to Léontine, Clo's expectations of quick success were dashed. Kit and
Churn received the clothes they wanted, but did not go out; nor did they
audibly plan to go. Their intention was to eat downstairs, but they
would take turns. One would always keep guard over the pearls. Newspaper
mention of the "girl in pink" had scared them. After a heated argument
they decided that, till they "saw how the wind blew," they would not
risk sending for Isaacs. This was a sacrifice, because they wished to
dispose of the pearls before Cheffinsky came "nosing around"; but they
were not sure of Isaac's loyalty. Who could tell what he might do, if
tempted by big bribes to "frame" his pals? They must wait; and so must
Clo.
Days passed. The girl still posed as an invalid taking a rest-cure, and
her tips to Violet were generous. Once she heard Kit inquiring who lived
in the next room; but Mrs. Mac's answer was satisfactory. A poor little
mite of a thing, out of a job as lady's maid, was their neighbour;
Irish, and recommended by an old client.
Nine days lagged on, and then at last Clo came upon a "personal" in the
newspaper she took in. Instantly she realized that it was meant for her,
and put in by Justin O'Reilly. It was so worded that no "outsider" could
guess its meaning. "C.R. from her cousin who is just in," was the
heading which caught her eye. He knew that she knew his name was Justin;
and she had first introduced herself as his cousin! "Working out
Sunday's problem with expert help," she read, "Message received
insufficient. Won't you let me know where you are?"
The girl dared not answer by letter or newspaper. Violet would undertake
any errand, but she could not be trusted for a mission of such
importance. O'Reilly must be content with the message passed on by Mrs.
Sands.
On the ninth day Kit and Churn had a serious quarrel. The man insisted
on going out. He could stand his imprisonment no longer; not for Kit,
not for the pearls!
Clo was not on sentinel duty when the explosion came. The hole in the
wall was open (she stuffed it up only when someone knocked, lest the
pair should take alarm at the clearness of sounds), but it was late in
the afternoon of a blazing hot day, and the girl lay on her narrow bed,
disgusted with life. She had now paid for a second week in advance.
There wasn't money to go on with for long, at the present rate, and she
knew not how to get more, but it was too hot to trouble about the
future. The quarrel next door was so sordid that Clo had ceased to
listen, when suddenly the names "Olga and Stephen," spoken loudly by
Kit, waked her from a half doze. With the light swiftness of a cat she
sprang off the bed, and went to her post.
XXXII
"STEPHEN'S DEAD!"
"I thought you'd sure know the whole story," Kit was saying.
"I on'y knowed about Stephen. That I had to know," said Churn.
"But you knew why Pete came to New York, instead of going West, when he
got out of stir in Chicago?"
"I know he come to kill Heron----"
"Hully gee! Not so loud!"
"Well, I know 'oo he came for den, if you like dat better."
"But that wasn't the whole reason."
"I knowed he was goin' to get hold o' some papers for Chuff; papers dat
was mixed all up mit our business."
"H'm! That's what Chuff wanted us to think--that they concerned us. But
if you know about those papers, you must know the rest, about Olga."
"I know vat Olga and Stephen vas to each other, if dat's vat you mean."
"And who Olga is?"
"Olga Beverley."
"Greenhorn! You never got further than that?"
"No. Vat for I get furder? I never see 'er. She's a name to me, dat's
all. Nevaire vould I heard even dat name if I didn't take care o'
Stephen, when Jake vas off on a bust or doin' a job for Chuff."
"Funny we never got on to this line o' talk before," mused Kit.
"I don't see vy 'funny.' You and me always haf something better to talk
about, Katchen. And till dese nine days in dis hole, we never 'ad too
much time together."
"If Pete had been found dead and I hadn't done it, I'd say it was
'Olga!' She was the woman who had to give up the papers to him. He told
me he was waitin' for the papers to come. He said he wasn't sure whether
she'd bring 'em herself, or this girl you've seen about in the
newspapers; the one who called on him Sunday afternoon. I've told you
about the women's voices in the hall, and someone sittin' plump on the
trunk when I was inside. Well, if I could o' peeped, I bet I'd seen
Olga. She was one of the women dressed for the automobile they're tryin'
to trace an' can't."
"Would you knowed Olga if you 'ad seen her?"
"Would I? Say, did you never hear of Roger Sands?"
"He was de guy who worked for Heron las' year, and got de gang goin'
after him."
"Well, it was Olga he married, but not with her own name. She'd took
another so as to get away with the papers. She's had the papers from
then till now. The thing that interests me, and maybe will you, is
something else. It popped into my nut to-day that the pearls are hers! I
bet something went wrong with the papers, and she gave Pete the pearls
instead. I bet he was studyin' how to double-cross Chuff, and square
himself when--when my act comes on."
"What 'old would Chuff 'ave on a woman married mit a big fellah like
Sands?" Churn wanted to know. "Vy she let herself be skinned like dat,
for Stephen's dead an' stiff dese tree weeks or more?"
"Yes," Kit repeated. "Stephen's been dead 'most a month. That's one
reason they couldn't let things slide, so the minute Pete was free they
put him on the job. He was keen, because of Heron. And John Heron blew
into New York just the right time, for the plan. Pete was to get the
papers first, and then--you know what."
"Yes, I know dat. But Stephen--Stephen gone, what 'old 'ad Chuff on
Olga?"
"Booby, dear, Olga doesn't know Stephen's dead."
Clo's blood rushed to her brain. She felt faint. Had she been on her
feet she would have fallen. This was the one thing of all for Beverley.
Clo felt that she hated this cruel Cheffinsky with an almost murderous
hatred. How could she let Beverley know, and make her understand that
"Stephen" was dead. Ought she to go back with her news to Park Avenue,
and abandon the pearls? The police could never be asked to take a hand
in this business, and before she could even ask help from O'Reilly and
Denham, Churn might have disappeared. With herself as sentinel off duty,
nothing was sure, for a dangerous restlessness possessed the pair.
Still, Beverley would sacrifice the pearls for the knowledge that her
enemies had no longer any hold upon her.
"If I dared telegraph!" the girl thought. For she wanted Beverley to
have both the knowledge and the pearls.
About this hour Violet was in the habit of toiling up with beer for Kit
and Churn, and water or lemonade for their neighbour. The woman was due
in a few minutes and Clo spent the interval in concocting a message for
Léontine Rossignol.
"Tell your mistress I've had news since I last saw her that Stephen is
dead," were the words she decided on, before Violet's arrival was
advertised by a tinkle of ice.
The telegram was delivered that night at the flat in Park Avenue, but
Mr. and Mrs. Sands and their household had left for Newport. Only a
parlour maid remained. She detested Léontine, being Bohemian by birth,
while Léontine was French. Anna Schultz decided to forget indefinitely
the telegram for Léontine Rossignol.
When she had sent the message, Clo's thoughts went back to the pearls.
She would be driven to leave the house soon for lack of money. If she
had to go without the pearls, she would feel herself a failure. The net
was proving tough for the tiny teeth of a mouse! But the mouse was ready
to do anything rather than give up.
That evening Churn again announced his intention to go out at any cost.
Whither he was bound, Clo did not know, for she had missed scraps of
talk in the next room. Kit cried, and in the midst of hysterical sobs,
the door slammed. Churn had gone! Kit continued to sob.
Clo's blood took fire. She flamed with courage. Having fixed upon her
plan of action she darted into the passage and knocked on Kit's door.
"Who's that?" came the sharp answer.
"It's only me. The little girl from the next room," Clo explained in a
small voice like a child's. Her hair hung over her shoulders, and she
wore a cheap blue muslin dressing gown chosen by Violet.
Kit threw open the door so suddenly, and stared so keenly through the
dusk that Clo shrank back a little. "What do you want?" snapped Kit.
"Oh, maybe I oughtn't to have come!" Clo apologized. "I heard you
crying. And I'm so homesick and miserable myself! Don't be angry."
Kit opened the door wide. Her bleached yellow hair bristled round her
face.
"I didn't know I was howling so loud. Say, can you hear us talkin', me
and my husband? I hope we don't keep you awake nights."
"You haven't kept me awake once," Clo assured her with truth. "Crying's
easier to hear than talking. You see, I'm in trouble and I'm awfully
lonely."
"_I_ haven't got any real trouble," said Kit. "Me and my husband
sometimes have a spat, like all married folks, and I'm fool enough to
bawl. He's out now. Would you like me to come in and visit with you a
while?"
"I'd love it!" gasped Clo. She would have preferred an invitation to her
neighbour's room, but she hoped for that later. Kit locked her door
carefully and slipped the key down the neck of her dress. She accepted
Clo's suggestion to sit on the bed, which was more comfortable than the
one broken-backed chair. Question after question she put, which cost her
hostess tiresome flights of imagination to answer. Clo was far from
regretting her move, however. If Churn were absent long, or if he went
out again, Kit said that she would return as an escape from boredom.
It was eleven o'clock when once more Clo heard the two voices, and from
their conversation Clo gathered that they did not expect Chuff back till
the day after to-morrow.
"Day after to-morrow!" echoed Kit. "Then we _must_ get Isaacs here
to-morrow."
"I t'ought of dat," said Churn. "I went up dere after I see Jake. Isaacs
'as started for Chicago on business, and won't be back till the same day
as Chuff, day after to-morrah."
Clo drank in each word, and focussed her mind on its meaning. To-morrow,
or the day after, her hour would come; then, or never.
XXXIII
THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW
Churn's excursion had justified itself, and the morning after his first
absence he went out again. Toward noon Kit, in a "ready-to-wear" looking
costume, knocked at Clo's door. "Thought you might want some candy," she
said. "Shall I come in?"
Clo was cordial, and tried to be entertaining. "If I can make her like
me, perhaps she'll go down to a meal with Churn, and leave me on guard,"
she reflected. Kit feared to stop long with her new friend lest Churn
should arrive while she was "gadding." She dodged back and forth from
room to room, and was at home to receive her husband in the afternoon.
Next morning early Clo heard Churn announce that he would meet Isaacs'
train at the Grand Central; the "old lady" had told him the time. Kit
objected. "You might miss him. Best wait at his place," she advised. But
Churn would not be persuaded. He had seen Jake again, who prophesied
that Chuff would not arrive before the afternoon. They had the whole
morning to see Isaacs and bargain with him, but it would be a waste of
time to hang about at "Isaacs' place." Churn would catch Isaacs at the
train, and bring him round to Kit. She must clear up the room, and have
everything ship-shape in an hour. But Kit's anger grew as Churn
insisted. "I know why you're mad to get to the Grand Central," she flung
at him. "Didn't you s'pose I noticed the name on the candy box. Bah! I
ain't a fool. You said you was sick of bein' boxed up with me. That put
me wise."
Churn protested innocence, and went off jauntily, but Clo looked for
developments. "Kit's mum, to put Churn off the track," she thought. "But
she means to follow him. She's bought no handbag. She can't very well
take the pearls."
Clo had read a paragraph concerning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands. It
referred to the "house-warming party" they were giving at their "lately
acquired cottage in Newport." Apparently the affair had been mentioned
before in the column devoted to "Society" news, but Clo had missed it.
The allusion to the "house-warming," and dinner dance set Clo's brain
whirling. Angel would be expected by her husband to wear the queen's
pearls. If he already guessed the secret, this might be a plan to force
his wife's hand. Beverley feared him. Clo had seen that. Angel must have
the pearls for to-morrow night. And they must be strung, ready to wear,
or they would be useless to her, arriving at the last moment. The girl
would have been at her wits' end, but for that quarrel next door. If Kit
did go spying on Churn...!
The door slammed after Churn. A second later Kit was knocking, calling
her new friend by her new nickname: "Kid-Kid! Let me in, quick!"
Clo let her in. Kit was pinning on a wide-brimmed hat, and had her hands
full with a veil, gloves, and parasol. "Tie this veil for me, there's a
good kid!" she panted. "I'm mad at my husband. He's off to flirt with a
beast of a girl in a candy store. They had a mash before we married.
You're goin' to be in all mornin', ain't you?"
"I thought of running out to 'phone a friend of mine," said Clo,
cleverly.
"Don't! There's a 'phone in the house, the room under mine--room of a
pal away till this afternoon. He left his key with Mrs. Mac, and she
lent it to my husband last night so he could borrow some novels for me;
our pal has lots. We've not given the key back, so when I come home I'll
take you down. I want you to stay in while I'm gone. All you need do is
to sit with your door open, and see if any one knocks at mine. And I've
got the key. But it's the same as every old key; 'tain't a special one
like Ch----like our pal's. If a stranger calls look close, so you can
describe the person."
"I undertake watchdogging in all its branches," said Clo. "Ta, ta!"
"I count on you!" were Kit's last words at the top of the steps.
"Bet your life you can!" the "kid" called after her. But as Kit ran
downstairs, without stopping to look round, Clo dashed to her own open
window. In a moment Kit's parasol went bobbing along the street. The
coast was clear. Kit's manner made it certain that she had left the
pearls behind.
Violet would not come up for the two breakfast trays for a long time
yet. Kit's opinion of the key was the same as that already formed by
Clo, and the girl was wild to test it. She snatched her own key from its
lock, to try it in Kit's door. It went in, but stopped at the critical
turn. There were two more rooms on this floor; a small one opposite
Clo's, tenanted by a young man who went to work at seven o'clock; and
another still smaller, used as a storeroom--a refuge for trunks,
dust-pans, and brooms. The early bird never locked his door, but his key
fell short of success.
The storeroom key remained. It did not fail. It turned all the way round
in the lock, and Kit's door opened.
Clo's was shut and locked, in case Violet should break her rule and come
too soon.
Not only did the girl expect to find the pearls, but Chuff's key, and
she hoped to telephone if necessary, before making her "bolt." Wonderful
that both these chances should fall together!
Clo knew that the pearls were kept in a drawer; but Kit would not go out
and leave them in so obvious a place. Nevertheless, Clo began by looking
through the drawers, of which there were six.
Churn's evening clothes hung from a hook on the wall; there was nothing
in the pockets; nothing in the shoes which stood underneath except a
pair of socks. Other hiding-place there was none, save the bed; and it
was there that Clo expected to find the pearls.
Kit had made the bed, and neatly patted the two ill-matched pillows into
shape. Clo stripped off the unbleached covers of these pillows and
looked for some sign that the ticking had been ripped open. There was a
patch on the larger pillow. One end of this patch was unsewn and held in
place with a pin. Underneath it something hard could be felt with the
hand. Clo undid the pin, and thrusting in her hand pulled out a packet
made of a red silk handkerchief tied round with gold string from a
confectioner's. Clo squeezed the tight folds of silk. They held the
pearls.
It seemed a waste of time to open the handkerchief. She longed to run
out of the house with her treasure, without a second's delay. Why search
for Chuff's key? As she had found the pearls she did not need to 'phone.
The girl was at the door, with her hand on the key, before she realized
how mad it would be not to make certain of her find.
Yes, the pearls were really there, the darlings! She re-wrapped the
parcel, and again was at the door when another thought struck her.
Better make the bed look as it had looked before. She returned, put the
pillows back into their covers, stood them up in place, and during the
process decided that she would spare a moment to search for Chuff's key.
It might come in handy. Kit had let drop that the key was a special key.
Clo guessed that at times there were things to hide, and then Chuff
would forget to leave that key for his friends! "It might be useful to
Mr. O'Reilly's Denham," she thought. "If I can find it quick----"
And flitting about the room she pounced upon a key which answered Kit's
description. It was on the mantelpiece--a small, flat key, of a
"special" kind, because it was made for a Yale lock.
She shut the door softly behind her, and locked it as she went out. The
borrowed key she replaced in the storeroom. Then she unlocked her own
door, and tearing off the blue wrapper, put on the tan-coloured linen
suit Violet had bought in a sale, for five dollars. There was a tan
straw hat, too (Clo dared not appear in the brown toque and coat
described by the newspapers), and a cheap handbag purchased for the
pearls in case she should get them. It was a tight fit for the red silk
bundle, but she squeezed it in, and added the big pearl found in
Peterson's room. She would also have tucked in the Yale key, but the bag
refused to shut, and she kept the key in her hand. What money she had
left, she slipped inside her blouse; everything else she abandoned. Kit
would rage in vain when she looked for the red handkerchief parcel.
"I can't have been half an hour," she thought, as she tripped past the
breakfast trays and started downstairs. "Kit and Churn may be out a long
while yet. I'd hate to come face to face with 'em in the street!"
Less than half way down, she heard Violet's voice, and her nerves
jumped. "On my way up for them trays o'yourn," the woman said.
To whom was she speaking? Kit back already? Yes, Kit was answering her:
"I'll run up ahead. I'm in a hurry."
The voices sounded near. Clo felt that her blood was turning to water.
Should she fly back and lock herself into her room? No, for Kit would
discover her loss, and would guess what had happened. A fight for the
pearls would be too uncertain, and Kit would call Mrs. Mac and Vi to the
rescue, or Churn might come----But could she hope to pass safely if she
went on? No, she had promised to guard the door. Kit would accuse and
stop her if they met.
In her anguish Clo's fingers closed upon Chuff's key. If only she could
hide in Chuff's room before Kit reached his floor! She stumbled down the
last few steps, and paused at the room under Kit's. Would the key fit?
It went deep into the small keyhole, and turned. Kit must be close to
the top of the stairs now.
XXXIV
TRAPPED
Trembling the girl locked herself into Chuff's room and went straight to
the telephone. If O'Reilly were at home he would make a dash to the
rescue. Her hand was on the receiver when she remembered that she was
marooned. She was ignorant of the 'phone number and had never dared
inquire the number of the house or street. Now, when it was too late,
she wished with all her heart that she had slipped out late at night,
while Kit and Churn slept, and thus found her bearings. She had not
gone, because the pair always talked till after midnight, and the later
the hour the more important their confidences. But surely she could not
fall over this small stumbling block! The girl ran to a writing table
and opened the blotting-book. It was old, thickly patterned with stains,
but it contained not a single sheet of paper. She pulled out a drawer.
There was writing paper in it, but unstamped. While she fumbled, hoping
for an old envelope addressed to Chuff, the girl could hear the patter
of feet overhead. Kit was in her own room walking about. Suddenly the
boards ceased to creak. Kit had stopped. Was it at the bedside? Was she
pulling the cover off the patched pillow?
Clo had turned to a shelf crowded with books and magazines when a new
idea came to her. She snatched up the blotter and held it open, in front
of a mirror, over the mantelpiece. "Dear Peterson," she read, "Churn
will take you this, and----"
The line beneath mingled with others, and could not be disentangled, but
the address of the house had been written above, and could be clearly
read.
With a sigh of thanksgiving Clo ran to the telephone, called up Central,
and asked for the Dietz Hotel. Her voice could no doubt be heard in the
hall outside, and might even reach Kit's ears upstairs. But the door
must be broken before she could be torn from the 'phone, and at this
hour, when all the men boarders were out there was no strong arm for
such work. Meantime, O'Reilly might come. The girl longed for him with a
new and desperate longing.
The Dietz answered quickly. Mr. Justin O'Reilly was still staying in the
hotel, but he had gone out. Tears started to Clo's eyes. She was trapped
now, and must summon Beverley to get the pearls. She had not the Sands'
'phone number, and must ask Central to call the Park Avenue apartment.
When she had done this, silence fell. But it was only for a moment. Clo
stood, with her ear at the receiver still, when a loud bang on the door
made her jump as though she had been shot. The door knob turned.
"You little devil!" shrilled Kit's voice. "You--thief! I know you're
there. Wait till I catch you!"
"Hello!" spoke a foreign-sounding voice through the 'phone--the voice of
a woman. "Hello! Yes, this is Mrs. Sands' flat. Mr. and Mrs. Sands are
not at home."
"When will they be back?" asked Clo.
"I don't know that," answered the cold voice of Anna Schultz. "It may be
a long time."
The girl had an instant of despair, but she was not yet beaten. As Kit
pounded furiously on the door, Clo called up the jeweller where Ellen
Blackburne was employed. Ellen had been in but gone out again; but, oh,
she had just returned. She would step to the 'phone.
A moment later Ellen's calm "Hello" seemed to travel to her from a
far-distant, peaceful world.
"This is Clo," replied the girl, conscious that voices outside the door
ceased their clamour in order that ears might hear her message. "Yes, I
said Clo! For God's sake get into a taxi and rush to the number and
street I'm going to give you. Listen! Don't stop to ask questions. When
you get here, you don't need to come in. I'll drop something out of the
window. You can guess what. I'll expect you quick. Good-bye!"
"I heard you!" shrieked Kit. "_I_ can guess, too! You've stolen my
pearls, and you think you'll pass 'em on to some other thief. But you
won't, you devil! We'll have this door down in five minutes."
Clo went to the window, rolled up the blind, and raised the sash.
"Why won't you let me call the police?" she heard Mrs. Mac asking. "I
tell you it's the only thing. I----"
"She won't let you do it because she stole the pearls herself," cried
Clo, darting across the room to put her lips to the keyhole. "And that's
not all she's afraid of."
"I'll kill you when I get my hands round your throat," Kit screamed her
down.
"I won't be the first you've killed. Take care!" Clo retorted, and was
then stung with regret for her boldness. There would be no mercy for her
now from Kit or Churn when the door gave way. They would know that she'd
been the woman at the telephone masquerading as Kit.
But, if only Miss Blackburne came first, before they broke in, she
didn't much care. With the pearls safe, she could fight for herself.
"Hurrah, by all that's good, here's my Boy!" crowed Kit outside the
door. "Churn! you've come! Mr. Isaacs, too! I was never so glad in my
life to see any one as you both! There's a thief in Mr. Cheffinsky's
room--the girl that's been living next door to us. She's stole my poor
little string o' beads."
Men's voices spoke. Churn and Isaacs were indeed there! The girl put her
ear to the keyhole once more, and listened.
"What did I tell you about dat key?" Churn caught her up. "You're ten
kinds of a fool, girl. But de tief's dere all right, you say?"
"Yes, she's there all right. She must have took Chuff's key off our
mantelpiece. You left it there! The little brute's been 'phonin' some
pal to come in a taxi so she can drop my pearls out the window."