When in Holmsford, Saybrook usually stopped at a hotel. His district was very large, and required much traveling. Holmsford was merely his base of operations. News of Josiah Bartram’s death had reached him while on the road.
Upon his return to town, Saybrook, as he had mentioned to Hurley Adams, had taken up his residence at the dead contractor’s home.
Despite his direct method in talking with Hurley Adams, Willard Saybrook was not an overaggressive type of man. He realized fully that it was not his province to interfere in the settlement of Josiah Bartram’s estate.
He had no reason to suspect that Hurley Adams might be shady in procedure. The lawyer had been a lifelong friend of Josiah Bartram, and the old contractor had been too shrewd a business man to have intrusted his affairs to any one who might later play him false.
Saybrook’s visit had been to arouse Adams to his senses; and his talk with the lawyer had given the young man new confidence, despite the fact that his apprehensions had been increased by statements which Hurley Adams had made.
Recalling the lawyer’s advice, Saybrook realized that it would be unwise to go further with this matter for the present. Saybrook would have relished a discussion with Doctor Felton Shores; nevertheless, he thought it best to do as Hurley Adams had suggested: to wait and see if any overtures might come from Shores himself.
Murder! Fingers of death! These were harrowing thoughts. They were perplexing to Willard Saybrook, for they were a far cry from the young man’s usual field of action. Willard Saybrook was a business man, not a crime investigator. At the same time, he possessed a keen intellect, and he was not willing to be idle in the face of this suspected situation.
Since Grace Bartram had told him of her fears, last night, Saybrook had been methodically active. Upon his desk lay various newspapers, all containing accounts of Josiah Bartram’s death. Saybrook had scanned these thoroughly, going through the lengthy accounts of Bartram’s past career. He realized that all the stories were too sketchy and inadequate.
One fact, however, impressed Saybrook. The simplicity of the funeral arrangements, followed by the interment in a magnificent and costly mausoleum, had made good news copy. Pictures of the Bartram mansion; of the mausoleum; of the crowd that had gathered outside the grounds — these were spread through most of the local papers.
Furthermore, they had been sent by photo services to larger cities. Saybrook had obtained copies of New York dailies, and in them he found duplicates of certain photographs that had appeared in Holmsford.
NEWS, Saybrook sagely decided, appeared to be a matter of popular interest. In a larger city, Josiah Bartram’s death and burial would have attracted scant attention. But the man’s unique position in Holmsford, the curiosity of the populace, and similar factors, had caused public excitement, and even the Manhattan newspapers had deigned to notice the events in Holmsford.
The wave of news had died immediately, however. These journals were a few days old. No later editions had made any mention of Josiah Bartram.
However, a latent interest had been created. Thousands of people had read of Josiah Bartram. If the dead contractor’s name should reappear in print it would be immediately recognized.
What a bombshell it would be to demand an exhumation of the body! All these news photographs would be in immediate demand. Holmsford would come into conspicuous notice, far more than before.
That very factor now impressed Willard Saybrook with the wisdom of the advice which he had received from Hurley Adams. It was best that Josiah Bartram should remain quietly dead and buried. No scandal could bring back the deceased contractor.
If murder — direct or indirect — should be a sound theory, it would be preferable to await for new developments. Hurley Adams had convinced Willard Saybrook that time would either justify or disprove suspicions.
Saybrook was still considering the newspapers on his desk, when a stenographer entered the office to inform him that a gentleman was calling to see him. Saybrook received the card that the girl gave him. It bore this inscription:
HARRY VINCENT
Construction Representative
NEW YORK CITY
Willard Saybrook had never heard of the visitor; nevertheless, he immediately associated Harry Vincent with the tile industry. Therefore, he ordered the girl to usher in Mr. Vincent.
A few minutes later, Willard Saybrook was shaking hands with an affable, frank-faced young man of about his own age.
“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Vincent,” stated Saybrook. “It’s not often that I have a visitor from New York. Particularly one who is engaged in building enterprises. As a matter of fact, construction is very slow in Holmsford at the present.”
Saybrook was looking at the calling card as he spoke. Harry Vincent smiled slightly. That card had done good work.
Despite the statement which it bore, it had not come with Harry Vincent from New York City. The card had been printed in Holmsford, yesterday afternoon, after Harry Vincent had learned the business in which Willard Saybrook was engaged.
“I know that building is slow in Holmsford,” affirmed Harry Vincent. “That, in a sense, accounts for my interest in this town.”
“How is that?” questioned Saybrook, in surprise.
“My business is rather an unusual one,” explained the visitor. “It also enables me to be quite independent. I am in contact with certain large firms that are interested in erecting branches in various localities. I visit different places, size up the building possibilities, and submit complete plans to those concerns. When I find a live spot that is utilized, it proves quite profitable to me.”
“I see,” responded Saybrook, with a smile. “Therefore, a town in which building interests need work is more apt to offer cheap construction advantages—”
“You have stated the situation exactly,” said Harry Vincent. “So far, I have done practically nothing here in Holmsford; in fact, I expect to go on to other territory. But while I am here, I am making it a point to become acquainted with representatives of businesses that figure in the building trade.
“I have never had previous negotiations with your concern, but I know the company by reputation; and as you appear to dominate this territory, any orders that I might be able to place would naturally come through you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Vincent,” responded Saybrook.
It was evident that this first meeting would produce no immediate business, so Saybrook wisely turned the talk to generalities concerning the business trade.
However, during his agreeable conversation with Harry Vincent, Saybrook noticed his visitor glancing at the pile of newspapers on the desk. This caused Saybrook’s mind to revert to the all-important topic of Josiah Bartram, and he suddenly decided to try an experiment.
“You were in New York a few days ago?” he asked suddenly.
Harry Vincent nodded.
“Did you happen to notice any of these newspapers?” Saybrook then continued.
Harry glanced over the pile. He picked out a copy of the New York Classic. Saybrook smiled. He took the newspaper and turned to the page that showed a photograph of Josiah Bartram’s mausoleum.
“Did you notice this picture?” he quizzed.
Harry Vincent studied the photograph; then nodded. As he read the caption beneath it, Harry’s face took on a gleam of surprise.
“Why, it’s here in Holmsford!” he exclaimed. “I did not notice that before. Josiah Bartram — yes — I heard his name mentioned somewhere. He used to be a contractor here, didn’t he? I heard some one say that he had died suddenly, not very long ago.”