The Mystery of Murray Davenport Part 28

"It convinced you as I told it, and because of your peculiar sense of the traits and resources of Murray Davenport. But can you impart that sense to any one else? And can you tell the story as I told it? I'll wager you can't tell it so as to convince a lawyer."

"How much will you wager?" said Bagley, scornfully, the gambling spirit lighting up in him.

"I merely used the expression," said Turl. "I'm not a betting man."

"I am," said Bagley. "What'll you bet I can't convince a lawyer?"

"I'm not a betting man," repeated Turl, "but just for this occasion I shouldn't mind putting ten dollars in Mr. Larcher's hands, if a lawyer were accessible at this hour."

He turned to Larcher, with a look which the latter made out vaguely as a request to help matters forward on the line they had taken. Not quite sure whether he interpreted correctly, Larcher put in:

"I think there's one to be found not very far from here. I mean Mr.

Barry Tompkins; he pa.s.ses most of his evenings at a Bohemian resort near Sixth Avenue. He was slightly acquainted with Murray Davenport, though.

Would that fact militate?"

"Not at all, as far as I'm concerned," said Turl, taking a bank-bill from his pocket and handing it to Larcher.

"I've heard of Mr. Barry Tompkins," said Bagley. "He'd do all right. But if he's a friend of Davenport's--"

"He isn't a friend," corrected Larcher. "He met him once or twice in my company for a few minutes at a time."

"But he's evidently your friend, and probably knows you're Davenport's friend," rejoined Bagley to Larcher.

"I hadn't thought of that," said Turl. "I only meant I was willing to undergo inspection by one of Davenport's acquaintances, while you told the story. If you object to Mr. Tompkins, there will doubtless be some other lawyer at the place Larcher speaks of."

"All right; I'll cover your money quick enough," said Bagley, doing so.

"I guess we'll find a lawyer to suit in that crowd. I know the place you mean."

Larcher and Bagley waited, while Turl went upstairs for his things. When he returned, ready to go out, the three faced the blizzard together. The snowfall had waned; the flakes were now few, and came down gently; but the white ma.s.s, little trodden in that part of the city since nightfall, was so thick that the feet sank deep at every step. The labor of walking, and the cold, kept the party silent till they reached the place where Larcher had sought out Barry Tompkins the night he received Edna's first orders about Murray Davenport. When they opened the bas.e.m.e.nt door to enter, the burst of many voices betokened a scene in great contrast to the snowy night at their backs. A few steps through a small hallway led them into this scene,--the tobacco-smoky room, full of loudly talking people, who sat at tables whereon appeared great variety of bottles and gla.s.ses. An open door showed the second room filled as the first was. One would have supposed that n.o.body could have heard his neighbor's words for the general hubbub, but a glance over the place revealed that the noise was but the composite effect of separate conversations of groups of three or four. Privacy of communication, where desired, was easily possible under cover of the general noise.

Before the three newcomers had finished their survey of the room, Larcher saw Barry Tompkins signalling, with a raised gla.s.s and a grinning countenance, from a far corner. He mentioned the fact to his companions.

"Let's go over to him," said Bagley, abruptly. "I see there's room there."

Larcher was nothing loath, nor was Turl in the least unwilling. The latter merely cast a look of curiosity at Bagley. Something had indeed leaped suddenly into that gentleman's head. Tompkins was manifestly not yet in Turl's confidence. If, then, it were made to appear that all was friendly between the returned Davenport and Bagley, why should Tompkins, supposing he recognized Davenport upon Bagley's a.s.sertion, conceal the fact?

Tompkins had managed to find and crowd together three unoccupied chairs by the time Larcher had threaded a way to him. Larcher, looking around, saw that Bagley had followed close. He therefore introduced Bagley first; and then Turl. Tompkins had the same brief, hearty handshake, the same mirthful grin--as if all life were a joke, and every casual meeting were an occasion for chuckling at it--for both.

"I thought you said Mr. Tompkins knew Davenport," remarked Bagley to Larcher, as soon as all in the party were seated.

"Certainly," replied Larcher.

"Then, Mr. Tompkins, you don't seem to live up to your reputation as a quick-sighted man," said Bagley.

"I beg pardon?" said Tompkins, interrogatively, touched in one of his vanities.

"Is it possible you don't recognize this gentleman?" asked Bagley, indicating Turl. "As somebody you've met before, I mean?"

"Extremely possible," replied Tompkins, with a sudden curtness in his voice. "I do _not_ recognize this gentleman as anybody I've met before.

But, as I never forget a face, I shall always recognize him in the future as somebody I've met to-night." Whereat he grinned benignly at Turl, who acknowledged with a courteous "Thank you."

"You never forget a face," said Bagley, "and yet you don't remember this one. Make allowance for its having undergone a lot of alterations, and look close at it. Put a hump on the nose, and take the dimples away, and don't let the corners of the mouth turn up, and pull the hair down over the forehead, and imagine several other changes, and see if you don't make out your old acquaintance--and my old friend--Murray Davenport."

Tompkins gazed at Turl, then at the speaker, and finally--with a wondering inquiry--at Larcher. It was Turl who answered the inquiry.

"Mr. Bagley is perfectly sane and serious," said he. "He declares I am the Murray Davenport who disappeared a few months ago, and thinks you ought to be able to identify me as that person."

"If you gentlemen are working up a joke," replied Tompkins, "I hope I shall soon begin to see the fun; but if you're not, why then, Mr. Bagley, I should earnestly advise you to take something for this."

"Oh, just wait, Mr. Tompkins. You're a well-informed man, I believe. Now let's go slow. You won't deny the possibility of a man's changing his appearance by surgical and other means, in this scientific age, so as almost to defy recognition?"

"I deny the possibility of his doing such a thing so as to defy recognition by _me_. So much for your general question. As to this gentleman's being the person I once met as Murray Davenport, I can only wonder what sort of a hoax you're trying to work."

Bagley looked his feelings in silence. Giving Barry Tompkins up, he said to Larcher: "I don't see any lawyer here that I'm acquainted with. I was a bit previous, getting let in to decide that bet to-night."

"Perhaps Mr. Tompkins knows some lawyer here, to whom he will introduce you," suggested Turl.

"You want a lawyer?" said Tompkins. "There are three or four here. Over there's Doctor Brady, the medico-legal man; you've heard of him, I suppose,--a well-known criminologist."

"I should think he'd be the very man for you," said Turl to Bagley.

"Besides being a lawyer, he knows surgery, and he's an authority on the habits of criminals."

"Is he a friend of yours?" asked Bagley, at the same time that his eyes lighted up at the chance of an auditor free from the incredulity of ignorance.

"I never met him," said Turl.

"Nor I," said Larcher; "and I don't think Murray Davenport ever did."

"Then if Mr. Tompkins will introduce Mr. Larcher and me, and come away at once without any attempt to prejudice, I'm agreed, as far as our bet's concerned. But I'm to be let alone to do the talking my own way."

Barry Tompkins led Bagley and Larcher over to the medico-legal criminologist--a tall, thin man in the forties, with prematurely gray hair and a smooth-shaven face, cold and inscrutable in expression--and, having introduced and helped them to find chairs, rejoined Turl. Bagley was not ten seconds in getting the medico-legal man's ear.

"Doctor, I've wanted to meet you," he began, "to speak about a remarkable case that comes right in your line. I'd like to tell you the story, just as I know it, and get your opinion on it."

The criminologist evinced a polite but not enthusiastic willingness to hear, and at once took an att.i.tude of grave attention, which he kept during the entire recital, his face never changing; his gaze sometimes turned penetratingly on Bagley, sometimes dropping idly to the table.

"There's a young fellow in this town, a friend of mine," Bagley went on, "of a literary turn of mind, and altogether what you'd call a queer d.i.c.k.

He'd got down on his luck, for one reason and another, and was dead sore on himself. Now being the sort of man he was, understand, he took the most remarkable notion you ever heard of." And Bagley gave what Larcher had inwardly to admit was a very clear and plausible account of the whole transaction. As the tale advanced, the medico-legal expert's eyes affected the table less and Bagley's countenance more. By and by they occasionally sought Larcher's with something of same inquiry that those of Barry Tompkins had shown. But the courteous attention, the careful heeding of every word, was maintained to the end of the story.

"And now, sir," said Bagley, triumphantly, "I'd like to ask what you think of that?"

The criminologist gave a final look at Bagley, questioning for the last time his seriousness, and then answered, with cold decisiveness: "It's impossible."

"But I know it to be true!" blurted Bagley.

"Some little transformation might be accomplished in the way you describe," said the medico-legal man. "But not such as would insure against recognition by an observant acquaintance for any appreciable length of time."

"But surely you know what criminals have done to avoid identification?"