.
Ingraham was found sittin' under a tree in Lincoln Park early one evenin', and the hospital they took him to, and where he died, reported that all the symptoms showed that he had been – asphyxiated.
"In the early fall, two more guys was threatened and decided to pay up.
"Now," concluded Green, closing the folder and leaning back in his chair, "I want you to notice two things strikin' me as funny. These here guys apparently knock off in the winter time. Another thing is that the poor devils that get took off is always – asphyxiated."
"But," protested Forrester, "how could they be asphyxiated when the bodies are always found out in the open air? I thought that a person must be shut up in a closed room to be asphyxiated."
"Ah-ha!" cried Green. "Now you've got the idea! These fellows have a headquarters somewhere. After they kill a guy they bring him out in an automobile and throw him alongside the road somewhere. The thing to be done now is to locate their headquarters. That's what little Benny is goin' to do!"
"How do you propose to find that out?" inquired Forrester.
"Watch the tree and follow 'em!" replied Green, decisively.
"That sounds all right," objected Forrester, "but the police have been watching that tree for months without getting sight or sound of anyone."
"Leave it to me," assured Green, with a wide sweep of his hand. "I know things these here city dicks never think about. Now, Mister – Mister – , by the way, you ain't told me your name yet."
Forrester handed his card to Green.
"Now, Mr. Forrester," continued Green, as he glanced at the card, "take my advice and don't let nobody bunco you into any strange place. And I wouldn't take no rides in strange automobiles, either. I'll let you hear from me in a couple o' days. In the meantime you can count on findin' me around that tree o' nights. I kinda got an idea that there tree's a mighty busy place these nights. The 'Friends o' the Poor' seem to be makin' a big drive right now. I suppose you heard about the banker, Nevins, today?"
"Yes," said Forrester, rising to go. "I shall probably have full details of that shortly. My sister is engaged to Mr. Nevins' son."
"Ah-h-h!" sighed Green again, as his new client passed out of the door.
CHAPTER III – ENGINEERING-CRIMINOLOGY
Although the yearly hegira from town to suburb was well on, the Forresters had delayed their departure and were still residing in the town house on Bellevue Place. To a man of Forrester's active disposition Bellevue Place meant a comparatively easy walk from the downtown section. Moreover, in the present troubled condition of his mind, the exercise would be conducive to clearer thinking, so he started out with the intention of walking home. As he was crossing the Michigan Avenue bridge over the Chicago River, a motor car slowed up by the curb and Forrester heard someone call to him. Glancing around, he saw that it was Prentice.
"On your way home?" inquired Prentice.
Forrester answered in the affirmative.
"Then jump in with me," said Prentice.
"Thanks," returned Forrester, "but I had decided to walk home."
"Better change your mind," urged Prentice. "It's a fairly long walk, and I should like your company. Remember that after you leave me I have a long and lonesome drive."
"You are out on the North Shore now, are you?" queried Forrester, as he climbed into the car.
"Yes," answered Prentice. "We closed the town house on the first. I'm surprised that your folks are still in the city."
"We hope to leave soon. The decorators are still busy at our place. We gave 'Woodmere' a good overhauling this spring. I should think you would rather take the train than have such a long drive when you are alone."
"I very seldom use the train," explained Prentice. "You know that time is of no great value to me, and I enjoy the motor ride. The cool lake air and the scent of the woods are really very refreshing after being in the hot city – and certainly preferable to the gas, smoke and cinders that are inseparable from the train.
"By the way," continued Prentice, after a pause, "have you done anything further about that message we were discussing today?"
"Yes," replied Forrester. "I have taken very definite action since I left you."
"Drawn the money from the bank, I suppose."
"I certainly did not!" declared Forrester. "I went first to the police, and then engaged a private detective agency to look into the matter."
"What did the police say?" inquired Prentice.
"Oh, I guess it was the same old stuff," admitted Forrester. "Although they did say that they believed they had a clue at last."
"Well, I hope it is a better clue than some of the others they have pretended to discover. It is certainly time they did something. And what is your private detective going to do?"
"Not very much, I'm afraid," said Forrester. "He proposes to keep his eye on this mysterious oak, which I believe is just what all the detectives have done so far without results."
"Exactly," agreed Prentice. "But it is the first time, I think, that anyone has employed a private detective. Perhaps he will be more successful than the police. Well, here you are," he added, as he swung the car to the curb and stopped.
"Thank you for the lift," said Forrester, as he stepped out. "I'll let you know how my private detective gets on."
"Yes, do," urged Prentice. "I should certainly like to get some revenge for the money those people took from me. I suppose I shall see you at the club as usual tomorrow."
"No," returned Forrester, "between now and Saturday I am going to be very busy on this 'Friends of the Poor' matter. I don't intend to let any grass grow under my feet in running them to earth." Then he added, laughing, "However, after Saturday I may have to hang around the club for protection."
"If I can be of any help, don't fail to call upon me," offered Prentice. "Good-bye."
"Good-bye!" called Forrester, as the car shot off up the drive.
Forrester was glad that his mother and sister were not at home. His mind was concentrated on the peculiar situation in which he now found himself, and he felt little inclination to talk. His mother certainly would have noticed his preoccupation and guessed that something was wrong. It would have been difficult to keep up the pretense of having nothing on his mind. At this time he did not intend to tell his family anything about the warning he had received, for it would worry them unnecessarily, especially after the fate which had overtaken Mr. Nevins.
After dinner Forrester went to the library, hunted up his pipe and sat down to think. He had just settled back in his chair when he heard the door-bell, and a minute later a maid announced that a reporter from theTimes wished to see him. Forrester hesitated as he ran the matter over in his mind. He disliked publicity and this call certainly meant publicity. On the other hand, he was seeking all the information and help which he could get, and it was a well-known fact that newspaper reporters frequently solved mysteries which baffled the police. Forrester decided, therefore, that he really had little to lose and perhaps much to gain by allowing the reporter to interview him, so he instructed the maid to send the man in.
The young man entered the library briskly, giving a quick and comprehensive glance around the room before addressing Forrester.
"Mr. Forrester?" he inquired.
"Yes," replied Forrester, affably. "Take this chair and make yourself at home."
As the young man sat down, Forrester turned back the lid of a humidor and pushed it along the library table.
"Gee!" said the young man, selecting a cigar. "You seem glad to see me. I don't always get a greeting like this."
"Well," explained Forrester, smiling, "I'm in deep trouble and you, as a newspaper man, may prove to be a friend in need."
The young man visibly expanded as he remarked, "That's right! We newspaper men can be a lot of help sometimes. If there is anything I can do, say the word. My name's Humphrey."
"I'm