HENRY BLAINE TAKES A HAND
A man stood upon the threshold: a man of medium height, with sandy
hair and mustache slightly tinged with gray. His face was alert and
keenly intelligent. His eyes shrewd, but kindly, the brows sloping
downward toward the nose, with the peculiar look of concentration of
one given to quick decisions and instant, fearless action.
His eyes traveled quickly from the young girl's face to Ramon
Hamilton, as the latter advanced with outstretched hand.
"Mr. Blaine, it was fortunate that we found you at liberty and able to
assist us in a matter which is of vital importance to us both. This is
Miss Anita Lawton, daughter of the late Pennington Lawton, who desires
your aid on a most urgent matter."
"Miss Lawton." Mr. Elaine bowed over her hand.
When they were seated she said, shyly: "I understand from Ramon--Mr.
Hamilton--that you were at one time of great service to my father. I
trust that you will be able to help me now, for I feel that I am in
the meshes of a conspiracy. You know that my father died suddenly,
almost a week ago."
"Yes, of course. His death was a great loss to the whole country, Miss
Lawton."
"Something occurred a few hours before his death, of which even the
coroner is unaware, Mr. Blaine. I told Mr. Hamilton what I knew, but
he advised me to say nothing of it, unless further developments
ensued."
"And they have ensued?" the detective asked quietly.
"Yes."
Anita then detailed to Mr. Blaine the incident of her father's
nocturnal visitor. As she told him the conversation she had overheard,
it seemed to her that the eyes of the detective narrowed slightly, but
no other change of expression betrayed the fact that the incident
might have held a significance in his mind.
"The voice was entirely strange to you?" he asked.
"Yes; I have never heard it before, but it made such an impression
upon me that I think I would recognize it instantly whenever or
wherever I might happen to hear it."
"You caught no glimpse of the man through the half-opened door?"
"No, I was not far enough downstairs to see into the room."
"And when you fled, after hearing your father groan, you returned
immediately to your room?"
"Yes. I closed my door and buried my face deeply in the pillows on my
bed. I did not want to hear or know any more. I was frightened; I did
not know what to think. After a time I must have drifted off into an
uneasy sort of sleep, for I knew nothing more until my maid came to
tell me that Wilkes, the butler, wished to speak to me. My father had
been found dead in his chair. No one in the household seemed to know
of my father's late visitor, for they made no mention of his coming. I
would have told no one, except Ramon, but for the fact that this
afternoon my minister informed me that my father, instead of being the
multi-millionaire we had all supposed him, had in reality died a
bankrupt."
The detective received this information with inscrutable calm. Only by
a thoughtful pursing of his lips did he give indication that the news
had any visible effect upon him.
Anita continued, giving him all the details of the minister's visit,
and the magnanimous promise of her father's three associates to stand
in _loco parentis_ toward her.
It was only when she told of summoning her lover, and the accident
which befell him on his way to her, that that peculiar gleam returned
again to the eyes of Mr. Blaine, and they glanced narrowly at the
young man opposite him.
"As I told Ramon, I cannot help but feel that it is not true. My
father could not have become a pauper, much less could he, the soul of
honor, have been guilty of anything derogatory to his good name. Until
a few days prior to his death, he had been in his usual excellent
spirits, and surely had there been any financial difficulties in his
path he would have retrenched, in some measure. He made no effort to
do so, however, and in the last few weeks has given even more
generously than usual to the various philanthropic projects in which
he was so interested. Does that look as if he was on the verge of
bankruptcy? He bought me a string of pearls on my birthday, two months
ago, which for their size are considered by experts to be the most
perfectly matched in America. A fortnight ago, he presented me with a
new car. Only three days before his death he spoke of an ancient
chateau in France which he had desired to purchase. Oh, the whole
affair is utterly inexplicable to me!"
"We will take the matter up at once, Miss Lawton. The main thing that
I must impress upon you for the present is to acquiesce with the
utmost docility and unsuspicion in every proposition made to you by
the three men, Carlis, Mallowe and Rockamore; in other words, place
yourself absolutely in their hands, but keep me informed of every move
they make. You understand that the most important factor in this case
is to keep them absolutely unsuspecting of your distrust, or that you
have called me to your assistance. I must not be seen coming here or
to Mr. Hamilton's office, nor must you come to mine. I will have a
private wire installed for you to-morrow morning, by means of which
you can communicate with me, or one of my operatives, at any hour of
the day or night, in the presence of anyone. This telephone will
connect only with my office, but the number will be, supposedly, that
of your dressmaker, and if you require aid, advice, or the presence of
one of my operatives, you have merely to call up the number and say:
'Is my gown ready? If it is, please send it around immediately.' Let
me know through this medium whatever occurs, and take absolutely no
one into your confidence."
"I understand, Mr. Blaine; and I will try to follow your instructions
to the letter. Oh, by the way, there is something I wish to tell you,
which no one, not even Mr. Hamilton, knows, much less my father's
friends, or my minister. Four years ago, my father financed a
philanthropic venture of mine, the Anita Lawton Club for Working
Girls. It is not a purely charitable institution, but a home club,
where worthy young women could live by paying a nominal sum--merely to
preserve their self-respect--and be aided in obtaining positions.
Stenographers, telephone and telegraph operators, clerks, all find
homes there. No one knew, however, that under my management, the club
grew in less than a year not only to have paid for itself, but to have
yielded a small income, over and above expenses. I did not tell my
father--I don't know why, perhaps it was because I inherited a little
of his business acumen, but I manipulated the net income in various
minor undertakings, even in time buying small plots of unimproved
real-estate, meaning after a year or two more to surprise my father
with the result of my venture, but his death intervened before I could
tell him about it."
"Your father's associates, then, believe you to be without funds or
private income of your own?" the detective asked.
"Yes, Mr. Blaine. And whatever money is necessary for the investigation,
will, of course, be forthcoming from this source."
"Let me strongly advise you to make no mention of it to anyone
else; let these men believe you to be utterly within their power
financially. And now, Miss Lawton, I will leave you, for I have work
to do." The detective rose. "The private wire will be installed
to-morrow morning. Remember to be absolutely unsuspicious, to appear
deeply grateful for the kindness offered you; receive these men
and your spiritual adviser whenever they call, and above all, keep me
informed of everything that occurs, no matter how insignificant or
irrelevant it may seem to you to be. Keep me advised on even the
smallest details--anything, everything concerning you and them."
Thus it was, that when two days later, President Mallowe of the
Street Railways, called upon his new ward, she received him with
downcast eyes, and a charmingly deferential manner. His long-nosed,
heavy-jowled face, with the bristling gray side-whiskers, flushed
darkly when she placed her trembling little hand in his and shyly
voiced her gratitude for his great kindness to her.
"My dear young lady, this has been a most sad and unfortunate affair,
but I have come to assure you again of the sentiments of myself and my
associates toward you. We come, your self-appointed guardians; we will
see that no financial worriments shall come to you. Remember, my dear,
that I have three married daughters of my own, and I could not permit
the child of my old friend to want for anything. You may remain on
here in this house, which has been your home, indefinitely, and it
will be maintained for you in the manner to which you have always been
accustomed."
"Remain here in my home?" Anita stammered. "Why it--it is my home,
isn't it?"
"You must consider it as such. I do not like to tell you this, but it
is necessary that you should know. I hold a mortgage of eighty
thousand dollars on the house, but I have never recorded it, because
of my friendship and close affiliation with your father. I shall not
have it recorded now, of course, but there is a slight condition,
purely a matter of business, which in view of the fact that through
your coming marriage you will have a home of your own, Mr. Rockamore,
Mr. Carlis and myself, feel that we should agree upon. Your father has
a shadowy interest in some old bonds which have for years been
unremunerative. Should they prove of ultimate value, we feel that they
should be transferred to us as our reimbursement for the present large
sum which we shall lay out for you."
"Of course, Mr. Mallowe. That would only be just. I am glad that I may
perhaps have an opportunity to repay some of the kindness which in
your great-hearted charity, you are now bestowing upon me. I will see
that my father's attorneys attend to the matter, as soon as possible.
It may be some little time before the estate is settled, as of course
it must be horribly complicated and involved, but I will bring this to
their immediate attention."
"You are a very brave young woman, Miss Lawton, and I am glad that you
are taking such a clear-sighted view of this double catastrophe which
has come upon you. Ah, I had almost forgotten; here is a duplicate of
the mortgage which I hold upon this house, which your father made out
to me some months ago."
Anita scarcely glanced at it, but laid it quietly by upon the table,
as though it were of small interest to her.
"Mr. Mallowe, although I understand that Mr. Rockamore, being a
promoter, was more closely associated with my father in various
projects than you, I believe that he always considered you his best
friend. Can you tell me what it was which brought my father's affairs
to such a pass as this?"
"Dear young lady, do not ask me. It is a painful subject to discuss,
and as you are a mere child, you cannot be supposed to understand the
financial manoeuvres of a man of your father's passion for gigantic
operations. Years of success had possibly made him overconfident; and
then you know, we are none of us infallible; we are liable to make
mistakes, at one time or another. Your father interested himself
daringly in many schemes which we more conservative ones would have
hesitated to enter; indeed, we not only hesitated, but repeatedly
declined when your father placed the propositions before us. As you
know, unfortunately, he was a man who would have resented any attempt
at advice, and although for a long time we have seen his approaching
financial downfall, and have helped him in every way we could to avert
it, he would not relinquish his plans while there was yet time. Do not
ask me to go into any further details. It is really most distressing.
Your father's attorneys will understand the matter fully when the
estate is finally settled."
"I cannot understand it," Anita murmured. "I thought my father's
judgment almost infallible. However, Mr. Mallowe, I cannot express my
gratitude to you and my father's other associates for your great
kindness toward me. Believe me, I am deeply affected by it. I shall
never forget what you have done."
"Do not speak of it, dear Miss Lawton. I only wish for your sake that
your poor father had heeded poorer heads than his, but it is too late
to speak of that now. We will do all in our power to aid you, rest
assured of that. Should you require anything, you have only to call
upon Mr. Rockamore, Mr. Carlis or myself."
When he had bowed himself out, Anita flew to the table, seized the
duplicate of the mortgage which he had given her, and slipped it
between the pages of a book lying there. Then she went directly to her
dressing-room where on a little stand near her bed reposed a telephone
instrument which had not been there three days previously.
"Grosvenor 0760," she demanded, and when a voice replied to her at the
other end of the wire, she asked querulously, "Is not my new gown
ready yet? If it is, will you kindly send it over at once? I have also
found your last quarterly bill, and I think there is something wrong
with it. I will send it back by the messenger, who brings my gown.
Thank you; good-by."
She took an envelope from the desk and returning to the drawing-room
slipped the duplicate mortgage within it and sealed it carefully.
When, a few minutes later, a tall, dark, stolid-faced young man
appeared, with a large dressmaker's box, she placed the envelope in
his hand.
"For Mr. Blaine," she whispered. "See that it reaches him immediately."
A half hour afterward, Ramon Hamilton went to the telephone in his
office, and heard the detective's voice over the wire.
"Mr. Hamilton, have you among the letters and documents at your office
the signature of the person we were discussing the other day?"
"Why, yes, I think so. I will look and see. If I have do you wish me
to send it around to you?"
"No, thank you. A messenger boy will call for it in a few minutes."
Wondering, Ramon Hamilton shuffled hastily through the paper in the
pigeon-holes of his desk until he came to a letter from Pennington
Lawton. He carefully tore off the signature, and when the messenger
boy appeared, gave it to him. He would not have been so puzzled, had
he seen the great Henry Blaine, when a few minutes had elapsed, seated
before the desk in his office, comparing the signature of the torn
slip which he had sent with that affixed to the duplicate mortgage.
A long, close, breathless scrutiny, with the most powerful magnifying
glasses, and the detective jumped to his feet.
"That's no signature of Pennington Lawton," he exulted to himself. "I
thought I knew that fine hand, perfectly as the forgery has been done.
That's the work of James Brunell, by the Lord!"