The Secret Toll

Prentice smiled. "That's not the first time I've heard that police theory," he declared. "Still, there may be something to their idea, after all, in view of the telephone calls you received this evening. There should be interesting developments tomorrow night. But, Bob," he added, "take my advice and leave this matter entirely in the detectives' hands. Don't fail in your part of the matter. Place your money in the tree at the hour you agreed upon and then get away as quickly as you can."

"You take the matter too seriously," objected Forrester.

"And you don't realize how serious the affair is, Bob," asserted Prentice. "The claims of these detectives have given you too much confidence. Even if they do capture some men tomorrow night, there may be others of the band who will seek revenge. I cannot urge you too strongly to place that money in the tree and assure your own safety. The history of the case – "

Prentice was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone bell once more. He paused, with an astonished look on his face, and Forrester laughed.

"Unquestionably my busy night," said Forrester, as he picked up the receiver.

Forrester's face also expressed amazement, as he listened, and he placed one hand over the transmitter while he remarked in an aside to Prentice, "A woman's voice this time!" Then, speaking into the telephone, he said, "Yes, this is Mr. Forrester."

"I want to get some information," said the woman's voice, "that is vitally important to you. I must know at what hour you will place the money in the tree tomorrow night."

"Who are you?" inquired Forrester.

"I cannot tell you that now," replied the voice, "but let me assure you that I am absolutely friendly to you. It is chiefly in your interest that I want this information."

"But," protested Forrester, "it is a matter in which I cannot be too free in furnishing information to strangers."

"I know," admitted the voice, "but you'll have to trust me for the present."

"Are you a lady reporter?" asked Forrester.

"No."

"Are you securing the information for a reporter?"

"No."

"Are you connected in any way with a newspaper?"

"No."

"Are you a lady detective then?" and Forrester could not restrain a slight laugh.

"It is useless for you to ask questions," declared the voice. "I am asking information – not giving it."

"But favors beget favors," protested Forrester.

"You are not doing me a favor," returned the woman. "This is in your own interest."

"Well, then, if you insist," acceded Forrester, "I will take the risk and inform you that I expect to visit the tree at ten-thirty tomorrow night."

"Thank you," was the reply, and the receiver was hastily hung up.

"I don't understand these telephone calls at all," said Prentice. "What do you make of them, Bob?"

"I fancy your first idea was correct," returned Forrester. "It is my opinion that these thick-headed detectives have talked too freely to the newspaper reporters about their new plan, and that we are simply going to have a convention of the press at the tree tomorrow night."

Prentice laughed heartily. "Perhaps you are right, Bob," he agreed. "If I had not had such a trying experience with these people myself, I should have liked to be a spectator, too. As it is, I imagine it will be safer to keep out of the way. And now," he added, rising, "I believe I would better go. I want to drive out early in the morning, and you, too, should have a good night's sleep."

Forrester accompanied Prentice to the door and stood until he saw the car disappear in the rain and mist. Then he returned to the library. The windows still rattled under the lash of the wind and rain, and somewhere far up in the house he heard a door slam.

"I don't think I'll do much sleeping tonight," thought Forrester, and crossing to the library table, lifted the lid of his humidor to get a cigar. He paused with a startled exclamation, for there before him lay a small square of brown wrapping paper. On it he recognized the crude skull and rough hand-printing of the "Friends of the Poor." The words stood out clearly in the light shed by the lamp on the table. He read:

Your efforts to trace us are known. We prefer your death to your money but will overlook your activities if you cease them at once and raise amount of your payment to $25,000. This opportunity ends positively at midnight Saturday.

    Friends of the Poor

CHAPTER XII – SATURDAY

"Woodmere," the Forresters' summer estate, lay between Sheridan Road and the lake. The house, a long, two-storied building of white stucco, with green shutters and a green tile roof, looked much smaller than it really was because of the many great trees that towered above it. On the lake side a wide, paved terrace extended the length of the house. A short stretch of lawn spread from the terrace to the edge of the little bluff that dropped down to a sandy beach. On the edge of this bluff stood a vine-clad pergola, furnished with comfortable willow chairs. Here, on warm summer days, Forrester liked to sit with his pipe, and the ladies brought their reading and fancy work. From the pergola one had a wonderful view up and down the shore line, while the great lake stretched as far as the eye could see. Even during the sultry days of midsummer this spot was sure to pick up a cooling breeze.

Large ornamental gateways stood at the north and south ends, and from these a wide driveway swung in a crescent shape up to the front door. A branch drive turned off at the south side of the house and passing the end of the terrace wound through a mass of shrubbery to the garage.

Shortly after noon on Saturday Forrester turned his car in at the south gateway and drove to the garage. The doors stood wide open, and William, the family chauffeur, who was working on the big car, came out to take charge of Forrester's roadster.

"I'm glad to see you arrived safe, sir," William greeted Forrester. "The ladies were a bit worried at your staying alone in the town house last night. Stormed dreadful here, sir."

"It was a bad night, William," agreed Forrester. "But that's just the sort of night to make one sleep soundly. Did that man, Green, arrive?"

"A few minutes ago, sir. He's up in his room now."

"I'll go up," said Forrester, and entering a door at the side of the garage, climbed to the chauffeur's quarters. Green had been given a cozy room overlooking the lake and Forrester found him in the midst of his unpacking.

"Gee!" exclaimed Green, on sighting Forrester, "I hope that mystery ain't solved all summer. I sure like this here room."

"The mystery will be solved tonight, I believe, Green."

"What!" gasped Green. "Who's got the dope? Not them city dicks?"

"You guessed it. Drop that work for awhile, and I'll tell you the whole story. Here, have a fresh cigar," offered Forrester, catching sight of a cold and much-chewed cigar end in the corner of Green's mouth.

The two men sat down near the window and lighted their cigars.

"An amazing lot of things have happened since I saw you on Thursday, Green," began Forrester. "For a time I thought I was getting on the actual trail – then the city detectives called Thursday night and told a plausible story that knocked all the props from under my theories; and yours, too, for the matter of that."

"Huh!" scoffed Green.

"I know how you feel," assented Forrester. "I wondered myself, until an incident occurred Friday night which half convinced me they were right. Now, let me tell you the whole story, and then we will talk it over. One thing I want to impress upon you, however. Some things I am about to tell you, especially about a certain young lady, are to be kept absolutely quiet – no matter what happens."

"That's part o' my business," assured Green. "A detective don't get nowhere if he talks too much."

"I'll take that as a valuable hint," laughed Forrester.

He then related the occurrences of the last two days; his meeting with Mary Sturtevant, his visit to Lucy, the call from Cahill and O'Connor, their theories and plans, the mystifying telephone calls, and finally the startling discovery of the notice in his humidor.

"And now," Forrester concluded, "I want your opinion on all these facts. Forget your natural animosity to the city detectives, Green, and consider their clues and theories in the light of cold reason."