Detective and mystery stories; New England -- Fiction
Indeed, the narrator’s voice had abruptly ceased, and he stood with the
dropped jaw of stupefaction. One after another of his auditors turned
and stared at the two men in the motor-car.
“Stay where you are,” said Kent, and stepped out to mingle with the
crowd.
No one recognized, at first, the immaculate flannel-clad _élégante_ as
the bearded scientist whose strange actions had amused the crowd on the
beach. A heavy solemn man addressed him:
“Friend of his?” he asked, nodding toward the artist.
“Yes.”
“He’ll need ’em. Going to give evidence?”
“To hear it, rather,” replied Kent pleasantly. “Where’s the body?”
“Inside. Just brought it over from Doctor Breed’s. He’s the medical
officer, and he and the sheriff are running the show. Your friend want a
lawyer, maybe?”
The thought struck Kent that, while a lawyer might be premature, a
friend in the town might be very useful.
“Yes,” he said; “from to-morrow on.”
“Meanin’ that you’re in charge to-day,” surmised the big man shrewdly.
Kent smiled. “I dare say we shall get on very well together, Mr.—” his
voice went up interrogatively.
“Bain, Adam Bain, attorney and counselor at law for thirty years in the
town of Annalaka.”
“Thank you. My name is Kent. You already know my friend’s name. What
kind of man is this medical officer?”
“Breed? Not much. More of a politician than a doctor, and more of a
horse trader than either. Fidgety as a sandpaper undershirt.”
“Did he perform the autopsy at his own house?”
“Him and the sheriff last evening. Didn’t even have an undertaker to
help lay out.”
The lobe of Kent’s ear began to suffer from repeated handling. “The body
hasn’t been identified, I suppose?”
“Nobody’s had so much as a wink at it but those two and Ira Dennett. He
viewed the corpse last night. That’s why I guess your friend needs _his_
friends and maybe a lawyer.”
“Exactly. Mr. Dennett doesn’t seem to be precisely a deaf mute.”
Lawyer Bain emitted the bubbling chuckle of the fat-throated. “It’s
quite some time since Iry won any prizes for silent thought,” he stated.
“You are known, hereabouts?” he added, after a pause.
“Very little.”
“Gansett Jim, yonder, looks as if he kinder cherished the honor of your
acquaintance.”
Over his shoulder Kent caught the half-breed’s glance fixed upon him
with stolid intensity. A touch on his arm made him turn to the other
side, where Sailor Smith faced him.
“Didn’t hardly know you, with your beard off,” piped the old man.
“Howdy, Professor! You’re finickied up like your own weddin’.”
“Good morning,” said the scientist. “Are you going inside?”
“No hurry,” said the other. “Hotter’n Tophet in there.”
“I want a good seat; so I think I’ll go in at once,” said Kent. “Sit
with us, won’t you? Mr. Sedgwick is with me.”
The ex-sailor started. “Him?” he exclaimed. “Here?”
Kent nodded. “Why not?”
“No reason. No reason at all,” said the old seaman hastily. “It’s a
public proceedin’.”
“But you’re surprised to see him here?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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