The Mark of Cain

“Is he! But so are other people. I will get a lawyer who also is able to ‘get me off whether I am guilty or not’! Oh, Avice!”

“How can you? You have no money. Leslie says you will never get that inheritance from uncle.”

“Does he! Well, let me tell you, dear, I don’t care. My mine is an assured fact; my interests are safe and protected.”

“Where did you get the money for that?”

“Mrs. Black lent it to me. She is a fine business woman, and I turned to her, as the time was growing short and I had to have the money at once, if at all.”

“And I thought you were in love with her!”

“No; she was truly in love with Uncle Trowbridge. But she is a clear-headed financier, and saw at once the scope and promise of my mining interests. She and I will both be rich from that deal. And so, Avice, I can offer you a fortune, not so large as you would get by marrying Hoyt, but still, a fortune. Oh, darling, do you really love me!”

But Avice was weeping silently. “It doesn’t matter that I do, Kane; I am promised to Leslie, and you cannot be freed without his help.”

“I may not be,” said Landon, solemnly; “there is little hope as things stand now, except through Hoyt’s cleverness and, – well, shrewdness.”

“Kane, why should it require shrewdness to get you acquitted? Why, doesn’t your innocence speak for itself?”

“Am I innocent?”

And then the warden had to tell them the time was up, and Avice had to go away with that strange speech and that strange look on Kane’s face, indelibly impressed on her memory.

“Am I innocent?” If he were, why not say so; and if he were not, why not declare it to her and tell her the circumstances, which must have been such as to force him to the deed.

But out in the sunshine, outside that awful chill of the gloomy jail, Avice’s soul expanded to her new knowledge like a flower. Kane loved her! All other good in the world must follow! Suddenly she knew he was innocent! She fought back the thought that she knew it because she knew he loved her. She knew he would be freed! And fought back the thought that she knew it because she knew he was hers.

From an apathetic, hopeless inaction, she suddenly sprang to activity. She would find a way to save him without Hoyt’s help; then she would be free of her promise to the clever lawyer.

But how to go about it? It was one thing to feel the thrill of determination, the power of an all-conquering love, and quite another to accomplish her set purpose.

Hoyt came in the evening. With the canniness of her new-found love, Avice approached the subject in a roundabout way.

“I saw Kane this afternoon,” she began.

“You did! You went to the Tombs?”

“Yes; Leslie, that man is innocent.”

“Indeed! I wish you had the task of proving it to the G. P. instead of me. Avice, things are not going well. Whiting is saving up something; I don’t know quite what. But I confess to you I am afraid of his coming revelations.”

“What do you mean? Has he evidence that you don’t know of?”

“I’m not sure. He may have, and he may only pretend it to frighten me.”

“But you promised to free Kane!”

“And I will if I can. But, dear child, I am but human. It would take almost a miracle to clear that man from the network of circumstantial evidence that trips us up at every step. I assure you I am doing my best, and more than my best. You believe that?”

“Of course, I do,” and Avice studied the earnest, careworn face that looked into hers.

“And you also know why?”

“Yes,” came the answer in a low tone.

“Not because I believe him innocent, though I do believe him so, but because of your promise. That is what makes me work for his release, as I dare to say no counsel ever worked before. That is why I fear the result as I have never feared anything in my life. Because of my reward if I win! Because of you, you beautiful prize, that I shall deserve, when I conquer the fight!”

“Leslie, could no one else free Kane, but you?”

“No! a thousand times No! Who else would use every means, honorable or not! Who else would jeopardize his legal standing, forget professional ethics, resort to underhand methods, fearless of censure and opprobrium, so he but win his case? And all because a girl holds my heart in the hollow of her little white hand!”

Avice was amazed and almost frightened at his vehemence. What was she, she asked herself, that these two men should love her so desperately? Kane had not declared himself in such glowing words as Hoyt, nor had he expressed willingness to do wrong for her sake; but she knew his love was as deep, his passion as strong as that of his counsel.

“Leslie,” she began timidly, for she had determined to stake all on one throw; “if you free Kane, – ”

“Don’t say if, – say when!”

“Well, then, when you free him, won’t you, – won’t you let me off from my – my promise to marry you, – if I give you all the fortune?”

“Avice, what do you mean? Are you crazy? Of course I won’t! It is you I want, not the fortune. And, besides, you couldn’t do that. If you don’t marry me, the fortune goes to found a museum.”

“Yes, I know, – but, – you are so clever, Leslie, couldn’t you somehow break the will, or get around it, or – ”

“Dishonestly! Why, Avice!”

“But you’re freeing Kane dishonestly.”

“I am not! I fully believe Landon is innocent. But it seems impossible to find the real culprit, and it is to persuade the judge and jury, that I do things I would scorn to do in a less urgent case.”

“But Leslie, I don’t want to marry you.”

“Very well, then, don’t.”

“And you’ll free Kane, just the same?”

“Indeed I will not! Your lover may shift for himself. And we’ll see what verdict he will get!”

“Oh, Leslie, don’t talk like that! I shouldn’t think you’d want a girl who loves somebody else.”

“I’d far rather you’d love me, dear,” and Hoyt spoke very tenderly; “but I love you so much I’ll take you on any terms. And, too, I have faith to believe I can teach you to love me. You are very young, dearest, and in the years to come you will turn to me, though you don’t think so now.”

“Then you refuse to get Kane free, except on condition that I marry you?”

“I most certainly do.”

“Then listen to me, Leslie Hoyt! Go on and do your best for him. I promise that if you get him acquitted by your own efforts I will be your wife. But I also warn you, that I shall try to get him freed without your assistance, and if I do so, by any means whatever, that are in no way connected with your efforts, I shall not consider myself bound to you!”

“Well, well, what a little firebrand it is!” and Hoyt smiled at her. “Go ahead, my girl; use every effort you can discover. You will only succeed in getting your friend deeper in the slough of despond. Without being intrusive, may I ask your intended course of procedure?”

“You may not!” And Avice’s eyes flashed. “You are to abide by our bargain, and in no way relax the vigilance of your efforts, unless I see success ahead without your help.”

“Which you never will! But, Avice, I don’t like this talk. It sounds like ‘war to the knife’!”

“And it is! But it is fair and aboveboard. I give you full warning that I, too, am going to fight for Kane’s life, and if I win it, I am his, not yours!”

Judge Hoyt set his jaw firmly. “So be it, my girl: I love you so much I submit even to your rivalry in my own field. But to return frankness for frankness I have not the slightest idea that you can do anything at all in the matter.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of!” And Avice broke down and wept as if her heart would break.

And it was then that Leslie Hoyt met the biggest moment of his life. Met and threw it!

For a brief instant his soul triumphed over his flesh, and flinging his arms round the quivering figure, he cried:

“Avice! I will – ” he was about to say, “give you up,” and in the note of his voice the girl heard the message. Had she kept still, he might have gone on; but she flung up her head with a glad cry and with a beaming face, and Hoyt recanted.

“Never!” he whispered, holding her close; “I will never give you up!”

“You meant to!”

“For a moment, yes. But that moment is passed, and will never return! No, my sweetheart, my queen, I will never give you up so long as there is breath in my body!”

Avice sprang away from him. She was trembling, but controlled herself by sheer force of will.

“Then it is war to the knife!” she cried. “Go on, Leslie Hoyt; remember your bargain, as I shall remember mine!”

With a mocking bow and a strange smile she left the room.

Judge Hoyt pondered. He had no fear of her ability to find any lawyer or detective who could prove Landon’s innocence by actual honest evidence. He had himself tried too thoroughly to do that to believe it possible for another. But from Avice’s sudden smile and triumphant glance as she left him, he had a vague fear that there was something afoot of which he knew nothing. And Leslie Hoyt was not accustomed to know nothing of matters on which he desired to be informed.

As a matter of fact Avice had nothing “up her sleeve.” She had abandoned the idea of calling in Fleming Stone, as a foolish suggestion of a foolish fortune-teller. But none the less she was bent on finding some way to do what she had threatened. She had little real hope, but unlimited determination and boundless energy.

She consulted Alvin Duane, only to meet with most discouraging advice and forecast of failure.

“There’s nothing to be found out,” said the detective. “If there had been, I’d ’a’ found it out myself. I’m as good a detective as the next one, if I have a tiny clue or a scrap of evidence that is the real thing. But nobody can work from nothing. And the only ‘clues’ I’ve heard of, in connection with this case, are the lies made up by that little ragamuffin they call Fibber, or something. No, Miss Trowbridge, whatever hope Mr. Landon has, is vested entirely in the powers of eloquence of his counsel. And it’s lucky for him he’s got a smart chap like Judge Hoyt to defend him.”

Avice went away, thinking. No clues; and every case depended on clues. Stay, – he had said no clues except those Fibsy told of. True, he was mocking, he was making fun of the boy, who was celebrated for untruthfulness, but if those were the only clues, she would at least inquire into them.

Through Miss Wilkinson she found the boy’s address in Philadelphia, and wrote for him to come to see her.

He came.

Avice had chosen a time when Eleanor would be out, and they were not likely to be interrupted.

“Good morning, Terence, how do you do?”

“Aw, Miss Trowbridge, now, – don’t talk to me like that!”

“Why not, child?”

“And don’t call me child, please, Miss Trowbridge. I’m goin’ on sixteen, – leastways, I was fifteen last month.”

“Ah, are you trying to be truthful, now, Fibsy?”

“Yes’m, I am. I’ve got a good position in Philadelphia, and I was agoin’ to keep it. But, well, I feel like I wanted to work on this here case of your uncle.”

The deep seriousness and purpose that shone in the boy’s eyes almost startled Avice.

“Work on the case? What do you mean, Fibsy?” She spoke very gently, for she knew his peculiar sense of shyness that caused him to bolt if not taken seriously.

“Yes’m; Mr. Trowbridge’s murder, you know. They’s queer things goin’ on.”

“Such as what?”

Avice was as earnest as the boy, and he realized her sympathy and interest.

“Well, Miss Trowbridge, why did Judge Hoyt want me out o’ New York? Why did he send me to Philadelphia?”

“I think to get you a good position, Fibsy. It was very kind of Judge Hoyt, and I’m afraid you’re not properly grateful.”

“No, ma’am, I ain’t. ’Cause you see, he just made Mr. Stetson take me on. Mr. Stetson, he didn’t want another office boy, any more’n a cat wants two tails. Why, he had a perfectly good one, an’ he’s got him yet. The two of us. ’Cause, you see I’m only tempo’ry an’ the other feller, he’s perm’nent. Judge Hoyt, he’s payin’ my salary there himself.”

“How do you know this?”

“Billy, the other feller told me. He heard the talk over the telephone, an’ Judge Hoyt says if Mr. Stetson’d take me fer a coupla munts, he’d pay me wages himself. Only I must go at onct. An’ then the judge, he told me I must beat it, cause Mr. Stetson wanted me in a hurry.”

Avice thought deeply, then she said: “Fibsy, I’d be terribly interested in your story, if I could believe it. But you know yourself – ”

“Yes’m, I know myself! That’s just it! And I know I ain’t lyin’ now! And I won’t never, when I’m doin’ detective work. Honest to goodness, I won’t!”

“I believe you, Terence, – not so much on your word, as because the truth is in your eyes.”

“Yes’m, Miss Avice, it is! An’ now tell me why Judge Hoyt wanted me outen his way!”

“I’ve no idea, but if he did, it must have been because he thought you knew something that would work against his case. Oh, Fibsy, if you do, – if you do know anything that would hinder the work of freeing Mr. Landon, don’t tell it, will you? Don’t tell it Fibsy, for my sake!”

“Land, Miss Avice! What I know, – if I know anything, – ain’t a goin’ to hurt Mr. Landon! No-sir-ee!”

“Well, then, Judge Hoyt thinks it is, and that’s why he wanted you out of town.”

“No, Miss Trowbridge, you ain’t struck it right yet. You see, Miss, I’ve got that detective instinck, as they call it, an’ I’ve got it somepin’ fierce! Now I tell you I got clues, an’ if you laugh at that as ev’rybody else does, I’ll jest destroy them clues, an’ let the case drop!”

The earnestness of the freckled face and the flash of the blue eyes robbed the words of all absurdity, and gave Fibsy the dignity of a professional detective dismissing a client.

“What are these clues, really?” she asked him in kindly tones.

“I can’t tell you, Miss Trowbridge. Not that I ain’t willin’, – but them clues is clues, only in the hands of a knowin’ detective.”

“Then tell Mr. Duane.”

“I said a knowin’ detective. That goat don’t know a clue from pickled pigs’ feet! No ma’am! ’Scuse me, but them clues is my own, – and they’ll go to waste, lessen I can give ’em to the right man.”

“And who is the right man, Fibsy?”

“He’s Fleming Stone, that’s who he is! And no one else is any good whatsumever.”

“Fleming Stone? I have heard of him.”

“Have you, Miss Avice! Well, if you want ter find out for sure who killed your uncle, they ain’t no one as can find out but that same Fleming Stone!”

“You go back now, Fibsy,” said Avice, after a moment’s thought, “and if I decide to send for this man, I’ll let you know.”

“All right, Miss Avice, but I ain’t goin’ back to Phil’delphia, I’m goin’ to stay here fer awhile. If you wanter see me, they’s a telephone to the house where I live. Here, I’ll write you down the number. If I ai’n’t home, leave word wit’ me Aunt Becky.”

Avice took the paper Fibsy gave her, and nodded pleasantly to him as he went away, but she was so deeply absorbed in her own thoughts she scarcely heeded the boy.

CHAPTER XIX

TWO AT LUNCHEON

Terence McGuire, potential detective, went straight to the office of Judge Hoyt.

It was about one o’clock, and he found the lawyer, about to go to his luncheon.

“Well, Terence,” the Judge said, in surprise, “I thought you were busy at your Philadelphia desk.”

It was on the tip of Fibsy’s tongue to say that Miss Avice sent for him, but he suddenly changed his mind and said, “Yes, sir, Judge, I was, but me Aunt is awful sick an’ I hadda come home. I’m all she’s got, an’ I can’t leave her w’en she’s sick.”

As a matter of fact, Aunt Becky was at that moment preparing some complicated combination of pastry and fruit and whipped cream for her mendacious nephew’s dinner, and was in robust health.

“So you’ve left Mr. Stetson?”

“Well, I jest came over to see Aunt Becky, an’ she’s so ailin’ I simpully can’t go back. I gotta stay here, I’m sorry, Judge, but say, Mr. Stetson, he don’t really need me, – he don’t.”

“No? Is that so? Well, Terence, I want you to have a position, perhaps we can find one in New York, and then you can look after your aunt.”

“Good for you, sir. That would be jest the ticket!”

“I’m just going out to luncheon. How would you like to go along with me, and we can talk things over?”

“Go to lunch! With you, Judge? Gee!”

“Yes, come along. As Mr. Trowbridge’s trusted clerk, I feel an interest in your welfare, and I want to see what I can do for you. Yes, come on, and we’ll talk it over as we lunch.”

“Great jumpin’ cows! Say, Judge, I s’pose you’d ruther I’d talk nice an’ pretty, if I’m goin’ to eat wit’ a gentleman. Well, say, I’ll try, honust, I will.”

“Not only for this time, Terence, but don’t you think it would be a good idea, if you gave up that foolish slang for good and all?”

“You bet I do! An’ say, you don’ know how hard I’ve tried! Why, I practice at home, an’ I make Aunt Becky scowl at me every time I say a onnecess’ry woid. An’ I do sure hate to be scowled at! Yes, sir, I do! Well, I’m goin’ to keep on tryin’.”

When the strangely mated pair started out, Judge Hoyt led his guest to a restaurant of a good but plain type.

“I won’t take you to one of my clubs today, Terence,” said his host, “but as you’re ambitious, let me prophesy that some day you’ll grow up to be a man I’ll be proud to take to luncheon anywhere.”

“Say, Judge,” and Fibsy looked serious, “that’s the kinda talk that makes a feller want to rise in this world. I’m ambitious, – I am, – Aunt Becky says I’ve got more ambition ’n’ any one she ever see – ”

“Saw, Terence.”

“Yessir, I mean saw. An’ to talk wit’ you onct, makes me feel I want to go to night school, or sumpum – ”

“Something.”

“Yessir, something.”

Seated at a table that was properly appointed, but not elaborate enough to embarrass his young guest, Judge Hoyt settled himself comfortably in his chair, and adjusted his napkin, while Fibsy, watching him closely, followed every motion with a like one of his own. He took a sip of water immediately after his model had done so, and replaced the glass with an imitative gesture, extending his stubby little finger in the manner of the other’s carefully manicured digit.

Judge Hoyt noticed all this, but seeing that Fibsy was in earnest and entirely unself-conscious, he ignored it and let the boy have his lessons in etiquette.

“Ain’t it a shame, Judge, that they can’t find the feller, – fel-low, I mean, who moidered Mr. Trowbridge?”

“Oh, didn’t you know that Kane Landon is indicted for the crime?”

“Yep, sure I know that, but he didn’t do it, allee samee.”

“Don’t you think so? Why not?”

“Well, I loined it outen o’ my pus-shy-kollergy book.”

“Terence, if you’re going to read a book on the subject of psychology, you ought to learn to pronounce it.”

“Yes, sir. Could you tell me, so’s I kin remember?”

“Why, yes, it’s not difficult, once you know it.” And Judge Hoyt carefully taught the young seeker after knowledge how to pronounce the word in question.

“Well, now wouldn’t that jar you!” and Fibsy smiled, delighted at his own accomplishment. “All that fooled me was that P to begin it with. If it hadn’t been for that, I’d a loined it long ago. Well, I got that book, an’ it tells you how to know w’en a man’s a criminal an’ w’en he ain’t. An’ Mr. Landon, he’s too careless to be guilty.”

“Too careless to be guilty. What do you mean?”

“I mean, if he was guilty, he wouldn’t sling around his speech so free. He wouldn’t a told that he was in Van Cortlandt Park that day Mr. Trowbridge was killed. Nor he wouldn’t a owned up so free that he wanted money sumpun – something, – fierce. An’ he wouldn’t a taken his imprisonment so orful easy. He’d a been busy preparin’ alibis, an’ things like that.”

“How do you know these are his attitudes?”

“Pape. Every day there’s a guy writes a lot about the – psy – chology, – got it! – of crime, an’ spoke about Kane Landon bein’ a example of – of what I was a-talkin’ about.”

“But if Landon isn’t guilty, and I fervently hope he isn’t, then who is?”

“I dunno, Judge Hoyt,” and Fibsy’s freckled little face was very earnest. “But there’s a chap as can find out. Do you know Fleming Stone?”

“The detective? Yes; that is I know him by reputation. I never chanced to meet him.”

“He’s the guy, Judge Hoyt. He can find a moiderer by clues what ain’t there! Gee, but he’s a wonder!”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read about him a heap o’ times. I’ve read up most every case he’s ever had, if it was in the papers. Why,” and Fibsy pulled a newspaper from his pocket. “Here’s a account of a case he’s jest finished – ”

“And here’s the waiter with our steak. Suppose we let Mr. Stone wait.”

“Will we!” and Fibsy’s eyes shone as he saw the platter that was offered for the Judge’s inspection. “Gee! I’ve dreamed of a steak like that, but I never spected to have one soived up to me!”

“And now,” the judge resumed, after the steak had been cut and “soived,” “let us discuss your next position of trust and responsibility. You want to be in New York? But suppose we arrange for your aunt to live in Philadelphia, and then you can keep your place with Mr. Stetson.”

“Mighty nice plan,” Fibsy’s fork paused in mid-air, while he thought, “but, – oh, hang it all, Judge, – I jest love New York! Why, its old torn-up dirty streets are more ’tractive to us, than Philly’s clean, every-day-sloshed-up w’ite marble steps.”

“Ah, a true Gothamite,” and the Judge smiled. “Well, we must try for a place in this metropolis, then.”

“Yes, sir, please. And, too, Judge Hoyt, I gotter be here to keep me eye on that ’ere trial of Mr. Landon.”

“You have that in charge, eh?”

“Now, don’t you make fun o’ me, please. But I got a hunch that I can put in an oar, when the time comes, that’ll help Mr. Landon along some – ”

“What do you mean, Terence? If you know anything of importance bearing on the case, it’s your duty to tell it at once.”

“I know that, sir, but it ain’t of importance, ’cept to somebuddy who can ’tach importance to it. Now, I told you, Judge Hoyt, that I had some – some clues, – an’ sir, you jest laughed at me.”

“Oh, I remember. Some buttons and some mud, wasn’t it?”

“Yes sir, that’s what they was.”

“Well, I confess the mud doesn’t seem of great importance, and as for the button, – was it a coat button, did you say?”

“No, sir, I said a – a suspender button.”

“Oh, yes. Well, the detectives have examined all possible clothing for a missing button of that sort, but without success. It is, of course, a button from some other garment than any of interest to this case.”

“Yes sir, I s’pose so.”

“You see, Terence, all clues have been traced to their last possible degree of usefulness in our investigations.”

“Yes, sir, of course, sir. Say, Judge Hoyt, I’m kinder sorry you wasn’t in town that day. If you had a been, you might a kep’ Mr. Trowbridge from goin’ to the woods at all.”

“Maybe so, Terence. We can’t know about those things. Some people hold there’s no such thing as chance; if so, it was ordained that I should be out of town.”

“Yes, sir. Funny, ain’t it? An’ sorter pathetic that Mr. Trowbridge should have your telegram, what you sent from Philly in his pocket.”

“Well, that was only natural, as he must have received it shortly before he went away from his office.”

“An’ he thought a heap of you, sir. Why, jest takin’ that telegram shows that. He wouldn’t a taken a plain business telegram.”

“Probably not. Yes, if I had been here I should doubtless have been at his office most of the day. But even then, if he had expressed a desire to go to the woods, to look for his specimens, I should not have detained him. By the way, Terence, here’s a rather interesting photograph. That day, in Philadelphia, there was a camera man in the station, taking picture postcards of the place. And, purposely, I got in his focus. See the result.”

From his pocket-book, Judge Hoyt took a picture postcard, and handed it to the boy. The great station showed up well, and in the foreground was easily distinguishable the figure of Judge Hoyt, standing in his characteristic attitude, with both hands behind him.

“Say, Judge, that’s fine! My, I’d know you in a minute. Kin I keep this?”