We were approaching the hotel when we met Riley’s operative with whom
we had been talking shortly before. He was looking about as though in
doubt what to do next.
“So you managed to pick them up again on the beach?” greeted Kennedy.
“Yes,” he replied in surprise. “How did you know?”
“We were back of the bath-houses as they came along. You passed within
a few feet of us.”
The detective stared blankly as Kennedy laughed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing very much. I missed them at first, because of the delay of
that fellow Mito. But I reasoned that they must have strolled down the
beach, though I didn’t know how far. I took a chance and made a short
cut overland. Fortunately I caught up with them just as they were
about to turn back. I was a little careful, I suppose――after what
happened.”
He hesitated a bit apologetically, then went on: “I couldn’t hear much
of what they said. Queer fellow, that Shelby. First he sends to meet
the girl, then they quarrel nearly all the time they are together.”
“What did the quarrel seem to be about?” demanded Kennedy. “Couldn’t
you get any of it?”
“Oh yes, I caught enough of it,” returned the operative, confidently.
“I can’t repeat exactly what was said, for it came to me only in
snatches. They seemed to be arguing about something. Once he accused
her of having been the ruin of his brother. She did not answer at
first――just laughed sarcastically. But Shelby wasn’t content with that.
Finally she turned on him.
“‘You say that I ruined Marshall Maddox,’ she cried. ‘His wife says
I ruined him. Oh, Shelby, Shelby, he wasn’t a man who had reached
the age of discretion, I suppose――was he? Oh, it’s always I who do
things――never anybody else.’”
“Yes,” prompted Kennedy. “What else did she say?”
“She was bitter――angry. She stopped short. ‘Shelby Maddox,’ she cried,
‘you had better be careful. There is as much crime and hate and
jealousy in every one of you as there is in Sing Sing. I tell you, be
careful. I haven’t told all I know――yet. But I will say that wherever
your house of hate goes and whomever it touches, it corrupts. Be
careful how you touch me!’ Say, but Paquita was mad! That was when they
turned back. I guess Shelby sort of realized that it was no use. They
turned so suddenly that they almost caught me listening.”
“Anything else?” inquired Kennedy. “What did Shelby have to say about
himself? Do you think he’s tangled up with her in any way?”
“I can’t tell. Most of what they said was spoken so low that it was
impossible for me to hear even a word. I think both of them realized
that they were being watched and listened to. It was only once in a
while when their feelings got the better of them that they raised their
voices, and then they pretty soon caught themselves and remembered.”
“Then it was no lovers’ meeting?” I asked.
“Hardly,” returned the detective, with a growl. “And yet she did not
seem to be half as angry at Shelby as she did at the others. In fact,
I think that a word from him would have smoothed out everything. But
he wouldn’t say it. She tried hard to get him, too. That little dancer
is playing a game――take it from me. And she’s artful, too. I wouldn’t
want to be up against her――no, sir.”
There was something incongruous about the very idea of this bull-necked
flatty and the dainty little adventuress――as though the hippopotamus
might fear the peacock. I would have laughed had the business itself
not been so important. What was her game? In fact, what was Shelby’s
game? Each seemed to be playing a part.
“How about Mito?” I asked. “Have you seen him again since you were
jiu-jitsued?”
The detective shook his head. “No,” he returned, reminiscently. “He
seems to have disappeared altogether. Believe me, I have been keeping
an eye peeled for him. That Jap is a suspicious character. And it’s
just when you can’t put your fingers on him that he is plotting some
deviltry, depend on it.”
We left the Secret Service operative and continued toward the hotel.
In the lobby Kennedy and I looked about eagerly in the hope of finding
Winifred, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Our search was partly rewarded, however. At the end of the porch,
in the shadow, we did find Frances Walcott and Irene Maddox. It was
evident that they had seriously disagreed over something, and it did
not require much guessing to conclude that it had to do with Winifred.
Though Frances Walcott was really a Maddox and Irene Maddox was not,
one would have scarcely guessed it. The stamp of the house of hate was
on both.
Just a fragment of the conversation floated over to us, but it was
enough.
“Very well, then,” exclaimed Mrs. Maddox. “Let them go their own way.
You are like all the rest――you seem to think that a Maddox can do no
wrong. I was only trying to warn Winifred, as I wish some one had
warned me.”
The answer was lost, but Mrs. Walcott’s reply was evidently a sharp
one, for the two parted in unconcealed anger and suspicion. Everywhere
the case seemed to drag its slimy trail over all.
Look about as we might, there was no sign of Paquita. Nor was our
friend Sanchez about, either. We seemed to have lost them, or else,
like Mito, they were under cover.
“I think,” decided Kennedy, “that I’ll just drop into our rooms,
Walter. I haven’t much hope that we’ll find anything yet, but it will
be just as well to be on the watch.”
Accordingly we mounted by a rear staircase to our floor, and for a
moment Kennedy busied himself adjusting the apparatus.
“A bit early, I think,” he remarked, finally. “There are too many
people about to expect anything yet. We may as well go down-stairs
again. Perhaps Burke may return and I’m rather anxious to know what it
is he has been after.”
For a moment, as we retraced our steps down-stairs, I attempted,
briefly, a résumé of the case so far, beginning with the death of
Maddox, and down to the attack on Hastings and then on myself. As I
viewed the chief actors and their motives, I found that they fell into
two groups. By the death of Maddox, Shelby might profit, as might his
sister, Frances. On the other hand were to be considered the motives of
jealousy and revenge, such as might actuate Irene Maddox and Paquita.
Then, too, there was always the possibility of something deeper lying
back of it all, as Burke had hinted――an international complication over
the telautomaton, the wonderful war engine which was soon likely to be
the most valuable piece of property controlled by the family. Into such
calculations even Mito, and perhaps Sanchez, might fit, as indeed might
any of the others.
It was indeed a perplexing case, and I knew that Kennedy himself had
not yet begun to get at the bottom of it, for the simple reason that
when in doubt Kennedy would never talk. His silence was eloquent of
the mystery that shrouded the curious sequence of events. At a loss for
a means by which to piece together the real underlying story, I could
do nothing but follow Kennedy blindly, trusting in his strange ability
to arrive at the truth.
“One thing is certain,” remarked Kennedy, evidently sensing that
I was trying my utmost to arrive at some reasonable explanation
of the events, “and that is that this hotel is a very jungle of
gossip――sharper than a serpent’s tooth. In my opinion, none of us will
be safe until the fangs of this creature, whoever it may be, are drawn.
However, we’ll never arrive anywhere by trying merely to reason it out.
This is a case that needs more facts――facts――facts.”
Following out his own line of thought, Craig decided to return
down-stairs to the seat of operations, perhaps in the hope of running
across Hastings, who might have something to add. Hastings was not
about, either. We were entirely thrown upon our own resources. If we
were ever to discover the truth, we knew that it would be by our own
work, not by the assistance of any of them.
Attempts to locate Hastings quickly demonstrated that we could not
depend on him. Having worked secretly, there seemed to be little else
to do now but to come out into the open and play the game manfully.
“What was the matter?” inquired Riley, as Kennedy and I sauntered into
the lobby of the Harbor House in such a way that we would appear not to
be following anybody.
“Why?” asked Kennedy.
“First it was Paquita,” continued Riley. “She bounced into the hotel,
her face flushed and her eyes flashing. She was as mad as a hornet at
something. Sanchez met her. Why, I thought she’d bite his head off!
And he, poor shrimp, took it as meekly as if he were the rug under her
feet. I don’t know what she said, but she went directly to her room. He
has been about, somewhere. I don’t see him now. I guess he thought she
was too worked up to stay up there. But I haven’t seen her come down.”
“Shelby must have been telling her some plain truth,” said Craig,
laconically.
“Shelby?” echoed Riley. “Why, it wasn’t five minutes afterward that
Winifred Walcott came through, as pale as a ghost. She passed Irene
Maddox, but they scarcely spoke. Looked as if she had been crying.
What’s the matter with them? Are they a bunch of nuts?”
Kennedy smiled. Evidently Riley was unacquainted with the softer side
of life.
“Where’s Shelby?” inquired Craig. “Have you seen him――or Mito?”
“Down in the café, the last I saw him,” replied Riley. “Shelby’s
another nut. You know how much he loves the rest. Well, he came in
all excited, too. And what does he do? Sees Johnson Walcott reading a
paper, grabs him by the arm as though he was a long lost friend, and
drags him down to the café. Say, I’ll be dippy, too, if this keeps on.
They can’t even remember their own feuds!”
Kennedy glanced at me with an amused significance. I gathered that he
meant to hint that Shelby was stopping at nothing to secure the aid of
Johnson Walcott in smoothing affairs over with his sister, Winifred.
Just how Walcott himself would look on such a match I had no idea and
was rather glad when Kennedy suggested that we adjourn to the café
ourselves to look them over.
In a leather-cushioned booth were Shelby and Walcott, Shelby doing most
of the talking, while Walcott listened keenly. We could not very well
deliberately take the next booth, but we did manage to find a corner
where they were not likely to notice us.
We had not been there long before Mito came in, carrying a grip in
which were the clothes and linen his master had ordered ashore. Shelby
directed him where to take the things, and as the Jap stood there I
saw that Walcott was watching him closely. Not once did Mito look at
him, yet one could not help feeling that the Oriental knew that he was
watched and that Walcott was absorbing something from Shelby.
Mito bowed as he received his orders. No sooner had he turned than
I saw Walcott shoot a glance at Shelby. If I had been a lip-reader
I might have been more certain of the words framed by his lips. As
it was, I was ready to swear that Walcott asked, “Do you trust that
fellow?” Shelby’s answer I could not guess, but his face showed no
anxiety, and it seemed as though he passed off the remark lightly.
Though the others had not seen us, Mito spied us with his beady eyes,
though he did not turn his head to do so. At the door he almost ran
into Sanchez, who was engrossed in watching Shelby. Neither said a
word, but the quick scowl of Sanchez spoke a volume. He hated Shelby
and everything pertaining to him.
Whatever it was that Shelby and Walcott were discussing, it was
apparent that Walcott was not at all enthusiastic. He did not betray
any feeling in the matter other than coldness.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if they were discussing Winifred,” concluded
Kennedy. “If that is what it’s about, it doesn’t look as though
Johnson Walcott had any overburdening desire to have Shelby as a
brother-in-law.”
In spite of Walcott’s coldness Shelby continued talking earnestly, but
it seemed to have no effect. Walcott’s reticence seemed to exasperate
Shelby, who with difficulty restrained his own feelings. I fancied
that, had it not been for Winifred, Shelby’s temper would have got the
better of him.
When finally Walcott rose and with a polite excuse started to move
away, it was apparent that Shelby was intensely resentful. However, he
said nothing, nor did he even attempt to follow Walcott out of the café.
“Evidently he has made little progress in patching up the tiff with
Winifred,” concluded Craig, as we, too, rose and sauntered out into the
main part of the hotel.