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Diamond Cross Mystery

<h2 id="id01973" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXI</h2> <h5 id="id01974">SWIRLING WATERS</h5> At the little station of Pompey the colonel saw his man leave the train. For the wily fisherman to slip from the car on the other side of the track and get behind a tool shanty, was the work of but a moment, and as the train pulled out, and puffed on its way, the detective, peering around the corner of the shed, which housed a handcar and other tools of the section hands, had a glimpse of his "fish," as he facetiously termed him, standing rather irresolutely on the station platform. "Now for the next move," murmured the colonel. It was not long in being played. The man went inside the station, but the detective did not come from his post of observation. The depot was so small that any one leaving it, even on the side away from the tracks, would be seen as soon as he had passed beyond the shadows. But the man evidently had no intention of going away. He came out again on the front platform, accompanied by a boy—one, seemingly, who ran errands and delivered telegrams when any came to disturb the peaceful solitude of Pompey. "I must see that note!" murmured Colonel Ashley, as he saw one handed to the boy. "If he goes in the direction I think he will, I'll get it too! I think I know the lady to whom it is addressed." The boy talked with the man a little, nodded his head as if understanding, and then started off up the tracks, toward a path that led across a field and toward a cluster of village houses. "Just as I thought," the colonel whispered to himself. Keeping the tool-house between himself and the man now nervously pacing the platform, the colonel walked rapidly away from the station, in the direction taken by the boy. The boy's legs were short and vigorous, the colonel's long and no less muscular, and, thanks to his devotion to Walton, which had taken him tramping many miles over hilly trails, as well as across level meadows, the old detective was soon able to overtake the lad, and at a point impossible of observation from the station. "I say!" called the colonel. The boy stopped, and looked back questioningly. "Did you tell him where the best fishing was?" asked the colonel. "Fishing? Who?" "The gentleman who gave you that note. Is it possible he didn't mention fishing?" "Naw! He didn't say nothin' about it. He just give me this letter, and—" "Very likely he forgot about the fishing part," and the detective smiled grimly. "Let me see it just a moment." Without hesitation the boy handed it over. Thought was hardly more rapid than the colonel's perusal of the missive, and, as he gave it back to the boy, he remarked: "It's all right. I didn't make any mistake. Now hurry, and you needn't come back to the station right away." "But he told me to bring him an answer." "Oh, did he? Well, then I'll wait for you in the village and you can let me see it first. Then I'll know all about the fishing and I can be on hand with my friend. Trot along, Sonny. I'll meet you in the village when you get the answer to the note. Then I'll know just where to go fishing. How is it around here? Are there any good streams?" "Are there? Say, I've caught some of the biggest chubb—" "Ah, I thought I wasn't mistaken in thinking you a pupil in the school of Izaak Walton." "Isaac Walton? Huh! That ain't our teacher's name!" "No, I suppose not," and the colonel smiled. "Well, hurry along Sonny, and here's an extra quarter for you, I'll follow you and you can let me see the answer before you go back to my friend. It would be too bad if he and I went fishing in separate places. I want to be with him." "Where's your hooks and line?" asked the boy. "Oh, I have them in my pocket—the hooks and line," and the colonel grimly tapped a pocket wherein something clicked metallicly. "You can cut a pole in the woods," said the boy. "I've done it lots of times." "Of course," agreed the colonel, smiling. The boy sped away over the fields. The detective followed more slowly until he reached the collection of houses, and there he strolled along, inspecting the different dwellings as though attracted by the quaint old village street. It was not long before the boy returned, an envelope held conspicuously in his hand. He smiled as he caught sight of the colonel. The shadows were lengthening. "It's too late for fishing now," observed the boy as, unwittingly, he handed over the missive. "That is, unless you're going to set night lines." "I may have to do that," the detective agreed. "But it won't be quite dark yet for some time." He glanced quickly at the envelope. It bore no address on its plain, white surface, and under pretence of turning, so as to take advantage of the last golden glow in the west, the colonel quickly read the letter. As he did so a look, almost of fright, came over his face. "I wonder if she'll keep her word," he murmured. "I wonder—" He slipped the letter quickly into another plain envelope, one of a miscellaneous collection of papers in his pocket, and returned it to the boy, retaining the covering he had been obliged to tear open, for it had been sealed. "There you are," he said. "And you needn't say anything to my friend about the fishing. I want to surprise him. Just don't say anything about me. "And here's half a dollar, Sonny. Could I hire you to take me to that brook you spoke of, where you say there are such big fish?" "Sure you could," the boy answered eagerly, as he pocketed the money. "I know a lot about fishing." "All right. I may call on you. Trot along now, and remember—don't say anything. This is to be a surprise!" "Sure, I know," and with a precocious wink the lad passed on into the ever lengthening shadows. "I think," observed the colonel to himself, as he watched the boy making his way back toward the station, "that I'll make a little change in the old saying, and follow the woman instead of looking for her, since I know where she is already." Back then to the peaceful little village went the fisherman, and, reaching the house where the boy had left the note, taking therefrom its answer, Colonel Ashley waited with all the patience that might characterize a waiting beside some fishing stream. But his patience was not tried long, for presently a veiled woman emerged from the house. She walked away rapidly the detective following unseen. "She is going to meet him, just as she promised in the note, though it must be galling to her pride," murmured the old detective. "I wonder if she really believes he'll keep his word—or can keep it? Well, I'll be there at the finish, and I think this will be the finish," he went on grimly, as he thrust his hand into his side pocket, where the "hooks" jingled with grim music. As the woman walked on, she turned now and then and looked back along the fast-darkening streets. For a moment the colonel was suspicious. "I wonder if she has seen me?" he murmured. He gave a quick, backward glance, and started as he saw another figure not far behind him. "Can it be?" exclaimed the colonel. "No, it's Aaron Grafton," he proceeded with an air of relief. "He must have been at her house, and she has asked him to follow her, to make sure no harm is done. A bit foolish of him, under the circumstances. But when a man's in love—" The colonel shrugged his shoulders and chuckled grimly. "However, I must take care that he does not see me." Slipping behind a tree, the colonel effected a change in hats, for he always wore a soft one and carried several collapsible ones. Then, buttoning his coat rather askew about him, to give a careless air to his attire (the colonel, normally was one of the neatest men living) he crossed to the other side of the street and then became the shadower of two instead of one, for Aaron Grafton had passed on without, apparently, noticing him. The woman was still in sight, and before she reached the station the man who had sent the note came out and met her on the driveway. The colonel looked back and saw Mr. Grafton dodging behind a tree. "He doesn't want to be seen, either," he mused. Relying on his simple but effective disguise, the colonel made bold to walk within hearing distance of the man and woman, the latter having come to a stiff halt when she saw the man advancing to meet her. "We can't talk here," said the dispatcher of the note. "Will you walk a little way with me?" His tones had the cutting coldness of steel, and there was a sort of restrained cruelty in his every action. "I suppose it would not be wise to be seen talking to you here," was the woman's low reply. "And, believe me, I have no desire to be seen with you again, ever. It was only your promise in the note that brought me here. Are you prepared to keep it if I walk a way with you?" "I am! This is no more pleasant for me than for you, but it must be done. Come!" He did not offer to touch her, nor did he turn his head more than half way in speaking to her. He seemed to be controlling himself by an effort, and she seemed to shrink away. Again she looked back, down the fast-darkening street, as though to make sure there was a way of escape—some one near on whom she could rely. "Don't worry. I'll be there when you have your little talk," whispered the colonel to himself. "Suppose we walk up on The Heights," suggested the man. "We will not be disturbed, and—" "Up there?" she gasped. "Why not?" he asked, as they walked on, and the colonel, affecting a slowness in gait, heard the words. "Just because you used to walk there in your—in other days," he substituted quickly, "is no reason why you shouldn't now, is it?" "Only—memories!" Her voice was very low. "Memories? Bah!" The words were as though he spewed them from his mouth like a bitter taste. "Come on!" and his tones were rough. The woman looked at him a moment with eyes that seemed to burn through her veil, and then followed. The colonel passed on ahead, slouched across the street once more, and lagged behind, so that he might follow. The couple turned toward the outskirts of the village, where, on a hill, known locally as "The Heights" there was a grove of trees. Below the hill, at one place cutting deep into it and making a precipitous cliff, was a little river. At the point where the stream had bitten into the hill it had washed for itself a defile, the bottom rock-covered, so that the waters swirled over it in foam. The Heights was the favorite trysting place of lovers, and many were the pleasant spots there. With evening coming on, it was almost sure to be deserted, though later, if there was a moon, murmuring voices would mingle with the eclipse of the swirling waters in the gully below. "Yes, it's a quiet place for a talk," mused the colonel. The man and woman passed on. Behind them came the shadower, and behind him Aaron Grafton. Up The Heights walked the leading pair, seemingly unaware of the presence of any one but themselves. Into the shadows they strolled, still stiff and uncompromising, both of them. At last the woman, halting near the edge of the cliff, beyond which the woods were thicker, faced the man. "This is far enough," she said, and she turned so that the fast-fading light of the west was on her veiled face. She did not raise the mesh. "Yes, this is far enough, I suppose," said the man, and there was a sneer in his tones. "Too far, perhaps. But—" "I did not come here to discuss anything with you but the matter you spoke of in your note," cut in the woman. "Did you bring my diamonds as you promised?" "Yes, I have them." His voice was as cold as hers. "Then give them to me and let me go. I don't know why I consented to meet you, except that you said you would give them only to me, personally. And I don't, even for that, know why I came here. I—" "Possibly in memory of other days?" the man sneered. "Never!" she answered bitterly. "Oh, never that!" "Well, as you choose," he went on, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "But I have a few things I want to say to you, and I didn't want the whole village babbling about it. Too many know me here, so I kept out of sight as much as I could." "Say what you have to say, and quickly. Give me my diamonds, to which I have a right, and let me go. That is all I ask of you." "I'm afraid it can't be done so quickly as all that," and the man laughed cuttingly. "In the first place, I want you to sign a paper. I have it with me, also a fountain pen. I've a flashlight to let you read what you sign, in case it gets too dark." "Do you mean a receipt for the diamonds?" "Not exactly, Cynthia, I—" "Miss Ratchford, if you please!" she exclaimed. "Miss Ratchford to you, always, after this!" "Oh, very well! Now look here! I'm done with soft words and foolishness!" He took a sudden step nearer her, and she shrank back. Colonel Ashley, who had worked himself to a position, where, hidden behind a screen of bushes, he could see and hear, watched closely. "Foolishness?" the woman questioned. "Yes, foolishness! You know the trouble I'm in. I've got to have money! You can get it for me!" <h5 id="id02065">"I?"</h5> "Yes. And, by the eternal, you've got to! Do you think I'm going to ruin just because you couldn't stand a little rough treatment now and then? Why, better women than you would be glad to come back to me. I'll take you back!" "Take me back! Oh, my God!" "Cut out that hysterical stuff!" he ordered. "I'm desperate! I've got to have money. I can raise it on a note if you'll sign it and put up those bonds for security, and by—" He caught her wrist in a grip that made her wince with pain as he swung her around to face him. "I've got to have your signature and the bonds!" he exclaimed in voice tense with suppressed passion. "The bonds!" she exclaimed. "You know what almost became of them. I let you raise money on them once, and almost lost them. Now you dare ask me for them again?" "I do, and I'm going to enforce my demands! I've got to have money. I darn't sell your diamonds—at least I don't want to. I'd rather you'd have them," and he seemed to weaken as if with romance when it came to this sentiment. "As for the bonds—" "You'll never touch them!" she cried, bitterly. "Isn't it enough that you have ruined my life? Now you must—" "Oh, stop the theatrical business!" he sneered. "Pity you didn't go on the stage. Now look here. This is your last chance. I'll give you your diamonds if you'll sign this paper so I can get out of the tangle I'm in. You've got to sign! It's your last chance. If you don't, by all the—" She tore herself away from him, and turned to flee, but he was too quick for her, and was about to encircle her in his arms when she shrank back and gave a despairing cry. "Don't—don't touch me!" This seemed to madden the man, for he sprang toward her, fury and threat in every gesture. "Aaron! Aaron! He's going to kill me!" screamed Cynthia. Thought was not quicker than the leaping forward of Colonel Ashley. Out from the shadows he sprang, to whirl back the man who, with blazing eyes and murderous hate written on his face, confronted Cynthia Ratchford. "What—what's this?" snarled the man, struggling to retain his balance. "What's this? Who the devil are you, to come between me and my—" "Don't dare profane that name!" warned the woman. "I—I— Oh, Aaron! where are you?" It was very dark now, under the trees. "Ha! So that's who he is! Your old lover, Grafton! Well, I'll soon finish him! I'll make him wish he hadn't come between us with his protecting ways, and his diamond cross that he goes so secretly to have mended. Bah! A pretty lover! Take that, you sneaking fool!" There was a sliver of flame in the darkness, and mingled with the report came a cry of anguish and a woman's scream, as a heavy stick in the hands of Colonel Ashley broke the hand that held the revolver. A little thud among the bushes told where the weapon had fallen, its bullet cutting the tree branches overhead. "Oh—who—who are you?" gasped the woman, as the colonel stepped between her and the man he had maimed. "I thought Mr. Grafton was—" "I think that is he coming now," said the old detective quietly, as the sound of some one running up the path was borne to their strained senses. "Look here!" snarled the man with the broken wrist, as he clasped it with his other hand, "aren't you—" he started back as a last flicker of the waning light fell across the colonel's face. "Who in the name of all the devils in hades are you?" he cried. "What right have you—" "The right of the law," was the quiet answer. The colonel's hand slipped into his pocket, where something metallic clicked. "The right of the law. Langford Larch, I arrest you for the murder of Mrs. Amelia Darcy!" It was so still for a moment that the rustle of a bird's wings in the tree overhead sounded like the rushing of wind. Colonel Ashley, drawing something from his pocket, took a step nearer the maimed man. As he did so Larch laughed wildly. "Ah, so that's the game, is it?" he cried. "You have betrayed me, Cynthia, you she-devil! You put up this little game with your lover Grafton, did you? Well you—" "Langford, I never—!" "Bah! Well, I'll fool you all! Arrest me for murdering the old woman, will you? Like hell you will!" He stepped back a pace, Colonel Ashley following. "Keep back!" cried Larch. "If you touch me—! I'm not afraid of you. Yes, I did kill her! I didn't mean to, but I did. The game's up! I can see that. But you'll never get me to the chair. I'll fool you all! I'm not afraid to die!" Before the colonel or Aaron Grafton, who just then burst through the bushes fringing the path, could make a move to prevent him, Langford Larch, with a cry like that of a stricken beast, threw himself over the edge of the rocky precipice, and his body went crashing down a hundred feet into the swirling waters below. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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