So far as Jones was concerned, he was rather pleased with the turn of
affairs. This was no time for love-making; no time for silly,
innocuous quarrels and bickerings, in which love must indulge or die.
Florence no longer rode horseback, and Norton returned to his
accustomed haunts, where no one made the slightest attempt upon his
life. In his present state of mind he would have welcomed it.
"What's the matter with Jim?" asked the night city editor, raising his
eye shade.
"I don't know," answered the copy reader.
"Goes around as if he'd been eating dope; bumped into the boss a while
ago and never stopped to apologize."
"Perhaps he's mapping out the front page for that Hargreave stuff,"
laughed the copy reader. "Between you and me and the gate post, I
don't believe there ever was a man by the name of Hargreave."
"Oh, there was a chap by that name, all right. He's dead. A man can't
swim three hundred miles in rough water, life-buoy or no. They ought
to have funeral services, and let it go at that."
"But what was the reason for that fake cable from Gibraltar saying that
Orts was alive? I don't see any sense in that."
"The man who pulled it off did. I think, for my part, that both Orts
and Hargreave are dead, and that the man picked up by the tramp steamer
_Orient_ was riding some other balloon."
"You're wrong there. The description of it proved that it was Orts'
machine. Oh, Jim probably has got a man's-size yarn up his sleeve, but
he's a long time in delivering the goods. He's beginning to mope a
good deal. Woman back of it somewhere. Haven't held down this copy
job for twelve years without being able to make some tolerable guesses.
Jim's a star man. When he gets started nothing can stop him. He
covered the Chinese Boxer rebellion better than any other correspondent
there. I wonder how old he is?"
"Oh, I should say about thirty-one or two. Here he comes now. 'Lo,
Jim!"
"Hello! Where's Ford? He gave me a ticket to the theater to-night,
and I want to punch his head. What's drama coming to, anyhow?
Cigarettes and booze and mismated couples. Can't they find good enough
things out of doors? Oh, I know. They cater to a lot of fools who
believe that what they see is an expression of high life in New York
and London. And it's rot, plain rot. It's merely the scum of the
boiling pot. Any old housewife would skim it off and chuck it into the
slops. Life? Piffle!"
"What's the grouch?"
"Looking for the dramatic job?"
"No. I've just been wondering how far these theatrical managers can go
without slitting the golden goose."
Norton sought his desk and began rummaging the drawers. He was not
hunting for anything; he was merely passing away the time. By and by,
when the time no longer served, he pulled his chair over to the window
and sat down, staring at stars such as Copernicus never dreamed of.
Ships going down to sea, ferries swooping diagonally hither and
thither, the clockwork signs; but he took no note of these marvels of
light.
"Not at home!" he muttered.
He had called, written, telephoned. No use. The door remained shut,
Jones answered the telephone, and the letters came back. He began to
think very deeply concerning the Perigoff woman. Had she played a
trick? Had that fainting spell been buncombe for his benefit as well
as Florence's? But he had not a shadow of a proof. The thing that
puzzled him equally with this was that all attempts against his life
had miraculously ceased; no safes thundered down in front of him, and
no autos tried to carve him in two. The only thing that kept him
active was the daily call of Jones by wire. Miss Florence was well;
that was all Jones was permitted to say.
Restlessly Norton spurned his chair and walked over to the telephone
booth. It was midnight. He might or might not be able to get Jones.
But almost instantly a voice said, "What is it?"
"Jones?"
"Yes. Who is it?"
"Norton."
"Why, you called me up not ten minutes ago."
"Not I!"
"It was your voice, as plain as day."
"What did I want?" keen all at once.
The reply did not come immediately. "You are certain it was not you?"
"Wait a moment and I'll call the editor. He will prove to you that
I've been here for an hour, and that this is the first call I've made.
Some one has been imposing on you. What did they ask you to do?"
"You asked me to come down to the office at once, and I requested you
to come to the house, and you said you could not. I declined to stir."
"What did you think?"
"Exactly what you're thinking--that they have come to life again."
"Jones, is Miss Florence awake?"
"No."
"Do you think there is any hope of having her understand what really
happened?"
"I am only here to guard her. I can not undertake to read her
thoughts."
"You're not quite in favor of a reconciliation?"
"Oh, yes, if it went no further. Young people are young people the
world over."
"What does that mean?"
"That they would not create imaginary heartaches if they were not
young. Better let things remain exactly as they are. When all these
troubles are settled finally, the lesser trouble may be talked over
sensibly. But this is not the time. There is no news. Good night."
Norton returned to his chair, gloomier than ever. With his feet upon
the window sill he stared and stared and dreamed and dreamed till a
hand fell upon his shoulder. It belonged to one of the office boys.
"Note f'r you, sir."
Norton read it and tore it into little pieces. Then he rose and
distributed the pieces in the several yawning waste baskets which
strewed the aisle leading to the city desk.
"I'm not wanted for anything?" he asked.
"No. Clear out!" laughed the night city editor. "The sight of you is
putting everybody in the gloom ward."
Norton went down to the street. At the left of the entrance he was
quietly joined by a man whose arm was carried in a sling. He motioned
Norton to get into the taxicab. They were dropped in a deserted spot
in Riverdale. On foot they went forward to their destination, which
proved to be the deserted hangar of the aviator, William Orts.
"I want you to tell Jones that a tub and several divers are at work on
the spot where he threw the chest. That's all. Now, doctor, rewind
this arm of mine."
The amateur surgeon made a very good job of it; not for nothing had he
followed fighting armies to the front.
"Did they find anything?"
"Not up to date. But we might if we cared to. They have left a buoy
over the spot they're exploring. But just now it floats a quarter of a
mile to the east of the spot."
"Who were the men in the motor boat that chased Jones?"
"Only Jones can tell you. Queer old codger, eh?"
"A bit stubborn. He wants to handle it without police assistance."
"And he's right. We are not aiming to arrest any one," sinisterly.
"There can't be any draw to this game. Here, no smoking. Too much gas
afloat."
Norton put the cigarettes back into his pocket. "What's the real
news?" he demanded. "You would not bring me out here just to rebandage
that arm. It really did not need it. Come, out with it."
"You're sharp."
"I'm paid to be sharp."
"I've found where the Black Hundred hold their sessions."
"By George, that's news!"
"The room above is vacant. A little hole in the ceiling, and who knows
what might happen?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"Tell Jones. When the next meeting comes around I'll advise you. I've
stumbled upon a dissatisfied member. So, buck up, as they say. We've
got two ends of the net down, and with a little care we'll have them
all. Now let me have a hundred."
Norton drew out a packet of bills and counted off five twenties.
"Why don't you draw the cash yourself?"
"It happens to be in your name, son."
"I forgot," said Norton. "But what a chance for me! Nearly five
thousand, all mine for a ticket to Algiers!"
A grunt was the only reply.
"I want you to tell me about the Perigoff woman."
"I know only one thing--that Braine is there every night."
"No!"
"The orders are for you to play the game just as you are playing it.
When we strike, it must be the last blow. All this hide-and-seek
business may look foolish to you. It's like that Japanese game called
'jo.' It looks simple, but chess is a tyro's game beside it. Can you
find your way back all right?"
"I can."
"Well, you'd better be going. That's all the light I have, in this
torch here. Got a lot to do to-morrow and need sleep."
Norton stole away with great caution. His first intention was to
proceed straight to the city, but despite his resolution he found
himself within a quarter of an hour gazing up at the windows of the
Hargreave house. "Not at home!"
Quite unconscious of the fact, he was as close to death as any mortal
man might care to be. The policeman suddenly looming up under the arc
lamp proved to be his savior.
The lull made Jones doubly alert. He was positive that they were
preparing to strike again. But from what direction and in what manner?
He had not met the gift of clairvoyance so he had to wait; and waiting
is a terrible game when perhaps death is balancing the scales. It is
always easier to make an assault than to await it; and it is a good
general who always finds himself prepared.
But it made his heart ache to watch the child. She went about
cheerfully--when any one was in the room with her. Many a time,
however, he had stolen to the door of her bedroom and heard the
heart-rending sobs, a vain attempt being made to stifle them among the
pillows. She was only eighteen; it was first love; and first loves are
pale, evanescent attachments. It hurt now; but she would get over it
presently. Youth forgets. Time, like water, smooths away the ragged
places.
The countess called regularly. She was, of course, dreadfully sorry
over what had happened. She had heard something about his character;
newspaper men weren't always the best. This one was a mere fortune
hunter; a two-faced one, at that. She was never more surprised in her
life than when he threw his arms around her. And so on, and so forth,
half lies and half truths, till the patient Jones felt like wringing
her neck.
From his vantage point the butler smiled ironically. He could read the
heart of the Perigoff woman as he could read the page of a book. The
effrontery! And all the while he must gravely admit her and pretend
when the blood rioted in his veins at the sight of her. But he dared
not swerve a single inch from the plans laid down. It was a cup of
bitter gall, and there was no way of avoiding the putting of it to his
lips. She emanated poison as nightshade emanates it, the upas tree.
And he must bow when she entered and bow when she left! Still, she had
done him an indirect favor in breaking up this love business.
One afternoon Braine summoned his runabout and called up two
physicians. When he was ushered into the deserted office of the first
he sent his card in. The doctor replied in person. His face was pale
and his hands shook.
"Good afternoon," said Braine, smiling affably.
The doctor eyed him like a man hypnotized. "You ... you wished to see
me on some particular business?"
"Very particular," dryly. "My car is outside. Will you be so good as
to accompany me?"
The doctor slowly went into the hall for his hat and coat. He left the
house and got into the car with never a word of protest.
"Thinking?" said Braine.
"I am always thinking whenever I see your evil face. What devilment do
you require of me this time?"
"A mere stroke of the pen."
"Where are we going?"
"To call on another physician of your standing," significantly. "It is
a great thing to have friends like you two. Always ready to serve us,
for the mere love of it."
"There's no need of using that kind of talk to me. You have me in the
hollow of your hand. Why should I bother to deny it? I have broken
the law. I broke it because I was starving."
"It is better to starve in freedom than to eat fat joints up the river.
To-day it is a question of sanity."
"And you want me to assist in signing away the liberty of some person
who is perfectly sane?"
"The nail on the head," urbanely.
"You're a fine scoundrel!"
"Not so loud!" warningly.
"As loud as I please. I am not forgetting that you need me. I'm no
coward. I recognize that you hold the whip hand. But you can send me
to the chair before I'll crawl to you. Now, leave me alone for a
while."
The other physician had no such qualms of conscience. He was ready at
all times for the generous emoluments which accrued from his dealings
with the man Braine.
The Countess Perigoff was indisposed; so it was quite in the order of
things that she should summon physicians.
There is a law in the state of New York--just or unjust, whichever you
please--that reads that any person may be adjudged insane if the
signatures of two registered physicians are affixed to the document.
It does not say that these physicians shall have been proved reputable.
There were, besides the physicians, a motherly looking woman and a man
of benign countenance. Their faces were valuable assets. To gain
another person's confidence is, perhaps, among the greatest human
achievements. A confidence man and woman in the real sense of the
word. In your mind's eye you could see this man carrying the
contribution plate down the aisle on Sunday mornings, and his wife Kate
putting her mite on the plate for the benefit of some poor, untidy
Hottentot.
On Tuesday of the following week Florence and Susan went shopping. The
chauffeur was a strong young fellow whom Jones relied upon. If you pay
a man well and hold out fine promises, you generally can trust him. As
their car left the corner another followed leisurely. This second
automobile contained Thomas Wendt and his wife Kate. The two young
women stopped at the great dry goods shop near the public library, and
for the time being naturally forgot everything but the marvels which
had come from all parts of the world. It is as natural for a woman to
buy as it is for a man to sell.
In some manner or other Florence became separated from Susan. She
hunted through aisle after aisle, but could not find her; for the
simple reason that Susan was hunting for her. It occurred to the girl
that Susan might have wisely concluded the best place to wait would be
in the taxicab. And so Florence hurried out into the street, into the
arms of the Wendt family, who were patiently awaiting her.
The trusted chauffeur had been sent around to the side entrance by the
major domo. The young lady had so requested, so he said.
Florence struggled and called for the policeman, who came running up,
followed by the usual idle, curious crowd.
"The poor young woman is insane," said the motherly Kate, tears in her
eyes. The benign Thomas looked at heaven. "We are her keepers."
"It is not true," cried Florence desperately.
"She has the hallucination that she is the daughter of the millionaire
Stanley Hargreave." And Thomas exhibited his document, which was
perfectly legal, so far as appearances went.
"Hurry up and get her off the walk. I can't have the crowd growing any
larger," said the policeman, convinced.
So, despite her cries and protestations, Florence was hustled into the
automobile, even the policeman lending a hand.
"Poor young thing!" he said to the crowd. "Come now, move on. I can't
have the walk blocked up. Get a gait on you."
He was congratulating himself upon the orderliness of the affair when a
keen-eyed young man in the garb of a chauffeur touched his shoulder.
"What's this I hear about an insane young woman?" he demanded.
"She was insane, all right. They had papers to prove it. She kept
crying that she was Stanley Hargreave's daughter."
"My God!" The young man struck his forehead in despair. "You ass, she
was Stanley Hargreave's daughter, and they've kidnaped her right under
your nose! What was the number of that car?"
"Cut out that line of talk, young fellah; I know my business. They had
the proper documents."
"But you hadn't brains enough to inquire whether they were genuine or
not! You wait!" shrilled the chauffeur. "I'll have you broken for
this work." He wheeled and ran back to his car, to find Susan and the
countess in a great state of agitation. "They got her, they got her!
And I swore on the book that they never should, so long as I drove the
car."
[Illustration: FLORENCE WAS PERMITTED TO WANDER ABOUT THE SHIP AS SHE
PLEASED]
Susan wept, and the countess tried in vain to console her.
And when Jones was informed he frightened even the countess with the
snarl of rage which burned across his lips. He tore into the hall,
seized his hat, and was gone. Not a word of reproach did he offer to
the chauffeur. He understood that no one is infallible. He found the
blundering policeman, who now realized that he stood in for a whiff of
the commissioner's carpet. All he could do was to give a good
description of the man and woman. Word was sent broadcast through the
city. The police had to be informed this time.
Late in the day an officer whose beat included the ferry landing at
Hoboken said he had seen the three. Everything had looked all right to
him. It was the motherly face of the one and the benign countenance of
the other that had blinded him.
At midnight Jones, haggard and with the air of one beaten, returned
home.
"No wireless yet?" asked Norton.
"The _George Washington_ of the North German Lloyd does not answer.
Something has happened to her wires; tampered with, possibly."
"So long as we know they are at sea, we can remedy the evil. They will
not be able to land at a single port. I have sent ten cables. They
can't get away from the wire. If I could only get hold of the names of
those damnable doctors who signed that document! Twenty years."
Jones bent his head in his hands, and Norton tramped the floor till the
sound of his footsteps threatened to drive the moaning Susan into
hysterics.
"It is only a matter of a few days."
"But can the child stand the terrors?" questioned Jones. "Who knows
that they may not really drive her insane?"
On board the _George Washington_ every one felt extremely sorry for
this beautiful girl. It was a frightful misfortune to be so stricken
at her age.
"She is certainly insane," said one of the passengers, who had known
Hargreave slightly through some banking business. "Hargreave wasn't
married. He lived alone."
After the second day out Florence was permitted to wander about the
ship as she pleased.
A good many of the passengers were mightily worried when they learned
that the wireless had in some mysterious way been tampered with after
the boat had made the open sea. It was impossible to put about. The
apparatus must be fixed at sea.
[Illustration: EVERYONE FELT EXTREMELY SORRY FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL GIRL]
And when finally Norton's wireless caught the wires of the _George
Washington_ he was gravely informed that the young lady referred to had
leaped the rail off the banks at night and had been drowned. She had
not been missed till the following morning.