Heit on the telephone. And then, after explaining to the
newspapers about a reported double drowning at Big
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Bittern, he seized his own blue-banded straw hat, some two
sizes too large for him, and hurried down the hall, only to
encounter, opposite the wide-open office door of the district
attorney, Zillah Saunders, spinster and solitary
stenographer to the locally somewhat famous and mercurial
Orville W. Mason, district attorney. She was on her way to
the auditor’s office, but being struck by the preoccupation
and haste of Mr. Newcomb, usually so much more
deliberate, she now called: “Hello, Earl. What’s the rush?
Where you going so fast?”
“Double drowning up at Big Bittern, we hear. Maybe
something worse. Mr. Heit’s going up and I’m going along.
We have to make that 3:10.”
“Who said so? Is it anyone from here?”
“Don’t know yet, but don’t think so. There was a letter in the
girl’s pocket addressed to some one in Biltz, Mimico
County, a Mrs. Alden. I’ll tell you when we get back or I’ll
telephone you.”
“My goodness, if it’s a crime, Mr. Mason’ll be interested,
won’t he?”
“Sure, I’ll telephone him, or Mr. Heit will. If you see Bud
Parker or Karel Badnell, tell ’em I had to go out of town, and
call up my mother for me, will you, Zillah, and tell her, too.
I’m afraid I won’t have time.”
“Sure I will, Earl.”
“Thanks.”
And, highly interested by this latest development in the
ordinary humdrum life of his chief, he skipped gayly and
even eagerly down the south steps of the Cataraqui County
Courthouse, while Miss Saunders, knowing that her own
chief was off on some business connected with the
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732
approaching County Republican Convention, and there
being no one else in his office with whom she could
communicate at this time, went on to the auditor’s office,
where it was possible to retail to any who might be
assembled there, all that she had gathered concerning this
seemingly important lake tragedy.
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Chapter 2
THE information obtained by Coroner Heit and his assistant
was of a singular and disturbing character. In the first
instance, because of the disappearance of a boat and an
apparently happy and attractive couple bent on sight-
seeing, an early morning search, instigated by the inn-
keeper of this region, had revealed, in Moon Cove, the
presence of the overturned canoe, also the hat and veil.
And immediately such available employees, as well as
guides and guests of the Inn, as could be impressed, had
begun diving into the waters or by means of long poles
equipped with hooks attempting to bring one or both bodies
to the surface. The fact, as reported by Sim Shoop, the
guide, as well as the innkeeper and the boat-house lessee,
that the lost girl was both young and attractive and her
companion seemingly a youth of some means, was
sufficient to whet the interest of this lake group of
woodsmen and inn employees to a point which verged on
sorrow. And in addition, there was intense curiosity as to
how, on so fair and windless a day, so strange an accident
could have occurred.
But what created far more excitement after a very little time
was the fact that at high noon one of the men who trolled—
John Pole—a woodsman, was at last successful in bringing
to the surface Roberta herself, drawn upward by the skirt of
her dress, obviously bruised about the face—the lips and
nose and above and below the right eye—a fact which to
those who were assisting at once seemed to be suspicious.
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Indeed, John Pole, who with Joe Rainer at the oars was the
one who had succeeded in bringing her to the surface, had
exclaimed at once on seeing her: “Why, the pore little thing!
She don’t seem to weigh more’n nothin’ at all. It’s a wonder
tuh me she coulda sunk.” And then reaching over and
gathering her in his strong arms, he drew her in, dripping
and lifeless, while his companions signaled to the other
searchers, who came swiftly. And putting back from her
face the long, brown, thick hair which the action of the
water had swirled concealingly across it, he had added: “I
do declare, Joe! Looka here. It does look like the child
mighta been hit by somethin’! Looka here, Joe!” And soon
the group of woodsmen and inn guests in their boats
alongside were looking at the brownish-blue marks on
Roberta’s face.
And forthwith, even while the body of Roberta was being
taken north to the boat-house, and the dragging for the
body of the lost man was resumed, suspicions were being
voiced in such phrases as: “Well, it looks kinda queer—
them marks—an’ all,—don’t it? It’s curious a boat like that
coulda upset on a day like yesterday.”“We’ll soon know if
he’s down there or not!”; the feeling, following failure after
hours of fruitless search for him, definitely coalescing at last
into the conclusion that more than likely he was not down
there at all—a hard and stirring thought to all.
Subsequent to this, the guide who had brought Clyde and
Roberta from Gun Lodge conferring with the inn-keepers at
Big Bittern and Grass Lake, it was factually determined: (1)
that the drowned girl had left her bag at Gun Lodge
whereas Clifford Golden had taken his with him; (2) that
there was a disturbing discrepancy between the registration
at Grass Lake and that at Big Bittern, the names Carl
Graham and Clifford Golden being carefully discussed by
the two inn-keepers and the identity of the bearer as to
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735
looks established; and (3) that the said Clifford Golden or
Carl Graham had asked of the guide who had driven him
over to Big Bittern whether there were many people on the
lake that day. And thereafter the suspicions thus far
engendered further coalescing into the certainty that there
had been foul play. There was scarcely any doubt of it.
Immediately upon his arrival Coroner Heit was made to
understand that these men of the north woods were deeply
moved and in addition determined in their suspicions. They
did not believe that the body of Clifford Golden or Carl
Graham had ever sunk to the bottom of the lake. With the
result that Heit on viewing the body of the unknown girl laid
carefully on a cot in the boat-house, and finding her young
and attractive, was strangely affected, not only by her looks
but this circumambient atmosphere of suspicion. Worse yet,
on retiring to the office of the manager of the inn, and being
handed the letter found in the pocket of Roberta’s coat, he
was definitely swayed in the direction of a somber and
unshakable suspicion. For he read:
Grass Lake, N.Y.,July 8th.
DEAREST MAMMA
We’re up here and we’re going to be married, but this is for your
eyes alone. Please don’t show it to papa or any one, for it mustn’t
become known yet. I told you why at Christmas. And you’re not
to worry or ask any questions or tell any one except just that you’ve heard from me and know where I am—not anybody. And
you mustn’t think I won’t be getting along all right because I will be. Here’s a big hug and kiss for each cheek, mamma. Be sure
and make father understand that it’s all right without telling him anything, or Emily or Tom or Gifford, either, do you hear? I’m sending you nice, big kisses.
Lovingly,
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BERT.
P.S. This must be your secret and mine until I write you different
a little later on.
And in the upper right-hand corner of the paper, as well as
on the envelope, were printed the words: “Grass Lake Inn,
Grass Lake, N. Y., Jack Evans, Prop.” And the letter had
evidently been written the morning after the night they had
spent at Grass Lake as Mr. and Mrs. Carl Graham.
The waywardness of young girls!
For plainly, as this letter indicated, these two had stayed
together as man and wife at that inn when they were not as
yet married. He winced as he read, for he had daughters of
his own of whom he was exceedingly fond. But at this point
he had a thought. A quadrennial county election was
impending, the voting to take place the following
November, at which were to be chosen for three years
more the entire roster of county offices, his own included,
and in addition this year a county judge whose term was for
six years. In August, some six weeks further on, were to be
held the county Republican and Democratic conventions at
which were to be chosen the regular party nominees for
these respective offices. Yet for no one of these places,
thus far, other than that of the county judgeship, could the
present incumbent of the office of district attorney possibly