Ernest Seton - The Preacher of Cedar Mountain

"His attorney asked for an appeal, but I am afraid it won't be entertained; there is no new evidence—no reason for delay that they can see or wish to see."

"That attorney has behaved very suspiciously, I think. Don't you think the governor might intervene with at least a commutation?" she suggested.

"The governor! His worst enemy," said Jim. "The governor's been after him for years."

Hope seemed gone. They sat in silence; then she said: "Pray, Jim; maybe light will come." And together they prayed that the God of justice and mercy would send his light down among them and guide them in this awful time. It was a short and simple prayer, followed by a long silence.

Belle spoke: "There is only one thing that can be done; that is find Squeaks. I know he is living somewhere yet, gloating probably over the success of his plan to get rid of Shay. I know he is alive, and we must find him. We have one month to do it, Jim. We must find him."

Jim shook his head. "We've tried hard enough already. We've examined every corpse taken out of the river or exposed at the morgue."

"Well; doesn't that help to prove that he is alive?"

"We've advertised and notified every police station in the country," Jim continued.

"They don't want to find him, Jim; they're on the other side."

"I don't know what else to do."

"Jim, I've read enough and seen enough of human nature to know that, if Squeaks is alive, he's not hiding in California or Florida or London; he's right here in South Ward where he can watch things. It's my belief, Jim, that he's been in the court room watching the trial."

Jim shook his head; but she went on. "This much I'm sure; he would hang around his former haunts, and we should leave nothing undone to find him."

They went first to Shay's attorney, but he dismissed the idea as chimerical, so they dropped him from their plans. Together they set to work, with little hope indeed, but it was at least better to be up and doing. Judge Squeaks's office was small, easily entered and productive of nothing. The police would give no information and seemed little interested in the new theory. Squeaks's lodgings yielded nothing new, but they found that Belle's theory was right; he had also had a room on the floor above. The woman in the gray cloak had called on him once or twice in the previous month and had come once since. She was a sort of janitress, as she had a key and straightened up his room. There was no hint of help in this. There was only one of his haunts that they had not thoroughly examined, that was the club. There was no need for that, as they knew every one that came and went, at least by sight.

Mrs. Hartigan was sitting in the club office at the back of the building next day when Skystein came in, and sat down to go over some club letters, officially addressed to him. As he read he made a note on each and sorted them into three neat piles. Belle watched him with interest that was a little tinged with shame. It is so human to consider a man inferior if he does not speak your language fluently, and the early impression they had gotten of Skystein gave them a sense of lofty pity. But it did not last. At every board meeting they had found reason to respect the judgment and worldly knowledge of the little Hebrew; those keen black eyes stood for more than cunning, they were the lights of intellect. Belle turned to him now. If any one knew the underworld of the South Ward it was he, and what he didn't know he had means to find out.

She openly, frankly, told him all she knew and suspected. He heard her at first doubtingly, then with growing interest, then with a glare of intense attention and conviction at last. His eyes twinkled knowingly as she expressed her opinion of the attorney. Skystein uttered the single word "fixed." Then he tapped his white teeth with his slender forefinger and rose to get the membership roll. He looked over it, but got no help; there was no one entered within the last few months that they could not fully account for.

They sat gazing in silence through the window into the adjoining reading room when an elderly woman came in and sat down. She wore a gray cloak and large goggles.

"Who is she?" said Belle. "I've seen her often enough, but I don't remember her name."

"Dat's Mrs. Davis: she's been coming only about five months. She was one of Squeaks's members."

A ray of hope shot into Belle's brain. "This fits the description of Squeaks's cleaning woman. She knows where he is hidden; she takes him food and keeps him posted. She is here now for the news." The woman at the desk raised her face; through the goggles and through that inner window she saw the two gazing at her. She rose quickly, but without hurry, and left the building. Skystein turned after her, without actually running, but she had disappeared.

"That woman knows where Squeaks is hiding," said Belle. But what became of her was a puzzle. They were confronted now by a stone wall, for there was no trace of her. The old janitor at Squeaks's lodging had not seen her for two weeks and she did not again appear at the club.

Michael Shay's religion so far as he had any, was of the Ulster type, and Jim Hartigan was accepted as his spiritual adviser and allowed to see him often. Jim and Belle agreed that it was well to tell him everything in their minds, to keep alive the light of hope, or maybe get from him some clue. Two weeks passed thus without a hint. Then, one evening as Skystein came late to the club, he saw a woman go out. He went to the desk and asked who it was. The register showed a strange name, but the clerk thought it was the gray woman till she looked at the name. Skystein rushed out as fast as possible, just in time to see a gray-cloaked figure board the car. There was no hack in sight so he leaped on the next car and followed. He was able to watch the car most of the time, but saw only one woman leave it. She was in black. At length, he got a chance to run forward and mount the first car. He stayed on the platform and peered in. There was no gray-cloaked woman. He asked the conductor, and learned that a woman had got on and taken off her cloak till she went out again three blocks back. At once his Hebrew wit seized these two ideas: she had deliberately turned her cloak; she was eluding pursuit.

Skystein went back at once to the street where the black-cloaked woman had descended. Of course, he saw nothing of her, but there was a peanut vender of his own race, at the corner. Skystein stopped, bought a bag of peanuts and began to eat them. Casually he asked the merchant if that woman in gray bought peanuts there. The vender didn't seem to comprehend, so Skystein addressed him in Yiddish; told him the woman was a detective, and promised to give ten dollars for information as to where she lived or what she was after. The expression on the peanut man's face showed an eagerness to find out the facts with all possible speed. But a week went by and he had nothing to report.

Meanwhile, Jim was at Joliet in daily conference with Shay, reporting to him the success or ill success of the search; reporting, alas, how little help they got from those who were supposed to forward the ends of justice. Money was not lacking, but it would help little; if an open campaign were conducted to find the man they believed to be in hiding, it might put an insuperable obstacle in the way. The governor was approached, but he was little disposed to listen or order a stay, least of all when they had nothing but a vague theory to offer.

Four days more went by, and Skystein found the peanut man in high excitement. He had seen the gray woman; she passed down his street and, before he could follow, turned into a side street; he left his peanuts and ran to follow, but got no second glimpse. She must have gone into one of the near-by tenements. "Didn't Mr. Skystein orter pay for de peanuts stole by de boys, as well as de reward."