an hour later, Dick Cronk was admitted to Joey Noakes' room at the Imperial Hotel. He came in jauntily, care-free and amiable, as if there was no such thing in the world as trouble.
Joey and Ruby Noakes and the faithful Casey were there. Mrs. Braddock and Christine had just gone to their room, David accompanying them down the hall for a private word with the mother.
He returned a few minutes after Dick's arrival, his eyes gleaming with a light they had never seen in them before. His voice trembled with an exaltation that would have betrayed him to even less observing people than these.
"Sit down, Jacky," said Joey, putting down his mug of beer on the window sill. "I understand you've met Dick to-night afore this. Well, he's got something important to tell you—and all of us, for that matter."
David, in no little wonder and apprehension, tossed his hat on the bed and sat down upon its edge. Ruby was sitting at the little table in the center of the room, her elbows upon it, her chin in her hands. She was gazing fixedly at the nonchalant outsider who leaned back in the only rocking-chair and puffed at his pipe. He had declined the mug of beer that had been tendered by the opulent Joey.
A big, greasy kerosene lamp hung from the ceiling almost directly above Ruby's head. She had removed her hat. Her hair gleamed black in the glow from above. Casey sprawled ungracefully on a couch near by.
"I've seen that precious uncle of yours," announced Dick, in his most dégagé manner.
David started up. "My uncle?"
"Yep," replied Dick, enjoying the situation.
"Where? Is—is he in town?" cried the other.
"Squat, Jacky. Don't flop off your base like that. Always keep a cool head. Look at me. If the ghost of my own dad was to pop out of that lamp chimbley there, noose and all, I wouldn't bat an eye."
"Tell me! What has happened?" demanded David, sitting down. He observed that the others wore very serious expressions. Joey was frowning.
"Well, 't is a bitter tale," observed Dick, in his most theatric drawl. "Don't look so solemn, Ruby. It's all going to turn out beautiful, like the story-books do. No, kid, he ain't in town,—leastwise he's not in this rotten burg. Gawd knows where he is right now. Last I saw of him was in Richmond four days ago."
"Go on, Dick. For heaven's sake, don't you see—"
"You're anxious to know how your dear relative is, I twig, as Joey would say. Well, you can take it from me, he's very poorly. If I was him I'd—"
"Get to the point, Dick," growled Joey.
"Don't be kidding," added Ruby eagerly.
"All right," said he resignedly. "Well, I've been to Jenison Hall, Jacky. It's quite a place. If you ever want to sell it give me the first chance at it."
The others drew up to the table, David and Casey standing. The pickpocket had lowered his voice.
"I got an idea into my nut a couple of weeks ago," went on Dick, squinting at the lamp reflectively. "I let it soak in deep and then I proceeded to act on it. I hopped on a freight one night about ten days ago, and lit out for Richmond, without sayin' a word to anybody. You had told me a good bit of your own story, David, and Joey had told me the rest, adding his confidential opinions as to what really happened on the night of the murder. Thinks I, if I can get my hooks on that uncle of his, I can make him squeal. Well, I went out and hung around Jenison Hall for a night or two, gettin' the lay o' the land. To be perfectly honest with you, I inspected the interior from top to bottom one night. That's a very nice, comfortable room of yours, David.
"Next day I walked up, bold as you please, to the front door and asked for Mr. Jenison. I had found out in the village that he was drunk three-fourths of the time and raisin' he— Cain with everybody on the place. Gawd, how they hate him down there! Up I walks, as I said before. He was having a mint julep in the gallery, the nigger said. So I walked right around where he was and introduced myself as Robert Green, of New York. He said he didn't know me and didn't want to. What a mean thing drink is! He ain't a bad lookin' feller, as fellers go. The only thing against him, I'd say, is that he looks about half crazy—sorter dippy, off his nut, batty.