Auto Boys' Mystery Page 11

  CHAPTER XI

  SETTING WRONG THINGS RIGHT

  Wearily had Lewis Grandall lain himself down to sleep in his hot, closeroom. It was his last night in the old clubhouse. He might have beenquite comfortable, so far as his physical self was concerned, had he beenwilling to open the door-like window that led to the small balcony andadmit the air; but this he feared to do.

  Some sense of danger, a feeling of some dreadful peril impending, harassedhim. He tried to reason it all out of his mind. He had not felt sobefore having actually in his possession the moldy, discolored leathersuit-case, he reflected. Why should it make a difference?

  There was no good cause for its doing so, he told himself, and resolvedto think of other things. But always his thoughts came back to the onepoint--some great peril close before him. What was it? He could not fathomthe distress of his own mind.

  Often as Grandall tried wearily to forget, to turn and sleep, somelines of a tale he had somewhere heard or read,--a pirate's song you'llrecognize as being in a book of Stevenson's--struck into his mind. It wasas if someone sang or called aloud to him:--

  "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest! Yo-ho-ho! And a bottle of rum!"

  In vain he told himself that it was nothing--nothing! That he must notlet himself fall a prey to such silly dread, an unidentified fear, like achild afraid in the dark. But ever the sense of peril oppressed him. Everthere came to his haunted thoughts--

  "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest! Yo-ho-ho! And a bottle of rum!"

  At last he rose and sat a long time on the edge of the bed. Then hedressed himself. For a great while, as the night crept slowly on, hesat thus fully clothed. He did not know why he did this. The fear of someunknown, threatening thing was not removed or altered. The ringing in hisbrain--

  "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest!" was just as it had been before.

  He lighted a match and looked at his watch. Four o'clock. Soon it would bedaylight. Then he would go--leave this terrible place forever! Leaveeverything he hated--and that was all persons and all things. Leave theguilt he vowed he would never face--if he could. So thinking, he laydown once more and sheer exhaustion let the wretched man sink into heavyslumber.

  Lynx-eyed, the scowling Murky waited. The black shadows of the thickshrubbery near the clubhouse door concealed him. A long, long time passed.It was quite evident, the tramp reflected, that the man with the suit-casehad gone to bed.

  Should he break in on him? Break in the house, slip up to his bed, strikeone swift blow and end the whole search for that twenty thousand dollarsquickly? End it all so quietly that the one who had played him falsewould never be conscious of the outcome?

  No, that was not the plan Murky chose to follow. It might result in hisobtaining the prize he sought, but he desired more. He wanted revenge.He wanted Grandall to know, too, that he _was_ avenged,--would have himfully realize that it was Murky,--Murky whom he had tricked and deceived,that had found him out and vanquished him at last.

  Daylight was necessary to the tramp's plan. He wanted Grandall to see andrecognize him. He pictured in his mind how, when suddenly awakened, thetrickster should find looking down into his face a pair of eyes that weresharper and just as unmerciful as his own. Then he would speak, make surehe was known--strike quickly and effectively, and be gone.

  He would not commit murder--unless obliged to do so; it might maketrouble. But he would leave Grandall so hopelessly senseless that therewould be no possibility of early pursuit from that quarter, as therewould probably be none from any other.

  Oh, they were black, black thoughts that coursed in Murky's mind!--hardlythe thoughts that should come to a man in his last night on earth. Butthey were very pleasing to the tramp. With a kind of wild, wolfish relish,he pondered over the details of his plan.

  Satisfied that Grandall would not leave the clubhouse before morning,confident of his own ability to awaken at the slightest sound of footstepsnear, and resolving to be astir before daybreak, anyway, if he were notdisturbed earlier, which he regarded as quite improbable, the scowlingwretch allowed his eyes to close.

  Even in sleep Murky's face bore an expression little short of fiendish.He was lying quite under the thick foliage of the bushes. They screenedhim from view and from the breeze that had sprung up out of the west. Butalso they screened from his eyes the glow that now lit up the heavens, inthe distance, for miles around.

  It was the smoke, strong in his nostrils, that at last startled thefellow into sudden wakefulness. He had been too long a woodsman, hadhad too thorough a knowledge of the great forests in his earlier, betterdays, not to know instantly what it meant. He sprang up and looked about.The course of the wind was such, he reasoned, that the fire would notreach this particular vicinity. But what if it should? Why, so muchthe better, he reflected. The clubhouse would burn. If Grandall, deador unconscious, burned with it--Murky's smile was hideous.

  For some time he watched the progress of the fire, yet in the distance.But presently he became aware that the daylight was near. It was time forhim to act.

  Stealthily Murky crept to the broken window at the west side of theclubhouse and entered. He knew the first floor doors were locked, buthe did not know that Grandall had secured his bedroom door. This hediscovered in due time. Just outside the room he listened. Sounds ofheavy breathing assured him his victim slept.

  It took a good while for Murky's heavy knife to cut in a panel of the pinedoor a hole large enough to permit him to reach in and turn the key; forhe worked very slowly, very quietly. The daylight was coming in at thewindow of the narrow hallway when his task was done--the daylight, thedull glare of the advancing flames and the sound of their roar and fury.

  The door creaked slightly as ever so slowly its hinges were moved, butin another second Murky stood inside.

  The man on the bed awoke--leaped to his feet--saw--recognized--gave fortha yell the like of which even the wildest places have seldom heard.

  Instantly Grandall knew his danger. Seizing the leather case, for whosestolen contents he had risked so much, he threw open the balcony window.In another moment he would have leaped to the ground below but Murkycaught him and they grappled.

  It was in the midst of this first fierce struggle that the two were seenby those on the raft. Murky's greater strength was fast overpowering theother's soft muscles. Grandall breathed in choking gasps.

  Then came the shouted warning from the lake. For an instant the surpriseof it caused the tramp to relax his hold, but only for an instant.

  "Blame _me_!" like some wild beast he growled, though there was savagedelight in his tones as well, "Blame _me_! but I'd as soon leave my boneshere as anywhere, to see you get what's comin' to ye, you lyin' skunk!" Hefairly hissed the epithet in Grandall's ear.

  It was at this juncture that Murky first drew his panting adversary backinto the flaming clubhouse. Grandall knew he was no match for his enemyin strength.

  "Wait, you fool!" he gasped. "There's a fortune for you--ease--luxury!Take it! I'll add as much more to it!"

  As the lying wretch hoped, Murky's wild thoughts were for the momentattracted by the words. His grip upon Grandall's great, fat neck wasweakened. Like lightning and with a vicious curse the latter threw himoff, put forth all his strength and hurled the tramp to the floor.

  For himself there was aid in sight, was Grandall's thought. If he couldescape to the water below, he could make some explanation to those on theraft, whoever they might be. They would save him from the fire and fromMurky, whom he feared still more.

  Far more quickly than you read the words, the idea flashed in the mind ofthe frightened scoundrel. The instant he freed himself he leaped againthrough the window. With the yell of an enraged maniac Murky followed.

  The Auto Boys and their companions on the great raft, floating but afew hundred feet from shore, saw Grandall reappear. With horrifiedfaces they saw about him the smoke and flame that now raged in the roofabove, and throughout the whole lower floor of the clubhouse, belowth
e balcony,--saw him seize the leather case and pitch it far forwardto the water's edge--saw him glance down as if, in desperation, to leap.

  Again a blood-thirsty savage scream sounded above the fury of the fireand wind, and Murky also appeared on the flame-shrouded balcony.

  Grandall was too late. No more than a child could he cope with the madstrength of his assailant. Like a great bag of meal, or other heavy, limpand lifeless thing he was dragged in through the open, blazing window. Afiendish but triumphant yell once more came out of the leaping smoke andflame. It was the voice of the infuriated tramp, to be heard on earthagain, no more forever.

  Dazed, powerless, speechless, those on the lake helplessly witnessed theawful tragedy. With straining eyes and ears they watched and listened;but there came now no sound above the fitful roar and crackle of the fireand the surging wind.

  Within a minute the roof of the clubhouse went down. The whole interiorof the building followed, and where had stood the old house on the Pointthere remained only the walls of flaming logs, the mass of debris and thewreckage of wrecked lives that rapidly burned within them.

  "You know what's in that bag he threw down to the water?" the golfingman asked. It was in the midst of the exclamation and words of awe ofthose who saw the terrible scene enacted, that the question was askedof Anderson. The Swede nodded.

  "And you?" said the stranger, turning to Phil as spokesman for the boys.

  "Yes, we know. We know the whole story. We--we thought _you_ were--We sawyou about the clubhouse and we got it into our heads that _you_ were--Wasit really Grandall that we saw on the balcony?"

  "Thought _I_ was Grandall?" muttered the man, mystified. "Why shouldyou? Did you know he was in the woods? For I did not. But it was LewisGrandall and no other that went to his death before our very eyes! Theman with him--Murky was the name you used? Who was he?"

  "Then you don't _know_ the _whole story_ of the robbery?" exclaimedBilly Worth. "Murky was the man Grandall got to go through the motionsof robbing him of the twenty thousand dollars in the first place!"

  It was with great interest, indeed, that Mr. Beckley heard the completeaccount of Grandall's double-dealing scheme as Chip Slider and the AutoBoys had gathered the information.

  Meanwhile there had come with the wind fitful dashes of rain that soonsettled itself to a steady downpour. The forest fire had nearly burneditself out on the lake's south shore. Thousands of acres of smolderingruins lay in its wake. Yet for a long time the refugees huddled uponthe raft, protecting themselves from the storm as best they could withblankets and bedding. Not yet was it safe to venture ashore.

  It was during this period that the golfing man made known his own identityand told why he happened to be hiding in the old clubhouse, resultingquite naturally, he freely admitted, in his being taken for the fugitivetreasurer of the Longknives.

  His name was Henry Beckley, he explained, and he had been one of the mostactive members of the Longknives Club. He had never been quite satisfiedthat the club's treasurer was really robbed of the money intended for theroad builders, but had never found any genuine evidence to the contrary.

  A long time had passed since the loss of the money. The investigationof Grandall's crookedness, at home, was taken up by the Grand Jury. Mr.Beckley had reason to suspect the man of a number of dishonest practices,but feared for the safety of the bank, in which he was heavily interested,if the public suddenly learned that Grandall was a thief.

  To avoid being called as a witness in the matter he decided to go awayuntil the investigation was over. He would keep his going and hisdestination a secret from all, his own family excepted, he planned,and with no one suspecting where he might be, visit Opal Lake. Living inconcealment at the clubhouse he would have an opportunity of investigatinghis suspicion that Grandall had made up the robbery story. Also he wouldsatisfy himself, at least, that Nels Anderson had had no part in thedisappearance of the payroll money and settle, for all time, occasionalrumors to the contrary.

  Mr. Beckley had reached the lake only a day or two before the Auto Boysset up their camp there. He avoided them for he wished to work in secret.Also, for fear other strangers, or even some who might know him, shouldchance to visit the lake, he was careful not to disturb the desertedappearance of the clubhouse. He burned no light at night, and rarelysat anywhere but in his bedroom.

  "You had a light there one night," spoke Paul. "We saw it flicker for justa second once, then after while saw the same thing again."

  "It must have been matches to light my cigar that you saw," Mr. Beckleyreplied. "I knew you had discovered me and that in part was one reasonthat I went to Anderson's to stay. He brought me some provisions oneevening and I agreed then to go to his house, and I did so within a dayor two."

  Paul could have said "Yes, _I_ knew he came to see you," if he had wished.But he was silent.

  But MacLester spoke up: "And you went down on the old pier and threwsomething into the water the last thing before leaving. We saw that, too!"

  "Yes, you're right. All the scraps of my lunches and the like I tied upand, putting a stone in the package to sink it to the bottom of the lake,I threw it in. You must have had pretty sharp eyes for the Point," thespeaker added, pleasantly. "But it is no wonder. I would have been evenmore interested in my own investigations than I was had I known half asmuch of the true story of the Grandall robbery as you boys knew. And hadI known of that awful Murky being around I'd most certainly have gone tostay with good old Nels Anderson much sooner than I did."

  "Sure, I am worried sick to know what ever I would ha' done, a gettin'to the hoose an' not findin' of ye there," put in Daddy O'Lear with asorrowful shake of his head.

  Mr. Beckley's faithful follower had already given that gentleman andMacLester an account of his adventures ending in his sudden appearanceon the north shore, as the three sat by themselves in the boat some timeearlier. Now the story was repeated for the information of all.

  Mrs. Beckley, it appeared, having learned of the flight of Grandall wishedher husband to be informed of this development. He had cautioned herthat he could receive no letters without revealing where he was, and shecould not write or telegraph. So with many instructions as to secrecyshe sent the old family gardener, Daddy O'Lear, to tell all that hadoccurred.

  The well-meaning old fellow left the train at a town to the north ofOpal Lake, as told to do. He became quite confused and lost in the woodsas he sought the clubhouse, and when he chanced to learn from MacLesterthat he had actually reached Opal Lake, though quite without knowingit, he was greatly alarmed. He feared the nature of his errand would bediscovered by the young campers.

  On the pretext of going for his baggage he walked back into the forest,MacLester accompanying him, instead of crossing over to the boys' camp.He wanted to gain time to think and plan. He finally decided that, a longway into the woods, he would give MacLester the slip and later reach theclubhouse and Mr. Beckley secretly, by walking around the lake to theother side.

  This plan might have been more successful had "Daddy" not lost himselfmore hopelessly than ever, before he was ready to put it into execution.And if it had not been for Dave serving as his guide, at last, thegood-natured Irishman never would have found his way to the lake againat all. This he freely admitted.

  "I was satisfied that the stream we found must lead to the lake, or tosome larger stream that would do so," MacLester explained. "We were a longtime getting here, but when I saw the fire burning so terribly I didn'tknow whether to be glad or sorry we had saved ourselves. Then I saw theraft, and--_believe me_!"

  Very soon after reaching his friends MacLester had learned of the lossof the automobile. Naturally thoughts of the car were in the mind ofevery one of the boys, even in the midst of all they had lately passedthrough. But no word of complaint or grief was spoken. Possibly Mr.Beckley noticed this for his own thoughts were not idle.

  The rain still fell in torrents, hissing and steaming in the smolderingruins of the great fire. But the heat was almost gone now. Th
e shore couldbe approached without inconvenience. Mentioning this, the golfing mansuggested that it would now be possible to see if the general suspicionconcerning the suit-case Grandall had thrown to the water's edge wascorrect.

  The skiff was moored to the raft. Dave and Phil entered the boat and rowedup past the rotting and now half burned timbers of the old pier. Theleather case had fallen partially into the water they saw, but quicklythey recovered it.

  "In spite of what has happened to this money, and we all know the terriblehistory now--I suppose we must agree that this bag and its contents arestill the property of the Longknives Club," said Mr. Beckley solemnly.For, unopened, Phil had passed the discolored case at once to him. "Atany rate," the speaker went on, very soberly, "we will see what is in it.I have a few things in mind regarding the club's disposition of thismatter."

  Without hesitation Mr. Beckley picked up the leather case and eyed it witha growing suspicion. It was now battered, almost shapeless. More than thatit looked, somehow, almost too small. Finding that it was locked, he cutopen one of the sides with his pocket knife.

  But, instead of packages of bank notes and bags of gold and silver coin,there was disclosed brushes, comb, and a few other toilet accessories,together with a limited change of underwear and one bosom shirt. Ofcourse these were soiled by mud and water, but not unduly discolored.

  The varied expressions of dismay, vexation and amazement shown by thoseon the raft and in the skiff were almost comical.

  Nels Anderson ventured an opinion that the bag was Grandall's, butwondered why the man had heaved it over first instead of jumping withit himself.

  "He must have been crazed by terror," said Mr. Beckley. "But the questionnow is what did he do with the larger suit-case. He certainly had itsomewhere, or that chap Murky wouldn't have been hanging round."

  "Do you think both those men were burned to death?" This from Dave.

  "I don't see how either could have escaped. The building was in flameswhen they disappeared. It is almost night and we're all tired. I thinkwe perhaps had better to go back to camp, sleep quietly, and then in themorning we can search the ruins and see what we may find."

  As everyone was weary, this received general assent. They were not onlyweary but discouraged. The unexpected and mysterious loss of the suit-casecontaining the money was, in itself, an unlooked-for defeat, and just aseveryone felt sure that their difficulties were solved.

  Scarcely had they reached the old camping ground than out of the stillsmoking wilderness came a loud shout. Link Fraley, his shapeless old hatpulled down almost over his eyes, his horses and wagon steaming wet andcoated with ashes, drove up at a trot.

  "Well, well!" he cried. "We've been worried about you all. Staretta'sgone wild over this fire. Worried about the Andersons and the Auto Boys;and I'm more worried about what I saw on the way here."

  "What do you mean by that last?" asked Mr. Beckley, who was quick to hearthe unusual note in this final remark by Fraley. "What did you see?"

  "I ain't certain; but I'm almost sure I saw that scowling fellow wecalled Murky. I didn't get but a glimpse. 'Twas a mile or so back, wherethe half burnt logs was piled up thicker than usual near the trail. BeforeI could stop my team he was gone. No use to foller; besides, I was in ahurry to get on to where the camp was, hoping I'd find you folks allright."

  Link's news occasioned somewhat of a flutter among the weary party thusgathered at the ruins of what had once been the Auto Boys' camp. Aftersome discussion, while Chip and Worth were roasting potatoes and preparinghot coffee, it was determined that, after eating, they would return withFraley to Staretta and sleep in warm beds once more. After that plansmight be made for investigating what Link had seen on the way over.

  They hastened their meal and then, all climbing into the wagon, theystarted back. Probably a mile further on Fraley pointed at a confusedtangle of fallen trees and logs which the fire had partially consumed, yetleft in such profusion as to form a sooty labyrinth where a fugitivemight easily escape unseen in that growing twilight. By now the moonwas shining, for the rain had long passed. Link stopped the wagon and waspointing out where he had caught this flying glimpse. He was about tostart on again when Phil Way, crouched at the wagon's tail-board, criedout as he jumped off:

  "Hold on a minute, Link! I think I see something!"

  Mr. Beckley, beside him, had seen it too, for the moonlight made thingsmore distinct than when Fraley had passed an hour or so before. Beckleyalso descended.

  When he reached Phil, the boy was raising up a sooty, battered leathersuit-case with several holes burnt partially through its thick sides. Awide flap was cut through the leather. It hung down as Phil held it up.It was some larger than the other bag and Beckley instantly knew that hewas looking at the receptacle that had held the money.

  Had held it, but now no longer.

  "It's empty, Mr. Beckley. How did he come to leave it here?"

  "Why, don't you see? Look at those holes." Beckley pulled at the edgeof one and the burnt leather parted easily. "Murky--of course it washe--must have seen that this bag would no longer safely hold his plunder."

  "Then he's taken it out and put it into something else," said Way."Perhaps his coat, if he had one left."

  "No; here's what looks like it had once been a coat."

  Further search under the moon revealed only that certain foot tracks,found by Paul Jones, led off to the left through the wet ashes, as ifthe party who made them was in a great hurry. But, search as they might,only one pair of foot tracks could be seen.

  "Evidently Grandall did not survive," said Beckley. "No wonder! He musthave been all in when that scoundrel dragged him back inside the burningbuilding. But how could Murky have gotten out alive? Probably Grandall,in his frantic haste, must have caught up the wrong bag, for it was themoney he was after. When Grandall was finished his companion would, ofcourse, try to make sure of the loot which both had schemed so hard toget and keep."

  Reasoning thus, they all went on to Staretta, for nothing could be donethat night, or without bloodhounds, which the county sheriff was knownto have at his home at the county seat.