till I
have conquered the difficulties presented by these men having had
the twenty-dollar bill."
"What fellow is this?" suddenly broke in Knapp.
"A fiddler, a nobody," quietly whispered Mr. Fenton in his ear.
Sweetwater heard him and changed in a twinkling from the
uncertain, half-baffled, wholly humble person they had just seen,
to a man with a purpose strong enough to make him hold up his head
with the best.
"I am a musician," he admitted, "and I play on the violin for
money whenever the occasion offers, something which you will yet
congratulate yourselves upon if you wish to reach the root of this
mysterious and dastardly crime. But that I am a nobody I deny, and
I even dare to hope that you will agree with me in this estimate
of myself before this very night is over. Only give me an
opportunity for considering this subject, and the permission to
walk for a few minutes about this house."
"That is my prerogative," protested the detective firmly, but
without any display of feeling. "I am the man employed to pick up
whatever clews the place may present."
"Have you picked up all that are to be found in this room?" asked
Sweetwater calmly.
Knapp shrugged his shoulders. He was very well satisfied with
himself.
"Then give me a chance," prayed Sweetwater. "Mr. Fenton," he urged
more earnestly, "I am not the fool you take me for. I feel, I
know, I have a genius for this kind of thing, and though I am not
prepossessing to look at, and though I do play the fiddle, I swear
there are depths to this affair which none of you have as yet
sounded. Sirs, where are the nine hundred and eighty dollars in
bills which go to make up the clean thousand that was taken from
the small drawer at the back of Agatha Webb's cupboard?"
"They are in some secret hiding-place, no doubt, which we will
presently come upon as we go through the house," answered Knapp.
"Umph! Then I advise you to put your hand on them as soon as
possible," retorted Sweetwater. "I will confine myself to going
over the ground you have already investigated." And with a sudden
ignoring of the others' presence, which could only have sprung
from an intense egotism or from an overwhelming belief in his own
theory, he began an investigation of the room that threw the
other's more commonplace efforts entirely in the shade.
Knapp, with a slight compression of his lips, which was the sole
expression of anger he ever allowed himself, took up his hat and
made his bow to Mr. Fenton.
"I see," said he, "that the sympathy of those present is with
local talent. Let local talent work, then, sir, and when you feel
the need of a man of training and experience, send to the tavern
on the docks, where I will be found till I am notified that my
services are no longer required."
"No, no!" protested Mr. Fenton. "This boy's enthusiasm will soon
evaporate. Let him fuss away if he will. His petty business need
not interrupt us."
"But he understands himself," whispered Knapp. "I should think he
had been on our own force for years."
"All the more reason to see what he's up to. Wait, if only to
satisfy your curiosity. I shan't let many minutes go by before I
pull him up."
Knapp, who was really of a cold and unimpressionable temperament,
refrained from further argument, and confined himself to watching
the young man, whose movements seemed to fascinate him.
"Astonishing!" Mr. Fenton heard him mutter to himself. "He's more
like an eel than a man." And indeed the way Sweetwater wound
himself out and in through that room, seeing everything that came
under his eye, was a sight well worth any professional's
attention. Pausing before the dead man on the floor, he held the
lantern close to the white, worn face. "Ha!" said he, picking
something from the long beard, "here's a crumb of that same bread.
Did you see that, Mr. Knapp?"
The question was so sudden and so sharp that the detective came
near replying to it; but he bethought himself, and said nothing.
"That settles which of the two gnawed the
have conquered the difficulties presented by these men having had
the twenty-dollar bill."
"What fellow is this?" suddenly broke in Knapp.
"A fiddler, a nobody," quietly whispered Mr. Fenton in his ear.
Sweetwater heard him and changed in a twinkling from the
uncertain, half-baffled, wholly humble person they had just seen,
to a man with a purpose strong enough to make him hold up his head
with the best.
"I am a musician," he admitted, "and I play on the violin for
money whenever the occasion offers, something which you will yet
congratulate yourselves upon if you wish to reach the root of this
mysterious and dastardly crime. But that I am a nobody I deny, and
I even dare to hope that you will agree with me in this estimate
of myself before this very night is over. Only give me an
opportunity for considering this subject, and the permission to
walk for a few minutes about this house."
"That is my prerogative," protested the detective firmly, but
without any display of feeling. "I am the man employed to pick up
whatever clews the place may present."
"Have you picked up all that are to be found in this room?" asked
Sweetwater calmly.
Knapp shrugged his shoulders. He was very well satisfied with
himself.
"Then give me a chance," prayed Sweetwater. "Mr. Fenton," he urged
more earnestly, "I am not the fool you take me for. I feel, I
know, I have a genius for this kind of thing, and though I am not
prepossessing to look at, and though I do play the fiddle, I swear
there are depths to this affair which none of you have as yet
sounded. Sirs, where are the nine hundred and eighty dollars in
bills which go to make up the clean thousand that was taken from
the small drawer at the back of Agatha Webb's cupboard?"
"They are in some secret hiding-place, no doubt, which we will
presently come upon as we go through the house," answered Knapp.
"Umph! Then I advise you to put your hand on them as soon as
possible," retorted Sweetwater. "I will confine myself to going
over the ground you have already investigated." And with a sudden
ignoring of the others' presence, which could only have sprung
from an intense egotism or from an overwhelming belief in his own
theory, he began an investigation of the room that threw the
other's more commonplace efforts entirely in the shade.
Knapp, with a slight compression of his lips, which was the sole
expression of anger he ever allowed himself, took up his hat and
made his bow to Mr. Fenton.
"I see," said he, "that the sympathy of those present is with
local talent. Let local talent work, then, sir, and when you feel
the need of a man of training and experience, send to the tavern
on the docks, where I will be found till I am notified that my
services are no longer required."
"No, no!" protested Mr. Fenton. "This boy's enthusiasm will soon
evaporate. Let him fuss away if he will. His petty business need
not interrupt us."
"But he understands himself," whispered Knapp. "I should think he
had been on our own force for years."
"All the more reason to see what he's up to. Wait, if only to
satisfy your curiosity. I shan't let many minutes go by before I
pull him up."
Knapp, who was really of a cold and unimpressionable temperament,
refrained from further argument, and confined himself to watching
the young man, whose movements seemed to fascinate him.
"Astonishing!" Mr. Fenton heard him mutter to himself. "He's more
like an eel than a man." And indeed the way Sweetwater wound
himself out and in through that room, seeing everything that came
under his eye, was a sight well worth any professional's
attention. Pausing before the dead man on the floor, he held the
lantern close to the white, worn face. "Ha!" said he, picking
something from the long beard, "here's a crumb of that same bread.
Did you see that, Mr. Knapp?"
The question was so sudden and so sharp that the detective came
near replying to it; but he bethought himself, and said nothing.
"That settles which of the two gnawed the
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