A MEETING
Harry Bartlett walked from the court a free man, physically, but not mentally.He felt, and others did also, that there was a stain on him - something unexplained, and which he would not, or could not, clear up - the quarrel with Mr.Carwell just before the latter's death.And even to Viola, when, in the seclusion of her home, she asked Harry about it after the trial, or rather, the verdict, he replied:
"I can not tell.It was nothing that concerns you or me or this case.I will never tell."And Colonel Ashley, hearing this, pondered over it more and more.
The little green book was all but forgotten during these days, and as for the rods, lines, and reels, Shag arranged them, polished them and laid them out, in hourly expectation of being called on for them, but the call did not come.The colonel was after bigger fish than dwelt in the sea or the rivers that ran into the sea.
It was a week after the rather unsatisfactory verdict of the coroner's jury that Bartlett, out in his "Spanish Omelet," came most unexpectedly on Captain Gerry Poland, some fifty miles from Lakeside.The captain was in his big machine, and he seemed surprised on meeting Bartlett.
"Oh!" he exclaimed."Then you are - "
"Out, at any rate," was the somewhat bitter reply."Where have you been, Gerry?""Away.I couldn't stand it around there.""I suppose you know they have been looking for you?""Looking for me? Oh, you mean Colonel Ashley wanted some information about certain business matters.Well, I didn't see that I owed him any explanation about private matters between Mr.Carwell and myself, so I didn't answer.
"You know what the imputation is, Gerry?" questioned Bartlett, as each man sat in his car, near a lonely stretch of woods.
"I don't know that I do," was the calm reply.
"Well, Viola has told me of the finding of the papers in her father's private safe.I told her I would see you, if I could, and get an explanation.I did not think I would find you so soon.""I didn't know you were looking, Harry, or I would have come to you.What do you mean about papers in a private safe?""I mean those which indicate that Mr.Carwell owed you fifteen thousand dollars.""Well, he did owe me that," said the captain calmly."He did?" and Harry Bartlett accented the last word.
"Yes, but it was paid.He did not owe me a dollar at the time of his death.""That is astonishing news! There is no record of the money having been paid!""Nevertheless the debt is canceled," insisted the captain."I sent the receipt and the canceled note to LeGrand Blossom.""It's false!" cried Bartlett."He hasn't any such documents!"For a moment Captain Poland seemed about to leap from his car and attack the man who had given him the lie direct.Then, by an effort, he composed himself, and quietly answered:
"I can prove every word I say, and I will take immediate steps to do so.Mr.Carwell paid me the fifteen thousand dollars on the twenty-third, and I- "
"He paid you the money on the twenty-third? the very day he died?" cried Harry.
"Yes."
"Then - Why, good heavens, man!Don't you see what this means? It means you were with him just before his death, the same as I was.We're both in the same boat as far as that goes!""Yes, I admit that I was with him, and that he paid me the fifteen thousand dollars shortly before his unfortunate end," returned Captain Poland."But our meeting was a most peaceful one, even friendly, and - ""You mean that I - Oh, I see!" and Bartlett's voice was full of meaning."So that'swhat you are driving at.Well, two can play atthat game.I've learned something, anyhow!"There was a grinding of gears, and the "Spanish Omelet" shot away.Captain Poland watched it for a moment, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, threw in the clutch and speeded down the road in the opposite direction.
Harry Bartlett lost no time in acquainting Colonel Ashley with the admission made by Captain Poland.
"So the wind is veering," the detective murmured."I shall watch him.I wondered why he didn't answer my letters.Now we must see LeGrand Blossom.""I'll come with you," offered Bartlett."I want to see this thing through now.Shall we tell her?" and he motioned toward Viola's room.
"Not now.We'll see Blossom first."
If the head clerk was perturbed at all by the visit to the office of Colonel Ashley and Harry Bartlett, he did not disclose it.He welcomed the two visitors, and took them to his private room.
Colonel Ashley went bluntly into the business in hand.
"Have you any papers to show that Captain Poland acknowledged the receipt of the fifteen thousand dollars owed to him by Mr.Carwell?""I have not," was the frank answer."I have been searching for something to prove that the debt was paid, as I knew of its contraction.It was not canceled as far as I can find.""Yet Captain Poland says it was paid," said Bartlett, "and that he sent you the receipt.""I never got it!" insisted LeGrand Blossom.Harry Bartlett and Colonel Ashley looked at one another, and then the detective, with an effort at cheerfulness which he did not feel, said:
"Oh, well, perhaps in the confusion the papers were mislaid.I shall ask Viola about them.Another search must be made."And so the two went back to The Haven, not much more enlightened than when they left it.
"`What is to be done?" asked Bartlett."Blossom says he knows nothing of it.""Then I must know a little more about Mr.Blossom," mentally decided the colonel."I think I shall shadow him a bit.It may prove fruitful."And when two nights later LeGrand Blossom left his boarding place and met a veiled woman at a lonely spot on the beach, Colonel Ashley, who had been waiting as he so well knew how to do, hid himself on the sand behind some sedge grass and began to think that the game was coming his way after all.
