In seventeen days from the time he left he was off quarantine again.
According to an arrangement effected through Mr. Delamare's good
offices, the health officer's boat took Jack off the _Lobos_ and landed
him on Staten Island, whence he made his way via Elizabeth to Newark
without setting foot on Manhattan. This was in case the astute "Mr. B"
should take it into his head to have the _Lobos_ watched when she
docked.
Jack went to a hotel in Newark, where it had been arranged he was to
receive Kate's reports. He found awaiting him a day by day account of
the life of Bobo's household which did credit to Kate's faculty of
observation. It contained, however, no suggestion of what he so much
wished to find, the reëntrance of "Mr. B" upon the scene. Only a few
characteristic excerpts from Kate's reports need be given.
November 25th: Miriam has embarked on a perfect orgy of spending. All
day long, dresses, furs, hats are being delivered at the hotel, not to
speak of the dozens of expensive, useless knickknacks that catch her
eye in the stores. It is part of my duty to unwrap the packages. Lots
of the things she never even looks at when they get home. She buys, I
am sure, largely for the pleasure of seeing the salespeople fawn when
she gives her name and address. It is a never-failing pleasure to her
to announce who she is. Sometimes she takes me with her on a shopping
expedition because she thinks I lend style to the outfit. She talks
French to me in public. Such French! She bought an automobile to-day,
a Vickers-Lee landaulet, price $8,000. She intends to have two men on
the box, when she can get their liveries made. A man from Mercer's,
the fashionable jewelers, brought an amazing array of pearls and
diamonds to the hotel this afternoon. She chose a strand of pearls. I
don't know the price. Such unbridled extravagance outrages my New
England conscience. I hope you'll be able to put a stop to it soon.
* * * * *
Nov. 27th: M.'s heart is set on having a mansion on upper Fifth avenue,
whence she can institute a social campaign. When she is not at the
dressmaker's she is being taken around to see such places. The
servility of the well-dressed young real estate agents delights her.
She gives Bobo no peace on the subject, but I believe he has avoided
committing himself as yet. As she has me fussing over her clothes or
her hair almost every moment that she is at home, I hear most of their
conjugal discussions.
Nov. 28th: The new secretary came to-day. I dislike him intensely.
His name is Leroy Chalfonte. He is a handsome young fellow in a
brutal, scornful way, the type that makes fools of many silly women.
His manners are superficially good enough, but he doesn't trouble to
hide the sneer. I gather that he and Miriam spend the afternoons in
the tango parlors. He is covertly insolent to Bobo, who dares not call
him down.
* * * * *
Dec. 5th: This is no easy job to hold. M.'s method with servants seems
to be that of certain misguided parents with their offspring. I
believe it is called "breaking their spirit." When she gets up in a
bad temper, positively nothing that I can do pleases. The more patient
and willing I am, the greater offense it is. I have found it better to
be a little impudent at such times. She expects it, and she can then
abuse me with a better face. Sometimes I am sorry for the poor
creature. She has never known a moment's real happiness, I am sure.
You would think that now she would feel as if her ambition was
realized, but no! Mercer's have a pearl necklace worth a hundred and
fifty thousand, and she can think of nothing else. I hope you have
taken precautions against Bobo's attempting to gratify any such whim.
* * * * *
Dec. 11th: Yesterday Miriam had a talk with somebody over the
telephone. She used the instrument in her boudoir. I had a perfectly
natural excuse to enter the room while she was talking, but she ordered
me out. I made out this much. That somebody was insisting on
something that she objected to--somebody that she was in awe of.
Thinking perhaps of the danger of somebody listening in, she made a
date to continue the talk from an outside 'phone.
This last entry on Kate's report was dated only the day before. Since
her communication gave Jack nothing to go on, all he could do was to
wait until he heard from her again. She would learn of the arrival of
the _Lobos_ from the newspapers, and would without doubt call him up at
his hotel at the first opportunity.
At nine o'clock that night Jack got his call, and heard the voice that
was dearest to him.
"Jack!"
"Kitty, dearest!"
"Oh, my dear, it's so good to hear you! Are you quite well?"
"Right as a trivet! And you?"
"Oh, I'm well. But I can't stand that woman much longer!"
"Poor Kitty! I know. Where are you 'phoning from?"
"Booth in a drug-store."
"Is it safe?"
"Oh, yes! They've gone to the theater, and to dance afterwards. They
won't be home until three or after. She insists on my staying up to
put her to bed, but they know I go out while they're out."
"Have you any news for me?"
"Yes, I think I have."
"Shoot!"
"You remember in my last letter I said Miriam had had a telephone
conversation yesterday that seemed to agitate her?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think I have the explanation. Last night when I was putting
my lady to bed--Oh, my dear, you'll never know what I have been
through!--Bobo said, apropos of nothing, but only anxious to propitiate
her, 'It will be nice to have some relations, won't it?' Miriam
replied ill-temperedly: 'I'm not so crazy about it.' 'What's Uncle
George like?' asked Bobo. 'Just a business man,' she answered, 'a
manufacturer of stoves or something.' 'Well fixed?' asked Bobo. 'He
must be or he couldn't have retired,' she answered."
Kate went on: "Well, Uncle George and Aunt Sally turned up for lunch
to-day."
"Ha!" said Jack. "What's he like?"
"He doesn't fit the descriptions of 'Mr. B.'"
"He wouldn't! Go on."
"He's a man of fifty-odd, bald, dean-shaven, blue eyes."
"Short and stocky?"
"Yes."
"So far so good. Go on."
"He was very jolly and good-natured; full of jokes: courteous to
everybody, even to me. Just the same, Miriam is afraid of him. She is
quite subdued when he is there."
"Good! We're getting warm. What's Aunt Sally like?"
"How do you describe an old lady? She's just like another. She
probably set up to be a belle in her youth, because she still wears a
false front. She's very quiet. Uncle George talks all the time, and
she just listens and nods and smiles. It appears they live in Buffalo
and have come to New York for a little gayety. They wanted to see dear
Miriam's husband, of course, so they looked her up at once. They're
staying at the Hotel Abercrombie, but have decided to move to the
Madagascar to be nearer dear Miriam."
"What's your opinion, Kitty?"
"I'm not dead certain yet. The most suspicious thing is Miriam's
attitude. Why should she be in such awe of her agreeable uncle? That
they have not seen each other for years, as they give out, is certainly
false. One of Uncle's features fits all the descriptions of 'Mr. B.'
that we have received. His piercing blue eyes----"
"Good!" said Jack. "That's the one feature he couldn't change."
"If we were not looking for 'Mr. B.' to appear on the scene, and did
not know that he was fiendishly clever, I must say I would never
suspect Uncle George. He plays his part to perfection. He lets on to
be a prosperous man, and asks no favors of Bobo. I gather that he
insists on paying his half everywhere. But to-day I got a hint of his
possible game. He and Bobo had a long talk in the Dutch room. I made
an excuse to pass through as often as I could, and picked up some
scraps of their conversation."
"Well?" said Jack eagerly.
"Uncle George was posing as an experienced and successful man of
affairs, see? Without appearing to pry into Bobo's business, he was
setting himself to win his confidence in such matters. Bobo is
obviously such a fool that Uncle George no doubt anticipates gaining a
complete ascendancy over him, and perhaps sees himself in the position
of directing all Bobo's affairs. But he's an artist; he carries it off
so well, I find myself wondering sometimes if my suspicions aren't all
imaginary."
"We'll make sure of that," said Jack.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Get me a scrap of his writing if you can--to compare with what I have."
"I'll try."
"And call me up again first chance you get."
38
The following day was a hard one on Jack, for he had to pass it in
inaction and suspense. He thought it wiser not to venture over to New
York: an awkward chance encounter might spoil all. He talked to Mr.
Delamare over the 'phone, and through him got into communication with
the Deputy Commissioner of police. The latter promised him whatever
help he needed, which was certainly good-natured, since, at Jack's
invitation, his men had twice assisted in a fiasco.
Kate called him up at the same hour as on the day before.
"They're off for the night again. All four of them."
"Anything decisive to-day?"
"No, but many little things have confirmed me in my opinion that Uncle
George is our man. He is no less agreeable than at first, but in a
curious way I feel his power stealing over us. They have moved to the
Madagascar, and have been with us all day. We are already as intimate
as possible. Bobo is more friendly to them than their supposed niece.
She was in a grinding temper last night after they had gone, and
properly threw things about."
"To-day, I fancy, Uncle George must have found an opportunity to give
her a call, for she was much chastened. It is a strange and welcome
sight to see somebody who can tame her. I could almost like this old
man if it were not for some things. He's so sensible! Perhaps that's
why he was successful for so long. A sensible crook must be a novelty."
"It is," said Jack.
"To-day they have had all their meals in our rooms. They make me wait
on them, because they say I am handier than the men waiters--'and much
nicer to look at,' adds Uncle George."
"Confound him!" muttered Jack.
"I don't object to the waiting, of course, for it gives me a chance to
hear the table conversation. It is like a comedy. To-day Bobo made a
joking reference to the hundred and fifty thousand dollar necklace that
Miriam's heart was set on. The old man just looked at her with those
icy blue eyes, and she hung her head. The necklace has not been
mentioned since.
"Another thing, Uncle George was responsible for firing Chalfonte
to-day. Apparently Chalfonte can't be a member of the gang, but a
private friend of Miriam's. At any rate his doom was sealed from the
moment Uncle George turned up. He was insolent at the table in his
usual way, and, backed up by Uncle, Bobo fired him on the spot. Miriam
couldn't say a word. Bobo is beginning to think Uncle George is the
most wonderful man on earth.
"'What do you want a secretary for, anyway,' Uncle said to Bobo.
"Bobo stammered something about knowing nothing about business.
"'Pshaw!' said Uncle in his hearty way. 'If you want any advice come
to me!'"
"Did you get a sample of his handwriting?" asked Jack.
"Yes, by great good luck. I didn't see how I was going to manage it.
But he wrote a note in our rooms to-day. I was hoping he might give it
to me to post, but he didn't. However, there was a new blotter on the
desk, which took a perfect impression of several lines that he wrote.
I have just mailed you the blotter. Hold it up to a mirror. The note
you see is just a bit of camouflage. He is enclosing a subscription to
the Buffalo Express."
"What about their arrangements for to-morrow?" asked Jack.
"I can only tell you about lunch. I know that Uncle George and Aunt
Sally are coming to lunch in our rooms because I heard Bobo giving a
special order over the 'phone."
"What time?"
"One o'clock."
"Very well. If the handwriting matches up, you may expect us about
that time."
"Heavens! How my heart beats when I think of it!"
"You needn't be there if you'd rather not."
"I wouldn't miss it for a farm!"
"Good! Then you can give me a signal. When they are all seated at the
table, come down to the door of Silas Gyde's sitting-room and tap three
times. On your way back leave the doors open behind you."
Jack possessed three letters in "Mr. B.'s" own hand; that which had
fallen on the table in the Alpine Heights restaurant; that which he had
found pinned to Bobo's overcoat; and that which had been handed to Mrs.
Cleaver in the Hotel Bienvenu. The same hand had likewise kept the
card index system. It was a hand of strong individuality, the letters
quaintly formed as in antique script, suggesting an orderly,
painstaking and somewhat vain character in the writer, who must have
gone to no end of trouble to form such a hand in youth.
The piece of blotting paper arrived in the first mail next morning.
Held up before a mirror, a single glance was sufficient to identify it.
There were the same quaint and artistic characters--unmistakable!
Jack hesitated no longer. He took the first train for Manhattan, and
had himself carried to police headquarters in a taxi. To the Deputy
Commissioner Jack now told sufficient of his tale to enlist his
interest, but withheld the whole, for fear that the official's natural
amazement and incredulity might hold things up. The Deputy was
satisfied that the genuine John Farrow Norman stood before him, and
that was sufficient. Mr. Delamare vouched for it.
Jack asked for eight men, and they were sent for. In the
commissioner's office he described to them the man he wanted, and gave
his offense as blackmail. A capable sergeant was in charge of the
squad. They were to proceed to the Madagascar separately. Four of his
men he instructed to wait in the street, in case an escape should be
attempted from the windows of the state suite. The sergeant and the
other three would assemble in Connolly's room at the hotel and wait
until they got word from Jack. Connolly was well known to the sergeant.
Mr. Delamare was anxious to be "in at the death," as he put it, but
they persuaded him to wait, and appear on the scene a little later.
Shortly before one o'clock Jack approached the Madagascar on foot from
the direction of Eighth avenue. He had had himself set down at the
corner, because he thought a taxicab might possibly attract attention
in the unfrequented side street. He let himself in by the private
entrance leading to Silas Gyde's old rooms. When he was "fired" he had
taken the precaution of retaining a set of keys.
Here he waited, pacing up and down the little sitting-room watch in
hand. The minutes passed with leaden slowness. He reflected on how
much had happened since first he had entered that room with beating
heart. No detail of the room was changed: the same expensive
furnishings which somehow only created a barren effect--even the
kerosene lamp and the heater were still there.
Like all imaginative men on the eve of a decisive action, he became a
prey to the blackest forebodings. He remembered how often before the
old man had fooled him, when he all but had his hand on him. No doubt
his infernal luck would still serve him. They would have changed their
plans, and gone out to lunch; or some one had tipped him off--he had
his spies out; or his sharp eyes had marked the detectives arriving in
the lobby.
In the very midst of these depressing fancies Jack heard the agreed
signal, three taps on the door.
A swift reaction passed over him. His spirits soared. "Kitty has not
failed me! Everything is all right!" he thought.
He called up the office, and asked for Mr. Connolly. Getting him on
the wire, he said:
"Connolly, have you got four men there, waiting for instructions?"
"Yes, sir." The house detective had no idea who was speaking.
"Well, just tell them to take their places."
"Yes, sir."
Jack waited two minutes to give the plainclothes men time to get
upstairs. He was thinking: "After all this time, and all these
failures, in a minute I shall be actually face to face with him!"
He opened the door into the hotel corridor. Four steps away the door
into the end room of the state suite stood ajar. Down the corridor he
saw the four detectives taking their places. One was approaching to
guard the door by which he entered.
Jack passed quickly and noiselessly through the lower rooms of the
suite. In the pocket of his coat he grasped his automatic. He
approached the Dutch room through Miriam's "boudoir" since Kate had
left the doors open that way. He came upon Kate in this room, standing
by a window with her hands pressed tight to her breast to control her
agitation. From the Dutch room adjoining came the sound of light talk
and laughter.
In passing, Jack touched Kate's cold hand to reassure her--and opened
the door. The cheerful sounds of the luncheon party rushed to meet
them. He saw the four at the small table. Bobo was facing him and the
bald-headed man was opposite Bobo. Miriam had her back to the windows,
and the little old woman faced her.
At the opening of the door Miriam turned her head. She was in the act
of saying: "Mary, where have you been?" when she saw who it really was,
and stopped on a gasp. Bobo looked up and saw, too.
"J-Jack!" he stammered.
With astonishing swiftness the bald-headed man leaped up, knocking his
chair over backwards, and, never looking round, ran with head down for
the door on the left. This led to the foyer and the main entrance to
the suite. The detectives were out there, and Jack let him go. The
old lady had covered her face with her hands. Bobo sat like a stone
man staring at Jack.
All this happened in a breath. Miriam had sprung up too, and backed
away from the table towards the windows. As Jack came further into the
room, she suddenly darted behind him into her own room.
Jack was standing listening for sounds from the corridor, when suddenly
Kate screamed a warning behind him. He instinctively relaxed, dropping
to the floor. There was a shot. The bullet passed about where his
head had been, and broke a tankard on the plate rail across the room.
From the floor Jack saw the two women struggling for possession of the
gun. Springing to Kate's aid, he disarmed Miriam. She retreated to
the farthest corner of the room, panting and snarling like an animal.
The sounds from outside were reassuring. There was a scuffle and the
bald-headed man was pushed back into the room by two detectives. He
still had his head down, but as he came opposite Jack he suddenly
raised it with cool and smiling effrontery. It was Jack's turn to be
dumbfounded.
"Harmon Evers!" he cried.
It was indeed the philosophic little wig-maker.
39
Jack stared at his adversary open-mouthed. He required an appreciable
time to adjust himself to the situation. His face turned grim--but he
could see the joke on himself too.
"No wonder you were on to every move I made when I went to you for my
disguises!"
"Humorous situation, wasn't it?" said Evers mockingly.
"Was it accident?" demanded Jack.
"Oh, no! I willed you to come to me!"
Jack recollected the boy who had first given him Evers' name.
By this time Miriam had recovered her self-possession. She came out of
her corner. Addressing the detective sergeant, she said haughtily:
"What is the meaning of this outrage? This"--pointing to Bobo--"is Mr.
John Farrow Norman, and I am Mrs. Norman. The gentleman you have your
hand on is my uncle, George Culbreth. You shall pay dearly for this!"
She carried conviction. The two detectives looked uneasy. But Jack's
amused smile reassured them a little.
"This guy was trying to beat it," the sergeant said.
"I suppose he was going for assistance," said Miriam quickly.
"Well, what did you shoot for?"
"I shot as I would shoot at any intruder into my rooms. Take your
hands off that gentleman! I demand an explanation!"
Evers was staring at the ceiling with his head cocked quizzically. He
seemed the least concerned person in the room.
The sergeant nodded towards Jack. "We're under his orders, Miss.
You'll have to ask him."
"Oh, I know him!" she cried. "A discharged servant of my husband's!
He's capable of laying any charge out of spite! You'd better be
careful how you believe him!" She whirled on Kate. "And this woman!
She let him in! Another unfaithful servant! A nice thing it is when
people like us are at the mercy of their servants!"
"Oh, dry up, my dear!" said Evers in a weary voice. "You mean well,
but the game is up!"
But Miriam had acquired too much momentum to be stopped right away. "I
demand that the management be sent for!" she cried.
"It is not necessary," said Jack. He had caught sight of Mr. Delamare
entering from the corridor. "Here is some one who will identify me.
Tell her first, who this is."
"Mr. Walter Delamare," said the sergeant with unction.
Miriam, seeing the smile of confidence exchanged by Delamare and Jack,
felt the ground slipping from under her feet. Her face blanched.
"Well, anyway I am Mrs. Norman," she cried. "Nothing can change that!"
"Tell them all who I am, please," said Jack.
Delamare put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "This is my good friend, Jack
Norman," he said. "The late Silas Gyde's sole heir."
Evers' face betrayed no change. Perhaps his intuition had warned him
of what was coming. Not so Miriam. A queer gasping cry escaped her.
"Then who--who is this?" she stammered, pointing to Bobo. "And who am
I?"
"I don't know the young man's right name. Mr. Norman engaged him to
impersonate him, in order to free his hands while he was engaged in
running down the murderers of Silas Gyde."
Miriam's proud figure sagged. No further sound escaped her. All the
color left her face. She looked old and haggard. Kate thought she was
about to fall, and made a step towards her. Miriam stiffened with
hate, and Kate fell back.
"What shall we do with this man?" asked the sergeant.
"Take him to headquarters," said Jack. "Watch him well. You've got
the cleverest crook in America there."
"Much obliged for the compliment," said Evers coolly. "May I speak to
you a moment, alone, before they take me?"
"No, Jack, no!" Kate cried involuntarily.
Jack silenced her with a smile. "Search him for weapons," he said.
The detectives frisked their captive efficaciously. Nothing more
dangerous than a pen-knife was revealed.
"Go into the front room," Jack said to Evers. "No use trying a window,
because there are four more men in the street." He motioned to the
detectives to remain at the doors. He followed Evers.
In the middle of the gaudy blue salon Evers turned with his queer
smile. "I suppose you don't want to shake hands with me."
Jack was nonplussed. He felt that he had no business to be liking the
man and yet--he did. "One must draw the line somewhere," he muttered.
"After all you murdered my benefactor."
Evers was not in the least put out. "Oh, come! Looking at it from a
disinterested point of view, old Silas Gyde was not much of a loss to
the community, was he? And he wasn't your benefactor until I put him
out of the way."
"I can't argue that with you," said Jack stiffly. "Murder is murder!"
"Well, let it pass," said Evers. "That isn't what I wanted to talk to
you about. It's my old lady out there. I swear to you on my
honor--such as it is, that she never knew what I was up to. She
thought it was smuggling, and no woman considers smuggling a crime, you
know. She's sixty-three years old and has a heart complaint. Let her
go."
"Why, I'll do what I can," said Jack, more and more uncomfortable.
"But I can't tell what the trial may bring out."
"There won't be any trial," said Evers quietly.
"What----! You mean----?"
Evers merely smiled.
Jack half turned as if to call for help.
"Wait!" said Evers sharply. "Didn't I give you a good run for your
money?" he went on with a genuine note of appeal. "And you've won.
Can't you afford to be generous? Don't interfere. Let me pay my
forfeit in my own way. The trouble with me was, I couldn't endure the
tedium of a respectable life. But I am no quitter. I went into this
with my eyes open, knowing the penalty. I was prepared to pay it at
any moment."
"I won't interfere," said Jack in a low tone.
"Thanks. One thing more." He held out two keys and a scrap of paper.
"These keys are for my box in the Windsor Safe Deposit Vaults. Number
and password are written on the paper. Everything I own is in the box.
My wife is provided for with an annuity. There are securities to the
amount of--Oh, I don't know, half a million, maybe. You can't return
it because the records of whom I obtained it are burned. But take it
and do some good act. Build a home for indigent millionaires--or
anything you like."
In spite of himself Jack had to smile.
"Come on now. Hand me back to the bulls."
In the adjoining room Evers was handcuffed and marched out between two
detectives. The old lady picked up her hat and coat, and silently
followed them.