A LITTLE DETECTIVE WORK
At first Evan had some doubts as to what ought to be his course of
action in respect to Mrs. George Deaves. While it was true that her
husband had definitely given him to understand that he was hired for
the purpose of running down the blackmailers, he did not suppose that
George Deaves would thank him for proof that his own wife was
implicated. But that didn't alter his duty.
"I'm being paid to deliver them from the gang," he said to himself.
"As long as I take their money I've got to do what I can to earn it.
It's none of my affair where the trail leads. If they want to kick me
out for my pains, why that's up to them."
It promised to be no easy matter to watch Mrs. Deaves. Evan rarely saw
her. During the few hours that he spent in the house she was
presumably either in her own rooms, or out in the motor. One
suspicious circumstance he did not have to look for, because everybody
in the house was aware of it. Maud Deaves was continually in money
difficulties. Her creditors camped on her trail.
Two lines were open to Evan: to bribe her maid and to watch her
letters. The maid, Josefa, was a light-headed creature perfectly
willing to plot or counterplot with anybody. Unfortunately she was of
very little use to Evan, because her mistress did not trust her in the
least. As for the letters, it was scarcely likely that if Maud Deaves
were carrying on a dangerous correspondence she would have the letters
come openly to the house. Nevertheless Evan determined to get to the
house early enough in the mornings to look over the first mail before
it was distributed.
On the morning following his trip on the _Ernestina_ he found a letter
addressed to her that gave him food for reflection. The address was
typewritten. The envelope was of medium size "Irish linen" of the kind
that never saw either Ireland or flax; in other words, just such an
envelope as those which had brought the blackmailing letters. In
itself this was nothing for many thousands of such envelopes are sold.
But it was postmarked "Hamilton Grange" and it was addressed "New York
City." The three little facts taken together were significant. Evan
slipped it in his pocket.
But though it had the look of a mere business letter or a bill, he
still had qualms about opening it. Useless to tell himself that it was
his duty to do so. To tell the truth Evan was not cut out by nature to
be a detective. He finally decided to put his problem to George Deaves.
"Mr. Deaves," he said, "am I employed to accompany your father on his
walks or to discover the blackmailers?"
"Primarily to run down the blackmailers," was the prompt reply.
"Merely to go with my father is not worth all the money I'm paying you."
"Very good. Then I'm supposed to follow the trail wherever it may
lead?"
"Certainly."
"Even in this house?"
"Of course. I told you particularly to watch the servants. Whom do
you suspect?"
"I have no evidence yet. I merely wanted to know where I stood. Would
I be justified in opening letters that looked suspicious to me?"
"Why, yes. The guilty person wouldn't tell you of his own accord."
"Thanks; that's what I wanted to know."
"Have you found out anything?" Deaves asked eagerly.
"Not yet."
"Mind, you are to find out everything you can, but you are not to take
any action without consulting me."
"I understand."
While the servants were at breakfast Evan went to the water heater in
the basement and, opening the valve, steamed the envelope open. He
took the contents to the little room off the library to read. This is
what met his eyes:
"Madagascar Hotel
August--
"Mrs. George Deaves:
Dear Madam:
I am exceedingly sorry to be obliged to inform you that my customary
fortnightly contribution to your charity must be omitted on this
occasion, the reason being that the activity of a certain agitator has
resulted in shutting off the income from my business, and I am without
funds. I am sure you will agree with me that these agitators ought to
be discouraged in every possible way. Let us make a stand against
them. You can reach me at this hotel at any time.
Yours faithfully,
RODERICK FRELINGHUYSEN.
This had an innocent sound, and for a moment Evan supposed he had made
a mistake in opening it. But he read it again, and began to grin as
the various implications of the note became clear to him. "Damn
clever!" he thought. "If this was found lying about no one could
suspect anything from it. Not even George Deaves. Why, it almost took
me in and I was forewarned!"
Evan thoughtfully considered all that the letter meant. "First of all
it shows that Maud is not a regular member of the gang, but that they
have been whacking up with her just to gain her good will. That's why
she supplies the pressure from this end. It all fits in! Of course I
am the agitator that he refers to, and he's suggesting to her that she
get me fired. But why does he give her an address so that she can
write to him? By George! I have it! He's giving her a chance to send
him a story that can be used against the old man!"
He took a copy of the letter, sealed it up again and slipped it back
among the rest of the mail matter in the hall.
During the morning he was obliged to accompany Simeon Deaves on one of
his peregrinations. When they returned for lunch Evan sought out
Josefa, the lady's-maid.
"What's your mistress been doing all morning?" he asked.
"Oh, Maud's got a new bug!" was the scornful answer. "Been practising
on the typewriter for hours."
Evan pricked up his ears. "The typewriter?"
"She went out right after breakfast and brought home a second-hand
machine. Been beating the Dickens out of it ever since."
"What is she writing?"
"Search me. Won't let me come near her. Looks like a story or
something."
"Get a glimpse of it if you can."
"No chance. She's got eyes all round her head."
"Can you work a typewriter?"
"A little bit."
"Well, when she goes out stick a piece of paper in the machine and
strike every key once, see? I want an impression of every character."
"I get you."
After lunch Evan had to waste more precious hours walking around with
the old man. When they returned Josefa reported that Mrs. Deaves had
finished her typewriting about three, and had then done up the sheets
in a large envelope, and after carefully destroying the spoiled sheets,
had carried the envelope out, presumably to post it. Josefa gave Evan
the paper he had asked for, with a print of each character of the
typewriter.
It was then five o'clock. City letters require two hours or more for
delivery, and supposing this package of Mrs. Deaves' to be an answer to
"Mr. Frelinghuysen's" note, it would soon be due at the Hotel
Madagascar. Evan determined to go and ask for it himself. He did not
suppose that Mr. Frelinghuysen was stopping at the Madagascar. That
would be too simple. He knew, as everybody knows, what an easy means
the "call" letters at a great hotel offers for the exchange of illicit
correspondence.
The Madagascar, as all the world knows, is one of our biggest and
busiest hotels. Evan went boldly to the desk and asked if there were
any letters for Mr. Roderick Frelinghuysen. The name sounded imposing.
The busy clerk skimmed over the letters in the F box, and, tossing him
a bulky envelope, thought no more about it.
Evan, in high satisfaction, wended his way to another hotel in the
neighbourhood, and there at his leisure tore the envelope open and
read--well, very much what he expected: a story designed to be used for
blackmailing purposes against Simeon Deaves. No letter accompanied it;
none was necessary.
This story dealt with ancient history, and contained uglier matter than
mere ridicule of the old man's avarice. It had to do with the
circumstances of the marriage of George Deaves to Maud Warrender and
what followed thereupon. In other words, Maud had been engaged in the
amiable occupation of fouling her own nest. According to this account
Simeon Deaves had instigated his weak and complaisant son to woo Miss
Warrender because her father was President of a railroad that Simeon
Deaves coveted. As a result of the marriage Deaves, who up to that
time had only been a money-lender, had succeeded in entering the realms
of high finance. No sooner was his own position secure, so the story
went, than Simeon Deaves set himself to work to undermine Warrender,
and in the end ousted him from his railway and ruined him.
This tale had none of the finesse and humour of that written by the
blackmailers; it was simply abusive. Yet Maud had not so far forgotten
herself as to show her hand. The facts were such as many persons
beside herself might have been aware of.
Evan painstakingly compared the sheets of the story with the paper
Josefa had given him. Every typewriter, save it is just from the
factory, has its peculiarities. There was enough here to make out a
case: "e" was badly worn and had a microscopic piece knocked off its
tail; "a," "w," "s" and "p" were out of alignment; there was something
the matter with "g," so that the following letter generally piled up on
top of it.
In short, Evan held in his hands positive evidence of Maud Deaves'
treachery. But upon consideration he decided not to put it before her
husband at least for the present. In the first place, he didn't relish
taking the responsibility of breaking up the Deaves family, and in the
second place it was clear that the woman was only a tool in the hands
of a rascal far cleverer than she. To deprive him of his tool would
not break up the rascal's game; he could get another. Therefore Evan
decided to keep his discovery to himself, and use it if possible to
land the principal in the affair.
He considered whether he should have the desk at the Madagascar watched
with a view to apprehending "Mr. Frelinghuysen" when he asked for his
letter, but decided against that also. So clever a fox would hardly be
likely to walk into so open a trap. He would send an innocent agent
for the letter, while he watched in safety. On the whole it seemed
best to do nothing that might put him on his guard, but to wait until
he attempted to use his story, for a chance to land him.
He procured another envelope, had the hotel stenographer address it,
and, sealing up the manuscript, carried it back to the Madagascar and
handed it in at the desk "for Mr. Frelinghuysen," careful to choose a
different clerk from the one who had given it to him.
It must have been called for shortly afterwards and acted upon at once.
Next morning, when Evan arrived at the Deaves house, the story was
already back there. The customary violent family conference was in
progress in the library. Evan guessed from their expressions that his
name had entered into this quarrel. Indeed, Mrs. Deaves was for
ordering him out of the room again, but the old man was too quick for
her. He placed the latest letter in Evan's hands. Mrs. Deaves turned
away with a shrug.
"Well, you know what I think of it," she said.
Evan read:
"Mr. George Deaves:
Dear Sir:
You thought we were bluffing, didn't you, when we said we had a chapter
to add to your father's biography? Well, here it is. Your rejection
of our proposal was received during the absence from town of our chief.
That accounts for the delay. Upon his return our chief instructed that
you were to be given a chance to read the matter before it was
published. So we enclose it. In the absence of any further
communication from you before noon, it will appear in this evening's
edition of the _Clarion_.
To-day your procedure for communicating with us must be as follows:
Bring the specified sum in cash to the house at 11 Van Dorn street. It
must be enclosed in an envelope or package. You must approach on foot.
Ring the bell; hand it to the woman who opens the door with the words:
'For the gentleman up-stairs' and leave at once. You may bring a
single attendant with you if you choose--you would probably be afraid
to come without one. But neither you nor he must linger, nor question
the woman, nor seek to penetrate beyond the front door. If you do so,
or bring any other persons with you or after you, let the consequences
be or your own head.
Yours as ever,
THE IKUNAHKATSI."
"What are you going to do?" asked Evan of George Deaves.
Maud snatched the answer from her husband's lips. "He's going to pay!"
she cried. "He can take you with him if he wants, as there's no one
else available. I've no objection to that. But if you go you're to do
exactly what the letter tells you and no more!"
As Evan continued to look to George Deaves, the latter was obliged to
nod a feeble assent.
"He hasn't got the money," put in Simeon Deaves.
"Then let him get it from you!"
"Not if I know it!"
"Well, I don't care where he gets it from. This story is
ruinous--ruinous! This story hits directly at me! If this is
published it would be impossible for me to go on living with George!"
"Bravo, Maud!" thought Evan. "You're some actress! What a bombshell I
could explode in this room if I wanted to!"
Maud's parting shot was: "At ten o'clock when the bank opens I will
take you there myself in the car."
When she had gone the wretched George mumbled to his father: "No use my
going to the bank. I'm overdrawn there. I can't ask for another loan
unless you'll guarantee it."
"Not another cent! Not another cent! Let 'em publish and be damned!"
He shuffled out of the room.
Evan could not but feel sorry for the unfortunate George, though his
pity was mixed with contempt. George's first impulse was to apologise
for his wife.
"You must make allowances," he said. "Mrs. Deaves is so dreadfully
upset by this matter."
"So I see," said Evan dryly.
"I don't know what I'm going to do!"
"You don't need any money," said Evan quietly.
"Eh?" said Deaves dully.
"You've got a real chance to catch them now!"
"What do you mean?"
"Trap them in this house in Van Dorn street! I was sure they'd get
careless in the end."
Deaves began to tremble. "But how can we? How do we know how many
there are?"
"You'll have to call in the police and have the house surrounded."
"Oh, no! No!" Deaves cried in a panic.
"But that's what they're counting on: that you're afraid to call on the
police!"
"The whole story would come out in the papers!"
"Not necessarily. Those matters can be arranged. And if they should
slip through our fingers, we can buy up the story at the _Clarion_
office later. We'd be no worse off."
"What could I say to Mrs. Deaves?"
"Don't tell her anything. She couldn't help but approve after we land
them behind the bars." Evan said this with an inward smile.
"But she'll insist on my going to the bank."
"Let her take us there. She won't come in."
"I can't! I can't!" he quavered. "The risk is too great!"
"But if this payment is hard to meet, how about the next, and the next
after that?"
"Oh, they'll ruin me!" he groaned.
"Then strike for your freedom while there's time!"
George Deaves would not positively consent, but he was so spineless
that Evan was able to rush him along the path that he wished him to
follow. Evan telephoned to police headquarters and made an appointment
with the inspector in charge of the detective bureau to meet them at
the bank.
Therefore, when Mrs. Deaves dropped them at the bank, and drove away,
satisfied that things were going as she wished, instead of obtaining
the money they went into consultation with the Inspector in plain
clothes in the manager's office. Evan did the talking.
"Mr. Deaves is being hounded by a gang of blackmailers," he began.
The Inspector bowed as if blackmailing was a mere bagatelle to him. He
had the mannerisms of the army. Evan was not so sure, though, of his
capacity. But one must take an inspector as one finds him.
"He received this letter this morning." Evan handed it over.
It was read and handed back with a military nod.
"The opportunity seemed a good one to land the crooks."
"Quite so."
"We asked you to meet us here, because if we were seen going to
headquarters the news would soon reach them. They were counting, you
see, on Mr. Deaves not being willing to consult the police. But of
course Mr. Deaves has nothing to hide.
"Of course not!"
George Deaves began to look anxious at this, but Evan did not intend to
be taken too literally, as his employer soon saw.
The Inspector was not so stiff and correct but that he could feel an
unregenerate curiosity. "May I see the enclosure the letter speaks
of?" he asked.
"It has been destroyed," said Evan coolly. "It was merely scurrilous,
and Mr. Deaves saw nothing to be gained in keeping it. The criminal
intent is shown in the letter."
The Inspector looked disappointed, but bowed as usual. "Nevertheless I
should be informed as to their previous activities," said he.
"Certainly," said Evan. "But if you will excuse me, the time is so
short! I thought we should immediately take our measures. All the
facts will come out at the hearing, of course."
Their plan was soon made. It was arranged that in the first place a
man in plain clothes should be sent through Van Dorn street to locate
the position of number eleven. Being an odd number, it would be on the
north side of the street. He would then spot the corresponding house
in the next street to the north, Carlton street, and four men would be
sent to that house to be in readiness to take the Van Dorn street house
in the rear. Six other men would be in readiness to follow George
Deaves and Evan to the front door. In order to avoid warning the
inmates of the house these six would be sent through the block in a
covered van to leap out as the door was opened.
"What signal will there be for the concerted attack?" asked Evan.
"No signal," said the Inspector. "The double approach will be timed at
a fixed moment, military style. You will ring the door bell at eleven
o'clock precisely. Let me see, we'll give them forty-five seconds to
open the door. Zero for us will be forty-five seconds past eleven.
You can depend on us. Are you armed?"
Evan shook his head.
"As you are to be the first to enter the house it would be as well.
Take this."
"This" was a neat and businesslike automatic. George Deaves shuddered
at the sight of it.
The Inspector compared watches with Evan and departed in his automobile
to make his arrangements.