The Secret Toll

Forrester looked his surprise.

"Why," he explained, "the bad men who make people put money in this tree and then come and get it out."

"Dat ain't no men, Boss!"

"No men!" repeated Forrester.

"No, Boss. Jes' hants!"

"What nonsense are you talking now?" queried Forrester.

"Dat ain't no nonsense, suh. Dere ain't nobody aroun' yere, 'ceptin' maybe dat bad niggah woman dat libes back in dem woods, dat would go neah dis tree in de night time."

This was growing interesting, decided Forrester. He could not remember having heard Prentice, the detectives, or anyone, refer to these uncanny surroundings. Possibly they had heard of them, but had scoffed at the idea. Perhaps, then, that had been one of the reasons why so little progress had been made. Forrester meant to get at the bottom of all this talk.

"What is your name?" he inquired.

"Joshua, suh."

"That's a good Bible name," commented Forrester. "I fancy a man with a name like that ought to tell the truth."

"Ah does, Boss; hones' Ah does," protested Joshua. "Ah belibes in de Lawd an' goes to church reg'lar. But de Lawd, he can't always stop de debil puttin' hants in t'ings."

"You really think this tree is haunted, do you, Joshua?"

"Hones', Boss. Dat's de whole truf an' nuffin but de truf."

"Tell me what makes you think the tree is haunted," requested Forrester.

"Done make me hab de shibers ebery time Ah talk 'bout dat, Boss. Yo' see, dere's a bad Jamaica niggah woman libes back in dem woods. She an' her husband done come yere 'bout two yahs ago. Dis yere tree all right den, but she done murdah her husban' one night."

"If she murdered her husband," said Forrester, "how is it she is living here now? Why wasn't she hung or put in jail?"

"De trouble was, Boss, dere wasn't no ebidence!"

"Then how do you know she murdered her husband?"

"Jes' a minute, Boss, jes' a minute! Yo' done got me all frustrated. Yo' done axe so many questions – an' axe dem so fas.'"

"All right, Joshua," laughed Forrester. "You tell the story your own way."

"As Ah was sayin', Boss, she done murdah her husban.' Nobody done see her do it, an' de polisman dat wen' huntin' roun' nebber foun' nuthin'. She said her husban' jes' run away. But we-all knows she done kill him, 'cause eber since he been missin' he done hant dat tree."

There was a slight pause as Joshua collected his wits. After the previous warning Forrester remained silent until the colored man was ready to go on with his story.

"One Sunday night, mah wife an' me come by yere on our way from church. An awful still night, Boss, an' ter'ble dark. When we got jes' yere, we heered a noise – click, click, click – jes' like dat. Den we heered cuss words – blasphemin' de Lawd something ter'ble. Den we heered mo' click, click. An' after dat —sighs. We don't wait to heah no mo', Boss. We jes' runned home an' got our heads under de cobers – quick! Marthy's awful fat, Boss, but mah goodness, how dat woman can run!

"Nex' mo'nin' Ah says to Marthy: What yo'all t'ink dat was we heered las' night?

"'Joshua,' she says, 'don't you know what dat was? Dat was dat Jamaica niggah woman's husban' diggin' his own grave! Dey such bad peopull de Lawd done sen' him away an' he had to come back yere an' dig a hole for hisself.'

"Eber since den, Boss, folks has heered funny t'ings aroun' dat tree. Sighin's, an' chain rattlin's, an groans. An' some folks say dey done seen funny lights floatin' roun'. Tain't no men gettin' dat money, Boss – no suh. It's de hant of dat Jamaica niggah woman's man gettin' money to gib to de debil! Boss, dere's lots of polismen done come from de city an' watch dat tree. Dey neber seen or heered nuthin' – but in de mo'nin' de money was gone! Dat means hants sure, Boss."

Forrester stood for a moment, gazing thoughtfully across the roadway. He was sure that he had unearthed something worth while by allowing this colored man to talk. Whether the man actually believed what he had told Forrester, or was just repeating a prearranged story, which someone had instructed him to tell, Forrester could not now determine. One thing was certain, however. Several singular and suspicious people did live near this tree. He made up his mind to investigate the colored woman who was reported to be living back in the woods, and also, at the first opportunity, to secure information regarding the young woman who was taking such an interest in the tree.

"Joshua," said Forrester, suddenly, "have you told this story to the young lady who is now living at your house?"

"Yas, Boss, Ah shuah did. De fus' time Ah foun' her at dis yere tree Ah done tole her all 'bout it, an' wahned her to keep away. She jes' laughed at me, Boss, an' said dere wasn't no such t'ings as hants. Why, Boss, dat young lady done been comin' down to dis yere tree ebery night since Sunday! She come all alone– by herself– in de dark! Ah know, Boss, 'cause Ah done follow her. Ah got to keep mah eyes on dat young Missey. Ah got to take keer of her, Boss."

Forrester glanced at his watch. It was after one o'clock and he decided to return to the city and think the situation over carefully before he undertook any further steps. Taking a coin from his pocket, he handed it to Joshua.

"You're a good story teller, Joshua," declared Forrester. "Here's a little present for you. I'm coming up to see you again sometime. Perhaps I'll drop over to your house to see you."

"T'anks, Boss, t'anks," exclaimed Joshua, pocketing the coin, and Forrester left him bowing and scraping as he went to his car and started back to the city.

CHAPTER VI – THE FLAMING HAND

As Green had told Forrester, he had some theories of his own about the people who called themselves the "Friends of the Poor." Like Humphrey, he did not believe that the West Side held any clues. He was more inclined to believe that the guilty people could be located within a comparatively short distance of the tree in which the victims were ordered to leave their money.

This theory of Green's, however, had developed solely from the fact that all activities of the band had ceased as soon as the ground was covered with snow. With snow on the ground, according to his hypothesis, it would be a comparatively easy matter to follow any tracks from the tree – at least for some distance. If similar tracks could be discovered near any house or houses in the neighborhood, a smart detective would have an excellent clue. On the other hand, Green conjectured that if a West Side gang were involved they would logically visit the tree in an automobile, and therefore have little fear of giving the detectives a clue from any tracks which they might leave between the auto and the tree.

The fact that the detectives who had watched the tree had failed thus far to hear or see anything, strengthened Green in this conviction. During their watch on the tree it was probable that all the detectives had remained at some little distance so as not to frighten off anybody approaching it with evil intent. For people living in the country, and familiar with the locality, it should be an easy matter to approach the tree noiselessly in the dark and then get away without being observed. In connection with these theories Green had worked out a plan, which Forrester's commission now enabled him to put into effect.

The murder of George Nevins, and the demand made on Forrester, coming close together, led Green to believe that the "Friends of the Poor," made bolder by past success, were now making a big drive on the rich men of the city. It was more than probable, therefore, that other notices had been sent out, and that almost any night some victim could be expected to approach the tree and leave his payment. This, of course, would also mean a visit by the criminals.

On Wednesday evening, just as dusk was falling, Green dropped off the train, carrying a heavy bundle in each hand. He had carefully studied an automobile road map of the vicinity and found no difficulty in locating the oak tree. Jasper lane sloped away in both directions from a point opposite the tree so that Green could see a considerable distance in either direction. After a careful inspection of his surroundings, to make sure that he was not observed, he swiftly plunged into the heavy undergrowth at the side of the road directly facing the tree.

Green had carefully timed his arrival to give him a few minutes of daylight to arrange his apparatus, which consisted of a small storage battery and a powerful automobile spotlight. He drove a stick into the ground and attached the spotlight to it. The light was so arranged that it could not be seen by anyone passing on the roadway before dark. At the same time the light had a clear space through which to throw its beam directly on the tree when the current was switched on. Green connected the storage battery to the spotlight and tried the switch a couple of times to make sure that it was in working order. Then he sat down beside his apparatus, leaned his back against a tree, and prepared to await developments.

After darkness fell he found his vigil somewhat tiresome. He dared not smoke, nor strike a light of any kind, so it was impossible to even take note of the time. Under such circumstances time seems to stretch to an interminable length and the nerves get on edge. Green at length felt these effects from the waiting game he had started to play.

During his many years on the police force, and since beginning his career as a private detective, his work had been confined to well-lighted city streets. Lately, much of his time had been spent in brilliantly lighted resorts, keeping an appraising eye on the after-business-hours amusements of trusted employees. To step from these places to the thick woods on a dark, still night was something of a change, and as time passed Green was willing to admit it.

He had never before believed that such absolute quiet could be possible. All Nature slept. No chirp of bird voices, or hum of insects, could be heard. There was no sound save the occasional rustling of leaves overhead, the distant and weird call of locomotives on the railroad, and once in a great while the snapping of a twig in the underbrush, or the sound of something dropping through the trees. These were just the ordinary sounds of the woods at night, but to Green's inexperienced ears they might mean anything, and many times one hand shot out to the switch on his lighting apparatus while the other grasped the automatic in his pocket. But each sound had stood by itself, and Green's nervous alertness relaxed as time wore on.

Suddenly Green's ears caught the sound of a stone overturned on the roadway. This was more like the sounds he had been expecting and his body stiffened to attention. A moment later he heard the sound again, a little nearer, and then a third time it came from the road directly opposite to him. To Green it could mean nothing but the cautious footsteps of someone approaching the tree. He continued to listen intently. Sure enough, there was a slight scratching sound in the direction of the tree. This was Green's long awaited opportunity. Abruptly he threw the switch and a broad beam of light made the great trunk of the oak stand out against the black background of the woods.

The sight was not at all what Green had expected to see. He quickly switched off the light and swore volubly yet softly. All that he had discovered was a night-prowling cat in the act of climbing the tree, probably in search of birds' nests.

The discovery that this sound had its source in a common, everyday house cat, greatly relieved the tension on Green's nerves. He readjusted himself to a more comfortable position and for some time paid little attention to the various sounds about him. Gradually, however, he became conscious of a sound that he had not heard before. To Green it appeared something like the whistling of the wind just before a summer thunderstorm, but looking up, he saw that the sky was unclouded and filled with a multitude of twinkling stars.

The sound continued at intervals, growing louder on each occasion, and at last Green realized, with a start, that it was distinctly like a human sigh. In a moment Green's phlegmatic constitution was upset. He became conscious of a slight chill in his spine and a peculiar tingling in his scalp. When, a moment later, he distinctly heard a metallic rattle like a person in heavy chains trying to move about, he swore audibly for comfort and promised himself that if he ever got back to the city alive, he would resign forthwith.

The sound of his own voice relieved him a little, and reason reasserted itself. Neither victims depositing money, nor the criminals who might be seeking it, would be apt to make noises like that. On the other hand, Green had never believed in the supernatural. He ascribed everything to a human agency, and he now argued that for whatever reason the sounds were made, some human being was back of them. He resolved that the next time a sound came to him he would throw on the light.

But that next sound was more uncanny than anything that had gone before, and as Green listened he temporarily forgot about the light. What he heard was the muffled tolling of a bell. The sound rose and fell on the still night; now seemingly close at hand; now floating far away.

Green was sure that it must be very close to midnight, and even though it had been earlier in the evening, it was not likely that anyone would be ringing a church or school bell. Moreover, he was confident that the sound he heard originated in his immediate neighborhood. Gradually the sound of the tolling bell grew fainter and seemed to drift away. Green threw on the switch again. He could see the tree and the space about it clearly, but there was no sign of anyone, and he could detect no movement in the undergrowth. Even the cat had silently disappeared. Green allowed the light to remain on for a minute, while he listened intently, and keenly inspected the scene before him. Then he switched the light off once more and resumed his watch. But Green was recalling certain eerie stories he had heard in years gone by, and there in the dark and silent woods many disturbing doubts besieged him.