CHAPTER VII. THE INQUEST
"Ready, now, Shag! Ready!" called Colonel Ashley, in tense tones. "Readywith the net!"
"Yes, sah! All ready!"
"I've got him about ready for you! And he's better than I thought!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel! I won't miss!"
"If you do you may look for another place!" At this dire threat Shagturned as white as he would ever become, and took a firmer grip on the"Ready now, Shag!" called the colonel, at the same time directing hishelper to come down the bank toward a little pool whither he was leadingthe now well-played fish. "Ready!"
Shag did not speak, but while the colonel slowly reeled in and the tipof the slender pole bent like a bow, he slipped the net into the water,under the fish, and, a moment later, had it out on the grass.
"There!" exclaimed the famous detective, with a sigh of relief. "Therehe is, and as fine a fish as I've ever landed in these parts! Now,Shag--"
But there came an interruption. Reasoning that now was a most propitioustime to make his appeal, Harry Bartlett advanced to where the coloneland Shag were bending over the panting bass. As the detective, witha smart blow back of its head, put his catch out of misery, Bartlettspoke.
"Excuse me," he said, deferentially enough, for he saw the type of manwith whom he had to deal, "but are you not Colonel Ashley?"
"I am, sir!" and the colonel looked up as he slipped the fish into hisgrass-lined creel.
"I am Mr. Bartlett. I followed you here from New York, and I wish to--"
"If it's anything about business, Mr. Bartlett, let me save your timeand my own--both valuable, I take it--by stating that I came here tofish, and not to talk business. Excuse me for putting it thus bluntly,but I see no reason for many words. I can not consider any business.That is all attended to at my New York office, and I am surprised thatthey should even have given you my address. I told them not to."
"It was no easy matter to get it, Colonel, I assure you," and--Bartlettsmiled genially. "And please don't blame any one in your office fordisclosing your whereabouts. I did not get your address from them, Iassure you."
"From whom, then, if I may ask?"
"From Spotty." And again Bartlett smiled.
"What? Spotty Morgan?"
"Yes."
"Are you--do you know him?" and the detective could not keep theinterest out of his voice.
"Rather well. I saved him from drowning once some years ago, and hehasn't forgotten it. It was at a summer resort, and Spotty, though he isa good swimmer, didn't estimate the force of the undertow. I pulled himout just in time."
"Strange," murmured the colonel. "A strange coincidence."
"I beg pardon," said Harry politely.
"Oh, nothing," went on the detective. "Only, as it happens, Spotty savedmy life some time ago. It's just a coincidence, that's all. So Spottygave you my address, did he?"
"Yes. I had called at your New York office, and, as you say, your clerkshad orders not to disclose your whereabouts. I used every cajoleryand device of which I was master, but it was no avail. I urged theimportance it was to myself and others to know where you were, but theywere obdurate. I was coming out, much disappointed, when I saw Spottyemerging from an inner office. He knew me at once, though it is yearssince we met, and going down in the elevator I mentioned that I waslooking for you. I told him something of the reason for wanting to findyou and--Well, he told me you were here."
"And he is about the only person in New York outside of my mostconfidential man who could have done that," observed the colonel, as heslowly reeled up his line. "One reason why the clerks in my office couldnot give you my address was because they did not have it. So Spotty, whomust just have finished his bit, told."
"But please don't hold that against him," urged Bartlett. "If heviolated a confidence--"
"He did, in a way, yes," observed the disciple of Izaak Walton. "But Ishall have to forgive him, I suppose. It must have been rather a strongreason that induced him to tell you where I had gone."
"It was, Colonel Ashley, the strongest reason in the world. It is tohelp clear up the mystery--"
"Stop!" fairly shouted the colonel. "If it's a detective case I don'twant to hear it! Not a word! Shag, show this gentleman the door--I begyour pardon, I didn't mean to be rude," went on the colonel with hisusual politeness. "But I really can not listen. I came here to rest andfish, not to take up new detective cases. You know where my office is.They will attend to you there. I have given up business for the timebeing."
"And yet, Colonel Ashley, the person who sent me will have no one butyou. She says you are the only one who can get at the bottom of thepuzzling case."
In spite of himself the colonel's face lighted up at the words "puzzlingcase," but as his eyes fell on the creel containing his fish he turnedaside. "No," he said, "I am sorry, but I can not listen to you. Shag,kindly--"
Harry Bartlett was not a successful business man for nothing. He knewhow to make an appeal. "I came to see you at the request of Miss ViolaCarwell," he said slowly. "She sent me to find you--told me not to comeback to her without you. A change came over the colonel's face at themention of Viola's name.
"You came from her--from the daughter of Horace Carwell?" he askedquickly.
"I did," answered Bartlett.
"Well, of course, that might make a difference. I hope my old friend isnot in trouble--nor his daughter," and there was a new quality in thevoice.
"Mr. Carwell's troubles are all over--if he had any," returned Bartlettsimply.
"You mean--"
"He is dead."
The colonel uttered an exclamation.
"Pardon my rather brusk reception of you," he apologized. "I did notknow that. Was it recently--suddenly?"
"Both recently and suddenly."
"I did not know that I seldom read the papers, and have not looked atone lately. I had not heard that he was ill."
"'He wasn't, Colonel Ashley. Mr. Carwell died very suddenly on theMaraposa Golf Club links, after making a stroke that gave him thechampionship."
"Heart disease or apoplexy?"
"Neither one. It was poison."
"You amaze me, Mr.--er--Mr.--"
"Bartlett. Yes, Mr. Carwell died of poison, as the autopsy showed."
"'Was he--did he--"
"That is what we want to find out," interrupted the messenger eagerly."The county physician says Mr. Carwell is a suicide. His daughter, MissViola, can not believe it. Nor can I. There has been some talk that hisaffairs are involved. As you may have known, he was somewhat of a--"
"His sporting proclivities were somewhat different from mine," said theold detective dryly. "You needn't explain. Every man must live his ownlife. But tell me more."
Thereupon Bartlett gave the details as he knew them, bearing on thedeath of the father of the girl he loved.
"And she sent you to find me?" asked the detective.
"Yes. Miss Viola said you were an old friend of her father's, and if anyone could solve the mystery of his death you could. For that there is amystery about it, many of us believe."
"There may be. Poison is always more or less of a mystery. But just whatdo you want me to do?"
"Come back with me if you will, Colonel Ashley. Miss Carwell wants youto aid her--aid all of us, for we are all at sea. Will you? She sentme to plead with you. I went to your New York office, and from SpottyMorgan learned you were here. I--"
"I suppose I shall have to forgive Spotty," murmured the fisherman.
"They told me at the hotel you had come here," went on Bartlett, "so Ifollowed. I was lucky in finding you."
"I don't know about that," murmured the colonel, smiling. "It may beunfortunate. Well, I am deeply shocked at my old friend's death--andsuch a tragic taking off. Horace Carwell was my very good friend. Heonce did me a great service, when I needed money badly, by helping memake an investment in copper that turned out extremely well. I feelmyself under obligations to him; and, since he is no more, I musttransfer that obligation to his d
aughter."
"Then you'll come with me to see her, Colonel Ashley?"
"Yes. Shag, pack up! We're going back to civilization."
The colored man's face was a study. He looked at the quiet stream, atthe drooping willows, at the fish rod in his master's hand, and at thecreel. He opened his mouth and spoke:
"But, Colonel, yo' done tole me t'--"
"No matter what I told you, Shag, these are new orders. Pack up!" camethe crisp command. "We're going back to town. I'll do what I can in thiscase," he went on to Bartlett. "I came here for some quiet fishing, andto get my mind off detective work. I was dragged into a diamond crossmystery not long since, sorely against my will, and now--"
"I am sorry--" began Bartlett.
"Oh, well, it can't be helped," the colonel said. "I'd give up more thana fishing trip for a daughter of Horace Carwell. You may let her knowthat I'll come, if it will give her any comfort. Though, mind you," thecolonel's manner was impressive, "I promise nothing."
"That is understood," said Bartlett eagerly. "I'll wire her that youare coming. There's a train that leaves right after supper. We can getthat--"
"I'll take it!" decided the colonel. Now that he had given up hischerished fishing he was all business again. "Shag!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel!"
"Pack up for the evening train. Give that fish to the cook and have itserved for Mr. Bartlett and myself. You'll dine with me," he went on. Itwas an order, not an invitation, but Bartlett understood, and acceptedwith a bow.
A few hours later he and the colonel left the little town where thedetective had gone for such a short vacation, and were on their way toLakeside, which they reached early in the morning.
"Now if you'll tell me the best hotel to stop at here," said thecolonel, as they alighted from the train, "I'll put up there and seeMiss Carwell."
"She requested me to bring you at once to her home," said Bartlett. "Youare to be her guest. She thought perhaps you would want to examine the--to see Mr. Carwell's body--before--"
"Oh, yes. I suppose I had better. Then the funeral has not been held?"
"No, it was postponed at the request of the county physician."
"Has there been a coroner's inquest?"
"No. None was deemed necessary at the time I left, at the solicitationof Miss Carwell, to get you."
"I see. Inquests are less often held in New Jersey than in some of theother states. Well, then I suppose I may as well go to the Carwell homewith you."
"Yes. I wired for my car to meet us. It's here I see. Right over here."
Bartlett led the way, the colonel following, and Shag bringing up therear with the bags.
As the machine started from the station Bartlett looked up to themorning sky. There was a little speck in it, no larger than a man'shand. It grew larger, and became an osprey on its way to the sea insearch of a fish.
As the car drew up in front of the Carwell mansion, from the bell ofwhich fluttered a dismal length of crepe, a man stepped from the shadowof the gate posts and held out a paper to Harry Bartlett.
"What is it?" asked Bartlett.
"A subpoena," was the rather gruff answer.
"A subpoena? What for?"
"The coroner's inquest. You'll have to appear and give evidence. They'regoing to have an inquest to find out more about Mr. Carwell's death.That's all I know. I'm from police headquarters. I was told to waitaround here, as you were expected, and to serve that on you. Don'tforget to be there. It's a court order," and the man slunk away.
"An inquest," murmured Bartlett, as he looked at the paper in his hand."I thought they weren't going to have any," and he glanced quickly atColonel Ashley.