The Merry Anne 38

The Merry Anne 38

"Then,--" the voice was very fluttery and agitated--"then wait a minute

after I unlock the door."

 

The bolt was slipped, and they could hear a frantic rustling and

scampering. Van Deelen opened the door and entered the room with

Beveridge and Smiley at his heels. As they entered, another door,

evidently leading to a closet, was violently closed.

 

The three men stood a moment in the middle of the room without speaking,

then Beveridge walked over to the bed. The woman lying there had turned

to the wall and drawn the coverlet over her face. Beveridge bent over

and jerked it back. "Smiley," he called, "come here and see if this

ain't your old friend, Estelle!"

 

The woman struggled to hide her face again, but Beveridge rudely held

her quiet. Dick would have turned away but for the special agent's

impatience. As it was he made him speak twice. Then he went slowly and

shamefacedly to the bed. "Yes, I guess this is Estelle, all right."

 

They saw her shudder. Her face was flushed with fever. Dick took

Beveridge's arm and whispered, "For heaven's sake, Bill, don't be a

beast." But Beveridge impatiently shook him off.

 

"Well, Estelle," he said, "the game's up. We've got them."

 

Her eyes were wild, but she managed to repeat. "You've got them?"

 

"Yes. You 'll never see McGlory again."

 

"And Pete--have you got Pete?" Beveridge glanced inquiringly at Smiley,

who, after a moment of puzzling, nodded, and with his lips formed the

name "Roche."

 

"Yes, we've got Roche. Pretty lot they were to leave you here."

 

But Estelle had fainted.

 

"Here, Dick," said Beveridge, "bring some water."

 

Van Deelen indicated the washstand, and Smiley fetched the pitcher.

Beveridge sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her forehead with the

cool water. He asked Van Deelen for some whiskey, and forced a little

between her teeth. Finally her eyes opened.

 

"There," said Beveridge, "that's better. You 'll be all right in a

minute. Now tell me why they left you."

 

"Look here, Bill," said Dick, "I can't stand this."

 

Beveridge paid no attention, but went on stroking her forehead. "Tell me

why they left you, Estelle. They weren't very square with you."

 

"It was Pete--" The whiskey had revived her a very little.

 

"Yes, I know. You were mistaken in Pete. He never meant to stand by

you."

 

"He said--"

 

"Yes--go on."

 

"He said we--we could get away--and--"

 

"Yes?"

 

"--and they were asleep and--and then we saw the house, and--oh, I can't

think--"

 

"Bill,--for heaven's sake!" cried Dick. "Yes, it's all right, Estelle.

You're all safe now. Try to think."

 

"I guess I fainted--Pete was gone--and I--I don't know--how I got to the

house--"

 

"That will do. Go to sleep, Estelle. We 'll take good care of you."

Beveridge rose, and looked significantly toward the closet door. "Now,

Mister," he said, addressing the farmer, "we 'll just take a look in that

closet before we go, and--"

 

A protesting voice, muffled by hanging garments, but shrill

nevertheless, came from the closet, and Beveridge smiled. "Is it your

wife?" he asked. Van Deelen nodded. And then, the smile lingering,

Beveridge led the way out of the room.

 

As they started down the stairs, Dick observed: "You were awful quiet

down there with McGlory, Bill. I'd heard your second shot before I knew

anything was happening."

 

"You never heard my second shot."

 

"I didn't? I'd like to know why I didn't."

 

"Because I only fired once."

 

"Then who did the rest of it? By Jove! Where's Wilson?"

 

Beveridge turned sharply at the question. "That's a fact," he muttered.

They had reached the front steps by this time, and could see Harper

ostentatiously standing guard with drawn revolver. "Say, Pink, have you

seen Bert anywhere?"

 

"No. Thought he was inside with you."

 

"Step around the house, quick. We 'll go this way."

 

They found Wilson lying on the ground, not far from the front of the

house. He had plunged forward on his face, with his arms spread out

before him. Apparently he had been running around from the rear to join

Beveridge when the ball brought him down. In an instant the two men were

kneeling by him.

 

"How is it, Bill? Can you tell?"

 

"He isn't gone yet. Get a light, will you?" Dick ran back into the house

and brought out Van Deelen with a lamp and some improvised bandages.

Beveridge had some practical knowledge of first aid to the injured; and

the farmer seemed really to have some little skill, as a man must who

lives with his family twenty-five miles from a physician. And so between

them they managed to stanch the flow of blood while Dick and Pink were

carrying a small bed out of doors. With great care not to start the flow

again, they carried him into the front room.

 

"Did you notice," said Beveridge to Smiley, when they had made him as

comfortable as they could, "where he was hit?"

 

"In the back, wasn't it?"

 

"Yes, and a little to the right. Now if he fell straight,--and I think

he did, because the way he went shows that he was running, and that he

simply pitched forward,--the shot must have come from near the bridge,

maybe from those trees a little down-stream from the bridge. Now there's

just one man could have done it, to my notion. He was an old hand,

because it was a pretty shot at the distance and in that _light_."

 

"Who do you think?"

 

"Well, now, there's Roche. He skipped out some time ago and left Estelle

in the woods. He wouldn't have done that unless he was badly scared,

would he? Isn't he a pretty poor lot, anyway--no nerve, just bluster?"

 

"That's Pete. If he is fairly started running, he won't stop to-night."

 

"That's about what I thought about him. It's pretty plain he would never

have come back here with McGlory after him--you see McGlory _had_

come after him,--he was chasing Roche because he had run off with

Estelle--and made such a cool shot as that was. So we 'll rule out Roche.

And McGlory is ruled out too, and Estelle."

 

"Oh--"

 

"So that leaves just 'the boss'--Spencer."

 

"That sounds reasonable."

 

"He has nerve enough for anything, hasn't he?"

 

"He looks as if he had."

 

"Now I 'll tell you what we 'll do. We 'll get this Dutch woman to nurse

Bert here, and then the four of us will step down to the bridge and see

what we can make of it--or hold on; I 'll take Van Deelen and go to the

bridge, and you and Harper can go down to the creek below the barn and

work up to the bridge. What do you think of that?"

 

"First-rate."

 

"You aren't too fagged?"

 

"Not me--not while the rest of you are on your pins."

 

"That's the talk. I 'll see about the woman here."

 

"Say, Bill, wait a minute. You aren't planning to walk right up to the

bridge, are you?"

 

"Sure. Why not?"

 

"If I was you, I'd work around through the trees a little. He may be

there yet, and we know how he can shoot."

 

"What's the use? It's all a gamble anyhow. The thing to do is to go on

the run. A man is a good deal like a dog, you know. If you run right at

him and show all over you that you mean business, why, even if he thinks

he is ready for you, it's likely to bother him. Upsets his nerve--starts

him thinking he is on the losing side."

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII--WHISKEY JIM

 

 

[Illustration: 0358]

 

BEFORE the four men left the house Wilson revived and asked for his

chief. Beveridge, his torn coat thrown aside, hurried back and bent over

the bed. "What is it, Bert?"

 

"That's what I was going to ask you. I don't remember--exactly--"

 

"You were running around the house when somebody winged you. It doesn't

amount to anything--you 'll be around in a day or so."

 

"Oh, yes--that's it. It was some fellow behind, wasn't it? I remember I

didn't see anybody ahead."

 

"Yes--he was a little below the bridge, as I figure it."

 

"Yes--yes--don't you see, Bill? That's where Harper was--he stayed

behind with some yarn about his shoe--had a stone in it."

& nb