The Secret Toll. Thorne Mabel

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СКАЧАТЬ up the Lake Shore Drive and Sheridan Road. Forrester, however, had become cautious since his experience of the night before. He turned his car west and followed less used thoroughfares as far as Devon Avenue, glancing back from time to time. The few cars which he saw at these times all turned off at various streets before he reached Devon Avenue. Forrester, confident that he was not followed, swung east on Devon Avenue and soon turned into the north bound traffic on Sheridan Road.

      Twice before reaching Jasper lane he stopped his car at the side of the road and pretended to adjust his engine. What he really did, however, was to carefully inspect the cars which passed him so that if he met any of them again they would be easily recognized. But when he turned into Jasper lane it was quite evident that no one had followed or paid any attention to him.

      The surrounding country appeared lonely and deserted at the point where Jasper lane branched off from Sheridan Road. In this locality there were only large estates and vacant tracts of land, all heavily wooded. Jasper lane, which sloped slightly upward as it left Sheridan Road, was an unfrequented byway sometimes used as a short cut to a few large estates that lay along a prominent road farther to the west.

      Forrester figured that two hundred feet would bring him to the crest of the rise before him and he kept his eyes on the left side of the road as he drove slowly along. He did not need any special guide to locate the oak tree, however, for its gigantic form towered above all the other trees in the neighborhood. He turned his car to the opposite side of the road, stopped his engine, and inspected the tree. The trunk, which was fully six feet in diameter, rose to a height of about fifteen feet, at which point it branched into two parts. Forrester's engineering mind took in this detail at once and it occurred to him that the space thus formed would make a roomy and comfortable perch from which to keep a watch over anything that might take place at the tree. He surmised that the detectives who had previously watched the tree had merely concealed themselves in the surrounding undergrowth where clever people, familiar with the locality, might have been able to espy and avoid them in approaching the tree. If at any time he decided to do a little watching on his own account, Forrester concluded that this was the point of vantage which he would occupy.

      Forrester now jumped down from his car and strode across the road to take a closer view of the tree and its surroundings. The tree stood back from the road a few feet, and an open grass-covered space surrounded it for a distance of about ten feet. Beyond this clear space were thick undergrowth and young saplings, and a little farther back the woods began. From the road to the tree was a well-defined pathway. As Forrester approached the tree he found that this pathway wound around it and led off toward the right through the thick woods.

      The opening referred to in the demand he had received was noticeable at once – a hole about a foot high by six or eight inches across. It had probably been caused by some fungus growth or insects eating into the tree and gradually rotting away part of the wood. The opening was about four feet from the ground and Forrester had to stoop slightly to put his arm into it. The space inside was comparatively small. Forrester was under the impression that oak trees were seldom, if ever, affected in this way, but as he felt around, digging his fingers into the rotting wood, there seemed no reason to believe that the opening was other than a natural one. While his arm was still inside the tree, Forrester was startled to hear a voice close behind him, for he had not heard anyone approach.

      "What yo'all doin' dere?"

      Forrester withdrew his hand and turned swiftly to find himself facing a coal black negro. Though Forrester was himself a tall man he found that he had to slightly raise his eyes to look into those of the man before him. They looked each other over for a moment and then the negro repeated his question.

      "What yo'all doin'?"

      "I don't know that that's any of your business," said Forrester.

      "Dat's all right, Boss. Ah don't mean no offense. Dat tree done have a bad name, an' us folks aroun' yere has begun to kinda keep our eyes open."

      "Well," inquired Forrester, "what do you think I'm doing at the tree?"

      "Ah dunno, Boss. Dat's what Ah'm tryin' to fine out."

      There was a slight pause as the two men again looked each other over. To Forrester, the negro, in spite of his size, appeared to be really a harmless individual. Possibly he was a gardener in the vicinity. The negro on his part could see that Forrester was a gentleman, and therefore hardly likely to be one of the supposed blackmailing gang who had made this tree famous for miles around. His changed attitude was clearly apparent in the manner in which he next addressed Forrester.

      "Yo' mus' scuse me, suh, fo' buttin' in on yo' disaway, but mah Missey done tole me to watch eberybody dat hung aroun' dis yere tree. Ah only been doin' mah duty, suh."

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