"I had better arrest him now as a suspicious person," exclaimed Hallen excitedly.

"Not yet. Let us be _sure_ first--remember Skinner has a motive for crossing us; he has tried to defeat the aims of justice right through.

He was dealing money this morning to someone; suppose it was to Maloney--what is his reason?"

Hallen thumped the table furiously as though a new thought had come to him. "Skinner answers the physical requirements also, Mr. Oakes--he was also a guardsman--a good shot."

"Yes," answered Oakes, "but scarcely strong enough to overpower me at the Mansion."

"Unless he was acting while in mania, as we presume this criminal acts,"

said Moore.

I sat spellbound as these men discussed the intricacies of the affair, realizing the truth of their reasonings and marvelling at the clues, conceptions and brilliant memories revealed, especially by the masterly Oakes.

"Too bad you cannot find Skinner, and see what he is up to," I remarked.

"We must let Hallen keep watch on him until we are ready for our final move. It would be easy to arrest him on suspicion, but that might defeat our object, and, again, I do not believe in making arrests until my case is clear," said Oakes.

"Do you not think Skinner might be the murderer?" I asked.

"Not as I see things now. It seems more probable that he is interested in someone whom he wants to get out of harm's way. His motive throughout this affair has been to hide the guilty, I think."

"And what do you make of that man O'Brien?" queried Dowd; "he seems to be a mysterious fellow."

Oakes and Hallen exchanged knowing glances. "He's another possibility; he's a little Tartar," said the detective.

"But won't Maloney get away now?" asked Elliott.

"Nit," was the answer from Hallen. "Those two 'laborers' with him are my 'specials.'"

I was getting entirely tied up now, but, desiring to appear erudite and worthy of such company, I blurted forth: "Who is Mike O'Brien, anyway?"

Oakes looked at us all coolly and exasperatingly. "He seems to be a little extra thrown in. I'll tell you all about it when you tell me if the 'S' on the handkerchief has anything to do with Mr. Skinner."

An exclamation of surprise went up. We had all forgotten _that_. But before we could resume, a message arrived for Oakes. It was brought by one of the men whom we knew so well by sight around the Mansion. He told of the finding of a burned tree, hidden in the forest, near the scene of the murder of Mr. Mark. Those who were searching had discovered that the tree was recently struck by lightning and that within its burned interior was ash.

The man had brought some with him, and also a small, crumpled piece of newspaper. Oakes looked carefully at them as we glanced over his shoulder.

"At last!" cried he. "Here is wood ash--wet, as was that on the robe; and here is paper like that of the 'Daily News,' which we found in the robe; is it not?"

"Yes," cried Moore. "It is indeed--can it be?"

"Yes," came the answer from Oakes; "my orders to search for the origin of the ash have been crowned with success. The robe was in that tree."

"But," I cried, "of what value is that?"

"Just this--the robe was not worn at the time of the murder. Remember, Joe did not see it--it had been hidden, probably. The murderer used it to go and to come in, but for some unknown reason discarded it at the shooting."

"Excuse me," said the messenger, "excuse me, Mr. Oakes--but that's about right. The tree was beyond the stone where he crossed and lost the handkerchief. He was running for the robe, sir; the murderer was after his disguise."

Oakes looked at his subordinate calmly and smiled ever so slightly. The man bowed and retreated, abashed at his own impetuosity.

Hallen turned to our friend Oakes and said: "I never in my life saw anything like this--like you."

Oakes, always ready to side-step praise in any form, answered, with one of his chilling glances: "Oh, bother! You're young yet, Hallen; you need age."

Hallen half resentfully yanked his cap on his head and strode to the door.

"Well," he remarked, "here's where I take a look at Maloney's arms--I am dead tired of theorizing."

"Stop!" commanded Oakes; "you'll spoil it all."

"I won't spoil the cross on the arm--the cross of indigo--if it's there; and if it ain't there, it ain't. Hang it all, anyway." And forthwith Hallen strode out the door, down the steps toward the hotel bar-room, with Oakes and the rest of us following in a vain endeavor to head him off.

When we reached the bar-room, Hallen was already in the side room. We rushed toward the little room door, expecting to see Maloney in the grasp of Hallen; but instead, we beheld the Chief gazing in stupefaction at his two men dead drunk, heads between their hands on the little round table.

"------------,----!" cried the Chief in a voice that shook the gla.s.ses on the shelves in the bar-room and brought the white-coated attendant with one bound to the door. "h.e.l.l--en--Maloney's escaped."

"Escaped!" cried the bar-keeper. "Escaped!--nit. Why, he paid for the drinks and walked out half an hour ago--said he had a job at the Mansion. These fellows--gosh!" cried the man as he shook them--"drunk!

What's up--what does it mean, Chief?"

Then Quintus Oakes spoke in tones of dulcet and ineffable sweetness, cooingly, charmingly. "It means that Chief Hallen pays for a round of the best you've got. In order to see a cross on a man's arm it becomes necessary first to catch the man--something like the bird's tail and the salt proposition."

"Mix 'em up quick!" shouted Hallen, advancing to the bar. "h.e.l.l--en--be d.a.m.ned! Get the two samples of Mona's police out into the air!

h.e.l.l--en----!"

_CHAPTER XX_

_A Man's Confession_

The a.s.sault upon Maloney was now the talk of the town. Hallen, who had enjoyed a respite from censure, was again furiously blamed for inability and incompetence. None but our select few discerned that Maloney was lying, for none knew as much of the intricacies of the case as did we.

All were crying out for the instant arrest of the one who had attempted to kill him, but none but the few who had heard Maloney's statement within headquarters knew that it was...o...b..ien he had accused--and only those few knew that his story was probably false.

Although the order had gone forth quietly, as we knew, to "find Mike O'Brien," still it was not known to any save Hallen's and Oakes's men.

The ma.s.ses were in ignorance of the strides we had made twards the solution of the horrible happenings at Mona, and, of course, Hallen was getting more than he deserved in the way of criticism.

Oakes told us that he momentarily expected some new developments in the case, as Hallen was endeavoring to find Skinner and bring him to the Mansion. His surmises proved true, for it was found an easy matter to locate the old man; and early in the evening Hallen arrived at the Mansion and joined us in the apartments upstairs, and with him were Martin and Skinner.

Dowd, the rival of the old man, was with us, having begged earnestly of Oakes to be allowed to follow as close to the action as possible, and having stuck by us like a veritable leech since the morning. Dowd was a nice fellow, and a newspaper man from start to finish, and he seemed to have developed a great liking for Oakes.

We were all upstairs when Martin ushered in the tall, rather slender, but powerful old man, Skinner. None of us, save Hallen, had seen him at close range before; but I saw a curious expression, half of defiance, half of dismay, in his face, that made me watch him most closely. Dr.

Moore was scanning his features carefully in a way that showed he had detected something, but Quintus Oakes, rising from his seat and advancing politely to meet the old gentleman, seemed neither to have seen anything nor to know anything. He was just the polished gentleman we all knew so well; but I noticed that, as he shook hands with Mr.

Skinner, he cast a quick glance at the man's arm and the wrist, and then at the old man's eyes.

Moore whispered: "He has excluded Skinner as the criminal. Look! see him take it all in."