Page:Weird Tales v02n04 (1923-11).djvu/65

64 "Morning, Mrs. Cruze. Is it your Gilbert who's down with the fever?"

"Yes. The boy—"

"The boy is in a terrible condition," interposed Timothy. That, he recalled, was the proper phrase for such an occasion.

Somewhat abashed, the spokesman stammered:

"I'm sorry we got to bother you, then, but—well, something mighty peculiar has happened. Something very strange."

"What's that?" demanded Timothy. He frowned questioningly.

"Dr. Philemon—he's disappeared."

"Dr.—Philemon?" Even Agatha admired the surprise in her husband's tone. She raised her brows to indicate her own amazement.

"Yeh," grumbled the spokesman. "Just—disappeared."

Timothy eyed his wife, then turned back to the villagers.

"What do you mean, he's disappeared? When? How?"

"Dunno, Cruze. Dunno anything about it—except what we found this morning."

"What?"

"His wife—she sent out a sort of general alarm. Said her husband hadn't come home after—after going to your house."

"He did come to our house," said Agatha.

"I know. So we started up here to ask if he'd left—and—and we found his buggy down the road."

"His buggy!" exclaimed Timothy, moving forward out of the door. "You found his buggy?"

"Yeh. Empty."

"Well!"" Timothy addressed the exclamation to his wife. And Agatha succeeded in looking mystified, though she was wracked by turbulent nervousness. From her position she could se, the boards which covered the well; the sight nauseated the woman—but she was too hardened a Stoic to surrender to her emotions.

"What do you mean—you found his buggy empty?" she demanded.

The bald spokesman shrugged.

"Just that, Mrs. Cruze. We came upon it about a mile or so down past Drakes'. The horse tied to a tree—and no sign of the doctor."

Agatha expressed fright in her widened eyes.

"Do—do you think he could have been—held up?"

"Held up? On a night like that—in that storm and everything? Dunno, ma'am, but it don't seem likely. Besides—well, lots of queer things happened last night. The doctor's house was robbed."

"What!" It was Timothy who again vented feigned surprise.

"Yeh. His wife's jewels taken, money taken, safe busted. Then the doctor comes up here—and disappears. Funny."

"Mighty funny!" agreed Cruze. He scowled and scratched his head. "Let's see," he mused, "he left here about—about—what time would you say, Agatha?"

"About half past two, I guess."

"Yes, about then. Got into the buggy and drove off."

The bald man pulled at his moustache, perplexed.

"Didn't he act sort of—strange?"

"Not as I noticed," decided Timothy.

"He didn't say a word about the robbery? You know, he discovered it before he left home to come here."

Cruze felt an impulse to utter an oath. He cast an uneasy glance at his motionless wife, for he realized they had erred. Surely, Dr. Philemon would have mentioned the robbery. It must have been paramount in the physician's mind. To suppose that he would have called without speaking of it was ridiculous. And yet the Cruzes had simulated amazement at the announcement of the theft. Their caution had been too great—too great to be convincing. He could detect a hint of suspicion in the villager's query. The man had turned to look at his three associates—a meaning look, it seemed.

But Agatha Cruze assumed control of the situation, as she did in all crises. She was cool. Her gaze had roved over the distant hills to the blue skies, to the drifting clouds skimming lightly before a flippant breeze. As she watched them, a pained expression crossed her features. She said, quite pathetically:

"Maybe the doctor did act sort of funny. Maybe he did, Tim. We didn't notice. Our Gil was so sick—so sick! Even the doctor must have forgotten that robbery when he saw the boy. He didn't mention it, anyway. He was too busy with—Gil. Poor boy!"

The spokesman coughed sympathetically.

"Of course," he said. "Of course, Dr. Philemon wouldn't have bothered you with his own troubles at a time like that. He was too much of a gentleman, was the doctor—I mean, is the doctor!" He hastily corrected himself, as if regretting the implication in his use of tenses. "Er—what seems to be the matter with your boy, Mrs. Cruze?"

She choked a sob—a sincere sob, this time; the sob of a mother.

"Fever. He's got the fever."

Pityingly the spokesman shook his head.

"That's awful," he muttered. And one of his associates mumbled:

"Come on—guess we'd better be getting back, men. We ought to tell Mrs. Philemon about the buggy—and get some police on the job. Come on. Let's go. Mrs. Cruze has the boy inside—"

Readily the spokesman acquiesced. He rubbed a hand over his great moustache and said:

"Well, guess we ought to, at that. So you ain't got any information to give us, Cruze?"

"None except what I told you. The doctor left here about half past two, after seeing our Gil. Said he'd send a Board of Health sign up to put on our door. We put this one up meanwhile—to keep folks out. No use—no use letting the thing spread."

"No. No-o. Of course not We-ell, thanks, Cruze. Don't know what we're going to do about all this. We'll have to leave it to the police, I suppose Well, good-by. Hope your boy gets better real soon."

"Thanks," replied Timothy, watching the villagers turn away. Great elation was bubbling within him. He had evaded suspicion! He had fooled them with his wife's brains.

Wishes for Gilbert's recovery were voiced by the other men as they walked off, and Timothy expressed his gratitude solemnly.

And when the visitors had vanished down the road, he turned to Agatha. His eyes shone; he gripped her arms.

"We did it!" he whispered gleefully. "We sent them off!"

"Yes." MooilyMoodily [sic] she nodded, as impassionate as ever. "Come in. We left Gil alone."

They entered. And the boy's voice came to them in its monotonous chant, thudding upon their nerves with its pitiless persistence:

Timothy suddenly shuddered. He eyed his wife uneasily.

"Can't we make him stop that noise?" he exclaimed harshly.

His answer came from the upper floor. Gilbert cried:

"I want to see the well! Take me to the well! Lemme see the well! The doctor's in the well! "