Death Points a Finger

by Will Levinrew

  Chapter III

  It was not the casual interest of the feature story that nowinspired Jimmy Hale, on his way the following morning with hisfriends to the camp of Isaac Higginbotham. Jimmy's vividimagination was keyed to its highest pitch. Decidedly this trip toCanada seemed very much worth while, even to a star reporter. WhatMcCall had intimated the day before whetted his appetite. Hethrilled at the thought that he was on the scene where a big storymight be in the very making. He exulted further at the thoughtthat Professor Herman Brierly was to be with him.

  It lacked a few minutes before nine o'clock on the morning of Julyfourth, when the launch operated by Matthews docked at the smallwharf of the Higginbotham camp. Nestled on a small bay of land onthe eastern shore of the lake, with the thick foliage forming adark, somber background, the rambling building comprising the campformed an ideal place and setting for this type of retreat.

  Behind and to one side there loomed a huge rocky outcropping thatsome volcanic disturbance in the past had cast up. At the edge ofthis rocky eminence there seemed literally to hang a huge boulder.It appeared from below that only a touch of the hand or a strongwind would send this boulder crashing destructively down on theporch.

  The wide porch facing the lake was occupied when the launch tiedup at the wharf. It became at once apparent to the visitors thatall, or most of the survivors of the strange group were on thewide verandah.

  The quiet conversational murmur among the men ceased as thevisitors mounted the shallow steps. One rose to greet them. Jimmycould not mistake the venerable head with its white hairsurmounting the still erect figure of the famous jurist. Jimmy hadseen photographic reproductions of Justice Isaac Higginbotham toooften to be in doubt.

  The host smiled at McCall. His air was gracious and winning as heheld his hand out to Professor Brierly. Before McCall had time toaffect the introductions, Justice Higginbotham said:

  "Introductions are hardly necessary. I am honored to haveProfessor Brierly beneath my roof, and this, I am sure," turningtoward Matthews, "is Professor Brierly's associate, Mr. Matthews?"

  Jack bowed, acknowledging the distinguished jurist's smile.Justice Higginbotham turned toward Jimmy inquiringly, while themurmur of introductions among the other men was going on.

  A rich, deep voice interrupted:

  "Mr. Hale, isn't it? Of the New York Eagle?"

  It was Thomas Marshall, former ambassador to the Court of St.James, who knew and remembered Jimmy. Another voice, with morethan a tinge of the brogue of the Emerald Isle, called out,joining the smaller group:

  "Jimmy Hale, or I'm a Swede." Jimmy was glad to see the rosysmiling features and portly figure of former Police Commissionerof New York, McGuire. "What can there be in the meeting of anumber of prosy old men, Jimmy, that brings a star reporter allthe way up here? Or--oh, I see--you're a friend of ProfessorBrierly, of course, and Brierly's camp is right up the lake here.McCall's shack, isn't it?"

  Jimmy nodded. "Yes, I'm spending part of my vacation at ProfessorBrierly's camp, but frankly, I'm here at the request of my cityeditor to cover the reunion of your group."

  Jimmy intercepted the swift interchange of glances between thethree men, with whom he now formed an isolated group, apart fromthe others.

  Justice Higginbotham said: "You say, Mr. Hale, that you are uphere to cover this reunion?"

  "Yes."

  "And that you are a member of the staff of your paper and not alocal correspondent?"

  "That's right."

  Once more Jimmy noticed the interchange of a significant glancebetween the men. Clearly they were not at ease. There was an airof tension, of expectancy. Jimmy's swift glance that took in theother members of the group noted the same tenseness among therest. As he had come upon the porch, he had mentally counted themen there. He had been told there were fourteen survivors. Therewere only eleven men on the porch. August Schurman, whom he knewby sight, was not there. Morris Miller, the eccentric retired artdealer, whom he also knew, was also absent.

  Jimmy shook himself, mentally. This was absurd. He was permittingthe things that McCall had told him to get on his nerves. Hebrought his mind back to the three men with whom he was standingat the edge of the porch. Justice Higginbotham was saying:

  "But come, Mr. Hale, this is not very gracious of me. Let meintroduce you to those whom you do not know. Since you areacquainted with Marshall and McGuire you may know some of theothers. And Mr. Hale, I recall you young men were being facetiousat the entrance of this country in the World War over the names ofmen recruited into the average company or regiment; you regardedthem as distinctly un-American names. That was rather amusing tous old veterans, amusing for reasons that perhaps most youngpersons would not understand. Just what is an American name?

  "Now I am going to run over the names of the men who are on theporch beside us three. Stand by, Mr. Hale!"

  With a faint twinkle, he rattled off the following:

  "Vasiliewski, Rochambeau, LaRoque, Goldberg, Tonti, Ross, Thomas,Fletcher. And"--There was a pause, a break. The twinkle in thefine eyes was gone. The features of the three turned grave. Heconcluded his sentence haltingly:

  "--Three are not here. They are--Schurman, Miller and Wrigley. Butcome along, I will introduce you."

  Jimmy was puzzled over the fact that, in varying form, the othermembers of the group expressed astonishment at a member of thestaff of a New York paper being there. The venerable insurgent,former speaker of the House, present United States Senator FrankRoss, after a swift glance at Justice Higginbotham, blurted out:

  "From the staff of the Eagle you say, Mr. Hale. How could you knowin time--"

  He cast a startled look in the direction of Justice Higginbotham.Senator Ross subsided, uneasily.

  Mr. Marshall ended the painful scene. He addressed the entiregroup:

  "Gentlemen, we all know, of course, that the modern newspaper manis not a peeping Tom, an impertinent individual, who pries intothe affairs of others. Mr. Hale honorably represents an honorableprofession. I have known him personally for a number of years andI'll vouch for him. He was sent here by his city editor to coverour reunion. That he comes here at such an unfortunate time is acoincidence. We may speak to him frankly. We are perhapsexaggerating and magnifying what is at worst only a normal thingin the lives of old men. We have all lived our lives and death is--"He paused and at several nods from members of the group he turnedto Jimmy.

  "You come at an unfortunate time, Mr. Hale. Fourteen men were tohave gathered here for our reunion. At all our reunions all ourmembers are either present or in some way accounted for. When, forsome reason any one of us is unable to come, there is an adequateexplanation." He paused, his words were now coming more slowly.Jimmy was now acutely conscious of an air of painful expectancy.

  "There are only eleven of us here this morning, Mr. Hale. Two ofthe eleven arrived this morning, early this morning. Until an hourago we had not heard from the three missing men. At eight o'clock,about an hour ago, we received a telephone message to the effectthat August Schurman, of New York, was found dead in his room. Hecommitted suicide."

  The pause that now ensued was painful. The scene before Jimmy wasunreal. Eleven old men, not one of them less than eighty-two yearsof age, men who had seen, lived and suffered much, were looking athim, each in his own way showing his reaction to the scene.Justice Higginbotham turned an apologetic, whimsical smile toProfessor Brierly:

  "You and I, Professor, and I am sure, the rest of us, can and dolook at death calmly. I am sorry to inflict this sort of thing onyou, but there are circumstances about this that make it ratherpainful. The fact that we have not heard from the other two men,Miller and Wrigley, takes on rather ghastly importance."

  Once more there was a painful pause. Jimmy's mind was phrasingwords to describe the scene. The eleven old men, waiting to hearfrom the other three. The dead stillness of the group, hardlybreathing; the mask-like features of Lorenzo Tonti, the suffusedfeatures and protuberant eyes of Fletcher, the high cheek bones ofStanisl
av Vasiliewski, the somber look of former PoliceCommissioner McGuire, upon whose normally smiling countenancegloom sat so ill.

  Jimmy's mind also found words and phrases to describe thesparkling waters of Lake Memphremagog, the wooded western shore inthe distance. The few boats floating on the surface of the waterlooked unreal. The faint soft beat of a distant motor equallyfalse. Jimmy hardly breathed; he had a vague unformed desire tohold this scene, to prolong it. There was a silence that wasalmost painful. Eleven men waiting, waiting for--what?

  The shrill ringing of the telephone in a distant part of the housecame with the effect of a sudden blow. Schooled as were most ofthese men to suppress their emotions, some of them started at thefirst burst of metallic sound. Jimmy caught the looks that some ofthem cast at one another. In those looks there was hesitance, andquickly suppressed fear.

  A grizzled, white-headed negro came to the door. He addressedJustice Higginbotham.

  "For you, suh. Lentone callin'."

  As Judge Higginbotham followed the darky through the door one ofthe men sprang to his feet; Jimmy later identified him as JulesGoldberg, a retired clothing manufacturer. Goldberg snapped:

  "What in the world are we afraid of? Are we children? We wentthrough Antietam, Bull Run, Gettysburg. Those of us who wererebels suffered in the hell of Douglas prison. I and other Unionsoldiers went through the terrible agonies of Libby Prison, wheremen died like rats on Bell Island. And now we act like frightenedwomen at the sound of a telephone bell that may tell us of thedeath of one of our comrades. Of course we will die! We will alldie; we have lived longer--"

  His tirade was cut short. Judge Higginbotham was coming throughthe door. The speaker wheeled about to face him. Some of theothers leaned forward tensely. Justice Higginbotham unconsciouslycame to a dramatic halt in the doorway. His features were etchedinto grave lines. It did not bear the kind, mild look that was itswont. He glanced over the faces of his comrades and theirvisitors. Jimmy was to carry this scene with him for a long time.

  The man in the doorway nodded simply. He took a few steps onto theporch. He said:

  "Morris Miller was found dead in his bed a short time ago. Thereport says suicide."

  As if impelled by one muscular impulse, every man on the porchstood up, the one exception being Professor Brierly. They formed astrange group, men of all sizes, all of about the same age, all ofthem either bald or silvery white. One of them, Hiram Fletcher,towered above the rest, even towered above John Matthews' six feetof lanky muscular height.

  Slowly, wordlessly they subsided to their seats. But JamesMcGuire, former Police Commissioner of New York, sprang to hisfeet. He growled:

  "Goldberg is right; we are acting like children. In the name ofGod let us face this thing the way men ought to face it and laydead the bugaboo, if it is a bugaboo, or face squarely the facts,if there's really something in it to fear. Let us once and for alldo away with this damnable thing. If it's a shadow let's exorciseit. If it's something else, let's find out what it is. None of usbelieve in ghosts. Well--"

  He turned swiftly to Professor Brierly.

  "Professor, it's a great break for us that you're here. Won't youhelp us, won't you--"

  Judge Higginbotham chimed in.

  "Yes, Professor, your presence here is fortunate, almostprovidential. You can help us. Your interest in such things andyour success in the solution of many apparently insoluble affairsis known to all of us. While we are between us able to cope withmost of the things that arise, you, an outsider, without havingyour emotions involved may see more clearly than we, aside fromyour undoubted talents in this direction."

  "Tell him the story, Isaac, tell him the story," broke in WilliamFlynn, who, up to this time, had not spoken. "Let us have thebenefit of Professor Brierly's opinion anyway."

  "I have taken the liberty," said McCall, "of indicating toProfessor Brierly the history of your group. He knows at least theoutlines of the story that gave birth to your organization. I'vealso told him about the abortive jail break and your communicationsfrom '14.'"

  "Just what do you gentlemen fear?" asked Professor Brierly. "WhatMr. McCall told me is after all fairly vague, certainly nothing tocause practical men to react as--as you seem to. You receive noticethat one of your friends has died; he committed suicide. An hourlater you receive word that another also committed suicide.Certainly death in men of your age is not uncommon. Suicide, oflate, according to the records, is also common, fairly common. Youseem to fear some personal malign influence at work. The fact thatup to yesterday there were fourteen out of an original two hundredand thirty-seven seems to disprove such a theory. I have notavailable actuarial figures, but it seems to me that fourteen outof two hundred and thirty-seven, about six per cent, is a fairlyhigh record of longevity. Are you certain that you have notpermitted yourselves to brood on this '14' until it has become anobsession?"

  Senator Ross spoke up.

  "Would all of us brood on this, Professor? Are we the kind of mento permit--"

  "Each of you individually might not, Senator," stated ProfessorBrierly. "All of you together, talking of it, thinking of it,might, much more easily than each of you singly. There is a masshysteria that is just as potent in a small group as in a largegathering." He spoke more gently. "I am sorry. This is not thequestion. You are all disturbed. Let us first learn if the thingthat disturbs you has substance or is a mere shadow. That is thething you all desire, is it not?"

  Several nods and a murmur of assent indicated their agreement withthis.

  "Very well, then, about this number '14.' Is that real or is itmythical?"

  Justice Higginbotham answered slowly.

  "At one time, Professor, it was real enough, but," turning toMarshall, "When did we last hear of--"

  Marshall answered promptly:

  "We have not heard of Amos Brown--alive, since 1902."

  "But," spoke up Stanislav Vasiliewski, quietly, "have we proof ofhis death?"

  "That's it," growled McGuire, "We have not. We have not heard ofhim alive, nor do we know that he is dead. We know in policecircles that men can disappear for a great many years. We havereceived those damnable notes with the number '14.' That's noproof that he's alive, but--"

  Professor Brierly, always impatient at speculation, interrupted.

  "Let us start this inquiry at the nearest point. Let us begin withthe known, if possible, and work forward or backward to theunknown. About which phase of this entire matter are you gentlemenprincipally disturbed?"

  The eleven old men exchanged glances. Senator Ross spoke.

  "Between our reunion last year, which broke up about July tenth,until fifteen minutes ago, nine of our group died, seven of themare _said_ to have committed suicide. We have not yet heard from'14' about the two deaths of which we heard this morning, butjudging from past experiences we will, sooner or later.

  "Call this number '14' mythical if you will, Professor, until wehave evidence to the contrary. Nevertheless, seven suicides out ofsuch a small group is disturbing--to say the least."

  "Unusual, at any rate," commented Professor Brierly. "Just what,if anything, do you suspect?"

  "Well, Professor," said Justice Higginbotham, "I, for one, shouldlike to have indubitable proof that these men really committedsuicide."

  Professor Brierly's deeply sunken, penetrating blue eyes sweptaround the circle of faces. He nodded:

  "Oh, I see. That should be easily determined, certainly withrespect to the last two."

  "But," objected Lorenzo Tonti, leaning forward, his swarthyfeatures etched in lines of earnest thought, "we have it oncompetent medical authority that these men committed suicide. Whatright have we to question that?"

  "We have it on medical authority," tartly interposed ProfessorBrierly, "but I am not certain it is competent medical authority.I have seen too many careless autopsies made and read too manyloosely written reports to have abiding faith in such things."

  McCall nodded emphatically.

  "Professor Brierly is right there, o
f course. I have seen, in myofficial capacity, the things he mentions."

  "So have I," chimed in Higginbotham, Fletcher and McGuire.

  "Very well, then," said Professor Brierly. "We will not indulge inguesses, conjectures or surmises. Such things are likely to inducean unhappy state of mind. Schurman, you say lives in New York. Weshall go to New York if we have to. Is there not something nearer,something--"

  "Morris," interrupted several members of the group, "lives inLentone." Judge Fletcher corrected, "right outside of Lentone."

  "Then," stated Professor Brierly, "that is the place to begin, assoon as we know what we are looking for. One of you gentlemen, Iam certain, can obtain the necessary permission to have me verifythe official verdict of suicide. When we have done that, we shallhave cleared away much doubt and uncertainty." His speech was nowcrisp, clear, incisive. "Is there any reason why we cannot do thisat once?"

  "No," said Justice Higginbotham slowly, "there is not. But we arewaiting to hear from the only one of our members unaccountedfor,--Wrigley." Jimmy noticed that while their mood had lightenedduring the past few minutes in the interchange with Professor Brierly,the mention of the name of the missing member brought back theatmosphere of gloom and doubt.

  "Tell me all you care to tell me, Judge, of the inception of yourgroup. Sometimes talking about a thing to an outsider helps. Yougentlemen have brooded on this too long. Let us see if we can helpclear it up."

  Justice Higginbotham told in elaborate detail what McCall hadsketched briefly. His deep voice, the remarkable voice that hadhanded down so many important decisions from the highest tribunalin the land, rolled on, with the gentle lapping of the waters ofthe lake against the small wharf, a faint obligate Jimmy was toremember this scene for a long time; it was etched on his memoryvery clearly.

  He sensed that the old jurist was talking against time. While heseemed absorbed in his tale as were the others, this absorptionwas only superficial. With their inner senses they all seemed tobe waiting, waiting for the dread news of their missing comrade.

  These old men, everyone of whom showed his uneasiness in his ownway, had each lived more than three-quarters of a century. Some ofthem showed their age very distinctly, mentally and physically.Jimmy could see their attention wander from the absorbing tale asJustice Higginbotham unfolded it, one of the most glamorous thatJimmy had ever heard.

  Suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, Justice Higginbothamstopped talking. From the room facing on the porch there had comethe faint whirring that was a prelude to the striking of theold-fashioned clock. Then came the deep tones of the hour.

  Jimmy remembered now that when the clock had struck an hour beforethere had come the telephone message appraising the group of thedeath of Morris Miller.

  The last stroke was still reverberating when the staccato janglingof the telephone bell drew a number of the old men to their feet.As if by a common impulse, as if they expected to get the answerto their spoken question through their eyes, every person on thedeep porch, turned in the direction of the telephone. They lookedas if they expected to see the dread message or messenger throughthe walls between them and the instrument.

  The white-headed, grizzled negro came to the door. He spoke toJustice Higginbotham:

  "Fo' you, suh. Je'sey City callin'."

  As Justice Higginbotham arose to answer the call, AntoineRochambeau spoke, his voice breaking to a faint croak:

  "Jersey City is the home of Wrigley." The speaker was looking atProfessor Brierly with burning eyes, a hectic flush flaming in hisdrawn cheeks. Professor Brierly looked at him sharply. He swiftlystepped to his side, laying his hand soothingly on his shoulder.The flush subsided, the man's tense body relaxed. He shook hishead mumbling.

  Fourteen pairs of eyes were looking toward the doorway as JusticeHigginbotham once more returned, and came to an unconsciousdramatic pause. He nodded, as if in confirmation of a statement.

  "Wrigley was drowned yesterday noon at Bradley Beach, a seasideresort on the New Jersey coast about one mile south of AsburyPark."

  While he was talking, Jimmy heard the squealing of brakes on theother side of the house. A motor car had come to a stop in frontof the camp.

  The eyes of the entire group turned in that direction. At JusticeHigginbotham's announcement several of the men had stood up. Theynow dropped back into their seats. There was a long pause. ToJimmy it seemed that they all held their breath. The negro came tothe door, in his hand a sheaf of telegrams. His eyes swept overthe entire group.

  He held them out to Justice Higginbotham who had stepped asidefrom the doorway to make way for him.

  "Telegrams for you all. They didn't phone, suh, 'cause you donetole 'em not to phone no telegrams. De man am waitin' foh anansuh."

  Justice Higginbotham selected one of the telegrams and ripped openthe flap. There was no change in his fine mobile features, but hiseyes were fixed on the message for a long time. He was brought tohimself by the negro.

  "Am they any reply, Jedge?"

  Justice Higginbotham, without raising his eyes from his messagesaid, gently:

  "No, Charley, no reply." Turing to the rest of the group he said,still gently: "My message is just the word 'fourteen,' that's all,just 'fourteen.' The other messages are probably--but you'd betterlook yourselves." He walked about the group and gave each of histen associates one of the envelopes. He then held out his messageto Professor Brierly. Jimmy saw the message. It bore the word,'fourteen'; it had no signature.

  Jimmy gripped the arms of his chair as he looked about the othermen on the porch. There was a rustling and tearing of paper asflaps were ripped open. Some of them did it quickly, some of themheld their envelopes for a short time before opening them.

  When the rustling ceased, Thomas Marshall stood up. He said grimlyto Professor Brierly:

  "Here is your case, Professor, all complete. You've got it nowwith all the trimmings."