The Brand of Silence

by Harrington Strong

  CHAPTER VI

  MURK--AND MURDER

  Instinct, intuition, or some similar faculty caused Prale to turn offthe Avenue eastward toward the river. He was not angry now. His mind wasin action. He had convinced himself that there was something behind allthis, and he was eager for the solution.

  Those mysterious warnings had begun on board ship, he remembered. Thepiece of paper Kate Gilbert had dropped, and which he had picked up, hadwriting similar to the messages he had received. He would have to engageJim Farland, he told himself, and learn a few things concerning MissKate Gilbert.

  Had the journey because of ill health been a subterfuge? Had KateGilbert gone to Honduras to watch him? If she had, what was the reasonfor it?

  "It's enough to make a man a maniac," Prale mused. "And that Shepleyman! He was all right when we parted on the ship. Somebody saidsomething to him about me after he landed. He treated me as if I hadbeen a skunk."

  Then he thought of George Lerton, his cousin. He couldn't quite make uphis mind about Lerton. The man seemed frenzied in his eagerness to getPrale to leave New York. And Prale knew that it was not because of anoverwhelming love George Lerton had for him, not anxiety lest illfortune should come to Sidney Prale.

  He would have to think it out, he told himself. At least, he knew thathe had foes working against him, and could be on guard continually. Downin Honduras he had won a reputation as a fighter, and a fight was afight in any clime, he knew; there might be a difference in the ruleshere and there, but the same qualities decided the winner.

  He continued walking down the street toward the river. In Honduras hehad become accustomed to walking up and down the beach and looking atthe water whenever he wanted to think and solve some problem, and itprobably was habit that sent him to the water front now.

  He tossed away the butt of his cigar and did not light another at themoment. For a time he stood looking out at the black water, at the craftplying back and forth, their lights flashing. He stepped upon a littledock and started walking its length. After a time he came near the endof it without having encountered a watchman, and sat down on a box in adark, secluded corner.

  There, his back braced against the building and the building shieldinghim from the cold wind that came up from the distant sea, Sidney Pralesat and tried to think it out.

  One thing made a comfortable thought--he had money with which to fight.Either he was the victim of some injustice, or a grave mistake was beingmade. He wished that he had forced George Lerton to tell him more, andhe decided that he would do so if they met again. He might even hunt himout and force him to speak. Sidney Prale thought nothing of handling aman like Lerton.

  He heard steps on the dock and remained silent in the darkness, thinkingthat possibly some watchman was making the rounds. If he was discovered,he would say that he had been looking at the river, give the watchmanhis card and a tip, and leave.

  The steps came nearer and Prale could make out the form of a manslipping along the dock's edge in a furtive manner. There was not lightenough for Prale to see his features. He was walking bent over, a short,heavy-set man who did not wear an overcoat.

  Prale watched as the man passed within six feet of him and went to theedge of the dock. There he stood, outlined against the sky, looking downat the water. Prale imagined that he heard something like a sob, andgave closer attention. Then he saw the man take off his coat and drop itbehind him, remove his cap and place it on the coat, and look down atthe water again.

  And then Sidney Prale sprang straight forward, and grasped the body ofthe other as it was in mid-air.

  "No, you don't!" Prale exclaimed.

  He found immediately that he had a fight on his hands. The other whirledand began kicking and striking. Sidney Prale hurled him backward,rushed, caught him up again in a better hold, threw him back against thebuilding, and held him there, breathless and panting.

  "Another smash out of you, and I'll drop you into the river myself!"Prale said. "Suppose you take time to get your breath now."

  "I--I thought you was a cop."

  "Afraid of the cops?"

  "It's against the law to--to try to commit suicide."

  "So I understand," said Prale. "Well, I am not a cop. Trying to drownyourself, were you? Why?"

  "Why not?" the other asked. "I'm done with livin'."

  "Not just yet, but you would have been if I hadn't been sitting here."

  "I've knocked all over the world--and made a few mistakes," said thederelict. "Oh, nothin' that would get me in trouble with the cops! But Ijust found out that I'm clutterin' up the earth and don't amount toanything. I'm sick of half starvin' to death, and workin' like a dogwhen I get the chance just to get enough to keep a few old clothes hungon me."

  "Disgusted generally with your lot?" Prale asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Friends or relatives?"

  "Not any."

  "What's your name?" Prale asked.

  "You mean my real name? I don't remember. It's been so long since I'veused it, and I've used so many others since that I don't know. What'sthe difference?"

  "I'll call you Murk," said Prale. "That expresses the dark river, thedeed you were about to do, and the evident state of your feelings."

  "It's as good as any, I suppose."

  "What's your particular grievance against the world in general?"

  "It ain't anything in particular," said Murk. "It's just general."

  "I see. A drifter, are you?"

  "I reckon I am."

  "Sore at existence, eh?"

  "Well, what's the use of livin'?" Murk demanded. "There ain't a man,woman or child in the world that gives a whoop what becomes of me. I'mjust in the way to be kicked around."

  "Maybe you haven't found your proper place in the scheme of things."

  "I've sure done some travelin' lookin' for it, boss, but maybe I ain'tfound it, as you say. I sure ain't found any place that looks like itneeded me bad."

  "Hard to make a living?"

  "Oh, I get along. But, what's the use?" Murk wanted to know. "I ain'tgot anybody--I get lonesome lots of times. If I had money, it might bedifferent."

  "I'm not so sure about that," said Prale, smiling a bit. "I've got amillion dollars, and, as far as I know right this minute, I have justone friend in New York."

  "If I had a million dollars I wouldn't care whether I had a friend ornot," Murk said.

  "You can be just as lonesome with a million dollars as you can without acent," Prale told him. "I was sitting down here because I was lonesome,and because there are some enemies working at me, and I don't know whothey are or why they want to trouble me."

  "Well, let's jump in the drink together," Murk said.

  "Why not fight it out?" asked Sidney Prale.

  "Mister, I've been fightin' for years, and it don't get me anything. Itjust tires me out--that's all. The next world can't be any worse thanthis."

  "Are you a fighter, or a quitter?"

  "Nobody ever called me a quitter."

  "But you were trying to be a few minutes ago. You were going to quitlike a yellow dog!" Prale told him. "You were going to throw up thesponge and give the devil a laugh."

  "That's between me and the devil--nobody else would care."

  "If you had a friend, an influential friend, and didn't have to keep upa continual fight to hold body and soul together, could you manage toface the world a little longer?"

  "I reckon I could."

  "How old are you?"

  "Thirty-five," said Murk.

  "Old enough to have some sense. I am three years older. I'm almost aslonesome as you are. Why not join forces, Murk?"

  "Sir?"

  "If I showed you a corner where you would fit in, would you be loyal?Would you stand by me, help me fight if it was necessary, and all that?"

  "You just try me--that's all."

  "Very well, Murk, I'm going to trust you. I told you the truth when Isaid I had a million dollars. I have but one friend I can depend upon,and I have ene
mies. I like to fight, Murk, but I like to have a good palat my back when I do."

  "That's me, too, sir; but I ain't ever had the pal."

  "You've got one now, Murk. You'd be dead now, but for me. So you must bemy man, understand?"

  "I don't quite getcha."

  "You're under my orders from now on, Murk. We'll have a nice row,standing back to back perhaps. I'll take you on as a sort of valet andbodyguard. You'll have good clothes and a home and plenty to eat and abit of money to spend. I'll expect you to be loyal. If I find that youare not--well, Murk, I got back yesterday from Central America. I got mymillion down there, by fighting for it, and there were times when I hadto handle men roughly. I can read men, Murk. Can you imagine what I'd doto a man who double crossed me?"

  "I getcha now! You needn't be afraid I'll double cross you. I don'tthink this is real."

  "It's real, Murk, if we strike a bargain. Do we?"

  "I've got everything to win and nothin' to lose--so we do!" Murk said.

  "Fair enough. Now we'll get off this dock. Pick up your cap and coat."

  Murk picked them up and put them on, and then he followed at Prale'sheels until they were on the street and beneath the nearest light. Therethey stopped and looked each other over.

  Murk was short, but he was built for strength. Prale could tell at aglance that the man, even poorly nourished as he was, had muscles thatcould be depended on. Prale liked the look around Murk's eyes, too. Murkwas a dog man, the sort that proves faithful to the end if treatedright.

  "Well, how do you like me?" Prale asked.

  "You look good to me, sir."

  "My name is Sidney Prale."

  "Yes, Mr. Prale."

  "You understand our little deal thoroughly?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Come along, then. Here is a cigar--light up!"

  Murk lighted the cigar, and Prale lighted another, and they went rapidlyup the street to Fifth Avenue. Prale signaled a passing taxicab, andthey got in. When the cab stopped, it was in a district where some cheapclothing stores remain open until almost midnight.

  Half an hour later they emerged again. Murk was dressed in a suit whichwas somber in tone, and which was not at all a bad fit. He was dressedin new clothing from the skin out. Prale took him to a barber shop, andwaited until the barber gave Murk a hair cut and a shave.

  "Gosh!" Murk said, when he looked at himself in the glass. "This can'tbe me!"

  "It is, however," Prale assured him. "Now, we'll go home, Murk, and getsettled."

  "Where is home?"

  Prale named the hotel.

  "I'd get thrown out on my bean if I ever stuck my nose in the kitchendoor," Murk said.

  "You're not going into the kitchen, Murk. You're going to be registeredas my valet and bodyguard, and you're going up in the elevator with me.Kindly remember, Murk, that you are the personal servant of Mr. SidneyPrale."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And your boss has a million dollars and nobody knows how many secretenemies. Those things give you a standing, Murk. When we are alone, ofcourse, you'll be a sort of pal. I never had a valet before and Icouldn't stand a regular one. Instead of being a valet, when we arealone, I want you to be a regular fellow."

  "I getcha, Mr. Prale."

  "Off we go, then."

  They arrived at the hotel, and Prale registered Murk as his valet andtook him up to the suite.

  "You bunk in there, Murk," Prale said, pointing to another room. "Take abath and go to bed and get some rest. If you are inclined to throw medown, you'll find some money and jewelry in the top drawer of thedresser. Rob me and sneak out during the night, if you want to. Cut mythroat, if it's necessary."

  "You needn't be afraid, sir--you can trust me!"

  "I do!" said Sidney Prale.

  Prale slept well that night. When he awoke in the morning, Murk wasdressed and sitting by the window. He drew Prale's bath without beingtold, and then stood around as if waiting to be of service.

  "I--I found this slipped under your door, sir," he said, after a time.

  "What is it, Murk?"

  "A piece of paper with writing on it, sir."

  "More news from the enemy, I suppose. What does it say?"

  "It says as how a man's sin always finds him out."

  "That's interesting, isn't it? Do you think I am a sinner of some sort,Murk?"

  "I don't care if you are, sir!"

  "Murk! You needn't get excited about it. Put the paper in the lowerdrawer of the dresser; I'm making a collection of them," Prale said. Hewent back into the other room and continued dressing. "Go to thetelephone and order breakfast served to us here, Murk," he directed.

  "What shall I order, sir?"

  "Order plenty of whatever you like, and tell them to make it double,"said Prale.

  Murk grinned and gave a proper order. Prale was dressed by the time thebreakfast was served. He and Murk made a hearty meal.

  And then Prale lighted his morning cigar and began reading thenewspapers. Murk went around the suite, straightening things and tryingto be of service. He looked at Sidney Prale often; it was plain to beseen that Prale was Murk's kind of man.

  There came a knock at the door.

  "See who it is, Murk," Sidney Prale said.

  He did not even look up from the paper he was reading. He supposed itwas some hotel employee. Murk stalked across to the door and threw itopen. Two men stood there. Murk flinched when he saw them. He did notknow either of them, but he knew them immediately for what they were.Murk was a man of experience.

  "Mr. Prale in?" one of them asked.

  "Yes, sir."

  Without asking permission, the two men stepped inside, and one of themclosed the door. Prale dropped the newspaper and turned around to facethem.

  "Are you Sidney Prale?" one of them asked.

  "I am."

  "You are under arrest, Mr. Prale."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Under arrest," I said. "You know your rights, perhaps, so you need nottalk unless you wish to do so."

  "You are officers?"

  They showed their shields.

  "Straight from headquarters," one of them replied. "We want to take alook around your room while we are here."

  "Suppose," said Sidney Prale, "that you tell me, first, why I am underarrest? Of what crime am I accused?"

  "You are charged with murder."

  "Murder? What crazy joke is this?" Prale cried. "And what particularperson am I accused of murdering?"

  "You are charged with the murder of Mr. Rufus Shepley," the detectivereplied.