THE CLUE Of THE CLAWHAMMER.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 29, Issue 37, 15 May 1917, Page 7

THE CLUE Of THE CLAWHAMMER.

COMPLETE SHORT STORY

CHAPTER I. THE BURGLAR’S HAMMER. “Come in, Greenhalge. I’m delighted to see you.” Thus spoke the superintendent of police of Conchester as he grasped the hand of a tall, lank countryman who had just been ushered into his office. “Thank ye, sir,” responded Greenhalge, in a peculiar, high-pitched tone. ‘‘You know about me, I daresay. I’m superintendent, sergeant, and" constable in Grainville. There ain’t any police but me nearer than Springfield, and that’s twenty-one miles by rail. Who’s this young man? One of the boys ?”

“I wish he were,” laughed the chief; “but he isn’t. He’s only a visitor. Mr. Greenhalge, let me introduce Detective Garter—Nick Carter.”

“Thunder an' lightnin’ !” exclaimed the rustic. “Nick Carter, I’m glad to meet ye. Well, well ! an’ such a young man, too. I’m mighty glad I come. ■ “Superindendent Greenhalge has a great case on his mind,” said the chief, as Nick and the police force of Grainville were shaking hands. “Sit down, Superintendent Greenhalge, and tell us all about it. I’ve only seen a few paragraphs in the papers, and I uhall be greatly interested in the affair. So will Mr. Carter, I’m sure.” i "Certainly I shall,” responded the great detective. “Let’s have the story right away.” “Go ahead, Mr. Greenhalge ; we’re all attention,” added the head of the Conchester force. i “I see you’re pokin’ a bit o’ fun at mo,” said Greenhalge, “but I don’t mind that. I make fun o myself when there’s nobody else handy. But I haven’t had to do it lately. I’ve had all the fun I wanted out o’ this case.

“You see, gentlemen, it happened l like this : Old Hiram Googlns—Hi-an'-Mighty Googins, as folks call him —l* about the richest man we’ve got up our way. He’s got money in the bank, an’ he had money that he did not dare put in the bank. Banks took to bustin’ a couple o’ years ago, as you’ll remember. So Hi-an’-Mighty Googins drew out ten or twelve hundred pounds, an’ bid it in a hole under the scullery floor, “His scullery opens right ofl the kitchen, ye know. I s’pose he picked that place because Mrs. Googins never lets anybody go in there, bein’ particular about her cookin’ an the like o’ that.

“So far, so good. But now comes the trouble. Friday night o’ last week Hi Googins waked up an’ heard a noise downstairs. It sounded to him as if i£ come from the kitchen. “ 'What’s that ?' he whispered to Mrs. Googins Sarah her name is. ‘Hiram,’ says she, 'it’s some one a-, gettin’ inter bur house.’ : “With that Hiram jumped up an’ run down stairs. Thar was a lamp turned low in the back entry, an’ Hi grabbed it an’ turned it up. But it went out as he was runnin’ down the backstairs, an’ jes’ as he came inter the kitchen, which is jist at the foot o’ the stairs, he scratched a match. • “I call that a cussed fool’s thing to do, an’ what happened might ’a’ been expected. When the match flared up it dazzled his eye so that he couldn’t see, but he heard footsteps. Then somethin’ hit him on the head, an’ he didn’t know no more till some time the next forenoon. S “By that time he was abed, an’ Mrs. Googins was attendin’ him. O’ course, he asked what was the matter, an’ he was the las’ person in town to find out. The fact was that somebody had broke inter the house, an’ stole the old man’s money.

j "When Hiram was knocked down his wife heard him fall, an’ she yelled. There was no men folks in the house,but only Hi's daughter Eliza, an’ a girl from Springfield that was visitin’ her. They helped Mrs. Googins make a noise, an’ I .guess you could ’a’ heard it in here if yer windows had been open. ; <<it brought me out o’ bed as if I had been shot out o’ a cannon, an il live half a mile from the Googins’. I pulled on my trousers an’ boots, an’ run for it.

I "I got there among the fust, too, an’ helped put Googins to bed. He was hurt a hit, but not as bad as we feared at fust. He’ll be up an’ round lln a day or two now. "Well, arter we fixed him up, we took a look around the house, an’ o’ course, we saw at once tfeat robbery had been, done. The flour barrel in I the scullery had been set on a piece o’ zinc, an’ under a corner o’ the ■ zinc was a bit o’ loose board, an under that had been Googins’ money. But it wasn’t there when we looked ■for it. The flour barrel had been moved, the zinc bent up, an’ the money stolen. I s’pose likely it was the movin’ o’ the barrel that waked Googins. "The feller that did the business had got in through the scullery winder, havin’ pried it up with a clawhammer so that he busted the catch. When he got inside he laid the hammer down, an’ that’s the only, clue we’ve got to him." " The hammer 7” asked Nick, as Greenhalge paused. "No, sir ; not the hammer, but a pictur’ o’ it done in toffy. It was the sweetest thing you ever saw. I found it, an’ I knew w*hat it was worth.’ • Greenhalge rubbed his hands together and grinned with pardonable 'pride. \ "Ye see,’’ he continued, "Mrs. Googins had been makin’ some toffy fthe school children’s treat, an’ set it away to cool in the scullery. An’ it happened that when the thief laid flown the hammer, he laid the head it right in the pan o’ toffy.

“Ye never saw anything so perfect as the mould o’ the head o’ that hammer. Ye see, the toffy was fairly soft when the thing was dropped on to it, but bein’ by the winder-which the thief left open—it got hard as a rock before we found it. The night was awful cold, ye may remember. “I took a look at that curious thing, au’ then I said to the others : ‘There’s a pictur’ o’ his hammer. Find, the hammer, an’ ye find the man.’

“Havin’ legal authority, as none o’ the rest had, I nat’rally took charge o’ the pan o’ toffy. I took it to my house an’ set it in the cold cellar, an’ thar it has been ever since.” “Have you found any hammers to fit the mark ?” asked Nick. Greenhalge smiled in a rather sickly fashion. “Qh, yes,” he said. "I’ve found the hammer all right-found it this very rnornin’.” “Who’s is it ?”

“It belongs to a young feller by the name o’ Brayton—Harry Brayton -an’ as likely a young man as you want to see. The funny part o’ it is that he’s Eliza’s young man. They’ve kept company pretty steady for more than a year.” “Of course, he’s been at the house often ?” “Oh, yes ; three evenings a week on the average. He was there Wednesday evening before the robbery. It was pretty cold, an’ after the old folks went to bed, Brayton an Liza went an’ sat in the kitchen. Now it happened that Googlns heard ’em an was afraid it was somebody else. So he i went down stairs jes'’ as he did on Friday night, to see that everything was all right. “The young folks didn’t have a lamp with ’em-they’cl left it in the parlour—an’ Googlns, who can’t see fust rate, didn’t notice them. He made a bee line for the scullery. “Now, it’s been rumoured round town that Googins had money in the house ; an’ sech bein’ the case, o’ course his goin’ straight to the scul-lery-room was a pretty broad hint to Brayton where the money was.” “I should say you had a good case,” said the chief. “So I would have, but for one thing,” replied Greenhalge. “What’s that ?”

“Why, Brayton came to Conchester on Thursday to visit some relations, an’ he’s been sick in bed here ever since. I came down to find out about it. Eliza had got a letter from him saying he was sick, but I didn’t believe it was so. I thought his bein away was more proof agin’ him. 80 down I came, prepared to arrest him, if he was to be found ; but it’s no go. I’ve seen him, an’ I’ve talked with the doctor ; an;l it's a dead sure thing that Brayton didn’t do it. Why, the doctor was up with him pretty well all Friday night. The young feller had a fever, an’ he was out o’ his head, an’ bad enough to die every minute.” “Who's the doctor?” “There’s his card’.” “A good physician,” said the chief. “His word is good, and, of course, there’s no doubt about Brayton s sickness. Now, then, who else could have used the hammer ?” “I dunno,” responded Greenhalge. “There’s no other men folks in the Brayton family.” “Somebody must have stolen the hammer.”

“I don’t see how it's possible. Ye see, the Brayton girls were helpingi Mrs. Googins with the toffy making, an’ their mother sat up for them. The hammer was in the room where she sat. Artec the girls got home, they was all there an hour longer talkin' about the party; an’ that doesn’t give time enough for anybody to .have got the hammer an’ gone to Googins., for the robbery was committed very, soon after the Googins’ got to bed.” “It seems to me that you’ve got the wrong hammer,” said the superintendent.

“Ye wouldn’t say so if ye could see the thing fit in the hole in the toffy,’’ replied Greenhalge. "One o’ the claws has been broken so it’s shorter than the other, an’ it was laid down on that side.” "But how could it have been used if, as you say, it was in the same room with Mrs. Brayton all that evening ?” "Harry Brayton might ’a’ got it, an’ his mother might shield him arterwards. That’s what I thought of when I came down here. But now I know he couldn’t ’a’ done it, an I m clean puzzled. Certainly she wouldn’t lie for anybody else, she’s too good a woman.” "Might not the hammer have been taken before that night ?” asked Mr. Carter. "Mrs. Brayton may have thought it was there when it wasn’t.’ Greenhalge shook his head. "She used it in the early of the evening to open a box with,” he said'. “It’s an interesting case,” said the chief, "and I don’t wonder it puzzles you. What can ,1 do to help you out ?” "I thought, perhaps, you could lend me one o’ your men—somebody that’s hatl experience in these matters."

“I wouldn’t object to that. Bet me take a look outside and see who is there.”

He opened the door into the anteroom. Nick, looking through, saw a young man there, who nodded and smiled to Greenhalge.

"That’s my nephew,” said the village constable. “He’s visitin’ at our house. He came down with me today.”

"He’s going back with you, I suppose ?”

"Yes ; we’re goln’ early to-morrow morning. I wish ye felt like cornin’ too, Mr. Carter. How I would like to see you do some o’ your magic tricks !’’

“I’m sorry,” said the detective, “but I must go south to-night. It’s time for me to go. I’m pleased to have met you, Mr. Greenhalge, and if I can serve you at any future time I shall be delighted to do so.” “I’m afraid there’s not much chance o’ tbati or of our ever meetin’ agin,” said Greenhalge, taking Nick’s hand. “But, at any rate, it’s good to have seen ye once, an’ it’s a thing I’ll tell the folks at home.” ' Greenhalge turned reluctantly away, and followed the superintendent.

CHAPTER 11. A FINE POINT IN FANCY COOKERY. "There’s the man I want,” said the superintendent, as he and Greenhalge passed into a large room where several officers in plain clothes were seated.

He pointed to a heavily-huilt man, with iron-grey hair and a bristling heard of the same hue, who was just entering on the opposite side. He wore a big overcoat, and was rubbing his ears with his gloves, while his face and especially his nose glowed redly. “A cold night, sir,” he said. "I've just come in from a long chase.” “Sorry to send you on another so soon, Hastings,” responded the chief, “but I’ve just struck something that you will like.”

“I swear I won’t like It so well as a warm bed,” growled Hastings. “What is it ?” The superintendent drew Hastings, Greenhalge, and the latter’s nephew—whose name was Wheelock into a corner of the room, and there, in rapid sentences, he outlined the story which he and Nick had heard in detail.

The facts seemed to appeal to the detective’s professional instincts. “Good I” he cried, rubbing his hands. “.We’ll go to Grainville tonight. We have only just time enough Ito catch the train.” He seized Greenhalge with one hand and Wheelock with the other, and hurried them away.

The express landed them in Grainvllle in the small hours of the,morning. On the way they had discussed the case in every feature, and the comments of Hastings had been so shrewd as to almost reconcile Greenhalge to the loss of Nick Carter. They went at once to Greenhalge’s house, and despite the unseemly hour Hastings called for the pan of toflee and the hammer. Greenhalge brought his precious trophy from the cellar. Hastings carefully examined the mark of the hammer, which was perfectly distinct. Where the head had rested, it was over half an inch deep, and the outline was as sharp as it would have been in a good plaster cast. “This hammer must have been greasy,” said Hastings, “otherwise the toflee would have stuck to it, and the impression would have been imperfect.” “It’s blood,” said Greenhalge; “that’s what the hammer was greased with. The thief hit Googins with the side of it.” The constable went on to explain his theory of the event. A single blow had knocked Googins senseless. The thief, after assuring himself of that, ran back to the pantry. He must already, have found where the money was, but he had not secured it. He threw down the hammer, and got upon his knees beside the hole in the floor. After gathering up the money, he started to run away, but had reflected that the hammer might betray him, and had snatched it up from the pan of toffee into which it had accidently fallen. That view of the event seemed to fit the facts as they were known to Hastings from the previous report of the constable. That the hammer found in the Brayton house was the one which had made the impression in the toffee was evident not only from its broken olaw, accurately reproduced in the curious cast which fate had caused to be made, but also because of a dent in the side of the head. This, also could be plainly traced in the mould.

Greenhalge said that he had noticed the fact of the dent in the head at once. The broken claw had not been so apparent, for the break was clean. It was only when the length of the impression had been measured, after Brayton’s hammer had been found, that the circumstance was noted.

It seemed that nothing remained but to trace Brayton’s hammer, and find out in whose hands it had been on the night of the crime. It was agreed that this work must be postponed till the morrow. On the following day the case assumed a more serious aspect, because of the condition of the wounded man. When Hastings appeared at breakfast,, he learned from Mrs. Greenhalge that there was a rumour that Googins was much worse. The detective despatched his morning meal hastily, and then went to see Googins. He found the local physician In attendance, and Very , nervous about the condition of his patient.

Hastings, who was an expert in surgery, made an examination, which disclosed that the man’s skull had been fractured. This had not previously been suspected. The physician was a young man who had had little experience with wounds of that nature ; and they are often deceptive in their indications. 1

Googins had been entirely unable to give any description of his assailant. He had not even a glimpse of him. The blow of the hammer had fallen upon him totally unexpectedly. Probably the burglar had heard his victim descending the stairs, and had stood in such a position that the door . which opened at the foot of them bad partially concealed him.

Altogether the case was as blind as it well could be. The testimony regarding Drayton’s hammer was perfectly clear, and could not be shaken. Mrs. Brayton was absolutely certain that the implement had not been out of the house between eight o’clock on Friday evening—when she had used it—and one o’clock in the morning, when she had retired. Mrs. Googins set the hour of the crime at one o’clock, and. it could not have been more than ten minutes later. The interval was entirely insufficient.

This formed the theory of a hammer exactly like Brayton’s. The village was searched thoroughly ; Hastings was satisfied that every hammer in it was produced. There was none which would fit the mark. That which came nearest to doing so was, curiously enough, one that belonged to Greenhalge himself. It had shown a dent similar in size and position to that on the head of Drayton's hammer, hut its length from the head to the end of the claw was half an inch greater, and there were other differences which wholly excluded it from consideration. These investigations were facilitated by the use of a cast of the impression in the toffee. This was made with the most scrupulous accuracy by Hastings, who was an expert in that sort of work. When he had made the cast, he turned to Greenhalge who had watched the process with great interest —and said : “The usefulness of this toffee is by no means ended. It will figure prominently in the case again." “I’ll keep it the rest o’ my life, if necessary,” said Greenhalge.

“I have other uses for it,” responded Hastings. “Come with me and I’ll show you one of them. I’d like to have you come, too, Mr. Wheelock.” “Where are you going 7”

“To Mr. Googins’ house,” the detective responded. “I want to ask some questions about toffee-making. I understand that Miss Eliza is a complete mistress of the art.” To Googins’ house they went, therefore, and they found the young woman of whom they were In search engaged in reading, for the tenth time, a letter from her sick lover in Conchester. ,

Miss Eliza’s demeanour towards Greenhalge was noticeably frigid. She had heard of his discovery of Brayton’s hammer, and of his visit to Conchester, the object of which could not be a mystery to one so shrewd as herself.

Her anger against Greenhalge was doubly intense, because, by his astute methods of questioning, she herself had been led to give the first clue that set the sleuth-hounds of justice personified by Greenhalge—upon the trail of her lover. In other words, the constable had induced her to tell of the events of the evening when her father had made the visit to his money-box in the presence of Harry Brayton. It was that which had led Greenhalge to secure Brayton’s hammer. “Miss Googlns,” said the detective, “I want you to look at this toffee, and see whether it. has undergone any change. It struck me that it may have shrunk as it hardened, and thus have destroyed the value of the impression.”

Eliza poked the toffee with her dainty finger. “I don’t see that it has hardened any,” she said. “It doesn’t appear to me to be as hard as it ought to be.”

“Probably it’s softened since I’ve had it,” said he. “Let’s soften it some more, and then I want you to ‘pull’ some of it* as you do when you whiten it.”

“But you’ll destroy, the impression of the hammer !” exclaimed Wheelock.

“I don’t care,” was the reply. I have the cast.” At his direction Miza took the toffee out of the pan, and began to pull it, examining it critically the while. ‘‘This stuff is no good,” she said at last. ‘‘lt’s done too much.” “Done too much !” exclaimed Constable Greenhalge. "Why, you made it yourself.” “No ; I didn’t make this,” she responded, sharply. “You men are trying to fool me, and you think you can do it because I’m a girl. But you can’t I tell you this isn’t any, part of the toffee I made. Here, taste it. 'You 11 find that it’s burned.”

In spite of the vissitudes through which that toffee had_ passed, Greenhalge consented to taste it. So did the detective.

It unquestionably had the burned flavour which is so characteristic of overdone toffee.

“I’ll tell you something more about it,’’ she said. “There’s no soda in it.” “Soda ?” exclaimed Wheelook. “I’d like to know what soda would be doing in toffee ?” “I always put in some to whiten it,” she replied, with the disdain of an expert addressing the ignorant. “Just before the toffee is done you must put in just a bit if you want it to come out weU. There’s none in this, as I can tell by the looks of it. And now,” she added, surveying the three men in a very haughty manner, “I’d like to know what all this is about ?”

“Upon my soul, I don’t know, cried Greenhalge. “I don’t understand it at all.”

“Neither do I,” said; Hastings, “but I’m going to. At any rate we’re much obliged to you, Miss Googins. If ever I want toffee I’ll send to you for it.”

“You’d better, if this is the best you can do yourself,” she rejoined. Hastings led Greenhalge and Wheelock back to the constable’s house. He declared his intention of making some experiments with toffee, and he

went at once to find Mrs. Greenhalge who was in the kitchen.

She was willing enough to lend her culinary apparatus, but she feared some one would have to go to the store for sugar.

“I don’t, see why I haven’t got more,” she said. ‘‘lt was only Thursday of last week that I had the big jug filled. But it’s almost gone.” "I guess there’ll be enough for our purpose,” said Hastings; and he began to inquire for a kettle to boil it In. This resulted in the discovery that a little kettle which would have been just the thing was missing. Mrs. Greenhalge could not understand that at all, and she made a tremendous row about it.

Hastings pacified her by declaring that he could find the kettle. He then inquired of Greenhalge whether there was any hut or cabin in the town which had a stove in it. The constable remembered a hut on the bank of the river, about threequarters of a mile from I l * B house. It had been used by some workmen on the railroad that ran along there, and they had had a rude stove in it. ‘‘How do you know 7” asked Hastings, sharply, “John”—meaning Wheelock—“an’ I were out there one day.” “Well,” said Hastings, “you and he and I will go out there again.” “Not me,” cried Wheelock, with strong emphasis and weak grammar. “I don’t propose to tramp out there for nothing.” “It won't be for nothing, Mr. Wheelock,” said the detective, “and I particularly desire your company.” Thus urged, Wheelock consented. They found the hut and the stove ; and on . the top of the stove were marks made by burned toffee. There had been an unskilful attempt to remove them. -

Hastings looked carefully about the cabin and its immediate vicinity. At last hi said :

“I guess we’ll have to drag the river for that kettle."

“I'll go back to the village and get, some men,” said Wheelock. ] Hastings laughed ; but Greenhalge’s brow was gloomy. “Look here, John,” he said, “ it’s no use foolin’ around any longer. You did this thing, an’ you might as well own up. I’ve seen through it for the last hour. You robbed an’ near murdered Qoogins. You did it with my hammer. When I brought that toffy home, you knew you was caught unless you did something desperate. So you stole it out’n the tool box ; stole Braytpn’s hammer ’cause you knew he’d left town an’ would be an object of suspicion, an’ though he might clear himself you had to have somebody’s hammer, an’ his was the best. Then you brought the toffee and my wife’s kettle, an’ some o’ her sugar, &c., out here an’ fixed up a new mould in a new lot o’ toffy. I suppose you made the dent in Brayton’s hammer to match the one in mine, which I had noticed an’ which had to be in the new mould or the trick would ’a’ been found out.” “You couldn't have stated the facta more clearly,” said Hastings, “if you’d been” “Nick Carter himself,” cried Greenhalge, interrupting. “I wish he could have been here to see this, though I believe you’re about as good a man as he is, if you’re not so famous.” “Thank you very much, Mr. Greenhalge,” said the detective, in a voice greatly changed. Greenhalge started, and then he yelled with amazement, for Hastings removed bis beard and wig and revealed himself as Niok Carter. “I determined to come out here,” said the great detective, “the instant that I saw your nephew. I’ve had a good deal of experience with criminals, arid I know a had face when I see one. This man is a scoundrel, and I’ll stake my reputation that this is not his first crime. It’s his last, though, for whether Googins lives or dies, the fellow will get a term in prison that will practically be a life sentence.” Greenhalge looked at Wheelock, who was leaning against the wall of the cabin, in a state of collapse. “I don’t know why he came back here,” said the constable, softly. “Why didn’t he skip ?” [ “He dared not do it too soon,” said Nick. “He intended to leave you at Conchester. I’ll venture the opinion that you had to coax him hard 1 j to get him to the police station*”

“I did, for a fact.” “After that he's had no chance. My eye has been on him all the time. He’s made several attempts to get away, but I have foiled them. Anti now it’s all over. Whether he goes to the prison or the gallows, society is sale from him.”

He walked up to Wheelook—who cowered before him—and snapped a pair of handcuffs on tha rascal's wrists.

It was the prison, and not the gallows, for Googins, after a hard fight for life, Recovered. Most of the stolen money was found where the thief had hidden it in Greenhalge’s house, and Mrs. Greenhalge’s kettle was dragged out of the river, thus redeeming Mr. Carter’s promise to that prudent housewife. THE END.