Agatha Webb

by Anna Katharine Green

  XXVII

  THE ADVENTURE OF THE SCRAP OF PAPER AND THE THREE WORDS

  "What are you trying to do? Why do you fall over a man like that? Areyou drunk?"

  Sweetwater drew himself up, made a sheepish bow, and muttered pantingly:

  "Excuse me, sir. I'm in a hurry; I'm a messenger."

  The man who was not in a hurry seemed disposed to keep him for a moment.He had caught sight of Sweetwater's eye, which was his one remarkablefeature, and he had also been impressed by that word messenger, for herepeated it with some emphasis.

  "A messenger, eh? Are you going on a message now?"

  Sweetwater, who was anxious to get away from the vicinity of Mr. Stone,shrugged his shoulders in careless denial, and was pushing on when thegentleman again detained him.

  "Do you know," said he, "that I like your looks? You are not a beauty,but you look like a fellow who, if he promised to do a thing, would doit and do it mighty well too."

  Sweetwater could not restrain a certain movement of pride. He washonest, and he knew it, but the fact had not always been so openlyrecognised.

  "I have just earned five dollars by doing a commission for a man," saidhe, with a straightforward look. "See, sir. It was honestly earned."

  The man, who was young and had a rather dashing but inscrutablephysiognomy, glanced at the coin Sweetwater showed him and betrayed acertain disappointment.

  "So you're flush," said he. "Don't want another job?"

  "Oh, as to that," said Sweetwater, edging slowly down the street, "I'malways ready for business. Five dollars won't last forever, and,besides, I'm in need of new togs."

  "Well, rather," retorted the other, carelessly following him. "Do youmind going up to Boston?"

  Boston! Another jump toward home.

  "No," said Sweetwater, hesitatingly, "not if it's made worth my while.Do you want your message delivered to-day?"

  "At once. That is, this evening. It's a task involving patience and moreor less shrewd judgment. Have you these qualities, my friend? One wouldnot judge it from your clothes."

  "My clothes!" laughed Sweetwater. Life was growing very interesting allat once. "I know it takes patience to WEAR them, and as for any lack ofjudgment I may show in their choice, I should just like to say I did notchoose them myself, sir; they fell to me promiscuous-like as a sort oflegacy from friends. You'll see what I'll do in that way if you give methe chance to earn an extra ten."

  "Ah, it's ten dollars you want. Well, come in here and have a drink andthen we'll see."

  They were before a saloon house of less than humble pretensions, and ashe followed the young gentleman in it struck him that it was himselfrather than his well-dressed and airy companion who would be expected todrink here. But he made no remark, though he intended to surprise theman by his temperance.

  "Now, look here," said the young gentleman, suddenly seating himself ata dingy table in a very dark corner and motioning Sweetwater to do thesame; "I've been looking for a man all day to go up to Boston for me,and I think you'll do. You know Boston?"

  Sweetwater had great command over himself, but he flushed slightly atthis question, though it was so dark where he sat with this man that itmade very little difference.

  "I have been there," said he.

  "Very well, then, you will go again to-night. You will arrive thereabout seven, you will go the rounds of some half-dozen places whosenames I will give you, and when you come across a certain gentleman whomI will describe to you, you will give him--"

  "Not a package?" Sweetwater broke out with a certain sort of dread of arepetition of his late experience.

  "No, this slip on which two words are written. He will want one moreword, but before you give it to him you must ask for your ten dollars.You'll get them," he answered in response to a glance of suspicion fromSweetwater. Sweetwater was convinced that he had got hold of anothersuspicious job. It made him a little serious. "Do I look like ago-between for crooks?" he asked himself. "I'm afraid I'm not so much ofa success as I thought myself." But he said to the man before him: "Tendollars is small pay for such business. Twenty-five would be nearer themark."

  "Very well, he will give you twenty-five dollars. I forgot that tendollars was but little in advance of your expenses."

  "Twenty-five if I find him, and he is in funds. What if I don't?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "Except your ticket; that I'll give you."

  Sweetwater did not know what to say. Like the preceding job it might beinnocent and it might not. And then, he did not like going to Boston,where he was liable to meet more than one who knew him.

  "There is no harm in the business," observed the other, carelessly,pushing a glass of whiskey which had just been served him towardSweetwater. "I would even be willing to do it myself, if I could leaveNew Bedford to-night, but I can't. Come! It's as easy as crooking yourelbow."

  "Just now you said it wasn't," growled Sweetwater, drinking from hisglass. "But no matter about that, go ahead, I'll do it. Shall I have tobuy other clothes?"

  "I'd buy a new pair of trousers," suggested the other. "The rest you canget in Boston. You don't want to be too much in evidence, you know."

  Sweetwater agreed with. him. To attract attention was what he mostdreaded. "When does the train start?" he asked.

  The young man told him.

  "Well, that will give me time to buy what I want. Now, what are yourinstructions?"

  The young man gave him a memorandum, containing four addresses. "Youwill find him at one of these places," said he. "And now to know yourman when you see him. He is a large, handsome fellow, with red hair anda moustache like the devil. He has been hurt, and wears his left hand ina sling, but he can play cards, and will be found playing cards, and invery good company too. You will have to use your discretion inapproaching him. When once he sees this bit of paper, all will be easy.He knows what these two words mean well enough, and the third one, theone that is worth twenty-five dollars to you, is FREDERICK."

  Sweetwater, who had drunk half his glass, started so at this word, whichwas always humming in his brain, that he knocked over his tumbler andspilled what was left in it.

  "I hope I won't forget that word," he remarked, in a careless tone,intended to carry off his momentary show of feeling.

  "If you do, then don't expect the twenty-five dollars," retorted theother, finishing his own glass, but not offering to renew Sweetwater's.

  Sweetwater laughed, said he thought he could trust his memory, and rose.In a half-hour he was at the depot, and in another fifteen minutesspeeding out of New Bedford on his way to Boston.

  He had had but one anxiety--that Mr. Stone might be going up to Bostontoo. But, once relieved of this apprehension, he settled back, and forthe first time in twelve hours had a minute in which to ask himself whohe was, and what he was about. Adventure had followed so fast uponadventure that he was in a more or less dazed condition, and felt aslittle capable of connecting event with event as if he had been asked torecall the changing pictures of a kaleidoscope. That affair of thepacket, now, was it or was it not serious, and would he ever know whatit meant or how it turned out?

  Like a child who had been given a pebble, and told to throw it over thewall, he had thrown and run, giving a shout of warning, it is true, butnot knowing, nor ever likely to know, where the stone had fallen, orwhat it was meant to do. Then this new commission on which he wasbent--was it in any way connected with the other, or merely the oddresult of his being in the right place at the right moment? He wasinclined to think the latter. And yet how odd it was that one doubtfulerrand should be followed by another, in a town no larger than NewBedford, forcing him from scene to scene, till he found himself speedingtoward the city he least desired to enter, and from which he had themost to fear!

  But brooding over a case like this brings small comfort. He felt that hehad been juggled with, but he neither knew by whose hand nor in whatcause. If the hand was that of Providence, why he had only to go onfollow
ing the beck of the moment, while if it was that of Fate, the veryuselessness of struggling with it was apparent at once. Poor reasoning,perhaps, but no other offered, and satisfied that whatever came hisintentions were above question, he settled himself at last for a nap, ofwhich he certainly stood in good need. When he awoke he was in Boston.

  The first thing he did was to show his list of addresses and inquireinto what quarter they would lead him. To his surprise he found it to bethe fashionable quarter. Two of them were names of well-knownclub-houses, a third that of a first-class restaurant, and the fourththat of a private house on Commonwealth Avenue. Heigho! and he wasdressed like a tramp, or nearly so!

  "Queer messenger, I, for such kind of work," thought he. "I wonder whyhe lighted on such a rough-looking customer. He must have had hisreasons. I wonder if he wished the errand to fail. He bore himself verynonchalantly at the depot. When I last saw him his face and attitudewere those of a totally unconcerned man. Have I been sent on a fool'schase after all?"

  The absurdity of this conclusion struck him, however, as he reasoned:"Why, then, should he have paid my fare? Not as a benefit to me, ofcourse, but for his own ends, whatever they might be. Let us see, then,what those ends are. So now for the gentleman of the red hair who playscards with one arm in a sling."

  He thought that he might get entrance into the club-houses easilyenough. He possessed a certain amount of insinuation when necessityrequired, and, if hard-featured, had a good expression which inunprejudiced minds defied criticism. Of porters and doorkeepers he wasnot afraid, and these were the men he must first encounter.

  At the first club-house he succeeded easily enough in getting word withthe man waiting in the large hall, and before many minutes learned thatthe object of his search was not to be found there that evening. He alsolearned his name, which was a great step towards the success of hisembassy. It was Wattles, Captain Wattles, a marked man evidently, evenin this exclusive and aristocratic club.

  Armed with this new knowledge, he made his way to the second building ofthe kind and boldly demanded speech with Captain Wattles. But CaptainWattles had not yet arrived and he went out again this time to look himup at the restaurant.

  He was not there. As Sweetwater was going out two gentlemen came in, oneof whom said to the other in passing:

  "Sick, do you say? I thought Wattles was made of iron."

  "So he was," returned the other, "before that accident to his arm. Nowthe least thing upsets him. He's down at Haberstow's."

  That was all; the door was swung to between them. Sweetwater hadreceived his clew, but what a clew! Haberstow's? Where was that?

  Thinking the bold course the best one, he re-entered the restaurant andapproached the gentlemen he had just seen enter.

  "I heard you speak the name of Captain Wattles," said he. "I am huntingfor Captain Wattles. Can you tell me where he is?"

  He soon saw that he had struck the wrong men for information. They notonly refused to answer him, but treated him with open disdain. Unwillingto lose time, he left them, and having no other resource, hastened tothe last place mentioned on his list.

  It was now late, too late to enter a private house under ordinarycircumstances, but this house was lighted up, and a carriage stood infront of it; so he had the courage to run up the steps and consult thelarge door-plate visible from the sidewalk. It read thus:

  HABERSTOW.

  Fortune had favoured him better than he expected.

  He hesitated a moment, then decided to ring the bell. But before he haddone so, the door opened and an old gentleman appeared seeing a youngerman out. The latter had his arm in a sling, and bore himself with afierceness that made his appearance somewhat alarming; the other seemedto be in an irate state of mind.

  "No apologies!" the former was saying. "I don't mind the night air; I'mnot so ill as that. When I'm myself again we'll have a little more talk.My compliments to your daughter, sir. I wish you a very good evening, orrather night."

  The old gentleman bowed, and as he did so Sweetwater caught a glimpse(it was the shortest glimpse in the world) of a sweet face beaming froma doorway far down the hall. There was pain in it and a yearning anxietythat made it very beautiful; then it vanished, and the old gentleman,uttering some few sarcastic words, closed the door, and Sweetwater foundhimself alone and in darkness.

  The kaleidoscope had been given another turn.

  Dashing down the stoop, he came upon the gentleman who had preceded him,just as he was seating himself in the carriage.

  "Pardon me," he gasped, as the driver caught up the reins; "you haveforgotten something." Then, as Captain Wattles looked hastily out, "Youhave forgotten me."

  The oath that rang out from under that twitching red moustache wassomething to startle even him. But he clung to the carriage window andpresently managed to say:

  "A messenger, sir, from New Bedford. I have been on the hunt for you fortwo hours. It won't keep, sir, for more than a half-hour longer. Whereshall I find you during that time?"

  Captain Wattles, on whom the name New Bedford seemed to have made someimpression, pointed up at the coachman's box with a growl, in whichcommand mingled strangely with menace. Then he threw himself back.Evidently the captain was not in very good humour.

  Sweetwater, taking this as an order to seat himself beside the driver,did so, and the carriage drove off. It went at a rapid pace, and beforehe had time to propound more than a question or two to the coachman, itstopped before a large apartment-house in a brilliantly lighted street.

  Captain Wattles got out, and Sweetwater followed him. The former, whoseemed to have forgotten Sweetwater, walked past him and entered thebuilding with a stride and swing that made the plain, lean,insignificant-looking messenger behind him feel smaller than ever.Indeed, he had never felt so small, for not only was the captain a manof superb proportions and conspicuous bearing, but he possessed, inspite of his fiery hair and fierce moustache, that _beaute de diable_which is at once threatening and imposing. Added to this, he was angryand so absorbed in his own thoughts that he would be very apt to visitpunishment of no light character upon anyone who interfered with him. Apleasing prospect for Sweetwater, who, however, kept on with the doggeddetermination of his character up the first flight of stairs and then upanother till they stopped, Captain Wattles first and afterwards hishumble follower, before a small door into which the captain endeavouredto fit a key. The oaths which followed his failure to do this were notvery encouraging to the man behind, nor was the kick which he gave thedoor after the second more successful attempt calculated to act in avery reassuring way upon anyone whose future pay for a doubtful taskrested upon this man's good nature.

  The darkness which met them both on the threshold of this now open roomwas speedily relieved by a burst of electric light, that flooded thewhole apartment and brought out the captain's swaggering form andthreatening features with startling distinctness. He had thrown off hishat and was relieving himself of a cloak in a furious way that causedSweetwater to shrink back, and, as the French say, efface himself asmuch as possible behind a clothes-tree standing near the door. That thecaptain had entirely forgotten him was evident, and for the presentmoment that gentleman was too angry to care or even notice if a dozenmen stood at the door. As he was talking all this time, or ratherjerking out sharp sentences, as men do when in a towering rage,Sweetwater was glad to be left unnoticed, for much can be gathered fromscattered sentences, especially when a man is in too reckless a frame ofmind to weigh them. He, therefore, made but little movement andlistened; and these are some of the ejaculations and scraps of talk heheard:

  "The old purse-proud fool! Honoured by my friendship, but not ready toaccept me as his daughter's suitor! As if I would lounge away hours thatmean dollars to me in his stiff old drawing-room, just to hear hiseverlasting drone about stocks up and stocks down, and politics gone allwrong. He has heard that I play cards, and--How pretty she looked! Ibelieve I half like that girl, and when I think she has a million in herown right--Damn it, if
I cannot win her openly and with papa's consent,I will carry her off with only her own. She's worth the effort, doublyworth it, and when I have her and her money--Eh! Who are you?"

  He had seen Sweetwater at last, which was not strange, seeing that hehad turned his way, and was within two feet of him.

  "What are you doing here, and who let you in? Get out, or--"

  "A message, Captain Wattles! A message from New Bedford. You haveforgotten, sir; you bade me follow you."

  It was curious to see the menace slowly die out of the face of thisflushed and angry man as he met Sweetwater's calm eye and unabashedfront, and noticed, as he had not done at first, the slip of paper whichthe latter resolutely held out.

  "New Bedford; ah, from Campbell, I take it. Let me see!" And the handwhich had shook with rage now trembled with a very different sort ofemotion as he took the slip, cast his eyes over it, and then looked backat Sweetwater.

  Now, Sweetwater knew the two words written on that paper. He could seeout of the back of his head at times, and he had been able to make outthese words when the man in New Bedford was writing them.

  "Happenings; Afghanistan," with the figures 2000 after the latter.

  Not much sense in them singly or in conjunction, but the captain,muttering them over to himself, consulted a little book which he tookfrom his breast pocket and found, or seemed to, a clew to their meaning.It could only have been a partial one, however, for in another instanthe turned on Sweetwater with a sour look and a thundering oath.

  "Is this all?" he shouted. "Does he call this a complete message?"

  "There is another word," returned Sweetwater, "which he bade me give youby word of mouth; but that word don't go for nothing. It's worth justtwenty-five dollars. I've earned it, sir. I came up from New Bedford onpurpose to deliver it to you."

  Sweetwater expected a blow, but he only got a stare.

  "Twenty-five dollars," muttered the captain. "Well, it's fortunate thatI have them. And who are you?" he asked. "Not one of Campbell'spick-ups, surely?"

  "I am a confidential messenger," smiled Sweetwater, amused against hiswill at finding a name for himself. "I carry messages and executecommissions that require more or less discretion in the handling. I ampaid well. Twenty-five dollars is the price of this job."

  "So you have had the honour of informing me before," blustered the otherwith an attempt to hide some serious emotion. "Why, man, what do youfear? Don't you see I'm hurt? You could knock me over with a feather ifyou touched my game arm."

  "Twenty-five dollars," repeated Sweetwater.

  The captain grew angrier. "Dash it! aren't you going to have them?What's the word?"

  But Sweetwater wasn't going to be caught by chaff.

  "C. O. D.," he insisted firmly, standing his ground, though certain thatthe blow would now fall. But no, the captain laughed, and tugging awaywith his one free hand at his pocket, he brought out a pocket-book, fromwhich he managed deftly enough to draw out three bills. "There," saidhe, laying them on the table, but keeping one long vigorous finger onthem. "Now, the word."

  Sweetwater laid his own hand on the bills.

  "Frederick," said he.

  "Ah!" said the other thoughtfully, lifting his finger and proceeding tostride up and down the room. "He's a stiff one. What he says, he willdo. Two thousand dollars! and soon, too, I warrant. Well, I'm in a devilof a fix at last." He had again forgotten the presence of Sweetwater.

  Suddenly he turned or rather stopped. His eye was on the messenger, buthe did not even see him. "One Frederick must offset the other," hecried. "It's the only loophole out," and he threw himself into a chairfrom which he immediately sprang up again with a yell. He had hurt hiswounded arm.

  Pandemonium reigned in that small room for a minute, then his eye fellagain on Sweetwater, who, under the fascination of the spectacle offeredhim, had only just succeeded in finding the knob of the door. This timethere was recognition in his look.

  "Wait!" he cried. "I may have use for you too. Confidential messengersare hard to come by, and one that Campbell would employ must be allright. Sit down there! I'll talk to you when I'm ready."

  Sweetwater was not slow in obeying this command. Business was boomingwith him. Besides, the name of Frederick acted like a charm upon him.There seemed to be so many Fredericks in the world, and one of them layin such a curious way near his heart.

  Meanwhile the captain reseated himself, but more carefully. He had aplan or method of procedure to think out, or so it seemed, for he sat along time in rigid immobility, with only the scowl of perplexity orill-temper on his brow to show the nature of his thoughts. Then he drewa sheet of paper toward him, and began to write a letter. He was soabsorbed over this letter and the manipulation of it, having but onehand to work with, that Sweetwater determined upon a hazardous stroke.The little book which the captain had consulted, and which hadundoubtedly furnished him with a key to those two incongruous words, layon the floor not far from him, having been flung from its owner's handduring the moments of passion and suffering I have above mentioned. Toreach this book with his foot, to draw it toward him, and, finally, toget hold of it with his hand, was not difficult for one who aspired tobe a detective, and had already done some good work in that direction.But it was harder to turn the leaves and find the words he soughtwithout attracting the attention of his fierce companion. He, however,succeeded in doing this at last, the long list of words he found onevery page being arranged alphabetically. It was a private code fortelegraphic or cable messages, and he soon found that "Happenings"meant: "Our little game discovered; play straight until I give you thewink." And that "Afghanistan" stood for: "Hush money." As the latter wasfollowed by the figures I have mentioned, the purport of the messageneeded no explanation, but the word "Frederick" did. So he searched forthat, only to find that it was not in the book. There was but oneconclusion to draw. This name was perfectly well known between them, andwas that of the person, no doubt, who laid claim to the two thousanddollars.

  Satisfied at holding this clew to the riddle, he dropped the book againat his side and skilfully kicked it far out into the room. CaptainWattles had seen nothing. He was a man who took in only one thing at atime.

  The penning of that letter went on laboriously. It took so long thatSweetwater dozed, or pretended to, and when it was at last done, theclock on the mantelpiece had struck two.

  "Halloo there, now!" suddenly shouted the captain, turning on themessenger. "Are you ready for another journey?"

  "That depends," smiled Sweetwater, rising sleepily and advancing."Haven't got over the last one yet, and would rather sleep than startout again."

  "Oh, you want pay? Well, you'll get that fast enough if you succeed inyour mission. This letter" he shook it with an impatient hand--"shouldbe worth two thousand five hundred dollars to me. If you bring me backthat money or its equivalent within twenty-four hours, I will give you aclean hundred of it. Good enough pay, I take it, for five hours'journey. Better than sleep, eh? Besides, you can doze on the cars."

  Sweetwater agreed with him in all these assertions. Putting on his cap,he reached for the letter. He didn't like being made an instrument forblackmail, but he was curious to see to whom he was about to be sent.But the captain had grown suddenly wary.

  "This is not a letter to be dropped in the mailbox," said he. "Youbrought me a line here whose prompt delivery has prevented me frommaking a fool of myself to-night. You must do as much with this one. Itis to be carried to its destination by yourself, given to the personwhose name you will find written on it, and the answer brought backbefore you sleep, mind you, unless you snatch a wink or so on the cars.That it is night need not disturb you. It will be daylight before youarrive at the place to which this is addressed, and if you cannot getinto the house at so early an hour, whistle three times likethis--listen and one of the windows will presently fly up. You have hadno trouble finding me; you'll have no trouble finding him. When youreturn, hunt me up as you did to-night. Only you need not troubleyourself to look for
me at Haberstow's," he added under his breath in atone that was no doubt highly satisfactory to himself. "I shall not bethere. And now, off with you!" he shouted. "You've your hundred dollarsto make before daylight, and it's already after two."

  Sweetwater, who had stolen a glimpse at the superscription on the letterhe held, stumbled as he went out of the door. It was directed, as he hadexpected, to a Frederick, probably to the second one of whom CaptainWattles had spoken, but not, as he had expected, to a stranger. The nameon the letter was Frederick Sutherland, and the place of his destinationwas Sutherlandtown.