CHAPTER XVIII

STEPHEN GIVES A CLUE

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."--Matt. v, 7

Away sped the police car, over the country roads and lanes throughout the district towards which the kidnapper's car was believed to have disappeared. The sun shone brightly after the storm of the night before and the heavy fragrance of flowers was in the air. On all sides of the valley were tumbled hills and beyond the hills rose the rugged tops of mountain ranges, bristling with interminable forest.

Up and down and round about these hills they made their search, keeping always to the east. Passers-by were stopped and questioned. Deserted log cabins and prosperous farm houses were visited. Again and again some member of the party got out of the car and proceeded afoot into some thicket or along a little-used path to ask questions of people living off from the main roads.

Everywhere the answer was the same. No one had seen a strange car of any description passing, or stopping, at an unusual hour or in any manner to attract attention. The search was discouraging, even to the optimistic Chief.

Just as they were on the verge of turning back and beginning their search all over again, a little more to the south, they came upon a farmer sitting in his wagon, waiting by the side of the road to let their car go by. He was tall and gaunt, and he wore a broad slouch hat, pushed sufficiently back from his face for his features to be distinguishable. He smiled genially and called, "Howdy, Chief," as the police car whizzed by.

"Want to stop, Chief," asked the driver, instantly changing gear.

"Yes," answered the Chief. "Turn around. I know that fellow. He's got something under his hat that he wants to gossip about or he wouldn't have been so cordial. Don't scare his mare, now. She's skittish. That's why he pulled off the road. It's all right. He sees we're coming back. He'll wait."

"How are you, Mr. Tyler," called the Chief as he came again within speaking distance of the farmer. "I wonder if you can give us a little help in a search we're making for a kidnapped child."

"Well, now, mebbe I kin," drawled the farmer. "War hit a leetle, sawed-off feller with big, starey blue eyes an' yaller haar?"

Harris Wayne groaned. His heart had throbbed with hope at the man's first words. Now he leaned back in his seat and pressed his hand over his eyes as if he would shut out, if possible the sight of everything in the world but the one face which was ever before him. His baby! Little Doris! What were they doing to her? Where was she? Whose hands were caring for her! Was she crying, sobbing her little heart out, calling constantly for him, or had they drugged her into insensibility? A thousand such thoughts were continually floating before his mind. He gave no heed to the conversation which now ensued between the Chief and the garrulous farmer. A little chap with blue eyes and fair hair meant nothing to him. For him there was now but one child in the whole world, and that one, Doris.

The Chief, however, manifested considerable interest in the farmer's unexpected question. He had had no report of any other lost child. If there was one, he wanted to know about it. He explained that their quest was not for a boy, but for Mr. Wayne's little girl. Of her, the farmer knew nothing but he had a strange story to tell of another farmer, living over by the old turnpike, from whose place he had just come.

"Yo' mind thet creepy kind of a critter what tuk over ole Honeycut's place an' datter, Chief, thet feller by name o' Pete Grimes, thet folks allus thought hed a screw er sumpin' loose in his haid?"

The Chief nodded.

"Well, hit seems he raises hawgs up thar now, stid o' whiskey, an' Rich Craddock driv up ter his place a day er so back ter buy him a shoat. Yo' know Rich got religin and j'ined th' chu'ch a spell back an' he's plumb pious but he shore thought he'd met up with th' ole boy himself when he found this hyar Grimes hed locked the gate behind him and 'lowed ter let him walk pin't-blank inter one o' them sink holes thet section's full of. Rich 'lowed th' feller had gone crazy. Then, whilst they was a-talkin', right spang out o' th' tree over their haids come the skeertest, sickest lookin' leetle feller yo' ever sot eyes on a-tumblin' down alongside them. Rich tol' me he thought fer a minnit thet feller Grimes was a-goin' ter toss thet leetle runt plumb inter th' bog. He seed from the boy's eyes thet he expected sumpin' like thet, too, fer he kind o' aidged erlong to'rd Rich, like es ef he wanted him ter do sumpin'. Rich sed he done some mighty quick thinkin'. An' he wanted ter git out er thet place mighty quick, too. So he jist axed who th' leetle feller war an' when Grimes sed he didn't aim ter keep him an' th' boy commenced ter kind o' shiver, Rich jist peeled out a dollar bill an' sed he'd tote th' young-un home ter pick tater bugs. Now thet jist shows yo' what religion'll do fer a man, becus Rich Craddock hain't got dollar bills ter hire help with, an' him jist losin' a full bar'l o' m'lasses in thet devilish sink hole.

"Anyhow, he gits himself an' th' leetle feller out o' th' dum place an' starts fer home, lickety-split, with the shoat he bought in th' back o' th' wagon an' th' boy a-settin' up on th' bar'l whar Grimes hed pitched him. Rich hed 'lowed ter hev th' boy set up on th' seat along o' him, but he didn't feel ter delay none in thet hell-for-sartain place, so es soon es he war shut of hit, he pulled up an' sed:

"Come an' set up hyar with me, sonny," but thar wa'n't no answer. An' when he looked back, ef thar wa'n't th' boy a-layin' stone-daid in th' bottom o' th' wagon. Co'se he wasn't stone-daid, he jist looked thet-a-way.

"Well, Rich, he driv fer home es ef th' devil war arter him. Him an' his ole woman worked over thet leetle feller the hull night. He war plumb light-haided an' kep' a-talkin' 'bout somebody a-breakin' some baby's arm, an' a-throwin' babies inter a bog an'--"

"Oh, my God!"

The interruption came from Wayne. He had roused from his troubled thoughts sufficiently to grasp the latter part of the farmer's narrative and the possibilities it suggested filled his soul with horror and apprehension.

"Where is that boy now? Still at Craddock's? Have you seen him?"

The Chief shot the questions so rapidly, the farmer was unable to answer them as they came. He was distressed, too, at having his thrilling tale interrupted, though the interest it aroused in his auditors was extremely gratifying.

"Why, ye-e-s, an' ag'in no," he drawled. "Craddock's old woman--"

"You mean Mrs. Craddock?" interrupted their Chief.

"Shore," returned the farmer. "Melindy, she sets a heap on her nussin' an' she says th' boy's nigh crazed es 'tis, an' she won't 'low no one ter ax him much. Es soon es he gits ter talkin' he goes right off his haid an' inter fever ag'in. But he hed a leetle passel o' papers tied 'roun' his waist thet Craddock aimed ter fotch down ter yo' fellers but he hain't hed a minnit ter spare yit ter do nawthin'. He'll be right glad ter show 'em ter yo'-all ef yo' want ter drive out thet-a-way. Yo' know how ter git thar, don't yo'? Yo' go along this hyar road ter th' bend an' then cut through Miller's place an' that'll fotch yo 'out on th' old pike. Frum thar on hit's not mor'n a whoop an' a holler, an' all clar 'goin'."

The Chief thanked his informant, sprang into the car and they started off according to the directions given.

"Why not go right out to that hog farm, Chief, if you know where it is," suggested one of the detectives in the car.

"Not yet," answered the Chief. "We haven't any evidence against the man. I know who he is. I've seen him around town for years. Devilish ugly looking type but I always understood he was harmless. This may all be the result of delirium--fever, you know. The boy may just be rambling, or he may be crazy, himself. We've got to see him before we can take any action. And then, if Mr. Wayne's little girl has been taken to any such place--which I doubt--we'll have to proceed with every caution or some harm will come to the child."

Again Wayne groaned aloud. Every moment they delayed, riding about the country, seemed to increase Doris' danger. He urged the Chief to hurry.

The Chief reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter demanding ransom which Wayne had received that morning. After studying it a minute he said:

"This was written by a man of fair education, not by such a type as Grimes. The fact that he was stopping at the Mansion House, according to the handwriting we found on the register, seems to indicate that he is a stranger to these parts and would therefore not know anything about Grimes. I understand he is a pretty disagreeable person and shuns acquaintances. But we can't afford to overlook any chance, however remote. That's why I'm going up to the Craddock place. If what the boy says warrants it, we'll institute some inquiries around the hotel as to whether or not Grimes was seen about the place by anyone during the past week. If he was, and we can link him up with this man Bailey, as he calls himself, then we'll have something to work on. Meanwhile," he turned to Wayne, "you've got until to-morrow noon to meet the terms of the ransom."

"Well don't you think, Chief," Wayne urged, "that it would be wise for me to get word to them that I am willing to meet their demands, so as to ensure the baby's safety?"

"I wouldn't advise it--at least not yet," the Chief replied. "There'll be time enough this evening if you want to do it."

Waiting was torture for Wayne, but he strove to control his nerves and to look at the situation from the detective's viewpoint.

The story they had heard from their loquacious informant was corroborated by Richard Craddock when they reached his farm. The boy, he said, was very, very ill and might, or might not rally enough at their entrance to answer questions. His wife, a kind-hearted, motherly person, who went out nursing whenever her services were required, was caring for the child as well as the average rural practitioner could do, and she, too, thought it unlikely that the boy could be roused sufficiently to give them any intelligent information.

But the slight stir of their entrance made him open his eyes and look at them at first with terror, then with something akin to pleasure.

"I knowed--knew--hit was a mistake," he murmured, looking straight into the eyes of Wayne. "I thought--mebbe--she'd send--you." Then he sighed as if with satisfaction and closed his eyes, apparently to sleep. But after a moment it was noticed that two great tear-drops were slowly making their way from under the transparent lids and coursing down the sick boy's cheeks. Mrs. Craddock stepped forward and gently wiped them away. "Mollie--" murmured the boy. "Mollie and--the--children--the babies--." Mrs. Craddock laid her fingers upon his pulse.

"Hit's a sin an' a shame ter bother him with questions," she said. "Cain't ye wait til termorrer? He'll be better then."

"I'll tell you what," said the Chief, in a low tone to Mrs. Craddock. "I'll have someone from my office stay right here the rest of the day and through the night, and you must do your best to get him in condition to answer a few questions before daybreak. This gentleman, here, Mr. Wayne,----"

"Oh, howdy, Mr. Wayne," interrupted the farmer's wife, in some confusion that so distinguished a person should be in her humble home, "I thought I'd seed yore face afore. Won't yo' set?"

She pushed a chair forward but Wayne shook his head. The Chief continued.

"Mr. Wayne's little girl has disappeared--been stolen. They have given him until noon to-morrow to decide whether or not he will pay them a large sum of money in exchange for the child. If he pays the money they may not keep their word. I am trying to find the child for him before their time limit expires. What I want to learn from this boy is whether or not there are children on the Grimes farm and how he came to be there. I know Grimes has one child of his own. I never heard of any other child being on the premises."

Wayne and the detectives withdrew. As they passed through the kitchen door out onto the porch the farmer came forward with some papers.

"These were tied onto him," he said, "but bein' es I don't read I cain't make nawthin' out o' them."

The letter was unfolded. It was old, torn and begrimed from handling, for Stephen had looked at it often. When it was handed to Wayne, he stared in blank amazement. The signature was that of Wayne's sister who had died following an operation shortly after the letter was written.

"She had planned to adopt him," Wayne explained to the astonished detectives. "He was an orphan. My sister had made all arrangements for his education. Quite a search was made for him but when my sister died it was abandoned. We all thought he ran away to avoid going to school."

"And the picture,--do you know the likeness?" asked the Chief.

"My sister," answered Wayne. "Poor little Stephen! God alone knows what happened to him. He must have recognized me. That's why he spoke as he did. For God's sake, Chief, clear up this tangle. It gets worse every minute. What about those children thrown in bogs, with broken arms and legs? That talk isn't delerium. If this boy is Stephen, and he's kept these means of identification all these years, the boy's got sense. He's trying to tell something. And by heavens, if they've got my baby in any such hellish hole with a crazy fiend in charge of her, I'll--I'll--Oh, my God, my God, this is killing me!" Then, suddenly drawing himself erect he started for the road. "I'll go out there alone, Chief, and I'll search that place myself," he thundered.

Both the Chief and the farmer spoke in protest.

"Yo' cain't git in," said the latter. "There's bogs all about th' place, 'cept, jist in front o' th' gate an' hit is ten foot high, with wire an' glass a-top an' a big bell ter ring. Ef he doan want ter see yo' he'll never open th' gate an' he mought fling th' leetle gal inter th' mire."

"That's right," added the Chief. "You don't want to do anything rash. I'll leave a man here, as I said--Joe, you better stay," he added, turning to one of the detectives with them. "And the instant that boy can talk coherently you get word to me. There's a telephone down at the Murphy place. That's not far from here. Come on, Mr. Wayne. We'll go down and see what Burke has unearthed at the hotel. I'll have him make some inquiries there, as I said I would, about this man Grimes."