed Hobart Hitchincoldly.
"Hitchin," said he, "it would be quite possible, believe me, to sootheyour feverish mind by telling you the perfectly simple errand on whichthat girl came, but I'm damned if I'll do it! Some things are tooridiculous, and you're one of them. If there are any further questionsyou wish to ask about my personal affairs, will you please leave themunasked? And if there are other things over which you wish to rave,don't let me detain you here."
He fastened his best majestic gaze on Hobart Hitchin, yet Hitchin onlylaughed his low, sinister laugh.
"You're a curious customer, Fry," he said, leaning back comfortably. "Ihad hoped before this that your nerve would have broken and--however,listen to this little theory of mine. The boy knew something, I can'tsay what, about _you_, something which had to be suppressed at any cost.You brought him here, I can't say on what pretext, but the boy fanciedthat all was well. Perhaps you promised him money; I'm inclined tobelieve that, for the girl came, evidently by appointment, ready totravel. Doesn't take much deduction to guess that they were going to bemarried with the money you gave him, does it? She came and she saw whathappened, and then----"
"Well, what had happened?" Anthony almost shouted.
"That's what I'm waiting for you to tell me, so that I can give you ahelping hand," said the crime student. "And while I'm waiting, and whileyou're still plainly convinced that I know nothing at all, let me askyou one question again: did the Prentiss boy leave here with the clotheshe wore when he entered?"
"Yes!" Anthony said wearily.
With a sudden startling slap, the fat brief-case was placed upon thetable and its straps undone. And there was another slap and HobartHitchin cried:
"Then explain these, Fry! Explain _these_!"
There can be no denying that Anthony's mouth opened and that his eyesgrew rounder. Before him, spread upon the ta
ble, lay David's trousers!
"Well, those--those----" he stammered. "Where did you get them?"
"From the dumbwaiter, where you placed them so very quietly, so verycautiously, so very early this morning!" said Hobart Hitchin, with hisdevilish laugh. "You even went so far as to run the thing down, so thatit would be emptied at once, didn't you? But you _didn't_ happen to lookdown! You didn't see me take the whole suit from the dumbwaiter as itpassed my door."
He leaned back triumphantly and puffed his pipe and for a little therewas a thick tangible silence in Anthony's living-room.
More than once, like most of us, Johnson Boller had wondered just whathe would do if accused of a murder of which he was entirely innocent. Ina fond and confident way he had pictured himself sneering at the captainof police, impressing him despite himself as Johnson Boller not onlyestablished his alibi in a few crisp sentences, but also directed thestupid detective force toward the true criminal.
At present, however, he discovered that he was downright scared. Unlessone of them rose up and told about Mary and then called her in to verifythe truth, it seemed that Hobart Hitchin, idiot though he might be, hadestablished something of a case. And instead of sneering, Johnson Bollergrew redder and redder, until Hitchin said:
"Ah, you know all about it, eh? I had wondered!"
"Well, cut out your wondering!" Johnson Boller said roughly."Because----"
"I wouldn't talk now, if I were you," said Hitchin, kindly enough. "I'mdevoting myself to Fry. Well, Fry?"
As yet Anthony had not found the proper line of speech.
"The boy, a stranger, comes here at midnight," Hitchin purredrelentlessly. "There is a heavy fall at two. There is weeping beforeseven, the weeping of a strange woman. There are the boy's clothes--therest of them are downstairs. So, once more--_where is David Prentiss_?"
He waited, and Anthony Fry drew a long breath. All his life he had beenpainfully addicted to the truth; it was part of his cherished andspotless reputation. All his life he had shunned fiction, and wastherefore ignorant of plot technique. So he did fairly well in smilingsourly and saying, calmly enough:
"So far as I know, David is about starting for his work, Hitchin. Thething had slipped my mind altogether, but I remember now that the boytook a suit--a blue suit--for himself and changed into it while here.That outfit was decidedly shabby. After that he left, and as to theFrench girl, you may theorize and be hanged, for she happens to be noneof your infernal business, and she has no connection with David."
"None, eh?"
"None whatever!"
Mr. Hitchin grinned without humor and examined the trousers in silence,thinking, and later humming to himself. He smoothed them out and thenfolded them carefully, finally replacing them in his brief case. Afterthat he looked at Anthony.
"If I were you, Fry, I should tell the truth, and let me help you. Youknow, and I know, that the boy never left this apartment. Well?"
"Well?" snapped Anthony.
"And you know and I know that what remains of him is still here,and----"
"Are you accusing me of murder?" Anthony demanded savagely.
"I have been doing that for some time."
"Hitchin, you're the most utter ass that ever breathed! You----"
"Doubtless, but at the same time murder is murder, and murder will out,Fry!" the extraordinary crime student said steadily, as he arose, "Nowhear me quietly. I shall do nothing--you understand, _nothing_--untilafternoon, unless circumstances render action imperative. You know wherewe stand; I know where we stand. I want to help you, to come to theunfortunate end quietly if nothing else. I shall be in my apartment allmorning. Think it over. Talk it over with Boller. Then, when you havedecided that you need help, come and see me." He took up his case andfaced Anthony squarely. "At least I can see that you obtain a privilegeor two in the local prison," he concluded. "Good-by."
"Good Lord!" breathed Anthony Fry.
"And in going," said Hobart Hitchin, "let me leave just one cautionbehind me, Fry. Have nothing shipped from this apartment until we havetalked again!"
Then Mr. Hitchin, courageously turning his back upon the pair, moved outof the flat, leaving Johnson Boller and his oldest friend in a state ofpartial paralysis. Anthony recovered in perhaps three seconds.
"That--that infernal idiot!" said Anthony. "Why, the lunatic asylumshave saner people in strait-jackets!"
"Maybe they have," Johnson Boller said hoarsely, "but all the same, manya good man has sat in the electric chair on the strength ofcircumstantial evidence not nearly so good as he made out!"
"Well, are you afraid of sitting there?" Anthony snapped.
Johnson Boller mopped his brow.
"Maybe not," he said. "But with the things he's pieced together he cango to the police and have 'em around here in ten minutes! Thatson-of-a-gun can have you and me locked up without bail, and--_that'd_be nice, huh?"
"He can do nothing of the sort!"
"He can unless you show him a David Prentiss!" Mr. Boller urged. "He canunless we have the girl out and tell him the truth and have hercorroborate it! Are you going to do that?"
Anthony Fry hugged his head for an instant; it was really aching now.
"No!" he said.
"It's better than being jugged, Anthony," suggested Johnson Boller. "Youknow, I've got some reputation as well as you, and--say, what did youmean by introducing her as my wife?"
"Was there anything else to do?"
"Why not as your sister?"
"Because Hitchin knows perfectly well that I haven't a sister, ofcourse. Don't fume and thresh around like that, Johnson; it bothers me."
"But if my wife ever hears of it----"
"She never will," said Anthony, without great concern, "unless you haveHitchin for dinner some night and ask him to tell about it."
"And Wilkins--he heard it, too!"
"Well, I shall instruct Wilkins not to mention it, later on," Anthonysighed. "Now quiet down, will you, and let us think how----"
"Have you decided how to get me out of here?" Mary asked brightly,entering without a sound.
Anthony stayed the bitter words that were in his very throat.
"We have been accused of murdering David Prentiss!" he said.
"Really?"
"Very really indeed!"
"Isn't that funny?" Mary laughed. "Isn't it perfectly ridiculous?"
"It's a scream!" said Johnson Boller. "About the time we both getpinched it may be up to you to----"
"Tell the truth?" Mary said quickly.
"Just that!"
"I'll never do it!" the girl cried passionately. "No! Not even to saveboth of you! I'm not here through any fault of my own, and--and--why, aman who could suggest such a thing----"
"He's not suggesting it; he's just excited," Anthony said miserably,"Now, suppose we try, just once more, to sit down sanely and devise theway of getting you safely home, Miss Mary?"
"And soon!" said the girl, somewhat feverishly. "If I could have gottenhome while it was dark Felice could have smuggled me in and--and liedabout it, if necessary. But it isn't night any longer; it's nine o'clockor past nine, and----"
She said no more. Lips parted, and eyes, all in an instant, thoroughlyhorrified, she stood and listened; and from the door of Anthony'sapartment a thumping sounded once more and a voice said:
"Hurry up! Open that door!"
"Robert again!" Mary gasped.
"Is that possible?" Anthony gasped, bouncing to his feet.
It was not only possible. It was the solid fact, for Wilkins, mutteringas he fumbled at the latch, was mentioning Mr. Vining's name and biddinghim be patient for an instant--and Mary, with a little scream, had madeanother of her projectile disappearances down the corridor--and into theroom came Robert Vining!
He was far from being the same collected young man. His whole personseemed to have been towsled by some overwhelming excitement. His eyesbelonged in the head of a madman, and his hands waved irresponsibly ashe rushed at Anthony Fry and clutch
ed his coat and panted:
"Fry! You'll have to help me!"
"Help you--how?"
"You know more people than I--you know people everywhere, Anthony!You'll have to help me by calling them up and having them call up theirfriends, you know. That--that may do some good. I--I don't know! I don'tknow what I'm talking about, Anthony! I feel as if I'd gone crazy!"
"You act very much that way," Anthony said quietly. "What's wrong?"
Robert Vining gaped at him and then laughed quite insanely.
"Wrong!" he shouted. "Wrong! _Mary's disappeared!_"
"Mary----"
"You don't know Mary--no, of course not!" young Mr. Vining rushed on."She--she's the girl I'm going to marry, Anthony! Yes, I'm engaged,although it hasn't been announced yet. I've been engaged for a week now,and we--great Heaven! I can't think. I--why, Anthony, I was talking toher even at dinner last night and there was never a hint that she evenmeant to go out of the house. In fact, when we parted, she seemed ratherbored at the idea of staying home and--why, not a soul knows even whenshe left the house! She's gone, Fry! She's just _gone_!"
A coarse nature ever, Johnson Boller winked at Anthony and turned hisback!
"Mary! Why, my little Mary out alone at night----" young Robert choked."She's just twenty, Anthony--a delicate, beautiful girl like thatdisappearing from the most beautiful, the happiest home in all New York!Why, from the day she was born, Dalton never spared her a penny to----"
"Eh? What Dalton?" Anthony asked suddenly.
"What? Theodore Dalton, of course. He's her father--Dalton, thepatent-medicine man, Anthony. You must have met him? You know TheodoreDalton?"
Curiously, fortunately enough, sheer nervous tension jerked him awayfrom Anthony Fry just then and set him to pacing the floor, a mandistracted, a man unseeing, a man who recked of nothing on earth beyondhis terrible and immediate grief.
And this was very well indeed, for Anthony was making himselfconspicuous!
Anthony took three backward steps and looked at the unconscious Robertmuch as if the young man had branded himself a leper. He looked atJohnson Boller, too, although his eyes were blank--and then, one hand onhis head, Anthony staggered straight out of the room and into thecorridor; and, having gone that far, he turned and staggered down to thewindow at the end of the window-seat, where he collapsed much as if thebones had been whisked from his long, slender legs!
Here Johnson Boller, following, found him five seconds later. Mr.Boller, who was beginning to feel downright peculiar himself with Viningthreshing about the living-room and babbling incoherent agony, shook hisold friend with no gentle hand as he demanded:
"Say, you! What is it now? What in blazes got you that time, Anthony?Are you going to have a fit?"
"Johnson!" Anthony said feebly, clutching coldly at Mr. Boller's plumphand. "Oh, Johnson!"
"_What?_"
"Her father! She's the daughter of Theodore Dalton, Johnson! She's thedaughter of the man they call the liniment king!"
"Yes?" said Johnson Boller.
The icy hand closed tighter about his own, rousing something almost akinto sympathy in Johnson Boller's bosom and causing him to lay a soothinghand on Anthony's shoulder--for so do men cling to a raft in mid-ocean.
"Johnson," Anthony Fry said piteously. "I've kidnaped the daughter ofthe only man in the world who can ruin me, and he'll do it!"
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