"You're a funny man," said the child.
Pauline departed joyously to purchase her confection. Jim turned
friendly eyes upon the tiny, indomitable figure of the little woman
by his side. He _tchk'd_ once or twice and mopped his forehead with a
lavender handkerchief.
"You'll lay off me, won't you, Jim?"
"Huh?"
"You'll give me a free hand in this matter, won't you? Let me play it
my own way?"
He thought for a moment before replying. And then, slowly and
deliberately he shook his head. "Nope."
He saw her figure stiffen, watched the delicate hands ball into tiny
fists. "Jim...." There was horror and unbelief in her tone.
"Nope, Mary--I aint gonna play hands off in this little game of yours.
Not for a minute. I can't." He, with difficulty crossed one enormous
leg over the other. "But I tell you what I will do," he volunteered
conversationally.
"What?"
His voice was toneless.
"I'll help you."
For a second she did not move. "You--you'll help?" she choked.
"Sure."
"H-h-help me to clear Tim?"
"Sure."
She faced him then, her face flushed and radiant, the light of
happiness flaming from her fine eyes. "Jim Hanvey!" she said, "I love
you for that!"
He fidgeted in embarrassment. "It is kinder funny--a detective workin'
for a crook. But it's something I've always wanted to do. Of course, I
mightn't be of any help----"
"You will, Jim. You will. Oh! it's wonderful. I've been so alone----"
"Aw! dry up, Sister. It's my job to nab the whole bunch of you when
you've done something to be nabbed for. But I like you--every one of
you--and I'm damned if I can sit back and see you go up for something
you didn't do. Specially when you've been double-crossed by an honest
man."
And long after she and little Pauline had disappeared beyond the
traffic of Central Park West, long after gray dusk had merged gently
into velvet night, long after the shrill playcalls of children had been
superseded by the low-toned dialogue of occasional passing couples and
the insistent, rhythmic _k-chnk, k-chnk_ of oarlocks from the adjacent
lake--long after all of that Jim Hanvey sat upon his park bench and
mused upon the vagaries of circumstance.
Jim Hanvey had experienced a long, a colorful, a varied career. Now,
for the first time, he found himself embarked upon a professional
enterprise on behalf of a criminal, the object of his attack being
a person in that class of society for which men such as Jim Hanvey
served as bulwark.
The situation was bizarre--rather outrageously so, but it held an
irresistible appeal to Jim. He was a lonely man who counted his
friends among those whom he professionally hunted. The better class of
criminals knew Jim and liked him. They outwitted him if they could--but
they played straight with him, just as he did with them. To most of
them it was a source of wonderment that he had not long since joined
their ranks. In answer to their frank questionings he invariably
returned an answer astounding in its simple logic----
"A feller is either born crooked or straight. I was born
straight--that's all. You can't blame me for that any more than I can
blame you for bein' crooked."
But now he was to attain the unspoken ambition of many years: he
was to expend his talents in an effort to free one of his criminal
friends from an unjust charge. Let Tim Lannigan serve his time for
smuggling--he was guilty. But Jim had checked up on Mary's story and
knew that she had spoken the truth. That being the case it behooved
him to see that Tim served a sentence for what he had done and was
extricated from the predicament into which he had blundered.
That he had undertaken a task of no mean proportions was plain to him.
In this particular matter the position of Noah Lathrop was impregnable.
There was no possible proof that Lathrop had connived with Walter
Yeager to purchase the stolen gems. There was even less proof that Noah
had hired Tim to do the smuggling. Certainly there was no chance to
enlist the services of Walt Yeager. It wasn't Walt's fault, anyway. He
had played fair with both Tim and Lathrop by the tenets of the criminal
code. It was unfortunate that Lathrop had betrayed Tim--but it was too
much to expect that Walt would do anything so absurdly quixotic as to
confess to the robbery in order to save Lannigan. And there wasn't even
an outside chance to convict Yeager of the original theft.
Mary Lannigan had the correct idea. A man as crooked as Lathrop
had shown himself to be in this instance had been crooked before.
He would be crooked again. He had indicated that he was moulded of
conscienceless stuff. Somewhere in his past there must be a skeleton
which he would not care to have displayed. And in order to prevent that
display he might even be willing to confess his guilt as a smuggling
accessory. In that way--and in that way alone--Tim Lannigan could be
saved from facing trial--and certain conviction--for the crime which he
had not committed.
Jim first of all boarded the Southern for Atlanta where he had two long
and earnest conversations with Tim Lannigan. Tim's story verified that
of Mary in every way. The big, handsome, red-headed crook was pitifully
embarrassed at the knowledge that Jim was working for him. Too, he made
no attempt to conceal his emotion at tidings of Mary's activity in his
behalf. Jim found him bitter against Lathrop and not at all so against
Walt Yeager. "Poor Walt! He was crossed up pretty near as bad as I was.
And he's flat now. Gosh! To think of getting away with a job like that
and then have a falldown. It's tough!"
"Sure is," agreed Jim.
Acquainting himself with Noah Lathrop's personality without meeting
that gentleman was a more difficult undertaking. He made occasion
to be near him two or three times when Lathrop was unconscious of
the sleepy-eyed surveillance. Jim found Lathrop a rather undersized,
slender man of obtrusive pomposity and disagreeable manner. He spoke in
a loud, nasal voice which carried unpleasantly a considerable distance
and his utterances were all dogmatic. Jim found his Great-I-Am attitude
annoying and at the same time amusing. There was a laughable similarity
between father and daughter. Jim could well fancy the boast of the
man----
"I pay four thousand a year for my apartment on the Drive and I
maintain three cars." Jim's big fingers fumbled with the gold
toothpick. Somehow, it seemed a little less vulgar than Pauline had led
him to believe.
Jim held frequent conferences with Mary Lannigan. She had nothing to
report but there was no lessening of confidence or determination. He
was amused by her grim defiance--the indomitable will to power behind
the masklike manners and pretty, girlish face. No wonder the smugly
complacent Noah Lathrop was unsuspicious of the dynamite within his
house; to all appearances Mary was merely an innoculously pretty young
woman temporarily engaged in the nursing profession--against the day
when she would be carried off to wife by some six-foot truck driver.
"I know I'm right, Jim. The man's rotten all the way through--and he
handled this affair in a way which proves that it aint the first time
he's pulled something. Sometimes when I watch him I get mad enough to
scream--I can imagine him chuckling to himself about his cleverness.
Not a thought for the man who he thinks is going to do the long stretch
in France." Her teeth clicked suddenly. "Oh! what's the use of letting
myself get all worked up? I guess my game is to lay low and keep
grinning."
"You said it, Sister. And when you get something on him--talk it over
with me. We'll make him dance a hornpipe."
She looked up gratefully into his expressionless eyes. "You can do
that, Jim. Until you promised to help I was only a crook without a
chance. I didn't know what I was going to do when I found what I was
hunting."
Jim shrugged. "It's you who's got to do the discoverin', Mary. Just
keep those bright eyes wide open----"
"I sure ain't gonna do nothin' else."
"--And let me know every least little thing that goes on. Listen in on
his dining room conversation all you can. A feller as stuck on himself
as that bimbo--an' as crazy about hearin' himself talk--is certain to
blab something around the house." Jim lighted a cigar. "He may even
have some interestin' papers lyin' around."
"No," she said with perfect candor, "I've searched everything. Even the
safe."
"Good." He rose heavily to his feet. "Keep it up, Sis. We've got all
the time in the world, plus--an' the best thing we can do is to use it.
By the way, how's my little friend Pauline?"