Jane Carter Investigates Episode One-Hundred and Twenty-Five
I lost no time in telling Mrs. Timms
that Anchor Jim had disappeared.
“Well, of all things!” exclaimed the
housekeeper as she saw the deserted bedroom. “He was here a half hour ago. I
know because I came in while he was sleeping.”
“He must have heard Mr. Mortimer
inquiring about him,” I said. “Obviously he ran away to avoid the interview.”
“Then that means he’s guilty.”
“Not necessarily,” I said, “but I’ll
admit it doesn’t look very good to elude questioning by a representative of the
FBI. What do you suppose he did to have a government man after him?”
“He may have been a gangster.”
“Anchor Jim? He hardly looked the
type.”
“In any event, we’re fortunate to be
rid of him.”
“I wish we could have questioned him,”
I said. “Now I may never learn about that octopus tattoo.”
“You and your tattoo!” scoffed Mrs.
Timms, beginning to strip linen from the bed. “Anchor Jim certainly deceived
me. He seemed such a pleasant sort, and I was sorry for him.”
“I still am,” I said. “The poor fellow
is in no condition to be wandering around. I rather hope Mr. Mortimer overtakes
him soon. Then at least he’ll get the medical attention he requires.”
While Mrs. Timms straightened the
bedroom, I wandered out to the river’s edge. Only a few stars were pricking the
sky, and it was impossible to see very far. There was no sign either of Mr.
Mortimer or the man he pursued.
I returned to the cottage to eat supper
with Mrs. Timms.
“With Anchor Jim gone, I may as well go
home tonight,” Mrs. Timms said. “I can’t leave, though, until I’ve cleaned the
cottage and set it to rights.”
“How much longer will it take?”
“Oh, an hour or two.”
“While I am waiting for you, I may walk
over to Paul Firth’s place,” I said. “I shouldn’t mind seeing Rosie Larkin
again.”
“You’ll be cautious in crossing the
river?”
“Of course,” I told Mrs. Timms. “I
won’t be gone long.”
I washed the dishes for Mrs. Timms and
then set out for the Firth farmhouse. Frogs croaked as I crossed the swaying
bridge, and far upstream I heard the faint chug of a motorboat. Otherwise, the
night was unusually still.
When I emerged from among the trees, I
saw a light glowing in the distance. It came from the Firth house, and I used
it as a beacon to guide me.
I passed the barn, climbed a fence and
entered the yard. The house was dark save for a single light burning in the
kitchen. I could see Rosie Larkin moving about inside.
I knocked on the side door. Through the
window, I observed Rosie freeze as if terrified by the sound. To reassure the
girl I called her name in a loud voice.
Immediately Rosie ran to open the door.
“Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed in
relief. “I was frightened.”
To my surprise, Rosie wore a silk
dress. Pocketbook, hat and gloves lay upon the kitchen table.
“I am afraid I’ve come at an awkward
time,” I apologized. “You were going somewhere?”
“I’m leaving here,” Rosie answered
grimly. She closed the door behind me.
“You mean for good? You’ve found
another job?”
Rosie shook her head. “I’ve been
discharged. He didn’t so much as give me a week’s advance wages, either.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said. “But
you’ll find a better place. You said you didn’t like it here, anyway.”
“I’ve had a wretched time of it. Paul
Firth is such a paranoid person. Why do you think he discharged me?”
“I can’t guess, but I should like to
know.”
“He accused me of prying!”
“How unjust.”
“Well, in a way, I was trying to learn
about things I shouldn’t,” Rosie admitted. “It was that storm cave.”
“Did you get down into it?”
“No, but I tried. Old Paul was gone
this afternoon, and I decided to find out what he keeps hidden underground.”
“The padlock wasn’t locked?”
“Usually it is, but today he forgot. I
got the door open. Just as I started down the steps, he grabbed me by the
shoulder. I was scared half to death.”
“You mean Firth had hidden himself in
the cave?”
“Yes, it was a trick to catch me
prying. He said so himself, Jane. He only pretended to go away, then lay in
wait for me.”
“Did he threaten to hurt you?”
“No, he just told me to get out and
never come back. It wouldn’t surprise me if he leaves here soon himself.”
“Why do you say that, Rosie?”
“Because he’s afraid of his own shadow,
but I don’t blame him for being nervous. This house is being watched!”
As if fearing that unfriendly eyes were
upon her at that very moment, Rosie went to the window and, after peering into
the yard, lowered the blind.
“Twice I’ve seen men hiding in the
wheat field just back of this place,” she confided. “The first time there was
only one, but yesterday I saw three.”
“Are you sure they were watching this
house, Rosie?”
“Oh, yes, they were lying on the
ground. For an hour they scarcely moved.”
“Didn’t you tell Firth?”
“I was afraid to tell him, but I think
he knew already. All day he kept inside the house, and I saw him at the
windows. He was as jumpy as a cat. Another thing—I saw him loading his
revolver.”
“He must fear for his life.”
“I’m sure of it, Jane. Even if he’s
only going to the barn he carries the revolver with him.”
A clock on the shelf above the stove
struck eight times.
“Mercy!” exclaimed Rosie, “I must
hurry, or I’ll never get away before Mr. Firth returns. Excuse me while I run
upstairs for my suitcase.”
“Where is Firth now?” I asked.
“In Greenville, I suppose. He went away
right after supper.”
“Run along and get your suitcase,” I
said. “I’ll drive you into town.”
“It won’t take me long to collect my
things.”
After Rosie had gone, I walked to the
window and rolled up the blind. Across the yard, I could see the dim outline of
the disfiguring mound of earth and cement. What secret did the storm cave
guard? Why was it always kept padlocked?
I went to the foot of the stairs and
called out: “Rosie, I’m going outside for a minute. I’ll come back.”
“All right,” Rosie called back. “Sorry
to keep you waiting, but I still have a few things to pack up.”
I left by the side door and paused on
the porch for a moment. I looked around the yard and surrounding fields. A thin
quarter moon rising over the pine trees gave dim shape to the barn and silo. I
could see no one, but Rosie’s revelation that strange men spied upon the house
made me attentive to danger.
I darted across the lawn to the storm
cellar. As I had fully expected, the slanting door was padlocked. I turned back
toward the house. A clump of lilac bushes some twenty yards from the cave was
moving gently as if stirred by a breeze, yet there was no wind.
I did not pause, but my heart pounded, and an icy current traveled through my limbs. A man was crawling on his hands and knees behind the lilacs.
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