The Secret Toll

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.

For a time his eyes were blinded by the recent glare of his light, and the darkness shut him in like a wall. After a while, however, his eyes again became accustomed to the darkness and he could dimly see the gray road in the starlight. At the same moment that his vision had adjusted itself to the darkness, Green was conscious of something like a moving shadow in the roadway before him. He heard no sound, yet he was confident that someone or something had stopped in front of the tree. He did not hesitate this time but instantly threw on his light. It brought out in bold relief the figure of a woman walking up the path toward the tree. She stopped abruptly at the unexpected burst of light and Green realized that she would instinctively turn to see its source, allowing him to see her face.

Indeed, she had already begun that turning movement when Green's vision was suddenly shut off by a broad hand that covered his eyes, and he felt a long arm encircle his body. He struggled desperately, but the person who held him was too powerful. Green was like a child in that vise-like grasp. He felt a precipitate movement of the body of this person, followed by a crash in the roadway. Green needed nothing more to tell him that his lighting outfit had been kicked aside and probably destroyed.

Then Green felt himself unexpectedly propelled out into the roadway by a pair of powerful arms. He lost his balance and fell at full length. The dust rose in clouds about him, momentarily stifling and blinding him. All thought of the supernatural had now been driven from Green's mind. He had plainly seen a woman who could not possibly be a ghostly visitant, and he had been very roughly treated by some other person who could not for one moment be considered as a misty, disembodied spirit. Green scrambled to his feet, pulling out his automatic as he did so, and stared about him. As far as the darkness would permit his gaze to penetrate Green could see no strange forms or movement anywhere, and the silence of the woods was unbroken. Whoever had been there had made good their escape during the time Green was stretched in the road.

Green stood with his back toward the tree. Glancing warily in all directions he slowly turned to face it. Then, as he looked toward the tree he became aware of a white, or greenish-white, misty glow that seemed to come from it. Gradually this light increased until he seemed to be able to dimly make out the small hole in the tree. Suddenly a more pronounced mass of light appeared. It was not a bright light; simply a hazy, greenish glow in the darkness, though it seemed to flame and smoke in a weird, peculiar manner. Green remembered having read or heard somewhere that specter forms were supposed to emit just such a light. While he stared, wild-eyed and shaking, the light apparently took the form of a hand pointing at him. And as he continued to look in petrified amazement Green realized that it was a hand – a flaming, smoking, ghastly hand. And then he saw also that the hand was slowly turning. At last he could perceive quite distinctly that the flaming hand was pointing in the direction from which he had come.

Green had had enough. He took the hint and started down the road as fast as his legs could carry him.

CHAPTER VII – SPIRIT CLUES

While driving down from the North Shore, Forrester decided to ascertain as soon as possible if either Green or the detective bureau had ever heard of the strange rumors regarding the oak tree, for it seemed to him that to the trained detective mind this might offer some suggestion. Forrester did not believe in the supernatural. Such occurrences must be backed by a human agency of some sort, and the knowledge of the existence of these occult manifestations, if carefully analyzed, might lead to the formation of a definite clue.

It was late in the afternoon when Forrester reached the city, but he did not delay his inquiries. He went first to Green's office, finding, of course, that the detective had already left to carry out his plan of night observation, although Green's office girl, trained to secrecy, said that she did not know anything about the detective's movements. Forrester then went to the detective bureau and related his story. Far from attaching any importance to the matter, the men there simply laughed at and ridiculed the story of a haunted tree, ascribing it solely to the well-known superstitious nature of colored people. They assured Forrester that it could have no bearing whatsoever upon the case, and he left the detective bureau more impressed than ever with the idea that the solution of the problem was entirely in his hands. Humphrey's general analysis now assumed greater importance in Forrester's eyes, for the reporter had predicted that Forrester would discover clues unnoticed or disregarded by the detectives. Here was a quick fulfilment of Humphrey's prophecy!

As Forrester closed the front door, after reaching home, his mother and sister hurried out into the hall to meet him. Mrs. Forrester threw her arms around his neck, while Josephine sympathetically took one of his hands in both her own.

"My poor boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Forrester. "Why didn't you tell us you were worried to death?"

"Worried!" echoed Forrester. "Where did you get the idea that I was worried?"

"Oh, Bob," explained Josephine, "we read that article in the Timesthis morning, and people have been calling us up all day."

"Why didn't you tell us you received one of those dreadful notices?" queried Mrs. Forrester.

"Because I didn't think it amounted to anything," answered Forrester. "There was no use upsetting you with a little thing like that."

"A little thing like that!" exclaimed Josephine. "Why they killed poor Mr. Nevins! When we didn't hear anything from you all day we were sure you had met with an accident."

"And the paper said you were so frightened, Bob," added his mother, "that we thought perhaps you had run away and hidden somewhere without letting us know."

"Damn!" exploded Forrester. "Wait until I get my hands on that reporter!"

"Arn't you really frightened?" asked Josephine.

"Do I look frightened?" retorted Forrester. "You mustn't believe all the rubbish you see in the newspapers. Those reporters have to invent half the stuff they write."

"But you did get a notice, didn't you, Son?" asked Mrs. Forrester.

"Certainly, but it's nothing to get excited about," grumbled Forrester. "I'll just put the money in that tree Saturday night and the whole thing will be forgotten. Prentice told me he had had the same experience once, and you see nothing ever happened to him."

"Oh, don't wait until Saturday," protested Mrs. Forrester. "Take it up right now and get the thing off our minds. The decorators are through and before we saw that newspaper article I had made all arrangements to move out to 'Woodmere' Saturday morning."

"Yes," added Josephine, "fix it up right now as Mother suggests, Bob. We would never dare move out into the country with this threat hanging over you, and I do so want to leave the hot city. Practically all our friends are up in the country now."

"Now look here, folks," protested Forrester, releasing himself from the embraces of his mother and sister, and throwing back his shoulders. "I'm the head of this house, and I command you to say nothing more about this matter. Let your arrangements for moving Saturday morning go ahead just as you had planned. I cannot do anything about delivering this money before Saturday night, as these men would not be expecting it until that time. Now, mind what I say and forget about it. It's all nonsense, coddling and worrying about a man who has come safely through the war. The police are working on the case right now and you have absolutely no cause for worry or fear."

"But Mr. Nevins…" began Josephine.

"His case has nothing to do with mine," interrupted Forrester. "He was an old man in the first place; and in the second, he didn't take any precautions."

"But there have been others…" started Mrs. Forrester.

"Now, now, NOW!" exclaimed Forrester. "Don't say another word! You can safely leave this whole matter to me. Now then, Mother, have dinner served at once. I didn't have any luncheon and I'm hungry as a bear."

During dinner Mrs. Forrester referred to the fact that Mr. Nevins' funeral would take place on Thursday afternoon at three o'clock, and after promising to attend, Forrester did not again allow them to refer to the matter in any way. Dinner over, Forrester retired to a corner of the library, ostensibly to read, but though he occasionally turned a page of his book to keep up the pretense, his mind was absorbed in the problem of the "Friends of the Poor" and the working out of a plan of action for the following day.

At eight o'clock Thursday morning Forrester left home in his roadster and went straight to Green's office. The detective had had two nights and a day for investigation, and Forrester was anxious to know what facts he might have in his possession before continuing his own researches.

Green was at his desk when Forrester entered the office, and the young man noted the detective's dusty clothes, sickly pallor and the shadows under his eyes. Green must have been working hard, Forrester thought, and therefore would have information of importance.

"How-do," grunted Green, without rising.

"Good morning," returned Forrester, drawing a chair up to Green's desk. "I have an idea that you are going to give me some news."

"My God!" gasped Green, with such vehemence that the usual unlighted cigar dropped from his mouth and remained unnoticed on the floor.

"Well," queried Forrester, "what are you so upset about? Did you get a notice, too?"

"I've been through hell," groaned Green. "Ain't been to bed all night. Couldn't eat any breakfast. Damn Prohibition anyway! What I need right now is a whole goblet o' whiskey!"

Forrester laughed. "I can get that for you if I decide you need it for medicinal purposes, Green. But I should like to hear your story first."

"Couldn't you arrange the drink first, Mr. Forrester?" pleaded Green.

"No," returned Forrester, "I'd have to take you up to our country house, 'Woodmere', to get that for you, and I'm afraid you couldn't stand the trip until you get this trouble off your mind. Come on, pull yourself together and tell me what has happened."

"I hate to repeat it, Mr. Forrester. God knows, I don't even like to think about it!"

"You make me curious, Green. I'll bet you have got a clue – for it begins to look like you'd had a real fight with those men."

Forrester glanced down at Green's dusty clothes.

"Men?" snorted Green. "There ain't no men!"

Forrester gave a startled exclamation and looked at Green in amazement for a moment. The reply was curiously like that which the negro had made to him the day before.

"Mr. Forrester," continued Green, "I've been doin' police and detective work for twenty years. I ain't afraid o' no man livin'. Just show me a bunch o' tough mugs and I'll jump right in and clean 'em up. But I'm damned if I'll ever sit out in the woods at night again with rustlin' leaves, bodiless voices and burnin' hands! No, sir– never again! You don't want no detective to solve this case, Mr. Forrester – you want a spiritualist, or somethin' like that!"

"Look here, Green!" exclaimed Forrester. "You're too old and experienced a man – you've got too much common sense – to believe in stuff like that. Who has been telling you all these things?"

"Tellin' me?" gasped Green. "My God! I seen 'em myself, with my own eyes; heard 'em with my own ears. Nobody don't have to tell me nothin'. I seen it!"

"Mere trickery!" scoffed Forrester. "Someone was playing a joke on you."

"Damn it all!" cried Green, jumping up and pounding a huge fist on his desk. "Don't tell me I didn't see what I seen. I never had no superstition till last night, but believe me! You can tell me any kind o' a ghost story now and I'll swear to it. Take it from me, Sir Oliver Lodge and all them people ain't so cracked as we thought they was. I thought them city detectives was a bunch o' boneheads, but I apologize to 'em now – every one. I tell you, Mr. Forrester, here's a case that'll never be solved. It's some imp o' hell that leaves those notices at people's doors. No wonder they're found asphyxiated when they don't pay. It's coal-gas straight from hell that comes out and suffocates 'em. You'll never catch nobody takin' that money out o' that tree, 'cause you can take my word for it, when you put it in there, a ghostly, flamin' hand reaches over your shoulder and pulls it out again. Believe me, no human eyes is goin' to see the people that gets that money."

"Now look here, Green!" exclaimed Forrester. "I'm willing to admit that something or other has given you a bad scare, and that you've lost your grip. What you need is a good breakfast and some hot coffee. Come on out with me and get your breakfast. You can tell me the whole story while you're eating."

Green mumbled objections, but Forrester continued to urge him until the man put on his hat and accompanied Forrester to a nearby restaurant. There, between gulps of food and the consuming of several cups of hot coffee, Green told his story across the table to Forrester.

At its close, Forrester lit a cigarette and sat in deep thought. To Forrester, Green's original theory that some or all of the "Friends of the Poor" lived near the tree, seemed extremely plausible. Crude as the detective might be, his reasoning in this regard apparently had a sound basis in the weird happenings as related by Joshua, and now confirmed by Green's experience. Combining the theories of both Green and Humphrey, and fitting them in with the negro's story and Green's tale, threw several hitherto unnoticed figures into the limelight. Forrester did not doubt for a minute that the woman revealed by Green's light was the girl referred to by Joshua. If so, then the man who had attacked Green was probably the big negro himself. A third person to be considered was the peculiar negress, said to live in the woods near the tree. Forrester remembered with a start Humphrey's triangulation theory. Here were three prominent figures with which to lay down a triangle. Surely he was making more progress in the quest than any of the detectives. These occurrences might only be indefinite spirit clues, but they pointed accusing fingers at several very definite people.

Though he had little faith in Green's ability as a detective, it was possible that the man's very stupidity might force him to stumble upon worth while clues, as in this instance; clues which Forrester later could make use of in his own deliberations. Thinking along these lines, Forrester decided that he would not allow Green to leave the case, as the man had intimated he would do.

"Green," said Forrester, at length, "you spoke in your office as if you wished to drop this case."

"You bet I do!" returned Green, emphatically.

"That would be foolish," remonstrated Forrester. "There's a good deal of money in it for you, and your reputation won't lose anything if you are on the ground when the case is solved."

"It'll never be solved," affirmed Green, positively.

"Yes, it will," declared Forrester. "I'm going to do it, with your help."