When Quintana disappeared among the tamaracks, Leverett ventured to rise
to his knees. As he crouched there, peering after Quintana, a man came
swiftly out of the forest behind him and nearly stumbled over him.
Recognition was instant and mutual as the man jerked the trap-robber to
his feet, stifling the muffled yell in his throat.
"I want that packet you picked up on Clinch's veranda," said Hal Smith.
"M-my God," stammered Leverett, "Quintana just took it off me. He ain't
been gone a minute----"
"You lie!"
"I ain't lyin'. Look at his foot-marks there in the mud!"
"Quintana!"
"Yaas, Quintana! He tuk my gun, too----"
"Which way!" whispered Smith fiercely, shaking Leverett till his jaws
wagged.
"Drowned Valley.... Lemme loose!--I'm chokin'----"
Smith pushed him aside.
"You rat," he said, "if you're lying to me I'll come back and settle
your affair. And Kloon's, too!"
"Quintana shot Jake and stuck him into a sink-hole!" snivelled Leverett,
breaking down and sobbing; "--oh, Gawd--Gawd--he's down under all that
black mud with his brains spillin' out----"
But Smith was already gone, running lightly along the string of
footprints which led straight away across slime and sphagnum toward the
head of Drowned Valley.
In the first clump of hard-wood trees Smith saw Quintana. He had halted
and he was fumbling at the twine which bound a flat, paper-wrapped
packet.
He did not start when Smith's sharp warning struck his ear: "Don't move!
I've got you over my rifle, Quintana!"
Quintana's fingers had instantly ceased operations. Then, warily, he
lifted his head and looked into the muzzle of Smith's rifle.
"Ah, bah!" he said tranquilly. "There were three of you, then."
"Lay that packet on the ground."
"My frien'----"
"Drop it or I'll drop _you_!"
Quintana carefully placed the packet on a bed of vivid moss.
"Now your gun!" continued Smith.
Quintana shrugged and laid Leverett's rifle beside the packet.
"Kneel down with your hands up and your back toward me!" said Smith.
"My frien'----"
"Down with you!"
Quintana dropped gracefully into the humiliating attitude popularly
indicative of prayerful supplication. Smith walked slowly up behind him,
relieved him of two automatics and a dirk.
"Stay put," he said sharply, as Quintana started to turn his head. Then
he picked up the packet with its loosened string, slipped it into his
side pocket, gathered together the arsenal which had decorated Quintana,
and so, loaded with weapons, walked away a few paces and seated himself
on a fallen log.
Here he pocketed both automatics, shoved the sheathed dirk into his
belt, placed the captured rifle handy, after examining the magazine, and
laid his own weapon across his knees.
"You may turn around now, Quintana," he said amiably.
Quintana lowered his arms and started to rise.
"Sit down!" said Smith.
Quintana seated himself on the moss, facing Smith.
"Now, my gay and nimble thimble-rigger," said Smith genially, "while I
take ten minutes' rest we'll have a little polite conversation. Or,
rather, a monologue. Because I don't want to hear anything from you."
He settled himself comfortably on the log:
"Let me assemble for you, Senor Quintana, the interesting history of the
jewels which so sparklingly repose in the packet in my pocket.
"In the first place, as you know, Monsieur Quintana, the famous Flaming
Jewel and the other gems contained in this packet of mine, belonged to
Her Highness the Grand Duchess Theodorica of Esthonia.
"Very interesting. More interesting still--along comes Don Jose Quintana
and his celebrated gang of international thieves, and steals from the
Grand Duchess of Esthonia the Flaming Jewel and all her rubies, emeralds
and diamonds. Yes?"
"Certainly," said Quintana, with a polite inclination of acknowledgment.
"Bon! Well, then, still more interesting to relate, a gentleman named
Clinch helps himself to these famous jewels. How very careless of you,
Mr. Quintana."
"Careless, certainly," assented Quintana politely.
"Well," said Smith, laughing, "Clinch was more careless still. The
robber baron, Sir Jacobus Kloon, swiped,--as Froissart has it,--the
Esthonian gems, and, under agreement to deliver them to you, I suppose,
thought better of it and attempted to abscond. Do you get me, Herr
Quintana?"
"Gewiss."
"Yes, and you got Jake Kloon, I hear," laughed Smith.
"No."
"Didn't you kill Kloon?"
"No."
"Oh, pardon. The mistake was natural. You merely robbed Kloon and
Leverett. You should have killed them."
"Yes," said Quintana slowly, "I should have. It was my mistake."
"Signor Quintana, it is human for the human crook to err. Sooner or
later he always does it. And then the Piper comes around holding out two
itching palms."
"Mr. Smith," said Quintana pleasantly, "you are an unusually agreeable
gentleman for a thief. I regret that you do not see your way to an
amalgamation of interests with myself."
"As you say, Quintana mea, I am somewhat unusual. For example, what do
you suppose I am going to do with this packet in my pocket?"
"Live," replied Quintana tersely.
"Live, certainly," laughed Smith, "but not on the proceeds of this
coup-de-main. Non pas! I am going to return this packet to its rightful
owner, the Grand Duchess Theodorica of Esthonia. And what do you think
of that, Quintana?"
Quintana smiled.
"You do not believe me?" inquired Smith.
Quintana smiled again.
"Allons, bon!" exclaimed Smith, rising. "It's the unusual that happens
in life, my dear Quintana. And now we'll take a little inventory of
these marvellous gems before we part.... Sit very, very still,
Quintana,--unless you want to lie stiller still.... I'll let you take a
modest peep at the Flaming Jewel----" busily unwrapping the
packet--"just one little peep, Quintana----"
He unwrapped the paper. Two cakes of sugar-milk chocolate lay within.
Quintana turned white, then deeply, heavily red. Then he smiled in
ghastly fashion:
"Yes," he said hoarsely, "as you have just said, sir, it is usually the
unusual which happens in the world."