The Merry Anne 36
"Hold on a minute, Joe. I 'll slip around the bank of the creek here, the
other side of the barn, so I can watch the road and the barn both."
He ran silently away, dodging among the trees, and in a moment had
disappeared. While McGlory was standing there, breathing hard and
twitching impatiently, he passed behind the barn-yard, keeping always
among the trees of the bank, and on to the bridge. Here he looked
carefully around, then stooped under the beams of the bridge flooring
and got into a scow that lay there.
McGlory stood still as long as he could, then, throwing, the reins to
his temper, he strode toward the house.
CHAPTER XII--THE MEETING
[Illustration: 0332]
IT was between eleven o'clock and midnight when McGlory and his
companion returned to Van Deelen's; it was between ten and eleven of
this same Thursday night when Axel Lindquist was taken sick on the road,
not a long walk from his father's house.
In less than an hour Beveridge and his companions reached a turn in
the road and found themselves at the top of the slope,--it was hardly
a hill,--with Van Deelen's bridge a little way below them, and the
farm-yard beyond. Beveridge extinguished the lantern. "Look there!"
Wilson exclaimed.
"Where?"
"At the house yonder. Don't you see there's a light burning?"
"That's a fact. We 'll move a little quietly, boys. Bert, you step around
between the house and the barn and keep an eye on the back door. Harper
will be with you."
They started down toward the bridge while Beveridge was speaking. When
they had crossed over, Harper stopped.
"Can you wait just a minute? I've got a stone in my shoe."
"We 'll go ahead. Come on as soon as you can and join Bert out by the
barn." And the three passed on, leaving Pink on a log at the roadside.
Beveridge and Smiley went up to the front door and knocked. There was
no response. But for the light in one window, the house might have been
deserted. Beveridge knocked again. "Open up in there!" he shouted. But
no one answered. Smiley turned and looked around the dim clearing with a
shudder. "Lonesome, isn't it?" he said. "What a place to live!"
Beveridge's mind was bent on getting in. "So they won't answer, eh?
We 'll see." He stepped back to the ground, picked up a length of
cord-wood, and struck a heavy blow on the door. At this, a head appeared
in an upper window.
"Who's there?"
"Open your door and I 'll tell you."
"Tell me who you are, first."
"A special agent of the United States Treasury Department."
"What do you want me for?"
"I don't care anything about you. I want the men you have hidden here."
"There ain't nobody here but my wife and me."
"Will you open, or shall I break in your door?"
"Wait a minute! Don't break it! How do I know you're what you say you
are?"
"Smiley, fetch a rail, will you please?"
"Hold on there! I 'll be down in a minute." The minute was not a quarter
gone when the same voice was heard through the door, saying, "You
haven't told me your names yet."
"Are you going to open this door?"
"Yes, yes. Don't get impatient now." The bolt slid back, and the door
opened a few inches. These inches were promptly occupied by Beveridge's
foot.
"What's your name, my friend?" asked the special agent.
"Van Deelen. I don't see what you want here. There ain't nobody here but
us."
"We 'll see about that." Beveridge, as he spoke, threw his weight on
the door and forced it open so abruptly that the farmer was thrown
back against the wall. He entered with Smiley close at his heels. "Of
course," he went on, as he shut it behind him, "if there isn't anything
really the matter here, you won't mind my looking around a little."
"Why, no--oh, no--only--"
"Only what?"
"My wife's down sick, and any noise or excitement might upset her."
"Nervous trouble, maybe."
"Yes, something of that sort."
"Has to keep her room, I suppose?"
"Yes, yes."
"Room shut up so noise won't disturb her?"
"Yes, we keep it shut."
"Place got on her nerves a little, maybe. Should think it would be sort
of monotonous here. No doctor, I suppose?"
"No, not this side of Hewittson."
"How long has she been troubled?"
"Why--"
"Sudden attack, to-day or yesterday? Sick headache, and all that?"
"Yes--she has a bad headache."
"Good deal of nausea, too? Sight of food distasteful?"
"Oh, yes, she doesn't want anything to eat.
"Can't keep anything on her stomach? Lost interest in living--no
enthusiasm for anything? Is that the form it takes?"
"Why, yes--yes--"
"Curious thing. Seems to prevail in this neighborhood. Young Lindquist,
back up the road, has the same trouble."
Van Deelen's stolid face wore a puzzled __EXPRESSION__. He seemed not to
know how far to resent this inquisition. "Say," he asked, "what do you
want?"
"I want to know if you always receive folks with a shot-gun?"
"Why--"
"Bad characters in the neighborhood, maybe. Have they been giving you
trouble to-night?"
"Who're you talking about?"
"McGlory and the rest. When did they come?"
"There hasn't anybody been here."
"Oh, all right. That's first-rate--would you mind stepping up and
telling your wife the doctor has come?"
"You ain't a doctor."
"Come, my friend, don't contradict. I'm afraid we 'll have to take a look
into her room."
"Oh, you will!"
"Yes. We 'll walk around this floor a little first. Will you entertain
him a minute, Smiley?"
Beveridge slipped away, leaving the two standing at the foot of the
stairs. He moved from room to room, carrying a lamp which he had found
in the front room and had lighted. Soon he returned, set down the lamp
where he had found it, and joined Smiley and the farmer. "So Estelle's
had her hair cut," he observed.
Van Deelen shot a glance at him, but Beveridge went easily on. "Now
we 'll go upstairs, Dick."
Van Deelen, gun in hand, retreated upward a few steps and barred the
way. Beveridge looked at him, then he stepped quickly up and seized the
gun by barrel and stock. The farmer could easily have shot him, but he
made no attempt. And now the two men silently wrestled there, Van
Deelen in the more advantageous position, but Beveridge showing greater
strength than his figure seemed to promise. Finally, with a quick
wrench, the special agent got possession of the weapon and passed it
down to Smiley. "Now, Mister van Deelen," he said, "will you please
stand aside?"
For reply the farmer began retreating backward up the stairway, always
facing Beveridge, who followed closely. Dick drew the shells from the
gun, tossed it into the front room, and came after. The upper hall was
square, and of the three doors around it only one was closed. Beveridge
stepped into each of the open rooms, and then tried the door of the
third, while Van Deelen stood sullenly by.
"Will you open this door?" Beveridge asked, with the beginnings of
impatience.
No reply from the farmer. Smiley drew Beveridge aside and whispered,
"Maybe it's true that she's sick in there."
"Not much."
"But we haven't found her anywhere around the house."
"If she _is_ there, she isn't alone."
"But I kind of hate to break into a woman's room this way."
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