I
Inspector Frawley, of the Canadian Secret Service, stood at attention,
waiting until the scratch of a pen should cease throughout the dim,
spacious office and the Honorable Secretary of Justice should acquaint
him with his desires.
He held himself deferentially, body compact, eyes clear and steady, face
blank and controlled, without distinction, without significance, a man
mediocre as a crowd. His hands were joined loosely behind his back; his
glance, without deviating, remained persistently on the profile of the
Honorable Secretary, as though in that historic room the human note
alone could compel his curiosity.
The thin squeak of the pen faded into the silences of the great room.
The Secretary of Justice ran his fingers over his forehead, looked up,
and met the Inspector's gaze--fixed, profound, and mathematical. With a
sudden unease he pushed back his chair, troubled by the analysis of his
banal man, who, in another turn of Fate, might pursue him as
dispassionately as he now stood before him for his commands. With a few
rapid strides he crossed the room, lit a cigar, blew into the swirl of
smoke this caprice of his imagination, and returned stolidly, as became
a man of facts and figures.
Flinging himself loosely in an easy chair, he threw a rapid glance at
his watch, locked his fingers, and began with the nervous directness of
one who wishes to be rid of formalities:
"Well, Inspector, you returned this morning?"
"An hour ago, sir."
"A creditable bit of work, Inspector Frawley--the department is
pleased."
"Thank you indeed, sir."
"Does the case need you any more?"
"I should say not, sir--no, sir."
"You are ready to report for duty?"
"Oh, yes, sir."
"How soon?"
"I think I'm ready now, sir--yes, sir."
"Glad to hear it, Inspector, very glad. You're the one man I wanted." As
though the civilities had been sufficiently observed, the Secretary
stiffened in his chair and continued rapidly: "It's that Toronto affair;
you've read the details. The government lost $350,000. We caught four of
the gang, but the ringleader got away with the money. Have you studied
it? What did you make of it? Sit down."
Frawley took a chair stiffly, hanging his hat between his knees and
considering.
"It did look like work from the States," he said thoughtfully. "I beg
pardon, did you say they'd caught some of the gang?"
"Four--this morning. The telegram's just in."
The Honorable Secretary, a little strange yet to the routine of the
office, looked at Frawley with a sudden desire to test his memory.
"Do you know the work?" he asked; "could you recognize the ringleader?"
"That might not be so hard, sir," said Frawley, with a nod; "we know
pretty well, of course, who's able to handle such jobs as that. Would
you have a description anywhere?"
The Honorable Secretary rose, took from his desk a paper, and began to
read. In his seat Inspector Frawley crossed his legs carefully, drew his
fists up under his chin, and stared at the reader, but without focusing
his glance on him. Once during the recital he started at some item of
description, but immediately relaxed. The report finished, the Secretary
let it drop into his lap and waited, impressed, despite himself, at the
thought of the immense galleries of crime through which the Inspector
was seeking his victim. All at once into the unseeing stare there
flickered a light of understanding. Frawley returned to the room, saw
the Secretary, and nodded.
"It's Bucky," he said tentatively. A moment his glance went
reflectively to a far corner, then he nodded slowly, looked at the
Secretary, and said with conviction: "It looks very much, sir, like
Bucky Greenfield."
"It is Greenfield," replied the Secretary, without attempting to conceal
his astonishment.
"I would like to observe," said Frawley thoughtfully, without noticing
his surprise, "that there is a bit of an error in that description, sir.
It's the left ear that's broken. Furthermore, he don't toe
out--excepting when he does it on a purpose. So it's Bucky Greenfield
I'm to bring back, sir?"
The Secretary nodded, penciling Frawley's correction on the paper.
"Bucky--well, now, that is odd!" said Frawley musingly. He rose and took
a step to the desk. "Very odd." Mechanically he saw the straggling
papers on the top and arranged them into orderly piles. "Well, he can't
say I didn't warn him!"
"What!" broke in the Secretary in quick astonishment, "you know the
fellow?"
"Indeed, yes, sir," said Frawley, with a nod. "We know most of the
crooks in the States. We're good friends, too--so long as they stay over
the line. It's useful, you know. So I'm to go after Bucky?"
The Secretary, judging the moment had arrived to be impressive, said
solemnly:
"Inspector Frawley, if you have to stick to it until he dies of old age,
you're never to let up until you get Bucky Greenfield! While the
British Empire holds together, no man shall rob Her Majesty of a
farthing and sleep in security. You understand the situation?"
"I do, sir."
The Honorable Secretary, only half satisfied, continued:
"Your credit is unlimited--there'll be no question of that. If you need
to buy up a whole South American government--buy it! By the way, he will
make for South America, will he not?"
"Probably--yes, sir. Chile or the Argentine--there's no extradition
treaty there."
"But even then," broke in the Secretary with a nervous frown--"there are
ways--other ways?"
"Oh, yes." Frawley, picking up a paper-cutter, stood by the mantel
tapping his palm. "Oh, yes--there are other ways! So it's Bucky--well, I
warned him!"
"Now, Inspector, to settle the matter," interrupted the Secretary,
anxious to return to his routine, "when can you go on the case?"
"If the papers are ready, sir--"
"They are--everything. The Home Office has been cabled. To-morrow every
British official throughout the world will be notified to render you
assistance and honor your drafts."
Inspector Frawley heard with approval and consulted his watch.
"There's an express for New York leaves at noon," he said
reflectively--then, with a glance at the clock, "thirty-five minutes; I
can make that, sir."
"Good, very good."
"If I might suggest, sir--if the Inspector who has had the case in hand
could go a short distance with me?"
"Inspector Keech shall join you at the station."
"Thank you, sir. Is there anything further?"
The Secretary shook his head, and springing up, held out his hand
enthusiastically.
"Good luck to you, Inspector--you have a big thing ahead of you, a very
big thing."
"Thank you, sir."
"By the way--you're not married?"
"No, sir."
"This is pretty short notice. How long have you been on this other
case?"
"A trifle over six months, sir."
"Don't you want a couple of days to rest up? I can let you have that
very easily."
"It really makes no difference--I think I'll leave to-day, sir."
"Oh, a moment more, Inspector--"
Frawley halted.
"How long do you think this ought to take you?"
Frawley considered, and answered carefully:
"It'll be long, I think. You see, there are several circumstances that
are unusual about this case."
"How so?"
"Well, Buck is clever--there's no gainsaying that--quite at the top of
the profession. Then, he's expecting me."
"You?"
"They're a queer lot," Frawley explained with a touch of pride. "Crooks
are full of little vanities. You see, Bucky knows I've never dropped a
trail, and I think it's rather gotten on his nerves. I think he wasn't
satisfied until he dared me. He's very odd--very odd indeed. It's a
little personal. I doubt, sir, if I bring him back alive."
"Inspector Frawley," said the new Secretary, "I hope I have sufficiently
impressed upon you the importance of your mission."
Frawley stared at his chief in surprise.
"I'm to stick to him until I get him," he said in wonder; "that's all,
isn't it, sir?"
The Secretary, annoyed by his lack of imagination, essayed a final
phrase.
"Inspector, this is my last word," he said with a frown; "remember that
you represent Her Majesty's government--you are Her Majesty's
government! I have confidence in you."
"Thank you, sir."
Frawley moved slowly to the door and with his hand on the knob
hesitated. The Secretary saw in the movement a reluctance to take the
decisive step that must open before him the wide stretches of the world.
"After all, he must have a speck of imagination," he thought, reassured.
"I beg pardon, sir."
Frawley had turned in embarrassment.
"Well, Inspector, what can I do for you?"
"If you please, sir," said Frawley, "I was just thinking--after all, it
has been a bit of a while since I've been home--indeed, I should like it
very much if I could take a good English mutton-chop and a musty ale at
old Nell's, sir. I can still get the two o'clock express."
"Granted!"
"If you'd prefer not, sir," said Frawley, surprised at the vexation in
his answer.
"Not at all--take the two o'clock--good day, good day!"
Inspector Frawley, sorely puzzled, shifted his balance, opened his
mouth, then with a bob of his head answered hastily:
"A--good day, sir!"