Carolyn Wells

“ Appleby that she approved of his son would bring the younger man down to the house at once and matters would then take care of themselves.
But could she do it? She looked at Jeff, as he sat talking to her father, his strong, fine face alight with the earnestness of their discussion. He was a man of a thousand—her own Jeffrey. No, she could not break his heart—she had no right to do that. It would be a crime to blot out the joy and happiness from the eager young face. ”

“ Keefe replied, drawing closer to her side. “It’s all up to you, Maida dear. Don’t look offended; surely you know I love you—surely you know my one great desire is to make you my wife. Give your consent; say you will be mine, and rest assured, dearest, there will be no trouble about the ‘heirship.’ If you will marry me, I will promise never to divulge the secret so long as either of your parents live. They may keep this place, and, besides that, darling, I will guarantee to get your father a full pardon. ”

“ Oh, Maida, how wonderful you are!”
A glance of astonishment made him quickly apologize for his speech.
“But,” he said, “I couldn’t help it. Forgive me, Miss Wheeler, and, since you can smile over it, I’m more than ever anxious to know about the airship deal.”
“And I can tell you nothing,” she declared, “because I know nothing of any such matter. If Mr. Appleby was interested in an airship project, I know nothing of it. The matter he mentioned to me was, I am positively certain, not the deal you speak of.”
“I believe that. Your face is too honest for you to speak an untruth so convincingly. ”

“ Remember that a decision in my favor means also a calm, peaceful and happy life insured to your parents. Refusal means a broken, shattered life, a precarious existence, and never a happy day for them again. Can you hesitate? I’m not so very unpresentable as a husband. You may not love me now, but you will! I’ll be so good to you that you can’t help it. Nor do I mean to win your heart only by what I shall do for you. For, Maida dearest, love begets love, and you will find yourself slowly perhaps, but surely, giving me your heart. And we will be so happy! Is it yes, my darling? ”

“ Appleby, junior. Now, Mr. Appleby does not believe that his father was killed by any member of your family, Mr. Wheeler.”
“Can he, then, produce the man whom he does suspect?”
“No; he suspects no one definitely, but he thinks that by investigation, I can find out the real criminal.”
“You may as well save your time and trouble, Mr. Stone. I am the man you seek, I freely confess my crime, and I accept my fate, whatever it be. Can I do more?” ”

“ Listen, Maida, if you’ll promise to marry me, I’ll find the real murderer—not you or your father, but the real murderer. I’ll get a signed confession—I’ll acquit you and your family of any implication in the deed, and I’ll produce the criminal himself. ”

“ You’re a clever chap, Fulton, to dope this out——”
“Well, there was no other explanation. Anything else hinted at carelessness of my management of this place, and that hurt my pride, for I like to think this garage the pink of perfection as to cleanliness and order.”
“Mr. Wheeler is fortunate in having such a man as you. Now, one more thing, Fulton; where is Rachel?”
“Rachel!”
“Yes, your blush gives you away. If you know where she is, tell me. If she’s done nothing wrong it can do no harm to find her. If she has done anything wrong, she must be found.” ”

“ Appleby said, slowly, “is not apt to break out in sudden flame of crime. I am not a judge nor am I a detective, but until Mr. Wheeler himself confesses to the deed, I shall never believe he shot my father.” ”

“ And, knowing that the encounter was inevitable, Maida went.
Appleby wasted no time in preliminaries.
“I’ve got to go home to-morrow morning,” he said. “I’ve got to have this matter of your father’s help in the campaign settled before I go.”
“I thought it was settled,” returned Maida, calmly. “You know he will never give you the help you ask. And oh, please, Mr. Appleby, won’t you give up the question? You have ruined my father’s life—all our lives; won’t you cease bothering him, and, whether you let him get his full pardon or not, won’t you stop trying to coerce his will?” ”

“ He’d know he wouldn’t be suspected of shooting Mr. Appleby. Why should he do it?”
“Why should anybody do it, except myself?” asked Dan Wheeler. “Not all the detectives in the world can find any one else with a motive and opportunity. The fact that both my wife and daughter tried to take the crime off my shoulders only makes me more determined to tell the truth.”
“But you’re not telling the truth, dad,” and Maida looked at him. “You know I did it—you know I had threatened to do it—you know I felt I just could not stand Mr. Appleby’s oppression of you another day! ”

“ Genevieve Lane produced her vanity-case, and became absorbed in its possibilities.
“I wish I didn’t have to work,” she sighed; “I wish I was an opera singer.”
“‘Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition,’ murmured Keefe, his eyes still scanning letters; ‘by that sin fell the angels,’ and it’s true you are angelic, Viva, so down you’ll go, if you fall for ambition.”
“How you talk! Ambition is a good thing.” ”

“ The kind voice helped her and Maida resumed: “Well, Jeff—Mr. Allen, lives in Boston, and so——”
“So it would be very awkward if your father couldn’t go there.”
“Not only that—but I’ve made a vow never to step foot into Massachusetts until my father can do so, too. Nothing would induce me to break that vow!”
“Not even your lover?” said Keefe, astonished.
“No; my father is more to me than any lover.”
“Then you don’t truly love Mr. Allen.”
[55]
“Oh, yes, I do—I do! But father is my idol. I don’t believe any girl ever adored her father as I do. ”

“ Genevieve Lane’s wise and appraising eyes missed no point of appearance or behavior.
“Perfect darlings, both of them!” she commented to herself. “Whatever ails the old guy, it hasn’t bitten them. Or else—wait a minute——” Genevieve was very observant—“perhaps they’re putting on a little. Is their welcome a bit extra, to help things along?”
Yet only a most meticulous critic could discern anything more than true hospitality in the attitude of Mrs. Wheeler or Maida. The latter took Genevieve to the room prepared for her and chatted away in girlish fashion. ”

“ Keefe said, “I am hard hit by your daughter. Oh, yes, I know she is engaged to young Allen, and I’ve no hope she would ever throw him over for me, but I’m anxious to serve her in any way I can—and I feel pretty sure that I can be of help to you and your family.”
“Well spoken, young man. And your promises are right. I am out of touch with the world, and I should be glad indeed of the advice of an experienced man of business. But, first of all, will you tell me who you think killed Appleby?” ”

“ I make no secret of my position in this matter. Samuel Appleby has a hold over me—I admit that—but it is not strong enough to make me forget my ideas of right and wrong to the public. No influence of a personal nature should weigh against any man’s duty to the state, and I will never agree to pretend to any dissimulation in order to bring about a happier life for myself. ”

“ I’m a born lover, I am.”
“Had much experience?”
“Not yet. But my day’s coming. Well, never mind me—to get back to Friend Keefe. Here’s the way it is. Miss Wheeler is sort of engaged to Mr. Allen, and yet the matter isn’t quite settled, either. I get that from the servants—mean to gossip, but all’s fair in love and sleuthing. Now, Mr. Keefe comes along, sees the lovely Maida, and, zip! his heart is cracked! All might yet be well, but for the wily Genevieve. She has her cap set for Keefe, and he knows it, and was satisfied it should be so, till he saw Miss Wheeler. ”

“ Keefe thinks it was the work of my own men,” said Dan Wheeler. “And it may have been. There’s one in my employ who has an ignorant, brutal spirit of revenge, and if he thought Samuel Appleby was inimical to me, he would be quite capable of setting fire to the Appleby car. That may be the fact of the case.”
“It may be,” agreed Stone. “Doubtless we can find out——”
“How?” asked Allen. “That would be magician’s work, I think.”
“A detective has to be a magician,” Stone smiled at him. “We quite often do more astounding tricks than that.” ”

“ You bet he’ll accept the full pardon and give all his effort and influence and any possible help in return.”
“Hear the child orate!” exclaimed Sam, gazing at the enthusiastic little face, as Genevieve voiced her views.
“I think he’ll be ready to make the bargain, too,” declared Keefe. “Your father has a strong argument. I fancy Wheeler’s jump at the chance.”
“Maybe—maybe so. But you don’t know how opposed he is to our principles. And he’s a man of immovable convictions. In fact, he and dad are two mighty strong forces. One or the other must win out—but I’ve no idea which it will be.” ”

“ Keefe declared, again. “Forgive me, Mr. Stone, if my certainty seems to you presumptuous or forward, but I’m so thoroughly convinced of the innocence of the Wheeler family, that perhaps I am overenthusiastic in my theory.”
“A theory doesn’t depend on enthusiasm,” returned Stone, “but on evidence and proof. Now, how can we set about finding this mysterious bugler—whether phantom or human?”
“I thought that’s what you’re here to do,” Sam Appleby said, looking helplessly at Fleming Stone.
“We are,” piped up Terence McGuire, as Stone made no reply. ”

“ Stone was well aware of the fact that the least seemingly guilty often proved to be a deep-dyed villain, yet he hesitated to think that Dan Wheeler had killed his old enemy, and he could not believe it was a woman’s work. He was impressed by Maida’s story, especially by the fact that a recent development had made her more strongly desirous to be rid of old Appleby. He wondered if it did not have something to do with young Appleby’s desire to marry her, and determined to persuade her to confide further in him regarding the secret she mentioned. ”

“ At this point the other detective was heard from.
“I would like to ask,” Hallen said, “what Mrs. Wheeler meant by crying out that it was the work of a ‘phantom burglar’?”
“Not burglar—bugler,” said Mrs. Wheeler, suddenly alert.
“Bugler!” Hallen stared. “Please explain, ma’am.”
“There is a tradition in my family,” Mrs. Wheeler said, in a slow, sad voice, “that when a member of the family is about to die, a phantom bugler makes an appearance and sounds ‘taps’ on his bugle. This phenomenon occurred last night.”
“Oh, no! Spooks! But Mr. Appleby is not a member of your family.” ”

“ A poor girl has got to do the best she can for herself in this cold world. Well, I’m going to corral one of the three: old man Appleby, young man Appleby, or Curt Keefe.”
“Which one, for choice?” Maida still spoke lightly.
“You don’t think I’m in earnest, but I am. Well, I’d rather have young Sam. Next, I’d choose his father; and, lastly, I’m pretty sure I could nail Curtie Keefe.”
Maida couldn’t help her disapproval showing in her face, but she said: “It isn’t just the way I’d go about selecting a husband, but if it’s your way, all right. Can I help you?” ”

“ Only, it’s his habit to shade the truth when it seems to him advisable. I do not defend this habit; in fact, I have persuaded him to stop it, to a degree. But you know how hard it is to reform entirely.”
“It won’t affect his usefulness, since he doesn’t lie to his employer,” Appleby said, “and, too, it’s none of our business. I’ve engaged Mr. Stone to solve the mystery of my father’s death, and I’m prepared to give him full powers. He may conduct his investigations on any plan he chooses. My only stipulation is that he shall find a criminal outside the Wheeler family.” ”

“ Samuel Appleby has spoiled all our lives—is still spoiling them. He does it for his own selfish interests. He has ruined the happiness of my husband, myself, my daughter, and my prospective son-in-law. Is it any wonder that we should honestly wish he were dead? ”

“ As if I suspected you of faking his tale.”
“It speaks for itself,” and Keefe glanced nonchalantly at the paper he had brought. “There’s the signed confession—if you can prove that signature a fake—go ahead.”
“No,” said Daniel Wheeler, decidedly; “that’s John Mills’ autograph. I know it perfectly. He wrote that himself. And a dying man is not going to sign a lie. There’s no loophole of doubt, Mr. Stone. I think you must admit Mr. Keefe’s entire success.” ”