OCR Text |
Show The Blind Man's Eyes By . WILLIAM MacHARG EDWIN BALMER Copyright by Little, Brown and Company "SHIELD HIM?" Gabriel Warden, Seattle capitalist, capital-ist, tells hla butler he is expecting a caller, to be admitted without question. He informs ills wife of danger 'that threatens him it he pursues a course he considers the only honorable one. "Warden leaves the house in his car and meets a man whom he tnkes Into the machine. ma-chine. When thfr car returns home, Warden is found dead, murdered, and alone. The caller, a younf man, has been at Wrarden's house, but leaves unobserved. Bob Con-nery, Con-nery, ..conductor, receives orders to hold train for a party. Five men and a girl board the train, the eastern expreaa. The father of the girl, Mr. Dome, Is the person for whom the train was held. Philip D. Eaten, a young man, also boarded the train. Dome tells his daughter and his secretary, Don Avery, to find out what they can concerning him. The two make Eaton's acquaintance. Dome is found nearly dead from a murderous murder-ous assault. A surgeon operates. Dome is revealed as Basil San-totne, San-totne, blind, and a power in the financial world as the adviser of "big interests." Eaton is suspected and questioned. He refuses information infor-mation about himself and admits he was the caller at Warden's house. Eaton pleads with Harriet Santolne to withhold judgment, telling her he is In serious danger, though Innocent of the crime against her father. He feels the girl believes him. Santoine recovers recov-ers sufficiently to question Eaton, who refuses his identity. The financier requires Eaton to accompany accom-pany him to the Santoine home as a semi-prisoner. Eaton meets a resident of the house, Wallace Blatchford, and Mildred Davis, a stenographer, with whom he Is acquainted, ac-quainted, though they conceal the fact. Eaton's mission is to secure certain documents which are vital to his interests. Harriet tells Eaton she and Donald Avery act as "eyes" to Santoine. While walking with her, men in an automobile deliberately attempt to run Eaton down. The girl recognizes one of the men as having been on the train. CHAPTER XII Continued. 10 "To kill him, Harriet? How do you know?" She caught herself. "I I don't know, Father. He certainly meant to injure Mr. Eaton. When I said kill him, I was telling only what J thought." "That Is better. I think so too." "That he meant to kill Mr. Eaton?" "Yes." She watched her father's face ; often when relating things to him, he was aware from his expression that she was telling him only something some-thing he already had figured out and expected or even knew; she felt that now. "Father, did you expect Mr. Eaton to be attacked?" "Erpect? Not that exactly; It was posslhla ; I suspected something like this nJt'ht occur." "And you did not warn him?" The blind man's hands sought each other 03) the coverlet and clasped together. to-gether. "It was not necessary to warn him, Harriet ; Mr. Eaton already knew. Who was In the car?" "Thre men." "Had you seen any of them before?" "Yes, one the man who drove." "Where?" "On the train." The color on Santolne's face grew brighte?. "Describe him, dear." He waited while she called together her recollections of the man. "I on't describe him very fully, Father," she said. "He was one of the poople who had berths In the forward for-ward sleeping car. I can recall seeing see-ing Mm only when I passed through the oar I recall him only twice In that ear and once In the diner." "That Is Interesting," said Santoine. San-toine. "What, Father?" "That In five days upon the train you saw the man only three times." "You mean he must have kept out of sljrht as much as possible?" "Have you forgotten that I asked you to describe him, Harriet?" She checked herself. "Height about five feet five," she said, "broad-shouldered, "broad-shouldered, very heavily set; I remember re-member he Impressed me as being unusually un-usually muscular. His hair was black; I can't recall the color of his eyes ; his cheeks were blue with a heavy beard closely shaved. I remember his face was prognathous, and his clothes were spotted with dropped food. I It seems hard for me to recall him. nd I can't describe him very well." "But you are sure It was the same man In the motor?" "Yes. He seemed an animal sort of person, small, strong, and not particularly par-ticularly Intelligent. It seems hard for me to remember more about him than that." "That Is Interesting." "What?" "That it Is hard for you to remember remem-ber him very well." "Why, Father?" Her father did not answer. "The other men In the motor?" he asked. "I can't describe them. I I was excited about Mr. Eaton." "Thank you, dear. Bring Eaton to me." "He has gone to his room to fix hltnsilf up." "I'll aend for him. then." Santoine pressed one of the buttons beside his bed to call a servant ; but before the hell could ba answered. Harriet got I up i "I'll go myself," she said. She went out Into the hall and closed the door behind her; she waited wait-ed until she heard the approaching steps of the man summoned by San-toiue's San-toiue's bell ; then, going to meet him, she sent him to call Eaton In his rooms, and she still waited until the man came back and told her Eaton had already left his rooms and gone downstairs. She dismissed the man and went to the head of the stairs, but her steps slowed there and stopped. She knew that the blind man's thought In regard to Eaton had taken tome Immense stride; but she did not know what that stride had been, or what was coming now when her father saw Eaton. She went on slowly down the stairs, and when halfway down, she saw Ea-tion Ea-tion In the hair below her. He was standing beside the table which held the bronze antique vase; he seemed to have taken something from the vase and to be examining It. She halted again to watch him then she went on, and he turned at the sound of her footsteps. She could see, as she approached him, what he had taken from the vase, but she attached no Importance to it; It was only a black button from a woman's glove one of her own, perhaps, which she had dropped without noticing. He tossed It indifferently toward the open fireplace as be came toward her. "Father wants to see you, Mr. Eaton," she said. He looked at her Intently for an instant and seemed to detect some strangeness in her manner and to draw himself together; then he followed fol-lowed her up the stairs. CHAPTER XIII It Grows Plainer. Basil Santolne's bedroom was so nearly sound-proof that anything going on in the room could not be heard In the hall outside It, even close to the double doors. Eaton, as they approached these doors, listened vainly, trying to determine whether anyone was In the room with Ban-toine; Ban-toine; then he quickened his s'.ep to bring him beside Harriet. "One moment, please, Miss Santoine," San-toine," he urged. She stopped. "What Is it yon want?" "Your father has received some answer an-swer to the Inquiries he has been having hav-ing made about me?" "I don't know, Mr. Eaton." "Is he alone?". "Yes." Eaton thought a minute. "That Is all I, wanted to know, then," he said. Harriet opened the outer door and knocked on the Inner one. Eaton heard Santolne's voice at once calling them to come In, and as Harriet opened the second door, he followed her Into the room. "Am I to remain, Father?" she asked. "Yes," Santoine commanded. Eaton waited while she went to a chair at the foot of the bed and seated seat-ed herself her clasped hands resting on the footboard and her chin upon her hands in a position to watch both Eaton and her father while they talked ; then Eaton sat down. "Good morning, Eaton," the blind man greeted him. "Good morning, Mr. Santoine," Eaton Ea-ton answered. Santoine was lying quietly upon his back, his head raised on the pillows, pil-lows, his arms above the bed-covers. his finger-tips touching with the fingers fin-gers spread. "You recall, of course, Eaton, our conversation on the train," Santoine said evenly. "Yes." ' "I want to call your attention in a certain order to some of the details of what happened on the train. You had rather a close call this morning, did you not?" "Rather, I was careless." "You were careless?" Santoine smiled derisively. "Perhaps you were in one sense. In another, however, how-ever, you have been very careful, Eaton. Ea-ton. You have been careful to act as though the attempt to run you down could not have been a deliberate delib-erate attack ; you were careful to call it an accident; you were careful not to recognize any of the three men in the motor." "I had no chance to recognize any of them, Mr. Santoine," Eaton replied re-plied easily. "I did not see the car coming; I was thrown from my feet; when I got up, it was too far away for me to recognize anyone." "Perhaps so ; but were you surprised sur-prised when my daughter recognized one of them as having been on the train with us?" Enton hesitated, but answered almost al-most immediately: "Your question doesn't exactly fit the case. I thought Miss Santoine had made a mistake." "But you were not surprised ; no. What would have been a surprise to jou, Eaton, would have been if you had had a chance to observe the men to have found that none of them none of them hnd been on the train !" Eaton started and felt that he had colored. How much did Santoine know? Had the blind mnn received, as Eaton feared, some answer to his Inquiries, which had revealed, or nearly revealed. Eaton's identity? Or was it merely that the attack made on Eaton that morning had given Santoine San-toine new light on the events thai had happened on the train and particularly par-ticularly Eaton guessed on the cipher ci-pher telegram which Santoine claimed to hav translated. i "You assume that, Mr. Santoine,' Fie asserted, "because " He checked himself and altered his sentence. "Will you tell me why you assume that?" "That that would have surprised you? Yes; ,thHt Is what I called you in here to tell you." As Santoine waited a moment before be-fore going on, Eaton watt lied him anxiously. The blind man turned himself on his pillows so as to face Eaton more directly. "Just ten days ago," he said evenly and dispassionately, "I was found unconscious un-conscious In my berth Section Three of the rearmost sleeper on the transcontinental trans-continental train, which I had taken with my daughter and Avery at Seattle. Se-attle. I had been attacked assailed during my sleep some time in that first night that I spent on the train and my condition was serious enough so that for three days afterward 1 was not allowed to receive any of the particulars of what had happened to me. When I did finally learn them, I naturally attempted to make certain deductions as to who it was that had attempted to murder me, and why; and ever since, I have continued to occupy myself with those questions. I am going to tell you a few of my deductions. If you fancy I am at fault In my conclusion, wait until you discover your error." Santoine waited an instant ; Eaton thought It was to allow him to speak if he wanted to, but Eaton merely waited. "The first thing I learned," the blind man went on, "was the similarity of the attack on me to the more successful success-ful attack on Warden, twelve days previous, which had caused his death. The method of the two attacks was the same ; the conditions surrounding them were very similar. The desperate des-perate nature of the two attacks, and their almost identical method, made It practically certain that they originated origi-nated at the same source and were carried out probably by the same hand and for the same purpose. "Mrs. Warden's statement to me of her Interview with her husband a half-hour before his murder, made it certain that the object of the attack on him was to 'remove' him. It seemed almost Inevitable, therefore, that the attack on me must have been for the same purpose. "I found that a young man yourself your-self had acted so suspiciously both before and after the attack on me that both Avery and the conductor in charge of the train had become convinced that he was my assailant, and had segregated him from the rest mm "You Understand Already," Santoine Asserted. of the passengers. Not only this, but and this seemed quite conclusive to them you admitted that you were the one who had called upon Warden the evening of his murder. It seemed likely, too, that you were the only person on the train aside from my daughter and Avery who knew who I was; for I had had reason to believe from the time when I first heard you speak when you boarded the train, that you were someone with whom I hnd previously, very briefly come In contact; and I had asked my daughter daugh-ter to find out who you were, and she hnd tried to do so, but without success." suc-cess." Eaton wet his Hps. "Also," the blind man continued, "there was a telegram which definitely definite-ly showed that there was some connection, con-nection, unknown to me, between you and me, as well as a second or rather a previous suspicious telegram tele-gram in cipher, which we were able to translate." Eaton leaned forward, impelled to speak ; "but as Santoine clearly detected detect-ed this impulse and waited to hear what he was going to say, Eaton reconsidered re-considered and kept silent. "You were going to say something about that telegram In cipher?" Santoine San-toine asked. "No," Eaton denied. "I think you were; and I think that a few minutes ago when I said you were not surprised by the attempt made today to run you down, you were also going to speak of It ; for that attempt makes clear the meaning of the telegram. Its meaning was not clear to me before, you understand. It said only that you were known and followed. It did not say why you were followed. I could not be certain of that ; there were several possible reasons why you might be followed even that the 'one' who 'was following' follow-ing' might he someone secretly Interested Inter-ested in preventing you rrum an attack at-tack on me. Now, however. I know that the reason you feared the man who was following was because you expected mm to attack job. Knowing Know-ing that, Eaton knowing that, I want to cull your attention to the peculiarity peculiar-ity of our mutual positions on the train. You had asked for and were occupying Section Three in the third sleeper, in order I assume and, I believe, be-lieve, correctly to avoid being put In the same car with me. In the night, the second sleeper the car next in front of yours was cut off from the train and left behind. That made me occupy In relation to the forward part of the train exactly the same position as you had occupied before the car abend of you had been cut out. I was in Section Three in the third sleeper from the front." Eaton stared at Santoine, fascinated; fasci-nated; what hnd been only vague, half felt, half formed with himself, was becoming definite, tangible, under the blind man's reasoning. His hands closed instinctively, in his emotion. "What do you mean?" "You understand already," Santoine asserted. "The attack made on me was meant for you. Someone stealing through the cars from the front to the rear of the train and carrying in his mind the location of Section Three In the third car, struck through the curtains by mistake at me Instead of you. Who was that, Eaton?" "I don't know," Eaton answered. "You mean you prefer to shield him?" "Shield him?" "That Is what you are doing, is it not? For, even if you don't know the man directly, you know In whose cause and under whose direction he murdered Warden and why and for whom he is attempting to murder you." Eaton remained silent. In his intensity, Santoine had lifted lift-ed himself from his pillows. "Who Is that man?" he challenged. "And what Is that connection between you and me which, when the attack found and disabled me Instead of you, told him that In spite of his mistake his result re-sult had been accomplished? told him that, if I was dying, a repetition of the attack against you was unnecessary?" unneces-sary?" Eaton knew that he had grown very pale ; Harriet must be aware of the effect Santolne's words had on him, but he did not dare look at her now to see how much she was comprehending. comprehend-ing. "I don't understand." He fought to compose himself. "It is perfectly plain," Santoine said patiently. "It was believed at first that I had been fatally hurt; it was even reported at one time I understand under-stand that I was dead ; only Intimate friends have been Informed of my actual ac-tual condition. Yesterday, for the first time, the newspapers announced the certainty of my recovery ; and today to-day an attack is made on you. They did not hesitate to attack you in sight of my daughter." "But" "You are merely challenging my deductions! de-ductions! Will you reply to my questions? ques-tions? tell me the connection between be-tween us? who you are?" "No." "Come here!" "What?" said Eaton. "Come here close to me, beside the bed." Eaton hesitated, and then obeyed. "Bend over!" Eaton stooped, and the blind man's hands seized him. Instantly Eaton withdrew. "Walt !' Santoine warned. "If you do not stay, I shall call help." One hand went to the bell beside his bed. j Harriet had risen ; she met Eaton's gaze warnlngly and nodded to him to comply. He bent again over the bed. He felt the blind man's sensitive fingers fin-gers searching his features, his head, his throat. Eaton gazed at Santolne's face while the fingers were examining him ; he could see that Santoine was merely finding confirmation of an impression im-pression already gained from what he had been told him about Eaton. Santoine San-toine showed nothing more than this confirmation; certainly he did not recognize rec-ognize Eaton. More than this, Eaton could not tell. "Now your hands," Santoine ordered. or-dered. Eaton extended one hand and then the other; the blind man felt over them from wrists to the tips of the fingers; then he lot himself sink bsck against the pillows, absorbed In thought. "You may go," Santoine said at last "Go?" Eaton asked. "You may leave the room. Blatchford Blatch-ford will meet you downstairs." Snntolne reached for the house telephone tel-ephone beside his bed receiver and transmitter on one light bar and gave directions to have Blatchford await Eaton In the hall below. "You yourself will assume charge of the correspondence of i which I speak, Daughter." (TO BE CONTINUED.) I |