 Section 15 of the Oakdale Affair by Edgar Rice Burroughs This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. They heard the closing of an automobile door and the sound of footsteps coming up the concrete walk. The Prim Butler was already waiting at the doorway with the doors swung wide to receive the prodigal daughter of the house of Prim. A slender figure with bowed head ascended the steps, guided and assisted by the detective. She did not look up at the expectant Butler waiting for the greeting he was sure Abigail would have for him, but passed on into the reception hall. "'Your father and Mrs. Prim are in the living room,' announced the Butler, stepping forward to draw aside the heavy hangings. The girl followed by Burton entered the brightly lighted room. "'I am very glad, Mr. Prim,' said the latter, to be able to return Miss Prim to you so quickly and unharmed. The girl looked up into the face of Jonas Prim. The man voiced an exclamation of surprise and annoyance. Mrs. Prim gasped and sank upon a sofa. The girl stood motionless, her eyes once again bent upon the floor. "'What's the matter?' asked Burton. "'What's going on?' "'Everything is wrong, Mr. Burton.' Jonas Prim's voice was crisp and cold. "'This is not my daughter.' Burton looked his surprise and discomforture. He turned upon the girl. "'What do you mean?' he started, but she interrupted him. "'You are going to ask what I mean by posing as Miss Prim,' she said. "'I have never said that I was Miss Prim. You took the word of an ignorant little farmer's boy, and I did not deny it when I found that you intended bringing me to Mr. Prim, for I wanted to see him. I wanted to ask him to help me. I have never met him or his daughter either. But my father and Mr. Prim have been friends for many years. "'I am Hetty Penning,' she continued, addressing Jonas Prim. "'My father has always admired you, and from what he has told me I knew that you would listen to me and do what you could for me. I could not bear to think of going to the jail in Payson, for Payson is my home. Everybody would have known me. It would have killed my father. Then I wanted to come myself and tell you, after reading the reports and insinuations in the paper, that your daughter was not with Reginald Painter when he was killed. He had no knowledge of the crime, and as far as I know may not have yet. I have not seen her and do not know where she is, but I was present when Mr. Painter was killed. I have known him for years and have often driven with him. He stopped me yesterday afternoon on the street in Payson and talked with me. He was sitting in a car in front of the bank. After we had talked a few minutes two men came out of the bank. Mr. Painter introduced them to me. He said they were driving out into the country to look at a piece of property, a farm somewhere north of Oatdale, and that on the way back they were going to stop at the Crossroads Inn for dinner. He asked me if I wouldn't like to come along. He kind of dared me to, because, as you know, the Crossroads has rather a bad reputation. Father had gone to Toledo on business, and very foolishly I took his dare. Everything went all right, until after we left the Inn. Well one of the men, his companion, referred to him once or twice as the Oskaloosikid, attempted to be too familiar with me. Mr. Painter prevented him on each occasion, and they had words over me. But after we left the Inn, where they had all drunk a great deal, this man renewed his attentions and Mr. Painter struck him. Both of them were drunk. After that it all happened so quickly that I could scarcely follow it. The man called Oskaloosikid drew a revolver, but did not fire. That he seized Mr. Painter by the coat and whirled him around, then he struck him an awful blow behind the ear with the butt of the weapon. After that the other two men seemed quite sobered. They discussed what would be the best thing to do, and at last decided to throw Mr. Painter's body out of the machine, for it was quite evident that he was dead. First they rifled his pockets and joked as they did it, one of them saying that they weren't getting as much as they had planned on, but that a little was better than nothing. They took his watch, jewelry, and a large roll of bills. We passed around the east side of Oatdale and came back into the Toledo Road. A little way out of town they turned the machine around and ran back for about a half-mile. Then they turned about a second time. I don't know why they did this. They threw the body out while the machine was moving rapidly, but I was so frightened that I can't say whether it was before or after they turned about the second time. In front of the old squib's place they shot at me and threw me out, but the bullet missed me. I have not seen them since, and do not know where they went. I am ready and willing to aid in their conviction. But please, Mr. Prim, won't you keep me from being sent back to Payson or to jail? I have done nothing criminal, and I won't run away." How about the robbery of Miss Prim's room and the murder of old man bags? asked Burton. Did they pull both of those off before they killed Painter or after? They had nothing to do with either unless they did them after they threw me out of the car, which must have been long after midnight, replied the girl. And the rest of the gang, those that were arrested with you, continued the detective. How about them? All angels, I suppose. There was only Bridge and the boy they called the Oskaloosa kid, though he isn't the same one that murdered poor Mr. Painter, and the gypsy girl Java, that were with me. The others were tramps who came into the old mill and attacked us while we were asleep. I don't know who they were. The girl could have had nothing to do with any of the crimes. We came upon her this morning, burying her father in the woods back of the Squibbs place. The man died of epilepsy last night. Bridge and the boy were taking refuge from the storm at the Squibbs place when I was thrown from the car. They heard the shot and came to my rescue. I am sure they had nothing to do with, with. She hesitated. Tell the truth, commanded Burton, it will go hard with you if you don't. What made you hesitate? You know something about those two. Now out with it. The boy wroth Mr. Prim's home. I saw some of the money and jewelry, but Bridge was not with him. They just happened to meet by accident during the storm and came to the Squibbs place together. They were kind to me, and I hate to tell anything that would get the boy in trouble. That is the reason I hesitated. He seemed such a nice boy. It is hard to believe that he is a criminal, and Bridge was always so considerate. He looks like a tramp, but he talks and acts like a gentleman. The telephone bell rang briskly, and a moment later the butler stepped into the room to say that Mr. Burton was wanted on the wire. He returned to the living room in two or three minutes. That clears up some of it, he said as he entered. The sheriff just had a message from the chief at Toledo, saying that the Oskaloosa kid is dying in a hospital there following an automobile accident. He knew he was done for and sent for the police. When they came he told them he had killed a man by the name of Painter at Oakdale last night, and the chief called up to ask what we knew about it. The kid confessed to clear his pal who was only slightly injured in the smash-up. His story corroborates Miss Penning's in every detail. He also said that after killing Painter he had shot a girl, witness, and thrown her from the car to prevent her squealing. Once again the telephone bell rang long and insistently. The butler almost ran into the room. "'Payson won't you, sir?' he cried to Burton. "'In a hurry, sir. It's a matter of life and death, sir.' Burton sprang to the phone. When he left it he only stopped at the doorway of the living-room long enough to call in. A mob has the two prisoners at Payson and are about to lynch them, and for heaven's sakes they're innocent. We all know now who killed Painter, and I have known since morning who murdered bags, and it wasn't either of those men. But they've found Miss Prim's jewelry on the fellow called Bridge, and they've gone crazy. They say he murdered her, and the young one did for Painter. "'I'm going to Payson,' and dashed from the house. "'Wait!' cried Jonas Prim. "'I'm going with you.' And without waiting to find a hat he ran quickly after the detective. Once in the car he leaned forward, urging the driver to greater speed. "'God in heaven!' he almost cried. The fools are going to kill the only man who can tell me anything about Abigail.' With oaths and threats, the mob brainless and heartless, cowardly, beastial, filled with the lust for blood, pushed and jammed into the narrow corridor before the cell door where the two prisoners awaited their fate. The single guard was brushed away, a dozen men wielding three railroad ties battered upon the grating of the door, swinging the ties far back, and then in unison bringing them heavily forward against the puny iron. Bridge spoke to them once. "'What are you going to do with us?' he asked. "'We're going to hang you higher in Heyman, you damned kidnappers and murderers,' yelled a man in the crowd. "'Why don't you give us a chance?' asked Bridge in an even tone, unaltered by fear or excitement. "'You've nothing on us. As a matter of fact, we are both innocent.' "'Oh, shut your damn mouth!' interrupted another of the crowd. Bridge shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the youth who stood very white, but very straight, in a far corner of the cell. He crossed the bulging pockets of the ill-fitting coat, and for the first time that night his heart stood still in the face of fear, but not for himself. He crossed to the youth's side and put his arm around the slender figure. "'There's no use arguing with them,' he said. They've made up their minds, or what they think are minds, that we're guilty. But principally they're out for a sensation. They want to see something die, and we're it. I doubt if anything could stop them now. They'd think we'd cheated them if we suddenly proved beyond doubt that we were innocent. The boy pressed close to the man. "'God help me to be brave,' he said, as brave as you are. We'll get together, Bridge, and on the other side you'll learn something that'll surprise you. I believe there is another side. Don't you, Bridge?' "'I've never thought much about it,' said Bridge. "'But at a time like this I rather hope so. I'd like to come back and haunt this bunch of rat-brained rubes.' His arm slipped down the other's coat, and his hand passed quickly behind the boy, from one side to the other. Then the door gave, and the leaders of the mob were upon them. A gawky farmer seized the boy, and struck him cruelly across the mouth. It was Jeb Case. "'You beast!' cried Bridge. "'Can't you see that that's only a child. If I don't live long enough to give you yours here, I'll come back and haunt you to your grave.' "'Eh!' ejaculated Jeb Case, but his shallow face turned white, and after that he was less rough with his prisoner. The two were dragged roughly from the jail, the great crowd which had now gathered fought to get a close view of them, to get hold of them, to strike them, to revile them. But the leaders kept the others back lest all be robbed of the treat which they had planned. Through town they hauled them and out along the road toward Oakdale. There was some talk of taking them to the scene of painter's supposed murder, but wiser heads counseled against it lest the sheriff come with a posse of deputies and spoil or fun. Beneath a great tree they halted them, and two ropes were thrown over a stout branch. One of the leaders started to search them, and when he drew his hands out of Bridge's side pockets his eyes went wide, and he gave a cry of elation which drew excited inquiries from all sides. "'By gum!' he cried. "'I reckon we ain't made no mistake here, boys. Look a hair!' and he displayed two hands full of money and jewelry. "'That can't be premed stuff!' cried one. The boy beside Bridge turned wide eyes upon the man. "'Where did you get it?' he cried. "'Oh, Bridge, why did you do it? Now they will kill you!' and he turned to the crowd. "'Oh, please, listen to me!' he begged. He didn't steal those things. Nobody stole them. They're mine. They always belonged to me. He took them out of my pocket at the jail because he thought that I had stolen them, and he wanted to take the guilt upon himself. But they were not stolen. I tell you, they're mine. They are mine. They're mine!' Another new expression came into Bridge's eyes as he listened to the boy's words, but he only shook his head. It was too late, and Bridge knew it. Men were adjusting ropes about their necks. "'Before you hang us,' said Bridge quietly, "'would you mind explaining just what we're being hanged for? It's sort of comforting to know, you see.' "'That's right,' spoke up one of the crowd. "'That's fair. We want to do things fair and square. Tell them the charges, and then ask them if they got anything to say for their hung.' This appealed to the crowd. The last statements of the doomed men might add another thrill to the evening's entertainment. "'Well,' said the man who had searched them, "'there might have been some doubts about you before, but they ain't none now. You're being hunged for abducting and most likely murdering Miss Abigail Prim.' The boy screamed and tried to interrupt, but Jeb Case placed a heavy and soiled hand over his mouth. The spokesman continued, "'This slicker admitted he was the Oskaloosa kid, and ate he robbed a house and shot a man last night, and they ain't no telling what more he's been up to. He told Jeb Case's willy about it, and bragged on it by gum. Anyway, we know Painter and Abigail Prim was last seeded with this here Oskaloosa kid, Derning.' "'Thanks,' said Bridge politely. "'And now may I make a final statement before going to meet my maker?' "'Go on,' growled the man. "'You won't interrupt me?' "'Nah, go on. All right, you damn fools have made up your minds to hang us. I doubt if anything I can say to you will alter your determination for the reason that if all the brains in this crowd were collected in one individual, he still wouldn't have enough with which to weigh the most obvious evidence intelligently, but I shall present the evidence, and you can tell some intelligent people about it tomorrow. In the first place it is impossible that I murdered Abigail Prim, and in the second place my companion is not the Oskaloosa kid and was not with Mr. Painter last night. The reason I could not have murdered Miss Prim is because Miss Prim is not dead. These jewels were not stolen from Miss Prim. She took them herself from her own home. This boy, whom you're about to hang, is not a boy at all. It is Miss Prim herself. I guessed her secret a few minutes ago, and was convinced when she cried that the jewels and money were her own. I don't know why she wishes to conceal her identity, but I can't stand by and see her lynched without trying to save her.' The crowd scoffed in incredulity. There are some women here, said Bridge. Turn her over to them. They'll tell you, at least that she is not a man. Some voices were raised in protest, saying that it was a ruse to escape, while others urged that the women take the youth. Jeb Kaye stepped toward the subject of dispute. I'll settle it darn quick! He announced and reached forth to seize the slim figure. With a sudden wrench Bridge tore himself loose from his captors and leaped toward the farmer. His right flew straight out from the shoulder, and Jeb Kaye's went down with a broken jaw. Almost simultaneously a car sped around a curve from the north and stopped suddenly in rear of the mob. Two men leaped out and shouldered their way through. One was the detective Burton. The other was Jonas Prim. Where are they? cried the latter. God help you if you've killed either of them, for one of them must know what became of Abigail. He pushed his way up until he faced the prisoners. The Oskaloosa kid gave him a single look of surprise, and then sprang toward him without stretched arms. Oh, Daddy! Daddy! she cried. Don't let them kill him! The crowd melted away from the immediate vicinity of the prisoners. None seemed anxious to appear in the forefront as a possible leader of a mob that had so nearly lynched the only daughter of Jonas Prim. Burton slipped the noose from about the girl's neck and then turned toward her companion. In the light from the automobile lamps the man's face was distinctly visible to the detective for the first time that night, and as Burton looked upon it he stepped back with an exclamation of surprise. You! he almost shouted. God, man, where have you been? Your father spent twenty thousand dollars trying to find you. Bryd shook his head. I'm sorry, Dick, he said, but I'm afraid it's too late. The open road's gotten into my blood, and there's only one thing that, well, he shook his head and smiled ruefully. But there ain't a chance. His eyes traveled to the slim figure sitting so straight in the rear seat of Jonas Prim's car. Suddenly the little head turned in his direction. Hurry, Brydge! admonished the Oscar Lucy kid. You're coming home with us! The man stepped toward the car shaking his head. Oh, no, Miss Prim! he said. I can't do that. Here's your swag! Then he smiled as he passed over her jewels and money. Mr. Prim's eyes widened. He looked suspiciously at Brydge. Abigail laughed merrily. I stole them myself, Dad, she explained, and then Mr. Brydge took them from me in the jail to make the mob think he had stolen them and not I. He didn't know then that I was a girl, did you? It was in the jail that I first guessed. But I didn't quite realize who you were until you said that the jewels were yours, then I knew. The picture in the paper gave me the first inkling that you were a girl, for you looked so much like the one of Miss Prim. Then I commenced to recall little things, until I wondered that I hadn't known from the first that you were a girl, but you made a bully boy, and they both laughed. And now good-bye, and may God bless you. His voice trembled ever so little, and he extended his hand. The girl drew back. I want you to come with us, she said. I want Father to know you and to know how you have cared for me. Won't you come, for me?" I couldn't refuse, if you put it that way, replied Brydge, and he climbed into the car. As the machine started off, a boy leaped to the running board. Hey! he yelled. Where's my reward? I want my reward! I'm willy-case! Oh! exclaimed Brydge, I gave your reward to your father. Maybe he'll split it with you. Go ask him." And the car moved off. You see, said Burton with a wry smile, how simple is the detective's job. Willey is a natural-born detective. He got everything wrong from A to Izzard. Yet if it hadn't been for Willey, we might not have cleared up the mystery so soon. It hasn't been cleared up yet, said Jonas Prim. Who murdered bags? Two yags, known as Dopey Charlie and the General, replied Burton, they're in the jail at Oakdale, but they don't know yet that I know they are guilty. They think they're being held merely as suspects in the case of your daughter's disappearance, whereas I have known since morning that they were implicated in the killing of bags, for after I got them in the car I went behind the bushes where we discovered them and dug up everything that was missing from bags' house, as nearly as is known currency, gold, and bonds. Gawd, exclaimed Mr. Prim. On the trip back to Oakdale, Abigail Prim cuddled in the back seat beside her father, told him all that she could think to tell a bridge and his goodness to her. But the man didn't know you were a girl, suggested Mr. Prim. There were two other girls with us, both very pretty, replied Abigail, and he was as courteous and kindly to them as a man could be to a woman. I don't care anything about his clothes, Daddy. Bridge is a gentleman, born and raised. Anyone could tell it after half an hour with him. Bridge sat on the front seat with the driver and one of Burton's men, while Burton, sitting in the back seat next to the girl, could not but overhear her conversation. You are right, he said. Bridge, as you call him, is a gentleman. He comes of one of the finest families of Virginia and one of the wealthiest. You need have no hesitancy, Mr. Prim, in inviting him into your home. For a while the three sat in silence, and then Jonas Prim turned to his daughter. Gail, he said, before we get home, I wish you'd tell me why you did this thing. I think you'd rather tell me before we see Mrs. P. It was Sam Benham, Daddy, whispered the girl. I couldn't marry him. I'd rather die, and so I ran away. I was going to be a tramp, but I had no idea tramp's existence was so adventurous. You won't make me marry him, Daddy, will you? I wouldn't be happy, Daddy. I should say not, Gail. You can be an old maid all your life, if you want to. But I don't want to. I only want to choose my own husband, replied Abigail. Mrs. Prim met them all in the living-room. At sight of Abigail in the ill-fitting man's clothing, she raised her hands in holy horror, but she couldn't see Bridge at all, until Burton found an opportunity to draw her to one side and whisper something in her ear, after which she was graciousness personified to the dusky Bridge, insisting that he spent a fortnight with them to recuperate. Between them Burton and Jonas Prim fitted Bridge out as he had not been dressed in years, and with the feel of fresh linen and pressed clothing, even if ill-fitting, a sensation of comfort and ease pervaded him, which the man would not have thought possible from such a source an hour before. He smiled ruefully as Burton looked him over. I ventured to say, he drawled, that there are other things in the world besides the open road. Burton smiled. It was midnight when the Prim's and their guests arose from the table. Hetty Penning was with them, and everyone present had been sworn to secrecy about her share in the tragedy of the previous night. On the morrow she would return to Payson and no one there would be wiser. But first she had Burton send to the jail for Java, who was being held as a witness, and Java promised to come and work for the Pennings. At last Bridge stole a few minutes alone with Abigail, or to be more strictly a truthful historian, Abigail out-generaled the others of the company and drew Bridge out upon the veranda. Tell me, demanded the girl, why you were so kind to me when you thought me a worthless little scamp of a boy who had robbed someone's home? I couldn't have told you a few hours ago, said Bridge. I used to wonder myself why I should feel toward a boy as I felt toward you. It was inexplicable. And then when I knew that you were a girl, I understood, for I knew that I loved you and had loved you from the moment that we met there in the dark in the rain beside the road to anywhere. Isn't it wonderful? murmured the girl, and she had other things in her heart to murmur. But a man's lips smothered hers as Bridge gathered her into his arms and strained her to him. End of section 15, End of the Oakdale Affair, by Edgar Rice Burroughs, recorded by Ralph Snelson.