CHAPTER V.
BY THE LIGHT FROM THE WINDOW.
“But that,” said Fred, “is practically a matter of supposition with you;you have no real proof.”
“Proof?” returned Piper reprovingly. “Why not? The circumstances aresignificant, and it’s only the bigoted person who denies the value ofcircumstantial evidence in criminal cases. The description of JamesWilson applies perfectly to the mysterious stranger with whom Hookerconversed.”
“If you’ll think it over a bit, that description might apply to a greatmany persons. Wilson seems fortunate in having practically no personalcharacteristics by which he might readily be identified. It seems to me,Piper, that, casting aside your professed caution and acuteness, youhave jumped at a conclusion. Simply because you happen to read about anex-convict who has recently broken jail in a neighboring state, and thedescription of this convict, although in a way indefinite andunsatisfactory, apparently applies to a stranger in these parts, youimmediately decide that the convict and the stranger are one and thesame. I’m surprised at you, Sleuth.”
“Wait a moment,” said Piper, holding up his finger. “Let me ask you aquestion. Since you came to Oakdale, how often have you seen strangersin these parts who looked like tramps, talked like educated men, anddeported themselves in a manner which, without the least stretch offancy, could be called mysterious?”
“Seldom,” admitted Sage.
“Never before,” asserted Piper.
“And, because this happens to be the first instance of the sort, youfeel confident in your hasty conclusion. I’m afraid you’ll never make agreat detective, Sleuth, for in stories, at least, they never jump atconclusions, and they always make sure they’re right before forming adefinite opinion.”
Piper was not pleased by these words. He frowned heavily and shook hishead.
“You can’t deny,” he retorted, “that it was most strange that the manshould inquire for your family and then take flight when he learned thatyou were about to appear before him.”
“That, I admit, was odd indeed. Nevertheless, I do not think itjustifies you in seeking to connect us with the ex-convict, JamesWilson. It’s scarcely necessary for me to tell you that we have neverknown such a man.”
“It gives me no small amount of satisfaction,” said Sleuth, “to hearthat statement from your lips, even though it may, in a measure, make mywork more difficult.”
“Your work? What do you propose to do?”
“I hope to lay this safe-cracker by the heels. I hope to enmesh him inthe toils and turn him over to the stern hand of justice.”
“In which case it seems to me that your proper course would be to notifythe officers. Why don’t you go to Deputy Sheriff Pickle?”
“Haw!” cried Sleuth, contemptuously snapping his fingers. “That would bethe height of folly. These rural officers are blockheads in ninety-ninecases out of a hundred, and William Pickle is no exception. Forinstance, recall the bungling mess he made of it when he arrested yourfriend, Benjamin Stone. Only for me, Stone might have been convicted ofa crime he never committed.”
“You helped get Ben out of an unpleasant predicament,” admitted Sage;“but in that case Pickle did his duty, according to instructions. If youare so positive that you’re not bungling in this case, you’ll requirethe assistance of Mr. Pickle, for you can’t expect to capture JamesWilson unaided.”
“And so you would advise me to apply to Pickle? You would advise me totell him my deductions, through which he would be enabled, perhaps, tocapture this jail-breaker and get the reward of five hundred dollars?That’s what would happen if he made the capture; he’d claim the reward,and get it. Oh, I know Bill Pickle!”
“If you gave the information on which the man was arrested, doubtlessyou could claim and obtain a portion of the reward money.”
“Perhaps so, and perhaps not. I tell you I know Bill Pickle. He’d get itall if he could.”
“But, having talked with Roy Hooker of this matter, how do you expect tokeep it secret long enough to do anything yourself?”
“I didn’t tell Hooker about James Wilson. I simply questioned himregarding the stranger, and learned enough to satisfy me that he andWilson must be the same man.”
“Well, how did you happen to tell _me_ so much?”
Sleuth hesitated. “You see, I—I thought it might be—well, different inyour case,” he stumbled. “I fancied there might be reasons why youwouldn’t care to say anything about it.”
Sage rose to his feet. “You make me tired, Piper,” he said, with a touchof angry reproof. “It’s evident that you _did_ think my family wassomehow connected with this criminal, whom we might be inclined toshield. Just to show you what a bungler you really are, I think I’lltell Pickle myself.”
In a moment the visitor was thrown into the utmost consternation.Seizing Fred by the arm, he cried:
“Don’t do that—don’t! Why, if you did, and Pickle should happen to catchthe man and he turned out to be the right one, you’d get part of thereward! That wouldn’t be fair to me, Fred, and you know it. Give a chapa square deal, old man.”
“If you’re right in your suspicions, Piper, it’s a bad thing to havethis jail-breaker prowling around Oakdale, and it’s your duty to notifythe local officers.”
“But supposing,” protested Sleuth, “that, by some unusual chance, Ishould be mistaken? You can see what that would mean. I might get thewrong man arrested and make an awful mess of it. I might become thelaughing stock of the village. My professional reputation might beblasted.”
“Oh, then you’re not nearly as confident as you pretended to be? Itseems to me like a huge joke, Piper, and if you’ll take my advice,you’ll stop cramming your head with foolish detective yarns and abandonthe idea that you possess any special talents in the way of detectingcriminals or fathoming mysteries. The last I heard about you, you weretrying to write stories, and, by the way of amusement, I advise you torely upon that occupation. Not that I imagine you’ll ever write anythingprintable, but it might serve to keep you from the rather obnoxioushabit of poking your nose into affairs which don’t concern you.”
Thus reproved, Sleuth found it difficult to restrain his indignation andresentment.
“You’re like everybody else around here,” he cried. “But you shouldremember the old saying that a prophet is never without honor save inhis own country. Some day I’ll show these people a thing or two, see ifI don’t. I’ll make them sit up and take notice. They may think BillyPiper’s a fool, but I’ll show them. Say, Sage, give me a little time onthis case; don’t run straight to Pickle with what I’ve told you. Promiseme you won’t do that.”
In spite of himself, Fred laughed. “If I really thought there was onechance in a hundred that you had guessed right, I might insist ontelling Pickle, providing you refused to do so. Not having the slightestconfidence in your so-called ‘deductions,’ I’m willing to keep still.”
“Thanks,” said Piper. “Some fellows I wouldn’t trust, even on theirpromise; but I know you, and I’m sure you’ll do nothing without firstconsulting me. I think I’ll be going.”
Sage descended and bade Piper good-night at the door, watching Sleuthslouch away toward the distant lights of the village, a few of whichgleamed through the darkness. Andrew Sage glanced up as the boy returnedto the sitting-room.
“Well,” he said, “been discussing football, son?”
“Not exactly,” answered Fred. “Piper had something else on his mind.”
“Isn’t he a bit queer?” asked Mrs. Sage, who was employing herself withsome needlework in front of the open fire.
“Most persons think he is.”
“He behaves so oddly. Does he always act like that?”
“Oh, it’s Piper’s way. The fellows don’t pay much attention to it,though they josh him sometimes.”
Fred attempted again to interest himself in his book, but in spite ofhis efforts, his mind wandered from the story, and he
repeatedly foundhimself thinking of Sleuth and the matter they had discussed. There was,of course, a remote possibility that Piper had not made a mistake infancying the stranger in Oakdale was James Wilson, for whose capture alarge reward had been offered; and only for his promise to remain silentFred might have told his parents. He was inclined to regret thatunconsidered pledge. Presently, his eyes drooping, he decided to go tobed, and bade his father and mother good-night.
In his room he paced the floor, thinking it all over, his perplexityincreasing.
“I can’t understand why that man ran away after asking about us,” hemuttered. “That’s what gets me. If I hadn’t been afraid of giving motheruneasiness, I’d have told about it when I first came home. Piper can’tbe right, for certainly we don’t know any convicts and jail-breakers.”
As if his final words had given him a shock, he stopped in his tracks,his lips parted, his face paling somewhat, and for some moments he stoodthus, without moving. Presently he resumed his walk up and down theroom, his brows knitted, his manner absorbed. At last he stopped andlaughed shortly as he thought of Piper pacing the floor in almostprecisely that same way.
“Oh, he’s a joke. I’m going to bed.”
The strenuous diversions of the day had given him a healthy wearinesswhich he was now feeling, and it did not take him long to undress. Hehad put out the light when he remembered that his window was stillclosed, and he turned to open it.
With his hand on the sash he paused, an electric thrill shooting throughhis body. Directly beneath his room the light from a lower window shoneforth into the darkness, falling upon the dimly seen figure of a man,who, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, was standing where he couldlook into the sitting-room.
For some seconds Fred remained rigid, watching the motionless man. In aninstant he had become convinced that it was the stranger with whomHooker had talked, but the baffling hat-brim prevented Fred from seeingthe fellow’s face.
Suddenly, as if becoming aware that someone was near who had no right tobe there, the dog barked in the room below. Immediately the man drewhastily back from the border of light and retreated into the darkness.
In a twinkling Fred Sage was leaping into his clothes. The dog, quietedby a word from Mr. Sage, did not bark again. The deep darkness beneath atree near the house had enfolded the man.
Fred did not strike a light. With his hastily donned clothes barelyclinging to him, he caught up a pair of rubber-soled “sneakers,” thrusthis feet into them, opened the door of his room quickly but quietly, andcrept down the stairs. He could hear his father and mother talking, butthey did not hear him as he turned the key in the lock of the door andlet himself out.
Quivering with excitement, the boy reached the corner of the house andpeered round it. He could see no one, although the tree beneath whichthe man had vanished was only a short distance away.
“If I can find him, I’ll demand to know what business he has aroundhere,” thought Fred. “If mother knew, she’d be badly frightened.”
Summoning all his courage, he stepped out boldly and advanced toward thetree, but when he reached it there was still no living creature to beseen.
Twice Sage circled the buildings without result, and he became satisfiedthat the unknown had lost no time in departing.
“But it’s mighty queer,” he muttered—“mighty queer. I don’t understandit. Perhaps I ought to tell father, but if I do I know mother won’tsleep to-night.”
Silently though he reentered the house, Spot barked again, and Fred’sfather opened the door into the hall.
“Just stepped outdoors for a minute,” said the boy. “It’s going to be agood day to-morrow, I think.”
“Oh, is it you?” said Mr. Sage. “Spot barked, and your mother thought heheard something. We had an idea you were abed.”
“I’m going now. Good-night. Good-night, mother.”
“Good-night, Fred,” called his mother in response, and Mr. Sage closedthe door.
For more than half an hour Fred watched from his unlighted window. Heheard his parents retire, and the light no longer shone forth from thesitting-room. His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and hecould see certain objects in the vicinity of the house, but they wereall familiar objects, and amid them no strange shadow moved.
“I’ll have to tell father and mother to-morrow,” decided the boy, as hefinally got into bed.
Again and again during the night he dreamed of the mysterious stranger,and once he awoke panting from a terrific hand-to-hand struggle with theman. It brought him up to gaze once more from the window, through whichcame the chill air of the autumn night.
“I’m a fool,” he whispered, his teeth chattering with the cold. “I’mgoing to sleep now, and see if I can’t dodge those silly dreams.Confound Sleuth Piper, anyhow! Still, I’d like to know what that man wasdoing here.”