The Mark of Cain

“Oh, I am so disappointed! How are things going today?”

“Slowly. But I am holding them back on purpose. I have a new plan, that may help us out a lot.”

But Hoyt wouldn’t divulge his new plan, and when he left, Avice was heavy-hearted. She was more than willing to do anything for Kane that was right, but she recoiled at perjury and deceit. And yet the thought of Kane’s conviction brought her to the pitch of any awful deed.

So, when, the morning after she lost her hope of seeing Fleming Stone, Fibsy came to see her, she welcomed the boy as a drowning man a straw.

“What about that Stone guy, Miss Avice?” he inquired, abruptly.

“We can’t get him, Fibsy; he’s out of town.”

“Yes, he isn’t! I seen him only yesterday, walkin’ up the avnoo.”

“You did! He must have come home unexpectedly. I’m going to telephone him!”

“Do it now,” said Fibsy, in a preoccupied tone. Avice found the number and called up the detective.

“Why, Miss Trowbridge,” he said, after he learned who she was; “I had a telegram from you asking me to cancel the appointment.”

“A telegram! I didn’t send you any!”

“It was signed with your name.”

“There’s a mistake somewhere.”

“’Tain’t no mistake!” said Fibsy, eagerly, as he listened close to the receiver that Avice held. “Tell him to come here now, Miss Avice.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I must ask Judge Hoyt.”

“Here, gimme it!” and the audacious boy took the receiver from Avice, and speaking directly into the transmitter, said;

“’Twasn’t a mistake, Mr. Stone. ’Twas deviltry. Can’t you come right up to Trowbridge’s now, and get into this thing while the gettin’s good?”

“Who is speaking now?”

“Miss Trowbridge’s seckerterry. She’s kinder pupplexed. But she wants you to come, awful.”

“Let her tell me so, herself, then.”

“Here, Miss Avice,” and Fibsy thrust the receiver into her hand, “tell him to come! It’s your only chance to save Mr. Landon! Take it from me!”

Spurred by the reference to Landon, Avice, said, clearly; “Yes, please come at once, Mr. Stone, if you possibly can.”

“Be there in half an hour,” was the quick reply, and a click ended the conversation.

“What kind of a boy are you?” said Avice, looking at Fibsy, half angry, half admiring.

“Now, Miss Avice, don’t you make no mistake. I ain’t buttin’ in here out o’ freshness or impidence. There’s the devil’s own doin’ goin’ on, an’ nobody knows it but me. It’s too big for me to handle, an’ it’s too big for that Duane donkey to tackle. An’ they ain’t no one as can ’tend to it but F. Stone. An’ gee! you come mighty near losin’ him! Why, Miss Avice, when you heard somebuddy wired him in your name not to come here, don’t that tell you nothin’?”

“Yes, Fibsy, it shows me some one is working against Mr. Landon’s interests. And that is what Judge Hoyt has been afraid of all along. I wish he were here.”

“Who? Judge Hoyt?”

“Yes, I promised to have him here when Mr. Stone came. There ought to be a legal mind present.”

“Mine’s here, Miss Avice; and right on the job. My legal mind is workin’ somepin fierce this mornin’ an’ I kin tell Mr. F. Stone a whole lot that Judge Hoyt couldn’t.”

“Fibsy, I don’t know whether to send you away, or bless you for being here.” Avice looked at the boy in an uncertainty of opinion.

“Now, Miss Avice, don’t you worry, don’t you fret about that. You’ll be glad an’ proud you know me, before this crool war is over! an’ that ain’t no idol thret! Bullieve me!”

“Well, Fibsy, if I let you stay, I must ask you to talk to me a little more politely. I don’t like that street language.”

“Sure, Miss Avice, I’ll can the slang. I mean, truly I’ll try to talk proper. It’s mostly that I get so excited that I forget there’s a lady listenin’ to me. But I’ll do better, honest I will.”

Fleming Stone came.

Avice received him alone, except that she allowed Fibsy to sit in the corner of the room.

“I am exceedingly interested in this case,” Mr. Stone said, after greetings had been exchanged; “I have closely followed the newspaper accounts, and I admit it seems baffling many ways. Have you any information not yet made public?”

“No, – ” begun Avice, and then she looked at Fibsy.

The boy sat in his corner, with eager face, almost bursting with his desire to speak, but silent because he had promised to be.

“I know so little of these things,” Avice went on, falteringly; “I hoped to have a lawyer here to talk to you. As a matter of fact, I was advised to send for you by this boy, Terence McGuire. He was my late uncle’s office boy.”

“Ah, the one they call Fibsy, and so discredited his evidence at the inquest!”

“Yes,” said Avice, “but he says he knows something of importance.”

“And I believe he does,” said Fleming Stone, heartily. “I read about his witnessing, and I am glad of a chance to talk to him.”

Fibsy flushed scarlet at this interest shown in him by the great man, but he only said, simply, “May I speak, Miss Avice?”

“Yes, Fibsy, tell Mr. Stone all you know. But tell him the truth.”

“He won’t lie to me,” said Stone, not unkindly, but as one merely stating a fact.

“No,” agreed Fibsy, looking at Stone, solemnly. “I won’t lie to you. You see it was this way, sir, I’ve got the detective instinck, – and the day after the murder, I went to the place where it was at, to look for clues. Miss Avice, she gimme the day off. An’ I found ’em, sir. The Swede woman told me where the place was where – where Mr. Trowbridge died, and right there I found a shoe button.”

“Fibsy,” and Avice looked at him, “why did you tell Judge Hoyt it was a suspender button?”

“I had to, Miss Avice,” and Fibsy’s face looked troubled “you see I said button to him and the ’xpression on his face warned my instinck not to say shoe button. So I switched.”

“Describe his expression,” said Stone, who was watching the boy closely.

“Well, sir, when he said ‘what kind of a buttun?’ he looked as if a heap depended on my answer. An’ when I said suspender button, he lost all interest. Now, maybe he had a int’rest in a shoe button an’ maybe he didn’t. But I wasn’t takin’ no chances.”