CHAPTER IV
THE AIR PIRATE
Rounding up the "Group" took several days, and it proved to be a greatstory for the Star. I was pretty fagged when it was all over, but therewas a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that we had frustrated oneof the most daring anarchist plots of recent years.
"Can you arrange to spend the week-end with me at StuyvesantVerplanck's at Bluffwood?" asked Kennedy over the telephone, theafternoon that I had completed my work on the newspaper of undoing whatAnnenberg and the rest had attempted.
"How long since society took you up?" I asked airily, adding, "Is it alarge house party you are getting up?"
"You have heard of the so-called 'phantom bandit' of Bluffwood, haven'tyou?" he returned rather brusquely, as though there was no time now forbantering.
I confess that in the excitement of the anarchists I had forgotten it,but now I recalled that for several days I had been reading littleparagraphs about robberies on the big estates on the Long Island shoreof the Sound. One of the local correspondents had called the robber a"phantom bandit," but I had thought it nothing more than an attempt tomake good copy out of a rather ordinary occurrence.
"Well," he hurried on, "that's the reason why I have been 'taken up bysociety,' as you so elegantly phrase it. From the secret hiding-placesof the boudoirs and safes of fashionable women at Bluffwood, thousandsof dollars' worth of jewels and other trinkets have mysteriouslyvanished. Of course you'll come along. Why, it will be just the storyto tone up that alleged page of society news you hand out in the SundayStar. There--we're quits now. Seriously, though, Walter, it reallyseems to be a very baffling case, or rather series of cases. The wholecolony out there is terrorized. They don't know who the robber is, orhow he operates, or who will be the next victim, but his skill andsuccess seem almost uncanny. Mr. Verplanck has put one of his cars atmy disposal and I'm up here at the laboratory gathering some apparatusthat may be useful. I'll pick you up anywhere between this and theBridge--how about Columbus Circle in half an hour?"
"Good," I agreed, deciding quickly from his tone and manner ofassurance that it would be a case I could not afford to miss.
The Stuyvesant Verplancks, I knew, were among the leaders of the ratherrecherche society at Bluffwood, and the pace at which Bluffwood movedand had its being was such as to guarantee a good story in one way oranother.
"Why," remarked Kennedy, as we sped out over the picturesque roads ofthe north shore of Long Island, "this fellow, or fellows, seems to havetaken the measure of all the wealthy members of the exclusiveorganizations out there--the Westport Yacht Club, the Bluffwood CountryClub, the North Shore Hunt, and all of them. It's a positive scandal,the ease with which he seems to come and go without detection, strikingnow here, now there, often at places that it seems physicallyimpossible to get at, and yet always with the same diabolical skill andsuccess. One night he will take some baubles worth thousands, the nextpass them by for something apparently of no value at all, a piece ofbric-a-brac, a bundle of letters, anything."
"Seems purposeless, insane, doesn't it?" I put in.
"Not when he always takes something--often more valuable than money,"returned Craig.
He leaned back in the car and surveyed the glimpses of bay andcountryside as we were whisked by the breaks in the trees.
"Walter," he remarked meditatively, "have you ever considered thepossibilities of blackmail if the right sort of evidence were obtainedunder this new 'white-slavery act'? Scandals that some of the fast setmay be inclined to wink at, that at worst used to end in Reno, becomefelonies with federal prison sentences looming up in the background.Think it over."
Stuyvesant Verplanck had telephoned rather hurriedly to Craig earlierin the day, retaining his services, but telling only in the briefestway of the extent of the depredations, and hinting that more thanjewelry might be at stake.
It was a pleasant ride, but we finished it in silence. Verplanck was,as I recalled, a large masterful man, one of those who demanded andliked large things--such as the estate of several hundred acres whichwe at last entered.
It was on a neck of land with the restless waters of the Sound on oneside and the calmer waters of the bay on the other. Westport Bay lay ina beautifully wooded, hilly country, and the house itself was on anelevation, with a huge sweep of terraced lawn before it down to thewater's edge. All around, for miles, were other large estates, averitable colony of wealth.
As we pulled up under the broad stone porte-cochere, Verplanck, who hadbeen expecting us, led the way into his library, a great room,literally crowded with curios and objects of art which he had collectedon his travels. It was a superb mental workshop, overlooking the bay,with a stretch of several miles of sheltered water.
"You will recall," began Verplanck, wasting no time over preliminaries,but plunging directly into the subject, "that the prominent robberiesof late have been at seacoast resorts, especially on the shores of LongIsland Sound, within, say, a hundred miles of New York. There has beena great deal of talk about dark and muffled automobiles that haveconveyed mysterious parties swiftly and silently across country.
"My theory," he went on self-assertively, "is that the attack has beenmade always along water routes. Under shadow of darkness, it is easy toslip into one of the sheltered coves or miniature fiords with which thenorth coast of the Island abounds, land a cut-throat crew primed withexact information of the treasure on some of these estates. Once thebooty is secured, the criminal could put out again into the Soundwithout leaving a clue."
He seemed to be considering his theory. "Perhaps the robberies lastsummer at Narragansett, Newport, and a dozen other New England placeswere perpetrated by the same cracksman. I believe," he concluded,lowering his voice, "that there plies to-day on the wide waters of theSound a slim, swift motor boat which wears the air of a pleasure craft,yet is as black a pirate as ever flew the Jolly Roger. She may at thismoment be anchored off some exclusive yacht club, flying therespectable burgee of the club--who knows?"
He paused as if his deductions settled the case so far. He would haveresumed in the same vein, if the door had not opened. A lady in acobwebby gown entered the room. She was of middle age, but had retainedher youth with a skill that her sisters of less leisure always envy.Evidently she had not expected to find anyone, yet nothing seemed todisconcert her.
"Mrs. Verplanck," her husband introduced, "Professor Kennedy and hisassociate, Mr. Jameson--those detectives we have heard about. We werediscussing the robberies."
"Oh, yes," she said, smiling, "my husband has been thinking of forminghimself into a vigilance committee. The local authorities are all atsea."
I thought there was a trace of something veiled in the remark andfancied, not only then but later, that there was an air of constraintbetween the couple.
"You have not been robbed yourself?" queried Craig tentatively.
"Indeed we have," exclaimed Verplanck quickly. "The other night I wasawakened by the noise of some one down here in this very library. Ifired a shot, wild, and shouted, but before I could get down here theintruder had fled through a window, and half rolling down the terraces.Mrs. Verplanck was awakened by the rumpus and both of us heard apeculiar whirring noise."
"Like an automobile muffled down," she put in.
"No," he asserted vigorously, "more like a powerful motor boat, onewith the exhaust under water."
"Well," she shrugged, "at any rate, we saw no one."
"Did the intruder get anything?"
"That's the lucky part. He had just opened this safe apparently andbegun to ransack it. This is my private safe. Mrs. Verplanck hasanother built into her own room upstairs where she keeps her jewels."
"It is not a very modern safe, is it?" ventured Kennedy. "The fellowripped off the outer casing with what they call a 'can-opener.'"
"No. I keep it against fire rather than burglars. But he overlooked abox of valuable heirlooms, some silver with the Verplanck arms. I thinkI must have scared him off just in time. He seized a package in
thesafe, but it was only some business correspondence. I don't relishhaving lost it, particularly. It related to a gentlemen's agreement anumber of us had in the recent cotton corner. I suppose the Governmentwould like to have it. But--here's the point. If it is so easy to getin and get away, no one in Bluffwood is safe."
"Why, he robbed the Montgomery Carter place the other night," remarkedMrs. Verplanck, "and almost got a lot of old Mrs. Carter's jewels aswell as stuff belonging to her son, Montgomery, Junior. That was thefirst robbery. Mr. Carter, that is Junior--Monty, everyone callshim--and his chauffeur almost captured the fellow, but he managed toescape in the woods."
"In the woods?" repeated Craig.
Mrs. Verplanck nodded. "But they saved the loot he was about to take."
"Oh, no one is safe any more," reiterated Verplanck. "Carter seems tobe the only one who has had a real chance at him, and he was able toget away neatly."
"But he's not the only one who got off without a loss," she put insignificantly. "The last visit--" Then she paused.
"Where was the last attempt?" asked Kennedy.
"At the house of Mrs. Hollingsworth--around the point on this side ofthe bay. You can't see it from here."
"I'd like to go there," remarked Kennedy.
"Very well. Car or boat?"
"Boat, I think."
"Suppose we go in my little runabout, the Streamline II? She's as fastas any ordinary automobile."
"Very good. Then we can get an idea of the harbor."
"I'll telephone first that we are coming," said Verplanck.
"I think I'll go, too," considered Mrs. Verplanck, ringing for a heavywrap.
"Just as you please," said Verplanck.
The Streamline was a three-stepped boat which. Verplanck had built forracing, a beautiful craft, managed much like a racing automobile. Asshe started from the dock, the purring drone of her eight cylinderssent her feathering over the waves like a skipping stone. She sank backinto the water, her bow leaping upward, a cloud of spray in her wake,like a waterspout.
Mrs. Hollingsworth was a wealthy divorcee, living rather quietly withher two children, of whom the courts had awarded her the care. She wasa striking woman, one of those for whom the new styles of dress seemespecially to have been designed. I gathered, however, that she was noton very good terms with the little Westport clique in which theVerplancks moved, or at least not with Mrs. Verplanck. The two womenseemed to regard each other rather coldly, I thought, although Mr.Verplanck, man-like, seemed to scorn any distinctions and was more thancordial. I wondered why Mrs. Verplanck had come.
The Hollingsworth house was a beautiful little place down the bay fromthe Yacht Club, but not as far as Verplanck's, or the Carter estate,which was opposite.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Hollingsworth when the reason for our visit hadbeen explained, "the attempt was a failure. I happened to be awake,rather late, or perhaps you would call it early. I thought I heard anoise as if some one was trying to break into the drawing-room throughthe window. I switched on all the lights. I have them arranged so forjust that purpose of scaring off intruders. Then, as I looked out of mywindow on the second floor, I fancied I could see a dark figure slinkinto the shadow of the shrubbery at the side of the house. Then therewas a whirr. It might have been an automobile, although it soundeddifferently from that--more like a motor boat. At any rate, there wasno trace of a car that we could discover in the morning. The road hadbeen oiled, too, and a car would have left marks. And yet some one washere. There were marks on the drawing-room window just where I heardthe sounds."
Who could it be? I asked myself as we left. I knew that the great armyof chauffeurs was infested with thieves, thugs and gunmen. Then, too,there were maids, always useful as scouts for these corsairs who preyon the rich. Yet so adroitly had everything been done in these casesthat not a clue seemed to have been left behind by which to trace thethief.
We returned to Verplanck's in the Streamline in record time, dined, andthen found McNeill, a local detective, waiting to add his quota ofinformation. McNeill was of the square-toed, double-chinned,bull-necked variety, just the man to take along if there was anyfighting. He had, however, very little to add to the solution of themystery, apparently believing in the chauffeur-and-maid theory.
It was too late to do anything more that night, and we sat on theVerplanck porch, overlooking the beautiful harbor. It was a black, inkynight, with no moon, one of those nights when the myriad lights on theboats were mere points in the darkness. As we looked out over thewater, considering the case which as yet we had hardly started on,Kennedy seemed engrossed in the study in black.
"I thought I saw a moving light for an instant across the bay, abovethe boats, and as though it were in the darkness of the hills on theother side. Is there a road over there, above the Carter house?" heasked suddenly.
"There is a road part of the way on the crest of the hill," repliedMrs. Verplanck. "You can see a car on it, now and then, through thetrees, like a moving light."
"Over there, I mean," reiterated Kennedy, indicating the light as itflashed now faintly, then disappeared, to reappear further along, likea gigantic firefly in the night.
"N-no," said Verplanck. "I don't think the road runs down as far asthat. It is further up the bay."
"What is it then?" asked Kennedy, half to himself. "It seems to betraveling rapidly. Now it must be about opposite the Carter house.There--it has gone."
We continued to watch for several minutes, but it did not reappear.Could it have been a light on the mast of a boat moving rapidly up thebay and perhaps nearer to us than we suspected? Nothing furtherhappened, however, and we retired early, expecting to start with freshminds on the case in the morning. Several watchmen whom Verplanckemployed both on the shore and along the driveways were left guardingevery possible entrance to the estate.
Yet the next morning as we met in the cheery east breakfast room,Verplanck's gardener came in, hat in hand, with much suppressedexcitement.
In his hand he held an orange which he had found in the shrubberyunderneath the windows of the house. In it was stuck a long nail and tothe nail was fastened a tag.
Kennedy read it quickly.
"If this had been a bomb, you and your detectives would never haveknown what struck you.
"AQUAERO."
The War Terror Page 4