the lost road-第17章

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recovered　himself　sharply。　　As　though　reciting　an　incantation；　he
addressed　Hemingway　in　crisp；　emotionless　notes。

〃Henry　Brownell；〃　he　chanted；　〃I　arrest　you　in　the　name　of　the
commonwealth　of　Massachusetts　for　the　robbery；　on　October　the
eleventh；　nineteen　hundred　and　nine；　of　the　Waltham　Title　and
Trust　Company。　　I　understand；〃　he　added；　〃you　waive　extradition
and　return　with　me　of　your　own　free　will？〃

With　his　face　still　in　his　hands；　Hemingway　murmured　assent。　　The
detective　stepped　briskly　and　uninvited　to　the　table　and　seated　himself。
He　was　beaming　with　triumph；　with　pleasurable　excitement。

〃I　want　to　send　a　message　home；　Mr。　Consul；〃　he　said。　　〃May　I　use
your　cable　blanks？〃

Harris　was　still　standing　in　the　centre　of　the　room　looking　down
upon　the　bowed　head　and　shoulders　of　Hemingway。　　Since；　in
amazement；　he　had　sprung　toward　him；　he　had　not　spoken。　　And
he　was　still　silent。

Inside　the　skull　of　Wilbur　Harris；　of　Iowa；　U。　S。　A。；　American
consul　to　Zanzibar；　East　Africa；　there　was　going　forward　a　mighty
struggle　that　was　not　fit　to　put　into　words。　　For　Harris　and　his
conscience　had　met　and　were　at　odds。　　One　way　or　the　other　the
fight　must　be　settled　at　once；　and　whatever　he　decided　must　be
for　all　time。　　This　he　understood；　and　as　his　sympathies　and
conscience　struggled　for　the　mastery　the　pen　of　the　detective；
scratching　at　racing　speed　across　the　paper；　warned　him　that　only
a　few　seconds　were　left　him　in　which　to　protest　or　else　to　forever
after　hold　his　peace。

So　realistic　had　been　the　acting　of　Hemingway　that　for　an　instant
Harris　himself　had　been　deceived。　　But　only　for　an　instant。　　With
his　knowledge　of　the　circumstances　he　saw　that　Hemingway　was　not
confessing　to　a　crime　of　his　own；　but　drawing　across　the　trail　of　the
real　criminal　the　convenient　and　useful　red　herring。　　He　knew　that
already　Hemingway　had　determined　to　sail　the　next　morning。　　In
leaving　Zanzibar　he　was　making　no　sacrifice。　　He　merely　was
carrying　out　his　original　plan；　and　by　taking　away　with　him　the
detective　was　giving　Brownell　and　his　wife　at　least　a　month　in
which　to　again　lose　themselves。

What　was　his　own　duty　he　could　not　determine。　　That　of　Hemingway
he　knew　nothing；　he　could　truthfully　testify。　　And　if　now　Hemingway
claimed　to　be　Henry　Brownell；　he　had　no　certain　knowledge　to　the
contrary。　　That　through　his　adventure　Hemingway　would　come　to
harm　did　not　greatly　disturb　him。　　He　foresaw　that　his　friend　need
only　send　a　wireless　from　Nantucket　and　at　the　wharf　witnesses
would　swarm　to　establish　his　identity　and　make　it　evident　the
detective　had　blundered。　　And　in　the　meanwhile　Brownell　and
his　wife；　in　some　settlement　still　further　removed　from　observation；
would　for　the　second　time　have　fortified　themselves　against　pursuit
and　capture。　　He　saw　the　eyes　of　Hemingway　fixed　upon　him　in　appeal
and　warning。

The　brisk　voice　of　the　detective　broke　the　silence。

〃You　will　testify；　if　need　be；　Mr。　Consul；〃　he　said；　〃that　you
heard　the　prisoner　admit　he　was　Henry　Brownell　and　that　he
surrendered　himself　of　his　own　free　will？〃

For　an　instant　the　consul　hesitated；　then　he　nodded　stiffly。

〃I　heard　him；〃　he　said。

Three　hours　later；　at　ten　o'　clock　of　the　same　evening；　the　detective
and　Hemingway　leaned　together　on　the　rail　of　the　Crown　Prince
Eitel。　　Forward；　in　the　glare　of　her　cargo　lights；　to　the　puffing　and
creaking　of　derricks　and　donkey　engines；　bundles　of　beeswax；　of
rawhides；　and　precious　tusks　of　ivory　were　being　hurled　into　the
hold；　from　the　shore…boats　clinging　to　the　ship's　sides　came　the
shrieks　of　the　Zanzibar　boys；　from　the　smoking…room　the　blare　of
the　steward's　band　and　the　clink　of　glasses。　　Those　of　the　youth　of
Zanzibar　who　were　on　board；　the　German　and　English　clerks　and
agents；　saw　in　the　presence　of　Hemingway　only　a　purpose　similar
to　their　own；　the　desire　of　a　homesick　exile　to　gaze　upon　the　mirrored
glories　of　the　Eitel's　saloon；　at　the　faces　of　white　men　and　women；　to
listen　to　home…made　music；　to　drink　home…brewed　beer。　　As　he　passed
the　smoking…room　they　called　to　him；　and　to　the　stranger　at　his　elbow；
but　he　only　nodded　smiling　and；　avoiding　them；　ascended　to　the　shadow
of　the　deserted　boat…deck。

〃You　are　sure；〃　he　said；　〃you　told　no　one？〃

〃No　one；〃　the　detective　answered。　　〃Of　course　your　hotel　proprietor
knows　you're　sailing；　but　he　doesn't　know　why。　　And；　by　sunrise；
we'll　be　well　out　at　sea。〃

The　words　caught　Hemingway　by　the　throat。　　He　turned　his　eyes　to
the　town　lying　like　a　field　of　snow　in　the　moonlight。　　Somewhere
on　one　of　its　flat　roofs　a　merry　dinner…party　was　laughing；　drinking；
perhaps　regretting　his　absence；　wondering　at　his　excuse　of　sudden
illness。　　She　was　there；　and　he　with　the　detective　like　a　shadow　at
his　elbow；　was　sailing　out　of　her　life　forever。　　He　had　seen　her　for
the　last　time：　that　morning　for　the　last　time　had　looked　into　her
eyes；　had　held　her　hands　in　his。　　He　saw　the　white　beach；　the　white
fortress…like　walls；　the　hanging　gardens；　the　courtesying　palms；
dimly。　　It　was　among　those　that　he　who　had　thought　himself　content；
had　found　happiness；　and　had　then　seen　it　desert　him　and　take　out　of
his　life　pleasure　in　all　other　things。　　With　a　pain　that　seemed　impossible
to　support；　he　turned　his　back　upon　Zanzibar　and　all　it　meant　to　him。
And；　as　he　turned；　he　faced；　coming　toward　him；　across　the　moonlit　deck；
Fearing。

His　instinct　was　to　cry　out　to　the　man　in　warning；　but　his　second
thought　showed　him　that　through　his　very　effort　to　protect　the　other；
he　might　bring　about　his　undoing。　　So；　helpless　to　prevent；　in　agitation
and　alarm；　he　waited　in　silence。　　Of　the　two　men；　Fearing　appeared　the
least　disturbed。　　With　a　polite　but　authoritative　gesture　he　turned　to　the
detective。　　〃I　have　something　to　say　to　this　gentleman　before　he　sails；〃
he　said；　〃would　you　kindly　stand　over　there？〃

He　pointed　across　the　empty　deck　at　the　other　rail。

In　the　alert；　confident　young　man　in　the　English　mess…jacket；
clean…shaven　and　bronzed　by　the　suns　of　the　equator；　the　detective
saw　no　likeness　to　the　pale；　bearded　bank　clerk　of　the　New　England
city。　　This；　he　guessed；　must　be　some　English　official；　some　friend
of　Brownell's　who　generously　had　come　to　bid　the　unfortunate　fugitive
Godspeed。

Assured　of　this；　the　detective　also　bowed　politely；　and；　out　of
hearing；　but　with　his　prisoner　in　full　view；　took　up　a　position
against　the　rail　opposite。

Turning　his　back　upon　the　detective；　and　facing　Hemingway　with
his　eyes　close　to　his；　Fearing　began　abruptly。　　His　voice　was　sunk
to　a　whisper；　but　he　spoke　without　the　slightest　sign　of　trepidation；
without　the　hesitation　of　an　instant。

〃Two　years　ago；　when　I　was　indicted；〃　he　whispered；　〃and　ran
away；　Polly　paid　back　half　of　the　sum　I　stole。　　That　left　her
without　a　penny；　that's　why　she　took　to　this　typewriting。　　Since
then；　I　have　paid　back　nearly　all　the　rest。　　But　Polly　was　not
satisfied。　　She　wanted　me　to　take　my　punishment　and　start　fresh。
She　knew　they　were　watching　her　so　she　couldn't　write　this　to　me；
but　she　came　to　me　by　a　roundabout　way；　taking　a　year　to　get
here。　　And　all　the　time　she's　been　here；　she's　been　begging　me　to
go　back　and　give　myself　up。　　I　couldn't　see　it。　　I　knew　in　a　few
months　I'd　have　paid　back　all　I　took；　and　I　thought　that　was　enough。
I　wanted　to　keep　out　of　jail。　　But　she　said　I　must　take　my　medicine
in　our　own　country；　and　start　square　with　a　clean　slate。　　She's　done
a　lot　for　me；　and　whether　I'd　have　done　that　for　her　or　not；　I　don't
know。　　But　now；　I　must！　What　you　did　to…night　to　save　me；　leaves
me　no　choice。　　So；　I'll　sail〃

With　an　exclamation　of　anger；　Hemingway　caught　the　other　by　the
shoulder　and　dragged　him　closer。

〃To　save　you！〃　he　whispered。　　〃No　one's　thinking　of　you。　　I　didn't
do　it　for　you。　　I　did　it；　that　you　both　could　escape　together；　to
give　you　time〃

〃But　I　tell　you；〃　protested　Fearing；　〃she　doesn't　want　me　to　escape。
And　maybe　she's　right。　　Anyway；　we're　sailing　with　you　at〃

〃We？〃　echoed　Hemingway。

That　again　he　was　to　see　the　woman　he　loved；　that　for　six　weeks
through　summer　seas　he　would　travel　in　her　company；　filled　him
with　alarm；　with　distress；　with　a　wonderful　happiness。

〃We？〃　he　whispered；　steadying　his　voice。　　〃Thenthen　your　wife　is
going　with　you？〃

Fearing　gazed　at　him　as　though　the　other　had　suddenly　gone　mad。

〃My　wife！〃　he　exclaimed。　　〃I　haven't　got　a　wife！〃　　If　you　mean
PollyMrs。　Adair；　she　is　my　sister！　And　she　wants　to　thank　you。
She's　below〃

He　was　not　allowed　to　finish。　　Hemingway　had　flung　him　to　one
side；　and　was　racing　down　the　deck。

The　detective　sprang　in　pursuit。

〃One　moment；　there！〃　he　shouted。

But　the　man　in　the　white　mess…jacket　barred　his　way。

In　the　moonlight　the　detective　saw　that　the　alert；　bronzed　young　man
was　smiling。

〃That's　all　right；〃　said　Fearing。　　〃He'll　be　back　in　a　minute。　　Besides；
you　don't　want　him。　　I'm　the　man　you　want。〃




THE　LONG　ARM



The　safe　was　an　old　one　that　opened　with　a　key。　　As　adjutant；
Captain　Swanson　had　charge　of　certain　funds　of　the　regiment　and
kept　in　the　safe　about　five　thousand　dollars。　　No　one　but　himself
and　Rueff；　his　first　sergeant；　had　access　to　it。　　And　as　Rueff　proved
an　alibi；　the　money　might　have　been　removed　by　an　outsider。　　The
court…martial　gave　Swanson　the　benefit　of　the　doubt；　and　a　reprimand
for　not　taking　greater　care　of　the　keys；　and　Swanson　made　good　the
five　thousand。

Swanson　did　not　think　it　was　a　burglar　who　had　robbed　the　safe。
He　thought　Rueff　had　robbed　it；　but　he　could　not　possibly　prove
that。　　At　the　time　of　the　robbery　Rueff　was　outside　the　Presidio；
in　uniform；　at　a　moving…picture　show　in　San　Francisco。　　A　dozen
people　saw　him　there。　　Besides；　Rueff　held　an　excellent　record。
He　was　a　silent；　clerk…like　young　man；　better　at　〃paper　work〃　than
campaigning；　but　even　as　a　soldier　he　had　never　come　upon　the　books。
And　he　had　seen　service　in　two　campaigns；　and　was　supposed　to
cherish　ambitions　toward　a　commission。　　But；　as　he　kept　much　to
himself；　his　fellow　non…coms　could　only　guess　that。

On　his　captain's　account　he　was　loyally　distressed　over　the
court…martial；　and　in　his　testimony　tried　to　shield　Swanson；　by
agreeing　heartily　that　through　his　own　carelessness　the　keys
might　have　fallen　into　the　hands　of　some　one　outside　the　post。
But　his　loyalty　could　not　save　his　superior　officer　from　what　was
a　verdict　virtually　of　〃not　proven。〃

It　was　a　most　distressing　affair；　and；　on　account　of　the　social
prominence　of　Swanson's　people；　his　own　popularity；　and　the　name
he　had　made　at　Batangas　and　in　the　Boxer　business；　was　much
commented　upon；　not　only　in　the　services；　but　by　the　newspapers
all　over　the　United　States。


Every　one　who　knew　Swanson　knew　the　court…martial　was　only　a
matter　of　form。　　Even　his　enemies　ventured　only　to　suggest　that
overnight　he　might　have　borrowed　the　money；　meaning　to　replace　it
the　next　morning。　　And　the　only　reason　for　considering　this　explanation
was　that　Swanson　was　known　to　be　in　debt。　　For　he　was　a　persistent
gambler。　　Just　as　at　Pekin　he　had　gambled　with　death　for　his　number；
in　times　of　peace　he　gambled　for　money。　　It　was　always　his　own　money。

From　the　start　Sw