6
THE SEMI-MONTHLY MAGAZINE SECTION
NOVEMBER. JOE!
WOODSMAN DETECTIVE
V A e MYSTERY OF
FLETCHER BUCKMAN
iy HESKETH PRICHARjD
im tictd Ar mxic rncorv r.rounvi
a w b w jr XW t b WW if
WAS DOZING. It sofiiioil deep in
l lie night to me. Tin- train Hint No
vember Joe mid 1 hail boarded late
the previous evening was passing, with
a rattle and a roar, between the woods
that Hank the metals, when suddenly
there ennie shriek upon shriek, such
as mark the top note of grief and human horror. It
was a woman's voice.
Upon the instant, the, whole sleeping ear awoke;
half a. dozen passengers sprung to the carpeted lloor,
surprise and consternation eloquent in their faces
and attitudes.
"It's from that private car," cried some one.
"Who '8 in it?"
A bearded man answered: "Fletcher Hueknian and
his wife."
"It was a woman's scream."
"We must see what s wrong."
The bearded man and two others ran down the
corridor, only to meet the conductor, who stopped
inside, the door and confronted them squarely.
"There's murder doing. Here, let's pass!" they
gasped.
The conductor's bard face cheeked them. "Hah!
Mrs. Bucknian 's had a nightmare. That 's all there's
to it," be said roughly.
I knew t lint his words were mere invention. His
no.t act made me even more certain; for he locked
the door behind him, and walked quickly through
I lie car, paying no attention to the babble of ques
tions, remonstrance, incredulity and advice thrust
upon hint from all sides. A minute later, In reap
peared with November Joe,
who, scorning sleepers, was
traveling in the car ahead.
As ho passed, .loo whispered:
"Come on!" Wo stepped out
from the blaze of electricity
into a cold white light of (lawn,
against which tbo masked trees
on either side loomed black and
wet as the train steamed for
ward. On the open platform be
tween the cars the conductor
said a word to Joo: "1 brought
you along, November, because I
want a witness, any way."
THHN WI3 passed into elec
tricity again, as we entered
the p r i v a t o car. 1 shall
never forget the sight that
met us. Across the door lay tbo
figure of a woman; her face,
showing out among folds of
shining silk, was white as chalk,
and though she had lost con
sciousness it was still drawn
with terror. Hut my eyes
Hashed past her to the side of
the car where, close to the bed
place, the body of a man was
dangling, hung by the neck to
a stout brass book.
I could see that he was thin
nish, with a drooping mous
tache, and outrageously bald.
He lurched and swayed to the
swaying of the train ; but it was
the dreadful white head bob
bing stitlly (hat lent the last
touch of horror. Ho was d reused
in pink pajamas, and his bare
heels beat a tattoo against tbo
side boarding of the hunk.
In n second, we had cut him
down; but as the rigid body
sank its weight upon our arms,
we knew that life must have
left it some good while before.
"It 's Fletch. Huckman, sure
enough," said the conductor,
"and there's no hope for him, T reckon? . .
1 haven't found a doc. on the cars; but we can get
a couple of women to see to Mrs. Bucknian. We Ml
start to carry her out of this right now, before she
comes to."
The- conductor and I raised her in our arms, and
within ten minutes we bad left her in kindly hands.
When we got back, .loo was still engrossed in his
examination of the body. Ho put up bis hand to
warn us back as we appeared at the door.
"Wait a bit," bo said. "You can talk from there.
Steve; you were saying . . . '?"
J1 11 12 CONDIVTOI? took up the thread of the
story ho had boon telling to Joe when he
first called him: "As I was explaining to you, I
beard the screech and looked in .just as she dropped.
1 stepped over and got at Fletch.; but I knew by
the feel of him it was too late to try any reviving.
Next, 1 went for you.
"She slept in the little compartment beyond,
'cause he always stayed up half the night working,
and often slept in the bunk here like he did tonight."
continued the conductor. "Guess it 's suicide, Joe."
Ho was leaning forward, and looking into tbo con
torted dead face on the pillow of the bed.
"Perhaps!" said November abruptly, and passed
into Mrs. Htickman's sleeping-room, from which a
door opened to the rear platform of the ear. While
bo was busy moving in and out, Steve, the conductor,
went round making his own observations.
And bore I may as well give a slight description
of the car. It was not a large one; but it was com
fortably fitted with a couple of armchairs and the
jjsiii
"I tell you he was murdered, murdered I the cried
"You were eavesdropping, were you?' Knowles snarled
bunk already mentioned. A rolled-up hammock for
use in tbo hot weather was strapped against the pan
cling, and the hook which bad upheld poor Buck
man's body was intended for supporting one end
of this hammock when slung. To the left, an otlico
bureau with writing materials upon it ; a typewriter,
also, and an open leather bag containing folded
papers. There were windows on both sides of the
car; but while the one on the left was still shuttered,
tho glass of the opposito window was bare and
showed the dark night-clouds sinking in the west.
STRVI3 UTTI2HI2D an exclamation; he was
reading some words typed on a shoot of paper
fixed in tho machine. November, who was still stand
ing by tbo side of the dead man, looked round.
Steve crossed over to him.
"It 's sure suicide," bo said, "though what made
him do it, and be already a millionaire and likely
to be richer every day, boats me!"
"Suicide," repeated Joe softly. "Why suicide?"
"That's his own belt he was hung up with," re
plied Steve; "there's Ms name on to it. And better
proof than that you '11 find on the typewriter over
there. You can read it for yourselves.
I joined Joe at the table. The upper part of tho
shoot of paper which was still in the machine held
some nine or ten lines of a business letter; then, an
inch or more below, a few words stood out upon the
plain whiteness:
"Heaven help me! I can bear it no longer."
"That's tbo sort of slush they mostly write when
they're waiting to jump oft the edge of the world,"
remarked the conductor. "That settles it."
"That 's so," said Joe, "only it was n't Hueknian
wrote that."
"Who else could it be?"
"The man that hanged him."
The conductor gave a snort of laughter. "Then,
you surmiso' that some one came in hero and hung
Fletch. Buekman?"
"Just that."
"0' course Buekman consented to being hung!"
jeered Steve.
"Buekman was dead before he was hanged!" said
November."
"What 's that you Yo saying?" cried Steve.
"If you examine the body," began Joe.
The conductor made a forward movement, but Joe
caught his arm. "Lot 's see the soles of your boots
before you get tramping about too much. Steady,
hold on to the table. Now!"
He studied the upturned soles for a minute.
"Huh !" said he. "Now, come over to the body. Look
at the throat. There is the mark of the belt, but
see here!" He indicated some roundish, livid bruises.
