HW PASC J

THE
MYSTERY
OF THE
SYCAMORE
CAROLYNESS


4146.5.26.11

KRVARD
EMIA
RISTO
INN
ECCLE
LESIAE
ACAD
CHR
VANC
Harvard College Library
FROM








THE MYSTERY OF
THE SYCAMORE
ALAMAN


-
Sam


THE MYSTERY OF
THE SYCAMORE
BY CAROLYN WELLS
AUTHOR OF
“The Vanishing of Betty Varian," "The Mystery Girl,”
“Anybody But Anne,” “The Come-Back;'“The Curved
Blades," "A Chain of Evidence," "In the Onyx
Lobby," "The Luminous Face," "Rasp-
berry Jam,” etc.
BUNUN
ANIMERERA CAROUSELALU
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers
New York
Published by arrar:gement with J. B. Lippincott Company
Printed in U. S. A.
NORMALNONNENAUDONTONANNONCEN


A414146.5.26.11
(July 19.1926)
Charles motley Clarks
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY STREET & SMITH CORPORATION,
UNDER TITLE OF "THE PARDON TREE"
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY


CONTENTS
CHAPTER
. IOI
37
PAGE
I. THE LETTER THAT SAID COME.......
II. NORTH DOOR AND South Door
III. ONE LAST ARGUMENT..........
IV. THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE.......
V. THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS.
VI. THE OTHER HEIR..
VII. INQUIRIES..
VIII. CONFESSION....
IX. COUNTER-CONFESSIONS .......
X. THE PHANTOM BUGLER.
XI. FLEMING STONE.........
XII. THE GARAGE FIRE.
XIII. SARA WHEELER.....
XIV. RACHEL'S Story.
XV. THE AWFUL TRUTH........
XVI. MAIDA'S DECISION..
XVII. MAIDA AND HER FATHER........
XVIII. A FINAL CONFESSION.......................... 317
• 209
227
245
263
299





THE MYSTERY OF
THE SYCAMORE





THE MYSTERY
OF THE SYCAMORE
CHAPTER I
THE LETTER THAT SAID COME
As the character of a woman may be accurately
deduced from her handkerchief, so a man's mental
status is evident from the way he opens his mail.
Curtis Keefe, engaged in this daily performance,
slit the envelopes neatly and laid the letters down in
three piles. These divisions represented matters
known to be of no great interest; matters known to
be important; and, third, letters with contents as yet
unknown and therefore of problematical value.
The first two piles were, as usual, dispatched
quickly, and the real attention of the secretary centred
with pleasant anticipation on the third lot.
“Gee whiz, Genevieve!”
As no further pearls of wisdom fell from the lips
of the engrossed reader of letters, the stenographer
gave him a round-eyed glance and then continued
her work.


10 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Curtis Keefe was, of course, called Curt by his
intimates, and while it may be the obvious nickname
was brought about by his short and concise manner
of speech, it is more probable that the abbreviation
was largely responsible for his habit of curtness.
Anyway, Keefe had long cultivated a crisp,
abrupt style of conversation. That is, until he fell
in with Samuel Appleby. That worthy ex-governor,
while in the act of engaging Keefe to be his confiden-
tial secretary, observed: “They call you Curt, do
they? Well, see to it that it is short for courtesy.”
This was only one of several equally sound bits
of advice from the same source, and as Keefe had
an eye single to the glory of self-advancement, he
kept all these things and pondered them in his heart.
The result was that ten years of association with
Lawyer Appleby had greatly improved the young
man's manner, and though still brief of speech, his
curtness had lost its unpleasantly sharp edge and his
courtesy had developed into a dignified urbanity,
so that though still Curt Keefe, it was in name only.
“What's the pretty letter all about, Curtie?"
asked the observant stenographer, who had noticed
his third reading of the short missive.
“You'll probably answer it soon, and then you'll :


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME
11
know," was the reply, as Keefe restored the sheet to
its envelope and took up the next letter.
Genevieve Lane produced her vanity-case, and
became absorbed in its possibilities.
“I wish I didn't have to work,” she sighed; “I
wish I was an opera singer."
"• Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition,'
murmured Keefe, his eyes still scanning letters;
' by that sin fell the angels,' and it's true you are
angelic, Viva, so down you'll go, if you fall
for ambition."
“How you talk! Ambition is a good thing."
-“ Only when tempered by common sense and per-
spicacity-neither of which you possess to a marked
degree.”
"Pooh! You're ambitious yourself, Curt.”
“With the before-mentioned qualifications. Look
here, Viva, here's a line for you to remember. I
ran across it in a book. “If you do only what is
absolutely correct and say only what is absolutely
correct--you can do anything you like.' How's
that?”
“I don't see any sense in it at all."
“No? I told you you lacked common sense.
Most women do."
ses


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME
13
as he came into the big, cheerful office and nodded a
kindly good-morning to his two assistants.
“Yes, and a good word,” returned Keefe, smil-
ing. “It says: ‘Come.'” The secretary's attitude
toward his employer, though deferential and respect-
ful, was marked by a touch of good-fellowship—a
not unnatural outgrowth of a long term of confiden-
tial relations between them. Keefe had made him-
self invaluable to Samuel Appleby and both men
knew it. So, as one had no desire to presume on
the fact and the other no wish to ignore it, serenity
reigned in the well-ordered and well-appointed offices
of the ex-governor.
Even the light-haired, light-hearted and light-
headed Genevieve couldn't disturb the even tenor of
the routine. If she could have, she would have
been fired.
Though not a handsome man, not even to be
called distinguished looking, Samuel Appleby gave
an impression of power. His strong, lean face be-
tokened obdurate determination and implacable will.
Its deep-graven lines were the result of meeting
many obstacles and surmounting most of them. And
at sixty-two, the hale and hearty frame and the alert,
efficient manner made the man seem years younger.


14 - THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“You know the conditions on which Wheeler
lives in that house?” Appleby asked, as he looked
over the top of the letter at Keefe.
“No, sir.”
“Well, it's this way. But, no—I'll not give you
the story now. We're going down there-to-day."
“The whole tribe ? ” asked Keefe, briefly.
“ Yes; all three of us. Be ready, Miss Lane,
please, at three-thirty.”
“Yes, sir," said Genevieve, reaching for her
vanity-box.
“And now, Keefe, as to young Sam,” Appleby
went on, running his fingers through his thick, iron-
gray mane. “If he can put it over, or if I can put
it over for him, it will be only with the help of
Dan Wheeler.”
“Is Wheeler willing to help?”
“Probably not. He must be made willing. I can
do it-I think-unless he turns stubborn. I know
Wheeler—if he turns stubborn-well, Balaam's his-
toric quadruped had nothing on him!”
“Does Mr. Wheeler know Sam? ”
“No; and it wouldn't matter either way if he
did. It's the platform Wheeler stands on. If I can
keep him in ignorance of that one plank-


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME 15
“You can't.”
“I know it-confound it! He opposed my elec-
tion on that one point-he'll oppose Sam's for the
same reason, I know.”
“Where do I come in?”
“In a general way, I want your help. Wheeler's
wife and daughter are attractive, and you might
manage to interest them and maybe sway their sym-
pathies toward Sam ”
“But they'll stand by Mr. Wheeler?”
"Probably-yes. However, use your head, and
do all you can with it.”
“And where do I come in?” asked Genevieve,
who had been an interested listener.
“You don't come in at all, Miss. You mostly
stay out. You're to keep in the background. I have
to take you, for we're only staying one night at Syca-
more Ridge, and then going on to Boston, and I'll
need you there."
“Yes, sir,” and the blue eyes turned from him
and looked absorbedly into a tiny mirror, as Gene-
vieve contemplated her pleasant pink-and-whiteness.
Her vanity and its accompanying box were mat-
ters of indifference to Mr. Appleby and to Keefe,
for the girl's efficiency and skill outweighed them and


16 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
her diligence and loyalty scored one hundred per cent.
Appleby's fetish was efficiency. He had found
it and recognized it in his secretary and stenographer
and he was willing to recompense it duly, even gener-
ously. Wherefore the law business of Samuel
Appleby, though carried on for the benefit of a small
number of clients, was of vast importance and pro-
ductive of lucrative returns.
At present, the importance was overshadowed by
the immediate interest of a campaign, which, if suc-
cessful would land the second Appleby in the guber-
natorial chair. This plan, as yet not a boom, was tak-
ing shape with the neatness and dispatch that charac-
terized the Appleby work.
Young Sam was content to have the matter prin-
cipally in his father's hands, and things had reached
a pitch where, to the senior mind, the coöperation
of Daniel Wheeler was imperatively necessary.
And, therefore, to Wheeler's house they must
betake themselves.
“What do you know about the Wheeler busi-
ness, kid ? ” Keefe inquired, after Mr. Appleby had
left them.
Genevieve leaned back in her chair, her dimpled
· chin moving up and down with a pretty rhythm as
m


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME
17
re.
she enjoyed her chewing-gum, and gazed at the
ceiling beams.
Appleby's offices were in his own house, and the
one given over to these two was an attractive room,
fine with mahogany and plate glass, but also pro-
vided with all the paraphernalia of the most up-to-
date of office furniture. There were good pictures
and draperies, and a wood fire added to the cheer and
mitigated the chill of the early fall weather.
Sidling from her seat, Miss Lane moved over to a
chair near the fire.
“I'll take those letters when you're ready," she
said. “Why, I don't know a single thing about any
Wheeler. Do you?"
“Not definitely. He's a man who had an awful
fight with Mr. Appleby, long ago. I've heard allu-
sions to him now and then, but I know no details."
" I, either. But, it seems we're to go there. Only
for a night, and then, on to Boston! Won't I be glad
to go!”
“We'll only be there a few days. I'm more inter-
ested in this Wheeler performance. I don't under-
stand it. Who's Wheeler, anyhow?”.
“Dunno. If Sammy turns up this morning, he
may enlighten us."


18 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Sammy did turn up, and not long after the con-
versation young Appleby strolled into the office.
Though still looked upon as a boy by his father,
the man was of huge proportions and of an impor-
tant, slightly overbearing attitude.
Somewhat like his parent in appearance, young
Sam, as he was always called, had more grace and
ease, if less effect of power. He smiled genially
and impartially; he seemed cordial and friendly to all
the world, and he was a general favorite. Yet so far
he had achieved no great thing, had no claim to any
especial record in public or private life.
At forty, unmarried and unattached, his was a
case of an able mentality and a firm, reliable charac-
ter, with no opportunity offered to prove its worth.
A little more initiative and he would have made
opportunities for himself; but a nature that took the
line of least resistance, a philosophy that believed
in a calm acceptance of things as they came, left
Samuel Appleby, junior, pretty much where he was
when he began. If no man could say aught against
him, equally surely no man could say anything very
definite for him. Yet many agreed that he was a
man whose powers would develop with acquired
responsibilities, and already he had a following.


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME 19
“Hello, little one," he greeted Genevieve, care-
lessly, as he sat down near Keefe. “I say, old chap,
you're going down to the Wheelers' to-day, I hear.”
“ Yes; this afternoon," and the secretary looked
up inquiringly.
“Well, I'll tell you what. You know the gover-
nor's going there to get Wheeler's aid in my election
boom, and I can tell you a way to help things along,
if you agree. See?”
“Not yet, but go ahead.”
“Well, it's this way. Dan Wheeler's daughter
is devoted to her father. Not only filial respect and
all that, but she just fairly idolizes the old man.
Now, he recips, of course, and what she says goes.
So—I'm asking you squarely-won't you put in a
good word to Maida, that's the girl-and if you do it ..
with your inimitable dexterity and grace, she'll fall
for it."
“You mean for me to praise you up to Miss
Wheeler and ask her father to give you the benefit
of his influence?”
“How clearly you do put things! That's exactly
what I mean. It's no harm, you know-merely the
most innocent sort of electioneering— "
| “Rather!" laughed Keefe. “If all electioneering
No


20
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
were as innocent as that, the word would carry no
unpleasant meaning."
“ Then you'll do it?”
“Of course I will—if I get opportunity.”
“Oh, you'll have that. It's a big, rambling
country house-a delightful one, too_and there's tea
in the hall, and tennis on the lawn, and moonlight
on the verandas "
“Hold up, Sam," Keefe warned him, “is the
girl pretty?"
“ Haven't seen her for years, but probably, yes.
But that's nothing to you. You're working for me,
you see.” Appleby's glance was direct, and Keefe
understood.
“Of course; I was only joking. I'll carry out
your commission, if, as I said, I get the chance. Tell
me something of Mr. Wheeler."
“Oh, he's a good old chap. Pathetic, rather.
You see, he bumped up against dad once, and got
the worst of it.”
“How?"
Sam Appleby hesitated a moment and then said:
“ I see you don't know the story. But it's no secret,
and you may as well be told. You listen, too, Miss
Lane, but there's no call to tattle.”


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME 21
“ I'll go home if you say so,” Genevieve piped up,
a little crisply.
“No, sit still. Why, it was while dad was gov-
ernor-about fifteen years ago, I suppose. And
Daniel Wheeler forged a paper—that is, he said he
didn't, but twelve other good and true peers of his
said he did. Anyway, he was convicted and sen-
tenced, but father was a good friend of his, and
being governor, he pardoned Wheeler. But the
pardon was on condition-oh, I say–hasn't dad
ever told you, Keefe?”
“Never."
“ Then, maybe I'd better leave it for him to tell.
If he wants you to know he'll tell you, and if not,
I mustn't.”
“Oh, goodness!” cried Genevieve. “What a
way to do! Get us all excited over a thrilling tale,
and then chop it off short!”
“Go on with it,” said Keefe; but Appleby said,
“No; I won't tell you the condition of the pardon.
But the two men haven't been friends since, and
won't be, unless the condition is removed. Of course,
dad can't do it, but the present governor can make
the pardon complete, and would do so in a minute,
if dad asked him to. So, though he hasn't said so,
cm


22 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
the assumption is, that father expects to trade a
full pardon of Friend Wheeler for his help in
my campaign."
"And a good plan," Keefe nodded his satis-
faction.
“But," Sam went on, " the trouble is that the
very same points and principles that made Wheeler
oppose my father's election will make him oppose
mine. The party is the same, the platform is the
same, and I can't hope that the man Wheeler is not
the same stubborn, adamant, unbreakable old hickory
knot he was the other time."
“ And so, you want me to soften him by persuad-
ing his daughter to line up on our side ? "
“ Just that, Keefe. And you can do it, I
am sure."
“I'll try, of course; but I doubt if even a favorite
daughter could influence the man you describe.”
“Let me help,” broke in the irrepressible Gene-
vieve. “I can do lots with a girl. I can do more
than Curt could. I'll chum up with her and " .
“Now, Miss Lane, you keep out of this. I
don't believe in mixing women and politics."
“But Miss Wheeler's a woman.”
" And I don't want her troubled with politics.


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME
23
Keefe here can persuade her to coax her father just
through her affections—I don't want her enlightened
as to any of the political details. And I can't
think your influence would work half as well as that
of a man. Moreover, Keefe has discernment, and if
it isn't a good plan, after all, he'll know enough to
discard it—while you'd blunder ahead blindly, and
queer the whole game!”
“Oh, well,” and bridling with offended pride,
Genevieve sought refuge in her little mirror.
“Now, don't get huffy," and Sam smiled at her;
“you'll probably find that Miss Wheeler's complex-
ion is finer than yours, anyway, and then you'll hate
her and won't want to speak to her at all."
Miss Lane flashed an indignant glance and then
proceeded to go on with her work.
“Hasn’t Wheeler tried for a pardon all this
time?" Keefe asked.
“Indeed he has," Sam returned, “ many times.
But you see, though successive governors were will-
ing to grant it, father always managed to prevent it.
Dad can pull lots of wires, as you know, and since he
doesn't want Wheeler fully pardoned, why, he
doesn't get fully pardoned.”
“And he lives under the stigma."


24
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Lots of people don't know about the thing at all.
He lives—well—he lives in Connecticut-and-oh,
of course, there is a certain stigma."
“And your father will bring about his full par-
don if he promises "
“Let up, Keefe; I've said I can't tell you that
part-you'll get your instructions in good time.
And, look here, I don't mean for you to make love
to the girl. In fact, I'm told she has a suitor. But
you're just to give her a little song and dance about
my suitability for the election, and then adroitly per-
suade her to use her powers of persuasion with her
stubborn father. For he will be stubborn—I know
it! And there's the mother of the girl . . . tackle
Mrs. Wheeler. Make her see that my father was
justified in the course he took—and besides, he was
more or less accountable to others and use as an
argument that years have dulled the old feud and
that bygones ought to be bygones and all that.
“Try to make her see that a full pardon now
will be as much, and in a way more, to Wheeler's
credit, than if it had been given him at first "
“I can't see that," and Keefe looked quizzical.
“Neither can I,” Sam confessed, frankly, “but
you can make a woman swallow anything."


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME 25
“Depends on what sort of woman Mrs. Wheeler
is," Keefe mused!
“I know it. I haven't seen her for years, and
as I remember, she's pretty keen, but I'm banking on
you to put over some of your clever work. Not three
men in Boston have your ingenuity, Keefe, when
it comes to sizing up a situation and knowing just
how to handle it. Now, don't tell father all I've said,
for he doesn't especially hold with such small meas-
ures. He's all for the one big slam game, and he may
be right. But I'm right, too, and you just go ahead.”
“ All right,” Keefe agreed, “I see what you
mean, and I'll do all I can that doesn't in any way
interfere with your father's directions to me. There's
a possibility of turning the trick through the women
folks, and if I can do it, you may count on me.”
“Good! And as for you, Miss Lane, you keep
in the background, and make as little mischief as
you can.”
“ I'm not a mischief-maker,” said the girl, pouting
playfully, for she was not at all afraid of Sam
Appleby.
“Your blue eyes and pink cheeks make mischief
wherever you go,” he returned; “ but don't try them
on old Dan Wheeler. He's a morose old chap "


26 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“I should think he would be!” defended Gene-
vieve; “living all these years under a ban which
may, after all, be undeserved! I've heard that he
was entirely innocent of the forgery!”
“Have you, indeed?” Appleby's tone was un-
pleasantly sarcastic. “Other people have also heard
that—from the Wheeler family! Those better in-
formed believe the man guilty, and believe, too, that
my father was too lenient when he granted even
a conditional pardon.”.
“But just think-if he was innocent-how awful
his life has been all these years! You bet he'll accept
the full pardon and give all his effort and influence
and any possible help in return.”
"Hear the child orate!” exclaimed Sam, gazing
at the enthusiastic little face, as Genevieve voiced
her views.
“I think he'll be ready to make the bargain, too,”
declared Keefe. “Your father has a strong argu-
ment. I fancy Wheeler's jump at the chance."
“Maybe—maybe so. But you don't know how
opposed he is to our principles. And he's a man of
immovable convictions. In fact, he and dad are
two mighty strong forces. One or the other must
win out-but I've no idea which it will be."


THE LETTER THAT SAID COME 27
“How exciting!” Genevieve's eyes danced. “I'm
so glad I'm to go. It's a pretty place, you say?”
“Wonderful. A great sweep of rolling country,
a big, long, rambling sort of house, and a splendid
hospitality. You'll enjoy the experience, but remem-
ber, I told you to be good.”
“I will remember," and Genevieve pretended to
look cherubic.


CHAPTER II
NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
For Samuel Appleby to pay a visit to Daniel
Wheeler was of itself an astounding occurrence. The
two men had not seen each other since the day, fifteen
years ago, when Governor Appleby had pardoned the
convicted Wheeler, with a condition, which, though
harsh, had been strictly adhered to.
They had never been friends at heart, for they
were diametrically opposed in their political views,
and were not of similar tastes or pursuits. But they
had been thrown much together, and when the time
came for Wheeler to be tried for forgery, Appleby
lent no assistance to the case. However, through
certain influences brought to bear, in connection with
the fact that Mrs. Wheeler was related to the
Applebys, the governor pardoned the condemned
man, with a conditional pardon.
Separated ever since, a few letters had passed
between the two men, but they resulted in no change
of conditions.
As the big car ran southward through the Berk-
shire Hills, Appleby's thoughts were all on the com-
28


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
29
ing meeting, and the scenery of autumn foliage that
provoked wild exclamations of delight from Gene-
vieve and assenting enthusiasm from Keefe left the
other unmoved.
An appreciative nod and grunt were all he vouch-
safed to the girl's gushing praises, and when at last
they neared their destination he called her attention
to a tall old sycamore tree standing alone on a ridge
not far away.
“That's the tree that gives the Wheeler place
its name," he informed. “Sycamore Ridge is one
of the most beautiful places in Connecticut."
"Oh, are we in Connecticut?” asked Miss
Lane. “I didn't know we had crossed the border.
What a great old tree! Surely one of the historic
trees of New England, isn't it?”
“Historic to the Wheelers," was the grim reply,
and then Mr. Appleby again relapsed into silence and
spoke no further word until they reached the
Wheeler home.
A finely curved sweep of driveway brought them
to the house, and the car stopped at the south
entrance.
The door did not swing open in welcome, and
Mr. Appleby ordered his chauffeur to ring the bell.


30
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
This brought a servant in response, and the visit-
ing trio entered the house.
It was long and low, with many rooms on either
side of the wide hall that went straight through from
south to north. The first room to the right was a
large living-room, and into this the guests were
shown and were met by a grave-looking man, who
neither smiled nor offered a hand as his calm gaze
rested on Samuel Appleby.
Indeed, the two men stared at one another, in un-
disguised curiosity. Each seemed to search the
other's face for information as to his attitude
and intent.
“Well, Dan,” Appleby said, after the silent scru-
tiny, “you've changed some, but you're the same
good-looking chap you always were."
Wheeler gave a start and pulled himself
together.
“Thank you. I suppose I should return the
compliment."
“But you can't conscientiously do it, eh?”
Appleby laughed. “Never mind. Personal vanity is
not my besetting sin. This is my secretary, Mr.
Keefe, and my assistant, Miss Lane."
“Ah, yes, yes. How are you? How do you do?


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
31
My wife and daughter will look after the young
lady. Maida!”
As if awaiting the call, a girl came quickly in
from the hall followed by an older woman. Intro
ductions followed, and if there was an air of con-
straint on the part of the host the ladies of the
family showed none. Sunny-faced Maida Wheeler,
with her laughing brown eyes and gold brown hair,
greeted the visitors with charming cordiality, and her
mother was equally kind and courteous.
Genevieve Lane's wise and appraising eyes
missed no point of appearance or behavior.
“ Perfect darlings, both of them!” she com-
mented to herself. “Whatever ails the old guy, it
hasn't bitten them. Or else—wait a minute "
Genevieve was very observant—"perhaps they're
putting on a little. Is their welcome a bit extra, to
help things along?”
Yet only a most meticulous critic could discern
anything more than true hospitality in the attitude of
Mrs. Wheeler or Maida. The latter took Genevieve
to the room prepared for her and chatted away in
girlish fashion.
“The place is so wonderful!” Genevieve ex-


32 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
claimed, carefully avoiding personal talk. “Don't
you just adore it?”
“Oh, yes. I've loved Sycamore Ridge for nearly
fifteen years."
“Have you lived here so long?” Genevieve was
alert for information. It was fifteen years ago that
the pardon had been granted.
But as Maida merely assented and then changed
the subject, Miss Lane was far too canny to ask
further questions.
With a promptness not entirely due to chance, the
stenographer came downstairs dressed for dinner
some several minutes before the appointed hour.
Assuming her right as a guest, she wandered about
the rooms.
The south door, by which they had entered, was
evidently the main entrance, but the opposite, or
north door, gave on to an even more beautiful view,
and she stepped out on the wide veranda and gazed
admiringly about. The low ridge nearby formed the
western horizon, and the giant sycamore, its straight
branches outlined against the fading sunset, was
impressive and a little weird. She strolled on, and
turned the corner the better to see the ridge. The
veranda ran all round the house, and as she went on


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
33
along the western side, she suddenly became aware
of a silent figure leaning against a pillar at the
southwest corner.
“It is so quiet it frightens me," she said to
Daniel Wheeler, as she neared him.
“Do you feel that way, too?” he asked, looking
at her a little absently. “It is the lull before
the storm."
“Oh, that sunset doesn't mean rain," Genevieve
exclaimed, smiling, “unless your Connecticut blue
laws interpret weather signs differently from our
Massachusetts prophets. We are in Connecticut,
aren't we?"
“Yes," and Wheeler sighed unaccountably.
“ Yes, Miss Lane, we are. That sycamore is the
finest tree in the state.”
"I can well believe it. I never saw such a
grandfather of a tree! It's all full of little balls."
“Yes, buttonballs, they are called. But note its
wonderful symmetry, its majestic appearance "
“And strength! It looks as if it would stand
there forever!”
“Do you think so ? ” and the unmistakable note
of disappointment in the man's tone caused Gene-


34 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
vieve to look up in astonishment. “Well, perhaps
it will,” he added quickly.
“Oh, no, of course it won't really! No tree
stands forever. But it will be here long after you
and I are gone."
“Are you an authority on trees? " Wheeler spoke
without a smile.
“ Hardly that; but I was brought up in the coun-
try, and I know something of them. Your daughter
loves the country, too."
“Oh, yes—we all do."
The tone was courteous, but the whole air of the
man was so melancholy, his cheerfulness so palpably.
assumed, that Genevieve felt sorry for him, as well
as inordinately curious to know what was the matter.
But her sympathy was the stronger impulse, and
with a desire to entertain him, she said, “ Come for
a few steps in the garden, Mr. Wheeler, won't you?
Come and show me that quaint little summer-house
near the front door. It is the front door, isn't it?
It's hard to tell.”
“Yes, the north door is the front door," Wheeler
said slowly, as if repeating a lesson. “The summer-
house you mention is near the front door. But we
won't visit that now. Come this other way, and


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
35
I'll show you a Japanese tea-house, much more
attractive."
But Genevieve Lane was sometimes under the
spell of the Imp of the Perverse.
“No, no," she begged, smilingly, “ let the Japan-
ese contraption wait; please go to the little summer-
house now. See, how it fairly twinkles in the last
gleams of the setting sun! What is the flower that
rambles all over it? Oh, do let's go there now!
Come, please!”
With no reason for her foolish insistence save a
whim, Genevieve was amazed to see the look of fury
that came over her host's face.
“ Appleby put you up to that!” he cried, in a
voice of intense anger. “He told you to ask me to go
to that place!”
“Why, Mr. Wheeler,” cried the girl, almost
frightened, “Mr. Appleby did nothing of the sort!
Why should he! I'm not asking anything wrong,
am I? Why is it so dreadful to want to see an arbor
instead of a tea-house? You must be crazy!”
When Miss Lane was excited, she was quite
apt to lose her head, and speak in thoughtless fashion.
But Mr. Wheeler didn't seem to notice her infor-
mality of speech. He only stared at her as if he


36
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
couldn't quite make her out, and then he suddenly
seemed to lose interest in her or her wishes, and
with a deep sigh, he turned away, and fell into
the same brooding posture as when she had first
approached him.
“Come to dinner, people,” called Maida's pretty
voice, as, with outstretched hands she came toward
them. “Why, dads, what are you looking miserable
about? What have you done to him, Miss Lane?”
“ Maida, child, don't speak like that! Miss Lane
has been most kindly talking to me, of-of the beau-
ties of Sycamore Ridge.”
“ All right, then, and forgive me, Miss Lane.
But you see, the sun rises and sets for me in one
Daniel Wheeler, Esquire, and any shadow on his
face makes me apprehensive of its cause."
Only for an instant did Genevieve Lane's sense
of justice rise in revolt, then her common sense
showed her the better way, and she smiled pleas-
antly and returned:
“I don't blame you, Miss Wheeler. If I had a
father, I should feel just the same way, I know.
But don't do any gory-lock-shaking my way. I
assure you I didn't really scold him. I only kicked
because he wouldn't humor my whim for visiting


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
37
was
the summer-house with the blossoms trailing over it!
Was that naughty of me?"
But though Genevieve listened for the answer,
none came.
“Come on in to dinner, daddy, dear," Maida
repeated. “Come, Miss Lane, they're waiting
for us."
Dinner was a delightful occasion.
Daniel Wheeler, at the head of his own table,
was a charming host, and his melancholy entirely
disappeared as the talk ran along on subjects grave
or gay, but of no personal import.
Appleby, too, was entertaining, and the two men,
with Mrs. Wheeler, carried on most of the conver-
sation, the younger members of the party being by
what seemed common consent left out of it.
Genevieve looked about the dining-room, with
a pleased interest. She dearly loved beautiful ap-
pointments and was really imagining herself mistress
of just such a house, and visioning herself at the
head of such a table. The long room stretched from
north to south, parallel with the hall, though not
adjoining. The table was not in the centre, but
toward the southern end, and Mr. Wheeler, at the


38
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
end near the windows, had Keefe and Miss Lane
on either side of him.
Appleby, as guest of honor, sat at Mrs. Wheeler's
right, and the whole effect was that of a formal
dinner party, rather than a group of which two were
merely office employés.
“ It is one of the few remaining warm evenings,”
said Mrs. Wheeler, as she rose from the table, “we
will have our coffee on the veranda. Soon it will
be too cool for that.”
“Which veranda?" asked Genevieve of Maida,
as they went through the hall. “The north one,
I hope.”
“Your hopes must be dashed,” laughed the other,
“ for it will be the south one. Come along."
The two girls, followed by Keefe, took possession
of a group of chairs near Mrs. Wheeler, while the
two older men sat apart, and soon became engrossed
in their own discussions.
Nor was it long before Samuel Appleby and his
host withdrew to a room which opened on to that
same south veranda, and which was, in fact, Mr.
Wheeler's den.
“Well, Sam,” Keefe heard the other say, as he
san


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
39
drew down the blind, "we may as well have it out
now. What are you here for?”
Outwardly placid, but almost consumed with
curiosity, Curt Keefe changed his seat for one nearer
the window of the den. He hoped to hear the dis-
cussion going on inside, but was doomed to disap-
pointment, for though the murmuring of the voices
was audible, the words were not distinct, and Keefe
gathered only enough information to be sure that
there was a heated argument in progress and that
neither party to it was inclined to give in a
single point.
Of course, he decided, the subject was the com-
ing election campaign, but the details of desired
bargaining he could not gather.
Moreover, often, just as he almost heard sen-
tences of interest, the chatter of the girls or some
remark of Mrs. Wheeler's would drown the voices of
the men in the room.
One time, indeed, he heard clearly: “When the
Sycamore on the ridge goes into Massachusetts ”
but this was sheer nonsense, and he concluded he must
have misunderstood.
Later, they all forgathered in the living-room and
there was music and general conversation.


40
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Genevieve Lane proved herself decidedly enter-
taining, and though Samuel Appleby looked a little
amusedly at his stenographer, he smiled kindly at her
as he noticed that she in no way overstepped the
bounds of correct demeanor.
Genevieve was thinking of what Keefe had said
to her : "If you do only what is absolutely correct
and say what is only absolutely correct, you can do
whatever you like."
She had called it nonsense at the time, but she
was beginning to see the truth of it. She was careful
that her every word and act should be correct, and
she was most decidedly doing as she liked. She made
good with Mrs. Wheeler and Maida with no trouble
at all; but she felt, vaguely, that Mr. Wheeler didn't
like her. This she set about to remedy.
Going to his side, as he chanced to sit for a
moment alone, she smiled ingratiatingly and said:
"I wonder if you can imagine, sir, what it means
to me to see the inside of a house like this?”.
“Bless my soul, what do you mean?" asked
Wheeler, puzzled at the girl's manner.
“It's like a glimpse of Fairyland," she went on.
“You see, I'm terribly ambitiousoh, fearfully so!
And all my ambitions lead to just this sort of a home.


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR 41
Do you suppose I'll ever achieve it, Mr. Wheeler?”
Now the girl had truly wonderful magnetic
charm, and even staid old Dan Wheeler was not in-
sensible to the note of longing in her voice, the sim-
ple, honest admission of her hopes.
“Of course you will, little one," he returned,
kindly. “I've heard that whatever one wants, one
gets, provided the wish is strong enough.” He spoke
directly to her, but his gaze wandered as if his
thoughts were far away.
"Do you really believe that?" Genevieve's big
blue eyes begged an affirmation.
“I didn't say I believed it, I said I have heard
it.” He smiled sadly. “Not quite the same so far
as I'm concerned; but quite as assuring to you. Of
course, my belief wouldn't endorse the possibility.”
“It would for me," declared Genevieve. “I've
lots of confidence in other people's opinions
“ Anybody's?”
“ Anybody whom I respect and believe in.”
" Appleby, for instance?”
“Oh, yes, indeed! I'd trust Mr. Appleby's opin-
ions on any subject. Let's go over there and tell
him so."
Samuel Appleby was sitting at the other end,


42 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
the north end of the long room. “No," said
Wheeler, “ I'm too comfortable here to move-ask
him to come here."
Genevieve looked at him a little astonished. It
was out of order, she thought, for a host to speak
thus. She pressed the point, saying there was a pic-
ture at the other end of the room she wished
to examine.
“Run along, then," said Wheeler, coolly.
“Here, Maida, show Miss Lane that etching and tell
her the interesting details about it."
The girls went away, and soon after Keefe
drifted round to Wheeler's side.
“You know young Sam Appleby?” he asked,
casually.
“No," Wheeler said, shortly but not sharply.
“I daresay he's a most estimable chap."
“He's all of that. He's a true chip of the old
block. Both good gubernatorial timber, as I'm sure
you agree."
“What makes you so sure, Mr. Keefe?"
Curt Keefe looked straight at him. “Well,” he
laughed, “ I'm quite ready to admit that the wish was
father to the thought.”
“Why do you call that an admission?”


44. THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“ Pretend? Of course not. But could you not
be persuaded ?”
“By what means? "
“I don't know, Mr. Wheeler," and Keefe looked
at him frankly. “I truly don't know by what means.
But I do know that Mr. Appleby is here to present
to you an argument by which he hopes to persuade
you to help young Sam along—and I earnestly desire
to add any word of mine that may help influence
your decision. That is why I want to tell you of
the good traits of Sam Appleby, junior. It may be
I can give you a clearer light on his character than
his father could do that is, I might present it as
the opinion of a friend— ”
“And not exaggerate his virtues as a father
might do? I see. Well, Mr. Keefe, I appreciate
your attitude, but let me tell you this: whatever I
do or don't do regarding this coming campaign of
young Appleby will be entirely irrespective of the
character or personality of that young man. It will
all depend on the senior Appleby's arrangements with
me, and my ability to change his views on some of
the more important planks in his platform. If he
directed you to speak to me as you have done, you
may return that to him as my answer."


NORTH DOOR AND SOUTH DOOR
45
“ You, doubtless, said the same to him, sir?”.
“Of course I did. I make no secret of my posi-
tion in this matter. Samuel Appleby has a hold over
me-I admit that—but it is not strong enough to
make me forget my ideas of right and wrong to the
public. No influence of a personal nature should
weigh against any man's duty to the state, and I will
never agree to pretend to any dissimulation in order
to bring about a happier life for myself.”
“But need you subscribe to the objectionable
points to use your influence for young Sam?”
“Tacitly, of course. And I do not choose even
to appear to agree to principles abhorrent to my sense
of justice and honesty, thereby secretly gaining some-
thing for myself.”
“Meaning your full pardon?”
Wheeler turned a look of surprise on the speaker.
“I thought you said you hadn't Appleby's full
confidence,” he said.
“Nor have I. I do know--as do many men-
that you were pardoned with a condition, but
the condition I do not know. It can't be very
galling." And Keefe looked about on the pleas-
ant surroundings.
“You think not? That's because you don't know


46 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
the terms. And yet, galling though they are, hateful
though it makes my life, and the lives of my wife
and daughter, we would all rather bear it than to
deviate one iota from the path of strict right.”
“I must admire you for that, as must any honor-
able man. But are there not degrees or shadings of
right and wrong- "
"Mr. Keefe, as an old man, I take the privilege
of advising you for your own good. All through
your life I beg you remember this: Anyone who
admits degrees or shadings of right or wrong—is
already wrong. Don't be offended; you didn't claim
those things, you merely asked the question. But,
remember what I said about it.”


CHAPTER III
ONE LAST ARGUMENT
ADJOINING the bedroom of Samuel Appleby at
Sycamore Ridge was a small sitting-room, also at his
disposal. Here, later that same evening he sat in
confab with his two assistants.
“We leave to-morrow afternoon,” he said to
Keefe and Miss Lane. “But before that, we've much
to do. So far, we've accomplished nothing. I am a
little discouraged but not disheartened. I still have
a trump card to play, but I don't want to use it
unless absolutely necessary.”
“If you were inclined to take us further into
your confidence, Mr. Appleby," Keefe began, and
the older man interrupted :
“That's just what I propose to do. The time has
come for it. Perhaps if you both know the situation
you may work more intelligently.”
“Sure we could!” exclaimed Genevieve. She
was leaning forward in her chair, clasping her knees,
her pretty evening frock disclosing her babyishly
soft neck and arms; but without a trace of self-con-


48 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
sciousness, she thought only of the subject they
were discussing.
“There's something queer,” she went on. “I
can't see through it. Why does Mr. Wheeler act so
polite most of the time, and then do some outrageous
thing, like "
“ Like what?"
"Like refusing to cross the room-or-why, he
declined point-blank to go with me to the north
arbor, yet was perfectly willing to take me to the
Japanese tea-house!”.
“That's just the point of the whole thing," said
Appleby, seriously; "here's the explanation in a
nutshell. Years ago, Daniel Wheeler was pardoned
for a crime he had committed "
“ He did commit it, then?” interrupted Keefe.
“He was tried and convicted. He was sen-
tenced. And I, being governor at the time, par-
doned him on the one condition, that he never again
set foot inside the boundaries of the State of
Massachusetts."
“Whee!” exclaimed Genevieve; “never go
to Boston!”
“Nor anywhere else in the state. But this is the
complication: Mrs. Wheeler, who is, by the way, a


ONE LAST ARGUMENT
49
distant connection of my own family, inherited a
large fortune on condition that she live in Massa-
chusetts. So you see, the situation was peculiar.
To keep her inheritance, Mrs. Wheeler must live in
Massachusetts. Yet Mr. Wheeler could not enter the
state without forfeiting his pardon.”
“What a mess!” cried Genevieve, but Keefe
said: “You planned that purposely, Mr. Appleby?”
“Of course," was the straightforward reply.
“ Then I don't see how you can expect Mr.
Wheeler's help in the campaign.”
“By offering him a complete pardon, of course."
“But go on with the story," demanded Gene-
vieve. “What did they do about the Massachu-
setts business? ”
“ As you see," returned Appleby, " this house
is built on the state line between Massachusetts and
Connecticut. It is carefully planned and built, and
all the rooms or parts of rooms that Mr. Wheeler
uses or enters are on the Connecticut side, yet the
house is more than half in Massachusetts, which
secures the estate to Mrs. Wheeler.”
“Well, I never!” Genevieve exclaimed. “So
that's why he can't go to the north arbor-it's
in Massachusetts !”


50 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Of course it is. Also, he never goes into the
northern end of the dining-room or the living-room."
“Or hall."
“Or hall. In fact, he merely is careful to keep
on his own side of a definitely drawn line, and there-
fore complies with the restrictions. His den and
his own bedroom and bath are all on the south side,
while Mrs. Wheeler has a sitting-room, boudoir, and
so forth, on the north side. She and Maida can go
all over the house, but Mr. Wheeler is restricted.
However, they've lived that way so long, it has be-
come second nature to them, and nobody bothers
much about it.”
“Do people know?” asked Keefe. “The neigh-
bors, I mean.”
“Oh, yes; but, as I say, it makes little confusion.
The trouble comes, as Miss Lane suggested, when
Wheeler wants to go to Boston or anywhere
in Massachusetts.
“Yet that is a small thing, compared with his
freedom," observed Keefe; “I think he got
off easy."
“But with Wheeler it isn't so much the depriva-
tion as the stigma. He longs for a full pardon, and
would do most anything to have it, but he refuses


52 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
too accustomed to his limitations to be caught nap-
ping, and not even your charms could decoy him
over intentionally.”
“ Think so? Probably you're right. Well, sup-
pose I try to work through Maida. If I could per-
suade Mr. Wheeler that she suffers from the stigma
of her father's incomplete pardon-
“Yes, that's it. This thing can't be accomplished
by brutal threats, it must be done by subtle suggestion
and convincing hints."
“That's my idea," agreed Keefe. “If I can talk
straight goods to Miss Wheeler and make her see
how much better it would be for her father in his
latter years to be freed from all touch of the past
disgrace, she might coax him to listen to you."
“That's right. Now, you know what you're here
for; just do what you can—but don't make a mess
of things. I'd rather you did nothing than to do
some fool thing!”
“Trust us!” Genevieve encouraged him, as she
rose. “Me and Curt may not put over a big deal,
but we won't do anything silly."
The two men smiled as the girl, with a pleasant
good-night, went away to her own room.
“She's true blue," said Keefe.
m


ONE LAST ARGUMENT
53
“Yes, she is,” Appleby nodded. “ All her frivol-
ity is on the surface, like her powder and paint. At
heart, that child has only my interests. I quite
appreciate it."
“I hope you think the same of me, Mr. Appleby.”
“I do, Keefe. More, I trust you with my most
confidential matters. I'll own I want this business
here to come out in my favor. I can't push Wheeler
too hard-so I ask your help. But, as I hinted, I've
one rod yet in pickle. If necessary, I'll use it, but I'd
rather not."
“Of course I hope you won't have to, but, I'll
admit I don't see much chance of succeeding with
the present outlook.”
“To-morrow morning will tell. If we can't work
the thing through by noon, say—I'll spring my last
trap. Good-night, Keefe.”
“Good-night, Mr. Appleby.”
Without apparent coercion the morning hours
brought about a cozy session on the south veranda
with Miss Lane and Daniel Wheeler in attendance,
while at the same time, Keefe and Maida wandered
over the beautiful park of the estate.
Keefe had gently guided the conversation into con-
fidential channels, and when he ventured to sympa-


54 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
thize with the girl in regard to her father's depriva-
tion he was surprised at her ready acceptance of it.
“Oh, you know, don't you, Mr. Keefe!” she
exclaimed. “But you don't know all it means to me.
You see”-she blushed but went steadily on-"you
see, I'm engaged toto a man I adore. And
“Don't tell me if you'd rather not,” he
murmured.
“No, it's a relief to tell—and, somehow-you
seem so wise and strong "
“Go on then-please."
The kind voice helped her and Maida re-
sumed: “Well, Jeff-Mr. Allen, lives in Boston,
and so "
"So it would be very awkward if your father
couldn't go there."
“Not only that—but I've made a vow never to
step foot into Massachusetts until my father can do
so, too. Nothing would induce me to break
that vow!”
“Not even your lover?" said Keefe, astonished.
“No; my father is more to me than any lover.”
"Then you don't truly love Mr. Allen.”
“Oh, yes, I do I do! But father is my idol.


ONE LAST ARGUMENT
55
I don't believe any girl ever adored her father as I do.
All my life I've had only the one object-to make
him forget-as far as possible, his trouble. Now,
if I were to marry and leave him—why, I simply
couldn't do it!”
“ Can't Mr. Allen live in Connecticut ? "
“No; his business interests are all in Boston, and
he can't be transplanted. Oh, if father could only
do what Mr. Appleby wants him to, then we could
all be happy."
“ Can't you persuade him?"
" I've tried my best. Mother has tried, too. But,
you see, it's a matter of principle, and when principle
is involved, we are all in the same boat. Mother and
I would scorn any wrongdoing quite as much as
father does.”
“And you'll give up your life happiness for
a principle?”
“Of course. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't every
decent person? I couldn't live at all, if I were know-
ingly doing wrong.”
“But your- "Keefe stopped abruptly.
“I know what you were going to say,” Maida
spoke sadly; "you were going to say my father did
wrong. I don't believe he did."


56 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Don't you know?"
“I know in my own heart. I know he is incapa-
ble of the crime he was charged with. I'm sure he is
shielding some one else, or else some one did it of
whom he has no knowledge. But my father commit
a crime? Never!”.
“Do you care to tell me the details ? "
"I don't know why I shouldn't. It was long ago,
you know, and dad was accused of forgery. It was
proved on him—or the jury thought it was—and he
was convicted-
"And sentenced ?”
“ Yes; to a long prison term. But Governor
Appleby pardoned him with that mean old proviso,
that he never should step into Massachusetts !”
"Was your mother then the heir to the Massa-
chusetts property?”
“No; but Mr. Appleby knew she would be. So,
when she did inherit, and had to live in Massachu-
setts to hold the estate, Mr. Appleby thought he had
dad where he wanted him.”
“Were they foes?”.
“ Politically, yes. Because dad did all he could to
keep Mr. Appleby from being governor.”
“ But didn't succeed?"


ONE LAST ARGUMENT
57
“No; but almost. So, then, Mr. Appleby did this
pardon trick to get even with father, and I think it
turned out more serious than he anticipated. For
mother took up the feud, and she got lawyers and
all that and arranged to have the house built on the
line between the states !”
“Was the estate she inherited on both sides of
the line?”
“Oh, no; but it was near the southern border
of Massachusetts, and she bought enough adjoining
land to make the arrangement possible.”
“Then the house isn't on the ground she
inherited?”
“Not quite, but the lawyers decided it so that
she really complies with the terms of the will, so it's
all right.”
“Was your mother the only heir?”
“So far as we can find out. I believe there was
another branch of the family, but we haven't been
able to trace it, so as the years go by, we feel more
and more confident there's no other heir. Of course,
should one turn up, his claim would be recognized.”
Further talk quickly convinced Keefe that there
was no hope of persuading Maida Wheeler to in-
fluence or advise her father in any direction other
than his idea of right. No amount of urging or


58 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
arguing would make Wheeler see his duty other
than he now saw it, or make Maida endeavor to
change his views. With a sigh over his failure,
Keefe deftly turned the talk in other channels, and
then they strolled back to the house.
As was to be expected, Genevieve had made no
progress with her part of the plan. Her talk with
Mr. Wheeler had availed nothing. He was cour-
teous and kind; he was amused at her gay, merry
little ways; he politely answered her questions, both
serious and flippant, but absolutely nothing came of
it all.
Samuel Appleby had a short but straightforward
conversation with Mrs. Wheeler.
“Now, Sara,” he said, “ remember I'm your old
friend as well as your relative.”
“I don't call you a relative,” she returned, calmly.
“A family connection, then; I don't care what
you call it. And I'm going to speak right out, for I
know better than to try sophistries. If you can get
Dan to play my game regarding my son's campaign,
I'll see that Dan gets full pardon, and at once. Then
Maida can marry young Allen and you can all go to
Boston to live."
“Sam Appleby, I'd rather never see Boston
again, never have Dan see it, than to have him agree


ONE LAST ARGUMENT
59
to endorse principles that he does not believe! And
Dan feels the same way about it.”
“But don't you consider your daughter? Will
you condemn Maida to a broken-hearted life ?”
“Maida must decide for herself. I think Jeffrey
Allen will yet persuade her to leave her father. She
is devoted to Dan, but she is deeply in love with Jeff
and it's only natural she should go with him. Any
other girl would do so without a second thought.
Maida is unusual, but I doubt if she can hold out
much longer against her lover's pleading.”
“I think she will. Maida has your own unbreak-
abie will."
“So be it, then. The child must choose for her-
self. But it doesn't alter the stand Dan and I
have taken."
“ Nothing can alter that?”
“Nothing, Samuel Appleby.”
“That remains to be seen. Have I your per-
mission to talk to Maida, alone?”
“ Certainly. Why not? If you can persuade her
to marry Jeff, I'll be only too glad. If you find her
determined to stand by her father, then the case re-
mains as it is at present.”
And so, as Maida returned from her walk with


ONE LAST ARGUMENT
61
which, I know, you can bring about if you want to.”
“And I will, willingly and gladly, if your father
will grant my request.”
“To put your son in as governor with the same
political views that prevented my father from voting
for you! You know he can't do that!”
“And yet you expect me to favor him!”
“ But don't you see the difference? Your par-
don will mean everything to father- "
“ And to you!”
“Yes, but that's a secondary consideration. I'd
ask this for father just the same, if it meant disaster
for me!"
"I believe you would!” and Appleby gazed ad-
miringly at the sweet, forceful face, and the ear-,
nest eyes.
“Of course I should! As I say, it means life's
happiness to him.”
" And his consent means just as much to me."
“No, it doesn't. That's just it. Even though
father doesn't definitely help you in your son's elec-
tion, he will do nothing to hinder. And that's much
the same."
“It's far from being the same. His positive and
definite help is a very different matter from his nega-
tive lack of interference. It's the help I want.


62 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
And I do want it! Do you suppose I'd come here
and urge it-beg for it-if I didn't think it abso-
lutely necessary?”
“No; I suppose not. But I know he never will
grant it, so you may as well give up hope.”
• “You know that, do you, Maida ?” Appleby's
voice was almost wistful.
"I most certainly do," and the girl nodded her
head positively.
“ Then listen to me. I have one argument yet
unused. I'm going to use it now. And with you.”
Maida looked up in alarm. Appleby's face was
stern, his tone betokened a final, even desperate
decision.
“Oh, not with me,” she cried; “I—I'm only a
girl—I don't know about these things—let's go
where father is.”
“No; you are the one. In your hands must rest
your father's fate—your father's future. Sit
here, beneath the old sycamore-you know about
the tree?"
“Yes, of course."
“Never mind that now; I've only a few mo-
ments, but that's time enough. You know, Maida,
how your mother holds this estate?”
.


ONE LAST ARGUMENT
63
“Yes—she must live in Massachusetts. Well,
we do. The lawyers said "
“That isn't the point; this is it. There is an-
other heir."
“We've always thought it possible." Maida
spoke coolly, though a dull fear clutched her heart.
“It's more than a possibility, it's a fact. I know
it-and I know the heir."
“Who is it?"
“Never mind for the moment. Suffice it to say
that he doesn't know it himself—that no one knows
it but me. Now, you and I know. No one else
does. Do you understand ?”
His keen gaze at her made her understand.
"I "she faltered.
“ You do understand," he asserted. “You
sense my proposition before I make it. And you
have it right-you're a smart girl, Maida. Yes, I
suggest that you and I keep our secret, and that in
return for my silence you persuade your father to
meet my wishes. Then, he shall be fully pardoned,
and all will be well.”
“You criminal! You dishonest and dishonor-
able man!” she cried, her eyes blazing, her cheeks
reddening with her righteous indignation.
“There, there, my girl, have a care. You haven't
sens


64 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
thought it all out yet. Doubtless you're going to say
that neither your father nor mother want to remain
here, if my statement is true.”
“Of course I say that! They won't want to stay
a minute! Who is the heir ? Tell me!”
“And have you thought what it will mean to
them to leave this place? Have you realized that
your father has no business interests nor can he find
any at his age? Do you remember that your mother
has no funds outside the estate she inherited? Do
you want to plunge them into penury, into pauperism,
in their declining years?"
“Yes—if honesty requires it " but the sweet
voice trembled at the thought.
“Honesty is a good thing—a fine policy—but
you are a devoted daughter, and I remind you that to
tell this thing I have told you, means disaster-
ruin for you and your parents. Young Allen can't
support them—they are unaccustomed to deprivation
-and," he lowered his voice, “this heir I speak
of has no knowledge of the truth. He misses noth-
ing, since he hopes for nothing.”
Maida looked at him helplessly.
“I must think,” she said, brokenly. “Oh, you
are cruel, to put this responsibility on me."
“ You know why I do it. I am not disinterested."


CHAPTER IV
THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE
Ar the south door the Appleby car stood waiting
Genevieve was saying good-bye to Maida, with
the affection of an old friend.
“We're coming back, you know," she reminded,
“in two or three days, and please say you'll be glad
to see me!”
“Of course," Maida assented, but her lip trem-
bled and her eyes showed signs of ready tears.
“ Cheer up,” Genevieve babbled on. “I'm your
friend—whatever comes with time!”
“ So am I," put in Curtis Keefe. “Good-bye for
a few days, Miss Wheeler.”
How Maida did it, she scarcely knew herself, but
she forced a smile, and even when Samuel Appleby
gave her a warning glance at parting she bravely
responded to his farewell words, and even gaily
waved her hand as the car rolled down the drive.
Once out of earshot, Appleby broke out:
"I played my trump card! No, you needn't ask
me what I was, for I don't propose to tell you.
63


B6
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE.
But it will take the trick, I'm sure. Why, it's got to!”
“It must be something pretty forcible, then,"
said Keefe, “ for it looked to me about as likely as
snow in summertime, that any of those rigid Puri-
tans would ever give in an inch to your persuasions.”
“Or mine," added Genevieve. “Never before
have I failed so utterly to make any headway when
I set out to be really persuasive."
“You did your best, Miss Lane," and Appleby
looked at her with the air of one appraising
the efficiency of a salesman. “I confess I didn't
think Wheeler would be quite such a hardshell-
after all these years."
“He's just like concrete," Keefe observed.
“ They all are. I didn't know there were such con-
scientious people left in this wicked old world!”.
“ They're not really in the world,” Appleby de-
clared. “They've merely vegetated in that house
of theirs, never going anywhere -
“Oh, come now, Mr. Appleby," and Genevieve
shook her head, “ Boston isn't the only burg on the
planet! They often go to New York, and that's
going some!”
“Not really often—I asked Wheeler. He hasn't
been for five or six years, and though Maida goes


THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE 67
occasionally, to visit friends, she soon runs back
home to her father.”
“It doesn't matter," Keefe said, “ they're by no
means mossbacks or hayseeds. They're right there
with the goods, when it comes to modern literature or
up-to-date news ”.
“Oh, yes, they're a highbrow bunch,” Appleby
spoke impatiently; “but a recluse like that is no sort
of a man! The truth is, I'm at the end of my
patience! I've got to put this thing over with less
palaver and circumlocution. I thought I'd give him
a chance-just put the thing up to him squarely once
-and, as he doesn't see fit to meet me half-way, he's
got to be the loser, that's all.”
“He seems to be the loser, as it is.” This
from Keefe.
“But nothing to what's coming to him! Why,
the idea of my sparing him at all is ridiculous! If he
doesn't come down, he's got to be wiped out! That's
what it amounts to!”
“Wiped out-how?”
“Figuratively and literally! Mentally, morally
and physically! That's how! I've stood all I can
I've waited long enough—too long—and now I'm
going to play the game my own way! As I said, I


68 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
played a trump card—I raised one pretty definite
ruction just before we left. Now, that may do the
business—and, it may not! If not, then desperate
measures are necessary—and will be used !”.
“Good gracious, Mr. Appleby!” Genevieve
piped up from her fur collar which nearly muffled her
little face. “You sound positively murderous!”
“Murder! Pooh, I'd kill Dan Wheeler in a min-
ute, if that would help Sam! But I don't want
Wheeler dead—I want him alive I want his help
his influence-yet, when he sits there looking like a
stone wall, and about as easy to overthrow, I declare
I could kill him! But I don't intend to. It's far
more likely he'd kill me!”
“Why?” exclaimed Keefe. “Why should he?
And—but you're joking.".
“Not at all. Wheeler isn't of the murderer type,
or I'd be taking my life in my hands to go into his
house! He hates me with all the strength of a hard,
bigoted, but strictly just nature. He thinks I was un-
just in the matter of his pardon, he thinks I was
contemptible, and false to our old-time friendship;
and he would be honestly and truly glad if I were
dead. But—thank heaven-he's no murderer!”
“Of course not!” cried Genevieve. “How you


THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE
69
Our
do talk! As if murder were an everyday perform-
ance! Why, people in our class do
each other!”
The placid assumption of equality of class with
her employer was so consistently Miss Lane's usual
attitude, that it caused no mental comment from
either of her hearers. Her services were so valuable
that any such little idiosyncrasy was tolerated.
“Of course we don't-often," agreed Appleby,
“ but I'd wager a good bit that if Dan Wheeler
could bump me off without his conscience knowing
it-off I'd go!”
“I don't know about that,” said Genevieve, mus-
ingly~"but I do believe that girl would do it!”
“What?” cried Keefe. “Maida!”
“Yes; she's a lamb for looks, but she's got a
lion's heart—if anybody ever had one! Talk about
a tigress protecting her cubs; it would be a milk-and-
water performance beside Maida Wheeler shielding
her father-or fighting for him-yes, or killing
somebody for him!”
“Rubbish!” laughed Appleby. “Maida might
be willing enough, in that lion heart of hersebut
little girls don't go around killing people."


TO THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“I know it, and I don't expect her to. But I only
say she's capable of it.”
"Goethe says—(Keefe spoke in his superior
way)—'We are all capable of crime, even the best
of us.'"
“I remember that phrase," mused Appleby. “Is
it Goethe's? Well, I don't say it's literally true, for
lots of people are too much of a jellyfish makeup to
have such a capability. But I do believe there are
lots of strong, forcible people, who are absolutely
capable of crime if the opportunity offers."
“That's it,” and Genevieve nodded her head
wisely. “Opportunity is what counts. I've read
detective stories, and they prove it. Be careful,
Mr. Appleby, how you trust yourself alone with
Mr. Wheeler.”
“ That will do," he reprimanded. “I can take
care of myself, Miss Lane."
Genevieve always knew when she had gone too
far, and, instead of sulking, she tactfully changed
the subject and entertained the others with her amus-
ing chatter, at which she was a success.
At that very moment, Maida Wheeler, alone in
her room, was sobbing wildly, yet using every pre-
caution that she shouldn't be heard.


THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE
Thrown across her bed, her face buried in the pil-
lows, she fairly shook with the intensity of her grief.
But, as often happens, after she had brought her
crying spell to a finish—and exhausted Nature in-
sists on a finish—she rose and bathed her flushed
face and sat down to think it out calmly.
Yet the more she thought the less calm she grew.
For the first time in her life she was face to face
with a great question which she could not refer to
her parents. Always she had confided in them, and
matters that seemed great to her, even though trifling
in themselves, were invariably settled and straight-
ened out by her wise and loving father or mother.
But now, Samuel Appleby had told her a secret-a
dreadful secret—that she must not only weigh and
decide about, but must—at last, until she decided
keep from her parents.
"For," Maida thought, “ if I tell them, they'll at
once insist on knowing who the rightful heir is,
they'll give over the place to him—and what will
become of us?”
Her conscience was as active as ever it was, her
sense of right and wrong was in no way warped or
blunted, but instinct told her that she must keep this
matter entirely to herself until she had come to her


72 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
own conclusion. Moreover, she realized, the con-
clusion must be her own—the decision must be
arrived at by herself, and unaided.
Finally, accepting all this, she resolved to put the
whole thing out of her mind for the moment. Her
parents were so intimately acquainted with her every
mood or shade of demeanor, they would see at once
that something was troubling her mind, unless she
used the utmost care to prevent it. Care, too, not
to overdo her precaution. It would be quite as evi-
dent that she was concealing something, if she were
unusually gay or carefree of manner.
So the poor child went downstairs, determined to
forget utterly the news she had heard, until such time
as she could be again by herself.
And she succeeded. Though haunted by a vague
sense of being deceitful, she behaved so entirely as
usual, that neither of her parents suspected her
of pretense.
Moreover, the subject of Samuel Appleby's visit
was such a fruitful source of conversation that there
was less chance of minor considerations.
“Never will I consent,” her father was reiterat-
ing, as Maida entered the room. “Why, Sara, I'd
rather have the conditional pardon rescinded, rather


THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE 73
pay full penalty of my conviction, than stand for
the things young Sam's campaign must stand for!”
A clenched fist came down on the table by way
of emphasis.
“Now, dad," said Maida, gaily,“ don't thump
around like that! You look as if you'd like to thump
Mr. Appleby!”
“And I should! I wish I could bang into his
head just how I feel about it ”
“Oh, he knows!” and Mrs. Wheeler smiled.
“ He knows perfectly how you feel.”
“But, truly, mother, don't you think dad could
well, not do anything wrong—but just give in to
Mr. Appleby-for-for my sake?”
“Maida-dear-that is our only stumbling-
block. Your father and I would not budge one step,
for ourselves but for you, and for Jeffrey-oh, my
dear little girl, that's what makes it so hard.”
"For us, then-father, can't you—for our
sake
Maida broke down. It wasn't for her sake she
was pleading—nor for the sake of her lover. It
was for the sake of her parents—that they might
remain in comfort—and yet, comfort at the expense


THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE
75
then folding his arms on the table he let his head sink
down upon them.
Maida flew to his side. “Father, dearest,” she
crooned over him, as she caressed his bowed head,
“ don't think of it for a minute! You know I'd give
up anything—I'd give up Jeff—if it means one speck
of good for you.”
“I know it, dear child, but-run away, now,
Maida, leave me to myself.”
Understanding, both Maida and her mother
quietly left the room.
“ I'm sorry, girlie dear, that you have to be in-
volved in these scenes,” Mrs. Wheeler said fondly,
as the two went to the sitting-room.
“Don't'k that way, mother. I'm part of the
family, and I'm old enough to have a share and a
voice in all these matters. But just think what it
would mean, if father had his pardon! Look at this
room, and think, he has never been in it! Never
has seen the pictures the view from the window,
the general coziness of it all."
“I know, dear, but that's an old story. Your
father is accustomed to living only in his own
rooms "
* And not to be able to go to the other end of


76 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
the dining-room or living-room, if he chooses !
It's outrageous!”
“Yes, Maida, I quite agree—but no more out-
rageous than it was last week-or last year.”
“Yes, it is! It grows more outrageous every
minute! Mother, what did that old will say? That
you must live in Massachusetts ? "
"Yes—you know that, dear.”
“Of course I do. And if you lived elsewhere,
what then?"
"I forfeit the inheritance.”
“And what would become of it?”
“In default of any other heirs, it would go to
the State of Massachusetts.”
“And there are no other heirs?”
“What ails you, Maida? You know all this.
No, there are no other heirs."
“You're sure?”.
“As sure as we can be. Your father had every
possible search made. There were advertisements
kept in the papers for years, and able lawyers did all
they could to find heirs if there were any. And,
finding none, we were advised that there were none,
and we could rest in undisturbed possession."
“ Suppose one should appear, what then?”.
Weit


THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE
77
“Then, little girl, we'd give him the keys of the
house, and walk out.”
“Where would we walk to ?”
“I've no idea. In fact, I can't imagine where
we could walk to. But that, thank heaven, is not
one of our troubles. Your father would indeed be
desperately fixed if it were! You know, Maida,
from a fine capable business man, he became a wreck,
because of that unjust trial.”
“Father never committed the forgery?”
“Of course not, dear.”
“Who did ?”
“We don't know. It was cleverly done, and the
crime was purposely fastened on your father, because
he was about to be made the rival candidate of
Mr. Appleby, for governor.
“I know. And Mr. Appleby was at the bottom
of it!”
“Your father doesn't admit that "
“ He must have been.”
“Hush, Maida. These matters are not for you
to judge. You know your father has done all he
honestly could to be fully pardoned, or to discover the
real criminal, and as he hasn't succeeded, you must
rest content with the knowledge that there was no
stone left unturned.”


78 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“But, mother, suppose Mr. Appleby has some-
thing more up his sleeve. Suppose he comes down
on dad with some unexpected, some unforeseen
blow that. "
“Maida, be quiet. Don't make me sorry that
we have let you into our confidence as far as we
have. These are matters above your head. Should
such a thing as you hint occur, your father can deal
with it.”
“But I want to help "
“ And you can best do that by not trying to help!
Your part is to divert your father, to love him and
cheer him and entertain him. You know this, and
you know for you to undertake to advise or suggest
is not only ridiculous but disastrous."
“ All right, mother, I'll be good. I don't mean
to be silly.”
“You are, when you assume ability you don't
possess.” Mrs. Wheeler's loving smile robbed the
words of any harsh effect. “Run along now, and
see if dad won't go for a walk with you; and
don't refer to anything unpleasant.”
Maida went, and found Wheeler quite ready for
a stroll.
“Which way?” he asked as they crossed the
south veranda.


80 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Yes, a high old pardon! Say, dad, tell me
again exactly how he worded that letter about
the tree.”
" I've told you a dozen times! He didn't mean
anything anyhow. He only said, that when the big
sycamore tree went into Massachusetts I could go.”
“What a crazy thing to say, wasn't it?"
“It was because we had been talking about the
play of Macbeth. You remember, ‘Till Birnam
Wood shall come to Dunsinane."
“Oh, yes, and then it did come—by a trick.”
“Yes, the men came, carrying branches. We'd
been talking about it, discussing some point, and
then—it seemed clever, I suppose—to Appleby, and
he wrote that about the sycamore.”
“Meaning-never?”
“Meaning never.”
“ But Birnam Wood did go."
“Only by a trick, and that would not work in this
case. Why, are you thinking of carrying a branch
of sycamore into Massachusetts ?”
Maida returned his smile as she answered: “I'd
manage to carry the whole tree in, if it would do any
good! But, I s'pose, old Puritan Father, you're too
conscientious to take advantage of a trick?”


THE BIG SYCAMORE TREE
81
“Can't say, till I know the details of the game.
But I doubt Appleby's being unable to see through
your trick, and then—where are you?”
“That wouldn't matter. Trick or no trick, if
the big sycamore went into Massachusetts, you
could go. But I don't see any good plan for getting
it in. And, too, Sycamore Ridge wouldn't be Syca-
more Ridge without it. Don't you love the old
tree, dad?”
“Of course, as I love every stick and stone about
the place. It has been a real haven to me in my
perturbed life.”
“Suppose you had to leave it, daddy?”
“I think I'd die, dear. Unless, that is, we could
go back home.”
“Isn't this home?”
“ It's the dearest spot on earth-outside my
native state.”
“There, there, dad, don't let's talk about it.
We're here for keeps "
“ Heaven send we are, dearest! I couldn't face
the loss of this place. What made you think of
such a thing?”
“Oh, I'm thinking of all sorts of things to-day.
But, father, while we're talking of moving—couldn't


82 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
.
you-oh, couldn't you, bring yourself, somehow, to
do what Mr. Appleby wants you to do? I don't
know much about it—but father, darling, if you
only could!”
“ Maida, my little girl, don't think I haven't
tried. Don't think I don't realize what it means to
you and Jeff. I know-oh, I do know how it would
simplify matters if I should go over to the Appleby
side and push Sam's campaign-as I could do it. I
know that it would mean my full pardon, my return
to my old home, my reunion with old scenes and
associations. And more than that, it would mean
the happiness of my only child—my daughter—and
her chosen husband. And yet, Maida, as God is my
judge, I am honest in my assertion that I can't so
betray my honor and spend my remaining years a
living lie. I can't do it, Maida-I can't.”
And the calm, sorrowful countenance he turned
to the girl was more positive and final than any fur-
ther protestation could have been.


CHAPTER V
THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS
ALTHOUGH the portions of the house and
grounds that were used by Wheeler included the most
attractive spots, yet there were many forbidden
places that were a real temptation to him.
An especial one was the flower-covered arbor that
had so charmed Genevieve and another was the broad
and beautiful north veranda. To be sure, the south
piazza was equally attractive, but it was galling
to be compelled to avoid any part of his own domain.
However, the passing years had made the conditions
a matter of habit and it was only occasionally that
Wheeler's annoyance was poignant.
In fact, he and his wife bore the cross better than
did Maida. She had never become reconciled to the
unjust and arbitrary dictum of the conditional par-
don. She lived in a constant fear lest her father
should some day inadvertently and unintentionally
step on the forbidden ground, and it should be re-
ported. Indeed, knowing her father's quixotic hon-
esty, she was by no means sure he wouldn't report
it himself.
83


84 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
It had never occurred-probably never would
occur, and yet, she often imagined some sudden
emergency, such as a fire, or burglars, that might
cause his impulsive invasion of the other side of
the house.
In her anxiety she had spoken of this to Samuel
Appleby when he was there. But he gave her no
satisfaction. He merely replied: “A condition is
a condition.”
Curtis Keefe had tried to help her cause, by say-
ing: “Surely a case of danger would prove an ex-
ception to the rule,” but Appleby had only shaken
his head in denial.
Though care had been taken to have the larger
part of the house on the Massachusetts side of the
line, yet the rooms most used by the family were in
Connecticut. Here was Mr. Wheeler's den, and this
had come to be the most used room in the whole
house. Mrs. Wheeler's sitting-room, which her hus-
band never had entered, was also attractive, but both
mother and daughter invaded the den, whenever
leisure hours were to be enjoyed.
The den contained a large south bay window,
which was Maida's favorite spot. It had a broad,
comfortable window-seat, and here she spent much


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS
85
of her time, curled up among the cushions, reading.
There were long curtains, which, half-drawn, hid her
from view, and often she was there for hours, with-
out her father's knowing it.
His own work was engrossing. Cut off from his
established law business in Massachusetts, he had at
first felt unable to start it anew in different surround-
ings. Then, owing to his wife's large fortune, it
was decided that he should give up all business for a
time. · And as the time went on, and there was no
real necessity for an added income, Wheeler had in-
dulged in his hobby of book collecting, and had
amassed a library of unique charm as well as goodly
intrinsic value.
Moreover, it kept him interested and occupied,
and prevented his becoming morose or melancholy
over his restricted life.
So, many long days he worked away at his books,
and Maida, hidden in the window-seat, watched him
lovingly in the intervals of her reading.
Sitting there, the morning after Samuel
Appleby's departure, she read not at all, although a
book lay open on her lap. She was trying to decide
a big matter, trying to solve a vexed question.
Maida's was a straightforward nature. She


86
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
never deceived herself. If she did anything against
her better judgment, even against her conscience, it
was with open eyes and understanding mind. She
used no sophistry, no pretence, and if she acted mis-
takenly she was always satisfied to abide by the
consequences.
And now, she set about her problem, systemati-
cally and methodically, determined to decide upon
her course, and then strictly follow it.
She glanced at her father, absorbed in his book
catalogues and indexes, and a great wave of love and
devotion filled her heart. Surely no sacrifice was
too great that would bring peace or pleasure to that
martyred spirit.
That he was a martyr, Maida was as sure as she
was that she was alive. She knew him too well to
believe for an instant that he had committed a crimi-
nal act; it was an impossibility for one of his charac-
ter. But that she could do nothing about. The
question had been raised and settled when she was
too young to know anything about it, and now, her
simple duty was to do anything she might to ease
his burden and to help him to forget.
“ And,” she said to herself, “first of all, he must
stay in this home. He positively must—and that's


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS
87
all there is about that. Now, if he knows if he has
the least hint that there is another heir, he'll get out
at once-or at least, he'll move heaven and earth to
find the heir, and then we'll have to move. And
where to? That's an unanswerable question. Any-
way, I've only one sure conviction. I've got to keep
from him all knowledge or suspicion of that
other heir!
“Maybe it isn't true—maybe Mr. Appleby made
it up—but I don't think so. At any rate, I have to
proceed as if it were true, and do my best. And,
first of all, I've got to hush up my own conscience.
I've too much of my father's nature to want to live
here if it rightfully belongs to somebody else. I feel
like a thief already. But I'm going to bear that—I'm
going to live under that horrid conviction that I'm
living a lie for father's sake.”
Maida was in earnest. By nature and by train-
ing her conscience was acutely sensitive to the finest
shades of right and wrong. She actually longed to
announce the possibility of another heir and let jus-
tice decide the case. But her filial devotion was,
in this thing, greater even than her conscience. Her
mother, too, she knew, would be crushed by the reve-
lation of the secret, but would insist on thorough in-


88 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
vestigation, and, if need be, on renunciation of the
dear home.
Her mental struggle went on. At times it seemed
as if she couldn't live beneath the weight of such a
secret. Then, she knew she must do it. What was
her own peace of mind compared with her father's?
What was her own freedom of conscience compared
with his tranquillity?
She thought of telling Jeffrey Allen. But, she
argued, he would feel as the others would—indeed,
as she herself did—that the matter must be dragged
out into the open and settled one way or the other.
No; she must bear the brunt of the thing alone.
She must never tell any one.
Then, the next point was, would Mr. Appleby
tell? He hadn't said so, but she felt sure he would.
Well, she must do all she could to prevent that. He
was to return in a day or two. By that time she
must work out some plan, must think up some way,
to persuade him not to tell. What the argument
would be, she had no idea, but she was determined
to try her uttermost.
There was one way—but Maida blushed even at
the thought.
Sam Appleby~-young Sam-wanted to marry


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS
89
her-had wanted to for a year or more. Many times
she had refused him, and many times he had re-
turned for another attempt at persuasion. To con-
sent to this would enable her to control the senior
Appleby's revelations.
It would indeed be a last resort—she wouldn't
even think of it yet; surely there was some other way!
The poor, tortured child was roused from her
desperate plannings by a cheery voice, calling :
"Maida-Maida! Here's me!”
" Jeffrey!” she cried, springing from the
window-seat, and out to greet him.
“Dear!” he said, as he took her in his arms.
“Dear, dearer, dearest! What is troubling you?”
“Trouble? Nothing! How can I be troubled
when you're here?”.
"But you are! You can't fool me, you know!
Never mind, you can tell me later. I've got three
whole days—how's that?”
“Splendid! How did it happen?"
“Old Bennett went off for a week's rest-doc-
tor's orders—and he said, if I did up my chores, nice
and proper, I could take a little vacation myself. Oh,
you peach! You're twice as beautifuller as ever!”
A whirlwind embrace followed this speech and


90
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
left Maida, breathless and laughing, while her father
smiled benignly upon the pair.
It was some hours later that, as they sat under
the big sycamore, Jeffrey Allen begged Maida to tell
him her troubles.
"For I know you're pretty well broken up over
something,” he declared.
“How do you know?” she smiled at him.
“Why, my girl, I know every shadow that
crosses your dear heart.”
“Do I wear my heart on my sleeve, then?”
“You don't have to, for me to see it. I recognize
the signs from your face, your manner, your voice-
your whole being is trembling with some fear or
some deeply-rooted grief. So tell me all about it."
And Maida told. Not the last horrible threat
that Samuel Appleby had told her alone, but the
state of things as Appleby had presented it to Daniel
Wheeler himself.
“And so you see, Jeff, it's a deadlock. Father
won't vote for young Sam—I don't mean only vote,
but throw all his influence—and that means a lot-on
Sam's side. And if he doesn't, Mr. Appleby won't
get him pardoned-you know we hoped he would
this year "


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS
“Yes, dear; it would mean so much to us."
“Yes, and to dad and mother, too. Well, there's
no hope of that, unless father throws himself heart
and soul into the Appleby campaign.”
“And he won't do that?”
“Of course not. He couldn't, Jeff. He'd have
to subscribe to what he doesn't believe in-practically
subscribe to a lie. And you know father "
“Yes, and you, too—and myself! None of us
would want him to do that, Maida!”
“Doesn't necessity ever justify a fraud, Jeff?”.
The question was put so wistfully that the young
man smiled.
“Nixy! and you know that even better than I do,
dear. Why, Maida, what I love you most for—yes,
even more than your dear, sweet, beauty of face, is
the marvellous beauty of your nature, your character.
Your flawless soul attracted me first of all—even as
I saw it shining through your clear, honest eyes."
“Oh, Jeffrey," and Maida's clear eyes filled with
tears, “ I'm not honest, I'm not true blue!”
“ Then nobody on this green earth is! Don't say
such things, dear. I know what you mean, that you
think you want your father to sacrifice his principles,
in part, at least, to gain his full pardon thereby.


92 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
See how I read your thoughts! But, you don't really
think that; you only think you think it. If the thing
came to a focus, you'd be the first one to forbid
the slightest deviation from the line of strictest truth
and honor!”
“Oh, Jeff, do you think I would ?”
“Of course I think so I know it! You are a
strange make-up, Maida. On an impulse, I can imag-
ine you doing something wrong—even something
pretty awful—but with even a little time for thought
you couldn't do a wrong."
“What!” Maida was truly surprised; “I could
jump into any sort of wickedness?”
“I didn't quite put it that way,” Jeff laughed,
“but—well, you know it's my theory, that given
opportunity, anybody can yield to temptation."
“Nonsense! It's a poor sort of honor that gives
out at a critical moment!”
“Not at all. Most people can resist anything-
except temptation! Given a strong enough temptation
and a perfect opportunity, and your staunchest, most
conscientious spirit is going to succumb.”
“I don't believe that.”
“You don't have to—and maybe it isn't
always true. But it often is. Howsomever, it has


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS
93
no bearing on the present case. Your father is not
going to lose his head—and though you might do
so”-he smiled at her—“I can't see you getting a
chance! You're not in on the deal, in any way,
are you?”
“No; except that Mr. Appleby asked me to use
all my influence with father.”
“Which you've done?”
“Yes; but it made not the slightest impression.”
“Of course not. I say, Maid, young Sam isn't
coming down here, is he?"
“Not that I know of,” but Maida couldn't help
her rising color, for she knew what Allen was
thinking
“ Just let him try it, that's all! Just let him
show his rubicund countenance in these parts-if he
wants trouble!”
“Does anybody ever want trouble?" Maida
smiled a little.
“Why, of course they do! Sometimes they want
it so much that they borrow it!”.
“I'm not doing that! I've had it offered to me
in full measure, heaped up, pressed down, and run-
ning over.”
“ Poor little girl. Don't take it so hard, dearest.


94 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
I'll have a talk with your father, and we'll see how
matters really stand. I doubt it's as bad as you fear
--and anyway, if no good results come our way,
things are no worse than they have been for years.
Your father has lived fairly contented and happy.
Let things drift, and in another year or two, after
the election is a thing of the past, we can pick up the
pardon question again. By that time you and I will
be-where will we be, Maida ?”
“I don't know, Jeff "
“Well, we'll be together, anyway. You'll be my
wife, and if we can't live in Boston—we can live out
of Boston! And that's all there is about that!”
“You'll have to come here to live. There's
enough for us all.”
“Settle down here and sponge on your mother!
I see it! But, never you mind, lady fair, something
will happen to smooth out our path. Perhaps this
old tree will take it into its head to go over into
Massachusetts, and so blaze a trail for your father
--and you."
“Oh, very likely. But I've renewed my vow
Jeff; unless father can go into the state, I never will!"
“ All right, sweetheart. Renew your vow when-
ever its time limit expires. I'm going to fix things


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS
95
so no vows will be needed-except our marriage
VOWS. Will you take them, dear?”
“When the time comes, yes.” But Maida did not
smile, and Jeff, watching her closely, concluded there
was yet some point on which she had not enlightened
him. However, he asked no further question, but
bided his time.
“ Guess I'll chop down the old tree while I'm
here, and ship it into Massachusetts as firewood,”
he suggested.
“Fine idea," Maida acquiesced, " but you'd only
have your trouble for your pains. You see, the
stipulation was, without the intervention of
human hands.'"
“ All right, we'll chop it down by machinery,
then."
“I wish the tree promise meant anything, but it
doesn't. It was only made as a proof positive how
impossible was any chance of pardon."
“But now a chance of pardon has come.”
“Yes, but a chance that cannot be taken. You'll
be here, Jeff, when they come back. Then you can
talk with Mr. Appleby, and maybe, as man to man,
you can convince him "
“ Convince nothing! Don't you suppose I've


96 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
tried every argument I know of, with that old dun-
derhead? I've spent hours with him discussing your
father's case. I've talked myself deaf, dumb and
blind, with no scrap of success. But, I don't mind
telling you, Maida, that I might have moved the old
duffer to leniency if it hadn't been for-you.”
“Me?”
“Yes; you know well enough young Sam's atti-
tude toward you. And old Appleby as good as said
if I'd give up my claim on your favor, and
give sonny Sam a chance, there'd be hope for
your father.”
“H'm. Indeed! You don't say so! And you
replied ? ”.
“I didn't reply much of anything. For if I'd said
what I wanted to say, he would have been quite
justified in thinking that I was no fit mate for a
Christian girl! Let's don't talk about it.”
That night Maida went to her room, leaving
Allen to have a long serious talk with her father.
She hoped much from the confab, for Jeff Allen
was a man of ideas, and of good, sound judgment.
He could see straight, and could advise sensibly and
well. And Maida hoped, too, that something would
happen or some way be devised that the secret told


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS 97
her by Appleby might be of no moment. Perhaps
there was no heir, save in the old man's imagination.
Or perhaps it was only someone who would inherit
a portion of the property, leaving enough for their
own support and comfort.
At any rate, she went to bed comforted and
cheered by the knowledge that Jeff was there, and
that if there was anything to be done he would do it.
She had vague misgivings because she had not
told him what Appleby had threatened. But, she
argued, if she decided to suppress that bit of news,
she must not breathe it to anybody—not even Jeff.
So, encouraged at the outlook, and exhausted
by her day of worriment, she slept soundly till well
into the night.
Then she was awakened by a strange sound. It
gave her, at first, a strange impression of being on an
ocean steamer. She couldn't think why, for her half-
awake senses responded only to the vague sense of
familiarity with such a sound.
But wide awake in a moment, she heard more of
it, and realized that it was a bugle to which she lis-
tened—the clear, though not loud, notes of a bugle.
Amazed, she jumped from her bed, and looked out
of a window in the direction of the sound.


98
THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
She saw nothing, and heard the last faint notes
die away, as she listened.
There was no further sound, and she returned to
bed, and after a time fell asleep again.
She pondered over the occurrence while dressing
next morning, wondering what it meant.
Downstairs she found only Jeffrey in the din-
ing-room
“Hear anything funny in the night, Maida ?”
he asked her.
“Yes; a bugle,” she returned. “Did you
hear it?”
“Of course I did. Who plays the thing
around here?”
“No one, that I know of. Wasn't it rather
strange?”
“Rath-er! I should say so. Made me think of
the old English castles, where spooks walk the para-
pets and play on bugles or bagpipes or some
such doings.”
“Oh, those silly stories! But this was a real
bugle, played by a real man.”.
“How do you know?"
"By the sound.”
“Spook bugles sound just the same."
some


THE BUGLE SOUNDED TAPS 99
“How do you know ? "
“How could they be heard if they didn't? Here's
your father. Good-morning, Mr. Wheeler. Who's
your musical neighbor ?”
But Daniel Wheeler did not smile.
“Go up to your mother, Maida, dear,” he said;
“she-she isn't well. Cheer her up all you can.”
“What's the trouble? ” Allen asked, solicitously,
as Maida ran from the room.
"A strange thing, my boy. Did you hear a
bugle call last night?”.
“Yes, sir; it sounded 'taps.' Is there a camp
near by?”
“No; nothing of the sort. Now-well, to put it
frankly, there is an old tradition in Mrs. Wheeler's
family that a phantom bugler, in that very way, an-
nounces an approaching death.”
"Good Lord! You don't mean she believes that!"
“She does, and what can I say to disprove her
belief? We all heard it. Who could have done
such a trick?”
“I don't know who, but somebody did. That
bugle was played by a pair of good, strong human
lungs~not by a spirit breath!”.
“ It sounded so, but that doesn't affect Mrs.


CHAPTER VI
THE OTHER HEIR
A GENERAL air of vague foreboding hung over
the Wheeler household. Mrs. Wheeler tried to rally
from the shock of the inexplicable bugle call, but
though she was bright and cheerful, it was fully
evident that her manner was forced and her
gayety assumed.
Maida, solicitous for her mother, was more than
ever resolved not to disclose the news of another pos-
sible heir to the estate, though the more she thought
about it, the more she felt sure Samuel Appleby had
spoken the truth.
She decided that he had learned of the other heir,
and that he was none too honest to be willing to keep
the fact a secret, if, in turn, he could serve his own
ends. She did not need to be told that if she would
look on young Sam with favor, her father would per-
force lend his aid to the campaign. And, in that
case, she knew that the other heir would never be
mentioned again.
. And yet, the price the acceptance of young
Sam, was more than she could pay. To give up
101


102, THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Jeff Allen, her own true love, and marry a man of
such a different type and calibre as Sam Appleby was
-it was too much! And Jeff would have something
to say about that! Yet, she must decide for herself.
If she made the supreme sacrifice, it must be done as
if of her own volition. If her parents or her lover
guessed that she was acting under compulsion, they
would put an end to the project.
But could she, even if willing to sacrifice herself,
could she ask Sam Appleby to take her? Yet she
knew this would be the easiest thing in the world.
A mere hint to Mr. Appleby that she approved of
his son would bring the younger man down to the
house at once and matters would then take care
of themselves.
But could she do it? She looked at Jeff, as he sat
talking to her father, his strong, fine face alight with
the earnestness of their discussion. He was a man
of a thousand-her own Jeffrey. No, she could not
break his heart-she had no right to do that. It
would be a crime to blot out the joy and happiness
from the eager young face.
And then she looked at the other dear face. Her
father, worn and aging, but still in rugged health.
Could she let the inevitable happen, and see him


104 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
keep quiet about another heir, would, he doubtless
thought, be sufficient to win his cause.
“What an awful man he is,” she thought. “I
wish he were dead! I know I oughtn't to wish that,
but I do. I'd kill him myself if it would help father.
I oughtn't to say that—and I don't suppose I really
would do it, but it would simplify matters a lot!
And somebody said, 'We are all capable of crime
even the best of us. Well, of course I wouldn't
kill the old man, but he'd better not give me a real
good chance!”
“What are you thinking about, little girl?”
asked Allen, turning to her.
Maida looked at him and then at her father, and
said, deliberately:
“I was just thinking how I'd like to kill Samuel
Appleby.”
“Senior, junior, or both?” laughed Allen, who
thought little of her words, save as a jest.
"Senior, I meant, but we may as well make it
a wholesale slaughter."
“Don't, Maida,” her father looked grieved.
“ Don't speak flippantly of such subjects.”
“Well, father, why not be honest? Wouldn't
you like to kill him?”


THE OTHER HEIR
105
“No, child—not that.”
“But you'd be glad if he were dead! There,
you needn't answer. But if you were absolutely
honest, you'd have to admit it.”
“I'll admit it,” said her mother, wearily.
“Samuel Appleby has spoiled all our lives—is still
spoiling them. He does it for his own selfish inter-
ests. He has ruined the happiness of my husband,
myself, my daughter, and my prospective son-in-law.
Is it any wonder that we should honestly wish he
were dead? It may not sound Christian—but it is an
honest expression of human nature."
“ It is, Mrs. Wheeler," and Allen's face looked
more pained than shocked. “But, all the same, we
oughtn't to talk like that.”
“No, indeed,” agreed Wheeler. “ Please, Maida,
darling, don't say such things. And, Sara, if you
must say them, say them to me when we are alone.
It's no sort of talk for these young people's ears."
“Why, I said it before mother did!” Maida
broke out." And I mean it! I'm at the end of my
rope. If that man is to hound us and torture us all
our lives, I can't help wishing him dead."
“ There, there, daughter, please don't."
“I won't, dad. I'll never say it again. But I


106 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
put myself on record, and if the rest of you were
honest, you'd do the same thing!”
“That we'd like to kill him?" asked Allen,
smiling at the idea.
“I didn't say that, I said we wish him dead.
If a nice, convenient stroke of lightning came his
way, or- ”
“Maida, hush!” her father spoke sternly; “I
won't allow such talk! It isn't like you, my child, and
it isn't- "
“Isn't good form, I s'pose!” she interrupted.
“ Well, I'll let up, dads, and I am a little ashamed of
myself. Mother, maybe the phantom bugler was
announcing the death of old Appleby!”
“Hush, Maida! What has got into you?”
“I'm incorrigible, I guess "
“You are!” and Allen smiled fondly at her.
“Come out for a walk in the sunshine with me,
and get these awful thoughts out of your brain.”
“I know I'm a criminal,” said Maida, as they
walked down a garden path; “but I can't help it.
I've more to bear than you know of, Jeff, and you
must make allowance."
“I do, sweetheart. And I know how you're
troubled, and all that, but don't say such dreadful
things. I know you don't mean them.”
annd


THE OTHER HEIR
107
“No, I don't—at least, I don't think I do. But
I won't say them any more. I think I lost my
head "
"Forget it. You're upset and nervous and your
mother's worry reflects itself on you. Is there really
a bugler tradition?”
“Not over here. There was one connected with
mother's family long ago, in England, I believe. Of
course, it was just one of those old spook yarns that
most old houses have over there. But mother always
remembered it. She has told everybody who ever
visited here about it, and I think she always expected
to hear the thing. Queer, though, wasn't it?”.
“Not very. It's explainable by natural means, of
course. Probably we'll never know who it was, but
it was no phantom, be sure of that.”
“Oh, well, it doesn't matter, except that it has
upset mother so dreadfully. But she'll get over it-
if nothing happens.”
"Nothing will happen if by that you mean a
death in the family. More likely a marriage will
take place!”
. “Not ours, Jeff. I think that bugler sounded the
death-knell of our hopes.”
“Maida! What is the matter with you? Why
are you talking like that? I know you've something


108 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
vu:
on your mind that you haven't told me yet. Some-
thing pretty serious, for it makes you say the strang-
est things! Tell me, darling, won't you?”
“I can't, Jeff. I mean, there isn't anything.
Wait till those people come back again. You'll be
here, won't you? They're coming to-morrow.”
“You bet I will! I'll see what I can do with
old curmudgeon. You know I'm argumentative.”.
“That won't do any good with Appleby. What
he wants is help from dad. If he doesn't get that,
he'll punish us all."
“And he can't get that, for your dad won't give
it. So it looks as if we must all take our punish-
ment. Well, we're prepared.”
“You wouldn't speak so lightly if you knew
everything!”
“That's why I ask you to tell me everything.
Do, Maida, I'm sure I can help you.”
“Wait till they come,” was all Maida would say
in response to his repeated requests.
And at last they came.
Smiling and hearty, Samuel Appleby reëntered
the Wheeler home, apparently as self-assured and
hopeful as when he left it.
Keefe was courteous and polite as always and


THE OTHER HEIR
109
Genevieve Lane was prettier than ever by reason
of some new Boston-bought clothes.
Allen was introduced to the newcomers and sized
up by one glance of Samuel Appleby's keen eyes.
Privately he decided that this young man was a very
formidable rival of his son. But he greeted Allen
with great cordiality, which Jeff thought it best to re-
turn, although he felt an instinctive dislike for the
man's personality.
“ Come along with me, Maida,” and with daring
familiarity, Genevieve put her hand through Maida's
arm and drew her toward the stairs. “I have the
same room, I s'pose,” she babbled on; “ I've lots of
new things I want to show you. And,” she added
as they entered the room, and she closed the door,
“I want a talkfest with you before the others begin."
“What about? ” asked Maida, feeling the subject
would be one of importance.
“Well, it's just this. And don't be too shocked
if I speak right out in meetin'. I've determined to
marry into this bunch that I'm working for."
“Have you?” laughed Maida. “Are they
equally determined?”.
“I'm not joking—I'm in dead earnest. A poor
girl has got to do the best she can for herself in this


110 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
cold world. Well, I'm going to corral one of the
three: old man Appleby, young man Appleby, or
Curt Keefe."
“Which one, for choice?" Maida still spoke
lightly.
“You don't think I'm in earnest, but I am. Well,
I'd rather have young Sam. Next, I'd choose his
father; and, lastly, I'm pretty sure I could nail
Curtie Keefe.”
Maida couldn't help her disapproval showing in
her face, but she said: “It isn't just the way I'd
go about selecting a husband, but if it's your way,
all right. Can I help you?”
“Do you mean that?”
“Why, yes, if I can do anything practical.”
“Oh, you can! It's only to keep off the grass,
regarding young Sam.”
“ You mean not to try to charm him myself? ”
“ Just about that. And I'll tell you why I say
this. It seems old Appleby has about made up his
mind that you're the right and proper mate for
young Appleby. Oh, you needn't draw yourself up
in that haughty fashion-he's good enough for
you, Miss!”
“I didn't say he wasn't," and Maida laughed in
spite of herself at Genevieve's manner. “But, truly,


THE OTHER HEIR
111
I don't want him. You see I'm engaged to
Mr. Allen."
“I know it, but that cuts no ice with Pa Appleby.
He plans to oust Mr. Allen and put his son in
his place.”
“Oh, he does, does he?” Maida's heart sank,
for she had anticipated something like this. “Am I
to be consulted ?"
“Now, look here, Maida Wheeler. You needn't
take that attitude, for it won't get you anywhere.
You don't know Mr. Appleby as I do. What he says
goes-goes, understand ? "
Maida went white. “But such a thing as you
speak of won't go!” she exclaimed.
" I'm not sure it won't, if he so ordains it,” Miss
Lane said, gravely. “But I just wanted your assur-
ance that you don't hanker after Sammy-boy, so I
can go ahead and annex him myself.”
“In defiance of Mr. Appleby's intents?”
“I may be able to circumvent him. I'm some
little schemer myself. And he may die."
“What?”
“Yep. He has an unsatisfactory heart, and it
may go back on him at any minute."
“What a thing to bank on!”
“ It may happen all the same. But I've other


112 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
irons in the fire. Run along, now; I've work to do.
You're a dear girl, Maida, and the time may come
when I can help you."
The round, rosy-cheeked face looked very serious,
and Maida said, gratefully: “I may be very glad
of such help, Genevieve."
Then she went away.
Samuel Appleby was lying in wait for her.
“Here you are, my girl," he said, as she came
downstairs. “Come for a ramble with me,
won't you?”
And, knowing that the encounter was inevitable,
Maida went.
Appleby wasted no time in preliminaries.
" I've got to go home to-morrow morning," he
said. “I've got to have this matter of your father's
help in the campaign settled before I go.”
“I thought it was settled," returned Maida,
calmly. “You know he will never give you the help
you ask. And oh, please, Mr. Appleby, won't you
give up the question? You have ruined my father's
life-all our lives; won't you cease bothering him,
and, whether you let him get his full pardon or not,
won't you stop trying to coerce his will?”.
“No; I will not. You are very pleading and


114 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
a clue in his chance reference to his mother's family,
and unknown to him I investigated genealogies and
all that, and it is positive, he is the heir to all this
estate, and not your mother.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes, absolutely certain. But, remember, he
doesn't know it. He has no idea of such a thing.
Now, if you'll marry Sam, Keefe shall never know.
I'll burn all the papers that I have in evidence. You
and I will forget the secret, and your father and
mother can rest in undisturbed possession here for
the rest of their lives.”
" And you wouldn't insist on father's campaign
work?”
“If you marry my son, I rather think your
father will lend his aid—at least in some few matters,
without urging. But he shall not be urged beyond
his wishes, rest assured of that. In a word, Maida,
all that you want or desire shall be yours except your
choice of a husband. And I'll wager that inside of a
year, you'll be wondering what you ever saw in
young Allen, and rejoicing that you are the wife of
the governor instead!”.
"I can't do it-oh, I can't! And, then, too,
there's Mr. Keefe-and the heirship!”


THE OTHER HEIR
115
“Mr. Keefe and the airship!” exclaimed Curtis
Keefe himself, as he came round the corner and met
them face to face. “Am I to go up in an airship?
And when?”
Appleby flashed a quick glance at Maida, which
she rightly interpreted to mean to let Keefe rest
unenlightened as to his error.
“You're not the Mr. Keefe we meant,” said
Appleby, smiling at his secretary. “There are
others.”
And then Appleby walked away, feeling his best
plan was to let Maida think things over.
“What Keefe is going up in an airship? " Curt
insisted, his curiosity aroused.
“I don't know," said Maida, listlessly. “Mr.
Appleby was telling me some airship yarn. I didn't
half listen. 1-I can't bear that man!”
“I can't blame you for that, Miss Wheeler. But
we're going away to-morrow, and he'll be out of
your way.”
“No; he has me in a trap. He has arranged
it so-oh, what am I saying!”
“Don't go on, if you feel you might regret it.
Of course, as Mr. Appleby's confidential secretary, I
know most of his affairs. May I say that I'm very


116 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
sorry for you, and may I offer my help, if you can
use me in any way?"
“How kind you are, Mr. Keefe. But if you
know the details of the matter, you know that I am
in a fearful dilemma. Oh, if only that man were
out of existence!”
“Oh, Miss Wheeler," and Keefe looked undis-
guisedly shocked.
“I don't mean anything wrong," Maida's eyes
were piteous, “but I don't know what to do! I've
no one to confide in-no way to turn for help
for advice "
“Why, Miss Wheeler, you have parents,
friends "
“No one that I can speak to! Forgive me, Mr.
Keefe, but I am nearly out of my mind. Forgive
me, if I ask you to leave me--will you?”
“Of course, you poor child! I ought to have
sensed that I was intruding!”
With a courteous bow, he walked away, leaving
Maida alone on the seat beneath the old sycamore.
She thought long and deeply. She seemed to
grow older and more matured of judgment as she
dealt with the big questions in her mind.
After a long time she came to her decision. Torn


THE OTHER HEIR
117
and wracked with emotions, she bravely faced the
many-sided situation, and made up her mind. Then
she got up and walked into the house.
That afternoon, about five o'clock, Appleby and
Wheeler sat in the latter's den, talking over the same
old subject. Maida, hidden in the window-seat, was
listening. They did not know she was there, but they
would not have cared. They talked of nothing she
did not already know.
Appleby grew angry and Wheeler grew angry.
The talk was coming to a climax, both men were
holding on to their tempers, but it was clear one
or the other must give way soon.
Jeffrey Allen, about to go in search of Maida, saw
a wisp of smoke curling from the garage, which from
his seat on the north veranda was in plain view.
He ran toward the smoke, shouting “Fire!” as
he ran, and in a few minutes the garage was ablaze.
The servants gathered about, Mrs. Wheeler looked
from her bedroom window, and Keefe joined Allen
in attempts to subdue the flames.
And with the efficient help of two chauffeurs and
other willing workers the fire was soon reduced to a
smouldering heap of ashes.
Allen ran, then, to the den, to tell them there that
the danger was past.


118 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
He entered to see Samuel Appleby dead in his
chair, with a bullet through his heart. Daniel
Wheeler stood beside him, gazing distractedly at the
dead man. Maida, white and trembling, was half
hidden as she stood just inside the curtains of
the window.
Not realizing that there was no hope of life,
Allen shouted for help, and tore open Appleby's
coat to feel his heart.
"He's quite dead," he said, in an awe-stricken
tone. “But, we must get a doctor at once!”
" I'll telephone," spoke up Genevieve's quiet
voice, and with her usual efficiency, she found the
number and called the doctor..
“Now the police? ” she went on, as if such
matters belonged to her province.
“ Certainly,” said Curtis Keefe, who stood by his
late employer, taking charge, by common consent.
“Who killed him?” said Genevieve, in a hushed
tone, as she left the telephone.
All looked from one to another, but nobody
replied.
Mrs. Wheeler came to the doorway.
“I knew it!" she cried;" the phantom bugler!”
“But the phantom bugler didn't kill him," said
Genevieve, “and we must find out who did!"


CHAPTER VII
INQUIRIES
Late the same evening the Wheeler family and
their guests were gathered in the living-room. Much
had been done in the past few hours. The family
doctor had been there, the medical examiner had been
called and had given his report, and the police had
come and were still present.
Samuel Appleby, junior—though no longer to
be called by that designation-was expected at
any moment.
Two detectives were there, but one, Hallen by
name, said almost nothing, seeming content to lis
ten, while his colleague conducted the questioning of
the household.
Burdon, the talkative one, was a quick-thinking,
clear-headed chap, decided of manner and short
of speech.
“Now, look here,” he was saying, “ this was an
inside job, of course. Might have been one of the
servants, or might have been any of you folks. How
many of you are ready to help me in my investiga-
tions by telling all you know?”
119


120 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“I thought we had to do that, whether we're
ready to or not,” spoke up Genevieve, who was not
at all abashed by the presence of the authorities.
“Of course, we'll all tell all we know—we want to
find the murderer just as much as you do.”
Keefe looked at her with a slight frown of
reproof, but said nothing. The others paid no atten-
tion to the girl's rather forward speech.
In fact, everybody seemed dazed and dumb. The
thing was so sudden and so awful—the possibilities
so many and so terrible—that each was aghast at
the situation.
The three Wheelers said nothing. Now and then
they looked at one another, but quickly looked away,
and preserved their unbroken silence.
Jeffrey Allen became the spokesman for them.
It seemed inevitable for some one must answer the
first leading questions; and though Curtis Keefe
and Miss Lane were in Appleby's employ, the detec-
tive seemed more concerned with the Wheeler family,
“ Bad blood, wasn't there, between Mr. Appleby
and Mr. Wheeler?” Burdon inquired.
“They had not been friends for years,” Allen
replied, straightforwardly, for he felt sure there was
nothing to be gained by misrepresentation,


INQUIRIES
121
“Huh! What was the trouble, Mr. Wheeler?”
Daniel Wheeler gave a start. Then, pulling him-
self together, he answered slowly: “ The trouble was
that Mr. Appleby and myself belonged to different
political parties, and when I opposed his election as
governor, he resented it, and a mutual enmity fol-
lowed which lasted ever since."
“Did you kill Mr. Appleby?”
Wheeler looked at his questioner steadily, and
replied: “I have nothing to say.”
“That's all right, you don't have to incriminate
yourself.”
“He didn't kill him!” cried Maida, unable to
keep still. “I was there, in the room-I could see
that he didn't kill him!”
“Who did then?” and the detective turned
to her.
“I–I don't know. I didn't see who did it.”
“Are you sure, Miss? Better tell the truth.”
“I tell you I didn't seem I didn't see anything!
I had heard an alarm of fire, and I was wondering
where it was."
“You didn't get up and go to find out ? "
“No-no, I stayed where I was."
* Where were you?”


122 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“In the window-seat-in the den.”
“ Meaning the room where the shooting
occurred ?”
“Yes. My father's study.”.
“And from where you sat, you could see the
whole affair?”
“I might have if I had looked—but I didn't.
I was reading."
“ Thought you were wondering about the fire ?"
“Yes,” Maida was quite composed now. “I
raised my eyes from my book when I heard the
fire excitement.”
“What sort of excitement?”
“I heard people shouting, and I heard men run-
ning. I was just about to go out toward the north
veranda, where the sounds came from, when I
I can't go on!” and Maida broke down and wept.
“You must tell your story—maybe it'd be easier
now than later. Can't you go on, Miss Wheeler?”
“There's little to tell. I saw Mr, Appleby fall
over sideways "
“ Didn't you hear the shot?"
“Noyes I don't know." Maida looked at her
father, as if to gain help from his expression, but his
face showed only agonized concern for her.


INQUIRIES
123
“Dear child,” he said, “ tell the truth. Tell
just what you saw-or heard.”
"I didn't hear anything—I mean the noise from
the people running to the fire so distracted my atten-
tion, I heard no shot or any sound in the room. I
just saw Mr. Appleby fall over "
“You're not giving us a straight story, Miss
Wheeler," said the detective, bluntly. “Seems to me
you'd better begin all over.”
“Seems to me you'd better cease questioning
Miss Wheeler,” said Curtis Keefe, looking sympa-
thetically at Maida; "she's just about all in, and I
think she's entitled to some consideration.”
“H’m. Pretty hard to find the right one to ques-
tion. , Mrs. Wheeler, now I'd rather not trouble her
too much."
“Talk to me,” said Allen. “I can tell you the
facts, and you can draw your deductions afterward.”
“Me, too,” said Keefe. “ Ask us the hard ques-
tions, and then when you need to, inquire of the
Wheelers. Remember, they're under great ner-
vous strain.”
“Well, then," Burdon seemed willing to take the
advice, " you start in, Mr. Keefe. You're Mr.
Appleby's secretary, I believe? ”


124 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Yes; we were on our way back to his home in
Stockfield—we expected to go there to-morrow.”
“You got any theory of the shooting?”
“I've nothing to found a theory on. I was out
at the garage helping to put out a small fire that
had started there."
“How'd it start?".
“I don't know. In the excitement that followed,
I never thought to inquire."
“Tell your story of the excitement.”
“I was at the garage with Mr. Allen, and two
chauffeurs—the Wheelers' man and Mr. Appleby's
man. Together, and with the help of a gardener or
two, we put the fire out. Then Mr. Allen said:
'Let's go to the house and tell them there's no dan-
ger. They may be worried.' Mr. Allen started off
and I followed. He preceded me into the den- "
“Then you tell what you saw there, Mr. Allen.”
“I saw, first of all," began Jeffrey, “the figure
of Mr. Appleby sitting in a chair, near the middle of
the room. His head hung forward limply, and his
whole attitude was unnatural. The thought flashed
through my mind that he had had a stroke of some
sort, and I went to him-and I saw he was dead.”
“You knew that at once?”.
“I judged so, from the look on his face and the


INQUIRIES
125
helpless attitude. Then I felt for his heart and found
it was still.”
“You a doctor? ”
“No; but I've had enough experience to know
when a man is dead."
“All right. What was Mr. Wheeler doing?”
“Nothing. He stood on the other side of the
room, gazing at his old friend."
“And Miss Wheeler ? "
“She, too, was looking at the scene. She stood
in the bay window.”
Now, Mr. Keefe, I believe you followed
close on Mr. Allen's heels. Did you see the place
much as he has described it?"
“Yes; ” Keefe looked thoughtful. “Yes, I think
I can corroborate every word of his description."
“All right. Now, Miss Lane, where were you?”
“I was at the fire. I followed the two men in,
and I saw the same situation they have told you of."
Genevieve's quiet, composed air was a relief after
the somewhat excited utterances of the others.
“What did you do?”.
“I am accustomed to wait on Mr. Appleby, and
it seemed quite within my province that I should tele-
phone for help for him. I called the doctor—and
then I called the police station.”


126 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“You don't think you took a great deal on
yourself? ”
Genevieve stared at him. “I do not think so. I
only think that I did my duty as I saw it, and in simi-
lar circumstances I should do the same again."
At this point the other detective was heard from.
“I would like to ask,” Hallen said, “what Mrs.
Wheeler meant by crying out that it was the work
of a ' phantom burglar'?”.
“Not burglar-bugler,” said Mrs. Wheeler, sud-
denly alert.
“Bugler!” Hallen stared. “ Please explain,
ma'am.”
“There is a tradition in my family,” Mrs.
Wheeler said, in a slow, sad voice," that when a
member of the family is about to die, a phantom
bugler makes an appearance and sounds 'taps' on
his bugle. This phenomenon occurred last night.”
“Oh, no! Spooks! But Mr. Appleby is not a
member of your family."
“No; but he was under our roof. And so I
know the warning was meant for him.”
“Well, well, we can't waste time on such rub-
bish,” interposed Burdon, “the bugle call had noth-
ing to do with the case.”
“ How do you explain it, then?” asked Mrs.


INQUIRIES
127
Wheeler. “We all heard it, and there's no bugler
about here."
“Cut it out,” ordered Burdon. “Take up the
bugler business some other time, if you like-but we
must get down to brass tacks now.”
His proceedings were interrupted, however, by
the arrival of young Samuel Appleby.
The big man came in and a sudden hush fell upon
the group.
Daniel Wheeler rose—and put out a tentative
hand, then half withdrew it as if he feared it would
not be accepted.
Hallen watched this closely. He strongly sus-
pected Wheeler was the murderer, but he had no
intention of getting himself in bad by jumping at
the conclusion.
However, Appleby grasped the hand of his host
as if he had no reason for not doing so.
“ I'm sorry, sir, you should have had this tragedy
beneath your roof," he said.
Hallen listened curiously. It was strange he
should adopt an apologetic tone, as if Wheeler
had been imposed upon.
“Our sorrow is all for you, Sam,” Dan Wheeler
returned, and then as Appleby passed on to greet


128 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Maida and her mother, Wheeler sank back in his
chair and was again lost in thought.
The whole scene was one of constraint. Appleby
merely nodded to Genevieve, and spoke a few words
to Keefe, and then asked to see his father.
On his return to the living-room, he had a slightly
different air. He was a little more dictatorial, more
ready to advise what to do.
“The circumstances are distressing," he said,
“and I know, Mr. Wheeler, you will agree with me
that we should take my father back to his home as
soon as possible.
“That will be done to-morrow morning--as soon
as the necessary formalities can be attended to. Now,
anything I can do for you people, must be
done to-night.”
“You can do a lot,” said Burdon. “You can
help us pick out the murderer-for, I take it, you
want justice done?”
“ Yes—yes, of course." Appleby looked sur-
prised. “Of course I want this deed avenged. But
I can't help in the matter. I understand you suspect
some one of the the household. Now, I shall never
be willing to accuse any one of this deed. If it can be
proved the work of an outsider-a burglar or high-


130 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Maida gazed at him with eyes full of thankful-
ness, and the others were deeply impressed by the
just, even noble, attitude of the son of the victim
of the tragedy.
But Hallen mused over this thing. He wondered
why Appleby took such an unusual stand, and de-
cided there was something back of it about which
he knew nothing as yet. And he determined to
find out.
“We can get in touch with you at any time, Mr.
Appleby?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, of course. After a few days after
my father's funeral, I will be at your disposal. But
as I've said, I know nothing that would be of any
use as evidence. Do you need to keep Mr. Keefe
and Miss Eane for any reason?”
“Why, I don't think so," the detective said.
“Not longer than to-morrow, anyhow. I'll take
their depositions, but they have little testimony to
give. However, you're none of you very far away."
“No; you can always get us at Stockfield. Mr.
Keefe will probably be willing to stay on and settle
up my father's affairs, and I know we shall be
glad of Miss Lane's services for a time.” Appleby
glanced at the two as he spoke, and they nodded.
"Well, we're going to stay right here," and


INQUIRIES
131
Burdon spoke decidedly. “Whatever the truth of
the matter may be, it's clear to be seen that suspicion
must naturally point toward the Wheeler family, or
some intruder. Though how an intruder could get
in the room, unseen by either Mr. Wheeler or his
daughter, is pretty inexplicable. But those things
we're here to find out. And we'll do it, Mr.
Appleby. I'm taking it for granted you want the
criminal found?”
“Oh, I say, Mr.-er-Burdon, have a little com-
mon decency! Don't come at me with questions of
that sort, when I'm just about knocked out with this
whole fearful occurrence! Have a heart, man, give
me time to realize my loss, before you talk to me
of avenging it!”
“ That's right,” said Curt Keefe. “I think Mr.
Appleby deserves more consideration. Suppose we
excuse him for the night.”
Somewhat reluctantly the detective was brought
to consent, and then Daniel Wheeler asked that he
and his wife and daughter also be excused from
further grilling that night.
“We're not going to run away,” he said, patheti-
cally. “We'll meet you in the morning, Mr. Burdon,
but please realize our stunned condition at present.”
W


INQUIRIES
133
“ It can't be done!” declared Burdon, unwilling
to agree to this heresy. “The law can't be set aside
by personal sympathy, Mr. Appleby!”.
“Well, I only said, if it can be," and the man
wearily turned and left the room.
“Now, then,” said Keefe, “ let's talk this thing
out. I know your position, Allen, and I'm sorry for
you. And I want to say, right now, if I can help in
any way, I will. I like the Wheelers, and I must
say I subscribe to the ideas of Sam Appleby. But
all that's up to the detectives. I've got to go away
to-morrow, so I'm going to ask you, Mr. Burdon, to
get through with me to-night. I've lots to do at the
other end of the route, and I must get busy. But I
do want to help here, too. So, at any rate, fire your
questions at me—that is, if you know what you want
to ask.”
“I'll ask one, right off, Mr. Keefe," and Hallen
spoke mildly but straightforwardly. “Can you give
me any fact or suggest to me any theory that points
toward any one but Mr. Daniel Wheeler as the
murderer of Samuel Appleby?”.
Curtis Keefe was dismayed. What could he
reply to this very definite question? A negative an-
swer implicated Wheeler at once—while a "yes,"


134 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
would necessitate the disclosure of another suspect.
And Keefe was not blind to the fact that Hallen's
eyes had strayed more than once toward Maida
Wheeler with a curious glance
Quickly making up his mind, Keefe returned:
“No fact, but a theory based on my disbelief in
Mr. Wheeler's guilt, and implying the intrusion of
some murderous-minded person.”
“ Meaning some marauder?” Hallen looked
disdainful.
“Some intruder," Keefe said. "I don't know
who, or for what reason, but I don't think it fair
to accuse Mr. Wheeler without investigating every
possible alternative.”
“There are several alternatives," Burdon de-
clared; “I may as well say right out, that I've no
more definite suspicion of Mr. Wheeler than I have
of Mrs. Wheeler or Miss Wheeler."
“What!” and Jeffrey Allen looked almost mur-
derous himself.
“Don't get excited, sir. It's my business to sus-
pect. Suspicion is not accusation. You must admit
all three of the Wheeler family had a motive. That
is, they would, one and all, have been glad to be re-
leased from the thrall in which Mr. Appleby held


INQUIRIES
135
them. And no one else present had a motive! I
might suspect you, Mr. Allen, but that you were at
the fire at the time, according to the direct testimony
of Mr. Keefe.”
“Oh, yes, we were at the fire, all right,” Allen
agreed, “and I'd knock you down for saying to me
what you did, only you are justified. I would far
rather be suspected of the murder of Mr. Appleby
than to have any of the Wheelers suspected. But
owing to Keefe's being an eye-witness of me at the
time, I can't falsify about it. However, you may
set it right down that none of the three Wheelers
did do it, and I'll prove it!”
“Go to it, Allen,” Keefe cried. “I'll help.”
“You're two loyal friends of the Wheeler fam-
ily,” said Hallen in his quiet way, “ but you can't
put anything over. There's no way out. I know
all about the governor's pardon and all that. I
know the feud between the two men was beyond all
hope of patching up. And I know that to-night had
brought about a climax that had to result in tragedy.
If Wheeler hadn't killed Appleby-Appleby would
have killed Wheeler."
“ Self-defence ? " asked Allen.
“ No, sir, not that. But one or the other had to


136 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
be out of the running. I know the whole story, and
I know what men will do in a political crisis that they
wouldn't dream of at any other time. Wheeler's the
guilty party-unless-well, unless that daughter of
his "
“Hush!” cried Allen. “I won't stand for it!”
“I only meant that the girl's great love and
loyalty to her father might have made her lose
her head- "
“No; she didn't do it,” said Allen, more quietly.
“Oh, I say, man, let's try to find this intruder that
Mr. Keefe has "
“Has invented!” put in Burdon. "No, gentle-
men, they ain't no such animile! Now, you tell me
over again, while I take it down, just what you two
saw when you came to the door of that den, as they
call it."
And so Allen and Keefe reluctantly, but truth-
fully, again detailed the scene that met their eyes as
they returned from the fire they had put out.
“The case is only too plain,” declared Burdon, as
he snapped a rubber band over his notebook.
“Sorry, gentlemen, but your story leaves no loop-
hole for any other suspect than one of the three
Wheelers. Good-night.”


CHAPTER VIII
CONFESSION
BEFORE Sam Appleby left the next morning, he
confided to Keefe that he had little if any faith in the
detective prowess of the two men investigating
the case.
“When I come back," he said, “I may bring a
real detective, and—I may not. I want to think this
thing over first-and, though I may be a queer
Dick, I'm not sure I want the slayer of my
father found.”
"I see," and Keefe nodded his head under-
standingly.
But Jeffrey Allen demurred. “You say that, Mr.
Appleby, because you think one of the Wheeler
family is the guilty party. But I know better. I
know them so well ".
“Not as well as I do,” interrupted Appleby," and
neither do you know all the points of the feud that
has festered for so many years. If you'll take my
advice, Mr. Allen, you'll delay action until my return,
at least."
137 .


138 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“ The detectives won't do that," objected Jeffrey.
“The detectives will run round in circles and get
nowhere,” scoffed Appleby. “I shall be back as soon
as possible, and I don't mind telling you now that
there will be no election campaign for me."
“What!”exclaimed Curtis Keefe. “You're out
of the running?"
“Positively! I may take it up again some other
year, but this campaign will not include my name.”
“My gracious!” exclaimed Genevieve, who
knew a great deal about current politics. “Who'll
take your place?"
“A dark horse, likely,” returned Appleby, speak-
ing in an absorbed, preoccupied manner, as if caring
little who fell heir to his candidacy.
"I don't agree with you, Mr. Appleby," spoke up
Jeff Allen, “ as to the inefficiency of the two men on
this case. Seems to me they're doing all they can,
and I can't help thinking they may get at the truth.”
“ All right, if they get at the truth, but it's my
opinion that the truth of this matter is not going to be
so easily discovered, and those two bunglers may do
a great deal of harm. Good-bye, Maida, keep up a
good heart, my girl.”
The group on the veranda said good-bye to Sam


CONFESSION
139
Appleby, and he turned back as he stepped into the
car to say:
“I'll be back as soon as the funeral is over, and
until then, be careful what you say—all of you."
He looked seriously at Maida, but his glance
turned toward the den where Mr. Wheeler sat
in solitude.
“I heard him," stormed Burdon, as the car drove
away, and the detective came around the corner of
the veranda. “I heard what he said about me and
Hallen. Well, we'll show him! Of course, the
reason he talks like that, "
“Don't tell us the reason just now," interrupted
Keefe. “We men will have a little session of our
own, without the ladies present. There's no call
for their participation in our talk.”
“ That's right,” said Allen. “Maida, you and
Miss Lane run away, and we'll go to the den for
a chat.”
“No, not there," objected Burdon. “Come over
and sit under the big sycamore."
And so, beneath the historic tree, the three men
sat down for a serious talk. Hallen soon joined
them, but he said little.
" I'm leaving myself, soon after noon," said


140 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Keefe. “ I'll be back in a day or two, but there are
matters of importance connected with Mr. Appleby's
estate that must be looked after."
"I should think there must be!” exclaimed
Burdon. “I don't see how you can leave to come
back very soon.”
Keefe reddened slightly, for the real reason for
nis intended return was centred in Maida Wheeler's
charm, to which he had incontinently succumbed.
He knew Allen was her suitor, but his nature was
such that he believed in his own powers of persuasion
to induce the girl to transfer her affections to his
more desirable self.
But he only looked thoughtfully at Burdon and
said: “ There are matters here, also, that require
attention in Mr. Appleby's interests." .
“Well,” Burdon went on, “as to the murder,
there's no doubt that it was the work of one of the
three Wheelers. Nobody else had any reason to wish
old Appleby out of the world.”
“You forget me,” said Allen, in a tense voice.
“My interests are one with the Wheelers. If they
had such a motive as you ascribe to them I had
the same.”
“Don't waste time in such talk," said Curt Keefe.


CONFESSION
141
“ I saw you, Allen, at the fire during the whole time
that covered the opportunity for the murder.”
“Of course," agreed Burdon, “I've looked into
all that. And so, as I say, it must have been one
member of the Wheeler family, for there's no one
else to suspect.”
“Including Mrs. Wheeler," quietly put in Hallen.
“How absurd !” flared out Allen. “It's bad
enough to suspect the other two, but to think of Mrs.
Wheeler is ridiculous!”
“Not at all,” said Burdon, “ she had the same
motive--she had opportunity- "
“How do you know ? ” asked Keefe.
“ She ran down from her room at that very mo-
ment,” stated Burdon. “I have the testimony of
one of the upstairs maids, and, also, I believe Miss
Wheeler saw her mother in the den.”
"Look here,” said Hallen, in his slow, drawling
tones, "let's reconstruct the situation. You two
men were at the fire—that much is certain—so you
can't be suspected. But all three of the Wheelers
had absolute opportunity, and they had motive.
Now, as I look at it--one of those three was the
criminal, and the other two saw the deed. Where-


142 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
fore, the two onlookers will do all they can to shield
the murderer.”
Keefe stared at him. “You really believe that ! ”
he said.
“Sure I do! Nobody else had either motive or
opportunity. I don't for one minute believe in an
outsider. Who could happen along at that particular
moment, get away with the shooting, and then get
away himself?”
“Why, it could have been done,” mused Keefe,
and Allen broke in eagerly:
“Of course it could! There's nothing to prove
it impossible.”
“You two say that, because you want it to be
that way,” said Burdon, smiling at the two young
men. “That's all right--you're both friends of the
family, and can't bear to suspect any one of them.
But facts remain. Now, let's see which of the three
it most likely was.”
“ The old man,” declared Hallen, promptly.
“Nonsense!” cried Allen. “Mr. Wheeler is in-
capable of a deed like that! Why, I've known him
for years
“Don't talk about incapable of anything!” said
Burdon. “Most murderers are people whom their


CONFESSION
143
Coun-
friends consider 'incapable of such a deed. A man
who is generally adjudged capable' of it is not found
in polite society."
“Where's the weapon,” asked Keefe, abruptly,
“if Mr. Wheeler did it?"
“Where's the weapon, whoever did it? ” coun-
tered Burdon. “ The weapon hasn't been found,
though I've hunted hard. But that helps to prove
it one of the family, for they would know where to
hide a revolver securely.”
“If it was Mr. Wheeler, he'd have to hide it in
the den,” said Allen. “He never goes over to the
other side of the house, you know.”
"It isn't in the den,” Hallen spoke positively;
“I hunted that myself.”
“You seem sure of your statement,” said Keefe.
“ Couldn't you have overlooked it ? ”
“Positively not."
“No, he couldn't,” concurred Burdon. “Hal-
len's a wonderful hunter. If that revolver had been
hidden in the den, he'd have found it. That's why I
think it was Mrs. Wheeler, and she took it back to
her own rooms.”
“Oh, not Mrs. Wheeler!” groaned Jeff Allen.
“ That dear, sweet woman couldn't- "


144 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“ Incapable of murder, I s'pose!” ironically said
Burdon. “Let me tell you, sir, many a time a dear,
sweet woman has done extraordinary things for the
sake of her husband or children."
“But what motive would Mrs. Wheeler have?”
“The same as the others. Appleby was a thorn
in their flesh, an enemy of many years' standing.
And I've heard hints of another reason for the fam-
ily's hating him, besides that conditional pardon busi-
ness. But no matter about that now. What I want
is evidence against somebody—against one of three
suspects. Until I get some definite evidence I can't
tell which of the three is most likely the one."
"Seems to me the fact that Mrs. Wheeler ran
downstairs and back again is enough to indicate some
pretty close questioning of her,” suggested Hallen.
“Oh, please,” begged Allen,“ she's so upset and
distracted ”
“Of course she is. But that's the reason we must
ask her about it now. When she gets calmed down,
and gets a fine yarn concocted, there'll be small use
asking her anything!”
“I'd tackle the old man first," said Hallen; “I
think, on general principles, he's the one to make
inquiries of before you go to the ladies. Let's go to
him now."


CONFESSION
145
“No;" proposed Burdon, "let's send for him to
come here. This is away from the house, and we can
talk more freely."
" I'll go for him," offered Allen, seeing they were
determined to carry out their plan.
“Not much!” said Burdon. “You're just ach-
ing to put a flea in his ear! You go for him, Hallen.”
The detective went to the house, and returned
with Daniel Wheeler at his side.
The suspected man stood straight and held him-
self fearlessly. Not an old man, he was grayed
with care and trouble, but this morning he seemed
strong and alert as any of them
“Put your questions," he said, briefly, as he
seated himself on one of the many seats beneath the
old sycamore.
"First of all, who do you think killed Samuel
Appleby?” A
This question was shot at him by Burdon, and all
waited in silence for the answer.
“I killed him myself,” was the straightfor-
ward reply.
“That settles it,” said Hallen, “it was one of
the women."
“What do you mean by that?” cried Wheeler,
turning quickly toward the speaker.
10


146 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“I mean, that either your wife or daughter did
the deed, and you are taking the crime on yourself
to save her.”
“No;” reasserted Dan Wheeler, “ you're wrong.
I killed Appleby for good and sufficient reason. I'm
not sorry, and I accept my fate.”
“Wait a minute," said Hallen, as Keefe was
about to protest; "where was your daughter, Miss
Maida, when you killed your man?”.
“I–I don't know. I think she had gone to the
fire-which had just broken out.”
“You're not sure "
“I am not."
“She had been with you, in the den?”
“I don't know."
“Well, I know. She had. She had been sitting
in her favorite window-seat, in the large bay, and
was there while you and Mr. Appleby were talking
together. Also, she did not leave the room to go to
the fire, for no one saw her anywhere near the burn-
ing garage.”
“As to that, I can't say," went on Wheeler,
slowly, “but she was not in the den, to my knowl-
edge, at the time of the shooting.”
“Very well, let that pass, Now, then, Mr.


CONFESSION
147
Wheeler, if you shot Mr. Appleby, what did you
afterward do with your revolver?”
“I-I don't know.” The man's face was con-
vincing. His frank eyes testified to the truth of his
words. “I assure you, I don't know. I was so-SO
bewildered--that I must have dropped it-some-
where. I never thought of it again."
“But if you had merely dropped it, it must have
been found. And it hasn't been.”
“Somebody else found it and secreted it," sug-
gested Hallen. “Probably Mr. Wheeler's wife
or daughter."
“Perhaps so," assented Wheeler, calmly. “They
might have thought to help me by secreting it. Have
you asked them?”.
“Yes, and they deny all knowledge of it."
“So do I. But surely it will be found.”
“It must be found. And, therefore, it is impera-
tive that the rooms of the ladies as well as your own
rooms, sir, be thoroughly searched.”
“ All right-go ahead and search!” Wheeler
spoke sharply. “I've confessed the crime, now waste
no time in useless chattering. Get the evidence, get
the proofs, and let the law take its course."
: “You will not leave the premises," put in Hallen,


148 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
and his tone was that of command rather than
inquiry.
“I most certainly shall not,” declared Wheeler.
“But I do ask you, gentlemen, to trouble and
annoy my wife and daughter as little as possible.
Their grief is sufficient reason for their being
let alone.”
“H'm," grunted Burdon. “Well, sir, I can
promise not to trouble the ladies more than is neces-
sary—but I can't help feeling necessity will demand
a great deal.”
Mrs. Wheeler was next interviewed, and the
confab took place in her own sitting-room.
None of her family was allowed to be present,
and the four men filed into the room with various
expressions of face. The two detectives were stolid-
looking, but eagerly determined to do their work,
while Allen and Keefe were alertly interested in
finding out some way to be of help to Mrs. Wheeler.
She received the men quietly, even graciously,
sensing what they had come for.
“To start with, Mrs. Wheeler," said Burdon,
frankly but not unkindly," who do you think killed
Mr. Appleby?”
“Oh–I don't know—I don't know," she wailed,
losing her calm and becoming greatly agitated.


150 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
self, and cried out:“ I did not! I shot Mr. Appleby
myself. That's why I'm so agitated.”
: “I knew it!” exclaimed Burdon. "Mr.
Wheeler's confession was merely to save his wife.
Now, Mrs. Wheeler, I believe your story, and I
want all the particulars. First, why did you
kill him?"
“Be-because he was my husband's enemy—and
I had stood it as long as I could.”
“H’m. And what did you do with the weapon
you used ?”
“I threw it out of the window.".
“And it dropped on the lawn?”
“Not dropped; I threw it far out-as far as
I could."
“Oh, I see. Out of which window?”
“Why—why, the one in the den—the bay
window.”
“But your daughter-Miss Maida—was sitting
in the bay window.”
“No, she was not,” Mrs. Wheeler spoke em-
phatically now. “She was not in the room at all.
She had gone to the fire."
“Oh, is that so? And then-what happened
next?”
“Why nothing. I-I ran upstairs again.”


CONFESSION
151 ·
“ Appalled at what you had done?”
“Not appalled so much asmas "
“ Unnerved?”
“Yes; unnerved. I fell on my bed, and Rachel
looked after me.”
“Ah, yes; we will interview Rachel, and so save
you further harrowing details. Come on, men, let's
strike while these irons are hot.”
The four filed from the room, and Burdon spoke
in a low tone, but excitedly:
“ Come quickly! There goes Miss Maida across
the lawn. We will take her next. The maid, Rachel,
can wait.”
Inwardly rebelling, but urged on by the others,
Jeff Allen went along, and as Burdon stopped Maida,
on her quick walk across the lawn, Jeff put his arm
through that of the girl, and said: “Do as they tell
you, dear. It's best to have this matter, settled
at once.”
Again the party grouped themselves under the old
sycamore, and this time Maida was the target for
their queries.
“Tell me all you know of the case,” she said,
peremptorily; " then I'll tell you what I know."
“We know that the murder was committed by
one of you three Wheelers," said Burdon, brutally.


152 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Now, both your parents have confessed to being
the criminal ”
“What?” Maida cried, her face white and her
eyes big and frightened.
“ Yes, ma'am, just that! Now, what have you
to say? Are you going to confess also ?”.
“Of course I am! For I am the real criminal !
Can't you see that my father and mother are both
trying to shield me? I did it, because of that awful
man's hold on my father! Take my confession, and
do with me what you will!”
“Here's a state of things!” cried Burdon, truly
surprised at this new development.
“The girl is telling the truth,” exclaimed Curtis
Keefe, not because he really thought so but his quick
mind told him that it would be easier to get a young
girl acquitted than an older person, and he saw the
plausibility of the detectives' theory that it must have
been one of the three Wheelers.
“Alright,” Burdon went on,' " then, Miss
Wheeler, enlighten us as to details. Where's
the weapon?”
“I don't have to tell you anything except that I
did it. Do I, Jeffrey ? Do I, Mr. Keefe?” She
looked at these two for help.


CONFESSION
153
“No, Miss Wheeler," Keefe assured her, " you
needn't say a word without legal advice."
“But, Maida,” Jeffrey groaned, “you didn't
do it-you know! You couldn't have!”
“Yes, I did, Jeff.” Maida's eyes were glit-
tering, and her voice was steady. “Of course I did.
I'd do anything to save father from any more perse-
cution by that man! And there was to be more!
Oh, don't let me talk! I mustn't!”
“No, you mustn't,” agreed Keefe. “Now, Bur-
don, you've got three confessions! What are you
going to do with them?”
“Going to find out which is the true one," an-
swered Burdon, with a dogged expression. “I knew
all the time it was one of the three, and I'm not sur-
prised that the other two are willing to perjure them-
selves to save the criminal."
“Also, there may have been collusion," sug-
gested Hallen.
“Of course," the other agreed. “But we'll find
out. The whole thing rests among the three. They
must not be allowed to escape "
“I've no intention of running away!” said
Maida, proudly.
“No one will run away,” opined Hallen, saga-


154 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Or
ciously. “The criminal will stand by the other two,
and the other two will stand by him."
“Or her, as the case may be," supplemented
Burdon.
“Her," Maida assured him. “In the first place,
my mother was upstairs in her own room, and my
father was not in the den at the time. I was
there alone.”
“Oh, yes, your father was in the den,” cried
Jeffrey, imploringly.
“No," said Maida, not catching his meaning.
But Hallen caught it.
“Where was Mr. Wheeler? ” he asked.
"I–I don't know," Maida said.
“Well, if he wasn't in the den, and if he wasn't
upstairs, maybe he was in the big living-room, look-
ing out at the fire."
“Yes—yes, I think he was!” Maida agreed.
“ Then,” Hallen went on, “then, Mr. Wheeler
broke his parole—and is due for punishment."
“Oh, no," Maida moaned, seeing where her state-
ments had led. “IMI guess he was in the den-
after all."
“And I guess you're making up as you go along,"
opined Mr. Hallen.


CHAPTER IX
COUNTER-CONFESSIONS
BEFORE Keefe went away, young Allen had a
serious talk with him.
"I want to ask your advice,” Allen said ; "shall
I confess to that crime?”
“Man alive, what are you talking about ? ” Keefe
cried, astounded at the suggestion.
“ Talking sense,” Jeffrey stoutly asserted. “I
don't believe any one of those three did it—they're
saying they did to shield one another-and so ”
“ And so, you want to get into the game!” Keefe
smiled at him. “You're very young, my boy, to
think such crude methods would get over, even with
such muffs as those two booby sleuths! No, Allen,
don't add another perjury that can be of no possible
use. You didn't do the killing, did you?”
“Of course not! But neither did the Wheelers!”
“No one of them?”
“ Certainly not.”
“Who did, then?”
“I don't know; but you yourself insisted on
some marauder."
155


156 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
ON
"Only to get suspicion away from the family.
But there's no hope of finding any evidence of an
outside job. You see, I've made some inquiries
myself, and the servants' tales make it pretty sure
that no intruder could have been here. So, the
Wheelers are the only suspects left.”
“And am I not as good for a suspect as they
are-if I make due confession?”
“No, Allen, you're not. You're in love with
Miss Maida "
“I'm engaged to her!”
“All right; don't you see, then, the absurdity
of expecting any one to believe that you, a decent,
law-abiding young citizen, would commit a murder
which would positively render impossible a marriage
with the girl you love?”
“I didn't think of that!”
“Of course you didn't. But that would make it
unlikely that those detectives would believe your tale
for a moment. No, it's ridiculous for any more
people to confess to this murder. Three avowed
criminals are quite enough for the crime!”
“ But none of them really did it.”
“How you harp on that string! Now, look here,
Allen, I'm as loath to believe it as you are, but we


158 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
back, we can—well, at least muddle things so '
“ Complicate the evidence! So that it won't
indicate ”
“Be careful now! You know what compound-
ing a felony means, don't you? Oh, Allen, you're so
young and impulsive, and the Wheelers are so emo-
tional and indiscreet, I wonder what will happen
before I get back!”
“Somebody ought to be in charge here.”
“ Yes, some good lawyer, or some level-headed
person who would hold back those fool detectives,
and look out for the interests of the Wheelers.”
“I wish you could stay.”
“I wish so, too, but I'll do all I can to return
quickly. And Mr. Wheeler ought to be able to look
after his own affairs!”
“I know he ought to—but he isn't. Also, I ought
to, but I'm not!”
“Yes you are, Jeffrey,” cried Maida, who had
happened along in time to hear the young man's
depreciation of himself.
“Hello, Maida," he turned to her. “What did
you mean by making up that string of falsehoods ? "
“Don't talk about it, Jeff,” and the girl's face
went white. “If you do, I shall go mad!”


COUNTER-CONFESSIONS
159
“I don't wonder, Miss Wheeler,” said Keefe,
sympathetically. “Now, as I've just told Allen,
I'm coming back as soon as I can make it, and until
I do, won't you try to hold off those men? Don't
let them pound you and your parents into admissions
better left unmade. I'm not asking you any
questions, I've no right to, but I beg of you to
keep your own counsel. If you are shielding some-
one, say as little as possible. If you are guilty
yourself, say nothing."
“Guilty herself!' You've no right to say such
a thing!” Allen cried out.
“Of course I have,” Keefe returned, “when I
heard Miss Wheeler avow the crime! But I must
go now. Here's the car. Good-bye, both of you,
and-Miss Wheeler, if I may advise, don't confide
too much—in anybody.”.
The last words were spoken in an aside, and if
Allen heard them he gave no sign. He bade Keefe
good-bye with a preoccupied air, and as others joined
them then, he waited till the car started, and then
took Maida's arm and led her away, toward
the garden.
Miss Lane, of course, went with Keefe, and as


160 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
the girls parted Maida had suddenly felt a sense
of loneliness.
“I liked Genevieve a lot,” she said to Allen, as
they walked away.
"I didn't,” he returned.
“Oh, Jeff, you are so quick to take prejudices
against people. I don't mean I'm specially fond of
Genevieve, but she was kind to me, and now I do
seem so alone.”
“ Alone, Maida ? When you have your parents
and me? What do you mean?”
“I can't tell you, exactly, but I seem to want
someone—someone with wide experience and edu-
cated judgment—to whom I can go for advice.”
“Won't I do, dear?”.
“You're kind enough and loving enough—but,
Jeff, you don't know things! I mean, you haven't
had experience in—in criminal cases. "
“Come on, Maida, let's have it out. What about
this criminal case of ours? For it's mine as much
as it's yours.”.
“Oh, no, it isn't, Jeff. You've nothing to do
with it. I must bear my burden alone-and-I must
ask you to release me from our engagement- "
“ Which I will never do! How absurd! Now,


COUNTER-CONFESSIONS 161
La
Maida mine, if you won't speak out, I must. I know
perfectly well you never killed Mr. Appleby. I
know, too, that you saw either your father or mother
kill him and you're trying to shield the criminal.
Very right, too, except that you mustn't keep the
truth from me. How can I help you, dear, unless I
know what you're doing—or trying to do? So, tell
me the truth—now.”
"I can't tell you more than I have, Jeff,” Maida
spoke with a long-drawn sigh. “You must believe
me. And as a-a murderer, I never, of course,
shall marry."
“Maida, you're a transparent little prevaricator!
Don't think I don't realize the awful situation, for
I do, but I can't I won't let you sacrifice yourself
for either of your parents. I don't ask you which
one it was in fact, I'd rather you wouldn't tell
me—but I do ask you to believe that I know it wasn't
you. Now, drop that foolishness.”
“ Jeffrey,” and Maida spoke very solemnly,
“ don't you believe that I could kill a man? If he
was so cruel, so dangerous to my father—my dear
father, that I couldn't stand it another minute, don't
you believe I'd be capable of killing him?”.
“We've spoken of that before, Maida, and I
. 11


162 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
think I said I believed you would be capable, in a mo-
ment of sudden, intense anger and excitement - "
“Well, then, why do you doubt my word? I
told the detectives—I tell you, that the moment came
-I saw my father, under stress of terrible anger-in
immediate, desperate danger from Samuel Appleby.
I-I shot—to kill " the girl broke down and
Jeffrey took the slender, quivering form in his arms.
“All right, sweetheart,” he whispered, “ don't
say another word-I understand. I don't blame you
-how could you think I would! I just want to help
you. How can I best do that?”
But Maida could not tell him. Her tears, once
started, came in torrents. Her whole frame shook
with the intensity of her sobs, and, unable to control
herself at all, she ran from him into the house and
up to her own room.
“What did you find out?” Burdon asked, com-
ing out from behind a nearby clump of shrubbery.
“You sneak, you cad!” Allen cried, but the de-
tective stopped him.
“Now, look here, Mr. Allen," he said, “ we're
here to do our duty, said duty being to discover the
perpetrator of a pretty awful crime. You may be so
minded as to let the murderer go scot-free, even help


COUNTER-CONFESSIONS
163
him or her to make a getaway, but I can't indulge in
any such philanthropic scheme. Mr. Appleby's been
foully murdered, and it's up to the law to find out
the killer and see justice done. My job is not a
pleasant one, but I've got to see it through, and that's
all there is about that! Now, this case is what we
call open-and-shut. The murderer is sure and posi-
tively one of three people-said three people being
known to us. So, I've just got to use all my powers
to discover which of the three I'm really after, and
when I find that out, then make my arrest. But I've
no desire to nab the wrong one."
“Which one do you think it is?” demanded
Allen, angrily.
"I've got no right nor reason to think it's either
one. I've got to find out for sure, not just think it.
So, I ask you what you learned just now from Miss
Wheeler, and why did she run to the house, weeping
like a willow tree?"
“I found out nothing that would throw any light
on your quest, and she wept because her nerves
are strained to the breaking point with worry
and exhaustion."
“ And I don't wonder!” the detective spoke sym-
pathetically. “But all the same, I'm obliged to keep


164 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
on investigating, and I must ask you what she said
to you just now."
Allen thought over the conversation he had had
with Maida. Then he said: “I am telling the truth
when I say there was no word said between us that
would be of any real use to you. Miss Wheeler is
my fiancée, and I tried to comfort her, and also to
assure her anew of my faithfulness and devotion in
her trouble.”
“And what did she say?"
“Without remembering her words exactly, I
think I can state that she said nothing more than to
reiterate that she had killed Mr. Appleby. But I
want to state also, that I believe she said it, as she
said it to you, to shield some one else."
“Her parents--or, one of them?”
“That is the reasonable supposition. But I do
not accuse either of the elder Wheelers. I still sus-
pect an intruder from outside."
“Of course you do..Anybody in your
position would. But there was none such. It was
one of the three Wheelers, and I'll proceed to find
out which one."
“ Just how do you propose to find out?"
“Well, the one that did it is very likely to give it


COUNTER-CONFESSIONS 167
"I can't say. Hallen doesn't know himself. But
he says there's a connection.”
“There may be. But unless it's a connection that
will free the Wheelers from suspicion, it doesn't
interest me."
Allen left the detective, who made no effort to
detain him, and went to the den for a talk with
Mr. Wheeler.
But that gentleman, locked in the room, declared
through the closed door that he would see nobody.
“Sorry, Jeff,” he said, in a kindly tone, “but
you must excuse me at present. Give me the day to
myself. I'll see you late this afternoon.”
As it was already noon, Allen made no further
attempt at an interview and went in search of Mrs.
Wheeler. It seemed to him he must talk to some of
the family, and he hadn't the heart to disturb Maida,
who might be resting.
Mrs. Wheeler's maid said that her mistress would
see him in a few minutes. And it was only a few
minutes later that the lady came downstairs and
greeted Allen, who awaited her in the living-room.
“What are we going to do?” she exclaimed to
him. “Do help us, Jeff. Did I do right?”


168 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“In lying to save some one you love? Yes, I
suppose so."
But Sara Wheeler had very acute hearing. Even
as they spoke, she heard a slight movement on the
porch outside, and realized at once that a detective
was listening to her every word.
Allen couldn't be sure whether this changed her
mental attitude or whether she continued as she had
meant to when she began.
But she said: “Oh, I don't mean that! I mean,
did I do right to confess my crime at once? You
know they would discover it sooner or later, and I
thought it would save time and trouble for me to
own up immediately."
“Dear Mrs. Wheeler, don't quibble with me. I
know you didn't do it. ”
"Oh, yes, I did, Jeff. Who else could it have
been ? And, too, you know about the bugler,
don't you?"
“Yes."
“Well, that's what made me do it. You see, I
thought if a death occurred, that would be the death
the bugler was heralding, and if it wasn't Mr.
Appleby it might have been Dan himself.”
She leaned forward as she spoke, her voice


COUNTER-CONFESSIONS
169
dropped to a mere whisper, and her large eyes took on
a glassy stare, while her white face was drawn and
set with an agonized expression as of a dread-
ful memory.
“And you killed Appleby for that reason?”
cried Allen.
“Oh, no-I killed him because—because ”—her
mind seemed to wander—"oh, yes," she resumed,
“because he was a menace to Dan. To my husband.”
For the first time Allen began to doubt her sanity.
Her eyes were wild, her fingers nervously interlaced
and her speech was jerky and stammering.
“A menace, how?” he asked, softly.
“In different ways," Mrs. Wheeler returned, in
so low a voice that the listener outside could scarcely
hear.“ Through me, because of something he knew;
through Maida-because of-of something he
wanted; and, of course, through Dan himself, be-
cause of that old conditional pardon.”
“What do you mean about Maida?” Allen
caught at the thing that most impressed him. “ Did
old Appleby want to marry Maida ?”
“Yes, he did. Of course, neither her father
nor I would hear of such a thing, but Mr. Appleby


170 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Comed
was an insistent man-insistent and inexorable-and
he wanted Maida- "
“Mother dear, I want you to come away now,"
and Maida came into the room. “Come, you have
talked too long. It does no good, to you or to any
one else. Did you call her down, Jeffrey?".
"Yes,” and Allen deeply regretted his act. “But
I want to talk to somebody, Maida. Will you take
your mother away—and return?”.
“ Yes, I will," and the girl left the room, guiding
the slow footsteps of her mother.
When she came back, Allen took her out under
the old sycamore.
“Now, Maida,” he said, gently," the truth. No
matter what it is, you must tell me. We are here
alone, that eavesdropping detective can't overhear us,
and you must tell me whom you are shielding and the
full details for the crime."
“I can't tell you all the details, Jeff,” the girl
returned, “they include a secret that is not mine
to divulge.”
“ You can divulge anything in a crisis like
this, Maida.”
“No, I cannot. Before he-before he died, Mr.


COUNTER-CONFESSIONS
171
Appleby told me something that I will never tell,
unless my conscience makes me do so.”
“Isn't it a matter of conscience already?”
“I don't know, Jeff; truly, I can't tell. But much
as I am bound by my principles of right, and you
know, dear, I am conscientious, I would willingly
throw them all to the winds if they interfered with
my parents' happiness, well-being or safety.”
“Let me get this straight, Maida. You would
stifle your conscience, would act directly against its
dictates for the sake of your parents ?”
“Yes, Jeffrey; right or wrong, that's what I
should do."
“Who am I that I should judge you, dear? I
know well your lifelong submission to your con-
science, even when your inclinations were strong the
other way. Now, if you have thrown over principle,
honor, conscience and right, for what you consider
a stronger motive, I can only accept your decision.
But I wish you would confide in me more fully. Do
you mean in regard to Mr. Appleby?”
"Of course I mean in regard to Mr. Appleby.
And I'm going to ask you, Jeff, to believe what I
tell you.”
“Of course I'll do that, Maida."


172 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“No; you won't want to. But I ask you to be-
lieve it implicitly and to act accordingly. Do you
promise me this?"
The girl's face was turned to his, her great, sor-
rowful eyes were full of dumb agony and showed
unshed tears, but her voice was clear and strong as
of one whose purpose was unshakable.
“ Yes, dear,” and Jeffrey took her hands in his
and looked deep into her eyes, whose blank despair
haunted him long after, “yes, Maida, I promise."
“Well, then, I killed Mr. Appleby, and you
must do whatever you think best for us all. What
shall we do first, Jeffrey?"
And with the clutch of an icy dread at his heart,
Allen replied, brokenly, “I don't know, Maida, dar-
ling, but I will find out what is best, and we will
do it "


CHAPTER X
THE PHANTOM BUGLER
The day after the funeral of Samuel Appleby,
Keefe returned to Sycamore Ridge.
“I came, Mr. Wheeler,” he said, “ to offer you
my services. I express no opinion as to who killed
Mr. Appleby, but I do know that his son is going
to use every means to discover his father's murderer,
and I can't help thinking you'd be wise to let me
take up your case.”
“ As a criminal lawyer?” asked Dan Wheeler,
quietly.
"No, sir; as a friend and adviser. If you find
you need a criminal lawyer, I'll suggest one—and a
good one. But I mean, I'd like to help you in a
general way, by consultation and advice. You, if
you will pardon me, have lived so long out of the
modern world that you are unfitted to cope with
this whole situation. I speak frankly—because I
am deeply interested "
“Just why are you so deeply interested, Mr.
Keefe?” Wheeler's tone was kindly but his glance
was sharp at his would-be benefactor.
1973


174 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
"I may as well own up," Keefe said, “I am hard
hit by your daughter. Oh, yes, I know she is en-
gaged to young Allen, and I've no hope she would
ever throw him over for me, but I'm anxious to serve
her in any way I can—and I feel pretty sure that I
can be of help to you and your family.”
“Well spoken, young man. And your promises
are right. I am out of touch with the world, and I
should be glad indeed of the advice of an experienced
man of business. But, first of all, will you tell me
who you think killed Appleby?”.
“I will, sir. I've no idea it was any of you
three people, who have all confessed to the deed, in
order to shield one another."
“Whom then do you suspect ? ”
"" An outside intruder. I have held to this theory
from the start, and I am sure it is the true one.
Moreover, I think the murderer is the man who blew
the bugle
“The phantom bugler!”
“No phantom, but a live man. Phantoms do not
blow on bugles except in old English legends. A
bugle sounded in New England and heard by several
people, was blown by human lungs. Find your bugler
and you've found your murderer."


THE PHANTOM BUGLER
175
“I wonder if you can be right!”
Wheeler fell into a brown study and Keefe
watched him closely. His bugler theory was offered
in an effort to find out what Wheeler thought of it,
and Wheeler's response ought to show whether his
own knowledge of the murder precluded the bugler
or not.
Apparently it did, for he sighed and said: “Of
course the person who sounded that bugle was a live
person, but I cannot think it had any connection
with Mr. Appleby's death. Even granting somebody
might have been wicked enough to try to frighten my
wife, yet there is no reason to think any one wishing
to kill Samuel Appleby would know of the old legend
in Mrs. Wheeler's family.”
“True enough. But it is possible, and, in my
opinion, that is the only direction to look.”
“But what direction? How can you find out
who blew that bugle?”
“I don't know yet, but I shall try to find out.
As a matter of fact very little inquiry has been made.
Those two detectives, while intelligent enough, don't
have a very wide horizon. They've concluded that
the assassin was well, was named Wheeler-and
they're only concerned to discover the first name.


176. THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Forgive my plain speaking, but to save yourself and
the other two, we must be outspoken.”
“Yes, yes-pray don't hesitate to say anything
you think. I am in a terrible position, Mr. Keefe-
more terrible than you can know, and while I am
willing to make any sacrifice for my dear ones—it
may be in vain- ”
The two men had been alone in the den, but now
were joined by Burdon and young Allen.
“ Glad to see you back, Mr. Keefe," Burdon
said; “ usually we detectives don't hanker after out-
side help, but you've a good, keen mind, and I notice
you generally put your finger on the right spot.”
“ All right, Burdon, we'll work together. Now,
Mr. Wheeler, I'm going to ask you to leave us—for
there are some details to discuss ".
Dan Wheeler was only too glad to be excused,
and with a sigh of relief he went away to his up-
stairs quarters.
“Now, it's this way," Keefe began; “ I've been
sounding Mr. Wheeler, but I didn't get any real satis-
faction. But here's a point. Either he did or didn't
kill Mr. Appleby, but in either case, he's in bad.”
“What do you mean?” asked Allen.
“Why, I've inquired about among the servants


THE PHANTOM BUGLER
177
and, adding our own testimony, I've figured it out
that Mr. Wheeler was either the murderer or he was
over the line on the other side of the house, and in
that case has broken his parole and is subject to
the law.”
“How do you prove that?” inquired Burdon,
interestedly.
“By the story of Miss Wheeler, who says her
father was not in the den at all at the time Mr.
Appleby was shot. Now, as we know, Mrs. Wheeler
ran downstairs at that time, and she, too, says her
husband was not in the den. Also she says he was
not in the living-room, nor in the hall. This leaves
only her own sitting-room, from which Mr. Wheeler
could see the fire and into which he was most likely
to go for that purpose.”
“He wouldn't go in that room for any pur-
pose,” declared Allen.
“Not ordinarily, but in the excitement of a
fire, men can scarcely refrain from running to look
at it, and if he was not in the places he had a right
to be, he must have been over on the forbidden
ground. So, it comes back to this: either Mr.
Wheeler was the murderer, and his wife and daughter
have perjured themselves to save him, or he was


178 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
in a place which, by virtue of the conditions, cancels
his pardon. This, I take it, explains Mr. Wheeler's
present perturbed state of mind—for he is bewil-
dered and worried in many ways."
“Well,” said Allen, “where does all this
lead us?”
“ It leads us,” Keefe returned,“ to the necessity
of a lot of hard work. I'm willing to go on record
as desiring to find a criminal outside of the Wheeler
family. Or to put it bluntly, I want to acquit all
three of them—even if- "
“Even if one of them is guilty ? " said Burdon.
“Well, yes-just that. But, of course I don't
mean to hang an innocent man! What I want is to
get a verdict for persons unknown.”
“I'm with you,” said Allen. “It's all wrong, I
know, but-well, I can't believe any of the Wheelers
really did it.”
“You do believe it, though!” Keefe turned on
him, sharply. “And what's more, you believe the
criminal is the one of the three whom you least want
it to be!”
Keefe's meaning was unmistakable, and Allen's
flushed and crestfallen face betrayed his unwilling
assent. Unable to retorteven unable to speak, he
quickly left the room.
oom


180 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
such things, sir, and Mr. Appleby, he's going to get
a big detective from the city."
“You don't seem to mind being discarded!”.
“No, sir. If anybody's to fasten a crime on one
of those Wheelers, I don't want to be the one to
do it.”
“Look here, Burdon, how about Wheeler's doing
it in self-defence? I know a lot about those two men,
and Appleby was just as much interested in getting
Wheeler out of his way as vice versa. If Appleby
attacked and Wheeler defended, we can get him
off easy."
“Maybe so, but it's all speculation, Mr. Keefe.
What we ought to get is evidence-testimony-and
that's hard, for the only people to ask about
it are ”
“ Are the criminals themselves."
“The suspected criminals—yes, sir.”
“There are others. Have you quizzed all the
servants ? "
“I don't take much stock in servants' stories.”
“You're wrong there, my man. That principle
is a good one in ordinary matters, but when it comes
to a murder case, a servant's testimony is as good
as his master's.”
Burdon made no direct response to Keefe's sug-


THE PHANTOM BUGLER
181
WS
gestion, but he mulled it over in his slow-going mind,
and as a result, he had a talk with Rachel, who was
ladies' maid to both Maida and her mother.
The girl bridled a little when Burdon began to
question her.
“Nobody seemed to think it worth while to ask
me anything,” she said, “ so I held my tongue. But
if so be you want information, you ask and
I'll answer."
“I doubt if she really knows anything,” Burdon
thought to himself, judging from her air of self-
importance, but he said:
“Tell me anything you know of the circum-
stances at the time of the murder."
“ Circumstances ?” repeated Rachel, wrinkling
her brow.
“Yes; for instance, where was Mrs. Wheeler
when you heard the shot?”.
“I didn't say I heard the shot."
“ Didn't you?”
“ Yes.”
“Go on, then; don't be foolish, or you'll be sorry
for it!”
“Well, then, Mrs. Wheeler was downstairs-she
had just left her room- "
“Here, let me get this story straight. How .


182 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
long had she been in her room? Were you there
with her ?”
“Yes; we had been there half an hour or so.
Then, we heard noise and excitement and a cry of
fire. Mrs. Wheeler rushed out of her room and ran
downstairs—and I followed, naturally."
“Yes; and what did you see?”.
“Nothing special—I saw a blaze of light,
through the front door "
“ The north door?”
“Of course the one toward the garage and I
saw the garage was on fire, so I thought of nothing
else then."
“Then? What did you think of later?”
“I remembered that I saw Mr. Wheeler in the
living-room in the north end of it—where he
never goes "
“ You know about his restrictions ?”
“Oh, yes, sir. The servants all know-we have
to. Well, it was natural, poor man, that he should
go to look at the fire!”
“You're sure of this, Rachel ?”
“Sure, yes; but don't let's tell, for it might get
the master in trouble.”
“On the contrary it may get him out of trouble.


THE PHANTOM BUGLER 183
To break his parole is not as serious a crime as mur-
der. And if he was in the north end of the living-
room he couldn't have been in the den shooting
Mr. Appleby."
“ That's true enough. And neither could Mrs.
Wheeler have done it."
“Why not?”
“Well—that is she was right ahead of me
“Did you keep her in sight?”
“No; I was so excited myself, I ran past her
and out to the garage.”
“Who was there?"
"Mr. Allen and Mr. Keefe and the two chauf-
feurs and the head gardener and well, most all the
servants. The men were fighting the fire, and the
women were standing back, looking on.”
“ Yelling, I suppose.”.
"No; they were mostly quiet. Cook was scream-
ing, but nobody paid any attention to her.”
“ The fire was soon over?”.
“Yes, it was a little one. I suppose that chauf-
feur of Mr. Appleby's dropped a match or some-
thing—for our servants are too well trained to do
anything of the sort. We're all afraid of fire."
“Well, the fire amounted to little, as you say.
S


184 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Curious it should occur at the time of the murder."
“Curious, indeed, sir. Do you make anything
out of that?”
“Can't see anything in it. Unless the murderer
started the fire to distract attention from himself.
In that case, it couldn't have been any of the
Wheelers.”
“That it couldn't. They were all in the house."
“Miss Maida-did you see her at the time?”
“I caught a glimpse of her as I ran through
the hall.”
“Where was she?”
“In the den; standing near the bay window.”
“Well, we've pretty well planted the three.
Mrs. Wheeler on the stairs, Mr. Wheeler, you say,
in the living-room, where he had no right to be, and
Miss Maida ”
“Oh, Miss Maida didn't do it! She couldn't!
That lovely young lady!”
“There, Rachel, that will do. You've given.
your testimony, now it's not for you to pass judg-
ment. Go about your business, and keep a quiet
tongue. No babbling--you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” and the maid went away, her attitude
still one of importance, and her face wearing a
vague smile.


THE PHANTOM BUGLER 185
Meantime Curtis Keefe was having a serious talk
with Maida.
His attitude was kindly and deferential, but he
spoke with a determined air as he said:
“Miss Wheeler, you know, I am sure, how much
I want to help you, and how glad I will be if I can do
so. But, first of all I must ask you a question. What
did Mr. Appleby mean when he said to you some-
thing about Keefe and the airship?"
Maida looked at him with a troubled glance.
For a minute she did not speak, then she said, calmly:
“I am not at liberty to tell you what we were talking
about then, Mr. Keefe, but don't you remember Mr.
Appleby said that you were not the Keefe re-
ferred to?”
"I know he said that, but I don't believe it."
“I am not responsible for your disbelief," she
drew herself up with a dignified air. “And I must
ask you not to refer to that matter again.”
“Don't take that attitude,” he begged. “At
least tell me what Keefe he did mean. There can
be no breach of confidence in that.”
“Why do you want to know?"
“Because I know Mr. Appleby had a big airship
project under consideration. Because I know he
contemplated letting me in on the deal, and it was


THE PHANTOM BUGLER
187
But this Maida could not say truthfully, and
though she tried, her assertion was belied by droop-
ing eyes and quivering lips.
“You were not,” she uttered, but she did not look
at him, and this time Curtis Keefe did not be-
lieve her.
“I was,” he said calmly, but he made no further
effort to get the whole truth from her. “I'm sorry
you can't confide fully in me, but I shall doubtless
learn all I want to know from Mr. Appleby's papers."
“You—you have them in charge?” Maida asked,
quite evidently agitated at the thought.
“Yes, of course, I'm his confidential secretary.
That's why, Miss Wheeler, it's better for you to be
frank with me in all things. Has it never occurred
to you that I'm the man who can best help you in
this whole moil of troubles?”
“Why, no," she said, slowly, “I don't believe
it ever has.”
“ Then realize it now. Truly, dear Miss
Wheeler, I am not only the one who can best help
you, but I am the only one who can help you at all-
please try to see that.”
“Why should I want help?"
“For half a dozen very good reasons. First, I


188 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
suppose you know that you are in no enviable posi-
tion regarding the death of Mr. Appleby. Oh, I
know you didn't kill him "
“But I did!”
“If you did, you couldn't take it so calmly "
“How dare you say I take it calmly? What do
you know about it? Just because I don't go about in
hysterics—that's not my nature is no sign that I'm
not suffering tortures ”
“You poor, sweet child—I know you are! Oh,
little girl, dear little girl-can't you-won't you let
me look out for you--"
The words were right enough, but the tone in
which they were uttered, the look that accompanied
them, frightened Maida. She knew at once how this
man regarded her.
Intuition told her it was better not to resent his
speech or meaning, so she only said, quietly:
“Look out for me—how?"
“Every way. Give yourself to me be my own,
own little Maida- "
" Mr. Keefe, stop! You forget you are talking
to an engaged girl
“I did forget-please forgive me.” In a mo-
ment he was humble and penitent. “I lost my head.


THE PHANTOM BUGLER
189
No, Miss Wheeler, I ask no reward, I want to help
you in any and every way-remembering you are
to be the bride of Mr. Allen."
“ Only after I'm acquitted of this crime. They
never convict a woman, do they, Mr. Keefe?”
“So that's what you're banking on! And safely,
too. No, Miss Wheeler, no judge or jury would
ever convict you of murder. But, all the same, it's
a mighty unpleasant process that brings about your
acquittal, and I advise you not to go through with it."
“But I've got to. I've confessed my crime; now
they have to try me don't they ? "
“You innocent baby. Unless-look here, you're
not-er-stringing me, are you?”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, you didn't really do the job, did you?”
“I did.” The calm glance of despair might have
carried conviction to a less skeptical hearer, but
Keefe only looked puzzled.
“I can't quite make you out,” he declared;
“either you're a very brave heroine-or-
“Or?” queried Maida.
“Or you're nutty!”
Maida laughed outright. “That's it,” she said,
and her laughter became a little hysterical. “I am


190 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
nutty, and I own up to it. Do you think we can enter
a plea of insanity?”
Keefe looked at her, a new thought dawning in
his mind.
“That might not be at all a bad plan,” he said,
slowly; "are you in earnest ? ”
“I don't know. Honestly, I think of so many
plans, and discard them one after the other. But I
don't want to be convicted!”
"And you shan't! There are more persons in
this world than the three Wheelers! And one of
them may easily be the murderer we're seeking."
“Which one?” asked Maida.
“The Phantom Bugler," returned Keefe.


CHAPTER XI
FLEMING STONE
Next day brought the advent of two men and a
boy to Sycamore Ridge.
Samuel Appleby, determined to discover the mur-
derer of his father and convinced that it was none
of the Wheeler family, had brought Fleming Stone,
the detective, to investigate the case. Stone had a
young assistant who always accompanied him, and
this lad, Terence McGuire by name, was a lively,
irrepressible chap, with red hair and freckles.
But his quick thinking and native wit rendered
him invaluable to Stone, who had already hinted
that McGuire might some day become his successor.
The Wheeler family, Jeffrey Allen, Curtis Keefe,
and Burdon, the local detective, were all gathered in
Mr. Wheeler's den to recount the whole story to
Fleming Stone.
With grave attention, Stone listened, and young
McGuire eagerly drank in each word, as if com-
mitting a lesson to memory. Which, indeed, he was,
for Stone depended on his helper to remember all
facts, theories and suggestions put forward by
the speakers.
191


194 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
political campaign. You, I am sure, know all this
from Mr. Appleby, the son.”
“Yes, I do; I'm asking you if Mr. Appleby, the
father, showed in his conversation with you, any
apprehension or gave any intimation of a fear
of disaster?”
“Mr. Stone," returned Wheeler, “I have con-
fessed that I killed Mr. Appleby; I hold, therefore,
that I need say nothing that will influence my
own case.”
“Well, you see, Mr. Wheeler, this case is un-
usual-perhaps unique, in that three people have con-
fessed to the crime. So far, I am preserving an open
mind. Though it is possible you and your wife and
daughter acted in collusion, only one of you could
have fired the fatal shot; yet you all three claim
to have done so. There is no conclusion to be drawn
from this but that one is guilty and the other two are
shielding that one.”
“Draw any conclusion you wish,” said Wheeler,
still imperturbably. “But I've no objection to re-
plying to the question you asked me. Sam Appleby
said no word to me that hinted at a fear for his
personal safety. If he had any such fear, he kept it
to himself.”


FLEMING STONE
195
“He knew of your enmity toward him?”
“Of course. He did me an unforgivable injus-
tice and I never pretended that I did not resent it.”
“And you refused to meet his wishes regarding
his son's campaign?”
“I most certainly did, for the same reasons I
opposed his own election many years ago.”
“Yes; all those details I have from Mr. Appleby,
junior. Now, Mr. Appleby does not believe that his
father was killed by any member of your family,
Mr. Wheeler."
“ Can he, then, produce the man whom he does
suspect?”
“No; he suspects no one definitely, but he thinks
that by investigation, I can find out the real criminal."
“You may as well save your time and trouble,
Mr. Stone. I am the man you seek, I freely confess
my crime, and I accept my fate, whatever it be. Can
I do more?”
“ Yes; if you are telling the truth, go on, and
relate details. What weapon did you use?”
“My own revolver."
“Where is it?”
“I threw it out of the window."
“ Which window?"


FLEMING STONE
197
years ago, for no reason but petty spite and mean
revenge! I had never seen the man, save as a small
child, and when I learned he was at last coming here,
my primitive passions were stirred, my sense of
justice awoke and my whole soul was absorbed in a
wild impulse to rid the world of such a demon in
human form! I told my parents I was capable of
killing him; they reproved me, so I said no more
But I brooded over the project, and made ready, and
then—when Mr. Appleby threatened my father,
talked to him brutally, scathingly, fairly turning the
iron in his soul-I could stand it no longer, and I
shot him down as I would have killed a venomous
serpent! I do not regret the act-though I do fear
the consequences.”
Maida almost collapsed, but pulled herself to-
gether, to add:
“ That is the truth. You must disregard and
disbelieve my father's noble efforts to save me by
trying to pretend the crime was his own."
Stone looked at her pityingly. McGuire stared
fixedly; the boy's eyes round with amazement at this
outburst of self-condemnation.
Then Stone said, almost casually: “You, too,
Mrs. Wheeler, confess to this crime, I believe.”
“I am the real criminal," Sara Wheeler asserted,


198 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
speaking very quietly but with a steady gaze into the
eyes of the listening detective. “You can readily
understand that my husband and daughter are trying
to shield me, when I tell you that only I had oppor-
tunity. I had possessed myself of Mr. Wheeler's
pistol and as I ran downstairs--well knowing the
conversation that was going on, I shot through the
doors as I passed and running on, threw the weapon
far out into the shrubbery. It can doubtless be
found. I must beg of you, Mr. Stone, that you
thoroughly investigate these three stories, and I
assure you you will find mine the true one, and the
assertions of my husband and daughter merely lov-
ing but futile attempts to save me from the conse-
quences of my act.”
Fleming Stone smiled, a queer, tender little smile.
“It is certainly a new experience for me,” he
said, “when a whole family insist on being consid-
ered criminals. But I will reserve decision until I
can look into matters a little more fully. Now, who
can give me any information on the matter, outside
of the identity of the criminal?”
Jeffrey Allen volunteered the story of the fire,
and Keefe told of the strange bugle call that had
been heard.


FLEMING STONE
199
“You heard it, Mr. Keefe?" asked Stone, after
listening to the account.
“No; I was with Mr. Appleby on a trip to Bos-
ton. I tell it as I heard the tale from the house-
hold here."
Whereupon the Wheeler family corroborated
Keefe's story, and Fleming Stone listened attentively
to the various repetitions.
“ You find that bugler, and you've got your mur-
derer," Curtis Keefe said, bluntly. “You agree,
don't you, Mr. Stone, that it was no phantom who
blew audible notes on a bugle?”.
“I most certainly agree to that. I've heard many
legends, in foreign countries, of ghostly drummers,
buglers and bagpipers, but they are merely legends
I've never found anyone who really heard the sounds.
And, moreover, those things aren't even legends in
America. Any bugling done in this country is done
by human lungs. Now, this bugler interests me. I
think, with you, Mr. Keefe, that to know his identity
would help us whether he proves to be the criminal
or not."
“He's the criminal," Keefe declared, again.
“Forgive me, Mr. Stone, if my certainty seems to
you presumptuous or forward, but I'm so thoroughly


200 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
convinced of the innocence of the Wheeler family,
that perhaps I am overenthusiastic in my theory.”
“A theory doesn't depend on enthusiasm,” re-
turned Stone, " but on evidence and proof. Now,
how can we set about finding this mysterious bugler
-whether phantom or human?”
“I thought that's what you're here to do," Sam
Appleby said, looking helplessly at Fleming Stone.
“We are," piped up Terence McGuire, as Stone
made no reply. “That's our business, and, conse-
quentially, it shall be done."
The boy assumed an air of importance that was
saved from being objectionable by his good-humored
face and frank, serious eyes. “I'll just start in and
get busy now," he went on, and rising, he bobbed
a funny little bow that included all present, and left
the room.
It was mid-afternoon, and as they looked out
on the wide lawn they saw McGuire strolling slowly,
hands in pockets and seemingly more absorbed in the
birds and flowers than in his vaunted “business."
“ Perhaps McGuire needs a little explanation,"
Stone smiled. “He is my right-hand man, and a
great help in detail work. But he has à not alto-
gether unearned reputation for untruthfulness. In-


FLEMING STONE
201
deed, his nickname is Fibsy, because of a congenital
habit of telling fibs. I advise you of this, because I
prefer you should not place implicit confidence in
his statements.”
“But, Mr. Stone,” cried Maida, greatly inter-
ested, “how can he be of any help to you if you
can't depend on what he says ?”
“Oh, he doesn't lie to me,” Stone assured her;
“nor does he tell whoppers at any time. Only, it's
his habit to shade the truth when it seems to him ad-
visable. I do not defend this habit; in fact, I have
persuaded him to stop it, to a degree. But you know
how hard it is to reform entirely."
"It won't affect his usefulness, since he doesn't
lie to his employer,” Appleby said, “and, too, it's
none of our business. I've engaged Mr. Stone to
solve the mystery of my father's death, and I'm
prepared to give him full powers. He may conduct
his investigations on any plan he chooses. My only
stipulation is that he shall find a criminal outside
the Wheeler family."
“A difficult and somewhat unusual stipulation,”
remarked Stone.
“Why difficult?” Dan Wheeler said, quickly.
“Because, with three people confessing a crime,


202 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
and no one else even remotely suspected, save a
mysterious and perhaps mythical bugle-player, it
does not seem an easy job to hunt up and then hunt
down a slayer.”
“But you'll do it,” begged Appleby, almost plead-
ingly, “ for it must be done.”
“We'll see," Stone replied. “And now tell me
more about the fire in the garage. It occurred at the
time of the shooting, you say? What started it?”
But nobody knew what started it.
“How could we know ? ” asked Jeff Allen. “ It
was only a small fire and the most it burned was the
robe in Mr. Appleby's own car and a motor coat that
was also in the car.”
,"Whose coat?". asked Stone.
“Mine," said Keefe, ruefully. “A bit of bad
luck, too, for it was a new one. I had to get an-
other in place of it.”
“And you think the fire was the result of a
dropped cigarette or match by Mr. Appleby's
chauffeur?"
“I don't know," returned Keefe. “He denies it,
of course, but it must have been that or an incen-
diary act of some one."
“Maybe the bugler person,” suggested Stone.


FLEMING STONE
203
“Maybe,” assented Keefe, though he did not
look convinced.
“I think Mr. Keefe thinks it was the work of
my own men,” said Dan Wheeler. “And it may
have been. There's one in my employ who has an
ignorant, brutal spirit of revenge, and if he thought
Samuel Appleby was inimical to me, he would be
quite capable of setting fire to the Appleby car. That
may be the fact of the case."
" It may be," agreed Stone.“ Doubtless we can
find out
“How?" asked Allen. “That would be magi-
cian's work, I think.”
“A detective has to be a magician," Stone smiled
at him. “We quite often do more astounding tricks
than that."
“Go to it, then!” cried Appleby. “That's the
talk I like to hear. Questions and answers any of us
can put over. But the real detecting is like magic.
At least, I can't see how it's done. Duff in, Mr.
Stone. Get busy.”
The group dispersed then, Fleming Stone going
to his room and the others straying off by twos
or threes.
Burdon, who had said almost nothing during


204 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
the confab, declared he wanted a talk with the great
detective alone, and would await his pleasure.
So Burdon sat by himself, brooding, on the ver-
anda, and presently saw the boy, Fibsy, returning
toward the house.
“Come here, young one," Burdon called out.
“Nixy, old one,” was the saucy retort.
“Why not? ” in a conciliatory tone.
“ 'Cause you spoke disrespectful like. I'm a de-
tective, you know."
.“ All right, old pal; come here, will you?”
Fibsy grinned and came, seating himself on a
cushioned swing nearby.
“Whatcha want?” he demanded.
“Only a line o' talk. Your Mr. Stone, now, do
you think he'll show up soon, or has he gone for
a nap?”
“Fleming Stone doesn't take naps," Fibsy said,
disdainfully; "he isn't that sort."
“ Then he'll be down again shortly?”.
“Dunno. Maybe he's begun his fasting and
prayer over this phenomenal case.”
“Does he do that?"
“How do I know? I'm not of a curious turn of
mind, me havin' other sins to answer for."


FLEMING STONE
205
“I know. Mr. Stone told us you have no respect
for the truth”
“Did he, now! Well, he's some mistaken! I
have such a profound respect for the truth that I
never use it except on very special occasions.”
“ Is this one?”
“ It is not! Don't believe a word I say just now.
In fact, I'm so lit up with the beauties and glories
of this place, that I hardly know what I am a-saying!
Ain't it the show-place, though!”
“Yes, it is. Looky here, youngster, can't you
go up and coax Mr. Stone to see me just a few
minutes ? "
“Nope; can't do that. But you spill it to me, and
if it's worth it, I'll repeat it to him. I'm really along
for that very purpose, you see.”
“But I haven't anything special to tell him "
“Oh, I see! Just want the glory and honor of
chinning with the great Stone!”
As this so nearly expressed Burdon's intention, he
grinned sheepishly, and Fibsy understood.
“No go, old top,” he assured him. “F. Stone
will send for you if he thinks you'll interest him in
the slightest degree. Better wait for the sending-
it'll mean a more satisfactory interview all round.”


206 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Well, then, let's you and me chat a bit.”
“Oho, coming round to sort of like me, are you?
Well, I'm willing. Tell me this: how far from the
victim did the shooter stand ? ”.
“ The doctor said, as nearly as he could judge,
about ten feet or so away.”
“H'm," and Fibsy looked thoughtful. “That
would just about suit all three of the present claim-
ants for the honor, wouldn't it?”
“Yes; and would preclude anybody not inside
the room."
"Unless he was close to the window.”
“Sure. But it ain't likely, is it now, that a rank
outsider would come right up to the window and
fire through it, and not be seen by anybody?”.
“No; it isn't. And, of course, if that had hap-
pened, and any one of the three Wheelers had seen
it, they would be only too glad to tell of it. I won-
der they haven't made up some such yarn as that.”
“You don't know the Wheelers. I do, and I
can see how they would perjure themselves—any of
them—and confess to a crime they didn't commit,
to save each other—but it wouldn't occur to them to
invent a murderer-or to say they saw some one they
didn't see. Do you get the difference?”
on-


FLEMING STONE
207
“ Being an expert in the lyin' game, I do," and
Fibsy winked.
“It isn't only that. It's not only that they're
unwilling to lie about it, but they haven't the—the,
well, ingenuity to contrive a plausible yarn."
“Not being lying experts, just as I said,”
Fibsy observed. “Well, we all have our own kind
of cleverness. Now, mine is finding things. Want
to see an example?”
“Yes, I do."
“ All right. How far did you say the shooter
person stood from his victim?"
“ About ten feet-but I daresay it might be two
or three feet, more or less."
“No; they can judge closer'n that by the powder
marks. The truth wouldn't vary more'n a foot or so,
from their say. Now, s'posin' the shooter did throw
the revolver out of the bay window, as the three
Wheelers agree, severally, they did do, where would
it most likely land ?”
“ In that clump of rhododendrons."
“Yep; if they threw it straight ahead. I s'pose
you've looked there for it?”
“Yes, raked the place thoroughly.”


208 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“All right. Now if they slung the thing over
toward the right, where would it land ?”
“On the smooth lawn.”
“ And you didn't find it there!”
“No. What are you doing? Stringing me?"
“Oh, no, sir; oh, no! Now, once again. If they
chanced to fling said revolver far to the left, where
would it land ? ”
“Why—in that big bed of ferns—if they threw
it far enough."
“Looked there?”
“No; I haven't."
“C'mon, let's take a squint."
Fibsy rose and lounged over toward the fern bed,
Burdon following, almost certain he was being made
game of.


210 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Just one grandstand play,” the boy confessed.
As a matter of fact, he had located the pistol some-
time earlier, but waited to make the discovery
seem sensational.
“ All right; let's take a look at it.”
Without hesitation, Burdon pronounced the re-
volver Mr. Wheeler's. It had no initials on it, but
from Wheeler's minute description, Burdon recog-
nized it beyond reasonable doubt. One bullet had
been fired from it, and the calibre corresponded to the
shot that had killed Samuel Appleby.
“Oh, it's the right gun, all right,” Burdon said,
“ but I never thought of looking over that way for it.
Must have been thrown by a left-handed man."
“Oh, not necessarily,” said Stone. “But it was
thrown with a conscious desire to hide it, and not
flung away in a careless or preoccupied moment.”
“And what do you deduce from that?” asked
Burdon, quite prepared to hear the descrip-
tion of the murderer's physical appearance and
mental attainments.
“Nothing very definite," Stone mused. “We
might say it looked more like the act of a strong-
willed man such as Mr. Wheeler, than of a fright-
ened and nervously agitated woman."


212 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“And if not, which way are you looking ?”
“ Toward the fire. That most opportune fire
in the garage seems to me indicative of a criminal
who wanted to create a panic so he could carry out
his murderous design with neatness and despatch."
“And that lets out the women?"
“Not if, as you say, they're of the daring and
capable sort.”
“Oh, they are! If Maida Wheeler did this
thing, she could stage the fire easily enough. Or
Mrs. Wheeler could, either. They're hummers when
it comes to efficiency and actually doing things!”
“You surprise me. Mrs. Wheeler seems such
a gentle, delicate personality."
“Yep; till she's roused. Then she's full of tiger!
Oh, I know Sara Wheeler. You ask my wife what
Mrs. Wheeler can do!”
“Tell me a little more of this conditional pardon
matter. Is it possible that for fifteen years Mr.
Wheeler has never stepped over to the forbidden
side of his own house?”
“Perfectly true. But it isn't his house, it's Mrs.
Wheeler's. Her folks are connected with the
Applebys and it was the work of old Appleby that the
property came to Sara with that tag attached, that


THE GARAGE FIRE
213
she must live in Massachusetts. Also, Appleby par-
doned Wheeler on condition that he never stepped
foot into Massachusetts. And there they were. It
was Sara Wheeler's ingenuity and determination
that planned the house on the state line, and she
has seen to it that Dan Wheeler never broke parole.
It's second nature to him now, of course."
“ But I'm told that he did step over the night of
the murder. That he went into the sitting-room of
his wife or maybe into the forbidden end of that
long living-room-to see the fire. It would be a
most natural thing for him to do."
“Not natural, no, sir.” Burdon rubbed his brow
thoughtfully. “ Yet he might 'a' done it. But one
misstep like that ought to be overlooked, I think.”
.." And would be by his friends—but suppose
there's an enemy at work. Suppose, just as a theory,
that somebody is ready to take advantage of the
peculiar situation, that seems to prove Dan Wheeler
was either outside his prescribed territory-or he
was the murderer. To my way of thinking, at pres-
ent, that man's alibi is his absence from the scene of
the crime. And, if he was absent, he must have been
over the line. I know this from talks I've had with
the servants and the family and guests, and I'm pretty


214 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
confident that Wheeler was either in the den or in the
forbidden north part of the house at the moment
of the murder."
“Why don't you know which it was?” asked
Burdon, bluntly.
“Because,” said Stone, not resenting the ques-
tion, “because I can't place any dependence on the
truth of the family's statements. For three respect-
able, God-fearing citizens, they are most astonish-
ingly willing, even eager, to perjure themselves. Of
course, I know they do it for one another's sake.
They have a strange conscience that allows them to
lie outright for the sake of a loved one. And, it
may be, commit murder for the sake of a loved one!
But all this I shall straighten out when I get further
along. The case is so widespread, so full of ramifi-
cations and possible side issues, I have to go care-
fully at first, and not get entangled in false clues."
“Got any clue, sir ? Any real ones?”
“Meaning dropped handkerchiefs and broken
cuff-links?" Stone chaffed him. “Well, there's
the pistol. That's a material clue. But, no, I can't
produce anything else at present. Well, Terence,
what luck?".
Fibsy, who had slipped from the room at the
very beginning of this interview, now returned.


THE GARAGE FIRE
215
“It's puzzlin'—that's what it is, puzzlin'," he
declared, throwing himself astride of a chair. “ I've
raked that old garage fore and aft, but I can't track
down the startings of that fire. You see, the place is
stucco and all that, and besides the discipline of this
whole layout is along the lines of p'ison neatness!
Everybody that works at Sycamore Ridge has to be a
very old maid for keeping things clean! So, there's
no chance for accumulated rubbish or old rags or
spontaneous combustion or anything of the sort.
Nextly, none of the three men who have any call
to go into the garage ever smoke in there. That's
a Mede and Persian law. Gee, Mr. Wheeler is some
efficient boss! Well, anyway, after the fire, though
they tried every way to find out what started it,
they couldn't find a thing! There was no explana-
tion but a brand dropped from the skies, or a stroke
of lightning! And there was no storm on. It
wouldn't all be so sure, but the morning after, it
seems, Mr. Allen and Mr. Keefe were doin' some
sleuthin' on their own, and they couldn't find out
how the fire started. So, they put it up to the garage
men, and they hunted, too. It seems nothing was
burnt but some things in Mr. Appleby's car, which,
of course, lets out his chauffeur, who had no call


216 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
to burn up his own duds. And a coat of his was
burned and also a coat of Mr. Keefe's.”.
“What were those coats doing in an unused
car?” asked Stone.
“Oh, they were extra motor coats, or raincoats,
or something like that, and they always staid in
the car."
“Where, in the car?”
“I asked that,” Fibsy returned, “and they were
hanging on the coat-rail. I thought there might have
been matches in the pockets, but they say no. There
never had been matches in those coat pockets, nor
any matches in the Appleby car, for that matter."
“Well, the fire is pretty well mixed up in the
murder,” declared Stone. “Now it's up to us to find
out how."
"Ex-cuse me, Mr. Stone,” and Burdon shook
his head; "you'll never get at it that way."
“Ex-cuse me, Mr. Burdon," Fibsy flared back,
“Mr. Stone will get at it that way, if he thinks
that's the way to look. You don't know F. Stone
yet- "
“Hush up, Fibs; Mr. Burdon will know if I
succeed, and, perhaps he's right as to the unim-
portance of the fire, after all."


218 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“What's that ? ” cried Fibsy. “What do you
mean?"
“Well, the Wheelers have got a letter from
Appleby, written while he was still governor, and
it says that when the big sycamore goes into Massa-
chusetts, Wheeler can go, too. But it can't be done
by a trick. I mean, they can't transplant the thing,
or chop it down and take the wood over. It's got to
go of its own accord.”
“Mere teasing,” said Stone.
“Yes, sir, just that. Appleby had a great streak
of teasing. He used to tease everybody just for the
fun of seeing them squirm. This whole Wheeler
business was the outcome of Appleby's distorted
love of fun. And Wheeler took it so seriously that
Appleby kept it up. I'll warrant, if Wheeler had
treated the whole thing as a joke, Appleby would
have let up on him. But Dan Wheeler is a solemn
old chap, and he saw no fun in the whole matter."
“I don't blame him," commented Stone. “Won't
he get pardoned now?”.
“No, sir, he won't. Some folks think he will,
but I know better. The present governor isn't much
for pardoning old sentences—he says it establishes


THE GARAGE FIRE
221
say I do have a remimbrance of seein' a figger-but
sort of vague like.”
“You mean your memory of it is vague-you
don't mean a shadowy figure?”
“No, sor. I mean I can't mind it rightly, now,
for I was thinkin' intirely of the fire, and so as I was
runnin' past the end of the verandy all I can say is,
I just glimpsed like, a person standin' there."
“ Standing?"
“Well, he might have been moving—I dunno.”
“Are you sure it was a man?"
“ I'm not. I'm thinkin' it was, but yet, I couldn't
speak it for sure.”
“Then you went on to the fire?”
“Yes, sor."
“And thought no more about the person on
the veranda ? "
“No, sor. And it niver wud have entered me
head again, savin' your speakin' of it now. Why-
was it the the man that. ”
“Oh, probably not. But everything I can learn
is of help in discovering the criminal and perhaps
freeing your employers from suspicion.”
“And I wish that might be! To put it on the


222 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
good man, now! And worse, upon the ladies-
angels, both of them!”
“You are fond of the family, then?”
“I am that! I've worked here for eight years,
and never a cross word from the missus or the mas-
ter. As for Miss Maida-she's my darlint."
“ They're fortunate in having you here," said
Stone, kindly. “That's all, now, cook, unless you
can remember anything more of that person
you saw.”
“Nothin' more, sor. If I do, I'll tell you.”
Thinking hard, Stone left her.
It was the most unusual case he had ever at-
tempted. If he looked no further for the murderer
than the Wheeler family, he still had enough to do
in deciding which one of the three was guilty. But
he yearned for another suspect. Not a foolish phan-
tom that went around piping, or a perhaps imaginary
prowler stalking on the piazza, but a real suspect with
a sound, plausible motive.
Though, to be sure, the Wheelers had motive
enough. To be condemned to an absurd restriction
and then teased about it, was enough to make life
gall and wormwood to a sensitive man like Wheeler.
And who could say what words had passed be-
el


THE GARAGE FIRE
tween them at that final interview? Perhaps Ap-
pleby had goaded him to the breaking point; perhaps
Wheeler had stood it, but his wife, descending the
stairs and hearing the men talk, had grown desperate
at last; or, and Stone knew he thought this most
plausible of all, perhaps Maida, in her window-seat,
had stood as long as she could the aspersions and
tauntings directed at her adored father, and had,
with a reckless disregard of consequences, silenced
the enemy forever.
Of young Allen, Stone had no slightest suspicion.
To be sure, his interests were one with the Wheeler
family, and moreover, he had hoped for a release
from restrictions that would let the Wheelers go into
Massachusetts and thereby make possible his home
there with Maida.
For Maida's vow that she would never go into the
state if her father could not go, too, was, Allen
knew, inviolable.
All this Stone mulled over, yet had no thought
that Allen was the one he was seeking. Also, Curtis
Keefe had testified that Allen was with him at the
fire, during the time that included the moment
of shooting.


224 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Strolling out into the gardens, the detective made
his way to the great tree, the big sycamore.
Here Fibsy joined him, and at Stone's tacit nod
of permission, the boy sat down beside his superior
on the bench under the tree.
“What's this about the tree going to Massachu-
setts?” Fibsy asked, his freckled face earnestly
inquiring.
"One of old Appleby's jokes,” Stone returned.
“ Doubtless made just after a reading of 'Macbeth.'
You know, or if you don't, you must read it up for
yourself, there's a scene there that hinges on Birnam
Wood going to Dunsinane. I can't take time to tell
you about it, but quite evidently it pleased the old wag
to tell Mr. Wheeler that he could go into his native
state when this great tree went there."
“Meaning not at all, I s'pose.”
“Of course. And any human intervention was
not allowed. So though Birnam Wood was brought
to Dunsinane, such a trick is not permissible in his
case. However, that's beside the point just now.
Have you seen any of the servants?”
“Some. But I got nothing. They're willing
enough to talk, but they don't know anything. They
say I'd better tackle the ladies' maid, a fair Rachel.
or


THE GARAGE FIRE
225
So I'm going for her. But I bet I won't strike
pay-dirt.”
“You may. Skip along, now, for here comes
* Miss Maida, and she's probably looking for me.”
Fibsy departed, and Maida, looking relieved to
find Stone alone, came quickly toward him.
“You see, Mr. Stone,” she began, “ you must
start straight in this thing. And the only start pos-
sible is for you to be convinced that I killed
Mr. Appleby.”
" But you must admit, Miss Wheeler, that I
am not too absurd in thinking that though you say
you did it, you are saying it to shield some one else
some one who is near and dear to you.”
“I know you think that—but it isn't so. How
can I convince you?”
“Only by circumstantial evidence. Let me
question you a bit. Where did you get the revolver?"
"From my father's desk drawer, where he
always keeps it.”
“You are familiar with firearms? "
“My father taught me to shoot years ago. I'm
not a crack shot_but that was not necessary."
“ You premeditated the deed?”
15


226 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“For some time I have felt that I wanted to
kill that man.”
“Your conscience?”
“Is very active. I deliberately went against its
dictates for my father's sake."
“And you killed Mr. Appleby because he
hounded your father in addition to the long depriva-
tion he had imposed on him?”.
“No, not that alone. Oh, I don't want to tell
you—but, if you won't believe me otherwise, Mr.
Stone, I will admit that I had a new motive "
“A new one?”
“ Yes, a secret that I learned only a day or so
before before Mr. Appleby's death."
“The secret was Appleby's?”
“ Yes; that is, he knew it. He told it to me.
If any one else should know it, it would mean the
utter ruin and desolation of the lives of my parents,
compared to which this present condition of living is
Paradise itself!”
“This is true, Miss Wheeler?”
" Absolutely true. Now, do you understand
why I killed him?"


CHAPTER XIII
SARA WHEELER
FLEMING STONE was deeply interested in the
Appleby case.
While his logical brain could see no possible way
to look save toward one of the three Wheelers, yet
his soul revolted at the thought that any one of them
was the criminal.
Stone was well aware of the fact that the least
seemingly guilty often proved to be a leep-dyed
villain, yet he hesitated to think that Dan Wheeler
had killed his old enemy, and he could not believe it
was a woman's work. He was impressed by Maida's
story, especially by the fact that a recent develop-
ment had made her more strongly desirous to be rid
of old Appleby. He wondered if it did not have
something to do with young Appleby's desire to
marry her, and determined to persuade her to confide
further in him regarding the secret she mentioned.
But first, he decided to interview Mrs. Wheeler.
This could not be done offhand, so he waited a con-
venient season, and asked for a conference when he
felt sure it would be granted.
227


228 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Sara Wheeler received the detective in her sitting-
room, and her manner was calm and collected as she
asked him to make the interview as brief as possible.
“ You are not well, Mrs. Wheeler?” Stone
asked, courteously.
“I am not ill, Mr. Stone, but naturally these
dreadful days have upset me, and the horror and
suspense are still hanging over me. Can you not
bring matters to a crisis? Anything would be better
than present conditions!”
“I some member of your family would tell me
the trut 2," Stone said frankly, “it would help a great
deal. You know, Mrs. Wheeler, when three people
insist on being regarded as the criminal, it's difficult
to choose among them. Now, won't you, at least,
admit that you didn't shoot Mr. Appleby?"
“But I did," and the serene eyes looked at
Stone calmly.
“Can you prove it-I mean, to my satisfaction?
Tell me this: where did you get a pistol?”
“I used Mr. Wheeler's revolver."
“Where did you get it?”.
“From the drawer in his desk, where he always
keeps it.”
Stone sighed. Of course, both Maida and her


SARA WHEELER
229
mother knew where the revolver was kept, so this
was no test of their veracity as to the crime.
“When did you take it from the drawer?"
Sara Wheeler hesitated for an instant and from
that, Stone knew that she had to think before she
spoke. Had she been telling the truth, he argued,
she would have answered at once.
But immediately she spoke, though with a shade
of hesitation.
“I took it earlier in the day, I had it up in my
own room.”
“ Yes; where did you conceal it there?”
“In—in a dresser drawer.”
"And, when you heard the alarm of fire, you
ran downstairs in consequence—but you paused to
get the revolver and take it with you!"
This sounded absurd, but Sara Wheeler could
see no way out of it, so she assented.
“Feeling sure that you would find your hus-
band and Mr. Appleby in such a desperate quarrel
that you would be called upon to shoot?”
“I-I overheard the quarrel from upstairs,” she
faltered, her eyes piteous now with a baffled despair.
“Then you went down because of the quarreling
voices not because of the fire-alarm?”.


230 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Unable to meet Stone's inexorable gaze, Mrs.
Wheeler's eyes fell and she nervously responded :
“Well, it was both."
“Now, see here," Stone said, kindly;“ you want
to do anything you can, don't you, to help your hus-
band and daughter?”.
“ Yes, of course!” and the wide-open eyes now
looked at him hopefully.
“ Then will you trust me far enough to believe
that I think you will best help them by telling
the truth?”
“Oh, I can't!” and with a low moan the dis-
tracted woman hid her face in her hands.
“Please do; your attitude proves you are con-
cealing important information. I am more than ever
sure you are not the guilty one and I am not at all
sure that it was either of the other two."
“ Then who could it have been?” and Sara
Wheeler looked amazed.
“ That we don't know. If I had a hint of any
direction to look I'd be glad. But if you will shed
what light you can, it may be of great help.”
“ Even if it seems to incriminate my- "
“What can incriminate them more than their
own confessions? "


SARA WHEELER
231
“Their confessions contradict each other. They
can't both be guilty.”
“ And you don't know which one is?”
“N—no," came the faltering reply.
“But that admission contradicts your own con-
fession. Come now, Mrs. Wheeler, own up to me
that you didn't do it, and I'll not tell any one else,
unless it becomes necessary."
“I will tell you, for I can't bear this burden
alone any longer! I did go downstairs because of
the alarm of fire, Mr. Stone. Just before I came to
the open door of the den, I heard a shot, and as
I passed the door of the den, I saw Mr. Appleby,
fallen slightly forward in his chair, my husband
standing at a little distance looking at him, and
Maida in the bay window, also staring at them both.
“What did you do? Go in?”
“No; I was so bewildered, I scarcely knew which
way to turn, and in my fear and horror I ran into
my own sitting-room and fell on the couch there
in sheer collapse.”
“ You stayed there?”
“Until I heard voices in the den—the men came
back from the fire and discovered the—the tragedy.
At least, I think that's the way it was. It's all mixed


232 THE UU
TTI
MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
up in my mind. Usually I'm very clear-headed and
strong nerved, but that scene seemed to take away
all my will-power-all my vitality.”
“I don't wonder. What did you do or say ? ”
“I had a vague fear that my husband or daughter
would be accused of the crime, and so, at once, I
declared it was the work of the phantom bugler.
You've heard about him?”.
“Yes. You didn't think it was he, though,
did you?”
“I wanted to yes, I think I did. You see, I
don't think the bugler was a phantom, but I do think
he was a criminal. I mean, I think it was somebody
who meant harm to my husband. I-well—I think
maybe the shot was meant for Mr. Wheeler."
Stone looked at her sharply, and said: “ Please,
Mrs. Wheeler, be honest with me, whatever you may
pretend to others. Are you not springing that theory
in a further attempt to direct suspicion away from
Mr. Wheeler ? "
She gave a gesture of helplessness. “I see I
can hide nothing from you, Mr. Stone! You are
right—but may there not be a chance that it is a
true theory after all?”
“Possibly; if we can find any hint of the bugler's


234 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
W
looked into the den immediately after you heard the
shot. You must realize how important this testi-
mony is.”
“I do," was the solemn reply. “I saw, as I told
you, both my husband and my daughter looking at
Mr. Appleby as he sat in his chair. I did not know
then that he was dead, but he must have been dead or
dying. The doctors said the death was practi-
cally instantaneous.”
“And from their attitude or their facial ex-
pression could you assume either your husband or.
daughter to have been the guilty one?”
“I can only say they both looked stunned and
horrified. Just as one would expect them to look on
the occasion of witnessing a horrible tragedy.”
" Whether they were responsible for it or not?”
“Yes. But I'm not sure the attitude would have
been different in the case of a criminal or a witness.
I mean the fright and horror 'I saw on their faces
would be the same if they had committed a crime or
had seen it done."
Stone considered this. “You may be right," he
said; “I daresay absolute horror would fill the soul
in either case, and would produce much the same
effect in appearance. Now, let us suppose for a mo-


SARA WHEELER
235
answ
ment, that one or other of the two did do the shoot-
ing—wait a moment!” as Mrs. Wheeler swayed un-
certainly in her chair. “Don't faint. I'm supposing
this only in the interests of you and yours. Sup-
pose, I say, that either Mr. Wheeler or Miss Wheeler
had fired the weapon-as they have both confessed
to doing—which would you assume, from their ap-
pearance, had done it?”
Controlling herself by a strong effort, Sara
Wheeler answered steadily, “ I could not say. Hon-
estly, to my startled eyes they seemed equally horri-
fied and stunned."
“Of course they would. You see, Mrs. Wheeler,
the fact that they both confess it, makes it look as if
one of them did do it, and the other having witnessed
the deed, takes over the blame to save the guilty one.
This sounds harsh, but we have to face the facts.
Then, if we can get more or different facts, so much
the better."
“You're suggesting, then, that one of my peo-
ple did do it, and the other saw it done?”
“I'm suggesting that that might be the truth,
and so far as we can see now, is the most appar-
ent solution. But I'm not saying it is the truth,
nor shall I relax my efforts to find another answer to


236 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
our problem. And I want to tell you that you have
helped materially by withdrawing your own confes-
sion. Every step I can take toward the truth is
helpful. You have lessened the suspects from three
to two; now if I can eliminate another we will have
but one; and if I can clear that one, we shall have
to look elsewhere.”
“ That is specious argument, Mr. Stone,” and
Sara Wheeler fixed her large, sad eyes upon his face.
“For, if you succeeded in elimination of one of the
two, it may be you cannot eliminate the third-
and then- "
“And then your loving perjuries will be useless.
True, but I must do my duty—and that means my
duty to you all. I may tell you that Mr. Appleby,
who employed me, asked me to find a criminal out-
side of your family, whether the real one or not.”
“He put it that way!”
“He did; and while I do want to find the outside
criminal, I can't find him if he doesn't exist."
“Of course not. I daresay I shall regret what
I've told you, but- "
“But you couldn't help it, I know. Don't worry,
Mrs. Wheeler. If you've no great faith in me, try


SARA WHEELER
237
to have a hopeful trust, and I assure you I will not
betray it.”
“Well, Mr. McGuire," Stone said to his adoring
satellite, a little later, “there's one out.”
“Mother Wheeler?”
“Yes, you young scamp; how did you know?”
“Saw you hobnobbing with her—she being took
with a sudden attack of the confidentials—and, any-
how, two of 'em—at least—has got to cave in. You
can ferret out which of 'em is George Washingtons
and which isn't.”
“Well, here's the way it seems to stand now.
Mind, I only say seems to stand.”
“ Yessir.”
“ The father and daughter-both of whom con-
fess to the shooting, were seen in the room immedi-
ately after the event. Now, they were on opposite
sides of the room, the victim being about midway
between them. Consequently, if one shot, the other
was witness thereto. And, owing to the deep devo-
tion obtaining between them, either father or daugh-
ter would confess to the crime to save the other.”
“Then,” Fibsy summed up, “Mr. Wheeler and
Maida don't suspect each other; one did it, and both
know which one."


240 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Finally he found the cook, and putting on his best
and most endearing little boy effects, he appealed
for something to eat.
“Not but what I'm well treated at the table," he
said, “but, you know what boys are."
“I do that,” and the good-natured woman fur-
nished him with liberal pieces of pie and cake.
“Great,” said Fibsy, eating the last crumb as he
guilefully complimented her culinary skill," and now
I've got to find a person name o' Rachel. Where
might she be?”
“She might be 'most anywhere, but she isn't
anywhere," was the cryptic reply.
“Why for?”
“Well, she's plain disappeared, if you know what
that means."
“Vamoosed? Skipped ? Faded? Slid? Oozed
out?"
“Yes; all those. Anyway, she isn't on the place."
“ Since when?”
“Why, I saw her last about two hours ago.
Then when Mrs. Wheeler wanted her she wasn't to
be found.”
“ And hasn't sence ben sane?"
“ Just so. And as you are part and parcel of


SARA WHEELER
241
that detective layout that's infestin' the house an'
grounds, I wish you'd find the hussy."
“Why, why, what langwitch! Why call her
names?"
“She's a caution! Get along now, and if you
can't find her, at least you can quit botherin' me.”
“All right. But tell me this, before we part.
Did she confide to your willin' ears anything about
the murder?"
“ Uncanny you are, lad! How'd you guess it ? "
“I'm a limb of Satan. What did she tell you?
and when ? "
"Only this morning; early, before she flew off.”
“ Couldn't very well have told you after she
started.”
“No impidence now. Well, she told me that the
night of the murder, as she ran from here to the
garage, she saw on the south veranda a man with
a bugle pipe!”
“A pipe dream!”
"I dunno. But she told it like gospel truth."
“ Just what did she say?".
“ Said she saw a man—a live man, no phantom
foolishness, on the south veranda, and he carried
a bugle.”


242 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“ Did he play on it?”
“No; just carried it like. But she says he musta
been the murderer, and by the same token it's the
man I saw!”
“Oho, you saw him, too?”
“As I told your master, I saw him, but not plain,
as I ran along to the fire. Rachel, now, she saw him
plain, so he musta been there. Well, belike, he
was the murderer and that sets my people free.”
“ Important if true, but are you both sure? And
why, oh, why does the valuable Rachel choose this
time to vanish? Won't she come back?”
“Who knows? She didn't take any lug-
gagen
"
“How did she go?”
“Nobody knows. She walked, of course "
“Then she couldn't have gone far.”
“Oh, well, she could walk to the railway station.
It's only a fairish tramp. But why did she go?”
“I ask you why."
“And I don't know. But I suppose it was be-
cause she didn't want to be questioned about the
man who shot."
“What! You didn't say she saw him shoot!"
“Yes, I did. Or I meant to. Anyway that's


244 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
there any inn or place she could get a room
and board?”
“Oh, land, she hasn't gone away to stay. She's
scart at something most likely, and she'll be back
by nightfall.”
“She may and she may not. She must be found.
Wait, has she a lover?”
“Well, they do say Fulton, the chauffeur, is
sweet on her, but I never noticed it much."
“Who said he was?”
“Mostly she said it herself.”
“She ought to know! Me for Fulton. Good-
bye, Cookie, for the nonce," and waving a smiling
farewell, Fibsy went off toward the garage.


246 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
and had no label or stopper, and Fibsy looked at
it blankly.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Never see one like it?”
“No; have you?”
“Yes, I have. I was in the war, and bottles like
that contained acid which, when combined with an-
other acid, caused spontaneous combustion.”
“ Combined—how?”
“Well, they used to saturate some cloth or old
clothes with the other acid, and throw them about.
Then, when the time came they threw a little bottle
like that, filled with acid, and with only a paper
stopper, in among the clothes. The acid slowly ate
out the paper stopper, and then the two acids caused
combustion. So, by the time the fire started, the
man who was responsible for it was far away from
the scene."
“Whew! And you think that happened here?”
“There's the bottle. The fire began in Mr.
Appleby's car. Two coats and a rug were burned-
now, mightn't they have been sprinkled with the
other acid "
“Of course that's what happened! Why haven't
you told this before?”
ma
was
m
.


248 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Call me McGuire. And if you don't know
where she is, you know something about her disap-
pearance. When did she go away?”.
"I saw her last night. She said nothing about
going away, but she seemed nervous and worried,
and I couldn't say anything to please her.”
“ Can't you form any idea of where she might
have gone? Be frank, Fulton, for much depends on
getting hold of that girl.”
“I can only say I've no idea where she is, but
she may communicate with me. In that case "
“In that case, let me know at once," Fibsy com-
manded, and having learned all he could there, he
went off to think up some other means of finding the
lost Rachel.
Meantime Sam Appleby was taking his
departure.
"I have to go,” he said, in response to the
Wheelers' invitation to tarry longer ; " because Keefe
is coming down to-morrow. One of us ought to be
in father's office all the time now, there's so much
to attend to."
“Why is Mr. Keefe coming here?" asked Maida.
“Mr. Stone wants to see him,” Appleby informed
her. “You know, Keefe is more or less of a detec-
was


RACHEL'S STORY
249
tive himself, and Mr. Stone thinks he may be helpful
in finding the criminal. Miss Lane is coming also,
she begged to, mostly, I think, because she took such
a liking to you."
“I liked her, too,” returned Maida; "she's a
funny girl but a sincere, thorough nature.”
“Yes, she is. Well, they'll only stay over a day
or two, I can't spare them longer. Of course, they
may be of help to Mr. Stone, and they may not. But
I don't want to miss a trick in this investigation.
What a queer little chap that boy of Stone's is!”
“Fibsy? " and Maida smiled. “Yes, he's a
case! And he's my devoted slave.”
“As who isn't?” exclaimed Appleby. “Oh,
Maida, do give me a little encouragement. After
this awful business is all over, mayn't I come back
with a hope that you'll smile on me?”
“Don't talk that way, Sam. You know I'm
engaged to Jeffrey."
“Oh, no, you're not. I mean, it can be possible
for you to change your mind. Girls are often en-
gaged to several men before they marry."
“ I'not that sort,” and Maida smiled a little
sadly.
“ Be that sort, then."


250 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“You seem to forget that I may be openly
accused of crime at any moment. And a crime that
hits you pretty closely.”
“Don't say such things, dear. Neither you nor
any of your people are responsible for the dreadful
thing that happened to father-or, if you are, I
never want to know it. And I do want you, Maida
dear—so much ”
“Hush, Sam; I won't listen to anything like that
from you.”
“Not now, but later on,” he urged. “Tell me
that I may come back, Maida dear.”
“Of course you may come here, whenever you
like, but I hold out no hope of the sort you ask for.”
“I shall hope all the same. I'd die if I didn't!
Good-bye, Maida, for this time.”
He went away to the train, and later, came Keefe
and Genevieve Lane.
“Oh," the girl cried, “I'm so glad to be back
here again, Maida. My, but you're prettier than
ever! If you'd only touch up those pale cheeks
just a little bit-here, let me ".
She opened her ever-ready vanity box, and was
about to apply a touch of rouge, but Maida sprang
away from her.


252 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
McGuire, my young assistant. You may speak
frankly before him.”
“If I have anything to speak,” said Keefe. “I
don't really know anything I haven't told, but
I may remind Mr. Wheeler of some points he
has forgotten.”
“Well, let's talk it all over,” Stone suggested,
and they did.
Keefe was greatly surprised and impressed by
the story of the cook's having seen a man on the
south veranda at the time of the shooting.
“But she didn't see him clearly," Fibsy added.
“ Couldn't she describe him?"
“No; she didn't see him plain enough. But the
maid, Rachel, told cook that she saw the man, too,
and that he carried a bugle. Cook didn't see
the bugle.”
“Naturally not, if she only saw the man
vaguely,” said Wheeler. “ But, it begins to look as
if there must have been a man there and if so, he
may have been the criminal.”
“Let us hope," said Keefe, earnestly. “Now,
can you find this man, Mr. Stone?”.
“We've got to find him," Stone returned,
“ whether we can or not. It's really a baffling case.


254 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
won't do any good, dear. I take the burden of the
crime and I own up that I did it. This man on the
veranda—if, indeed, there was such a one, may
have been any of the men servants about the place,
startled by the cry of fire, and running to assure
himself of the safety of the house and family. He,
doubtless, hesitates to divulge his identity lest he
be suspected of shooting."
“That's all right,” declared Fibsy,“ but if it was
one of your men, he'd own up by this time. He'd
know he wouldn't be suspected of shooting Mr.
Appleby. Why should he do it?"
“Why should anybody do it, except myself ? "
asked Dan Wheeler. “Not all the detectives in the
world can find any one else with a motive and oppor-
tunity. The fact that both my wife and daughter
tried to take the crime off my shoulders only makes
me more determined to tell the truth.”
“But you're not telling the truth, dad,” and
Maida looked at him. “You know I did it-you
know I had threatened to do it-you know I felt I
just could not stand Mr. Appleby's oppression of you
another day! And so—and so, I- "
“Go on, Miss Wheeler," urged Stone, “and so
you—what did you do?”


RACHEL'S STORY
255
“I ran across the den to the drawer where father
keeps his pistol; I took it and shot-then I ran back
to the window-seat- "
“What did you do with the pistol?”
“Threw it out of the window.”
“ Toward the right or left ? "
“Why, I don't know.”
“ Try to think. Stand up there now, and remem-
ber which way you flung it."
Reluctantly, Maida went to the bay window, and
stood there thinking.
“I don't know," she said, at last. “I can't
remember.”
“It doesn't matter," said Keefe. “I think we
can prove that it was none of the Wheelers, but there
was a man, an intruder, on the veranda who shot.
Even if we never find out his identity, we may prove
that he was really there. Where is this maid who
saw him clearly? Rachel-is that her name?”
“That's a pretty thing, too!” Fibsy spoke up.
“She has flew the coop.”
“Gone! Where?” Keefe showed his disap-
pointment.
“Nobody knows where. She just simply lit out.
Even her lover doesn't know where she is.”


RACHEL'S STORY
257
“Come on, I'll show you," offered Fibsy and
the two started away together.
“Here you are," and Fibsy showed the bed of
ferns, which, growing closely together, made a dense
hiding place.”
“A wonder you ever found it," said Keefe.
“How'd you happen to ?”
“Oh, I just snooped around till I came to it.
I says to myself, ` Either the murderer flung it away
or he didn't. If he did, why it must be somewheres,'
and it was.”
"I see; and does Mr. Stone think the finding of
it here points to either of the Wheelers?”
“Not necess'rily. You see, if the man we're
looking for did the shooting, he's the one who threw
the pistol in this here fern bed. And, you know
yourself, it's more likely a man threw this farther
than a woman.”
“Miss Wheeler is athletic.”
“I know, but I'm convinced that Miss Wheeler
didn't do the deed. Ain't you?”.
“Oh, I can't think she did it, of course. But.
it's all very mysterious."
“Not mysterious a bit. It's hard sleddin', but
there ain't much mystery about it. Why, look a-here.


258 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
If either the father or daughter did it, they both
know which one it was. Therefore, one is telling
the truth and one isn't. It won't be hard to find out
which is which, but F. Stone, he's trying to find
some one that'll let the Wheelers both out."
“Oh, that's his idea ? And a mighty good one.
I'll help all I can. Of course, the thing to do is to
trace the pistol.”
“Oh, it was Mr. Wheeler's pistol, all right.”
“It was!” Keefe looked dismayed. “Then
how can we suspect an outsider?”
“Well, he could have stolen Mr. Wheeler's pis-
tol for the purpose of casting suspicion on him.”
“Yes; that's so. Now to find that Rachel."
"Oh, do find her," Maida cried, overhearing the
remark as she and Genevieve crossed the lawn to-
ward Keefe and Fibsy.
The lad had not yet seen Miss Lane and he
frankly admired her at once. Perhaps a sympathetic
chord was struck by the similarity of their natures.
Perhaps they intuitively recognized each other's gay
impudence, for they engaged in a clash of words
that immediately made them friends.
“Maybe Rachel'd come back if she knew you


RACHEL'S STORY
259
were here," he said. “I'm sure she'd admire to
wait on such a pretty lady."
“Just tell her that you saw me,” Genevieve said,
“and I'll be glad to have her back. She's a first-
class ladies' maid."
“Oh, then she only waits on first-class ladies?”
“Yes; that's why she's so fond of me. Do
hunt her up.”
“Well, cutie, just for you, I'll do that same.
Where shall I go to look for her?”
“How should I know? But you keep watch of
Fulton, and I'll bet he gets some word from her.”
“Yes, they're sweethearts. Now, how do sweet-
hearts get word to each other? You ought to know
all about sweethearting.”
“I don't," said Genevieve, demurely.
“Pshaw, now, that's too bad. Want me to
teach you?”
“ Yes—if you don't mind.”
“ Saunter away with me, then," and the saucy
boy led Miss Lane off for a stroll round the grounds.
“Honest, now, do you want to help?” he asked.
“Yes, I do," she asserted. “I'm downright
fond of Maida, and though I know she didn't do it,
yet she and her father will be suspected unless we can


RACHEL'S STORY
261
“She will,” Fibsy answered for her. "She will
get right into this car and go at once—in the
name of the law!” he added sternly, as Rachel
seemed undecided.
Fibsy often used this phrase, and, delivered in an
awe-inspiring tone, it was usually effective.
Rachel did get into the car, and they returned
to Sycamore Lodge in triumph.
“Good work, Fibs," Stone nodded his approval.
“Now, Rachel, sit right down here on the veranda,
and tell us about that man you saw.”
The girl was clearly frightened and her voice
trembled, but she tried to tell her story.
“There's nothing to fear,” Curtis Keefe said,
kindly. “ Just tell slowly and simply the story of
your seeing the man and then you may be excused.”
She gave him a grateful look, and seemed to
take courage.
“Well, I was passing the veranda "
“Coming from where and going where?” inter-
rupted Stone, speaking gently.
“Why, I-I was coming from the—the
garage "
“Where you had been talking to Fulton?”
“ Yes, sir."


266 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
thinks one of 'em is guilty. He doesn't consider
Mrs. Wheeler-I guess nobody does now.”.
“ Probably not. Go on.”
“Well, so Keefie, he thinks if he can get this
bugler person guaranteed, by a reliable and respon-
sible witness—which, of course, Rachel would seem
to be—then, Mr. Keefe thinks, he's got the Wheelers
cleared. Now, Rachel, getting cold feet about it all,
goes back on Keefe-oh, I could see it in his face!”
“Yes, he looked decidedly annoyed at Rachel's
failure of a convincing performance.”
“He did so! Now, Mr. Stone, even if he bol-
sters up Rachel's story or gets her to tell it more
convincingly—we know, you and I, that it isn't true.
There wasn't any man on the south veranda.”
“Sure, Terence?”
“Yessir, I'm pretty sure. For, what became of
him? Where did he vanish to? Who was he?
There never was any bugler-I mean as a murderer.
The piper who piped some nights previous had noth-
ing to do with the case!”
“Sure, Terence?"
“Oh, come now, Mr. Stone—I was sure, till you
say that at me, so dubious like—and then I'm not
so sure."


THE AWFUL TRUTH
267
“Well, go on with your theory, and let's see
where you come out. You may be on the right track,
after all. I'm not sure of many points myself yet.”
“ All right. To my mind, it comes back to a
toss-up between Miss Maida and her father, with the
odds in favor of the old gentleman. Agree?"
“I might, if I understood your English. The
odds in favor of Mr. Wheeler indicating his guilt
or innocence?"
“His guilt, I meant, F. Stone. I can't think
that sweet young lady would do it, and this isn't be-
cause she is a sweet young lady, but because it isn't
hardly plausible that she's put the thing over, even
though she was willing enough to do so.”
" It seems so to me, too, but we can't bank on that.
Maida Wheeler is a very impulsive girl, very vigor-
ous and athletic, and very devoted to her father.
She worships him, and she has been known to say she
would willingly kill old Mr. Appleby. These things
must be remembered, Fibsy."
“That's so. But I've noticed that when folks
threaten to kill people they most generally don't
do it.”
“ I've also noticed that. But, striking out Maida's
name, leaves us only Mr. Wheeler."


268 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“Well, ain't he the one? Ain't he the down-
trodden, oppressed victim, who, at last, has oppor-
tunity, and who is goaded to the point of desperation
by the arguments of his enemy?”.
“You grow oratorical! But, I admit, you have
an argument."
“ 'Course I have. Now, say we've got to choose
between Miss Wheeler and Mr. Wheeler, how do
we go about it?”
“How?”
“Why, we find out how Mr. Appleby was sit-
ting, how Mr. Wheeler was facing at the moment,
and also Miss Maida's position. Then, we find out
the direction from which the bullet entered the body,
and then we can tell who fired the shot.”
“I've done all that, Fibs," Stone returned, with
no note of superiority in his voice. "I found out
all those things, and the result proves that the bullet
entered Mr. Appleby's body from the direction of
Miss Maida, in the bay window, and directly oppo-
site from what would have been its direction if
fired by Mr. Wheeler, from where he stood, when
seen directly after the shot.".
Fibsy looked dejected. He made no response
to this disclosure for a moment, then he said:


THE AWFUL TRUTH
269
“ All right, F. Stone. In that case I'm going
over to Mr. Keefe's side, and I'm going to hunt up
the bugler.”
“A fictitious person?”
“Maybe he ain't so fictitious after all," and the
red-head shook doggedly.
A tap at the door of Stone's sitting-room was
followed by a “May I come in?" and the entrance
of Daniel Wheeler.
“The time has come, Mr. Wheeler," Stone be-
gan a little abruptly, “to put all our cards on the
table. I've investigated things pretty thoroughly,
and, though I'm not all through with my quest, I
feel as if I must know the truth as to what you know
about the murder."
“I have confessed,” Wheeler began, but Stone
stopped him.
“That won't do," he said, very seriously. “ I've
proved positively that from where you stood, you
could not have fired the shot. It came from the
opposite direction. Now it's useless for you to keep
up that pretence of being the criminal, which, I've no
doubt, you're doing to shield your daughter. Con-
fide in me, Mr. Wheeler, it will not harm the case.”
“God help me, I must confide in somebody,"


270 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
cried the desperate man. “She did do it! I saw
Maida fire the shot! Oh, can you save her? I
wouldn't tell you this, but I think, I hope you can
help better if you know. You'd find it out
anyway- "
“Of course I should. Now, let us be strictly
truthful. You saw Miss Maida fire the pistol?”
“Yes; I was sitting almost beside Appleby; he
was nearer Maida than I was, and she sat in the bay
window, reading. She sits there much of the time,
and I'm so accustomed to her presence that I don't
even think about it. We were talking pretty angrily,
Appleby and I, really renewing the old feud, and
adding fuel to its flame with every word. I suppose
Maida, listening, grew more and more indignant at
his injustice and cruelty to me—those terms are not
too strong !-and she being of an impulsive nature,
even revengeful when her love for me is touched, and
I suppose she, somehow, possessed herself of my
pistol and fired it.”
“You were not looking at her before the shot?”
“Oh, no; the shot rang out, Appleby fell for-
ward, and even as I rose to go to his aid, I instinct-
ively turned toward the direction from which the
sound of the shot had come. There I saw Maida,


THE AWFUL TRUTH
271
standing white-faced and frightened, but with a look
of satisfied revenge on her dear face. I felt no
resentment at her act, then-indeed, I was incapable
of coherent thought of any sort. I stepped to
Appleby's side, and I saw at once that he was dead-
had died instantly. I cannot tell you just what hap-
pened next. It seemed ages before anybody came,
and then, suddenly the room was full of people.
Allen and Keefe came, running—the servants gath-
ered about, my wife appeared, and Maida was there.
I had a strange undercurrent of thought that kept
hammering at my brain to the effect that I must
convince everybody that I did it, to save my girl. I
was clear-headed to the extent of planning my words
in an effort to carry conviction of my guilt, but that
effort so absorbed my attention that I gave no heed
to what happened otherwise."
“ Thank you, Mr. Wheeler, for your kindness.
I assure you you will not regret it."
“You're going to save her? You can save my
little girl? Oh, Mr. Stone, I beg of you— ".
The agonized father broke down completely, and
Stone said, kindly:
“Keep up a good heart, Mr. Wheeler. That will
help your daughter more than anything else you can


THE AWFUL TRUTH
273
“I shall do my best. You know they rarely,
if ever, convict a woman-and, too, Miss Wheeler
had great provocation. Then—what about self-
defence?"
“ Appleby threatened neither of us,” Wheeler
said. “That can't be used.”
“Well, we'll do everything we can, you may de-
pend on that,” Stone assured him. And Wheeler
went away, relieved at the new turn things had taken,
though also newly concerned for Maida's safety.
“Nice old chap,” said Fibsy to Stone. “He
stuck to his faked yarn as long as the sticking was
good, and then he caved in.”
“Open and shut case, Terence?”.
“Open-but not yet shut, F. Stone. Now, where
do we go from here?”.
“You go where you like, boy. Leave me to
grub at this alone.”
Without another word Fibsy left the room. He
well knew when Stone spoke in that serious tone
that great thoughts were forming in that fertile brain
and sooner or later he would know of them. But
at present his company was not desired.
The boy drifted out on the terraced lawn and
.18


276 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
sed
Ce
SES
“Yes, I have. I've been over Mr. Appleby's
papers--as I had a right to do. You know I was
his confidential secretary, and he kept no secrets
from me except those he wanted to keep!”
“Go on,” said Maida, calm now, and her eyes
glistening with an expression of despair.
“Need I go on? You know the truth. You
know that I am the rightful heir of this whole place.
Sycamore Ridge is mine, and not your mother's.”
“Yes.” The word was scarce audible. Poor
Maida felt as if the last blow had fallen. She had
seared her conscience, defied her sense of honor,
crucified her very soul to keep this dreadful secret
from her parents for their own sake, and now all
her efforts were of no avail!
Curtis Keefe knew that the great estate was
legally his, and now her dear parents would be turned
out, homeless, penniless and broken down by sorrow
and grief.
Even though he might allow them to stay there,
they wouldn't, she knew, consent to any such
arrangement.
She lifted a blanched, strained 'face to his, as
she said: “What—what are you going to do?”
“ Just what you say,” Keefe replied, drawing


THE AWFUL TRUTH
277
closer to her side. “It's all up to you, Maida dear.
Don't look offended; surely you know I love you-
surely you know my one great desire is to make
you my wife. Give your consent; say you will be
mine, and rest assured, dearest, there will be no
trouble about the ‘heirship.' If you will marry me,
I will promise never to divulge the secret so long
as either of your parents live. They may keep this
place, and, besides that, darling, I will guarantee to
get your father a full pardon. I-well, I'm not
speaking of it yet—but I'll tell you that there is
a possibility of my running for governor myself,
since young Sam is voluntarily out of it. But, in
any case, I have influence enough in certain quar-
ters—influence increased by knowledge that I have
gleaned here and there among the late Mr. Appleby's
papers—to secure a full and free pardon for your
father. Now, Maida, girl, even if you don't love
me very much yet, can't you say yes, in view of what
I offer you?”
“How can you torture me so? Surely you know
that I am engaged to Mr. Allen.”
“I didn't know it was a .positive engagement-
but, anyway,” his voice grew hard," it seems to me
that any one so solicitous for her parents' welfare


278 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
and happiness as you have shown yourself, will not
hesitate at a step which means so much more than
others you have taken.”
“Oh, I don't know what to do—what to say—let
me think.”
“Yes, dear, think all you like. Take it quietly
now. Remember that a decision in my favor means
also a calm, peaceful and happy life insured to your
parents. Refusal means a broken, shattered life, a
precarious existence, and never a happy day for them
again. Can you hesitate ? I'm not so very unpre-
sentable as a husband. You may not love me now,
but you will! I'll be so good to you that you can't
help it. Nor do I mean to win your heart only by
what I shall do for you. For, Maida dearest, love
begets love, and you will find yourself slowly per-
haps, but surely, giving me your heart. And we will
be so happy! Is it yes, my darling ?”
The girl stared at him, her big brown eyes full
of agony.
“You forget something,” she said, slowly. “I
am a murderess!"
“Hush! Don't say that awful word! You are
not-and even if you were, I'll prove you are not !
Listen, Maida, if you'll promise to marry me, I'll


THE AWFUL TRUTH
279
find the real murderer-not you or your father, but
the real murderer. I'll get a signed confession—I'll
acquit you and your family of any implication in the
deed, and I'll produce the criminal himself. Now,
will you say yes?”
“You can't do all that,” she said, speaking in an
awestruck whisper, as if he had proposed to perform
a miracle.
“I can—I swear it!”
“Then, if you can do that, you ought to do it,
anyway! In the interests of right and justice, in
common honesty and decency, you ought to tell
what you know!”
“Maida, I am a man and I am in love with you.
That explains much. I will do all I have promised,
to gain you as my bride—but not otherwise. As to
right and justice you've confessed the crime,
haven't you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you confess it to me, now? Do you say
to me that you killed Samuel Appleby?”.
There was but a moment's pause, and then Maida
said, in a low tone: “Yes—I confess it to you,
Mr. Keefe.”
“ Then, do you see what I mean when I say I


280 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
will produce the-murderer? Do you see that I
mean to save you from the consequences of your
own rash act—and prove you, to the world at
large, innocent?”
Keefe looked straight into Maida's eyes, and her
own fell in confusion.
“Can you do it?” she asked, tremulously.
“When I say I will do a thing, I've already
proved to my own satisfaction that I can do it. But,
I'll do it only at my own price. The price being you
--you dear, delicious thing! Oh, Maida, you've no
idea what it means to be loved as I love you! I'll
make you happy, my darling! I'll make you forget
all this horrible episode; I'll give you a fairyland
life. You shall be happier than you ever dreamed of.”
“But-Jeffrey—oh, I can't.”
“ Then-Miss Wheeler, you must take the conse-
quences all the consequences. Can you do that?”
“No," Maida said, after an interval of silence.
“I can't. I am forced to accept your offer,
Mr. Keefe "
“ You may not accept it with that address."
“ Curtis, then. Curtis, I say, yes.”


CHAPTER XVI
MAIDA'S DECISION
“MAIDA, it cannot be. I shall never let you
marry Mr. Keefe when I know how you love
Jeffrey.” Sara Wheeler spoke quietly, but her
agonized face and tear-filled eyes told of her deep
distress. Though not demonstrative, she loved her
daughter, her only child, with an affection that was
almost idolatry, and she had been glad of the idea
of Maida's marriage to Jeffrey, for she knew of his
sterling worth, and she knew the depth and sincerity
of their attachment.
“Don't say you won't let me, mother," Maida
spoke in a dull, sad tone-a tone of calm despair.
"It must be so. I'm not saying I love him—I'm not
saying much about it all—but I tell you solemnly-
it must be. And you must not raise a single word of
objection,if you do, you will only make my hard
lot harder.”
“But, dear, you must explain. I am your
mother—I've always had your confidence, and I
ought to be told why you are doing this thing."
“That's just the trouble, mother. I can't tell
281


282 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
you. And because of the confidence that has always
been between us, you must trust me and believe that
I am doing right-and doing the only possible thing.
Oh, it is all hard enough, without having to argue
about it. Why, my will power may give out! My
soul strength may break down! Mother! don't-
don't combat me! Don't tempt me aside from the
only straight line of duty and of right!”
“ Child, you are not doing right! You cannot
have a duty of which I know nothing! Of which
your father knows nothing! Maida, my little girl,
what is this thing that has warped your sense of
right and wrong? Has Curtis Keefe won your heart
away from Jeffrey-_-"
“Noroh, no! Never that! But it would be
a wrong to Jeffrey for me to marry him—it would
be a wrong to—to all of us! By marrying Mr. Keefe
I can make everything right-and- ”she suddenly
assumed an air of cold, stern determination.
“Mother, my mind is made up. You cannot change
it, nor can you help me by trying. You only make
it harder for me, and I beg of you to stop. And then
-you know, mother—I killed Mr. Appleby___”
“Hush, Maida, you never did! I know you
didn't!”.


MAIDA'S DECISION
283
“ But it was either I or father! You don't be-
lieve he did, do you?”
“God help me! I don't know what to believe!
But I tried to say I did it-only I couldn't carry it
out—nor can you, dear.”
“Nor can father, then. Oh, mother, I did do
that shooting! I did! I did!”
“Every assertion like that makes me more cer-
tain you didn't,” and Mrs. Wheeler fondly caressed
the head that lay on her breast. Maida was not hys-
terical, but so deeply troubled that she was nervously
unstrung and now gave way to torrents of tears, and
then ceased crying and bravely announced her plans.
“ Please, mother darling, don't talk about that.
Suppose I tell you that even that matter will be all
set right if I marry Curtis Keefe and by no other
means. Even Mr. Stone can't find any other suspect
than us three Wheelers. He doesn't at all believe
in the ' bugler.' Nobody does."
“I do."
“Only as a last chance to free father and me.
Mother it's an awful situation. Worse, far worse
than you know anything about. Won't you trust me
to do what I know to be right-and when I tell you
I must marry Mr. Keefe, won't you believe me?


284 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
And not only believe me but help me. Help me in
every way you can—for God knows I need help.”
“What can I do, darling," asked Sara Wheeler,
awed by the look of utter hopelessness on Maida's
face.
“Stand by me, mother. Urge father not to
oppose this marriage. Help me to tell Jeffrey-you
tell him, can't you, mother? I can't-oh, I can't!”
Again Sara Wheeler broke out into protestations
against this sacrifice of her loved daughter, and
again Maida had to reaffirm her decision, until, both
worn out, they separated, Sara promising to do just
as Maida wished in all things.
And in fulfillment of this promise, Sara told
young Allen.
As she expected, he was stunned by the news,
but where she had supposed he would show anger
or rage, he showed only a deep sympathy for Maida.
“Poor little girl," he said, the quick tears spring-
ing to his eyes; “ what dreadful thing can that man
have held over her to force her to this? And what
is the best way for me to go about remedying the
situation? You know, Mrs. Wheeler, Maida
wouldn't talk like that unless she had arrived at a
very desperate crisis- "


MAIDA'S DECISION
285
“If she killed Mr. Appleby, "
“She never did! No power on earth can make
me believe that! Why, when Maida's own confes-
sion doesn't convince me, what else could ? No;
there's some deep mystery behind that murder. I
mean something far deeper and more mysterious
than any of us yet realize. I think Mr. Stone is on
track of the solution, but he cannot have made much
progress or, if he has, he hasn't told of it yet. But,
I'm not a detective-nor is any needed when Mr.
Stone is on the case, but I am out to protect and clear
my Maida-my darling. Poor child, how she is suf-
fering! Where is she?”
“ Don't go to her, Jeff. At least, not just now.
She begged that you wouldn't
“But I must I've got to!”
“No; for her sake- Jeffrey dear, for our
Maida's sake, leave her alone for the present. She
is so worried and anxious, so wrought up to the very
verge of collapse, that if you try to talk to her she
will go all to pieces.”
“ But that's all wrong. I ought to soothe her, to
comfort her--not make her more troubled !”
“You ought to, I know, but you wouldn't. Oh,
it isn't your fault-it isn't that you don't love her


286 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
enough—not that she doesn't love you enough-in
fact, that's just the trouble. Try to see it, Jeff.
Maida is in the clutch of circumstances. I don't
know the facts, you don't; but it is true that the
kindest thing we can do for her just now is to leave
her alone. She will do right "
“As she sees it, yes! But she sees wrong, I
know she does! The child has always been overcon-
scientious—and I'm positive that whatever she is up
to, it's something to save her father!”
.: “Oh, Jeff-then you believe he is ”
“Why, Mrs. Wheeler, don't you know whether
your husband killed Mr. Appleby or not?”.
"I don't know! Heaven help me how can I.
know? The two of them, shielding each other "
“Wait a minute, if they are shielding each other
—they're both innocent!”
“But it isn't that way. Mr. Wheeler said to me,
at first: “Of course, either Maida or I did it. We
both know which one did it, but if we don't tell, no
one else can know.”
"I see that point; but I should think, knowing
both so closely as you do, you could discern the
truth—and ”-he gazed at her steadily—“you have.”
“Yes—I have. Of course, as you say, in such


MAIDA'S DECISION
287
intimacy as we three are, it would be impossible
for me not to know.”
“And-it was Maida ?"
“Yes, Jeffrey."
“How are you certain?”
“Her father saw her.”
“Saw her shoot?”
“ Yes.”
“ Then, I'm glad you told me. I'm going to
marry her at once, and have all rights of her protec-
tion through the trial—if it comes to that. Nothing
else could have convinced me of her act! Poor, dear
little Maida. I've known her capability for sudden,
impulsive action but-oh, well, if Mr. Wheeler saw
her—that's all there is to be said. Now, dear Mrs.
Wheeler, you must let me go to my Maida!”
"But, Jeffrey, I only told you that to persuade
you to let her alone. Let her have her own way.
She says that to marry Curtis Keefe will save her
from prosecution—even from suspicion. She says
he can free her from all implication in the matter."
“ By a fraud ?”
“I don't know "
“I won't have it! If Maida did that shooting
she had ample excuse—motive, rather. Not a man


MAIDA'S DECISION
289
attitude all spoke in his favor. Maida was appar-
ently listening with interest to his talk, and they
went on slowly toward the old sycamore and sat
down on the bench beneath it.
“Our trysting-place!” Jeffrey murmured, his
eyes fastened on the pair.
It did not require over-close observation to see
that Maida was listening willingly to Keefe. Nor
was there room for doubt that he was saying some-
thing that pleased her. She was brighter and more
cheerful than she had been for days.
“You see,” said Sara Wheeler, sadly. “ And
he is a worth-while man. Mr. Appleby thought very
highly of him.”
"I don't!” said Allen, briefly, and unable to
stand any more, he left the room.
He went straight to the two who were sitting
under the big tree, and spoke directly:
“What does this mean, Maida? Your mother
tells me you "
“Let me answer,” spoke up Keefe, gaily; "it
means that Miss Wheeler has promised to marry me.
And we ask your congratulations."
“ Are you not aware," Jeff's face was white but
19


MAIDA'S DECISION
291
own Jeffrey! If he thought that, he was ready
to die!
He walked along half blindly, thinking round in
circles, always coming back to the possibility—now
practically a certainty-of Maida being the mur-
derer, and wondering how Keefe meant to save her
from the clutches of the law. He was perturbed-
almost dazed, and as he went along unseeingly,
Genevieve Lane met him, turned and walked by
his side.
“What's Curtie Keefe doing with your girl ? "
she asked, for the rolling lawn was so free of trees,
the pair beneath the sycamore could be plainly seen.
“I don't know!” said Allen, honestly enough,
as he looked in the good-humored face of the
stenographer.
“I don't want him making love to her," Miss
Lane went on, pouting a little, “first, because she's
altogether too much of a belle anyway; and sec-
ond--because
She paused, almost scared at the desperate gaze
Allen gave her.
“I hope you mean because you look upon him
as your property," he said, but without smiling.
“Now, just why do you hope that?”


292 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
“ Because in that case, surely you can get
him back-
“Oh, what an aspersion on Miss Wheeler's
fascinations!”
“Hush; I'm in no mood for chaffing. Are you
and Keefe special friends ?”
Genevieve looked at him a moment, and then said,
very frankly: “If we're not, it isn't my fault. And
-to tell you the bald truth, we would have been, had
not Miss Wheeler come between us."
“Are you sure of that?”.
“How rude you are! But, yes—I'm practically
sure. Nobody can be sure till they're certain,
you know."
“Don't try to joke with me. Look here, Miss
Lane, suppose you and I try to work together for our
respective ends."
“Meaning just what, Mr. Allen?”.
"Meaning that we try to separate Keefe and
Maida—not just at this moment-but seriously and
permanently. You, because you want him, and I,
because I want her. Isn't it logical?”.
“Yes; but if I could get him back, don't you
suppose I would ? ”


MAIDA'S DECISION
293
“ You don't get the idea. You're to work for me,
and I for you."
“Oh–I try to make Maida give him up-and
you
”
“Yes; but we must have some pretty strong
arguments. Now, have you any idea why Maida
has ”
“Has picked him up with the tongs? I have a
very decided idea! In fact, I know."
“ You do! Is it a secret?”
“ It is. Such a big secret, that if it leaked out,
the whole universe, so far as it affects the Wheeler
family, would be turned topsy-turvy!”
“ Connected with the—the death of Mr.
Appleby? ”
"Not with the murder-if that's what you mean.
But it was because of the death of Mr. Appleby that
the secret came to light."
“Can you tell me?”.
“I can—but do I want to?"
“What would make you want to?"
“Why—only if you could do what you sort of
suggested—make Mr. Keefe resume his attentions to
poor little Genevieve and leave the lovely Maida.
to you."


296 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
matters. Well, then-he was killed to prevent the
information going any farther.”
“Killed by whom?”.
Genevieve shrugged her shoulders. “I can't
say. Any one of the three Wheelers might have done
it for that reason."
“No; you're wrong. Neither Mr. nor Mrs.
Wheeler would have. They'd give up the place
at once."
“Your mental reservation speaks for itself!
That leaves Maida! Suppose she knew it and the
rest didn't. Suppose, in order to keep the knowledge
from her parents "
“Don't go on!" he begged. “I see it-maybe it
was so. But—what next?”.
“Next-alas, Curt Keefe has fallen a victim to
Maida's smiles. That's what's making more trouble
than anything else. I'm positive he is arguing that if
she will marry him he will keep quiet about his being
the heir. Then, her parents can live here in peace
for the rest of their lives.”
“I begin to see.”
"I knew you would. Now, knowing this, and
being bound to secrecy concerning it, except, as you


300 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Genevieve accompanied him, and together they
sought Stone in his sitting-room.
Fibsy was there and the two were in deep
consultation.
“Come in,” Stone said, as his visitors appeared.
“ You have something to tell me, I gather from
your eager faces.”
“We have,” Allen returned, and he began to tell
his story.
"Let me tell it,” Miss Lane interrupted him,
impatiently. “You see, Mr. Stone, Mr. Allen is in
love with Miss Wheeler, and he can't help coloring
things in her favor.”
“And you're in love with Mr. Keefe," Stone
said, but without a smile, “and you can't help color-
ing things in his favor."
The girl bridled a little, but was in no way em-
barrassed at the assertion.
“Take your choice, then,” she said, flippantly.
“Who do you want to tell you the secret we're ready
to give away?”
“Both,” Fibsy spoke up. “I'll bet it's a worth-
while yarn, and we'll hear both sides if you please.
Ladies first; pipe up, Miss Lane."
“ The actual secret can be quickly told," the girl


MAIDA AND HER FATHER 303
because it meant poverty and homelessness for them.
You know, Mr. Wheeler is incapable of lucrative
work, and Mrs. Wheeler, brought up to affluence
and comfort, can't be expected to live in want. But
I can take care of them—that is, I could—if they
could only live in Boston. My business is there,
and we could all live on my earnings if we
could live together."
The boy-for young Allen seemed scarcely more
than a boy—was really thinking aloud as he voiced
these plans and suggestions. But he shook his head
sadly as he realized that Daniel Wheeler couldn't go
to Boston, and that a marriage between Keefe and
Maida was the only way to preserve to them their
present home.
“Some situation!” remarked Fibsy. “And the
secret is no secret really, for if Miss Wheeler doesn't
marry Mr. Keefe, he'll tell it at once. And if she
does, the whole matter doesn't matter at all! But
I think she will, for what else can she do?”
Jeffrey Allen looked angrily at the boy, but
Fibsy's funny little face showed such a serious inter-
est that it was impossible to chide him.
“I think she won't!” Allen said, “but I'm not
sure just yet how I'm going to prevent it."


304 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
men-
“You won't have to,” said Stone; “Miss
Wheeler will prevent it herself-or I miss my
guess!” He looked kindly at the young man, but
received only a half smile in return.
"If we all do our share in the matter, perhaps
we can arrange things,” Genevieve said, speaking
very seriously. “I've something to say, for I am en-
gaged to Curtis Keefe myself.”
“Does he think you are?” Stone said, rather
casually.
Miss Lane had the grace to blush, through her
rouge, but she declared: “He doesn't want to," and
added, “but he ought to. He has made love to me,
and he once asked me to marry him. But since then
he has said he didn't mean it. I don't suppose I've
enough evidence for a breach of promise suit, but-
oh, well,” and she tossed her pretty head, “I've not
the least doubt that if Miss Wheeler were out of the
question-say, safely married to Mr. Allen, I'd have
no trouble in whistling my Curtie back."
“ I'll bet you wouldn't!" Fibsy looked at her
admiringly. “If I were only a few years older- "
"Hush, Terence," said Fleming Stone, " don't
talk nonsense.”
Immediately Fibsy's face became serious and he


MAIDA AND HER FATHER
305
turned his attention away from the fascinating
Genevieve.
“But all this is aside the question of the mur-
derer, Mr. Stone,” said Allen. “How are you pro-
gressing with that investigation?”
“ Better than I've disclosed as yet,” Stone re-
turned, speaking slowly; "recent developments have
been helpful, and I hope to be ready soon to give
a report.”
“You expect Mr. Appleby down?”.
“Yes; to-night or to-morrow. By that time I
hope to be ready to make an arrest."
“Maida!” cried Jeffrey, the word seeming
wrung from him against his will.
“Forgive me, if I do not reply,” said Stone, with
an earnest glance at the questioner. “But I'd like
to talk to Miss Wheeler. Will you go for her,
Mr. Allen?"
“I'd—I'd rather not-you see
“Yes, I see,” said Stone, kindly. “ You go,
Fibs.”
" I'll go," offered Genevieve, with the result that
she and McGuire flew out of the room at the
same time.
“ All right, Beauteous One, we'll both go," Fibsy
20


306 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
said, as they went along the hall side by side.
“ Where is the lady?”.
“Donno; but we'll find her. I say, Terence,
come down on the veranda just a minute, first.”
Leading him to a far corner, where there was no
danger of eavesdroppers, Genevieve made another
attempt to gain an ally for her own cause.
“I say,” she began, “ you have a lot of influence
with your Mr. Stone, don't you?”
“Oh, heaps !” and Fibsy's sweeping gesture indi-
cated a wide expanse of imagination, at least.
“ No fooling; I know you have. Now, you use
that influence for me and I'll do something for you.”
“What'll you do?”.
“I don't know; nothing particular. But, I mean
if, at any time I can help you in any way—I've in-
fluence, too, with big men in the financial and busi-
ness world. I haven't always worked for the
Applebys, and wherever I've been I've made friends
that I can count on."
"Oh, you mean a tip on the stock market or
something of that sort?”.
“Yes, or a position in a big, worth-while office.
You're not always going to be a detective's appren-
tice, are you?”


312 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
hurt at her attitude in the Keefe matter; he was
puzzled at her speech regarding her father; and he
was utterly uncertain as to his own duty or privilege
in the whole affair. But at her appeal, he turned
joyfully toward her.
“Oh, Maida,” he cried, “let me help you. Do
get your father here, now, and settle this question.
Then, we'll see what next.”
“Call him, then,” said Maida, but she turned
very white, and paid no further attention to Allen.
She was still lost in thought, when her father arrived
and joined the group.
“You said, Mr. Wheeler," Stone began at once,
“that you saw your daughter fire the shot that killed
Mr. Appleby?”
“I did say that,” Daniel Wheeler replied, “be-
cause it is true. And because I am convinced that
the truth will help us all better than any further
endeavor to prove a falsehood. I did see you,
Maida darling, and I tried very hard to take the
blame myself. But it has been proved to me by
Mr. Stone that my pretence is useless, and so I've
concluded that the fact must come out, in hope of a
better result than from concealment. Do not fear,
my darling, no harm shall come to you."


MAIDA AND HER FATHER
313
“And you said you did it, father, and mother
said she did it."
“Yes, of course, I told your mother the truth,
and we plotted-yes, plotted for each of us to confess
to the deed, in a wild hope of somehow saving our
little girl.”
“And you saw me shoot, father?”
“Why, yes, dear—that is, I heard the shot, and
looked up to see you standing there with consterna-
tion and guilt on your dear face. Your arm had
then dropped to your side, but your whole attitude
was unmistakable. I couldn't shut my eyes to the
evident fact that there was no one else who could
have done the deed.”
“There must have been, father-for-I didn't
do it.”
“I knew you didn't! Oh, Maida!” With a
bound Allen was at her side and his arm went round
her. But she moved away from him, and went on
talking-still in a strained, unnatural voice, but
steadily and straightforwardly.
"No; I didn't shoot Mr. Appleby. I've been
saying so, to shield my father. I thought he did it.”
“Maida! Is it possible? ” and Daniel Wheeler
looked perplexed. “But, oh, I'm so glad to hear
your statement.”


CHAPTER XVIII
A FINAL CONFESSION
INQUIRY for Keefe brought the information that
he had gone to a nearby town, but would be back at
dinner-time.
Mr. Appleby was also expected to arrive for
dinner, coming from home in his motor car.
But in the late afternoon a severe storm set in.
The wind rose rapidly and gained great velocity
while the rain fell steadily and hard. Curtis Keefe
arrived, very wet indeed, though he had protecting
clothing. But a telephone message from Sam
Appleby said that he was obliged to give up all idea
of reaching Sycamore Ridge that night. He had
stopped at a roadhouse, and owing to the gale he
dared not venture forth again until the storm was
over. He would therefore not arrive until next day.
“Lucky we got his word,” said Mr. Wheeler.
“ This storm will soon put many telephone wires out
of commission.”
When Keefe came down at the dinner hour, he
found Maida alone in the living-room, evidently
awaiting him.
“My darling!” he exclaimed, going quickly to
317


A FINAL CONFESSION
321
was
eranda
that,
Keele.
tatti
re was
r.deed
10,
mur-
derer. And I have traced him, found him, and
secured his signed confession.”
With unconcealed pride in his achievement,
Keefe took a folded paper from his pocket and
handed it to Daniel Wheeler.
“Why the written confession? Where is the
man?” asked Stone, his dark eyes alight with
interest.
“Gee!” muttered Fibsy, under his breath, “go-
ing some!”
Genevieve Lane stared, round-eyed and excited,
while Allen and the Wheelers breathlessly awaited
developments.
“ John Mills!” exclaimed Mr. Wheeler, looking
at the paper. “Oh, the faithful old man! Listen,
Stone. This is a signed confession of a man on his
death-bed- ”
"No longer that,” said Keefe, solemnly, “he
died this afternoon."
“And signed this just before he died?"
“ Yes, Mr. Wheeler. In the hospital. The wit-
nesses, as you see, are the nurses there."
The paper merely stated that the undersigned
was the slayer of Samuel Appleby. That the deed
was committed in order to free Daniel Wheeler
21
TIera
ou re-
--and
, and
tone
notice
ETUL


A FINAL CONFESSION
323
"Well, then later, I began to think maybe it
was some friend—not an enemy. A friend, of
course, of Mr. Wheeler's. On this principle I
searched for a suspect. I inquired among the ser-
vants, being careful to arouse no suspicion of my
real intent. At last, I found this old Mills had always
been devoted to the whole family here. More than
devoted, indeed. He revered Mr. Wheeler and he
fairly worshipped the ladies. He has been ill a long
time of a slow and incurable malady, and quite lately
was taken to the hospital. When I reached him I
saw the poor chap had but a very short time to live.”
“And you suspected him of crime with no more
evidence than that?” Fleming Stone asked.
“I daresay it was a sort of intuition, Mr. Stone,"
Keefe returned, smiling a little at the detective.
“Oh, I don't wonder you feel rather miffed to have
your thunder stolen by a mere business man-and I
fear it's unprofessional for me to put the thing
through without consulting you, but I felt the case
required careful handling—somewhat psychological
handling, indeed
“Very much so," Stone nodded.
“And so," Keefe was a little disconcerted by
the detective's demeanor, but others set it down to a
very natural chagrin on Stone's part.


324 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Fibsy sat back in his chair, his bright eyes nar-
rowed to mere slits and darting from the face of
Keefe to that of Stone continually.
"And so," Keefe went on, “I inquired from the
servants and also, cautiously from the members of
the family, and I learned that this Mills was of a
fiery, even revengeful, nature "
“He was,” Mr. Wheeler nodded, emphatically.
“ Yes, sir. And I found out from Rachel
that "
“ Rachel!” Fibsy fairly shot out the word, but a
look from Stone made him say no more.
“Yes, Rachel, the maid," went on Keefe," and
I found that the man she saw on the veranda was of
the same general size and appearance as Mills. Well,
I somehow felt that it was Mills—and so I went to
see him.”
"At the hospital?" asked Wheeler.
“ Yes; some days ago. He was then very weak,
and the nurses didn't want me to arouse him to any
excitement. But I knew it was my duty- "
"Of course," put in Stone, and Keefe gave him
a patronizing look.
“So, against the wishes of the nurses and doc-
tors, I had an interview alone with Mills, and I
found he was the criminal."


A FINAL CONFESSION
325
“He confessed?" asked Stone.
“Yes; and though he refused to sign a written
confession, he agreed he would confess in the pres-
ence of Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Stone. But—that was
only this morning—and the doctor assured me the
man couldn't live the day out. So I persuaded the
dying man to sign this confession, which I drew up
and read to him in the presence of the nurses. He
signed—they witnessed—and there it is.”
With evident modesty, Keefe pointed to the paper
still in Wheeler's hands, and said no more.
For a moment nobody spoke. The storm was at
its height. The wind whistled and roared, the rain
fell noisily, and the elements seemed to be doing
their very worst.
Genevieve shuddered-she always was sensitive
to weather conditions, and that wind was enough
to disturb even equable nerves.
“And this same Mills was the phantom bugler?”.
asked Stone.
“Yes—he told me so," returned Keefe. “He
knew about the legend, you see, and he thought he'd
work on the superstition of the family to divert
attention from himself.”
Genevieve gasped, but quickly suppressed all
show of agitation,


326 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
Fibsy whistled-just a few notes of the bugle
call that the “ phantom ” had played.
At the sound Keefe turned quickly, a strange look
on his face, and the Wheelers, too, looked startled
at the familiar strain.
“ Be quiet, Terence," Stone said, rather severely,
and the boy subsided.
"Now, Mr. Keefe," Fleming Stone said, " you
must not think—as I fear you do that I grudge
admiration for your success, or appreciation of your
cleverness. I do not. I tell you, very sincerely, that
what you have accomplished is as fine a piece of
work as I have ever run across in my whole career
as detective. Your intuition was remarkable and
your following it up a masterpiece! By the way,
I suppose that it was Mills, then, who started the
fire in the garage?"
“Yes, it was," said Keefe. “You see, he is
a clever genius, in a sly way. He reasoned that if
a fire occurred, everybody would run to it except
Mr. Wheeler, who cannot go over the line. He
hoped that, therefore, Mr. Appleby would not go
either-for Mr. Appleby suffered from flatfoot-at
any rate, he took a chance that the fire would give
him opportunity to shoot unnoticed. Which it did.”


A FINAL CONFESSION
327
“ It certainly did. Now, Mr. Keefe, did he tell
you how he set that fire?”
“No, he did not,” was the short reply. “More-
over, Mr. Stone, I resent your mode of questioning.
I'm not on the witness stand. I've solved a mystery
that baifled you, and though I understand your
embarrassment at the situation, yet it does not give
you free rein to make what seem to me like endeavors
to trip me up!"
“Trip you up!” Stone lifted his eyebrows.
“What a strange expression to use. As if I sus-
pected you of faking his tale.”
“ It speaks for itself,” and Keefe glanced non-
chalantly at the paper he had brought. “ There's
the signed confession-if you can prove that signa-
ture a fake-go ahead."
"No," said Daniel Wheeler, decidedly; " that's
John Mills' autograph. I know it perfectly. He
wrote that himself. And a dying man is not going
to sign a lie. There's no loophole of doubt, Mr.
Stone. I think you must admit Mr. Keefe's en-
tire success.”
“I do admit Mr. Keefe's entire success," Stone's
dark eyes flashed,“ up to this point. From here on,
I shall undertake to prove my own entire success,


328 THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE
since that is the phrase we are using. Mr. Wheeler,
your present cook was here wher: John Mills worked
for you?”
“She was, Mr. Stone, but you don't need her cor-
roboration of this signature. I tell you I know it
to be Mills”.”
“Will you send for the cook, please?".
Half unwillingly, Wheeler agreed, and Maida
stepped out of the room and summoned the cook.
The woman came in, and Stone spoke to her
at once.
“Is that John Mills' signature?” he asked, show-
ing her the paper.
“ It is, sir," she replied, looking at him in wonder.
A satisfied smile played on Keefe's face, only to
be effaced at Stone's next question.
"And was John Mills the person you saw-
vaguely—on the south veranda that night of Mr.
Appleby's murder?”
“That he was not!” she cried, emphatically.
“It was a man not a bit like Mills, and be the same
token, John Mills was in his bed onable to walk
at all, at all."
“ That will do, Mr. Wheeler," and Stone dis-
missed the cook with a glance. “Now, Mr. Keefe?"


A FINAL CONFESSION
329
“As if that woman's story mattered," Keefe
sneered, contemptuously, “she is merely mistaken,
that's all. The word of the maid, Rachel, is as good
as that of the cook- "
“Oh, no, it isn't!" Stone interrupted, but, pay-
ing no heed to him, Keefe went on; " and you can
scarcely doubt the signature after Mr. Wheeler and
your friend the cook have both verified it.”
Though his demeanor was quiet, Keefe's face
wore a defiant expression and his voice was a trifle
blustering
“I do not doubt the signature," Stone declared,
“nor do I doubt that you obtained it at the hospital
exactly as you have described that incident."
Keefe's face relaxed at that, and he recovered his
jaunty manner, as he said: “ Then you admit I have
beaten you at your own game, Mr. Stone?”
“No, Mr. Keefe, but I have beaten you at yours.”
A silence fell for a moment. There was some-
thing about Stone's manner of speaking that made
for conviction in the minds of his hearers that he
said truth.
“Wait a minute! Oh, wait a minute!” It was
Genevieve Lane who cried out the words, and then
she sprang from her chair and ran to Keefe's side.


A FINAL CONFESSION 331
331
“Who is, then?”
“ You are!”
Keefe laughed and shrugged his shoulders, but
at that moment there was such a blast of wind and
storm, accompanied by a fearful crash, that what he
said could not be heard.
“ Explain, please, Mr. Stone,” Wheeler said
again, after a pause, but his voice now showed
more interest.
"I will. The time has come for it. Mr. Wheeler,
do you and Mr. Allen see to it, that Mr. Keefe does
not leave the room. Terence—keep your eyes open.”
Keefe still smiled, but his smile was a frozen one.
His eyes began to widen and his hands clenched
themselves upon his knees.
"Curtis Keefe killed Samuel Appleby," Stone
went on, speaking clearly but rapidly. “ His motive
was an ambition to be governor of Massachusetts.
He thought that with the elder Appleby out of the
way, his son would have neither power nor inclina-
tion to make a campaign. There were other, minor
motives, but that was his primary one. That, and
the fact that the elder Appleby had a hold on Mr.
Keefe, and of late had pressed it home uncomfortably
hard. The murder was long premeditated. The trip


A FINAL CONFESSION
333
“I'll tell you,” offered Genevieve. “We all staid
over night in Rushfield, and I heard Mr. Keefe go
out of doors in the night. I watched him from my
window. He returned about three hours later."
It was clear to all listening, that when Genevieve
had whispered to Keefe and he had told her to do
her worst, they were now hearing the “worst.”
“So,” Stone narrated, “Mr. Keefe came over
here and did the bugling as a preliminary to his fur-
ther schemes. You admit that, Mr. Keefe?"
“I admit nothing. Tell your silly story as
you please."
“I will. Then, the day of the murder, Mr. Keefe
arranged for the fire in the garage. He used the acids
as the man Fulton described, and as Keefe's own
coat was burned and his employer's car he felt sure
suspicion would not turn toward him. When the
fire broke out—which as it depended on the action of
those acids, he was waiting for, Keefe ran with
Mr. Allen to the garage. But—and this I have
verified from Mr. Allen, Keefe disappeared for a
moment, and, later was again at Allen's side. In
that moment, Mr. Wheeler, that psychological mo-
ment, Curtis Keefe shot and killed Samuel Appleby.”
“ And Mills ? "


A FINAL CONFESSION 335
“Certainly,” said Stone, glancing at the worth-
less confession.
Keefe stepped to the table desk, where the paper
lay, but as he laid his left hand upon it, with his
right he quickly pulled open a drawer, grasped the
pistol that was in it, and saying, with a slight smile:
“A life for a life!” drew the trigger and fell to
the floor.
From the gruesome situation, its silence made
worse by the noise of the storm outside, Daniel
Wheeler led his wife and daughter. Jeffrey Allen
followed quickly and sought his loved Maida.
Reaction from the strain made her break down,
and sobbing in his arms she asked and received full
forgiveness for her enforced desertion of him.
“I couldn't do anything else, Jeff,” she sobbed.
“I had to say yes to him for dad's sake- and
mother's."
“Of course you did, darling; don't think about
it. On, Maida, look! The wind has torn up the
sycamore! Unrooted it, and it has fallen over-
“Over into Massachusetts!” Maida cried;
“Jeffrey, think what that means!”
“Why—why! ” Allen was speechless.
“ Yes; the sycamore has gone into Massachu-
setts and father can go!”