Chapter XXV: In Which I Take Jim on Trust

"It is time for you and I to understand each other. Don't stop there looking moon-struck! Go ahead, and don't waste time. I'll run back and ask for the address. Miss Barnard, if she scented a secret, might be trusted with it. But, Dr. Hess--his brain has not kept pace with the steps of the universe."

With these remarkable words, Jim Long lowered his head, compressed his elbows after the fashion of a professional prize-runner, and was off like a flying shadow, while I stood staring after him through the darkness, divided betwixt wonder at his strange words and manner, and disgust at my own stupidity.

What did he mean? Had he actually discovered my identity? And, if so, how?

While waiting for a solution to these riddles, it would be well to profit by Jim's advice. So I turned my face toward the village, and hurried forward.

As I approached the station, a bright light from the operator's window assured me that I should not find the office empty, and coming stealthily toward it, I peered in, to see, seated in the most commodious office chair, Gerald Brown, of our agency, the expected "night operator."

On a lounge opposite the window, lay Charlie Harris asleep.

I tapped softly on the open casement, and keeping myself in the shadow whispered:

"Come outside, Gerry, and don't wake Harris."

The night-operator, who knew the nature of the services required of him in Trafton, and who doubtless had been expecting a visit, arose quietly and came out on the platform with the stealthy tread of a bushman.

After a cordial hand-clasp, and a very few words of mutual inquiry, I told Brown what had happened at the doctor's cottage, and of my suspicions regarding Blake Simpson; and, then, using a leaf from my note-book, and writing by the light from the window, I wrote two messages, to be sent before Harris should awake.

The first was as follows:

DOCTOR CHARLES DENHAM,

No. 300 ---- street, N. Y.

Carl Bethel is in extreme danger; requires your professional
services. Come at once.

BATHURST.

The second was addressed to our office, and was much longer. It ran thus:

CAPT. B., A----, N. Y.

Murder was attempted last night; Bethel the victim. See that
Denham comes by the first train to attend to him. Give him some
hints before starting. Look out for B. S. If he returns to the
city in the morning, keep him shadowed. Will write particulars.

BATHURST.

"There," I said, as I passed them to Brown, "send them as soon as you can, Gerry. The doctor will hardly receive his before morning, but the other will be delivered at once, and then they can hurry up the "old woman." As for Blake, he will probably take the morning train, if he returns to the city, so they have ample time to prepare for him. Did you see Carnes on the express?"

"Yes; but only had a moment's speech with him. He told me to tell you that Blake left the train at Ireton, and that he went straight to a sort of feed stable, kept by a man named Briggs--"

"Briggs!" I exclaimed, involuntarily.

"Yes, that was the name. At this stable he was furnished with a good team and light buggy, and he drove straight south."

"Ah! he did. But my time is not at my disposal just now, Gerry; I have a companion somewhere on the road. I suppose you got the bearings of this Trafton business at the Agency?"

"Yes; I think I am pretty well posted. I have read all your reports."

"So much the better. Gerry, you had better take up your quarters at the Trafton House. I am stopping there. It will be convenient, for more than one reason."

Gerry agreed with me in this, and, as at that moment we heard footsteps approaching, which I rightly guessed to be those of Jim Long, we separated at once, and I went forward to meet Jim.

Before, I had deemed it necessary to press the siege, and lead Jim to talk by beginning the attack in a voluble manner. Now, I was equally intent upon holding my own forces in reserve, and letting him open the engagement, which, after a few moments' silence, he did.

A few rods away from the depot stood a church, with broad, high steps leading up from the street, and a deep, old-fashioned portico.

Here Jim came to an abrupt halt, for we had turned our steps southward, and said, with more of courtesy in his voice than might have been expected, considering his recent abruptness:

"Let us go up there, and sit under the porch. It's safer than to talk while walking, and I fancy you would like me to explain myself."

I followed him in silence up the steps, and sat down beside him on the portico.

"I wonder," began Jim, lowering his voice to insure himself against possible eavesdroppers, "I wonder why you have not asked me, before this time, how it happened that I was the first to discover Bethel's condition, or, at any rate, the first to give the alarm."

"There has scarcely been time," I replied, guardedly. "Besides I, being so nearly a stranger, thought that a question to be more properly asked by Miss Barnard or the doctor."

"You are modest," said Jim, with a short laugh. "Probably it will not occur to Miss Barnard to ask that question, until her mind is more at ease concerning Bethel's condition. As for Dr. Hess, he had asked it before he took off his nightcap."

"And did you answer it," asked I, maliciously, "in the same good English you are addressing to me?"

"I hope not," he replied, laughing again. "I told him the truth, however, in a very few words, and now I will tell it to you. Last night--I suppose it is morning now by the clock--I spent the evening in the village, principally about the Trafton House. I presume you are wondering how it came that you did not see me there, for I happen to know that you spent the entire evening in the office or on the porch. Well, the fact is, I was there on a little private business, and did not make myself very conspicuous for that reason. It was late when I came home, and, on looking about the cabin, I discovered that my gun was missing. My door, for various reasons, I always leave unlocked _when absent_, so I did not waste any time in wondering how the thief got in. I missed nothing else, and, after a little, I went outside to smoke, and think the matter over. I had not been out many minutes before I heard the report of a gun,--_my_ gun, I could have sworn. It sounded in the direction of Bethel's cottage, and I was not many minutes in getting there. I found the door open, and Bethel lying across the threshold, wounded, as you have seen. He was almost unconscious then, but as I bent above him he whispered one word, 'Louise.' I could not leave him lying there in the doorway, so I lifted him and carried him to the bed, and then, seeing that it was a shoulder wound, and that he still breathed, I rushed off, stopping to tell Louise Barnard that her lover was wounded and, maybe, dying, and then on again until I saw you, the very man whose help I wanted."

"And why my help rather than that of another?"

"Because, next to that of a physician, the presence of a _detective_ seemed most necessary."

"Long," I said, turning upon him sharply, "this is the second time you have referred to me as 'a detective.' Will you be good enough to explain?"

"I have spoken of you as a detective," he replied, gravely, "because I believe you to be one, and have so believed since the day you came to Trafton. To explain in full would be to occupy more time than you or I can well spare to story telling. I have watched you since you first came to this place, curiously at first, then earnestly, then anxiously. I believe you are here to ferret out the authors of the many robberies that have happened in and about Trafton. If this is so, then there is no one more anxious to help you, or who could have a stronger motive for so doing, than Jim Long."

He paused for a moment, but I remained silent, and he began anew.

"I think you are interested in Bethel and his misfortunes. I think you know him for the victim of those who believe him to be what you really are."

"You think there are those who fear Bethel because they believe him to be a detective? Is that your meaning?"

"That is my meaning."

"Long," I said, seriously, "you tell me that your gun was stolen last night; that you recognized the sound of the report coming from the direction of Bethel's house."

He moved closer to me and laid a hand on my shoulder.

"It was my gun that shot Bethel," he said, solemnly. "To-morrow that gun will be found and _I_ shall be accused of the crime. If the devils had possessed my knowledge, it would have been you, instead of Carl Bethel, lying somewhere now, dying or dead. I say these things to you to-night because, if my gun is found, as I anticipate, and I am accused of the shooting, I may not be able to serve Carl Bethel, and he is not yet out of danger. If he lives he will still be a target for his enemies."

He spoke with suppressed emotion, and my own feelings were stirred as I replied:

"Long, you have been a mystery to me from the first, and I do not read your riddle even now, but I believe you are a man to be trusted. Give me your hand, and depend upon it you shall not rest long under a false accusation. Carl Bethel, living, shall not want a friend; Carl Bethel, dead, shall have an avenger. As for you, and myself--"

"We shall understand each other better," he broke in, "when the time comes for me to tell you my own story in my own way."

"Then," I said, "let us go back to Bethel. I want to take a look about the premises by the first streak of daylight."

"Ah!" ejaculated Jim, "that is what I wanted to hear you say."