The discovery Nick Carter made was this:
Where the body had been lying in the room, it had been surrounded by a pool of blood. But, when being dragged across the floor toward the door there had been no dropping of the sanguineous fluid. Then, after crossing the sill, the blood drops became visible and continued irregularly until this spot was reached, where there was quite a good-sized pool!
About this there was certainly something crooked. Blood would not flow plentifully one minute, cease the next, and flow again in that following.
What did he deduce from this?
The deduction was that these blood spots were not the result of the wound that had been inflicted on Mr. Field.
In other words they were placed there.
The purpose for doing so remained for Nick to discover.
The detective followed the tracks in the carpet along the hall. They were not once missing, in fact it seemed as though they had purposely been made very noticeable so that they might be readily followed.
Co-existing with the depressions in the carpet were the spots of blood.
Without once turning aside they led to the top of the back stairs and down those to the floor below. Through the lower hall they went to the rear door and out of this into the grounds.
From the back door was a straight path that led away in the direction of the river.
Down this path the traces were to be seen.
Pausing in the doorway, the detective said:
“I want you to answer me a few questions.”
Barnes returned:
“Go ahead. Call on me for any information that I can give.”
“Has anybody yet followed these tracks here?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I did.”
“Ah! How far did you go?”
“Halfway down the grounds.”
“I suppose, then, that you succeeded in mixing up your tracks with those of the men who had Mr. Field with them?”
“I did not do that. I fancy that even though I am not a detective I am not wanting in common sense.”
“How did you avoid doing so?”
“By walking outside of the path. I thought that in all probability that you would want to examine the tracks, and so did all I could to see that they were kept distinct. I have kept the servants from coming here when they were desirous of doing so.”
“You did well. Few people show as much sense, but usually appear to do all they can to make it difficult, if not impossible, for a detective to get hold of a clew.”
As he said this Nick Carter was moving slowly down the path, taking care not to step upon or in any way obliterate whatever marks may have been there.
The grounds extended toward the river a distance of six or seven hundred feet, in fact nearly to the railroad tracks.
For half this distance the blood drops were visible and then they ceased.
The reason for their so doing was suggested by the marks left by the wheels of a garden barrow, one of those two-wheeled affairs seen in the grounds of the wealthy who employ professional gardeners.
Without a word Nick followed the tracks of the wheels until the limit of Mr. Field’s grounds was reached.
Here the barrow was found.
As might be expected, the inside of it was smeared with blood.
Barnes was a man of a great deal of good, sound, common sense, and he quickly reached and expressed a conclusion.
“From the point where the wheel tracks were seen the body was brought in this barrow to this point.”
“That certainly is what would appear to have been the case. In short, it is as plain as the nose on your face.”
But did this express his own private views?
Let the sequel show.
Barnes said:
“Now, then, it is left to ascertain what disposition was made of the body after this place was reached.”
Passing through the gate that was at the end of the path, they looked around them.
Here ran the ordinary wagon road, and some distance away were the rails of the New York Central.
Nick Carter had eyes for everything.
It was still early in the morning, and not a great many wagons had passed along the road.
Every wheelmark was scrutinized closely, although it was done so quickly that his companion did not think that he had more than glanced up and down the road.
Together they crossed the road, and over the fence, on the opposite side, again saw the blood marks.
The detective, without any show of excitement, said:
“There they are again!”
“Shall we follow them?”
“It is not very material.”
In astonishment, Barnes cried:
“Surely it is material to follow such sure evidence of the body of a man who has been murdered?”
“Who says that Mr. Field has been murdered?”
“I do—the evidence does.”
“Not to me.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes.”
“How can you explain it?”
“I can’t do so yet; but if he was dead, and all the villains desired was his death, why on earth do they remove his body? If you can answer me that, I shall become a convert to your idea.”
“I cannot answer it, and yet he must be dead! Did not Timon say that he could not feel his master’s heart beat?”
“I believe he did say something to that effect, but that does not prove that he is dead.”
“Yet it appears to me to be quite sufficient, when taken in connection with other things.”
“That may be; but, as I said, where is the body? If they merely wanted him dead, their work was done when they accomplished the bloody deed, and they are not going to take the risk of getting away with a dead body unless there is some necessity for it.”
“Perhaps.”
“What is it?”
“He may have recognized them, and they have thought it necessary, he not having been killed by their blows, to take him away.”
The detective smiled.
“Barnes, you are a smart fellow in your line of business, but you are not at home in what belongs to detective work. Had their first blow been ineffective, and they had been recognized by Mr. Field, it would have been far easier for them to have finished their work than taken him with them. Remember, you are then presupposing that they came back with the express purpose of killing your friend.”
“I see it now. Yes, it was a foolish idea on my part.”
Nick laughed and said:
“Come along, and we will see where these tracks lead to.”
Barnes was somewhat abashed by having made such a blunder, and he was silent for some minutes.
He then said:
“How is it about these tracks?”
“How about them in what respect?”
“Did these drops of blood come from Field?”
Without hesitation came the reply:
“They did not.”
“Will you tell me why you can be so positive?”
“You can keep a still tongue in your head?”
“I think so.”
“Then I will show why it is positively true that the blood you see did not come from any wound inflicted on your friend. See that spot of blood?”
“I do.”
“Where is the next one?”
“Right there.”
“How far would you judge it to be removed from the one pointed out?”
“About two feet.”
“Look for the next spot. Do you see it?”
“I do.”
“How far is that removed from the second?”
“About two feet.”
“What is the distance to the next spot?”
“Within a fraction of the distance between each of the others, I should judge.”
“And the one beyond that, and the next, and the next, are they not at nearly equal distances?”
“They are.”
“Well, what does that say to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it possible? Does it not strike you that Mr. Field, if he shed this blood, bled with remarkable regularity?”
“I see it now!”
And he added:
“If blood drops had come from his wound as they carried him along they would have dropped with less regularity. There would have been considerable space where no drop would have been visible.”
“Exactly.”
“Then his body was not carried along here?”
“That does not follow at all.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“You puzzle me.”
“There is no reason for your being puzzled, and you would not be if you had brought to bear the same amount of practical common sense that you take to your business.”
“Explain.”
“Why, as I said, these blood drops do not prove that Mr. Field was carried along here. Yet neither do they disprove it.”
“But, if the villains went so far—no matter what their purpose—to create the belief that he had been carried along here, is it not fair to presume that they did not carry him along here at all?”
“Yes, it is fair to presume so. In fact, to think of the possibility of this does honor to your shrewdness. And yet the presumption would be a bad one to act upon.”
“Why so?”
“Because it is evident to me already that the persons who are engaged in this affair are not common criminals, but men keen, shrewd and with any quantity of brains.”
“Then you think Mr. Field was carried along this way?”
“I do not.”
An annoyed expression came into the face of Mr. Barnes.
He had understood from what the other had said that he really thought that Mr. Field had been brought along here.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“For good and sufficient reasons.”
Barnes saw that the detective did not feel inclined to talk further, and although he would have liked to have the other’s confidence in full he would not risk offending him by asking too many questions or prying into his conclusions and conduct of the case.
The blood spots were followed across a park, and up to a fence that divided it from the grounds belonging to the railroad and covered by their tracks.
Beyond this fence the spots of blood were again found, and continued until the edge of the river was reached.
Every fact and circumstance, however trivial, connected with the trip from the Field house to this point, tended to confirm the detective in an idea that his brain had given birth to.
On the beach he carefully scrutinized the sandy shore in search of some evidence of a small boat having been at this spot.
There was no evidence.
Barnes, however, said:
“It is doubtful if any tracks would be left, for the tide has risen since they have been here.”
The detective nodded.
“Nevertheless, I am sure that no small boat was here. If one had been some track would have survived the effacing action of the tide. But there is a stronger reason than that for being so sure.”
“What is it?”
“Have you used your eyes?”
“I think so.”
“Then you should know as well as I and require no telling.”
“Which proves that my eyes are not as good as yours.”
“Not at all. It would only show that they had not been as intelligently used. Now, then, I believe we traced the course of the villains at first by means of the heel tracks left by Mr. Field.”
“And the blood spots as well.”
“Hang the blood spots! They have nothing to do with it. The marks of his heels were visible up to the point where the barrow was brought into use, were they not?”
“Yes.”
“His body being placed in the barrow these dragging tracks were no longer visible?”
“Right.”
“The barrow was only used until the fence was reached?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if the men were not strong enough to carry Mr. Field before reaching the barrow, but must let his heels drag, why is it that after crossing the fence the heel marks are no longer seen?”
Barnes looked for a minute at the detective in utter silence. Then he slowly said:
“You are certainly a wonderful man!”
“Why so?”
“Because you are able to so quickly see and take a meaning from facts so apparently unimportant that they would escape the attention of an ordinary man.”
“Not if he used the brains which God has given him. If people would only use their wits there would be scant need for lawyers, doctors or detectives.”
As they were going back toward the house, Barnes asked:
“Have you discovered anything which throws light on the mystery?”
“Yes.”
“Can you take me into your confidence?”
“I do not think it would be wise. As the case now stands it will be better for me to keep my own counsel, for you might say something that would tend to divert my mind from the plan already forming in it, which is something I never like to have done.”
“You believe in first impressions?”
“Largely so, for I have very often found them right ones.”
At the fence where the body had been taken out of the barrow the detective and Barnes parted.
The latter returned to the house, while the former remained beside the fence.
One thing that he had noticed here that Barnes had not was that there was a wheel track showing that a wagon had not so very long ago been driven close up alongside of the fence.
After examining this wheel track closely he muttered to himself:
“Here are the tracks made by the wagon in driving up. They show that the wagon contained less weight than when it drove away, for the wheels have not cut as deeply as in departing. This means that Mr. Field’s body, living or dead as the case may be, was transferred to the wagon. Now then, how was this done? Why was it considered necessary to take his body away?”
And he continued:
“As yet that is a mystery. But it can and must be solved. The first thing to do is to find a motive for the assault on Mr. Field. That robbery was not the reason is shown by the fact that nothing was taken. Yet, on the contrary, it would appear that his life was not sought, for if it had been the murderers would merely have made sure of that and left. The taking of his body gives to the case a deeper meaning. He was not killed, is the only conclusion that I can reach under the circumstances, and yet——”
Nick Carter paused.
Never in all his career as a detective had he met with a case in which he had so little foundation on which to base a possible reason for the crime.
Suddenly he uttered a low exclamation.
A new idea had come to him.
It would solve some of the seeming mysteries of the case.
Argumentatively he said to himself:
“Now, then, somebody, for some reason as yet unknown, desires the death of Mr. Field. He or they came here for the purpose of ending his existence. He or they believe it has been accomplished and go away. He or they may have been in league with this Joe Timon—as to which more anon. Contrary: Somebody else turns up and discovers the body of Mr. Field, who may be alive or dead. This second he or they have reason to wish the existence of Mr. Field, to insure which or make his death an uncertainty, he or they carry away his body. Two parties of rascals, with different aims, are concerned in producing this apparently inexplicable state of affairs. I must now see those who are acquainted with the private life of Mr. Field during these last ten years, and ferret out such truths as may tend to prove or disprove this idea.”
Good or bad, right or wrong, he had at last got hold of an idea on which to work, had formed a theory to prove or discover to be worthless.
In taking hold of a case it is positively necessary, if a man is going to do good work, to have a theory or outline in mind on which to work.
This Nick Carter now had.
On reaching the house he called for the servants to question them.
We shall not attempt to follow his questions and their answers, inasmuch as nothing was developed that in any way changed the views he had adopted.
It may, however, be said that the answers he received to his questions left him in doubt as to the part that Timon had taken in the matter. He was not proved innocent, neither was he shown to have had guilty knowledge of the murder or other crime, whatever it was.
Nick now retired to an inner room with Barnes.
“Can you give me some information in regard to the private life of Mr. Field?” he asked that gentleman.
“What do you wish to know?”
“Everything.”
“That is to say, everything that could possibly have any bearing on the case.”
“I mean what I say—everything. In a case like this it is impossible to say what may or may not have bearing on the case. First of all, Mr. Field lived here alone?”
“He did.”
“Was he a bachelor?”
“Practically so for nearly the past two decades.”
“Practically so? What do you mean by such an answer? Was he a married man?”
“Yes. He married seventeen years ago, two or three years after returning to America. Few knew of this marriage.”
“But parted from his wife?”
“Yes.”
“What were the circumstances of that parting?”
“I can answer that only in a general way.”
“Give me the best answer you can.”
“I will do so. As nearly as I can understand it Mr. Field was of a jealous disposition, and thinking he had reason to be jealous of his wife he revealed his feeling to her. She had borne much from him without complaining, but when he spoke to her in this way she quietly informed him that she would no longer remain under his roof unless he asked her pardon. This he refused to do until she had disproved his suspicion. She then said:
“I see that it is best I should go. A woman has no business living with a man who has no confidence in her.” He angrily returned:
“I don’t know but that it is best you should go,” Without another word she turned from him, and a couple of hours later left the house.
“Were they never reconciled after that?”
“No. In fact, they never met.”
“Is the wife dead?”
“I do not know.”
“Did he have any knowledge bearing on the matter?”
“I think not, for it has been his aim for years past to find his wife and her little girl and try to make reparation for his cruelty toward them.”
“He afterward became convinced, then, that he had seriously misjudged his wife?”
“He did.”
“What is your opinion of the matter?”
“That Mrs. Field was a sadly abused woman.”
“And yet you could make a friend of such a man?”
“I did not become acquainted with him until long afterward. I have known him only about six years, and as you can see he was a man much older than myself, and the friendship that existed between us was much like that of father and son. I could not hold any ill will against him for his treatment of his wife, no matter how bad it was, for I knew him only as one thoroughly repentant and desirous of repairing the damage he had done.”
“He was alone in the world?”
“Entirely so for all that I know to the contrary.”
“Who would benefit by his death? In other words, who would become the owner of this property on his decease?”
“I don’t know, unless his wife and child.”
“He had, then, made a will in their favor?”
“I am not sure of that, although I think such is the case.”
At that moment there came a ring at the doorbell.
Both men paused to listen.
They heard the butler go to the door, and they stepped to the head of the stairs.
The door opened and the butler’s voice was heard inquiring:
“What do you wish?”
The reply came in a woman’s voice:
“I want to see Mr. Field.”
In an astonished tone the butler echoed:
“Mr. Field?”
“Yes.”
“That is impossible.”
“Not so, if he is at home, for I am here by his own appointment. He will surely see me. Go and tell him that his daughter is here!”