Kitabı oku: «Against Odds: A Detective Story», sayfa 10

Here was a coil indeed. My head was a nest of queer thoughts and suspicions, but I kept to the subject by asking:

'And may I ask how you replied to all this?'

'In the only way I could. You were a stranger, who was anxious, I felt sure, to restore the bag to its owner. You had assured me of this much. As to your address, I could not give it, and your name I did not know; but I added the promise that should I chance to meet you, as I might, I would ask you to send the bag to the lady's address.'

'Pardon – was this the lady's proposition?'

'No. She asked me to get it from you – the bag.'

'And to restore it through her?'

'Yes.'

'And the address? Did she give you the young lady's address, the owner's, or her own?'

'She gave the owner's address.'

'Then if you will give it to me I can promise that to-morrow will see the little bag in its owner's possession.'

He took from his pocket a visiting card, upon which was engraved the name June E. Jenrys, and underneath in pencil the address.

I had seen just such a card, minus the pencilled address, in Miss Jenrys' card-tray on Washington Avenue; and that pencilled address! It was that of the café to which Miss Jenrys was to send her note concerning the evening excursion.

I had not spoken of the adventure of the bag during the afternoon, and I had not meant to do so. Since our last meeting my position in relation to Miss Jenrys had been changed. I was now in some degree the guardian of her interests, and while I believed in and admired this handsome and secretive stranger guard, and might have entrusted him with a secret all my own, perhaps, my mouth was closed concerning the young lady whom he professed to know yet was unwilling to meet.

As I looked at the tall, lithe figure, the erect head and handsome face, I wondered what this mystery could be which caused him to withhold his name from those who might be his friends; to shun a lovely girl whom he knew and in whom he was evidently interested; and, above all, which linked him, as was now fairly proven, through the wily brunette, with the strange pursuit of Miss Jenrys. Was it possible, I asked myself, that this medley of mysterious happenings could reach back through the brunette to Greenback Bob, the counterfeiter, and Delbras, the king of confidence men?

CHAPTER XVI.
THAT LITTLE DECOY

I stowed the false address in my waistcoat pocket, and after promising to see the guard again on the next day, a promise which I fully intended to keep, and exchanging a few friendly but important sentences with him, we shook hands and separated. We had grown almost friendly in our manner each toward each, in spite of the fact that neither knew the name of the other. He had told me where he lodged, among the number who were housed within the grounds; and we had agreed to dine together at an early date at a place which he had recommended in reply to my inquiry after a satisfactory place to dine within the walls of the Fair. He had dined there regularly, he assured me, and I was glad to know this, for I foresaw that I might need his help in the defence of Miss Jenrys and her interests, and I could not know too much of his whereabouts.

'Till we meet and wine and dine,' I said flippantly, upon leaving him, little dreaming how soon and in what manner we were to meet again.

As I left the Plaisance the handsome guard was still the subject of my thoughts. That he had told me the truth concerning his interview with the brunette I did not doubt, but was it the whole truth?

All that he had rehearsed to me could have been said in much less than half the time she had spent in brisk conversation with the guard, whose part seemed to have been that of listener.

Not that I had any right to demand or expect his full confidence; still, why had he withheld it; and what was it that the brunette had slipped into his hand at parting?

Another thing, we had planned to dine together soon, and he knew that I was, or seemed to be, quite at leisure, while he would be relieved from duty very soon, and yet – well, he had certainly not grasped at the opportunity.

I did not expect to meet Brainerd until a late hour, and I had decided to do nothing further in the matter of the Trent disappearance until we could talk it over. In fact, there was little to be done until I had seen Miss Jenrys and her aunt, and reported to them, as I had engaged to do at seven o'clock. At this hour I called and made my meagre report, which, however, was better than nothing, as the ladies were good enough to declare.

They had remained at home all day, and late in the afternoon received a message from Miss O'Neil. The picture, it assured her, would be sent at once.

A little to my surprise, I found that the ladies were prepared to go to town in company with Monsieur Voisin, to hear a famous monologue artist. He had persuaded them, Miss Jenrys said, rather against their wishes, but they had at last decided that this would be better than to pass the evening as they had already passed the day, in useless speculation, discussion, and anxiety.

Of course I agreed with them; but I came away early, not caring to encounter the handsome Frenchman again, and I re-entered the gates of the Fair City a little out of tune, and wandered about the brightly-illuminated and beautiful Court of Honour, finding, for the first time in this place, that time was dragging, and wishing it were time to meet Dave, and begin what I knew would be a lively and two-sided discussion.

At eight o'clock there was music upon the Grand Plaza, and the band-stand was surrounded by a merry, happy crowd. At nine the band was playing popular airs, and a picked chorus that had been singing in Choral Hall in the afternoon was filling the great space with vocal melody, in which from time to time the crowd joined with enthusiasm.

Coming nearer this centre of attraction, I saw, seated near the water's edge, and quite close to the great Fountain, the little brunette and a companion. It was impossible to mistake the brunette, for she wore the costume of the afternoon – a somewhat conspicuous costume, as I afterward remembered; but her companion puzzled me. She was tall and slight, and quietly well dressed, and her face could not well be seen under the drooping hat which she wore. There seemed, at the very first, something familiar about this hat. It was broad-brimmed, slightly curved upward at the sides, and bent to shade the face and fall over the hair at the back; but long dark plumes fell at one side, and a third stood serenely erect in front; and suddenly I remembered that I had seen Miss Jenrys wear such a hat upon the day of our first meeting. But Miss Jenrys, in a dainty white theatre bonnet, had gone up town; and there was no monopoly of drooping hats and feathers – so I told myself.

But I wondered what mischief, new or old, the brunette was bent upon, and I decided to give her the benefit of my unoccupied attention.

From time to time the two changed their positions, but I noted that they kept upon the outskirts of the throng, and seemed to avoid the well-lighted spaces, sitting or standing in the shadow of the great statues, the columns, and angles.

For nearly an hour the music continued, vocal for the most part, and the crowd kept in place, singing and applauding by turns. I had been standing near the east façade of the Administration Building for some time, having followed the brunette and her companion to that side of the Plaza, when I saw a group of Columbian Guards, evidently off duty, place themselves against the wall quite near me. They were strolling gaily, and after a little, as the singers began a national anthem, some of them joined in the chorus or refrain. It was amateurish singing enough, until suddenly a new voice lifted itself among them – a tenor voice – sweet, strong, high, and thoroughly cultured. I turned to look closer, and saw that the singer was my friend, the handsome guard. He was standing slightly aloof from the others, and when he saw that his music was causing many heads to turn, he suddenly ceased singing, and in spite of the remonstrances of his companions, moved away from them, slowly at first, and then with more decision of movement, until he was out of their sight in the crowd.

'He wants to avoid them,' I said to myself, 'and he seems to be looking for someone.' And then I turned my attention to the brunette once more.

At ten o'clock the music had ceased, and the people were scattered upon the Plaza. The electric fountains had ceased to send up multi-coloured spray, and some of the lights in the glittering chains about the Grand Basin were fading out. On the streets and avenues leading away from the Plaza there was still sufficient light, but the Wooded Island, which as yet had not participated in the great illuminations, was not brilliantly lighted. In fact, under the trees, and among the winding shrub-bordered paths, there were many shadowed nooks and gloomy recesses.

And yet it was towards the Wooded Island that the brunette and her companion led me, wondering much, and keeping at a distance to avoid the glances often sent back by the little adventuress.

I had just stepped off the path to avoid the gleam of light that fell across it from the light just at the curve, when a quick step sounded close by, and a tall figure passed me in haste, going the way the two had taken – the form of the handsome guard.

I had followed them past the east front of the Electricity Building, and between it and the canal, and then across the bridge opposite, and midway between the north front of the Electricity and Mines Buildings, across the little island of the Hunters' Camp, and across the second bridge, and it was near this last spot that the guard had passed me.

A few paces beyond me he seemed at a loss, and paused to look about him; and as he did so, the two women, who had made a short-cut across the forbidden grass, came out into the path directly between us, and retraced their steps toward the bridge.

It was past ten o'clock now, and very quiet just here, and the lamps at the ends of the bridge, the only lights just here, seemed to me less brilliant than usual. As the two women came toward me, somewhat slowly, I drew back into the shelter of the bushes, and they passed me, speaking low. I remember that, at the moment, the thought of our singular isolation in this spot crossed my mind, and I wondered why we did not see somewhere a second Columbian Guard on duty.

And now my guard passed me hurriedly, looking neither to right nor left, and I crept forward across the grass and under the trees. I could now see that the women had stopped upon the bridge nearest the island, and on the side facing eastward, and looking over the face of the lagoon at its widest, and across to the silent and now almost utterly darkened Manufactures Building, and that the guard had joined them. Rather, that he was speaking with the brunette, while the other, with bent head, stood a little aloof.

And then, as I looked and wondered, two figures arose suddenly, or so it seemed, from the base of the statue at the end of the bridge, just behind the guard, and as he bent his head toward the little decoy there was a silent, forward spring, a sudden heaving movement, and a splash. With a shout for help I bounded forward, tearing off my coat as I ran. I was conscious of four flying figures that passed me, hastening islandward, but my thoughts were all for that figure that had gone over into the lagoon silently and without a struggle.

As I tore down the bank at the side of the pier, I heard low voices, and could see a boat in the shadow of the bridge; and as I was about to plunge into the water, a voice said sharply:

'Keep out, mate, we've got him!' And in a moment the boat came out, and I saw two men were supporting the guard, half in and half out of the water, and the other pushing the skiff to shore.

As I stepped into the water to their assistance, I saw at one glance that my friend had fallen into the able hands of two of the emergency crew, whose duty it was to patrol the lagoons by night, and that he was insensible.

'He struck our boat in falling,' one of them said to me, 'and I'm afraid he's got a hurt head. Too bad; if he hadn't fainted we'd 'a' winged one of that crowd, sure.'

CHAPTER XVII.
'THOSE TWO WOMEN.'

My friend the guard had received a blow upon the head, painful but not fatal. He would be about in a few days, the hospital surgeon said. But in spite of the fact that I visited the hospital every day, five days passed before I was allowed to speak to him or he was allowed to talk.

I was very anxious for this opportunity, for I had now a new reason for my growing interest in the young fellow who so stubbornly refused to give me a name by which to call him. He was enrolled among the guards as L. Carr, and I at once adopted this name in speaking to or of him.

I had determined at the first moment possible to have a confidential talk with him, confidential upon my part, at least, and I meant to win his confidence if possible.

In the meantime I had laid all the story of this day's adventures before Dave Brainerd, beginning with the discovery in the newspaper, and my search up-town and down for trace of missing Gerald Trent, and I ended by adding to all the rest a few ideas and opinions of my own, which caused Dave, in spite of his lately expressed lofty opinion of my imaginative qualities, first to open his eyes, and then to roar with laughter.

But he was my hearty second at the last, even to the point of agreeing with me that, if we could accomplish but the one end, it were better to find and rescue Gerald Trent, if he were living and in duress, which we both doubted, or to solve the mystery of his fate if dead, than to arrest a pair, or a trio, of counterfeiters, or possible diamond robbers. As to Miss Jenrys and the mysterious guard, he would no more have given up the thought of solving the problem of the brunette's pursuit of these two than would I at that moment. But we needed all the light possible, and we agreed at once that to obtain this it would be wise, at this point, to make certain confidences to the two persons most interested.

As to the elusive brunette, her 'shadow' had followed her for days more faithfully and at closer quarters than we could have done, because of his small stature and his easily managed 'lightning changes,' managed by the aid of a reversible jacket, three or four varicoloured silk handkerchiefs, and two or three hats or caps, all stuffed into convenient pockets. But his report was, after all, far from complete or conclusive.

'I've follered her,' he declared, 'till my laigs ached, an' I never seen a woman 'at c'ud git over the ground like her. Ever sence that first trip my laigs 'a' bin stiff!'

The boy had followed her on the first day by devious ways, and until after mid-day, without losing sight of her; and had lost her at last, as Dave and myself had lost our quarry, in the intricacies of the Plaisance.

'Ye see,' Billy had said, ''twas this way. She'd stopped afore one of them Arab places' – he meant Turkish – 'where there wuz a pay show, an' she must 'a' got her ticket ahead, fer she jest sort o' held out a card or somethin' afore his eyes and went right in, an' I had ter wait till two or three fellers got tickets 'fore 'twas my turn, an' when I got in she wa'n't nowhere.' A look of boyish disgust emphasized the emphasis here. 'But wherever she was, she stayed a good while,' Bill went on, 'an' then, all at once, out she come ag'in, an' went into another big place clos' by, an' I went in too that time. She went round behind a big table, where they had piles o' jimcracks, an' popped behind a curtain, an' jest as I was gittin' scared for fear she wuz gone agi'n, out she come an' took the place of a tired-lookin' woman that set on a high stool sellin' the jimcracks. She had took off her hat an' things, an' she had on a little red jacket all spangled up, an' a red cap, like the Turks all wear, with a big gold tassel on it, an' she'd made herself blacker round the eyes, an' redder in the cheeks, an' she looked jest sassy.'

At least it was something to have our theories in regard to the lurking places of this trio verified. It was something to feel sure, as we now did, that these people were quartered in the Plaisance; but I felt very sure that they had more than one hiding-place, probably each of them a separate one, as well as a general rendezvous.

I questioned the lad closely regarding the 'tired-lookin' woman,' whom he described as 'tallish, an' slim, an' not much on looks,' but dressed in Turkish fez, and Zouave jacket, and 'painted thick.'

He had watched her till evening came, and then the tallish woman had returned and the brunette had stepped behind the curtain once more.

'I watched that doggoned curtain,' Bill declared, 'till 'twas time to shut up shop, but she didn't come out, an' I couldn't git in.'

'Did anyone come out from behind that curtain while you waited, Bill?' I asked him carelessly.

'Yes, there was; pretty soon after she went in a young Turk came out, smallish, with a little dudey moustache. He had a pitcher in his hand, an' he smacked the tired woman on the back, an' stuck the pitcher under her nose an' went out.'

'Did he come back?'

'Come to think, I guess he didn't; I know he didn't.'

'Well, Bill,' I said, 'I can't blame you; I only blame myself; but if you should see that woman go behind a curtain or door again, and presently see a man come out, if he is the same in size and looks anything like the one you saw to-night, you just follow him, and you'll be on the right track.'

'Jim-mi-netti!'

'And, Bill, I want you to be on the Plaisance in the morning early, and if the brunette starts out, don't lose her. If she has not appeared by noon you may go down to the Plaza and look about there, but get back to Midway by three o'clock; she'll show herself there sooner or later.'

The next day Bill had nothing to report. The day following he had followed her, late in the afternoon, when she had emerged from the Turkish bazaar down Midway, and had seen her stop and speak to one of the guards, then she had left the grounds by a Midway gate 'opposite Hagenbeck's lion circus, ye know.'

'And I followed her,' he continued, 'till she come to that rest'runt where you an' me see her git the letter; she turned off right by the Midway gate, and went acrost to Wash'n'ton Avenue, an' down that till she turned to come to the rest'runt. 'Twas most supper-time, and she didn't come out no more, I'm sure, for I watched till most midnight, an' there wa'n't no back way, I know, for I looked.'

I could well believe that she had taken a room as near the grounds as possible, where she might rest when rest was required, and she was off duty, and I did not doubt but that Delbras and Greenback Bob had each a similar lair outside the White City, but conveniently near it.

This last report had been made to us on the morning of my visit to Miss Jenrys, Bill having appeared at our quarters at an early hour, and I had been studying the expediency of letting Miss Jenrys into the history of her brunette acquaintance, as far as I myself knew it, before visiting the two ladies, at last deciding that I would wait a little and be guided by circumstances, the episode of Gerald Trent's disappearance finally putting it altogether out of my mind.

On the morning after the attempt to drown the guard, Dave and I waited for a time in our room, expecting a report from Bill, which might, we hoped, throw some light upon the events of the night before. But he did not appear; and after breakfasting together, Dave went back to our room to await him, while I made haste toward the Emergency Hospital, where our wounded guard lay, carefully watched, skilfully attended, and not permitted to talk or receive visitors.

Assured that his recovery would be only a matter of days, I went back to find Dave still alone, and this time we both set out, after leaving a message with the janitor, Dave to look after the men who had been detailed upon our business in different directions and to hear their reports, and I to see that more men were at work upon the Trent case before I ventured, as I was most anxious to do, upon a visit to Miss Jenrys and her aunt.

Having done what I could in the Trent case, I found it nearing noon when I approached their place of residence, but I had little fear of finding them absent, and was hastening on, only a few paces from their door, when I saw Monsieur Voisin come hastily out, and after seeming to hesitate a moment upon the threshold, run down the steps and move rapidly away southward. I could see that his face wore a sombre look, and I wondered if he had seen me in the hasty glance he had cast about him. There were others upon the pavement between him and myself, and I trusted that he had not; still, I felt a strange reluctance to being seen by this man so often in the same place, and I slackened my pace and finally stood still, reading the 'to lets' upon the opposite houses, until he turned the corner and went, as I was very sure, to the Midway entrance a little way beyond.

I found the ladies at home, and eager to hear the little I had to tell them regarding the Trent case. I had put a good man in the hotel where Trent had stopped, to find out, if possible, whether the young Bostonian had been spotted and followed from that place by any swell adventurer; and I arranged with the mistress of the place where Trent had secured rooms to hold them until I heard from Boston, whether any or all would come on and occupy the rooms and assist in the search. Miss Jenrys felt sure they would come, all of them.

'Hilda O'Neil will not rest until she is here, as near the place where he was last seen as possible. You were very thoughtful to secure the rooms,' she sighed heavily. 'I suppose now we must simply wait until we receive the picture?' she added.

'There is little else to do,' I replied. 'Of course I have had other advertisements inserted in various papers, and have offered a reward, as you directed.'

'Ah,' she sighed again, 'we may hear from that.'

'I doubt it,' I replied. 'If he has been abducted, it is too soon for that,' and then I turned the conversation by saying:

'I have some news from your friend, the brunette.'

'My friend! Mr. Masters!'

'Pardon me; your satellite, then. She was revolving near you the day before yesterday.' At this point the door opened and a voice said:

'Miss Ross, the laundress is here about your washing.'

Miss Ross rose with alacrity, a benevolent smile upon her sweet face.

'Mr. Masters,' she said, 'thee must save thy story or tell it twice over, for I must beg thee to excuse me now. I can't send this poor woman away, and I ought not to make her wait.'

'It's one of Aunt Ann's protégées,' explained Miss Jenrys, 'and she has come by appointment.'

Mentally thankful for this interruption, I assured Miss Ross that my story should wait, and when she had left us alone I turned at once to Miss Jenrys.

'I am glad of this opportunity,' I began at once, 'for I have something to tell you which I prefer to make known to you first, although I should have told my story, even in your aunt's presence, if necessary, before leaving to-day.'

And as directly as possible I told of my acquaintance with the handsome guard.

Beginning with her encounter with the Turkish palanquin-bearers, I described my interview with the guard, repeated his words, his questions concerning her welfare, his statement that she was not a stranger to him, and then, with her interest and her curiosity well aroused, I described him.

'I wonder who it can be?' she had murmured before I began my description, and I kept a secret watch upon her features, while I said:

'He is a tall young fellow, and very straight and square-shouldered, though somewhat slender. He is blond, with close-cropped hair that is quite light, almost golden, and inclined to curl where it has attained an inch of growth. He wears a moustache that is but little darker than his hair, and is kept close-trimmed. He has a broad, full forehead; honest, open blue eyes, not pale blue, but a fine deep colour, and they meet one frankly and fearlessly. His mouth is really too handsome for a man, but his chin is firm enough to counterbalance that. His manners are fine, and he has evidently been reared a gentleman. I chanced to hear him sing last night, and he has a wonderfully high tenor voice – an unusual voice; clear and sweet, and soft in the highest notes.'

Before I had finished my description, I saw clearly that she recognised the picture. Her colour had changed and changed again, from red to pale. But I made no pause, telling how I had seen him in conversation with the little brunette, and what he had told me of that conversation, and then I described the adventure of the previous night.

When I had reached the point where I had offered my card and he had refused to give me a false name, I saw her eyes glow and her head lift itself unconsciously; when I described him in converse with the wily brunette, a slight frown crossed her face, and her little foot tapped an impatient tattoo quite unconsciously; when I pictured him as following the two women toward the Wooded Island, her head was lifted again and her lip curled scornfully. But when I had reached the point where the two figures, springing suddenly from the darkness behind him, had hurled him over the parapet into the deepest part of the lagoon, a low moan burst from her lips, and she put out her hands entreatingly.

'Was he – Quick! tell me!'

'He was rescued, unconscious but living, by two of the emergency crew who guard the lagoons by night, who, luckily, were lying in their skiff under the shadow of the bridge engaged in watching the mysterious movements of the very men who were lurking behind the big pedestal on the other side of the pier, awaiting the signal from the women, their confederates. In going over, his head was quite seriously hurt. At first it was thought that he had struck the edge of the boat in falling, but the doctor says it was a blow from some blunt instrument with a rounded end – some manner of club, no doubt.'

'And now – how – is he?' she faltered.

'In very good hands, and doing as well as can be expected. I was not allowed to see him, and he does not seem fully conscious, although the doctor says he may recover if all goes well.'

'Where is he?' Her face was very pale, but there was a change in her voice, a sudden firmness, and a total lack of hesitancy.

'At the Emergency Hospital in the Fair grounds.' I had purposely made his case as serious as I consistently could, and I now made the important plunge. 'Miss Jenrys, I have taken a great interest in this young man from the first. He is a fine fellow, and now, added to this personal liking, is the duty I owe this helpless young man, who evidently has an enemy, and that enemy seemingly the very person who has been dogging you so persistently and so mysteriously. You see the strangeness of the complication. Are you willing to help me?'

'I?' she hesitated. 'How?'

'This young man knows you. Do you not know him?'

'I – almost believe so.'

'And – are you under any vow or promise of secrecy? He lies there, unknown, friendless; and he has an enemy near at hand. I want to serve him, but to do this intelligently I must know him.'

She hesitated a moment, and then, to my surprise, arose quite calmly, went to her desk, and came back with a photograph in her hand.

'Look at that,' she said, as she held it out to me.

It was a group of tennis-players upon a sunlit lawn, one of those instantaneous pictures in which amateurs delight; but it was clear and the faces were very distinct. One of them I recognised at once as the subject of our conversation. He wore in the picture a light tennis suit, and his handsome head was bare; but I knew the face at once, and told her so.

'That,' she said, 'is a picture of a Mr. Lossing, whom I knew quite well for a season in New York. Shortly before Lent he left the city, it was said, and I have heard and known nothing of him since.'

'And – pardon me – it's very unusual for a young man of society to take up the work he has chosen. Do you know any reason for this?'

'None whatever. He seemed to be well supplied with money. So far as I can judge, I confess I never thought before of his fortune or lack of it.' A sudden flush mantled her face, and her eyes dropped. I wondered if she was thinking of that letter to Hilda O'Neil.

'It's a delicate point,' I said musingly. 'If we could learn something of his situation. He is very proud. Do you think that your friend, Monsieur Voisin, might possibly know something – '

She put up her hand quickly, imperiously.

'If Mr. Lossing has chosen to conceal himself from his friends, we have no right to make his presence here known to Monsieur Voisin.' She checked herself and coloured beautifully again.

'You are right,' I said promptly. I had no real thought of asking Monsieur Voisin into our councils, and I had now verified the suspicions I had held from the first – fitting the guard's statement and his personality into the story her letter told – that he was the Mr. Lossing from whom she had parted so stormily in the conservatory on the night of her aunt's reception.

And now, as I consulted my watch, she leaned toward me, and suddenly threw aside her reserve.

'Can you guess,' she asked eagerly, 'how he came to meet those women in that way? It was a meeting, was it not?'

'No doubt of that; and it was also a scheme to entrap him.'

'But – how did they do it? How did they lure him to that bridge – those two women?'

I could not suppress a smile.

'Can you not guess? It must be only a guess on my part, you know, but I fancy that in her talk with him that afternoon the brunette led him to think that you would not be unwilling to see him. I particularly noted that the woman with her was of about your height, and that she wore a hat much like the one worn by you on the day I first saw you. Now that I recall their manœuvres of last night, I remember that the hat almost concealed her face, and that they kept in the shadow.'