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INITIALS ONLY
INITIALS ONLY
CONTENTS BOOK I. AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS I. POINSETTIAS II. “I KNOW THE MAN” III. THE MAN IV. SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE V. THE RED CLOAK VI. INTEGRITY VII. THE LETTERS VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE IX. THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE BOOK II. AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION XI. ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS XII. Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE XIII. TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN’S HEART XIV. A CONCESSION XV. THAT’S THE QUESTION XVI. OPPOSED XVII. IN WHICH A
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I. POINSETTIAS
I. POINSETTIAS
“A remarkable man!” It was not my husband speaking, but some passerby. However, I looked up at George with a smile, and found him looking down at me with much the same humour. We had often spoken of the odd phrases one hears in the street, and how interesting it would be sometimes to hear a little more of the conversation. “That’s a case in point,” he laughed, as he guided me through the crowd of theatre-goers which invariably block this part of Broadway at the hour of eight. “We shall never kno
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II. “I KNOW THE MAN”
II. “I KNOW THE MAN”
Yet he made no effort to detain Mr. Slater, when that gentleman, under this renewed excitement, hastily left us. He was not the man to rush into anything impulsively, and not even the presence of murder could change his ways. “I want to feel sure of myself,” he explained. “Can you bear the strain of waiting around a little longer, Laura? I mustn’t forget that you fainted just now.” “Yes, I can bear it; much better than I could bear going to Adela’s in my present state of mind. Don’t you think th
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III. THE MAN
III. THE MAN
“You know the man?” “I do; or rather, I know a man who answers to this description. He comes here once in a while. I do not know whether or not he was in the building to-night, but Clausen can tell you; no one escapes Clausen’s eye.” “His name.” “Brotherson. A very uncommon person in many respects; quite capable of such an eccentricity, but incapable, I should say, of crime. He’s a gifted talker and so well read that he can hold one’s attention for hours. Of his tastes, I can only say that they
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IV. SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE
IV. SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE
When we took our seats at the breakfast-table, it was with the feeling of being no longer looked upon as connected in any way with this case. Yet our interest in it was, if anything, increased, and when I saw George casting furtive glances at a certain table behind me, I leaned over and asked him the reason, being sure that the people whose faces I saw reflected in the mirror directly before us had something to do with the great matter then engrossing us. His answer conveyed the somewhat excitin
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V. THE RED CLOAK
V. THE RED CLOAK
“What results? Speak up, Sweetwater.” “None. Every man, woman and boy connected with the hotel has been questioned; many of them routed out of their beds for the purpose, but not one of them picked up anything from the floor of the lobby, or knows of any one who did.” “There now remain the guests.” “And after them—(pardon me, Mr. Gryce) the general public which rushed in rather promiscuously last night.” “I know it; it’s a task, but it must be carried through. Put up bulletins, publish your want
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VI. INTEGRITY
VI. INTEGRITY
Mr. Gryce’s fears were only too well founded. Though Mr. McElroy was kind enough to point out the exact spot where he saw Miss Watkins stoop, no trace of blood was found upon the rug which had lain there, nor had anything of the kind been washed up by the very careful man who scrubbed the lobby floor in the early morning. This was disappointing, as its presence would have settled the whole question. When, these efforts all exhausted, the two detectives faced each other again in the small room gi
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VII. THE LETTERS
VII. THE LETTERS
Before a table strewn with papers, in the room we have already mentioned as given over to the use of the police, sat Dr. Heath in a mood too thoughtful to notice the entrance of Mr. Gryce and Sweetwater from the dining-room where they had been having dinner. However as the former’s tread was somewhat lumbering, the coroner’s attention was caught before they had quite crossed the room, and Sweetwater, with his quick eye, noted how his arm and hand immediately fell so as to cover up a portion of t
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VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE
VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE
That evening George sat so long over the newspapers that in spite of my absorbing interest in the topic engrossing me, I fell asleep in my cozy little rocking chair. I was awakened by what seemed like a kiss falling very softly on my forehead, though, to be sure, it may have been only the flap of George’s coat sleeve as he stooped over me. “Wake up, little woman,” I heard, “and trot away to bed. I’m going out and may not be in till daybreak.” “You! going out! at ten o’clock at night, tired as yo
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IX. THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE
IX. THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE
The fellow had a way with him, hard to resist. Cold as George was and exhausted by an excitement of a kind to which he was wholly unaccustomed, he found himself acceding to the detective’s request; and after a quick lunch and a huge cup of coffee in a restaurant which I wish I had time to describe, the two took a car which eventually brought them into one of the oldest quarters of the Borough of Brooklyn. The sleet which had stung their faces in the streets of New York had been left behind them
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X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION
X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION
At an early hour the next morning, Sweetwater stood before the coroner’s desk, urging a plea he feared to hear refused. He wished to be present at the interview soon to be held with Mr. Brotherson, and he had no good reason to advance why such a privilege should be allotted him. “It’s not curiosity,” said he. “There’s a question I hope to see settled. I can’t communicate it—you would laugh at me; but it’s an important one, a very important one, and I beg that you will let me sit in one of the co
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XI. ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS
XI. ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS
“Mr. Gryce, I am either a fool or the luckiest fellow going. You must decide which.” The aged detective, thus addressed, laid down his evening paper and endeavoured to make out the dim form he could just faintly discern standing between him and the library door. “Sweetwater, is that you?” “No one else. Sweetwater, the fool, or Sweetwater, much too wise for his own good. I don’t know which. Perhaps you can find out and tell me.” A grunt from the region of the library table, then the sarcastic rem
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XII. Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE
XII. Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE
“I thought I should make you sit up. I really calculated upon doing so, sir. Yes, I have established the plain fact that this Brotherson was near to, if not in the exact line of the scene of crime in each of these extraordinary and baffling cases. A very odd coincidence, is it not?” was the dry conclusion of our eager young detective. “Odd enough if you are correct in your statement. But I thought it was conceded that the man Brotherson was not personally near,—was not even in the building at th
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XIII. TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN’S HEART
XIII. TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN’S HEART
“Our first difficulty is this. We must prove motive. Now, I do not think it will be so very hard to show that this Brotherson cherished feelings of revenge towards Miss Challoner. But I have to acknowledge right here and now that the most skillful and vigourous pumping of the janitor and such other tenants of the Hicks Street tenement as I have dared to approach, fails to show that he has ever held any communication with Mrs. Spotts, or even knew of her existence until her remarkable death attra
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XIV. A CONCESSION
XIV. A CONCESSION
“It is true; there seems to be something extraordinary in the coincidence.” Thus Mr. Brotherson, in the presence of the Inspector. “But that is all there is to it,” he easily proceeded. “I knew Miss Challoner and I have already said how much and how little I had to do with her death. The other woman I did not know at all; I did not even know her name. A prosecution based on grounds so flimsy as those you advance would savour of persecution, would it not?” The Inspector, surprised by this unexpec
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XV. THAT’S THE QUESTION
XV. THAT’S THE QUESTION
“How many times has he seen you?” “Twice.” “So that he knows your face and figure?” “I’m afraid so. He cannot help remembering the man who faced him in his own room.” “That’s unfortunate.” “Damned unfortunate; but one must expect some sort of a handicap in a game like this. Before I’m done with him, he’ll look me full in the face and wonder if he’s ever seen me before. I wasn’t always a detective. I was a carpenter once, as you know, and I’ll take to the tools again. As soon as I’m handy with th
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XVI. OPPOSED
XVI. OPPOSED
There was a new tenant in the Hicks Street tenement. He arrived late one afternoon and was shown two rooms, one in the rear building and another in the front one. Both were on the fourth floor. He demurred at the former, thought it gloomy but finally consented to try it. The other, he said, was too expensive. The janitor—new to the business—was not much taken with him and showed it, which seemed to offend the newcomer, who was evidently an irritable fellow owing to ill health. However, they came
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XVII. IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART
XVII. IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART
When Mr. Brotherson came in that night, he noticed that the door of the room adjoining his own stood open. He did not hesitate. Making immediately for it, he took a glance inside, then spoke up with a ringing intonation: “Halloo! coming to live in this hole?” The occupant a young man, evidently a workman and somewhat sickly if one could judge from his complexion—turned around from some tinkering he was engaged in and met the intruder fairly, face to face. If his jaw fell, it seemed to be from ad
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XVIII. WHAT AM I TO DO NOW
XVIII. WHAT AM I TO DO NOW
Early morning saw Sweetwater peering into the depths of his closet. The hole was hardly visible. This meant that the book he had pushed across it from the other side had not been removed. Greatly re-assured by the sight, he awaited his opportunity, and as soon as a suitable one presented itself, prepared the hole for inspection by breaking away its edges and begriming it well with plaster and old dirt. This done, he left matters to arrange themselves; which they did, after this manner. Mr. Broth
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XIX. THE DANGER MOMENT
XIX. THE DANGER MOMENT
For a day Sweetwater acknowledged himself to be mentally crushed, disillusioned and defeated. Then his spirits regained their poise. It would take a heavy weight indeed to keep them down permanently. His opinion was not changed in regard to his neighbour’s secret guilt. A demeanour of this sort suggested bravado rather than bravery to the ever suspicious detective. But he saw, very plainly by this time, that he would have to employ more subtle methods yet ere his hand would touch the goal which
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XX. CONFUSION
XX. CONFUSION
In his interest in what was going on on the other side of the wall, Sweetwater had forgotten himself. Daylight had declined, but in the darkness of the closet this change had passed unheeded. Night itself might come, but that should not force him to leave his post so long as his neighbour remained behind his locked door, brooding over the words of love and devotion which had come to him, as it were from the other world. But was he brooding? That sound of iron clattering upon iron! That smothered
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XXI. A CHANGE
XXI. A CHANGE
“It’s all up. I’m beaten on my own ground.” Thus confessed Sweetwater, in great dejection, to himself. “But I’m going to take advantage of the permission he’s just given me and continue the listening act. Just because he told me to and just because he thinks I won’t. I’m sure it’s no worse than to spend hours of restless tossing in bed, trying to sleep.” But our young detective did neither. As he was putting his supper dishes away, a messenger boy knocked at his door and handed him a note. It wa
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XXII. O. B. AGAIN
XXII. O. B. AGAIN
“What’s happened? Something very important. I ought to hope so after this confounded failure.” “Failure? Didn’t he read the letters?” “Yes, he read them. Had to, but—” “Didn’t weaken? Eh?” “No, he didn’t weaken. You can’t get water out of a millstone. You may squeeze and squeeze; but it’s your fingers which suffer, not it. He thinks we manufactured those letters ourselves on purpose to draw him.” “Humph! I knew we had a reputation for finesse, but I didn’t know that it ran that high.” “He denies
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XXIII. DORIS
XXIII. DORIS
“A young girl named Doris Scott?” The station-master looked somewhat sharply at the man he was addressing, and decided to give the direction asked. “There is but one young girl in town of that name,” he declared, “and she lives in that little house you see just beyond the works. But let me tell you, stranger,” he went on with some precipitation— But here he was called off, and Sweetwater lost the conclusion of his warning, if warning it was meant to be. This did not trouble the detective. He sto
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XXIV. SUSPENSE
XXIV. SUSPENSE
Ten minutes after Sweetwater’s arrival in the village streets, he was at home with the people he found there. His conversation with Doris in the doorway of her home had been observed by the curious and far-sighted, and the questions asked and answered had made him friends at once. Of course, he could tell them nothing, but that did not matter, he had seen and talked with Doris and their idolised young manager was no worse and might possibly soon be better. Of his own affairs—of his business with
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XXV. THE OVAL HUT
XXV. THE OVAL HUT
That night Dr. Fenton had a visitor. We know that visitor and we almost know what his questions were, if not the answers of the good doctor. Nevertheless, it may be better to listen to a part at least of their conversation. Sweetwater, who knew when to be frank and open, as well as when to be reserved and ambiguous, made no effort to disguise the nature of his business or his chief cause of interest in Oswald Brotherson. The eye which met his was too penetrating not to detect the smallest attemp
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XXVI. SWEETWATER RETURNS
XXVI. SWEETWATER RETURNS
“You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday’s intrusion has not prejudiced you against me.” “I have no prejudices,” was her simple but firm reply. “I am only hurried and very anxious. The doctor is with Mr. Brotherson just now; but he has several other equally sick patients to visit and I dare not keep him here too long.” “Then you will welcome my abruptness. Miss Scott, here is a letter from Mr. Challoner. It will explain my position. As you will see, his only desire is to establish th
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XXVII. THE IMAGE OF DREAD
XXVII. THE IMAGE OF DREAD
In the comfortable little sitting-room of the Scott cottage Doris stood, looking eagerly from the window which gave upon the road. Behind her on the other side of the room, could be seen through a partly opened door, a neatly spread bed, with a hand lying quietly on the patched coverlet. It was a strong looking hand which, even when quiescent, conveyed the idea of purpose and vitality. As Doris said, the fingers never curled up languidly, but always with the hint of a clench. Several weeks had p
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XXVIII. I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN
XXVIII. I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN
That this would be a difficult thing to do, Doris was soon to realise. Mr. Challoner continued to pass the house twice a day and the time finally came when he ventured up the walk. Doris was in the window and saw him coming. She slipped softly out and intercepted him before he had stepped upon the porch. She had caught up her hat as she passed through the hall, and was fitting it to her head as he looked up and saw her. “Miss Scott?” he asked. “Yes, Mr. Challoner.” “You know me?” he went on, one
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XXIX. DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER
XXIX. DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER
Her hands were thrust out to repel, her features were fixed; her beauty something wonderful. Orlando Brotherson, thus met, stared for a moment at the vision before him, then slowly and with effort withdrawing his gaze, he sought the face of Mr. Challoner with the first sign of open disturbance that gentleman had ever seen in him. “Ah,” said he, “my welcome is readily understood. I see you far from home, sir.” And with an ironical bow he turned again to Doris, who had dropped her hands, but in wh
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XXX. CHAOS
XXX. CHAOS
It is not difficult to understand Mr. Challoner’s feelings or even those of Doris at the moment of Mr. Brotherson’s departure. But why this change in Brotherson himself? Why this sense of something new and terrible rising between him and the suddenly beclouded future? Let us follow him to his lonely hotel-room and see if we can solve the puzzle. But first, does he understand his own trouble? He does not seem to. For when, his hat thrown aside, he stops, erect and frowning under the flaring gas-j
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XXXI. WHAT IS HE MAKING
XXXI. WHAT IS HE MAKING
Other boxes addressed to O. Brotherson had been received at the station, and carried to the mysterious shed in the woods; and now, with locked door and lifted top, the elder brother contemplated his stores and prepared himself for work. He had been allowed a short interview with Oswald, and he had indulged himself in a few words with Doris. But he had left those memories behind with other and more serious matters. Nothing that could unnerve his hand or weaken his insight should enter this spot s
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XXXII. TELL ME, TELL IT ALL
XXXII. TELL ME, TELL IT ALL
The day was a grey one, the first of the kind in weeks. As Doris stepped into the room where Oswald sat, she felt how much a ray of sunshine would have encouraged her and yet how truly these leaden skies and this dismal atmosphere expressed the gloom which soon must fall upon this hopeful, smiling man. He smiled because any man must smile at the entrance of so lovely a woman, but it was an abstracted smile, and Doris, seeing it, felt her courage falter for a moment, though her steps did not, nor
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XXXIII. ALONE
XXXIII. ALONE
Oswald had heard nothing, seen nothing. But he took note of Doris’ silence, and turning towards her in frenzy saw what had happened, and so was in a measure prepared for the stern, short sentence which now rang through the room: “Wait, Miss Scott! you tell the story badly. Let him listen to me. From my mouth only shall he hear the stern and seemingly unnatural part I played in this family tragedy.” The face of Oswald hardened. Those pliant features—beloved for their gracious kindliness—set thems
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XXXIV. THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME
XXXIV. THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME
That night Oswald was taken very ill. For three days his life hung in the balance, then youth and healthy living triumphed over shock and bereavement, and he came slowly back to his sad and crippled existence. He had been conscious for a week or more of his surroundings, and of his bitter sorrows as well, when one morning he asked Doris whose face it was he had seen bending over him so often during the last week: “Have you a new doctor? A man with white hair and a comforting smile? Or have I dre
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XXXV. SILENCE—AND A KNOCK
XXXV. SILENCE—AND A KNOCK
Oswald did not succeed in finding a man to please Orlando. He suggested one person after another to the exacting inventor, but none were satisfactory to him and each in turn was turned down. It is not every one we want to have share a world-wide triumph or an ignominious defeat. And the days were passing. He had said in a moment of elation, “I will do it alone;” but he knew even then that he could not. Two hands were necessary to start the car; afterwards, he might manage it alone. Descent was e
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XXXVI. THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT
XXXVI. THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT
An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the pistol lightly remarked: “Mr. Challoner and other men at the hotel are acquainted with my purpose and await my return. I have come—” here he cast a glowing look at the huge curtain cutting off the greater portion of the illy-lit interior—“to offer you my services, Mr. Brotherson. I have no other motive for this intrusion than to be of use. I am deeply interested in your
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XXXVII. HIS GREAT HOUR
XXXVII. HIS GREAT HOUR
So the fiat had gone forth, with no concession to be made on account of weather. As Oswald came from his supper and took a look at the heavens from the small front porch, he was deeply troubled that Orlando had remained so obstinate on this point. For there were ominous clouds rolling up from the east, and the storms in this region of high mountains and abrupt valleys were not light, nor without danger even to those with feet well planted upon mother earth. If the tempest should come up before e
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XXXVIII. NIGHT
XXXVIII. NIGHT
Three days had passed, and Orlando Brotherson sat in his room at the hotel before a table laden with telegrams, letters and marked newspapers. The news of his achievement had gone abroad, and Derby was, for the moment, the centre of interest for two continents. His success was an established fact. The second trial which he had made with his car, this time with the whole town gathered together in the streets as witnesses, had proved not only the reliability of its mechanism, but the great advanta
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XXXIX. THE AVENGER
XXXIX. THE AVENGER
Mr. Challoner had been called upon to face many difficult and heartrending duties since the blow which had desolated his home fell upon him. But from none of them had he shrunk as he did from the interview thus demanded. He had supposed himself rid of this man. He had dismissed him from his life when he had dismissed Sweetwater. His face, accordingly, wore anything but a propitiatory look, when promptly at the hour of seven, Orlando Brotherson entered his apartments. His pleasure or his displeas
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XL. DESOLATE
XL. DESOLATE
The struggle was fierce but momentary. Oswald with his weakened powers could not long withstand the steady exertion of Orlando’s giant strength, and ere long sank away from the contest into Mr. Challoner’s arms. “You should not have summoned the shade of our mother to your aid,” observed the other with a smile, in which the irony was lost in terrible presage. “I was always her favourite.” Oswald shuddered. Orlando had spoken truly; she had always been blindly, arrogantly trustful of her eldest s
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XLI. FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING
XLI. FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING
The clock in the hotel office struck three. Orlando Brotherson counted the strokes; then went on writing. His transom was partly open and he had just heard a step go by his door. This was nothing new. He had already heard it several times before that night. It was Mr. Challoner’s step, and every time it passed, he had rustled his papers or scratched vigorously with his pen. “He is keeping watch for Oswald,” was his thought. “They fear a sudden end to this. No one, not the son of my mother knows
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XLII. AT SIX
XLII. AT SIX
Mr. Challoner had been honest in his statement regarding the departure of Sweetwater. He had not only paid and dismissed our young detective, but he had seen him take the train for New York. And Sweetwater had gone away in good faith, too, possibly with his convictions undisturbed, but acknowledging at last that he had reached the end of his resources. But the brain does not loose its hold upon its work as readily as the hand does. He was halfway to New York and had consciously bidden farewell t
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