Bewildered, frightened, overawed by his fateful knowledge, he had managed, however, to reach New York, where he sought out Mr. Elliott for counsel; he knew the latter was kind and good and would tell him what to do. Joe realized that he needed advice—that he was in a terrible fix, being the only witness, so far as he knew, of a crime of the worst kind.
As Joe told Mr. Elliott the things he had witnessed, that gentleman realized the tremendous value of the evidence being told him.
By adroit questioning, he determined that the celebrated Quintus Oakes was in Mona. The boy said he recognized him, for he had frequently "shined" Mr. Oakes's shoes in times past on Broadway. Elliott realized that as he was called Clark at the inquest—according to Joe—the people in Mona did not know him as Oakes; he must be travelling under an alias, on important business probably. Elliott also grasped the fact that Oakes was there at the time of the murder by coincidence only. He had read of the affair in the evening paper, but only in a careless manner. It was all of deep interest now.
What should he do with Joe?
If he allowed the boy to think that he was in a tight place, he might run away, and that would defeat justice. There was the alternative of telling the police; that would mix himself up in an unpleasant affair, and Joe might not be believed—might be falsely accused of the murder.
Again, he knew Mr. Oakes. He had seen him at the Club, and he did not desire to frustrate whatever investigations the detective might be making.
The best solution would be to find Quintus Oakes and tell him. He certainly would be able to give some attention to the murder, even if not in Mona for that purpose. Meanwhile, he himself would hold the boy at all hazards.
With skill scarcely to be expected from one of his easy-going type, he told Joe to remain and sleep in his flat that night and that he would fix things for him. The terror-stricken negro was only too glad of sympathy and protection from one of Mr. Elliott's standing, and complied; for he was at the mercy of his friends. What could he, a colored boy, do alone?
After tired nature had asserted herself and Joe had fallen asleep in a room which had been given him, Elliott called up Oakes's office by telephone. In less than an hour a dapper young man sought admission to the apartment, and was met by Elliott. He introduced himself as "Martin—from Oakes's place." In a few words Elliott explained matters, and Martin said:
"Let Joe go to his boot-blacking stand in the morning. Get your shoes shined, and place your hand on his shoulder in conversation, so that he can be identified before you leave. Our men will be in sight. Then meet me at the elevated station, and we will go to Mona together, if you care to do so."