Out of a Labyrinth Part 24

"I shall wish to inform myself on this point, and if possible, return to Trafton to-morrow night. I am to see Mrs. Ballou again to-night; now I think I will have some supper."

I arose, but stood, for a moment, waiting for any word of command or suggestion my Chief might have to offer.

He sat for many seconds, seemingly oblivious of my presence. Then he looked up.

"I shall make no suggestions," he said, waving his hand as if to dismiss both the subject and myself. "I will instruct Wyman and Earle at once.

When you come in after seeing Mrs. Ballou, you will find them at your disposal, and give yourself no trouble about those other detectives. I will attend to that."

I thanked him and withdrew. This curt sentence from the lips of my Chief was worth more to me than volumes of praise from any other source, for it convinced me that he not only trusted me, but that he approved my course and could see none better.

I saw Mrs. Ballou again that evening, and put to her some questions that not only amazed her, but seemed to her most irrelevant, but while she answered without fully comprehending my meaning or purpose, some of her replies were, to me, most satisfactory.

After I had heard all that she could tell me concerning Mr. Johnny La Porte, I gave her a minute description of Arch Brookhouse, and ended by asking if she had ever seen any one who answered to that description.

I was puzzled, but scarcely surprised, at her answer, which came slowly and after considerable reflection.

Yes, she had seen such a young man; I had described him exactly. She had seen him twice. He came to her house in company with Ed. Dwight.

Dwight was an agent for various sewing machines; he was a jolly, good-natured fellow, very much liked by all the young Grovelanders; he had traveled the Groveland route for two years, perhaps three. He was quite at home at Mrs. Ballou's, and, in fact, anywhere where he had made one or two visits. The young man I had described had been over the Groveland route twice with Ed. Dwight, each time stopping for dinner at Mrs. Ballou's. His name, she believed, was _Brooks_, and he had talked of setting up as an agent on his own responsibility.

Did she know Mr. Dwight's place of residence?

He lived on the C. & L. road, somewhere between Sharon and Amora. Mrs.

Ballou could not recall the name of the town.

I did not need that she should; a sewing machine agent whose name I knew, and who lived somewhere between Amora and Sharon, would not be difficult to find.

"How did Mr. Dwight travel?"

"In a very nice covered wagon, and with a splendid team."

"How long since Mr. Brooks and Mr. Dwight paid a visit to Groveland?"

Mrs. Ballou thought it was fully six months since their last visit.

"That would be nearly two months before Mamie Rutger and Nellie Ewing disappeared?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen Dwight since?"

"Oh, yes; he comes at stated times, as usual."

It was growing late, and I was more than satisfied with my interview with Mrs. Ballou. I advised her to keep Grace for the present under her own eye and, promising that she should see or hear from me soon, took my leave.

Mrs. Ballou had announced her intention to return by the morning train.

We could not be traveling companions, as I was not to leave the city until afternoon.

Reaching my room I sat into the small hours looking over my notes, jotting down new ones, smoking and thinking.

The next morning I saw Wyman and Earle, gave them full instructions, and arranged to receive their reports at the earliest possible moment, by express, at Trafton.

At noon I was in possession of all that could be learned concerning the ident.i.ty of the detectives employed by 'Squire Brookhouse. No officer of any of the regular forces had been employed. Mr. Brookhouse had probably obtained the services of private detectives.

Private detectives, of more or less ability, are numerous in the city, and I was personally known to but few of these independent experts. Most of those could be satisfactorily accounted for, and I turned my face toward Trafton, feeling that there was little danger of being "spotted"

by a too knowing brother officer.

CHAPTER XVI.

FLY CROOKS IN TRAFTON.

My train, which left the city early in the afternoon, would arrive in Trafton at midnight. Foreseeing a long and, in my then state of mind, tedious ride, I had armed myself with a well-filled cigar case, and several copies of the latest editions of the city papers, and we had not been long on the wing before I turned my steps toward the smoking car, biting off the end of a weed as I went.

A group of four, evidently countrymen, were just beginning a game of cards. I took a seat opposite them and idly watched their progress, while I enjoyed my cigar.

Presently a gentleman from the front, seemingly attracted by their hilarity, arose and sauntered down the aisle, taking up his station behind the players, and quietly overlooking the game.

He did not glance at me, as he pa.s.sed, but, from my lounging position, I could watch his face and study it at my leisure. At the first glance it struck me as being familiar; I had seen the man before, but where?

Slowly, as I looked, the familiarity resolved itself into ident.i.ty, and then I watched him with growing interest, and some wonder.

Seven months ago, while working upon a criminal case, I had made the acquaintance of this gentleman at a thieves' tavern, down in the slums.

I was, of course, safely disguised at the time, and in an a.s.sumed character; hence I had no fear of being recognized now.

"Dimber[A] Joe" had been doing Government service, in consequence of his connection with a garroting escapade, and had but just been released from "durance vile." His hair was then somewhat shorter than was becoming; his face was unshaven, and his general appearance that of a seedy, hard-up rascal. The person before me wore his hair a little longer than the ordinary cut; his face was clean shaven, his linen immaculate, and his dress a well-made business suit, such as a merchant or banker abroad might wear. But it was Dimber Joe.

[A] Handsome.

Evidently fortune had dropped a few, at least, of her favors at Dimber Joe's feet, but it was quite safe to conjecture that some one was so much the worse off for his present prosperity.

What new mischief was on foot? for it was hardly likely that Dimber Joe, late the a.s.sociate of river thieves, was now undertaking an honest journey.

I resolved to watch him closely while our way was the same, and to give my Chief an account of our meeting, together with a description of Joe's "get up," at the first opportunity.

Accordingly, I remained in the smoking car during the entire journey, but no suspicious or peculiar movement, on the part of Dimber Joe, rewarded my vigilance, until the brakeman called Trafton, and we pulled into that station.

Then Dimber Joe arose, stretched himself, flung a linen duster across his arm, and, swinging in his hand a small valise, quitted the car, stepped down upon the shadowy platform just ahead of me; and, while I was looking about for Carnes, vanished in the darkness.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Then Dimber Joe arose, stretched himself, flung a linen duster across his arm, and, swinging in his hand a small valise, quitted the car."--page 196.]

"Well, Carnes," I said, when we were once more alone in our room at the hotel, "what has happened? Have you seen anything that looks like a detective?"

"Niver a wan," he replied. "I've kept an open eye on every train from both ways, but the only arrival in this city, worth making mintion of, has been--who d'ye think?"

"Myself, I suppose."