Read Ebook: Death Points a Finger by Levinrew Will

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Ebook has 1504 lines and 54749 words, and 31 pages

"But--"

Hite's strong teeth clenched his corn cob pipe, his jaw jutted out like a crag; his eyebrows bristled.

"Say, what the hell is all this yappin' about. You pampered pets give me a large pain. I'm askin' you to do somethin'. Either you do it or you don't. Somebody told you you're a star reporter and you believe it. You're developin' a temperament, like a prima donna. I'm payin' you a compliment by giving you a swell feature story; I'm sendin' you where you'd probably like to go anyway; I'm payin' your expenses for your vacation. I'm payin' for all the beer and ale you can guzzle and you balk. What the--"

Jimmy mentally ducked under the gathering storm. Hite was the only human being of whom he was afraid. A vacation up in Canada at the paper's expense wasn't so bad after all. As for the story, he could probably clean it up in a couple of hours, whatever it was. What could possibly happen up there that would take too much of his time? He interjected soothingly.

"All right, chief, all right, I'll go. I don't have to go. But I'm just aching, just yearning to go. What is it?"

Hite glowered at him for a moment. His joke wasn't working out quite as planned. Still it would be swell to have Jimmy up there. There ought to be a great feature story in it anyway, particularly on July Fourth, and perhaps a swell follow-up the next day.

His ugly, rugged features returned to normal. He put away his pipe. He said, holding up the clipping:

"There's gonna be a reunion of fourteen men in the camp of Isaac Higginbotham, in Quebec, a few miles north of Lentone, Vermont. The fourteen are all that remain of a group of two hundred and thirty-seven, all of them veterans of the Civil War. Most of the two hundred and thirty-seven were Confederates, but there were a few Union men among them.

"They have a reunion every July 4th. They're mostly northern Confederates. There have been hints for the past twenty years or so that there's something in the group that's strange. It's never got out, because newspapermen never really got after it and covered their reunions. The reasons that first got them together are obscure, but one thing that holds them together is a Tontine insurance policy. It--"

"Tontine?" broke in Jimmy.

"Yeah, Tontine. Don't you know what Tontine insurance is?" he asked with mild surprise. "In Tontine insurance a group of persons get together, pay a lump sum or periodically, with the understanding that the sole survivor takes the whole pot. Understand?"

Hite continued:

"Well, Jimmy, among these fourteen survivors are some of the foremost men in the country, men who have served their country in various capacities, a few of them just ordinary poor men. Can't you see what a swell feature story this can be for the Fourth. Patriots all of them: Northern and Southern Confederates, Union men from the North and the South. Why Jimmy--"

Jimmy nodded. His eyes took on the gleam they always held when there was a good story in sight. Canada, with Professor Brierly available, with Jack Matthews, with good beer and ale and the possibility of a good story, with all expenses paid, might be a good idea after all.

About two-thirds of the thirty-odd miles of Lake Memphremagog lies in Canada, Province of Quebec. The lower third lies in Vermont, with Lentone near its extreme southern tip, Magog at its northern extremity.

A few miles above the international border on its eastern shore nestled the rough, comfortable camp that District Attorney McCall, of New York, had turned over for the use of his friend, Professor Brierly, and the immediate members of his household. These comprised John Matthews, Professor Brierly's adopted son and principal assistant; Matthews' sister, Norah, who had recently lost her husband; her four-year-old son, Thomas, and Professor Brierly's housekeeper, Martha, who had been quite certain that without her capable presence, the old savant would be grossly neglected, suffer and die.

Jimmy Hale had elected to drive. July Fourth of that year falling on a Friday, he had decided to start his vacation, nominally, on the following Monday, July 7, actually, on the morning of July second. He argued logically that it might take several of his vacation days to clean up the story. Hite not offering any objections to this, Jimmy started shortly after midnight, Wednesday morning.

The fates were unkind to him. He ran into a rain storm in Connecticut, which followed him through most of Massachusetts. Shortly after he left Brattleboro, Vermont, behind him, he asked two separate individuals for the shortest road to his destination. Each gave him instructions that varied considerably from the other. He decided to follow the direction of the one who looked most intelligent and became lost.

He crossed the Connecticut River several times. His geography being rather sketchy, he became confused by the fact that he appeared to be in New Hampshire part of the time. Then he got lost in Canada, which feat is fairly easy for the stranger.

It was nearly six o'clock in the morning of July third, when he found the camp, about two miles off the road. He bumped over rutted paths through rough, plowed and unplowed fields several miles before he finally arrived. A friendly fox-terrier puppy fawned on him and friskily led him to a porch.

Jimmy was red-eyed, tired, haggard and in a vicious temper when he reached the camp. He knew it was his destination because, on a wide porch facing the west, he came upon his friend and former schoolmate, John Matthews, snugly rolled in his blankets, sound asleep. Jimmy took this sleep as a personal affront. As if jeering at his own sleeplessness, Matthews emitted a faint snore.

Jimmy cat-footed it down to the lake, scooped up a bucketful of water and went back to Matthews.

The blond young giant awoke sputtering and strangling. Through the haze he saw something that reminded him of his friend Jimmy Hale, red-eyed, dust-covered, grinning at him. He himself was lying in a pool of water. Jimmy was flourishing a bucket and hissing.

"Get up you lazy dog, get up. What you mean sleeping on such--"

This ended in a frightened squawk. Matthews leaped. One long arm grasped Jimmy. Then both hands had him. Jimmy was carried struggling to the homemade wharf. Thence he was flung into the sparkling waters of the lake. When his head emerged Matthews flung a cake of soap at him.

"Here, you need this, you're dirty."

The puppy, thinking this was a good game, yelped and frolicked.

Out of a window above the sleeping porch there popped a bushy white head, a remarkably high wide brow, deeply sunken blue eyes and, as if accentuating the rest of the remarkable features, bushy black eyebrows.

An irascible voice, in clear, crisp accents came down.

"What is this, what is this, what is this abominable disturbance?"

"Oh, nothing, Professor," responded Matthews. "A tramp came around and--"

"A tramp, here?" Just then the dripping form of Jimmy emerged from the water. "What's that? Who is that? Dear me, it looks like Mr. Hale."

The bushy white head disappeared. In a short time, the old man, clad in pajamas of somber hue, appeared at the door.

Professor Brierly glared at his young prot?g? suspiciously. He stared at Hale.

"But, Mr. Hale is all wet and so are you. Your bedding is--now what kind of prank is that? I came up here for a rest. I--"

"Yes, Professor, Mr. Hale is all wet. He's that way frequently, you know."

"Mr. Hale is--why Mr. Hale you look tired, you're caked with mud. We did not know you were coming."

Hale briefly explained that he had been taking an involuntary lesson in the geography of the New England states and part of Canada; that he had been driving for something more than twenty-four hours. Professor Brierly hospitably insisted that he take a bath and a rest.

Considerably refreshed, Hale awoke in time for luncheon, when he was introduced to the other members of the household, Norah, Matthews' sister and her little boy Thomas, a nut brown youngster of four summers, between whom and Professor Brierly there had grown up a vast friendship. Thomas addressed the old scientist familiarly as "Pop" an appellation that Professor Brierly would have resented fiercely if used by anyone else.

Politeness forbade him from inquiring for whom the vacant chair at the table was standing when there was a crunching of the gravel outside appraising them of the coming of a visitor. The figure of McCall, District Attorney of New York, loomed through the doorway. They had been conscious for some minutes past of the increasing roar of a small outboard motor which had stopped outside their own, door.

McCall grasped the hand of the newspaperman.

"Well, well, look who's here! A regular family reunion. All that's necessary to make this complete is a murder or two and it would be like old times indeed. What brings the representative of the press here?"

Jimmy briefly told McCall the reason for his visit. McCall nodded and turned to Professor Brierly.

"This is a coincidence, Professor, or, not so much of a coincidence at that. Judge Higginbotham's camp is about two miles down the lake here. I know the judge; my father and the judge's family have spent their summers here for a number of years. Judge Higginbotham heard that you were here and he asked me to tell you that he and the rest of his group would be honored to have you join them on their reunion. This takes place formally tomorrow, July Fourth. Then it is their custom to spend about a week together."

"Swell," glowed Hale, "then you can tell me something about it. I looked in our morgue and couldn't get much. While there are reams and reams written about the individual members of the group, dead and living, there is almost nothing of them as a whole."

McCall's face clouded momentarily, then it cleared. Jimmy's quick eyes noted this momentary disturbance of the District Attorney's placid exterior. His newspaperman's keen mind filed it away. Professor Brierly was leaning forward showing more than his usual interest. He said:

"I shall be happy, of course, to avail myself of the opportunity to meet face to face such an interesting group of men, men who have had such a large share in making the history of this country, in the Civil War and since. But surely, Mr. McCall, such men do not hold an annual reunion with their Tontine insurance agreement as the sole tie to hold them together. These men must be above such things. What is there, aside from the insurance, that has held this group together for sixty-five years?"

"Oh, so you heard about this Tontine insurance, did you?" asked McCall.

"I told Professor Brierly about it, Mac," stated Jimmy.

"Oh, I see. Well, you're right, Professor. This is not the thing that holds them together." He ground his cigarette stub into a tray and taking out his pipe, began meditatively filling it. He lit it carefully and took a thoughtful puff or two. He continued:

"If you've read your history you will remember that at one time, toward the end of that dreadful struggle, the Civil War, all males, from about the age of sixteen upwards, were either drafted or enlisted on both sides. Boys of fourteen in active combat service were fairly common. Father and sons often fought side by side. What is still more deplorable is the fact that often brothers, and even fathers and sons, fought on opposite sides."

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