“No, Kito keeps absolutely within his orders; he knew how things stood when he went away. Mercer saw him go. He couldn’t get in, either; he had to signal to be let in. They were as careful as that. Now, assuming they all are innocent, isn’t it the best plan to telephone to Seattle to Keatcham’s next friend there?”
“He hasn’t any family, has he? His wife died and there were no children, I think.”
“No, and if he ever had any brothers or sisters they died when they were little; his business associates are the only people Cary knows about. He is anxious to have word sent at once, because there are important things to do in Keatcham’s own interest; he came to California and he has employed Cary in a big Portland cement investment; Cary has been working all the time on it for him—I beg your pardon—” for the colonel had raised his hand with a little gasp.
“Do you mean,” said he, “that Mercer has been acting as Keatcham’s agent, working in his interest all the time he was holding him a prisoner and ready to kill him rather than let him go?”
“Why not? Cary is a man of honor. This cement deal is a perfectly fair one which will give a fair price to the present owners and make a great business proposition. There are other schemes, too, very large ones, which need the man at the wheel. Now, I have talked with Cary and Endicott Tracy and my plan is to call up Warnebold, his next friend, who knows Mercer has been employed by Keatcham and knows his voice and knows he is a trusty man (for Mercer has done some inquiries for him and saved him once from buying a water-logged steel plant) to call him up and—tell him the truth. We can say Mr. Keatcham was mysteriously stabbed; we can ask what is best to do. By that time we can report that we have the best medical assistance—young Arnold will get his family physician, who can be trusted. Warnebold will instruct Mercer, I reckon, to keep the fact of the assault a secret, not even mention that Mr. Keatcham is ill; and very likely he or some one else will come straight on here. Meanwhile, young Arnold can open the house, hire some servants who won’t talk—I can get them for him; we all say nothing of the magnate’s presence. And the bull market will come all right.”
After a little reflection the colonel agreed that the bold course would be the safest. Thus it came about, with amazing rapidity, that the haunted house was opened; that sleek, smiling Chinamen whisked brooms and cleaning cloths at open windows; and Haley and Kito frankly told any curious inquirers who hailed them over the lawn and the flower-beds that young Mr. Arnold was coming home and going to have a house-party of friends. The servants had been carefully selected by Mrs. Winter’s powerful Chinese friend; they had no dread of white spooks, however they might cringe before yellow ones. Mrs. Winter and Randall left their hotel, after all the appropriate ceremonies, amid the lavish bows and smiles of liberally paid bell-boys and porters. They gave out that they were to visit friends; and the colonel, who remained, was to take charge of their mail; hence, with no appearance of secrecy, the trail took to water and was lost, since the motor-car which carried them was supplied by Birdsall and driven by a safe man of his own.
Regarding the detective, Rupert Winter had had what he called “a stiff think;” he could not afford even the remote risk of his going with the picturesque assortment of information which he had obtained about Casa Fuerte and Mercer, into Atkins’ employ; therefore he hired him, still, himself. He made a partial but absolutely truthful statement of the case; he said frankly: “Birdsall, I’m not going to treat you fair, for I’m not going to tell you all I know, because—well, for one thing, I don’t feel sure how much I do know myself. But all I’m going to ask of you is to watch the house, day and night, without seeming to watch it. You will oblige Mr. Keatcham as well as me. There is a big game going on, but it isn’t what you thought. Mr. Keatcham’s best helpers are right in that house. Mercer and I and young Fireless and Arnold are doing our best to guard him, not hurt him. Now, there is big money for you if you will watch out for us.”
Birdsall reflected a moment before he answered, but he did answer, screwing up his face: “I don’t like these jobs in the dark; but I like you, Colonel, and it’s a go.”
Keatcham’s valet was next summoned from his vacation and became, in Tracy’s phrase, “a dandy sub-nurse.”
The Tracys’ family physician came twice a day. He was known to be visiting one of the guests who had fallen ill. Mercer sent three or four telegrams a day to Seattle and to New York, to Keatcham’s associates. Several times he held a conversation of importance over the telephone with the man who acted as distributer of intelligence. Warnebold, himself, came on to San Francisco from Seattle, and was received with every courtesy. He questioned Kito, questioned Mercer, questioned the colonel. Tracy had effaced himself and was in Pasadena for a day or two.