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Brand of Silence, The

<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> <h3>RECOGNITION</h3> Through a maze of crossing and winding roads the car made its way, now over highways as smooth as a city pavement, and now over rough mileage that jolted the occupants and threatened the springs with destruction. Jim Farland did not recognize this particular district. He did not even know upon which side of the river he was being hauled along as a prisoner. In the city proper, his abductors would have found it very difficult to take him to a section where he could not have recognized some sort of a landmark, but here they had him at a serious disadvantage. The night was dark, too, and a fine drizzle was falling. Farland tugged at his bonds when he could, and finally convinced himself that they would not give. He tried to work one end of the gag from the corner of his mouth and found that he could not do that. He was utterly helpless for the time being, at the mercy of the three men who had kidnaped him, and the chauffeur, and whoever might be where they were going. For half an hour longer the car made its way across the country, and then Farland noticed that it left the principal thoroughfare and turned into a rough, narrow lane that was bordered with big trees. At the end of a quarter of a mile of this lane, the chauffeur brought the car to a stop. Farland could see a building that had the appearance of being an abandoned farmhouse. He was lifted from the car and carried to the door. One of the men threw it open, and Farland was carried inside. They took him through a hall, turned into a room, and tossed him upon a couch in a corner there. One of them struck a match, lighted a lamp, and then they turned to survey him. Farland glared at them, waited for them to speak. They were making no attempt to hide their features. Typical thugs they were, the three of them, and Farland supposed that the chauffeur, who had not come into the house with the others, belonged to the same class. One of them stepped forward and removed Farland's gag, while another went into another room and presently returned with a dipper of water, which he held to Farland's lips. He drank greedily, for the gag had parched his mouth and throat. "Bein' as how you are a copper, I'd slip a knife between your ribs and call it a good job," one of the men told him, "but we are supposed to treat you nice and keep you in condition for a little talk with the boss. So you needn't tremble with fear any." "It'd take more than three bums like you to make me afraid!" Farland told him. "Nasty, ain't you? Maybe we'll get a little chance to beat you up later, especially if your little talk with the boss ain't what they call productive of results. You've got some reputation as a dick, but I reckon it's all a fake. We didn't have much trouble gettin' you and bringin' you here." "Isn't that enough to make you worry a bit?" Farland asked. "How do you mean?" "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I wanted to be captured and hauled here? Have you any idea how many men watched and trailed us? You've led me to where I wanted to come, to a place I wanted to find, perhaps." "That bluff won't work," came the reply. "We had a couple of men watchin' for that very thing, and they'd have given us a high sign if we had been followed. You're here all by your lonesome, and so you'd better be good." Two of the men left the room, and the third sat down by the table to act as guard. Fifteen minutes passed, during which Jim Farland and the man by the table exchanged pleasant remarks concerning each other, neither getting much the best of the argument. Then the hall door was opened again, and a masked man entered the room! Remembering what Murk had related to him concerning his experience of the night before, Jim Farland looked up at this newcomer with sudden interest. This man, undoubtedly, was a sort of leader, one who had hired others to help him in his work and who knew the identities of Sidney Prale's mysterious enemies, and why they were working against him; perhaps, also, the man who could tell a good deal about the murder of Rufus Shepley. Farland did not betray too much interest, though, for he sensed that he was opposed to a person of brains and cunning, a different type from the thugs he hired to work for him. So the detective merely blinked his eyes rapidly as he looked up at the other and waited for him to speak. "You are Jim Farland, a detective?" The voice was low and harsh, a monotone, a disguised voice in fact. Jim Farland knew that at once. "That's my name, and some people are kind enough to say that I am a detective," Farland replied. "What's the idea of treating me rough like this?" "I regret that violence was necessary to get you here, Mr. Farland," the masked man replied, "but it seemed to be the only way in which I could get a chance to talk to you freely without subjecting myself to danger." "Why regret?" Farland asked. "Because I want you for my friend instead of my enemy, Mr. Farland, and I fancy that we may be able to come to terms. I shall send this man of mine from the room and submit a proposition to you. I hope you see fit to accept it." He motioned for the other man to leave, which he did immediately, closing the hall door behind him. Then the masked man sat down in the chair by the table. Farland was watching him closely now. The collar of his coat and the handkerchief mask effectually shielded his face and head. But, as Murk had told, this man did not have the common sense to cover his hands, and Farland looked at them when he could, careful not to let the other suspect his object. "I am the man who talked to Mr. Prale's valet last night," Farland heard the other say. "In some manner, the valet escaped, and so we were obliged to have you brought here instead of to the place where we had him, and which was considerably nearer the city. I regret it if the long ride annoyed you, but you will appreciate that it was necessary for my men to bind and gag you." "It certainly was if they expected to get me here!" Jim Farland declared. He heard the masked man chuckle. "I understand that you have been engaged by Sidney Prale to clear him of the charge of murdering Rufus Shepley." "I don't mind admitting that, since the whole city knows it," said Farland. "And also to aid Sidney Prale in outwitting certain persons who are trying to punish him for something he did." "I don't know anything about that. I do know that some people are trying to make things hot for Sid Prale, and he doesn't deserve it, and——" "Pardon me, if I interrupt!" the masked man said. "You say that he does not deserve it. Do you believe that influential persons would persecute him if he did not deserve it?" "Sid Prale doesn't know what it is all about!" "That is what he told the valet, too. But believe me when I say that he does know what it is all about, and is deceiving you when he says otherwise." "What has all this to do with me?" Jim Farland demanded. "Did you have me brought here to argue the case with me?" "I had you brought here because I want you to cease working for Sidney Prale. I want you to go back to him and tell him that you are done." "As Coadley, the attorney, did?" "Exactly!" "Your people must be men of influence if they can buy off Coadley like that!" "Perhaps Coadley was shown that it would wreck his future if he continued working for Prale." "Well, you can't wreck my future, because I haven't any," Farland told him. "Do not be too sure of that, Mr. Farland. Agree to my proposition and you may have a great future. You may find business thrown your way. You may find yourself able to spread out, have a protective service, become a wealthy man. If you give up the Prale case, we'll see that you are paid cash immediately, of course, in lieu of the fee you would receive from Prale—and considerably more than he would pay you." "I suppose that would appeal to a lot of men," Jim Farland said, "but it isn't the right bait to use if you are eager to catch me. I have all the business I want. I can make a living for myself and my small family, and we do not hanker after riches. A larger business would make me a human machine, and I'd rather just drift along and be an ordinary good husband and father. I'd rather be running a little, third-rate detective agency as I am, making just enough to get along, and have a lot of friends. I wouldn't throw down a friend for a million dollars! I suppose I'm the only man in town that thinks this way, but I'm a sort of peculiar duck!" "You mean to tell me that you are not anxious to better yourself, to get along in the world?" "Oh, I manage to get along!" Jim Farland replied. "I even eat meat now and then. I haven't seen the face of the famous wolf outside my door for some time. What is money?" "Everything!" the masked man replied. "That's what you think. It gives me an inkling as to what sort of man you are. I happen to know a fellow to whom money is everything—and I have reason to suspect that he is considerably interested in the case of Sidney Prale. Be careful you do not betray your identity to me!" Farland had the satisfaction of hearing the masked man gasp, and he chuckled. "Well, what is the proposition?" Farland inquired. "You seem to waste a lot of time." "We want you merely to tell Sidney Prale that you will not work on the case any more—that you are done. Then go about your regular business. We'll have you watched, and as soon as we are satisfied that you are keeping faith with us, we'll send you ten thousand dollars in cash. If you make the agreement with me, I'll give you a thousand cash to-night before you leave this place, as a sort of retainer and expression of our sincerity. Then, following the fee of ten thousand dollars, you'll find that much business is flowing your way. All you have to do to get all this is to withdraw from the Prale case at once." "You must be afraid that I am finding out some things," Jim Farland suggested. "That is scarcely the reason," the masked man answered. "We want Sidney Prale to stand alone, to be without help of any sort—that is all." "But I am more than Sidney Prale's employee. I am his friend!" Farland protested. "You were his friend ten years ago, sir, but a man may change a great deal in ten years. Are you quite sure that the Sidney Prale of to-day is the boyish, friendly Sidney Prale of ten years ago?" "I am quite sure; and that is why I am trying to help him," Jim Farland declared. "I fear that he is fooling you—as he is deceiving others. He is not worthy of such friendship as you are giving him." "How do I know that?" Farland asked. "If I could have some sort of an explanation——" He awaited the other's reply. If he could get some inkling as to why Prale had powerful enemies, it might help a lot. "I can tell you this much: Sidney Prale did something that wrecked and ruined several lives. Certain prominent persons have decided to punish him. He is to have his life made miserable, he is to have his fortune taken away from him, he is to be subjected to petty annoyances and hard blows alike, driven from this, his home town, forced to realize that a man cannot do what he did and escape retribution." "Sounds like he murdered a nation!" Jim Farland commented. "Did he wreck the national treasury or turn traitor to the flag?" "I am not jesting, Mr. Farland." "Neither am I. My eyes have got to be opened, sir. You've got to come clean with me. Prale's enemies may strike at him from the dark, but Jim Farland never works in the dark! I want to see where I'm stepping. I never like to trip over anything." "I have told you all that I can at present." "Why?" "Because I do not care to give you information if you are still to work for Prale." "You say that Prale knows his enemies and why they are fighting him. If he does, he never has told me. Tell me that much—since you say Sid Prale knows it already. It couldn't hurt your side at all." "We might tell you later." "You've got some very good reason for not telling me!" Farland accused. "It is the truth, isn't it, that Prale does not know a single thing about it. You are afraid to tell me because I may inform him of what you say, and we may straighten out the tangle? I can see through you, sir, as easily as through a newly cleaned window." "I see that you have faith in Sidney Prale," the masked man said. "But I assure you that your faith is misplaced. Is there any way in which I can get you to stop your work for him?" "Meaning against his influential enemies, or on the Rufus Shepley murder case?" Farland asked. "We simply want you to stop working for him. If he stands alone, we can punish him the sooner." "I understand about that, of course. But how about the murder case? Do you think Sid Prale is guilty of that crime?" Farland asked. "I do not know, I am sure. I understand that the evidence against him is damaging. But we are not awaiting the outcome of that. He may manage to have the charge against him dismissed, and we are going ahead with our plans for punishment." "Then you want me to quit Prale so I won't be helping him work against his enemies, and not because you are afraid that, in clearing him of the murder charge, I may find something detrimental to other persons?" "That is the idea," the masked man replied. "The murder case can take care of itself, I suppose." "Suppose I refuse to make this deal with you?" "In that event, we may feel called upon to detain you—and perhaps to use further violence." "Then you might as well start!" Jim Farland cried. "For you are lying to me like blazes! It's the murder case that's worrying you, and you know it! And I know you! I've been trying to place those hands of yours and I have succeeded. Besides, you have said one or two things that have convinced me——" The masked man gave a shriek and started toward the couch, his hands reaching out, clutching. Two of the thugs ran in from the hall. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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