buzzer again. “Perhaps she’ll be able to help us.”
“She’ll come if I wish,” said the elder sister, “but she knows even less
about it than I do.”
“I understand that,” Taylor said smoothly, “but she may remember a few
seemingly unimportant details that will help me where they wouldn’t seem
significant to you.”
He looked up as Peter came in. “Ask Miss Cartwright’s sister to come in
for a moment. Tell her Miss Ethel wants to talk to her.”
“Amy will tell you all she can,” the girl asserted.
“Just as you would yourself,” Taylor said confidentially. He had no
other air than of a man who is sworn to recover stolen diamonds. Ethel
Cartwright admitted she had misjudged him.
“It must be wonderful to be a detective and piece together little
unimportant facts into an important whole.”
“It is,” he answered a trifle drily; “quite wonderful.”
Amy Cartwright was brought into the deputy-surveyor’s room by Peter.
Plainly she was of a less self-reliant type than her elder sister, for
the rather startled expression her face wore was lost when she saw
Ethel. She was a pretty girl not more than eighteen and like her sister
dressed charmingly.
“You wanted me, Ethel?” she asked.
“Yes, dear,” the elder returned. “Amy, this is Mr. Taylor, who thinks he
may be able to get back my diamonds for me.”
Amy Cartwright shot a quick, almost furtive look at Taylor and then
gripped her sister’s arm. “Your diamonds!” she cried.
Taylor had missed nothing of her anxious manner. “Yes,” he said. “Your
sister has been kind enough to give me some information in reference to
the theft, and I thought you might be able to add to the facts we
already have.”
“I?” the younger girl exclaimed.
“Yes,” her sister commanded. “You must answer all Mr. Taylor’s
questions.”
“Of course,” Amy said with an effort to be cheerful.
Taylor looked at her magisterially. “How did you discover your sister’s
jewels were stolen?”
“Why,” she replied nervously, not meeting his eye, “I went to her
dressing-table one morning and they weren’t there.”
“Oh!” he exclaimed meaningly. “So they weren’t there! Then what did you
do?”
“Why, I telephoned to the company she insured them in.”
“Without consulting your sister?” he asked. His manner, although quick
and alert, was friendly. Ethel Cartwright felt he was desirous of
helping her, and if Amy seemed nervous, it was her first experience with
a man of this type. She had so little experience in relying on herself
that this trifling ordeal was magnified into a judicial
cross-examination. She determined to help Amy out.
“You must remember,” she said to Taylor, “that I was out of town.”
“Of course!” Amy exclaimed with a show of relief. “How could I consult
her when she was in Maine?”
“Were you certain she hadn’t taken her diamonds with her?” he asked.
Amy hesitated for a moment. “I think she must have told me before she
left.”
“Hm!” he ejaculated. “You _think_ she did?”
Amy turned to her sister. “Didn’t you tell me, Ethel?”
Miss Cartwright knit her brows in thought. “Perhaps I did,” she
admitted.
“But you didn’t telegraph your sister to make sure?” Taylor queried.
“Why, no,” the girl said hesitating and seemingly confused. “No, I
didn’t.” She was now staring at her interrogator with real fear in her
eyes.
“Well, that doesn’t make any difference,” he said genially, “so long as
the jewels were stolen and not merely mislaid, does it?”
“No,” she said with a sigh of relief.
“There’s one other point,” he said, turning to the elder sister. “You
received the compensation money from the company, didn’t you?”
“Naturally,” she said tranquilly.
“Please don’t think me impertinent,” he said, “but you still have it
intact, I presume?”
“Only part,” the girl returned. “I gave half of it to my sister.”
“I rather thought you might have done that,” he purred as though his
especial hobby was discovering affection in other families, “That was a
very nice generous thing to do, Miss Cartwright. But you realize of
course that if I get your jewels back the money must be returned to the
Burglar Insurance people in full,”--he looked significantly at the
shrinking younger girl,--“from both of you.”
Amy Cartwright clasped her hands nervously. “Oh, I couldn’t do that,”
she exclaimed.
Ethel turned to her in astonishment.
“But Amy, why not?”
“I haven’t got it all now.”
“But, dear, what did you do with it?” Ethel persisted.
Taylor seemed to take a keen interest in Amy Cartwright’s financial
affairs.
“That’s quite an interesting question,” he observed judiciously. “What
did you do with your half?”
“I--I paid a lot of bills,” the girl stammered.
“Paid a lot of bills!” her sister exclaimed. “But Amy, you distinctly
told me--”
“One minute,” Taylor interrupted. “Now, Miss Amy,” he said sharply,
“what sort of bills did you pay?”
“Oh, dressmakers and hats and things,” she answered with a trace of
sullenness.
“Of course they gave you receipts?” he suggested.
“I don’t remember,” she answered.
“Oh, you don’t remember,” he said, fixing her with his cold eye. “But
you remember whom you paid the money to?”
“Of course she does,” Ethel cried, coming to her sister’s aid. She was
herself puzzled at this strange man’s attitude. “You do, don’t you,
Amy?”
“Why, yes,” the other said weakly.
“Give me the names!” Taylor demanded, and then looked angrily up to see
who had entered his office unbidden. It was James Duncan, apologetic,
but urged by powers higher than those of his chief.
“The Collector and the Secretary want to see you right away, sir,” he
announced.
“I can’t leave now,” Taylor cried angrily. And in that moment both girls
realized of what ruthless metal he was cast. Gone was the amiable
interest in family matters and the kindly wish to aid two girls in
getting back their trinkets, and there was left a strong remorseless man
who showed he had them very nearly in his power.
But Duncan dared not go back with such a message.
“I explained you were busy, Chief,” he said, “but they would have you
come down at once, as the Secretary has to go back to Washington. It’s
about that necklace. The one coming in on the Mauretania this
afternoon.”
“Oh, very well,” his superior snapped. “I shall have to ask you ladies
to excuse me for five minutes.”
“Certainly,” Ethel Cartwright returned.
At the door Taylor beckoned to Duncan and spoke in a whisper. “Get
outside in the corridor and if they try to leave, stop ’em. And I shall
want to know what they’ve been talking about. Understand?”
“Sure, Chief,” Duncan returned.
When both men had gone from the room Amy clung half-hysterically to her
strong, calm sister. “Oh, Ethel, they know, they know!”
“Know what?” Ethel asked, amazed at the change in the other.
“That man suspects,” Amy whispered. “I know he does. Did you see how he
glared at me and the way he spoke?”
“Suspects what?” Ethel asked. “Amy, what do you mean? What is there to
suspect?”
“Don’t let them take me away!” the younger sister wailed. “Oh, don’t,
don’t!”
Ethel drew back a step and looked into the trembling Amy’s tear-stained
face.
“What is this you are saying?” she asked sharply.
“Ethel, your jewels weren’t stolen.” There was a pause as if the girl
were trying to gather courage enough to confess. “I took them. I pawned
them.”
“Amy!” cried the other. “You?”
“I had to have money. I took them. A woman told me I could get it by
pretending to the company the things were stolen. She said they’d never
find it out and would pay. I tried it, and they paid.”
Miss Cartwright looked down at her, amazed, indignant, horrified.
“Do you mean to say you deliberately swindled the company?”
“I couldn’t help it, Ethel,” she declared piteously. “I didn’t think of
it in that way. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t, indeed.”
“Why, why, why? Why in God’s name did you do it? Tell me quickly, why?”
Amy could no longer meet her sister’s glance. She dropped her head.
“I lost a lot of money gambling, playing auction bridge.”
“Playing with whom?” Ethel demanded sharply.
“People you don’t know,” the younger answered evasively. “It was while
you were away. It wouldn’t have happened if you’d been home. We all
dined together at the Claremont and afterwards they simply would play
auction. I said no at first but they made me. I got excited and began to
lose, and then they said if I kept on the luck would turn, but it
didn’t, and I lost a thousand dollars.”
Ethel Cartwright needed no other explanation as a key to Taylor’s
manner. It was certain that he knew and would presently force her poor
frightened little sister into a confession. It was no time for blaming
the child or pointing out morals, but for protecting her.
“Ssh,” she whispered, “Ssh!”
“I didn’t mean to do it,” Amy reiterated. “Believe me, I didn’t.”
“Tell me what happened then?” Ethel asked in a low tone.
“I couldn’t pay, of course, and the other women said they’d have to ask
mother or you for the money and if you wouldn’t pay I should have to go
to jail. I didn’t know what to do. I nearly went out of my head, I
think. At last Philip Sloane offered to lend it me.”
The elder recoiled from her. “That man!” she cried horrified. “Oh, Amy,
and how often I have warned you against him!”
“There was nothing else to do,” her sister explained. “You were away and
I had no one to go and ask.”
“Stop a minute,” Ethel said. “If you borrowed the money and paid the
debts, why did you need to take my diamonds?”
Amy hung her head. “When he lent me the money he said I could pay it
back whenever I wanted to, in a hundred years if I liked.”
“Well?” Ethel cried anxiously. “Well?”
“But a day or so later he came to see me, mother was out, and his
manner was so different I was frightened. He--he said a girl who accepts
money from a man is never any good, and nobody will believe them no
matter what they say. I didn’t think men could be like that. He said
he’d forget about it if I went away with him. He said nobody would know
it--he could arrange all that--and he threatened all sorts of things.
Oh, everything you said about him was right.”
“Go on,” her sister commanded, in a hard staccato tone. “What then?”
“At first I thought of killing myself but I was afraid. And then I saw
your jewel-case and I pretended they were stolen. I got half the money
from the pawn-shop and the other half from you when the company settled.
It was wicked of me, Ethel, but what could I do?”
Ethel put her arm about the poor sobbing girl very tenderly.
“My poor little sister,” she whispered, “my little Amy, you did the
better thing after all. But you should have told me before, so that I
could have helped you.”
“I was afraid to,” the girl said, looking into the face above her, “I
meant to have told you next month when that money is coming from
father’s estate. I thought we could pay the company then so that I
shouldn’t feel like a thief. I’m so glad I’ve told you; it has
frightened me so!” But the grave expression on Ethel’s face alarmed her.
“Why do you look like that?” she demanded.
“It will be all right,” Ethel assured her. “But you know those dividends
have been delayed this month and neither mother nor I have any spare
money if the Burglar Insurance people want to be paid back. I daresay we
can arrange something, so don’t be frightened. And remember, this man
Taylor can’t know certainly. He only suspects, and we ought to be able
to beat him if we are very careful. I’m so glad you told me so that I
know what to do.”
“But I’m afraid of him,” Amy cried. “I shall break down and they’ll put
me in prison. Ethel, I should die if they did that.”
“I’ll save you, dear,” Ethel said comfortingly. “You know you have
always been able to believe in me, and I will save you if only you try
to control yourself.”
“Then let me go home,” Amy cried, panic-stricken by the thought of
another interview with the resourceful Taylor. “I shall break down if I
stay here.”
“That will be best,” Ethel agreed, and went quickly to the door, behind
which she found Duncan on guard.
“Sorry, miss,” he said respectfully, “but you can’t go.”
“I’m not leaving,” Ethel Cartwright explained, “I still have to talk
with Mr. Taylor, but my sister must go. She isn’t feeling very well. She
wants to go home.”
Duncan shook his head. “Neither of you can go,” he returned, as he
closed the door. Amy looked about her nervously for other means of
escape.
“You see,” she whispered, “they’re going to keep me here a prisoner!
What shall I do?”
“Leave everything to me,” Ethel commanded. “Let me do the talking. I
shall be able to think of some way out.”
“There isn’t, there isn’t!” Amy moaned.
“Stop crying,” the elder insisted. “That won’t help us. I’ve thought of
a plan. I’ll invent a story to fool him. He won’t be able to find out
whether it’s true or not, so he’ll have to let us go, and when he does,
he won’t get us back here again in a hurry.”
“Oh, Ethel, you’re wonderful!” Amy exclaimed, her face clearing. In all
her small troubles she had always gone to this beautiful, serene elder
sister, who had never yet failed her and never would, she was confident.
When Taylor entered a minute later he found the two girls looking out
of the big window across the harbor. They seemed untroubled and unafraid
and were discussing the dimensions of a big liner making her way out.
“Sorry to have had to leave you,” he said briskly, “especially as things
were getting a bit interesting.”
Ethel Cartwright looked at him coldly. It was a glance which Taylor
rightly interpreted as a warning to remember that he occupied a wholly
different sphere from that of the daughters of the late Vernon
Cartwright. But it daunted him little. The Secretary of the Treasury had
just told him that his work was evoking great interest in Washington.
And the Collector somewhat cryptically had said that Daniel Taylor might
always be relied upon to do the unexpected. For Washington and
Collectors, Taylor had little respect. Unconsciously he often
paraphrased that royal boast, “_L’État c’est moi!_” by admitting to his
confidants that he, Daniel Taylor, was the United States Customs.
“I quite fail to see,” Miss Cartwright observed chillingly, “what all
this rather impertinent cross-questioning of my sister has to do with--”
“You will in a minute,” he interrupted.
“Meanwhile,” she said, “I can’t wait any longer for those papers about
the ring.”
“There isn’t any ring,” he said suavely. “That was just a pretext to get
you here. I was afraid the truth wouldn’t be sufficiently luring so I
had to employ a ruse.”
She looked at him, her eyes flashing at his daring to venture on such a
deception. “You actually asked me to come here because you thought I had
swindled the company?”
“Well,” he observed genially, “we all make our little mistakes.”
“So you admit it was a mistake?” she said, hardly knowing what to make
of this changed manner.
“I’m quite sure of it,” he asserted. “_You_ are innocent, Miss
Cartwright. How am I so sure of it? Because I happen to have the thief
already.”
“You have the thief?” Amy cried, startled out of her determination to
say nothing.
“Yes,” he told her nonchalantly, “I’ve arrested the man who robbed your
sister. Poor devil, he has a wife and children. He swears they’ll
starve, and very likely they will, but he’s guilty and to jail he goes.”
“Are you sure he’s guilty?” Amy stammered.
He leaned over his desk and looked at her surprised. “Why, yes,” he said
slowly. “Have you any reason to think different?”
“No, no!” she cried, shrinking back.
“But I have,” Ethel said calmly. “I have every reason to believe he is
innocent.”
“_You_ have?” Taylor cried, himself perplexed at the turn things were
taking.
Amy looked at her sister, wondering what was coming next.
“I know who stole them,” Ethel went on. “It was my maid.”
“Your maid!” the deputy-surveyor cried. “Why didn’t you tell the company
that? Bronson never told me about it.”
“She didn’t disappear till after the claim was paid, you see,” Miss
Cartwright explained. “Then I got a note from her confessing, a note
written in Canada.”
“Whereabouts in Canada?” he demanded.
“I don’t recall it,” he was told.
“You don’t? Well, what was your maid’s name then? I’d like to know that,
if you can remember it for me.”
“Marie Garnier was her name.”
He took up a scribbling pad and inscribed the name on it. “Marie
Garnier,” he muttered, and pushed the buzzer. “Why didn’t you tell me
this before?”
“What was the good?” Miss Cartwright returned. “I was fond of Marie--she
was almost one of the family--and I didn’t want to brand her as a
thief. When I learned she had escaped to Canada where the law couldn’t
reach her--”
She was interrupted by Duncan’s entrance. “Yes, sir?” said he to his
chief.
Taylor handed him the leaf he had torn from the pad. “Attend to this at
once,” he ordered.
“Now, Miss Cartwright,” he remarked, “I’d like to ask why it was you
made this admission about Marie Garnier.”
“Because I do not want to see an innocent man go to prison,” she
returned promptly.
“Oh, I see. And did your sister know it, too?”
“No,” she answered quickly.
“Why hadn’t you told her?” he demanded.
“Really,” said the elder Miss Cartwright with an expression of
innocence, “I didn’t think it made any difference.”
Taylor was obviously annoyed at such a view. “Your behavior is most
extraordinary,” he commented.
“You see, I know so little about law, and insurance and things like
that,” she said apologetically. She did not desire to offend him.
“You ought at least to have known that you owed it to the company to
give them all the information in your possession,” he grumbled.
“I never thought of it in that way,” she said meditating.
“There seems a whole lot you young ladies haven’t thought of,” he said
sourly.
Miss Cartwright rose from her seat without haste. “Come, Amy,” she
commanded. “We can’t wait any longer and we are not needed.”
As they turned toward the door the telephone bell rang and Taylor stayed
them with a gesture. “Just one moment, please, Miss Cartwright.”
The girls watching him saw that the news was pleasant for he chuckled as
he hung up the receiver. Then he rose from his seat and came to where he
stood between them and the door.
“Miss Cartwright,” he cried, “when you didn’t know what town in Canada
your maid was, I felt you were lying. Now I know you were. I just had my
assistant telephone to your mother.” He pointed an accusing finger at
them. “You never had a maid named Garnier, and the last one you
had--over a year ago--was called Susan. You put the blame on a woman who
doesn’t exist, and you did it to shield the real thief.” He touched the
crouching Amy on the shoulder. “This is the real thief!”
“She isn’t, she isn’t!” Ethel cried.
But Taylor paid no attention to her. He concentrated his gaze on the
younger girl. “You swindled the company,” he affirmed.
“No, no,” she wailed, “I didn’t.”
Ethel came to her rescue. “How dare you,” she cried to Taylor, “make
such an accusation when you have no proof, nor anyone else either?”
“That’s all very well,” Taylor exclaimed, “but when we get the proof--”
“You can’t, because there isn’t any,” she asserted.
“Of course I see your game,” the man said; “you’re just trying to
protect your sister. That’s natural enough, but it will go easier with
both of you if you’ll tell the truth.”
The two girls answered him never a word. Amy was too frightened and
Ethel, her tactics unavailing, found her best defense in silence.
“So you won’t answer?” Taylor said after a pause. “Well, of course the
stuff is pawned some place. That’s what they all do. So far, Bronson has
only searched the pawn-shops in New York. He didn’t give you credit for
pawning them outside the city, but I do. Now we’ll see where your sister
did go.” He went to the telephone again. “Hello, Bill,” he said when he
had secured the number, “Go over to Bronson at the New York and get a
description of the jewels reported stolen from a Miss Ethel Cartwright.
Have all the pawn-shops searched in Trenton,”--he fastened his harsh
look on Amy Cartwright as he called out the names,--“Boston, Washington,
Providence, Baltimore, Albany, Philadelphia--”
[Illustration: HE TURNED TO AMY. “YOUNG WOMAN, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST.”
_Page 105_.]
As he called out the last city the girl gave a gasp of terror, and
triumph instantly lighted up her inquisitor’s grim face.
“So you pawned them in Philadelphia?” he cried.
“No, no!” she moaned.
“I did it,” Ethel Cartwright exclaimed.
“No, you didn’t,” Taylor said sharply. “You’re only trying to save her.
You can’t deceive me.” He turned to Amy, “Young woman, you’re under
arrest.”
“No, no,” the elder sister besought. “Take me. She’s only a child; don’t
spoil her life. I’ll do whatever you like; it doesn’t matter about me.
For God’s sake don’t do anything to my little sister.”
“She’s guilty,” he reminded her, “and the law says--”
“If somebody pays, what difference does it make to you or the law? Isn’t
there anything I can do?” she pleaded.
Taylor paced up and down the room for a half minute before answering,
while the two watched him in agony. To them he was one who could deliver
them over to prison if it were his whim, or spare if he inclined to
mercy.
“Surely there is some way out?” Ethel asked again.
“Yes,” he said, “there is. You can accept my proposition to enter the
secret service of the United States Customs.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” she cried, “anything!”
Taylor rubbed his hands together with satisfaction and pride in his
inimitable craft. “Now you’re talking!” he exclaimed. “Then we won’t
send the little sister to prison.”
Amy sobbed relief in her sister’s arms.
“Then you won’t tell Bronson?” Ethel asked.
“No,” he said, “I won’t tell Bronson.”
Ethel sighed, and felt almost that she would faint.
“Now I’m sorry for you two,” Taylor said more genially, “and as long as
you do what I tell you to, we’ll leave the little matter of the jewels
as between your sister and her conscience. I’ll let you know when I need
you. It may be to-night, it may be not for a month or a year, but when I
do want you--”
“I shall be ready,” the girl declared.
“Say, Chief,” Duncan said looking in at the door,--
“Get out, I’m busy,” Taylor shouted.
“I thought you’d like to know the Mauretania was coming up the bay,”
his satellite returned, slightly aggrieved at this reception.
“She is?” said the other. “Wait a minute then. Now, Miss Cartwright,
good afternoon. Remember what is at stake, your future, and your
sister’s happiness. And don’t forget that my silence depends on your not
failing me.”
Only a man of Taylor’s coarse and cruel mould could have looked at her
without remorse or compunction. He did not see a beautiful refined woman
cheerfully bearing another’s cross. He saw only a society girl, who had
matched her immature wits against his and lost, was beaten and in the
dust. There was a pathetic break in her voice as she answered him.
“I shall not fail you,” she said.
Duncan closed the door after them.
“Well?” Taylor demanded eagerly when they were alone. “Did Denby declare
the necklace?”
“No, sir,” Duncan returned promptly.
“Then I was right,” the other commented. “He’s trying to smuggle it in.
Jim, this is the biggest job we’ve ever handled.”
“Ford and Hammett are at the dock all ready to search him when I give
the word.”
Duncan was sharing in his chief’s triumph, but Taylor’s next command was
disappointing.
“Don’t give the word,” he enjoined. “There’s to be no search.”
“No search?” exclaimed the chagrined Duncan.
“No,” Taylor told him. “Just let him slide through with the ordinary
examination. Trail Denby and his party to Westbury and be sure none of
them slip the necklace to anyone on the way out there, but no fuss and
no arrests, remember. Meanwhile, get up a fake warrant for the arrest of
Miss Amy Cartwright. It may come in handy.”
“Yes, sir,” said Duncan obediently.
“And when you’ve told Ford and Hammett what they are to do, change your
clothes and make Gibbs do the same, and meet me at the Pennsylvania
Station at six o’clock.”
“Where are we going?” Duncan asked. He could see from his chief’s manner
that something important was in the wind.
“To Long Island,” he was told. “We are going to call on Miss Ethel
Cartwright.”
“Then you can use her to land Denby?” his subordinate cried excitedly.
“Use her?” the deputy-surveyor said with a grim smile. “Say, Jim, she
doesn’t know it, but she’s going to get that necklace for me to-night.”