|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 25
There was a pause.
"Where are you stopping, Mr. Watkins, in case I wish to communicate
with you again?"
"At Hager's Hotel, in Sidham. But I am on the jump nearly all the
time," and the secret service man laughed again. "Anything else?"
"No."
"Then I'll be going. I've got to send a long secret message before I
go to bed and it takes time to follow the code, you know that.
Good-night," and in a moment more John Watkins was on his horse and
riding away at a good rate of speed.
Adam Adams watched his departure with a variety of thoughts chasing
each other through his mind. The man must be what he claimed, he had
shown his badge on the inside of his coat, and been perfectly willing
to prove his words.
"If he is honest, he must be on the trail of those counterfeits, and
perhaps it was my duty to tell him of my discovery," mused the
detective. "It is curious how these two cases have wound around each
other, or is it all one case?"
Concluding that there was nothing more to be done that night, Adam
Adams took himself to the Beechwood Hotel, secured a room, and was soon
in the land of dreams. He arose early, obtained his breakfast, and
without waiting to meet Raymond Case, started off to interview Doctor
Bird, one of the two persons Margaret Langmore had seen go past the
mansion about the time the tragedy was occurring.
He found the doctor an individual with an exaggerated idea of his own
importance. It was hard to bind him down to tell what he actually knew
and it took the detective the best part of an hour to learn that the
physician knew nothing of real importance.
A short while later Adam Adams learned that the farmer who had been
seen going past the mansion was named Cephas Carboy. He was a strange
individual, of no education, who lived on a hillside road, running some
distance to the rear of the Langmore house. When the detective arrived
there he found Carboy sitting under a tree smoking a short clay pipe.
The farm was a neglected one, the house about ready to tumble down, and
in the dooryard were half a dozen dirty and ragged children, who
scampered out of sight on the approach of a stranger.
"Good morning," said Adam Adams cheerfully. He saw at a glance that
the fellow before him was a thoroughly shiftless character.
"Mornin' to you," was the short response.
"This is Mr. Cephas Carboy?"
"Cephas Carboy's my name--ain't much of a mister to it," and the man
grinned feebly.
"You're the man I want to see, Carboy," and the detective took a seat
on a log close by.
"Want to see me? What fer? I don't know you."
"I want to see you about that Langmore murder."
The shiftless man stared and withdrew his pipe from his mouth with
trembling fingers.
"I didn't have nuthin' to do with that. They can't pitch it onto me
nohow! I came past the house, that's all I did. I didn't go inside
the gate, I didn't. It was Miss Langmore did that murder--or else Mary
Billings."
"Did you see anybody round the place when you went past?"
"Not a soul."
"What were you doing around there?"
"Are you an--an officer?"
"Perhaps I am. Anyway, you had best answer my questions."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|