CHAPTER VI THE FRAT SUPPER

In the meantime, there were two people I wanted to question,--Al Chapman, the fellow who had told Mr. Ellison about the Frat Supper, and Mr. Garney, his tutor. I found Al Chapman at the Fraternity House, where I had gone to make inquiries for him. He was a serious, studious-looking boy, and he came to meet me with his finger still marking a place in a copy of Cicero's De Senectute.

"I am Mr. Hilton," I explained. "Mr. Ellison has asked me to act as Eugene Benbow's lawyer, and I wanted to ask you some questions about your birthday supper, you know."

He nodded, solemnly. Evidently he felt it a funereal occasion.

"I have no doubt that you can give me some useful information that will help to explain Benbow's actions," I said, as cheerfully as possible. "I wish you would tell me about the supper."

"We didn't think it would end like this!" he said tragically.

"It isn't ended yet. Perhaps you can help me make a good ending. Tell me what happened as far as you remember it."

"Nothing happened out of the ordinary until we were smoking after the banquet was over. Then we got to telling weird stories--and someone told of a mountain feud, you know, and how they carried it on for years and years as long as anybody was left, and Gene said he didn't blame anyone for feeling that way, and we talked back and forth, you know, some saying one thing and some another, and then one of the new fellows, Gregory, sung out to Gene and asked him when he was going to settle things with the man that shot his father. Of course the other fellows tried to squelch him,--they all knew how Gene would feel about that,--and Gene, he got stiff, the way he does when he doesn't want to go to smash, and said he didn't know where the wretch was, and Grig, the fool, says, 'Why, he's here in town. I saw him on Main street the other day, and a man pointed him out as the man that killed Senator Benbow.' Then somebody threw a pillow at Grig, and somebody else gave him a kick, and the fellows all began to talk loud and fast at once, and things passed off. I saw Gene tried to stick it out, because he didn't want to break up the shindig, but after a little while he slipped out and I knew he had gone. I have wished a thousand times that I had gone with him, but just then I thought he would rather be alone. Besides, I wanted to stay and help finish Grig off."

"Have you any idea how Benbow knew that Barker was in the Ph?nix Building? Was that mentioned?"

"No, I didn't notice that it was. But that's on Main street, you know, and Grig said Main street."

"Yes, perhaps. Had Benbow been drinking,--enough to affect him?"

Young Chapman looked somewhat embarrassed. "We don't--usually--"

"But you did on this occasion?"

"Well, it was a birthday, you see,--rather special. And we only had two bottles--"

"Among how many?"

"Twelve of us."

"Well, if Benbow didn't have more than his share, that ought not to have knocked him senseless." I rose. I hadn't learned anything that Eugene had not already told me. Chapman rose, also, but looked anxious and unsatisfied.

"We've been wondering, sir," he broke out desperately. "Will they--I mean, is it--will he--be hung?"

(Isn't that like youth? Jumping to the end of the story, and considering life done at the first halt in the race!)

"If he should be convicted of murder in the first degree, that is the penalty," I said. "But he hasn't been tried yet, much less convicted."

"We didn't think on his birthday that he would go out like that," said Chapman, solemnly. "It's as Cicero says, even a young man cannot be sure on any day that he will live till nightfall."

I glanced at the book in his hand. His classical quotation was obviously new!

"Are you reading De Senectute?" I asked.

"I'm doing it in Latin,--yes, sir. This is an English translation which Mr. Garney lent me today to show me what a poor rendering I had made. This is translated by Andrew Peabody, and he makes it sound like English! Gene was doing it with me. I don't suppose we will ever do any more Latin together."

"Don't be too sure of that. You may both come to know more of Old Age, in Latin, in English, and in life, than you now guess. But I want to ask you another question. Do you know Benbow's associates or friends outside of the University?"

"What sort of associates?" asked Chapman, looking puzzled.

"Any sort,--good, bad or indifferent. Especially the bad and indifferent."

The young fellow looked offended. "Gene doesn't have associates of that kind," he said, indignantly.

"Nothing in his life to hide?"

"No, sir. You wouldn't ask that if you knew him."

"I'm glad to hear it," I said absently. Of course I was glad to hear it, but it did not help out the half-theory I was considering that Benbow might somehow have been "in" with Barker's murderer, though not himself the active assailant, and have been forced, by fear or favor, to protect the criminal. But there was no use committing myself to any theory until I had more material to work with.

"Will you come down to my office this afternoon and let me take your deposition about what happened at the birthday supper? I want to get that on record while it is clear in your memory. And will you bring two or three others,--fellows who were there and heard it all? If worst comes to worst, I want to be able to prove that he acted under the immediate impulse of passion aroused by what Gregory said."

"Yes, I see. I'll bring all of them, if you like."

"Bring as many as care to come. Be there by four, if you can," I said. That would give me time for my interview with Dr. Kenton.

I am not going to take time here to recount the details of that interview. Suffice it to say that Dr. Kenton made an examination of Barker's teeth which established clearly that he was not the man who had bit the apples I had found in his inner office. He took a wax impression which would be enough to make this fact indisputable thereafter.

While he was engaged in this task, I took occasion to ask the coroner about the articles which had been found in Barker's pockets. He was now willing to allow me to examine the little collection. In addition to the things which I had noticed in the evening, I now saw that there was a part of a worn time-table, and two empty envelopes with pencil figuring on the back. The small memorandum book which I had noticed before engaged my special attention. A number of the front pages had been torn out. On some of the other pages were pencil figurings which held no significance that I could see. On the last page was what appeared to be a summary. At any rate, I recognized in some of the figures the total of the scribbled sums in addition and subtraction on the inside pages. This list seemed to have some coherence, and as the coroner had doubts about the propriety of letting me have the book, I made a copy of it, as follows:

Deering     97.50
Junius     17.25
Dickinson     52.00
Hawthorne     69.75
Lyndale     35.00
Sweet Valley     217.25
Illington     40.00
Eden Valley     32.00 (+1000)
Dunstan     27.00

I recognized the names as those of towns in the State, but that was not very illuminating. From the time-table, Barker had probably swung around this circle, and the figures might mean the amount he had made at each town. Or they might mean something entirely different. I needed more light before forming even a conjecture on the subject.

As I was about to replace the memorandum book, I made a surprising discovery. Running my finger over the edges of the leaves to see whether any other pages were used, I discovered a folded piece of paper stuck between two of the leaves, which had evidently escaped the casual examination the book had previously received. I unfolded it. It was an uncashed check for $250, made payable to "bearer" and signed by Howard Ellison! The date was only three days old. All this I saw at a glance. I was about to replace the paper when the coroner, who had been examining the other articles, looked up and saw it. He took it from my hand and examined it in turn.

"That's curious," was his comment. "Ellison is young Benbow's uncle, isn't he?"

"Something of that sort."

"He will be two hundred and fifty dollars ahead, since Barker didn't cash the check, eh?"

"I suppose the check belongs to his estate, in any event."

"If he has one. No one has claimed the body."

"What will become of it, then?"

"Oh, there was money enough in his pockets to pay for his burial. The authorities will see to it in any case."

"By the way, if any relatives should turn up, I'd like to know. Do you know whether Barker was ever married?"

"I have never heard. If he was, his wife will probably let us hear from her. This will be reported in all the papers everywhere."

"True. There ought to be some news in a day or two, if she intends to come forward at all. I'll call your office up later."

When Kenton was through with his piece of work, I took him with me to the jail, and while I talked to Eugene for a few minutes, Dr. Kenton stood by and took observations.

When we were again outside he shook his head.

"He's not the man. I don't need to examine his teeth. The shape of the jaw is sufficient. Whom else do you suspect?"

"No one in particular. But if it wasn't Barker and wasn't Benbow, it was someone else. Who that someone is, I shall endeavor to find out."

But though I spoke firmly, I had to acknowledge to myself that so far I had very little to go on. Doubtless he had many enemies, as Clyde had suggested, but they did not come forward. Neither did his friends, if he had any. He was an isolated man. And yet he held many strings connected with other lives. That check of Ellison's meant something. But Gene had confessed! I felt that my only hope lay in finding out who, in Eugene's circle of acquaintances, would have good reason to wish Barker removed, would be unscrupulous enough to kill him,--and sufficiently influential with Eugene to induce him to take another's crime upon himself.

I gained little from the Frat boys, though I examined them all that afternoon, and had my clerk Fellows, who was a notary, take their formal depositions for future use if necessary. They all testified to the remarks made by Gregory and the disturbing effect which the incident had had upon Benbow, but when I tried to probe for outside entanglements, influences, or relations, I drew a blank every time. So far as his college mates knew, Gene Benbow was merely an exemplary student, more interested in his books than in athletics, but a "good fellow" for all that. It was evident that his shooting of Barker had filled them not only with surprise but with secret admiration. They hadn't expected it of him.

"I'll go to Mrs. Whyte," I said to myself. "She's a woman and his next door neighbor. More, she is Mrs. Whyte. She will know, if anyone does."