The Strange Case of Cavendish

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XIX: WESTCOTT FINDS HIMSELF ALONE

  It never occurred to Westcott on his escape through the darkness thathis night's adventure would in any way endanger Miss Donovan. He wason the property of La Rosita Mining Company upon his own account, andnot in reference to the Cavendish Case at all--or, at least, this lastwas merely incidental.

  To be sure he had listened to a confession from Enright bearingdirectly upon the affair in New York, a confession so strange he couldscarcely grasp its true meaning. But this never brought to his mindthe thought that suspicion already rested upon the girl's presence inHaskell. His whole interest centred for the moment on Lacy's daringattempt to break through the wall of rock below and lay claim to hislead of ore. Not until this effort had been abandoned would he dare todesert his mine--and even then safety could be assured only by theestablishment of an armed guard in the tunnel prepared to repel anyinvasion.

  While undoubtedly the mining law of the State would eventually sustainhis claim, yet the fact that he had for so long kept his discoverysecret would seriously operate against him; while, if Lacy's gang onceacquired actual possession of the property, the only way of provingprior ownership would be through an official survey and long protractedproceedings in court.

  Here he would be at great disadvantage because of lack of money andinfluence. In this respect Westcott realised, fully what he was upagainst, for while it was quietly known that Lacy was a questionablecharacter, his name associated with the leadership of a desperate gang,yet his wealth and power rendered him a decidedly dangerous opponent.As proprietor of the biggest saloon, dance-hall, and gambling den inHaskell, he wielded an influence not to be ignored--especially as thesheriff of the county was directly indebted to him for his office. Adangerous man himself, with the reputation of a killer, he had abouthim others capable of any crime to carry out his orders, confident thathis wealth and influence would assure their safety. To such as he thestealing of a mine was a mere incident.

  This was the situation confronting Westcott as he crouched behind arock on the black hillside, endeavouring to decide upon a course ofaction. The events of the last few hours had almost entirely forcedaside memory of the girl at the hotel--and her mission. He wasfighting now for his own life, his own future--and fighting alone. Theblade of Moore's knife had slashed his forearm, in the early moments oftheir fierce struggle, and blood was trickling down his wrist, yet notin sufficient quantity to give him any great concern. Once beyond theprobability of pursuit, he turned up his sleeve and made some effort tominister to the gash, satisfying himself quickly that it was of trivialnature.

  From where he lay he could see across the bare, rock-strewn hillside tothe distant hut, outlined by the gleam of light within, and perceivethe black silhouette of the shaft-house. The sound of clankingmachinery reached his ears, but the voices of the men failed to carryso far. He could dimly distinguish their figures as they passed in andout of the glare of light, and was aware that Moore had been found andcarried within the hut, but remained ignorant of the fact that theleaving of a knife in the window had revealed his identity. There wasno attempt at pursuit, which gave him confidence that Lacy failed tocomprehend the importance of what had been overheard, yet he clungclosely to his hiding-place until all the men had re-entered the office.

  However, he was too wary to approach the window again, fearing sometrap, but crept cautiously along the slope of the hill through theblack shadows until he attained safe shelter close in against the dump.His hope was that Enright's arguments would induce Lacy to discontinueoperations for the present and thus give him time in which to preparefor resistance. In this he was not disappointed. What took placewithin the office could only be guessed at, but in less than half anhour a man emerged from the open door and hailed the fellows at work inthe shaft-house. The messenger stood in the full glare of light,revealing to the silent watcher the face and figure of Moore,convincing evidence that this worthy had not been seriously injuredduring the late encounter.

  "Hey, Tom!" he shouted.

  The lantern above was waved out over the edge of the timbered platformand a deep voice responded.

  "Well, what'che want?"

  "Send word down to the boys to come up. They're laid off fer a while,an' their pay's ready for 'em."

  "Lay 'em off! Who says so?"

  "Lacy, of course; hustle them out now--them's the orders."

  "Well, that beats hell!" But the lantern vanished as he went grumblingback to his engine.

  They came up, talking excitedly among themselves, stumbled down therough path, and filed into the open door of the lighted office. Therewere twenty of them, according to Westcott's count, and the interviewwithin must have been satisfactory as they departed quietly enough,disappearing down the trail toward Haskell. Moore remained outside,apparently checking the fellows off as they passed, and when the lastone vanished again hailed the shaft-house:

  "What's the matter with you, Tom? Why don't you close down and comeand get your stuff?"

  "You want me too?"

  "Sure--we're here waitin' fer yer."

  Westcott clung to his hiding-place, but greatly relieved in mind. Thisunexpected action had postponed his struggle and left him free to planfor defence. For the first time almost his brain grasped the fullsignificance of this movement, its direct connection with thedisappearance of Frederick Cavendish, and the presence of StellaDonovan. Enright had suggested and urged the closing down of the minetemporarily to avoid unnecessary publicity--to throw Westcott off thetrail. His argument must have been a powerful one to thus influenceLacy--nothing less than a pledge of money could cause the latter toforego immediate profit.

  Undoubtedly the lawyer had convinced the man of the certainty of theirgaining possession of the Cavendish fortune, and had offered him agoodly share for his assistance. Then the plan was at a head--ifCavendish was not dead he was safely in their hands, where his deathcould be easily accomplished, if other means failed.

  This was to be Lacy's part of the bargain, and he was already toodeeply involved in the hellish conspiracy to withdraw. Enright, withhis lawyer-astuteness, had seen to that--had even got this Westerngambler securely into his grip and put on the screws. The miner,realising now the full situation, or, at least, imagining that he did,smiled grimly and waited in his covert on the hillside for theconspirators to make their next move. He dare not approach the cabinany closer, or permit his presence to become known, for Moore was keptoutside the door on guard. However, the delay was not a long one,horses being brought up from the near-by corral, and the entire partymounting rode down the trail toward Haskell. The cabin was left darkand deserted, the mine silent. Westcott made no effort to follow,feeling assured that no important movement would be attempted thatnight.

  It was late the next morning before he rode into Haskell and, stablinghis horse, which bore all the marks of hard riding, proceeded towardthe Timmons House. He had utilised, as best he could, the hours sincethat cavalcade had departed from La Rosita to put his own affairs inorder so that he might feel free to camp on the conspirators' trail andrisk all in an effort to rescue Cavendish. The night had been a hardone, but Westcott was still totally unconscious of fatigue--his wholethought centred on his purpose.

  Alone he had explored the tunnels in Lacy's mine, creeping about in thedarkness, guided only by the flash of an electric torch, until hethoroughly understood the nature of the work being accomplished. Assoon as dawn came he sought two reliable men in the valley below, andposted them as guards over his own property; but, before he finallyrode away, the three brought forth the body of the murdered Mexican andreverently buried it on a secluded spot of the bleak hillside.

  Then, convinced that every precaution had been taken, Westcott turnedhis horse's head toward Haskell. As he rode slowly up the street inthe bright sunlight his mind reverted to Stella Donovan. The sternadventures of the night had temporarily driven the girl from histhoughts, but now the memory returned, and her bright, womanly fa
cearose before him, full of allurement. He seemed to look once more intothe wonderful depths of her eyes and to feel the fascination of hersmile. Eager for the greeting, which he felt assured awaited him, hestrode through the open door into the office. The room was vacant, butas he crossed the floor toward the desk the proprietor entered throughthe opening leading into the barroom beyond. Timmons had quiteevidently been drinking more than usual--the effect being largelydisclosed by loquacity of speech.

  "Hello, Jim!" he cried at sight of the other. "Thought you'd be back,but, damn it, yer too late--she's--she's gone; almighty pretty girl,too. I told the boys it was a blame shame fer her ter run offthataway."

  "Who has run off?" And Westcott's hand crushed down on the man'sshoulder with a force that half-sobered him. "What are you talkingabout?"

  "Me! Let up, will yer? Yer was here hopin' ter see that New Yorkgirl, wasn't yer?"

  "Miss Donovan? Yes."

  "I'd forgot her name. Well, she ain't yere--she's left."

  "Left--gone from town?"

  "Sure; skipped out sudden in the night; took the late train East, Ireckon. Never sed no word to nobody--just naturally packed up her dudsan' hiked."

  Westcott drew a deep breath.

  "Surely you do not mean she left without any explanation? She musthave paid her bill."

  "Oh, she was square enough--sure. She left money an' a note pinned toher pillow; sed she'd just got a message callin' her back home--wantter see whut she wrote?"

  "You bet I do, Timmons! Have you got the note here?"

  Timmons waddled around behind the desk and ran his hand into a drawer.Evidently he considered the matter a huge joke, but Westcott snatchedthe paper from his fingers impatiently and eagerly read the few hastilypencilled lines:

  Have received a message calling me East at once. Shall take the nighttrain, and enclose sufficient money to pay for my entertainment.

  S. D.

  He stared at the words, a deep crease between his eyes. It was awoman's handwriting, and at first glance there was nothing impossiblein such an action on her part. Yet it was strange, if she had departedso suddenly, without leaving any message for him. After that meetingat the bridge, and the understanding between them, it didn't seem toWestcott at all probable that she would thus desert without someplausible explanation. His eyes narrowed with aroused suspicion as helooked up from the slip of paper and confronted the amused Timmonsacross the desk.

  "I'll keep this," he said soberly, folding it and thrusting it into hispocket.

  "All right"--and Timmons smiled blandly--"I got the money."

  "And that was all, was it--just this note and the cash? There wasnothing addressed to me?"

  The hotel-keeper shook his head.

  "When did you see her last?"

  "'Bout nine o'clock, I reckon; she come down inter the dinin'-room fera drink o' water."

  "She said nothing then about going away?"

  "She didn't speak to nobody--just got a swig an' went up-stairs agin."

  "How much longer were you up?"

  "Oh, maybe an hour; there was some boys playing poker here an' I waitedround till they quit."

  "No message for Miss Donovan up to that time?"

  "No."

  "You left the door unlocked?"

  "Sure; them New York fellers was both out. I oughter waited till theycome in, maybe, but I was plum' tired out."

  "When did they come back?"

  "Oh, 'bout midnight, I reckon. Bill Lacy an' Matt Moore was along with'em. They didn't disturb me none; just went inter the sample-room, an'slept on the floor. I found 'em thar in the mornin', and Bill told mehow they come to be thar--leastwise 'bout himself, fer Moore had got upan' gone afore I got down."

  "I see! And these New York people--they are still here?"

  "They wus all three down ter breakfast; ain't seen nuthin' of 'emsince; I reckon they're up-stairs somewhar."

  "What became of Lacy?"

  "He's down in his saloon; he sed if you showed up, an' asked fer him,ter tell yer that's whar he'd be."

  "He told you that? He expected me to show up then?"

  "I reckon as how he did," and Timmons grinned in drunken good humour."He's pretty blame smart, Bill Lacy is; he most allars knows whut'sgoin' ter happen." He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. "Ifyer do hunt him up, Jim," he said confidentially, "you better goheeled."

  Westcott laughed. The first shock of the discovery of Miss Donovan'sdisappearance had passed, and he was himself again. He must have timeto think and arrange some plan and, above all, must retain a clear mindand proceed coolly.

  "All right, old man," he said easily. "I'll try and look out formyself. I haven't eaten yet to-day. What can you find for me in thelarder?"