Bob, the hammer-thrower and the monocle-man together entered the little
station-house in the village. It wasn’t much of a lock-up, but it was
big enough to hold Bob and a few others, one of whom had just been
released as the trio of new-comers walked in. His eye fell on Bob.
“That’s my man,” he exclaimed excitedly. “That’s my escaped patient.”
“Yes, that’s he!” affirmed a second voice—that of the commodore.
“Got him this time!” came jubilantly from another side of the bare room,
and Bob gazing, with no show of emotion, in that direction, discovered
Dickie and Clarence were there too.
“Put me in the padded cell, would you?” said the maniac-medico
furiously. “I’ll see where you go. Come on. The car is waiting. There
won’t be any window-bouquets this time, I promise you.”
Bob didn’t answer. He didn’t much care what they said.
“I got Gee-gee on the phone,” went on Dan viciously, “and she has it all
down in black and white, she tells me. The legal light up there has
attended to that. A parcel of outrageous falsehoods! The audacity of
that girl, too! When I showed her the enormity of her conduct, she only
gave a merry little laugh. Said she was terribly fond of me, the minx!
And would I come and sit in the front row when she was a bright and
scintillating star?”
“And she said Gid-up wanted to know if I wouldn’t like to gaze upon that
cute little freckle once more?” added Clarence in choked tones.
“And all that, on account of you!” exclaimed the commodore, throwing out
his arms and looking at the culprit. Dickie didn’t say anything at the
moment. He only glared.
Bob regarded the three with lack-luster gaze. He felt little interest in
them now.
“Take him away!” said Dan, breathing hard. “Or I may do him an injury.”
“Give him what’s coming to him,” breathed Dickie hoarsely. “He’s got my
girl hypnotized.”
“Come on,” said the maniac-medico sternly to Bob. “Let’s waste no more
time.”
“Hold on,” spoke the monocle-man quietly. “You are a little premature,
gentlemen.”
“What do _you_ want to butt in for?” demanded the commodore aggressively
of the monocle-man.
“Mr. Bennett has accompanied me here as my prisoner. Am I not right?”
Appealing to the hammer-thrower.
“Correct,” said that gentleman regretfully.
“What’s he been doing besides wrecking homes?” asked the commodore.
“A few articles of jewelry have been missing at Mrs. Ralston’s,” said
the hammer-thrower in that same tone. “It’s a very regrettable affair.
Miss Gerald, for example, lost her ring and it was traced to Mr.
Bennett.”
Bob stood it patiently. He wondered if his day would ever come.
“So?— He’s the merry little social-highwayman, is he?” observed Dan.
“The best I can say is, don’t make a hero of him. Give him some real,
old-fashioned justice.”
“I’m afraid I can’t honestly extend my sympathy to you,” remarked
Clarence to Bob stiffly.
“I’m not sorry,” said Dickie frankly. “I’m glad. Anyhow, Miss Dolly will
despise you now.” With a ring of triumph in his voice.
“No, she won’t,” observed Bob, breaking silence for the first time. “It
was being what people think I am that made her fall in love with me.” He
didn’t want Dickie to feel too good. He remembered that unsportsmanlike
punch. “She’s my dear jolly little pal,” Bob went on, “and she wanted to
occupy an adjoining cell.”
Dickie went up to Bob. “I’d like to give you another,” he said in his
nastiest accents.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” It was the voice of the man at the desk.
Authority now spoke. Up to now, amazement had held authority
tongue-tied. “The prisoner came quietly, Mr. Moriarity?” Authority knew,
then, the monocle-man. Evidently the two had a secret understanding.
“Has he confessed?” “Not as yet,” said the monocle-man significantly.
“And I’m not going to,” spoke up Bob succinctly to the magistrate. “I’m
not guilty.”
“Then who is?” asked the monocle-man.
“You’ve got your hand on his arm,” said Bob in that same forcible
manner. The time had come for him to assert himself, however ridiculous
his affirmation might sound. Authority should have the truth. Bob
blurted it out fearlessly, holding his head well up as he spoke. “You’ve
got your hand on his arm,” he repeated.
Mr. Moriarity’s reply quite took their breath away, especially Bob’s.
“Guess you’re right,” he said promptly, and something bright gleamed in
his hand. “Don’t move,” he said to the hammer-thrower.
“But aren’t you going to lock _him_ up at all?” asked the commodore in
disappointed tones, indicating Bob, after the monocle-man had shown the
hammer-thrower a warrant for his (the hammer-thrower’s) arrest, and had,
at the conclusion of certain formalities, caused that dazed and angry
individual to be led away.
“I am certainly not going to lock Mr. Bennett up,” laughed the
monocle-man who was in the best of humors.
The coup seemed to him a lovely one. For months he had been on the trail
of the hammer-thrower. He told Bob—as dazed and bewildered as the
hammer-thrower by the unexpected turn of events—all about it later. He
had certainly taken an artistic way to complete the affair. And later,
not that night, Bob learned, too, that it was Miss Gerald herself who
had suggested the way, she having inherited some of the managerial
genius of her father. Maybe, she was not averse to Bob’s suffering a
little after the wholly-intolerable way he had comported himself toward
her and others of her aunt’s guests. Maybe cruelty had mingled somewhat
with retaliation. Proud, regal young womanhood sometimes can be cruel.
But Bob probably deserved all those twinges and pangs and mournful
emotions she had caused him. No one certainly had ever talked to her as
he had done.
“May I sit down?” said Bob at length to the magistrate. He felt rather
tired.
Authority gave him permission to sit. “Well, if you’re not going to lock
him up,” said that maniac-med., looking viciously at Bob, “I am.”
“No, you’re not,” observed the monocle-man easily. “Mr. Bennett is my
friend. He has helped me immensely in this affair. Had he not projected
his rather impetuous personality into it, certain difficulties would not
have been smoothed out so easily. He created a diversion which threw the
prisoner, naturally deep and resourceful, somewhat off his guard. But
for Mr. Bennett’s whimsical and, at times, diverting conduct,” with a
smile at Bob, “my fight against him,” nodding toward the cell, “might
not have culminated quite so soon. So,” he added to the enraged medico,
“Mr. Bennett has my full moral support, and, I may say,” touching the
pocket into which he had returned that something bright, “my physical
support as well.” “But what about the treatment I have received?”
stormed the med. “Locked up like—?”
“You shouldn’t have been prowling around. Anyhow, I shall advise my good
friend, Mr. Bennett, that should you seek to annoy him further, or to
lay a single finger on him, he will have an excellent case for damages.
I can explain away a great deal that is inexplicable to the rest of you,
and that explanation will serve fully to rehabilitate Mr. Bennett in the
esteem of certain people as a not unnormal person. How far I can restore
his popularity,” with a laugh, “is another matter.”
Bob stared straight ahead. “How did you do it?” he said to the
monocle-man. “What made you certain?”
“I saw him place the ring in your pocket. Feel here,” walking over to
Bob. The latter felt where the other indicated. “A little vest-pocket
camera!” said the monocle-man softly. “I photographed the act—the
outstretched hand with the ring in it!—you, unsuspecting, half
sprawling over the green felt of the table! your coat tails inviting the
ring—Besides, one of my men took the place of that outside-operator and
received a certain little article of jewelry that night you came
blundering back to Mrs. Ralston’s. We nabbed the outside-operator
and—well, he’s told certain things.” With satisfaction. “We have, in
short, a clear case.”
Bob held his head. “It’s whirling,” he said. “I’ll get some things
straightened out after a little, I suppose.”
“That’s right,” observed the monocle-man.
“There are some things you can’t straighten out,” said Dan in an ugly
tone. “This is all very well for you, but what about us?”
Just at that moment there was a flutter of skirts at the door.
* * * * *
Gee-gee and Gid-up came in, the former in a state of great agitation.
“How dared you?” she gasped, going up to the monocle-man and standing
with arms akimbo.
“Send you that note, commanding your presence here?” said the
monocle-man. “I dared, my dear,” he added slowly, “because I hold the
cards.”
“Don’t you ‘dear’ me,” she retorted stormily.
“I wouldn’t, seriously,” he returned. “It might be dangerous. Women like
you are dangerous, you know. I fancy our friends here,” glancing toward
the commodore and Clarence, “have found that out. But it will be a
lesson. ‘We’ll never wander more from our own fireside,’” he hummed.
“Well,” said Gee-gee, shaking her auburn tresses, “those were pretty
bold statements of what you could do to me, in that note you sent.”
“They were true, my dear.”
The green eyes flared. Gee-gee was shaking all over. Gid-up looked
rather frightened.
“Take it easy,” said the monocle-man.
“I’d like to see you prove what you can do,” she returned. “You say I
have framed-up a lot of false-hoods—a tissue of lies—in that affidavit
the lawyer at Mrs. Ralston’s drew up. I tell you they’re all true.” Dan
looked weak. “Everything I’ve told happened just at I said it did, and
he knows it.” Pointing a finger at the commodore.
“I wonder if I ought not to put you in jail now?” said the monocle-man
meditatively. “There’s a cell vacant next to the hammer-thrower. You
would be congenial spirits.”
“It’s proofs I’m asking, Mr. Detective,” retorted Gee-gee, apparently
not greatly abashed by this threat. She was accustomed to hitting back.
“Yes, it’s proofs,” said Gid-up, but in weaker accents.
The monocle-man shook a reproving finger at Gid-up. “You’re in bad
company, my dear,” he observed. “You’re out of Gee-gee’s class. You’re
just trying to be in it.”
“I don’t want any of your impertinence,” answered Gid-up with a faint
imitation of Gee-gee’s manner. “He’s a proper bad one.” Pointing to
Clarence who presented a picture of abject misery. “And when I tell all
the things he done to me—”
“But you won’t tell them.”
“I have.” Defiantly. “In that paper the lawyer drew up.”
“But you’re going to sign a little paper I have here, repudiating all
that,” he answered her.
“Oh, am I?” Elevating her turned-up nose.
“You are.” Blandly.
“Guess again,” said Gid-up saucily.
“You can’t prove what we told in that affidavit isn’t true,” reaffirmed
Gee-gee. Only she and Gid-up could know it was a “frame-up”; they had
builded carefully and were sure of their ground. “We know our rights and
we’re going to have them. We’re not afraid of you.”
“Then why are you here?” quietly.
“That lawyer at the house said we might as well see you, just to call
your bluff. He said, since we had told the truth, we had nothing to
fear.”
“I don’t think you’re quite so confident as you seem,” observed the
monocle-man. “My note awoke a little uneasiness, or you wouldn’t be
here. This young lady,” turning to Gid-up, “suffered a mild case of
stage fright, if I am any judge of human nature.”
“Me?” said Gid-up. “I defy you.”
“Here’s the answer,” replied the monocle-man, taking another paper from
his pocket.
“What’s that?” said Gee-gee scornfully. “I suppose it’s some lies from
him.” Alluding to the commodore. “The lawyer told me to be prepared for
them.”
“No; it isn’t that. It’s only a stenographic report of a conversation
you and your friend had together in your room, the night you arrived at
Mrs. Ralston’s.”
“A stenographic report? Nonsense!” Sharply. Gee-gee remembered all about
that conversation. “How could you—”
“There’s a dictograph in the room you occupied, my dear,” observed the
monocle-man.
“A dic—” Gee-gee seemed to turn green. “Good Gawd!” she said.
* * * * *
It wasn’t very long thereafter that Gee-gee and Gid-up departed.
“Back to the old life!” said Gee-gee wearily. “And just when I thought
my ambition to be a star was coming true.”
“Life is sure tough,” observed Gid-up, abandoning her society manner.
“I’m sick of the whole thing. Got a mind to jump in the river.”
“Gas for me!” from poor Gid-up wearily.
“No, you won’t. And I won’t. We’ll just go on. Lord! how long.”
“Anyhow, that detective promised to introduce us to a real Russian grand
duke who’s in old New York. Maybe we can get in the papers on that.”
“Perhaps.” More thoughtfully from Gee-gee. “It wasn’t so worse of the
detective to promise that, after he’d got us down and walked on us.”
“You must make dukie drink out of your slipper,” suggested Gid-up. “The
detective said he was mad after beautiful stage girls. Grand dukes
always are.” Hopefully. “And if you do make him do that, it would be
heralded from coast to coast.”
“It’s as good as done,” said Gee-gee confidently. “It’ll prove me a
great actress, sure.” In a brighter tone.
“I always said you had talent,” remarked Gid-up.
“Cheese it,” retorted Gee-gee elegantly. “Ain’t you the fond flatterer!”
“Anyhow, I’m glad I don’t have to do society talk any more,” said
Gid-up, and stuck a piece of gum in her mouth.
“Yes,” said Gee-gee, “my jaws is most broke.”
“Maybe you’d better tighten up your hobble a little for dukie,”
suggested Gid-up.
“Have to stand still the rest of my life if I did,” observed Gee-gee,
swishing along about six inches a step.
“You could divide it a little.”
“So I could.”
By this time they had forgotten about the river, or taking gas. The duke
had already become a real person in their lives and they talked on,
devising stunts for his Vivacious Greatness. By this time, too, the
monocle-man seemed to them a real benefactor.
Meanwhile the “real benefactor” had been reading from that stenographic
report to Dan and the others. The commodore nearly jumped out of his
boots for joy.
“Read that again,” he said.
The monocle-man, reading: “‘This ain’t half bad enough. You think up
something now, Gee-gee.’
“‘Doping a poor little thing is always good stuff to spring on a jury,
Gid-up. And you could make yourself up young with your hair done up in a
pigtail, with a cute little baby-blue bow on the end.’
“‘But that sounds old, Gee-gee. You can sure invent something new—’”
etc., etc.
The monocle-man finished reading and laid down the paper. “There you
are, gentlemen,” he observed in a lively tone. “The stenographers will
swear to that. They were dressed as house-maids, but at night and on
certain occasions, they used one of the rooms Mrs. Ralston placed at my
disposal as an office. When I came down here I didn’t expect to be
involved in a domestic drama. It rather forced itself upon me. It came
as part of the day’s work. I overheard your conversation with Miss Dolly
that night.” Significantly to Bob. That young gentleman flushed.
“I have taken the liberty of destroying the report of that conversation,
I may add. Miss Dolly is charming.” With a smile. “I, also, had a record
of your conversation with these three gentlemen”—indicating Dan,
Clarence and Dickie—“after they entered your room one night, via the
trellis and the window. That conversation introduced me into the
domestic drama. I became an actor in it whether I would or not. But for
my whispered instructions to one of my assistants in the garden, you
three gentlemen would have been arrested.” Dan stared at Clarence in
momentary consternation. “You did not need the golf-club because my man
removed the dog.”
“It seems,” said Dan effusively to the monocle-man, “you have been our
good angel. If any remuneration—?”
“No,” answered the monocle-man. “What I have done for you was only
incidental and my reward was the enjoyment I got out of the affair—in
watching how the threads crossed and recrossed, and how they tangled and
untangled. It was better than going to a show. It made work a pleasure.
Besides, I shall be well rewarded for what I have accomplished in
another direction.” Looking toward the cell.
“I tried to get him in England and failed. In France, the story was the
same. He is rather a remarkable personality. A born criminal and an
actor, as well! Of good family, he wedged his way into society, through
the all-round amateur athletic route. He was generally well liked.” Bob
thought of Miss Gerald and looked down. He couldn’t help wondering if
she would not greatly have preferred his (Bob’s) occupying that cell,
instead of the other man who had seemed to interest her so much.
“Now for Mrs. Dan,” observed the commodore, jubilantly waving the
stenographic report. “This will bring her to time.”
“And my wife, too!” said Clarence with equal joy.
“I thought I would save you gentlemen some trouble and so have already
placed the report in the ladies’ hands,” said the monocle-man affably.
“Indeed, they came to me afterward and told me they had been shamefully
deceived. Mrs. Dan looked as if she had had a good cry—from joy, no
doubt. Mrs. Clarence’s voice was tremulous. Same cause, I am sure. I
think you will find them contrite and anxious to make up.”
“This is great,” said Dan.
“Glorious!” observed Clarence.
“Think of it! No public disgrace!”
“No being held up as monsters in the press!”
“It’s too good to be true.” The commodore threw out his arms and
advanced toward the monocle-man.
But the latter waved him away. “Save your embraces for your wives,” he
observed.
“I love all the world,” said Dan.
“Me, too!” from Clarence.
“I presume I am free to take my departure, gentlemen?” said Bob, rising.
“You are free as the birds of the air for all of me,” answered the
monocle-man.
“Hold on one moment,” begged the commodore. “No; I’m not going to detain
you forcibly. As a friend I ask you to wait.” Bob paused. “I’m a good
fellow,” said Dan effusively, “and I don’t wish the world harm. I don’t
want you to go wandering around any more as you are. Why, you’re a
regular Frankenstein. You’re an iron automaton that goes about trampling
on people. After all I’ve gone through, I have charity toward others. I
won’t have you treading on people’s finer sensibilities and smashing
connubial peace and comfort all to splinters.”
“But what can I do?” suggested Bob. He meant the three weeks weren’t yet
up.
“Here’s what I propose to Clarence and Dickie. I see now you’ll win,
anyhow. You’ve got the grit and the nerve. So as long as we have simply
got to pay in the end, why not do so at once and so spare others?
That’ll be the way I’ll pay him.” Alluding to the monocle-man. “It’s my
way of showing my gratitude for what he’s done. And now I think of it, I
can’t see that I ought to blame you so much, Bob, for all that has
transpired.”
“Oh, you don’t?” With faint irony.
“No; you only did what you had to, and maybe we were a little rough.
Forget it.” The commodore extended his hand.
The act melted Bob. He took it. “Good friends, once more!” chirped Dan,
and extended an arm to include Clarence. “You’ve won. The money’s fairly
yours, Bob. Only as a personal favor, I ask you to be, at once, as you
were. Be your old natural self immediately.”
“I’ll pay my share to have him that way again,” said Clarence heartily.
“I want to spare the world too. Besides, he’s won all right enough.”
“It’s three weeks or nothing from me,” said Dickie. “You chaps may want
to spare the world, but I don’t want to spare him.”
“I’ll pay for Dickie,” replied good old Dan. “And gladly!”
Dickie shrugged. Dan wrote out a check. “Congratulations!” he said. “And
for us, too!” Turning to Clarence. “Think of the thousands in alimony it
might have cost us!”
“We’ve simply got to call a halt on old Bob,” said Clarence fervently.
“Bet’s off! We lose.”
Bob took the check. “I believe I am entitled to it, for I certainly
would have stuck it out now. I am sure I wouldn’t do it all over again,
though, for ten times the amount. Nevertheless, I thank you.” He shook
himself. “Free! Isn’t it great? Will you do something for me?” To the
monocle-man.
“Gladly,” was the reply. “I was secretly informed of that wager of yours
and I was immensely interested in your little social experiment. You see
I make my living by prevarication and subterfuges. And that”—with a
laugh—“is more than a man can make by telling the truth. It’s a wicked
world. Fraud and humbug are trumps.”
“What I want you to do,” said Bob, ignoring this homily, “is to express
my grip to New York. Also, tell Miss Gerald that I’ve gone and kindly
thank Mrs Ralston and Miss Gerald for asking me down.”
“Why don’t you thank them yourself?”
“I think they would be more pleased if I complied with the formalities
by proxy.”
“Shall I add you had a charming time?”
“You may use your own judgment.”
Bob walked to the door.
“I guess it’s I who am crazy,” said the maniac-doctor, again waking up.