A NEW TWIST TO THE PLOT.
Klein went indoors, and mingled with the guests. He saw that Tod was
playing his part like a veteran. After one of the dances the two managed
to exchange a few words.
“There’s some surprise in certain quarters,” Tod ventured, smiling.
“Well, it won’t do any harm, now,” Klein answered. “I knew you would be
recognized, and for that reason I wanted you to keep under cover until
the right time.”
“Where have you been?”
“Talking with a friend of yours,” Klein observed.
“Friend of mine?”
“Yes; Mr. Jarge.”
“Is that man here?” exclaimed Tod.
“Very much so. Mr. Lydecker has engaged him as a private detective
especially for this dance to-night.”
“Good Lord!” The colt reporter whistled softly. “What do you make of it,
Klein?”
“I intend making a lot of it, a little later on,” responded Klein. “At
least, I hope so. At present there is just one little gap to bridge.
However, don’t you forget your part in the drama.”
“There isn’t a chance in the world of my going up in the air now,” Tod
replied, in a confident voice. “So, whenever you’re ready to ring down
the curtain, go ahead; I’ll be in the picture.”
With this they parted, Tod hurrying back to the dance that was just
starting, while Klein, avoiding Miss Lydecker, who seemed puzzled
because he refused to join in the festivities, went out of the door, and
stood for a time in the friendly shadows of the wide porch.
A sudden bustle among the dancers, following a waltz, told him that they
were about going in for supper.
“My cue at last,” he murmured to himself, thrilling a bit at the thought
of the scene that was to come. “All the guests will be in the dining
room now.”
Swiftly he crossed the porch, gained the footbridge that led to Eagle’s
Nest, traveled its length, found the bundle he had previously examined,
took it, and went into the summerhouse. He remained there for all of
five minutes, and when he emerged he was wearing a long raincoat. He
came back over the bridge, gained the shadow of the house, and was on
the point of entering, when he stopped short. Hurrying around the
corner, and coming to a halt within a few yards of where Klein had
paused, came the detective, Jarge.
At the same moment a window, just above his head, opened and something
flashed in the moonlight. Jarge’s hand went out. It was all done before
Klein could fully realize the meaning. Then swiftly it dawned upon him.
He had expected it, but not at this moment.
Now, instantly alive to the situation, despite the fact that the scenes
were being juggled, Klein stepped forward. Until that time Jarge had
not seen him. At the first sound, however, the detective whirled.
“Well?” he snapped, taken off guard, his voice far from a natural one.
“I’ll trouble you for that necklace you just caught,” Klein announced
quietly.
“I--I don’t know what you mean.” Jarge was plainly upset, and was
sparring for time.
“Don’t hedge. I saw it. A necklace was dropped to you from that window.
Give it to me!”
“I don’t know----” began the other.
Klein advanced another step, gripped Jarge’s wrist with one hand, and
allowed the other to drop into the detective’s pocket. Quick as a flash
Jarge turned, but not in time to prevent the discovery. Klein’s fingers
brought forth the necklace from the pocket.
“You----” gasped the enraged detective.
“Don’t waste your good breath,” Klein interrupted, placing the necklace
in his own pocket. “If I’m not greatly mistaken, you’ll need all of it
later on. By the way, do you happen to have Miss Lydecker’s brooch with
you to-night? I mean the one you got away with last week. Rather a neat
plan, Jarge. Posing as a detective is quite a help, isn’t it? And
winning the respect of Mr. Lydecker by first stealing his daughter’s
jewels, then returning them, is another clever move on your part. You’re
an artist!”
Gradually Jarge was recovering from his first shock. And as Klein
finished with his accusations he shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
“Very good, Mr. Klein,” he announced curtly. “Your deductions are well
conceived. You’re almost as clever an artist as myself.” He laughed
again. “But whatever you’ve discovered--and I admit it isn’t a thousand
miles from the truth--you’ll keep to yourself. If I have been clever in
one way I have been in others. You see, Mr. Klein, I work out all my
plans according to system, and they seldom fail me.”
“I’m afraid this will fail,” Klein answered.
“Not at all. Momentarily interrupted--that is all. You had better run
along and forget what you have just seen.”
“You appear to be extremely confident that I----”
“It is a confidence inspired by careful scheming and mature
deliberation,” broke in the detective, his voice once more assuming that
quiet drawl, which since the first had interested Klein. “And of course
you will not think of mentioning to-night’s incident, Mr. Klein,
realizing the circumstances that surround you.”
“I know of but one circumstance that could seal my lips,” replied Klein,
“and that would be an extreme one. As there are slight prospects of such
a miracle taking place, I’m afraid, Mr. Jarge, you will be compelled to
accompany me into the house. I’m sure Mr. Lydecker will be interested in
learning the identity of the----”
“Don’t you think the police of New York City would be as interested in
finding you, Mr. Klein?” interrupted Jarge.
Klein’s lips hardened. This, then, was the weapon with which the
detective hoped to club him into silence.
“I am quite willing to return to New York--after to-night,” he replied.
“It would be rather unpleasant, would it not? A man accused of assault
to kill is not granted many favors. I do not like to see you
deliberately put your head into a noose, Mr. Klein. Especially as I
have twice saved you from capture.”
“What’s that?” Klein’s heart started throbbing just a trifle faster than
normal. “You saved me?”
“Yes. I was the unknown who aided you to escape that night in Mrs.
Wold’s boarding house. And several nights later, on board the
_Providence_, I saved you from a certain zealous newspaper reporter, who
had taken passage with the intention of apprehending you.”
Klein could have shouted aloud at this unexpected confession. He was
glad of the heavy shadows, for his face must have mirrored his thoughts.
Only a wooden man could have remained stolid under similar
circumstances.
That Jarge was the unknown who had pushed him through the door that
night in Mrs. Wold’s boarding house, with a whispered “Run for it!” in
his ear, thereby saving him from the police, came as the proverbial bolt
from the blue. Yet, instead of cowering Klein, as the other had
naturally expected it would, the confession served to bridge the few
remaining gaps in the otherwise perfect wall of the Delmar case.
“So in view of this, Mr. Klein,” the detective spoke up after an
interval of silence, apparently satisfied that his case had been won, “I
presume you have no objections to returning the necklace. Also, that you
are not as anxious to report what has taken place within the past
fifteen minutes.”
“On the contrary,” Klein broke in sharply, “I have no intention of
returning the necklace, other than to its owner. And as for repeating
what I have just witnessed, I think such a statement would sound better
from your own lips. Come along, Mr. Jarge!”
The detective objected strenuously to such an arrangement, until Klein
produced a revolver. The polished barrel was sufficient inducement, and
he walked meekly ahead of Klein.