A Husband by Proxy | Page 6

the employment and conclude the essential arrangements.
"Respectfully yours, "JOHN STEFFAS, "Dep't of Special Service."
A wave of gratitude toward Lochlan, the lawyer who had first employed him, and advised this New York office, surged with another, of almost boyish joy, through Garrison's being. It seemed almost absurd that two actual clients should thus have appeared within the hour. He looked up at the little man with a new, keen interest.
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Wicks," he said. "Will you please sit down? I am at your service."
Mr. Wicks snatched a chair and sat down. It was quite a violent maneuver, especially as that sinister grin never for a moment left his features. He took off his hat and made a vicious dive at a wisp of long, red hair that adorned the otherwise barren top of his head. The wisp lay down toward his left ear when thus adjusted. He looked up at Garrison almost fiercely.
"Obscure, ain't you?" he demanded.
"Obscure?" inquired Garrison. "Perhaps I am--just at present--here in New York."
"You are!" stated Mr. Wicks aggressively.
Garrison was not enamored of his manner.
"All right," he said--"all right."
Mr. Wicks suddenly leaned forward and fetched his index finger almost up against the young man's nose.
"Good at murder?" he demanded.
Garrison began to suspect that the building might harbor lunatics, several of whom had escaped.
"Am I good at murder?" he repeated. "Doing murder or----"
"Ferreting murder! Ferreting murder! Ferreting murder!" cried the visitor irritably.
"Oh," said Garrison, "if you wish to employ me on a murder case, I'll do the best I can."
"You worked out the Biddle robbery?" queried Mr. Wicks.
Garrison replied that he had. The Biddle robbery was the Lochlan case--his first adventure in criminology.
"Take the case!" commanded Mr. Wicks in his truculent manner. "Two hundred and fifty a month as long as you work. One thousand dollars bonus if you find the murderer. Accept the terms?"
"Yes, I'll take the case," he said. "What sort of----"
Mr. Wicks made a sudden snatch at his wisp of hair, adjusted it quite to the other side of his head, then as abruptly drew a paper from his pocket and thrust it into Garrison's hand.
"Statement of the case," he interrupted. "Read it."
Garrison accepted the document, spread it open, and read as follows:
STATEMENT: Case of John Hardy.
Name--John Hardy.
Age--57.
Occupation--Real estate dealer (retired).
Residence--Unfixed, changed frequently (last, Hickwood, two days, boarding).
Family--No immediate family (no one nearer than nephews and nieces).
Rating in Bradbury's--No rating.
Insured in any other companies--No.
Insured with us for what amount--Twenty thousand dollars.
Name of beneficiary--Charles Scott.
Residence--Hickwood, New York (village).
Occupation--Inventor.
Date of subject's death--May 27th.
Place of death--Village of Branchville (near Hickwood).
Verdict of coroner--Death from natural causes (heart failure or apoplexy).
Body claimed by--Paul Durgin (nephew).
Body interred where--Shipped to Vermont for burial.
Suspicious circumstances--Beneficiary paid once before on claim for similar amount, death of risk having been equally sudden and unexplained.
Remarks--The body was found on the porch of an empty house (said by superstitious neighbors to be haunted). It was found in sitting posture, leaning against post of porch. No signs of violence except a green stain on one knee. Deceased uncommonly neat. There is no grass growing before the empty house, owing to heavy shade of trees. No signs of struggle near house. Details supplied by old woman, Mrs. Webber, whose son found deceased. Our company not represented, either at inquest or afterward, as no notification of subject's death was filed until the 31st inst.
At the bottom, written in pencil, appeared the words:
"Quiet case. Steffas."
That was all. Garrison turned the paper. There was nothing on the reverse. Placing it face upward on the table, he thrust his hands into his pockets and looked at Mr. Wicks.
"I'm expected to fasten this crime on Scott?" he inquired. "Is that what your company requires?"
"Fasten the crime on the guilty man!" replied the aggressive Mr. Wicks. "If Scott didn't do it, we'll pay the claim. If he did, we'll send him to the chair. It may not be murder at all."
"Of course," said Garrison. "Who wrote this report?"
"What's that to you?" said Wicks.
"I wondered why the writer drops out of the case," answered Garrison. "That's all."
"I wrote it," said Wicks. "Scott knows me from the former case. If you want the case, you will start this evening for Hickwood and begin your work. Use your own devices. Report everything promptly--everything. Go at once to the office and present your card for expenses and typed instructions. Good-day!"
He had clapped on his hat. He strode to the door, opened it, disappeared, and closed it again as if he worked on springs. Garrison was left staring at the knob, his hand mechanically closed on the statement intrusted to his keeping.
"Well," he said, "I'll be scalloped! Good old New York!"
He was presently out upon the street, a brisk, active figure, boarding a Broadway car for the downtown office of the company.
At half past five he