I dread that scene. It will be a painful one, I know.”
Then he called Zillah and asked her to ascertain if there was such a person as Titus Alden living near Biltz. Also, exactly how to get there.
Next he added:
“The first thing to do will be to get Burton back here” (Burton being Burton Burleigh, his legal assistant, who had gone away for a week-end vacation) “and put him in charge so as to furnish you whatever you need in the way of writs and so on, Fred, while I go right over to see this poor woman.
And then, if you’ll have Earl go back up there and get that suitcase, I’ll be most obliged to you.
I’ll bring the father back with me, too, to identify the body.
But don’t say anything at all about this letter now or my going over there until I see you later, see.”
He grasped the hand of his friend.
“In the meantime,” he went on, a little grandiosely, now feeling the tang of great affairs upon him, “I want to thank you, Fred.
I certainly do, and I won’t forget it, either. You know that, don’t you?”
He looked his old friend squarely in the eye.
“This may turn out better than we think.
It looks to be the biggest and most important case in all my term of office, and if we can only clean it up satisfactorily and quickly, before things break here this fall, it may do us all some good, eh?”
“Quite so, Orville, quite so,” commented Fred Heit.
“Not, as I said before, that I think we ought to mix politics in with a thing like this, but since it has come about so —” he paused, meditatively.
“And in the meantime,” continued the district attorney “if you’ll have Earl have some pictures made of the exact position where the boat, oars, and hat were found, as well as mark the spot where the body was found, and subpoena as many witnesses as you can, I’ll have vouchers for it all put through with the auditor.
And to- morrow or Monday I’ll pitch in and help myself.”
And here he gripped Heit’s right hand — then patted him on the shoulder.
And Heit, much gratified by his various moves so far — and in consequence hopeful for the future — now took up his weird straw hat and buttoning his thin, loose coat, returned to his office to get his faithful Earl on the long distance telephone to instruct him and to say that he was returning to the scene of the crime himself. ? Chapter 4
O rville Mason could readily sympathize with a family which on sight struck him as having, perhaps, like himself endured the whips, the scorns and contumelies of life.
As he drove up in his official car from Bridgeburg at about four o’clock that Saturday afternoon, there was the old tatterdemalion farmhouse and Titus Alden himself in his shirt-sleeves and overalls coming up from a pig-pen at the foot of the hill, his face and body suggesting a man who is constantly conscious of the fact that he has made out so poorly.
And now Mason regretted that he had not telephoned before leaving Bridgeburg, for he could see that the news of his daughter’s death would shock such a man as this most terribly.
At the same time, Titus, noting his approach and assuming that it might be some one who was seeking a direction, civilly approached him.
“Is this Mr. Titus Alden?”
“Yes, sir, that’s my name.”
“Mr. Alden, my name is Mason. I am from Bridgeburg, district attorney of Cataraqui County.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Titus, wondering by what strange chance the district attorney of so distant a county should be approaching and inquiring of him.
And Mason now looked at Titus, not knowing just how to begin.
The bitterness of the news he had to impart — the crumpling power of it upon such an obviously feeble and inadequate soul.
They had paused under one of the large, dark fir trees that stood in front of the house.
The wind in its needles was whispering its world-old murmur.
“Mr. Alden,” began Mason, with more solemnity and delicacy than ordinarily characterized him, “you are the father of a girl by the name of Bert, or possibly Alberta, are you not?
I’m not sure that I have the name right.”
“Roberta,” corrected Titus Alden, a titillating sense of something untoward affecting his nerves as he said it.
And Mason, before making it impossible, probably, for this man to connectedly inform him concerning all that he wished to know, now proceeded to inquire:
“By the way, do you happen to know a young man around here by the name of Clifford Golden?”
“I don’t recall that I ever hard of any such person,” replied Titus, slowly.
“Or Carl Graham?”
“No, sir.
No one by that name either that I recall now.”
“I thought so,” exclaimed Mason, more to himself than to Titus. “By the way,” this shrewdly and commandingly, “where is your daughter now?”
“Why, she’s in Lycurgus at present.
She works there.
But why do you ask?
Has she done anything she shouldn’t — been to see you about anything?”
He achieved a wry smile while his gray-blue eyes were by now perturbed by puzzled inquiry.
“One moment, Mr. Alden,” proceeded Mason, tenderly and yet most firmly and effectively.
“I will explain everything to you in a moment.
Just now I want to ask a few necessary questions.”
And he gazed at Titus earnestly and sympathetically.