Eventually she consented. There was nothing else she could do.
Petrified with terror, fearful of losing the tiny bit of social
recognition for which she had so valiantly struggled, inordinately
afraid of arrest in connection with the New Orleans escapade which had
assumed Brobdingnagian proportions in her eyes--she agreed to meet him
in the private dining room of a quiet hotel, bringing with her fifty
thousand dollars in cash, which was to be exchanged for the jewels. And
then, apprehensive and nervous, she left him.
Sherwood returned to the city, exultant. His plan had worked. It was
safe, supremely safe. For, even should she be eventually discovered in
possession of the jewels, she would never dare tell the true story.
But Jim Hanvey had not been idle. He made careful investigation and
then spent the entire afternoon chatting with the presidents of the
four New York banks where Mrs. Haley maintained personal checking
accounts. "She'll cash a big check here in the next few days,"
explained the detective to each of them. "A thunderin' big check; an'
she'll take the money in legal tender. Minute she does, telephone my
apartment. Ask for a feller named Henry Jones. He'll take the message
an' get in touch with me."
And then Jim Hanvey personally took unto himself the task of watching
Mrs. Haley.
It was not difficult. Suspecting no surveillance Mrs. Haley conducted
herself so that a blind man could have shadowed her. Mrs. Haley's
single major sorrow in life was the stubborn refusal of her husband to
take up his residence in New York. Her apartment was a sop, and during
her occasional sojourns in the metropolis she expended a vast amount of
effort in the task of letting people know that she was somebody. Purple
limousine, uniformed chauffeur and footman, shrieking clothes and
diamond-studded lorgnette combined to make Hanvey's self-appointed task
absurdly simple. And on the morning of the third day following, the man
called Jones notified his superior that only a few hours previously
Mrs. Haley had personally cashed her check for fifty thousand dollars.
Jim received the report with a nod. He was lolling comfortably in a
taxicab owned by the police department and driven by one of his own
operatives. "Yeh! I knew somethin' was about to break. I follered
her down to the bank an' seen her when she went in. She's in yonder
now"--he nodded in the general direction of the gingerbready apartment
house--"an' she'll be comin' out directly. Beat it, Henry."
Henry beat it. The purple limousine appeared. So, too, did Mrs. Haley.
Twenty minutes later she entered a modest downtown hotel. Hanvey
waited until she had crossed the lobby in the wake of a bellhop and
disappeared into an elevator. Then he followed and exhibited his
credentials to the manager, receiving from that startled dignitary a
bit of helpful information.
"There's a man in that private dining room already, isn't there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I'll trot along up."
He allowed them ample time for conversation. And when he opened the
door with a master key furnished by the hotel management it was to
interrupt an interesting tableau.
By the table stood Mrs. Haley, clutching in her two hands the sack of
jewels. Sherwood was busily engaged in counting the money she had paid
over to him. Neither moved.
Hanvey closed the door gently. His wide-open, fishlike eyes blinked
with amazing slowness. Mrs. Haley choked, spluttered and collapsed
into a chair. Sherwood's eyes met Hanvey's levelly. The criminal was
apparently emotionless, a game loser. Very quietly he took the sack of
jewels from the nerveless hands of Mrs. Haley, returned her money and
extended the jewels to Hanvey.
"There has been no transaction here of the kind you think, Jim. I
am handing over the jewels of my own accord, and confessing to the
robbery. There is no need to drag this lady's name in the mud."
Hanvey bowed with ungainly grace. "Always a gent, eh, Arthur? I'm proud
of you." He turned to Mrs. Haley. "I reckon it wasn't ever your fault,
ma'am. An' me an' my friend Mr. Sherwood here will see that you don't
get no rotten publicity out of it."
She was dazed, but volubly and tearfully grateful. Sherwood, calm and
dignified, questioned the detective.
"You've got me, Jim. I had a hunch that I wouldn't get away with it.
But I have a professional and academic interest in the matter. There
are one or two things I don't quite understand."
"Always at your service, Arthur."
"First and most important"--Sherwood's voice was quietly
conversational--"what made you think I planned to sell the jewels back
to Mrs. Haley?"
Hanvey shook his head reprovingly; "I'm s'prised at you for not knowin'
such a simple thing as that, Arthur. The reason I knew you was gonna
sell them jools back to Mrs. Haley was because I suggested it to you."
"You suggested----" Then Sherwood smiled in frank admiration. "You mean
you suggested it when you said----"
"Sure," interrupted Hanvey pleasantly, "when I kept repeatin' that
there wasn't nobody in the world you could sell 'em to--I meant nobody
except Mrs. Haley."