BUCKY FOLLOWS A HOT TRAIL

Wairarapa Times-Age, 6 April 1939, Page 12

BUCKY FOLLOWS A HOT TRAIL

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

BY

WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE.

CHAPTER X. (Continued). “How's everything?” Bucky asked. “Folks are a lot more friendly. I was at the Pioneers Club. Everybody was for you.” Bucky smiled, whimsically. “I judge Mr Garside was not among'those present.” “He came in while I was there,” Tim said. “No, I wouldn’t say he was exactly one hundred per cent with you. But he deplores lawlessness. He said so. By the way, Mitchell was at the club. Sent his best wishes to you. I had quite a talk with him. Sensible young fellow. I like him.” “I think I wouldn’t talk any more,” Miss Tingley suggested. Nancy Graham came out of the bathroom, where she had been repairing her make-up preparatory to departure. Tim had an attack of conscience. “Have I kept you here?” he asked. “You didn’t wait for me to get back?” He had followed her out into the hall. “Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t leave the room till you came back?” she asked. “I certainly owe you an apology. It must be close to nine.” “Nine-fifteen,” she corrected'. “But I told you not. to hurry—and you didn’t.” A smile in her eyes, and took the sting out of the reproach. “I’m sure sorry. If you’ll let me I’ll take you to the best restaurant in town right now.” She shook her head. “Nico of you, but dinner’s waiting for me at home.” With which she turned and walked towards the elevator. Tim noticed with what perfect rhythm her slender body moved. Bucky was up for the first time and seated in an arm chair by the window. Miss Graham had clothed him in slippers; trousers and dressing gown. The trip across to the window, even when supported by hei’ arm, had been a wobbly one, but he felt well repaid for the effort. Never before had the world looked so beautiful to him. He had stared at blank walls for a week. The sight of a rose hedge, of the green foliage of trees washed clean by a recent rain, filled him with delight. He was surprised at the keeness with which they stabbed his emotions. He said something of the sort to the nurse, who was arranging a footstool and wrapping a blanket around his legs to keep him from catching cold. Nancy looked up and nodded. “I get you. Our eyes are so used to beauty, that we don’t see it. You remember Stevenson's ‘A Poet’s Prayer?” She read in Bucky's eyes a quick surprise and blushed, afraid he would thing she was showing off. “Do I?” he said. “I can tell better when you’ve repeated it.” The girl hesitated, a little annoyed at herself. She considered herself a modern young woman who knew her way around, and she was not given to showing sentiment. Though she wished she had not mentioned the verses, she did not want to make too much of a point of not quoting them. Bucky knew a lot more about the 1937 model in girls than Tim Murphy did, and during the past few days he had done some exploring into the mind of this particular example. Nancy had never volunteered any information of a personal nature, but under the stimulus of questions she had given him a general idea of her father, mother, brothers and sisters. The Grahams were, he guessed, a closely knit family of middle-class Americans. Before taking up the training course, Nancy had been through high school. She was bright as a newly minted dollar. Gay laughter bubbled frequently in her face, took such complete possession of it that the blue eyes almost vanished in mirth. But this was a new side of her. He had not suspected any love of poetry. That it plagued her to have been caught in sentiment he was sure. “I thought Stevenson was dated—didn’t know you young people read him,”, he said. “Only greybeards like you.” she retorted. “But I don’t read him. This stuck in my mind when I saw it years ago.” > Just as Bucky suggested again that she repeat the verses, there camo a knock on the door. Bucky slid a hand under the dressing gown. Under persuasion Murphy had long ago decided his friend was safe in the hospital, and had returned to the ranch, but he had stressed the need of being careful. Nancy walked to the door and admitted Mitchell. He came in, a little hesitantly. “Mr Murphy asked me to come and see you, but perhaps you are not ready for visitors,” he said. “You’re more than welcome. Mr Mitchell," Bucky answered, offering his hand. “I'm celebrating my first day up.” It was Nancy’s custom to walk out of the room when her patients received callers, but she left Bucky with them, only when they were from the CC ranch or when he gave her a nod of reassurance. Now Buckv did not give her the signal. Mitchell was safe, but it occurred to the' invalid that it would do no harm, to find out what imnression the nurse got from the talk. Her keen young brain might pick up something he had missed. Very likely there was nothing to be learned from Mitchell, but any lead was worth trying. Bucky introduced his visitor to the girl. “Have you decided to settle in Toltec”” Cameron asked. ‘Tve almost decided so. but I’m not absolutely sure yel. It’s a growing town —up to date in a wav. Yet there’s a strong element of old-timers here, substantial citizens who would not be interested in the newest thing in men’s clothes.” “What does Garside think about the nrospects? By the way. would you like a drink? I have Scotch and bourbon.” “No, thanks. A little early in the day for me.” Mitchell’s law hardened. “I don’t know what Mr Garside thinks. I have come to feel that your foreman is rieht about Garside’s advice. It wouldn’t be disinterested.” “You didn’t know him very well before you came here?” Buckv put his statement with the rising inflection of a question, an offhand one tossed out carelessly. His visitor went on guard, visibly. Even Nancy, who didn’t know what it was all about, saw that the man stif-

fened. “I didn’t know him at all,” Mitchell said. “My mistake.” On Bucky’s face beamed his candid smile. “I’ll put my cards on the table, Mr Mitchell. I think you’re a detective.” The other man took his time to answer that. When he did it was in Yankee fashion. “What makes you think so?” “I can’t make up my mind whom you represent?” Bucky went on. “At first I thought Garside was employing you. If so, he picked some one with whom he can’t get along. You don’t like him any better than I do.” “That’s absurd,” Mitchell said promptly, almost explosively. “He doesn’t mean anything to me one way or another.” “You say it right heartily,” Bucky intimated. “My only objection to him is that he’s hard to deal, with,” Mitchell ex-' plained. “I’ve been trying to rent the empty store next to the bank from him. but he wants an outrageous price for’ a lease.” “Still sticking to your story? So am Ito mine. My idea now is that you’re a government man sent in to investigate the bank robbery. I’m not sure about that, but it looks like a good guess.” CHAPTER XI. “If I were a government man, would I admit it to you. before this young lady?” Mitchell asked. Nancy had been watching the blonde young stranger. Now she turned to go, her eyes on Bucky for the signal. He shook his head. “Not necessary, Miss Graham. He’s going to stay mysterious. No, he wouldn’t admit it to me. I’m one of the suspects.” Bucky smiled blandly on his visitor. “When Tim asked you to call on me, it suited you fine; you had been trying to figure out a way to have a talk with me. Now the boards are clear. You can ask me anything you like, and I’ll tell you anything that won’t incriminate me.”

“I asked you why you think I’m a detective.”

“When we had breakfast on the train you were pleasantly casual, but I saw at once you know who I am. I felt sure you asked the waiter to put you at my table. It was amusing to see you working round so carefully to the bank robbery—just to make conversation, you having read the story in the papers.” “You’re quite wrong, Mr Cameron.

“Prompt to your cue.” “I’ll admit the story interested me, just as it did most other people. It’s not often a bank president kills an employee and robs his own bank. The conductor told me you were Neil Cameron, and I did ask the waiter to put me opposite you. I have a normal human curiosity, and I wanted to find out what you are like.” “Did you find out?” “I think maybe you take a good deal of knowing. You are not a very obvious person.” “Let’s both be obvious then,” Bucky suggested. “I mean to get to the bottom of this thing. I’ll not rest till I have the villain who killed Buchmann convicted. If you're here on the same job—and I think you are—why not share what information we have? You don’t have to believe all I tell you, since naturally I would direct suspicion away from my uncle and myself. But you can take facts and sort them out for yourself. They may lead you one way and me another. One of us might be right.” “I’m willing to share what I know,” Mitchell said, after a moment of thought. “But I’m afraid I haven’t found out much yet—except what is public property. Suppose you put your case to me —tell me what evidence you have that points away from your uncle.” Mitchell looked at the nurse, then said to Bucky, “Don’t you think we’d better be alone?” Bucky gave Nancy the nod io retire. She left the room. Briefly, clearly, Cameron marshalled and interpreted such of the facts as he knew. The other man listened intently. When Bucky had finished, he asked, “Do you think it is possible that your uncle came on Buchmann robbing the bank, was forced to kill him, and then decided to decamp with the money?” “No. Leaving out the question of character, Uncle Cliff could not have done so bungling a job. The man or men who killed Buchmann took my uncle along and murdered him later.” “Maybe Buchmann was in cahoots with the robbers. Maybe they doublecrossed him—shot him to get a witness cut of the way. What was Buchmann like?” “He was a German—the sort of man who didn’t look as if he had ever been young. I'd say he was around forty.’ Spoke with a slight accent. Wore a topee and thick-lensed glasses. He was a little lame. I understand he was wounded in the war. Had a gold tooth. Red moustache. Rather careless about his clothes. But he was a crackerjack at figures and auditing books.” “I meant, what was he like mentally?” “I don't know. I left about the time he came. Rather a recluse, I’m told. Fussed around in a little apartment and did his own cooking. A very honest man. and anxious to please. He often worked on the books at nightchecking up.” “Any friends?" Mitchell asked. “No.’ so far as I know. My guess is that he was friendly enough, but shy. I see what you’re getting at. You’re checking up on him to see if his associates might have been in this with him.” ’ “Yes. Was he tied up in anyway with the men who live in the Red Rock country? Could you find out about that?" “Don't suppose ho even knew them, except maybe by sight.” “If you've come back to solve this mystery you must have some suspicions,” Mitchell said, his gaze fixed on Bucky. “One would think so," Cameron drawled, and his eyes met those of the other. “With some evidence to back your opinion,” Mitchell continued. “Presumptive evidence, let us say.” “Against the Red Rock gang?” “I’ve a notion it would be a good idea to forget them for a while,” Eucl’.y said, and lit a cigarette.

(To be Continued).