Hugh Pendexter

“ If a man be given to that sort of thing, it possessed rare potentials for lively fancies. Even now I had but to half-close my eyes to behold the servant and the three men who exposed Arnold’s treason, and the shade of the unfortunate André.
“My grandfather often saw the young waiter, grown up to a man, and was fond of describing him as a tall, gaunt chap that would make you think of a death’s-head,” monotonously continued Camper. ”

“ And leaning from his chair, he grabbed for the long, thin arm.
As he exclaimed this, the man stopped and one bony hand met Batak’s clawing digits for a second. Then the man glided away. Camper and I gaped after him. When we sifted our questioning gaze, it was to behold Batak sitting bolt-upright and rigid, and glaring at something he was clutching in his right hand. Not till he slowly withdrew his hand into the candlelight did we make out what he was grasping. It was a small American flag. ”

“ You need a breath of fresh air. We’ll reach Storville in time for lunch, and you two can wait for me to interview Dr. Manning, or you can return without me.”
“Why don’t you go, chief?” Batak urged.
Camper shook his head stubbornly, but his smile was more boyish as he repeated:
“Perhaps in a few days. I’ve just finished my work. Once it’s delivered in Washington—no, no story, Henry. The Washington end must give it out.”
“No one but the chief has all the strings in his hand,” explained Batak. “I know what my committee has done and that’s all. He knows what every committee has done.” ”

“ And yet, with Batak dead, he failed to express the degree of grief I would have expected. Rather, he seemed to be checking some unnatural display. I knew he was worn and played out by his arduous labors and was willing to plead it as his excuse, but when with a brusk, rough motion he snatched the flag from the dead hand, I found it hard to forgive him.
“Business is business,” I sadly remarked as we stepped from the wet veranda into a patch of sunshine. “I must see Dr. Manning. Suppose you’ll return home at once.”
“I’ll go with you,” Camper replied. ”

“ Only one hypothesis was possible—either you or Batak took them.”
“Good Heavens!” I choked. “Me! A spy!”
“Softly," he warned, pressing my shoulder. “The papers were on my desk when I rose to greet you. You passed close to the desk when you went to the window. Batak walked by the desk when he procured me a towel. I discovered the theft while wiping my hands. I had two courses open to me: to summon help and have you both searched, or accompany the two of you to Storville and perhaps learn which was guilty before taking any action. ”

“ After André departed, the three colonials came along and sat on the veranda and called for food. While serving them, the waiter voiced his suspicions about André, and as a result of that information André was captured—and hung. Worse than death was Arnold’s lot—the eternal condemnation of mankind. ”

“ It has been his daily custom to visit the Arms for a few hours. During the last few months he has had spells of imagining he was running the place. The proprietor has humored him, the regular patrons admire and respect him, and, like the employees, never pretend to see him when his mind is clouded. ”

“ So we set forth for the sanatorium; he talking rapidly and with a fierce zest; I was morosely silent.
Dr. Manning shook his head regretfully when I explained my errand.
“It was Mr. Pachard I mentioned to your editor as having a human interest story. But he is in no condition to be interviewed. I wish I had known you were coming to-day. I would have saved you the trip.”
“We’re not supposed to report failures,” I reminded. “Can’t you help me out? I must take something back.”
“I can’t revive the mentality of a man in his hundredth year,” he answered. ”

“ Pachard is more of an institution than the sanatorium. He was born at the Belton Arms in 1817, his father being the proprietor. His father worked there as a youth during the Revolutionary War, and took over the business in 1800. Our Mr. Pachard succeeded his father in the late 30’s and ran the inn for many years. What isn’t generally known is that he owns the Arms to-day. It’s never been out of the family since 1800.”
“Pachard!” softly exclaimed Camper. “1 remember now.”
Dr. Manning continued:
“Mr. Pachard came to live here during the management of my predecessor, who gave me his life history. ”