_ CHAPTER VI. TRACING SOME CLEWS
When Old King Brady heard what Harry said, he felt convinced that the boy made no error. He plainly saw that the crayon portrait was an excellent picture of the man whose body vanished in the swamp.
Lizzie Dalton overheard Young King Brady's remark.
Her face turned as pale as death, and she sank into a chair, gasping:
"Was my father murdered?"
"Such is our suspicion," replied the old detective, gently.
"But you are not positive of it?"
"No," answered Old King Brady, shaking his head.
"In that case, you may be mistaken."
"Yes. There's some doubt about it."
"Will you kindly tell me what made you believe he was dead?"
"Certainly. Listen. Here's what happened in the past few days."
And he recited all that transpired from the time they first heard that cry for help in Thirty-sixth street, up to the present moment.
The girl listened intently and when he finished, she said, in tones of relief:
"Then you have reason to believe that the man was alive when you heard his voice coming from that old hut in the swamp?"
"Just so," assented Old King Brady, admiring her fortitude and cool judgment.
"And you believe my cousin Ronald and this negro were at the bottom of the whole thing?" continued the girl.
"We do. It's our opinion that Mason sent your father a decoy telegram to the Union Club, and lured him to the empty house in Thirty-sixth street. We believe he and Sim Johnson arranged to attack and drug him there. We think, when they either killed or drugged him, they packed him in the box and shipped it by rail to Georgia. The fact that some unknown party on the cars chloroformed us leads us to suppose it was Mason, who may have been on the cars disguised. We also think they had accomplices at Swamp Angel to stop the train so they could steal the box and hide the body of the man it contained in the swamp. The fact of Mason and the negro being there at the time, confirms this suspicion of them being at the bottom of the job."
"Your suspicions seem to be well founded, sir, but it may be only a theory on your part, after all," said the girl.
"Miss Dalton, you can weaken or strengthen our suspicions."
"In what way, Mr. Brady?"
"By showing us a motive for such crooked work."
"How can I?"
"Simply by answering my questions."
"Nothing would give me more pleasure."
"First, then, were your father and Mason on friendly terms?"
"Very."
"Didn't they ever quarrel?"
"Never, to my knowledge."
"Then revenge is out of the question. Now for love."
"I don't quite understand you, sir."
"Wasn't Mason in love with you?"
The girl's cheeks flushed and she averted her glance.
Both detectives noticed the tell-tale glow and smiled at each other.
Finally, after some consideration, Lizzie said, with an effort:
"Mr. Mason did profess to be in love with me."
"Wanted you to marry him, didn't he?"
"Yes. But I didn't return his affection."
"Did you tell him so?"
"Several times. I told my father about it, too."
"How did he seem to take it?"
"Well, he forbade me marrying Mr. Mason and told him the same thing."
"Then with your father out of the way, so he could no longer object, Mason might have figured that he would have better success winning you."
"No matter what he thought, it wouldn't do him any good, sir."
"So I presume. However, it shows an incentive to get rid of your father. Now, there's another consideration. I refer to money."
"How could he gain money by killing my father?"
"Well, he told us your father's fortune was to go to both of you."
"Then he did not tell the truth," said the girl, contemptuously. "My father often told me that every cent he had was willed to me exclusively."
"Have you seen his will?"
"Yes. He once showed it to me."
"Then you know what you said to be true?"
"Of course I do. Mr. Mason had no claim on my father's generosity."
"What lawyer drew up the will?"
"Oh, he's been dead several years. His name was Evan D. Russell."
"Where was the will kept?"
"Hidden. No one but papa knows where."
The Bradys questioned her closely for a while longer.
While this was going on, Young King Brady had been holding the negro by the arm. But they became so interested in what Lizzie was saying that neither one paid much attention to him.
Sim soon observed this.
Filled with a desire to escape, he suddenly wrenched his arm free.
Quick as a flash he seized a chair, swung it around and knocked Harry down.
Old King Brady heard his partner's warning cry and turned around, but ere he could do anything the chair crushed down upon his head and he fell upon his back in the middle of the floor.
The delighted negro rushed to the open window and leaped out.
Up scrambled the chagrined detectives.
Both smarted from the blows, but were otherwise uninjured and they rushed to the window and jumped out into the front yard.
Rushing out to the street they gazed around, but failed to see anything of the fugitive valet.
He had hidden himself so completely that they could find no trace of him, although they scoured the neighborhood for an hour.
When they met again, both looked very much disgusted and Harry said:
"He has eluded us, it seems."
"Completely," Old King Brady answered, angrily.
"We may as well give up hunting for him."
"Yes. It's a waste of time at present."
They returned to the house and told Lizzie the bad news, and the old detective said:
"I expected to pump some valuable information from him about Ronald Mason. But that hope is gone. We shall have to watch out for that pair. In the meantime, if you wish us to recover your father's body, dead or alive, you must maintain the utmost secrecy of what we said, Miss Dalton."
"You can depend upon my discretion," replied the girl, quietly.
The detectives promised to exert every effort to find her father, and finally took their leave of her.
On the following day the Bradys went to the office of Solomon Gloom, the undertaker, on Seventh avenue, and met him in his office.
He looked nothing like the man who personated him.
It was just as the Bradys suspected.
Having described the man who had the wagon and carried off the body, Old King Brady asked the undertaker:
"Did you give that man one of your business cards?"
"I certainly did," replied Mr. Gloom.
"And rented out your wagon to him?"
"Yes, sir. I also got them a Health Board permit for small-pox, so they could remove their relative's body. The party died of small-pox."
That satisfied the Bradys to the means the abductors employed to personate the undertaker and carry out their plot.
The officers next went to the Union Club and made an effort to secure the telegram which brought Mr. Dalton from the clubhouse the night he was summoned away and vanished from view.
The steward found it in the rubbish-basket and gave it to them.
The message was worded as follows:
"Oliver Dalton: Meet me secretly, nine to-night, in house No. --
West Thirty-sixth street, about mail robberies.
Old King Brady."
Here was a startling surprise for the detectives.
"Did you send that message?" asked Harry, of his partner.
"No. It's a forgery!" declared the old detective.
"I thought so."
"Whoever sent it knew the broker was going to have us run down the thieves who were robbing him."
"As Ronald Mason admitted to us that he practically ran the business, he must have known that we were going to work up the case. Our chief told Mr. Dalton we would. Therefore it must be another example of Mason's perfidy."
"Come to the telegraph office. We'll see if we can trace the party who sent this despatch."
They hastened from the Union Club.
By dint of diligent inquiry the Bradys learned which office the forged despatch had been sent from, and went there.
Showing the message to the girl operator, Old King Brady asked:
"Do you remember sending this message?"
"Distinctly," she replied, "on account of the odd signature."
"Can you describe the party who sent it?"
"Oh, yes. I'm acquainted with the gentleman."
"Indeed! What was his name?"
"Mr. Ronald Mason."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, indeed."
The Bradys thanked the girl and departed.
"Gradually we are getting at the bottom of this affair," said Old King Brady. _