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Mansion of Mystery

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<h2 id="id00609" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER VIII</h2> <h5 id="id00610">WHAT CEPHAS CARBOY SAW</h5> There was a brief pause after the man from Bryport made his announcement. Adam Adams tried hard to see his face clearly, but in the gloom this was impossible. "Perhaps you do not believe me," said John Watkins. "I can easily prove what I say." "Why shouldn't I believe you?" "Because you were on the point of arresting me, which proves that you took me to be—something else." "How long have you been connected with the secret service?" "About three years. That is why I know you so well." "Did your work as a secret service man bring you to this place?" "Excuse me, but that is my business. If you are working on this case, well and good. But it is not fair to try to steal any of my thunder." "So far as I am concerned you shall get full credit for what you may do on this case, Mr. Watkins," said Adam Adams stiffly. "But I should like to understand several points." "About the shoes and the shirtwaist, I suppose. I got the shoes from the house to make certain that some footprints on the bank of the brook had been made by Miss Langmore." "What about the shirtwaist?" "It was there when I came, and I left it there, as it did not seem to have much of a connection with the affair." "Do you think you had a right to tamper with the safe in the library?" "Considering certain circumstances, which I do not intend just now to disclose to you, I think I had a right." "Did you take anything from the safe?" "Not a thing. In fact, I couldn't get the safe open. You must know this, if you saw me a while ago." "You opened the door the first time." "I do not deny it. The policeman interrupted me and I shut the box up. When I came back the combination had gotten away from me." There was a pause. "Where are you stopping, Mr. Watkins, in case I wish to communicate with you again?" "At Hager's Hotel, in Sidham. But I am on the jump nearly all the time," and the secret service man laughed again. "Anything else?" "No." "Then I'll be going. I've got to send a long secret message before I go to bed and it takes time to follow the code, you know that. Good-night," and in a moment more John Watkins was on his horse and riding away at a good rate of speed. Adam Adams watched his departure with a variety of thoughts chasing each other through his mind. The man must be what he claimed, he had shown his badge on the inside of his coat, and been perfectly willing to prove his words. "If he is honest, he must be on the trail of those counterfeits, and perhaps it was my duty to tell him of my discovery," mused the detective. "It is curious how these two cases have wound around each other, or is it all one case?" Concluding that there was nothing more to be done that night, Adam Adams took himself to the Beechwood Hotel, secured a room, and was soon in the land of dreams. He arose early, obtained his breakfast, and without waiting to meet Raymond Case, started off to interview Doctor Bird, one of the two persons Margaret Langmore had seen go past the mansion about the time the tragedy was occurring. He found the doctor an individual with an exaggerated idea of his own importance. It was hard to bind him down to tell what he actually knew and it took the detective the best part of an hour to learn that the physician knew nothing of real importance. A short while later Adam Adams learned that the farmer who had been seen going past the mansion was named Cephas Carboy. He was a strange individual, of no education, who lived on a hillside road, running some distance to the rear of the Langmore house. When the detective arrived there he found Carboy sitting under a tree smoking a short clay pipe. The farm was a neglected one, the house about ready to tumble down, and in the dooryard were half a dozen dirty and ragged children, who scampered out of sight on the approach of a stranger. "Good morning," said Adam Adams cheerfully. He saw at a glance that the fellow before him was a thoroughly shiftless character. "Mornin' to you," was the short response. "This is Mr. Cephas Carboy?" "Cephas Carboy's my name—ain't much of a mister to it," and the man grinned feebly. "You're the man I want to see, Carboy," and the detective took a seat on a log close by. "Want to see me? What fer? I don't know you." "I want to see you about that Langmore murder." The shiftless man stared and withdrew his pipe from his mouth with trembling fingers. "I didn't have nuthin' to do with that. They can't pitch it onto me nohow! I came past the house, that's all I did. I didn't go inside the gate, I didn't. It was Miss Langmore did that murder—or else Mary Billings." "Did you see anybody round the place when you went past?" "Not a soul." "What were you doing around there?" "Are you an—an officer?" "Perhaps I am. Anyway, you had best answer my questions." "I went down to Hopgood's place, to sell some fish I had caught—Mr. Hopgood can prove it. Then I came straight home." "Which way did you go to get to Hopgood's?" "Took the road yonder, around the hill, and crossed the brook at Peabody's bridge—Peabody can prove that, too. He was out in the hayfield and saw me." Adam Adams took a look at the road mentioned. At a turn there was a cleared spot through the woods and a fair sight could be caught of the rear of the Langmore mansion and of the automobile shed. "Come here," he called to Cephas Carboy, and when the shiftless man had shuffled up, he continued: "You say you walked this way. When you got to this spot did you happen to look over to the Langmore house?" "I—er—I did." "What did you see? Come now, tell me the exact truth," and Adam Adams put as much of sternness as possible in his tone. "I saw—See here, I don't want to get in no trouble, I don't. I'm a peaceful man, an' I tend to my own business, I do. You ain't a-goin' to drag me into court." "I don't want to get you into trouble, Carboy—but I must know the truth of this. I take it that you are poor. Am I right?" "Humph! Do I look like I was rollin' in wealth?" "Then a five dollar bill means something to you, eh?" The shiftless man opened his eyes widely. "Does it? Say, I ain't had a fiver in my fist fer a month, two months! Farmin' don't pay, an' it ain't easy to git work outside, the season's been that poor. If you—" "Tell me all you know, and perhaps I'll give you five dollars." "Ain't foolin'?" "No. There's a dollar on account," and the detective passed over the bill. The shiftless man clutched it eagerly, looked at it to make certain that it was real money, and rammed it into the pocket of his greasy vest. "Thanks, sir," he murmured. Then he ran his hand through his somewhat matted hair. "Mind now, I can't give you this fer dead certain," he commenced. "What do you mean by that?" "I think it happened, but I can't swear to it. That house is putty far off, remember." "What do you think you saw?" "I saw a man run across the garden. He had a satchel in his hand and he was in a hurry. He slipped and fell and his hat rolled off. Then he got up, put on his hat, and I lost sight of him behind the bushes." "How did the man look?" "Wait up, that ain't all. I'm certain of that part of it, but I ain't so sure of the rest. I waited here a minit, because my wife was calling to me to git some groceries when I came back. I just started to fill my pipe when I looked over there again and I saw a man run from the automobile shed to the house. The bushes was in the way, but hang me if I don't think he went in by a winder instead of a door." "You are sure you saw him go toward the house?" "Yes, that was plain enough, although he seemed to be sneakin' along the bushes." "Was it the same man?" "It must have been, but I couldn't see his valise, because he was behind the bushes." "How did the man look?" "He was a putty heavy fellow and he was dressed in a light gray suit and wore a soft hat to match." "Was the valise a light or a dark one?" "Light." "Could you see anything else?" "No." "Did the man have anything besides the valise?" "Not that I could see. When he fell and his hat flew off I saw that he had a head of heavy dark hair." "And you are certain about the suit being a light gray one and the soft hat matched it?" "Yes, I'm dead sure of that." "What time was this?" "About half an hour before I passed the house. I stopped at Peabody's to chat a while before I crossed his bridge." "Did you ever see the man before?" "Not that I remember." "You didn't see him after that?" "No." Adam Adams drew out a roll of bills and counted out four dollars, which amount he passed over to the fellow he had been interviewing. "That makes the five I promised you, Carboy. Now then, will you do me a favor?" "Certainly, sir, anything you want." "I merely want you to keep what you have told me to yourself for the present." "Oh, that's easy—unless somebuddy tries to git me into trouble." "I don't think that will happen—if you keep your mouth shut." "Then I'll be as mum as an oyster," answered Cephas Carboy decidedly. "I may be along to see you again soon," continued Adam Adams, and then he drove away in the buggy that had brought him to the vicinity. He allowed his horse to walk, for he was in a more thoughtful mood than ever. He was thinking of a man he had met the day before, in a suit of gray and with a soft hat of the same color. The man had been Tom Ostrello. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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