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Just And The Unjust, The

<h2>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> <h3>THE FINGER OF SUSPICION</h3> In Chicago Conklin found an angry young man at police headquarters, and the name of this young man was John North. "This is a most damnable outrage!" he cried hotly the moment he espied Mount Hope's burly sheriff. "I am mighty sorry to have interfered with your plans, John—just mighty sorry." The sheriff's tone was meant to soothe and conciliate. "But you see we are counting on you to throw some light on the McBride murder." "So that's it! I tell you, Conklin, I consider that I have been treated with utter discourtesy; I've been a virtual prisoner here over night!" "That's too bad, John," said the sheriff sympathetically, "but we didn't know where a wire would reach you, so there didn't seem any other way than this—" "Well, what do you want with me?" demanded North, with rather less heat than had marked his previous speech. "They got the idea back home that you can help in the McBride matter," explained the sheriff again. "I see that you know he's been murdered." "Yes, I knew that before I left Mount Hope," rejoined North. "Did you, though?" said the sheriff briefly, and this admission of North's appeared to furnish him with food for reflection. "Well, what do I know that will be of use to you?" asked North impatiently. "You ain't to make any statement to me, John," returned the sheriff hastily. "Do you mean you expect me to go back to Mount Hope?" inquired North in a tone of mingled wonder and exasperation. The sheriff nodded. "That's the idea, John," he said placidly. "What if I refuse to go back?" The sheriff looked pained. "Oh, you won't do that—what's the use?" "Do you mean—" began North savagely, but Conklin interposed. "Never mind what I mean, that's a good fellow; say you'll take the next train back with me; it will save a lot of, bother!" "But I strongly object to return to Mount Hope!" said North. "Be reasonable—" urged the sheriff. "This is an infernal outrage!" cried North. "I'm sorry, John, but make it easy for me, make it easy for yourself; we'll have a nice friendly trip and you will be back here by the first of the week." For a moment North hesitated. He had so many excellent reasons why he did not wish to return to Mount Hope, but he knew that there was something back of Mr. Conklin's mild eye and yet milder speech. "Well, John?" prompted the sheriff encouragingly. "I suppose I'll go with you," said North grudgingly. "Of course you will," agreed the sheriff. He had never entertained any doubts on this point. It was ten o'clock Saturday morning when North and the sheriff left the east-bound express at Mount Hope and climbed into the bus that was waiting for them. North's annoyance had given place to a certain humorous appreciation of the situation. His plans had gone far astray in the past forty-eight hours, and here he was back in Mount Hope. Decidedly his return, in the light of his parting with Elizabeth, was somewhat in the nature of an anticlimax. They were driven at once to the court-house. There in his office they found Moxlow with the coroner and North was instantly aware of restraint in the manner of each as they greeted him, for which he could not account. "Sit down, North," said Moxlow, indicating a chair. "Now what is it?" North spoke pleasantly as he took his seat. "I've been cursing you two all the way home from Chicago." "I am sorry you were subjected to any annoyance in the matter, but it couldn't be helped," said Moxlow. "I'm getting over my temper," replied North. "Fire away with your questions!" The prosecuting attorney glanced at his fellow official. "You are already acquainted with the particulars of the shocking tragedy that has occurred here?" said Taylor with ponderous dignity. "Yes," said North soberly. "And when I think of it, I am more than willing to help you in your search for the guilty man." "You knew of the murder before you left town?" remarked Moxlow casually. "Yes." "But you weren't on the Square or in the store Thanksgiving night?" said Moxlow. "No, I dined with General Herbert." The prosecuting attorney elevated his eyebrows. "I must have been on my way there when the crime was discovered; I was returning home perhaps a little after eleven when I met a man who stopped me to tell me of the murder—" "You were with Mr. McBride Thanksgiving afternoon, were you not?" Moxlow now asked. "Yes." "What was the hour, can you state?" "About half past four, I should say; certainly no later than that. I went there on a matter of business, to dispose of some bonds Mr. McBride had agreed to take off my hands; I was with him, maybe twenty minutes." "What were those bonds?" "Local gas bonds." "How many were there in the lot you sold?" "Five." "He paid you the money for them?" "Yes, a thousand dollars." "Do you know, we haven't unearthed those bonds yet?" said the doctor. Moxlow frowned slightly. "I suppose they were taken," said North. "But it will be a dangerous thing, to attempt to realize on them," snapped Moxlow. "Decidedly," agreed North. "You left McBride's store at, say, five o'clock?" said Moxlow. "Not later than that—see here, Moxlow, what are you driving at?" demanded North, with some show of temper. For an instant Moxlow hesitated, then he said: "The truth is, North, there is not a clue to go on, and we are thrashing this thing over in the hope that we may sooner or later hit on something that will be of service to us." "Oh, all right," said North, with a return of good nature. "During your interview with McBride you were not interrupted, no one came into the store?" "No one; we were alone the entire time." "And you saw no one hanging about the place as you left it?" "Not that I can remember; if I did it made no impression on me." "But didn't you see Shrimplin?" asked Moxlow quickly. "Oh, come, Moxlow, you can't play the sleuth,—that was afterward, you know it was!" "Afterward—" "Yes, just as I was starting for the general's place, fully an hour later." "In the meantime you had been where—" "From McBride's store I went to my rooms. I remained there until it was time to start for the Herberts', and as I intended to walk out I started earlier than I otherwise should have done." "Then you were coming from your rooms when you met Shrimplin?" "Yes, it was just six o'clock when I stopped to speak to him." "Shrimplin was the only person you met as you crossed the Square?" "As far as I can remember now, I saw no one but Shrimp." "And just where did you meet him, North?" asked Moxlow. "On the corner, near McBride's store." "Do you know whether he had just driven into the Square or not?" "No, I, don't know that; it was snowing hard and I came upon him suddenly." "You continued on your way out of town after speaking with him, North?" "Yes." "And later, at eleven o'clock, as you were returning to town you met a stranger, probably a countryman, you say, who told you that McBride had been murdered?" "Yes, you have that all straight." "On your return to town you went where?" "To my rooms again and finished packing." "Did that take you two hours?" "No, but I had a lot of things to see to there." "What?" asked Moxlow. "Oh, papers to destroy, and things of that sort that kept me pretty busy until train-time." "You walked to the depot?" "Yes, I was too late for the hotel bus; in fact, I barely caught the train. I just had time to jump aboard as it pulled out." "Excuse me a moment, North!" said Moxlow as he rose from his chair. He quitted the room and North heard him pass down the hall. "It's a bad business," said Taylor. "And you haven't a suspicion as to the guilty man?" "No, as Moxlow says, we haven't a clue to go on. It's incredible though, isn't it, that a crime like that could have been committed here almost in broad daylight, and its perpetrator get away without leaving a trace behind?" "It is incredible," agreed North, and they lapsed into silence. North thought of Elizabeth. He would slip out to Idle Hour that afternoon or evening; he couldn't leave Mount Hope without seeing her. The coroner drummed on his desk; he wondered what had taken Moxlow from the room in such haste. The prosecuting attorney's brisk step sounded in the hall again, and he reëntered the room and resumed his chair. "Just one or two more questions, North, and then I guess we'll have to let you go," he said. "You have been on very friendly terms with the murdered man for some time, have you not?" "He was very kind to me on numerous occasions." "In a business way, perhaps?" "Largely in a business way, yes." "It—pardon me—usually had to do with raising money, had it not?" North laughed. "It had." "You were familiar with certain little peculiarities of his, were you not, his mistrust of banks for instance?" "Yes, he had very little confidence in banks, judging from what he said of them." "Did he ever tell you that he had large sums of money hidden away about the store?" "Never." "But always when you had business dealings with him he gave you the ready money, very rarely a check?" "Never in all my experience a check, always the cash." "Yet the sums involved were usually considerable?" "In one or two instances they reached a thousand dollars, if you call that considerable." "And he always had the money on hand?" "Well, I can't quite say that; it always involved a preliminary discussion of the transaction; I had to see him and tell him what I wanted and then go again after the money. It was as if he wished me to think he did not keep any large sum about him at the store." "Did he ever, in talking with you, express any apprehension of robbery or violence?" "No, never." "You had spoken to him about those bonds before?" "Yes, Monday I saw him and asked him if he would take them off my hand." "And he gave you to understand that if you would wait a day or two he would buy the bonds." North nodded. "Hadn't you learned prior to going to the store that McBride had just received three thousand dollars in cash from Atkinson?" "Yes, I knew that,—Langham told me." "So that it is reasonable to suppose that McBride had at least four thousand dollars in his safe Thursday afternoon." "I suppose it is, but I saw only the thousand he paid me for the bonds." "That came from the safe?" "Yes." "I guess that's all for the present, North." "Do you mean you shall want to see me again?" asked North, rising. "Yes, you won't leave town to-day; the inquest is to be held this afternoon, you will probably be wanted then, so hold yourself in readiness." "I hope you will arrange to get through with me as soon as possible, Moxlow!" "We won't put you to any unnecessary inconvenience if we can help it," returned Moxlow, with a queer cold smile. "Thank you," said North and quitted the room. He sauntered out into the street; he was disposed to consider Mr. Moxlow as something of a fool, as a rank amateur in the present crisis. He turned into the Square and halted for an instant before the dingy store that had been the scene of the recent tragedy. People on the street paused when they had passed and turned to stare after him, but North was unaware of this, as he was unaware that his name had come to be the one most frequently mentioned in connection with the McBride murder. Suddenly he quickened his step; just ahead of him was Marshall Langham. "Hello, Marsh!" he said, and stepped eagerly forward with extended hand. The lawyer paused irresolutely and turned on him a bloated face, but there was no welcome in the sullen glance. "Marsh—" Langham's lips twitched and an angry murmur came from them, but the words were indistinct. "What's wrong?" asked North, falling back a step in astonishment. "Yes, what's wrong!" said Langham in a hoarse whisper. "Hell! You have nerve to stick out your hand to me—you have bigger nerve to ask me that,—get out of my way!" and he pushed past North and strode down the street without a single backward glance. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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