The Ne'er-Do-Well Part 72

"I'm afraid Wade will tell all about the party if we don't stop him."

"Then we'd better hunt him up." Kirk resumed his dressing, while Runnels consulted his watch.

"No. 5 is due in twenty minutes. We'll probably find him at the office."

Together they hastened to the railroad building, Runnels telling all he knew of the tragedy as they went along. Cortlandt's body, it seemed, had been found about daylight by a Spiggoty policeman, who had identified it. Becoming panic-stricken at the importance of his discovery, he had sounded the alarm, then reported directly to the Governor, whose house was close by. It was General Alfarez himself who had informed Mrs. Cortlandt over the telephone of her husband's death. The whole city was alive with the news, the police were buzzing like bees. Rumors of suicide, murder, robbery were about, but no one seemed to know anything definite. Colonel Jolson in his motor-car had just come from Culebra, and Colonel Bland was on No. 5 from Gatun, hence Runnels' desire to be at the station.

"It was suicide," Kirk averred, with conviction. "The man was insane last night, and that accounts for what he said about me.

He's been sick for a long time."

"If those boys will only keep their mouths shut!" Runnels said, anxiously. "There's no telling what these Spiggoties might do if they heard about that row."

"Cortlandt was an American."

"But it happened in Panama, and it would be their affair."

Although it was Sunday, the four young fellows who had taken part in the entertainment on the night before had gathered in the office, and at the appearance of Runnels greeted him eagerly.

Toward Kirk, however, they maintained a disheartening constraint.

The Acting Superintendent began to caution them tersely.

"Boys, there's no use to tell you that we must keep still about what happened last night. Kirk thinks Cortlandt's mind was unbalanced; but whether it was or not, he left a widow, and what went on at that supper must never leak out."

"Why do you think he was crazy?" Wade inquired.

"His actions last night would show it," Kirk answered. "The man must have been out of his mind to believe or to say such a thing."

"You mean, then, that he shot himself?"

Kirk nodded.

"I don't agree with you. I've seen crazy people, but he was as sane as any of us. And I don't believe in secrecy, either. I think we ought to be entirely frank about the matter. The truth never hurt anybody."

"It's a bad business," said Runnels, "and it's something I for one don't want to be mixed up in. I've heard rumors already about some sort of a quarrel at our party, so I'm afraid you fellows have been talking."

Wade acknowledged it recklessly. "Yes, I'll answer for my part, and I'm not going to make any promise of secrecy, either. If that affair had anything to do with Steve Cortlandt's death, it ought to be known, so the man who did it can be made to answer."

Into the office behind them came Ramon Alfarez and two Panamanian policemen, one evidently a sergeant.

"Eh, there you are!" Alfarez cried, as he caught sight of Kirk.

Then he said something in Spanish to the sergeant, who advanced and laid hands upon the American. "You are arrest'."

"What for?"

"Gentlemen, you will be so kind as to geeve the names, yes? The jodge will desire to make inquiries regarding those sopper to Senor Cortlan' las' night."

"What am I arrested for?" Kirk demanded.

"Come! You are arrest'. That is enough."

At that moment the building began to shake and reverberate, as No.

5 rolled in from Colon, bearing John Weeks, American Consul, and Mr. Williams, of St. Louis, in one of the forward coaches. As the two hurried out through the turnstiles, they found the street blocked by a considerable crowd, evidently interested in something quite apart from the arrival of the morning train. But before they could learn the cause, out from the near-by building came Ramon Alfarez, accompanied by several policemen and a group of railroad employes, among whom was Kirk Anthony.

"There he is!" wheezed the consul, clutching at his companion's arm. "Get him now, before his friends." But Williams had been even quicker of eye than his fat guide, and was plunging through the crowd toward his quarry. He thrust the policemen and the curious onlookers aside and, laying hold of Anthony, cried in triumph:

"Well, Mr. Jefferson Locke, I want you."

"h.e.l.lo, Williams! You got around finally, didn't you?" Kirk smiled at him.

A little man in blue uniform was attempting to take the prisoner in charge, but the detective disregarded him.

"It won't do you any good to resist," he went on. "I've come to get you."

Runnels elbowed his way forward with a question.

"Oh, I've got a warrant for him," Williams declared. "What for?

Well, for one thing he embezzled eighty thousand dollars, and I'm going to take him back."

"Eh? W'at is this?" Alfarez bustled into the conversation.

"Embezzle? He is then a t'ief?"

"Exactly. If you're the inspector I'll ask you to make this arrest for me. I believe we're on foreign ground."

"That's right, Alfarez," came the voice of John Weeks, anxious to have a word in the affair. "I'll vouch for Mr. Williams. This chap is a smooth one, but his name isn't Anthony at all, nor Locke, either; it's Wellar; and he's wanted for other things besides embezzlement." Turning his triumphant little red eyes upon the prisoner, he puffed, "Got you, didn't we?"

"I regret you 'ave arrive' so late," smirked Alfarez. "The gentleman is already arrest' for the murder of Senor Cortlan'. He will first answer to that, I a.s.sure you."

Kirk nodded. "Too bad, Williams! I'm sorry you didn't come last night."

They went on down the street, leaving the detective staring and Weeks open-mouthed.

"Cortlandt murdered!" the consul gasped. "Lord! And to think I nourished that viper at my breast."

Williams wheeled and cursed the fat man furiously. It was during the lunch-hour that Ramon Alfarez called at the Garavel home, finding the banker and his daughter still loitering over their midday meal and discussing the topic that had electrified the whole city.

"Ah, Ramon!" the old gentleman began, eagerly. "Be seated and tell us quickly the latest news. A terrible thing, was it not, this death of our good friend? I have been to see his unfortunate widow, but even yet I cannot believe it to be true."

"Yes. A terrible thing! It was only last night that we saw him well and happy."

Although Alfarez was trembling with eagerness to tell his news, he also meant to extract the greatest possible satisfaction from it, and now bent an inquiring glance upon Gertrudis. His look turned to one of malicious triumph as he saw that he was, indeed, the first to bring the tidings of Anthony's arrest; for the girl's acceptance of his suit had by no means wiped out the memory of her momentary preference for his rival, and he had hastened hither straight from the police barracks, delighting in the chance to make her suffer.

"So fine a man," the father was saying. "He was, indeed, my good friend. It is shocking."

"Yes, and to think he should have been killed in this cowardly manner!"

"Killed! Is it believed that he was murdered? Caramba! I supposed he had shot himself. That was the gossip an hour ago." Garavel was deeply affected, and motioned for the dishes in front of him to be removed.

Ramon nodded. "There are suspicious circ.u.mstances, it seems. Last night, after the ball, he had a serious quarrel--one of those American fights, almost. That much is known."