At the Club
On the following day, to George’s surprise and gratification Storm
appeared at his office at noon and dragged him unceremoniously off for
lunch. In the course of their long friendship he had been almost
invariably the one to seek out his more brilliant companion, and he
was touched at this evidence of a need of him.
“I must say you look pretty bad, Norman,” he began with tactless
solicitude. “And you were as nervous as a woman last night; I could
see it. You are not taking care of yourself——”
“I don’t sleep well,” Storm interrupted shortly. “I wanted to talk
things over with you. I’ve been thinking about that trip I proposed
taking——”
“Yes?” George urged eagerly as he paused.
“Well, I don’t know but what you are right if I can only pull myself
together somehow.” Storm weighed each word with care. “You cannot
appreciate what I have been through in the last month or you would
realize how desperately I want to get away from all reminders of my—my
grief; but if I can fight it without cutting myself adrift and losing
my connection with the trust company, it would be foolish to sacrifice
such a sinecure, especially when I have nothing else absolutely
definite in view.”
He could invent that ‘something else’ easily enough, he reflected as
he watched George’s glowing face, when the moment came for departure.
Meanwhile, he had decided to play safe; it would not be long! As the
words formed in his mind he shuddered involuntarily; that had been
Jack Horton’s expression! He had boasted of playing safe in the very
hour of his death!
“Of course it would! I knew you would come to your senses, old man!”
George cried warmly. “I do realize what you must have suffered, but
the only way to forget is to fight it. You—you can count on me, you
know!”
Storm nodded.
“I am sure of that.” He paused and added: “About that little fishing
trip you suggested; do you think you could get away?”
“Surest thing you know! I’m feeling seedy myself, and it will do us
both good. Shall we ask Millard to join us?”
“Heavens, no! He is an infernal nuisance!” Storm exclaimed hastily.
Through the long night hours he had planned his trip for the express
purpose of keeping George and his inconvenient theories away from the
too loquacious disseminator of news from Headquarters. “I only want
you, George. How soon do you think you can get away?”
In secret distaste he watched the other’s puppy-like wriggle of
affectionate gratification at this mark of favor. What a fool he had
been to fear him! Yet there might still be a chance for George to
suspect, and if he did he would not rest until he had ferreted out the
truth.
“Let’s see; this is Wednesday,” George responded. “I ought to be able
to make it by the first of next week. I’ll talk to Abbott about it
this afternoon and let you know later. Say, why don’t you meet me at
the Club?”
Storm made a quick gesture of rejection.
“I haven’t been there since——”
“I know, and that’s just why it will do you good,” George urged.
“You’ve got to take the plunge some time, you know. There is no good
in isolating yourself and brooding, as you have been doing. Most of
the fellows are away now for the hot weather; you won’t find half a
dozen there before dinner.”
“We-ell,” Storm conceded. The ubiquitous Millard would not be present,
at any rate, nor would anyone else who had the slightest interest in
the murder of an obscure paymaster; and now that the suggestion had
been made he felt a vague desire to see the old club once more. “I’ll
meet you there at half-past five.”
The papers were still devoting much front-page space to the murder and
robbery, but it was concerned principally with the activities of the
detectives employed by Miss Saulsbury and those of the Mid-Eastern
Corporation. The Police Department was reported as making progress,
but its nature was not disclosed; and Storm smiled to himself as he
read. No mention was made of the two men seen walking on the Drive,
but the incident of the motor car was prominently exploited, and the
generally accepted theory seemed to be that the body had been brought
from some undetermined distance and flung over the wall.
All reference to the bag and its contents when found at the terminal
had been permitted to drop, and he looked in vain for any suggestion
that the numbers of the bills were known.
When he reached the club that afternoon he found that George had not
yet arrived; but a tall, lanky figure arose with outstretched hand
from the window seat.
“Hello, old fellow! Glad to see you back! We’ve been asking about
you.”
“Thanks, Griffiths. I’ve not been away,” Storm replied briefly. “Just
haven’t felt sociable, that’s all.”
“I know. We heard of course. Very sad! We all felt for you.”
The lawyer, who was noted for his eloquence in court, halted now in a
constrained fashion, and Storm replied quietly. “I’m sure of that.
Everyone has been very good, but this is the sort of thing one has to
bear alone. I am thinking of getting away shortly for a trip——”
“There was another matter, too, of which I was sorry to learn,”
Griffiths interrupted him. “You were badly hit in the Mertens-Du
Chainat swindle, weren’t you?”
“I?” Storm’s surprise at the question was unfeigned, and his eyes
shifted beneath the other’s level gaze. “Indeed, no! Where did you
hear that?”
“From a rather direct source,” the lawyer responded slowly. “In fact,
from a private examination of some papers belonging to the pseudo Du
Chainat which were unearthed after his departure. A client of mine
happens to have been among his victims, and I was in a conference of
attorneys who were permitted to make an examination of the effects
which Du Chainat overlooked or had no time to destroy. Among them was
a list of his victims, together with the amount he had obtained from
each; a methodical scoundrel, wasn’t he? He had you down for sixty
thousand, and as all the other items on the list were verified by the
victims themselves I naturally concluded that his plans had gone
through in your case. Sorry if I have made a stupid mistake.”
“Not stupid!” Storm smiled frigidly. “Natural enough, under the
circumstances. I met the fellow and he put his proposition up to me; I
didn’t bite, but I let him down so easily that probably he considered
me one of his prospects. To tell you the truth he interested me as a
type, but I wasn’t fool enough to fall for his game.”
“I am glad for your own sake.” There still remained that dry note of
mental reservation in the lawyer’s tone. “He victimized some of the
most astute business men in the country. ——Hello, Holworthy!”
Storm turned as if stung. George was coming forward from the door with
a preternaturally grave expression upon his wide, ingenuous face. How
long had he been standing there? Confound his pussy-footing ways! How
much had he heard? Storm was inwardly seething with rage at Griffith’s
interference in his affairs as well as at George’s inopportune
arrival, but he forced himself to greet the newcomer equably, striving
to learn from his manner if the conversation had reached his ears.
“I was late because Abbott kept me going over some details at the
office,” the latter explained quietly. “He thinks I can get away all
right by Monday. Suppose instead of the Beaverkill we try the north
woods? The bass ought to be running well up there——”
“So that’s the trip you meant, eh?” Griffiths interrupted. “Gad, wish
I could join you! I’d like to get a breath of the big woods in the
silence and peace of it after the eternal court wrangles of this last
term, but there isn’t a chance for me. I envy you two fellows!”
Two more members, a banker and the editor of one of the big dailies,
joined them, refreshments were ordered, and to Storm’s relief the talk
drifted off on general topics; but he studied George furtively. If he
had heard, would he accept Storm’s denial that he had been victimized
by Du Chainat? The lawyer had evidently remained skeptical, but he was
not as conversant with Storm’s affairs and financial position as was
George. If the latter believed that his friend had been hard hit,
would he not naturally wonder where he had obtained the money for the
long overseas trip he contemplated, and wondering, blunder upon the
truth?
A half hour passed, the little group broke up and Storm and his
companion were on the point of departure when a hearty, good-humored
voice boomed from the doorway and an elderly man with a bluff military
swagger bore down upon them.
“Great Guns, Storm, but it’s good to see you here again! I wrote
you—you got my letter?—when I heard of your loss. Terrible thing,
terrible! Damn fine little lady——”
He paused, clearing his throat and clapping Storm resoundingly on the
shoulder.
“Thanks, Colonel; yes, I received your letter,” the latter responded.
“Meant to reply to it, but George here can tell you that I’ve been
rather unsettled——”
“Heard you had moved to town and taken somebody’s rooms up on the
Drive,” Colonel Walker interrupted. “We’ve needed you here for a
fourth at bridge; had to take on Paine, and he’s rotten——”
“I like that!” the editor retorted indignantly. “Who revoked twice in
one evening——?”
“That was because we were playing for low stakes. I’m never on my
mettle unless the game is away over my head.” The Colonel laughed and
added: “Saw you the other night, Storm, and tried to hail you but you
got away in the crowd. I wanted to drag you off to a stag house party
up in Westchester. Let’s see; that was last Wednesday night, over by
the Grand Central Station——”
“You must have been mistaken!” Storm interrupted hastily. He could
feel George’s eyes upon him, and this fresh turn of affairs left him
aghast.
“No, I’m not,” Colonel Walker insisted bluntly. “It was Wednesday
night, I remember, just around dinner time, for it was raining like
blazes and you were dodging along under your umbrella——”
“Oh, yes!” Storm parried desperately. “I recall it now, but I didn’t
see you, old chap. I was on my way to my tobacconist’s. By the way,
that was a wonderful brand of cigarettes you used to get from Turkey
before the war. I’ve been trying to remember the name——”
The colonel’s laugh boomed out in good humored derision.
“Much good it would do you now! They aren’t made any more; in fact I
doubt if that grade of tobacco is grown over there since the world
turned upside down! I’ve found something new, however; try one of
these.”
He passed around a cigarette case and the hoped-for diversion was
created, but Storm’s heart felt like lead within him and he dared not
meet George’s eyes. He tried to think collectedly, but the very weight
of his own guilt prevented him from viewing the case sanely from an
unbiassed attitude. Here, within the hour, the last links in the chain
of circumstantial evidence had been forged against him in George’s
eyes had the latter but the sense to grasp the full significance of
what he had learned. The reported loss of his capital, his presence at
the terminal at the time of Horton’s supposed arrival, George’s own
theory that Horton had been a victim of someone he knew and trusted,
the proximity of the place where the body was found to Storm’s rooms,
the testimony of the policeman as to the two pedestrians, the
coincidence of the newspapers in Horton’s bag supplying the missing
parts of those in Storm’s possession; why, the thing was patent on the
face of it!
Only George’s ignorance concerning the newspapers, his blind faith in
his friend and the improbability of his grasping so monstrous a
solution stood between Storm and certain exposure. But was it an
improbability? Was George even now putting the facts together and
waiting to strike?
Storm sat back in silence, puffing his cigarette and leaving the
burden of conversation to the others. He heard the Colonel’s deep
bass, Griffiths’ keen, incisive tones and George’s measured,
phlegmatic voice with no change in its unemotional timbre, but they
came to him as from a distance. Did George know? The thought held him
as in a vice and he longed for yet dreaded the moment when they should
be alone together, which he felt must reveal the truth.
At length George rose somewhat heavily and turned to his friend.
“Shall we be getting on, Norman? Unless you would prefer to dine here,
of course——”
“No.” Storm, too, got out of his chair. “We’ve a lot of things to
settle about our trip.”
They took leave of their friends and left the club, and still George’s
manner remained, to the other man’s over-analytical state of mind,
significantly grave and reticent. He could endure the suspense no
longer, and a spirit of bravado entered into him.
“That did me good, rather; to get to the club and see some of the old
fellows again,” Storm declared mendaciously. “What are you silent
about, old man?”
“Nothing; I’ve been thinking,” George responded. “All your fishing
gear is down at Greenlea, isn’t it? Can you write to MacWhirter and
get it here by Monday?”
Storm gave a furtive sidelong glance at him, but George was plodding
along with an inscrutable countenance.
“I can run down overnight and pick out what I need,” Storm asserted
shortly. “We can make out a list to-night. Suppose we stop at the
Blenheim Grill here for a bite and then go on up to my rooms?”
George accepted without comment, and they were soon ensconced at a
table as far as possible from the blatant orchestra, in a corner half
screened by palms. As Storm studied the menu he glanced up to find his
companion’s eyes fixed upon him in troubled, questioning scrutiny, and
he flung the card aside.
“What is it?” he demanded savagely. As well to have it over here and
now! He could endure the suspense no longer. “There’s been something
wrong with you ever since we left the club. For heaven’s sake get it
off your chest!”
“Well,” George responded slowly. “I couldn’t help hearing what
Griffiths said as I came in, and to tell you the truth, old man, I am
rather hurt at your lack of confidence in me.”
Storm unconsciously braced himself. It was coming!
“You mean about the Du Chainat affair?” he blustered. “That meddlesome
old fool knows nothing about my business! I call it infernal cheek,
his attempting to say the man ever victimized me! There’s not a word
of truth in it.”
“I read of the swindle in the newspapers, and I remember that I was
the one to tell you of the Du Chainat exposure; I showed the article
to you myself.” George spoke more to himself than to the other man, as
though correlating his thoughts aloud. “I recall that you seemed
interested about it, even excited, but you never mentioned the fact
that you knew the man, much less that he had tried to take you in on
his schemes. It wasn’t like you, Norman; you’ve told me everything,
ever since we were boys, and I am wondering where I could have failed
you.”
An injured, plaintive note had crept into his patient voice, and in a
sudden access of hope Storm seized upon his opportunity.
“You haven’t failed me, dear old George! It was my accursed pride, as
usual. I wouldn’t admit it to Griffiths for worlds, but I did pretty
nearly fall for that fellow’s bunk! When you showed me that the whole
thing was a swindle I was aghast at my narrow escape, and I made up my
mind I wouldn’t give you the chance to preach at me again about
reckless investments. If I had told you how nearly I came to letting
Du Chainat hoodwink me you would have been as worried as a maiden aunt
about any future venture I might want to make, and I didn’t care to
have you know what an ass I had been!” His tone was a perfect
simulation of shame-faced confidence. “Millard might have told you
that I knew the pseudo Du Chainat. He introduced me to him himself,
and if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Millard, who holds the purse strings,
the old boy would have been one of Du Chainat’s victims. He was strong
for the scheme, but for once I had a gleam of sense and held out.”
George shook his head.
“I’m sorry if I have seemed to preach at you,” he said. “Your money is
your own, of course, to do with as you please, and you are a man
grown, but you have always been to me the impulsive, reckless boy I
knew at college——”
“Whom you helped out of many a scrape!” Storm put in quickly. “You
don’t think I have ever forgotten, do you, old man? It wasn’t lack of
confidence, but fear of ‘I told you so’ that prevented me from telling
you what I knew personally of Du Chainat. Griffiths was all wrong in
that, however. Du Chainat may have put me down for a boob, but I never
dropped a cent in his scheme.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” George remarked earnestly, but to Storm’s
apprehensive ear there was the same hint of skepticism in his voice
that the lawyer’s had evinced, and he burst out recklessly:
“Look here, you don’t think I am holding out on you now, do you? You
don’t think I was such a fool? If I had put all my capital in Du
Chainat’s hands, and he had taken it to the bottom of the sea with
him, where on earth would I have gotten the money for this long trip I
proposed taking or investment in a new concern when I got back?”
He could have bitten his tongue out the instant the words had left his
lips. What a consummate fool to open the way for suspicion to enter
George’s mind, if it were not there already! But while he sat inwardly
cursing himself for his mad indiscretion, the other’s face cleared as
if by magic.
“Of course, Norman! I have been worrying a little for the last hour,
but I might have known you hadn’t gone into the scheme, for it would
have pretty well cleaned you out, wouldn’t it? Now that you are going
to stay on at the trust company——” he broke off and added: “I’m sure
that you are! Our fishing trip will buck you up wonderfully, and
you’ll come back in fine form!”
“I hope so.” Storm breathed freely. The danger point was past! But he
must cinch it in the other’s mind . . . . “I’ve still got my capital,
you know; what there is left of it from that copper gamble two years
ago.”
“Well, nothing is sure but death and taxes, you must remember. Even
the Mammoth Trust might go under, so don’t regard your fifty thousand
as velvet and take some wild flyer with it, without consulting Foulkes
or me.” George checked himself with a sheepish grin. “There I go
preaching again! I vow I won’t any more—Say! That waiter has been
hovering about for the last twenty minutes. What are we going to
have?”
Dinner ordered, the conversation turned upon their forthcoming
expedition, and as the meal progressed all of Storm’s wonted
self-confidence returned to him in full measure. These vague fears
about old George and his suspicions were nothing but the chimera of
exhausted nerves, and he was a fool to permit them to give him a
moment’s disquietude. Millard and his damned wager had worked upon
him, but Millard was an ass! The very way that he had fallen for Du
Chainat proved—— Storm caught himself up in his chain of reasoning
with a grimace of ironic disgust. He, too, had fallen for Du Chainat,
and harder even than had Millard. Gad, was he getting so that he
believed his own lies?
At any rate, the result of the wager was a foregone conclusion. He
could not fail to carry on successfully to the end now; his plans had
been laid too well! Not one single setback had occurred and no one,
nothing could touch him. He could endure old George’s unadulterated
company for a week or so, and the sojourn in the woods would steady
his nerves and give him time to plan cool-headedly for the future.
By the time they returned, the Horton investigation would have slumped
to a mere nominal affair, and soon thereafter he might announce his
adherence to his original plan, to which George could then have no
opposition to offer since his own suggestion would have failed of its
object. Everything would work out smoothly, perfectly; the greatest
stunt of the age would go through without a hitch; and it was all due
to his foresight, his genius for detail! There was nothing he could
not accomplish in the future, no one living who was his master; and
the best of it all was that no one suspected his greatness! Not a
living soul with whom he came in contact realized that he was other
than a pleasant enough fellow, a gentleman born and bred but without
much business head or executive ability; a tame, futile sort of
person, who would never set the Thames on fire. God, it was the
biggest joke perpetrated on the community since time began! It was
almost too good to keep!
But as they left the grill and made their way to his rooms, in the
midst of his exultation there came to him another dampening thought.
Had George noticed the coincidence of his having been near the Grand
Central Station at the very hour of Horton’s supposed arrival, as
revealed by Colonel Walker’s unlucky chance remark? Storm dared not
draw his attention to the coincidence itself if it had escaped him,
yet a perverse instinct drove him on to ascertain if he had noted the
significance of the date mentioned.
“Old Walker is putting on flesh again since demobilization took
place,” he began tentatively. “I hear he has been hitting it up quite
a little lately.”
“He is a pretty good fellow,” George replied tolerantly. “Likes to
swagger and make out that he’s a regular devil, but there is no real
harm in him.—Say, we’d better get some new G. lines, and if I were you
I’d look over that four-and-a-half-ounce rod of yours.”
“That’s all right.” Storm returned insistently to his point. “I wonder
who was giving the stag house-party up in Westchester for which the
Colonel was bound when he hailed me? Odd that I should not have heard
him, for he bellows like a bull.”
“Oh, well, in a crowd——” George’s tone was absent and he broke off to
announce with vigor. “I’ll tell you one thing; if you expect any luck
you had better get a Montreal or two. The pet Parmachini Belle of
yours would make any bass in the lake give you a laugh!”
Another dangerous chance eliminated!——Danger? Storm chuckled with
amusement at the thought. To test old George further was like taking
milk from a blind kitten! Only a miracle could harm him now and the
age of miracles was past. He was invincible, indeed!
“_Ashes be damned!_”