Ashton-Kirk, Investigator Part 37

"And as a true Celt, you held this to be a credit mark," laughed Ashton-Kirk.

"I did. And, indeed, he seemed to consider it so himself, though he was not one to care a snap what others thought of him. But often he'd boast of the stock he came from. Fighters they were to the core, he said, fighters who never knew when they were whipped, and who'd go on fighting while they had a leg to stand on, an eye to see, and an arm to strike a blow."

Tobin here paused and stroked his smooth-shaven chin, reflectively.

"He claimed descent from someone who was rated a real man in his day,"

he continued. "'Twas an officer, I think, who fought with--faith, yes," smiling in recollection, "at the side of sorra the one less than Was.h.i.+ngton himself."

Pendleton, listening with dwindling interest, saw Ashton-Kirk's hand clench, and saw a gleam shoot into his eyes. Then he saw him bend toward Tobin, his elbows on his knees, his clenched hands beneath his chin.

"Ah," said the investigator, and his voice was calmer than Pendleton remembered ever hearing it before, "he claimed a pedigree, did he? And from a Revolutionary officer. Such things are always interesting. It's a pity you can't remember the soldier's name."

Tobin pondered.

"I can't," confessed he, at length; "but there is one thing that I remember hearing Hume tell about him; it seemed laughable at the time, and I suppose that's why it's stuck to me. It seems that the supposed ancestor were a great felly for dress, and expected the like of all the men under him; and though he often had niver a crust of bread to put into their mouths, he always managed to have a pinch of white powder for them to dress their hair."

Ashton-Kirk laughed suddenly, and leaned back in his chair. The gleam died out of his eyes, and a twinkle of satisfaction replaced it.

"That," said he, "sounds amusing enough to be true. Mr. Hume's ancestor was at least consistent. But," and his tone changed, "we must not keep you from your duties, Mr. Tobin, and so we'll get to the matter in hand."

"If it is not hurrying you," agreed Tobin.

"A while ago," spoke Ashton-Kirk, "you mentioned young Allan Morris; and during your conversation you have led me to think that you were his father's friend."

"I were," said Tobin. "He were a decent man."

"Then perhaps your friends.h.i.+p extends to the son as well."

"Perhaps it does," and a note of perceptible caution crept into Tobin's voice.

"I am glad to hear it," said the investigator. "He seems badly in need of friends of the right sort just now; and I am confident, Mr. Tobin, that you are of that sort."

"A man who has disappeared as completely as this one has done,"

stated Tobin, "is out of the reach of even the best of friends."

"Have you not heard from him since the murder?"

"No," replied the other with a readiness that carried conviction.

"Then you will, and before long." Ashton-Kirk arose and stood looking into the old man's face. "Perhaps it will be to-night; but it will be by to-morrow night at latest. And when you do you can best show your friends.h.i.+p for him by telling him not to be a fool."

"You mean," said Tobin, shrewdly, "that I'm to advise him to give over hiding?"

"Exactly."

"I'll do that willingly enough, if I hear of him. An innocent man has no call to hide himself like a rat. But," inquiringly, "after I tell him that, what will I do?"

Ashton-Kirk took out a card; handing it to the other, he said:

"Ask him to come see me."

Tobin gave the card one glance, then his face lit up and his hand went out.

"Let me shake your hand, sir," said he. "And I'll tell the lad what you say with a heart and a half."

CHAPTER XXI

ASHTON-KIRK BEGINS TO PLAN

As Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton left the "Rangnow," the latter said:

"You surely do not suppose that Morris will call on you?"

"Why not?"

"It does not sound reasonable."

"A day or two ago I would have said the same. But things are taking on a different aspect. And with their change, Morris will change. He had no idea of what was to come, or he would not have done what he has done."

"No criminal would," said Pendleton.

Ashton-Kirk shrugged his shoulders at this, but made no direct reply.

"And now if these newspapers, with all their pointed references to Edyth Vale, do not make the man come forward," he went on, "what is about to happen--say within the next forty-eight hours--will be sure to do so."

Pendleton turned a surprised look upon him.

"You think, then, that something unusual is about to happen?"

"I _know_ there is," was the quiet reply. "To-night, old chap, has been most prolific in results. It has indicated why the murder was done; it has suggested the ident.i.ty of the actual murderer; it has even pointed out the spot upon which we shall finally take him."

"You really mean all that?" cried Pendleton, incredulously.

"I do."

"Then you must have learned it at some time while I was not--" here Pendleton paused, and then proceeded in another tone. "But you have _not_ been out of my sight since dinner. Everything you have heard, I have heard; all that you have seen, I have seen."

"Just so," said Ashton-Kirk.

There was a pause; they walked along toward the place where they were to get a street car. At length Pendleton spoke once more.

"And from the rather bald reports of your two a.s.sistants, and the talk of this man, Tobin, you have gathered these most vital facts?"

"We can hardly call them facts as yet," said the other; "but I have every confidence that we can do so within the time specified."