The Secret Toll

"Yes, I know all about that case," interrupted Forrester. "Prentice is an old friend of mine."

"Ah – h – h!" breathed Green, looking much impressed as he laid the clipping and a few others aside. "Maybe you knew this guy, too – Booth Warren, the banker?"

"Yes, I knew him very well," returned Forrester.

"Ah – h – h!" sighed Green, expressively. Never before had he floated into such an environment of millionaires.

"But," added Forrester, "I don't know the details of his case. In fact, I had not heard of his death."

Green cleared his throat once more.

"Booth Warren," he explained, referring to his notes and clippings, "was vice-president o' the La Salle National Bank. In July o' last year this criminal organization demanded twenty-five thousand dollars, which he refused to pay, placin' the matter in the hands o' the police." At this mention of the police Green gave Forrester a ponderous wink. Then he continued, "After ignorin' three notices, Warren was found by the roadside one mornin' just beyond Evanston. The police surgeon o' the Evanston Police Department could find no signs o' violence, or any evidence as to how the man had been killed. He said he would diagnoose the case as one o' – " Green paused a moment over the pronunciation of the word – "asphyxia."

Green thumbed over his clippings.

"Then followed three cases where the guys lost their nerve and paid up. I guess you're chiefly interested in the guys that got killed, though," added Green, turning to Forrester.

"Yes, I think so," answered Forrester. "I want to know just what happens to a man who turns these people down."

"Well, he gets his– that's all I can say," replied Green, emphatically. "That is," he added, realizing his slip, "unless he comes to me."

"Then it is to be expected that I shall escape?" said Forrester, smiling.

"I said I had some theories, Mister," returned Green, assuming a wise expression. "I ain't tellin' all I know, but you can bet your life I'll be on the job between now and midnight Saturday.

"The next case o' a death," Green resumed, taking up another clipping, "is that of James Ingraham, capitalist and director of the Cook County Trust Company. He was ordered to pay fifteen thousand dollars, and ignored the demand – except for reportin' it as usual to the police. Ingraham was found sittin' under a tree in Lincoln Park early one evenin', and the hospital they took him to, and where he died, reported that all the symptoms showed that he had been – asphyxiated.

"In the early fall, two more guys was threatened and decided to pay up.

"Now," concluded Green, closing the folder and leaning back in his chair, "I want you to notice two things strikin' me as funny. These here guys apparently knock off in the winter time. Another thing is that the poor devils that get took off is always – asphyxiated."

"But," protested Forrester, "how could they be asphyxiated when the bodies are always found out in the open air? I thought that a person must be shut up in a closed room to be asphyxiated."

"Ah-ha!" cried Green. "Now you've got the idea! These fellows have a headquarters somewhere. After they kill a guy they bring him out in an automobile and throw him alongside the road somewhere. The thing to be done now is to locate their headquarters. That's what little Benny is goin' to do!"

"How do you propose to find that out?" inquired Forrester.

"Watch the tree and follow 'em!" replied Green, decisively.

"That sounds all right," objected Forrester, "but the police have been watching that tree for months without getting sight or sound of anyone."

"Leave it to me," assured Green, with a wide sweep of his hand. "I know things these here city dicks never think about. Now, Mister – Mister – , by the way, you ain't told me your name yet."

Forrester handed his card to Green.

"Now, Mr. Forrester," continued Green, as he glanced at the card, "take my advice and don't let nobody bunco you into any strange place. And I wouldn't take no rides in strange automobiles, either. I'll let you hear from me in a couple o' days. In the meantime you can count on findin' me around that tree o' nights. I kinda got an idea that there tree's a mighty busy place these nights. The 'Friends o' the Poor' seem to be makin' a big drive right now. I suppose you heard about the banker, Nevins, today?"

"Yes," said Forrester, rising to go. "I shall probably have full details of that shortly. My sister is engaged to Mr. Nevins' son."

"Ah-h-h!" sighed Green again, as his new client passed out of the door.

CHAPTER III – ENGINEERING-CRIMINOLOGY

Although the yearly hegira from town to suburb was well on, the Forresters had delayed their departure and were still residing in the town house on Bellevue Place. To a man of Forrester's active disposition Bellevue Place meant a comparatively easy walk from the downtown section. Moreover, in the present troubled condition of his mind, the exercise would be conducive to clearer thinking, so he started out with the intention of walking home. As he was crossing the Michigan Avenue bridge over the Chicago River, a motor car slowed up by the curb and Forrester heard someone call to him. Glancing around, he saw that it was Prentice.

"On your way home?" inquired Prentice.

Forrester answered in the affirmative.

"Then jump in with me," said Prentice.

"Thanks," returned Forrester, "but I had decided to walk home."

"Better change your mind," urged Prentice. "It's a fairly long walk, and I should like your company. Remember that after you leave me I have a long and lonesome drive."

"You are out on the North Shore now, are you?" queried Forrester, as he climbed into the car.

"Yes," answered Prentice. "We closed the town house on the first. I'm surprised that your folks are still in the city."

"We hope to leave soon. The decorators are still busy at our place. We gave 'Woodmere' a good overhauling this spring. I should think you would rather take the train than have such a long drive when you are alone."

"I very seldom use the train," explained Prentice. "You know that time is of no great value to me, and I enjoy the motor ride. The cool lake air and the scent of the woods are really very refreshing after being in the hot city – and certainly preferable to the gas, smoke and cinders that are inseparable from the train.

"By the way," continued Prentice, after a pause, "have you done anything further about that message we were discussing today?"

"Yes," replied Forrester. "I have taken very definite action since I left you."

"Drawn the money from the bank, I suppose."

"I certainly did not!" declared Forrester. "I went first to the police, and then engaged a private detective agency to look into the matter."

"What did the police say?" inquired Prentice.

"Oh, I guess it was the same old stuff," admitted Forrester. "Although they did say that they believed they had a clue at last."

"Well, I hope it is a better clue than some of the others they have pretended to discover. It is certainly time they did something. And what is your private detective going to do?"

"Not very much, I'm afraid," said Forrester. "He proposes to keep his eye on this mysterious oak, which I believe is just what all the detectives have done so far without results."

"Exactly," agreed Prentice. "But it is the first time, I think, that anyone has employed a private detective. Perhaps he will be more successful than the police. Well, here you are," he added, as he swung the car to the curb and stopped.

"Thank you for the lift," said Forrester, as he stepped out. "I'll let you know how my private detective gets on."

"Yes, do," urged Prentice. "I should certainly like to get some revenge for the money those people took from me. I suppose I shall see you at the club as usual tomorrow."

"No," returned Forrester, "between now and Saturday I am going to be very busy on this 'Friends of the Poor' matter. I don't intend to let any grass grow under my feet in running them to earth." Then he added, laughing, "However, after Saturday I may have to hang around the club for protection."

"If I can be of any help, don't fail to call upon me," offered Prentice. "Good-bye."