In the Shadow of the Hills by George C. Shedd (the best ebook reader for android txt) 📕

the shriveled brown throat he saw what might have been a thumb-mark. He could not be sure, yet that was his guess.

"He was an old man," Miguel remarked.

"Yes. You should notify his son and also the undertaker, so the body can be taken care of. I'll telephone the latter too when I reach my office."

This Martinez did, informing Saurez's family that the old man had died while apparently asleep at Vorse's, and expressed his sympathy and sorrow.

One feature of the case he instantly perceived; he was released from any obligation to keep silent regarding the old man's declaration. Fortunate was he to have obtained it before Vorse had got wind of his purpose. At the thought of Vorse he arose and locked both front and back doors of the building, pulled down the window shades and turned out the light.

It was almost dark by now. In the darkness he felt safer. Any one passing would suppose him away. Perhaps he should spend the night elsewhere--at the dam, for instance. Again the same shudder shook his frame that he had experienced on seeing the mark on Saurez' throat. Vorse had killed the old Mexican, of that he was convinced. With his tongue made garrulous by brandy and by the presence of his old employer the old man had doubtless related everything that occurred between him and Martinez; and the vulture-like, bald-headed saloon-keeper, recognizing that he had been unconsciously betrayed had immediately acted to close this witness' lips forever against a second utterance.

Martinez himself was in danger. The perspiration dampened his face as he realized that as far as he was concerned the die was cast. He must fling in his fortunes with Weir to the utmost. He would first stand in defense on his right as a lawyer to secure evidence for a client, but if this failed--and what rights would Vorse halt for?--he must depend upon the paper. Once they had that, they would speedily put him out of the way as they had done Saurez. But if they had it not, they would at least hesitate to wreak their vengeance until they could get it into their possession. He must place it in Weir's hands at once, then if questioned refuse to inform them of its whereabouts. Perhaps they would try to seize it some time this night. He stood up, lighted the lamp, saw that all was well in the office and took his hat.

A peremptory knock sounded on the door of the rear room.

"Open up there, Martinez," a voice commanded.

He stole thither, listened.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Never mind. Open this door or I'll pull it down," came in hoarse tones he recognized as Burkhardt's. The man, or men, outside had chosen the rear to force an entrance if necessary, where there would be no spectators. "Jerk it open quick," Burkhardt continued savagely. "We want you." Then again, "We knew you were there, though you kept the place dark. Move lively before I use this ax."

Never did Martinez' mind work more rapidly. Likewise his eyes darted everywhere in search of the object he needed. Then he glided to a decrepit arm-chair and turning it over stuffed the document in a rent in its padded seat, out of sight underneath. Next he filled his pockets with other papers signed by Saurez. Last, he hastily tore open the little telephone book and ran a forefinger down the H's.

"Doctor Hosmer's, hurry," he exclaimed. "Number F28."

Blows were already sounding on the rear door, but the lock was strong and resisted. Of all the persons he knew Janet Hosmer was the only one he could trust to keep her word. And he dare not wait until Weir could come.

"Is this you, Janet? Martinez talking," he said, when he heard her answer. "Listen. I'm at my office; men are trying to break in to get a paper valuable for Mr. Weir's defense. They must not get it. He's to be arrested and tried for murder of the man he killed. You and I know he's innocent. This is a life and death matter. The paper is hidden in the old chair. The men are breaking down the door. I'll get them away long enough for you to come and obtain it. Give it to Weir--at once, to-night, immediately. Promise me you will, promise! My own life probably hangs on it. Return to your house and stay for half an hour and if he hasn't arrived by that time, go to the dam. Thank you, thank you--from my heart! Start now."

The words had tumbled out in an agitated stream, occupying but a few seconds. The panels were splintering in the door now, as the ax smashed a way through. Martinez had no need to look up Weir's number; and it was in a strain of terror and excitement that he waited for the connection.

"See Janet Hosmer at once," he shot at the engineer, followed by the rest of the warning already quoted which had so electrifying an effect upon Steele Weir.

But the words had broken off abruptly. For as the door crashed off its hinges Martinez dropped the telephone receiver and darted for the front entrance, shooting back the bolt and flinging it open. He almost plunged into Vorse who was on guard there.

"Stand still," the man ordered. And Martinez kept the spot as if congealed, for in the saloon-keeper's hand was a revolver with an exceedingly large muzzle.

Burkhardt burst in, ax still in hand, eyes bloodshot with rage. Vorse turned and closed the front door. Then he glanced over the lawyer's table and ran a hand into his inside coat pocket bulging with documents. He glanced through one or two.

"Here's what we're after," said he. "We'll take him to my place where we can quietly settle the matter." His eyes rested on the Mexican with ominous meaning.

"Come along, you snake," Burkhardt growled, seizing their prisoner's arm. "Out the back way--and keep your mouth shut. Don't try to make a break of any kind, if you know what's best for you."

Martinez' yellow skin was almost white.

"But, gentlemen, what does this all mean?" he began, endeavoring to pull back.

"You'll learn soon enough."

"Step right along," Vorse added. "Take him away, Burkhardt, then I'll blow out this light."

With no further word Martinez accompanied his captors into the gloom of the night. They moved in silence through the dark space behind the row of store buildings. The lawyer felt that at least the way was clear for Janet Hosmer.


CHAPTER XV

THE MASK DROPPED

When Janet Hosmer, startled by Felipe Martinez' agitated appeal, turned from the telephone, her single thought was to carry out on the instant his fervid injunction. Something aimed at the engineer and the lawyer was in movement, a plot for the former's arrest and the destruction of evidence necessary to his defense, according to Martinez' quick hurried words; and the Mexican now sought her aid, as she was the only one within reach whom he could trust. That he must call to her showed the desperate nature of the exigency--and he had said lives were at stake!

Haste was the imperative need. As her father was absent, she summoned the Mexican girl from the kitchen, for instinct advised the wisdom of having a companion on this errand; and the two of them, bare-headed and walking fast, set out for the house. Dusk was just thickening to night. No stars were visible. A warm moistness in the air forewarned of rain from the blanket of clouds that had spread at sunset along the peaks. Indeed, a few fine globules of water touched their faces as they came into the main street and hurried along.

Neither girl had observed the automobile, unlighted and moving slowly, that approached the Hosmer house as they emerged. Apparently the driver perceiving them against the lamplight of the doorway and noting their departure thought better of bringing the car to a halt, for he kept the machine in motion and as quietly as possible trailed the pair by glimpses of their figures flitting before an occasional illuminated window. When Janet and her companion turned into the main street where the stores were lighted his task became easier.

The street was peaceful. Janet saw no evidence of the violence or danger indicated by the Mexican lawyer's declaration, but she was too sensible to imagine on that account that peril did not exist. The town was not aware of what had occurred, that was all,--not yet. The chief actors in the conspiracy were still moving stealthily against their intended victims; they had pounced on Martinez and once they had seized the evidence they sought they would arrest Weir. Afterwards the people, as she guessed the matter, would be aroused to create a strong sentiment against the helpless men. It was an atrocious business.

But as yet things were in a lull--and it was during this pause, brief, critical, that Martinez expected her to act. That much she had grasped from his hurried words. She reached his office and halted to listen. No gleam came from the building, nor from the low structure on either side, and across the way all was dark--dark as it had been that night when the assassin's shot had been fired at Steele Weir. Repressing a shudder, she bade the Mexican girl follow her, groped for the door knob, found it and pushed the door open.

Martinez had spoken of men forcing an entrance, so it must have been at the rear. Inside all was pitchy black.

"Juanita, you have a match in your pocket, haven't you?" she demanded, anxiously.

"Yes, Miss Janet."

"Strike it, then."

In the pent stillness of the dark office Janet could hear the Mexican girl fumbling in the pocket of her gingham dress. There came a scratching sound and a tiny flame.

"Be careful of it," she warned. "Now give it to me. And close the door."

Janet lighted the smoky lamp resting on the table, next took it up in her hand. A few papers had fallen upon the floor. The room was still strong with fresh cigarette smoke. Martinez could not have been gone more than five minutes.

And in another five minutes' time too Martinez' captors might be back again!

Holding the lamp aloft she peered about for an old chair, her heart beating rapidly, her lips compressed. But all the chairs, the three or four in the room, were old. Her eyes encountered the Mexican girl staring open-mouthed and scared.

"Take the lamp and keep by me," Janet ordered. "Don't upset it. What are you shaking for, you ninny?"

"I can't help it--and you're so white," the other whimpered.

"Never you mind me; do as I say."

Janet swiftly went from one chair to another, turning them about, upside down, all ways. No paper was hidden in or under any one of them, or indeed was there space capable of holding a document. At last she gave up, gazing about in dismay, dread, tears of vexation and anxiety almost rising to her lids. Only one conclusion was to be drawn: the men who had seized the lawyer had found the paper in spite of his precaution.

She examined the chairs a second time feverishly, for time was flying.

"I can't find it, Juanita, the paper he telephoned me to come and get," she exclaimed.

"Maybe it's in there where he sleeps." And the Mexican girl pointed at the inner door standing barely ajar.

"We'll see."

Janet led the way