CHAPTER XIII
ACCUSED AND ACCUSER
It was perhaps unfortunate that District Commissioner Smith had very recently been transferred from Nairobi for his sins, inasmuch as he knew not the gods of Melindi and cared not to know them.
He was utterly bored by the place, and showed it plainly: he disliked Americans by instinct and training and Hammer saw that the question of his guilt or innocence was of the utmost indifference to his inquisitor.
"Do you plead innocent or guilty to this charge Mr.—er—Hammer?"
The American tried to collect himself, for the charge had struck him like a bolt from the blue. Preposterous as it was, the very absurdity of it shocked him into quiet coolness.
If it was the work of Krausz, as he had conjectured, then he would eventually hold the whip-hand, through the testimony of Solomon and Sara Helmuth; but in the meantime it would do no good to try and bluster out his innocence.
"Not guilty, of course. I trust that you'll note that I gave myself up without making a fight? Does that look as if I was a murderer, Mr. District Commissioner?"
Smith made an entry on the sheet before him, then looked up.
"You'll please bear in mind, Hammer, that you're not here to ask questions, but to answer them. Where were you on the morning of the 14th instant?"
"The 14th?" Hammer thought back desperately—ah, that was the morning of Harcourt's murder!
"I was aboard the Daphne, ill with fever."
"You deny the fact, then, that you were on the wharf that morning?"
"Of course I do! I was brought ashore that day unconscious, and can bring witnesses to prove it."
"Ah!" For the first time Smith began to show a trace of interest. "Their names?"
"John Solomon for one. Miss Sara Helmuth for another, the doctor who attended me, natives——
"Testimony of natives not allowed." The commissioner glanced at his police officer. "Who is this—er—this John Solomon, lieutenant?"
The officer hesitated, for he knew Solomon of old.
"He is a planter, Mr. Smith. His place is about a mile outside town. I would suggest, sir, that he be——"
"Kindly bear in mind that I am conducting this examination, lieutenant."
The latter bit his lip and flushed. It was plain that he had no great love for his superior. The commissioner turned languidly to Hammer.
"Where is this Mr. Solomon?"
"Out in the jungle somewhere—search me. But he'll be in soon."
"Oh, very good! Lieutenant, you will see that he appears. Now, Hammer, what physician—er—attended you?"
"I don't know, but he was the same who signed Harcourt's death-certificate."
"Ah, Dr. Fargo—at present with the Juba at Mombasa. Very good. Well, Hammer, I can't see that you have any case whatever. Cheek, I call it. However, they can settle it at Nairobi, and be blessed. Lieutenant, put the prisoner in the——"
"Look here," Hammer broke out furiously, "I've had about enough of this farce, Mr. Smith! Now you bear in mind that I'm an American citizen. Also that I plead not guilty. You hand out what testimony you have against me or I'll make it hot for you in darned short order; and if I can't I'll bet a dollar John Solomon can!"
The commissioner gazed at him mildly, then shifted his look to his lieutenant. What he saw in the latter's face may have decided him, for with an air of boredom he shuffled the papers before him, fixed on the right one, and nodded.
"Very good. You are probably aware of the fact that according to the death certificate of Mr. Harcourt he died from a stab at the hands of persons unknown, complicated by fever.
"Since that time it has been reported to the authorities at Mombasa that you inflicted the wound, later getting away in the crowd. It is also known that you benefited largely by his death, since by his will you were given ownership of the yacht Daphne. Yesterday, you visited Mombasa, getting away—er—secretly before you could be apprehended."
"See here, Mr. Smith," exclaimed Hammer earnestly, "this charge is absolutely absurd. Not only was Mr. Harcourt my best friend, but I was ill and unconscious at the time——"
"Just a moment—I overlooked that scar on your forehead," broke in the commissioner, looking up from his papers. Hammer put up a hand to the scar which had resulted from the fight aboard the launch, "Yes, that is it. These papers state that—er—it is the result of a blow struck you by Mr. Harcourt as you stabbed him."
"Confound it all," exclaimed the enraged American, "who's bringing all these charges, anyway? Dr. Krausz?"
For answer the commissioner glanced at his police officer.
"You detained those fellows, lieutenant?"
"I did, sir, against their protest."
"Damn their protest, my dear chap! Bring 'em in. Since you persist in going through with this ruddy mess, Hammer, I'll give you all you want of it."
The American asked nothing better, and began to think that the commissioner was not so bad after all, having probably been prejudiced against him from the start. The police officer, with his sergeant and two men, left the room, Hammer watching the door eagerly for their return.
Who were these unknown persons? Whoever they were, he reflected, they had done their work well. The devilish ingenuity of it all was amazing, and as Hammer never doubted that Krausz was behind the thing, he began to score up an ugly debt against the scientist.
Except for the evidence which could be brought by Solomon, Sara Helmuth, and the doctor of the Juba, all of whom would not be suspected by Krausz, the identity of Harcourt's murderer was unknown.
Counting on this fact, Krausz must have worked out the case against Hammer to the last detail—even to that scar on his forehead.
There was no ultimate danger, of course, but that was not the fault of Krausz; he must have reasoned that if Harcourt had disclosed the name of his attacker before he died, it would have set the commissioner after Jenson.
Therefore he had not disclosed it, and therefore it was perfectly safe to make out the case against the American—and with a plausibility which was startling to Hammer himself, certain as he was of disproving the charge absolutely, on the return of Solomon.
Yet, was Krausz so wholly to blame after all? Could he have known those little things, such as the scar, and Hammer's ownership of the yacht? He had been miles away all this time, and while he must have furnished Jenson with letters to the German Consul, in order to get the askaris, the little secretary must have acted on his own initiative in regard to this charge.
Krausz was no saint, but he was a sinner only because of his life-work, his science; he was no plotter in the dark, and the very theft which had brought him here, which had made him bring Sara Helmuth with him as a sop to a guilty conscience, was attributable to the secretary, who was his evil genius. And that Jenson could act on his own initiative had been shown after Schlak's murder.
Yes, concluded Hammer grimly, he had a godly score to settle with Jenson. Solomon could handle Krausz, for he had long since constituted himself the companion of Miss Helmuth, but Jenson was his own peculiar affair. And, askaris or no, he was going to the ruins and get Jenson——
At this juncture the door opened. Behind the policeman entered two of the German sailors from the Daphne, and behind him Adolf Jenson.
Hammer said nothing. Thoroughly master of himself by now, he knew the futility of threats, nor did he want to show Jenson his hand unless it was necessary. But he soon found that it was highly necessary for his own safety.
"You are Adolf Jenson?" demanded the commissioner brusquely.
"Yes, sir," and the secretary, more pallid-faced than ever, let his eyes rest on Hammer's grim face, caught the flame in the American's eyes, and shifted his gaze abruptly.
Hammer remembered that the lieutenant had stated that Jenson had remained only under protest. This, then, was why Solomon had not found him with the askaris in the bush. The two seamen gazed stolidly at the commissioner.
"You came ashore with Mr. Harcourt from the Daphne the morning of the 14th instant, according to your evidence sworn to at Mombasa?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who else was with you in the boat?"
"These two men, sir, as well as two more, who are now in camp with Dr. Krausz, my master."
"State what happened on the wharf."
Jenson licked his lips nervously, but the sight of Hammer under arrest seemed to give him courage. He had a red weal across one cheek, which the American took to be the mark of Sara Helmuth's bullet, fired during the struggle aboard the launch.
"Why, sir, Captain Harcourt had just stepped ashore. I was right behind him, sir, and there was a crowd of Arabs and natives all about for the Juba had just come in, and a number of surf-boats had come ashore from her."
He paused, the telling of the story being plainly distasteful to him. Commissioner Smith nodded his head, reading one of the papers before him.
"The captain was a little ahead of me, for I had turned to see that a man was left in the boat. I saw a man wearing a white burnoose step close to Mr. Harcourt, and the next minute he had drawn a knife, sir.
"Before any of us knew what was happening, he had stabbed Mr. Harcourt. The hood of his burnoose fell off, and I recognized Mr. Hammer there; then the captain grappled with him and struck him. That's the mark over his eye, sir. It was made by a heavy ring that the captain always wore."
Jenson was an accomplished liar, thought Hammer grimly. Harcourt had indeed worn a heavy seal ring. Again the man paused, licking his lips, his face ghastly, and again the commissioner encouraged him with a nod.
"Go on."
"He had the hood on again in a minute, sir, but not before we knew who he was. As Mr. Harcourt fell I tried to reach him, but Mr. Hammer's knife touched my cheek, just here, sir"—and Jenson indicated the red weal under his eye. "Then, before we could do anything more, he had slipped away into the crowd. That's all, I think, sir."
Jenson stepped back toward the door, in evident relief that his story was done with. Except for the two native policemen on the bench, he had the open doorway to himself, since the lieutenant had taken his stand behind Hammer, one hand on his holstered revolver.
The American eyed Jenson grimly enough, but still in silence. The thought that was in his mind, occurred to the commissioner at the same instant.
"Look here, Jenson," said Smith, looking up for the first time, "your story agrees with the facts as brought out by the inquiry at the time, except that no such evidence was then given my assistant, who made the inquiry. I'd like to know why you and these two men, who I see gave their testimony in German, went down to the German Consulate at Mombasa after a week had passed, instead of coming to me on the spot and accusing the murderer?"
"We were frightened, sir," returned Jenson promptly. "Mr. Hammer threatened us a little later on, when he found that we had recognized him. It wouldn't have mattered so much to me, sir, but the two men here are members of the crew, and without their testimony mine would not have been believed, I thought.
"Mr. Hammer threatened to kill them if they said a word, sir. I went to the camp of Dr. Krausz, who sent us at once to Mombasa, and then to Zanzibar, where we produced a number of askaris to guard the camp, as you know, sir."
"Yes, and I've taken that up with Nairobi, by Jove!" Smith seemed to wake into life suddenly. "It's a deucedly funny affair that I have to see German soldiers walk into my district to protect a man! If Mombasa people hadn't agreed to it not one of 'em would have set foot in Melindi, and if they aren't kicked out of here inside of two days I'll hand in my resignation. Confound the insolence of you Germans!"
He glared at Jenson, who cringed abjectly. Hammer, who had only been forestalled by the commissioner's questions in regard to the delay in giving evidence, smiled grimly across the stuffy little room at Jenson, and the smile seemed to discourage the secretary entirely. Shrinking back, he pointed at the American, his voice shrill.
"I want you to protect me, sir! He's threatened to kill me before now, and he carries revolvers——"
"Did you search that man, lieutenant?" asked Smith sharply.
Before the officer could reply Hammer drew the two revolvers from his pocket and laid them on the table, still smiling.
"Kindly observe that they are loaded," he said contemptuously; "also that if I had desired to make any resistance it could have been done very easily."
Smith cast a single glance at his officer, who bit his lip again, for he had evidently forgotten about searching his prisoner for weapons.
The Commissioner forbore to make any observation, however, being plainly highly incensed over Jenson's action in bringing the askaris into his district.
"Look here, my man, I've a deuced good notion to send you after those askaris and ship the lot of you out of here to Mombasa! Confound it, this isn't your bally German East Africa by a long shot, and if you think you can carry things with a high hand in my district, either you or I go, by Jove!"
Jenson did not reply, save by an inarticulate mutter, and shifted his gaze out of the open doorway, the two seamen consistently inspecting the boards of the floor. Smith turned to Hammer, gathering up the papers before him as if his task were done.
"Well, Hammer, I trust you are satisfied that you will get justice done you? And let us hear no more 'American citizen' talk——"
"Is it customary here to allow an accused man to be heard in his own defence?" broke in Hammer quietly. He saw that he had started off badly, and that while Smith did not care a snap about the outcome of the case, he did care about the dignity of his position and the brand of justice which he was there to dispense.
"I'm sorry if I offended you at first, Mr. Smith, but I didn't quite understand the situation and was naturally indignant."
"Why—er—of course, Hammer," assented the other, still with his air of boredom, as he prepared to write. "Anything you may say, of course. No deuced use, though, I'll say frankly: you're bound to go to Nairobi for this thing——"
"Oh, then my accusers will go, too, of course?"
"Naturally," came the dry response. "And under the circumstances I'd advise you to change your plea there, Hammer."
"Thanks," smiled the American. Jenson, uneasy, was darting swift little glances at him, but he paid no heed to the secretary. "But I'd like to go on record as denying the whole affair, Mr. Smith. When does the Juba come in, may I ask?"
"She's due to-morrow night, and you'll go back on her the next morning."
Much as he disliked to show Jenson his cards, Hammer saw that he had no other choice. He did not want to leave on the Juba, and he hoped to delay matters until the arrival of Solomon, with Sara Helmuth.
If only Potbelly, or Omar ibn Kasim, rather, had understood that last signal of his! Surely Solomon could not be so very far away by now.
"You still deny the accusation, then?" the commissioner was asking, with some surprise in his tone.
"Most certainly, sir. Not only do I deny the charge, but through the evidence of Mr. Solomon, Miss Helmuth, and Dr. Fargo of the Juba, who stayed over here, as you are aware, to attend Mr. Harcourt, I am prepared to prove that not only was I unconscious at the time of the attack on Mr. Harcourt, but that I was on board the Daphne.
"If necessary, Roberts, the yacht's steward, can be brought out from England to testify to that fact, since he caught the first steamer home with certain of Mr. Harcourt's personal possessions. Furthermore, through the same evidence——"
Hammer paused, unwilling to lay out his whole hand as yet. The commissioner was staring at him in blank amazement, while Jenson, more pallid-faced than ever, was still looking nervously out the doorway. Smith laughed as the American stopped speaking.
"That's a poor game, don't you know, Hammer!" he said incredulously. "You can't produce your witnesses, it seems, and you're making a play for time that'll do you no good in the end. Now——"
Suddenly Jenson interrupted, coming a pace forward.
"Beg pardon, sir, but if you think it would be a good plan I can get a launch at the wharfs and fetch these other two witnesses of mine, sir, in time to catch the Juba. Their testimony would clinch matters, sir."
"Yes," and Smith nodded, pursing up his lips. "That's a good plan. Go ahead——"
"Stop him!" cried Hammer sharply, as Jenson sidled toward the door. He could not make out the secretary's purpose, but it was clear that Jenson was anxious to get away. "I charge that man with being Mr. Harcourt's murderer——"
"Enough, Hammer," ordered the commissioner coldly. "Another word and you go in handcuffs. Get your witnesses, Jenson, and be back here by to-morrow night at latest."
Furious, barely able to restrain himself, the American saw Jenson flit hastily from the door, leaving his two Germans still on the spot.
From his position he was unable to see the street, and five minutes had elapsed during which time Smith was giving instructions as to the care of the two seamen and preparing his papers, until he ordered Hammer taken to the little corrugated iron prison.
He stopped the officer to order him to get John Solomon as a witness when Hammer heard the sentry outside halt some person.
"See who it is, sergeant," commanded Smith impatiently.
The sergeant went out, but came back hurriedly.
"Mr. John Solomon, sar."
And a moment later the overjoyed American saw the pudgy form of Solomon enter, with the grinning Omar Ibn Kasim at his heels like a faithful watchdog.