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  CHAPTER XXXI

  THE VOODOO MYSTERY

  "Everybody's crazy, Kennedy. The whole world is going mad!"

  Our old friend, Burke, of the Secret Service, scowled at the innocentobjects in Craig's laboratory as he mopped his broad forehead.

  "And the Secret Service is as bad as the rest," he went on, stillscowling and not waiting for any comment from us. "Why, what with theseEuropean spies and agitators, strikers and dynamiters, we're nearlydippy. Here, in less than a week I've been shifted off war cases toMexico and now to Hayti. I don't mean that I've been away, ofcourse,--oh, no. You don't have to go to them. They come to us. Confoundit, New York is full of plots and counterplots. I tell you, Kennedy, thewhole world is crazy."

  Craig listened with sympathy mixed with amusement. "Can I help you out?"he asked.

  "If you don't I'll be dippy, too," returned Burke with a whimsicalgrimace.

  "What's the trouble with Hayti, then?" encouraged Kennedy seriously.

  "Trouble enough," answered Burke. "Why, here's that Caribbeanliner, _Haytien_, just in from Port au Prince. She's full ofrefugees--government supporters and revolutionists--you never saw such amenagerie since the ark."

  I watched Burke keenly as he cut loose with his often picturesquelanguage. Somehow, it seemed rather fascinating to have the opera bouffeside of the Black Republic presented to us. At least it was differentfrom anything we had had lately--and perhaps not at all opera bouffe,either. Kennedy, at least, did not seem to think so, for although he wasvery busy at the time, seemed prepared to lay aside his work to aidBurke.

  "You haven't heard about it yet," continued the Secret Service man, "buton the _Haytien_ was a man--black of course--Guillaume Leon. He was afriend of the United States--at least so he called himself, Ibelieve--wanted a new revolution down there, more American marineslanded to bolster up a new government that would clean things up, a newdeal all around."

  Burke paused, then added by way of explanation of his own attitude inthe matter, "That may be all right, perhaps,--may be just what they needdown there, but we can't let people come here and plot revolutions likethat right in New York. They're sore enough at us without our lettingthem think in Latin America that we're taking a hand in their troubles."

  "Quite right," agreed Kennedy. "About Leon."

  "Yes, Leon," resumed Burke, getting back to the subject. "Well, I wastold by the Chief of the Service to look out for this fellow. And I did.I thought it would make a good beginning to go down the bay on a revenuetug to meet the _Haytien_ at Quarantine. But, by Jingo, no sooner was Iover the side of the ship than what do you suppose I ran up against?"

  He did not pause long enough to give us a guess, but shot outdramatically, "Leon was dead--yes, dead!"

  Kennedy and I had been interested up to this point. Now we were eager tohave him go on. "He died on the voyage up," continued Burke, "just afterpassing the Gulf Stream, suddenly and from no apparent cause. At leastthe ship's surgeon couldn't find any cause and neither could they downat Quarantine. So after some time they let the ship proceed up the bayand placed the whole thing in the hands of the Secret Service."

  "Is there anyone you suspect?" I asked.

  "Suspect?" repeated Burke. "I suspect them all. The _Haytien_ was fullof niggers--as superstitious as they make 'em. The ship's surgeon tellsme that after the body of Leon was discovered there was such a scene ashe had never witnessed. It was more like bedlam than a group of humanbeings. Some were for putting the body over into the sea immediately.Others threatened murder if it was done. Most of them didn't know whatit was they wanted. Then, there was a woman there. She seemed to benearly crazy--"

  There came a knock at the laboratory door.

  "If you'll just go into the next room with Walter," said Craig to Burke,"I'll see you in a few minutes. Sit down, make yourself at home."

  I went in with him and Burke dropped into a chair beside my typewriter.The laboratory door opened. From where we were sitting we could see in amirror on the opposite wall that it was a girl, dark of skin, perhaps amulatto, but extremely beautiful, with great brown eyes and just a traceof kinkiness in her black hair. But it was the worried, almost haunted,look on her face that attracted one's attention most.

  I happened to glance at Burke to see whether he had noticed it. Ithought his eyes would pop out of his head.

  Just then Kennedy walked across the laboratory and closed our door.

  "What's the matter?" I whispered.

  But before Burke could reply, a draught opened the door just a bit. Heplaced his finger on his lips. We could not close the door, and we satthere in our corner unintentional but no less interested eavesdroppers.

  "Mademoiselle Collette Aux Cayes is my name," she began, with astrangely French accent which we could just understand. "I've heard ofyou, Professor Kennedy, as a great detective."

  "I should be glad to do what I can for you," he returned. "But youmustn't expect too much. You seem to be in some great trouble."

  "Trouble--yes," she replied excitedly. "My name isn't really Aux Cayes.That is the name of my guardian, a friend of my father's. Both my fatherand mother are dead--killed by a mob during an uprising several yearsago. I was in Paris at the time, being educated in a convent, or Isuppose I should have been killed, too."

  She seemed to take it as a matter of course, from which I concluded thatshe had been sent to Paris when she was very young and did not rememberher parents very well.

  "At last the time came for me to go back to Hayti," she resumed. "Thereis nothing that would interest you about that--except that after I gotback, in Port au Prince, I met a young lawyer--Guillaume Leon."

  She hesitated and looked at Craig as though trying to read whether hehad ever heard the name before, but Kennedy betrayed nothing. There wasmore than that in her tone, though. It was evident that Leon had beenmore than a friend to her.

  "Hayti has been so upset during the past months," she went on, "that myguardian decided to go to New York, and of course I was taken along withhim. It happened that on the ship--the _Haytien_--Monsieur Leon wentalso. It was very nice until--"

  She came to a full stop. Kennedy encouraged her gently, knowing what shewas going to tell.

  "One night, after we had been out some time," she resumed unexpectedly,"I could not sleep and I went out on the deck to walk and watch themoonlight. As I walked softly up and down, I heard voices, two men, inthe shadow of one of the cabins. They were talking and now and then Icould catch a word. It was about Guillaume. I heard them say that he wasplotting another revolution, that that was the reason he was going toNew York--not because he wanted to be on the boat with me. There wassomething about money, too, although I couldn't get it very clearly. Ithad to do with an American banking house, Forsythe & Co., Ithink,--money that was to be paid to Guillaume to start an uprising. Ithink they must have heard me, for I couldn't hear any more and theymoved off down the deck, so that I couldn't recognize them. You see, Iam not a revolutionist. My guardian belongs to the old order."

  She stopped again, as though in doubt just how to go on. "Anyhow," shecontinued finally, "I determined to tell Guillaume. It would have madeit harder for us--but it was he, not his politics, I loved." She wasalmost crying as she blurted out, "But it was only the next day that hewas found dead in his stateroom. I never saw him alive after I overheardthat talk."

  It was some moments before she had calmed herself so that she could goon. "You know our people, Professor Kennedy," she resumed, choking backher sobs. "Some said his dead body was like Jonah, and ought to bethrown off to the sea. Then others didn't even want to have it touched,said that it ought to be embalmed. And others didn't want that, either."

  "What do you mean? Who were they?"

  "Oh, there was one man,--Castine," she replied, hesitating over thename, as though afraid even to mention it.

  "He wanted it thrown overboard?" prompted Craig.

  "N--no, he didn't want that, either," she replied. "He urged them not totouch it--just to leave i
t alone."

  She was very much frightened, evidently at her own temerity in coming toCraig and saying so much. Yet something seemed to impel her to go on.

  "Oh, Professor Kennedy," she exclaimed in a sudden burst of renewedfeeling, "don't you understand? I--I loved him--even after I found outabout the money and what he intended to do with it. I could not see hisdear body thrown in the ocean."

  She shivered all over at the thought, and it was some time before shesaid anything more. But Kennedy let her do as she pleased, as he oftendid when deep emotion was wringing the secrets from people's hearts.

  "He is dead!" she sobbed wildly. "Was he poisoned? Oh, can't you findout? Can't you help me?"

  Suddenly her voice in wild appeal sank almost to a hoarse whisper. "Youmust not let anybody know that I came to you," she implored.

  "Why not?"

  "Oh--I--I am just afraid--that's all."

  There was real fear in her tone and face now, fear for herself.

  "Where is the body?" asked Kennedy, to get her mind off whatever hunglike an incubus over it.

  "Down on the _Haytien_, at the pier, over in Brooklyn, still," shereplied. "They kept us all interned there. But my guardian had enoughinfluence to get off for a time and while he is arranging for quartersfor our stay after we are released, I slipped away to see you."

  "You must go back to the boat?"

  "Oh, yes. We agreed to go back."

  "Then I shall be down immediately," Craig promised. "If you will goahead, I will see you there. Perhaps, at first you had better notrecognize me. I will contrive some way to meet you. Then they will notknow."

  "Thank you," she murmured, as she rose to go, now in doubt whether shehad done the best thing to come to Craig, now glad that she had someoutside assistance in which she could trust.

  He accompanied her to the door, bidding her keep up her courage, thenclosed it, waiting until her footsteps down the hall had died away.

  Then he opened our door and caught sight of Burke's face.

  "That's strange, Burke," he began, before he realized what theexpression on his face meant. "There's a woman--what? You don't mean totell me that you knew her?"

  "Why, yes," hastened Burke. "There was a rich old planter, Henri AuxCayes, aboard, too. She's his ward, Mademoiselle Collette."

  "That's right," nodded Craig in surprise.

  "She's the woman I was telling you about. She may be a little dark, butshe's a beauty, all right. I heard what she said. No wonder she was sofrantic, then."

  "What do you know of the bankers, Forsythe & Co.?" asked Craig.

  "Forsythe & Co.?" considered Burke. "Well, not much, perhaps. But for along time, I believe, they've been the bankers and promoters of defunctCaribbean islands, reaping a rich harvest out of the troubles of thosedecrepit governments, playing one against the other."

  "H-m," mused Kennedy. "Can you go over to Brooklyn with me now?"

  "Of course," agreed Burke, brightening up. "That was what I hoped you'ddo."

  Kennedy and I were just about to leave the laboratory with Burke when anidea seemed to occur to Craig. He excused himself and went back to acabinet where I saw him place a little vial and a hypodermic needle inhis vest pocket.