Part 27 (1/2)
The clerk looked at the letter, uncertain as to what he ought to do.
Finally, he decided to get the Chicago police department on the long-distance telephone.
”Jonas Kalin has been here for two days under an a.s.sumed name,” he reported, ”but his ident.i.ty was discovered only after he had taken the night boat back to Chicago. He left a letter. It is sealed and addressed to Sidney Kalin.”
”We'll notify Kalin and meet the boat,” was the prompt reply. ”Hold the letter until you hear from Kalin.”
A little later Kalin called up the hotel and instructed that the letter be mailed to him at once. As Jonas was already on his way back, nothing would be gained by having its contents transmitted by telephone. He was beyond reach until the boat arrived.
It was an anxious little crowd that waited at the wharf for the arrival of the boat. There were Albert and Sidney Kalin, two detectives and some newspaper men. The news of Jonas Kalin's sojourn across the lake was already in the morning papers, having come by telegraph, and there was natural curiosity to learn the reason for this strange procedure. In addition, there was an undefined and unexpressed feeling that there might be a tragedy back of it. In any event, there was a mystery.
The boat reached its dock before five o'clock, but the state-room pa.s.sengers had the privilege of sleeping until seven, so only the excursionists who had been obliged to sit up all night left the boat at once. There were many of these, however-a weary and disheveled lot of individuals, groups and couples straggling along to the dock. They were talking of something that had happened during the night, or was supposed to have happened. Something or some one certainly had gone over the rail, for the splash was distinctly heard, and an excitable pa.s.senger had raised the cry of ”Man overboard!” The boat had been stopped, but investigation had failed to discover an actual witness to any such accident, although two people were sure they had seen something in the water just after the splash. The captain, however, insisted that it was all the result of some nervous person's imagination.
To Albert and Sidney Kalin these rumors brought sinking hearts and a great dread. It took them a little time to locate the state-room that had been occupied by their father, but a description of him, coupled with the name he had used at the hotel, enabled them to do it.
His valise alone was found.
Several people remembered the haggard man who had tramped the deck so restlessly. He seemed to be in great mental distress, anxious only to keep away from all companions.h.i.+p, and no one could recall having seen him after the cry of ”Man overboard!” Even the captain had finally to admit that it was probable he had lost a pa.s.senger, although, of course, no blame whatever attached to him or to any of the boat's crew.
Then came the letter that had been forwarded from the hotel. It was pathetically brief and to the point, as follows:
”My Dear Sons: The insurance money will pull you through. It is all that I can give you. Your success is dearer to me than anything else in the world. Your affectionate father,
Jonas Kalin.
Of course, Dave Murray read the story in the papers-all but the letter.
That was brought to him later by Albert Kalin.
”We wish to give you all the facts, without reservation,” Albert explained. ”Father did this for us to save the firm, to save an almost priceless invention.” The young man choked a little. ”We have hoped against hope that his letter might prove to be capable of some other interpretation, or that he may have changed his mind after writing it, and we have left no stone unturned-”
”Neither have we,” said Murray quietly. ”Perhaps we know more than you.”
”Have you got trace of him?” asked Albert quickly, and his face showed a dawn of hope that could not be misunderstood: he actually believed his father dead and would welcome any evidence to the contrary. It was not the expression of a man who was princ.i.p.ally interested in the payment of the insurance money, although he was naturally presenting his and his brother's claim.
”I am sorry to say we have not,” replied Murray, ”but neither have we any proof of death.”
Albert plainly showed his disappointment at Murray's first statement, and it was a moment or two before he replied to the second.
”I do not know your rules or aims,” he said, ”but it is possible-indeed almost probable, under the circ.u.mstances-that there never will be any absolute proof of death. It-it happened in mid-lake, you know.”
”Our aim,” returned Murray, ”is to pay every claim that we are convinced is just, without resorting to any quibbling or technical evasions, but we have to be careful. In saying this, I am merely stating a general proposition, without particular reference to this affair. Indeed, I concede that the presumption of death is unusually strong in this case.
I shall be glad to have any facts bearing on it that you can give me.”
Albert fully reviewed the circ.u.mstances as he knew them, to all of which Murray listened attentively.
”I shall make a complete report to the home office,” said Murray at the conclusion of the recital. ”Of course, after the lapse of a certain period there is a legal presumption of death, anyhow, but it is possible that the circ.u.mstantial evidence may be deemed strong enough to warrant an earlier settlement. Knowing the ostensible motive, I appreciate the value of time to you, and I a.s.sure you the company has no desire to delay matters longer than is necessary to a.s.sure itself of the justice of the claim.”