Chapter XXX: A Mystery Solved

When the seven o’clock train for New York steamed out of Oldham, Chief of Police Hodgins stood on the station platform. He was there by order of the mayor. He saw Hawley get on the train, and, after waiting until the train was under way, to make sure that the Camera Chap did not get off again, he went to the city hall to report to his honor.

Mayor Henkle was bitterly disappointed. Until the last minute he had been hopeful that the Camera Chap would fall for the lure of that hundred-dollar bill. In fact, he had stayed at the city hall long after his usual hour in expectation that Hawley would return to make that much-desired affidavit.

The mayor was greatly disappointed, too, because Carroll did not come over to the city hall to shake hands with him and accept his terms of peace. Had the proprietor of the _Bulletin_ responded to his overtures, the Honorable Martin Henkle had in mind a nifty little plan, which, when put in operation, would have come as a great shock to that editor. In fact, his honor had intended to hand Carroll a nice juicy lemon. He had no more intention of making friends with the _Bulletin_ than he had of making friends with his neighbor’s cat--and the mayor hated cats.

His idea was to beguile Carroll and Hawley into confessing that those police snapshots were fakes; then, as soon as that humiliating confession was published in the _Bulletin_, he intended to declare war once more on that newspaper. He figured that Carroll would be so discredited in the eyes of the public that he would have nothing more to fear from him or his newspaper. Therefore, the Honorable Martin Henkle was exceedingly chagrined that neither Hawley nor Carroll had fallen for his little game.

Still, he derived some satisfaction from Chief Hodgins’ report that the Camera Chap had left town on the seven o’clock train for New York. He realized that had the Camera Chap refused to go voluntarily he would have had no legal right to force him to leave Oldham. In that event, he would have had to carry out his threat to send Hawley to jail, for he was determined to get rid of him; but he was strongly opposed to taking that step, for fear of the adverse public sentiment which it was likely to arouse.

With the Camera Chap out of the way, the mayor felt confident that he would soon be able to put the _Bulletin_ out of business. The sudden spurt of success displayed by Carroll’s newspaper he attributed entirely to the aid which Hawley had given with his camera. Now that the Camera Chap had gone back to New York, the _Bulletin’s_ circulation would soon dwindle.

Possibly his honor would not have felt so confident if he had overheard Hawley’s words as he took leave of his friend Carroll.

“I have promised to leave on the seven o’clock train,” the Camera Chap said, with a smile, “and, of course, I shall keep that promise. I have some business to attend to in New York, anyway, Fred, so the time consumed by the trip will not be wasted.”

“But,” he added, with a chuckle, “I have not promised my friend the mayor that I would not come back. Very careless of him to overlook that point, wasn’t it? I shall stop in New York only a few hours; then I shall return to resume my job as staff photographer of the _Bulletin_.”

As it turned out, the Camera Chap had cause to feel very grateful to Mayor Henkle for sending him back to New York on the seven o’clock train. For on that train he made the acquaintance of a man who was a friend of the younger Gale. As a result of this, Hawley was enabled to solve the mystery of Gale’s sudden desire to marry his Cousin Melba.

His meeting with this man was not quite accidental, although the Camera Chap took pains to make it appear so. It came about in this manner: Just as the train was about to pull out of the station, two men came down the platform and stopped at the coach in which Hawley sat. One was Gale. The other was a tall blond man, whose face was exceedingly flushed, and who walked somewhat unsteadily. The Camera Chap’s attention was attracted to the pair by the voice of Gale’s companion, which was pitched far above its normal register. He was taking leave of Gale, who evidently had come there merely to see him off.

“Well, s’long, old scout!” he shouted, shaking Gale’s hand vigorously. “See yer again next time I hit this little old town. Hope by that time you’ll be married to----”

He didn’t finish the sentence, for Gale hastily cut him short by saying something to him in a tone so low that Hawley could not catch the words. Then Gale and a guard assisted the wabbly young man aboard the coach, and the train started.

The Camera Chap had heard enough to cause him to desire to learn more. The sentence which had been cut short so abruptly caused him to think of what Melba Gale had told him regarding her cousin’s proposal. He wondered if it was to her that the man with the flushed face had been about to refer when Gale checked his noisy speech. Determined to find this out, if possible, he decided to become acquainted with Gale’s friend.

The latter had taken a seat at the other end of the coach. Hawley waited until the train had been under way a short time, then changed his seat for one beside that of the man, taking care not to betray any special interest in his neighbor.

The latter stared at him for a while; then, being in a conversational mood, he began to talk.

“Hello!” he exclaimed. “Where’d you get on the train?”

Hawley answered that he had got on at Oldham.

“Oldham? Tha’s funny. Tha’s where I got on myself,” the man with the flushed face exclaimed, as excited as though this coincidence were the most amazing thing that had ever happened. “Great little old town, isn’t it? Know anybody there?”

“A few people.”

“Happen to know my frien’ Gale?”

“Do I?” exclaimed Hawley in a tone which implied that he and Gale had shared the same feeding bottle as infants.

“Tha’s funny--tha’s awful funny. Gale’s great frien’ mine, too. Shake hands! Any frien’ of a frien’ of mine is a frien’ of mine, too. So you know good old Gale, eh?”

“Oh, sure,” Hawley responded, with an enthusiasm that was well feigned. “By the way, old man, I suppose you’ve heard that he’s going to be married?”

The man with the flushed face looked at him in astonishment. “I thought it was a secret.”

The Camera Chap laughed noncommittally. “Nice girl, isn’t she?” he said lightly.

“Nice? She’s regular peach!” The man winked at Hawley. “And rich, too--that’s more important than being nice. My frien’ Gale’s lucky fellow.”

The Camera Chap was amazed to hear this. Evidently, then, the girl to whom his talkative neighbor referred was not Melba. But the other’s next utterance caused him to change his mind.

“Don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t marry her, if she is his cousin,” the man exclaimed. “Nothing wrong in cousins marrying--especially when girl’s so rich.”

Hawley’s face was a complete mask to his emotions.

“Yes, I guess she’s rich, all right,” he remarked casually. “Let’s see; how much do they say she’s worth?”

The young man looked at him in amazement. “Watcher talkin’ about? She ain’t worth anything now, of course. She won’t get the money until old Leggett’s death. Guess you mean how much is she mentioned for in the will, eh?”

“Sure,” the Camera Chap assented. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

“Well, tha’s funny--tha’s awful funny!” the man muttered, regarding Hawley with sudden suspicion. “How the deuce do you know anything about that will? I thought I was the only one who was wise to it--and I haven’t told anybody in Oldham a word about it, ’cept my friend Gale. Old Sam Leggett’s got her down in his will for fifty thousand dollars. Pretty soft for our friend Gale, eh?”

Hawley had difficulty in concealing his astonishment. So Fred Carroll’s fiancée, instead of being a penniless orphan, was really an heiress. Here was good news, indeed. The Camera Chap was glad that he had set out on this trip to New York. He had already learned enough to enable him to understand Gale’s motive for suddenly desiring to marry his cousin. But there were several things he still wanted to know. By adroit questioning, he succeeded in eliciting these details from his babbling acquaintance.

Samuel Leggett, a New York merchant, he learned, was a distant relative of Melba Gale on her mother’s side. The old man was worth millions, and, having no near kin, had made a will leaving most of his money to various charities and institutions in which he was interested. Remembering the existence of his young kinswoman, however, he had mentioned her in his will to the extent of fifty thousand dollars. It was a small amount compared with some of the other bequests, but old Leggett had not been on particularly good terms with that branch of the family from which Melba was descended; otherwise she would have been heiress to millions instead of thousands.

Fifty thousand dollars, however, was a big enough fortune to appeal to the cupidity of old Delancey Gale and his son. They had learned about his legacy from the man with the flushed face, who was a clerk in the office of the lawyer who had drawn up Leggett’s will, and who had thus had a chance to see that document.

Happening to be in Oldham on some business for his employer, this man had called on his friend Gale, whom he had known when the latter was a reporter on the New York _Daily News_, and had told him of Melba’s prospective good fortune.

Gale had been greatly interested, and had urged him not to talk about the will to his Cousin Melba, nor to anybody else in Oldham. Gale had confided to him that he and Melba were secretly engaged--so the garrulous law clerk informed the Camera Chap--and had explained with seeming ingenuousness that if the girl learned that she was an heiress to fifty thousand dollars she might get an idea into her head that he--Gale--was not good enough for her.

“Modest fellow, our friend Gale, isn’t he?” remarked the law clerk to Hawley, at this point in the narrative.

“Oh, very!” the Camera Chap agreed dryly. “Just one more question, old man: Is Mr. Leggett in good health?”

The law clerk grinned. “You bet he is! He’s as hard as nails, and, although he’s past seventy, is as spry as a man of forty. Comes of a long-lived family, too, I understand. His father was nearly ninety before he cashed in. Poor Gale may have to wait a long time, after all, before he gets his hands on that money.”

“I’ve an idea that he’ll have to wait a very long time,” the Camera Chap answered grimly.