"Reckon I can. Reckon I can land you too."
"How?"
"Because a crook can't get away with it if the tecs are really after
him. You've slipped somewhere. It's just up to me to find out where."
"I'm surprised at you--thinking I've slipped."
"You ain't no different from other crooks, Arthur, except you've got
more sense."
"Well"--Arthur rose ostentatiously--"I reckon you want to trot me down
to headquarters."
"No. Certainly not. Ain't no use of my arresting you unless you're
going to plead guilty."
"Sometimes you're a real humorist, Jim."
"Ain't I? I'm awful cute occasionally. What I really come up for,
Arthur, was to tell you how much I know. I want you to see just where
you stand. I figured you'd be willin' to help me all you could."
"Certainly, Jim, certainly. Just drop around any old time and talk
things over. I'll do all in my power to hinder you."
"Thanks, Arthur. I counted on you for that."
They shook hands; slender, immaculate, polished man-about-town and the
mammoth expressionless detective. The contrast was striking. Sherwood
ushered Hanvey to the door and bade him a cordial farewell. Then alone,
the criminal dropped into a chair and mopped his forehead with a silken
handkerchief.
Hanvey had startled him--just as Hanvey had intended. With uncanny
intuition Hanvey had pieced together a story so nearly approximating
the facts that Sherwood was amazed. And he was now very much on guard.
The one hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry nestled
in a safety-deposit box at one of the Manhattan banks. It was a box
Sherwood had possessed for several years, holding it against just such
an opportunity as this. It was rented under an assumed name.
Immediately after the jewel robbery he had boarded a train for New
York, but not before he carefully had unset the gems and pitched the
elaborate platinum settings into the depths of Lake Pontchartrain. The
jewels in their little chamois sack were safe.
From the outset Sherwood had realized that he would have difficulty in
disposing of the gems. He was content. A stake of that size was worth
waiting for--two years, three, five. But he had not anticipated that
suspicion would so readily attach to himself. Now that Jim knew the
story, he felt that he must redouble his precautions.
The Mrs. Haley end of the situation was safe. He smiled at
recollection of the pitifully gullible wife of the railroad president;
the blatant, rather vulgar woman who thought to get into the most
exclusive social circles by a display of jewelry. She had been so
eagerly responsive to his glib chattering about prominent New Yorkers,
had so warmly welcomed his casual invitation to telephone when next she
came to New York in order that his supposed parents should have the
opportunity of entertaining her.
He had understood fully the value of social position to Mrs. Haley.
For years she had struggled gamely, mounting with horrid slowness.
She was jealous of her trifling successes. This story, made public in
the newspapers and expanded in the dirt-slinging weeklies, would ruin
her forever. Safety was possible to her in only one way--she must not
identify the man who had been her guest on the private car. And Hanvey
had reassured him on that point. That had been the single doubtful link
in his safety chain; and he knew now that it was one of the strongest.
He'd have to watch Jim Hanvey for a while. It would be an interesting
game, laughing in his sleeve as Hanvey banged his fat head against an
endless succession of brick walls. Eventually Jim would tire of the
search, and then he would dispose of the jewels one by one. Not in a
group, of course--they were of such great value that the attention of
the police would immediately be attracted through the kind efforts
of stool pigeons--but singly, at distant points, and with utmost
discretion. The more Sherwood contemplated the plan the more assured
he became. He felt sorry for Jim Hanvey. "Nice fellow too. I hate to
see him fall down on the case."
As for the detective, he apparently did not share Sherwood's fear for
his non-success. If he had a worry he concealed it exceedingly well
behind the pudgy face. Too, he fell into the habit of calling casually
on Sherwood at odd hours, and discussing the case.
"Hello, Jim. How's old Sherlock Holmes getting on?"
"So-so, Arthur; just so-so."
"Haven't gathered any definite information, have you?"
"You know durn well I haven't, Arthur."
"You'd better get them to shift you to something else. You'll never get
the dope on me."
"Maybe not. An' maybe so. There ain't no tellin'."
Sherwood leaned forward and rested a friendly hand on Jim Hanvey's
knee. "On the level, Jim, you're wasting your time. You know me; you
know I'm not a fool."
"Sure, I know that."
"And you know that I've taken every possible precaution. I was careful
enough before; I'm doubly careful now. With you on the case, Jim, I
wouldn't take a chance for anything in the world."
"You're terrible complimentary."
"I know you, Jim. You ain't half the fool you look. You couldn't be.
Now, frankly, I don't expect to cash in on this little deal for four or
five years, and----"
"You ain't ever going to cash in on it, Arthur."
The narrow, rather ascetic face of the criminal broke into a broad
grin. "Trying to make me apprehensive?"
"No; just talkin' sense. You know the gang I'm working for. It ain't so
much the hundred thou' insurance money they've shelled out as it is the
principle of the thing. They're just butt-headed enough to be willin'
to spend money an' time to get you."
"It's impossible."
"Nothin's impossible. No matter how clever you are, you've slipped
somewhere."
"I haven't slipped."
"You think you haven't. An' as for you cashing in, you never will.
You're playing a lone hand, Arthur, but I ain't. Real detectives never
do. I've got the police of the country helpin' me on this thing, an'
every stool pigeon we've got is watching for them jools. They're going
to keep on watching. An'"--Jim Hanvey leaned forward earnestly--"you
ain't gonna cash in on this deal, Arthur, because there ain't a livin'
human bein' who'd buy them jools offen you. Not a single living soul."
Sherwood laughed shortly. He was impressed, and tried not to show it.
"We know every fence who'd handle a deal of that size, Arthur. Every
one of them. An' they're all bein' watched. The little jools don't
matter, but the minute one of them big ones shows up--we're on a hot
trail. An' then Mr. Sherwood does a stretch--worse luck."
"I'll wait."
"So will we. Waitin' is the best thing we do. We're just naturally
bound to get you. I'd be doubtful if there was any person in the world
you could sell them jools to, but there ain't. Not a one. We've taken
care of that. An' the comp'ny has told me the sky's the limit. Besides,
Arthur, there ain't so bloomin' many places you could of hid them
jools. All the time you're waitin' we're workin'. You can't get away
with it. The minute I was sure it was you I knew it was just a question
of time before I landed you with the dope. Now if you was willin' to
make a clean breast of it----"
Sherwood threw back his head and laughed. "Jim Hanvey! I thought better
of you than that."
"A'right." The detective hoisted himself from the depths of a leather
rocker. "Have it your own way, Arthur. But I sure do wish it was some
other feller than you. I'm awful strong for you."
"I know it, Jim." There was genuine feeling in the other's voice. "It's
just a little game; you're on one side and I'm on the other. One of us
has got to lose--and I'm plumb sorry it's you."
Alone again Sherwood walked to the window, where he stood looking down
into Central Park. Dusk was merging gently into night. The shadowy
walks under the trees were dislimning in the softly gathering gloom.
There floated up to his ears the commanding screech of automobile
sirens, the clang of passing Eighth Avenue cars, the voices of a group
of children. Then into the picture bulked the slouching figure of Jim
Hanvey.
Sherwood watched the ungainly hulk interestedly. He saw Hanvey enter
the park and pause to light a cigar. There was something almost
pathetic about the big hulking man, a humbleness that was deceptive to
those who did not know him intimately. Too, there was a fairness and
squareness which made him popular with the higher class of criminals.
They knew he was on the level. He took no unfair advantage of them. He
played the game clean. "If I've got to be caught I'd rather Jim Hanvey
made the pinch." That was the idea; they were proud of their friendship
with Jim Hanvey. They played clean with him and he with them. He looked
out for them after he arrested them; saw they were given a square deal;
didn't forget them when they were doing time. A lonely man, Jim Hanvey;
big and ugly and ungainly--and eagerly friendly. His best friends stood
high in the criminal social register. Outside the underworld he had no
intimates.
Sherwood saw him walk on slowly, in the lumbering gait of a man too
bulky for his feet. And gradually the big figure was lost in the gloom.
He was there--then gone. Sherwood turned away from the window, "It's a
dirty shame. He would have made a wonderful crook."
He pondered over his recent conversation with the detective. Jim's
utterances were worthy of serious reflection; Jim was not given to
trickery of speech. Besides he knew Sherwood too well to bluff. He
understood that Sherwood would play a waiting game.
Sherwood was willing, but a trifle disturbed. He hadn't anticipated
having the robbery traced to his door so promptly. There had been no
opportunity to dispose of even a few of the gems. And he wasn't too
well supplied with cash. Of course with Jim watching every move it
would be impossible to pull another job; he'd have to lay low and take
things easy. Worse luck.
Jim was right of course. At present there was no one to whom he could
sell the jewels. No professional fence would handle them, and if an
amateur took over the jewels he, Sherwood, would be lucky to get ten
thousand dollars. "And I'll never let them go for that; not if I have
to wait ten years."
He visited Jim Hanvey a couple of days later. "I've been thinking over
our little talk, Jim."
"That's good."
"Suppose I handed the jewels to you, would you forget that you knew who
took them?"
"Wish I could, Arthur, but it isn't possible. We want you."