Chester K. Steele

“ And Colonel Ashley, stealing his way up unseen, heard from Minnie Webb the startled ejaculation:
“LeGrand! You here? And who—who is this?”
Then, as if in defiance, or perhaps to see who the challenger was, the figure standing beside that of LeGrand Blossom flashed a little pocket electric torch. And by the gleam of it Colonel Ashley saw the large blonde woman again.
“Morocco Kate!” he murmured. “So she is mixed up in it after all! I think I begin to see daylight in spite of the darkness. Morocco Kate!” ”

“ And when two nights later LeGrand Blossom left his boarding place and met a veiled woman at a lonely spot on the beach, Colonel Ashley, who had been waiting as he so well knew how to do, hid himself on the sand behind some sedge grass and began to think that the game was coming his way after all.
“For a man who pretends to be open and above board, his actions are very queer,” mused the detective, as he silently crawled nearer to where LeGrand Blossom and the woman stood talking in low tones on the lonely sands. ”

“ Did you hear what I said just now—as you passed the door?”
“Do you mean about not believing that your father was a suicide?” asked Minnie, in a low voice.
“Yes.”
“I—I heard you.”
“Then the only thing you can do is to help me prove otherwise,” said Viola. “That would be the greatest help. It can't be true, and we want that made plain. Father never killed himself. He was not that kind of man. He did not fear death, but he would not go deliberately to meet it. It is not true that he killed himself!” and Viola's voice seemed to ring out.
A strange look came over the face of Minnie Webb. ”

“ And at a particularly dark and lonely place he stopped. The pungent, clean smell of grain alcohol filled the air, and a little later a man, devoid of goatee and moustache, passing out into the starlight, while a black, slouch hat went into the bag, and a Panama, so flexible that it had not suffered from having been thrust rather ruthlessly into the valise, came out.
“I don't like that sort of detective work,” mused the colonel, “but it has its uses.”
Viola Carwell, alone in her room, sat with a bundle of letters on a table before her. ”

“ Horace Carwell was my very good friend. He once did me a great service, when I needed money badly, by helping me make an investment in copper that turned out extremely well. I feel myself under obligations to him; and, since he is no more, I must transfer that obligation to his daughter.”
“Then you'll come with me to see her, Colonel Ashley?”
“Yes. Shag, pack up! We're going back to civilization.”
The colored man's face was a study. He looked at the quiet stream, at the drooping willows, at the fish rod in his master's hand, and at the creel. ”

“ I feel that you will do better than any one else. Oh, you will help me, won't you?” she pleaded.
“Of course, Viola. But I don't know how.”
“Then let me tell you,” and she seemed to be in better control of herself than at any time that day. “This must be gone into systematically, and we can best do it through a detective.”
“A detective!” cried Harry Bartlett, and he started from his chair. “Why, my dear Viola, a detective would be the worst possible person to call in on a case like this! ”

“ It won't do to make up one's mind at once.”
“But my brother either committed suicide, or else he was deliberately poisoned!” insisted Miss Carwell. “And those of us who knew him feel sure he would never take his own life. He must have been killed, and if Harry Bartlett didn't do it who did?”
“I don't know,” frankly replied the colonel. “That's what I'm going to try to find out. So Miss Viola feels much sympathy for him, does she?”
“Yes. And she wants to go to see him at the jail. Of course I know they don't exactly call it a jail, but that's what I call it!” ”

“ What do you want? Ah, it is you—and you!” and she turned first to Colonel Ashley and then to Jack Young. “You who have talked so kindly to me—who have asked me so much about—about my husband! It is you who come like thieves and assassins! Speak to them, Jean! Tell them to go!”
The Frenchman was breathing heavily, for Jack had a merciless grip on him.
“Speak to them, Jean!” implored the girl, while her mother, standing in the door with her knitting, looked wonderingly on. “Why do they come to take you like a traitor?”
“It—it's all a mistake!” panted the chauffeur. ”

“ Golf is an uncertain game, especially when there's a match on among the old boys like Horace Carwell and the crowd of past-performers and cup-winners he trails along with. He's just as likely to pull or slice as the veriest novice, and once he starts to slide he's a goner. ”

“ The witness rooms are not at all like cells, though they have barred windows.”
“But why can't he get out on bail?” asked Viola, rather petulantly. “I'm sure the charge, absurd as it is, is not such as would make them keep him locked up without being allowed to get bail. I thought only murder cases were not bailable.”
“That is usually the case,” said Colonel Ashley. “But if this is not a suicide case it is a murder case, and though Harry is not accused of murder, in law the distinction is so fine that the prosecutor, doubtless, feels justified in refusing bail.” ”

“ On slowly moving pinions, a lone osprey beat its way against a quartering south-east wind to the dead tree where the little birds waited impatiently in the nest, giving vent to curious, whistling sounds. Slowly the osprey flew, for it had played in great luck that day, and had swooped down on a fish that would make a meal for him and his mate and the little ones. The fish was not yet dead, but every now and then would contort its length in an effort to escape from the talons which were thrust deeper and deeper into it, making bright spots of blood on the scaly sides. ”

“ The two medical men were together in the room with the body for some time, and when they came out Viola Carwell was there to meet them. Dr. Lambert put his arms about her. He had known her all her life—since she first ventured into this world, in fact—and his manner was most fatherly.
“Oh, Uncle Add!” she murmured to him—for she had long called him by this endearing title—Oh, Uncle Add! What is it? Is my father—is he really—”
“My dear little girl, your father is dead, I am sorry to say. You must be very brave, and bear up. Be the brave woman he would want you to be.” ”

“ Bruce Garrigan, who had a name among the golf club members as a human encyclopaedia, and who, at times, would inform his companions on almost any subject that chanced to come uppermost, tossed away his cigarette and, with Tom Sharwell, watched the oncoming automobile racers.
“They're rivals in more ways than one,” remarked Sharwell. “And it looks, now, as though the captain rather had the edge on Harry, in spite of the fast color of Harry's car.” ”

“ And once again there was diffused the aroma of mint and the more pronounced odor of the Scotch.
“Yes, it's pretty poor fishing,” mused the colonel, when Garrigan had gone off to engage in a game of billiards with some insistent friends, whose advent the detective was thankful for, as he wanted to be alone. He was gregarious by nature, but there were times when he had to be alone, and it was because of this trait in his nature that he had taken up with the rod and reel, becoming a disciple of Izaak Walton. ”

“ If it is always good weather when good fellows get together, it was certainly a most delightful day as the colonel and his two hosts sat on the shady veranda of the Maraposa Golf Club. They talked of many things, and, naturally, the conversation veered around to the death of Mr. Carwell. Out of respect to his memory, an important match had been called off on the day of his funeral. ”

“ And Viola was glad of this. He was a relief from the usual plumber or carpenter, who seemed to lack initiative.
“It is my father's private safe that we wish opened,” she said. “He alone had the combination to it, and he—he is dead,” she added softly.
“So I understood,” he responded with appreciation of what her grief must be. “Well, I think I shall be able to open the safe without damaging it. That was what you wanted, was it not?”
“Yes. Father never let any one but himself open the safe when he was alive. ”

“ It was not until he had purchased his ticket and was about to board the last Jersey Shore train, to take him back to the scene of the death of Horace Carwell, that Colonel Ashley, as he caught sight of a figure in the crowd ahead of him, seemed galvanized into new life.
For a moment he gazed at a certain man, taking care to keep some women with large hats between the object of his attention and himself. ”

“ Reaching The Haven, Colonel Ashley, who had trailed LeGrand Blossom to the latter's boarding place without anything having developed, was met by Shag, who was up later than usual, for it was now close to midnight.
“What now, Shag!” exclaimed the colonel. “Don't tell me there are any more detective cases for me to work on. I simply won't listen. I wish I hadn't to this one. It's getting more and more tangled every minute, and the fish are biting well. Hang it all, Shag, why did you let me take up this golf course mystery?” ”

“ You can prove nothing only that women are fools. I shall hire a good lawyer and—poof! What would you have—a man must live. Bigamy, it is not such a serious charge.”
“Oh, no, there are worse,” said the colonel calmly. “You're going to hear one presently. She told me just what I wanted to know, as I thought she would if I could get her roused up enough against you. So, you weren't riding, as you said, with her the day Mr. Carwell came to his end. I never thought you were, Jean of the many names. ”

“ But you can never tell.”
“No, you can never tell,” agreed Colonel Ashley, and none knew, better than himself, how true that was.
“But why should they subpoena me?” asked Bartlett.
“Don't fret over that,” advised his companion, with a calm smile. “You probably aren't the only one. A coroner's inquest is, as some one has said, a sort of fishing excursion. They start out not expecting much, not knowing what they are going to get, and sometimes they catch nothing—or no one—and again, a big haul is made. ”

“ Though a man well along in his forties, he was as lithe and active as one ten years younger. He motored, fished, played golf, hunted, and of late had added yachting to his amusements. He was wealthy, as his father had been before him, and owned a fine home in New York, but he spent a large part of every year at Lakeside, where he might enjoy the two sports he loved best-golfing and yachting.
Viola was an only child, her mother having died when she was about sixteen, and since then Mr. Carwell's maiden sister had kept watch and ward over the handsome home, The Haven. ”

“ Do you know how many hours, minutes and seconds the average human being has passed in sleep when he reaches the age of forty-five years?” and Garrigan smiled quizzically.
“No, sir,” answered Colonel Ashley, “I do not.”
“Neither do I,” confessed Mr. Garrigan as he sank down in a chair beside the colonel and accepted the glass from a tray which the much-buttoned club attendant held out to him. “I don't know, and I don't much care.” ”

“ So Colonel Ashley was given the guest chamber, Shag was provided with comfortable quarters, and then Viola seemed more content.
“I know,” she said to her aunt, “that the truth will be found out now.”
“But suppose the truth is more painful than uncertainty, Viola?”
“How can it be?” asked the girl, as tears filled her eyes.
“I don't know,” answered Miss Carwell softly. “It is all so terrible, that I don't believe it can be any worse. But we must hope for the best. I trust business matters will go along all right. ”

“ Minnie Webb was perplexed. She loved LeGrand Blossom—there was no doubt of that—but she did not see why he should have to leave the vicinity of Lakeside where she had lived so many years—at least during the summer months. All her friends and acquaintances were there.
“I wonder if Viola has given him notice to leave since she came into her father's property,” mused Minnie. “I'm going to ask her. He may never get such a good place in Boston as he has here. I'll see if I can't find out why he wants to leave. It can't be just because father does not care much for him.” ”

“ And we can't even put poor father's body in the grave, where he might rest.”
“No, the coroner is waiting for permission from the prosecutor. It seems they are trying to find some one who knows about the quarrel between Harry and your father.”
“I don't believe there was a quarrel—at least not a serious one. Harry isn't that kind. I'm sure he is not guilty. Harry Bartlett had nothing to do with his death. If my father was not a suicide—”
“But if he was not a suicide, for the sake of justice and to prove Harry Bartlett innocent, we must find out who did kill your father,” said the colonel. ”