Quintus Oakes: A Detective StoryJackson, Charles Ross
General
Quintus Oakes: A Detective Story
Jackson, Charles Ross
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
"Yes, and blood too," said the gardener.
Sure enough, the floor was spattered with it.
"Mine, I guess," said Oakes. "Moore, kindly fetch a lamp from upstairs.
Ask Annie for one."
Moore went, and soon brought down a small lantern. We could hear Cook's
voice at the head of the stairs; also his wife's and Annie's. It was the
long-expected hunt that no one had ever before made, and which might
clear up the mystery at any time.
By the better light we saw evidences of the struggle that had taken
place--a strip of Oakes's coat, and a piece of glazed red paper an inch
or so long, and perhaps half as broad--white on one side, red on the
other.
"Piece of a mask," said I; and Oakes placed it in his pocket.
Dr. Moore walked to the east side of the room, where he and I saw a door
in the wall, and some plastering on the floor under it. Mike was busy
examining a heap of rubbish at the other end. His conduct had been most
exemplary. Moore turned the light on the door, and we three observed it
for a moment. Mike had not seen it distinctly, if at all.
"Moore, come here," said the detective, retreating; and the Doctor
followed with the light.
"Come on, Stone." I left the room with them.
"Curious!" he heard Mike say behind us.
"What is curious?" asked Oakes.
The smart hired man answered. "Mr. Clark, the air is good in here. Where
does it come from?"
"I guess we have learned all we need this time, Mike," was the reply,
and the gardener came out reluctantly.
Oakes had seen the door in the wall: it was all he wanted to know. He
closed the outer entrance of the room, and called to Cook for hammer and
nails. The man brought them quickly; then the leader took a board that
was standing against the wall, and Mike and Cook nailed it across the
door from frame to frame.
"Mr. Clark, ye will _have_ the devil now, sorr," said Mike.
Oakes took a pencil out of his pocket and wrote "Clark" on one end of
the board; then with a single movement continued his hand over its edge
carefully, and on to the frame, where the line terminated in a second
signature--"Clark."
"Anyone removing that board has got to put it back to match that line,"
said Oakes, "and that with a board is practically impossible where
nailing has been done. Now for the exit that opens near the well."
We went back through the cellar hall and found at the east end a door
ajar. It did not lock, and was hung on rusty hinges. Beyond was a dark
passage.
"Where does this lead, Mike?"
"To the opening by the well, sorr."
"How do you know?"
"I don't know, myself, but Maloney said the outside opening by the well
led into the cellar; Cook says so, too. 'Tis a passage they used in wet
weather, sorr."
"Mike, you and Cook go round and guard that outer door by the well. Open
it. I'm going through."
"Mr. Clark, don't go in there alone!"
"I'll attend to that," said Oakes. "You go with Cook."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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