CHAPTER IX--GOOD HUNTING IN BERKELEY
Two days after his interview with Suzanne, Mr. Larkin came to Berkeleyand took a room at the Berkeley Arms. He registered as Henry Childs, anddescribed himself to the clerk as a plumber, who, having had aprosperous year, was looking for a bit of land upon which to build abungalow.
Berkeley was much too exclusive to permit a hotel within its exclusivelimits and the Berkeley Arms was allowed to exist in a small, subduedway as a convenience. It was an unassuming, gray-shingled building,withdrawn behind a lilac hedge, and too near the station to mar thesmart and shining elegance of the main street. In it dwelt theshop-keepers who plied a temporary summer trade in the village, and thechauffeurs of the less wealthy cottagers. Here the detective heard muchtalk of the Janney robbery, and, after he had extended his field ofobservation to the post-office lobby and Bennett's drug store, Berkeleyhad no secrets from him.
The public mind was still occupied with all that pertained toGrasslands. He heard of the separation of the Prices, the scene _he_ hadmade on leaving, and that _she_ hadn't treated him right. Berkeley wason Chapman's side, said she wanted to get rid of him to marry Ferguson.It was hoped that Ferguson--highly esteemed--wasn't going to fall forit; but you couldn't tell, the best men made mistakes. Gossips, whoprofessed an intimacy with the Grasslands kitchens, hinted that Fergusonwas "taken with" the secretary. But Berkeley, fattened by prosperity toa gross snobbishness, rejected the idea as vulgar and unfitting.
All this had its value for Mr. Larkin, but it was by accident that heacquired the most illuminating piece of intelligence. Late one afternoonhe wandered forth into a road that threaded the woods near Grasslands.The day being warm, the way dusty, he seated himself on a rock to cooloff and ponder. While there, concealed by the surrounding trees, he hadseen two small boys padding toward him down the road, their headstogether in animated debate. Unaware of his presence their voices wereloud and his listening ear caught interesting matter. They had been inthe forbidden area of Grasslands, had gone to Little Fresh for a bathe,and had almost been caught in the act by a lady and gentleman.
Mr. Larkin made his presence known, and a dime passed into each grubbypalm won their confidence.
They were on the wharf slipping off their clothes when they heardfootsteps and had only time to rush to cover in the underbrush when Mr.Chapman Price appeared. He waited round a bit and then Miss Maitlandcame and they sat on the bench and talked. The boys had not been able tohear what they said, but that it was serious they gathered from Mr.Price's manner and the fact that Miss Maitland had cried for a spell.Mr. Price went away first, and as he was going he said loud, standing inthe path, "Take the upper trail and if you meet anybody say you've beenat the beach bathing." Then he'd gone and Miss Maitland had waited awhile, and then she'd gone too, by the upper trail, the way he'd said.
Mr. Larkin had been very sympathetic and friendly, swore he'd keep hismouth shut, and cautioned the boys to do the same, for he'd heard thatMrs. Janney wouldn't stand for any one bathing in Little Fresh and youcouldn't tell but what she might have them arrested.
The next day he had a meeting with Suzanne in a summer-house on theSetons' grounds, the Setons being in California for the season. He gavehis report of Miss Maitland's career--entirely worthy andrespectable--and then asked the question Molly had asked Mrs. Janney:had Mr. Price ever exhibited any special interest in the secretary? Mrs.Price's surprise and denial were as genuine and emphatic as her mother'shad been and Mr. Larkin arrived at the same conclusion as Molly--herestarted the path that led to the heart of the maze.
He did not say this to Mrs. Price. What he did say was that he wouldleave Berkeley shortly and when he had anything of importance to tellmake an appointment with her by letter. It was not necessary to informher that his next move would be to Cedar Brook where he had heard thatChapman Price spent a good deal of his time.
Cedar Brook, six miles above Berkeley on the main line, had none of theprestige of its aristocratic neighbor. It was in the process ofdevelopment, new houses rising round its outskirts, fields being turnedinto lawns. Mr. Larkin took a room in a clapboarded cottage which staredat other clapboarded cottages through the foliage of locust trees.Announcing his intention of buying a piece of land, he was soon anobject of general attention and added to his store of knowledge. Heheard a good deal of Chapman Price, who was there off and on with theHartleys, and of his man Willitts. It was understood that Willitts wasstaying with Price till he got a job, and, as the Hartley house wassmall, lodged in the village; in fact, Mr. Larkin learned to hissatisfaction, was living in one of the clapboarded cottages close to hisown.
Professing a desire to study the environs of Cedar Brook he hired awheel, and the third afternoon of his stay peddled out into the country.It was while passing the private hedge of a large estate, that he cameupon a young man engaged over a disabled bicycle.
The day was warm, the salt air of the Sound shut out by forest and hill,the road bathed in a hot glow of sun. The man had taken off his coat,and, as Mr. Larkin drew near, looked up displaying a smooth-shaven, rosyface, beaded with perspiration.
Mr. Larkin, being by nature and profession curious, drew up and madefriendly inquiries. The man answered them, explained the nature of thedamage, his speech marked by the crisp, clipped enunciation of theBriton. His costume--negligee shirt, knickerbockers and golfstockings--did not suggest the country house guest, nor was his accentquite that of the English gentleman. The detective, who had someknowledge of these delicate distinctions, laid his bicycle against thebank and proffered his assistance. Together they repaired the stranger'swheel, and, when it was done, rested from their labors in the shade ofthe hedge, and engaged in conversation. This at first was of thewar--the young man explaining that he was English and had volunteered atonce, but been rejected on the ground of his eyes--very near-sighted,couldn't read the chart at all--touching with an indicating finger theglasses that spanned his nose. After that he'd come to America; he couldmake good money then and had people dependent on him. At this stage Mr.Larkin asked his profession and learned that he was a valet, by nameJames Willitts, just now looking for a place. He _had_ been in theemploy of Mr. Chapman Price and was still staying with him until he gota new "situation." Mr. Larkin in return recited his little lay about theplumbing business and the bungalow, and, the introductions accomplished,they passed to more general topics and soon reached the Janney robbery.
It was a propitious meeting for the detective, for Willitts provedhimself a free and expansive talker. He launched forth into the subjectwith an artless zest, not needing any prompting from his attentivelistener. Mr. Larkin was grateful for it all, but especially so for anaccount of the movements of Mr. Price the day before the robbery. He hadsent his valet to Cedar Brook on the morning train, he to follow laterin the afternoon. Willitts, after the unpacking and settling was done,had biked over to Grasslands to see "the help," and then made theengagement to meet them that night at the movies. Of course he had to goback, as part of his work was to lay out Mr. Price's dinner clothes andhelp him dress, and it was most unfortunate, because, when he went up toMr. Price's room, Mr. Price said he wouldn't change, would keep on theclothes he had and go motoring.
"Motoring," observed Mr. Larkin, mildly interested, "did he motor in theevening?"
"Not usually--but I don't know if you remember that night. After a heavyrain it cleared and the moon came out as bright as day."
Mr. Larkin didn't remember himself but he had a vague recollection ofhaving read it in some of the papers.
"It was a wonderful night, and if it hadn't been I'd never have kept mydate. For I got side-tracked--had to fetch the doctor for my landlady'slittle girl who was taken bad with the croup. And what with that and thelong distance I'd have given it up if it hadn't been for the moon."
The detective did not find these details particularly pertinent, andedged nearer to vital matters:
"Pretty unpleasant position for those two men, Dixon and Isaac. I was inBerkeley befo
re I came here and there was a lot of talk."
The valet looked at him with sharp surprise:
"But no suspicion rests on _them_, I'll be bound. I lived in that housesince last October and I'll swear that there's not an honester pair inthe whole country."
Mr. Larkin, as a stranger to the parties, had no need to display acorresponding warmth, merely remarking that Berkeley was convinced oftheir innocence.
The young man appeased, felt in his coat for a pipe and drew a tobaccopouch from his pocket. As he filled the bowl, his profile was presentedto the detective's vigilant eye, which dwelt thoughtfully on the neatoutline, almost handsome except that the chin receded slightly. A goodlooking fellow, Mr. Larkin thought, and smart--somehow as theconversation had progressed he was beginning to think him smarter thanhe had at the start.
"How about that Miss Maitland," he said, "the young lady secretary?"
Willitts had the pipe in his mouth and was pressing the tobacco downwith his thumb. He spoke through closed teeth:
"What about her?"
"Well, what sort is she? You needn't tell me she's good looking, for Isaw her once in the post office and she's a peach."
The valet leaned forward and felt in his coat pocket for matches. Themovement presented his face in full to Mr. Larkin's glance, and thedetective noticed that its bright alertness had diminished, that aslight film of stolidity had formed over it like ice over a runningstream. The man had removed his pipe and held it in one hand while hescrabbled round in his coat with the other.
"She's a very fine young lady; nothing but good's ever been said of herin _my_ hearing. And very competent in her work--they say--and she wouldbe, or Mrs. Janney wouldn't keep her."
He found the matches and, sitting upright, lit one and applied it to thepipe bowl. The detective, with his eyes ready to swerve to thelandscape, hazarded a shot at the bull's-eye.
"They were saying--or more hinting I guess you'd call it--that Mr. Pricewas--er--getting to look her way too often."
Willitts was very still. The watching eyes noticed that the flame of thematch burned steady over the pipe bowl; for a moment the valet's breathwas held. Then, without moving, his voice peculiarly quiet, he said:
"Now I'd like to know who told you _that_?"
The other gave a lazy laugh:
"Oh, I can't tell--every kind of rumor was flying about. They were readyto say anything."
"Yes, that's it. Say anything to get listened to and not care whosecharacter they were taking away."
"Then there's nothing in it?"
"Tommyrot!" he snorted out the word with intense irritation. "The sillyfools! Mr. Price is no more in love with her than I am. He's not thatkind; he's an honorable gentleman. And, believe me, the wrong's not allon his side. It's not for me to tell tales of the family, but I will saythat there's not many men could have put up with what he did."
His face was flushed, he was openly exasperated. Mr. Larkin rememberedwhat he had heard of the man's affection for the master, and histhoughts formed into an unspoken sentence, "He knows something and won'ttell."
"Well, well," he said cheerfully, "when a big thing happens there'sbound to be all sorts of scandal and surmise. People work off theirexcitement that way; you can't muzzle 'em--"
Willitts grunted a scornful assent and rose. It was time to go; Mr.Price would be coming up from town that night and he would be on duty.The detective, lifting his bicycle from the grass, casually inquired ifMr. Price motored from the city.
"Oh, dear no. He keeps his car here in Sommers' garage--he needs it,taking people about to see the country. He made a tidy bit of money herelast week."
"Talking of money," said the other, "did you know that ten thousanddollars' reward has been offered for those jewels?"
Willitts, astride his wheel, stretched a feeling foot for the pedal:
"Yes, I saw it in the papers."
"Easy money for somebody."
"Yes, but _is_ there somebody beside the thief--or thieves--who knows?_That's_ the question."
They pedaled back side by side talking amicably, mutually pleased tofind they were neighbors. On the outskirts of the village they partedwith promises for a speedy reunion, Willitts to go to the Hartleys, andMr. Larkin to Sommers' garage to ask the price of a flivver for anexcursion beyond the reach of his bicycle.
When he arrived at the garage a large touring car, packed full of veiledfemales, was drawn up at the entrance. The driver, with Sommers and hisassistant beside him, had opened the hood and the three of them werepeering into the inner depths with the anxious concentration of doctorsstudying the anatomy of a patient. Mr. Larkin walked by them and wentinto the garage. He cast a rapid look about him, over the lined-upmotors in the back, and then through the doorway into the small office.The place was empty. With a stealthy glance at the party round thetouring car, he strolled in to where the time card rack hung on thewall. He ran his eye down the list of names until he came to "Price" anddrew out the card. The second entry was dated July seventh and showedthat that night Price had taken out his car at eight-thirty and notreturned it until five minutes to two.