The mystery of the missing eyebrows
road, was now broken. The old woman, whose voice was almost as gruff as
her companion’s complained of the way he drove. He in turn offered to
share the privilege with her if she so desired to seize it.
An imperative “whoa” stopped the horse, suddenly. The man clambered
out, thrashed around the wagon, seemed to be tugging at a door. A
squeaking of rusty hinges followed his efforts, and he called out
gruffly, “Drive on in Maggie, and remember the log on the east side.
You hit it the last time.”
Renfro hoped that Maggie would not hit it this time. He held his breath
while the wagon jolted thru the door into a dark, dilapidated building
which was full of moldy odors. And there the horse stopped. He had to
lie still while they unhitched the horse, all done in the darkness.
They discussed the harness which seemed to be needing repairs from what
they said.
The old man told Maggie to get some food at a bin, but she replied that
she couldn’t find it by just feeling around. She wanted to light the
lantern but he wouldn’t allow her. A trifle crossly she refused to even
try to help farther. And he said surlily, “If you had them 15 years in
the darkness I did, you’d be able to find anything by feel.”
After that she was more patient and seemed to help all she could with
the finishing of the feeding. She came with the old man to the wagon,
and stayed with him while he took out a knife and cut the strap which
tied his legs.
“You walk with me, just as I tell you, or you’ll know what you’ll get,”
the man’s surly voice was charged with a threat which Renfro knew he
would not hesitate to keep.
So he meekly followed his directions and walked between the two of
them. The old woman who seemed to have a more human disposition than
the man, helped Renfro along by holding his arm. They went across
decaying vegetable matter, through a door, close to a manger, and then
into another room, smaller and close and possessing much more moldy
odors than had the others.
There the old man lifted some sort of a door in the side of what seemed
to be a banked part of the barn and they all stepped into a place so
dark that Renfro could not see at all. While the old woman closed the
door, her companion lighted a lantern.
For several minutes the light, though it was dim, blinded Renfro. Then
his eyes gradually became accustomed to the light, and saw that they
were in a narrow passage way. A few feet along it, and they came to
some steps. They went down them--down, down, down, into an opening
which seemed to be a cave. And there Renfro with his hands tied, and
his mouth still bandaged was thrust into another and darker place and
the door, which had been opened to allow him being pushed through, was
shut again.
His first sensation was that he was on solid ground. Then his feet
seemed to give away under him and he fell heavily, his head striking
something sharp and hard. A quick pain, worse than any he had felt
during the short ride, and then Renfro drifted into unconsciousness.
When he came to, it seemed that hours had passed, but it had really
been only a period of some twenty minutes. He was lying on a pallet of
mouldy smelling rugs and comforters. They were full of hard knots which
sent shooting pains through his bruised body.
The room was not entirely dark now. There was a dim light and Renfro
turned a little onto his side, saw that it came from a coal oil
lantern, which emitted much more bad smelling smoke than it did light.
The bandage had been taken from his mouth. But the stout cords were
still on his wrists, and others had again been tied around his ankles.
They were tied in such a manner that if he lay perfectly still they
were comfortable, but if he twisted or attempted to move, they cut into
his flesh like circular knives.
But in spite of the pain caused by his moving, Renfro managed to twist
himself until he could see the nature of the room in which he was
imprisoned. It was cold and damp and mouldy. Odors like those coming
from a musty cellar, in which vegetables had long been stored, were
strong around him.
There was some one in the room but Renfro could not see who it was.
Heavy, rapid breathing behind him--in the direction he felt sure was
the door through which he had been thrown--proved that. He watched
directly above him and to the side of the room he was facing.
And after a little looking he realized that it wasn’t a room at all but
a cave in which he was a captive. The rough jagged wall and ceiling
were of rock, from which hung stalactites now stained and discolored
by the rain and smoke of fires, which had been kept burning in a rusty
coal oil stove.
There was a fire in the stove now, and Renfro was getting some heat
from it. Besides it and the pallet, on which he was lying, Renfro could
see no other furniture in the room. The lantern was flat on the floor.
Renfro shivered. He was cold to the marrow of his bones. He shivered
again and then a long, hard sneeze came out of his nose and throat. It
was followed by another of the same, and then a whole series.
The person behind him stirred and came around the pallet until Renfro
could see her--a swarthy, heavy set woman with a sour, disappointed
visage and stooped, weary shoulders. Over her head she wore the odd
colored scarf Renfro had seen twice on the street--first outside the
little hot dog restaurant and next on East Washington Street.
She looked down at Renfro and he saw that her eyes were not half as
hard and sour looking as her face. Her lips drawn in a straight line
seemed to relax a little in their severity while she looked. And then
she opened them and asked one short word, “Cold?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Renfro sneezed again.
With her free hand, the other was holding something under the scarf,
she pulled the coal oil stove closer to his pallet and then she opened
a door, slipped through it and closed it after her, and Renfro was left
alone--but not for long. When the door opened again, it was the old man
who entered this time, a heavy, horse blanket in his arms.
On his head was the hunting cap with the sharp, low hanging bill.
He spread the blanket over Renfro, gruffly asked him if he wanted
something to eat and, after receiving a negative answer, squatted on
the floor and looked close at the boy.
And Renfro looked back at him. There was instant recognition on the
part of both, the old man who had been in Captain Pete’s cabin and the
boy who had burst in and handed him a sample copy of the Globe.
For quite a time they stared at each other and then the old man
realized that his attempts to frighten Renfro had failed. He gave a
short chuckle, which was more disagreeable than anything else, and then
jerked off his cap.
And in the dim light to which Renfro’s eyes had grown accustomed, was
plainly visible the remainder of the eyebrows, half of each of which
had been left sticking to Judge Wier’s frozen window pane.
CHAPTER XXI.
HELEN WEIR IS FOUND.
The old man’s first words came in the form of a question. “Where are
the rest of ’em?”
Renfro did not attempt to answer. To force an issue the old fellow was
tempted to use gruffness but a look deep into Renfro’s steely blue eyes
told him that would be a waste of time. The boy couldn’t be frightened
into telling anything. Better treat him as he would a man.
“You scraped them off the window pane?”
This time Renfro answered, “Yes.”
“I knew some one had when I read the newspaper about the knife
scratches,” the old fellow was talking like a human being, and not in
the gruff disagreeable tone he had used up to this time. To be exact
he seemed to be getting some pleasure out of talking to some one who
had recently come from town and who knew the town’s version of the
kidnaping affair.
“And I knew it was you,” the talker was measuring wits with Renfro, “as
soon as I saw you staring at me, out at that hot dog shop.”
His voice was triumphant. He rose from his half sitting, half kneeling
posture and came over to Renfro. Turning him over roughly he went into
his pockets, pulled out all of the contents, and carried them to the
lantern. He was so busy examining them, that he could not see the look
of elation on Renfro’s face, followed by one of apprehension toward his
cap which was on the floor not far from his pallet.
With a surge of joy Renfro realized that it was muddy and dilapidated
and torn. In that condition it would not receive any attention. No, the
hiding place of the missing eyebrows was safe.
The fact that his search was unsuccessful made the old man quite angry.
He threw the things he had taken out of Renfro’s pockets to the floor,
and came back to the boy. “You didn’t destroy them.” There was no
question but just a simple statement.
Renfro was silent. “Well you’ll tell me where they are and I’m goin’ to
git them tomorrow.”
Again silence. For some reason or other the old man did not seem to
care to argue. He merely stared at Renfro, curiosity keen in his deep
eyes. And was it imagination or did Renfro actually see a gleam of
admiration in them as he stood and stared?
The door opened and the old woman’s voice, now weary and fretful, put
forth a question, “Does he want anything to eat, Bart?”
Renfro answered for himself--a courteous “No, ma’am--I thank you.”
The same voice with its touch of queerness mumbled something about it
bein’ late, and she was sleepy, and for Bart to come out and leave the
boy alone. Then Bart threw another cover on Renfro, took the coal oil
stove in one hand, the lantern in the other and followed her through
the door.
And Renfro was left in black darkness. The cover on him warmed him and
he began to feel drowsy. He was too tired to wonder what the folks were
doing at home now that it was time for him to be missed, or to regret
the fact that he had not taken time to tell Mary of the find he had
made in Captain Pete’s cabin the night before.
He didn’t wonder whether or not they would start a search for him.
He was thinking of his route. Who would Morrison send out tomorrow to
carry it for him? And would he find his list of new customers? And
would they remember to take the three charity turkeys to the parsonage
and--
There was a sharp bark in the next room. Renfro’s heart surged with
joy. He was not alone in the cave. He had a friend as a fellow
prisoner. That bark came from Lang Tammy. And after it a girlish voice
said sharply, “Can’t you see Tammy’s half starved to death? He wants
milk--don’t you, Tammy?”
And Renfro twisted until the throngs cut down into his flesh. That
voice belonged to no one else but Helen Wier. She was in the cave
too--just on the other side of the partition from Renfro.
At exactly the same time Judge Wier and Henry Horn were in council with
the detectives at the police station. After Renfro had gone an hour
from the Horn home a search had been instituted for him. Inquiry at the
Globe office had failed to give them any evidence except the number of
the house from which the complaint had been sent.
A hurried trip out there and Mr. Horn and Morrison, who had come to
his aid in looking for Renfro, discovered that the complaint call had
been cleverly faked. Their suspicions were fully established. But still
they did not give up hope. They called up all the homes of Renfro’s
friends, they had both the house and office of the Globe ready to send
out relief calls if Renfro should happen to appear.
But hours passed, and there came to the two men no news. And then they
had gone to the police station. Judge Wier was summoned and the two
fathers went into close conference.
They, with the detectives, decided that for the sake of their search,
after both Helen and Renfro, that it was best not to let the town
know of Renfro’s disappearance until evening--not even Mrs. Horn. The