The Secret Toll

"Put it in the paper tomorrow," answered Humphrey, triumphantly. "A big headline across the top will read: 'Friends of the Poor' caught while trying to collect their secret toll."

"Don't do it!" commanded O'Connor. "They ain't caught yet. Keep it quiet about that picture. Give the negative to us. We'll have the faces enlarged. Perhaps we can pick up these Dagos from their photos."

"I get you," assented Humphrey. "I see I spoiled the game all right; and I'll do all I can to help you. I'll have that negative over at the detective bureau first thing in the morning."

"O'Connor don't talk much," observed Cahill, "but when he does, he says something. You get that picture to us quick, young fellow, and we'll close this thing up with a bang! There's no question about who the 'Friends of the Poor' are now."

"Did those fellows get my package?" inquired Forrester.

"Not on your life!" returned Cahill. "They never got near enough to the tree for that."

"Then," said Forrester, turning to Green, "you would better get that package and we'll take it back with us. It may come in handy some other time."

Green went to the tree and inserted his hand in the opening. He felt carefully around, then withdrew his arm and turned to face the others. In the dim light of the pocket lamps they saw that his eyes were staring wildly.

"It's gone!" he cried.

CHAPTER XIII – A PUZZLING WARNING

"Whatever happened to you last night, Son?" exclaimed Mrs. Forrester.

Forrester had just strolled into the dining room, late for the one o'clock Sunday dinner. The excitement of the incident at the tree, together with the strange occurrence related to him by Green, had caused Forrester a sleepless night. It was nearly dawn when he had finally fallen asleep and in his state of nervous and physical exhaustion he had not again awakened until just in time to dress for dinner.

"It seems to me, Bob," observed Josephine, "that of late it has become quite an event when you honor us with your company."

"You apparently forget," returned Forrester, testily, as he sat down, "that I have had something more important on my mind this last week than regular attendance at meals and dances."

"No, Bob," smiled Josephine, "I had not overlooked the great event that has come into your life during the past week. It is a well-known fact that a man in love usually loses his appetite. I have not told Mother before, but the last time I saw you, you were engaged in an earnest conversation with Miss Sturtevant. When you disappeared so completely I concluded that she had probably sent you forth to tilt with windmills."

"I gather from your words, young lady," retorted Forrester, "that you look upon me as a modern combination of Don Juan and Don Quixote. Let me inform you that I am neither of these – but simply a re-incarnation of M. Lecoq, the great detective."

"This repartee bewilders me and does not answer my question," declared Mrs. Forrester. "We missed you right after dinner last night, Bob, and Diana asked for you several times. She said that she had not had one dance with you – not even a word except a formal 'good-evening' when you arrived."

"If you have forgotten, Mother, at least Josephine must remember that last night was the night on which I was to place that extortion money in the big oak in Jasper lane."

"Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Forrester. "You assured me, Bob, that you had fixed that matter up and that there was nothing for us to worry about. Did you pay them the money they asked for?"

"I put a package in the tree last night as instructed," returned Forrester, evasively. "There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about, Mother."

"I hope you gave them all they asked for, Son, and have not trifled with them. You know what happened to dear Mr. Nevins, and others who opposed them."

"It's all fixed up, Mother. Just go on with your dinner and forget about it. By the way, have you seen the Nevins since the funeral?"

"No, but I talked with Mrs. Nevins over the telephone yesterday," explained Mrs. Forrester. "They will not open their house here this summer. Just now they plan to travel for a while, and then stay at their place near Pittsfield, in the Berkshires, until fall."

"I must try to see Charlie before he leaves," said Forrester. "So many things have happened in the last few days that the time has seemed like weeks instead of days."

"Incidentally, Bob," informed Josephine, a moment later, "you will be interested to know that you have been quite a hero during the past week because of that demand made upon you. It seemed as if every group I approached last evening was discussing it, and when your continued absence was discovered, it caused considerable concern."

"You should have assured them," returned Forrester, "that I had a trusty body-guard."

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Josephine, "William was telling me about that man, Green. I must get a look at him. I don't know that I ever saw a real live detective before."

"Any time you want to peek through the window, Josephine, you will probably see him," replied Forrester, laughing. "He has instructions to hang around outside the house and keep his eyes open."

"But of course you will let him go, now that everything is settled," asserted Mrs. Forrester.

"Yes, of course," returned Forrester, "but I thought it might be just as well if he stayed around for a few days longer." Then he added, diplomatically, "It is a great protection against burglars and tramps to have a detective near the house."

Dinner over, Forrester joined Green in the pergola. Green had selected this spot as his permanent station because it formed a splendid vantage ground from which he could keep an eye on the principal living rooms of the house, and have both the north and south entrance gates under his observation as well.

Green had been stunned when he learned of the actual appearance of the Italians at the tree on Saturday night. While he frankly confessed that an explanation was beyond him, he refused to believe that the city detectives were correct in their surmises. He stoutly maintained that the real "Friends of the Poor" were undiscovered, and cited the mysterious disappearance of the dummy package as proof of this claim. Forrester was inclined to agree with him, and before parting for the night the two men had decided to go ahead with their investigations, independently of the police. Green, after the conversation he had overheard, was in thorough accord with Forrester in the conviction that Miss Sturtevant was in some way the key to the problem.

After conferring with Green along these lines for some time, Forrester left the detective to watch the house, and taking his roadster, started out to visit the girl.

To reach the house which Mary Sturtevant had rented it was necessary for Forrester to pass through Jasper lane. He stopped his car in front of the tree and made a careful examination of the ground in every direction. From the trampled condition of the undergrowth, and some withered leaves which had been burned by the flashlight, Forrester was able to locate the spot across the road where Humphrey had been concealed. The wooden pegs which the detectives had placed in the ground near the tree were still there, though the strings had been broken off and scattered during the struggle. He found no other indications of anyone having been at the tree. How the package had been removed without discovery was a baffling puzzle. Standing there in the brilliant daylight, Forrester felt as though the whole thing were a nightmare. It was hard to associate the stories of weird voices, rattling chains and the notes of a ghostly bell with this peaceful woodland spot. The flaming hand which Green still maintained he had actually seen was too fantastic for credence. Forrester re-entered his car, more than a little depressed with the hopelessness of the situation, and continued his journey.

Miss Sturtevant and her companion, Mrs. Morris, were sitting on the front porch when Forrester arrived. The girl was frankly pleased to see him, rising from her chair and coming part way down the steps as he approached.

Under the spell of her presence Forrester's recent depression took flight. The startling happenings of the past week seemed like mere phantasmagoria to him as he dropped into the chair she indicated. He settled back with a sigh of relief that did not escape the girl. Her eyes softened as she looked at him and had Forrester turned at that moment he would have been greatly encouraged by the flush which stole over her cheeks when she perceived his attitude toward her.

"You are tired," she observed, sympathetically. "It has been a great strain. I am sorry the case remains unsolved."

Forrester glanced around sharply, recalling Green's information about the promised telephone message.

"You have heard what happened last night?" he queried.

Miss Sturtevant stiffened perceptibly, and the guarded nature of her reply was evident.

"Your dejected attitude tells a plain story, Mr. Forrester. Whatever happened at the oak, I am sure you are still perplexed."

"I am," admitted Forrester, shortly.

"I have heard, Mr. Forrester, that you are making a determined effort to unmask these people; that you have taken grave risks which should have been assumed by others more experienced. Do you think you are wise?"

"What do you think I should do?" asked Forrester.

"Go away!" she answered, quickly, emphatically.

"Until when?"

"Until – ," she paused a moment, "until the police have cleared this matter up."

"Permanent banishment!" laughed Forrester. But immediately his face grew grave. Why did she want him to go away? Did she really feel a personal interest in him, and desire to save him from the retribution she knew was sure to come, or had he actually become a menace to the rogues who apparently held her allegiance? Did this advice come from her heart, or had she been instructed to warn him? Forrester was confused in a tangle of hopes, doubts and conjectures. Then a passionate longing for the girl surged within him. In spite of his suspicions and the enigmatic occurrences in which she was a prominent figure, he knew that he felt a restfulness and enjoyment in her company that was inexplicable. Always when he was near her it seemed as if he had reached the end of a difficult journey. Despite their short acquaintance Forrester knew that he was deeply and irretrievably in love. With his usual impulsiveness he swung his chair to face hers and burst out:

"Mary, I love you!"

The girl regarded him steadily, a serious, searching look in her brown eyes that held Forrester fascinated and for the moment incapable of further speech. Then she broke the spell.