Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Amazing Stories January 1943. Extensive
research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this
publication was renewed.
QUEEN
OF THE
FLAMING DIAMOND
by LEROY YERXA
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _There it was, in a night club, the biggest diamond in the
world. Why was it here when a whole race depended on it for
existence?_]
The Owl Limb Night Club was crowded with smoothly gowned women and
paunchy men as Owner George Lardner approached the hanging "mike" to
announce the midnight attraction. At Lardner's appearance "Puffy"
Adams nudged his well-dressed boss in the ribs and whispered thickly.
"Come on, Jim. Let's get out of here."
Jim Drake lifted a tousled head from the smooth linen. He gazed at his
right hand man with a washed-out expression.
"Huh?"
"Puffy" Adams stood up slowly. His coat was wrinkled and creased
across his powerful back. He pulled it down impatiently and rubbed a
warm hand across his face. Looking down at the unsteady figure of Jim
Drake he grunted. Three crooked teeth that seemed at odds with the
world, appeared coyly against "Puffy's" lower lip.
He was accustomed to this old routine. Placing both hands under
Drake's armpits he lifted. Jim came to his feet with a surprised
gurgle.
"Wait a minute," he protested. "Wanta' see dance."
Puffy Adams pushed a thick arm around Drake and steered him across the
floor between the tables.
"Special feature tonight--diamond of mystery...." The night club owner
was still talking, his voice drowning the murmur of voices and tinkle
of glasses across the big room. "Sylvia Fanton--girl from nowhere--!"
Puffy struggled onward under the almost dead weight of his boss. Drake
was trying to hold back.
"You gave me orders to take you home at midnight," Puffy protested,
"and, 'Cinderella' Drake, home you go."
He succeeded in dragging his charge up the three low steps that led
toward the coat room. A silvery crash of music drowned out Puffy's
voice with the suddenness of striking lightning. He dropped his arm
from Drake's waist and pivoted, surprise on his broad face. Something
weird and lovely about the sound turned them both toward the stage.
His chin dropped in delight. This wasn't Lardner's usual nightly
feature.
[Illustration: She went into a weirdly sensuous dance....]
They watched with hypnotized eyes as the girl's slim body twisted and
swayed from between the bright shower of curtains. It wasn't the girl
that caught Puffy's gaze. Cupped in her slim hands was the biggest
diamond he had ever seen. The gem was skillfully cut with the
perfection of a Tiffany. From its multi-faceted sides a million sparks
of rainbow fire quivered and danced through the room. The shadows
seemed to come alive and burn under its presence.
Puffy gasped loudly.
"Shhhhh!"
"It ain't true," Puffy said. "A paste if I ever stole one."
Blake leaned on the low rail that bordered the dining room. His legs
were spread wide, body balanced unsteadily with firm-gripped hands.
George Lardner had picked a winner this time. Clothed in ankle-length
silver cloth, she wafted across the floor lightly as a breeze. Sylvia
Fanton was a light, floating angel of beauty. Her hair was raven-black
drifting to her waist and the eyes, dark as her hair, seemed caught in
worship for the precious stone in her hands. She hardly danced yet the
smooth torso, the swaying hips held her admirers fixed.
A sigh of longing escaped Drake's lips.
"Wunnerful," he breathed.
"Yea!" Puffy was still watching the great gem. "Not real though."
"Perfect as a dream," Jim Drake went on, not hearing.
"Perfect phony," Puffy insisted.
Drake swung around unsteadily.
"Who you calling phony," he lisped angrily. "That's girl's wunnerful."
He staggered and collapsed against Puffy's barrel chest.
"Home for you," Puffy decided.
* * * * *
He retrieved Drake like a sack of spuds and placed him carefully on
his feet.
"We're going out." He took a last look toward the dance floor and
pushed his boss through the curtains toward the outer lobby.
The music behind them stopped. The lights in the dining room blinked
out and a woman screamed somewhere in the darkness. Adams didn't wait
to find out what had happened. He pushed Drake along the hall toward
the coat room. Beside the tall youngster, Adams assumed all the
importance of a harbor tug heaving away at an ocean-going liner.
Mary, the checkroom girl, was waiting. When midnight brought Drake
from his whiskey, the girl had learned to expect a lavish tip. She
looked at Puffy with a puzzled smile.
"What's wrong in there?"
"Revolution," he answered shortly. "Light went out. Lardner probably
forgot to pay the light bill."
Jim Drake fumbled uncertainly in his pocket and brought out a numbered
ticket.
"Coat please," he said stiffly. "Coat please!"
He waved the ticket under Mary's nose.
She took the stub quickly and returned in a minute with a woman's
silver fox cape. It was a lavish, deeply rich fur.
"How long since you started wearing these things?" she asked and
pushed it across the counter.
"Hey!" Puffy grunted. "That ain't ours."
Drake clutched the fur protectively.
"Here--here," he cried. "My coat. Just grew whiskers. My coat just the
same."
Before Adams could stop him, Drake was lurching toward the door and
into the waiting arms of the doorman. Puffy tossed a bill on the
counter and Mary's eyes popped a fraction.
"We'll bring it back when he sobers up," he said quickly. "Must have
got the wrong number."
"Thanks!"
"Forget it." He went toward Drake and the grinning doorman. Rescuing
his drunken charge. Adams helped him across the walk toward the car.
"Come on, Cinderella. You got a date with the sandman."
Somewhere down State Street came the mournful howl of a siren.
"Whee!" Drake waved the fur in the air above his head. "Fire--want to
go to fire."
* * * * *
A crowd of patrons were pouring from the club behind them. With a
quick push Puffy deposited Drake in the streamlined coupe and rounded
the rear tires on the run. He jumped behind the wheel and turned the
key. Sirens were whining in close now.
The door slammed and a girl landed squarely on Drake's lap.
It was the dancing girl, Sylvia Fanton. Her face was flushed brightly
with fright.
"Whee!" Drake shouted gleefully. "The Angel herself. Where's the
Tiffany?"
He threw his arms about her slim, silver-clad waist and planted a
popping kiss on her cheek. The flat of the girl's hand caught his
face, hard. Drake sobered a degree.
"My jacket!" her voice was strained and tense. "Please! I must have it
at once."
Drake was interested. His pale eyes started to show fight.
"Sure!" he said. "But it's _my_ jacket."
The sirens were dying now. A powerful police car shot to the curb
behind them. Puffy's eyes narrowed and he drove the coupe away from
the club smoothly.
"Too hot around here," he said to no one in particular. "Can't stand
the smell of copper's feet."
Sylvia Fanton's dress was badly ripped on one side. The silken
stocking and smooth flesh of her thigh was visible through the tear.
"Please!" There were tears in her cold eyes. "I _must_ have the
jacket. It _is_ mine, you know."
Drake was coy.
"Aw," he insisted. "I had a ticket for it."
She slipped between them, her arm around Drake's shoulder. Realizing
that he was drunk, she tried a different approach.
"Now what would you do with it?" she asked sweetly. "You would look
funny wearing a silver fox jacket. You'd be just an old fox."
Jim hesitated. Then he slipped the jacket from his arm and around her
soft shoulder.
"I'll make a deal with you," he suggested. "Let us take you home and
you can have the old animal."
* * * * *
For the first time his eyes were clearing enough to get a really good
look at the girl at his side. He started to wonder vaguely how she had
gotten here. She was small and her tiny face seemed almost cupid-like
to his uncertain vision. Her eyes were frightened like the eyes of a
timid animal.
"Okay!" Puffy said sharply. "You've made a bargain. I ain't driving
all night. Where to?"
Her voice snapped out sharp and cold.
"Nowhere. Stop right here."
Jim Drake chuckled.
"Wait a minute," he stammered. "Be a sport. You promised."
He looked away for an instant, trying to shake some of the fog from
his head. When he looked back the girl was gone. There between them on
the seat was a small silver fox.
He shook his head dazedly and groaned.
"They got me," he moaned. "Stop car. I got to...."
Puffy took his eyes from the road. A sharp oath escaped his lips. The
brakes squealed as he felt sharp teeth settle deeply into his wrist.
Howling with pain he twisted the coupe to the curb.
The fox released its grip and leaped gracefully over the door into the
street. It was gone, weaving swiftly like a small dog through the
straggling crowd. It went out of sight quickly into a nearby alley.
"Holy Ned!" Puffy held a bleeding wrist in his good hand. "I'm getting
this way from _being_ with you."
Jim Drake's lips quivered strangely and he turned pale.
"I wanna' go home. Don't wanna' see anyone. No one, understand?"
Puffy nodded, but Drake persisted brokenly.
"Fox woman, that's what she is. Darned old fox woman wouldn't play
fair...!" His lips murmured off into something Puffy couldn't
understand.
* * * * *
Long shafts of sunlight split the obscure shadows that had hidden Jim
Drake's room for the past twelve hours. Drake turned over carefully in
bed, groaned and reached for the full glass on the table.
"Puffy!" His voice arose in shattering crescendo across the stillness
of the rich apartment and crashed against the door. "Puffy--it's me.
Take these damned rocks off my head."
Adams opened the door and came forward with a sly grin on his face.
"Okay--Okay." He was impatient. "I'm coming, Cinderella."
Drake swallowed the contents of the glass in a single gulp and
stretched out with a sickly grin.
"That was a wonderful dream I had last night," he said weakly. "Remind
me to call Walt Disney."
Adams went across the room and drew open the curtains. A two o'clock
sun slipped into the room and Drake hid himself hurriedly in the
pillow.
"Turn out that damned light," he shouted. "Now--about that fox woman.
Walt Disney oughta' pay...."
Puffy had braced his feet and placed his stocky arms behind his back.
"It wasn't any dream," he said calmly.
"Yea, I know. I was drunk."
"It wasn't a dream," Puffy said stubbornly. "That girl you saw really
was a fox. At least she turned into one. Oh! Damn!"
He tossed the morning paper on the bed.
"Read what the _Star_ had to say about your dream," he said. "They got
the story straighter than I did. We took a lady for a ride, Cinderella,
and she turned into a silver fox."
Drake sat up stiffly. The foolish look of surprise was gone. He
reached for the _Morning Star_. In huge headlines he read:
DARING HOLDUP AT NEW
NIGHT CLUB
World's Largest Diamond Stolen From
Under Eyes of Police
Sober as a lord now, Drake sent his eyes wavering along the column of
newsprint:
Chicago, May 6.--A group of daring jewel thieves last night
stole the Lardner diamond, largest gem of its kind in the
world, from beneath the eyes of an armed guard.
The stone was a perfect cut, pronounced priceless only last
week when it was first seen by Tiffany experts.
George Lardner, the owner of the Owl Limb, one of the city's
newest night spots, had taken it from a private vault to
display in a special dance.
Miss Sylvia Fanton, who danced with the gem has also
disappeared, but Lardner insists that she was well known to
him and could have had no hand in the robbery.
This story is feasible, as the gown Miss Fanton was wearing
at the time has been discovered badly torn in a State Street
alley. Murder of the dancer is suspected.
* * * * *
Drake tossed the paper across the room.
"Rubbish!" His eyes were clear and snapping now. The night of
adventure was thrown from his mind. "It couldn't happen, Puffy. We
were seeing things."
Adams picked up the _Star_ carefully, thumbed toward the last page and
held the news sheet where Drake could see another, much smaller
caption.
"Look at this," he begged. "You'll sing another song."
Jim took the sheet again, as though afraid he _would_ believe the
impossible. This story was short, and wedged in at the bottom of a
last page.
ZOO OFFICIALS CAPTURE FOX RUNNING WILD IN CITY STREET
Captured while trotting calmly down a State Street alley
early today, a perfect silver fox has found its home at
Wildwood Zoo.
Keepers chuckled when asked for a statement to the press.
They expect a fox farm to place a claim on the valuable
animal within twenty-four hours.
The fox was in perfect condition, with a deep, rich black
coat, tufted with snow white tips on each hair.
The Mayor has already offered to convert the pelt into a
cape for his wife, should an owner fail to claim the animal.
Jim Drake shuddered.
"I was drunker than I had any business being last night," he said
finally. "Did it all happen, what I saw?"
Puffy Adams grinned woefully. He drew his arm from behind his back and
displayed a clean, bandaged wrist.
"I got teeth marks an inch deep in my wrist," he said. "What do you
think?"'
Drake was out of bed in one bound. He pulled his slippers on
hurriedly.
"Plenty of hot water for a shower?"
"Coming up!"
Puffy retreated toward the bathroom door. Over his shoulder he asked.
"Going to the zoo?"
"I'm crazy," Jim admitted. "But if they found a girl's dress a block
from where we parked, and there's a silver fox at the zoo this
morning, I want to know why."
Puffy's stout figure was hidden behind the glass door. Water started
its inviting swish from the shower. His voice came out with a hollow
ring.
"Well, Cinderella," he said whimsically, "we're on the make again, but
the odds are against us. If that dame can bite my arm and turn into an
animal in the same night she'll make a hell of a mate for Jimmy."
Drake was already halfway across the room, knotting the sash of his
robe with long brown fingers.
"It's the call of the wild," he shouted above the hiss of the shower.
"We all have to answer it some time."
* * * * *
Half way out of town Jim Drake drew the coupe skillfully to the curb
and turned off the motor. He had parked opposite the city library.
Drake felt much better this morning. The sobering effect of the
_Morning Star_ had made a new man of him in short order. Dressed
neatly in a brown sport suit, clean white shirt and white shoes, Jim
looked his type perfectly. Young bachelor with cash to burn, yet with
a certain dissatisfaction in himself that had etched little wrinkles
around the clear brown eyes.
He pushed the door open and tapped Puffy Adams lightly on the
shoulder. Exhausted from the events of the night before, Adams was
cat-napping peacefully.
He sat up stiffly under Drake's touch and his face reddened.
"Huh?"
"This is where you get out," Jim grinned. "You're going to do some
reading this afternoon."
Puffy was dumbfounded. His only association with the printed page was
the _Morning Star_ and the _Police Gazette_.
"Wait a minute," he protested. "Don't I get a look at that fox?"
Jim piloted him skillfully from the car.
"Look up a book on gems," he said. "I want to know how big the largest
diamond was that has been found to date, where it came from, and if
they've ever been found in the far north."
Adams gulped, saw that the boss was sincere and started to turn away.
Jim halted him.
"After that, go down to police headquarters and see what you can dig
up on George Lardner."
Puffy's chin stiffened.
"It'll be dirt," he said. "This boy Lardner comes from an old line of
dirty wash. He's the heel of the family shoe."
Jim Drake nodded.
"That's what I figure," he agreed. "But I want all the facts."
Adams pivoted, took one look at the imposing granite building in which
he was about to trust his tender body and with a shake of his head
mounted the long flight of steps.
Jim Drake stepped hard on the accelerator and sped away toward
Wildwood Zoo.
* * * * *
Once on the grounds he had little trouble finding the section of open
air cages that housed the small animals. Wildwood was built with a
complete lack of eye appeal. Down a tarred path he passed through
tangled brush and approached a short line of ugly wired cages.
The silver fox was crouching at the rear of the last cage. She stood
up as he came near and started to trot slowly back and forth in front
of him. Looking around carefully, Drake saw that he was alone.
Afternoon crowds had long since deserted this uninteresting section.
His imagination told Drake that there was something feminine about the
smooth motions of the animal's body. The black eyes were
pleading--Sylvia Fanton's eyes.
"Please," the girl in the car had said. "I must have the fur."
The walk was deserted. He leaned over the fence and said softly.
"Sylvia--Sylvia Fanton."
The fox continued its restless pacing.
Drake doubted his own sanity. If anyone heard him standing here alone,
talking to an animal.... He shook his head in disgust and started to
turn away.
From the corner of his eye he caught the sudden flash of smooth, human
flesh. Whipping around, eyes wide, Drake was sure that for a fraction
of a minute a lovely nude girl appeared in the cage where the fox had
been. _It was Sylvia Fanton._ A flash of nude limbs molded
breathtakingly, snatched at his breath. Warm pleading eyes, full rich
lips that seemed to cry beseechingly.
"Help me. You are the only one...."
Then the vision was gone. The silver fox stood silently in its place,
head bent forward. Jim Drake suffered all the emotions of a man about
to go mad. He knew it was all a crazy dream, and yet.... Last night
he had been drunk. Now, here in the harsh light of late afternoon it
had been so real.
Hurried footsteps crunched loudly on the tar walk. He slipped quickly
out of sight into the brush that grew beside the fox cage. Feeling
like a fool, Jim waited. The heavy slouching figure of George Lardner
heaved into sight. One of the keepers, trimly uniformed, was at his
side. They stopped before the cage and engaged in hurried
conversation. The keeper nodded several times and Lardner passed him a
bill.
"Tonight," Drake heard him say in a low voice. "Make sure it's
unlocked."
They were gone up the little incline when he stepped out on the path
once more. Drake had been forced to make a decision.
* * * * *
In spite of his addiction to the bottle, Jim Drake's body was hard and
supple as he raced toward the car. Digging around in the trunk he
brought out a sharp file. Thank God for Puffy Adams and his early safe
cracking days. Returning to the cage he made sure no one was about.
The door was a strong affair behind the inner building, hidden on the
side of the hill. He started to file hurriedly on the Yale that held
the bolt in place.
The fox came toward him and sat down patiently just inside the door.
Its eyes never left his face as he worked. The curve of the lock
separated and with a quick motion he tossed it from him. The animal
came out swiftly as he opened the door. It trotted at his heels and
they kept to the underbrush, running toward the car.
Pushing the door open with shaking hands, Drake said, "In--quickly,
and stay on the floor."
The beautiful animal leaped and settled close to the floor boards.
Drake rounded the car and in a minute they were purring swiftly toward
the main highway.
From behind him somewhere in Wildwood Zoo, a sharp cry of alarm went
up. His theft had been detected. In five minutes the roads to town
would be blocked by police patrols.
Jim's forehead wrinkled into tight furrows. The coupe was doing
eighty-five. With one hand he reached down and petted the fox's smooth
head.
"You snap at me," he warned, "and I'll send you back to your cage."
A warm tongue touched his hand softly.
The police sirens were dying now, and he breathed with relief as they
passed the city limits and swept into heavy traffic. Slowing down a
little, his forehead smoothed out and a sly smile swept across his
face. Fifteen minutes later Drake eased the car into the alley behind
the apartment hotel.
There was no one on duty at the freight elevator. With the silver fox
in his arms Drake made a hurried entrance and shortly they reached the
private floor of his apartment. He placed the animal carefully on the
floor and with his key opened the door.
Puffy Adams was stretched across the bed. His eyes opened with a jerk
at the sight of Jim's passenger, and he drew himself toward the safety
of the far end of the bed.
"Well," Puffy said hesitantly. "If you go for this kind 'a thing it's
okay with me. Just keep that four-legged Dracula away from me. No more
blood-letting this week, please."
Jim ignored him. He locked the door swiftly and turned on the fox.
"You can come out now," he said. "It's safe here."
* * * * *
The animal crossed the thick rug with a bound, pounced to the bed
with a stealthy spring and curled into a little ball of fur. Its eyes
closed and it was motionless.
"I'll be damned." Drake slouched down in the leather chair beside the
cocktail table and dragged out a much smoked pipe. "That's gratitude
for you."
Puffy gazed with growing respect and admiration for the faults of the
insane.
"I suppose," he suggested, "that you expected that pint-sized bundle
of fur to kick one foot, toss off her coat and do a snake dance right
here in the bedroom?"
Drake sat motionless. Smoke drifted in lazy circles around his head.
"What about the diamonds?" he asked. "Get any dope?"
Adams edged carefully away from the bed and glided safely away from
the sleeping fox. He dipped a slip of paper from his wrinkled pocket
and started to read mechanically.
"Largest diamond came from Africa--weight one pound and a
quarter--didn't get the name of it, because I couldn't pronounce it
anyhow." He looked up anxiously. "Is that enough?"
Jim put the pipe away carefully.
"For brevity," he admitted. "It's perfect. But it will do."
"So?"
"From what I saw of that diamond last night," Drake continued, "it
must have weighed at least two pounds. Perfectly cut and yet by no one
in this country. Puffy, we've a perfectly swell mystery on our hands."
"And the fox?" Adams added, with a suspicious look at the drowsy
animal on the bed. "What in hell's bells made you bring it here?"
"George Lardner," Drake said slowly.
"_What?_"
"Lardner was at the zoo this afternoon," Jim explained. "He paid a
large sum of money to make sure he could steal the fox tonight. If
Lardner wanted it that bad, what could I lose?"
He didn't mention the sudden vision of Sylvia Fanton he had seen,
haunting and lovely in the cage.
"So he thinks Sylvia had the rock?" Puffy's face awakened with new
angles.
"So do I," Drake admitted. "At least she knows a lot about it."
He jerked upright suddenly, caught by the sudden movement on the bed.
Adams wheeled, his eyes following Jim's.
"Holy Ned!" he shouted. "The girl...."
* * * * *
The silver fox was gone. Sylvia Fanton, more lovely than ever was
stretched comfortably across the bed, her slim limbs partly covered by
the fox cape. She was real this time. Drake caught the look of
gratitude in her eyes.
"Then you _are_ real," he went toward her in long strides. "I was
beginning to wonder."
She crouched away from him slightly, trying to stretch the short fur
to cover her rounded limbs. The task wasn't very successful.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. He knew she _was_ sorry. Sorry for all the
trouble she had caused him.
"But why...?"
She sat up, shielding herself carefully.
"It's very simple," she explained. "I am doomed to wear the body of a
fox during those hours when the sun is high. At night...." She
motioned toward the window with slim fingers.
Drake turned, saw that the sun had drifted behind the distant skyline
and darkness had come down on the city. He smiled, only partly
understanding.
"At night you become a very lovely woman. I know that much."
Sylvia Fanton blushed.
"Thanks!"
Puffy whistled.
"Leave it to Cinderella Drake," he grinned. "Man, you sure hit the
jack-pot this time."
Drake sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Please tell us about yourself," he begged. "There's something I
should know? Some way I can help?"
She shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry. I owe you an explanation, and don't think I'm not
grateful. More than that I can't tell you now."
"Listen," Jim said. "I may have been drunk last night. Perhaps I'm a
mild sort of rotter, but at least I want to try."
The girl shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It may sound foolish, but the success of my
mission here depends on myself alone. The lives of many people are
hinged on my playing the game alone. The curse that holds me, binds my
people also."
Puffy Adams' jaw dropped. He reached for the always ready bottle in
the small bar and poured a drink. He swallowed it with a loud gulp.
"George Lardner shares your knowledge," Drake said.
Sylvia's body shuddered under the fur.
"Lardner is a snake." Her voice was as cold as ice. "His greed has
destroyed my people. Death will be his reward."
"All of which means," Drake said evenly. "You have recovered the
diamond that you held in your hands last night at the Owl Limb."
* * * * *
The girl arose slowly. The fur draped itself about her body revealing
warm shoulders, slim, evenly tapered legs. She stood like something
apart from them, small and queenly. Her voice was strained and hurt.
"I cannot say more. You have helped me in the quest of the flaming
diamond and you will be rewarded. Now, I must go before I cause your
death also."
Jim felt helpless--lost. She had aroused emotions in his heart that
had been long buried. Now with stark death and worse threatening her,
Sylvia Fanton proposed to leave him forever. He was at her side, his
hand clasping the warm wrist tightly.
"Let me help," he begged. "I'm not much on speeches but you're in
trouble. I can believe what I have seen. If there is a way of saving
you torture, I'm going to do it."
Sylvia stared up at him, tears misting her dark eyes. For a moment he
was sure she would throw herself into his arms.
"You're very nice," she said softly. "I'd be grateful forever if you
_could_ help, but you can't. I know my task and I have others with me
who know theirs. It will be best if we never meet again."
Drake's jaw grew stubborn.
"And if I refuse to let you leave?"
The girl's eyes were cold and she twisted the cape around her slim
body tightly, wearing it like a queen's robe. Words tumbled from her
lips swiftly.
"There is nothing you can do to prevent it."
A worried grin spread over Jim Drake's face.
"If you insist on going," he said, "there isn't much else to say."
"Don't think I'm not grateful to both of you." This time her smile was
for Puffy and his chest swelled a good three inches under its
influence. "If you'll promise not to follow me tonight, I'll return
here in the morning. If you insist on getting yourselves in trouble on
my account there isn't a thing I can do about it without appearing
ungrateful."
"That's more like it," Jim said cheerfully. "Now, about your clothes.
You can't wear that fur without something under it, although the
effect is appealing."
"And revealing," Puffy added.
She blushed.
"Could--could you find something for me. Some of your clothing?"
Puffy Adams chuckled. "With those shoulders Cinderella's got, you'll
look like an ex-prizefighter," he warned.
* * * * *
Drake started a search in the closet. Ten minutes later Sylvia Fanton
made an appealing picture in tan slacks, light jersey sweater and a
pair of sport shoes Jim had discarded years ago but had forgotten to
throw away. She stood at the door holding the fox fur close to her
breast. Then smiling brightly, she tossed it into his arms.
"Take good care of it," she said. "If it's not here in the
morning...."
Drake stood close to her. He couldn't find words for what was in his
heart. A dull hurt feeling welled up in his throat. It was so damned
futile sending a girl out when he had promised not to follow. If she
didn't come back in the morning....
Sylvia's eyes grew tender. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to
his stubbled chin.
"You've been up for a long time, laddie," she whispered. "Better shave
and get some rest."
The door slammed quickly and she was gone. Drake held the fur
carefully over his arm and rubbed his chin reflectively.
"I'll be damned," he said.
"So will I," Puffy spoke from somewhere behind him. "Looks like
Cinderella Drake is gonna go huntin' for that other slipper, and after
all these years."
Jim looked around the room for a safe place to hide the precious
silver cape. He decided on the big cedar chest in the open closet. He
locked the fur in safely and dropped the key in his pocket.
"Ready for a little traveling?" he asked.
Puffy had discarded his shoes and was stretched out comfortably, a
frosted glass in his hand. His chin dropped, jumped forward
protestingly.
"Just let's relax," he begged. "I've worn the heels off my feet for
you today."
Even as he talked the stout one started to tie the laces of his shoes.
They went down the quiet hall and into the private elevator.
"What about George Lardner?" Drake asked as they shot toward the main
floor. "Find out his life history?"
"At the police station." Puff admitted. Then in a puzzled voice he
added, "all but the last two years of it."
"And those last two years?"
They passed quickly through the rear lobby and into the alley. The car
was still where Jim had left it. As they drove out of the narrow alley
and into the street, Puffy talked.
"George Lardner has been in every racket the law knows about," he
said. "The police have a complete record of him since he cut his eye
teeth stealing milk. But the last two years get me."
* * * * *
Drake settled down behind the wheel and they headed toward the rush of
downtown traffic.
"Don't kill me with the suspense," he said. "What's Lardner been up
to that's so startling?"
"Exploring," Puffy said dryly.
"An expedition to the city's slums?" Drake queried.
"No!" Puffy crossed his legs comfortably and scratching a match on the
bottom of his shoe, touched the flame to his cigarette. "I had to go
to the Explorer's Club to get the dope on him. Lardner has been
spending a lot of time in the Baker Lake district just east of Hudson
Bay in Canada."
Drake's foot released its pressure on the gas pedal. "Thought that
country was pretty well explored years ago," he said mildly. "Nothing
much but snow and ice up there, is there?"
"And maybe diamonds," Puffy said. "At least that's what Lardner and
some of the boys at the Explorer's Club think."
Drake's interest was increasing.
"Is that where he found that big gem he displayed at the club the
other night?"
Puffy's lips split in a wide, toothy grin.
"Cinderella Drake knows the answers," he admitted. "Yes! That's where
he found the diamond and that's how he happened to get in with the
stuffed shirts at the Explorer's Club."
Drake was silent.
Adams hesitated, then added,
"Lardner showed up there six months ago claiming he had found the
world's largest diamond. He claimed he got it from a secret valley
somewhere in the Baker Lake district."
"Fantastic!" They had reached their destination and Drake pulled the
coupe in smoothly to the curb. The lights over the door of the Owl
Limb Night Club were darkened.
"The Explorer's Club doesn't think so. They are mighty stirred up
about his find. The only thing that puzzles them is how come the stone
is cut. Lardner refuses to tell them who did the job. As for finding
it where he did, it seems they've had an idea there were diamonds in
that country and were just waiting for someone to prove it."[1]
[Footnote 1: Professor Hobbs of the University of Michigan has found
several small diamonds and diamond particles in the strata of the
glacial flow throughout certain northern states.
Hobbs, a careful and painstaking research worker, used his knowledge
of geology to trace the strata of the glacial flow. He determined
several years ago that the diamonds came from the north, somewhere in
the Hudson Bay area. Although his co-workers are confident that he is
correct, a rush of prospectors failed to find anything that would
prove his theory.
Although opinions among geologists vary, many believe in Hobbs and his
work. A consulting gem expert at the world famous Field Museum put
forth this story to your editor, and convinced him that Hobbs is a
clear headed expert who knows what he is talking about. Somewhere
under the waste of snow, probably a little east of Hudson Bay, there
is a fortune in uncovered diamonds. A fortune that could easily
eclipse the yield of Africa's richest diamond fields.--ED.]
* * * * *
Jim Drake knew all he wanted to for the time being. He turned toward
the unlighted marquee of the Owl Limb.
"Looks as though the police closed the place up," Puffy said soberly.
"Gonna stay sober tonight?"
"Do you know where that check room girl lives; the one you call Mary?"
Drake asked.
Puffy's face sobered.
"She's married and has three kids," he said. "I don't know where any
married women live."
Jim chuckled. He twisted the car into the traffic again, and with a
swift U-turn, headed the coupe toward home.
"Just the same I need information from a married woman," he said. "And
you're getting out at the next corner in a perhaps futile effort to
find Mary."
"And if her husband doesn't meet me at the door with a shotgun," Puffy
asked, "what do I ask her?"
Jim shot an appraising look toward the deserted corner ahead, whipped
the coupe up beside a traffic officer and opened the door.
"From now on," he said, "we are interested in Lardner. He's a busy man
these days. Mary ought to know where her boss is. Women like that have
an idea of everything that is going on. Find out where Lardner went
and meet me at the apartment as soon as you can."
Puffy was already on the sidewalk.
"Leave it to me, Cinderella," he said. "I get the idea. If you can't
follow the fox, you're gonna follow the wolf and let him lead you to
her."
Drake nodded and smiled after the sturdy figure with a growing
respect.
"Move along there!" The gruff voice came from his side. "Can't be
holding traffic all night for you."
Drake turned, saw the officer grinning at him, and shot into the
traffic.
* * * * *
The door of the apartment was ajar. The puzzled expression on Jim
Drake's face changed to one of worried interest. He pushed the door
open swiftly, and silently. The lights were out. A sound came from the
direction of the window and straining he thought he saw the curtain
blow in slightly. On tiptoe he went swiftly around the side of the big
room. The chair by the bed had been moved and he struck his shin on it
in the dark.
The room flashed white as he pressed the electric button. Hot anger
passed through his body. Every piece of furniture in the room had been
tipped upside down. Linings were torn from the chairs. His clothing
was heaped in an ugly pile in the middle of the floor. Drawers were
pulled out and emptied.
The fur! He ran swiftly to the closet, twisted the handle and breathed
a sigh of relief. The cedar chest was broken and splintered around the
lock, but the cover hadn't been lifted. He inserted the key quickly
and drew out the fur cape. Its rich depth felt more precious than ever
in his fingers. Here in his hands was the link to his first real love
affair.
A footstep sounded faintly behind him. His heart was in his throat.
Drake whipped around and sprang to his feet. He stared straight into
the barrel of a wicked automatic. Lifting his eyes slowly, he studied
the man who held the weapon.
The stranger's face was hard as stone, almost barbaric. His bronze
skin stretched tightly over firm, high cheek bones. The mouth was open
slightly in a determined way. Teeth that flashed like an uneven row of
pearls seemed half savage, yet not unfriendly.
"You will come toward me slowly," the man's voice was cultured, yet
hesitant, as though he hadn't spoken English for many years. "A false
move will destroy you."
He backed away toward the center of the room.
"How ... where?" Drake stammered.
"You forgot to examine the bath," the gunman said. "You are not a
painstaking young man, Jim Drake."
Jim started. The man knew his name, held a gun on him that threatened
immediate death, and yet his voice was friendly, ever courteous.
"I have nothing here that you want," Drake said.
* * * * *
He stood in the middle of the room now. The stranger reached down
carefully with one hand, still holding his aim. He twisted a chair
upright and sat down. For the first time Drake had a chance to look
him over more carefully. His eyes were the same deep black as Sylvia
Fanton's. Cold and yet somehow gentle.
"You are holding in your hand what I need more than anything in the
world." The man relaxed but the gun didn't waver. Drake sat down
opposite him on the edge of the bed.
"The fur?" he asked.
"The fox fur." The gun settled on the strange intruder's knee and he
leaned forward eagerly. "Give it to me at once. If I leave with it
now, you will be troubled no more. This is as our mistress demands."
Then Sylvia Fanton had sent him. He must be one of the henchmen she
had spoken of. At once Drake felt relieved. He pushed the fur away
from him slowly, hating to part with it. The man stood up, took it
with his free hand and held it tightly.
"You are very wise," he said slowly.
He started to back toward the window.
"Wait," Drake was on his feet, "Sylvia promised to return in the
morning. Why...?"
A look of compassion spread across the gunman's face.
"Sylvia Fanton is no more," he said pityingly. "You had but a brief
glimpse of an earthly woman who is the most perfect creation on earth.
Now she has completed her mission and will return to her people."
"Then you did get the diamond?" Drake was sorry at once that he had
spoken. The man's eyes turned icy.
"We have done what we came to do," he said shortly. "We appreciate the
part you played in our success. More than that, I am not at liberty to
discuss. Please do not follow me as I leave."
Then, carefully,
"Make no mistake, Mr. Drake. Our queen came very close to deserting
her sacred trust. If you were to see her again, you would not enjoy
the same close association. There is no place in her life for you, or
you would be going with me instead of staying here at the point of a
gun."
Drake moved forward hesitantly, and then stopped with the gesture of a
man who knows he is beaten.
"Okay," he admitted. "You've got me on the spot. But remember this:
George Lardner thinks more of that diamond than he does his life. He's
going to leave a trail of blood in every country of the world, but
he'll get it if you don't kill him first."
The gunman's face was a mask of hatred.
"Do not underestimate the power Lardner is fighting," he said grimly.
"There will be blood, yes. It will be Lardner's blood. He has a debt
to pay, and it is not our wish that you be involved when payment is
made. Our leader whom you know as Sylvia Fanton has one message for
you. Goodbye."
He tossed a small envelope of paper at Jim's feet and was gone through
the window as silently as a floating cloud.
* * * * *
Jim stood speechless for a second, then he went toward the window and
looked down the long line shadow of the fire escape. There was no one
in sight. A small dog darted along the edge of the alley far below. Or
was it a dog? His bewildered mind told him the animal was more like a
fox in its quick, sly movements.
Drake picked up the slip of paper in shaking fingers. He opened it and
stared at the neat longhand message:
_We were very close to love, Jim Drake. Love is not good for a woman
who has my obligations._
The outer door rattled noisily. Drake took a second quick look at the
note and stuffed it into his pocket. Puffy Adams stormed in and
stopped abruptly with a shocked look in his eyes.
"Been havin' a party?" he asked whimsically. "Looks like the guests
came on a whirlwind."
Drake was silent. He started to rearrange the room mechanically. Duffy
collected the clothing from the floor and replaced it in the closet.
The boss would talk when he got ready.
From the chair by the cocktail table, Drake said suddenly, "What about
Lardner? Did Mary know where he went?"
Puffy, his job completed, slumped across the bed.
"That guy Lardner is off on another trip." He started to slip his
shoes off, thought better of it, and tied the laces again. "Mary says
he gave the employees all a month's pay and said he'd be back in time
to keep them in cash next month."
Through a cloud of pipe smoke, Drake was placing more pieces into the
jigsaw of Sylvia Fanton's life.
"Any idea where he's going?" he asked.
Puffy shook his head.
"Not the slightest," he admitted. "Mary says her boss is tighter than
a bum's pocketbook when it comes to information."
Drake had enough pipe smoke. He put it away carefully and stood up.
"I see you didn't get the shoes off after all," he said a little
slyly. "Going somewhere?"
Puffy arose, took a suitcase from the closet shelf and started tossing
clothing into it.
"I think so," he said grimly. "If I'm half as good a stooge as I think
I am, we'll be needing overcoats before we get back."
Drake was already waiting at the door when his companion lifted the
heavy bag to his shoulder and prepared to follow.
"Got your long underwear?" he asked soothingly. "We're going to the
airport first, but after that I've got a hunch we'll go diamond
prospecting somewhere east of Hudson Bay."
Puffy shivered.
"Cinderella Drake hunts the silver slipper." His voice was doubtful,
his eyes were twinkling. "If you find it up there, you'll freeze your
foot trying the damned thing on."
* * * * *
The Municipal Airport was deserted, save for a small group of men
waiting just outside the main lobby. They were obviously the members
of a dance band. Instruments were packed and waiting on the baggage
truck outside as Drake and Puffy entered. Drake went straight to the
ticket window. The man behind the ticket cage looked up with a smile
as he approached. His eyes were tired and questioning.
"Yes, sir?" in quiet friendliness.
Drake tossed a roll of bills on the counter.
"We're thinking of taking the night plane to Winnipeg," he said
indecisively. "Any empty berths?"
The clerk grinned.
"Fortunately for you," he said, "there aren't any priority passengers
tonight. The Winnipeg job has been full of flyers headed for the
Canadian border for the past two weeks. Nothing of importance tonight.
Five berths available."
Drake looked around curiously.
"Have you a passenger named George Lardner?" he asked.
The clerk took down a small file and thumbed through it. He shook his
head.
"No. Had you planned to meet him here?"
Drake smiled.
"We had a date," he admitted. "George Lardner is headed for the same
destination. He'll no doubt catch a later plane and meet us in
Winnipeg."
The clerk was penning figures rapidly across the ticket.
"You won't lack for entertainment," he laughed in a low voice. "That
gang at the door call themselves Harry's Rhythm Rascals. Headed for a
dance job up there."
"I'd rather have a quiet berth," Drake admitted. "Need sleep more than
I need rhythm."
The clerk collected the two fares and said sleepily,
"Your plane will take off in twenty minutes, sir. May as well get
aboard. The berths are made up."
"Thanks." Drake pocketed the tickets and motioned for Adams to follow.
As they passed Harry's Rhythm Rascals, Drake watched one of the men
turn slowly and follow him.
"That guy must be the tuba player," Puffy said quickly. "He sure looks
as though he'd been pushed around."
The luggage was disposed of and in ten minutes Drake was lying quietly
under the dome of the plane. A sudden throb of motors came from up
ahead. With half closed eyes he wondered, if at the end of this mad
journey, Sylvia Fanton might be waiting for him. George Lardner
wouldn't be far away. Although the plane trip had started like a wild
goose chase, at least he was headed in the general direction of
trouble, and the grandest girl he had ever met. Turning restlessly on
one side, he was aware that the bumpy ground was no longer under the
plane and the three great motors were purring smoothly as they drifted
ahead through the starlit night.
* * * * *
"Jim!--Jim!" Drake opened one eye with effort, remembered that he was
in a plane bound for Winnipeg, and sat up. Through the parted curtain
he could see the dark earth underneath sprinkled occasionally with a
handful of twinkling lights. Puffy Adams was leaning over the berth,
his body clad in oversized pajamas, eyes wide with excitement.
"The orchestra!" Puffy was muttering. "They ain't! They're Lardner's
gunmen! Lardner's on board!" He babbled on.
"Wait a minute!" Drake was wide awake now. He helped Adams into the
berth, holding a warning finger over his lips. "Now," he said firmly,
"one thing at a time."
"Those punks that called themselves Harry's Rhythm Rascals. They got a
plane full of tommy guns. They can't play but _one_ tune on those."
Drake's eyes narrowed.
"How did you find out?"
"I couldn't sleep," Puffy said. "Went up front to get a glass of water
and find that pretty hostess to keep me company."
"So?"
Puffy gulped.
"So she isn't aboard the plane. We landed somewhere last night right
after we took off. I didn't think nothin' of it. Ain't used to these
airplanes. Well, when I was up front I heard two of these punks
talkin' in their berths."
He opened the curtain slightly and looked both ways along the narrow
aisle.
"This whole damned plane is full of Lardner's men. They were laughing
at the trick they pulled on the airlines. Seems they forced the pilot
to land, threw out both pilots and the hostess. Lardner was waiting at
the private field and he came aboard."
"You're sure Lardner's on this plane?" Drake asked. "You didn't dream
all this?"
"Listen, Cinderella." Puffy was himself again. "This sky bird is
headquarters for every ex-con in Chicago. I don't know why they didn't
throw us off with the hostess, but I sure wish they had."
A hard smile twisted Drake's lips.
"I think," he said, "that we're going to see Sylvia Fanton much sooner
than I had planned. Unless we do some fast thinking we may not see her
alive."
* * * * *
They sat quietly as Drake studied the country under the plane. He
tried to discover some landmark listed on the map. There was nothing
but scarred, snowcapped mountain peaks. A sprinkling of toothpick
pines relieved the monotony of blinding snow, here and there.
Gradually, as the plane droned on, even these were left behind.
Ahead--only the white wastes.
From somewhere forward in the plane came a hard chuckle of laughter.
"Our hosts are coming to life," Drake said. "It's now or never." He
pushed bare feet into the aisle and dropped, stretching his arms
overhead with a yawn.
"As soon as I'm out of sight," he whispered, "get back to your berth
and dress. I'll see you in the cabin ahead. Act as though you know
nothing. Understand?"
Puffy grinned sadly.
"That'll be easy," he answered, "but I've been around those violins
that talk death before. Don't like a tommy gun unless it's in my own
hands."
"Okay," Drake said grimly. "Keep your mouth shut and you may get your
wish."
He slipped into his shoes, dressing quickly, went toward the tiny wash
room halfway up the aisle. One of Lardner's men was making a hurried
exit. They met, heads down, with a jarring blow. The gunman started to
swear loudly, caught himself and said in a mock pleasant voice,
"Good morning. Say, ain't this a darb of a trip?"
Drake nodded.
"Guess I'll splash a little water over my face if you're done."
The man's heavy face lighted in an embarrassed smile. He stepped
hurriedly to one side.
"Oh--oh sure. The sink's all yours."
Once inside, Drake locked the door quickly. He washed the sleepiness
from his eyes. So the laugh was on him after all. Lardner was in
control of the ship, and headed for the lost Flaming Diamond. Where,
Drake wondered, did he and Puffy Adams fit into the picture?
Suddenly there was a difference in the tune the motors were humming.
The plane slanted down at an abrupt angle and Drake pitched forward
against the wall. Struggling up, he heard a sharp knock at the door.
"Better strap yourself into a seat," a strange voice carried through
the wall, muffled and far away.
He turned the lock quickly, lurched out, and felt an automatic in the
small of his back.
"Hey!" Drake feigned surprise. "What the hell?"
"Never mind, buddy," the man gave him a sharp push toward the cabin,
"get yourself strapped in. We ain't got time to tell stories."
A sharp prod of the gun settled the argument. Silently Drake went
forward. Puffy was already in his seat, his face an expressionless
mask.
"Remember," he whispered, "keep your chin stiff and wait for a break.
The fun has really started."
* * * * *