Cartwright’s daughters, reared in an atmosphere wholly different from
this sordid business, be engaged in trying to betray him?
“Well,” he said, “suppose I did come over on something more than
pleasure, what do you want to know concerning it? And why do you want to
know?”
“Shall we say feminine curiosity?” she returned.
He shook his head. “I think not. There must be something more vital than
a mere whim.”
“Perhaps there is,” she conceded, leaning forward, “I want us to be
friends, really good friends; I regard it as a test of friendship. Why
won’t you tell me?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Shall we say man’s intuition? Oh, I know
it’s not supposed to be as good as a woman’s, but sometimes it’s much
more accurate.”
“So you can’t trust me?” she said, steadily trying to read his thoughts.
“Can I?” he asked, gazing back at her just as steadily.
“Don’t you think you can?” she fenced adroitly.
“If you do,” he said meaningly.
“But aren’t we friends,” she asked him, “pledged that night under the
moon in the Bois? You see I, too, have memories of Paris.”
“Then you put it,” he said quietly, “to a test of friendship.”
“Yes,” she answered readily.
He thought for a moment. Well, here was the opportunity to find out
whether Monty was right or whether the woman he cared for was merely a
spy set upon him, a woman whose kindnesses and smiles were part of her
training.
“Very well,” he said, “then so do I. You are right. I did not come to
America idly--I came to smuggle a necklace of pearls through the
Customs. I did it to-day.”
The girl rose from her seat by the little table where she had sat facing
him and looked at him, all the brightness gone from her face.
“You didn’t, you didn’t!”
“I did,” he assured her.
She turned her face away from him. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’m
sorry.”
Denby looked at her keenly. He was puzzled at the manner in which she
took it.
“But I fooled ’em,” he boasted.
She looked about her nervously as though she feared Taylor might have
listened to his frank admission and be ready to spring upon them.
“You can’t tell that,” she said in a lower-keyed voice. “How can you be
sure they didn’t suspect?”
“Because I’m comfortably settled here, and there are no detectives after
me. And if there were,” he confided in her triumphantly, “they’d never
suspect I carry the necklace in my tobacco-pouch.”
“But your pouch was empty,” she cried.
“How do you know that?” he demanded quickly.
“I was here when Lambart spilt it,” she explained hastily. “There it is
on the mantel, I meant to have given it to you.”
“I don’t need it,” he said, taking one similar in shape and color from
his pocket.
“Two pouches!” she cried aghast. “Two?”
“An unnecessary precaution,” he said carelessly, “one would have done;
as it is they haven’t suspected me a bit.”
“You can’t be certain of that,” she insisted. “If they found out they’d
put you in prison.”
“And would you care?” he demanded.
“Why, of course I would,” she responded. “Aren’t we friends?”
He had that same steady look in his eyes as he asked: “Are we?”
It was a gaze she could not bring herself to meet. Assuredly, she
groaned, she was not of the stuff from which the successful adventuress
was made.
“Of course,” she murmured in reply. “But what are you going to do?”
“I’ve made my plans,” he told her. “I’ve been very careful. I’ve given
my confidence to two people only, both of whom I trust absolutely--Monty
Vaughan and”--he looked keenly at her,--“and you. I shan’t be caught. I
won’t give in, and I’ll stop at nothing, no matter what it costs, or
whom it hurts. I’ve got to win.”
It seemed to him she made an ejaculation of distress. “What is it?” he
cried.
“Nothing much,” she said nervously, “it’s the heat, I suppose. That’s
why I wouldn’t dance, you know. Won’t you take me into the garden and
we’ll look at the moon--it’s the same moon,” she said, with a desperate
air of trying to conceal from him her agitation, “that shines in Paris.
It’s gorgeous,” she added, looking across the room where no moon was.
“Surely,” he said. “It is rather stuffy indoors on a night like this.”
He moved leisurely over to the French windows. But she called him back.
She was not yet keyed up to this supreme act of treachery.
“No, no,” she called again, “don’t let’s go, after all.”
“Why not?” he demanded, bewildered at her fitful mood.
“I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “But let’s stay here. I’m nervous,
I think.”
“Nonsense,” he said cheerily, trying to brace her up. “The moon is a
great soother of nerves, and a friendly old chap, too. What is it?” he
asked curiously. “You’re miles away from here, but I don’t think you’re
in Paris, either. It’s your turn to tell me something. Where are you?”
He could not guess that her thoughts were in her home, where her poor,
gentle, semi-invalid mother was probably now worrying over the sudden
mood of depression which had fallen upon her younger girl. And it would
be impossible for him to understand the threat of prison and disgrace
which was even now hanging over Amy Cartwright’s head.
“I was thinking of my sister,” she told him slowly. “Come, let’s go.”
Before he could unfasten the French windows there was a sound of running
feet outside, and Monty’s nervous face was seen looking in. Nora,
breathless, was hanging on to his arm.
Quickly Denby opened the doors and let the two in, and then shut the
doors again. “What is it?” he demanded quickly.
“Don’t go out there, Steve,” Monty cried, when he could get breath
enough to speak.
“Why, what is it?” Ethel Cartwright asked nervously.
“Nora and I went for a walk in the garden, and suddenly two men jumped
out on us from behind the pagoda. They had almost grabbed us when one
man shouted to the other fellow, ‘We’re wrong,’ and Nora screamed and
ran like the very devil, and I had to run after her of course.”
“It was dreadful,” said Nora gasping.
“What’s dreadful?” Alice Harrington demanded, coming on the scene
followed by her husband. They had been disturbed by Nora’s screams.
“Won’t someone please explain?” Michael asked anxiously.
“It was frightful,” Nora cried.
“Let me tell it,” Monty protested.
“You’ll get it all wrong,” his companion asserted. “I wasn’t half as
scared as you.”
“I was talking to Nora,” Monty explained, “and suddenly from the
shrubbery--”
“Somebody stepped right out,” Nora added.
“One at a time,” Michael admonished them, “one at a time, please.”
“Why, you see, Monty and I went for a walk in the garden,” Nora began--
“And two men jumped out and started for us,” Monty broke in.
“Great Scott,” Michael cried, indignant that the privacy of his own
estate should be invaded, “and here, too!”
“What did you do?” Alice asked eagerly.
“I just screamed and they ran away,” Nora told her a little proudly.
“Wasn’t it exciting?” she added, drawing a deep breath. “Just like a
book!”
“Michael,” his wife said, shocked, “they might have been killed.”
“What they need is a drink,” he said impressively; “I’ll ring for some
brandy.”
“I’d be all right,” Monty stated emphatically, “if I could get one long
breath.”
“You do look a bit shaken, old man,” Denby said sympathetically. “What
you need is a comforting smoke. You left a pipe on the table in my room.
Take my tobacco and light up.”
Monty looked at the pigskin pouch as his friend handed it to him. “Gee!”
he said, regarding it as one might a poisonous reptile, “I don’t want
that.”
“That’s all right,” Denby said. “I can spare it. And when you’re through
with it, drop it in the drawer of the writing-table, will you? I always
like to make myself one for coffee in the morning. I’ve smoked enough
to-night.”
By this time Monty understood what was required of him. He took the
pouch respectfully and crossed toward the stairs. “I’ll leave it in the
drawer,” he called out as he ascended the stairs.
Michael had been looking through the glass doors with a pair of
binoculars. “I see nothing,” he declared.
“But suppose they come back later, and break in here at night?” Alice
cried.
“I shall organize the household servants and place Lambart at their
head,” he said gravely. “He is an excellent shot. Then there are three
able-bodied men here, so that we are prepared.”
“I’m sure you needn’t take any such elaborate precautions,” Denby told
him. “No men, after once warning us, would break in here with so many
servants. I imagine they were a couple of tramps who were attracted by
Miss Rutledge’s rings and thought they could make a quick getaway.”
“This is a lesson to me to provide myself with a couple of Airedales,”
Michael asserted. “Things are coming to a pretty pass when one invites
one’s friends to come down to a week-end party and get robbed. It’s
worse than a hotel on the Riviera.”
“Well, they didn’t get anything,” Nora cried. “You should have seen me
run. I believe I flew, and I do believe I’ve lost weight!”
“But oughtn’t I to go out and see?” Michael asked a little weakly.
“Certainly not,” Alice commanded him firmly. “I can imagine nothing more
useless than a dead husband.”
He took her hand affectionately. “How right you are,” he murmured
gratefully. “I think, though, I ought to ask the police to keep a sharp
watch.”
“That’s sensible,” his wife agreed. “Go and telephone.”
“Goodness,” Nora cried suddenly, “I haven’t any rings on. I must have
left them on my dressing-table.”
Alice looked alarmed. “And I left all sorts of things on mine. Let’s go
up together. And you, Ethel, have you left anything valuable about?”
“There’s nothing worth taking,” the girl answered.
“You look frightened to death, child,” Mrs. Harrington exclaimed, as she
was passing her.
Ethel sat down on the fender seat with a smile of assurance. “Oh, not a
bit,” she said. “There are three strong men to protect us, remember.”
“Yes--two men and Michael,” her hostess laughed, passing up the stairway
out of view.
“The moon is still there, Miss Cartwright,” Denby observed quietly.
“Surely you are not tired of moons yet?”
“But those men out there,” she protested.
“I’m sure they weren’t after me,” he returned. “They wouldn’t wait in
the garden, and even if they are detectives, they wouldn’t get the
necklace, it’s safe--now.”
Ethel Cartwright shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve got nerves like every
other woman,” she confessed, “and the evening has been quite eventful
enough as it is. I think I prefer to stay here.”
She glanced up to see Monty descending the stairs. All this talk of
robbery and actual participation in a scene of violence had induced in
Monty the desire for the company of his kind.
“I thought I’d rather be down here,” he stated naively.
“All right, old man,” Denby said smiling. “Glad to have you. Did you put
the pouch where I said?”
“Yes,” Monty answered, handing him a key, “and I locked it up,” he
explained.
“Good!” his friend exclaimed, putting the key in his pocket.
Miss Cartwright yawned daintily. “Excitement seems to make me sleepy,”
she said. “I think I shall go.”
“You’re not going to leave us yet?” Denby said reproachfully.
“I was up very early,” she told him.
“I guess everything is safe now,” Monty assured her.
“Let’s hope so,” Denby said. “Still, the night isn’t half over yet.
Pleasant dreams, Miss Cartwright.”
She paused on the half landing and looked down at the two men.
“I’m afraid they won’t be quite--that.”
Monty crept to the foot of the stairway and made certain she was passed
out of hearing. “Steve,” he said earnestly, “she’s gone now to get into
your room.”
“No, she hasn’t,” Denby protested, knowing he was lying.
Monty looked at his friend in wonderment. Usually Denby was quick of
observation, but now he seemed uncommonly dull.
“Why, she never made a move to leave until she knew I’d put the pouch in
the drawer. Then she said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You
must have noticed how she took in everything you said. She’s even taken
to watching me, too. What makes you so blind, Steve?”
“I’m not blind,” Denby said, a trifle irritably. “It happens you are
magnifying things, till everything you see is wrong.”
“Nonsense,” Monty returned bluntly. “If she gets that necklace it’s all
up with us, and you needn’t pretend otherwise.”
“Make your mind easy,” Denby exclaimed, “she won’t get it.”
“May I ask what’s going to stop her?” Monty inquired, goaded into
sarcasm. “Do you think she needs to know the combination of an ordinary
lock like that top drawer?”
“The necklace isn’t there,” Denby said.
Monty looked at him piteously. “For Heaven’s sake don’t tell me I’ve got
it somewhere on me!”
Denby drew it out of a false pocket under the right lapel of his coat
and held the precious string up to the other’s view. “That’s why,” he
observed.
“Then everything’s all right,” Monty cried with unrestrained joy.
“Everything’s all wrong,” Denby corrected.
“But, Steve,” Monty said reproachfully, “the necklace--”
“Oh, damn the necklace!” Denby interrupted viciously.
Monty shook his head mournfully. His friend’s aberrations were
astounding.
“Steve,” he said slowly, “you’re a fool!”
“I guess I am,” the other admitted. “But,” he added, snapping his teeth
together, “I’m not such a fool as to get caught, Monty, so pull yourself
together, something’s bound to happen before long.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” sighed Monty.
CHAPTER TWELVE
On the way to her room Ethel Cartwright met Michael Harrington, a box of
cigars in his hand, coming toward the head of the stairway.
“Whither away?” he demanded.
“To bed,” she returned. “The excitement’s been too much for me.”
“This box,” he said, lovingly caressing it, “contains what I think are
the best that can be smoked.” He opened and showed what seemed to her
cigars of a very large size. “I’m going to give the boys one apiece as a
reward for bravery.” He laughed with glee. “And as Lambart is going to
be one of the search party, I’m going to give him one, too. He’ll either
leave at my temerity in offering him the same kind of weed his employer
smokes, or else he’ll have it framed.”
“A search party?” she said. “What do you mean?”
“We’re going to beat the bushes for tramps,” he said. “I am directing
operations from the balcony outside my room. The general in command,” he
explained, “never gets on the firing-line in modern warfare.”
“Is Mr. Denby going?” she asked.
“No, no,” he said. “I can’t expect my guests to expose themselves to the
risk of being shot. Don’t you be alarmed,” he said solicitously, “I
shall be at hand in case of trouble.”
When she reached her room she sat motionless for a few moments on the
edge of the bed. Then suddenly, she rose and walked along a corridor and
knocked at the door of the room she knew was Alice Harrington’s.
“Alice,” she said nervously, and there was no doubt in the elder woman’s
mind that the girl was thoroughly upset, “I’m nervous of sleeping in the
room you’ve given me. Can’t I sleep somewhere near people? Let me have
that room I had the last time I was here.”
“Why, my dear girl, of course, if you want it,” Alice said
sympathetically. “But it isn’t as pretty, and I especially had this
bigger room for you. Don’t be a silly little girl; you’ll be asleep in
five minutes. Better still, I’ll come and read till you’re drowsy.”
“Please humor me,” the other pleaded. “I’d rather be where, if I scream,
someone can hear, and the men are sleeping down there, and one after all
does depend on them in emergencies.”
“All right,” Alice said good-humoredly, “I’ll ring for the servants to
take your things in.”
“We can do it,” Ethel said eagerly. “I’ve only one cabin trunk, and it
weighs nothing. Why disturb them?”
When they had moved the baggage down the halls to the smaller room,
there was no key to lock the door which led to a connecting room.
“Whose is that?” Ethel demanded.
“Mr. Denby’s,” she was told. “I always give men big rooms, because
they’re so untidy. Michael will know where the key is. He has every one
of the hundred keys with a neat label on it. He’s so methodical in some
things. By the time you’re ready for bed I’ll have it.”
A few minutes later the intervening door was safely locked and Mrs.
Harrington had left the girl, feeling that perhaps she, too, would be
nervous if she had not her Michael close at hand.
Directly the girl was alone she sprang out of bed and hurriedly put on a
white silk negligée. So far her plans had prospered admirably. The
bedroom from which she had moved was so situated that if she were to
undertake the search of Denby’s room, she must pass the rooms of her
host and hostess and also that of Nora Rutledge. And this search was
imperative. Out in the darkness Taylor and his men were waiting
impatiently. Presently a band of men, armed in all probability, would
sally forth from the house and might just as likely capture the Customs
officers. Supposing Taylor took this as treachery on her part and
denounced her before the Harringtons? Nothing would save Amy then.
If only she could discover the necklace and give the signal in time so
that the deputy-surveyor could come legitimately into the house! She
told herself that she must control this growing nervousness; that her
movements must be swift and sure, and that she must banish all thought
of the man she had met in Paris, or the punishment that would be his.
Fortunately his guests could not escape Michael and his big cigars; and
cigars, as she knew from her father’s use of them, are not consumed as a
cigarette may be and thrown quickly away.
The key turned in the lock stiffly and it seemed to her, waiting
breathless, that the sound must be audible everywhere. But as quiet
still ruled outside in the corridors, she pushed the door half-open and
peered into the room. It was dark save for the moonlight, but she could
see to make her way to a writing-table, on which was an electric lamp.
She turned it on and then looked about her nervously. It was a large,
well-furnished room, and to the right of her a big alcove with a bed in
it. There was a large French window leading to the balcony which Taylor
had noted and proposed to use if she were successful in her search.
She did not dare to look out, for fear the search party might see her,
so she centered her attention upon the locked drawer in which the
necklace was awaiting her. There was a brass paper-knife lying on the
table, heavy enough she judged, to pry open any ordinary lock. Very
cautiously she set about her work. It called for more strength than she
had supposed, but the lock seemed to be yielding gradually when there
fell upon her anxious ear sounds of footsteps coming down the corridor.
She sprang to her feet and listened intently, and was satisfied herself
that she was in imminent danger. Putting out the light she turned to run
to her room, and in doing so knocked the paper-knife to the floor. To
her excited fancy it clattered hideously as it fell, but she reached her
room safely and locked the door.
She was hardly in shelter before Denby came into his room and switched
on the light. He was still smoking the first third of his host’s famous
cigar. He sauntered to the window and looked over the lawn and wondered
what luck the searchers would have. He had permitted himself to be urged
by Harrington to a course of inactivity. It was not his wish to be
brought face to face with his enemy while he had the jewels in a place
they would instantly detect. He took the pearls from their hiding-place
and threw them carelessly on the table. Then seeing the paper-knife on
the floor he stooped to pick it up. But lying near it were little
splinters of white wood that instantly arrested his attention. He knelt
down, lit a match, and examined them without disturbing them in any way.
And then his eyes travelled upward, until the scratches by the lock were
plain.
Experience told him plainly that the drawer had been attempted and that
recently, in fact, within a half-hour since Monty had placed his pouch
there with the pearls as he supposed in it.
While he was standing there motionless, sounds in the hall outside
disturbed him. Presently a knock sounded on the door. Before answering
he picked up the pearls and placed them in his pocket. Then he called
out: “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” came Monty’s voice in answer.
“Come in,” he called.
Monty entered nervously. “Everything all right?” he demanded.
“Yes,” his friend said, and then looked at him. Monty’s appearance was
slightly dishevelled. “What’s happened?” he asked.
Monty ignored the question. “I was afraid everything might be all
wrong,” he cried. “This is the first time I’ve been able to swallow
comfortably for an hour. I thought my heart was permanently dislocated.”
“What’s been happening downstairs?” Denby inquired.
“Nothing,” Monty told him, “and it’s the limit to have nothing happen.”
“I thought Harrington was organizing a search party.”
“Oh, we searched,” Monty admitted. “I was nominally in charge, but
Lambart was the directing genius. He was an officer’s orderly in his
youth and is some tactician, believe me.” Monty pointed to his muddied
knees. “He stretched clothes-lines over the paths to catch the tramps,
and I was the first victim. We looked everywhere, all of us, Lambart,
the under-butler, two chauffeurs and I, and we didn’t even flush a cat.”
“That’s odd,” his listener commented. “They’ll be back. They’re not
frightened away by you fellows with lanterns. They’ll be back.”
“I bet they will,” Monty grumbled, “and with the militia.”
“Don’t lose your nerve now, old man,” Denby counselled.
“I wish I could,” Monty cried. “This certainly is getting on it. It’s a
lesson not to get discontented with my lot. I’ve got that creepy feeling
all the time that they’re coming closer to us.”
“But that’s the real sport of it,” Denby pointed out.
“Sport be damned,” he said crossly. “Your ideas about foxes and mine
don’t coincide. I don’t think he likes being hunted. And at that he’s
got something on us; he knows who’s chasing him.”
“So shall we soon,” he was reminded.
“Yes,” Monty grumbled, “when we’re shot full of holes.”
“Don’t be afraid of getting shot at,” Denby said smiling. “You amateurs
have no idea how few shots hit the mark even at short range. I’ve been
shot at three times and I’ve not a scar to show.”
“Job must be your favorite author,” Monty commented sourly. “I hate the
noise. I’m scared to death; I thought I wanted excitement, but life on a
farm for me hereafter.”
“But, my dear boy,” Denby said more seriously, “you are not in this.
They’re after me and this.” He held up the necklace. “You’re a spectator
merely.”
“Rot!” Monty cried. “I’m what they call an accessory and if you think
I’m going to clear out now, all I can say is you ought to know me better
than that. I want to be doing something; it’s the talking that gets on
my nerves. They’ll be here soon, you may bet on that. They’re going to
search this room.”
“Somebody’s done that already,” he was told.
“Who?” Monty cried anxiously. “That girl?”
“I think not. Her room is in the other wing, as I found out indirectly.
To come here she’d have to run an awful risk. If she comes it will be
later, when everyone is asleep.”
“Then who could it have been?” Monty demanded. He turned suddenly on his
heel.
There was someone even now listening at the door. Then there was a
faint, discreet knock. He dropped into the nearest chair and looked at
the other man with a blanched face.
“Pinched!” he cried.
“Hsh!” the other commanded softly, and then louder: “Come in.”
The smiling face of Michael Harrington beamed upon them. In his hands he
carried a tray whereon two generous highballs reposed.
“Hello, boys,” he cried genially, “I’ve brought up those two nightcaps I
promised you. Nothing like ’em after excitement such as we’ve had.”
“You never looked so good to me, Michael,” Monty cried affectionately.
“Now, Denby,” Michael said, handing him the glass in Lambart’s best
manner.
“Thanks, all the same,” his guest returned, “but I don’t think I
will--not yet at any rate.”
“Good!” Michael cried. “Luck’s with me.” He drained the glass with the
deepest satisfaction. “Ah, that was needed. Now, Monty, after your
exertions you won’t disappoint me?”
“Not for me, either,” Monty exclaimed.
“Splendid,” said the gratified Michael. “At your age I would have
refused it absolutely.” He looked at the glass affectionately. “I’ll
take the encore in a few minutes. Alice does cut me down so dreadfully.
Just one light one before dinner--mostly Vermouth--and one drink
afterward. I welcome any extra excitement like this.”