"But," he promised rashly, "I can save you--oh, heaps of trouble in
other--ah--lays."
She shrugged helplessly. "If I must--then I do accept. We are partners,
Dan Anisty and I!"
He nodded mute satisfaction, brushed the tools out of his way, and bent
an attentive ear to the combination.
The girl swept across the room, and there followed a click simultaneous
with the total extinction of light.
Startled, "Why--?" he demanded.
"The risk," she replied. "We have been frightfully careless and
thoughtless."
Helplessly Maitland twirled the combination dial; without the light he
was wholly at a loss. But a breath later her skirts rustled near him;
the slide of the bull's-eye was jerked back, and a circle of
illumination thrown upon the lock. He bent his head again, pretending
to listen to the fall of the tumblers as the dial was turned, but in
point of fact covertly watching the letters and figures upon it.
The room grew very silent, save for the faintly regular respiration of
the girl who bent near his shoulder. Her breath was fragrant upon his
cheek. The consciousness of her propinquity almost stifled him.... One
fears that Maitland prolonged the counterfeit study of the combination
unnecessarily.
Notwithstanding this, she seemed amazed by the ease with which he
solved it. "Wonderful!" she applauded, whispering, as the heavy door
swung outward without a jar.
"Hush!" he cautioned her.
In his veins that night madness was running riot, swaying him to its
will. With never a doubt, never a thought of hesitancy, he forged
ahead, wilfully blind to consequences. On the face of it he was playing
a fool's part; he knew it; the truth is simply that he could not have
done other than as he did. Consciously he believed himself to be merely
testing the girl; subconsciously he was plastic in the grip of an
emotion stronger than he,--moist clay upon the potter's whirling wheel.
The interior of the safe was revealed in a shape little different from
that of the ordinary household strong-box. There were several
account-books, ledgers, and the like, together with some packages of
docketed bills, in the pigeon-holes. The cash-box, itself a safe within
a safe, showed a blank face broken by a small combination dial. Behind
this, in a secreted compartment, the Maitland heirlooms languished,
half-forgotten of their heedless owner.
The cash-box combination offered less difficulty than had the outer
dial. Maitland had it open in a twinkling. Then, brazenly lifting out
the inner framework, bodily, he thrust a fumbling hand into the
aperture thus disclosed and pressed the spring, releasing the panel at
the back. It disappeared as though by witchcraft, and the splash of
light from the bull's-eye discovered a canvas bag squatting humbly in
the secret compartment: a fat little canvas bag, considerably soiled
from much handling, such as is used by banks for coin, a sturdy,
matter-of-fact, every-day sort of canvas bag, with nothing about it of
hauteur, no air of self-importance or ostentation, to betray the fact
that it was the receptacle of a small fortune.
At Maitland's ear, incredulous, "How did you guess?" she breathed.
He took thought and breath, both briefly, and prevaricated shamelessly:
"Bribed the head-clerk of the safe-manufacturer who built this."
Rising, he passed over to the center-table, the girl following. "Steady
with the light," he whispered; and loosed the string around the mouth
of the bag, pouring its contents, a glistening, priceless, flaming,
iridiscent treasure horde, upon the table.
"Oh!" said a small voice at his side. And again and again: "Oh! Oh! Oh!"
Maitland himself was moved by the wonder of it. The jewels seemed to
fill the room with a flashing, amazing, coruscant glamour,
rainbow-like. His breath came hot and fast as he gazed upon the trove;
a queen's ransom, a fortune incalculable even to its owner. As for the
girl, he thought that the wonder of it must have struck her dumb. Not a
sound came from the spot where she stood.
Then, abruptly, the sun went out: at least, such was the effect; the
light of the hand-lamp vanished utterly, leaving a party-colored blur
swimming against the impenetrable blackness, before his eyes.
His lips opened; but a small hand fell firmly upon his own, and a tiny,
tremulous whisper shrilled in his ear.
"Hush--ah, hush!"
"What--?
"Steady ... some one coming ... the jewels...."
He heard the dull musical clash of them as her hands swept them back
into the bag, and a cold, sickening fear rendered him almost faint with
the sense of trust misplaced, illusions resolved into brutal realities.
His fingers closed convulsively about her wrists; but she held passive.
"Ah, but I might have expected that!" came her reproachful whisper.
"Take them, then, my--my partner that was." Her tone cut like a knife,
and the touch of the canvas bag, as she forced it into his hands, was
hateful to him.
"Forgive me--" he began.
"But listen!"
For a space he obeyed, the silence at first seeming tremendous; then,
faint but distinct, he heard the tinkle and slide of the brazen rings
supporting the smoking-room portière.
His hand sought the girl's; she had not moved, and the cool, firm
pressure of her fingers steadied him. He thought quickly.
"Quick!" he told her in the least of whispers. "Leave by the window you
opened and wait for me by the motor-car."
"No!"
There was no time to remonstrate with her. Already he had slipped away,
shaping a course for the entrance to the passage. But the dominant
thought in his mind was that at all costs the girl must be spared the
exposure. She was to be saved, whatever the hazard. Afterwards....
The tapestry rustled, but he was yet too far distant to spring. He
crept on with the crouching, vicious attitude, mental and physical, of
a panther stalking its prey....
Like a thunderclap from a clear sky the glare of the light broke out
from the ceiling. Maitland paused, transfixed, on tiptoe, eyes
incredulous, brain striving to grapple with the astounding discovery
that had come to him.
The third factor stood in the doorway, slender and tall, in evening
dress,--as was Maitland,--a light, full overcoat hanging open from his
shoulders; one hand holding back the curtain, the other arrested on the
light switch. His lips dropped open and his eyes, too, were protruding
with amazement. Feature for feature he was the counterpart of the man
before him; in a word, here was the real Anisty.
The wonder of it all saved the day for Maitland; Anisty's astonishment
was sincere and the more complete in that, unlike Maitland, he had been
unprepared to find any one in the library.
For a mere second his gaze left Maitland and traveled on to the girl,
then to the rifled safe--taking in the whole significance of the scene.
When he spoke, it was as if dazed.
"By God!" he cried--or, rather, the syllables seemed to jump from his
lips like bullets from a gun.
The words shattered the tableau. On their echo Maitland sprang and
fastened his fingers around the other's throat. Carried off his feet by
the sheer ferocity of the assault, Anisty gave ground a little. For an
instant they were swaying back and forth, with advantage to neither.
Then the burglar's collar slipped and somehow tore from its stud,
giving Maitland's hands freer play. His grasp tightened about the man's
gullet; he shook him mercilessly. Anisty staggered, gasping, reeled,
struck Maitland once or twice upon the chest,--feeble, weightless
elbow-jabs that went for nothing, then concentrated his energies in a
vain attempt to wrench the hands from his throat. Reeling, tearing at
Maitland's wrists, face empurpling, eyes staring in agony, he stumbled.
Mercilessly Maitland forced him to his knees and bullied him across the
floor toward the nearest lounge--with premeditated design; finally
succeeding in throwing him flat; and knelt upon his chest, retaining
his grip but refraining from throttling him.
As it was, all strength and thought of resistance had been choked out
of Anisty. He lay at length, gasping painfully.
Maitland glanced over his shoulders and saw the girl moving forward,
apparently making for the switch.
"No!" he cried, peremptory. "Don't turn off the light--please!"
"But--" she doubted.
"Let me have those curtain cords, if you please," he requested shortly.
She followed his gaze to the windows, interpreted his wishes, and was
very quick to carry them out. In a trice she was offering him half a
dozen of the heavy, twisted silk cords that had been used to loop back
the curtains.
Soft yet strong, they were excellently well adapted to Maitland's
needs. Unceremoniously he swung his captive over on his side, bringing
his neck and ankles in juxtaposition to the legs of that substantial
piece of furniture, the lounge.
His hands the first to be secured, and tightly, behind his back, Anisty
lay helpless, glaring vindictively the while gradually he recovered
consciousness and strength. Maitland cared little for his evil glances;
he was busy. The burglar's ankles were next bound together and to the
lounge leg; and, an instant later, a brace of half-hitches about the
man's neck and the nearest support entirely eliminated him as a
possible factor in subsequent events.
"Those loops around your throat," Maitland warned him curtly, "are
loose enough now, but if you struggle they'll tighten and strangle you.
Understand?"
Anisty nodded, making an incoherent sound with his swollen tongue. At
which Maitland frowned, smitten thoughtful with a new consideration.
"You mustn't talk, you know," he mused half aloud; and, whipping forth
a handkerchief, gagged Mr. Anisty.
After which, breathing hard and in a maze of perplexity, he got to his
feet. Already his hearing, quickened by the emergency, had apprised him
of the situation's imminent hazards. It needed not the girl's hurried
whisper, "_The servants_!" to warn him of their danger. From the rear
wing of the mansion the sounds of hurrying feet were distinctly
audible, as, presently, were the heavy, excited voices of men and the
more shrill and frightened cries of women.
Heedless of her displeasure, Maitland seized the girl by the arm and
urged her over to the open Window. "Don't hang back!" he told her
nervously. "You must get out of this before they see you. Do as I tell
you, please, and we'll save ourselves yet! If we both make a run for
it, we're lost. Don't you understand?"
"No. Why?" she demanded, reluctant, spirited, obstinate--and lovely in
his eyes.
"If he were anybody else," Maitland indicated, with a jerk of his head
toward the burglar. "But didn't you see? He must be Maitland--and he's
my double. I'll stay, brazen it out, then, as soon as possible, make my
escape and join you by the gate. Your motor's there--what? Be ready for
me...."
But she had grasped his intention and was suddenly become pliant to his
will. "You're wonderful!" she told him with a little low laugh; and was
gone, silently as a spirit.
The curtains fell behind her in long, straight folds; Maitland stilled
their swaying with a touch, and stepped back into the room. For a
moment he caught the eye of the fellow on the floor; and it was
upturned to his, sardonically intelligent. But the lord of the manor
had little time to debate consequences.
Abruptly the door was flung wide and a short stout man, clutching up
his trousers with a frantic hand, burst into the library, brandishing
overhead a rampant revolver.
"'Ands hup!" he cried, leveling at Maitland. And then, with a fallen
countenance; "G-r-r-reat 'eavins, sir! _You_, Mister Maitland, sir!"
"Ah, Higgins," his employer greeted the butler blandly.
Higgins pulled up, thunderstruck, panting and perspiring with
agitation. His fat cheeks quivered like the wattles of a gobbler, and
his eyes bulged as, by degrees, he became alive to the situation.
Maitland began to explain, forestalling the embarrassments of
cross-examination.
"By the merest accident, Higgins, I was passing in my car with a party
of friends. Just for a joke I thought I'd steal up to the house and see
how you were behaving yourselves. By chance--again--I happened to see
this light through the library windows." And Maitland, putting an
incautious hand upon the bull's-eye on the desk, withdrew it instantly,
with an exclamation of annoyance and four scorched fingers.
"He's been at the safe," he added quickly, diverting attention from
himself. "I was just in time."
"My wor-r-rd!" said Higgins, with emotion. Then quickly: "Did 'e get
anythin', do you think, sir?"
Maitland shook his head, scowling over the butler's burly shoulders at
the rapidly augmenting concourse of servants in the hallway--lackeys,
grooms, maids, cooks, and what-not; a background of pale, scared faces
to the tableau in the library. "This won't do," considered Maitland.
"Get back, all of you!" he ordered sternly, indicating the group with a
dominant and inflexible forefinger. "Those who are wanted will be sent
for. Now go! Higgins, you may stay."
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. But wot an 'orrid 'appenin', sir, if you'll permit
me--"
"I won't. Be quiet and listen. This man is Anisty--Handsome Dan Anisty,
the notorious jewel thief, wanted badly by the police of a dozen
cities. You understand?... I'm going now to motor to the village and
get the constables; I may," he invented desperately, "be delayed--may
have to get a detective from Brooklyn. If this scoundrel stirs, don't
touch him. Let him alone--he can't escape if you do. Above all things,
don't you dare to remove that gag!"
"Most cert'inly, sir. I shall bear in mind wot you says----"
"You'd best," grimly. "Now I'm off. No; I don't want any attendance--I
know my way. And--don't--touch--that--man--till I return."
"Very good, sir."
Maitland stepped over to the safe, glanced within, cursorily, replaced
a bundle of papers which he did not recall disturbing, closed the door
and twirled the combination.
"Nothing gone," he announced. An inarticulate gurgle from the prostrate
man drew a black scowl from Maitland. Recovering, "Good morning," he
said politely to the butler, and striding out of the house by the front
door, was careful to slam that behind him, ere darting into the shadows.
The moon was down, the sky a cold, opaque grey, overcast with a light
drift of cloud. The park seemed very dark, very dreary; a searching
breeze was sweeping inland from the Sound, soughing sadly in the
tree-tops; a chill humidity permeated the air, precursor of rain. The
young man shivered, both with chill and reaction from the tension of
the emergency just past.
He was aware of an instantaneous loss of heart, a subsidence of the
elation which had upheld him throughout the adventure; and to escape
this, to forget or overcome it, took immediately to his heels,
scampering madly for the road, oppressed with fear lest he should find
the girl gone--with the jewels.
That she should prove untrue, faithless, lacking even that honor which
proverbially obtains in the society of criminals--a consideration of
such a possibility was intolerable, as much so as the suspense of
ignorance. He could not, would not, believe her capable of ingratitude
so rank; and fought fiercely, unreasoningly, against the conviction
that she would have followed her thievish instincts and made off with
the booty.... A judgment meet and right upon him, for his madness!
Heart in mouth, he reached the gates, passing through without
discovering her, and was struck dumb and witless with relief when she
stepped quietly from the shadows of a low branching tree, offering him
a guiding hand.
"Come," she said quietly. "This way."
Without being exactly conscious of what he was about he caught the hand
in both his own. "Then," he exulted almost passionately,--"then you
didn't----"
His voice choked in his throat. Her face, momentarily upturned to his,
gleamed pale and weary in the dreary light; the face of a tired child,
troubled, saddened; yet with eyes inexpressibly sweet. She turned away,
tugging at her hand.
"You doubted me, after all!" she commented, a trifle bitterly.
"I--no! You misunderstand me. Believe me, I----"
"Ah, don't protest. What does it make or mar, whether or not you
trusted me?... You have," she added quietly, "the jewels safe enough, I
suppose?"