Читать книгу: «Under Cover», страница 11

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NO sooner had Michael Harrington seated himself at the card-table with his wife and Nora than he picked up a magazine and, as he always said, “kept the light from his eyes.” Some men – few there be – who boldly state they desire to sleep, but Michael was of the tactful majority and merely kept the light from his eyes and, incidentally, prevented any observers from noting that his eyes were closed.

He considered this a better way of waiting for Monty than to chatter as the women were doing of the events of the night.

“I wonder what’s become of Monty?” Alice asked presently.

“He’s kept us twenty minutes,” Nora returned crossly. “I saw him go out in the garden. He said it was to relieve his headache, but I really believe he wanted to capture the gang single-handed. Wouldn’t it be thrilling if he did?”

“A little improbable,” Alice laughed; “but still men do the oddest things sometimes. I never thought Michael the fighting kind till he knocked a man down once for kissing his hand to me.”

“It was fine of Michael,” Nora said. “The man deserved it.”

“I know, dear,” her hostess said, “but, as it happens, the man was kissing his hand to his infant son six months old in an upper window. It cost Michael fifty dollars, but I loved him all the more for it. Look at the dear old thing slumbering peacefully and imagining I think he’s keeping this very gentle light from his eyes.”

“It’s the two highballs he had in Mr. Denby’s room,” the sapient ingénue explained. She harked back to Monty. “I wish he were as brave about proposing. I’ve tried my grandmother’s recipes for shy men, and all my mother ever knew, I know. And yet he does get so flustered when he tries, that he scares himself away.”

Alice nodded. “He’s the kind you’ve got to lead to the altar. I had trouble with Michael. He imagined himself too hopelessly old, and very nearly married quite an elderly female. He’d have been dead now if he had. Here’s your prey coming in now.”

Monty entered the card-room from the garden, nervously stuffing into his pocket the precious package which Denby had thrown to him.

“I hope I haven’t delayed the game,” he apologized.

“We didn’t even miss you,” Nora said acidly.

“Were you supposed to be in on this game?”

“Don’t be cross, Nora,” Alice advised; “you can see his headache has been troubling him. Is it better, Monty?”

“What headache?” he asked. “I haven’t had a headache for months. Oh, yes,” he added, confused, “that neuralgic headache has gone, thanks. Shall we play?”

“Yes, let’s,” Nora said. “Michael dealt before he went to sleep.”

“Wake up, Michael,” his wife said, tapping him with her fan, “you’re not at the opera; you’re playing cards.”

“I haven’t slept for a moment,” he assured her, after a pause in which he got his bearings. “The light was too strong – ”

“So you shaded your eyes,” his wife went on. “Well, when they are unshaded will you remember we’re playing?”

“Who opened it?” he demanded with a great effort.

“Bridge, my dear,” Alice reminded him, “not poker – bridge, auction bridge.” She paused a moment while the clock struck three. “And it’s three o’clock, and it’s quite time you began.”

“One no trump,” Nora said, after looking at her hand cheerfully.

“It isn’t your bid,” Alice corrected her, “although I don’t wonder you forgot. It’s Michael’s; he dealt.”

Michael tried to concentrate his gaze on his hand. There seemed to be an enormous number of cards, and he needed time to consider the phenomenon.

“What’d the dealer draw?” he asked.

“But we’re not playing poker,” Alice said.

“It was Monty who confused me,” he said in excuse, and looked reproachfully at his vis-à-vis. “What’s trumps?”

“It’s your bid,” Nora cried. “You dealt.”

“I go one spade.”

“One no trump,” Monty declared.

“Two royals,” Nora cried, not that she had them, but to take it away from Monty.

“Pass,” said Alice glumly. She could have gone two royals, but dared not risk three.

“Give me three cards,” Michael cried more cheerfully. The way was becoming clearer.

“Michael,” his wife said reprovingly, “if you’re really as tired as that, you’d better go to bed.”

“I never broke up a poker game in my life,” he cried. “It’s only the shank of the evening. What’s happened, partner?” he yawned to Nora.

“I went two royals,” she said.

Michael looked at his hand enthusiastically. “Three aces,” he murmured. “I’d like to open it for two dollars – as it is, I pass.”

“Two no trumps,” said Monty. When the rest had passed, Nora led and Monty played from the dummy. Michael, at last feeling he was rounding into form, played a low card, so that dummy took the trick with a nine.

“Anything wrong?” he asked anxiously as Nora shook her head.

“If you don’t want to win you’re playing like a bridge article in a Sunday paper,” she returned.

“This game makes me sick,” he said in disgust. “Nothing but reproaches.”

“I wish Mr. Denby were playing instead of poor Michael,” Nora remarked.

“Steve’s got the right idea,” Monty commented. “He’s in bed.”

“Great man, Denby,” said Michael. “He knows you can’t sit up all night unless you drink.”

“We’ll finish the rubber and then stop,” his wife said comfortingly. “Do remember it’s not poker.”

“I wish it were,” he exclaimed dolefully. “No partners – no reproaches – no post-mortems in poker. If you make a fool of yourself you lose your own money and everybody else is glad of it and gets cheerful.”

“After this then, one round of jacks to please Michael,” said Alice.

“And then quit,” Monty suggested. “I’m tired, too.”

“I’m not tired,” Michael asserted. “I’m only thirsty. It takes this form with me. When I’m thirsty – ”

Michael stopped in consternation. Overhead, from all parts of the house, came the mechanical announcement that burglars had broken in. The four rose simultaneously from the table.

“Burglars!” cried Michael, looking from one to the other.

“Good Heavens!” Nora gasped.

“What shall we do?” cried Alice.

“It’s gone off by accident,” Monty asserted quivering, as there came suddenly the sound of a shot.

“Somebody’s killed!” Alice exclaimed, with an air of certainty.

Michael was the first to recover his poise. “Monty,” he commanded sternly, “go and find what’s the matter. I’ll look after the girls.”

Alice looked at him entreatingly. “You’d better go,” she said; “I shall feel safer if you see what it is. You’re not afraid, Michael?”

“Certainly not,” he said with dignity. “Of course they’re armed. Hello, who’s here?”

It was Lambart entering, bearing in his hand a .45 revolver.

“The burglar-alarm, sir,” he said, with as little excitement as he might have announced the readiness of dinner. “The indicator points to Mr. Denby’s room.”

“Good old Lambart,” his employer said heartily. “You go ahead, and we’ll follow. No, you keep the beastly thing,” he exclaimed, when the butler handed him the weapon. “You’re a better shot than I am, Lambart.”

“Mikey,” Alice called to him, “if you’re going to be killed, I want to be killed, too.”

The Harringtons followed the admirable Lambart up the stairway, while Nora gazed after them with a species of fascinated curiosity that was not compounded wholly of fear. Intensely alive to the vivid interest of these swiftly moving scenes through which she was passing, Nora – although she could scream with the best of them – was not in reality badly scared.

“I don’t want to be killed,” she announced with decision.

Monty moved to her side. He had an idea that if he must die or be arrested, he would like Nora to live on, cherishing the memory that he was a man.

“Neither do I!” he cried. “I wish I’d never gone into this. I knew when I dreamed about Sing Sing last night that it meant something.”

“Gone into what?” Nora demanded.

“I’m liable to get shot any minute.”

“What!” she cried anxiously.

“This may be my last five minutes on earth, Nora.”

“Oh, Monty,” she returned, “what have you done?” She looked at him in ecstatic admiration; never had he seemed so heroic and desirable. “Was it murder?”

“If I come out of it alive, will you marry me?” he asked desperately.

“Oh, Monty!” she exclaimed, and flung herself into his arms. “Why did you put it off so long?”

“I didn’t need your protection so much,” he told her; “and anyway it takes a crisis like this to make me say what I really feel.”

“I love you anyway, no matter what you’ve done,” she said contentedly.

He looked at her more brightly. “I’m the happiest man in the world,” he declared, “providing,” he added cautiously, “I don’t get shot.”

She raised her head from his shoulder and tapped the package in his pocket. “What’s that?” she asked.

“That’s my heart,” he said sentimentally.

“But why do you wear it on the right side?” she queried.

“Oh, that,” he said more gravely, “I’d forgotten all about it. It belongs to Steve. That shows I love you,” he added firmly; “I’d forgotten all about it.”

As he spoke there was the shrill call of a police whistle outside. “The police!” he gasped.

“Don’t let them get you,” she whispered. “They are coming this way.”

“Quick,” he said, grabbing her arm and leading her to a door. “We’ll hide here.” Now that danger, as he apprehended it, was definitely at hand, his spirits began to rise. He was of the kind which finds in suspense the greatest horror. They had barely reached the shelter of a door when Duncan and Gibbs ran in.

“Come on, Harry,” Duncan called to the slower man, “he’s upstairs. Get your gun ready.”

Nora clasped her lover’s hand tighter. “There’ll be some real shooting,” she whispered; “I hope Alice doesn’t get hurt. Listen!”

“The Chief’s got him for sure,” Gibbs panted, making his ascent at the best speed he could gather.

“They’ve gone,” Nora said, peering out; then she ventured into the hall. “Who’s the chief?” she asked.

“The chief of police I guess,” he groaned. “This is awful, Nora. I can’t have you staying here with all this going on. Go back into the card-room, and I’ll let you know what’s happened as soon as I can.”

“But what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m going to wait for Steve; he’s very likely to want me.”

“I’m not afraid,” Nora said airily.

“But I am,” he retorted; “I’m afraid for you. Be a good girl and do as I say, and I’ll come as soon as the trouble’s over.”

“I just hate to miss anything,” she pouted. “Still if you really wish it.” She looked at him more tenderly than he had ever seen her look at any human being before. “Don’t get killed, Monty, dear.”

Monty took her in his arms and kissed her. “I don’t want to,” he said, “especially now.”

When the door had shut behind her he took out the necklace with the idea of secreting it in an unfindable place. He remembered a Poe story where a letter was hidden in so obvious a spot that it defied Parisian commissaries of police. But the letters were usual things and pearl necklaces were not, and he took it down from the mantel where for a second he had let it lie, and rammed it under a sofa-cushion on the nearby couch. That, too, was not a brilliant idea and, while he was wondering if the pearls would dissolve if he dropped them in a decanter of whiskey on a table near him, there were loud voices heard at the head of the stairway, and he fled from the spot.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHEN the Harringtons followed their butler into Denby’s room, they were appalled at what they could not see but heard without difficulty. A strange voice, a harsh, coarse voice rapping out oaths and imprecations, a man fighting with some opponent who remained silent. While they who owned the house stood helpless, Lambart turned on the lights.

The sudden glare showed them Denby was the silent fighter. The other man, a heavily built fellow, seemed for the moment blinded by the lights, and stopped for a second. And it was in this second that Denby uppercut him so that he fell with a thud to the floor.

Then they saw Denby pick up a revolver that was lying by the stranger’s side.

“What’s the matter?” cried Michael, while Lambart busied himself with making the room tidy and replacing overturned chairs.

“This man,” said Denby, still panting from his efforts, “tried to break in, and Miss Cartwright and I got him.”

“Good Lord!” Michael ejaculated.

“How splendid of you!” Alice cried. “Ethel, you’re a heroine, my dear.”

Taylor, who had not been put out by the blow, scrambled to his feet and was pushed into a chair. Denby stood conveniently near with the revolver a foot from his heart.

“I never saw a more typical criminal,” Michael said, severely looking at the captive; “every earmark of it. I could pick him out of a thousand. Now, Denby, we want to hear all about it.”

“He’s crazy,” Taylor shouted indignantly. “Don’t you believe him. He’s the crook. I’m an agent of the United States Customs and I came here to get Denby.”

“That’s a pretty poor bluff,” Denby scoffed. “This porch climber was one of the two who held up Monty and Miss Rutledge in the grounds to-night.”

“I said they’d break in!” Alice cried, and believed her statement. “And how fortunate Ethel moved her room. This man looks like the sort who wouldn’t stop short of murder, Michael.”

“The lowest human type!” Michael cried. “Look at his eyes and ears, and nose!”

“I tell you I came to arrest him!” Taylor cried, striving to keep his already ruffled temper.

“Absurd!” he sneered. “You won’t think so when you learn who I am. Ask that girl there; she knows; she’ll tell you whether I’m absurd.”

Instantly they all centred their gaze on Ethel. For a second she looked at him blankly. “I never saw the man before,” she told them.

“You didn’t, eh?” Taylor cried, after a pause of sheer astonishment, “I guess you’ll remember me when I serve a warrant for your sister’s arrest. It’s in my pocket now with other papers that prove I’m working for the United States Government.” He made a motion as though to get them but found Denby’s gun close under his nose.

“No you don’t,” Denby warned him. “You’ve probably got a neat little automatic pistol there. I know your sort.”

But when he seemed about to relieve the deputy-collector of his papers Taylor shouted a loud protest.

“Very well,” Denby cried. “If you had rather Mr. Harrington did, it’s all the same to me. Mr. Harrington,” turning to his host, “will you please remove whatever documents you find in his inner pocket, so that we may find out if what he says is true.”

“Surely,” Michael returned. “I like every man to have justice even if the electric chair yearns for him.” Carefully he removed a bundle of papers neatly tied together. And one of them, as Ethel Cartwright saw, was the warrant made out for her sister’s arrest. She wondered why Denby had invited inspection of them, but was not long to remain in doubt.

“Now,” said Michael judicially, “we’ll do the thing properly.”

But before he had unfolded a single one of the papers, they were snatched violently from his hand, and Denby, gun pointed at Taylor, was backing to the door. “Keep out of range, Harrington,” the retreating man warned. He cast a swift look of triumph toward Ethel. “It’s all right, Miss Cartwright,” he called cheerfully. “Don’t worry, it’s all right now.”

As the door closed, Taylor sprang from the chair with a curse. “Grab him, I tell you,” he cried raging. “He’s a crook. The Government wants him, and they’ll hold you people responsible if he gets away.” He blew his whistle loudly, and then rushed out of the door and down the hall taking the steps four at a time.

The French windows were open and out of them he ran, calling sharply for his men. But Gibbs and Duncan were even now fiercely searching the other wing and disturbing frightened servants above. It was not for some minutes that they made their way to their chief, and searched the grounds as he bade them.

And even here they were frustrated. Lambart’s tactical genius had forbidden him to remove the clothes-lines he had laid to bring wandering tramps low, and among them Duncan and Gibbs floundered with dreadful profanity.

There were two other men aiding them now, Ford and Hammett, who were stationed outside the grounds to watch the only road by which Denby could escape. When Taylor was satisfied they were doing what they could, he came back into the big hall where the frightened group was awaiting him.

“We’ll get your friend yet,” he observed disagreeably to Mrs. Harrington. “It’s bright moonlight, and my men’ll nab him.”

“But he’s not my friend,” she objected; “I had no idea he was that kind of a person.”

“When I find a man like that a guest in a house like this,” Taylor retorted, “I think I’m justified in calling him your friend. You’ll have time to think what to say later when you’re called as a witness.”

“I want to beg your pardon, Mr. Taylor,” said Michael anxiously. The idea of being cross-examined and made a fool of by a bullying counsel horrified him. He’d be a jest forever more at Meadow Brook and Piping Rock. The Harringtons casually to pick up a smuggler and make him free of their exclusive home! Never had he needed a drink to steady his nerves as he did now!

“Well, I certainly think there is an apology due me,” Taylor sneered. He was not one to forget an affront and Harrington had alluded to his criminal type in a way that rankled yet.

“But how could we know?” asked Mrs. Harrington; “he seemed perfectly all right, although I did say he might be a murderer.”

“That’ll come out in court,” Taylor reminded her disagreeably. “If it hadn’t been that my men were here to swear to me, I’d have spent the night in one of your little one-horse jails, and he’d have got away. When I do get him he’ll remember Daniel Taylor till the day he dies.”

Monty, overhearing these direful threats from behind a door, and happy because of his friend’s escape, walked boldly in.

“Did you get the burglar?” he demanded airily.

“There wasn’t any burglar,” Alice told him.

“It was your old friend Denby that caused all the trouble,” Michael informed him, “the old friend you introduced into my house. I tell you, Monty – ” “Don’t explain,” Taylor commanded. “Now,” he snapped to Monty, “have you seen Steven Denby in the last ten minutes?”

Monty found with glee that so far from being nervous he was enjoying the scene. He only regretted that his moustache was not long enough to permit him to curl it to a fierce and martial angle. He was glad that Nora had crept into the room and was watching him.

“Isn’t he in bed?” he demanded, yawning.

“You know he isn’t in bed,” Taylor answered. “Maybe you’re his pal – in on this job with him. Come here.”

Monty wished to refuse, but Taylor had a compelling manner, so he advanced with an insolent slowness.

Alice Harrington flew to his defence. “That’s too absurd!” she cried. “We’ve known Mr. Vaughan since he was a child.”

“Who is this person?” Monty demanded superciliously.

“Never mind who I am,” Taylor said gruffly, and started to search him.

“Don’t hurt him,” Nora cried, rushing to her fiancé’s side.

“It’s all right, Nora,” Monty said; submitting quietly. “He thinks he’s doing his duty. When you’re through with me,” he said to Taylor, “I’ll take you to my room. You’d probably like to go through that, too.”

“Here, that’ll be enough from you,” Taylor said frowning. “You aren’t smart enough to be Denby’s pal. Clear out – get back to the nursery.”

Nora cast a glance of vivid hatred at him, but Taylor turned his back on her.

“Do you want us any longer?” Michael asked.

“No,” he was told. “You can go and leave me with this girl,” pointing to Ethel, who had not said a word. “I want a little talk with her.”

“Please keep her out of it,” Michael asked him. “I’m sure she’s absolutely innocent in the matter.”

Taylor looked at him, exasperated. “See here,” he cried, “you’ve put enough obstacles in my way to-night as it is! Do you want to put any more?”

“It’s all right,” Ethel Cartwright said quickly; “there’s just some misunderstanding. Please go!”

“All right, then,” her host answered. “Come, Alice, I need a drink badly.”

“My dear,” she said affectionately, “under the circumstances you may have an all-night license.”

He had turned to go when Lambart approached him. “I beg your pardon, sir, but can I have a word with you?” “What is it?” Michael demanded anxiously. The news evidently affected him, and Taylor looked suspicious. “What’s this mean?” the deputy-surveyor asked.

“A long distance from my partner,” the agitated Harrington returned. “I stand to lose nearly a million dollars if something isn’t done. Excuse me, Alice – I’ll use the upstairs ’phone.” He hurried upstairs.

“Well,” said Monty to Taylor – Nora was hanging on his arm and he felt he would never again be afraid – “do you want me any longer?”

“I thought I sent you back to play,” Taylor snarled.

Ostentatiously Monty turned his back and walked leisurely to a door.

“You are perfectly splendid,” Nora exclaimed with ecstasy in her voice. “I’d no idea you were so brave.”

“Oh, you can never tell,” Monty returned modestly.

Alice joined them in retreat. “Michael’s thirst is catching,” she asserted. “I’m for some champagne, children, are you?”

“Sure,” said Monty. “What’s a quart amongst three?”

Taylor watched them depart, sneeringly. He hated the idle rich with the intensity of a man who has longed to be of them and knows he cannot. The look he flung at Miss Cartwright was not pleasant.

“What did you mean by telling them upstairs that you had never seen me before?” he cried vindictively.

“You said under no circumstances was I to mention your name.”

He looked a trifle disconcerted at this simple explanation. He was in a mood for punishment, and rebuke.

“Yes,” he admitted, “but – ”

“You said it was imperative your identity should not be disclosed,” the girl reminded him.

“I suppose that’s true in a way,” he conceded; “but when you saw me wanting to prove who I was, why didn’t you help?”

“I was afraid to do anything but follow your instructions,” she said earnestly. “I remembered that you swore you’d put my sister in prison if I even said I’d ever seen you before.”

“Well, then, we won’t say any more about it,” he returned ungraciously. “How did you find Denby had the necklace?”

“I got into his room and caught him,” she explained. “He had it in his hand.”

“Yes, yes!” he cried impatiently; “go on.”

“And when the lights went out and there was a shot, I screamed, and naturally I couldn’t see what happened in the dark. I thought you had killed him and I was frightened.”

Taylor frowned. He did not like to remember that directly the flash of his gun had disclosed his position Denby had sprung on him like an arrow and knocked him down. Denby had scored two knock-downs in one night, and none had ever done that before. There was a swelling on his jaw and three teeth were loosened. Denby should pay for that, he swore.

While he was thinking these vengeful thoughts, Duncan hurried in through the French windows.

“Say, Chief,” he shouted, “Denby didn’t leave the house. He’s up in his room now.”

“How do you know?” Taylor cried eagerly.

“Gibbs climbed up on the roof of the pagoda; he can see the room from there and Denby’s in it now.”

“Now we’ve got him sure,” his chief cried gleefully.

“And Harrington’s with him,” Duncan added excitedly.

“What!” Taylor ejaculated, stopping short on his way to the stairs. The two men talking together spelled collusion to him, and opened up complications to which he had hardly given a thought.

“Gibbs said they were talking together,” his subordinate continued.

“I was right at first,” Taylor exclaimed; “I thought that might be the game, but he fooled me so that I would have sworn he was innocent. Denby’s smuggling the necklace through for Harrington. Jim, this is a big job, get out there to make sure he don’t escape by the balcony. Have your gun handy,” he warned; “I’ve got mine.” He looked over to Ethel, whose face betrayed the anguish which she was enduring. “And I’ll get the drop on him this time.”

“No, no,” she cried, “you mustn’t!”

“You knew all the time he was back in his room and you’ve been trying to fool me – you’re stuck on him.”

“No, no, you’re wrong,” she said desperately.

“Am I?” he retorted; “then I’ll give you the chance to prove it. Send for Denby and ask him what he did with the necklace, and where it is now. Tell him I suspect you, and that he’s got to tell you the truth, but you won’t turn him over to me. Talk as if you two were alone, but I’ll be there behind that screen listening.” He took out his revolver and pointed to it meaningly. “If you tip him off or give him the slightest warning or signal, I’ll arrest you both, anyway. Wrong, am I?” he sneered. “We’ll see; and if you try to fool me again, you and your sister will have plenty of time to think it over in Auburn. Now send for him.”

There was a big screen of tapestry in one corner of the hall near the stairs. Behind this he had little difficulty in hiding himself.

The girl watched him in terror. It seemed she must either offer the man she loved bound and helpless to his enemies, or else by warning him and aiding him in escape, see him shot before her eyes. There seemed here no way out with Taylor watching her every look and movement from his hiding-place.

She stretched out her tremulous hand to grasp the table for support and clutched instead the silver cigarette-box, the same she had offered earlier to Denby. Her deep dejection was banished for she saw here a chance to defeat her enemy by a ruse of which he could not know. Watching her, Taylor saw her returning courage, and congratulated her. She knew, he thought, that her only chance was to play the square game with him now.

“Well,” he called from his concealment, “why don’t you send for him?”

“I’m going to!” she answered, walking to the bell and then coming back to the table. “You’ll see you’ve been all wrong about me.”

“I guess not,” he snarled, adjusting the screen so as better to be able to see her from between its folds. He noticed that Lambart passing close to him as he answered the bell had no suspicion of his presence.

“Mr. Denby’s in his room,” she told the man, “please say I’m alone here and wish to speak to him at once.”

“Yes, madam,” Lambart said, and a few seconds later could be heard knocking at a distant door.

“I can see you perfectly,” Taylor warned her. “When Denby comes in, stay right where you are and don’t move, or else I’ll – ” He stopped short when Lambart descended the staircase.

“Mr. Denby will be with you immediately,” the butler said, and left the hall.