The Great Oakdale Mystery. Scott Morgan

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Fred attempted again to interest himself in his book, but in spite of his efforts, his mind wandered from the story, and he repeatedly found himself thinking of Sleuth and the matter they had discussed. There was, of course, a remote possibility that Piper had not made a mistake in fancying the stranger in Oakdale was James Wilson, for whose capture a large reward had been offered; and only for his promise to remain silent Fred might have told his parents. He was inclined to regret that unconsidered pledge. Presently, his eyes drooping, he decided to go to bed, and bade his father and mother good-night.

      In his room he paced the floor, thinking it all over, his perplexity increasing.

      “I can’t understand why that man ran away after asking about us,” he muttered. “That’s what gets me. If I hadn’t been afraid of giving mother uneasiness, I’d have told about it when I first came home. Piper can’t be right, for certainly we don’t know any convicts and jail-breakers.”

      As if his final words had given him a shock, he stopped in his tracks, his lips parted, his face paling somewhat, and for some moments he stood thus, without moving. Presently he resumed his walk up and down the room, his brows knitted, his manner absorbed. At last he stopped and laughed shortly as he thought of Piper pacing the floor in almost precisely that same way.

      “Oh, he’s a joke. I’m going to bed.”

      The strenuous diversions of the day had given him a healthy weariness which he was now feeling, and it did not take him long to undress. He had put out the light when he remembered that his window was still closed, and he turned to open it.

      With his hand on the sash he paused, an electric thrill shooting through his body. Directly beneath his room the light from a lower window shone forth into the darkness, falling upon the dimly seen figure of a man, who, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, was standing where he could look into the sitting-room.

      For some seconds Fred remained rigid, watching the motionless man. In an instant he had become convinced that it was the stranger with whom Hooker had talked, but the baffling hat-brim prevented Fred from seeing the fellow’s face.

      Suddenly, as if becoming aware that someone was near who had no right to be there, the dog barked in the room below. Immediately the man drew hastily back from the border of light and retreated into the darkness.

      In a twinkling Fred Sage was leaping into his clothes. The dog, quieted by a word from Mr. Sage, did not bark again. The deep darkness beneath a tree near the house had enfolded the man.

      Fred did not strike a light. With his hastily donned clothes barely clinging to him, he caught up a pair of rubber-soled “sneakers,” thrust his feet into them, opened the door of his room quickly but quietly, and crept down the stairs. He could hear his father and mother talking, but they did not hear him as he turned the key in the lock of the door and let himself out.

      Quivering with excitement, the boy reached the corner of the house and peered round it. He could see no one, although the tree beneath which the man had vanished was only a short distance away.

      “If I can find him, I’ll demand to know what business he has around here,” thought Fred. “If mother knew, she’d be badly frightened.”

      Summoning all his courage, he stepped out boldly and advanced toward the tree, but when he reached it there was still no living creature to be seen.

      Twice Sage circled the buildings without result, and he became satisfied that the unknown had lost no time in departing.

      “But it’s mighty queer,” he muttered – “mighty queer. I don’t understand it. Perhaps I ought to tell father, but if I do I know mother won’t sleep to-night.”

      Silently though he reentered the house, Spot barked again, and Fred’s father opened the door into the hall.

      “Just stepped outdoors for a minute,” said the boy. “It’s going to be a good day to-morrow, I think.”

      “Oh, is it you?” said Mr. Sage. “Spot barked, and your mother thought he heard something. We had an idea you were abed.”

      “I’m going now. Good-night. Good-night, mother.”

      “Good-night, Fred,” called his mother in response, and Mr. Sage closed the door.

      For more than half an hour Fred watched from his unlighted window. He heard his parents retire, and the light no longer shone forth from the sitting-room. His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and he could see certain objects in the vicinity of the house, but they were all familiar objects, and amid them no strange shadow moved.

      “I’ll have to tell father and mother to-morrow,” decided the boy, as he finally got into bed.

      Again and again during the night he dreamed of the mysterious stranger, and once he awoke panting from a terrific hand-to-hand struggle with the man. It brought him up to gaze once more from the window, through which came the chill air of the autumn night.

      “I’m a fool,” he whispered, his teeth chattering with the cold. “I’m going to sleep now, and see if I can’t dodge those silly dreams. Confound Sleuth Piper, anyhow! Still, I’d like to know what that man was doing here.”

      CHAPTER VI.

      CAPTAIN QUINN’S MONKEY

      Fred’s parents were regular church attendants, and Fred himself rarely failed to appear with them at morning service on the Sabbath day. It must be regretfully confessed that church had little attraction for many of the youths of Oakdale, and among those who seldom sat through a sermon was Roy Hooker.

      Roy, however, was waiting on the sidewalk in front of the church when Fred came out. It was a mild, sunny day, and the outside world looked most attractive. In response to a covert signal from Hooker, Sage joined him.

      “Come for a walk, old man,” invited Roy. “Gee! you must be dopey, sitting in that dark old church and listening to a dry sermon.”

      “I did get a bit sleepy,” Fred confessed. “You’re not going to walk far, are you?”

      “Oh, you can suit yourself about that. What time do you have dinner?”

      “Around two o’clock.”

      “That will give us a couple of hours. It’s mighty pokey loafing around all day Sunday, with nothing for amusement. If you’d only go gunning – ”

      “Not on the Sabbath. Too many fellows do that around here.”

      Fred’s parents had lingered to exchange a few words with some friends, and as they finally came down the walk he told them he was going for a short stroll with Roy.

      “Be home to dinner, surely,” urged his mother.

      He promised, and set off with Hooker, turning down the street. At the square, in the center of the village, they turned on to Lake Street and proceeded eastward, passing the new bank, a small, square building of brick and stone.

      “That makes a great improvement on this street,” commented Fred.

      “Oh, yes,” nodded Hooker; “but it would have looked better had they been able to purchase that little old hut and the land belonging to Aaron Quinn. That shanty, squatting right there almost under the rear eaves of the bank, is a regular eyesore, but I understand СКАЧАТЬ