the golf course mystery(高尔夫教程)-第31节
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the corner of the cab； scarcely glancing out of the window to note the busy
scenes all about him。
It was not until he had purchased his ticket and was about to board the
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last Jersey Shore train； to take him back to the ‘scene of the death of
Horace Carwell； that Colonel Ashley； as he caught sight of a figure in the
crowd ahead of him； seemed galvanized into new life。
For a moment he gazed at a certain man； taking care to keep some
women with large hats between the object of his attention and himself。
And then； as he made sure of the identity； the colonel murmured：
〃Poor fishing did I say？ Well； it seems to me it's getting better。〃
He looked at his watch； made a rapid calculation that showed him he
had about five minutes before the train's departure； and then he hurried off
to his right and down the stairs that led to the lavatories。
It was Colonel Robert Lee Ashley； as Bruce Garrigan had seen him at
the Fifth Avenue club； who entered one of the pay compartments where so
many in…coming and out…going travelers may； for the modest sum of ten
cents； enjoy in the railroad station a freshening up by means of soap；
towels and plenty of hot water。
But it was a typical Southern politician； with slouch hat； long frock
coat； a moustache and goatee； who emerged from the same private wash…
room a little later； carrying a small； black valise。
〃I don't like to do this；〃 said Colonel Ashley； making sure the spirit
gum had set； so his moustache and goatee would not come off prematurely；
〃but I have to。 This fishing is getting better； and I don't want any of the
fish to see me。〃
Then he went down the steps to the train that soon would be whirling
him under the Hudson river； along the Jersey meadows； and down to the
cool shore。 He passed through the string of coaches until he came to one
where he found a seat behind a certain man。 Into this vantage point the
colonel； looking more the part than ever； slumped himself and opened his
paper。
〃Yes； the fishing is getting better … decidedly better；〃 he mused。 〃I
shouldn't wonder but what I got a bite soon。〃
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CHAPTER XVI
SOME LETTERS
When Jean Forette； whose month was not quite up and who had not
yet completed arrangements for his new position； alighted from the Shore
Express at Lakeside and made his way…afoot and not in a machine … to the
Three Pines； the picturesque figure of the Southern gentleman followed。
〃I wonder；〃 mused Colonel Ashley； 〃whether he takes Scotch
Highballs or absinthe； and what dope he mixes with it？ Absinthe is
rather hard to get out here； I should imagine； but they might have a green
brand of whiskey they'd sell for it。 But that Frenchman ought to know
the genuine stuff。 However； we'll see。〃
Carrying his limp； leather bag； which had served him in such good
stead when he entered the lavatory； the colonel slouched silently along the
road。 It was close to midnight； and there would be no other trains to the
shore that day。
The lights of the Three Pines glowed in pleasant and inviting fashion
across the sandy highway。 Out in front stood several cars； for the tavern
was one much patronized by summer visitors； and was a haven of refuge；
a 〃life…saving station；〃 as it had been dubbed by those who fancied they
were much in need of alcoholic refreshment。
Jean Forette entered； and Colonel Ashley； waiting a little and making
sure that the 〃tap room；〃 as it was ostentatiously called； was sufficiently
filled to enable him to mingle with the patrons without attracting undue
notice； followed。
He looked about for a sight of the chauffeur； and saw him leaning up
against the bar； sipping a glass of beer； and； between imbibitions； talking
earnestly to the white…aproned bartender。
〃I'd like to hear what they're saying；〃 mused the colonel。 〃I wonder if
I can get a bit nearer。〃
He ordered some rye； and； having disposed of it； took out a cigar； and
began searching in his pockets as though for a match。
〃Here you are！〃 observed a bartender； as he held out a lighted taper。
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The colonel had anticipated this； and quickly moved down the
mahogany rail toward the end where Jean Forette was standing。 At that
end was a little gas jet kept burning as a convenience to smokers。
〃I'll use that；〃 said the colonel。 〃I don't like the flavor of burnt wood
in my smoke。〃
〃Fussy old duck；〃 murmured the barkeeper as he let the flame he had
ignited die out； flicking the b1ackened end to the floor。
And； being careful to keep his face as much as possible in the shadow
of his big； slouch hat； Colonel Ashley lighted his cigar at the gas flame。
And； somehow or other； that cigar required a long and most careful
lighting。 The smoker got the tip glowing； and then inspected it critically。
It was not to his satisfaction； as he drew a few puffs on it； and again he
applied the end to the flame。
He sent forth a perfect cloud of smoke this time； and it seemed to veil
him as the fog； blowing in from the sea； veils the tumbling billows。 Once
more there was a look at the end； but the 〃fussy old duck〃 was not
satisfied； and； again had recourse to the flame。
All this while Colonel Ashley was straining his ears to catch what Jean
Forette was saying to the attendant who had drawn the frothing glass of
beer for him。
But the men talked in too low a tone； or the colonel had been a bit too
late； for all he heard was a murmur of automobile talk。 Jean seemed to
be telling something about a particularly fast car he had formerly driven。
〃The fishing isn't as good as I hoped；〃 mused the colonel。
Then； as he turned to go out； he heard distinctly：
〃Sure I remember you paying for the drink。 I can prove that if you
want me to。 Are they tryin' to double…cross you？〃
〃Something like that； yes。〃
〃Well； you leave it to me； see？ I'll square you all right。〃
〃Thanks；〃 murmured Jean； and then he； too； turned aside。
〃There may be something in it after all；〃 was the colonel's thought； and
then he； too； hurried from the Three Pines； passing beneath the big trees；
with their sighing branches； which gave the name to the inn。
On toward The Haven； through the silence and darkness of the night；
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went the detective。 And at a particularly dark and lonely place he
stopped。 The pungent； clean smell of grain alcohol filled the air； and a
little later a man； devoid of goatee and moustache； passing out into the
starlight； while a black； slouch hat went into the bag； and a Panama； so
flexible that it had not suffered from having been thrust rather ruthlessly
into the valise； came out。
〃I don't like that sort of detective work；〃 mused the colonel； 〃but it has
its uses。〃
Viola Carwell； alone in her room； sat with a bundle of letters on a table
before her。 They were letters she had found in a small drawer of the
private safe … a drawer she had； at first； thought contained nothing。 The
discovery of the letters had been made in a peculiar manner。
Viola and Miss Carwell； going over the documents； had sorted them
into two piles … one to be submitted to the lawyer； the other being made up
of obviously personal matters that could have no interest for any but
members of the family。
Then Miss Carwell had been called away to attend to some household
matters； and Viola had started to return to the safe such of the papers as
were not to go to the lawyer。
She opened a small drawer； to slip back into it a bundle of letters her
mother had written to Mr。 Carwell years before。 Then Viola became
aware of something
