The Red House on Rowan Street

by Lily A. Long

"Of course it was clear from the first that the person who was making the trouble had easy access to the Underwood house and very up-to-date information about everything that went on in the house. At first I, too, thought it must be Henry. Then, when I satisfied myself that it wasn't, I began to keep a watch on Selby."

"Poor old Selby," said Ralston, with sudden recollection.

"Poor old Henry," said Burton sternly. "He has been goaded past endurance. Selby's slate was by no means clear, though I acquit him of many of my suspicions. But I am telling you now why I suspected him. He hated Henry and was jealous of him. He was a party to the discovery of Henry's knife near the Sprigg house, and I thought I had reason to believe he had himself dropped it there. He had access to the Red House through his business relations with Ben, and Mrs. Bussey was an eavesdropper and spy who could easily have given him the inside information required. Finally he had in his possession a number of Indian baskets and was known to have been much among the Indians as a boy. I was certain that the strong and supple fingers that had twisted the lilac bushes into a net to hold the Sprigg baby and that had knotted the cords into a snare about Mr. Hadley had learned the trick of Indian weaving when they were young."

Ben's chest heaved. He was looking at Burton with a look that made Watson glance warningly at the officers who stood beside him. Burton went on with his nerve-trying deliberation.

"I went up to the Reservation with the hope of finding some one who would remember teaching young Selby how to tie the peculiar and unusual knot I had noticed. I found Ehimmeshunka, who makes the baskets, and the old chief Washitonka, who knew Ben's father, but I could not get them to talk about the old times. How did you get word to them to hold their tongue, Ben?"

Ben affected not to hear. Watson looked up in quick surprise as though he would have spoken, and then checked himself. The others, who understood by this time Burton's plan of exasperating Ben into speech, said nothing.

"Finally, just as I was leaving, Pahrunta, who sells the baskets to travellers at the station, gave me a clue. By the way," he added, turning to Ralston, "there was a bit of poetic justice in that. The first day I was in High Ridge, I saw Selby rudely strike away her arm, when she tried to stop him to speak to him. It was in revenge for that blow that she gave me the information I wanted and which I could not get from the others. She showed me an old daguerreotype with Selby's portrait in it. It must have been an old keepsake given by him in the early days when they were friends. There was another portrait in it also,--Ben's. Then it occurred to me that Ben was more likely to have learned basket making than Selby, because he had an aptitude for handicrafts. He had all the opportunities Selby had,--provided he could walk. In order to find out whether his paralysis was a sham, I arranged with Watson to have an alarm of fire given at such a time that I should have an opportunity of observing Ben immediately before and immediately after. I spilled a red powder over his clothing just as the alarm sounded. I left him alone in the room, and when I went back, five minutes later, I saw by the marks of the powder that he had left his chair, walked to the head of the stairs to look and listen, and gone back to his chair. That was all I needed to know."

Ben broke silence at last. "I should have killed you first," he said simply.

"All that was necessary after that was to catch him in the act," continued Burton. "Of course that was now merely a question of time and watchfulness, since we knew his secret, but he walked into the first trap we set. I told him Henry was to be free for one day only, and hinted that it would be bad for his reputation if anything happened to Watson, who was opposed to letting him out,--which was a fact! It was the old situation; an opportunity to throw suspicion on Henry. He took the bait."

"And all these years he has been able to walk!" exclaimed Ralston. "The cunning of it! And the patience! How did you always know so surely how to strike, Ben?"