ENOCH COOK AND HIS PAL.
The moment Quick appeared upon the scene Cook made a successful dash
for liberty, Burt did not make a move to intercept him.
Mike had the drop on him, and Burt believed the rascal would shoot if
he grappled with Cook.
“Ain’t you a nice member of society?” remarked Quick.
“Put up that gun.”
“You just hold your horses; I want to give Enoch a good start,” said
Mike. “You gave me your word of honor you would not attempt to arrest
the man.”
“What is it to you whether Cook is arrested or not?”
“A good deal; that is, if the arrest was made here.”
“Find him a good customer, eh?”
“It ain’t that.”
“Then what is it?”
“The thing would get in the newspapers,” said Mike.
“Suppose it did.”
“Then my place would be given a bad name; savvy?”
Burt was mad enough to eat Quick, but he felt compelled to laugh
at the fellow’s conceit. In all New York there was not a more
disreputable dive than Quick’s, and it had enjoyed that reputation
for years.
“That’s all gammon,” remarked the detective. “Put up your gun.”
“I guess Cook has got far enough away now.”
Mike put the revolver in his pocket. That was what Burt was waiting
for. With a catlike spring he landed directly in front of Quick,
and planted his fist between that gentleman’s eyes. The attack was
wholly unexpected by the dive-keeper. Mike fell like a log.
Burt turned the prostrate man over, and took possession of his
revolver. Then he allowed Quick to rise. The latter was mad as a wild
bull. He made a rush at the detective. Again Burt’s fist shot out.
The result was the same as before. The bartender and several others
who were in the front room now appeared.
Turning to the bartender, Burt said:
“Sweep that thing into the gutter.”
Then, drawing his own revolver, he made his way from the room, and
none sought to bar his progress.
It may readily be assumed that Enoch Cook lost no time in getting out
of that neighborhood. He went directly across the city, and brought
up at a small hotel on West Street.
Without asking questions of the clerk, he went up-stairs and entered
a room on the second floor. A small, wiry, and hatchet-faced man
arose from a lounge upon which he had been stretched. This was the
Honorable Richard Kidd.
“What’s the matter, Enoch? Have you been interviewing a ghost?”
“Why do you ask that question?”
“You’re as pale as death,” said Kidd; “what caused it?”
“The diamond.”
“The diamond, eh?”
Kidd was quite wide-awake now.
“What do you suppose?” asked Cook; “this fellow Stolburst has put a
detective on your track. Ain’t that pleasant news?”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been talking with the detective,” replied Enoch.
“How did he come to know you?” inquired Kidd.
“He and I used to be schoolmates, but I don’t understand how he knew
that Sam Henry and Enoch Cook were one.”
“This fellow knows we have the stone, eh?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t see we have anything to fear from him.”
“Why not?”
“Suppose he knows of you pushing Aimee Jacquet overboard when our
ship was in mid-ocean?” remarked Enoch.
It was now Kidd who became very pale.
“You dropped no hint of that?” he said, in a low and tremulous
whisper.
“Do you take me to be a fool?”
“The captain of the vessel reported that my wife, Aimee, committed
suicide by leaping overboard while suffering from an attack of
temporary insanity.”
“She was not insane.”
“Of course not; but didn’t I bribe the ship’s surgeon to say he had
noticed the woman’s mind giving way for several days before she was
lost?”
“Dick,” said Cook, “I never could understand why you wanted pretty
Aimee out of the way after the hard work you had in succeeding to
have her desert her husband.”
Kidd laughed, and then all at once he became very serious again.
“One night when drunk--it was the night before we sailed for New
York--I told her all about the diamond. The first day out my wife and
I had a little tiff. The quarrel grew in dimensions, and she several
times taunted me with being a thief.
“I was afraid that if she arrived over here she might give me away
to the police. That’s why I pushed her overboard that stormy night.”
“Do you think Pierre Jacquet knows his wife ran away with you?”
“No; the ruffian believed she was entirely devoted to him. Poor
little Aimee, if she had not such a nimble tongue she would be alive.
The silly creature believed we could have been legally married in
this country.”
“I think possession of that green diamond is unlucky,” remarked Enoch
seriously.
The other laughed.
“I’ll bet,” said Kidd, “that if I asked you to take charge of it you
would not refuse.”
“No; but I’d sell it as soon as possible,” returned Enoch.
“How much do you suppose it is worth?”
“That does not signify; we can never get anything like its real
worth.”
“We should be able to get fifty thousand dollars or more.”
“I think I can find a purchaser.”
“I wish you would, then.”
“I’ll try to see the party I have in view to-night.”
“Now,” said Kidd, and he appeared very anxious, “you have me in your
power.”
“What do you mean?” asked Enoch, in pretended surprise.
“You alone know how Aimee Jacquet came to her death. Come what may,
never inform on me. I will treat you square. As I intended all along,
half the money received for the green diamond will be yours, Enoch.”
Cook smiled. He was extremely avaricious, and the prospect of
becoming possessor of a large sum of money was peculiarly pleasing to
him.
“I have had many pals,” he said, “and not one of them can say I ever
played him false.”
“I put you down as a true man when I first met you.”
Enoch chuckled to himself. Had he possession of the Eye of Jobu, Kidd
would soon discover how square his pal was. Cook would most certainly
have appropriated the gem for himself.
“I’m glad,” said the hypocrite, “you put confidence in me.”
“Now,” remarked Dick, “you have not told me about that detective
friend of yours.”
“I met him down at Mike Quick’s, and he told me he had been engaged
by our old master, Henry Stolburst. I told him Stolburst gave me the
shake, but that wouldn’t go down.
“When he spoke of the diamond, I pretended I knew nothing about it,
and when he said you took it, I claimed I was ignorant of the fact.
Then the detective wanted me to sell out to him.”
“What do you mean by that?” inquired Kidd, in some surprise.
“He told me I would be well paid if I put him onto you.”
“Well?”
“Of course I refused, and then he undertook to arrest me.”
“How did you get away--knock him out, eh?” remarked Kidd.
“Well, no,” replied Enoch, “I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”
“I always supposed you were very fly in using your dukes.”
“Yes, but I am not a marker to the other fellow.”
“Daisy, eh?”
“You bet.”
“What’s the chap’s name?”
“Burt Cromwell.”
“I’ve heard of him before.”
“He’s a chap that would never stand any fooling,” said Cook.
“I guess we’ll fool him some,” remarked Dick, smiling.
“I only wish we may.”
“If the fellow becomes too troublesome,” said Kidd, “I’ll give him a
taste of cold steel.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I won’t have you attempt anything of that kind.”
“Are you dead stuck on your old schoolmate?”
“No; I never liked him.”
“Then why do you display so much interest in his personal safety?”
“It is your safety I am interested in,” smiled Enoch.
“I guess I am able to paddle against this fellow and win.”
“Go ahead; I won’t attempt to force advice upon you.”
“Now,” said Kidd, “I have one greater to fear than the detective.”
“Who?”
“Guess who I saw to-day?”
“Give it up.”
“Ajeeb, the head ‘cocalorum’ of the temple of Jobu, and you can bet
he is onto Henry Stolburst. Next he’ll get onto us, and then there
will be music.”