The secret of Lonesome CoveSamuel Hopkins Adams


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THE SECRET
OF LON ESOME COVE
B,
samu EL HOPKINS ADAMS

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-vºn-GE Joºls, etc.
ILLUSTRATIox3. By
FRANK E. SCHOONOWER
INDIANA POLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS



One may look at pictures unchaperoned.


THE SECRET
OF LONESOME COVE
By
SAMUEL HOPKINS ADAMS
Author of
AVERAGE JONES, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
FRANK E. SCHOONOVER
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
^ a
\ 1. |


Copyright 1912
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
PRESS OP
BRAUNWORTH * CO.
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTS**
BROOKLYN. N. V.


TO ONE UNKNOWN
The only living being who possesses the secret of the
strangely clad and manacled body found beneath the
cliffs of Oom wall onApril30,1909, this story, changed
in the letting as he will understand, is blindly inscribed





CONTENTS
Chapter
II
III
IV
VI
VII
VIII
IX
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XXI
THE Body on THE BEACH - -
PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL .
MY LADY OF MYSTERY
AN INQUIRY . - - - -
ONE USE FOR A Monocle
THE RETREAT IN ORDER - -
SIMON P. GRoot Does BUSINESS -
Reckonings . - - -
CHESTER KENT DEcLINEs a Job -
THE INVASION - - -
HEDGERow House . - - -
THE UNBIDDEN VISITOR
Loose ENDs . - - - -
THE LONE FISHERMAN
THE TURN of THE GAME
THE MEETING
CHANCE SITS IN - -
THE MASTER of STARs
THE STRANGE TRYST - - -
IN THE WHITE Room
REwARDs - - - - -
1
18
55
66
88
96
102
112
123
139
150
161
165
188
198
220
230
247
271
291
323





THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE





THE SECRET
OF LONESOME COVE
CHAPTER I
THE BODY ON THE BEACH
E^ESOME Cove is one of the least fre-
quented stretches on the New England sea-
board. From the land side, the sheer hundred-
foot drop of Hawkill Cliffs shuts it off. Access
by water is denied; denied with a show of menac-
ing teeth, when the sea curls its lips back, amid
a swirl of angry currents, from its rocks and
reefs, warning boats away. There is no settlement
near the cove. The somber repute suggested by its
name has served to keep cottagers from building
on the wildly beautiful uplands that overbrood
the beach. Sheep browse between the thickets of
ash and wild cherry extending almost to the brink
of the height, and the straggling pathways along
the edge, worn by the feet of their herders, afford
1


THE BODY ON THE BEACH
"Swanny!" he ejaculated, "if it ain't Perfes-
sor Kent! Didn't know you at first under them
whiskers. You remember me, don't you? I used
to drive you around when you was here before."
"How are you, Jarvis?" returned the other.
"Still in the livery business, I suppose?"
"Yes. What brings you here, Perfessor?"
"Holidays. I've just come out of the woods.
And as you have some very interesting sea cur-
rents just here, I thought I'd have a look at them.
Nobody really knows anything about coast cur-
rents, you know. Now my opportunity is spoiled."
He indicated the crowd by a movement of his
head.
"Spoilt? I guess not. You couldn't have come
at a better time," said the local man eagerly.
"Ah, but you see, I had planned to swim out
to the eddy, and make some personal observa-
tions."
"You was going to swim into Dead Man's
Eddy?" asked the other, aghast. "Why, Perfes-
sor, you must have turned foolish. They ain't a
man on this coast would take a chance like that."
"Superstition," retorted the other curtly. "On
3


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
a still day such as this there would be no danger
to an experienced swimmer. The conditions are
ideal except for this crowd. What is it? Has the
village gone picnicking?"
"Not sca'cely! Ain't you heard? Another one's
come in through the eddy. Lies over yonder."
Professor Kent's eyebrows went up, as he
glanced toward the indicated spot; then gathered
in a frown.
"Not washed up there, surely?" he said.
"Thet's what," answered Jarvis.
"When?"
"Sometime early this morning."
"Pshaw!" said the other, turning to look at the
curving bulwark of rocks over which the soft
slow swell was barely breaking. "If it were the
other end of the cove, now, I could understand it."
"Yes," agreed Jarvis, "they mostly come in at
the other end, on this tide."
"Mostly? Always." The professor's tone was
positive. "Unless my charts are wrong. But this
—well, it spoils at least one phase of my theory."
"Theery!" exclaimed the liveryman, his pale
eyes alight. "You got a theery? But I thought
4


THE BODY ON THE BEACH
you didn't know anything about the body, till I
told you, just now."
"Oh, my ruined theory has reference to the cur-
rents," sighed the other. "It has nothing to do
with dead men, as such."
"Neither has this," was the prompt response,
delivered with a jerk of the thumb toward the
dark object.
"No? What is it then, if not a dead man?"
"A dead woman."
"Oh! All the same, it shouldn't have come in
on this section of the beach at all."
"Thet ain't half the strangeness of it, the way
it washed in. Lonesome Cove has had some queer
folks drift home to it, but nothing as queer as this.
Come and see for yourself."
Still frowning, Professor Kent suffered him-
self to be led to the spot. Two or three of the
group, as it parted before him, greeted him. He
found himself looking down on a corpse clad in
a dark silk dress and stretched on a wooden grat-
ing, to which it was lashed with a small rope.
Everything about the body indicated wealth. The
dress was expensively made. The shoes were of
5


THE SECRET OF. LONESOME COVE
the best type, and the stockings were silk. The
head was marred by a frightful bruise which had
crushed in the right side and extended around be-
hind the ear. Blood had clotted thickly in the
short close-curled hair. The left side was un-
marked. The eyes were closed and the mouth was
slightly open, showing a glint of gold amid very
white and regular teeth. An expression of deadly
terror distorted the face. Professor Kent bent
closely over it.
"That's strange; very strange," he murmured.
"It should be peaceful."
"But look at the hand I" cried Jarvis.
Here, indeed, was the astounding feature of
the tragedy; the aspect that brought Kent to
his knees, the more closely to observe. The body
lay twisted slightly to the right, with the left arm
extended. The left wrist was enclosed in a light
rusted handcuff to which a chain was fastened.
At the end of the chain was the companion cuff,
shattered, evidently by a powerful blow, and half
buried in the sand. As Kent leaned over the
corpse, a fat, powerful, grizzled man with a metal
badge on his shirt-front pushed forward.
6


THE BODY ON THE BEACH
"Them's cast-iron cuffs," he announced. "That
kind Itin't been used these forty years."
"What kind of a ship 'ud be carryin' 'em now-
adays?" asked some one in the crowd.
"An' what kind of a seaman'd be putting of
'em on a lady's wrists?" growled a formidable
voice, which Kent, looking up, perceived to have
come from amid a growth of heavy white whis-
kers, sprouting from a weather-furrowed face.
"Seafaring man, aren't you?" inquired Kent.
"No more. Fifty year of it, man an' boy, has
put me in harbor."
"That's Sailor Smith," explained Jarvis, who
had assumed the duties of a self-appointed cice-
rone. "Not much about the sea and its ways, good
or bad, that he don't know."
"True for you," confirmed several voices.
"Then, Mr. Smith, will you take a look at those
lashings and tell me whether in your opinion they
are the work of a sailor?" asked Kent.
The old hands fumbled expertly. The old face
puckered. Judgment came forth presently.
"The knots is well enough. The lashin's a pass-
able job. What gits me is the rope."
7


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Well, what's wrong with the rope?"
"Nothin' in pertic'ler. Only, I don't know what
just that style of rope would be doin' on ship-
board, unless it was to hang the old man's wash
tt
on.
"Suppose we lift this grating," Kent suggested.
At this the man with the badge interposed.
"Say, who's runnin' this thing, anyhow? I'm
sheriff here, an' this body ain't to be moved till a
doctor has viewed it."
"Of course," said Kent mildly; "but I thought
you might be interested to see, Mr. Sheriff,
whether a ship's name was stamped somewhere on
this grating."
"Well, I don't want any amachure learning me
my business," declared the official importantly.
Nevertheless, he heaved the woodwork up on
edge and held it so, while eager eyes scanned the
under part. Murmurs of disappointment followed.
In these Kent did not join. He had inserted a
finger in a crevice of the splintered wood and had
extracted some small object which he held in the
palm of his hand, examining it thoughtfully.
"Wot ye got there?" demanded the sheriff.
8


“Suppose we lift this grating.”





THE BODY ON THE BEACH
Professor Kent stretched out his hand, disclos-
ing a small grayish object.
"I should take it to be the cocoon of Ephestia
kuehniella," he announced.
"An' wot does he do for a livin'?" inquired the
official, waxing humorous.
"Destroys crops. It's a species of grain-moth."
"Oh!" grunted Schlager. "You're a bug col-
lector, eh?"
"Exactly," answered the other, transferring
his trove to his pocket.
Thereafter he seemed to lose interest in the
center of mystery. Withdrawing to some dis-
tance, he paced up and down the shore, whistling
lively tunes, not always in perfect accord, from
which a deductive mind might have inferred that
his soul was not in the music.
Nearer and nearer to high-water mark his pac-
ing took him. Presently, though all the time con-
tinuing his whistling, he was scanning the tangled
debris that the highest tide of the year had heaped
up, almost against the cliff's foot. His whistling
became slow, lugubrious, minor. It sagged. It
died away. When it rose again, it was in march
9


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
time, whereto the virtuoso stepped briskly toward
the crowd. By this time the group had received
several additions, but had suffered the loss of
one of its component parts, the sheriff. Conjec-
ture was buzzing from mouth to mouth as to the
official's sudden defection.
"Whatever it was he got from the pocket,"
Kent heard one of the men say, "it started him
quick."
"Looked to me like an envelope," hazarded
some one.
"No," contradicted Sailor Smith; "paper would
have been all pulped up by the water."
"Marked handkerchief, maybe," suggested an-
other.
"Like as not," said Jarvis. "You bet that Len
Schlager figured it out there was somethin' in it
for him, anyways. I could see the money-gleam
in his eye."
"That's right, too," confirmed the old sailor.
"He looked just like that when he brought in
that half-wit pedler, thinkin' he was the thou-
san'-dollar-reward thief last year."
10


THE BODY ON THE BEACH
"Trust Len Schlager to look out for number
one first, an' be sheriff afterward," observed some
one else.
Amidst this interchange of opinion, none of
which was lost upon him, Professor Kent ad-
vanced and bent over the manacled corpse.
"Have to ask you to stand back, Perfessor,"
said Jarvis. "Len's appointed me special dep'ty
till he comes back, and he says nobody is to lay
finger on hide ner hair of the corpse; not even
the doc, if he comes."
"Quite right," assented the other. "Sheriff
Schlager exhibits commendable zeal and discre-
tion."
"Wonder if he knowed the corpse?" suggested
somebody in the crowd.
"Tell you who did, if he didn't," said another
man.
"Who, then?"
"Elder Iry Dennett. Didn't none of you hear
about his meetin' up with a strange woman yes-
tiddy evenin'?"
"Shucks! This couldn't be that woman," said
II


THE SECRET OE LONESOME COVE
Jarvis. "How'd she come to be washed ashore
from a wreck between last night and this morn-
ing?"
"How'd she come to be washed ashore from a
wreck, anyway?" countered Sailor Smith. "The'
ain't been no storm for a week, an' this body ain't
been dead twenty-four hour."
"It plumb beats me," admitted Jarvis.
"Who is this Dennett?" asked Professor Kent.
"Iry? He's the town gab of Martindale Cen-
ter. Does a little plumbin' an' tinkerin' on the
side. Just now he's up to Cadystown. Took the
ten-o'clock train last night."
"Then it was early when he met this woman?"
"Little after sundown. He was risin' the hill
beyond the Nook—that's Sedgwick's place, the
painter feller—when she come out of the shrub-
bery—pop! He quizzed her. Trust the Elder for
that. But he didn't get much out of her, until he
mentioned the Nook. Then she allowed she
guessed she'd go there. An' he watched her go."
"You say a man named Sedgwick lives at the
Nook. Is that Francis Sedgwick, the artist?"
asked Kent.
12


THE BODY ON THE BEACH
"That's him," said Sailor Smith. "Paints right
purty pictures. Lives there all alone with a Chi-
nese cook."
"Well, the lady went down the hill," continued
Jarvis, "just as Sedgwick come out to smoke a
pipe on his stone wall. Iry thought he seemed su'-
prised when she bespoke him. They passed a few
remarks, an' then they had some words, an' the
lady laughed loud an' kinder scornful. He seemed
to be pointin' at a necklace of queer, fiery pink
stones thet she wore, and tryin' to get somethin'
out of her. She turned away, an' he started to
follow, when all of a sudden she grabbed up a
rock an' let him have it—blip! Keeled him clean
over. Then she ran away up the road toward
Hawkill Cliffs. That's the way Iry Dennett tells
it. But I ain't never heard of a story losin' any-
thin' in the tellin' when it come through Iry's
lips."
"Well, this corpse ain't got no pink necklace,"
suggested somebody.
"Bodies sometimes gets robbed," said Sailor
Smith.
Chester Kent stooped over the writhen face,
13


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
again peering close. Then he straightened up and
began pulling thoughtfully at the lobe of his ear.
He pulled and pulled, until, as if by that proc-
ess, he had turned his face toward the cliff. His
lips pursed. He began whistling softly, and tune-
lessly. His gaze was abstracted.
"Ain't seen nothin' to make you feel bad, have
you, Perfessor?" inquired Temporary-Deputy-
Sheriff Jarvis with some acerbity.
"Eh? What?" said Kent absently. "Seen any-
thing? Nothing but what's there for any one to
see."
Following his fixed gaze, the others studied the
face of the cliff; all but Sailor Smith. He blinked
near-sightedly at the corpse.
"Say," said he presently, "what's them queer
little marks on the neck, under the ear?"
Back came Kent's eyes. "Those?" he said smil-
ing. "Why, those are, one might suppose, such
indentations as would be made in flesh by forcing
a jewel setting violently against it, by a blow or
strong impact."
"Then you think it was the worn—" began the
old seaman when several voices broke in:
14


THE BODY ON THE BEACH
"There goes Len now!"
The sheriff's heavy figure appeared on the brow
of the cliff, moving toward the village.
"Who is it with him?" inquired Kent.
"Gansett Jim," answered Jarvis.
"An Indian?"
"Gosh! You got good eyes!" said Jarvis.
"He's more Indian than anything else. Comes
from down Amagansett way, and gets his name
from it."
"H-m! When did he arrive?"
"While you was trapesin' around up yonder."
"Did he seethe body?"
"Yep. Just after the sheriff got whatever it
was from the pocket, Gansett Jim hove in sight.
Len went over to him quick, an' said somethin'
to him. He come and give a look at the body. But
he didn't say nothing. Only grunted."
"Never does say nothin', only grunt," put in
Sailor Smith.
"That's right," agreed Jarvis. "Well, the
sheriff tells me to watch the body. Then he says,
'An' I'll need somebody to help me. I'll take you,
Jim.' So he an' the Indian goes away together."
15


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
Professor Kent nodded. He looked seaward
where the reefs were now baring their teeth
more plainly through the racing currents, and he
sighed. That sigh meant, in effect, "I wanted to
play with my tides and eddies, and here is work
thrown at my very feet!" Then he bade the group
farewell, and set off up the beach.
"Seems kinder int'rested, don't he?" remarked
one of the natives.
"Who is he, anyway?" inquired another.
"Oh, he's a sort of a harmless scientific crank,"
explained Jarvis, with patronizing kindliness.
"Comes from Washington. Something to do with
the government work."
"Kinder loony, / think," conjectured a little,
thin, piping man. "Musses and moves around
like it."
"Is that so!" said Sailor Smith, who still had
his eyes fixed on the scarified neck. "Well, I ain't
any too dum sure thet he's as big a fool as some
folks I know thet thinks likelier of theirselves."
Others, however, supported the little man's di-
agnosis, and there was some feeling against Sailor
Smith who refused to make the vote unanimous.
16


THE BODY ON THE BEACH
"No, sir," he persisted sturdily. "That dude
way of talkin' of his has got somethin' back of it,
I'll bet. He seen there was somethin' queer about
thet rope, an' he ast me about the knots, right off.
He knows enough not to spit to wind'ard, an'
don't you forgit it! Wouldn't surprise me none
if he was p'intin' pretty nigh as clus up into the
wind as Len Schlager."
Possibly the one supporter of the absent would
have wavered in his loyalty had he seen the trove
that Professor Chester Kent had carried unosten-
tatiously from the beach, in his pocket, after pick-
ing it from the grating. It was the fuzzy cocoon
of a small and quite unimportant insect. Perhaps
the admiring Mr. Smith might even have come
around to the majority opinion regarding Pro-
fessor Kent's intellectual futility, could he have
observed the absorbed interest with which the
Washington scientist, seated on a boulder, opened
up the cocoon, pricked it until the impotent in-
mate wriggled in protest, and then, casting it aside
to perish, threw himself on his back and whistled
the whole of Chopin's Funeral March, mostly off
the key.


CHAPTER II
PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
BETWEEN the roadway and the broad front
lawn of the Nook a four-foot, rough stone
wall interposes. Looking up from his painting,
Francis Sedgwick beheld, in the glare of the aft-
ernoon sun, a spare figure rise alertly upon the
wall, descend to the road, and rise again. He
stepped to the open window and watched a curi-
ous progress. A scrubby-bearded man, clad in
serviceable khaki, was performing a stunt, with
the wall as a basis. He was walking from east to
west quite fast, and every third pace stepping
upon the wall; stepping, Sedgwick duly noted,
not jumping, the change of level being made with-
out visible effort.
Now, Sedgwick himself was distinctly long of
leg and limber, but he realized that he would be
wholly incapable of duplicating the stranger's
gracefully accomplished feat without violent and
18


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
clumsy exertion. Consequently, he was interested.
Leaning out of the window, he called:
"Hello, there!"
"Good afternoon," said the stranger, in a quiet
cultivated voice.
"Would you mind telling me what you are do-
ing on my wall."
"Not in the least," replied the bearded man,
rising buoyantly into full view, and subsiding
again with the rhythm of a wave.
"Well, what are you doing?"
"Taking a little exercise."
By this time, having reached the end of the
wall, he turned and came back, making the step
with his right leg instead of his left. Sedgwick
hurried down-stairs and out into the roadway.
The stranger continued his performance silently.
At closer inspection it appealed to the artist as
even more mysterious both in purport and execu-
tion than it had looked at a distance.
"Do you do that often?" he asked presently.
The gymnast paused, poised like a Mercury on
the high coping. "Yes," said he. "Otherwise I
shouldn't be able to do it at all."
19


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I should think not, indeed! Has it any par-
ticular utility, that form of exercise?"
"Certainly. It is in pursuance of a theory of
self-defense."
"What in the world has wall-hopping to do
with self-defense?"
"I shall expound," said the stranger in profes-
sional tones, taking a seat by the unusual method
of letting himself down on one leg while holding
the other at right angles to his body. "Do you
know anything of jiu-jutsu?"
"Very little."
"In common with most Americans. For that
reason alone the Japanese system is highly ef-
fective here, not so effective in Japan. You per-
ceive there the basis of my theory."
"No, I don't perceive it at all."
"A system of defense is effective in proportion
to its unfamiliarity. That is all."
"Then your system consists in stepping up on a
wall and diving into obscurity on the farther side,
perhaps," suggested Sedgwick ironically.
"Defense, I said; not escape. Escape is perhaps
preferable to defense, but not always so practica-
20


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
ble. No; the wall merely served as a temporary
gymnasium while I was waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For you."
"You have distinctly the advantage of me,"
said Sedgwick, with a frown; for he was in no
mood to welcome strange visitors.
"To return to my theory of self-defense," said
the other imperturbably. "My wall exercise serves
to keep limber and active certain muscles that in
the average man are half atrophied. You are fa-
miliar with the ostrich?"
"With his proverbial methods of obfuscation,"
replied Sedgwick.
The other smiled. "That, again, is escape or
attempted escape. My reference was to other
characteristics. However, I shall demonstrate."
He rose on one foot with an ease that made the
artist stare, descended, selected from the roadway
a stone of ordinary cobble size, and handed it to
Sedgwick.
"Let that lie on the palm of your hand," said
he, "and hold it out, waist high."
As he spoke he was standing two feet from the
21


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
other, to his right. Sedgwick did as he was re-
quested. As his hand took position, there was a
twist of the bearded man's lithe body, a sharp
click, and the stone, flying in a rising curve,
swished through the leafage of a lilac fifty feet
away.
"How did you do that?" cried the artist.
The other showed a slight indentation on the
inside of his right boot heel, and then swung his
right foot slowly and steadily up behind his left
knee, and let it lapse into position again. "At
shoulder height," he explained, "I could have done
the same; but it would have broken your hand."
"I see," said the other, adding with distaste,
"but to kick an opponent! Why, even as a boy
I was taught—"
"We were not speaking of child's play," said
the visitor coolly; "nor am I concerned with the
rules of the prize-ring, as applied to my theory.
When one is in danger, one uses knife or gun, if
at hand. I prefer a less deadly and more effective
weapon. Kicking sidewise, either to the front or
to the rear, I can disarm a man, break his leg,
or lay him senseless. It is the special development
22


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
of such muscles as the sartorius and plantaris,"
he ran his long fingers down from the outside of
his thigh round to the inside of his ankle, "that
enables a human being, with practise, to kick
like an ostrich. Since you found me exercising
on your property, I owe you this explanation. I
hope you won't prosecute for trespass, Mr. Long-
Lean-Leggy Sedgwick."
"Leggy!" The artist had whirled at the name.
"Nobody's called me that for ten years."
"Just ten years ago that you graduated, wasn't
it?"
"Yes. Then I knew you in college. You must
have been before my class."
The bearded one nodded. "Senior to your
freshman," said he.
The younger man scrutinized him. "Chester
Kent!" said he softly. "What on earth are you
doing behind that bush?"
Kent caressed the maligned whiskers. "Util-
ity," he explained. "Patent, impenetrable mosqui-
to screen. I've been off in the wilds, and am—or
was—going back presently."
"Not until you've stopped long enough to get
23


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
reacquainted," declared Sedgwick. "Just at pres-
ent you're going to stay to dinner."
"Very good. Just now you happen to be in my
immediate line of interest. It is a fortunate cir-
cumstance for me, to find you here; possibly for
you, too."
"Most assuredly," returned the other with
heartiness. "Come in on the porch and have a
hammock and pipe."
Old interests sprang to life and speech between
them. And from the old interests blossomed the
old easy familiarity that is never wholly lost to
those who have been close friends in college days.
Presently Francis Sedgwick was telling his friend
the story of his feverish and thwarted ten years
in the world. Within a year of his graduation his
only surviving relative had died, willing to him
a considerable fortune, the income of which he
used in furtherance of a hitherto suppressed am-
bition to study art. Paris, his Mecca, was first a
task-mistress, then a temptress, finally a vampire.
Before succumbing he had gone far, in a few
years, toward the development of a curious tech-
24


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
nique of his own. Followed then two years of
dissipation, a year of travel to recuperate, and
the return to Paris, which was to be once more
the task-mistress. But, to his terror and self-
loathing, he found the power of application gone.
The muscles of his mind had become flabby. He
quoted to Kent, with bitterness, the terrible final
lines of Rossetti's Known in Vain:
''When Work and Will awake too late, to gaze
After their life sailed by, and hold their breath,
Ah! who shall dare to search through what sad
maze
Thenceforth their incommunicable ways
Follow the desultory feet of Death?"
"'When Work and Will awake too late,' " re-
peated Kent. "But is it too late in your case?
Surely not, since you're here, and at your task."
"But think of the waste, man! Yet, here I am,
as you say, and still able to fight. All by virtue of
a woman's laugh; the laugh of a woman without
virtue. It was at the Moulin de la Galette—per-
haps you know the dance hall on the slope of
Montmartre—and she was one of the dancers,
25


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
the wreck of what had once been beauty and, one
must suppose, innocence. Probably she thought me
too much absinthe-soaked to hear or understand,
as I sat half asleep at my table. At all events she
answered, full-voiced, her companion's question,
'Who is the drunken foreigner?' by saying, 'He
was an artist. The studios talked of him five
years ago. Look at him now! That is what life
does to us, mon ami. I'm the woman of it: that's
the man of it.' I staggered up, made her a bow
and a promise, and left her laughing. Last month
I redeemed the promise; sent her the first thou-
sand dollars I made by my own work, and de-
clared my debt discharged."
A heavy cloud of smoke issued from Kent's
mouth, followed by this observation: "That for-
mula about the inability to lift one's self by one's
own boot-straps fails to apply in the spiritual
world."
"Right! You can pull yourself out of the ditch
that way; but afterward comes the long hillside.
Life has seemed all tilted on edge, at times, and
pretty slippery, with little enough to cling to."
"Work," suggested Kent briefly.
26


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
"Wisdom lurks behind your screen. Work is
the answer."
"Good or bad, it's the only thing. Which kind
is yours?"
"Presently you shall sit in judgment. Mean-
time, suppose you account for yourself."
Chester Kent stretched himself luxuriously. "A
distinguished secretary of state has remarked
that all the news worth telling on any subject can
be transmitted by wire for twenty-five cents. The
short and simple annals of the poor in my case
can be recorded within that limit. 'Postgraduate
science. Agricultural Department job. Lectures.
Invention. Judiciary Department expert. Signed,
Chester Kent.' Ten words—count them—ten."
"Interesting, but unsatisfying," retorted his
friend. "Can't you expand a bit? I suppose you
haven't any dark secret in your life?"
"No secret, dark or light," sighed the other.
"The newspapers won't let me have."
"Eh? Won't let you? Am I to infer that
you've become a famous person? Pardon the ig-
norance of expatriation. Have you discovered a
new disease, or formulated a new theory of life,
27


THE SECRET OF, LONESOME COVE
or become a golf champion, or a senator, or a
freak aviator, or invented perpetual motion? Do
you possess titles, honors, -and ribboned decora-
tions? Ought I to bat my brow against the floor
in addressing you? What are you, anyway?"
"What I told you, an expert in the service of
the Department of Justice."
"On the scientific side?"
"Why—yes, generally speaking. I like to flat-
ter myself that my pursuit is scientific."
"Pursuit? What do you pursue?"
"Men and motives."
Sedgwick's intelligent eyes widened. "Wait,"
he said, "something occurs to me, an article in a
French journal about a wonderful new American
expert in criminology, who knows all there is to
know, and takes only the most abstruse cases. I
recall now that the article called him 'le Profes-
seur Chetre Kennat.' That would be about as near
as they would come to your name."
"It's a good deal nearer than that infernal
French journalist whom Wiley brought to my
table at the Idlers' Club got to the facts," stated
Kent
28


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
"Then you are the Professor Kent! But look
here! The Frenchman made you out a most su-
perior species of highfalutin detective, working
along lines peculiarly your own—"
"Rot!" interjected Kent. "The only lines a de-
tective can work along successfully are the lines
laid down for him by the man he is after."
"Sounds more reasonable than romantic," ad-
mitted the artist. "Come now, Kent, open up and
tell me something about yourself."
"Only last month a magazine put that request
in writing, and accompanied it with an offer of
twenty-five hundred dollars—which I didn't ac-
cept. However, as I may wish to ask you a num-
ber of leading questions later, I'll answer yours
now. You remember I got into trouble my senior
year with the college authorities, by proving the
typhoid epidemic direct against a forgotten defect
in the sewer system. It nearly cost me my diplo-
ma; but it helped me too, later, for a scientist in
the Department of Agriculture at Washington
learned of it, and sent for me after graduation.
He talked to me about the work that a man with
the true investigation instinct—which he thought
29


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
I had—could do, by employing his abilities along
strictly scientific lines; and he mapped out for me
a three-year's postgraduate course, which I had
just about enough money to take. While I special-
ized on botany, entomology, and bacteriology, I
picked up a working knowledge of other
branches; chemistry, toxicology, geology, mineral-
ogy, physiology, and most of the natural sciences,
having been blessed with an eager and catholic
curiosity about the world we live in.
Once in the Department, I found myself with a
sort of roving commission. I worked under such
men as Wiley, Howard, and Merriam, and learned
from them something of the infinite and scrupu-
lous patience that truly original scientific achieve-
ment demands. At first my duties were largely
those of minor research. Then, by accident
largely, I chanced upon the plot to bull the cot-
ton market by introducing the boll weevil into the
uninfested cotton area, and checked that. Soon
afterward I was put on the 'deodorized meat' en-
terprise, and succeeded in discovering the scheme
whereby it was hoped to sell spoiled meat for
good. You might have heard of those cases; but
30


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
you would hardly have learned of the success in
which I really take a pride, the cultivation of a
running wild grape to destroy Rhus Toxicoden-
dron, the common poison ivy. What spare
time I had I devoted to experimenting along me-
chanical lines, and patented an invention that has
been profitable. Some time ago the Department
of Justice borrowed me on a few cases with a
scientific bearing, and more recently offered me
incidental work with them on such favorable
terms that I resigned my other position. The
terms include liberal vacations, one of which I am
now taking. And here I am! Is that sufficient?"
"Hardly. All this suggests the arts of peace.
What about your forty-horse-power kick? You
don't practise that for drawing-room exhibitions,
I take it?"
"Sometimes," confessed the scientist, "I have
found myself at close quarters with persons of
dubious character. The fact is, that an ingenious
plot to get rid of a very old friend, Doctor Lucius
Carter the botanist, drew me into the criminal
line, and since then, that phase of investigation has
seemed fairly to obtrude itself on me, officially
31


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
and unofficially. Even up here, where I hoped to
enjoy a month's rest— Do you know," he said,
breaking off, "that you have a most interesting
inset of ocean currents hereabouts?"
"Of course. Lonesome Cove. But kindly finish
that 'even up here'. I recollect your saying that
you were waiting for me. Haven't traced any
scientific crime to my door, have you?"
"Let me forget my work for a little while,"
pleaded his visitor, "and look at yours."
Sedgwick rose. "Come up-stairs," he said, and
led the way to the big, bare, bright studio.
From the threshold Chester Kent delivered an
opinion, after one approving survey. "You really
work, I see."
"I really do. Where do you see it, though?"
"All over the place. No draperies or fripperies
or fopperies of art here. The barer the room, the
more work done in it."
He walked over to a curious contrivance resem-
bling a small hand-press, examined it, surveyed
the empty easel, against which were leaning, face
in, a number of pictures, all of a size, and turned
half a dozen of them over, ranging them and
32


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
stepping back for examination. Standing before
them, he whistled a long passage from La
Boheme, and had started to rewhistle it in another
key, when the artist broke in with some im-
patience.
"Well?"
"Good work," pronounced Kent quietly, and in
some subtle way the commonplace words con-
veyed to their hearer the fact that the man who
spoke them knew.
"It's the best there is in me, at least," said Sedg-
wick.
Kent went slowly around the walls, keenly ex-
amining, silently appraising. There were land-
scapes, genre bits, studies of the ocean in its vari-
ous moods, flashes of pagan imaginings, nature
studies; a wonderful picture of wild geese settling
from a flight; a no less striking sketch of a mink,
startled as he crept to drink among the sedges; a
group of country children at hop-scotch on the
sands; all the varied subjects handled with a deft-
ness of truth and drawing, and colored with a
clear softness quite individual.
"Have you found or founded a new system of
33


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
coloring?" asked Kent as he moved among the lit-
tle masterpieces. "No; don't tell me." He ►
touched one of the surfaces delicately. "It's not
paint, and it's not pastel. Oh, I see! They're all
of one size—of course." He glanced at the heavy
mechanism near the easel. "They're color prints."
Sedgwick nodded. "Monotypes," said he. "I
paint on copper, make one impress, and then—
phut!—a sponge across the copper makes each one
an original."
"You certainly obtain your effects."
"The printing seems to refine the color. For in-
stance, moonlight on white water, a thing I've
never been able to approach, either in straight oils
or.water. See here."
From behind a cloth he drew a square, and set
it on the easel. Kent whistled again, casual frag-
ments of light and heavy opera intermingled with
considerative twitches of his ear. »
"It's the first one I've given a name to," said
Sedgwick. "I call it The Rough Rider."
A full moon, brilliant amid blown cloud-rack,
lighted up the vast procession of billows charging
in upon a near coast. In the foreground a corpse,
34


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
the face bent far up and back from the spar to
which it was lashed, rode with wild abandon head-
long at the onlooker, on the crest of a roaring
surge. The rest was infinite clarity of distance
and desolation.
"The Rough Rider!" murmured Kent; then,
with a change of tone, "For sale?"
"I don't know," hesitated the artist. "Fact is,
I like that about well enough to keep."
"I'll give you five hundred dollars for it."
"Five hundred! Man alive! A hundred is the
most I've ever got for any of my prints!"
"The offer stands."
"But, see here, Kent, can you afford it? Gov-
ernment salaries don't make men rich, do they?"
"Oh, I'm rich enough," said the other impa-
tiently. "I told you I'd made inventions. And I
can certainly afford to buy it better than you can
afford to keep it here."
"What's that?" asked the painter, surprised.
Kent repeated his final sentence, with slow em-
phasis. "Do you understand what I mean?" he
asked, looking flatly into Sedgwick's eyes.
"No, not in the least. Another suggestion of
35


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
more of your pictures." He turned to the wall
border again, and faced another picture out
"What's this? You seem to be something of a
dab in black and white, too."
"Oh, that's an imaginary face," said Sedgwick
carelessly.
"Imaginary face studied from various angles,"
commented Kent. "It's a very lovely face, and
the most wistful I've ever seen. A fairy, prisoned
on earth by cockcrow, might wear some such ex-
pression of startled wondering purity, I fancy."
"Poetry as well as mystery! Kent, you grow
and expand on acquaintance."
"There is poetry in your study of that imagi-
nary fay. Imaginary! Um-hum!" continued Kent
dryly, as he stooped to the floor. "I suppose this
is an imaginary hairpin, too."
"My Chinaman—" began Sedgwick quickly,
when the other caught him up.
"Don't be uneasy. I'm not going to commit
the betise of asking who she is."
"If you did, I give you my word of honor I
couldn't tell you. I only wish I knew!"
37


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
There was silence between them for a moment;
then the painter broke out with the air of one who
takes a resolution:
"See here, Kent! You're a sort of detective,
aren't you?"
"I've been called so."
"And you like my picture of The Rough
Rider?"
"Five hundred dollars' worth."
"You can have that and any other picture in
my studio, except this one," he indicated the can-
vas with the faces, "if you'll find out for me who
she is."
"That might be done. We shall see. But
frankly, Sedgwick, there's a matter of more im-
portance—"
"Importance? Good heavens, man! There's
nothing so important in this world!"
"Oh, is it as bad as that?"
A heavy knock sounded from below, followed
by the Chinaman's voice, intermingled with boy-
ish accents demanding Sedgwick in the name of
the Western Union Telegraph Company.
"Send him up," ordered Sedgwick, and the boy
38


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
arrived; but not before Kent had quietly removed
The Rough Rider from its place of exhibit.
"Special from the village," announced young
Mercury. "Sign here."
After the signature had been duly set down,
and the signer had read his message with knit
brows, the urchin lingered, big with news.
"Say, heard about the body on the beach?"
Kent turned quickly, to see Sedgwick's face.
It was interested, but unmoved as he replied:
"No. Where was it found?"
"Lonesome Cove. Woman. Dressed swell.
Washed up on a grating last night or this morn-
ing."
"It's curious how they all come in here, isn't
it?" said the artist to Kent. "This is the third this
summer."
"And it's a corkerino!" said the boy. "Sher-
iff's on the case. Body was all chained up, they
say."
"I'm sure they need you at the office to help
circulate the news, my son," said Kent. "And I'll
bet you this quarter, payable in advance, that you
can't get back in half an hour on your wheel."
39


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
With a grin the boy took the coin. "I got yer,"
he said, and was off.
"And now, Sedgwick," said Kent decisively,
"if I'm to help you, suppose you tell me all that
you know about the woman who called on you last
evening?"
"Last evening? Ah, that wasn't the girl of the
picture. It's an interminable six days since I've
seen her."
"No; I know it wasn't she, having seen your
picture, and since then your visitor of last night.
The question is, who was it?"
"Wait! How did you know that a woman
came here last night?"
"From common gossip."
"And where have you seen her since?"
"On the beach, at Lonesome Cove."
"Lonesome Cove," repeated Sedgwick mechan-
ically. Then with a startled glance: "Not the
dead woman!"
Kent nodded, watching him closely. For a
space of four heart-beats—one very slow, and
three very quick—there was silence between them.
Kent broke it.
40


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
"Do you see now the wisdom of frankness?"
"You mean that I shall be accused of having a
hand in her death?"
"Strongly suspected, at least."
"On what basis?"
"You are the last person known to have seen
her alive."
"Surely that isn't enough?"
"Not of itself. There's a bruise back of your
right ear."
Involuntarily Sedgwick's hand went to the
spot.
"Who gave it to you?" pursued Kent.
"You know it all without my telling you," cried
Sedgwick. "But I never saw the woman before
in my life, Kent—I give you my word of honor!
She came and went, but who she is or why she
came or where she went I have no more idea than
you have. Perhaps not nearly so much."
"There you are wrong. I'm depending on you
to tell me about her."
"Not if my life hung on it. And how could
her being found drowned on the beach be connect-
ed with me?"
41


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I didn't say that she was found drowned on
the beach."
"You did! No; pardon me. It was the messen-
ger boy. But you said that her body was found
in Lonesome Cove."
"That is quite a different matter."
"She wasn't drowned?"
"I should be very much surprised if the autopsy
showed any water in the lungs."
"But the boy said that the body was lashed to a
grating, and that there were chains on it. Is that
true?"
"It was lashed to a grating, and manacled."
"Manacled? What a ghastly mystery!" Sedg-
wick dropped his chin in meditation. "If she
wasn't drowned, then she was murdered and
thrown overboard from a boat. Is that it?"
Chester Kent smiled inscrutably. "Suppose
you let me do the questioning a while. You can
give no clue whatsoever to the identity of your
yesterday's visitor?"
There was the slightest possible hesitation be-
fore the artist replied, "None at all."
"If I find it difficult to believe that, what will
42


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
the villagers think of it when Elder Dennett re-
turns from Cadystown and tells his story, as he
is sure to do?"
"Does Dennett know the woman?"
"No; but it isn't his fault that he doesn't. He
did his best in the interviewing line when he met
her on her way to your place."
"She wasn't on her way to my place," objected
Sedgwick.
"Dennett got the notion that she was. Accord-
ingly, with the true home-bred delicacy of our
fine old New England stock, he hid behind a bush
and watched."
"Did he overhear our conversation?"
"He was too far away. He saw the attack on
you. Now, just fit together these significant bits
of fact. The body of a woman, dead by violence,
is found on the beach not far from here. The
last person, as far as is known, to have seen her
alive is yourself. She called on you, and there
was a colloquy, apparently vehement, between
you, culminating in the assault upon you. She
hurried away. One might well guess that later
you followed her to her death."
43


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I did follow her," said Sedgwick in a low
tone.
"For what purpose?"
"To find out who she was."
"Which you didn't succeed in doing?"
"She was too quick for me. The blow of the
rock had made me giddy, and she got away
among the thickets."
"That's a pity. One more point of suspicion.
Dennett, you say, saw your picture, The Rough
Rider. He will tell every one about it, you may
be sure."
"What of it?"
"The strange coincidence of the subject, and
the apparent manner of the unknown's death."
"People will hardly suspect that I killed her
and set her adrift for a model, I suppose," said the
artist bitterly; "particularly as Dennett can tell
them that the picture was finished before her
death."
"Not that; but there will be plenty of witch-
hangers among the Yankee populace, ready to be-
lieve that a fiend inspired both picture and mur-
der in your mind. Why, the very fact of your
44


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
being an artist would be prima facie evidence of a
compact with the devil, to some people. And you
must admit a certain diabolical ghastliness in that
painting."
"Evidently some devil of ill fate is mixing up
in my affairs. What's your advice in the matter?"
"Tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth," suggested Chester Kent.
"Easily done. The question is whether you'll
believe it."
"If I hadn't felt pretty sure of your innocence,
I shouldn't have opened the case to you as I've
done. I'll believe the truth if you tell it, and tell
it all."
"Very well. I was sitting on my wall when the
woman came down the road. I noticed her first
when she stopped to look back, and her absurd
elegance of dress, expensive and ill fitting, attract-
ed my closer attention. She was carrying a bun-
dle, wrapped in strong paper. It seemed to be
heavy, for she shifted it from hand to hand.
When she came near, I spoke to her—"
"You spoke to her first?"
"Well, we spoke simultaneously."
45


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
"She wasn't a woman of your own class,
then?"
Sedgwick looked puzzled. "Well, no. I
thought not, then, or I shoudn't have been so free
and easy with her. For one thing, she was paint-
ed badly, and the perspiration, running down her
forehead, had made her a sight. Yet, I don't
know: her voice was that of a cultivated person.
Her manner was awkward and her dress weird
for that time of day, and, for all that, she carried
herself like a person accustomed to some degree
of consideration. That I felt quite plainly. I
felt, too, something uncanny about her. Her eyes
alone would have produced that impression.
They were peculiarly restless and brilliant."
"Insane?" questioned Kent.
"Not wholly sane, certainly; but it might have
been drugs. That suggested itself to me."
"A possibility. Proceed."
"She asked what point of the headland gave the
best view. 'Anywhere from the first rise on is
good,' I said* Tt depends on what you wish to
see.'—'My ship coming in,' said she.—'It will be
a far view, then,' I told her. 'This is a coast of
47


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
guardian reefs.'—'What difference?' she said, and
then gave me another surprise; for she quoted:
"'And though thy soul sail leagues and leagues
beyond—
Still, leagues beyond those leagues, there is more
sea.'"
"That's interesting," remarked Kent. "Casual
female wayfarers aren't given to quoting The
House of Life."
"Nor casual ships to visiting this part of the
coast. However, there was no ship. I looked for
myself, when I was trying to find the woman
later. What are you smiling at?"
"Nothing. I'm sorry I interrupted."
"She walked away from me a few paces, but
turned and came back at once.
"T follow my star,' she said, pointing to a
planet that shone low over the sea. 'Therein lies
the only true happiness; to dare and to follow.'
"'It's a practise which has got many people
into trouble and some into jail,' I remarked.
"'Do not be flippant,' she replied in her deep
48


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
!
tones. 'Perhaps under that star you move on dim
paths to an unknown glory.'
"'See here,' I broke out, 'you're making me
uncomfortable. If you've got something to tell,
please tell it, kindly omitting the melodrama.'
"'Remember this meeting,' she said in a tone
of solemn command; 'for it may mark an epoch
in your life. Some day in the future I may send
for you and recall to-day to your mind by what
I have just said. In that day you will know the
hidden things that are clear only to the chosen
minds. Perhaps you will be the last person but
one to see me as I now am.'"
Kent pulled nervously at the lobe of his ear.
"Is it possible that she foresaw her death?" he
murmured.
"It would look so, in the light of what has hap-
pened, wouldn't it? Yet there was an uncanny air
of joyousness about her, too."
"I don't like it," announced Kent. "I do not
like it!"
By which he meant that he did not understand
it. What Chester Kent does not understand,
Chester Kent resents.
49


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Love-affair, perhaps," suggested the artist.
"A woman in love will take any risk of death.
However," he added, rubbing his bruised head
reminiscently, "she had a very practical bent, for
a romantic person. After her mysterious prophecy
she started on. I called to her to come back or I
would follow and make her explain herself."
"As to what?"
"Everything: her being there,her actions,her—
her apparel, the jewelry, you know, and all that."
"You've said nothing about jewelry."
"Haven't I? Well, when she turned—"
"Just a moment. Was it the jewelry that you
were going to speak of when you first accosted
her?"
"Yes, it was. Some of it was very valuable, I
judge. Wasn't it found on the body?"
"No."
"Not? Robbery, then, probably. Well, she
came back at a stride. Her eyes were alive with
anger. There came a torrent of words from her;
strong words, too. Nothing of the well-bred wom-
an left there. I insisted on knowing who she was,
and she burst out on me with laughter that was,
50


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
somehow, more insulting than her speech. But
when I told her that I'd find out about her if I
had to follow her into the sea, she stopped laugh-
ing fast enough. Before I could guard myself
she had caught up a rock from the road and let
me have it. I went over like a tenpin. When I
got up, she was well along toward the cliffs, and
I never did find her trail in that maze of copses
and thickets."
"Show me your relative positions when she at-
tacked you."
The artist placed Kent, and moved off five
paces. "About like that," he said.
"Did she throw overhand or underhand?"
"It was so quick I hardly know. But I should
say a short overhand snap. It came hard enough!"
"I do not like it at all," said Kent again.
He wandered disconsolately and with half-
closed eyes about the room, until he blundered
into collision with a cot-lounge in the corner,
spread with cushions. These he heaped up, threw
his coat over them, stretched himself out with his
feet propped high on the mound just erected, and
closed his eyes.
51


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Sleepy?" inquired Sedgwick.
"Busy," retorted his guest.
"Like some more pillows?"
"No; I'd like ten minutes of silence." The
speaker opened one eye. "At the end of that time
perhaps you'll think better of it."
"Of what?"
"Of concealing an essentially important part of
your experience, which has to do, I think, with
the jewelry."
At the end of the ten minutes, when Kent
opened both eyes, his friend forestalled him with
another query.
"You say that no jewels were found on the
body. Was there any other mark of identifica-
tion?"
"If there was, the sheriff got away with it be-
fore I saw it."
"How can you be sure, then, that the dead
woman was my visitor?"
"Dennett mentioned a necklace. On the crushed
flesh of the dead woman's neck there is the plain
impress of a jewel setting. Now, come, Sedg-
52


PROFESSOR KENT MAKES A CALL
wick! If I'm to help you in this, you must help
me. Had you ever seen that necklace before?"
"Yes," was the reply, given with obvious re-
luctance.
"Where?"
"On the neck of the girl of my picture."
Kent's fingers went to his ear, pulling at the
lobe until that unoffending pendant stretched like
rubber. "You're sure?" he asked.
"There couldn't be any mistake. The stones
were matched rose-topazes; you mightn't find an-
other like it in the whole country."
Kent whistled, soft and long. "I'm afraid, my
boy," he said at length, "I'm very much afraid
that you'll have to tell me the whole story of the
romance of the pictured face; and this time with-
out reservation."
"That's what I've been guarding against," re-
torted the other. "It isn't a thing that I can tell,
man to man. Don't you understand? Or," he
added savagely, "do you misunderstand?"
!"No, I don't misunderstand," answered Kent
very gently. "I know there are things that can't
53


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
be spoken, not because they are shameful, but be-
cause they are sacred. Yet I've got to know about
her. Here! I have it. When I'm gone, sit down
and write it out for me, simply and fully, and send
it to my hotel as soon as it is done. You can do
that, can't you?"
"Yes, I can do that," decided Sedgwick, after
some consideration.
"Good! Then give me some dinner. And let's
forget this grisly thing for a time, and talk of the
old days. Whatever became of Harkness, of our
class, do you know?"
Between them that evening was no further
mention of the strange body in Lonesome Cove.


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
at it, and was cursing over the job when I heard
the hoofs coming back, and the rider pulled up
close to me.
"I heard you cry out," said a voice, very full
and, low. "Did I hurt you? I hope not."
"No," I said without looking up. "Small
thanks to you that you didn't!"
My tone silenced her for a moment Somehow,
though, I got the feeling that she was amused
more than abashed at my resentment. And her
voice was suspiciously meek when she presently
spoke again.
"You're an artist, aren't you?"
"No," I said, busily scraping away at my cop-
perplate. "I'm an archeologist, engaged in ex-
huming an ancient ruin from a square mile of
mud."
She laughed; but in a moment became grave
again. "I'm so sorry!" she said. "I know I
shouldn't come plunging around turns in that
reckless way. May I—I should like to—buy your
picture?"
"You may not," I replied.
"That isn't quite fair, is it?" she asked. "If I
56


MY LADY OF MYSTERY
have done damage, I should be allowed to repair
it."
"Repair?" said I. "How do you propose to do
it? I suppose that you think a picture that can be
bought for a hundred-dollar bill can be painted
with a hundred-dollar bill."
"No; I'm not altogether a Philistine," she said,
and I looked up at her for the first time. Her
face— (El1sion and Comment by Kent: /
know her face from the sketches. Why could he
not have described the horse? However, there's
one point clear: she is a woman of means.)
She said, "I don't wonder you're cross. And
I'm truly sorry. Is it quite ruined?"
At that I recovered some decency of manner.
"Forgive a hermit," I said, "who doesn't see
enough people to keep him civilized. The daub
doesn't matter."
She leaned over from the saddle to examine the
picture. "Oh, but it isn't a daub!" she protested.
"I—I know a little about pictures. It's very in-
teresting and curious. But why do you paint it on
copper?"
I explained.
57


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Oh!" she said. "I should so like to see your
prints!"
"Nothing easier," said I. "My shack is just
over the hill."
"And there is a Mrs.—" her eyes suggested that
I fill the blank.
"Sedgwick?" I finished. "No. There is no one
but my aged and highly respectable Chinaman to
play propriety. But in the case of a studio, les
convenances are not so rigid but that one may look
at pictures unchaperoned."
"I'm afraid it wouldn't do," she answered,
smiling. "No, I'll have to wait until—" A shadow
passed over her face. "I'm afraid I'll have to give
it up."
Chance settled that point then and there. As
she finished, she was in my arms. The girth had
loosened, and the saddle had turned with her. I
had barely time to twist her foot from the stirrup
when the brute of a horse bolted. As it was, her
ankle got a bit of a wrench. She turned quite
white, and cried out a little. In a moment she was
herself again.
"King Cole has been acting badly all day," she
58


MY LADY OF MYSTERY
said. "I shall have a time catching him." She
limped forward a few steps.
"Here, that won't do!" said I. "Let me."
"You couldn't get near him—though, perhaps,
if you had some salt—"
"I can get some at my place," said I, gathering
up my things. "Your horse is headed that way.
You'd better come along and rest there while
Ching Lung and I round up your mount."
(Comment by C. K.: Here follows more talk,
showing how young people imperceptibly and un-
consciously cement an acquaintance; but not one
•word upon the vital point of how far the horse
seemed to have come, whether he zvas ridden out,
or fresh, etc.)
At the bungalow I called Ching, and we set out
with a supply of salt. King Cole (Comment by
C. K.: Probably a dead-black horse) was coy for
a time, before he succumbed to temptation. On
my return I found my visitor in the studio. She
had said that she knew a little about pictures. She
knew more than a little, a good deal, in fact,
and talked most intelligently about them. I don't
say this simply because she tried, before she went,
59


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
to buy some of mine. .When I declined to sell she
seemed put out.
"But surely these prints of yours aren't the
work of an amateur," she said. "You sell?"
"Oh, yes, I sell—when I can. But I don't sell
without a good bit of bargaining; particularly
when I suspect my purchaser of wishing to make
amends by a purchase."
"It isn't that at all," she said earnestly. "I want
the pictures for themselves."
"Call this a preliminary then, and come back
when you have more time."
She shook her head, and there was a shadow
over the brightness of her face. "I'm afraid not,"
she said. "But I have enjoyed talking again with
some one who knows and loves the best in art.
After all," she added with a note of determina-
tion, almost of defiance, "there is no reason why
I shouldn't sometime."
"Then I may look for you again?" I asked.
She nodded as she moved out across the porch.
"If you'll promise to sell me any print I may
choose. Good-by. And thank you so much, Mr.
Sedgwick!"
60


MY LADY OF MYSTERY
She held out her hand. It was a hand for a
sculptor to model, as beautiful and full of char-
acter as her face. (Comment by C. K.: Bosh!)
Afterward I remembered that never again in our
friendship did I see it ungloved. (Comment by
C. K.: "Bosh" retracted. Some observation in
that!)
"Au revoir, then," I said; "but you have the
advantage of me, you see. I don't know what to
call you at all."
She hesitated; then, with a little soft quiver of
her eyelids, which I afterward learned to identify
as an evidence of amusement, said, "Daw is a nice
name, don't you think?" (Comment by C. K.:
False name, of course; but highly probable first
name is Marjorie.) "By the way, what time is
it?"
"Quarter to five, Miss Daw."
She smiled at the name. "King Cole will have
to do his best, if I am to be back for dinner.
Good-by." (Comment by C. K.: Good! The
place where she is staying is a good way off, as-
suming a seven-thirty dinner-hour; say twelve to
fifteen miles.)
61


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
That was the first of many visits, of days that
grew in radiance for me. It isn't necessary for
me to tell you, Kent, how in our talks I came to
divine in her a spirit as wistful and pure as her
face. You do not want a love story from me; yet
that is what it was for me almost from the first.
Not openly, though. There was that about her
which held me at arms' length: the mystery of
her, her quickly-given trust in me, a certain
strained look that came into her face, like the
startled attention of a wild thing poised for flight,
whenever I touched upon the personal note. Not
that I ever questioned her. That was the under-
standing between us: that I should leave to her
her incognita without effort to penetrate it.
While I talked, I sketched her and studied her.
Young as she seemed, she had been much about
the world, knew her Europe, had met and talked
with men of many pursuits, and had taken from
all sources tribute for her mind and color for her
imagination. She had read widely, too, and had
an individual habit of thought. Combined with
all her cosmopolitanism was a quaint and pro-
found purity of standards. I remember her say-
62


MY LADY OF MYSTERY
ing once—it was one of her rare flashes of self-
revelation—"I am an anomaly and an anachron-
ism, a Puritan in modern society." After her first
visit she did not ride on her horse; but came
across lots and through the side hedge, swinging
down the hillside yonder with her light dipping
stride that always recalled to me the swoop of a
swallow, her gloved hands usually holding a slen-
der stick.
All those sketches that you saw were but stud-
ies for a more serious attempt to catch and fix her
personality. (Comment by C. K.: Cotddrit he
have given me in two words her height and ap-
proximate weight?) I did it in pastel, and, if I
missed something of her tender and changeful
coloring, I at least caught the ineffable wist fulness
of her expression, the look of one hoping against
hope for an unconfessed happiness. Probably I
had put more of myself into it than I had meant.
A man is likely to when he paints with his heart
as well as his brain and hand. When it was done
I made a little frame for it, and lettered on the
frame this line:
"And her eyes dreamed against a distant goal."
63


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
It was the next day that she read the line. I
saw the color die from her face and flood back
again.
"Why did you set that line there?" she
breathed, her eyes fixed on me with a strange ex-
pression. (Comment by C. K.: Rossetti again.
The dead woman of the beach quoted "The House
of Life," also.)
"Why not?" I asked. "It seems to express
something in you which I have tried to embody
in the picture. Don't you like it?"
She repeated the line softly, making pure music
of it. "I love it," she said.
At that, I spoke as it is given to a man to speak
to one woman in the world when he has found
her. She listened, with her eyes on the pictured
face. But when I said to her, "You, who have all
my heart, and whose name, even, I have not—is
there no word for me," she rose, and threw
out her hands in a gesture that sent a chill
through me.
"Oh, no! No!" she cried vehemently. "Noth-
ing—except good-by. Oh, why did you speak?"
I stood and watched her go. At the end of the
64


MY LADY OF MYSTERY
garden walk she stooped and picked a rose with
her gloved fingers, and as she disappeared in the
thicket at the top of the hill I thought she half
turned to look. That was five interminable days
ago. I have not seen her since. I feel it is
her will that I shall never see her again. And I
must 1 You understand, Kent, you must find her!
I forgot to tell you that when I was sketching
her I asked if she could bring something pink to
wear, preferably coral. She came the next time
with a string of the most beautiful rose-topazes
I have ever seen, set in a most curious old gold
design. It was that necklace and none other that
the woman with the bundle wore, half concealed,
when she came here.
To-day—it is yesterday really, since I am fin-
ishing this at three A. M.–the messenger boy
brought me a telegram. It was from my love. It
had been sent from Boston, and it read:
“Destroy the picture, for my sake. It tells too
much of both of us.”
The message was unsigned. I have destroyed
the picture. Help me! F. S.


CHAPTER IV
AN INQUIRY
66 M I running a Strangers' Rest here?”
Francis Sedgwick asked of himself when
he emerged upon his porch the morning after
Kent’s visit.
The occasion of this query was a man stretched
flat on the lawn, with his feet propped up com-
fortably against the stone wall. In this recum-
bent posture he was achieving the somewhat deli-
cate feat of smoking a long, thin clay pipe. Ex-
cept for this plebeian touch he was of the most
unimpeachable elegance. His white serge suit
was freshly pressed. His lavender silk hose, de-
scending without a wrinkle under his buckskin
shoes, accorded with a lavender silk tie and laven-
der striped shirt. A soft white hat covered his
eyes against the sun glare. To put a point to this
foppishness, a narrow silken ribbon, also pure
white, depending from his lapel buttonhole, sug-
gested an eye-glass in his pocket.
Sedgwick, who had risen late, having returned
66


AN INQUIRY
to his house at daybreak after delivering his
manuscript at Kent's hotel, regarded this sartorial
marvel with a doubt as to whether it might not
be a figment of latent dreams. Making a detour
across the grass, he attained to a side view of the
interloper's face. It repaid the trouble. It was
a remarkable face, both in contour and in color-
ing. From chin to cheek, the skin was white,
with a tint of blue showing beneath; but the cen-
tral parts of the face were bronzed. The jaw was
long, lean and bony. The cheek-bones were high;
the mouth was large, fine-cut, and firm; the nose,
solid, set like a rock.
At the sound of a footstep, the man pushed his
hat downward, revealing a knobby forehead and
half-closed eyes in which there was a touch of
somberness, of brooding. The artist remembered
having seen that type of physiognomy on the
Venetian coins of the sixteenth century, the like-
nesses in bronze, of men who were of iron and
gold,—scholars, rulers, and poets. The eyes ol
the still face opened wide, and fixed themselves
on Sedgwick, and the expression of melancholy
vanished.
67


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Good morning," said the artist, and then all
but recoiled from the voice that replied, so harsh
and raucous it was.
"You rise late," it said.
"I hear your opinion on it," retorted Sedgwick,
a bit nettled. "Am I to infer that you have been
waiting for me?"
"You wouldn't go far wrong."
"And what can I do for you—before you
leave?" said Sedgwick significantly.
"Take a little walk with me presently," said
the man in another voice, brushing the hat clear
of his face.
"Kent!" exclaimed the artist.
"Well, you appear surprised. What kind of
artist are you, not to recognize a man simply be-
cause he shaves his beard and affects a false
voice?"
"But you're so completely changed. And why
this disguise?"
"Disguise?" returned the other, astonished in
his turn. "I'm not in disguise."
"Your clothes. They're—well, except for be-
ing offensive, I'd call them foppish."
68


AN INQUIRY
"Not at all!" protested the other warmly. "Just
because I'm a scientific man, is it to be assumed
that I ought to be a frump? I'm fond of good
clothes; I can afford good clothes; I wear good
clothes. It's a hobby of mine; but I deny that it
is a weakness."
"Of course not," assented the other, somewhat
amused. "By the way, though, your socks and
tie don't match."
"They do, absolutely," replied the other with
asperity.
"Perhaps in fact; but not in effect. In match-
ing smooth silk with ribbed silk, you should get
the latter one shade lighter."
"Is that so?" said Kent with interest. "You've
told me something I never knew. I'll remember
that. Now I'll trouble you to tell me some more
things."
"While taking that walk you spoke of?"
"That comes later. I've read your story."
"Already?"
"Already! Do you know it's ten o'clock? How-
ever, it's a good story."
"Thank you."
69


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"As a story. As information, it leaves out
most of the important points."
"Thank you again."
"You're welcome. Color, size, and trappings
of the horse?"
"I didn't notice particularly. Black, I think;
yes, certainly, black. Rather a large horse.
That's all I can tell you."
"Humph! Color, size, and trappings of the
rider?"
"Reddish brown hair with a gloss like a butter-
fly's wing," said the artist with enthusiasm; "deep
hazel eyes; clear sun-browned skin; tall—I
should say quite tall—but so—so feminine that
you wouldn't realize her tallness. She was dressed
in a light brown riding costume, with a toque
hat, very simple, tan gauntlets, and tan boots;
that is, the first time I saw her. The next time—"
"Hold on! A dressmaker's catalogue is no
good to me. I couldn't remember it all. Was
she in riding clothes on any of her later visits?"
"No."
"Any scars or marks?"
"Certainly not!"
70


AN INQUIRY
"That's a pity; although you seem to think
otherwise. Age?"
"We—ell, twenty, perhaps."
"Add five. Say twenty-five."
"What for?" demanded Sedgwick indignantly.
"I'm allowing for the discount of romance.
Did you notice her boots?"
"Not particularly; except that she was always
spick and span from head to foot."
"Humph! Was it pretty warm the last week
she called on you?"
"Piping!"
"Did she show it?"
"Never a bit. Always looked fresh as a flower."
"Then, although she came far, she didn't walk
far to get here. There's a road back of the hill
yonder, and a little copse in an open field where a
motor-car has stood. I should say that she had
driven herself there and come across the hill to
you."
"Could we track the car?" asked Sedgwick
eagerly.
"No farther than the main road. What is the
latest she ever left here, when she arrived afoot?"
71


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Once she stayed till half past six. I begged
her to stay and dine; but she drew into herself
at the mere suggestion."
"Half past six. Allowing for a half past seven
dinner, and time to dress for it, she would have
perhaps twelve to fifteen miles to go in the car.
That figures out with the saddle ride, too. Now,
we have, as your visitor, a woman of rather in-
adequate description eked out by some excellent
sketches—young, passably good-looking (don't
lose your temper, Sedgwick); passably good-look-
ing, at least; with command of some wealth; ath-
letic, a traveler, well informed. The name she
gave is obviously not her own; not even, I judge,
her maiden name."
Sedgwick turned very white. "Do you mean
that she is a married woman?" he demanded.
"How could you have failed to see it?" re-
turned the other gently.
"But what is there to prove it?"
"Proof? None. Indication, plenty. Her visits,
in the first place. A young girl of breeding and
social experience would hardly have come to your
studio. A married woman might, who respected
72


AN INQUIRY
herself with full confidence, and knew, with the
same confidence, that you would respect her. And,
my dear boy,” added Kent, with his quiet win-
ning Smile, “you are a man to inspire confidence.
Otherwise, I myself might have suspected you of
having a hand in the death of the woman on the
beach.”
“Never mind the woman on the beach. This
other matter is more than life or death. Is that
flimsy supposition all you have to go on?”
“No. Her travel. Her wide acquaintance with
men and events. Her obvious poise.”
“All might be found in a very exceptional girl,
such as she is. Why shouldn't she tell me, if she
were married ?”
“Oh, don't expect me to dissect feminine psy-
chology. There I’m quite beyond my depth. But
you'll note she doesn't seem to have told you any
slightest thing about herself. She's let conceal-
ment, like a worm i' the bud, prey on your damask
cheek.”
“Confound your misquotations! It's true,
though. But there might be many reasons.”
“Doubtless. Only, my imagination doesn't seem
73


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
to run to them. And reverting to tangible fact,
as clenching evidence, there are her gloves, which
she always wore."
"What about her gloves?"
"You never saw her left hand, did you?"
"Oh, I see. You mean the wedding-ring. Well,
I suppose," continued Sedgwick, with a tinge of
contempt in his voice, "she could have taken off
her ring as easily as her gloves."
There was no answering contempt in Chester
Kent's voice as he replied, "But a ring, constantly
worn and then removed, leaves an unmistakable
mark. Perhaps she gave you greater credit for
powers of observation than you deserve. I'm
afraid, Frank, that she is a married woman; and
I'm sure, from reading between your lines, that
she is a good woman. What the connection be-
tween her and the corpse on the beach may be, is
the problem. My immediate business is to dis-
cover who the dead woman is."
"And mine," said Sedgwick hoarsely, "to dis-
cover the living."
"We'll at least start together," replied Kent.
"Come!"
74


AN INQUIRY
Capacity for silence, that gift of the restful
gods, was possessed by both men. Intent, each
upon his own thoughts, they strode up the hill-
side and descended into a byway where stood a
light runabout, empty. Throwing on the switch,
Kent motioned his companion to get in. Twenty
minutes of curving and dodging along the rocky
roads brought them to the turnpike, in sight of
the town of Annalaka. Not until then did Kent
offer a word.
"The inquest is set for eleven o'clock," he said.
"All right," said Sedgwick with equal taci-
turnity.
They turned a corner, and ran into the fringe
of a crowd hovering about the town hall. Halting
his machine in a bit of shade, Kent surveyed the
gathering. At one point it thickened about a man
who was talking eagerly, the vocal center of a
small circle of silence.
"Elder Dennett," said Kent, "back from
Cadystown. You'll have to face the music now."
"I'm ready."
"You're ready for attack. Are you ready for
surprises?"
75


THE SECRET OF LONESOME "COVE
"No one is ever ready for surprise, or it
wouldn't be surprise, would it?"
"True enough. One word of warning: don't
lose your head or your temper if the suspicion
raised against you by Dennett is strengthened by
me."
"By you!"
"Unfortunately. My concern is to get to the
bottom of this matter. There is something the
sheriff knows that I don't know. Probably it is
the identity of the body. To force him into the
open, it may be necessary for me to augment the
case against you."
"Ought I to be ready for arrest?"
"Hardly probable at present. No; go on the
stand when you're called, and tell the truth, and
nothing but the truth."
"But not the whole truth?"
"Nothing of the necklace. You won't be ques-
tioned about that. By the way, you have never
kept among your artistic properties anything in
the way of handcuffs, have you?"
"No."
"I didn't suppose you had. Those manacles
76


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"To hear it, rather," replied Kent pleasantly.
"Where's the body?"
"Inside. Just brought it over from Doctor
Breed's. He's the medical officer, and he and
the sheriff are running the show. Your friend
want a lawyer, maybe?"
The thought struck Kent that, while a lawyer
might be premature, a friend in the town might
be very useful.
"Yes," he said; "from to-morrow on."
"Meanin' that you're in charge to-day," sur-
mised the big man shrewdly.
Kent smiled. "I dare say we shall get on very
well together, Mr.—" his voice went up interrog-
atively.
"Bain, Adam Bain, attorney and counselor at
law for thirty years in the town of Annalaka."
"Thank you. My name is Kent. You already
know my friend's name. What kind of man is
this medical officer?"
"Breed? Not much. More of a politician
than a doctor, and more of a horse trader than
either. Fidgety as a sandpaper undershirt."
78


AN INQUIRY
"Did he perform the autopsy at his own
house?"
"Him and the sheriff last evening. Didn't
even have an undertaker to help lay out."
The lobe of Kent's ear began to suffer from re-
peated handling. "The body hasn't been identi-
fied, I suppose?"
"Nobody's had so much as a wink at it but
those two and Ira Dennett. He viewed the corpse
last night. That's why I guess your friend needs
his friends and maybe a lawyer."
"Exactly. Mr. Dennett doesn't seem to be
precisely a deaf mute."
Lawyer Bain emitted the bubbling chuckle of
the fat-throated. "It's quite some time since Iry
won any prizes for silent thought," he stated.
"You are known, hereabouts?" he added, after a
pause.
"Very little."
"Gansett Jim, yonder, looks as if he kinder
cherished the honor of your acquaintance."
Over his shoulder Kent caught the half-breed's
glance fixed upon him with stolid intensity. A
79


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
touch on his arm made him turn to the other side,
where Sailor Smith faced him.
"Didn't hardly know you, with your beard off,"
piped the old man. "Howdy, Professor? You're
finickied up like your own weddin'."
"Good morning," said the scientist. "Are you
going inside?"
"No hurry," said the other. "Hotter'n Tophet 1
in there."
"I want a good seat; so I think I'll go in at
once," said Kent. "Sit with us, won't you? Mr.
Sedgwick is with me."
The ex-sailor started. "Him?" he exclaimed.
"Here?"
Kent nodded. "Why not?"
"No reason. No reason at all," said the old
seaman hastily. "It's a public proceedin'."
"But you're surprised to see him here?"
"There's been quite a lot o' talk—"
"Suspicion, you mean."
"We—ell, yes."
"People are inclined to connect Mr. Sedgwick
with the death of the woman?"
"What else can you expect?" returned the old
80


AN INQUIRY
man deprecatingly. "Iry Dennett's been tellin'
his story. He's certain the woman he seen talkin'
to Mr. Sedgwick is the dead woman. Willin' to
swear to it anywheres."
"What about Gansett Jim? Has he contrib-
uted anything to the discussion?"
"No. Jim's as close-tongued as Iry is clatter-
mouthed."
"And probably with reason," muttered Kent.
"Well, I'll look for you inside."
He returned to join Sedgwick. Together they
entered the building, while behind them a rising
hum testified to the interest felt in them by the
villagers.
Within, a tall wizened man, with dead fishy
eyes, stalked nervously to and fro on a platform,
beside which a hastily constructed coffin with a
hasped cover stood on three sawhorses. On a
chair near by slouched the sheriff, his face red and
streaming. A few perspiring men and women
were scattered on the benches. Outside a clock
struck eleven. There was a quick inflow of the
populace, and the man on the platform lifted up
a chittering voice.
81


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Feller citizens," he said, "as medical officer I
declare these proceedings opened. Meaning no
disrespect to the deceased, we want to get through
as spry as possible. First we will hear witnesses.
Anybody who thinks he can throw any light on
this business can have a hearing. Then those as
wants may view the remains. The burial will
take place right afterwards, in the town buryin'-
ground, our feller citizen and sheriff, Mr. Len
Schlager, having volunteered the expenses."
"That man," said Sedgwick in Kent's ear, "is
a great deal more nervous this minute than I am."
"Perhaps he has more cause to be," whispered
the scientist. "Here comes the first witness."
A sheep-herder had risen in his place, and with-
out the formality of an oath told of sighting the
body at the edge of the surf at seven o'clock in
the morning. Others, following, testified to the
position on the beach, the lashing of the body
to the grating, the wounds, and the manacles.
Doctor Breed announced briefly that the deceased
had come to her death by drowning, and that the
skull had been crushed in, presumably, when the
waves hammered the body upon the reefs.
82


AN INQUIRY
"Then the corpse must have come from a good
ways out," said Sailor Smith; "for the reefs
wouldn't catch it at that tide."
"Nobody knows how the dead come to Lone-
some Cove," said the sheriff in his deep voice.
There was a murmur of assent. The people
felt a certain pride in the ill-omened locality.
Elder Ira Dennett was the next and last wit-
ness called. Somewhere beneath the Elder's dry
exterior lurked the instinct of the drama. Stalk-
ing to the platform, he told his story with skill
and fervor. He made a telling point of the newly
finished picture he had seen in Sedgwick's studio,
depicting the moonlit charge of the wave-mounted
corpse. He sketched out the encounter between
the artist and the dead woman vividly. As he
proceeded, the glances turned upon Sedgwick
darkened from suspicion to enmity. Kent was
almost ready to wish that he had come armed,
when Dennett, with a final fling of his arm to-
ward the artist, stepped from the platform and re-
sumed his seat, amid a surcharged silence.
Then Sedgwick rose. He was white; but his
voice was under perfect control as he said, "I
83


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
presume I have the right to be heard in my own
defense?"
"Nobody's accused you yet," growled Schlager.
"Public opinion accuses me. That is not to
be wondered at, in view of what Elder Dennett
has just told you. It is all true. But I do not
know the woman who accosted me. I never saw
her before that evening. She spoke strangely to
me, and indicated that she was to meet some one
and go aboard ship, though I saw no sign of a
ship."
"You couldn't see much of the ocean from your
house," said the medical officer.
"I walked on the cliffs later," said Sedgwick,
and a murmur went through the court room; "but
I never found the woman. And as for throwing
her out of a ship, or any such fantastic nonsense,
I can prove that I was back in my house by a little
after nine o'clock that night."
He sat down, coolly enough; but his eyes di-
lated when Kent whispered to him:
"Keep your nerve. The probability will be
shown that she was killed before ten o'clock."
Now, however, Doctor Breed was on his feet
84


AN INQUIRY
again. "Form in line, ladies and gentlemen," said
he, "and pass the coffin as spry as possible."
At this, Sheriff Schlager stepped forward and
loosened the hasps, preparatory to removing the
cover. "The body has been left," said he, slip-
ping the lid aside, "just as—" Of a sudden, his
eyes stiffened. A convulsive shudder ran through
his big body. He jammed the cover back, and,
with fingers that actually drummed on the wood,
forced the hasps into place.
"She's come to life!" cried a voice from the
rear.
"No, no!" rumbled the sheriff. Whirling upon
the medical officer, he whispered in his ear; not
more than a single word, it seemed to the watch-
ful Kent.
The doctor turned ghastly. "Gents," he said
in a quavering voice to the amazed crowd, "the
program will not be carried out as arranged. The
—the—well, the condition of the deceased is not
fitten—" He stopped, mopping his brow.
But Yankee curiosity was not so easily to be
balked of its food. It found expression in Law-
yer Adam Bain.
85


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"That ain't the law, Doc," he said.
"I'm the law here," declared Sheriff Schlager,
planting himself solidly between the crowd and
the coffin. One hand crept slowly back toward his
hip.
"Don't pull any gun on me," retorted the law-
yer quietly. "It ain't necessary."
"You heard Doc Breed say the body wasn't
fitten to be viewed," pursued the sheriff.
"That's all right, too. But the doc hasn't .got
the final word. The law has."
A quick murmur of assent passed through the
room.
"And the law says," continued Bain, "that the
body shall be duly viewed. Otherwise, and the de-
ceased being buried without view, an order of
the court to exhume may be obtained."
"Look at Breed," whispered Kent to Sedgwick.
The medical officer's lips were gray, as he
leaned forward to pluck at the sheriff's arm.
There was a whispered colloquy between them.
Then Breed spoke, with a pitiful effort at self-
control:
"Lawyer Bain's point is correct; undoubtedly
86


AN INQUIRY
correct. But the body must be prepared. It ought
to 'a' been looked to last night. But somehow I—
we— Will six citizens kindly volunteer to fetch
the coffin back to my house?"
Ten times six offered their services. The box
was carried out swiftly, followed by the variable
hum of excited conjecture. Quickly the room
emptied itself, except for a few stragglers.


V
CHAPTER V
ONE USE FOR A MONOCLE
SEDGWICK, who had followed the im-
promptu cortege with his vision, was
brought up sharply by the glare of a pair of eyes
outside the nearest windowt The eyes were fixed
on his own. Their expression was distinctly
malevolent. Without looking round, Sedgwick
said in a low voice:
"Kent!"
No answer came.
"Kent!" said the artist a little louder.
"Huh?" responded a muffled and abstracted
voice behind him.
"See here for a moment."
There was neither sound nor movement from
the scientist.
"An Indian-looking chap outside the window is
trying to hypnotize me, or something of the sort."
This information, deemed by its giver to be of
88


ONE USE FOR A MONOCLE
no small interest, elicited not the faintest re-
sponse. Somewhat piqued, the artist turned, to
behold his friend stretched on a bench, with face
to the ceiling, eyes closed, and heels on the raised
end. His lips moved faintly. Alarmed lest the
heat had been too much for him, Sedgwick bent
over the upturned face. From the moving lips
issued a musical breath which began its career
softly as Raff's Cavatina and came to an in-
glorious end in the strains of Honey Boy. Sedg-
wick shook the whistler insistently.
"Eh? What?" cried Kent, wrenching his
shoulder free. "Go away! Can't you see I'm
busy?"
"I'll give you something to think about. Look
at this face of a cigar-store Indian at the window.
No! It's gone!"
"Gansett Jim, probably," opined Kent. "Just
where his interest in this case comes in, I haven't
yet found out. He favored me with his regard
outside. And he had some dealings with the sheriff
on the beach. But I don't want to talk about him
now, nor about anything else."
Acting on this hint, Sedgwick let his compan-
89


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
ion severely alone, until a bustle from without
warned him that the crowd was returning. Being
aroused, Kent accosted one of the villagers who
had just entered.
"Body coming back?" he asked.
"Yep. On its way now."
"What occurred in the house where they took
it?"
"Search me! Everybody was shut out by the
sheriff and the doc. They had that body to their-
selves nigh twenty minutes."
At this moment the sheriff entered the hall,
followed by Doctor Breed, who escorted the coffin
to its supporting sawhorses. The meager physi-
cian was visibly at the fag end of his self-control.
Even the burly sheriff looked like a sick man, as
he lifted aside the coffin lid and spoke.
"There was reasons, neighbors," said he, "why
the corpse wasn't suitable to be looked at. No-
body had seen it since last night. We've fixed it
up as good as we could, and you'll now please pass
by as quick as possible."
In the line that formed Kent got a place behind
Elder Dennett, who had decided to take another
90


ONE USE FOR A MONOCLE
look for good measure, as he said. The look was
a productive one. No sooner had it fallen on the
face of the dead than Dennett jabbed an indica-
tory finger in that direction and addressed the
sheriff:
"Hey, Len! What's this?"
"What's what?" growled Schlager.
"Why, there's a cut on the lady's right cheek.
It wasn't there when I seen the corpse last night."
"Ah, what's the matter with your eyes?" de-
manded the sheriff savagely. "You want to hog
the lime-light, that's your trouble!"
This was evidently a shrewd lash at a recog-
nized weakness, and the Elder moved on amid
jeering comments. But Sedgwick, whose eyes
had been fixed upon Kent, saw a curious expres-
sion flicker and fade across the long-jawed face.
It was exactly the expression of a dog that pricks
up its ears. The next moment a titter ran
through the crowd as a bumpkin in a rear seat
called out:
"The dude's eyes ain't mates!"
Chester Kent, already conspicuous in his spot-
less white flannels, had made himself doubly so by
91


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
drawing out a monocle and deftly fixing it in his
right eye. He leaned over the body to look into
the face, and his head jerked back the merest
trifle. Bending lower, he scrutinized the unman-
acled right wrist. When he passed on his lips
were pursed in the manner of one who whistles
noiselessly.
He resumed his seat beside Sedgwick. His
eyes grew dull and melancholy. One would have
thought him sunk in a daze, or a doze, while the
procession filed past the unknown dead. His
monocle, which had dropped from his eye as he
turned from the coffin, dangled against his hand.
Chancing to look down at it, Sedgwick started
and stared. Kent's knuckle, as seen through the
glass, stood forth, monstrous and distorted, every
line of the bronzed skin showing like a furrow.
The monocle was a powerful magnifying lens.
The sheriff's heavy voice rose. “Any one here
present recognize or identify the deceased?” he
droned, and, without waiting for a reply, set the
lid in place and signaled to the medical officer.
“Feller citizens,” began the still shaking physi-
92


ONE USE FOR A MONOCLE
cian, "we don't need any jury to find that this
unknown drowned woman—"
"The deceased was not drowned." Emerging
from his reverie, Chester Kent had leisurely risen
in his place and made his statement.
"N-n-not drowned!" gasped the medical man.
"Certainly not! As you must know, if you
made an autopsy."
"No autopsy was necessary," replied the other
quickly. "There's plenty of testimony without
that. We've heard the witnesses that saw the
drowned body on the grating it washed ashore
on."
"The body never washed ashore on that grat-
ing."
A murmur ran through the crowd. "How do
you figure that?" called a voice.
"On the under side of the grating I found a
cocoon of a common moth. Half an hour in
the water would have soaked the cocoon through
and killed the insect inhabitant. The insect was
alive."
"How'd the grating get there, then?"
"Dragged down from the high-water mark on
93


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
the beach. It was an old half-rotted affair such
as no ship would carry. Ask Sailor Smith."
"That's true," said the old seaman with convic-
tion.
"You're an expert, Mr. Smith. Now, was that
grating large enough to float a full grown human
body?"
"Why, as to that, a body ain't but a mite
heavier than the water. I should say it'd just
barely float it, maybe."
"Exactly; but plus several pounds of clothing,
and some dead metal extra?"
"No."
"The clothes would have been soaked, and
handcuffs weigh something," said Kent calmly.
"There might have been extra spars under the
grating, that got pounded loose on the beach and
washed away," propounded the medical officer
desperately.
"Look at the face," said Kent with finality.
"This is a bad coast. Most of you have seen
drowned bodies. Did any one ever see an expres-
sion of such terror and agony on the face of one
who came to death by drowning?"
94


· Amb
w doop ouļu tuou ſ Đokov e pooqoo
… uºpun IN …


ONE USE FOR A MONOCLE
"No, by thunder!" shouted somebody. "He's
right."
Others took up the cry. Clamor rose and
spread in the room. The sheriff silenced it with
a stentorian voice. "What are you trying to get
at?" he demanded, facing Kent.
"The truth. What are you?"
Schlager's eyelids flickered; but he ignored the
counter-stroke. "Look out it don't lead you
where you won't want to follow," he returned,
with a significant look at Sedgwick.
"This is as far as it has led me," said Kent, in
his clear even voice. "The body, already dead,
was dragged down and soaked in the sea, and
then lashed to the grating by a man who probably
is or has been a sailor."
"Then the deceased met death on shore, and
presumably by violence," said Lawyer Bain.
"It's murder!" cried a woman shrilly. "Bloody
murder! That's what it is!"
"Murder!" echoed a voice from the doorway.
Gansett Jim, his half-Indian, half-negro face
alight with fury, stood there pointing with stiff-
ened hand at Sedgwick. "Dah de murderer!"


CHAPTER VI
THE RETREAT IN ORDER
NO one moved in the court room for appre-
ciable seconds after that pronouncement.
As a flash-light photograph fixes an assemblage
poised, with eyes staring in one direction, thus the
half-breed's words had cast a spell of immobility
over all. It was a stillness fraught with danger.
No man could say in what violent form it might
break.
First to recover from the surprise was the sher-
iff. "You, Jim, set down!" he shouted. "If
there's to be any accusin' done here, I'll do it."
"I do it," persisted the half-breed. "Blood is
on his han'. I see it."
Involuntarily Sedgwick looked at his right
hand. There was a low growl from the crowd.
"Steady!" came Kent's voice at his elbow.
"Mistakes like that are Judge Lynch's evidence."
"Whah was he the night of the killin'?" cried
Gansett Jim. "Ast him. Whah was he?"
96


THE RETREAT IN ORDER
"Where was you, if it comes to that?" retorted
the sheriff, and bit his lip with a scowl.
At that betrayal Chester Kent's eyelids flashed
up, and instantly drooped again into somberness.
"This hearing is adjourned," twittered the
medical officer. "Burial of the unknown will
take place at once. All are invited."
"Invitation respectfully declined," murmured
Sedgwick to Kent. "I don't know that I'm ex-
actly frightened; but I think I'd breathe easier in
the open country."
"Well, I'm exactly frightened," replied Kent in
the same tone. "I want to run—which would
probably be the end of us. Curious things about
those handcuffs, isn't it?" he went on in a louder
and easily conversational voice.
During their slow progress to the door he kept
up a running comment, which Sedgwick sup-
ported with equal coolness. The crowd, darkling
and undecided, pressed around them. As they
went through the doorway, they were jostled by
a sudden pressure, following which Kent felt a
touch on his shoulder. He turned to face the
sheriff.
97


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Better get out of town quick," advised Schla-
ger in a half whisper.
"Thank you," said Kent in a clear and cheerful
voice. "Where can I get some tobacco?"
"Sterrett's grocery keeps the best," said some
informant back of him. "End of the Square to
the right."
"Much obliged," said Kent, and strolled leis-
urely to his car, followed by Sedgwick. As they
took their seats and started slowly through the
crowd, Sedgwick inquired earnestly:
"Do you crave tobacco at this particular mo-
ment worse than you do the peace and loneliness
of the green fields?"
"Policy, my young friend," retorted Kent. "I
wish I could think up a dozen more errands to do.
The more casually we get out of town, the less
likely we are to be followed by a flight of rocks.
I don't want a perfectly good runabout spoiled
by a mob."
Both of them went into Sterrett's store, where
Kent earned the reputation from Sterrett of be-
ing "awful dang choosy about what he gets," and
came out into a considerable part of the populace,
98


THE RETREAT IN ORDER
which had followed. As they reembarked, the
sheriff put his foot on the running-board.
"Better take my tip," he said significantly.
"Very well," returned Kent. "There will be no
arrest, then?"
"Not just now."
A peculiar smile slid sidewise off a corner of
the scientist's long jaw. "Nor at any other time,"
he concluded.
He threw in the clutch, leaving Schlager with
his hand in his hair, and the crowd, which might
so easily have become a mob, to disperse, slowly
and hesitantly, having lacked the incentive of sug-
gested flight on the part of the suspects to be
spark to its powder. When the car had won the
open road beyond the village Sedgwick remarked:
"Queer line the sheriff is taking."
"Poor Schlager!" said Kent, chuckling. "No
other line is open to him. He's in a tight place.
But it isn't the sheriff that's worrying me."
"Who, then?"
"Gansett Jim."
"What did the sheriff mean by asking Gansett
Jim where he was the night of the murder?"
99


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Murder?" said Kent quizzically. "What mur-
der?"
"The murder of the unknown woman, of
course."
"I don't know that there was any murder."
"Oh, well, the death of the unknown woman,
then."
"I don't know that there was any unknown
woman."
"Quit it! From what you do know, what do
you think the sheriff meant?"
"What do you think?"
"I think that Gansett Jim killed her and is try-
ing to turn suspicion on me."
"Humph!"
"But if the sheriff knows where Gansett Jim
was at the time of the killing, he can't suppose me
guilty. I wonder if he really does believe me
guilty?"
"If he does, he doesn't care. His concern is
quite apart from your guilt."
"It's too much for me," confessed the artist.
"And for me. That is why I am going back to
the village."
IOO


THE RETREAT IN ORDER
"But I thought you were frightened."
"If I stayed away from everything that alarms
me," said Kent, "I'd never have a tooth filled or
speak to a woman under seventy. I'm a timid
soul, Sedgwick; but I don't think I shall be in any
danger in Annalaka so long as I'm alone Here
we are. Out with you! I'll be back by evening."


CHAPTER VII
SIMON P. GROOT DOES BUSINESS

O his surprise, Kent, turning into the vil-
X lage Square, found the crowd still linger-
ing. A new focus of interest had drawn it to a
spot opposite Sterrett's store, where a wagon,
decorated in the most advanced style of circus
art, shone brilliant in yellow and green. Bright
red letters across the front presented to public
admiration the legend:
A stout projection rested on one of the rear
wheels. Here stood the proprietor of the vehicle,
while behind him in a window were displayed his
wares. It was evident that Simon P. Groot fol-
lowed the romantic career of an itinerant hawker,
dealing in that wide range of commodities
roughly comprised in the quaint term, "Yankee
SIMON P. GROOT
SIMON PURE GOODS
102


SIMON P. GROOT DOES BUSINESS
notions." Before the merchandizing voice came
to the new arrival's ears as anything more than a
confused jumble, Kent was struck with the ex-
pansive splendor of the man's gestures, the dig-
nity of his robust figure, and the beauty of a
broad whitening beard that spread sidewise like
the ripples from a boat's stem. Two blemishes
unhappily marred the majesty of Simon P.
Groot's presence; a pair of pin-head eyes, mutu-
ally attracted to each other, and a mean and
stringent little voice. Freed of these drawbacks,
his oratory might well, one could not but feel,
have rolled in any of our legislative chambers
more superbly and just as ineffectually as much of
the other oratory therein practised. That the An-
nalakans were truly spellbound by it was obvious.
Indeed, Kent was at a loss to understand the depth
of their absorption until he had come within the
scope of the high-piping words.
"There, gentlemen and ladies," Simon P. Groot
was saying, "there in that place of vast silences
and infolding shadows I met and addressed one
who was soon to be no more. 'Madam,' I said,
'you are worn. You are wan. You are weary.
103


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
Trust the chivalry of one who might be your
father. Rest and be comforted as with balm.'
Standing by the roadside, she drooped like a flow-
er. 'There is no rest for me,' said she in mourn-
ful tones. 'I must away upon my mission.'
'Stay!' I bade her. 'Ere you go, but touch your
lips to this revivifying flagon. De Lorimer's Life
Giving Tonic, free from intoxicants, poisons, and
deception, a boon to the blood, a balm to the
nerves, a prop to the flagging spirit.' She looked,
she tasted, she drank. New color sprang to her
cheeks. Her form pulsated with joyous vigor.
'Aged sir,' said she, 'I know not your name; but
if the blessings of a harried spirit are of avail,
your sleep will be sweet this night.' Of this won-
derful balm, ladies and gentlemen of Annalaka,
I have still a few bottles left at the low price of
half a dollar each. Sickness flies before it.
Amalgamating at once with the blood, it clears
the precious life fluid of all impurities, and re-
habilitates man, woman, and child, body, soul and
mind."
The shrill voice rose and fell, the wide beard
quivered with the passion of salesmanship, the
104


SIMON P. GROOT DOES BUSINESS
gaudy bottles on the shelf were replaced by half-
dollars, until the market flagged. Whereupon
again the orator took up his tale.
"Ever shall I give thanks for that inestimable
privilege, the privilege of having given cheer to
one on the brink of a dreadful doom. She van-
ished, that fair creature, into the forest. I looked
at my watch—the unerring, warranted, sixteen-
jeweled chronometer which I shall presently have
the honor of showing to you at the unexampled
price of three-seventy—and saw that the hour was
exactly—for these timepieces vary not one frac-
tion of a second in a day—eight-forty-five. When
next I looked at the face of Father Time's trust-
iest accountant, it was to mark the hour of the
horrid shriek that shook my soul; precisely nine-
thirty-one. And later, when I heard the dread
news, I realized that my ears had thrilled to a
death cry."
He looked about him with a face of controlled
emotion. His voice dropped to a throaty and
mesmeric gurgle.
"How frail," he continued: "How frail and
uncertain is the life of mankind! Who of
105


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
these happy faces before me may not to-mor-
row be bathed in tears for the loss of some
loved one? Best be prepared against the time of
sorrow. I show you here a unique collection of
framed mottoes, suitable alike for the walls of
the humblest home or the grandest palace. With-
in these tasty frames are enshrined comforting
mortuary verses, delicately ornamented by the
hands of our leading artists, such poetry as dis-
tils assuagement upon the wounded heart; and
these priceless objects of art and agents of mercy
I am distributing at the nominal charge of one
dollar each."
Kent moved away, his chin pressed down upon
his chest. He went to the office of Lawyer
Adam Bain, and spent an hour waiting, with his
feet propped up on the desk. When the lawyer
entered Kent remarked:
"You rather put our two official friends in a
hole this morning."
"Just a mite, maybe. But they've crawled out.
I guess I spoke too quick."
"How so?"
"Well, if they'd gone ahead and buried the
106


SIMON P. GROOT DOES BUSINESS
body as it was, we could have had it exhumed.
And then we'd have seen what we'd have seen."
"True enough. And you didn't see it as it
was?"
"See what? Did you?"
Kent's quiet smile sidled down from the cor-
ner of his mouth.
"Suppose," he said, "you give me the fullest
possible character sketch of our impulsive friend,
the sheriff."
Half an hour was consumed in this process.
At the end of the time Kent strolled back to the
Square where Simon P. Groot had been discours-
ing. There he found the ornate wagon closed,
and its ornate proprietor whistling over some
minor repairs that he had been making. An in-
vitation to take a ride in Kent's car was promptly
accepted.
"Business first," said Kent. "You're a seller.
I'm a buyer. You've got some information that
I may want. If so, I'm ready to pay. Was any
of your talk true?"
"Yep," replied Simon P. Groot austerely. "It
was all true but the frills."
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THE SECRET OF. LONESOME COVE
"Will you trim off the frills for ten dollars?"
"Fair dealing for a fair price is my motto;
you'll find it in gilt lettering on the back of the
wagon. I will."
"What were you doing on Hawkill Cliffs?"
"Sleeping in the wagon."
"And you really met this mysterious wan-
derer?"
"Sure as you're standing there."
"What passed between you?"
"I gave her good evening, and she spoke to me
fair enough but queer, and said that my chil-
dren's children might remember the day. Now,
I ain't got any children to have children; so I
wouldn't have thought of it again but for the
man that came inquiring after her."
"When was that?"
"Not fifteen minutes after."
"Did you tell the crowd here that?"
"Yep. I sold two dozen wedding-rings on the
strength and romance of that point. From my
description they allowed it was a painter man
named Sedgwick. I thought maybe I'd call in
108


SIMON P. GROOT DOES BUSINESS
and have him touch up the wagon a bit where
she's rusty."
"And you heard the woman cry out less than an
hour later?"
"That's a curious thing. I'd have almost sworn
it was a man's voice that yelled. It went through
me like a sharpened icicle."
"All this was night before last. What have
you been doing meantime?"
"Drove over to Marcus Corners to trade yester-
day. There I heard about the murder and came
back here to make a little business out of it. I've
done fine."
"You made no attempt to trace the woman?"
"Look here!" said Simon P. Groot after a spell
of thoughtfulness. "Your ten dollars is good,
and you're a gent, all right; but I think I've
talked a little too much with my mouth around
here, and I'm afraid they might dig up this lady
and start something new and want me for a wit-
ness. Witnessing is bad for business."
"I'm safe," said Kent.
"So far so good. Now, would it be worth five
109


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
dollars to you, likely, a relic of the murderer?"
suggested the old man.
"Quite likely."
"Mum's the word, then, for my part in it.
That next morning I followed her trail a ways.
You see, the yell in the night had got me inter-
ested. It was an easy trail to follow for a man
that's acquainted in the woods, and I used to be
a yarb-grubber. Do a little of it now, sometimes.
She'd met somebody in a thicket. I found the
string and the paper of the bundle she was carry-
ing, there. Then there was a fight of some sort;
for the twigs were broken right to the edge of the
thicket, and the ground stamped down. One or
both of 'em must have broken out into the open,
and I lost the trail. But this is what I found on
a hazel bush. Do I win the five on it?"
Kent's eyes drooped, fixing themselves on a
small object which the other had laid on his knee.
His lips pursed. Nothing that could be inter-
preted as an answer came from them. Simon P.
Groot waited with patience. Finally he said:
"That's an awful pretty tune you're whistlin',
no


SIMON P. GROOT DOES BUSINESS
mister, but sad, and terrible long. What about
the five P Do we trade?”
The car came to a stop. Digging into his
pocket, Kent produced a bill which he handed
over, and still whistling the long-meter China,
took possession of Simon P. Groot's “relic”. It
was an embroidered silver star, with a few torn
wisps of cloth clinging to it.


CHAPTER VIII
RECKONINGS

■ACTS that contradict each other are not
facts," pronounced Chester Kent.
Fumes of tobacco were rising from three pipes
hovered about the porch of the Nook where Kent,
Sedgwick and Lawyer Bain were holding late
council. A discouraged observation from the
artist had elicited Kent's epigram.
"Not all of them, anyhow," said Bain. "The
chore in this case is to find facts enough to work
on.
"On the contrary," declared Kent, "facts in
this-case are as plentiful as blackberries. The
trouble is that we have no pail to put them in."
"Maybe we could borrow Len Schlager's," sug-
gested the lawyer dryly.
Kent received this with a subdued snort. "It
is remarkable that the newspapers haven't sent
men down on such a sensational case," he said.
112


RECKONINGS
"Presumably. Also to some one, we may as-
sume, who was willing to pay roundly to have that
identity concealed."
"That would naturally be the murderer,
wouldn't it?" asked Sedgwick.
"No. I don't think so."
"It looks to me so," said the lawyer. "He's
the one naturally interested in concealment."
"I'm almost ready to dismiss the notion of a
murderer at all."
"Why so?" demanded both the others.
"Because there was no murder, probably."
"How do you make that out?" queried Bain.
"From the nature of the wounds that caused
death."
"They look to me to be just such wounds as
would be made by a blow with a heavy club."
"Several blows with a heavy club might have
caused such wounds. But the blows would have
had to be delivered peculiarly. A circle on the
skull, six inches in diameter, impinging on the
right ear, is crushed in. If you can imagine a man
swinging a baseball bat at the height of his shoul-
der, repeatedly and with great force, at the vic-
115


THE SECRET OF LONESOME LOVE
tim's head, you can infer such a crushing in of the
bone. My imagination hardly carries me so far."
"Beating down from above would be the nat-
ural way," said Bain.
"Certainly. No such blow ever made that
wound."
"Then how was it made?" asked Sedgwick.
"Probably by a fall from the cliff to the rocks
below."
"And the fall broke the manacle from the right
wrist?"
"The broken manacle was never on the right
wrist."
"That's merely conjecture," said the lawyer.
"No; it's certainty. A blow heavy enough to
break that iron, old as it is, must have left a mark
on the flesh. There was no mark."
"Why should any one put one handcuff on a
woman and leave the other dangling?"
"Suppose the other was not left dangling?"
"Where was it, then?"
"On the wrist of some other person, possibly."
"A man had chained the woman to himself?"
said Sedgwick incredulously.
116


RECKONINGS
"More probably the other way round."
"That's even more unbelievable."
"Not if you consider the evidence. You will
remember that your mysterious visitor, while talk-
ing with you, carried a heavy bundle. The man-
acles were, I infer, in that."
"But what conceivable motive could the dead
woman have in dressing herself up like a party,
going to meet a man, and chaining him to her-
self?"
"When you have a bizarre crime you must look
for bizarre motives. Just at present I'm dealing
with facts. The iron was on the left wrist of the
body; therefore, it was on the right wrist of the
unknown companion. It is natural to perform a
quick deft act like snapping on a handcuff, with
the right hand. Hence, presumably, your visitor
was the one who clamped the cuffs."
"And the man broke off his?"
"Yes. But only after a struggle, undoubtedly.
If I could find a man with a badly bruised right
wrist, I should consider the trail's end in sight.
You'll make inquiries, will you, Mr. Bain?"
"I will, and I'll keep an eye on Len Schlager
117


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
and the doc. Anything more now? If not, I'll
say good night."
After the lawyer had made his way into the
darkness, Kent turned to his host. "This affair
is really becoming a very pretty problem. Why
didn't you tell me of your meeting with Simon
P. Groot?"
"Who?"
"The patriarch in the circus wagon."
"Oh! I'd forgotten. Why, when I was try-
ing to trail the woman, I chanced upon him and
asked if he had seen her. He hadn't."
"He had. Also he heard a terrified cry short-
ly after. The cry, he thought, was in a man's
voice. Simon P. Groot isn't wholly lacking in
sense of observation."
"A man's voice in a cry? What could that
mean?"
"Oh, any one of several hundred unthinkable
things," said Kent patiently.
"Wait! She must have attacked some other
man, as she did me. She was going to a
rendezvous, wasn't she? Then she and the man
118


RECKONINGS
she went to meet quarreled, and he killed her by
throwing her over the cliff."
"And the handcuffs?"
Sedgwick's hands went to his head. "That, of
course, is the inexplicable thing. But don't you
think that was the way she met her death?"
"No."
"Then what do you think?"
"Never mind that at present. The point is that
Simon P. Groot naturally supposed you to have
been mixed up in whatever tragedy there was go-
ing. You've an unfortunate knack of manufac-
turing evidence against yourself, Sedgwick. The
redeeming feature is that the sheriff can't very
well use it to arrest you."
"I don't see why."
Kent chuckled. "Don't you see that the last
thing the sheriff wants to do is arrest anybody?"
"No, I don't."
"Why, he has the body safely buried, now.
You'll remember that he was in a great hurry to
get it buried. Identification is what he dreaded.
Danger of identification is now over. If any one
119


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
should be arrested, the body would be exhumed
and the danger would return in aggravated form.
No; he wants you suspected, not arrested."
"He is certainly getting his wish 1"
"For the present. Well, I'm off."
"Why don't you move your things from the
hotel and stay here with me?" suggested Sedg-
wick.
"Getting nervous?" inquired Kent.
"It isn't that; but I think I could make you
more comfortable."
Kent shook his head. "Thank you; but I don't
believe I'd better. When I'm at work on a case
I need privacy."
"And so you stick to a public hotel! Queer no-
tions you have of privacy."
"Not at all. A hotel is absolutely mine to do
with as I please, as long as I pay my bills. I'm
among strangers; I'm not interfered with. No
house, not even a man's own, can possibly be so
private as a strange hotel."
"Perhaps you're right," admitted the other,
with a laugh; then, lapsing into pronounced
gloom for the first time, he said, "It seems pretty
120


RECKONINGS
tough that I should be in all this coil and tangle
because a crazy woman happened by merest
chance to make a call on me."
Kent's pipe glowed in the darkness and silence
before he replied. Then he delivered himself as
follows: "Sedgwick"— puff —"try"—puff—"to
forget if you can"—puff—puff—"that stuff about
the crazy woman"—puff—puff—puff.
"Forget it? How should I? Why should I?"
"Because"—puff—"you're absolutely on the"
—puff—puff—"wrong track. Good night."
Slowly Kent climbed the road to the crest of
the hill; then stopped and looked back into the
studio, which had sprung into light as soon as
he left. Sedgwick's figure loomed, tall and spare,
in the radiance. The artist was standing before
his easel, looking down at it fixedly. Kent knew
what it was that he gazed on, and as the lovely
wistful girl-face rose in his memory he sighed,
a little.
"I mustn't forget that quest," he said. "Poor
old Sedgwick!"
But, once in his room, the picture faded, and
there came before his groping mental vision in-
121


CHAPTER IX
CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
SUNDAYMAN'S CREEK ROAD, turning
aside just before it gains the turnpike to
the Eyrie Hotel to evade a stretch of marsh,
travels on wooden stilts across a deep clear pool
fed by a spring. Signs at each end of the cross-
ing threaten financial penalties against any vehicle
traversing the bridge faster than a walk. Now,
the measure of a walk for an automobile is du-
bious; but the most rigorous constable could have
found no basis for protest in the pace maintained
by a light electric car, carrying a short, slender,
elderly man, who peered out with weary eyes into
the glory of the July sunshine. At the end of
the bridge the car stopped to allow its occupant
a better view of a figure prostrate on the brink
of the pool. Presently the figure came to the
posture of all fours. The face turned upward,
and the motorist caught the glint of a monocle.
123


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
Then the face turned again to its quest.
"Are you looking for something lost?" asked
the man in the car.
"Yes," was the reply. "Very much lost."
"When did you lose it, if it's not an impertinent
question?"
"Not in the least," answered the other cordial-
ly. "I didn't lose it at all."
"Ah!" The motorist smiled. "When was it
lost, then?"
Across the monocled face passed a shadow of
thoughtful consideration. "About four million
years ago, I should judge."
"And you are still looking? I perceive that
you are an optimist," said the elderly man.
"Just at present I'm a limnologist."
"Pardon me?"
"A limnologist. Limnology is the science of
the life found on the banks of small bodies of
water. It is a fascinating study, I assure you.
There is only one chair of limnology in the
world."
"And you, I presume, are the incumbent?"
asked the other politely.
124


CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
"No, indeed! The merest amateur, on the con-
trary. I'm humbly hoping to discover the eggs
of certain neuropterous insects. We know the
insects, and we know they lay eggs; but how they
conceal them has been a secret since the first
dragon-fly rose from the first pool."
"Ah! You are an entomologist, then."
"To some extent."
"So was I, once—when I had more time. Busi-
ness has drawn my attention, though never my in-
terest, away from it. I've entirely dropped my
reading in the last year. By the way, were you
here in time to witness the swarm of antiopas last
month? Rather unusual, I think."
"No, I missed that. What was the feature,
specially?"
"The suddenness of the appearance. You
know, Helmund says that—"
"Pardon me, who?"
"Helmund, the Belgian."
"Oh, yes, certainly. Go on!"
The stranger went on at some length. He
appeared to be an interested rather than a learned
student of the subject. As he talked, sitting on the
125


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
step of his car, from which he had descended, the
other studied him, his quiet but forceful voice,
his severely handsome face, with its high brows,
harsh nose, and chiseled outlines, from which the
eyes looked forth, thoughtful, alert, yet with the
gaze of a man in pain. Presently he said cour-
teously:
"If you are going back to the hotel, may I take
you along? I am Alexander Blair."
"Thank you. I'll be glad of a lift. My name is
Chester Kent."
"Not the Professor Kent of the Ramsay case?"
"The same. You know, Mr. Blair, I've always
believed that you had more of a hand in Ramsay's
death than I. Now, if you wish to withdraw
your offer of a lift—"
"Not at all. A man who has been so abused
by the newspapers as I, can stand a little plain
speaking. For all that, on my word, Professor
Kent, I had no hand in sending Ramsay on that
dirty business of his."
The scientist considered him thoughtfully.
'"Well, I believe you," said he shortly, and got
into the machine.
126


CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
"This meeting is a fortunate chance for me,"
said Blair presently.
"Chance?" murmured Kent interrogatively.
The car swerved sharply, but immediately re-
sumed the middle of the road.
"Certainly, chance," said the motorist. "What
else should it be?"
"Of course," agreed Kent. "As you say."
"I said fortunate," continued the other, "be-
cause you are, I believe, the very man I want.
There is an affair that has been troubling me a
good deal. I haven't been able to look into it
personally, because of the serious illness of my
son, who is at my place on Sundayman's Creek.
But it is in your line, being entomological, and
perhaps criminal."
"What is it?" asked Kent.
"An inexplicable destruction of our stored wool-
ens by the clothes moth. You may perhaps know
that I am president of the Kinsella Mills. We've
been having a great deal of trouble this spring,
and our superintendent believes that some enemy
is introducing the pest into our warehouses. Will
you take the case?"
127


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"When?"
"Start to-night for Connecticut."
Chester Kent's long fingers went to the lobe
on his ear. "Give me until three o'clock this aft-
ernoon to consider. Can I reach you by tele-
phone?"
"Yes, at Hedgerow House, my place."
"That is how far from here?"
"Fourteen miles; but you need not come there.
I could return to the hotel to conclude arrange-
ments. And I think," he added significantly,
"that you would find the project a profitable one."
"Doubtless. Are you well acquainted with this
part of the country, Mr. Blair?"
"Yes, I've been coming here for years."
"Is there an army post near by?"
"Not within a hundred miles."
"Nor any officers on special detail about?"
"None, so far as I know."
Kent produced from his pocket the silver star
with the shred of cloth hanging to it. "This may
or may not be an important clue to a curious death
that occurred here three days ago."
"Yes, I've heard something of it," said the
128


CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
other indifferently. "I took it to be mostly
gossip."
"Before the death there was a struggle. This
star was found at the scene of the struggle."
"It looks like the star from the collar of an
officer. I should say positively that it was from
an army or navy uniform."
"Positiveness is the greatest temptation and
snare that I have to fight against," remarked
Chester Kent. "Otherwise I should say positively
that no officer, going to a dubious rendezvous,
would wear a uniform which would be certain to
make him conspicuous. Are you yourself an ex-
pert in woolen fabrics, Mr. Blair?"
"I have been."
"Could you tell from that tiny fragment
whether or not the whole cloth is all wool?"
Without replying, Blair gave the steering
handle a quick sweep, and the car drew up before
a drug store. He took the star and was gone a
few minutes.
"Not all wool," he announced on his return.
"Exit the army or navy officer," remarked
Kent.
129


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Why so?"
"Because regulations require all-wool garments
—and get them. What is the fabric?"
"A fairly good mixture, from the very elemen-
tal chemical test I made. Something in the nature
of a worsted batiste, I should judge, from what I
could make out under the inferior magnifying-
glass that they loaned me."
"Thank you, Mr. Blair. You've eliminated
one troublesome hypothesis for me. I'll telephone
you before three o'clock. Good day."
From the woolen manufacturer, Chester Kent
went direct to the Martindale Center library,
where he interviewed the librarian.
"Do you get the Agriculture Department pub-
lications?"
"Yes."
"Have you a pamphlet issued by the Bureau
of Entomology, Helmund on The Smarm Phe-
nomenon in Lepidoptera?"
"Yes, sir. It was inquired for only yesterday
by Mr. Blair."
"Ah, yes. He's quite interested in the subject,
I believe."
130


CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
"It must be quite recent, then," said the libra-
rian. "We haven't seen him here for a long time
until two days ago, when he came and put in a
morning, reading on insects."
"So, Mr. Alexander Blair," said Kent, address-
ing the last fence post on the outskirts of the town,
after a thoughtful walk, "that was a fatal break
on your part, that mention of Helmund. Ama-
teurs who have wholly dropped a subject since
years back don't usually know publications issued
only within three months. That casual meeting
with me was well carried out, and you called it
chance. A very palpably manufactured chance!
But why am I worth so much trouble to know?
And why does Alexander Blair leave a desperate-
ly ill son to arrange an errand for me at this par-
ticular time? And is Hedgerow House, fourteen
miles distant and possessing just such an electric
car as a woman would use in driving round the
country, perhaps the place whence came Sedg-
wick's sweet lady of mystery? Finally, what con-
nection has^all this with the body lying in Anna-
laka burying-ground?"
Eliciting no reply from the fence post, Kent re-
131


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
turned to the Eyrie, called up Hedgerow House,
and declined Blair's proposition.
Early that evening Francis Sedgwick came to
the hotel. The clerk, at first negligent, pricked
up his ears and exhibited unmistakable signs of
human interest when he heard the name; for the
suspicion attaching to the artist had spread swift-
ly. Moreover, the caller was in a state of hardly
repressed excitement.
"Mr. Kent? I'm afraid you can't see him, sir.
He isn't in his room."
"Isn't he about the hotel?"
The clerk hesitated. "I ought not to tell you,
sir, for it's Mr. Kent's strict orders not to be dis-
turbed; but he's in his special room. Is it any-
thing very important? Any new evidence, or
something of that sort?"
"That is what I want Mr. Kent to decide."
"In that case I might take the responsibility.
But I think I had better take you to him myself."
After the elevator had carried them to the
top of its run, they mounted a flight of stairs, and
walked to a far corner of the building.
"Nobody's been in here since he took it," ex-
132


CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
plained the clerk as they walked. "Turned all the
furniture out. Special lock on the door. Some
kind of scientific experiments, I suppose. He's
very quiet about it."
Having reached the door, he discreetly tapped.
No answer came. Somewhat less timidity char-
acterized his next effort. A growl of surpassing
savagery from within was his reward.
"You see, Mr. Sedgwick," said the clerk. Rais-
ing his voice he called, "Mr. Kent, I've
brought—"
"Get away and go to the devil!" cried a voice
from inside in fury. "What do you mean by—"
"It's I, Kent, Sedgwick. I've got to see you."
There was a silence of some seconds.
"What do you want?" asked Kent at length.
"You told me to come at once if anything
turned up."
"So I did," sighed Kent. "Well, chase that,
infernal bell-boy to the stairs, and I'll let you in."
With a wry face the clerk retired. Kent
opened the door, and his friend squeezed through
into a bare room. The walls were hung and the
floor was carpeted with white sheets. There was
133


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
no furniture of any kind, unless a narrow mat-
tress in one corner could be so reckoned. Beside
the mattress lay a small pad and a pencil. Only
on the visitor's subconscious self did these pe-
culiarities impress themselves, such was his ab-
sorption in his own interests.
"It's happened!" he announced.
"Has it?" said Kent. "Lean up against the
wall and make yourself at home. Man, you're
shaking!"
"You'd shake, too," retorted the artist, his
voice trembling.
"No; anger doesn't affect me that way. Wait!
Now, don't tell me yet. If I'm to have a report,
it must be from a sane man, not from one in a
blind fury. Take time and cool down. What do
you think of my room?"
"It looks like the abode of white silence. Have
you turned Trappist monk?"
"Not such a bad guess. This is the retreat of
my mind. I think against the blank walls."
"What's the game?" asked Sedgwick, inter-
ested in spite of himself.
134


CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
"It dates back to our college days. Do you re-
member that queer freshman, Berwind?"
"The mind-reader? Yes. The poor chap went
insane afterward."
"Yes. It was a weak mind, but a singularly
receptive one. You know we used to force num-
bers or playing-cards upon his consciousness by
merely thinking of them."
"I recollect. His method was to stand gazing
at a blank wall. He said the object we were
thinking of would rise before him visually against
the blankness. Did you ever figure out how he
managed to do it?"
"Not exactly. But his notion of keeping the
mind blank for impressions has its points. If
you throw off the clutch of the brain, as it were,
and let it work along its own lines, it sometimes
arranges and formulates ideas that you wouldn't
get from it under control."
"Sort of self-hypnosis?"
"In a sense. For years I've kept a bare white
room in my Washington house to do my hard
thinking in. When your affair promised to be-
135


THE SECRET OE LONESOME COVE
come difficult for me, I rigged up this spot. And
I'm trying to see things against the walls."
"Any particular kind of things?"
Kent produced the silver star from his pocket,
and told of its discovery. "The stars in their
courses may have fought against Sisera," he re-
marked; "but they aren't going out of their way
to fight—to fight—to—to—" Kent's jaw was
sagging down. His lean fingers pulled savagely
at the lobe of his long-suffering ear. "The stars
in their courses—in their courses—< That's it!"
he half whispered. "Sedgwick; what was it your
visitor said to you about Jupiter?"
"She didn't mention Jupiter."
"No, of course not. Not by name. But what
was it she said about the planet that she pointed
out, over the sea?"
"Oh; was that Jupiter? How did you know?"
"Looked last night, of course," said Kent im-
patiently. "There's no pther planet conspicuous
over the sea at that hour, from where you stood.
That's not important; at least, not now. What
did she say?"
"Oh, some rot about daring to follow her star
136


CHESTER KENT DECLINES A JOB
and find happiness, and that perhaps it might lead
me to glory or something."
A kind of snort came from Kent. "Where
have my brains been!" he cried. He thrust the
bit of embroidery back into his pocket. Then,
with an abrupt change of tone:
"Well, is your temper in hand?"
"For the present."
"Tell me about it, then."
"You remember the—the picture of the face?"
said Sedgwick with an effort.
"Nobody would easily forget it."
"I've been doing another portrait from the
sketches. It was on opaque glass, an experi-
mental medium that I've worked on some. Late
this afternoon I went out, leaving the glass sheet,
backed against a light board, on my easel. The
door was locked with a heavy spring. There's no
possible access by the window. Yet somebody
came in and smashed my picture to fragments.
If I can find that man, Kent, I'll kill him 1"
Kent glanced at the artist's long strong hands.
They were clenched on his knees. The fingers
were bloodless.
137


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I believe you would," said the scientist with
conviction. "You mustn't, you know. No lux-
uries, at present."
"Don't joke with me about this, Kent."
"Very good. But just consider, please, that
I'm having enough trouble clearing you of a sup-
posed murder of your doing, to want a real one,
however provoked, on my hands."
"Keep the man out of my way, then."
"That depends. Anything else in your place
damaged?"
"Not that I noticed. But I didn't pay much at-
tention to anything else. I came here direct to
find you."
"That's right. Well, I'm with you, for the
Nook."
Locking his curious room after him, Kent led
the way to the hotel lobby, where he stopped only
long enough to send some telegrams. The sun
was still a few minutes short of its setting when
he and his companion emerged from the hotel.
Kent at once broke into a trot.


CHAPTER X
THE INVASION
SUCH ruin as had been wrought in Sedg-
wick's studio was strictly localized. The
easel lay on the floor, with its rear leg crumpled.
Around it were scattered the fragments of the
glass upon which the painter had set his labor of
love. A high old-fashioned chair faced the wreck-
age. On its peak was hung a traveling cap. Lop-
ping across the back sprawled a Norfolk jacket
belonging to Sedgwick. Chester Kent lifted the
coat, and after a swift survey let it drop.
"Did you leave that there?" he asked.
"I hung it across the back of the chair," an-
swered Sedgwick.
"North window closed?"
"Yes, as you see it now."
"And west one open?"
"Nothing has been changed, I tell you, except
this." Sedgwick's hand, outstretched toward the
139


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
destroyed portrait, condensed itself involuntarily
into a knotty fist.
"The lock of the door hasn't been tampered
with," said Kent. "As for this open window,"
he leaned out, looking around, "any man gaining
access here must have used a ladder, which is un-
likely in broad daylight."
"How about a pass-key for the door?"
"There's a simpler solution nearer at hand, I
fancy. You didn't chance to notice that things
have happened to the coat, as well as to the easel."
"Then the invader went through the coat and,
not finding what he was looking for, smashed my
picture," cried Sedgwick.
"Through the coat, certainly," agreed Kent,
with his quiet smile. "Now hang it across the
chair back just as it was, please."
Sedgwick took the Norfolk jacket from him.
"Why, there's a hole through it!" he exclaimed.
"Exactly: the path of the invader."
"A bullet!"
"Right again. Instead of murdering, as you
pine to do, you've been murdered. That the pic-
ture was destroyed is merely a bit of ill fortune.
140


THE INVASION
That you weren't inside the coat when the bullet
went through it and cut the prop from your easel,
is a bit of the other kind. Hang up the coat,
please."
Sedgwick obeyed.
"There," said Kent viewing the result from
the window. "At a distance of, say, a quarter of
a mile, that arrangement of coat and cap would
look uncommonly like a man sitting in a chair be-
fore his work. At least, I should think so. And
yonder thicket on the hillside," he added, looking
out of the window again, "is just about that dis-
tance, and seems to be the only spot in sight giv-
ing a straight range. Suppose we run up there."
Sound as was his condition, Sedgwick was
panting when he brought up at the spot, some
yards behind his long-limbed leader. As the sci-
entist had surmised, the arrangement of coat and
cap in the studio presented, at that distance, an
excellent simulacrum of the rear view of a man
lounging in a chair. Bidding the artist stay out-
side the copse, Kent entered on hands and knees
and made extended exploration. After a few mo-
ments the sound of low lugubrious whistling was
141


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
heard from the trees, and presently the musician
emerged leading himself by the lobe of his ear.
"Evidently you've found something," com-
mented Sedgwick, who had begun to comprehend
his friend's peculiar methods of expression.
"Nothing."
"Then why are you so pleased with yourself?"
"That is why."
"Because you've found nothing?"
"Exactly."
"It seems an easy system," observed the artist
sarcastically.
"So it is, to a reasoning being. I'm satisfied
that some one fired a shot from here. The marks-
man—a good one—saw you, as he supposed,
jerk to the shot as if with a bullet through you,
and went away satisfied."
"Leaving no trace behind him," added Sedg-
wick.
"No trace that is tangible. Therein lies the ev-
idence."
"Of course you don't expect me to follow
that."
142


THE INVASION
"Why not? Look at the ground in the
thicket."
"What is there to be seen there, since you've
said there are no marks?"
"The soil is very soft."
"Yes; there's a spring just back of us."
"Yet there's not a footprint discernible on it."
"I've got that part of the lesson by heart, I
think."
"Use your brain on it, then. Some one design-
ing to make you his target, has been in this
thicket; been and gone, and left the place track-
less. That some one was a keen soft-footed
woodsman. Putting it in words of one syllable,
I should say he probably had the racial instinct of
the hunt. Does that flush any idea from the deep
and devious coverts of your brain?"
"Racial instinct? Gansett Jim!" said Sedg-
wick.
"Exactly. If I had found tracks all over the
place, I should have known it wasn't he. Finding
nothing, I was naturally pleased."
"That's more than I am," retorted the other.
143


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I suppose he's likely to resume his gunnery at
any time."
"Unless we can discourage him—as I expect
we can."
"By having him arrested?"
"Difficulties might be put in our way. Sheriff
Len Schlager and the half-breed are in some sort
of loose partnership in this affair, as you know.
Gansett Jim honestly thinks that you had a hand
in the Lonesome Cove murder, as he believes it to
be. It isn't impossible that the sheriff has subtly
egged him on to kill you in revenge."
"Why does the sheriff want me killed?"
"Nothing personal, I assure you," answered
Kent with mock courtesy. "I've already explained
that he will not arrest you. But you're the sus-
pect, and if you were put out of the way every one
would believe you the murderer, There would be
a perfunctory investigation, the whole thing
would be hushed up, and the body in Annalaka
churchyard would rest in peace—presumably a
profitable peace for the sheriff."
"Flat out, Kent, do you know who the dead
woman is?"


THE INVASION
"Flat out, I don't. But I've a shrewd guess
that I'll find out before long."
"From Gansett Jim?"
"No hope there. He's an Indian. What I'm
going to see him about now is your safety."
"Now? Where do you expect to find him?"
"In the village, I hope. It wouldn't do for you
to come there. But I want you to go to the spot
where you met the circus-wagon man, and wait,
until I bring Jim."
It was a long wait for the worried artist, in the
deep forest that bounded the lonely road along
Hawkill Heights. Ten o'clock had chimed across
the hill from the distant village, when he heard
footsteps, and at a call from Kent, stepped out into
the clear, holding the lantern above him. The
light showed a strange spectacle. Kent, watchful,
keen, ready as a cat to spring, stood with his eyes
fixed upon the distorted face of the half-breed.
Terror, rage, overmastering amazement, and the
soul-panic of the supernatural glared from the
blue-white eyeballs of the negro; but the jaw and
chin were set firm in the stoicism of the Indian.
In that strange racial conflict of emotions the
145


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
fiercer finer strain won. Gansett Jim's frame
relaxed. He grunted.
"Good boy, Jim!" Chester Kent's voice, at the
half-breed's ear, was the voice of one who soothes
an affrighted horse. "I didn't know whether you
could stand it or not. You see, you didn't shoot
Mr. Sedgwick, after all."
"Dun'no what you mean," grunted Gansett
Jim.
"And you mustn't shoot at him any more,"
continued the scientist. The tone was soft as a
woman's; but Sedgwick felt in it the tensity of a
man ready for any extreme. Perhaps the half-
breed, too, felt the peril of that determination;
for he hung his head. "I've brought you here to
show you why. Pay good heed, now. A man
traveling in a wagon was met here, as he says, by
a woman—you understand—who questioned him
and then went on. He followed the trail through
the brush and found the signs of a fight. The
fight took place before the death. Here's the lan-
tern. Take his trail from here."
Without a word the half-breed snatched the
light and plunged into a by-path. After a few
146


“You see, you didn't shoot Mr. Sedgwick, after all.".


THE INVASION
minutes of swift going he pulled up short, in an
open copse of ash, and set the lantern on the
ground. Hound-like, he nosed about the trodden
earth. Suddenly he darted across and, seizing
Sedgwick's ankle, lifted his foot, almost throwing
him from his balance. Sedgwick wrenched him-
self free and, with a swinging blow, into which
he put all the energy of his repressed wrath,
knocked the half-breed flat.
"Hands off, damn you!" he growled.
Gansett Jim got to his feet a little unsteadily.
Expectant of a rush, his assailant stood, with
weight thrown forward; but the other made no
slightest attempt at reprisal. Catching up the lan-
tern, which had rolled from his hand, he threw
its light upon Sedgwick's forward foot. Then he
turned away. Kent whistled softly. The whis-
tle had a purring quality of content.
"Not the same as the footprint, eh?" he re-
marked.
"Footprint too small," grunted Gansett Jim.
"How many people; two?"
"Three."
"Three, of course. I had forgotten the circus-
147


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
wagon man. He came later. But, Jim, you see
it wasn't Mr. Sedgwick."
"What he follow for?" demanded the other
savagely.
"No evil purpose. You can take his trail from
the circus wagon and follow that, if you want to
satisfy yourself further that he wasn't here. I'll
let you have the lantern. Only, remember, now!
No more shooting at the wrong man!"
The half-breed made no reply.
"And you, Sedgwick. Here's the destroyer.
Do you still want to kill him?"
"I suppose not," replied the artist lifelessly.
"Since his design was only against your life
and not against your picture," commented Kent
with a smile. "Well, our night's work is done."
Lifting the lantern, he held it in the face of the
half-breed. "Jim!"
"Huh?"
"When you really want to know who made
those footprints, come and tell me who the body
in Annalaka burying-ground is. A trade for a
trade. You understand?"
The eyes stared, immovable. The chin did not
148


THE INVASION
quiver. Reaching for the lantern, Gansett Jim,
now nine of Indian to one of negro, turned away
from them to the pathway. "No," he said stol-
idly.
As the flicker of radiance danced and disap-
peared in the forest Sedgwick spoke. "Well, do
you consider that we've made a friend?"
"No," answered Chester Kent; "but we've
done what's as good. We've quashed an enmity."


CHAPTER XI
HEDGEROW HOUSE
NSWERS to the telegrams Chester Kent
/ \ had despatched arrived in the form of
night letters, bringing information regarding the
Blairs of Hedgerow House: not sufficient infor-
mation to satisfy the seeker, however. There-
fore, having digested their contents at breakfast,
the scientist cast about him to supply the defi-
ciency. The feet of hope led him to the shop of
Elder Ira Dennett.
Besides being an able plumber and tinker, Elder
Dennett performed, by vocation, the pleasurable
duties of unprinted journalism. That is to say,
he was the semiofficial town gossip. As Profes-
sor Kent was a conspicuous figure in the choicest
titbit the Elder had acquired in stock for many
years, and as the Elder had been unable to come to
speech with him since the inquest (Kent had
achieved some skilful dodging), there was joy in

ISO


HEDGEROW HOUSE
the plumber-tinker's heart over the visit. Unhap-
pily, it appeared that Kent was there strictly on
business. He did not wish to talk of the mystery
of Lonesome Cove. He wished his acetylene lamp
fixed. At once, if Elder Dennett pleased.
Glum was the face of the Elder as he examined
the lamp, which needed very little attention. It
lightened when his visitor observed:
"I've been thinking a little of getting an electric
car, to run about here in. There was a neat little
one in town yesterday."
"Old Blair's," replied Dennett. "I seen you in
it. Known Mr. Blair long?"
"He offered me a lift into town, very kindly.
He was a stranger to me," said Kent truthfully,
and with intent to deceive. "Who did you say he
was?"
"Gosh sakes! Don't you know who Aleck
Blair is?"
"Blair? Blair?" said Kent innocently. "Is he
the author of Blair's Studies of Neuropterae?"
Elder Dennett snorted. "He's a millionaire,
that's what he is! Ain't you read about him in
the Fabric Trust investigations?"


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Oh, that Blair! Yes, I believe I have."
Kent yawned. It was a well-conceived bit of
strategy, and met with deserved success. Regard-
ing that yawn as a challenge to his vocational
powers, the Elder set about eliminating the inhu-
man indifference of which it was the expression.
Floods of information poured from his eager
mouth. He traced the history of the Blairs in and
out of concentric circles of scandal; financial, po-
litical, social—and mostly untrue. Those in
which the greatest proportion of truth inhered
dealt with the escapades of Wilfrid Blair, the only
son and heir of the household, who had burned
up all the paternal money he could lay hands on,
writing his name in red fire across the night life
of London, Paris, and New York. Tiring of this,
he had come home and married a girl of nineteen,
beautiful and innocent, whose parents, the Elder
piously opined, had sold her to the devil, per Mr.
Blair, agent. The girl, whose maiden name was
Marjorie Dorrance—Kent's fingers went to his
ear at this—had left Blair after a year of mar-
riage, though there was no legal process, and he
had returned to his haunts of the gutter, until ret-
152


HEDGEROW HOUSE
ribution overtook him, in the form of tuberculosis.
His father had brought him to their place on Sun-
dayman's Creek, and there he was kept in semi-
seclusion, visited from time to time by his young
wife, who helped to care for him.
"That's the story they tell," commented the
Elder; "but some folks has got suspicions."
"It's a prevalent complaint," murmured Kent,
"and highly contagious."
Dennett stared. "My own suspicions," he pro-
ceeded firmly, "is that the young feller hasn't got
no more consumption than you have. I think old
Blair has got him here to keep him out of the pa-
pers."
"Publicity is not to Mr. Blair's taste, then?"
"'Not's' no word for it," declared the human
Bureau of Information, delighted at this evidence
of dawning interest on the part of his hearer.
"He's crazy against it. They says he pays Town
Titbits a thousand dollars a year to let young
Blair's name alone. I don't believe the old man
would hardly stop short of murder to keep his
name out of print. He's kind o' loony on the
subject."
153


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"You've been to his country place?"
"Only wunst. Mostly they have one o' them
scientific plumber fellers from Boston." The
Elder's tone was as essence of gall and worm-
wood. "Wunst I had a job there, though, an' I
seen young Blair moonin' around the grounds
with a man nurse."
"Quite a place, I hear," suggested Kent.
"Sailor Milt Smith is the feller that can tell
you about the place as it used to be. Here he
comes, up the street."
He thrust his head out of the door and called.
Sailor Smith, sturdy and white, entered and greet-
ed Kent courteously.
"Mr. Dennett was saying," remarked Kent,
"that you know something of the history of
Hedgerow House, as I believe they call it."
"They call it!" repeated the old sailor. "Who
calls it? If you mean the Blair place, that's
Hogg's Haven, that is! You can't wipe out that
name while there's a man living as knew the
place at its worst. Old Captain Hogg built it and
lived in it and died in it. And if there's a fryin'-
pan in hell, the devil is fryin' bacon out of old
154


HEDGEROW HOUSE
Hogg to-day for the things he done in that
house."
"How long since did he die?"
"Oh, twenty year back."
"And the house was sold soon after?"
"Stood vacant for ten years. Then this rich
feller, Blair, bought it. I don't know him; but he
bought a weevilly biscuit, there. A bad house, it
is—rotten bad!"
"What's wrong with it?"
"Men's bones in the brick and women's blood
in the mortar."
"Was the old boy a cannibal?" asked Kent,
amused by the sea veteran's heroics.
"Just as bad: slave-trader."
"Have you ever been in the house?"
"Many's the time, when it was Hogg's Haven.
Only once, since. They do tell that the curse has
come down with the house and is heavy on the
new owner's son."
"So I've heard."
The old white head wagged bodingly. "The
curse of the blood," he said. "It's on all that
race."
155


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"But that wouldn't affect the Blairs."
"Not Aleck Blair. But the boy."
"How so?"
"Didn't you know there was the same strain in
young Wilfrid Blair, as there was in old Captain
Hogg?"
"Hogg's oldest sister was the grandmother of
this young feller's mother, wasn't she?" put in
Elder Dennett.
"That's right. Wilfrid Blair's great grand-
mother."
"And a bad 'un, too, I guess," continued the
Elder relishingly.
"Don't you say it!" cried the old seaman. "The
curse of the blood was on her. Strange she was,
and beautiful, so my mother used to tell me; but
not bad. She came in at Lonesome Cove, too."
"Drowned at sea?" asked Kent.
"They never knew. One day she was gone;
the next night her body came in. They said
in the countryside that she had the gift of second
sight, and foretold her own death."
"Hum-m," mused Kent. "And now the Blairs
have changed the name of the place. No wonder."
156


HEDGEROW HOUSE
"There's one thing they haven't changed, the
private buryin'-plot."
"Family?"
"Hogg's there, all right, an' never a parson in
the countryside dared to speak to God about his
soul, when they laid him there. His nephew, too,
that was as black-hearted as himself. But the rest
of the graves has got no headstones."
"Slaves?"
"Them as he kept for his own service an' killed
in his tantrums. Nobody knows how many. You
can see the bend of the creek where they lie, from
the road, and the old willows that lean over 'em."
"Cheerful sort of person the late Mr. Hogg
seems to have been. Any relics of his trade in
the house?"
"Relics? You may say so! His old pistols,
and compasses, guns, nautical instruments, and
the leaded whalebone whip that they used to say
he slept with. They've got 'em hung on the walls
now for ornyments. Ornyments! If they'd seen
'em as I've seen 'em, they'd sink the dummed
things in a hundred fathom o' clean sea."
"Sailor Smith was cabin-boy on one of the old
157


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
Hogg fleet one voyage," explained Elder Dennett.
"God forgive me for it!" said the old man.
"There they hang; and with 'em the chains
and—"
"Isn't that lamp finished yet?" demanded Kent,
turning sharply upon Elder Dennett.
Having paid for it—with something extra for
his curtness—he led the seaman out of the place.
"You were going to say 'and handcuffs',
weren't you?" he inquired.
"Why, yes. What of that?" asked the veteran,
puzzled. Suddenly he brought his hand down
with a slap on his thigh. "Where was my wits?"
he cried. "Them irons on the dead woman's
wrist—I knew I'd seen their like before! Slave
manacles! They must 'a' come from Hogg's Ha-
ven!"
"Very likely. But that suspicion had better be
kept quiet, at present."
"Aye, aye, sir," agreed the other. "More dev-
ilment from the old Haven? A bad house—a
rotten bad house!" ,
"Yet I've a pressing desire to take a look at' it,"
said Chester Kent musingly. "Going back to An-
158


HEDGEROW HOUSE
nalaka, Mr. Smith? I'll walk with you as far as
the road to Mr. Sedgwick's."
Freed of the veteran's company at the turn of
the road, Kent sat down and took his ear in hand,
to think.
"Miss Dorrance," he mused, "Marjorie Dor-
rance. What simpler twist for a nickname than
to transform that into Marjorie Daw? Poor
Sedgwick!"
, At the Nook he found the object of his com-
miseration mournfully striving to piece together,
as in a mosaic, the shattered remnants of his work.
Sedgwick brightened at his friend's approach.
"For heaven's sake, come out and do me a
couple of sets of tennis!" he besought. "I'm no
sport for you, I know, particularly as my nerves
are jumpy; but I need the work."
"Sorry, my boy," said Kent, "but I've got to
make a more or less polite call."
"Didn't know you had friends in this part of
the world," said Sedgwick in surprise.
"Oh, friends!" said Kent rather disparagingly.
"Say aqquaintances. People named Blair. Ever
know 'em?"
159


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Used to know a Wilfrid Blair in Paris," said
the artist indifferently.
"What kind of a person was he?"
"An agreeable enough little beast; but a round-
er of the worst sort. I won't go so far as to
say that he shocked my moral sense in those days;
but he certainly offended my sense of decency.
He came back to America, and I lost track of him.
Is he the man you're going to see?"
"No such luck," said Chester Kent. "I never
expect to see Mr. Wilfrid Blair. Probably I
shan't even be invited to his funeral."
"Oh! Is he dead?"
"His death is officially expected any day."
Sedgwick examined his friend's expression
with suspicion. "Officially? Then he's very ill."
"No, he isn't ill at all."
"Don't you think you overdo this business of
mystification sometimes, Kent?"
"Merely a well-meant effort," smiled the other,
"to divert your mind from your own troubles—■
before they get any worse."
With which cheering farewell Kent stepped
out and into his waiting car.


CHAPTER XII
THE UNBIDDEN VISITOR
ONE of Kent's Washington friends once
criticized the scientist's mode of motoring,
as follows: "Kent's a good driver, and a fast one,
and careful; but he can never rid himself of the
theory that there's a strain of hunter in every
well-bred motor-car."
Cross-country travel was, in fact, rather a fad
of Kent's, and he had trained his light car to do
everything but take a five-barred gate. After de-
parting from the Nook, it rolled along beside Sun-
dayman's Creek sedately enough until it ap-
proached the wide bend, where it indulged in a bit
of path-finding across the country, and eventually
crept into the shade of a clump of bushes and hid.
Its occupant emerged, and went forward afoot un-
til he came in view of Hedgerow House. At the
turn of the stream he leaped a fence, and made
his way to a group of willows beneath which the
161


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
earth was ridged with little mounds. Professor
Chester Kent was trespassing. He was invading
the territory of the dead.
From the seclusion of the graveyard amid the
willows a fair view was afforded of Hedgerow
House. Grim as was the repute given it, it pre-
sented to the intruder an aspect of homely hospit-
able sweetness and quaintness. Tall hollyhocks
lifted their flowers to smile in at the old-fash-
ioned windows. Here and there, on the well-
kept lawn, peonies glowed, crimson and white. A
great, clambering rose tree had thrown its arms
around the square porch, softening the uncompro-
mising angles into curves of leafage and bloom.
Along the paths pansies laughed at the sun, and
mignonette scattered its scented summons to bee
and butterfly. The place was a loved place; so
much Kent felt with sureness of instinct. No
home blooms except by love.
But the house was dead. Its eyes were closed.
Silence held it. The garden buzzed and flickered
with vivid multicolored life; but there was no
stir from the habitation of man. Had its occu-
pants deserted it? Chester Kent, leaning against
162


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
stream, now through the heavy growth on the
banks, until he gained the roadway. Once there
he went forward to the front gate of Hedgerow
House. The bricked sidewalk runs, thence,
straight and true to the rose-bowered square porch
which is the mansion's main entry. Kent paused
for the merest moment. His gaze rested on the
heavy black door. Heavier and blacker against
the woodwork a pendant waved languidly in the
faint breeze.
To the normal human being, the grisly insig-
nium of death over a portal is provocative of any-
thing rather than mirth. But Chester Kent, view-
ing the crape on Hedgerow House, laughed as He
turned to the open road.


CHAPTER XIII
LOOSE ENDS
MEDITATION furrowed the brow of Law-
yer Adam Bain. Customarily an easy-
minded participant in the placid affairs of his
community, he had been shaken out of his rut by
the case in which Kent had enlisted him, and in
which he had, thus far, found opportunity for lit-
tle more than thought.
"Nobody vs. Sedgwick," grumbled he. "Pub-
lic opinion vs. Sedgwick," he amended. "How's
a self-respecting lawyer going to earn a fee out
of that? And Len Schlager standing over the
grave of the corpus delicti with a warrant against
searching, so to speak, in his hand. For that mat-
ter, this Professor Kent worries me more than
the sheriff."
A sharp humming rose in the air, and brought
the idle counselor to his window, whence he
165


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
beheld the prime author of his bewilderment
descending from a car. A minute later the two
men were sitting with their feet on one desk, a
fairly good sign of mutual respect and confidence.
"Blair?" said Lawyer Bain. "No, I don't know
him, not even to see. Took Hogg's Haven, didn't
he?"
"Then he doesn't use this post-office?"
"No. Might use any one of half a dozen. See
here." He drew a county map from a shelf.
"Here's the place. Seven railroad stations on
three different roads, within ten miles of it. An-
nalaka would be way out of his reach."
"Yet Gansett Jim seems to be known here."
"Oh; is it Blair that the Indian works for? I
never knew. Closer'n a deaf mute with lockjaw,
he is. Well, I expect the reason he comes here
occasionally is that it's the nearest license town.
"'Lo! the poor Injun when he wants a drink
Will walk ten miles as easy as you'd wink.'"
"Do you know most of the post-offices around
here?"
"There isn't but one postmaster within twenty
166


LOOSE ENDS
miles that I don't call by his first name, and she's
a postmistress."
"Then you could probably find out by telephone
where the Blair family get their mail."
"Easy!"
"And perhaps what newspapers they take."
"H'm! Yes, I guess so."
"Try it, as soon as you get back."
"Back from where?"
"Back from the medical officer's place. I think
he must have returned by this time."
"You want to see Tim Breed?"
"No; just his records. Burial permits, I sup-
pose, are a matter of public record."
"Yes. All you've got to do is to go and ask
for 'em. You won't need me."
"Regrettable as his bad taste is," said Kent with
a solemn face, "I fear that Doctor Breed doesn't
regard me with that confidence and esteem which
one reads of in illuminated resolutions."
"And you want me as an accelerator, eh?"
smiled the lawyer. "All right. It's the Jane Doe
permit you're after, I suppose."
"Which?"
167


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Jane Doe. They buried the corpse from Lone-
some Cove under that name. Unidentified dead,
you know."
"Of course! Of course!" assented Kent.
"If you're looking for anything queer in the
official paper you won't find it."
"You've examined it yourself?"
"Yes."
"Good! Nevertheless, I'd like to see the
record."
Together they went to the medical officer's
quarters. Doctor Breed had come in fifteen min-
utes before. Without preliminary, Lawyer Bain
said:
"I want to see that Jane Doe certificate again."
"Aren't you afraid of wearin' out the ink on it,
Adam?" retorted the other with a furtive grin.
"And I," said Chester Kent in his suavest man-
ner, "venture to trouble you to show me the cer-
tificate in the case of Wilfrid Blair."
Something like a spasm shook the lineaments of
Doctor Breed's meager face. "Blair!" he repeated.
"How did you know—" He stopped short.
"How did I know that Wilfrid Blair is dead?"
168


LOOSE ENDS
Kent finished for him. "Why, there has been
time enough, hasn't there?"
The physician's hands clawed nervously at his
straggling hair.
"Time enough?" he murmured. "Time
enough? I'm only just back from the Blair
place myself."
"News travels faster than a horse," observed
Kent.
"It don't travel as fast as all that," retorted the
medical officer, and shut his teeth on the sentence
as if he could have bitten the tongue that spoke it.
"Ah," commented Kent negligently. "Then he
died within two hours or so?"
"This morning," retorted the other. "It's all
in the certificate."
"All?" inquired Kent, so significantly that
Lawyer Bain gave him a quick look.
"All that's your business or anybody else's,"
said Breed, recovering himself a bit.
"Doubtless. And I'm to be permitted to see
this document?"
Breed pushed a paper across the table. "There
it is. I just finished making it out."
169


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I see," said Kent, giving the paper a scant
survey, "that the cause of death is set down as
'cardiac failure'."
"Well. What's the matter with that?"
"Just a trifle non-committal, isn't it? You see,
we all die of cardiac failure, except those of us
who fall from air-ships."
"That record's good enough for the law," de-
clared the medical officer doggedly.
"Who was the attending physician?"
"I was."
"Indeed! And to what undertaker was the per-
mit issued?"
"It was issued to the family. They can turn
it over to what undertaker they please."
"Where is the interment to be?"
"Say, looky here, Mr. Man!" cried the phy-
sician, breaking into the sudden whining fury of
hard-pressed timidity. "Are you trying to learn
me my business? You can go to hell! That's
what you can do!"
"With your signature on my certificate?" in-
quired the scientist, unmoved. "I won't trouble
you so far, Doctor Breed. I thank you."
170


LOOSE ENDS
Outside in the street, Lawyer Bain turned to
his client. "You didn't look at the Jane Doe
paper at all."
"No. I'm not so interested in that as in the
other."
"Something queer about this Blair death?"
"Why, the fact that the attending physician and
the certificating officer are one and the same, that
there doesn't appear to be any real cause of death
given, or any undertaker, and that the interment
is too private for Breed even to speak of with
equanimity, might seem so, to a man looking for
trouble."
"Not another murder?" said the lawyer.
One side of Chester Kent's face smiled. "No,"
said he positively, "certainly not that."
"There has been a lot of scandal about young
Blair, I'm told. Perhaps they're burying him as
quietly as possible just to keep out of the papers."
"I shouldn't consider his method of burial like-
ly to prove particularly quiet," returned Kent.
"Of course I may be wrong; but I think not. The
most private way to get buried is in public."
"Well, if a death was crooked I'd want no bet-
171


LOOSE ENDS
drawing of a woman's head, the delicate face be-
neath waves of short curly hair, turned a little
from the left shoulder, which was barely indi-
cated. Setting his useful monocle in his eye, Kent
examined the work carefully.
"I should take it," he pronounced at length, "to
be a sort of a second-hand attempt at a portrait."
"You recognize it, though?"
"It bears a resemblance to the face of the
corpse at Lonesome Cove."
"Pretty good likeness, for a thing done from
memory, I think."
"Memory? Whose memory?"
"Well—mine, for instance."
"Oh, no. That won't do, you know. It isn't
your style of drawing at all."
"Setting up for an art critic, are we?"
"Aside from which you certainly wouldn't be
using this sort of paper, when you've cardboard
to your hand."
"So you're not to be caught, I see," said Sedg-
wick, with a nervous laugh.
"Not in so plain a trap, at any rate. Where
did that precious work of art come from?"
173


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"With a slight shading, just there, where the
neck muscle should be thrown up a bit by the turn
of the head."
"Or by introducing a large pendant earring
which the copier has left out?"
"Kent, you're a wonder! That would do it,
exactly. But why in the name of all that's mar-
velous, should the tracer of this drawing leave out
the earring?"
"Obviously to keep the picture as near like as
possible to the body on the beach."
"Then you don't think it is the woman of the
beach?"
"No; I don't."
"Who else could it possibly be?"
"Perhaps we can best find that out by discover-
ing who left the drawing here."
"That looks like something of a job."
"Not very formidable, I think. Suppose we
run up to the village and ask the local stationer
who has bought any tracing-paper there within
a day or two."
As the demand for tracing-paper in Martindale
Center was small, the stationer upon being called
176


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
That worthy was about closing up shop when
they entered.
"Don't your lamp work right, yet, Professor
Kent?" he inquired.
"Perfectly," responded the scientist. "We have
come to see you on another matter, Mr. Sedgwick
and I."
"First, let me thank you," said Sedgwick, "for
the curious work of art which you left at my
place."
"Hay-ee?" inquired the Elder, with a rising in-
flection.
"Don't take the trouble to lie about it," put in
Kent. "Just show us the original of the drawing
which you traced so handily."
The town gossip shifted uneasily from foot to
foot. "How'd you know I got the picture?" he
giggled. "I didn't find it, myself, till I got back
from the auction."
"Never mind the process. Have you the orig-
inal here?"
"Yes," said Elder Dennett; and, going to his
desk he brought back a square of heavy bluish
paper, slightly discolored at the edges.
178


LOOSE ENDS
"That's a very good bit of drawing," said
Sedgwick, as he and Kent bent over the paper.
"But unsigned," said his companion. "Now,
Mr. Dennett, whom do you suppose this to be?"
"Why, the lady that stopped to talk with Mr.
Sedgwick, and was killed in Lonesome Cove."
"Then why did you leave out this earring in
copying the picture?"
"Aw—well," explained the other in some con-
fusion, "she didn't have no earrings on when I
seen her. And it looks a lot more like, without it.".
"Your bent for gratuitous mischief amounts
to a passion," retorted the scientist. "Some day
it will get you into deserved trouble, I trust."
"I guess there ain't no law to prevent my givin'
away a picture, if I like," sulked the Elder.
"Perhaps you'd like to give away another one."
Yankee shrewdness sparkled in the eye of Mr.
Dennett. "Mr. Sedgwick said that was a good
drawin', and I guess he knows. I guess it's worth
money."
"How much money, would you guess?"
"Five dollars," replied the other, in a bold ex-
pulsion of breath.
179


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
At this moment, Sedgwick, who had been
studying the picture in the light, made a slight
signal with his hand, which did not escape Kent.
"Five dollars is a big price for a rough pencil
sketch," said the scientist. "I'd have to know
more of the picture to pay that for it. Where
did you find it?"
"In this book. I bought the book at Dim-
mock's rummage auction." He produced a de-
crepit, loosely-bound edition of the Massachusetts
Agricultural Reports. "The picture was stuck in
between the leaves."
"No name in the book," said Kent. "The fly-
leaf is gone. But here's the date of publication:
1830."
"That would be just about right," said Sedg-
wick with lively interest.
"Right for what?" demanded Dennett.
Before there was time for reply, Kent had
pressed a five-dollar bill into his hand, with the
words:
"You've made a trade."
"Wait," protested the Elder. But the sketch
was already in Sedgwick's possession.
, 180


LOOSE ENDS
"It's an Elliott," said that gentleman. "I'm
sure of it. I've seen his sketches before—though
they're very rare—and there's an unmistakable
touch about his pencil work."
"In that case," said Kent suavely, "Mr. Den-
nett will be gratified to know that he has sold for
five dollars an article worth fifty times that."
They left him, groaning at his door, and went
to look up Dimmock, the rummage man. But
he was wholly unable to throw any light on the
former owner of the reports, in which the draw-
ing had been tucked away. There the investiga-
tion seemed to be up against a blank wall.
"Isn't it astounding!" said Sedgwick. "Here's
a partrait antedating 1830, of a woman who has
just died, young. What was the woman I saw; a
revenant in the flesh?"
"If you ask me," said Kent slowly, "I should
say, rather, an imitation."
Further he would not say, but insisted on re-
turning to the Nook. As they arrived, the tele-
phone bell was ringing with the weary persistence
of the long-unanswered. To Kent's query, Law-
yer Bain's voice announced:
181


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I've been trying to get you for an hour."
"Sorry," said Kent. "Is it about the news-
papers?"
"Yes," said the lawyer. "I've got the informa-
tion." And he stated that four newspapers went
regularly to Hedgerow House,—The New York
Star and Messenger and The Boston Eagle to
Alexander Blair, and The Boston Free Press to
Wilfrid Blair.
Over this information Kent whistled in such
melancholy tones that his host was moved to
protest.
"You're on the track of something, and you're
keeping it dark from me!"
"I'm not traveling the most brilliantly illumi-
nated paths myself, my young friend," replied
Kent, and lapsed into silence.
The artist set the Elliott sketch beside the copy,
and compared them for a time. Then he fell to
wandering desolately about the studio. Sudden-
ly he turned, walked over to his friend, and laid a
hand on his shoulder.
"Kent, for the love of heaven, can't you do
something for me?"
182


LOOSE ENDS
"You mean about the girl?"
Sedgwick nodded. "I can't get my mind to
stay on anything else. Even this infernal puzzle
of the pictures doesn't interest me for more than
the minute. The longing for her is eating the
heart out of me."
"My dear Frank," said the other quietly, "if
there were anything I could do, don't you think
I'd be doing it? It's a very dark tangle. And
first of all I have to clear you—"
"Never mind me! What do I care what people
think?"
"Or what she may think?"
Sedgwick's head drooped. "I didn't consider
that."
"It may be the very center-point for considera-
tion."
"If there were only something to do!" fretted
the artist. "It's this cursed inaction that is get-
ting my nerve!"
"If that's all," returned Kent slowly, "I'll give
you something to do. And I fancy," he added
grimly, "it will be sufficiently absorbing to take
your mind from your troubles for a time at least."
183


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Bring it on. I'm ready!"
"All in good time. Meantime, here's a little
test for your intelligence. Problem," continued
Kent, with a smile: "when the bewildered me-
dieval mind encountered a puzzle too abstruse for
ordinary human solution, what was its refuge?"
"Magic, I suppose," said Sedgwick after some
consideration.
"Good! You get a high mark. The medieval
mind, I may observe, was at times worthy of
emulation."
"Explain."
"I am seriously thinking, my dear young
friend," said Kent solemnly, "of consulting an
astrologer."
"You're crazy!" retorted Sedgwick.
"I wish I were for a few hours," said Kent
with entire seriousness. "It might help."
"Well, that's where I'll be if you don't find
something for me to do soon. So, come on, and
materialize this promised activity."
"If you regard a trip to the Martindale Public
Library as activity, I can furnish that much ex-
citement."
184


LOOSE ENDS
"What are you going to do there?"
"Consult the files of the newspapers, and pick
out a likely high-class astrologer from the adver-
tisements."
"That has a mild nutty flavor; but it doesn't
excite any profound emotion in me except concern
for your sanity."
"You've said that before," retorted Kent.
"However, I'm not sure I shall take you with me,
anyway."
"Then that isn't the coming adventure?"
"No; nothing so mild and innocuous."
"Are you asking me to run some danger? Is
it to see her?" said Sedgwick eagerly.
"Leave her out of it for the present. There
is no question of seeing her now."
The artist sighed and turned away.
"But the danger is real enough, and pretty
ugly."
"Life isn't so wholly delightful to me just at
present that I wouldn't risk it in a good cause."
But this is a bigger risk than life. There's an
enterprise forward which, if it fails, means the
utter damning of reputation. What do you say?"
185


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Kent," said Sedgwick after a moment's
thought, "I'm thirty-two years old. Ten years
ago I'd have said 'yes' at the drop of the ques-
tion. Perhaps I value my life less and my good
name more, than I did then. What's the induce-
ment?"
"The probable clearing up of the case we're
>j
on.
"Is that all the information I get?"
"I'd rather not tell you any more at present.
It would only get on your nerves and unfit you
for the job."
Again Sedgwick fell into thought.
"When I come to tackle it," continued Kent,
"I may find that one man could do it alone.
But—"
"Wait. You're going into it, are you?"
"Oh, certainly."
"With, or without me?"
"Yes."
"Why couldn't you have said so at first and
saved this discussion?" cried his host. "Of
course, if you're in for it, so am I. But what
about your reputation?"
186


LOOSE ENDS
"It's worth a good deal to me," confessed the
scientist. "And I can't deny I'm staking it all
on my theory of this case. If I'm wrong—well,
it's about the finis of my career."
"See here, Chet!" broke out his friend. "Do
you think I'm going to let you take that kind of
a chance for me?"
"It isn't for you," declared the other with irri-
tation. "It's for myself. Can't you understand
that this is my case? You're only an incident in it.
I'm betting my career against—well, against the
devil of mischance, that I'm right. As I told you,
I'm naturally timid. I don't plunge, except on a
practically sure thing. So don't get any foolish
notions of obligation to me. Think it over.
Meantime, do you care to run over to the library?
No? Well, for the rest of the evening I can be
found—no; I can not be found, though I'll be
there—in room 571."
"All right," said Sedgwick. "You needn't fear
any further intrusion. But when is our venture?"
"To-morrow night," replied Kent, "Wilfrid
Blair having officially died, as per specifications,
to-day."


CHAPTER XIV
THE LONE FISHERMAN
TROUT are a tradition rather than a pros-
pect in Sundayman's Creek. Some, indeed,
consider them a myth. Hope springs eternal in
the human breast, however, and a fisherman, duly
equipped, might have been observed testing the
upper reaches of the stream on the morning of
July tenth. Although his rod and tackle were of
the best, his apparel was rough, not to say scrubby.
An old slouch hat was drawn down over his fore-
head, and staring blue glasses sheltered his eyes
against the sun, which was sufficiently obscured—
for most tastes—by a blanket of gray cloud,
promising rain. Under arching willow, and by
promising rock, his brown hackle flickered tempt-
ingly, placed by an expert hand. But, except for
one sunfish who had exhibited suicidal curiosity,
there was none to admire his proficiency. One in-
dividual, indeed, had witnessed it, but without ad-
188


THE LONE FISHERMAN
miration—an urchin angling under a bridge for
bullheads.
"Wat yer gittin' with that rig?" he had in-
quired with the cynicism of the professional.
"Oh, some snags, and an occasional branch,
and now and then a milkweed," returned the an-
gler amiably.
"Well, you can't fish below the nex' bend," the
urchin informed him. "Them folks that bought
Hogg's Haven has wire-fenced off the creek."
"I had just as lief get tangled in a wire fence
as any other kind," replied the angler with cheery
pessimism, whipping his fly into a shaded spot
where a trout would surely have been lurking if
the entire salmo family hadn't departed for the
Happy Fishing Grounds, several generations
back, in consequence of the pernicious activities
displayed by an acquisitive sportsman with an
outfit of dynamite in sticks.
"Suit yerself," retorted the boy. "You won't
get nothin', anyhow."
The rumble of a vehicle distracted his attention,
and he looked up to observe with curiosity a
carriage full of strangers pass across the bridge.
189


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
casket. The onlooker marked the black and silver
sumptuousness of it, and thought of the rough
hemlock box that enclosed the anonymous body in
Annalaka churchyard. And, as his fly met the
water, he smiled a little, grim, wry smile.
It was over soon. The black-clad group drifted
away. One member paused to glance with curi-
osity at the roughly clad angler making his way
up stream. For Kent judged it wise to absent
himself now, foreseeing the advent of one keener-
eyed than the mourners, whose scrutiny he did not
desire to tempt. Shortly Gansett Jim came to the
grave. Hastily and carelessly he pitched in the
earth, tramped it down, and returned. Carriages
rolled to the door of Hedgerow House, and rolled
away again, carrying the mourners to their train.
Not until then did Kent snug up his tackle and
take the road.
No sooner had he reached the hotel and
changed into dry clothes, than he made haste to
the Nook, and thus addressed Sedgwick. "Now
I'm your man for that tennis match."
"Kent, I don't like your looks," observed his
friend, remarking the scientist's troubled eyes.
192


THE LONE FISHERMAN
"Don't you? Where are the implements of
warfare?"
"Here they are," said the other, producing
rackets and balls. "You look to me done up."
"Well, the great game is always something of
a gamble, and being usually played for higher
stakes than money, is likely to get on one's
nerves."
"The great game?" repeated Sedgwick inquir-
ingly, giving the words Kent's own emphasis.
"Yes. The greatest of all games. You know
the Kipling verse, don't you?
"'Go stalk the red deer o'er the heather.
Ride! Follow the fox if you can!
But for pleasure and profit together
Afford me the hunting of Man.'"
"So, we're man-hunting, then, to-night," said
the artist quickly.
"Far from it," replied Kent, with fervency.
"Let's drop the subject for the time being, won't
you? I've had a morning none too pleasant to
look back on, and I've got an evening coming
none too pleasant to look forward to. Therefore,
193


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
I shall probably give you the licking of your life
on the tennis-court."
"As to the evening," began Sedgwick, "while
m—
"Frank," cried Kent, "there's a query trying to
dislodge itself from your mind and get put into
words. Don't let it 1"
"Why?"
"Because at one single question from you I'll
either bat you over the head with this racket or
burst into sobs. It's a toss-up which." He
threw the implement in the air. "Rough or
smooth?" he called.
Kent played as he worked, with concentration
and tenacity, backing up technical skill. Against
his dogged attack, Sedgwick's characteristically
more brilliant game was unavailing, though the
contest was not so uneven but that both were
sweating hard as, at the conclusion of the third
set, they sought a breathing space on the terraced
bank back of the court.
"That's certainly a good nerve sedative," said
the artist breathing hard; "and not such rotten
194


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"This particular one has reason to be. She
has a nest in that lilac patch. A few minutes ago
she went toward it with a worm in her beak; has-
tily dropped the worm, and came out in a great
state of mind. Hence I judge there is some in-
truder near her home."
"Any guess who it is?"
"Why it might be Gansett Jim," replied Kent
in a louder voice. "Though it's rather stupid of
him to pick out a bird-inhabited bush as a hiding-
place."
The lilac bush shook a little, and Gansett Jim
came forth.
"He went to Carr's Junction," said the half-
breed curtly.
"You found his trail?" asked Kent.
The other nodded. "This morning," he said.
"Find anything else?"
"No. I kill him if I get him!" He turned and
vanished over the rise of ground back of the
court.
"Now what does that mean?" demanded Sedg-
wick in amazement.
"That is Gansett Jim's apology for suspecting
196


THE LONE FISHERMAN
you," explained Kent. "He is our ally now, and
this is his first information. What a marvelous
i
thing the bulldog strain in a race is! Nobody but
an Indian would have kept to an almost hopeless
trail as he has done."
!"The trail of the real murderer?" cried Sedg-
wick.
j Kent shook his head. "You're still obsessed
with dubious evidence," he remarked. "Let me
see your time-table."
Having studied the schedules that the artist
produced for him, he nodded consideringly.
"Boston it is, then," he said. "As I thought.
Sedgwick, I'm off for two or three days of travel
—if we get through this night without disaster."


CHAPTER XV
THE TURN OF THE GAME
NIGHT came on in murk and mist. As the
clouds gathered thicker, Chester Kent's
face took on a more and more satisfied expression.
Sedgwick, on the contrary, gloomed sorely at the
suspense. Nothing could be elicited from the di-
rector of operations, who was, for him, in rather
wild spirits. The tennis match seemed to have
sweated the megrims out of him. He regaled his
chafing friend with anecdotes from his varied
career; the comedy of the dynamiter's hair; the
tragedy of the thrice fatal telephone message at
the Standard Club; the drama of the orchid hunt
on Weehawken Heights. From time to time he
thrust a hand out of the window. Shortly after
midnight there was a splatter of rain on the roof.
"Good!" said Kent, stretching elaborately.
"Couldn't be better. Life's a fine sport!"
"Couldn't be worse, I should think," contra-
dicted Sedgwick.
198


THE TURN OF THE GAME
shuddering in his seat, "why haven't we done it
before?"
The other turned on the power. "You're on
the wrong track as usual," he remarked. "It
couldn't be done before."
"Well, it can't be done now," cried the artist in
sudden sharp excitement. "It won't do. Stop
the car, Kent!"
Kent's voice took an ominously deliberate
measure. "Listen," said he; "I am going through
with this—now—to-night. If you wish to with-
draw—"
"That's enough," growled the artist. "No man
alive can say that to me."
The car slowed up. "I beg your pardon,
Frank," said Kent. "We're both of us a little on
edge to-night. This is no time for misunder-
standings. What is on your mind?"
"Just this. Annalaka burying-ground is
watched. Lawyer Bain said as much. Don't you
remember? He told us that the house next door
is occupied by an old sleepless asthmatic who
spends half her nights in her window overlooking
the graves."
201


THE TURN OF THE GAME
Something cold touched Sedgwick's hand in
the darkness. His fingers closed around a flask.
"No, no Dutch courage for me. Where is this
place?"
"On Sundayman's Creek, some fourteen miles
from the Nook as the motor-car flies."
"Fourteen miles," repeated Sedgwick musingly,
following a train of thought that suddenly
glowed, a beacon-light of hope. "And these
Blairs have some connection with the dead woman
of the cove, the woman who wore her jewels."
His fingers gripped and sank into Kent's hard-
fibered arm. "Chet, for the love of heaven, tell
me! Is she one of these Blairs?"
"No nonsense, Sedgwick," returned the other
sternly. "You're to act,—yes, and think—under
orders till the night's job is done."
There was silence for nearly half an hour,
while the car slipped, ghostlike, along the wet
roadway. Presently it turned aside and stopped.
"Foot work now," said Kent. "Take the spades
and follow."
He himself, leading the way, carried a coil of
rope on his shoulders. For what Sedgwick reck-
203


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
oned to be half a mile they wallowed across
soaked meadows, until the whisper of rain upon
water came to his ears.
"Keep close," directed his guide, and preceded
him down a steep bank.
The stream was soon forded. Emerging on
the farther side they scrambled up the other bank
into a thicker darkness, where Sedgwick, colliding
with a gnarled tree trunk, stood lost and waiting.
A tiny bar of light appeared. It swept across
huddled and half-obliterated mounds, marked
only by the carpet of myrtle—that faithful plant
whose mission it is to garland the graves of the
forsaken and the forgotten—shone whitely back
from the headstone of the old slave-trader, came
to a rest upon a fresh garish ridge of earth, all
pasty and yellow in the rain, and abrupdy died.
"Too dangerous to use the lantern," murmured
Kent. "Take the near end and dig."
Delving, even in the most favorable circum-
stances, is a fairly stern test of wind and muscle.
In the pitch blackness, under such nerve-thrilling
conditions, it was an ordeal. Both men, fortu-
nately, were in hard training. The heavy soil
204


THE TURN OF THE GAME
flew steadily and fast. Soon they were waist deep.
Kent, in a low voice, bade his fellow toiler stop.
"Mustn't wear ourselves out at the start," he
said. "Take five minutes' rest."
At the end of three minutes, Sedgwick was
groping for his spade. "I've got to go on, Chet,"
he gasped. "The silence and idleness are too
much for me."
"It's just as well," assented his commander.
"The clouds are breaking, worse luck. And some
one might possibly be up and about, in the house.
Goto it!"
This time there was no respite until, with a
thud which ran up his arm to his heart, Kent's
iron struck upon wood. Both men stood, frozen
into attitudes of attention. No sound came from
the house.
"Easy now," warned Kent, after he judged it
safe to continue. "I thought that Jim dug deeper
than that. Spade it out gently. And feel for the
handles."
"I've got one," whispered Sedgwick.
"Climb out, then, and pass me down the rope."
As Sedgwick gained the earth's level, the moon,
205


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
sailing from behind a cloud, poured a flood of ra-
diance between the tree trunks. Kent's face, as
he raised it from the grave, stretching out his
hand for the cord, was ghastly, but his lips smiled
encouragement.
"All right! One minute, now, and we're safe."
"Safe!" repeated the other. "With that opened
grave! I shall never feel safe again."
From between the earthen walls Kent's voice
came, muffled. "Safe as a church," he averred,
"from the minute that we have the coffin. Take
this end of the rope. Got it? Now this one. It's
fast, fore and aft. Here I come."
With a leap he clambered out of the excavation.
He took one end of the rope from Sedgwick's
hand. "All ready to haul?" he inquired in mat-
ter-of-fact tones.
"Wait. What are we going to do with this—
this thing?" demanded his co-laborer. "We can
never get it to the car."
A low chuckle sounded from the shrubbery
back of them. The resurrectionists stood, strick-
en.
"An owl," whispered Sedgwick at length.
206


THE TURN OF THE GAME
"No," replied Kent in the same tone. Then, in
full voice, and with vivid urgency, "Haul!"
Up came the heavy casket, bumping and grat-
ing. Even through the rope Sedgwick felt, with
horror, the tumbling of the helpless sodden body
within. With a powerful effort Kent swung his
end up on the mound. The lantern flashed. By
its gleam Sedgwick saw Kent striving to force his
spade-edge under the coffin lid, to pry it loose.
The chuckle sounded again.
"That's enough," said a heavy voice, with a
suggestion of mirthful appreciation.
Sheriff Len Schlager stepped from behind a
tree. He held a revolver on Kent. Sedgwick
made a swift motion and the muzzle swung accu-
rately on him.
"Steady, Frank," warned Kent anxiously.
"I'm steady enough," returned the other.
"What a fool I was not to bring a gun."
"Oh, no," contradicted the scientist. "Of what
use is my gun? We're in the light, and he is in
the shadow."
"So you've got a gun on you, eh?" remarked
the sheriff, his chuckle deepening.
207


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I didn't say so."
"No; but you gave yourself away. Hands up,
please. Both of you."
Four hands went up in the air. Kent's face, in
the light, was very downcast, but from the far
corner of his mouth came the faintest ghost of a
whistled melody—all in a minor key. It died
away on the night air and the musician spoke in
rapid French.
"Attention! La ruse gagne. Quand lui don-
nerai le coup de pied, battez-le a terre."
"What's that gibberish?" demanded Schlager.
"Very well," said Sedgwick quickly, in the tone
of one who accepts instructions. "I'll be still
enough. Go ahead and do the talking."
"Better both keep still," advised the deceived
sheriff. "Anything you say can be used against
you at the trial. And the penalty for body-
snatching is twenty years in this state."
"Yes; but what constitutes body-snatching?"
murmured Kent.
"You do, I guess," retorted the humorous sher-
iff. "Steady with those hands. Which pocket,
please, Professor?"
208


THE TURN OF THE GAME
"Right-hand coat, if you want my money," an-
swered the scientist sullenly.
"Nothing like that," laughed the officer. "Your
gun will do, at present."
"I haven't got any gun."
"I hear you say it! Remember, mine is pointed
at your stomach."
"Correct place," approved Kent, quietly shift-
ing his weight to his left foot. "It's the seat of
human courage. Well!" as Schlager tapped
pocket after pocket, without result, "you can't say
I didn't warn you. Now, Frank!"
With the word there was a sharp spat as the
heel of Kent's heavy boot, flying up in the coup
de pied of his own devising, caught the sheriff
full on the wrist breaking the bones, and sending
the revolver a-spin into the darkness. As instant-
ly Sedgwick struck, swinging full-armed, and
Schlager went down, half-stunned.
"Pin him, Frank," ordered Kent.
But Sedgwick needed no directions, now that
resolute action was the order of the moment. His
elbow was already pressed into the sheriff's bull
neck. Schlager lay still, moaning a little.
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Good work, my boy," approved Kent, who
had retrieved the revolver.
"Who clubbed me?" groaned the fallen man.
"I didn't see no third feller. And what good's it
going to do you, anyway? There you are, and
there's the robbed grave. Exaggerated by as-
sault on an officer of the law," he added tech-
nically.
"That is right, too, Kent," added Sedgwick
with shaking voice. "Whatever we do, I don't
see but what we are disgraced and ruined."
"Unless," suggested Kent with mild-toned mal-
ice, "we rid ourselves of the only witness to the
affair."
A little gasp issued from the thick lips of Len
Schlager. But he spoke with courage, and not
without a certain dignity. "You got me," he ad-
mitted quietly. "If it's killin'—why, I guess it's
as good a way to go as any. An officer in the dis-
charge of his duty."
"Not so sure about the duty, Schlager," said
Kent with a change of tone. "But your life is
safe enough, in any event. Pity you're such a
210


THE TURN OF THE GAME
grafter, for you've got your decent points. Let
him up, Sedgwick."
Relieved of his assailant's weight, Schlager un-
dertook to rise, set his hand on the ground, and
collapsed with a groan.
"Too bad about that wrist," said Kent. "I'll
take you back in my car to have it looked after as
soon as we've finished here."
"I s'pose you know I'll have to arrest you, just
the same."
"Don't bluff," retorted the other carelessly. "It
wastes time. Steady! Here comes the rest of
the party."
Across the moonlit lawn moved briskly the
spare alert figure of the owner of Hedgerow
House. His hand grasped a long-barreled pistol.
He made straight for the grove of graves. With-
in five yards of the willows he stopped, because a
voice from behind one of them had suggested to
him that he do so.
"I also am armed," the voice added.
Hesitancy flickered in Mr. Blair's face for a
brief moment. Then, with set jaw, he came on.
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Two men of courage to deal with in a single
night. That's all out of proportion," commented
the voice with a slight laugh. "Mr. Blair; I really
should dislike shooting you."
"Who are you?" demanded Mr. Blair.
"Chester Kent."
"What are you doing on my property at this
hour?"
"Digging."
"Ah!" It was hardly an exclamation; rather it
was a contained commentary. . Mr. Blair had
noted the exhumed casket. "You might better
have taken my offer," he continued after a pause
of some seconds. "I think, sir, you have dug the
grave of your own career."
"That remains to be seen."
"Schlager! Are you there?"
"Yes, Mr. Blair. They've broken my wrist and
got my gun."
Mr. Blair took that under consideration. "It
doesn't strike me that you are much of a man-
hunter," he observed judicially. "Who are they?"
"Francis Sedgwick is the other, at your serv-
ice," answered the owner of that name.
212


THE TURN OF THE GAME
An extraordinary convulsion of rage distorted
the set features of the elderly man.
"You!" he cried. "Haven't you done enough
—without this! I would come on now if hell
yawned for me."
Stricken with amazement at the hatred in the
tone, Sedgwick stood staring. But Kent stepped
before the advancing man. "This won't do," he
said firmly. "We can't any of us afford killing."
"I can," contradicted Mr. Blair.
"You would gain nothing by it. If one of us
is killed the other will finish the task. You know
what I am here for, Mr. Blair. I purpose to
open that coffin and then go."
"No," said the master of Hedgerow House;
and it was twenty years since his "no" had been
overborne.
"Yes," returned Chester Kent quietly.
Mr. Blair's arm rose, steady and slow, with the
inevitable motion of machinery.
"If you shoot," pointed out Kent, "you will
rouse the house. Is there no one there from
whom you wish to conceal that coffin?"
The arm rose higher until the muzzle of the
213


THE SECRET OF. LONESOME COVE
pistol glared, like a baleful lusterless eye, into
Kent's face. Instead of making any counter-mo-
tion with the sheriff's revolver, the scientist
turned on his heel, walked to Sedgwick, and
handed him the weapon. "I'm going to open the
coffin, Frank," he announced. "That pistol of
Mr. Blair's is a target arm. It has only one shot."
"True," put in its owner, "but I can score one
hundred and twenty with it at a hundred yards'
range."
"If he should fire, Frank, wing him. And then,
whatever happens, get that casket open. That is
the one thing you must do—for me and yourself."
"But he may kill you," cried Sedgwick in an
agony of apprehension.
"He may; but I think he won't."
"Won't he!" muttered the older man on an in-
drawn breath. "I'd rather it was the other scoun-
drel. But either—or both."
Sedgwick stepped to within two paces of him.
"Blair," he said with a snarl, "you so much as
think with that trigger finger, and you're dead!"
"No, no killing, Frank," countermanded Kent.
"In his place, you'd perhaps do as he is doing."
214


THE TURN OF THE GAME
"Don't take any chances, Mr. Blair," besought
the sheriff. "They're desperate characters. Look
what they done tome!"
"There's a testimonial," murmured Kent, as he
picked up his spade, "for one who has always
worked on the side of law and order."
He worked the blade craftily under the lid and
began to pry. The cover gave slightly. Mr.
Blair's pistol sank to his side. "I should have shot
before warning you," he said bitterly. "Violating
graves is, I suppose, your idea of a lawful and or-
derly proceeding."
The rending crackle of the hard heavy wood
was his answer. Kent stooped, and struggled up
bearing a shapeless heavy object in his arms. The
object seemed to be swathed in sacking. Kent let
it fall to the ground, where it lopped and lay. "All
right," said he, with a strong exhalation of relief.
"I knew it must be. And yet—well, one never is
absolute in certainty. And if I'd been wrong, I
think, Frank, we could profitably have used that
gun on ourselves. You can drop it, now. Come
over here."
Courageous though Sedgwick was, his nerves
215


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
were of a highly sensitive order. He shuddered
back. "I don't believe I can do it, Chet"
"You must. As a witness. Come! Brace up!"
Setting the bull's-eye lantern down, Kent pro-
duced a pocket-knife. Sedgwick drew a long
breath, and walking over, crouched, steeling his
nerves against the revelation that should come
when the cords should be cut and the swathings
reveal their contents. "If I keel over, don't let me
tumble into the grave," he said simply, and choked
the last word off from becoming a cry of horror
as he beheld his friend drive the knife-blade to the
hilt in the body, and then whip it across and
downward with a long ripping draw under which
the harsh cloth sang hideously.
"Open your eyes! Look! Look!" cried Kent
heartily.
A strong trickle of sand flowed out of the rent
in the sack and spread upon the ground.
"That is all," said Kent.
Relief clamored within Sedgwick for expres-
sion. He began to laugh in short choking spasms.
"Quiet!" warned Mr. Blair, in a broken tone
of appeal. "You've found out the secret. God
216


THE TURN OF THE GAME
knows what you'll do with it. But there are inno-
cent people in the house. I see a light stirring
there now. We—I must do what I may to shel-
ter them."
A glimmer shone from the ground floor of one
of the wings. Thither Mr. Blair ran, calling out
as he went. When he returned, his face was like
a mask.
"Now," said he, "what is this matter? Black-
mail?"
Kent's face withdrew, as it were, behind his
inscrutable half smile. "Peace, if you will," said
he. "A truce, at least."
"I should like to know just how much you
know."
"An offer. I will tell you whenever you are
ready to tell me all that you know. I think we are
mutually in need of each other."
"I wish you were at the bottom of that pit,"
retorted the other grimly. "You and your scoun-
drel of a friend with you."
"Thank you for myself," said Sedgwick. "If
you were twenty years younger I would break
every bone in your body for that."
217


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Steady, Frank," put in Kent. "Judge no man
by his speech who has been through what Alexan-
der Blair has been through to-night. Mr. Blair,"
he added, "you've refused my offer. It is still
open. And as an extra, I will undertake, for Mr.
Sedgwick and myself, that this night's affair shall
be kept secret. And now, the next thing is to
cover the evidence. Spades, Frank."
The two men took up their tools.
"I'll spell you," said Alexander Blair.
While the sheriff, mourning softly over his
fractured wrist, sat watching the house in case of
alarm, the scientist, the painter, and the trust
magnate, sweating amid the nameless graves,
hurriedly reinterred the sack of clean sand which
bore the name of Wilfrid Blair.
"And now," said Chester Kent, petting his blis-
tered palms, as the last shovelful of dirt was
tamped down, "I'll take you back with me, Mr.
Sheriff, to Sedgwick's place, and do the best I can
for you till the morning. About six o'clock we'll
find you unconscious below the cliffs where you
fell in the darkness. Eh?"
Despite his pain the sheriff grinned. "I guess
218


THE TURN OF THE GAME
that's as good as the next lie," he acquiesced.
"You fight fair, Professor."
"Then answer me a fair question. What were
you doing at Hedgerow House to-night?"
"Why, you see," drawled the official, "I saw
you fishin' that stream, and it come to my mind
that you was castin' around for more than trout
that wasn't there. But I didn't hardly think you'd
come so soon, and I was asleep when the noise of
the spade on the coffin woke me."
"Bad work and clumsy," commented Kent with
a scowl. "Come along. My car will carry three.
Sedgwick can sit on the floor. Good night, Mr.
Blair. All aboard, Frank."
There was no answer.
"What became of Sedgwick?" demanded Kent.
"He was here half a minute ago; I'll swear to
that," muttered the sheriff.
Kent stared anxiously about him. "Frank!
Frank!" he called half under his breath.
"Not too loud," besought Alexander Blair.
The clouds closed over the moon. Somewhere
in the open a twig crackled. Sedgwick had disap-
peared.


THE MEETING
the creek and into the darkness beyond. Mr.
Blair, walking with heavy steps and fallen head,
made his way back to the house. Sedgwick heard
the door close behind him. A light shone for a
time in the second story. It disappeared. With
infinite caution, Sedgwick made the detour,
gained the rear of the house, and skirting the
north wing, stepped forth in the bright moon-
light, the prescience of passion throbbing wildly
in his breast.
She sat at the window, head high to him, bow-
ered in roses. Her face was turned slightly away.
Her long fine hands lay, inert, on the sill. Her
face, purity itself in the pure moonlight, seemed
dimmed with weariness and strain, a flower glow-
ing through a mist.
With a shock of remembrance that was almost
grotesque, Sedgwick realized that he had no name
by which to call her. So he called her by the
name that is Love's own.
She did not change her posture. But her lips
parted. Her lids drooped and quivered. She was
as one in a lovely dream.
He stepped toward her and spoke again.
221





THE MEETING
"I! Wfiere?"
He caught her hand again and held it to his
heart. "To
"'See the gold air and the silver fade
And the last bird fly into the last light',"
he whispered.
"Don't!" she begged. "Not that! It brings
back that week too poignantly. Oh, my dear;
please, please go."
"Listen," he said. "Heart of my heart, I don't
know what curse hangs over this house; but this
I do know, that I can not leave you here. Come
with me now. I will find some place for you to-
night, and to-morrow we will be married."
With a sharp movement she shrank back from
him.
"Married! To-morrow!" The words seemed
to choke her. "Don't you know who I am?"
Fear chilled his mounting blood as Kent's
analysis of the probabilities came back to him.
"If you are married already," he said unstead-
ily, "it—it would be better for me that Kent had
let him shoot."
223


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Who?" she cried. "What has been passing,
here? You have been in danger?"
"What does it matter?" he returned. "What
does anything matter but—"
"Hark!" she broke in, a spasm of terror con-
tracting her face.
Footsteps sounded within. There was the
noise of a door opening and closing. Around the
turn of the wing Alexander Blair stepped into
view. His pistol was still in his hand.
"Still here, sir?" he inquired with an effect of
murderous courtesy. "You add spying to your
other practises, then." He took a step forward
and saw the girl. "My God! Marjorie!" he cried.
Sedgwick turned white, at the cry, but faced
the older man steadily.
"I fear, sir," he said, "that I have made a ter-
rible mistake. The blame is wholly mine. I beg
you to believe that I came here wholly without
the knowledge of—of your wife—"
"Of whom?" exclaimed Blair; and, in the same
moment, the girl cried out, "Oh, no, no. Not
that!"
"Not?" exclaimed Sedgwick. "Then—"
224


THE MEETING
"Marjorie," interrupted Mr. Blair, "do you
know this man?"
"Yes," she said quietly.
"Since when?"
"Since two weeks."
"And he has come here before?"
"No."
"Then why do I find him here with you to-
night: this night of all nights?"
"He is not here with me," said she, flushing.
"I came from—from where you saw me," be-
gan Sedgwick, "on a reckless impulse. Believe
me, sir—"
"One moment! Marjorie, I think you had best
go to your room."
The girl's soft lips straightened into a line of
inflexibility. "I wish to speak to Mr. Sedgwick,"
she said.
"Speak then, and quickly."
"No; I wish to speak to him alone. There is
an explanation which I owe him."
"And there is one which he owes you," retorted
Blair. "As he seems to have been too cowardly
to give it, I will supply his deficiencies. In order
225


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
that there may be no misunderstanding, let me
present Mr. Francis Sedgwick, the murderer."
A low cry, the most desolate, the most stricken
sound that Sedgwick had ever heard from human
lips, trembled on the air. Before he could gather
his senses to retort and deny, she had drawn her-
self to her feet—and the rose-bowered window
framed only emptiness. Sedgwick whirled upon
the other man. "Of course," he said with decep-
tive calmness; "you know that you lie."
"I know that I speak truth," retorted Mr. Blair
with so profound a conviction that the other was
shaken.
"Is it possible that you really believe it?" he
exclaimed.
"So possible that, but for the scandal, I would
do what I can not invoke the law to do, and exact
life for life. And to crown all, I find you with
my son's wife—"
"Your son's wife!" The cry burst from Sedg-
wick's lips.
"—in the dead of night, at a rendezvous," con-
cluded Blair.
"That is a lie," said Sedgwick very low, "for
226


THE MEETING
which I shall kill you if you dare repeat it even to
your own thoughts. It was no rendezvous. Is
your mind so vicious that you can't believe in
innocence? Stop and think! How could it have
been a rendezvous, when I came here, as you
know, for another purpose?"
"That is true," said the other thoughtfully.
"That still remains to be explained."
"By you," returned the artist. "You speak of
your son's wife. To carry out the farce of the
sham burial, shouldn't you have said his
'widow'?"
"The widow of a day—as you well know," an-
swered Mr. Blair bitterly.
"As I do not know, at all. But I think I begin
to see light. The rose-topazes on the dead wom-
an's neck. Her topazes. That helps to clear it
up. The dead woman was some past light-o'-love
of Wilfrid Blair's. She came here either to reas-
sert her sway over him or to blackmail him. He
gave her his wife's jewels. Then he followed her
to the cliffs and killed her, perhaps in a drunken
frenzy. And you, Mr. Alexander Blair, to save
your son, have concealed him somewhere, bribed
227


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
the sheriff and the medical officer, contrived this
false death and burial, and are now turning suspi-
cion on a man you know to be innocent further to
fortify your position. But what damnable lie
have you told her?"
During this exposition, Alexander Blair's
face was a study in changing emotions. At the
close his thin lips curled in the suggestion of a
sardonic grin.
"I leave you to the company of your theory,
sir," said he, and the door closed sharply after
him.
Three hours later, wet and bedraggled, but with
a fire at his heart, the night-farer came to his
home and roused Kent from slumber on the
studio couch.
"And where have you been?" demanded the
scientist.
"She was in the house. I've seen her."
"Exactly what I wished to prevent. I don't
think you've done yourself any good."
"Any good," groaned his friend. "She left me
believing that I am the murderer of the unknown
woman."
228


THE MEETING
"Indeed! You've done worse, even, than I
had feared. Tell me."
In brief outline, Sedgwick told of the moon-
light interview. Kent gripped at his ear lobe, and
for a time sought silently to draw clarification of
ideas from it.
"Do you know," he said at length, "I wouldn't
wonder if Blair really thought you the murderer."
"I would," declared Sedgwick savagely. "He
knows who murdered that woman. It was his
own son, whom he pretended to bury, for a
blind." And the artist proceeded to outline
eagerly his newly developed idea.
"That's an interesting theory," said Chester
Kent slowly. "A very interesting and ingenious
theory. I'll admit to you now that something of
the sort occurred to my mind early in the devel-
opment of the mystery, but I forsook it because
of one fact that rather militates against its prob-
ability."
"What is that?"
"The fact," replied Kent with a slow smile,
"that Wilfrid Blair was dead before his father
ever learned of the tragedy of Lonesome Cove."


CHAPTER XVII
CHANCE SITS IN
UIT case at his side, Chester Kent stood
on the platform of the Martindale Center
station, waiting for the morning train to Boston.
Before him paced Sedgwick, with a face of
storm.
"This is something I must do for myself," the
artist declared, with that peculiar flatness of ob-
stinacy which goes with an assertion repeatedly
made. "Not you, nor any other man, can do it
for me."
"Not you, nor any other man, should attempt it
at all, now," retorted the scientist.
"That's the view of the pedant," cried Sedg-
wick. "What do you know of love?"
"Nothing, except as a force obstructive to rea-
son."
"But, Chet, I must see her again," pleaded
Sedgwick; "I must—"
"Exhibit that tact and delicacy which you dis-

230


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"If I were employed to work on this case,"
observed Kent dispassionately; "if it were a mere
commission, undertaken on money terms, I
should throw it up right here and now." He
took a long strong pull at the extension end of his
ear, and whistled a bar or two of Pagliacci. "Do
you know room 571 at the Eyrie?" he asked ab-
ruptly.
"No. Yes; I do, too. That's your temple of
white silence, isn't it?"
"Correct. Humor me thus far. Walk up to
the hotel. Give this card to the clerk. Get the
key. Go to that room at once. Lie down on
your back with your eyes open, and think for
one hour by the watch. If at the end of that
time, you still believe you're right, go ahead.
Will you do it?"
"Agreed. It's a bargain. But it won't change
my mind."
"A bargain's a bargain. It won't need to,"
said Kent coolly. "By that time, if I have any
understanding of Mr. Alexander Blair, he will
have put your Lady of Mystery on the morning
232


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Miss it? Why, where is it?"
"In my suit case."
"What's it doing there?"
"Why, you see, if it's a sketch for a finished
portrait by Elliott, as I suspect, some of the art
people in Boston might recognize it. Good luck!
I hope not to see you soon; too soon, that is!"
Chance and a deranged railway schedule con-
spired against the peace of mind of the shy and
shrinking Kent. Outside of Boston a few miles
is a junction and a crossing. Here Kent's train
was held up by some minor accident. Here, too,
the train from the north on the other road stopped
for orders. Thus it was that Kent, stepping out
to take the air, found himself looking into an
open Pullman window, at a woman's face framed
in deepest black: a young face, but saddened and
weary, whose unforgetable appeal of wistfulness
had looked out upon him from the canvas in
Sedgwick's studio.
"Mrs. Blair!"
For once in his life, Chester Kent's controlled
tongue had broken the leash. Immediately he
would have given a considerable sum of money
234


CHANCE SITS IN
to recall his impulsive exclamation. He was in
an agony of shyness. But it was too late. The
girlish face turned. The composed eyes scanned
a serious-looking man of indeterminate age, clad
in the cool elegance of light gray, and obviously
harassed by some catastrophic embarrassment.
"I beg p-p-pardon," stuttered the man. "Are
you Mr. Blair? I'm Mrs. Kent."
At this astonishing announcement, amusement
gleamed in the woman's eyes, and gave a delicate
up-twist to the corners of the soft mouth.
"I don't recognize you in your present attire,
Mrs. Kent," she murmured.
"No. Of course not. I—I—meant to say—
that is you know—" Kent gathered his forces,
resolved desperately to see it through, now. "I'm
M-M-Mrs. Blair and I suppose you're Mr. Kent."
The soft music of her laughter made Kent
savage. "Damn!" he muttered beneath his
breath; and then went direct to the point. "There
are things I want to speak to you about. I wish
to get on your car."
"Certainly not," replied she decisively. "I do
not know you."
235


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"I am a friend of Francis Sedgwick's."
The warm blood flushed her cheeks rose-color,
and died away. Her lips quivered. So much
of mute helpless misery did her face show, that
Kent's embarrassment vanished.
"Try to believe me," he said earnestly, "when
I tell you that I wish only to save both of you
misunderstanding and suffering. Needless mis-
understanding and suffering," he added.
"It is too late," she said hopelessly.
"Forgive me, but that is foolish. Your mind
has been led astray. Sedgwick is absolutely
blameless."
"Please," she begged in a half whisper, "I
can't listen. I mustn't listen. I have tried to
make myself believe that he acted in self-defense.
But, even so, don't you see, it must stand forever
between us?"
"Now, what cock-and-bull story has Alexander
Blair told her?" Kent demanded of his mind.
"How much does she know, or how little?"
The jar and forward lurch of the car before
him brought him out of his reverie.
"Can I see you in Boston?" he asked hurriedly.
236


CHANCE SITS IN
She shook her head. "Not now. I can see
no one. And, remember, I do not even know
you."
Kent cast about rapidly in his mind, as he
walked along with the car, for some one who
might be a common acquaintance. He mentioned
the name of a very great psychologist at Har-
vard. "Do you know him?" he asked.
"Yes. He is my mother's half-brother."
"And my valued friend," he cried. "May I
get him to bring me?" He was almost running
now beside the window.
"Yes," she assented. "If you insist. But I
will hear no word of—of your friend."
"I understand. Agreed," called Kent. "To-
morrow morning, then."
And he walked, whistling a melancholious
theme, to the platform. Another whistle an-
swered his. It was that of his train, disappear-
ing around the curve a mile down the track.
Belated, but elated, Kent, after some inquiries,
reached his destination by an intricate exchange
of trolley lines, and went direct to Cambridge.
He found his friend, one of the finest and pro-
237


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
foundest philosophers of his time, sitting in a
closed house over a game of that form of soli-
taire appropriately denominated "Idiot's Delight."
"Very soothing to the mind," murmured the
professor, after welcoming his guest. "So many
matters turn out wrong in this world that one
finds relief in a problem which usually turns out
right."
"I've a little problem of my own which may
or may not turn out right," said Kent, "and I
want your help."
"It is long since you have done me the honor
to consult me," said the old scholar, smiling.
"Not, indeed, since the instance of the cabinet
member who was obsessed with a maniacal hatred
of apples."
"Without you, I should never have so much as
approached the solution of Mr. Carolan's recall,"
returned Kent. "But this present affair calls for
aid, not advice."
"Either is equally at your service," replied the
philosopher courteously.
Kent outlined the case to him.
"You see," he said, "there is an obvious con-
238


CHANCE SITS IN
»
nection between the unknown body on the beach,
and the Blair tragedy."
"Poor Marjorie!" exclaimed the old man.
"For her marriage I blame myself, largely. When
Marjorie Dorrance was left an orphan, I was her
nearest relative of an age and position such as to
constitute a moral claim of guardianship. She
visited here when she was eighteen; came like a
flood of sunlight into this house. A beautiful
vivid girl, half-child, half-woman; with a beauti-
ful vivid mind. For her mother's sake, if not for
her own, I should have watched over her, and
warded her against the danger of an 'advanta-
geous' marriage, such as is always imminent in the
set which she entered. Ah, well, I live among
the dust and cobwebs of my own dim interests—
and when I returned from one of my journeys
into the past, I found that Marjorie was engaged
to that wretched creature. Now, he is dead. Let
be. I have seen little of her in late years. God
grant the life with him has not crushed out of her
all her sweetness and happiness."
"While I am no judge of women," said Kent
judicially, "I should venture to aver that it
239


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
hasn't. But about calling on her—my being a
stranger, you see—and in the first days of her
widowhood—social conventions, and that sort of
thing."
The old scholar made a sweeping gesture of
surprising swiftness, suggesting incongruously
the possession of great muscular power. The
cards flew far and wide, from the stand.
"Mist and moonshine, my dear sir! Moon-
shine and mist! Marjorie is one of those rare
human beings who deal honestly with them-
selves. Her husband's death can be nothing but
a welcome release. She feels no grief; she will
pretend to none. Not even to herself. I will take
you to her to-morrow."
"Blair ill-treated her?" asked Kent.
"Oh, ill-treatment! That is a wide term. I
believe that the poor weakling did his best to
keep faith and honor. But ropes of mud are
strong. Those with which he had bound him-
self drew him resistlessly back to the sewers.
Hers was but a marriage of glamour, at best.
And, at the first scent of foulness in her nostrils,
240


CHANCE SITS IN
it became only a marriage of law. Society does
her the justice to believe her faithful to him, and
praises the devotion with which, since his break-
down and retirement, she has given up her world
to devote herself to his care. Essentially the
girl is Puritan in her concepts of duty."
"Does she know anything of the manner of
Blair's death?"
"No one knows much of it, from what I un-
derstand, unless it be Alexander Blair. One of
the family, who went to Hedgerow House for
the funeral, called upon me, as a courtesy due to
Mrs. Blair's nearest relative. Alexander Blair,
he said, was reticent; his dread of publicity is
notorious. But from what he, the relative, could
ascertain, the affair was substantially this: On
the evening before the woman's body was found,
Wilfrid Blair, who had been exhibiting symp-
toms of melancholia, left the house secretly. No
one saw him go; but, about the time that he left,
the unknown woman was seen in the vicinity of
Hedgerow House."
"By whom?"
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"By a half-breed Indian, a devoted servant of
the family, who was practically young Blair's
body-servant."
"Gansett Jim! That helps to explain."
"Whether or not Wilfrid Blair had arranged
a meeting with this woman is not known. As
you know, she was found with her skull crushed,
on the sea beach. Blair was afterward discov-
ered by his half-breed servant, mortally injured,
and was brought home to die."
"That is Alexander Blair's version of the
tragedy?"
"As I understand it."
"Well, it's ingenious."
"But untrue?"
"In one vital particular, at least."
"Are you at liberty to state what it is?"
"Wilfrid Blair never was brought home."
"Ah? In any case, Alexander Blair is striving
to conceal some scandal, the nature of which I
have no wish to guess. By the way, I should
have added that he suspects a third person, an
artist, resident not far from his place, of being
his son's assailant."
242


CHAPTER XVIII
THE MASTER OF STARS
TEN o'clock of the following morning
found the Harvard professor formally
presenting his friend, Chester Kent, to Mrs. Wil-
frid Blair, at the house of the cousin with whom
she was staying.
"My dear," said the old gentleman, '"you
may trust Professor Kent's judgment and in-
sight as implicity as his honor. I can give no
stronger recommendation, and will now take my
leave."
Kent resisted successfully a wild and fearful
desire to set a restraining hold upon the disap-
pearing coat tails, for embarrassment had again
engulfed the scientist's soul. He seized himself
by the lobe of the ear with that grip which
drowning men reserve for straws. And—to con-
tinue the comparison—the ear sank with him be-
neath the waves of confusion. Mrs. Blair's first
words did not greatly help him.
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Have you an earache, Professor Kent?" she
inquired maliciously.
"Yes. No. It's a habit," muttered the caller,
releasing his hold and immediately resuming it.
"Isn't it very painful?"
"Of course it is," said he testily; "when I for-
get to let go in time—as I frequently do."
"As you are doing now," she suggested.
Kent bestowed a final yank upon the dried
fount of inspiration, and gave it up as hopeless.
"I don't know exactly how to begin," he com-
plained.
"Then I will help you," said she, becoming
suddenly grave. "You are here to speak to me
of some topic, wholly distinct from one forbid-
den phase."
"Exactly. You make it difficult for me by that
restriction. And I rather like difficulties—in rea-
son. Let me see. Have you lost any jewels late-
ly, Mrs. Blair?"
The girl-widow started. "Yes. How did you
know?"
"You have made no complaint, or published
no advertisements for them?"
248


THE MASTER OF STARS
"I have kept it absolutely secret. Father Blair
insisted that I should do so."
"They were valuable, these jewels?"
"The rings were, intrinsically, but what I most
valued was the necklace of rose-topazes. They
were the Grosvenor topazes."
"A family relic?"
"Not my own family. My husband's mother
left them to me. They came down to her from
her grandmother, Camilla Grosvenor."
"You speak that name is if it should be recog-
nizable by me."
"Perhaps it would, if you were a New Eng-
lander. She was rather a famous person in her
time. C. L. Elliott painted her—one of his finest
portraits, I believe. And—and she was remark-
able in other respects."
"Would you mind being more specific? It
isn't mere curiosity on my part."
"Why, my uncle could have told you more.
He knows all about the Grosvenors. My own
knowledge of Camilla Grosvenor is merely fam-
ily tradition. She was a woman of great force
of character, and great personal attraction, I
249


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
believe, though she was not exactly beautiful.
When she was still under thirty she became the
leader of a band of mystics and star-worshipers. I
believe that she became infatuated with one of
them, a young German, and that there was an
elopement by water. This I remember, at least:
her body washed ashore on the coast not very
far from Hedgerow House."
"At Lonesome Cove?"
"Yes. The very name of it chills me. For my
husband it had an uncanny fascination. He used
to talk to me about the place. He even wanted to
build there; but Mr. Alexander Blair wouldn't
listen to it."
"Would you know the face of Camilla Gros-
venor?"
"Of course. The Elliott portrait hangs in the
library at Hedgerow House."
Kent took from under his coat the drawing
purchased from Elder Dennett.
"That is the same," said Mrs. Blair unhesitat-
ingly. "It isn't quite the same pose as the finished
portrait. And it lacks the earring which is in the
portrait. But I should say it is surely Elliott's
250


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
was found on the beach near Mr.—near the
Nook."
Her face showed no comprehension. "I have
heard nothing of any body," she replied.
"Did none of the talk come to your ears of a
strange woman found at Lonesome Cove?"
"No. Wait, though. After the funeral, one of
the cousins began to speak of a mystery, and Mr.
Blair shut him off."
"Your necklace was taken from that body."
Her eyes grew wide. "Was she the thief?"
she asked eagerly.
"The person who took the necklace from the
body is the one for whom I am searching. Now,
Mrs. Blair, will you tell me, in a word, how your
husband met his death?"
Her gaze did not falter from his, but a look of
suffering came into her eyes, and the hands in her
lap closed and opened, and closed again.
"Perhaps I can save you by putting it in an-
other form. Your father-in-law gave you to un-
derstand, did he not, that Wilfrid Blair met and
quarreled with—with a certain person, and was
killed in the encounter which followed?"
252


THE MASTER OF STARS
"How shall I ever free myself from the con-
sciousness of my own part in it?" she shuddered.
"Don't—don't speak of it again. I can't bear it."
"You won't have to, very long," Kent assured
her. "Let us get back to the jewels. You would
be willing to make a considerable sacrifice to re-
cover them?"
"Anything!"
"Perhaps you've heard something of this
man?"
Drawing a newspaper page from his pocket,
Kent indicated an advertisement outlined in blue
pencil. It was elaborately "displayed," as fol-
lows:
Your Fate is Written in the Heavens
CONSULT THE
Star-Master
Past. Present and Future are Open Books to His Mystic Gaze
—Be Guided Aright in
Business, Love & Health
Thousands to Whom he has pointed Out the Way of the Stars
Bless Him for His Aid.
Consultation by ArrorNTMENT
Preston Jax
Suite 77 Mystic Block. 10 Royal Street
____
253


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
Mrs. Blair glanced at the announcement.
"Some of my friends have been to him," she
said. "For a time he was rather a fad."
"But you haven't ever consulted him, your-
self?"
"No, indeed."
"That is well. I want you to go there with me
to-day."
"To that charlatan? Why, Professor Kent, I
thought you were a scientific man."
"Translate 'science' down to its simplest terms
in Saxon English," said Kent.
"It would be 'knowing', I suppose."
"Exactly. When I think a man knows some-
thing which I wish to know but do not know, I
try to possess myself of his knowledge, whether
he is microscopist, astrologer, or tinsmith. To
that extent I am a scientist."
"And you expect the stars to tell us something
about my lost topazes?"
"They seem to have had some influence on the
career of the original owner," said Kent, with his
half smile. "And one star has already lighted up
the beginning of the trail for me."
254


THE MASTER OF STARS
"I can't understand your motives," she said.
"But I know that I can trust you. When do you
wish me to go?"
"I have an appointment for us at high noon."
As the clock struck twelve, Kent and Mrs. Blair
passed from the broad noonday glare of the street
into the tempered darkness of a strange apart-
ment. It was hung about with black cloths, and
lighted by the effulgence of an artificial half-moon
and several planets, contrived, Kent conjectured,
of isinglass set into the fabric, with arc lights be-
hind them. A soft-footed servitor, clad through-
out in black, appeared from nowhere, provided
chairs, set a pitcher of water beside them, and
vanished silently. A faint, heavy, but not un-
pleasant odor as of incense, hovered in the air.
The moon waxed slowly in brightness, illumining
the two figures.
"Very well fixed up," whispered Kent to his
companion. "The astrologer is now looking us
over."
In fact, at that moment, a contemplating and
estimating eye was fixed upon them from a "dead"
star in the farther wall. The eye beheld a girl
255


THE MASTER OF STARS
er". One point, however, the connoisseurship
of the Star-master could hardly approve: the
monocle displayed in his visitor's left eye, though
it was reassuring to his professional judgment.
The visitor was obviously "light".
Quitting his peep-hole, the Star-master pressed
a button. Strains of music, soft and sourceless,
filled the air (from a phonograph muffled in
rugs). The moon glow paled a little. There was
a soft rustle and fluctuation of wall draperies in
the apartment. The light waxed. The Star-mas-
ter stood before his visitors.
They beheld a man of undistinguished size
and form, eked out by a splendid pomposity of
manner. To this his garb contributed. All the
signs of the zodiac had lent magnificence to the
long, black, loose robe with gaping sleeves, which
he wore. Mrs. Blair noted with vague interest
that it was all hand embroidered.
Pale and hard the face rose from this somber
and gorgeous appareling. It was a remarkable
face, small, calm, and compacted of muscles.
Muscles plumped out the broad cheeks; muscles
curved about the jaws; muscles worked delicately
257


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
along the club of a nose. The chin was just one
live, twitching muscle. Even the faint screwed
lines at the eye-corners suggested muscle. And,
withal, there lurked in the countenance a sugges-
tion of ingenuousness. The man looked like a
bland and formidable baby. He looked even more
like a puma.
With a rhythmical motion of arms and hands
he came forward, performed a spreading bow of
welcome, and drew back, putting his hand to his
brow, as if in concentration of thought. Marjorie
Blair felt an unholy desire to laugh. She glanced
at Professor Kent, and, to her surprise, found
him exhibiting every evidence of discomposure.
He fidgeted, fanned himself with his hat, mopped
his brow and palpably flinched under the solemn
regard of the mage.
“Stupid of me,” he muttered, in apology. “Gets
on one's nerves, you know. Awesome, and all
that sort of thing, fussing with the stars.”
Preston Jax bestowed a patronizing smile upon
his visitor. Protectiveness, benign and assured,
radiated from him.
“Fear nothing,” said he. “The star forces re-
258


THE MASTER OF STARS
arm, the right one, and his long fingers, gathering
in the ample folds of the gown, pressed nervously
upon the wrist. Preston Jax winced away. All
the excited vapidity passed from Kent's speech at
once.
"The jewels which this lady has lost," he said
very quietly, "are a set of unique rose-topazes. I
thought—in fact, I felt that you could, with or
without the aid of your stars, help her to recover
them."
Blackness, instant and impenetrable, was the
answer to this. There was a subdued flowing
sound of drapery, as if some one were brushing
along the wall. Kent raised his voice the merest
trifle.
"Unless you wish to be arrested, I advise you
not to leave this place. Not by either exit."
"Arrested on what charge?" came half-chok-
ingly out of the darkness.
"Theft."
"I didn't take them."
"Murder, then."
"My God!" So abject was the terror and mis-
261


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
ery in the cry that Kent felt sorry for the wretch.
Then, with a certain dogged bitterness: "I don't
care what you know; I didn't kill her."
"That is very likely true," replied Kent sooth-
ingly. "But it is what I must know in detail.
Find your foot lever and turn on the light."
The two visitors could hear him grope heavily.
As the light flashed on, they saw, with a shock,
that he was on all fours. It was as if Kent's word
had felled him. Instantly he was up, however,
and faced around upon Marjorie Blair.
"Who was she?" he demanded. "Your sister?"
Mrs. Blair was very pale, but her eyes were
steady and her voice under control as she an-
swered:
"I do not know."
"You must know! Don't torture me! I'm a
rat in a trap."
"I'm sorry," she said gently, "that I can't help
you. But I do not know."
"You, then." The Star-master turned upon
Kent. "What am I up against? How did you
find me?"
Thrusting his hand in his pocket the scientist
262


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"All is now ready. You have but to carry out
our arrangements implicitly. The place is known
to you. There can be no difficulty in your rinding
it. At two hours after sundown of July the fifth
we shall be there. Our ship will be in waiting.
All will be as before. Fail me not. Your reward
shall be greater than you dream. Astilea."
Kent looked askance at Mrs. Blair. She was
very white, and her sensitive lips quivered a little,
but she contrived, with an effort of courage which
he marked with a flashing access of admiration,
to smile reassuringly.
"Don't fear for me," she said. "We Dorrances
are of firm fiber."
"So I see," he said warmly. He folded and
pocketed the letter.
"Had you ever been to this place before?"
Kent asked of Jax.
"No."
"Then how did you expect to find it?"
"She sent me a map. I lost it—that night."
"What about the ship?"
"I wish you'd tell me. There wasn't any ship
that I could see."
266


THE MASTER OF STARS
"And the reference to all being as it was be-
fore?"
"You've got me again, there. In most every
letter there was something about things I didn't
understand. She seemed to think we used to
know each other. Maybe we did. Hundreds of
'em come to me. I can't remember 'em all. Some-
times she called me Hermann. My name ain't
Hermann. Right up to the time I saw her on the
Heights I was afraid she was taking me for some-
body else and that the whole game would be
queered as soon as we came face to face."
"It seems quite probable," said Kent with a
faint smile, "that you were taken for some one
else. Your personal appearance would hardly
betray the error, however."
"Well, if I was taken for another man," said
the puzzled astrologist, "why didn't she say so
when she saw me?"
"What did she say when she saw you?"
"Why, she seemed just as tickled to set eyes
on me as if I were her Hermann twice over."
"Exactly," replied Kent with satisfaction.
"Well, how do you account for that?"
267


THE SECRET OF. LONESOME COVE
Passing over the query, the other proceeded:
"Now, as I understand it, you put yourself in
my hands unreservedly."
"What else can I do?" cried Preston Jax.
"Nothing that would be so wise. So do not try.
I shall want you to come to Martindale Center on
call. Pack up and be ready."
"But the police!" quavered Jax. "You said the
place was guarded, and I'd be pinched if I tried
to get out."
"Oh, no," retorted Kent, with a smile. "That
wouldn't have been true, and I never lie. You
inferred that, and wrongly, from my little ruse to
keep you from running away. That you would
be arrested eventually, if you attempted escape
was true. It still is true."
"I believe it," replied Preston Jax fervently,
"with you on my trail."
"Come, Mrs. Blair," said Kent. "Remember,
Jax: fair play, and we shall pull you through
yet."
In the taxi, Marjorie Blair turned to Kent.
"You are a very wonderful person," she said—■
Kent shook his head—"and, I think, a very kind
268


THE MASTER OF STARS
one." Kent shook his head again. "Be kind to
me, and leave me to go home alone."
Kent stopped the cab, stepped out and raised his
hat. She leaned toward him.
"Just a moment," she said. "Perhaps I ought
not to ask; but it is too strong for me. Will you
tell me who the woman was?"
Kent fell back a step, his eyes widening.
"You don't see it yet?" he asked.
"Not a glimmer of light. Unless she was some
—some unacknowledged member of the family."
"No. Not that."
"And you can't tell me who she was?"
"Yes; but not just now. Try to be patient for
a little, Mrs. Blair."
"Very well. Your judgment is best, doubtless.
Of course you know whose hand wrote the body
of that letter?"
"Yes; try not to think of it," advised Kent.
"It isn't nearly so ugly as it seems."
She looked at him with her straight, fearless,
wistful glance.
"He had left me nothing to love," she said
sadly; "but to find disgrace and shame even to
269


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
the end of his life! That is hard. That it should
have been my husband who gave the thing most
precious to me to another woman! But why did
he write the letter to Preston Jax for her to
sign?"
Chester Kent shook his head.


CHAPTER XIX
THE STRANGE TRYST
MIDNIGHT found Kent in the throes of
literary effort. He was striving to com-
pose a letter to Sedgwick that should, in turn,
compose the recipient's perturbed feelings. It
concluded, with some acerbity:
"You've made a pretty complete idiot of your-
self once. Don't try to eclipse your own record."
By which he purposed to convey to the artist
the fact that his presence in Boston was neither
desirable nor advisable. As he was about to affix
his signature, a knock brought him to the door of
his hotel room.
"Letter for you," announced the messenger
boy.
Kent signed the book and received a broad thin
envelope sealed in golden hued wax with the im-
press of a star, and addressed in typewriting to
his own name.
271


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Confound all fools who sign their letters on
the outside!" said Kent, scowling at the seal.
"What has that planetary lunatic got to say that
won't keep?"
What Preston Jax had to say was, first, in the
form of a very brief note; secondly, in the shape
of a formidable-looking document. The note be-
gan "Esteemed sir," concluded "Yours remorse-
fully," and set forth, in somewhat exotic lan-
guage, that the writer, fearing a lapse of courage
that might confuse his narrative when he should
come to give it, had "taken pen in hand" to com-
mit it to writing, and would the recipient "kindly
pardon haste?" Therewith, twenty-one typed
pages.
"Haste!" cried Chester Kent grievously. "Why,
he's written me the story of his life!"
Indeed, at a cursory glance, it appeared so. The
initial paragraph opened, "I was born of poor but
honest parents." Chester Kent groaned. A little
farther down the page the phrase, "Oh, that those
innocent days of my happy childhood might re-
turn!" rose and smote him in the eyes. Chester
Kent snorted. A desperate leap landed him in the
272 ,


i THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
many eloquent pages strewing the floor. That
one paragraph stated that Preston Jax, whose
real name was John Preston, had, after a rebel-
lious boyhood, run away to sea, lived two years
before the mast, picked up a smattering of educa-
tion, been assistant and capper for a magnetic
healer, and had finally formulated a system of
astrological prophecy that won him a slow but
increasing renown. The gist of the system was to
assign some particular and often imaginary star
to every subject, and, by a natural aptitude for
worming out secrets from the credulous, lead
them along the celestial paths of mysticism to a
point where he could reach their pocketbooks.
He had been specially successful with women.
One bit of his philosophy Kent had preserved
unaltered.
"They bite slower than men; but when they do
take hold, they swallow the hook so deep that
you're lucky to get it back at all."
An hour's work with a pencil that should have
been blue resolved the document, under Kent's
skilful and remorseless editorship, into its salient
elements. Obviously it was impossible to put it
274


THE STRANGE TRYST
into alien hands for copying. Kent ordered up a
typewriter and copied it himself. The duplicate
he enclosed in his letter to Sedgwick. The orig-
inal he put aside to sleep upon. Thus it ran:
"This Astrsea affair looked good from the
first," so began Preston Jax's confession, as be-
headed and stripped down by its editor. "It
looked like one of the best. You could smell
money in it with half a nose. She bit first on one
of the occult ads—the number four of the old
series, a double-column with display in heavy-
faced italics and leaded out strong. That ad al-
ways was a good woman-fetcher. Her first let-
ter came in on a Monday, I recollect. It was a big
mail. There were a lot of Curiositys and a couple
of Suspiciouses, and this was one of half a dozen
in the True Believers' pile. Irene, my assistant,
had put the red pencil on it, when she sorted out
the mail, to show it was something special. But
don't get her into this, Professor Kent. If you
do, it's all off, jewels and all. Irene has always
been for the straight star business and forecast
game, and no extras or side lines. Besides, we
were married last week.
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
stores, and the fiercest little business woman in
business hours, you ever knew. It's the romantic
in the sex that sets them skidding when it comes
to stars, and such like. And Astraea was not a
patch on some of them that has been paying me
good sane money for years. That was the letter
she first called me Hermann in and signed Astraea
to. Said there was no use pretending to conceal
her identity any longer from me. Seemed to
think I knew all about it. That jarred me some.
And, with the change of writing in the signa-
ture, it all looked pretty queer. You remember
the last letter with the copperplate-writing name
at the bottom? Well, they all came that way
after this; the body of the letter very bold and
careless; signature written in an entirely differ-
ent hand. I took it to Chorio, the character-
reader, and he said so, too. What's more, he
advised me to quit the game. Said there was
trouble back of that handwriting. Those char-
acter fellows ain't such fools, either!
“But hundred-dollar bills loose in letters mean a
big stake. I wrote her I would come, and I signed
it ‘Hermann', just to play up to her lead. Irene
278


THE STRANGE TRYST
got on and threw a fit. She said her woman's in-
tuition told her there was danger in it. Truth is,
she was stuck on me herself, and I was on her;
but we did not find it out until after the crash. So
i
I was all for prying Astraea loose from her
money, if I had to marry her to do it. She wrote
some slush about the one desperate plunge to-
gether and then the glory that was to be ours.
That looked like marriage to me.
"You saw the last letter. It had me rattled,
but not rattled enough to quit. There was a
map in it of the place for the meeting. That
was plain enough. But the 'our' and 'we' business
in it bothered me. It looked a bit like a third per-
son. I had not heard anything about any third
person. What is more, I did not have any use for
a third person in this business. The stars for-
bade it. I wrote and told her so, and said if there
was any outsider rung in, the stellar courses
would have a sudden change of heart. Then I
put my best robe in a bag and bought a ticket for
Carr's Junction. You can believe that while I
was going through the woods I was keeping a
bright eye out for any third party. Well, he
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
was not there; not when I arrived, anyway.
Where he was all the time, I do not know. I
never saw him. But I heard him later. I can
hear him yet at night, God help me!
"She was leaning against a little tree at the edge
of the thicket when I first saw her. There was
plenty of light from the moon and it sifted down
through the trees and fell across her head and
neck. As neat a bit of stage-setting for my busi-
ness as I could have fixed up myself; and I am
some hand at that. You have seen my place, and
you know. I noticed a queer circlet around her
neck. The stones were like soft pink fires. I had
not ever seen any like them before and I stood
there trying to figure whether they were rubies
and how much they might be worth. While I was
wondering about it, she half turned and I got my
first good look at her face.
"She was younger than I had reckoned on, and
not bad to look at, but queer, queer! Something
about her struck me all wrong; gave me a sort of
ugly shiver. Another thing struck me all right,
though. That was that she had jewels on pretty
much all her fingers. In one of my letters to her
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"From the way she said it I saw she expected
me to say 'No'. So I said 'No'.
"'That was left for me to return and do,' she
went on with a kind of queer joy that gave me the
shivers again.
"'Yes,' I agreed, wishing I knew what she was
driving at, but sticking to my text. 'And here we
are.'
"'Together,' says she. 'Isn't it wonderful!
After all these years. The instant I saw your
statement in the newspaper I knew it was your
soul calling to mine across the ages.'
"You know, Professor Kent, I thought that
was so good I made a note of it for future busi-
ness use. While I was saying it over to myself
she gave me a jar:
"'Our boat is at the shore,' she said.
"In that last letter she mentioned a ship. And,
now, here was this boat business. (Afterward I
looked for a sign of either, but could not find any.
I thought perhaps it would explain the other part
of the 'we' and 'our'.) If I was going to elope by
sea I wanted to know it, and I said as much.
"'Are you steadfast?' she asked.
282


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
what I had written her? No clue, except that the
poor soul was plumb dippy—too dippy for me to
marry at any price. It wouldn't have held in the
courts. Yet, there might have been five thousand
dollars of diamonds on her. It was a tight place.
I wanted to duck the whole thing; but the rings
held me. I have always been dotty about dia-
monds. I suppose she felt me weakening. Women
are queer, that way.
“‘You dare to break our pact?’ she says in a
voice like a woman on the stage. Then she
changed and spoke very gently. ‘You are looking
at these gewgaws,” she said, and took a diamond
circlet from her finger. “What do these count
for?' And she put it in my hand. Another ring
dropped at my feet. Mind, she was giving them
to me. I do not know if it would hold in law, she
being a lunatic; but I was going to take all I could,
on the chance, and watch for a getaway. The dia-
monds had me hypnotized.
“‘These are as nothing compared to what we
shall have,” she went on, “after the plunge. Wait!"
“She had dropped the rope, and now she went
into her paper parcel again, kneeling at my side.
284


THE STRANGE TRYST
I had stooped to look for the fallen ring, when I
felt her hand slide up my wrist, and then a quick
little snap of something cold and close. A brace-
let, I thought. And it was a bracelet!
"'Forever! Together!' she said, and stood up
beside me, chained to me by the handcuffs she had
slipped on my right wrist and her left. Never
you think your nerve is sound till you have felt
something like that. I thought mine was—and I
squalled aloud like a child at a ghost.
"'Hush!' she said, and her free arm pressed
across my mouth.
"'How much to let me off?' I asked as soon as
I could get breath. You see, it flashed on me that
it was a trap. You can never tell, in our line, when
the detectives may be after you, or what kind of
a game they'll put up. I looked around for the
rest of the bunch to come and jump me, but I
didn't see a thing. Her next words put me on.
"'The stars! The stars!' she whispered. 'See
ours, how they light our pathway across the sea.
The sea that awaits us!'
"More breath came back to me. It wasn't a
trap, then. She was only a crazy woman, that I
285


THE SECRET OE LONESOME COVE
had to get rid of. I looked down at the handcuff.
It was of iron, and had dull rusted edges. A
hammer would have made short work of it; but
I did not have any hammer. I did not even have
a stone. There would be stones in the broken
land beyond the thicket. I thought I saw a way.
"'Yes. Let's go,' I said.
"We set out. At the edge of the thicket was a
flattish rock with small stones near it. Here I
pretended to slip. I fell with my right wrist
across a rock, and caught up a cobblestone with
my left hand. At the first crack of the stone on
the handcuff I could feel the old iron weaken. I
got no chance for a second blow. Her hands were
at my throat. They bit in. Then I knew it was a
fight for my life.
"She was light; but she was strong like a pan-
ther. If her dress bound her, I was as bad off in
my robe. At the first grip I was forced back into
a bush, and sprawled there, in a tangle of
branches and flying cloth. Somehow, I twisted
her fingers from my throat. We struggled out
into the moonlight again. I got a fair look at
her face, and I gUess I went mad myself, with the
286


THE STRANGE TRYST
terror of it. The next thing I remember clearly
she was quiet on the ground and I was hammer-
ing, hammering, hammering at my wrist with a
blood-stained stone. I do not know if it was her
blood or mine. Both, maybe, for my wrist was
like pulp when the iron finally cracked open and I
was free. I caught a glimpse of blood on her
temple. I suppose I had hit her there with the
stone. She looked dead.
"All I wanted was to think—to think—to think.
How could I think with her lying there? I crept
out of sight of her and kneeled down. Her star,
the star I had faked for hers, was shining in my
eyes like a cold glare. That very minute a wisp
of cloud blew across and wiped it out, and I heard
myself squeal again. I was pretty much dotty, I
guess.
"While I was trying to think she came alive.
She didn't stir slow and moan like I have seen
men, in my sea days, when they were knocked
out. She was on her feet before I knew it, and
off at a dead run. The broken handcuff went
jerking and jumping around her as she ran. That
was an awful night full of awful things. But the
287


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
one worst sight of all—worse, even, than the find-
ing of her afterward—was that mad figure leap-
ing over the broken ground toward the cliff's
edge.
"Even if I had tried to follow I never could
have caught her. And she was going straight for
her death. She dropped down out of sight into
a hollow and came up on the rise beyond. I yelled
to her to stop, for God's sake to stop. Then I
held my breath to listen for her scream when she
went over. I never heard it.
"But I heard something else. I heard a man's
voice. It was clear and strong and high. There
was death in it, I tell you, Mr. Kent, living hor-
ror gripped at the throat that gave that cry.
Then there was a rush of little stones and gravel
down the face of the cliff. That was all.
"Beyond me the ground rose. I ran up on
it. It gave me a clear view of the cliff-top. I
thought sure I would see the man who had cried
out, from there. Not a sight of him! Noth-
ing moved in the moonlight. I thought he must
have gone over the cliff, too. I threw myself
down and buried my face.
288


THE STRANGE TRYST
"How long I lay on the ground I do not know.
The wisp of cloud had blotted out the woman's
star, now, and by that I knew she was dead. But
the moon was shining high. It gave me light
enough to see my way into the gully, and I stum-
bled and slid down through to the beach.
"I found her body right away. It lay with the
head against a rock. But there was no sign of the
man's body, the man who had yelled. So I thought
perhaps he had not gone over the cliff, and I sat
and waited to see if he would come and care for
her. It was quite clear to me what I must do, if
he did not come. Perhaps my own brain was
queer from the shock and the beating she had
given me with her manacled wrist; but I felt that
before I went away from there I must conceal the
cause of her death, and everything about it that
I could. If it was known how she was killed,
they would be more likely to suspect me.
"I went back and got the rope. I got an old
grating from the shore. I dragged the body into
the sea and let it soak. I lashed it to the grating.
I stripped the jewelry from her. But I could not
take it. That would have made me a murderer.
289


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"There is a rock in the gully that I marked.
Nobody else would ever notice it. Under it I hid
the jewelry. I can take you to it, and I will.
"I got on my coat and sunk my robe in a creek,
and got myself to the railroad station for a morn-
ing train. And when I got home I married Irene,
and I am through with the crooked work forever.
"This is the whole truth. I did not kill her. I
do not know to-day who or what she is. I have
looked in the papers, and there is nothing, and
that is so strange that I would think it was all a
fearful dream, if it was not for my smashed-up
wrist. But if any human being knows more about
the death of Astraea, it must be the man who
shouted as she fell from the cliff, and who went
away and did not come back.
"And may God have no mercy for me if this is
not all a true statement, so far as I know the
truth.
"(Signed) Preston Jax, S-M."


THE SECRET OE LONESOME COVE
ably African derivation, who gave the name of
Jim and declined to identify himself more specif-
ically. While the clerk was endeavoring, with
signal lack of success, to pump him, Lawyer
Adam Bain arrived, and so emphatically vouched
for his predecessor as to leave the desk-lord no
further excuse for obstructive tactics. Shortly
afterward Alexander Blair came in, with a wom-
an heavily veiled, and was deferentially conduct-
ed aloft. Finally, Chester Kent himself appeared,
accompanied by Sedgwick and a third man, un-
known to the clerk, pompously arrayed in frock
coat and silk hat, and characterized by a painfully
twitching chin.
"Who have come?" Kent asked the clerk.
That functionary ran over the list. "Looks
like something to do with the woman found in
Lonesome Cove last week," he essayed hopefully.
Kent glanced out of the window. "It looks
like rain," he observed, "and it looks like wind.
And it looks like a number of things that are any-
body's business. Furthermore, I may mention
that we shall not need, in 571, ice-water, station-
ery, casual messages, calling-cards, or any other
292


in The white room
She glanced carelessly at the rings. "I think
so. Yes. But this is what matters to me."
"These are all that Preston Jax found on the
body."
Alexander Blair leaned from his seat the bet-
ter to take Preston Jax, at the other end of the
crescent, under consideration.
"It was you who found the body?" he de-
manded.
"Yes," said the astrologer uneasily.
"Were you alone when you found it?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. There was a man
somewheres near. I heard him, but I never saw
him."
"Was Mr. Francis Sedgwick with you that
night?" pursued Mr. Blair in measured tones.
"I never saw Mr. Sedgwick until to-day."
There was a little soft sigh of relief from
where Marjorie Blair sat.
"That may or may not be true," said Alex-
ander Blair sternly. "It is the word of a man
who has robbed a dead body, if, indeed, he did not
also kill—"
"Steady, Mr. Blair," broke in Chester Kent.
295


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Perhaps, considering who is present, we would
better approach this in a somewhat calmer spirit."
"I didn't kill or rob any one."
The words seemed to be jerked out from be-
tween Preston Jax's teeth by the spasmodic quiv-
erings of his chin.
"How came you by my daughter's jewels, then,
if you did not take them from the body?"
"Who ever said I didn't take 'em from the
body?" retorted the other. "I did take 'em. But
it wasn't robbery. And what I want to know is,
how did they come to be on the body, anyhow?
What was that Astraea woman doing with your
daughter's rings and necklace? Tell me that!"
"Wait a moment," put in Kent. "Explain to
Mr. Blair, Jax, what your purpose was in taking
the jewels."
"To hide 'em. I thought the less there was on
the body to identify it, the better chance I'd have
of getting away. I was so scared that I guess
I was half crazy, anyway. And now, I hear,
she never has been identified. Is that right?"
Sheriff Schlager half rose from his chair.
"Ain't you told 'em, Professor Kent?"
296


IN THE WHITE ROOM
Kent shook his head.
"Nor you, Mr. Blair?"
"No."
"Then I don't see why we can't keep it
amongst ourselves," said the sheriff. "Gansett
Jim's tight as a clam. Nobody'll ever get any-
thing out of him. And, Lord knows, the less
that's known of it the better I'm suited. I ain't
none too proud of my part in it."
"There is no reason why it should ever be
known outside of this room," said Kent, and, at
the words, Alexander Blair exhaled a pent-up
breath of relief. "But it is due to one person
here that she should know everything. The ques-
tion is how to make it clear in the best and—and
kindest way."
"If it will make it easier for any one here to
speak," said Marjorie Blair, "I can say that
I understand certain phases of my husband's
past life, thoroughly. There is no need to spare
me on that ground."
"But this pertains to a phase that you do not
understand at all."
"Yes, I think so," she persisted gently. "This
297


IN THE WHITE ROOM
"Yes," put in Adam Bain: "they fit in about
as nice as a pink silk hat at a funeral."
"I know what use she had for 'em," muttered
Preston Jax, caressing his wrist. "It's simply a
case of crazy woman; isn't it, Professor Kent?"
"No. Not if you mean that your assailant
was a crazy woman," said Kent patiently.
"Then who, in heaven's name, is or was As-
trsea?" cried Sedgwick.
"Astraea is, I take it, a lady long since dead.
A very strange and interesting lady who adopted
that name for her own peculiar pursuits along
our friend Jax's lines of interest."
"They call themselves all sorts of things," ob-
served the astrologer philosophically. "I had a
follower once that used to sign herself Carrie
Nation, and she wasn't the real Carrie at all.
No name is sacred to 'em when they go dippy
over the stars."
"Then the woman of Lonesome Cove bor-
rowed that name from some old record?" asked
Sedgwick.
"Follow me through a page of unwritten local
history," said Chester Kent, straightening up.
299


THE SECRET OE LONESOME COVE
"The beginning of this story goes back some sev-
enty-five years, when there lived, not far from
Hogg's Haven, in a house which has since been
destroyed, an older sister of Captain Hogg, who
married into the Grosvenor family. She was,
from the evidence of the Grosvenor family his-
torian, who, by the way, has withheld all this
from his pages, a woman of the most extraor-
dinary charm and magnetism. Not beautiful, in
the strict sense of the word, she had a gift be-
yond beauty, and she led men in chains. Her
husband appears to have been a weakling who
counted for nothing in her life after the birth of
her children. Seeking distraction, she flung her-
self into mysticism and became the priestess of a
cult of star-worshipers, which included many of
the more cultivated people of this region. Among
them was a young German mystic and philoso-
pher, who had fled to this country to escape pun-
ishment for political offenses. Hermann von
Miltz was his name."
"That's why she called me Hermann," broke
in Preston, in an awed half whisper.
"Don't jump to wild conclusions," said Kent
300


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"As near a ghost as you are ever likely to en-
counter, probably," answered Kent.
"But, see here," said Adam Bain, "I'm a law-
yer. The law doesn't deal with ghosts or near-
ghosts. Are you trying to tell us, Professor Kent,
that the soul of this long-dead Astrsea-Camilla
Grosvenor, came back to inhabit the body of the
Jane Doe of Lonesome Cove?"
"Not precisely that, either. Everything is
strictly within the limits of the law's cognizance,
Mr. Bain, as you will see. Now I'm going to
make a long jump down to the present. If I fail
to keep the trail clear, anywhere, you are any of
you at liberty to interrupt me. First, then, I want
you to follow with me the course of a figure that
leaves Hedgerow House on the late afternoon of
July fifth. By chance, the figure is not seen, ex-
cept at a distance by Gansett Jim, who suspected
nothing, then. Otherwise it would have been
stopped, as it wears Mrs. Blair's necklace and
rings."
"Dressing the part of Astraea," guessed Law-
yer Bain.
"Precisely. Our jeweled figure, in a dress that
302


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"No," said Sedgwick, "nor do I know to this
day."
"The stranger," continued Kent, "refused to
give Sedgwick any explanation, and when he
threatened to follow, stunned him with a rock,
and escaped. Some distance down the road the
wayfarer encountered Simon P. Groot, the itin-
erant merchant. Sedgwick afterward met him and
made inquiries, but obtained no satisfaction."
"Why was Mr. Sedgwick so eager to recover
the trail, if he had not murder in his mind?" de-
manded Blair.
"You are proceeding on the theory that Sedg-
wick, knowing who Mrs. Blair was, and who the
strange visitor was, deliberately killed the latter
for motives of his own. But Sedgwick can prove
that he was back in his house by nine o'clock, and
we have a witness here who was talking with the
wearer of the necklace at that hour. Jax, let us
have your statement."
Holding the copy of the confession in his hand,
in case of confusion of memory, the Star-master
told of his rendezvous, of the swift savage at-
tack, of the appalling incident of the manacles, of
304


IN THE WHITE ROOM
the wild race across the heights, and of the final
tragedy.
"I've thought and wondered and figured, day
and night," he said, in conclusion, "and I can't
get at what that rope and the handcuffs meant."
"The handcuffs must have come from that
dreadful collection of Captain Hogg's things, in
the big hallway at Hedgerow House," said Mar-
jorie Blair.
"Yes," assented Kent, "and the dim clue to
their purpose goes back again, I fancy, to the
strange mysticism of the original Astraea. The
disordered mind, with which we have to deal,
seems to have been guarding against any such
separation as divided, in death, Astraea from her
Hermann."
"But, Chester," objected Sedgwick, "you speak
of a disordered mind, and yet you've told us that
it isn't a case of insanity."
"Never," contradicted Kent. "You've misin-
terpreted what I said. In the early stages of the
affair I told you, if you remember, that a very
bizarre situation indicated a very bizarre motive.
What could be more bizarre than insanity?"
30S


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Was it suicidal insanity, then?" asked Bain.
"Not in the ordinary and intentional sense."
"Then it was the other man that killed her,"
said Preston Jax; "the man I heard yell, when
she went over. But what became of him?"
"Simon P. Groot spoke of hearing that man's
scream, too," confirmed Bain. "Have you got any
clue to him, Professor Kent?"
"The other man was Francis Sedgwick," de-
clared Alexander Blair doggedly.
Chester Kent shook his head.
"I've got a witness against that theory, from
your own side, Mr. Blair," said he. "Gansett Jim
at first thought as you do. In that belief he tried
to kill Mr. Sedgwick. Now he knows his mistake.
Isn't that so, Jim?"
"Yeh," grunted the half-breed.
"You were out through the countryside that
night trying to trace the wanderer."
"Yeh."
"And later when I showed you the footprints
at the scene of the struggle, you saw that they
were not Mr. Sedgwick's?"
"Yeh."
306


IN THE WHITE ROOM
"You examined the cliff for footprints. Do
you think any one pushed or pursued the victim
over the brink?"
"No."
"Whose were the footprints, that you found,
Jim?" demanded Alexander Blair.
The half-breed pointed, in silence, to Preston
Jax.
"Of course. His and—and the other's. But
there were the marks of a third person, weren't
there?"
"No."
"There must have been," insisted Mr. Blair.
"Are you positive?"
"Yeh."
"Then did the other man, the man whom Jax
heard cry out, walk without leaving any trace?"
"There was no other man," said Chester Kent.
"Don't you understand, Mr. Blair," he added with
significant emphasis, "the source of that cry in the
night, heard by Jax and Simon Groot?"
A flash of enlightenment swept Blair's face.
"Ah-h-h!" he said in a long-drawn breath. Then:
"I was wrong. I beg Mr. Sedgwick's pardon."
307


IN THE WHITE ROOM
For this perversion of their duty, Mr. Blair re-
warded them handsomely. As I understand it,
he dreaded any publicity attaching itself to
Hedgerow House and his family.'
"God knows I had suffered enough of that!"
murmured Blair.
"Let us hope it is now ended. To avoid this,
Mr. Blair was willing even to let the supposed
murderer, whom he believed to be Sedgwick, go
unscathed of justice. By chance, however, I saw
the body on the beach. The most important dis-
covery of all, I missed at that time very stupidly—
the more so in that I had a clue, in the character
of the assault upon Sedgwick—but I could not
overlook the fact that the corpse had not been
washed ashore. Moreover, the matter of the man-
acles stimulated my interest. Not until the in-
quest, however, did I realize the really startling
and unique feature of the case. There is where
you and Doctor Breed made your fatal error, Mr.
Sheriff."
"That's right. You saw the face when we lifted
the lid, I s'pose."
"No. You were too quick in replacing it."
309


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"Then how did you get on to the thing?"
"From seeing the face after the body was re-
turned to the court room."
"Hold on a bit," interrupted Lawyer Bain. "I
remember there was a fuss about the corpse not
being publicly shown for identification. Some of
us insisted. The sheriff gave in. The coffin lid
wasn't quarter off when Breed gave a yell and
clapped it on again, and they took the body back
to his house and shut themselves in with it for
half an hour before they took it to the hall again.
Naturally being suspicious, I looked at it pretty
close; but I didn't see anything queer."
"Possibly you didn't notice a cut on the cheek?"
suggested Kent.
"Yes. Dennett spoke of it and the sheriff shut
him up. But what of it? It might have been done
in any one of a dozen ways."
"But it wasn't there when the body lay on the
beach."
i
"In the rolling and tossing of the journey there
might easily be minor scarifications," said Sedg-
wick.
"True. But, Frank, what did you suppose that
310


THE SECRET OE LONESOME COVE
"The man in the coffin."
"Have you lost your mind, Chet? The body in
the coffin was that of the woman who met me at
the entrance to the Nook."
"No. It was the body of the man who, dressed
in woman's clothing, met you at the Nook, and
knocked you down with a stone flung overhand as
not one woman in a thousand could have thrown
it. That, in itself, ought to have suggested the se-
cret to me, long before I discovered it."
"But how did you discover it?" inquired Sedg-
wick in bewilderment; "since you didn't see the
growth of beard on the dead face yourself?"
"By the cut on the cheek. You see, the sheriff
had failed to foresee that telltale beard. So, when
in deference to Mr. Bain's protest against burial
without a formal view of the body, they opened
up the casket and saw the obvious change in the
face, there was nothing for the officials to do
but remedy their carelessness. They had the
body taken to the house, and did the best they
could. That cut on the cheek was a razor cut.
Having realized that much, I had to deal thence-
forth with the mystery of a dead man masquerad-
312


IN THE WHITE ROOM
ing as a woman, and being abetted in the decep-
tion by the officers of the law—"
"Astraea a man!" broke in Preston Jax, his
chin in a spasm. "No wonder she—he put up such
a fight. Who was he?"
"My son, Wilfrid Blair," said Alexander Blair.
Sedgwick took a swift involuntary step toward
Marjorie, but Kent was before him, setting a firm
hand on his shoulder.
"Not now, Frank," he said. Then, turning to
the girl-widow, "You see, Mrs. Blair," he said
very gently, "it isn't so bad as you feared. There
was no other woman in the case, no disgrace, no
shame. You need feel nothing but pity for an un-
happy wrecked mind, for which death was the
happiest refuge."
Marjorie Blair sat very still and white. "Let
me think!" she whispered. "Let me think!"
"But the man's voice!" exclaimed Jax. "The
voice of the man on the cliff!"
"Wilfrid Blair's," said Kent. "In the final mo-
ment he came to himself. At last he resumed his
voice. Up to then he had been, in voice, manner,
thought, purpose, unconsciously playing a part."
313


IN THE WHITE ROOM
Marjorie Blair got to her feet. She was ghost-
white; but her voice and eyes were steady, as she
faced Kent.
"I must understand this all," she said. "Wil-
frid's body is where?"
"In Annalaka churchyard."
"Then who—what is buried in his grave at
Hedgerow House?"
"Nothing," said Alexander Blair.
"A mock funeral!"
"My dear," said the man—he seemed to have
grown suddenly old under the unspoken arraign-
ment—"I could not tell you what I thought the
truth. I thought then that Wilfrid had encoun-
tered Mr. Sedgwick, and that—that there had
been a fight in which he was killed. Rather than
face the scandal of a murder trial, a scandal in
which the family name would have been dragged
through the mire of the public prints again, I
chose the part of deceit. I'd have bribed a hun-
dred officers of the law rather than have had you
dragged to the witness-stand, and have been com-
pelled to give testimony myself. There has been
enough of public shame in my life."
315


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"But you made me believe that Mr. Sedgwick
killed Wilfrid!" she accused.
"I believed it myself," he retorted.
"But what basis had you for suspecting me of
the crime?" cried Sedgwick, turning to Marjorie
Blair. "You didn't know of his visit to me in
women's clothes. You knew nothing of the quar-
rel, it seems, until just now. For what possible
reason, in your belief, should I have killed him?"
She flushed to her temples. "I—I—thought,"
she murmured, "that he might have known of our
acquaintance, and have misconstrued: that he
might have gone to find you, and attacked you,
•
and that you killed him. In self-defense, I mean."
"Thank you for that last, at least," said Sedg-
wick rather bitterly. Then, as he saw her wince,
"Forgive me!" he added in a low tone. "But, to
be suspected by you, even though you were mis-
led—" He stopped, catching Kent's frowning
glance.
"Who discovered that the burial was a false
one?" she asked, after a pause.
"Professor Kent," said Blair. "He and Mr.
Sedgwick exhumed the coffin."
316


IN THE WHITE ROOM
"That was the night—" her eyes questioned
Sedgwick.
"That I found you at Hedgerow House. Yes,"
he said gently.
"And that my father-in-law charged you with
being my husband's murderer."
"My dear Mrs. Blair!" said Kent uncomfort-
ably. "Remember what justification he thought
he had."
She considered a moment. "You are right,"
she said with an effort. "I don't mean to be un-
just." Her head dropped in thought. "Whatever
Wilfrid may have been," she continued, after a
moment's silence, "he was my husband. I bear
his name. And to leave him in a nameless grave is
to dishonor not him alone, but myself."
"You would claim the body?" cried Alexander
Blair.
"What else is there for us to do?" she coun-
tered.
"And bring down upon us unavoidably the
publicity which we have escaped at so bitter a
price?" cried the elder Blair. "Have we not suf-
fered enough from the scandal of his life, that
317


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
we should be further involved in the scandal of
his death?"
"He's right, miss. It won't do," said the sheriff
kindly.
"Silence is best," said Sedgwick.
"What the papers would do with this," opined
Preston Jax, "would be a plenty."
"My advice is to let be," proffered Lawyer
Bain.
"Yeh," grunted the half-breed.
"Oh, are you all against me?" she cried. "Mr.
Kent, you, too? Do you think me wrong?"
"No," said Kent.
"Will you drag our name, hers as well as mine,
in the mud?" cried the head of the house of Blair.
"No," said Kent again.
"But how, then—tell me what you intend—"
"No," said Kent, and with such absolute flat
finality that the others looked at him in blank si-
lence.
The silence was broken by a tremendous sigh.
All eyes turned to Preston Jax, who had risen
and was leaning against the wall, his chin jerking
galvanically.
318


IN THE WHITE ROOM
"Well?" said Kent.
"What about me?" asked the Star-master mis-
erably.
Kent's fingers twitched at his ear lobe. "Well,
what about you?" he repeated.
"What are you going to do with me?"
"You? Oh! You go back to Irene," said Kent,
with his half smile. "That's your sentence, if
Mrs. Blair approves."
The astrologer drew a quick breath. The light
of a great relief softened his hard little eyes. A
startled look widened them as Marjorie Blair, her
own trouble forgotten for the moment, rose and
went over to him, the reflection of another's hap-
piness shining in her face and making it doubly
lovely. A ring glinted in her outstretched hand.
"Take this," she said softly, "for your Irene.
May you be very, very happy together!"
For the space of five seconds Preston Jax's chin
was motionless. Then a minor cataclysm con-
vulsed it. Speech emerged from that facial quake,
in a half-stutter, half-blubber, wholly absurd and
laughter-provoking and heart-moving.
"Wh-wh-whut'll I say? Whut'll I do, to thank
3*9


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
you, ma'am? I—I—I'll just tell you this. It's me
for the straight-and-narrow from now on. And if
ever you or Professor Kent or any of you want an
A-1, special charted, extra-celestial star-reading
for self or friends, you—you—you c-c-c-come—"
He made a rush for the hallway, and the door
banged a period to his emotion.
"I think," said Chester Kent gravely, "that les-
son will last."
As Marjorie Blair stood smiling, soft-eyed, at
the door whence the overcome Star-master had
disappeared, Sedgwick started to pass. With
quick and unexpected tact, Alexander Blair drew
the sheriff and the lawyer aside, giving to the
young people their moment. She looked up at
Sedgwick with lifted eyebrows.
"Are you not going to speak to me?" she said
sorrowfully.
"What is there to say, except one thing—and
that I may not say now."
"No, no!" she whispered, in affright. "But say
you forgive me."
"You! For what?"
"For having believed, even for an instant, what
320


IN THE WHITE ROOM
Father Blair said, that you were the murderer."
Sedgwick smiled bravely. "That is all past."
"And you'll think of me at least kindly?"
"IH think of you with every beat of my heart,"
he said passionately.
Across her face passed the look of fairy wist-
fulness that was all her own. "No," she said, "it
would be better—for both of us—that you should
forget, for the time."
He leaned over her:
"'What shall assuage the unforgotten pain
And teach the unforgetful to forget?'"
he quoted very low.
"And yet," she persisted, "it would be easier,
now that I am going away."
"Going away! For long?"
She nodded with compressed lips. Sedgwick
turned very white.
"Oh, don't look like that!" she faltered. "I
can't bear it! Can't you see that, after what has
happened, I must go? I must have time to forget.
There is so much to forget! Surely you can be
patient—and trust."
321


REWARDS
always, he was impeccably clad, though his stout
boots showed the usage of recent hard wear.
Leaving Austin that morning, with his light va-
lise slung to his shoulder, he had footed the fif-
teen miles of soggy earth to Sedgwick's place, in
a luxurious tussle against the wind. Throwing
open the door, he called his friend's name.
Instantly the artist came loping down the stairs
and had him by the shoulders.
"I've got a caller up above," he said after the
usual greetings and questionings were over.
"Yes? Have you gone in for local society?"
"Not exactly local. It's Alexander Blair."
"Hel-lo!" said Kent in surprise. "What brings
him?"
"Why, he came down to Hedgerow House to
look after certain books and papers, and ran over
here to make his amende honorable in form.
Chet, I hate being apologized to."
"Of course. Every one does. Nevertheless,
it's good exercise for Mr. A. Blair, Esquire.
Brings into action some muscles of his soul that
might otherwise have atrophied from disuse."
"He's the grim-jawed, hard-bitted Blair of old.
325


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
Just the same, he made his apology as handsome-
ly as need be. I'll bring him down here."
The fabric magnate descended from the studio
and greeted Kent briefly, then turned to his host.
"You will excuse me if I ask Mr. Kent to step
outside. I have some business with him."
"Stay here," said the artist. "I'll go back to
my studio." Which he did.
"When a man once declines employment with
me," said Alexander Blair to Kent, "I never give
him a second chance. That rule I am going to
break. I need your assistance."
"Honored, indeed!" murmured Kent.
"Will you accept the commission?"
"Not if it is like your former offer."
"It is not. It is bona fide. Some one has been
tampering with my son's grave."
"You mean the grave at Hedgerow House?"
"Yes. Gansett Jim reports that there are signs
of recent digging. It looks as if ghouls had been
at work there, with the idea of getting the body
and holding it for ransom. They would have
had a fine surprise if they had got the coffin
out!"
326


REWARDS
"Because they'd have found no body in it, you
mean?"
"Certainly. But suppose they discovered that
there were no remains, nothing but a punctured
sand-bag. Do you see the potentialities of black-
mail?"
"No."
"Then you are stupider than I ever took you
for," growled the magnate.
"Like most things, it depends on the point of
view. I don't think that you are in any danger
of blackmail. But, if I understand the matter,
you want your mind relieved of anxiety on the
point. Very well, I'll take the case."
"That is settled, then," said the older man
briskly. "Now, this being a strictly business deal,
we will discuss terms."
"Oh, there is no room for discussion as to my
terms," said Kent easily. "I make them and you
accept them, that's all."
Alexander Blair's eyebrows drew down in a
heavy scowl.
"Do you know of an old lady named Orcutt
in Annalaka?" pursued the scientist.
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THE SECRET OF. LONESOME COVE
"No."
"She owns the house just next to Annalaka
churchyard, where your son was buried as Jane
Doe. She is a very worthy old lady. But she
suffers severely from asthma. In fact it keeps
her awake most of the night. So some interested
persons have subscribed money, and sent her
south to a sanatorium. I'd like to get you inter-
ested in her case."
"You wish me to subscribe?"
"Oh, more than that. I think it would be a
good idea if you were to assume the entire ex-
pense of the proceedings."
"You mean reimburse the subscribers?"
"Exactly."
For a few seconds the millionaire studied
Kent's candid face. "Very well," he agreed.
"How much?"
"Sheriff Schlager can tell you. He is keeping
the accounts. You see, it was necessary to get
her out of the way. Her windows overlook the
churchyard."
"So you took occasion to indicate before."
"Repetition of a really relevant point is ex-
328


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
heard the little prayer made by that simple coun-
try lawyer over your son's grave. Once in a
while I meet with a really, through-and-through
good man like Adam Bain, and then I have to
reconstruct my whole formula of the average
cussedness of human nature."
Alexander Blair's clenched hands went to his
temples in a singular gesture, and dropped again.
"What interest did Schlager and Bain have in the
matter?" he added in a low tone.
"Why, Schlager had done some dirty work for
you, and wanted to even accounts with his own
conscience. As for Bain, we needed a third man
we could trust. I asked him and got him. It
was no small risk for him. If you felt that his
risk is worth some reward, you might—"
"Yes, yes!" interrupted the other eagerly. "Do
you think a thousand—or perhaps more—"
Kent smiled. "By thinking hard I could think a
thousand," he said. "But not more, in this case.
It wouldn't be safe. Bain might not survive the
shock. Thank you very much, Mr. Blair."
"And now," said the older man, "I am still in
the dark as to your interest in the matter."
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THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
"You see," he said lamely, "it was so sudden,
your—your coming that way. I didn't expect
you."
"And for that reason you intend to bar me
from the house? It's quite disgustingly wet out
here."
With a muttered apology Kent stepped aside,
and she entered. Even amid his ill-ease he
could not but note how the girlish loveliness had
ripened and warmed, yet without forfeiting any-
thing of that quaint appealing wistfulness which
made her charm unique. But there glinted now
in her deep eyes an elfish spirit of mischief, partly
inspired by the confusion of the helpless male
creature before her, partly the reaction from the
mingled dread and desire of the prospective meet-
ing with Sedgwick; for she had come on a sud-
den uncontrollable impulse to see him, and would
have turned and fled at the last minute had not
Kent surprised her. Perhaps there was a little
flavor of revenge for this, too, in her attitude
toward him.
"What a surprise to find you here. Mrs. Kent!"
she remarked sweetly. "Or are you calling your-
334


REWARDS
self Mr. Blair nowadays? And how is your poor
ear?"
Chester Kent immediately seized that unof-
fending member and clung to it with much the
lost and anguished expression of the pale martyr
in the once popular Rock of Ages chromo. His
tormentor considered him with malicious eyes.
"Did any woman ever say 'Boo!' to him sud-
denly, I wonder?" she mused aloud.
Like a saving grace, there came into Kent's
mind a fragment of The Hunting of the Snark,
in which he had just been reveling. Said he
gravely:
"He would answer to 'Hi!' or to any loud cry
Such as 'Fry me' or 'Fritter my wig'!"
She caught up the stanza:
"To 'What-you-may-call-'um' or 'What-was-his-
name!'
But especially 'Thing-um-a-jig.'"
"So you know Lewis Carroll. How really
human of you!"
"It is better to be humane than human," mur-
335


THE SECRET OF LONESOME COVE
mured Kent, relinquishing his aural grip as he
began to touch bottom.
'Ts that a plea? Very well. I shall be very
gentle and soothing. But, oh," she burst out ir-
repressibly, "may the kindly fates give me to be
among those present when you fall in love!"
Kent favored her with an elaborate bow.
"Your presence would be the one essential."
"Really," she approved, "you're progressing.
I begin to feel repaid for my visit, already."
This time Kent looked her in the eye. "You're
not very demanding in the matter of returns for
your trouble," he remarked. "To come through
all this wind and rain and then be content merely
to contemplate the outside of a door—that argues
an humble spirit. To be sure, however, it's a
very good door; one of the most interesting fea-
tures of our local architecture, and may lead to—
all sorts of things."
It was her turn to grow red.
"You haven't asked me about Sedgwick," he
continued.
"Is he well?" she inquired formally, but with
quickened breath.
336


REWARDS
"He is more than that. He is cured—and a
man. A man," he added meaningly, "for any
woman to be proud of."
There was a step on the floor above. Marjorie
Blair's hand went to her heart.
"I didn't know he was here," she panted af-
frightedly. "I came just to—look at the place.
Then I saw the light, and I wanted so to come
in; but I didn't dare. I can't see him now! I
must go! Don't tell—"
Chester Kent raised his voice. "Frank!" he
called. "Come down here! Quick!"
Not twice in his life had Sedgwick heard that
tone in his friend's voice. The bungalow shook
to his long tread across the floor. The studio
door opened and flew shut behind him. He took
the stairs at a leap, and on the landing stopped
dead.
"Marjorie!" he whispered.
She shrank back a little from the light in his
eyes.
"What do you do here?" he said very low.
Still she did not speak, but stood, tremulous,
heV face half panic, half passion.
337











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