Chapter II
About two-thirds of the thirty-odd miles of Lake Memphremagoglies in Canada, Province of Quebec. The lower third lies inVermont, with Lentone near its extreme southern tip, Magog at itsnorthern extremity.
A few miles above the international border on its eastern shorenestled the rough, comfortable camp that District Attorney McCall,of New York, had turned over for the use of his friend, ProfessorBrierly, and the immediate members of his household. Thesecomprised John Matthews, Professor Brierly's adopted son andprincipal assistant; Matthews' sister, Norah, who had recentlylost her husband; her four-year-old son, Thomas, and ProfessorBrierly's housekeeper, Martha, who had been quite certain thatwithout her capable presence, the old savant would be grosslyneglected, suffer and die.
Jimmy Hale had elected to drive. July Fourth of that year fallingon a Friday, he had decided to start his vacation, nominally, onthe following Monday, July 7, actually, on the morning of Julysecond. He argued logically that it might take several of hisvacation days to clean up the story. Hite not offering anyobjections to this, Jimmy started shortly after midnight,Wednesday morning.
The fates were unkind to him. He ran into a rain storm inConnecticut, which followed him through most of Massachusetts.Shortly after he left Brattleboro, Vermont, behind him, he askedtwo separate individuals for the shortest road to his destination.Each gave him instructions that varied considerably from theother. He decided to follow the direction of the one who lookedmost intelligent and became lost.
He crossed the Connecticut River several times. His geographybeing rather sketchy, he became confused by the fact that heappeared to be in New Hampshire part of the time. Then he got lostin Canada, which feat is fairly easy for the stranger.
It was nearly six o'clock in the morning of July third, when hefound the camp, about two miles off the road. He bumped overrutted paths through rough, plowed and unplowed fields severalmiles before he finally arrived. A friendly fox-terrier puppyfawned on him and friskily led him to a porch.
Jimmy was red-eyed, tired, haggard and in a vicious temper when hereached the camp. He knew it was his destination because, on awide porch facing the west, he came upon his friend and formerschoolmate, John Matthews, snugly rolled in his blankets, soundasleep. Jimmy took this sleep as a personal affront. As if jeeringat his own sleeplessness, Matthews emitted a faint snore.
Jimmy cat-footed it down to the lake, scooped up a bucketful ofwater and went back to Matthews.
The blond young giant awoke sputtering and strangling. Through thehaze he saw something that reminded him of his friend Jimmy Hale,red-eyed, dust-covered, grinning at him. He himself was lying in apool of water. Jimmy was flourishing a bucket and hissing.
"Get up you lazy dog, get up. What you mean sleeping on such--"
This ended in a frightened squawk. Matthews leaped. One long armgrasped Jimmy. Then both hands had him. Jimmy was carriedstruggling to the homemade wharf. Thence he was flung into thesparkling waters of the lake. When his head emerged Matthews flunga cake of soap at him.
"Here, you need this, you're dirty."
The puppy, thinking this was a good game, yelped and frolicked.
Out of a window above the sleeping porch there popped a bushywhite head, a remarkably high wide brow, deeply sunken blue eyesand, as if accentuating the rest of the remarkable features, bushyblack eyebrows.
An irascible voice, in clear, crisp accents came down.
"What is this, what is this, what is this abominable disturbance?"
"Oh, nothing, Professor," responded Matthews. "A tramp came aroundand--"
"A tramp, here?" Just then the dripping form of Jimmy emerged fromthe water. "What's that? Who is that? Dear me, it looks like Mr.Hale."
The bushy white head disappeared. In a short time, the old man,clad in pajamas of somber hue, appeared at the door.
Matthews was staring at Jimmy in well simulated disbelief andsurprise. "By gosh, you're right, Professor. It _does_ look likeHale. Now who would have thought--"
Professor Brierly glared at his young protege suspiciously. Hestared at Hale.
"But, Mr. Hale is all wet and so are you. Your bedding is--now whatkind of prank is that? I came up here for a rest. I--"
"Yes, Professor, Mr. Hale is all wet. He's that way frequently,you know."
"Mr. Hale is--why Mr. Hale you look tired, you're caked with mud.We did not know you were coming."
Hale briefly explained that he had been taking an involuntarylesson in the geography of the New England states and part ofCanada; that he had been driving for something more than twenty-fourhours. Professor Brierly hospitably insisted that he take a bath anda rest.
Considerably refreshed, Hale awoke in time for luncheon, when hewas introduced to the other members of the household, Norah,Matthews' sister and her little boy Thomas, a nut brown youngsterof four summers, between whom and Professor Brierly there hadgrown up a vast friendship. Thomas addressed the old scientistfamiliarly as "Pop" an appellation that Professor Brierly wouldhave resented fiercely if used by anyone else.
Politeness forbade him from inquiring for whom the vacant chair atthe table was standing when there was a crunching of the graveloutside appraising them of the coming of a visitor. The figure ofMcCall, District Attorney of New York, loomed through the doorway.They had been conscious for some minutes past of the increasingroar of a small outboard motor which had stopped outside theirown, door.
McCall grasped the hand of the newspaperman.
"Well, well, look who's here! A regular family reunion. All that'snecessary to make this complete is a murder or two and it would belike old times indeed. What brings the representative of the presshere?"
Jimmy briefly told McCall the reason for his visit. McCall noddedand turned to Professor Brierly.
"This is a coincidence, Professor, or, not so much of acoincidence at that. Judge Higginbotham's camp is about two milesdown the lake here. I know the judge; my father and the judge'sfamily have spent their summers here for a number of years. JudgeHigginbotham heard that you were here and he asked me to tell youthat he and the rest of his group would be honored to have youjoin them on their reunion. This takes place formally tomorrow,July Fourth. Then it is their custom to spend about a weektogether."
"Swell," glowed Hale, "then you can tell me something about it. Ilooked in our morgue and couldn't get much. While there are reamsand reams written about the individual members of the group, deadand living, there is almost nothing of them as a whole."
McCall's face clouded momentarily, then it cleared. Jimmy's quickeyes noted this momentary disturbance of the District Attorney'splacid exterior. His newspaperman's keen mind filed it away.Professor Brierly was leaning forward showing more than his usualinterest. He said:
"I shall be happy, of course, to avail myself of the opportunityto meet face to face such an interesting group of men, men whohave had such a large share in making the history of this country,in the Civil War and since. But surely, Mr. McCall, such men donot hold an annual reunion with their Tontine insurance agreementas the sole tie to hold them together. These men must be abovesuch things. What is there, aside from the insurance, that hasheld this group together for sixty-five years?"
"Oh, so you heard about this Tontine insurance, did you?" askedMcCall.
"I told Professor Brierly about it, Mac," stated Jimmy.
"Oh, I see. Well, you're right, Professor. This is not the thingthat holds them together." He ground his cigarette stub into atray and taking out his pipe, began meditatively filling it. Helit it carefully and took a thoughtful puff or two. He continued:
"If you've read your history you will remember that at one time,toward the end of that dreadful struggle, the Civil War, allmales, from about the age of sixteen upwards, were either draftedor enlisted on both sides. Boys of fourteen in active combatservice were fairly common. Father and sons often fought side byside. What is still more deplorable is the fact that oftenbrothers, and even fathers and sons, fought on opposite sides."
McCall puffed more slowly. He was apparently choosing his wordscarefully.
"What I want to make clear is that thousands of boys in theirteens, as young as thirteen and fourteen, were in active combatservice. The conditions at that time, of course, were such thatboys matured much earlier than they do now.
"Imagine if you will, Camp Douglas, near Chicago, northern prisonfor Confederate soldiers, where seven thousand prisoners of warwere quartered. Picture several hundred prisoners taken at FortDonelson, including men from Alabama, Mississippi, Texas, sent toDouglas soon after their capture; shivering in the snow in thecenter of the parade ground, wearing upon their backs all thecolors of the rainbow, ragged garments intended for a much warmerclimate, frames all unaccustomed to the rigors of a northernwinter. A week before, these men were fighting under the serpentflag of Douglas.
"Understand that if you will. Fiery Southerners, among them boys,to whom restraint was particularly galling. What more natural thanan attempted prison break." McCall paused uncertainly andcontinued: "The jail break failed but the abortive attempt boundthe ringleaders even closer together than the common cause theywere defending.
"About a year after that came the end of the war. With theassassination of Lincoln, there began a period in our history ofwhich none of us can be proud. The damnable Reconstruction Act,the 'carpet baggers,' with the years of consequent misery broughtto the South, whose sons fought with the same patriotic motivesand feelings as those of the North.
"It was then that this little group was born; they numberedoriginally two hundred and thirty-seven, Southerners most of them,and a few who had fought for the Union. They were sworn to givetheir lives, if necessary, to prevent corrupt politicians havingtheir way with the South.
"All of these were between seventeen and eighteen years of age.One of them explained to me since that they did not want older menbecause they were afraid that such would not take their Quixoticnotions seriously enough. Among them was Lorenzo Tonti, directdescendant of the Tonti, of insurance fame. The youngster had beenbrought to the United States by one of the followers of Garibaldi,the Italian liberator, who spent a few years in New York Cityabout 1852.
"This youngster explained to his comrades the Tontine insuranceplan. To boys of that age, fresh from war, this species ofgambling seemed very attractive. Thus was born, sixty-five yearsago, a group of more than two hundred men."
His audience had been listening to him with keen interest. Eachshowed it in his own way. To all of them the glamorous backgroundwas irresistibly appealing. But Jimmy Hale, the newspaper man,sensed something that did not appear on the surface. He askedchallengingly:
"Why were you disturbed, Mac, when I asked you to tell me aboutit. There is nothing in what you have said that should have causedyou any uneasiness."
McCall smiled whimsically.
"Ever the prying newspaperman, eh? There is something I'd rathernot tell you, but since you're going to find it out byyourself--trust Jimmy Hale for that--I'd better let you haveit first-hand."
"In the attempted jail break I told you of, they were betrayed byone or more of their own men, their own comrades in Douglasprison. The traitors were released and went over to the Unionside. This is a phase of their story that none of the men care totalk about.
"The men who failed in the thwarted jail break were later releasedin an exchange of prisoners and the fortunes of war brought them,as guards to Libby Prison. To that prison there came a group ofUnion prisoners, among whom there were one or more of the men whohad betrayed them.
"They had a peculiar system in Libby Prison at that time. When agroup of Union prisoners was brought there, all the members of thegroup was given one number; they lost their individuality, so faras the prison was concerned, completely."
"One number?" queried Matthews.
"Yes, one number. Just bear that in mind. All the members of thebatch of prisoners in question were given the same number. Thisgroup was given the number '14.' That is the way they were knownto the officers and prison guards.
"Our friends of the Tontine group were never quite certain who hadbetrayed them. They suspected several men, among them, some of theprisoners who were brought to Libby Prison and given the number'14.' Later they were certain of it. At the end of the war, eachone of them received the following communication:
"None of you will enjoy the fruits of your insurance any more thanyou did the unsuccessful jail break. 14."
"Since that time, during the entire sixty-five years, whenmisfortune, sickness, accident, loss or death happened to anymember of the Tontine group, the surviving members of the groupwould each receive a sheet of paper, on which was printed in largecharacters, the number '14,' just that, nothing more."
McCall stopped; his features were drawn and tense. He continued:
"Do you see the dreadful possibilities in this thing? During thepast two years, out of seven deaths, _five were reported assuicides_. After each death all the survivors received the terribleblank sheet of paper with the number '14.' These men are noteasily scared. They have all gone through a lot and are able toface things.
"But more. You may put it down to the fact that as a prosecutor, Iam naturally suspicious. To me, the Tontine insurance agreementpresents dreadful possibilities. Each of the survivors has apowerful motive in--" He shook his head somberly.
"What does the fund amount to now, Mr. McCall?" Asked ProfessorBrierly.
"Several million dollars. Add to that the fact that in the stockmarket crash of October of last year, those members of the groupwho had money, lost it. It is a nice philosophical and psychologicspeculation as to whether the man who had money and lost it or theman who never had it, will more readily commit murder for it. Itell you, folks, I don't like it. This is out of my jurisdictionas prosecutor. I am going there because I am friendly with severalof the survivors. But I don't like it."
"Just what or whom do you suspect, Mac?" breathlessly asked Jimmy.
"I don't know," snapped McCall. The normally calm, collectedprosecutor was evidently very much wrought up. "Here is avendetta, regular Italian or Corsican style that has followedthese men for sixty-five years. Of the five suicides during thepast two years--who knows that they are really suicides. I--I tellyou what," he wiped his brow. "I'll be glad to have ProfessorBrierly there."
Jimmy looked curiously at McCall. This was a mood so unlike thecompetent prosecuting officer.
Professor Brierly and Matthews shared Jimmy's wonder. Matthewssaid:
"You talk like a superstitious woman, Mac. What has happenedrecently that makes you--"
McCall interrupted:
"This diabolical '14' has chosen, during the past few years, thereunion of this group to make himself, or themselves, felt.Nothing has happened recently to make me feel this way. But dependon it, the group will have some communication from '14.' Thesemen, remember, are worldly men who are not easily scared, but thething is getting on their nerves. I can see it and feel it when Italk to them. When do you plan to go there, Jimmy?"
"Guess I'd better go the first thing tomorrow morning," statedJimmy, seeing that McCall wanted to change the subject. "Theearlier I go the sooner this thing will be cleaned up. From whatyou say, Mac, I'm beginning to think that I'll have more than afeature story."
"All right, I'll come for you tomorrow morning. You could managefor yourself probably, but it may make things easier if I go downthere with you."
"That's good of you, Mac. I know some of them but you know how itis--a newspaper man coming for a story."
"Very well, I'm running along. I'll call for you in the morning,Jimmy. And Professor, don't let the representative of the pressdisturb your rest with his vivid yarns."
"Don't worry, Mr. McCall," drawled Matthews; "if he doesn't behavehimself, you'll find him among the missing tomorrow."
Norah took the little boy out to play and the three men, ProfessorBrierly, Matthews and Jimmy were left at the table. A silence fellon the group after the departure of McCall, each absorbed in hiso
wn thoughts. It was apparent to Jimmy that McCall's story hadmade as profound an impression on the other men as it had on him.
Jimmy looked curiously at Professor Brierly, who was rolling abread pill under his fingers in a mood of deep abstraction. ToJimmy this gesture was of special significance, because it was onewhich Professor Brierly disliked. He never did it himself andJimmy had heard him reprove Matthews for doing it. The newspaperman caught Matthews' glance. Jack was going to make a facetiousremark, when the old man murmured as if thinking aloud:
"Seven deaths, _five_ of them suicides. Strange, strange!"
"You suspect, Professor--"
The old man came out of his fit of abstraction with a start. "Isuspect nothing. I never suspect without a sufficient basis offact. I am very much interested in the story McCall told us. It isvery, intriguing. An American vendetta! Possible, of course, forwe have our Kentucky mountain feuds. McCall's suggestion is anunpleasant one.
"What dread horror does this mysterious '14' impose that willimpel five such men out of twenty-one to commit suicide? Thealternative is still more dreadful, Hale. In our criminalinvestigations, we have come across many instances of carelessautopsies. We have come across many instances of loosely writtenreports by medical and other official examiners."
He shook his head and fell silent for a moment. Then he went on:"Think of it. On the one hand, a man, or men whose hate grew andgrew for sixty-five years, until it became an obsession oroutright mania. On the other hand, a fund of several milliondollars."
"You suggest, Professor, you suggest--can death be produced so thatit looks like suicide?"
"Of course it can."
"In five cases, Professor, within such a short time?"
"In five cases or five hundred cases, but here, this sort of thingis all right for a highly speculative imaginative newspaper man.Both you and McCall infected me with your--let us go outside andenjoy the sunshine."
For a time that afternoon, Jimmy forgot the conversation at thelunch table. He saw Professor Brierly and Matthews in newsurroundings. And the charm of it stole in on him and made himforget temporarily the errand on which he came.
* * * * *
Professor Brierly was watching the movements of a lizard withdetached interest when his little friend sat down beside him andbegan, glumly, pushing his toes in and put of the gentle ripplesthat lapped the shore.
Beautiful Lake Memphremagog, bisected by the international border,lay before them. On the opposite side a motor launch skirted theshore looking unreal against the dark, impenetrable woodedbackground. In the middle distance a canoe with two figures in itrose and fell lazily in the gentle swell.
Professor Brierly's deeply sunken, bright blue eyes looked withpaternal affection at the little figure at his side. The lipsunder the tip-tilted nose formed, faintly, a pout. It was unusualfor Tommy to sit so long beside "Pop" without asking a thousandquestions. One of the reasons Tommy liked Professor Brierly somuch was that the latter always answered his questions. And theanswers were amplified with tricks that were so fascinating.
The professor's associates would have been amused as was Matthews'and the boy's mother, at the old man's painful efforts to useshort words easy of comprehension. Professor Brierly never madethe mistake of treating the boy or his questions lightly. Healways gave them serious consideration; he always treated the boywith the grave courtesy due an equal.
After the silence had lasted a painfully long time, ProfessorBrierly asked:
"Anything wrong, Thomas?" The old scientist's concession to theamenities did not extend to calling the youngster "Tom" or"Tommy."
The little chap nodded.
"Yes, Pop, something very wrong, very, VERY wrong."
Professor Brierly's features showed appropriately grave concern."What is it?"
"Uncle Jack, he--he--won't let me peddle."
"He won't let you what?"
"He won't let me peddle, peddle the boat." He pointed a grubbyfinger toward the canoe that was tied to the small wharf.
"Oh, you mean, he won't let you paddle the canoe."
"Yes, Pop, he won't let me peddle."
"_Paddle_ is the word, Thomas; say paddle."
"Peddle."
"No, no, Thomas, _paddle_, PADDLE!"
"Peddle."
Any other person but Thomas would have received an outburst ofwrath from the old scientist Professor Brierly again demonstratedhis deep love for the boy by abandoning the subject of pronunciationand returned to the major issue.
"You say, Thomas, that he won't let you peddle--er--paddle?"
Thomas glumly shook his head.
"But, Thomas, I cannot understand. I saw him teach you to paddle.He made you a small paddle himself."
"Well, he won't let me."
"Did John tell you why?"
"He just won't let me. He says I can't peddle all alone by myselftill I c'n swim'n dive real good. I wanna peddle all alone bymyself like them." He pointed to two canoes in the distance, eachpropelled by a lone figure.
"Well, Thomas, can you swim as well as Uncle John?"
"Sure, I c'n swim real good, mebbe not so good as Uncle Jack but-Iwanna peddle all alone by myself."
The crunching of the gravel under heavy steps interrupted the twopals. Big, blond, athletic John Matthews was coming down theembankment that led from the rustic sprawling cabin.
"John," said Professor Brierly, gravely, "Thomas here, has acomplaint against you."
"Zat so?" A huge hand seized the slack of Thomas's shorts and theboy was heaved up to the muscular shoulder. The two faces were nowon the same level and twinkling gray blue eyes were looking intograve brown ones.
"Did you squeal on Uncle Jack, Tommy?"
The brown eyes were looking at him steadily, fearlessly. "I didn'tsqueal, Uncle Jack, I jes tole Pop"--A grubby hand began rumplingthe tousled head. "I tole Pop you won't let me peddle--'n when youlearn me to swim'n dive will you let me peddle all alone bymyself?"
When Norah rowed out to the forty-two foot launch, two hourslater, she witnessed a curious spectacle. As she climbed over therail she saw her brother standing at the opposite rail holding along pole, at the end of which there hung out into the water, outof her sight, a strong wash line.
Her brother seemed to be getting vast amusement out of what he wasdoing. Professor Brierly and Jimmy Hale were standing near by,interested spectators.
Norah stepped around the wheel house, asking:
"What are you doing, Jack?"
She was treated to Jack's good humored grin as he turned to faceher.
"I'm fishin', Norah, fishin'. See--"
He heaved up the thick pole. There was a squealing from the hiddenend of the rope. Then, to Norah's shocked eyes, there appeared thesquirming, wriggling form of her young son trussed up in a harnessthat held him about his shoulders and thighs and left his arm andlegs free.
Norah rushed forward.
"Tommy! Jack!"
Tommy yelled excitedly.
"Oo, mummie, Uncle Jack's learnin' me to swim. Watch. Lemme down,Uncle Jack 'n show Mummie."
"John Matthews," Norah called in her sternest tones, "let Tommydown, this minute. Suppose the rope broke, suppose--"
"Just watch, Norah. He's gettin' to be a reg'lar Weismuller. ReadyTommy."
With a look compounded of maternal love and pride, Norah watchedthe little form struggle through the water at the end of its oddfishing line.
This was followed by a diving lesson. There was much splashing,squealing and fun. Every time the little form disappeared beneaththe water a big form followed it. When the little head appearedabove the surface sputtering, the other was near by to beconfidently clasped.
Death Points a Finger Page 2