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To mention the name of Edward Taggett is to mention a name well known to the detective force of the great city lying sixty miles southwest of Stillwater. Mr. Taggett's arrival sent such a thrill of expectancy through the village that Mr. Leonard Tappleton, whose obsequies occurred this day, made his exit nearly unobserved. Yet there was little in Mr.
"Look here, Dexter," said Durgin, turning quickly on the speaker, "when I want to joke, I talk about your intelligence." "What kind of man is Taggett, anyhow?" asked Piggott. "You saw him, Durgin." "I believe he was at Justice Beemis's office the day Blufton and I was there; but I didn't make him out in the crowd. Shouldn't know him from Adam."
Richard crossed the narrow room, and stood in front of him. "Mr. Taggett, do you know why William Durgin lied? He lied because it was life or death with him! In a moment of confusion he had committed one of those simple, fatal blunders which men in his circumstances always commit. He had obliterated the spots on his clothes with red paint, when he ought to have used blue!"
It contained three lines, hastily scrawled in lead-pencil, requesting Richard Shackford to call at the house in Welch's Court at eight o'clock on a certain Tuesday night. The note had been written, as the date showed, on the day preceding the Tuesday night in question the night of the murder! For a second or two Mr. Taggett stood paralyzed.
"I am very sorry," he said good-naturedly. "No, I beg of you!" exclaimed Mr. Taggett. "Any expression of friendliness from you would finish me! For nearly ten days I have looked upon you as a most cruel and consummate villain." "I know," said Richard. "I must be quite a disappointment to you, in a small way." Mr. Taggett laughed in spite of himself.
Having killed his man, the editor proceeded to remark that he would suspend judgment until next week. As if to make perfect the bird comparison, Mr. Taggett, after keeping the public in suspense for six days and nights, abruptly flew away, with all the little shreds and straws of evidence he had picked up, to build his speculative nest elsewhere. The defection of Mr.
Jonathan Beers, who farmed the Jenks land, had heard the wheels and caught an indistinct glimpse of the vehicle as he was feeding the cattle, but with a reticence purely rustic had not been moved to mention the circumstance before. "Taggett has got a clew," said Stillwater under its breath. By noon Taggett had got the man, cart and all.
Slocum, sitting at the desk. The two words which Mr. Taggett then gravely and coldly whispered in Mr. Slocum's ear were, Mr. Slocum, who had partly risen from the chair, sank back into his seat. "Good God!" he said, turning very pale. "Are you mad?" Mr. Taggett realized the cruel shock which the pronouncing of that name must have caused Mr. Slocum. Mr.
Taggett, and as to the chisel he found, why, there are a hundred broken chisels in the village, and probably a score of them broken in precisely the same manner; but, Margaret, did Richard every breathe a word to you of that quarrel with his cousin?" "No." "He never mentioned it to me either.
What does Taggett suspect?" Lawyer Perkins brooded a while before replying. His practice was of a miscellaneous sort, confined in the main to what is technically termed office practice.
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