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Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
CHAPTER XII.
THE BAITING OF PEGGY M'NUTT
By this time the three nieces were so thoroughly impressed with the importance of the task they had undertaken that more ordinary things failed to interest them. Louise longed to solve the mystery. Beth wanted to punish the wrongdoers. Patsy yearned to exonerate the friends whom she imagined unjustly accused. Therefore the triple alliance for detective purposes was a strong one.
By mutual agreement they kept the matter secret from Uncle John, for they realized what a triumph it would be to surprise the old gentleman with proofs of their cleverness. To confide in him now would mean to invite no end of ridicule or good natured raillery, for Uncle John had not a grain of imagination or romance in his nature and would be unable to comprehend the delights of this secret investigation.
Because he was in the dark the significant looks and unnatural gravity of his nieces in the succeeding days puzzled the poor man greatly.
"What's wrong, girls?" he would ask. "Aren't you happy here? Do you miss anything you'd like? Is it too quiet and dull at Millville to suit you?"
"Oh, no!" they would exclaim. "We are having a splendid time, and would not leave the farm for anything."
And he often noticed them grouped in isolated places and conversing in low, eager tones that proved "something was up." He felt somewhat grieved that he was not their confidant, since these girls and their loyal affection for him constituted the chief joy of his life. When he put on his regulation fishing costume and carried his expensive rod and reel, his landing net and creel to the brook for a day's sport, he could no longer induce one of his girls to accompany him. Even Patsy pleaded laughingly that she had certain "fish to fry" that were not to be found in the brook.
Soon the three nieces made their proposed visit to McNutt, their idea being to pump that individual until he was dry of any information he might possess concerning the Wegg mystery. They tramped over to the village after breakfast one morning and found the agent seated on the porch before his little "office," by which name the front room of his cottage was dignified. He was dressed in faded overalls, a checked shirt and a broad-brimmed cheap straw hat. His "off foot," as he called it with grim humor, was painted green and his other foot was bare and might have been improved in color. Both these extremities rested on the rail of the porch, while McNutt smoked a corncob pipe and stared at his approaching visitors with his disconcerting, protruding eyes.
"Good morning, Mr. McNutt," said Louise, pleasantly. "We've come to see if you have any books to sell."
The agent drew a long breath. He had at first believed they had come to reproach him for his cruel deception; for although his conscience was wholly dormant, he had at times been a bit uneasy concerning his remarkable book trade.
"Uncle is making a collection of the 'Lives of the Saints.'" announced Patsy, demurely. "At present he has but three varieties of this work, one with several pages missing, another printed partly upside down, and a third with a broken corner. He is anxious to secure some further variations of the 'dee looks' Lives, if you can supply them."
Peggy's eyes couldn't stare any harder, so they just stared.
"I – I hain't got no more on hand," he stammered, fairly nonplussed by the remarkable statement.
"No more? Oh, how sad. How disappointed we are," said Beth.
"We were depending so much on you. Mr. McNutt," added Louise, in a tone of gentle reproach.
McNutt wiggled the toes of his good foot and regarded them reflectively. These city folks were surely the "easiest marks" he had ever come across.
"Ef ye could wait a few days," he began, hopefully, "I might – "
"Oh, no; we can't possibly wait a single minute," declared Patsy. "Unless Uncle can get the Saints right away he will lose interest in the collection, and then he won't care for them at all."
McNutt sighed dismally. Here was a chance to make good money by fleecing the lambs, yet he was absolutely unable to take advantage of it.
"Ye – ye couldn't use any duck eggs, could ye?" he said, a sudden thought seeming to furnish him with a brilliant idea.
"Duck eggs?"
"I got the dum-twistedest, extry fine lot o' duck eggs ye ever seen."
"But what can we do with duck eggs?" inquired Beth, wonderingly, while
Patsy and Louise tried hard not to shriek with laughter.
"W'y, set 'em under a hen, an' hatch 'em out."
"Sir," said Beth, "I strongly disapprove of such deceptions. It seems to me that making a poor hen hatch out ducks, under the delusion that they are chickens, is one of the most cruel and treacherous acts that humanity can be guilty of. Imagine the poor thing's feelings when her children take to water! I'm surprised you could suggest such a wicked use for duck eggs."
McNutt wiggled his toes again, desperately.
"Can't use any sas'frass roots, can ye?"
"No, indeed; all we crave is the 'Lives of the Saints.'"
"Don't want to buy no land?"
"What have you got to sell?"
"Nuth'n, jest now. But ef ye'll buy I kin git 'most anything."
"Don't go to any trouble on our account, sir; we are quite content with our splendid farm."
"Shoo! Thet ain't no good."
"Captain Wegg thought it was," answered Louise, quickly seizing this opening. "Otherwise he would not have built so good a house upon it."
"The Cap'n were plumb crazy," declared the agent, emphatically. "He didn't want ter farm when he come here; he jest wanted to hide."
The girls exchanged quick glances of intelligence.
"Why?"
"Why?" repeated McNutt. "Thet's a thing what's puzzled us fer years, miss. Some thinks Wegg were a piret; some thinks he kidnaped thet pretty wife o' his'n an' took her money; some thinks he tried to rob ol' Will Thompson, an' Will killed him an' then went crazy hisself. There's all sorts o' thinks goin' 'round; but who knows?"
"Don't you, Mr. McNutt?"
The agent was flattered by the question. As he had said, the Weggs had formed the chief topic of conversation in Millville for years, and no one had a more vivid interest in their history than Marshall McMahon McNutt. He enjoyed gossiping about the Weggs almost as much as he did selling books.
"I never thought I had no call to stick my nose inter other folkses privit doin's," he said, after a few puffs at the corncob pipe. "But they kain't hide much from Marsh McNutt, when he has his eyes open."
Patsy wondered if he could possibly close them. The eyelids seemed to be shy and retiring.
"I seen what I seen," continued the little man, glancing impressively at his attentive audience. "I seen Cap'n Wegg livin' without workin', fer he never lifted a hand to do even a chore. I seen him jest settin' 'round an' smokin' his pipe an' a glowerin' like a devil on ev'ryone thet come near. Say, once he ordered me off'n his premises – me!"
"What a dreadful man," said Patsy. "Did he buy any 'Lives of the
Saints?'"
"Not a Life. He made poor Ol' Hucks fetch an' carry fer him ev'ry blessid minnit, an' never paid him no wages."
"Are you sure?" asked Louise.
"Sure as shootin'. Hucks hain't never been seen to spend a cent in all the years he's been here."
"Hasn't he sold berries and fruit since the Captain's death?"
"Jest 'nough to pay the taxes, which ain't much. Ye see, young Joe were away an' couldn't raise the tax money, so Ol' Hucks had to. But how they got enough ter live on, him an' Nora, beats me."
"Perhaps Captain Wegg left some money," suggested Patsy.
"No; when Joe an' Hucks ransacked the house arter the Cap'n's death they couldn't find a dollar. Cur'ous. Plenty o' money till he died, 'n' then not a red cent. Curiouser yet. Ol' Will Thompson's savin's dis'peared, too, an' never could be located to this day."
"Were they robbed, do you suppose?" asked Louise.
"Nat'rally. But who done it? Not Ol' Hucks, fer he's too honest, an' hasn't showed the color of a nickel sense. Not Joe; 'cause he had to borrer five dollars of Bob West to git to the city with. Who then?"
"Perhaps," said Louise, slowly, "some burglar did it."
"Ain't no burglers 'round these parts."
"I suppose not. Only book agents," remarked Beth.
McNutt flushed.
"Do ye mean as I did it?" he demanded, angrily. "Do ye mean as I killed
Cap'n Wegg an' druv 01' Will crazy, an' robbed the house?"
His features were fairly contorted, and his colorless eyes rolled fearfully.
"If you did," said Beth, coolly, "you would be sure to deny it."
"I kin prove a alybi," answered the little man, calming down somewhat. "I kin prove my ol' woman had me locked up in the chicken-coop thet night 'cause I wouldn't split a lot o' cordwood thet were full o' knots." He cast a half fearful glance over his shoulder toward the interior of the cottage. "Next day I split 'em," he added, mildly.
"Perhaps," said Louise, again, "someone who knew Captain Wegg in the days before he came here followed him to his retreat and robbed and murdered him."
"Now ye've hit the nail on the head!" cried the agent, slapping his fat thigh energetically. "Thet's what I allus claimed, even when Bob West jest shook his head an' smiled sort o' superior like."
"Who is Bob West?" asked Louise, with interest.
"He's our implement man, an' hardware dealer. Bob were the on'y one o' the Millville folks thet could git along with Cap'n Wegg, an' even he didn't manage to be any special friend. Bob's rich, ye know. Rich as blazes. Folks do say he's wuth ten thousan' dollars; but it don't set Bob up any. He jest minds his business an' goes on sellin' plows an' harvesters to the farmers an' takin' notes fer 'em."
"And you say he knew Captain Wegg well?" inquired Patsy.
"Better 'n' most folks 'round here did. Once er twicet a year the Cap'n 'd go to Bob's office an' set around an' smoke his pipe. Sometimes Bob would go to the farm an' spend an' ev'nin'; but not often. Ol' Will Thompson might be said to be the on'y friend the Cap'n really hankered fer."
"I'd like to meet Mr. West," said Louise, casting a shrewd look at her cousins. For here was another clue unearthed.
"He's in his store now." remarked McNutt, "Last buildin' on the left. Ye can't miss it."
"Thank you. Good morning, sir."
"Can't use any buttermilk er Dutch cheese?"
"No, thank you."
McNutt stared after them disconsolately. These girls represented so much money that ought to be in his pockets, and they were, moreover, "innercent as turtle doves"; but he could think of no way to pluck their golden quills or even to arrest their flight.
"Well, let 'em go," he muttered. "This thing ain't ended yit."
CHAPTER XIII.
BOB WEST, HARDWARE DEALER
A few steps down the little street brought the girls to the hardware store, quite the most imposing building in town. They crossed the broad platform on which stood samples of heavy farm machinery and entered a well-stocked room where many articles of hardware and house furnishings were neatly and systematically arranged.
The place seemed deserted, for at that time of day no country people were at Millville; but on passing down the aisle the visitor approached a little office built at the rear of the store. Behind the desk Bob West sat upon his high stool, gravely regarding his unusual customers over the rims of his spectacles.
"Good morning," said Louise, taking the lead. "Have you a stew pan?"
The merchant left the office and silently walked behind the counter.
"Large or small, miss?" he then asked.
The girls became interested in stew pans, which they were scarcely able to recognize by their official name. Mr. West offered no comment as they made their selection.
"Can you send this to the Wegg farm?" asked Louise, opening her purse to make payment.
West smiled.
"I have no means of delivering goods," said he; "but if you can wait a day or two I may catch some farmer going that way who will consent to take it."
"Oh. Didn't Captain Wegg purchase his supplies in the village?" asked the girl.
"Some of them. But it is our custom here to take goods that we purchase home with us. As yet Millville is scarcely large enough to require a delivery wagon."
The nieces laughed pleasantly, and Beth said:
"Are you an old inhabitant, Mr. West?"
"I have been here thirty-five years."
"Then you knew Captain Wegg?" Louise ventured.
"Very well."
The answer was so frank and free from embarrassment that his questioner hesitated. Here was a man distinctly superior to the others they had interviewed, a man of keen intellect and worldly knowledge, who would be instantly on his guard if he suspected they were cross-examining him. So Louise, with her usual tact, decided to speak plainly.
"We have been much interested in the history of the Wegg family," she remarked, easily; "and perhaps it is natural for us to speculate concerning the characters of our predecessors. It was so odd that Captain Wegg should build so good a house on such a poor farm."
"Yes."
"And he was a sea captain, who retired far from the sea, which he must have loved."
"To be sure."
"It made him dissatisfied, they say, as well as surly and unsociable; but he stuck it out even after his poor wife died, and until the day of the murder."
"Murder?" in a tone of mild surprise.
"Was it not murder?" she asked, quickly.
He gave his shoulders a quiet shrug.
"The physician pronounced it heart disease, I believe."
"What physician?"
"Eh? Why, one who was fishing in the neighborhood for trout, and staying at the hotel. Old Dr. Jackson was in Huntington at the time, I remember."
The girls exchanged significant glances, and West noted them and smiled again.
"That murder theory is a new one to me," he said; "but I see now why it originated. The employment of a strolling physician would give color to the suspicion."
"What do you think, sir?" asked Patsy, who had been watching the man's expression closely.
"I? What do I think? Why, that Captain Wegg died from heart disease, as he had often told me he was sure to do in time."
"Then what made old Mr. Thompson go mad?" inquired Beth.
"The shock of his friend's sudden death. He had been mentally unbalanced for some time previous – not quite mad, you understand, but showing by his actions at times that his brain was affected."
"Can you explain what became of their money?" asked Louise, abruptly.
West gave a start, but collected himself in an instant and covered the action with another shrug.
"I cannot say what become of their money," he answered.
It struck both Beth and Louise that his tone indicated he would not, rather than that he could not say. Before they had time to ask another questioned he continued:
"Will you take the saucepan with you, then, or shall I try to send it in a day or so?"
"We will take it, if you please," answered Louise. But as he wrapped it into a neat parcel she made one more effort.
"What sort of a young man was Joseph Wegg?"
"Joe? A mere boy, untried and unsettled. A bright boy, in his way, and ambitious to have a part in the big world. He's there now, I believe."
He spoke with an air of relief, and handed Louise the parcel.
"Thank you, young ladies. Pray call again if I can be of service to you," he added, in a brisker tone.
They had no recourse but to walk out, which they did without further words. Indeed, they were all three silent until they had left the village far behind and were half way to the farm.
Then Patsy said, inquiringly:
"Well, girls?"
"We have progressed," announced Louise, seriously.
"In what way?"
"Several things are impressed upon my mind," replied the girl. "One is McNutt's absurd indignation when he thought we hinted that he was the murderer."
"What do you make of that?" queried Patsy.
"It suggests that he knows something of the murder, even if he is himself wholly innocent. His alibi is another absurdity."
"Then that exonerated Old Hucks," said Patsy, relieved.
"Oh, not at all. Hucks may have committed the deed and McNutt knows about it. Or they might have been partners in the crime."
"What else have you learned, Louise?" asked Beth.
"That the man West knows what became of the money."
"He seems like a very respectable man," asserted Patsy.
"Outwardly, yes; but I don't like the cold, calculating expression in his eyes. He is the rich man of this neighborhood. Do you suppose he acquired a fortune honestly in this forsaken district, where everyone else is poor as a church mouse?"
"Seems to me," said Patsy, discontentedly, "that the plot thickens, as they say in novels. If we interview many more people we shall find ourselves suspecting an army."
"Not at all, my dear," replied Louise, coldly. "From our present knowledge the murder lies between the unknown avenger and Hucks, with the possibility that McNutt is implicated. This avenger may be the stranger who posed as a physician and said Captain Wegg died of heart disease, in order to prevent the simple people from suspecting a murder. His fishing was all a blind. Perhaps McNutt was his accomplice. That staring scarecrow would do anything for money. And then we come to the robbery. If Hucks did the murder he took the money, and perhaps West, the hardware dealer, knows this. Or West may have arrived at the house after the mysterious stranger committed the deed, and robbed the two men himself."
"And perhaps he didn't," said Patsy, skeptically. "Do you know, girls,
I'd like to find Joe Wegg. He could put us right, I'm sure."
"Joe!"
"Yes. Why don't we suspect him of something? Or Ethel; or old Nora?"
"Do be sensible, Patsy," said Beth, impatiently.
But Louise walked on a way in silence. Presently she remarked:
"I'm glad you mentioned Joe Wegg. The boy gives me an idea that may reconcile many conflicting suspicions."
"In what way, Louise?"
"I'll tell you when I've thought it out," she replied.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE MAJOR IS PUZZLED
Ethel came frequently to visit the girls at the Wegg farm, and at such times Uncle John treated her with the same affectionate consideration he bestowed upon his nieces, and made her so cordially welcome that the little school teacher felt entirely at her ease. The girls did not confide to Ethel their investigation of the Wegg mystery, but in all other matters gave her their full confidence. Together they made excursions to the Falls, to the natural caves on the rocky hill called Mount Parnassus, or rowed on the lake, or walked or drove, as the mood seized them. But mostly they loved the shade of the pines and the broad green beside the quaint mansion Captain Wegg had built, and which now contained all the elements of a modern summer home.
Once Louise asked Ethel, casually, if she knew what "great trouble" had come to Hucks and his wife in their early life, but the girl frankly answered that the old people had never referred to anything of the kind in her presence.
Finally a telegram announced the arrival of Major Doyle to join the party at the farm. Patsy was in the seventh heaven of delight, and drove Joe over to the Junction to meet her father on the arrival of the morning train.
The Major was a prime favorite with all the party and his coming infused new life into the household. He was the type of educated, polished, open-hearted Irish gentleman it is always a delight to meet, and Uncle John beamed upon his brother-in-law in a way that betokened a hearty welcome. It was a source of much satisfaction to lug the Major over the farm and prove to him how wise Mr. Merrick had been in deciding to spend the summer on his own property; and the Major freely acknowledged that he had been in error and the place was as charming as anyone could wish. It was a great treat to the grizzled old warrior to find himself in the country, away from every responsibility of work, and he promised himself a fortnight of absolute rest, with the recreation of beholding his beloved Patsy as often as he pleased.
Of course, the girl would tell her father about the Wegg mystery, for Patsy had a habit of telling him everything; therefore the cousins decided to take the Major freely into their confidence, so as to obtain the benefit of his opinion. That could not be done the first day, of course, for on that day Uncle John insisted on displaying the farm and afterward carrying the Major a willing prisoner to watch him fish in the brook. But on the following morning the girls surrounded Patsy's father and with solemn faces recounted their suspicions, the important clues they had unearthed, and their earnest desire to right the great wrong that had been done by apprehending the criminal.
The Major smoked his after breakfast cigar and listened attentively. The story, told consecutively, was quite impressive. In spite of his long experience in buffeting the world, the old soldier's heart was still as simple as that of a child, and the recital awakened his sympathies at once.
"'Tis evident, me children," said he, in his quaint way, "that you've shtumbled on the inside of a crime that doesn't show on the outside. Many of the things you mention are so plain that he who runs may read; but I've remarked that it's just the things ye don't suspect in real life that prove to be the most important."
"That is true, Major," commented Louise. "At first it was just to amuse ourselves that we became amateur detectives, but the developments are so startling and serious that we now consider it our duty to uncover the whole dreadful crime, in the interests of justice."
"Just so," he said, nodding.
"But I'm sure Old Hucks is innocent!" declared Patsy, emphatically.
"Then he is," asserted the Major; "for Patsy's always right, even when she's wrong. I've had me eye on that man Hucks already, for he's the merriest faced villain I ever encountered. Do you say he's shy with you girls?"
"He seems afraid of us, or suspicious, and won't let us talk to him," answered Beth.
"Leave him to me," proposed the Major, turning a stern face but twinkling eyes upon the group. "'Twill be my task to detect him. Leave him to me, young women, an' I'll put the thumb-screws on him in short order."
Here was the sort of energetic confederate they had longed for. The Major's assurance of co-operation was welcome indeed, and while he entered heartily into their campaign he agreed that no mention of the affair ought to reach Uncle John's ears until the case was complete and they could call upon the authorities to arrest the criminal.
"It's me humble opinion," he remarked, "that the interesting individual you call the 'avenger' was put on the trail by someone here – either Thomas Hucks, or the timber-toed book agent, or the respectable hardware man. Being invited to come and do his worst, he passed himself as a docther on a fishing excursion, and having with deliberate intent murthered Captain Wegg, got himself called by the coroner to testify that the victim died of heart disease. A very pretty bit of scoundrelism; eh, me dears?"
"But the robber – who do you think he was?" asked Louise.
"That I've still to discover. You inform me that Hucks is eager for money and acts like a miser. I've seen the time I was eager for money meself, and there's not a miserly hair on me bald head. But exceptions prove the rule. I'll watch our smiling Thomas and make a report later."
Within half an hour he was telling Hucks a funny story and slapping the old man upon the back as familiarly as if he had known him for years. He found an opportunity that same day to give Thomas a dollar in return for a slight service, and was amazed at the eagerness with which the coin was clutched and the earnestness of the thanks expressed. It really did seem as if the man was fond of money. But when the Major tried to draw Hucks into speaking of his past history and of Captain Wegg's singular life and death, the old fellow became reserved at once and evaded the inquiries most skillfully.
That night, as the Major strolled in the orchard to smoke his last cigar after all the others had retired to bed, he noticed Hucks leave the back door of the lean-to with a parcel under his arm and pass hurriedly around the barn. After a little hesitation he decided to follow the man, and crept stealthily along in the shadow of the trees and buildings until he found himself at the edge of the berry-patch that was in the rear of the outbuildings. But there he paused irresolutely, for Thomas had completely disappeared.
The Major was puzzled, but decided to watch for the man's return. So he took a position where he could watch the rear door of the house and smoked patiently for nearly an hour before Hucks returned and let himself quietly in.
He said nothing to the girls next day of this mysterious proceeding, but on the following night again took his station in the orchard to watch.
Sure enough, as soon as the house was quiet the old servant came out with a bundle underneath his arm; but this time he led his blind wife by the other hand.
The Major gave a low whistle and threw away his cigar. The night was so dark that he had little difficulty in following the aged pair closely enough to keep their shadowy forms in sight, without the risk of being discovered. They passed around the barn and along a path that led through the raspberry bushes back of the yard. There were several acres of these bushes, and just now they were full-leaved and almost shoulder high. The path wound this way and that, and branched in several directions. Twice the Major thought he had lost his quarry, but was guided aright by their soft footfalls. The ground dipped here and there, and as they entered one of the hollows Major Doyle was startled to observe the twinkle of a dim light ahead. A minute later he saw the outlines of a little frame building, and within this Old Hucks and Nora presently disappeared.
