At One-Thirty by Isabel Ostrander (best book series to read .txt) đ
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âNoâno!â Gaunt laughed easily. âYouâre way off, Mr. Wetmore. Itâs true enough that Iâm handling the Appleton affairâor trying toâbut Iâve got a lot more on hand, besides. Some of them are civil casesâfinancial, you know. I wanted the inside details of the Smith, Hitchcock V. Gregory failure purely as a side issue on one of them. By the way, did you know either of the two remaining partners?â
âKnew âem bothâSmith better than Hitchcock, though.â
âWhat was Hitchcock like?â
âLittle, fat man, about forty-five; dressed like a sport; high liver, good fellowâyou know the type. Widower with one son at college, when the crash came.â
âAnd Smith?â
âOh, Smith was just the opposite. Tall and grave and dignified; no sport at all; director in a lot of banks, vestryman of the churchâthat sort. He had a funny walk, come to think of it. Dragged one foot behind himâhurt in a runaway accident, I believe.â
âWhat was his full name? Oh, but, of course, I can look that up. I neednât take any more of your time, Mr. Wetmore.â
âThatâs all right; I know it like my own. It was James Arbuckle Smith.â
âThanks very much. Iâm glad you could give me the details. Itâs saved me a lot of time; although Iâm afraid itâs taken yoursâŠ. By the way, Mr. Wetmore, why donât you have that office clock of yours fixed?â
âClock! Whatâs the matter with it?â
âI just heard it strike eleven, and it isnât a quarter of the hour yet, for my own clock here on the mantel always whirs at the quarters.â
âYouâre too sharp for me. Gaunt. Iâm glad youâre not working on a case against me. Let me know when you are going to start investigating me, and Iâll take to the woods.â
Both men laughed, and Gaunt called:
âWell, donât forget to send me that list of the firmâs customersâŠ. Good-by.â And he resolutely hung up the receiver.
âMiss Barnes,â he continued, turning to his secretary, âthereâs a pile of letters thereânothing important, I think; but youâd better answer them today, please. Iâve got to take a run out in the country.â
He pressed the bell, and, when Jenkins appeared, asked:
âIs Saunders waiting outside with the car?â
âYes, sir.â
âGet my coat and hat, and tell the cook to put up a lunch for Saunders and me, with hot coffee in die vacuum bottle, right away.â
In a few moments, the simple preparations were made, and they started down-town, headed for the Battery and the Staten Island Ferry. Gaunt wished to take the same route as Garret Appleton had, in his nocturnal visit of three weeks before, to that little farmhouse near New Brunswick. Saunders knew the roads well, and they skimmed through Staten Island, then over the ferry to Perth Amboy. Out in the real country once more, they paused by the roadside, master and man, and ate their luncheon together with great satisfaction. Then on again^ until they passed through the sleepy little village of Metuchen and beyond its farther outskirts.
âGo on about a quarter of a mile, then stop at the first house, and ask if the people within know where the Smiths livedâthe James A. Smiths. If they canât tell you, drive on another quarter of a mile, and ask again. Keep on asking until you find someone who can tell you. Then go there.â
âVery good, sir.â^
From the third house, Saunders emerged triumphant.
âItâs a half-mile down the road, sir; the fifth house from here on the left?â
âAll right. Go ahead.â
Saunders drove slowly, and finally brought the car to a stop.
âWell, sir,â he said, rather doubtfully, âIâm sure this is the house the man told me. I counted straight, coming along. But it canât be, because its all closed up, and looks deserted.â
âThat is the house, I think. What is on each side of it?â
âCorn-field on the left, and a big white farmhouse, with red barns and stables set away back from the road, on the right. âCross the way, nothinâ but cow-pasture anâ fields, where rows of somethinâ greenâs been growinâ, as far as you can see.â Saundersâ lack of enthusiasm over a bucolic existence was evidenced by the tone in which he delivered his description.
âWhat is the farmhouse likeâthe one right here, which is closed up, I mean?â
âItâs awful little, but real cozy-lookinâ,â Saunders remarked critically, surveying it. âThe yard is full of flowers, and the house has been repainted lately. Thereâs a little bit of a stable, backâ you could hardly get the car in itâand a vegetable garden and two hen-houses. Thatâs about all.â
âDrive up to the big farm, now; the one with the red bams.â
Saunders obeyed, and they were greeted at the door by a stout, good-natured woman, who vigorously silenced the dogsâ clamor by assailing them with the broom.
âThe men-folks is all out in the fields, gittinâ in the pumpkins anâ winter beets. Weâre reel late with it; but weâve been dretful short-handed this fall, anâ thank goodness there ainât beân what you might call an honest frost, yet!â she rattled oflF, volubly. Then drawing a fresh breath, she asked: âWho air you wan tinâ to see?â
âThe owner of that little farmhouse down there,â Gaunt replied, pointing vaguely in the direction from which they had come.
âSilas owns itâmy husband. Iâm Mrs. Horner. Wonât you git out, anâ set awhile?â The good woman bustled about, setting chairs on the little porch, and emitting an uninterrupted flow of words as she did so. âIâm reel sorry about the house; but we canât let it. âTwouldnât be right. The folks that had it have got a lease on it, all paid up in advance for some months to come, anâ, though theyâve gone away, they may come back, any time. Theyâve left all their furniture in it, anâ put lots of improvements besides.â
Saunders helped his employer from the machine, and guided him to a chair; then, turning to the woman, he laid his hands across his eyes for a moment, significantly. She nodded in quick, compassionate comprehension, and disappeared suddenly into the house, to reappear almost at once with a tray, on which were two glasses and a brimming pitcher of buttermilk.
âThought you might be thirsty after your ride/â she remarked hospitably, as she poured out a glassful, and thrust it into Gauntâs hand, then turned with the tray to the grinning Saunders.
âYou look âs if youâd come a good ways. I was out in one of them sky-hootinâ things onceâ but not any more! We went over a thank-youmaâam the driver wasnât expectinââwe bounced right up in the air! Silas came down on his thumb, anâ sprained it, anâ I bit my tongue clear through. ⊠But about the houseââ
âThis buttermilk is delicious,â remarked Gaunt^ who loathed it. âIt was kind of you to think of it, Mrs. Homer.â
âI just made butter this momin,â she remarked. âBut my cows ainât doinâ so well this fallââ
âAbout the house,â the detective interrupted, doggedly. âA man and his wife named Smith lived there, didnât they?â
âYes. I declare youâre the third party in three days thatâs been here askinâ about them Smiths! Itâs them you want to know about, anâ not the house, a-tall!â
âIt is, Mrs. Horner,â Gaunt acknowledged frankly, with his winning smile. âMy interest in them is a friendly one. I think I knew them years ago, and I wanted to find them again. Was the name James A. Smith?â
âThemâs the very people, I expect!â she exclaimed, her risen suspicious quelled, as much by his manner as his words.
âWas Mr. Smith tall and thin, and did he walk a little lame, sort of dragging one foot behind him?â the detective continued.
Mrs. Homer nodded vigorously. â
âThatâs him! Anâ Misâ Smith was kinder sickly, anâ wore a false front that a child could see through.â y âYes, yes!â Gaunt cried hasdly, while Saunders turned respectfully away, and began to examine his tires with a great show of interest, his shoulders shaking. âThey are the people I am looking for. I canât imagine why they went away, or where.â
âNo more can Silas anâ me,â returned the hostess. âGoinâ off sudden like that, anâ leavinâ no addressâ though, to be sure, they didnât have no mail once in a dogâs age. We didnât know they was thinkinâ of it till the day before they left, when Mr. Smith come up and asked Silas âbout a wagon to take them anâ their trunks to the station. When I went down to take her the evenâs milkâthey bought eggs anâ milk anâ butter anâ chickens from us, anâ hams anâ sausage-meat in the fallâI asked Misâ Smith where they was goinâ anâ when theyâd be home again, anâ all she said was: âWeâve been called away suddenly. I donât know yet when weâll be back.â Their trunks was checked through to New York, Silas says, anâ all the way to the station Misâ Smith kepâ worryinâ âbout missinâ the train, anâ her husband tryinâ to quiet her. âWe ought to have started earlier,â Silas says she kepâ sayinâ. âYou know, James, whatâs at stake! If we donât catch this train, we may miss the steamer. So I guess they was goinâ somewheres by boat from New York, most likely.â
âWhen did they leave?â Gaunt asked.
âTwo weeks ago last Wednesday, on the eight oâclock train.â
âIt seems strange,â the detective commented. âHow long have they been living here? I lost track of them a good while ago.â
âGoinâ on four years.â
âDid they have many visitors?â
âNo. Misâ Smithâs two sisters came out from the city once in a great while, anâ twice in the last few months, a man come out in a big automobile, like yourân, to see Mr. Smith.â
âWhen was the last time he came?â
âJust a week before they left. I guess they was city folks themselves, afore they come out here; for they didnât know much about the country, leastways livinâ like this. Seems âs if they must Ve been reel wealthy, anâ lost their money; for Misâ Smith didnât know a thing about housework, anâ never could learn, no more than Mr. Smith could do gardeninâ. My niece, Ellen Louise âthatâs over to Trenton now, takinâ a course in a business collegeâused to run down every day, anâ clean up, anâ cook their dinner for âem, anâ they had one of Silasâs hired hands twice a week to look after their vegetable garden. Misâ Smith learned, though, to tend her flowers reel nice, anâ she loved âem.â
âYou love them, too, donât you, Mrs. Homer? But let me tell you that your phlox would be hardier if you would plant a purple and white together in one clump, instead of separating it with dahlias and asters.â
âGood land!â Mrs. Homer pushed back her chair, and stared at him. âIâI thoughtââ
âAnd your path is bordered with them. I could not help smelling them as I came up from my carâŠ. But tell me, Mrs. Homer, you say the Smithâs put improvements in the house?â
âYes. For all they lived so simple anâ plain, just like us, they seemed to hev money to spend on anything they wanted. They put a bathroom in when they first come, anâ a little engine in the cellar to pump water up to the tank, anâ enlarged the porch. Lasâ spring they painted the house. Misâ Smith had a lovely pianner, anâ she played beautiful, anâ they had more
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