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

much of a mess," Farland said.

"That's all you know about it. I may need your services sooner than you think. There is a sort of jinx working on me, it appears."

"Spill it!" Jim Farland said.

Sidney Prale did. He related what had happened at the bank, at the hotel, in Griffin's office, and told of the scene with Rufus Shepley.

"Funny!" Farland said, when he had finished. "I know old Rufus Shepley, and as a general thing he ain't a maniac. Something behind all this, Sid."

"Yes; but what on earth could it be?"

"That's the question. If anything else happens, and you need help, just let me know."

"I'll do that, surely," said Prale. "And I'm glad that I've got one friend left in town."

"Always have one as long as I'm here," Jim Farland assured him. "And it ain't because of your million, either. It's true about the million?"

"Absolutely!"

"Gee! That's more than old Griffin himself has in cash, anyway," Farland declared. "Maybe it's a good thing that girl turned you down. You'd probably be a clerk at a few thousand a year, if she hadn't. How'd you make the coin?"

"Mines and fruit and water power and logs," said Prale.

"Sounds simple enough. When the detective business goes on the blink, I may take a turn at it myself."

"If you ever need money, Jim, call on me. If you want to engage bigger offices, hire operatives, branch out——"

"Stop it!" Farland cried. "I want nothing of the kind. I'm a peculiar sort of duck—don't care about being rich at all. I just want to be sure I'll have a good living for myself and the wife and kids, and have a few friends, and be able to look every man in town straight in the eye. I'd rather work for a friend for nothing than do work I don't like for ten thousand an hour."

"I believe you!" Prale said.

CHAPTER V THE COUSIN

An hour later, having parted with Detective Jim Farland, Sidney Prale walked slowly up Fifth Avenue, determined to go to his hotel suite and rest for the remainder of the evening. His conversation and short visit with Farland had put him in a better humor. There was no mistaking the quality of Farland's friendship. He and Prale had been firm friends ten years before, when Farland was on duty in the financial district, and they had made it a point at that time to eat luncheon together when Farland's duties permitted.

New York seemed a better place, even with one friend among several million persons. So Prale swung his stick jauntily, and hummed the Spanish love song again, and told himself that Rufus Shepley and Kate Gilbert, old Griffin and the hotel manager and the rest of the motley crew that had made the day miserable for him amounted to nothing in the broader scheme of things, and were not to be taken seriously.

He came to a block where there were few pedestrians, where the great shops had their lights out and their night curtains up. He heard steps behind him, and presently a soft voice.

"Sid! Sid!"

Sidney Prale whirled around, alert and on guard, for he did not recognize the voice. A medium-sized man stood before him, a man of about his own age, who had a furtive manner and wore a beard.

"Don't you know me, Sid?"

"Can't say that I do!"

"Why, I'm your cousin, George Lerton. I'm the only relative you've got in the world, unless you got married while you were away."

Prale stepped aside so that the nearest light flashed on the face of the man before him.

"Well, if it isn't!" he said. "Didn't recognize you at first. How long have you been wearing the alfalfa on your face?"

"Two or three years," George Lerton told him, grinning a bit. "I saw your name in the passenger list, Sid, and wanted to see you. I found out where you are stopping——"

"Why didn't you come to the hotel, then, or leave a note?" Prale asked. "Come on up now."

"I—I wanted to talk to you——"

"And I want to talk to you. What are you doing for yourself, George? Still working in a broker's office?"

"Oh, I've got an office of my own now."

"Getting along all right?"

"Fairly well," Lerton said. "Business has been pretty good the last year."

"Maybe you can dig up a few good investments for me, then," Prale said. "I've got some coin now."

"I understand that you're worth a million, Sid."

"Yes, I've made my pile, and came back to New York to enjoy it. But come along to the hotel."

"I'd—I'd rather not."

"Why not? We've got to talk over old times and find out about each other. We're cousins, you know."

The truth of the matter was that Sidney Prale never had thought very much of his cousin. Ten years before they had worked side by side for Griffin, the broker. There was something furtive and shifty about George Lerton, but he never had presumed on his relationship, at least. He and Sidney Prale had been courteous to each other, but never had been warm friends.

They came from different branches of the family. Lerton had some traits of character that Prale did not admire, but he always told himself that perhaps he was prejudiced. They had seen a deal of each other in a social way in the old days.

"Let us just talk as we walk along," Lerton now said.

"All right, if you have an engagement," Prale replied. "We can get together later, I suppose. How have the years been using you? Married?"

"I was—I am a widower."

"Sorry," said Prale. "Children?"

"No—not any children. I—I married Mary Slade."

"What?" Prale cried.

He stopped, aghast. Mary Slade had been the girl who had turned him down for a man with money—and that man had not been George Lerton, who did not have as much as five thousand at that time.

"It—it's a peculiar story," Lerton said. "You went away so quick—after you quarreled with her. And that other man—she threw him over, soon. She couldn't endure him, even with all his money. She regretted her quarrel with you. I'm quite sure she wanted you for a time. I got to taking her about. You didn't write, and she was too proud to look you up, and so—after a time——"

"You married her," said Prale.

"About three years after you went away, Sid. She died after we had been married a year."

"But she always wanted money, and I had as much as you."

"I made a strike soon after you left, Sid. I plunged with my five thousand, and turned it into a hundred thousand inside four months. I kept on, and got more. I was worth almost half a million when we were married."

"I see. Well, there are no hard feelings, George. She was a good woman, in a way, and I'm sorry you lost her. I suppose we'll have to get together, for old time's sake."

"Are you going to stay here long, Sid?"

"Long? I've sold out all my Honduras holdings, and I'm here to spend the rest of my days. I've come home for good, George. The United States is plenty good enough for me. I'm going to be a civilized gentleman from now on."

"You—you're not going back?"

"Why should I? I brought that million with me. I left nothing in Honduras except a few friends. I suppose I'll run down there some day and see them, but this is going to be home, you can bet."

"Don't do it, Sid!" Lerton exclaimed.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't stay here, Sid. Get out as quick as you can! Go back to Honduras—anywhere—but don't stay in New York."

"Why shouldn't I? What on earth is the matter with you? Are you insane?"

"I—I can't tell you, Sid. But you are in danger if you don't leave New York. I can tell you that much. That's why I didn't call at the hotel; I'm afraid. Sid, I'm afraid to have anybody see me talking to you. If you came to my office, I'd refuse to see you——"

"Why?" demanded Sidney Prale, in a stern voice.

"I—I can't explain, Sid."

"I've endured a lot of nonsense to-day, and I'm not going to endure any more!" Prale said. "You're going to open your mouth and tell me what you mean, if I have to manhandle you."

"You can beat me until I'm unconscious, Sid, but you can't make me talk!" Lerton told him.

"But what does it all mean?"

"You'd better go away, Sid; you'd better get out of the country and stay out!"

"No reason why I should. I never gave up my citizenship; I haven't done anything wrong. I'm back in my old home, and I fail to see why I shouldn't remain here if that is my wish."

"But you're in danger!"

"In danger from what?" Sidney Prale cried.

"You have powerful enemies, Sid."

"Why?"

"I—I don't know, exactly. But you have powerful enemies. Some of my best customers have informed me that they are through doing business with me if I have anything to do with you. They told me that before you had been back three hours."

"Powerful enemies? Why? Business enemies?"

"I—I don't know."

"Um! So that is why the bank refused my deposit, why I was turned out of a hotel, and why old Rufus Shepley raised such a row with me! Powerful enemies, have I? But there isn't sense in it! I haven't done anything to make powerful enemies, or any other kind. I'm about fed up with this stuff!"

"Go away, Sid. You've got money—you can live anywhere!"

"You bet I can! And I'm going to live in New York!"

"Don't try it, Sid!"

Prale whirled and faced him. "You know more than you're telling!" he accused. "You open your face and talk! I never did have any too much love for you, and you can wager that I'm not going to let you frighten me into running away from New York! Talk!"

"I haven't anything more to say, Sid!"

"If I have to choke it out of you right here——"

"You'd better not. It would give your enemies a chance!"

"Lerton, I've fought the Honduras jungles! I've fought half-savage men and treacherous employees, snakes and fever, financial sharks and common adventurers. I didn't come back to New York to back down in front of a man like you—or half a hundred like you. Maybe that is strong talk—but you have it coming! Give my enemies a chance? I'll give them all the chance they want. Maybe they'll come into the open, then, and let me see whom I'm fighting! I don't like foes that fight from the dark!"

"You'd better go away, Sid. I'm talking for your own good!"

"For my good? For yours, you mean! Afraid you'll lose a few customers and a few dollars, by standing by your cousin, are you? Why don't you be a man, tell me what you know, help me to fight! Bah! I'm disgusted with you!"

He hurled George Lerton away from him, curled his lips in scorn of the man.

"I've tried to warn you," Lerton whimpered.

"I don't understand this and I'm sure you could explain a lot, if you would. Perhaps I've got more dollars than the customers you are so afraid of losing. Suppose I hand my million to you for investment. Will you talk, then?"

"I—I wouldn't dare touch it," Lerton whimpered.

Prale looked at him closely. "It must be something pretty bad to make you toss aside the chance to handle a million in investments," he said. "I know you, George! You'd sell your soul for money! You got anything more to say to me about this?"

"I—I dare not say anything more."

"Very well. If you are afraid to be seen in my presence, kindly keep away from me hereafter and don't worry about me looking you up at your office. I'll not take the trouble!"

Sidney Prale said nothing more; he whirled around and walked rapidly up the Avenue, enraged, wondering what it all meant, determined to find out as soon as possible.

Lerton ran after him.

"Won't you go away, Sid?" he whimpered.

"No. I'll stay here, and if I have enemies I'll fight them!" Prale told him. "Why are you so eager to have me run away?"

"I don't want to see you in trouble, Sid."

"That's peculiar. In the old days you used to gloat whenever I got in trouble. You seem to have a wonderful and sudden regard for my welfare, and I can't explain it to myself."

Once more, Prale whirled around and started up the Avenue. His brain was in a tumult. What did George Lerton know that he refused to tell? Why should there be powerful enemies? He knew of no reason in the world.

"He's dead eager to get me out of town," Prale mused. "There's something behind it, all right."

CHAPTER VI MURK—AND MURDER

Instinct, intuition, or some similar faculty caused Prale to turn off the Avenue eastward toward