CHAPTER X. A WATER HAZARD
"Isn't there some place where you can take her for a few days--somerelative's where she can rest and forget, as much as possible, thescenes here?"
"Yes, there is," replied Miss Mary Carwell to Colonel Ashley's question."I'll go with her myself to Pentonville. I have a cousin there, and it'sthe quietest place I know of, outside of Philadelphia," and she smiledfaintly at the detective.
"Good!" he announced. "Then get her away from here. It will do you bothgood."
"But what about the case--solving the mystery? Won't you want eitherViola or me here to help you?"
"I shall do very well by myself for a few days. Indeed I shall need thehelp of both of you, but you will be all the better fitted to renderit when you return. So take her away--go yourself, and try to forget asmuch of your grief as possible."
"And you will stay--"
"I'll stay here, yes. Shag and I will manage very nicely, thank you. I'mglad you have colored help. I can always get along with that kind. I'vebeen used to them since a boy in the South."
And so Viola and Miss Carwell went away.
It was after the sufficiently imposingly somber funeral of HoraceCarwell, for since the adjourned inquest--adjourned at the request ofthe prosecutor--it was not considered necessary to keep the poor, maimedbody out of its last resting place any longer. It had been sufficientlyviewed and examined. In fact, parts of it were still in the hands of thechemists.
"And now, Shag, that we're left to ourselves--" said Colonel Ashley,when Viola and Miss Carwell had departed the day following the funeral,"now that we are by ourselves--"
"I reckon as how you'll fix up as to who it were whut done killed degen'man, an' hab him 'rested, won't yo', Colonel, sah?" asked Shag, withthe kindly concern and freedom of an old and loved servant.
"Indeed I'll do nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Colonel Ashley. "I'mgoing fishing, Shag, and I'll be obliged to you if you'll lay out myKennebec rod and the sixteen line. I think there are some fighting fishin that little river that runs along at the end of the golf course. Geteverything ready and then let me know," and the colonel, smoking hisafter-breakfast cigar, sat on the shady porch of The Haven and read:
"O, Sir, doubt not that angling is an art: is it not an art to deceive atrout with an artificial fly? a trout! that is more sharp-sighted thanany hawk you have named, and more watchful and timorous than yourhigh-mettled merlin is bold; and yet I doubt not to catch a brace or twoto-morrow for a friend's breakfast."
"Um," mused the colonel. "Too bad it isn't the trout season. Thatpassage from Walton just naturally makes me hungry for the speckledbeauties. But I can wait. Meanwhile we'll see what else the streamholds. Shag, are you coming?"
"Yes, sah! Comin' right d'rectly, sah! Yes, sah, Colonel!" and Shagshuffled along the porch with the fishing tackle.
And so Colonel Ashley sat and fished, and as he fished he thought, forthe sport was not so good that it took up his whole attention. Infact he was rather glad that the fish were not rising well, for he hadentered into this golf course mystery with a zest he seldom brought toany case, and he was anxious to get to the bottom.
"I didn't want to get into that diamond cross affair, but I was draggedin by the heels," he mused. "And now, just because some years agoHorace Carwell did me a favor and enabled me to make money in the coppermarket, I am trying to find out who killed him, or if, in a fit ofdespondency, he killed himself."
"And yet, if it was despondency, he disguised it marvelously well. Andif it was an accident it was a most skillful and fateful one. How hecould swallow poison and not know it is beyond me. And now to considerwho might have given it to him, arguing that it was not an accident."
The colonel had walked up and down the stream at the turn of theMaraposa golf course, Shag following at a discreet distance, and, aftertrying out several places had settled down under a shady tree at an eddywhere the waters, after rushing down the bed of the small river, metwith an obstruction and turned upon themselves. Here they had worn out aplace under an overhanging bank, making a deep pool where, if ever, fishmight he expected to lurk.
And there the colonel threw in his bait and waited.
"And now, that I am waiting," he mused, "let me consider, as my friendWalton would, matters in their sequence. Horace Carwell is dead. Let usargue that some one gave him the poison. Who was it?"
And then, like some file index, the colonel began to pass over in hismind the various persons who had come under his observation, as possibleperpetrators of the crime.
"Let us begin with one the law already suspects," mused the fisherman."Not that that is any criterion, but that it disposes of him in acertain order--disposes of him or--involves him more deeply," and thecolonel looked to where a ground spider had woven a web in which a smallbut helpless grass hopper was then struggling.
"Could Harry Bartlett have given the poison?" the colonel asked himself.And the answer, naturally, was that such could have been the case.
Then came the question: "Why?"
"Had he an object? What was the quarrel about, concerning which herefuses to speak? Why is Viola so sure Harry could not have done it? Ithink I can see a reason for the last. She loves him as much as he doesher. That's natural. She's a sweet girl!"
And, being unable to decide definitely as to the status of HarryBartlett, Colonel Ashley mentally passed that card in his file and tookup another, bearing the name Captain Gerry Poland.
"Could he have had an object in getting Horace Carwell out of the way?"mused the detective. "At first thought I'd say he could not, and, justbecause I would say so, I must keep him on my list. He also is in lovewith Viola,--just as much as Bartlett is. I shall list Captain Poland asa remote possibility. I can't afford to eliminate him altogether, as itmay develop that Mr. Carwell objected to his paying his attentions toViola. Well, we shall see."
The next mental index card bore the name Jean Forette; and concerninghim Colonel Ashley had secured some information the day before. He hadgot, by adroit questioning, a certain knowledge of the French chauffeur,and this was now spread out on the card that, in fancy, Colonel Ashleycould see in his filing cabinet.
"Forette? Oh, yes, I know him," the mechanician of the best garage inLakeside had told the detective. "He's a good driver, and knows moreabout an ignition system than I ever shall. He's a shark at it. But he'sa queer Dick."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, sometimes he's a regular devil at driving. Once he had a bigRilat car in here for repairs. He had to tell me what was wrong with it,as I couldn't dope it out. Then when we got it running for him, he tookit out for a trial run on the road. Drive! Say, it's a wonder I have anyhair on my head!"
"Did he go fast?"
"Fast? Say, a racing man had nothing on that Forette. And yet the nextday, when he came to take the car away, after we'd charged the storagebattery, he drove like a snail. One of my men went with him a littleway, to see that everything was all right, for Mr. Carwell is veryparticular--I mean he was--and Forette didn't let her out for a cent.My man was disappointed, for he's a fast devil, too, and he asked theFrenchman why he didn't kick her along."
"What did the chauffeur say?"
"Well, it wasn't so much what he said as how he acted. He was as nervousas a cat. Kept looking behind to see that no other machine was coming,and when he passed anything on the road he almost went in the ditchhimself to make sure there was room enough to pass."
"Seemed afraid, did he?"
"That's it. And considering how bold he was the day I was out with him,I put it down that he must have had a few drinks when he took me for a--Well, I never saw him, but how else can you account for it? Drink willmake a man drive like old Nick, and get away with it, too, sometimes,though the stuff'll get 'em sooner or later. But that's how I sized itup."
"He might have taken something other than drink."
"What do you mean?"
"Dope!"
"Oh, yes, I s'pose so, and him bein' French might account fo
r it. Anyhowhe was like two different men. That one day he was as bold as brass, andI guess he'd have driven one of them there airships if any one had daredhim to. Then, the next day he was like a chap trying for his licensewith the motor inspector lookin' on. I can't account for it. That JeanForette sure is a card!"
"Then he really seemed afraid to speed the Dilat car?"
"That's it. And he spoke of Mr. Carwell going to get a more powerfulFrench machine. He said then he'd never driven it to the limit, anddidn't want to handle it at all. And he spoke the truth, for I heardthat he and the old man didn't get along at all with that red, white andblue devil Mr. Carwell imported."
"So they say. Forette was to leave at the end of the month. Well, I'mmuch obliged to you. A friend of mine was going to engage him, but ifhe has such a reputation--not reliable, you know, I guess I'll lookfarther. Much obliged," and the colonel, who, it is needless to say, hadnot revealed his true character to the garage owner, turned aside.
"Oh, I wouldn't want what I said to keep Forette out of a place!"protested the man quickly. "If I'd thought that--"
"You needn't worry. You haven't done him any harm. He's out of a placeanyhow, since Mr. Carwell died, and I'll treat what you told me instrict confidence."
"I wish you would. You know we have to be careful."
"I understand."
And this information passed again in review before the mind of thefisherman as he took Jean Forette's card from the pack.
"I wonder if he can be a dope fiend?" mused the colonel. "It's worthlooking up, at any rate. He'd be a bad kind to drive a car. I'm glad heisn't in my employ, and I'm better pleased that he won't take Viola out.This dope--bad stuff, whether it's morphine, cocaine, or something else.We'll just keep this card up in front where we can get at it easily."
The next mental card had on it the name of LeGrand Blossom.
"Curious chap, him," mused the detective. "He's very fond of the soundof his own voice, particularly where he can get an audience, as he hadat the inquest. Well, I don't know anything about you, Mr. Blossom,neither for nor against you, but I'll keep your card within reach, also.Can't neglect any possibilities in cases like this. And now for someothers."
There were many cards in the colonel's index, and he ran rapidly overthem as he waited for a bite. They bore the names of many members of thegolf and yachting clubs of which Mr. Carwell had been a member. Therewere also the names of the household servants, and the dead man'snearest relatives, including his sister and Viola. But the colonel didnot linger long over any of these memoranda. The card of Viola Carwell,however, had mentally penciled on it the somewhat mystic symbol 58 C.H.--161* and this the colonel looked at from every angle.
"I really must get a book on chemistry," he mused. "I may need it tofind out what kind of dope Forette uses--if he takes any."
And thus the colonel sat in the shade, beside the quiet stream, thelittle green book by his side. But he did not open it now, and thoughhis gaze was on his line, where it cut the water in a little swirl, hedid not seem to see it.
"Shag!" suddenly exclaimed the colonel, breaking a stillness that waslittle short of idyllic.
"Yes, sah, Colonel! Yes, sah!" and the colored man awoke with a skillperfected by long practice under similar circumstances.
"Shag, the fishing here is miserable!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel. Shall we-all move?"
"Might as well. I haven't had a nibble, and from the looks ofeverything--even the evidence of Mr. Walton himself--it ought to havebeen a most choice location. However, there will be other days, and--"
The colonel's voice was cut short by a shrill call from his delicatereel, and a moment later he had leaped to his feet and cried:
"Shag, I'm a most monumental liar!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel. Dat's whut yo' suah is!"
"I've got the biggest bite I ever had! Get that landing net and see ifyou can forget that you're a cross between a snail and a mud turtle!"cried the colonel excitedly.
"Yes, sah!"
Shag moved on nimble feet, and presently stood down on the shore, nearthe edge of the stream, while the colonel, on the bank above the eddy,played the fish that had taken his bait and sought to depart with itto some watery fastness to devour it at his leisure. But the hook andtackle held him.
Up and down in the pool rushed the fish, and the colonel's rod bentto the strain, but it did not break. It had been tested in otherpiscatorial battles and was tried and true.
The battle progressed, not so unequal as it might seem, considering thefrail means used to ensnare the big fish. And the prize was graduallybeing brought within reach of the landing net.
"Get ready now, Shag!" ordered the colonel.
"Yes, sah, I'se all ready!"
There was a final rush and swirl in the water. Shag leaned over, hiseyes shining in delight, for the fish was an extraordinarily large one.He was about to scoop it up in the net, to take the strain off the rodwhich was curved like a bow, when there came a streak of something whitesailing through the air. It fell with a splash into the water so closeto the fish that it must have bruised its scaly side, and then, in somemanner, the denizen of the stream, either in a desperate flurry, orbecause the blow of the white object broke its hold on the hook, wasfree, and with a dart scurried back into the element that was lifeitself.
For a moment there was portentous silence on the part of Colonel Ashley.He gazed at his dangling line and at the straightened pole. Then hesolemnly said:
"Shag!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel!"
"What happened?"
"By golly, Colonel! dat's whut I'd laik t' know. Must hab been ashootin' star, or suffin laik dat! I never done see--"
At that moment a drawling voice from somewhere back of the fringe oftrees and bushes broke in with:
"I fancy I made that water hazard all right, though it was a close call.Which reminds me of the perhaps interesting fact that forty-five andsixty-four hundredths cylindrical feet of water will weigh twenty-twohundred and forty pounds, figuring one cubic foot of salt water atsixty-four and three-tenths pounds, if you get my meaning!" and therewas a genial laugh.
"Well, I don't get it, and I don't care to," was the rejoinder. "ButI'm ready to bet you a cold bottle that you've gone into instead of overthat water hazard."
"Done! Come on, we'll take a look!"