The Brand of Silence: A Detective Story, Johnston McCulley [novels in english TXT] 📗

are kind enough to say that I am a detective," Farland replied. "What's the idea of treating me rough like this?"

"I regret that violence was necessary to get you here, Mr. Farland," the masked man replied, "but it seemed to be the only way in which I could get a chance to talk to you freely without subjecting myself to danger."

"Why regret?" Farland asked.

"Because I want you for my friend instead of my enemy, Mr. Farland, and I fancy that we may be able to come to terms. I shall send this man of mine from the room and submit a proposition to you. I hope you see fit to accept it."

He motioned for the other man to leave, which he did immediately, closing the hall door behind him. Then the masked man sat down in the chair by the table.

Farland was watching him closely now. The collar of his coat and the handkerchief mask effectually shielded his face and head. But, as Murk had told, this man did not have the common sense to cover his hands, and Farland looked at them when he could, careful not to let the other suspect his object.

"I am the man who talked to Mr. Prale's valet last night," Farland heard the other say. "In some manner, the valet escaped, and so we were obliged to have you brought here instead of to the place where we had him, and which was considerably nearer the city. I regret it if the long ride annoyed you, but you will appreciate that it was necessary for my men to bind and gag you."

"It certainly was if they expected to get me here!" Jim Farland declared.

He heard the masked man chuckle.

"I understand that you have been engaged by Sidney Prale to clear him of the charge of murdering Rufus Shepley."

"I don't mind admitting that, since the whole city knows it," said Farland.

"And also to aid Sidney Prale in outwitting certain persons who are trying to punish him for something he did."

"I don't know anything about that. I do know that some people are trying to make things hot for Sid Prale, and he doesn't deserve it, and——"

"Pardon me, if I interrupt!" the masked man said. "You say that he does not deserve it. Do you believe that influential persons would persecute him if he did not deserve it?"

"Sid Prale doesn't know what it is all about!"

"That is what he told the valet, too. But believe me when I say that he does know what it is all about, and is deceiving you when he says otherwise."

"What has all this to do with me?" Jim Farland demanded. "Did you have me brought here to argue the case with me?"

"I had you brought here because I want you to cease working for Sidney Prale. I want you to go back to him and tell him that you are done."

"As Coadley, the attorney, did?"

"Exactly!"

"Your people must be men of influence if they can buy off Coadley like that!"

"Perhaps Coadley was shown that it would wreck his future if he continued working for Prale."

"Well, you can't wreck my future, because I haven't any," Farland told him.

"Do not be too sure of that, Mr. Farland. Agree to my proposition and you may have a great future. You may find business thrown your way. You may find yourself able to spread out, have a protective service, become a wealthy man. If you give up the Prale case, we'll see that you are paid cash immediately, of course, in lieu of the fee you would receive from Prale—and considerably more than he would pay you."

"I suppose that would appeal to a lot of men," Jim Farland said, "but it isn't the right bait to use if you are eager to catch me. I have all the business I want. I can make a living for myself and my small family, and we do not hanker after riches. A larger business would make me a human machine, and I'd rather just drift along and be an ordinary good husband and father. I'd rather be running a little, third-rate detective agency as I am, making just enough to get along, and have a lot of friends. I wouldn't throw down a friend for a million dollars! I suppose I'm the only man in town that thinks this way, but I'm a sort of peculiar duck!"

"You mean to tell me that you are not anxious to better yourself, to get along in the world?"

"Oh, I manage to get along!" Jim Farland replied. "I even eat meat now and then. I haven't seen the face of the famous wolf outside my door for some time. What is money?"

"Everything!" the masked man replied.

"That's what you think. It gives me an inkling as to what sort of man you are. I happen to know a fellow to whom money is everything—and I have reason to suspect that he is considerably interested in the case of Sidney Prale. Be careful you do not betray your identity to me!"

Farland had the satisfaction of hearing the masked man gasp, and he chuckled.

"Well, what is the proposition?" Farland inquired. "You seem to waste a lot of time."

"We want you merely to tell Sidney Prale that you will not work on the case any more—that you are done. Then go about your regular business. We'll have you watched, and as soon as we are satisfied that you are keeping faith with us, we'll send you ten thousand dollars in cash. If you make the agreement with me, I'll give you a thousand cash to-night before you leave this place, as a sort of retainer and expression of our sincerity. Then, following the fee of ten thousand dollars, you'll find that much business is flowing your way. All you have to do to get all this is to withdraw from the Prale case at once."

"You must be afraid that I am finding out some things," Jim Farland suggested.

"That is scarcely the reason," the masked man answered. "We want Sidney Prale to stand alone, to be without help of any sort—that is all."

"But I am more than Sidney Prale's employee. I am his friend!" Farland protested.

"You were his friend ten years ago, sir, but a man may change a great deal in ten years. Are you quite sure that the Sidney Prale of to-day is the boyish, friendly Sidney Prale of ten years ago?"

"I am quite sure; and that is why I am trying to help him," Jim Farland declared.

"I fear that he is fooling you—as he is deceiving others. He is not worthy of such friendship as you are giving him."

"How do I know that?" Farland asked. "If I could have some sort of an explanation——"

He awaited the other's reply. If he could get some inkling as to why Prale had powerful enemies, it might help a lot.

"I can tell you this much: Sidney Prale did something that wrecked and ruined several lives. Certain prominent persons have decided to punish him. He is to have his life made miserable, he is to have his fortune taken away from him, he is to be subjected to petty annoyances and hard blows alike, driven from this, his home town, forced to realize that a man cannot do what he did and escape retribution."

"Sounds like he murdered a nation!" Jim Farland commented. "Did he wreck the national treasury or turn traitor to the flag?"

"I am not jesting, Mr. Farland."

"Neither am I. My eyes have got to be opened, sir. You've got to come clean with me. Prale's enemies may strike at him from the dark, but Jim Farland never works in the dark! I want to see where I'm stepping. I never like to trip over anything."

"I have told you all that I can at present."

"Why?"

"Because I do not care to give you information if you are still to work for Prale."

"You say that Prale knows his enemies and why they are fighting him. If he does, he never has told me. Tell me that much—since you say Sid Prale knows it already. It couldn't hurt your side at all."

"We might tell you later."

"You've got some very good reason for not telling me!" Farland accused. "It is the truth, isn't it, that Prale does not know a single thing about it. You are afraid to tell me because I may inform him of what you say, and we may straighten out the tangle? I can see through you, sir, as easily as through a newly cleaned window."

"I see that you have faith in Sidney Prale," the masked man said. "But I assure you that your faith is misplaced. Is there any way in which I can get you to stop your work for him?"

"Meaning against his influential enemies, or on the Rufus Shepley murder case?" Farland asked.

"We simply want you to stop working for him. If he stands alone, we can punish him the sooner."

"I understand about that, of course. But how about the murder case? Do you think Sid Prale is guilty of that crime?" Farland asked.

"I do not know, I am sure. I understand that the evidence against him is damaging. But we are not awaiting the outcome of that. He may manage to have the charge against him dismissed, and we are going ahead with our plans for punishment."

"Then you want me to quit Prale so I won't be helping him work against his enemies, and not because you are afraid that, in clearing him of the murder charge, I may find something detrimental to other persons?"

"That is the idea," the masked man replied. "The murder case can take care of itself, I suppose."

"Suppose I refuse to make this deal with you?"

"In that event, we may feel called upon to detain you—and perhaps to use further violence."

"Then you might as well start!" Jim Farland cried. "For you are lying to me like blazes! It's the murder case that's worrying you, and you know it! And I know you! I've been trying to place those hands of yours and I have succeeded. Besides, you have said one or two things that have convinced me——"

The masked man gave a shriek and started toward the couch, his hands reaching out, clutching. Two of the thugs ran in from the hall.

CHAPTER XXII AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

Waiting in anticipation of hearing good news, Sidney Prale paced the floor of the living room of his hotel suite until noon the following day, expecting Jim Farland to put in an appearance at any time and make his report.

Murk, having done all the work that there was to do, spent the most of his time looking from the window at the busy, fashionable avenue, and glancing now and then at Prale as if wishing to anticipate his wishes and save him the trouble of voicing them.

Prale had luncheon served in the suite, and then he stepped to the telephone and called Jim Farland's office. Farland's stenographer informed him that the detective had not been there during the morning, though there was some business that needed his attention.

Then Prale got Farland's residence on the telephone, and the detective's wife answered the call. Prale gave his name, and asked where Jim could be found.

"That is more than I can tell, Mr. Prale," Mrs. Farland said. "He got a telephone call last evening, and from what I overheard I think he went some place to meet a man. He left soon after he received the call, and I have not heard from him since. That is peculiar, too. When he is obliged to remain away, he generally finds time to telephone and let me know."

This conversation bothered Sidney Prale, but he tried to tell himself that Farland was following a hot trail, and that perhaps it had led him some distance away, or that he was in a locality where he did not care to telephone.

He did not want to miss Farland if he did call, and so he remained at the hotel during the afternoon and kept Murk there also.

"I have a hunch that something is going to happen soon," Prale said to his valet.

"A little action wouldn't make me mad any!" Murk declared. "I'm spoilin' to mix with the enemy, Mr. Prale. Most of all, I'd like to meet up with them two thugs that got gay with us. You're sure about that Jim Farland, boss?"

"I've told you a hundred times, Murk, that Jim Farland is my friend and as square a man as you can find anywhere. He has not deserted us, if that is the thought in your head."

"I'm beginnin' to like him a bit myself," said Murk. "Ain't you got any idea, boss, who's engineerin' this deal against you?"

"Once more, Murk, old boy, allow me to state