E-text prepared by Al Haines
THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH
by
RANDALL PARRISH
Author of"The Devils Own," "Beyond the Frontier," "When Wilderness Was King,"Etc.
A. L. Burt CompanyPublishers New YorkPublished by arrangement with George H. Doran CompanyCopyright, 1918,by Randall ParrishPrinted in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I THE REACHING OF A DECISION II THE BODY ON THE FLOOR III MR. ENRIGHT DECLARES HIMSELF IV A BREATH OF SUSPICION V ON THE TRACK OF A CRIME VI AT STEINWAY'S VII MISS DONOVAN ARRIVES VIII A GANG OF ENEMIES IX A NIGHT AND A MORNING X AT A NEW ANGLE XI DEAD OR ALIVE XII VIEWED FROM BOTH SIDES XIII THE SHOT OF DEATH XIV LACY LEARNS THE TRUTH XV MISS LA RUE PAYS A CALL XVI CAPTURED XVII IN THE SHOSHONE DESERT XVIII IN MEXICAN POWER XIX WESTCOTT FINDS HIMSELF ALONE XX TO COMPEL AN ANSWER XXI THE MARSHAL PLAYS A HAND XXII THE ROCK IN THE STREAM XXIII THE ESCAPE XXIV THE CAVE IN THE CLIFF XXV IN THE DARK PASSAGE XXVI THE REAPPEARANCE OF CAVENDISH XXVII A DANGEROUS PRISONER XXVIII WITH BACK TO THE WALL XXIX A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK XXX ON THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF XXXI WITH FORCE OF ARMS XXXII IN THE TWO CABINS XXXIII THE REAL MR. CAVENDISH XXXIV MISS DONOVAN DECIDES
THE STRANGE CASE OF CAVENDISH
CHAPTER I: THE REACHING OF A DECISION
For the second time that night Frederick Cavendish, sitting at a smalltable in a busy cafe where the night life of the city streamedcontinually in and out, regarded the telegram spread out upon the whitenapery. It read:
Bear Creek, Colorado, 4/2/15.
FREDERICK CAVENDISH, College Club, New York City.
Found big lead; lost it again. Need you badly.
WESTCOTT.
For the second time that night, too, a picture rose before him, apicture of great plains, towering mountains, and open spaces that spokethe freedom and health of outdoor living. He had known that life oncebefore, when he and Jim Westcott had prospected and hit the trailtogether, and its appeal to him now after three years of shallowsightseeing in the city was deeper than ever.
"Good old Jim," he murmured, "struck pay-dirt at last only to lose itand he needs me. By George, I think I'll go."
And why should he not? Only twenty-nine, he could still afford tospend a few years in search of living. His fortune left him at thedeath of his father was safely invested, and he had no close friends inthe city and no relatives, except a cousin, John Cavendish, for whom heheld no love, and little regard.
He had almost determined upon going to Bear Creek to meet Westcott andwas calling for his check when his attention was arrested by a noisyparty of four that boisterously took seats at a near-by table.Cavendish recognised the two women as members of the chorus of theprevailing Revue, one of them Celeste La Rue, an aggressive blonde withthin lips and a metallic voice, whose name was synonymous with midnightescapades and flowing wine. His contemptuous smile at the sight ofthem deepened into a disgusted sneer when he saw that one of the menwas John Cavendish, his cousin.
The two men's eyes met, and the younger, a slight, mild-eyed youth witha listless chin, excused himself and presented himself at the elder'stable.
"Won't you join us?" he said nervously.
Frederick Cavendish's trim, bearded jaw tightened and he shook hishead. "They are not my people," he said shortly, then retreating,begged, "John, when are you going to cut that sort out?"
"You make me weary!" the boy snapped. "It's easy enough for you totalk when you've got all the money--that gives you an excuse to read memoral homilies every time I ask you for a dollar, but Miss La Rue is asgood as any of your friends any day."
The other controlled himself. "What is it you want?" he demandeddirectly: "Money? If so, how much?"
"A hundred will do," the younger man said eagerly. "I lost a little oncards lately, and have to borrow. To-night I met the girl----"
Frederick Cavendish silenced him and tendered him the bills. "Now," hesaid gravely, "this is the last, unless--unless you cut out such peopleas Celeste La Rue and others that you train with. I'm tired of payingbills for your inane extravagances and parties. I can curtail yourincome and what's more, I will unless you change."
"Cut me off?" The younger Cavendish's voice took on an incredulousnote.
The other nodded. "Just that," he said. "You've reached the limit."
For a moment the dissipated youth surveyed his cousin, then an angryflush mounted into his pasty face.
"You--you--" he stuttered, "--you go to hell."
Without another word the elderly Cavendish summoned the waiter, paidthe bill, and walked toward the door. John stared after him, a smileof derision on his face. He had heard Cavendish threaten before.
"Your cousin seemed peeved," suggested Miss La Rue.
"It's his nature," explained John. "Got sore because I asked him for amere hundred and threatened to cut off my income unless I quit you two."
"You told him where to go," Miss La Rue said, laughing. "I heard you,but I don't suppose he'll go--he doesn't look like that kind."
"Anyhow, I told him," laughed John; then producing a large bill, cried:"Drink up, people, they're on me--and goody-goody cousin Fred."
When Frederick Cavendish reached the street and the fresh night airraced through his lungs he came to a sudden realisation and then aresolution. The realisation was that since further pleading wouldavail nothing with John Cavendish, he needed a lesson. The resolutionwas to give it to him. Both strengthened his previous half-hearteddesire to meet Westcott, into determination.
He turned the matter over in his mind as he walked along untilreflection was ended by the doors of the College Club which appearedabruptly and took him in their swinging circle. He went immediately tothe writing-room, laid aside his things and sat down. The first thingto do, he decided, was to obtain an attorney and consult him regardingthe proper steps. For no other reason than that they had metoccasionally in the corridor he thought of Patrick Enright, a heavy-setman with a loud voice and given to wearing expensive clothes.
Calling a page boy, he asked that Enright be located if possible.During the ensuing wait he outlined on a scrap of paper what heproposed doing. Fifteen minutes passed before Enright, suave andapparently young except for growing baldness, appeared.
"I take it you are Mr. Cavendish," he said, advancing, "and that youare in immediate need of an attorney's counsel."
Cavendish nodded, shook hands, and motioned him into a chair. "I havebeen called suddenly out of town, Mr. Enright," he explained, "and forcertain reasons which need not be disclosed I deem it necessary toexecute a will. I am the only son of the late William HuntingtonCavendish; also his sole heir, and in the event of my death without awill, the property would descend to my only known relative, a cousin."
"His name?" Mr. Enright asked.
"John Cavendish."
The lawyer nodded. Of young Cavendish he evidently knew.
"Because of his dissolute habits I have decided to dispose of a largeportion of my estate elsewhere in case of my early death. I have herea rough draft of what I want done." He showed the paper. "All that Irequire is that it be transposed into legal form."
Enright took the paper and read it carefully. The bulk of the$1,000,000 Cavendish estate was willed to charitable organisations, anda small allowance, a mere pittance, was provided for John Cavendish.After a few inquiries the attorney said sharply: "You want thistranscribed immediately?"
Cavendish nodded.
"Since it can be made brief I may possibly be able to do it on thegirl's machine in the office. You
do not mind waiting a moment?"
Cavendish shook his head, and rising, the attorney disappeared in thedirection of the office. Cavendish heaved a sigh of relief; now he wasfree, absolutely free, to do as he chose. His disappearance would meannothing to his small circle of casual friends, and when he was settledelsewhere he could notify the only two men who were concerned with hiswhereabouts--his valet, Valois, and the agent handling the estate. Hethought of beginning a letter to John, but hesitated, and when Enrightreturned he found him with pen in hand.
"A trifling task," the attorney smiled easily. "All ready for yoursignature, too. You sign there, the second line. But wait--we musthave witnesses."
Simms, the butler, and the doorman were called in and wrote their namesto the document and then withdrew, after which Enright began folding itcarefully.
"I presume you leave this in my care?" he asked shortly.
Cavendish shook his head: "I think not. I prefer holding it myself incase it is needed suddenly. I shall keep my rooms, and my man Valoiswill remain there indefinitely. Now as to your charges."
A nominal sum was named and paid, after which Cavendish rose, picked uphis hat and stick and turned to Enright.
"You have obliged me greatly," he smiled, "and, of course, thetransaction will be considered as strictly confidential." And thenseeing Enright's nod bade him a courteous "Good night."
The attorney watched him disappear. Suddenly he struck the table withone hand.
"By God!" he muttered, "I'll have to see this thing a little further."
Wheeling suddenly, he walked to a telephone booth, called a number andwaited impatiently several moments before he said in intense subduedtones: "Is this Carlton's Cafe? Give me Jackson, the head-waiter.Jackson, is Mr. Cavendish--John Cavendish--there? Good! Call him tothe phone will you, Jackson? It's important."