FOUR VISITS FROM GEORGE DEAVES
As long as he was under the observation of his enemies it was possible
for Evan to maintain his scornful and indifferent air, but at home and
alone, his defenses collapsed. Useless for him to tell himself that
the girl was not worth troubling about, that it was impossible he
should love her after having received such an injury at her hands.
Perhaps it was true he no longer loved her, but the wrenching out of
his love had left a ghastly gaping wound in his breast. The only thing
that kept him going at all was a passionate desire for revenge. Oh, to
get square!
At home he had an additional cause for pain in the empty room adjoining
his, though Charley's defection was somewhat overshadowed by the
greater misfortune. But to be betrayed on succeeding days by his best
friend and by his girl was enough to shatter any man's faith in
humanity.
Next morning after breakfast he sat at his table with his head between
his hands, when he was aroused by the sound of an apologetic cough in
the hall outside his door. The door was open. A voice spoke his name
deprecatingly.
"Here!" said Evan. "Come in."
George Deaves appeared in the doorway, and Evan was sufficiently
astonished. Deaves was neatly dressed in black as for a funeral,
carrying a highly-polished silk hat over his thumb. He was pale and
moist with agitation, and looked not at all sure of his reception.
"I--I didn't know which door was yours," he stammered. "The woman told
me to come right up."
Evan could hardly be said to be overjoyed to see his visitor, though
his curiosity was somewhat aroused. "Come in," he said. "Sit down.
This is an unexpected visit."
"Yes. Thank you." Deaves looked around him vaguely. "So this is
where you live?"
"Not a very palatial abode, eh?" said Evan, following the other's
thought.
"Not at all! Not at all!" said Deaves hastily. "I mean, very nice.
Very suitable. One understands of course that a young artist has his
way to make."
It was clear from his agonised and distraught eye that he had not come
merely to exchange civilities. "What can I do for you?" asked Evan
bluntly.
Deaves trailed off into explanations that explained nothing. "I
intended to come anyway--to tell you--to express how it was--my
position is very difficult--you can understand I am sure--to tell
you--to tell you how sorry I was to be obliged to let you go."
"Oh, that's all right," said Evan indifferently.
"And then something happened which obliged me to come at once. I was
here yesterday, but you were out."
"Yes, I was out all day," said Evan bitterly. "What has happened?"
Deaves wiped his face. "I have had another letter from those
blackguards, a--a most dreadful letter!"
"Already?" said Evan.
"And so I came to you at once."
"You will pardon me," said Evan coolly, "but I do not yet see why you
should come to me about it--after the manner of our parting."
"I had no one else to go to," said Deaves helplessly.
In spite of himself Evan was a little touched. "Let me see the
letter," he said, holding out his hand.
Deaves passed it over and Evan read:
"Mr. George Deaves:
Dear Mr. Deaves:
Our enterprise has had its exciting side. We'd be willing to keep it
up indefinitely for the pure fun of the thing were it not that it is so
expensive. I mean, a large part of our takings is swallowed up in the
inevitable charges. This leads us to offer you an alternative plan.
Under the present scheme we will assess you this season about forty
thousand dollars, and an equal amount, or more, next year. Now we
propose to save you money and ourselves trouble by asking you to endow
the Ikunahkatsi once and for all. Four hundred thousand dollars is the
sum required. At five per cent this is only twenty thousand a year, so
you see you would save a clear half. On our part we would bind
ourselves not to ask you to advance us any further sums of money on any
pretext whatsoever. You will concede that heretofore we have
scrupulously kept all our engagements with you. To put it humorously,
it will cost you four hundred thousand dollars to get rid of us for
good. Isn't it worth it? Especially now that the old gentleman has
lost his efficient guardian.
We will give you until Sunday morning to think it over. If you agree
to our proposal hang a flag from the pole that juts from the second
story of your house, and we will send you instructions how to proceed.
We are sure you will agree, but if you do not, we have further
arguments to offer you.
Yours very sincerely,
THE IKUNAHKATSI."
"Same old humourist!" said Evan grimly.
"And only the day before I sent them five thousand!" groaned Deaves.
"Just the same this is a confession of weakness," said Evan. "I see
that clearly. The game is getting too difficult for them."
"What would you advise me to do?"
"Ignore that letter."
"But--but what do you suppose they mean by 'further arguments'?"
"I don't know. Make them show their hand."
"Do you suppose they contemplate--er--personal violence?"
"They may intend to threaten it."
Deaves shuddered. "Suppose they took me into custody as they did you?"
"Well, they didn't do me any harm, really."
"I am not so sure--the second time----"
"They wouldn't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs," said Evan
grimly.
Deaves saw nothing humorous in the illustration.
"Have you shown the letter to Mrs. Deaves?" asked Evan.
Deaves shook his head. "I suppose they will be writing to her next,"
he moaned.
"Your father?"
"What's the use?" Deaves struck his forehead. "My position is
becoming unbearable!" he cried.
"I'm sorry for you," Evan said, thinking: "If you only had a little
more backbone!"
Deaves arose lugubriously. "After all there is nothing for me to do
but to ignore this letter," he said. "I suppose you do not feel
inclined to help me any further in the matter."
"On the contrary, I'll be glad to," said Evan quickly. "But on my own
terms. I have my own score to settle with this gang."
Deaves looked heartened. "Then if I hear from them again what is your
telephone number?"
"There is no telephone in this house."
"But I may send to you?"
"By all means."
"--Er--would you mind coming down-stairs with me?" said Deaves. "The
halls are so dark. And this letter has made me wretchedly nervous."
Evan went with him, concealing his smile.
In the lower hall Deaves said: "Of course I shall not venture out on
foot after this. I shall always use the car." A new and dreadful
thought struck him. "But then in a car one offers such a conspicuous
mark to a bullet!"
"You needn't fear bullets," said Evan. "A dead man can't pay
blackmail."
Deaves seemed to take little comfort from this. "What do you think
about my chauffeur?" he asked anxiously. "Take a look at him. Does he
look honest?"
Evan glanced through the narrow pane beside the door. "There's nothing
remarkable about him," he said. "He looks like--like a chauffeur. How
can one tell from a man's looks what he's thinking about?"
"Suppose they were to bribe him, and he drove me off to their lair?"
stuttered Deaves. "I--I think I'd better stay home altogether
hereafter."
But he was back again at nine o'clock that night in a still greater
state of agitation. "Father has not come home!" he cried. "Where is
he?"
"How should I know?" said Evan.
"But you accompanied him on all his walks! You know his haunts!"
"His haunts!" exclaimed Evan. "His haunts comprised the whole five
boroughs of Greater New York with occasional excursions into Jersey!"
"But you must go in search of him! I cannot let the night pass and do
nothing!"
"My dear sir, I wouldn't have the faintest notion where to begin. The
only thing to do is to send out a general alarm through the police."
Deaves wrung his hands. "I can't do that! I can't risk another
horrible newspaper sensation on top of everything else!"
"Then there's nothing to do but wait to see what happens," said Evan
patiently. "If he's had an accident in the street, you will be
notified."
"You think I'd be glad if something happened to him," said Deaves.
"Everybody thinks so. But after all he's my father. It's the suspense
that drives me out of my mind!"
"It cannot be for long. If the blackmailers have kidnapped him----"
"That is what I fear!"
"They will open negotiations in the morning. And you need not fear
that anything will happen to him during the course of negotiations."
"But what good will it do to negotiate?" cried poor Deaves. "I cannot
possibly meet their demands."
"Tell them so," said Evan. "Put it up to them."
"Then they'll make him suffer."
"In that case he can pay them."
"Ah, you don't know my father! Four hundred thousand dollars! He'd
die rather!"
"Well, that's up to him, isn't it?" said Evan coolly.
"Ah, you have no heart!" cried George Deaves.
"My dear sir," said Evan patiently, "it is your 'heart' as you call it
that these fellows are working on. They would not dare to harm Mr.
Deaves, really. If they did, it would arouse public opinion to that
extent we could catch and hang every man jack of them!"
"Your cold words cannot ease the heart of a son!" cried Deaves.
Evan ushered him gently towards the staircase. "Take it easy!" he said
soothingly. "Wait until to-morrow. Perhaps in opening negotiations
they will give us a good chance to trip them up."
Deaves returned next morning before Evan had finished his breakfast.
He extended a letter in a trembling hand.
"In the first mail," he said.
Evan read:
"One of our members happened to meet Mr. Simeon Deaves on the street
yesterday, and invited him to spend a few days as our guest at the
clubhouse. He is with us now, and appears to be enjoying himself
pretty well, but unfortunately the climate of the vicinity is very bad
for him. At his age one cannot be too careful. We think he should be
returned home at once. A single day's delay might be fatal. If you
agree, hang out the flag at eleven, Monday. We realize that you feel
you must be extra careful in regard to the old gentleman's health,
because you would profit so greatly by his death. You are so
conscientious! Personally we would be very glad to see you come in for
a great fortune; it would enable you to put so much more into the
enterprise in which we are jointly associated."
Said Evan: "Stripped of its humorous verbiage this means: 'Come across
or we'll croak the old man. And you needn't think you would profit by
his death because we'd come down on you harder than ever then!'"
"Isn't it awful! Isn't it awful!" gasped Deaves. "Was ever a man put
in so frightful a position? What am I to do?"
"Three courses are open to you," said Evan patiently; "the first, and
in my opinion the wisest, course is--to do nothing. Put it up to them."
"But my father! He will suffer for it! A rotting old house overrun
with rats, you said. And such an ordeal as you went through! It might
very well kill him. How can I risk it?"
"He will always have the option of freeing himself," said Evan.
"He would die rather than submit!"
Evan shrugged. "Well, we went over all that last night. Your second
course would be to take that letter to the police and put the whole
matter in their hands. A force of ten thousand men with the
information I can give them ought to be able to locate the clubhouse
before night."
"And find papa's body!"
"Well, your third course is to hang out the flag and open negotiations."
"I have nothing to negotiate with! I cannot raise a cent more!"
"Never mind; bluff them. Spin them along as far as you can, on the
chance of outwitting them in the end."
"What chance would I have of outwitting them?" cried Deaves mournfully.
Evan looked at the poor distraught figure and thought: "Not much, I
guess." Aloud he said: "Well, that's the best I can do for you."
"All three courses are equally impossible!" cried Deaves desperately.
"Yet you must follow one of them."
"You are no help at all!" cried Deaves. He turned like a demented
person, and ran down-stairs.
Evan thought he had seen the last of him.
But on the afternoon of the following day he returned once more. He
was still perturbed, but his desperate agitation had passed; there was
even a certain smugness about him. Clearly something had happened to
ease his mind.
"Well, what did you do?" asked Evan.
Deaves looked confused. "Well--I couldn't make up my mind what to do,"
he confessed. "I--I didn't do anything."
"Just what I advised," said Evan. "Then what happened?"
Deaves evaded a direct answer. "I came to ask you if you would
accompany me on a little expedition to-night?"
"What for?" demanded Evan.
"Is it necessary for me to tell you? I would pay you well."
"It's not a question of pay," said Evan. "I must know what I'm doing."
"You wouldn't approve of my course of action."
"All the more reason for telling me."
Deaves still hesitated.
"Let me see the latest letter," said Evan at a venture.
Deaves stared. "How did you know there was a letter?"
"Well there always is another when the first doesn't work, isn't there?"
Deaves looking a little foolish produced a letter and handed it over.
Evan read:
"The enclosed speaks for itself. You will please proceed as
follows:--bearing in mind that the slightest departure from our
instructions in the past has invariably been followed by disaster:
You will leave home in your car at eight P.M. Tuesday. You may bring a
companion with you in addition to your chauffeur, as we realize you
have not the constitution to carry this through alone and we do not
wish to ask the impossible. Therefore you may bring the huskiest
body-guard obtainable--but neither you nor he must bear weapons of any
description.
You will proceed over the Queensboro Bridge and wait on the North side
of the Plaza at the corner of Stonewall avenue until eight-thirty
precisely. You will not get out of your car during this wait. You
will be under observation the whole way, and we will instantly be
apprised of any departure from our instructions. In that case you will
have your trip for nothing and the consequences will be on your head.
At eight-thirty you will proceed out Stonewall avenue to the corner of
Beechurst, an insignificant street in the village of Regina. It is
about ten minutes' drive from the Plaza. You will know Beechurst
street by the large and ugly stone church with twin towers on your left
hand. You get out on the right-hand side and send your chauffeur back.
Tell him to return to the bridge Plaza and wait for you.
When he is out of sight you proceed up Beechurst street to the right.
It climbs a hill and seems to come to an end in less than a block among
a waste of vacant lots. You will find, however, that it is continued
by a rough road which you are to follow. It crosses waste lands and
passes through a patch of woods. You will be held up on the way, but
do not be alarmed. This is merely for the purpose of searching you for
weapons.
In the patch of woods further along, you will find two men waiting for
you. To them you will deliver the securities. They will examine them
and if they are all right you will be allowed to proceed. Do not
return the way you came, but continue to follow the rough road. A
short way further along it will bring you to a highway with a trolley
line by which you may return to the Bridge Plaza.
If you do your part Mr. Simeon Deaves will be home before morning.
THE IKUNAHKATSI."
"What was the enclosure they speak of?" asked Evan.
"A note from my father."
"Ah! May I see it?"
"I haven't it. It was addressed to Culberson, President of the
Mid-City Bank."
"An order?"
"Yes, for Culberson to buy $400,000. of non-registered Liberty bonds
and deliver them to me!"
"So he gave in!" cried Evan in strong amazement. "Even Simeon Deaves
values his skin more than his money!" he added to himself. "You have
already secured the bonds?" he asked Deaves.
The latter nodded. "They're at home."
"By God! I hate to let those rascals get away with it!" cried Evan.
"Four hundred thousand! Think of the good you could do with such a
sum!"
"But they have promised to let us alone for good," said Deaves eagerly.
"They can afford to!" said Evan dryly. "It fairly drives me wild to
think of them triumphing!"
"But you'll come with me?" said Deaves anxiously.
"Sure, I'll go with you. I may get a chance at them yet!"
"No! No!" cried Deaves in a panic. "That would ruin everything! You
must promise me you will make no attempt against them!"
"I must be free to act as I see fit!" said Evan stubbornly.
"Then I cannot take you!"
"That's up to you," said Evan with an indifferent shrug. He turned
away.
Deaves lingered in a state of pitiable indecision. "I have no one else
I can ask," he said appealingly. "I beg of you to be reasonable, Weir.
You must see that we are helpless against them. Promise me you will do
nothing against them, and you may ask me what you like."
"I want nothing from you," said Evan coldly. "I won't promise."
"Then I must take a servant," said Deaves helplessly--"and perhaps lay
myself open to fresh demands from another quarter!" He turned to go.
Evan of course was keen on going. When he saw that Deaves was actually
prepared to stick to what he said, Evan gave in.
"I'll compromise with you," he said. "I promise to carry out
instructions exactly as given in the letter until after the securities
are handed over. After that I must be free to act as I see fit."
"What do you mean to do?" asked Deaves anxiously.
"I don't know. How can I tell? I'm hoping that something may happen
to give me a clue that I may follow up later."
"Oh well, that's all right," said Deaves. "You'll be at my house
before eight then?"
"I'll be there."