The mystery of the missing eyebrows
Renfro found Captain Pete’s door. The old man unbarred it, held high
his little old lamp with the blackened chimney, identified his visitor
and gruffly commanded him to come in. The rabbits were ready, but for
the life of him he couldn’t see any use of Renfro’s coming so late.
When he was young parents didn’t allow their sons to be out so late,
and--
“But I had to carry my paper route,” Renfro spoke pleasantly, and the
captain thawed to an extent.
When he went to wrap the rabbits in an old newspaper he muttered
something about being short on paper and Renfro brought his two extra
papers out of his bag. “Seeing you won’t be a regular customer without
being shown the advantage of a newspaper, Captain Pete,” Renfro smiled
a winning smile, “I’m going to sample you for a while as the boys say.
Every night I have an extra paper I’ll bring it down to you and soon
I’ll warrant you’ll be a regular customer. I always carry an extra so
that if I get a new customer, I can leave the paper right then.”
Pete shook his head. He muttered something about it being too far for
a boy to come alone. All of which only made Renfro more determined to
visit him. As he had declared the night before the actions of Captain
Pete were evident that though innocent himself perhaps, he was not
ignorant altogether about the kidnaping of Helen Wier.
Outside of the shack Renfro circled around to avoid suspicion, should
Captain Pete happen to open the door again, and worked his way back to
the meeting place he and Mary had appointed. He waited, he counted the
minutes, he fumed, he fretted and still no Mary arrived. He pulled out
his watch with its radio face and saw that it was a quarter after eight
o’clock.
“Mary won’t get to sing alto tonight,” he murmured to himself. “We’ll
get back to town just about the time it’s over.”
And then Mary came. She clutched at his arm. “I can’t be stoppin’ to
talk,” she was hurrying him toward the fence. “I’ve promised the leader
I’d get there in time to practice the Sunday anthem and I will keep me
promise too. You can go with me on the car, Hooch.”
“And say,” they were at the fence again, “I’ve got a few clues of my
own. And,” Mary put her foot on the first rail, “You help me all you
can. That falling down sort of affected my constitution, Hooch.”
CHAPTER XIV.
THE MAN IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE.
Mary was the first one to speak and then it was to reassure Renfro,
“You needn’t worry about your folks askin’ any questions,” she told
him. “They went to the show unexpected like and won’t know what time
you get home. I heard your paw tell your maw he’s got the tickets and
he bought only two for he thought you needed to go to bed early after
bein’ out so late with your route.”
Renfro nodded and felt a bit of relief. He and Mary were near the
center of the car. Mary had chosen that spot because there were few
passengers there and they could talk without being afraid some one
could hear them.
All the passengers and even the conductor had stared at the odd pair
when they boarded the car. Several had smiled broadly and Renfro had
been indignant until he had happened to look at Mary and someway in her
downfall at the fence she had gotten her hat turned completely around.
The big red rose directly on the back of her hat was too much for him.
And he too giggled.
“Mary,” he whispered, “Your hat’s back slided and--”
Mary Dugan laughed heartily. “Don’t make much difference,” she added,
“Me nose and face is so bloomin’ red tonight I don’t need the rose for
any further touch of color to me make up.”
And then she began to tell about her experiences. She had moved close
to the big house at the corner at which she had arrived, keeping a
close look out for the big airedale which she felt sure would turn up
at the most unexpected minute. Carefully she had worked her way around
the house--the west side, the south side, the east and there she had
discovered her first sign of life in the big house.
A glimmer of light thru a torn place in the heavy blind over the
window. She had realized in a minute that thru those thick blinds she
would not discover anything. So she had felt her way around to the
north, found a loose weatherboard, pulled it off and worked the blade
of her knife, which she always carried, thru the plastering. A few
vigorous, skilful twists and she had worked a hole which made a good
peeping place for her right eye.
Her homely face became alight with the joy of success. She had chosen
that spot well. It gave her a view into the lighted room. Cautiously
then she had worked out another peep hole for the left eye and then she
had studied every move in the adjoining room.
After a time she had discovered that there was but one occupant and
that he was exceedingly cautious. He moved always so that he was not
near the window. He had passed the doorway only three or four times and
each of these times Mary had studied him closely. He was short, heavy
set, his hair was gray, his clothes of an ancient style and he was what
Mary termed “uncouth” getting an “ou” sound which Renfro felt that he
would always remember.
But he had never once turned his face toward the open doorway and Mary
had not seen his face. So, of course, she knew nothing of the condition
of his eyebrows. But she felt sure that they would be missing. His hair
had been white. Naturally his eyebrows would be too. His hair looked as
if it were very coarse.
And the eyebrows in captivity back in her Bible were so coarse that had
they been scattered on the floor they would hardly have been taken for
human hair.
Moreover the man was in hiding. That was plainly evident. And Captain
Pete? Didn’t that wily old fellow show by his actions that he was
helping to conceal some one in the big house?
Renfro clutched his paper bag in which were the rabbits. Yes, indeed,
he would watch Captain Pete. But Mary was not thinking much of watching
Captain Pete. They must find some way to see that man’s face. No use
to knock. They would have to plan some better ruse than that. She
would think about it over night, she assured Renfro, re-read some of
her correspondence course in “detectiveness” and be ready to have a
conference with him on the next day.
“Some plan, partner,” Renfro slapped Mary boyishly on the back
completely dislodging her hat. “You’re a brick, a gold one, and a
jeweled one and--”
“A plain chimney one,” Mary laughed while she twisted and turned her
hat until she felt that from the way it set on her head that the red
rose was either directly in front or behind. A cautious search with her
fingers made her mind easy on that, and she continued her conversation.
“All right, Hooch, only don’t never call me a brick for a foundation.
It’ll make me think of that fence and my downfall. All the way to that
house I was so frivolous like, that I kept humming over and over. ‘How
firm a foundation, Ye Saints of the Lord’, and laughin’ because I, one
of the Saints, couldn’t git over a wobbly log fence, and wonderin’ what
I would do should I strike a firm foundation in my path.”
They had reached the mission, now, and the choir was in full force of
rehearsal. The bass was leading much to Mary’s disgust. She snorted
derisively and assured Renfro that when she got in there they wouldn’t
ever hear that insurance agent, who put on airs, sing.
At the door when he turned to go home she suddenly clutched at his
coat. “Oh. Hooch,” she whispered, “I clean forgot to tell you something
very disturbin’ I read. When them detectives looked at them scratches
on the window they said right away they had been done by a knife and
then they found two of them coarse hairs. They didn’t think much of
them, the paper says, but still they are keeping them. And” she pushed
him down the steps, “that means we have got to work fast.”
Renfro found that he was trembling when he reached the foot of the
steps--not from fear of being apprehended himself but of some other
person discovering the kidnapers before he could. His only hope lay in
the fact that the detectives had all based their search on the idea
that Helen Wier had been kidnaped by persons who would either soon
demand a ransom or by some one who wanted to have revenge on Judge Wier.
And neither Captain Pete nor his brother could have that motive in
mind he was sure. He had investigated some old newspapers at the Globe
office that evening and found that Judge Wier had been a mere stripling
of a lawyer when Captain Pete’s brother had been found guilty of
counterfeiting and been sent to prison. Also he had not had anything to
do with the prosecution.
He looked back over his shoulder, and saw the light in the windows of
Mary’s church even down to the basement. It was all a brilliant blaze.
“A fire!” He gasped and started to run back.
Then he remembered. Mary had said that the charitable women of the
church were going to work there that night to fix Thanksgiving baskets
for the poor. They were making clothes for them. The other members of
the church would have to donate the food and clothing.
Renfro gave a sudden jump. It was followed by another, and then a wild
Highland fling. “I have it, I have it, I have it!” he yelled out loud.
A door opened directly in front of him. An inquisitive head was thrust
out, a fretful voice asked, “What’s the matter?”
And Renfro fled.
Half way down the block he stopped to laugh. “But it was worth making
some one think I was insane,” he laughed. “And I’ll do it, too.”
Early in the morning he would go to the minister of the church which
his mother, his father and himself attended. He would tell him about
the turkeys. He would offer three of them to the poor, which the
church would feed at Thanksgiving time. There were many people in that
wealthy church who bought The Globe on the street instead of being
regular subscribers. He would add some of them to his list.
“I’ll do it--I will,” he whispered this time.
But his whisper was full of ardor. “And wait until next week when I see
Morrison’s face. Six of those turkeys are mine.”
Just then he decided to go into a little lunch room hardly bigger than
the lunch wagons in the west part of town, and get himself something
warm to drink. There was one near the corner at which the car stopped.
He looked through the door, saw the steaming “hot dogs” on an iron
grate and entered.
The place was deserted except for the old man doing the cooking and a
dog lying close to his little stove. The big dog was a collie and a
very suspicious creature for he barked at Renfro as he entered. The man
quieted him with a hoarse growl, took Renfro’s order and filled it all
the time frowning sullenly as if he considered a customer an insult.
He was tall and thin and bent and broken. Evidence of a hard life were
written all over him. His shrewd eyes spoke volumes about bartering.
Renfro was wondering about the methods he used when there sounded on
the back door an imperative tapping and the man went back to answer it.
Renfro watched him swing some rabbits into view, heard him quarrel
about the shots being in their bodies instead of their heads, and
smiled when he paid the person who was selling the rabbits with a
handful of small coins. “Seems to lower the price that way,” he thought.
And then he listened closely. The restaurant man has said something
about the thickets west of town being full of rabbits and that a fellow
who had access to them ought to be a little cheaper on his rabbits to a
poor restaurant man than was this old man.
With a careful, quiet movement he was off his stool, and had started
toward the front door. But the big dog intercepted his progress, had
given a series of growls and stood in a menacing position till the
owner slammed the door and came to Renfro’s rescue.