* * * * *
I
During the last two years, Fate, Chance, and Destiny had been too busy
to attend to Mike Clinch. But now his turn was coming in the Eternal
Sequence of things. The stars in their courses indicated the beginning
of the undoing of Mike Clinch.
From Esthonia a refugee Countess wrote to James Darragh in New York: "--
After two years we have discovered that it was Jose Quintana's band of
international thieves that robbed Ricca. Quintana has disappeared. "A
Levantine diamond broker in New York, named Emanuel Sard, may be in
communication with him. "Ricca and I are going to America as soon as
possible. "Valentine."
The day Darragh received the letter he started to look up Sard.
But that very morning Sard had received a curious letter from Rotterdam.
This was the letter:
"Sardius -- Tourmaline -- Aragonite -- Rhodonite * Porphyry -- Obsidian
-- Nugget Gold -- Diaspore * Novaculite * Yu * Nugget Silver -- Amber --
Matrix Turquoise -- Elaeolite * Ivory -- Sardonyx * Moonstone -- Iceland
Spar -- Kalpa Zircon -- Eye Agate * Celonite -- Lapis -- Iolite --
Nephrite -- Chalcedony -- Hydrolite * Hegolite -- Amethyst -- Selenite *
Fire Opal -- Labradorite -- Garnet * Jade -- Emerald -- Wood Opal --
Essonite -- Lazuli * Epidote -- Ruby -- Onyx -- Sapphire -- Indicolite
-- Topaz -- Euclase * Indian Diamond * Star Sapphire -- African Diamond
-- Iceland Spar -- Lapis Crucifer * Abalone -- Turkish Turquoise * Old
Mine Stone -- Natrolite -- Cats Eye -- Electrum * * * 1/5 a a."
That afternoon young Darragh located Sard's office and presented himself
as a customer. The weasel-faced clerk behind the wicket laid a pistol
handy and informed Darragh that Sard was away on a business trip.
Darragh looked cautiously around the small office: "Can anybody hear
us?"
"Nobody. Why?"
"I have important news concerning Jose Quintana," whispered Darragh;
"Where is Sard?"
"Why, he had a letter from Quintana this very morning," replied the
clerk in a low, uneasy voice. "Mr. Sard left for Albany on the one
o'clock train. Is there any trouble?"
"Plenty," replied Darragh coolly; "do you know Quintana?"
"No. But Mr. Sard expects him here any day now."
Darragh leaned closer against the grille: "Listen very carefully; if a
man comes here who calls himself Jose Quintana, turn him over to the
police until Mr. Sard returns. No matter what he tells you, turn him
over to the police. Do you understand?"
"Who are you?" demanded the worried clerk. "Are you one of Quintana's
people?"
"Young man," said Darragh, "I'm close enough to Quintana to give _you_
orders. And give Sard orders. ... And Quintana, too!"
A great light dawned on the scared clerk: "_You_ are Jose Quintana!" he
said hoarsely.
Darragh bored him through with his dark stare: "Mind your business," he
said.
* * * * *
That night in Albany Darragh picked up Sard's trail. It led to a dealer
in automobiles. Sard had bought a Comet Six, paying cash, and had
started north.
Through Schenectady, Fonda, and Mayfield, the following day, Darragh
traced a brand new Comet Six containing one short, dark Levantine with a
parrot nose. In Northville Darragh hired a Ford.
At Lake Pleasant Sard's car went wrong. Darragh missed him by ten
minutes; but he learned that Sard had inquired the way to Ghost Lake
Inn.
That was sufficient. Darragh bought an axe, drove as far as Harrod's
Corners, dismissed the Ford, and walked into a forest entirely familiar
to him.
He emerged in half an hour on a wood road two miles farther on. Here he
felled a tree across the road and sat down in the bushes to await
events.
Toward sunset, hearing a car coming, he tied his handkerchief over his
face below the eyes, and took an automatic from his pocket.
Sard's car stopped and Sard got out to inspect the obstruction. Darragh
sauntered out of the bushes, poked his pistol against Mr. Sard's fat
abdomen, and leisurely and thoroughly robbed him.
In an agreeable spot near a brook Darragh lighted his pipe and sat him
down to examine the booty in detail. Two pistols, a stiletto, and a
blackjack composed the arsenal of Mr. Sard. A large wallet disclosed
more than four thousand dollars in Treasury notes -- something to
reimburse Ricca when she arrived, he thought.
Among Sard's papers he discovered a cipher letter from Rotterdam --
probably from Quintana. Cipher was rather in Darragh's line. All
ciphers are solved by similar methods, unless the key is contained in a
code book known only to sender and receiver.
But Quintana's cipher proved to be only an easy acrostic -- the very
simplest of secret messages. Within an hour Darragh had it pencilled
out: