Hughes leaned his back to the wall near the window and his gaze
wandered from one to the other while the pistol dangled in his hand. He
could not fail to observe the signs of the struggle.
"I seem to have interrupted a tête-à-tête," he said sardonically.
"What's the tiff about?"
Labar measured his distance. A flicker of amusement passed over Larry's
face, and he lifted his weapon a little. The detective dropped back in
his chair.
"This is a surprise, Larry," he said amiably. "What's brought you here?"
The other showed his white teeth in a grin. "Like the chivalrous idiot
that I am, I have flown to the aid of beauty in distress." He bowed to
Mrs. Gertstein. "I feel compunctuous that circumstances held me from
being earlier."
"So you got my letter?" The woman flashed a furious glance to Labar.
"This man said that he had intercepted it."
Larry flung up a deprecating hand. "Leave this to me, Adèle. Our Mr.
Labar is a truthful man." He broke into a snatch of song. "'He always
tries to utter lies and every time he fails.' Mr. Labar did me the
honour to tamper with my correspondence. Unfortunately his minions,
who should have known better, resealed the letter rather hastily. A
suspicious man like myself applied the lessons of Scotland Yard and
dusted the note with graphite. That developed a man's thumb mark. I
felt sure, my dear Adèle, that you would not have shown so intimate a
letter to any person, and, my dear Watson"--he smiled triumphantly at
the inspector--"I drew the conclusion that Mr. Labar would hotfoot it
down here. And I followed."
The detective laughed. "Better drop that thing and chuck up the sponge
like a good boy, hadn't you, Larry? I always felt that you were too
clever. I'm disappointed in you."
"Crazy with the heat," observed Hughes to Mrs. Gertstein. "I don't
quite get the joke, Labar. Won't you elucidate?"
"The answer will be apparent quite soon," retorted the detective. "I
knew you had audacity, but I didn't think you were quite so childish.
When you went to pick up that letter there would be plenty of my men
about, and I had taken the precaution of keeping a police car where
they could get at it handily. Do you suppose they've not been busy?
I'll bet that they've been right on top of you all the way down.
You're a gone coon, Larry. You're in a trap."
The other laughed. "Still raving," he gibed. "Why, my simple Sherlock,
I knew exactly what you would do. A telephone message to my house to
send my correspondence to a certain place, and a discreet messenger
were all that were needed to get inside your guard."
Labar lifted his shoulders. "You're a hell of a fellow," he sneered.
"What are you going to do about it now? Seems to me that you've got
hold of the tiger's tail. You don't know whether to hang on or leave
go. You daren't shoot me. What else can you do?"
"I don't know that I daren't. Might be a business-like way out," mused
Larry. "But I'd hate to do it, Labar. You're amusing without being
vulgar. I should miss you."
Mrs. Gertstein who had followed the exchange with puzzled face whirled
swiftly on Larry. "Don't be a fool, man. Can't you see that he is
playing with you. He's trying to gain time. Kill him now. No one will
know. Shoot him." Her face was blazing vindictively. "Put him out of
the way. He's dangerous."
The outburst which was not entirely unexpected to Labar, seemed to
annoy Larry Hughes. "Keep quiet, you! When I want your advice I'll ask
for it." He snarled fiercely at the woman as though she were a petulant
child. "Listen, Mr. Labar," he went on in lighter tone. "If you're
reckoning on friend Malone butting in on this seance, or sneaking away
to get help, you've got another guess coming. Mr. Malone is chewing the
cud under some sacks in an outhouse and a length of line wrapped well
and truly round him to prevent him straying. There's no one else likely
to interrupt us."
The detective folded his arms. As Mrs. Gertstein said he had been
playing for time, and Larry had put his finger on the reason. There
was no perceptible change in his face. He still held an attitude of
contemptuous indifference. He knew that he was in a tight fix. That
the woman would not hesitate at murder he had proof. Of Larry he was
not so sure. That gentleman would not run the risk of putting his neck
in a noose at the dictate of panic. If he killed it would be after
calculation, and because there was no other way that would ensure his
safety.
He was sure that Larry was not alone, but he could not guess how many
were with him. Even if Malone was a prisoner there was no harm in
continuing to stall for time. All the servants of the house could not
be accomplices, and in time they must become aware of the queerness of
what was going on. He could not know that six of them were penned in
the servants' hall, with Tom the thin-faced valet, keeping guard, armed
like Larry with a wicked little automatic.
"I'm in no hurry," he said serenely. "I hope that you haven't hurt
Malone much, for the sake of ensuring this private conversation. By
the way, what are you leading up to? You've got something else in view
beyond amusing yourself with light and airy persiflage at my expense."
Larry nodded. "You are an embarrassment, Mr. Labar. I had a faint
hope that I might reach here in front of you, in which case I might
have avoided having to deal with you--somehow." He laid grim stress
on the last word. "I gather that Adèle here, has talked. That may be
singularly unfortunate for both of us."
"For you," amended Labar grimly. He could not resist a little touch
of brag although he knew it was dangerous. "I have got the ends in my
hand, Larry, and when I have followed them up it will be difficult for
you to wriggle out. You've had to come out in the open, and you know
what that means in the long run. Why don't you use your brains, man?
Take your medicine now and get it over. You might perhaps, get away
with seven years, if you helped us to get back the Gertstein things."
"Thank you. Suppose we talk seriously. I said I looked on you as an
embarrassment. You seem to think that you are a menace." He shook his
head, reprovingly. "I'll tell you. From something Adèle has said you
imagine that you can get hold of people who might testify against me.
If you had any vision you would understand that I shall see that those
people are out of your reach. You'll never get evidence against me that
would hang a cat. I hate to see you wasting your time, for, although
you may not believe it, I've developed a kind of liking for you. Now
here's a little proposition for you to think over. I'm going out of the
game--going to settle down and get married. Oh, you may sneer, but I
mean it. I've made all the money I want and I'm going to enjoy myself.
I might get out of the country and snap my fingers at the lot of you.
But I don't want any petty annoyances cropping up. I'll buy you off at
your own figure. What do you say?"
His tone was that of a business man putting a case to another business
man. Labar burst into laughter. "More comic stuff?"
The other lit a cigarette, a little awkwardly because of the pistol,
of which he retained a wary hold, and viewed the detective through
half-closed eyes.
"Don't rush yourself. What's the pay of a divisional detective
inspector? A few hundreds a year. If you hang on and you're lucky you
may be a superintendent and get a bit more. A man with your ability and
some capital could go far in some other line. Or you need not work at
all if you don't wish. I'll give you fifteen thousand pounds and call
it quits."
It was a tremendous offer, far beyond any sum that a police officer
whatever his position might hope to attain by legitimate means. Labar
was astonished at its magnitude. It did not tempt him in the least,
but he affected to reflect. He believed that if he agreed Larry would
sincerely keep his word and pay the money. As to the crook retiring he
was sceptical. That type of man was an organiser of criminal enterprise
as much for the love of the thing as for what he could make out of it.
No, Larry, whatever he said, would never retire of his own accord.
It occurred to Labar that the other could not hold him so lightly as
he pretended if he was willing to give such an amount to ensure his
inactivity.
In any transaction with a crook, Labar, like many detectives, had his
own code of ethics. This was a case where stringent honesty would have
been foolish. He temporised.
"That's a lot of money," he said, slowly, "but where would I be if
anything leaked out?" He glanced significantly at Mrs. Gertstein.
"I----" began the woman.
Larry silenced her with a minatory wave of the hand. "She daren't let
anything be known for her own sake. Your commonsense should tell you
that."
"Perhaps you're right," mused the detective. "But it's too big a risk.
You'll have to raise the ante, Larry."
There was a gleam of triumph in Larry Hughes' face. "I'll make it
twenty thousand," he said. "That ought to satisfy you."
Labar still looked doubtful. He shifted the hand which he had been
pressing to the hurt in his side, and Larry, if he noticed the motion,
paid no attention. He felt that danger was no longer to be anticipated
from the detective.
"I'll think it over," said the latter.
"No, no." Larry was smiling confidently. "Make up your mind now."
Labar held his hand in front of him. The blood had soaked through and
stained his fingers. "I'm--a--little--dizzy," he ejaculated faintly.
"Got it worse than I thought."
Larry lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Mrs. Gertstein. "I--I hurt him,"
she said, and her eyes rested on the blood-stained dagger which Labar
had placed on the mantel. The crook nodded comprehendingly and advanced
towards the detective.
"Let's see what we can do," he said.
For the first time during the interview he was off his guard. In that
instant the detective acted.
He had followed Moreland's advice and a pistol reposed in his coat
pocket. As he pulled it, a little clumsily maybe, Larry levelled
his own weapon. The reports followed hard upon each other and Mrs.
Gertstein's scream rang through the house.
Labar was no marksman even at that distance, and the other's aim had
been hurried. The detective felt a bullet whistle over his shoulder and
heard it crash into the wall. He had no doubt that his own shot had
missed.
The detective drove forward on the instant and saw the ugly muzzle of
Larry's weapon within a yard of his face. He swerved and swung his own
weapon like a club straight at the distorted face of his antagonist.
Larry went down like a poleaxed ox.
Above the hysterical screams of Mrs. Gertstein Labar could hear the
sound of hurrying feet. They might be those of friends or enemies. He
could not afford to risk it.
He slipped through the open French windows and ran, as he had not run
since he was a boy, for the shelter of a shrubbery.