The Lion's Mouse
Page 19
XIX
THE BROWN TRUNK
Clo realized that there was no more to be said, since to accuse MissBlackburne of lying would make matters worse. When Beverley came back,to say that the servants had been questioned, and the flat searched invain, the girl had made up her mind what to do next. There were twothings, one of which had better be done at once; the second, which mustbe done before ten o'clock. The first was to settle with MissBlackburne; and get rid of her. The second thing was to keep theappointment with Peterson. It was more important, Clo thought, to seehim than to see O'Reilly, though she expected Angel to suggest animmediate talk with O'Reilly in person or by telephone. She hoped tobring Beverley to her point of view.
"Of course, I rely on you to let me clear myself if you don't find yourpearls the way you hope," Miss Blackburne reminded Beverley. "I'm sureyou'll let me know when you have news. Meanwhile, there's nothing tostay for, is there? I might as well be with mother."
It was arranged that she should go home in a taxi, to save the timewhich must be wasted, waiting for Beverley's car. Mrs. Sands paid, ofcourse, and gave the pearl-stringer a present of fifty dollars, "to makeup for her trouble."
It was not late, as time goes, but on this night of stress and ordeal,nine-fifteen was a terrible hour. The instant Miss Blackburne was out ofthe house, the two girls turned to each other, and clasped hands.
"Thank God, she's gone!" Beverley breathed. "Now I'll call up JustinO'Reilly, and----"
"Wait till I tell you something I've thought of, then you can decide,"Clo cut in. "I believe that horrible creature, Peterson, may be thethief, not O'Reilly. How he could have got into the flat, and out again,I can't see. But he probably specializes in stunts like that! He has theface--and the fingers--for it. I shouldn't wonder if he terrorized poorBlacky. She's not cut out for a heroine, is she? Maybe the man was underthe table in the boudoir. Maybe he warned her that, if she gave him awayafterward, he'd do for her and all her belongings. That would scareBlacky blue! She worships her mother. I haven't got the tanglestraightened out in my head yet. But this new idea looks good to me, sofar. If Peterson's the thief--if he's pocketed the papers and thepearls--it seems to me he'll try and make a quick get-away. Let us jumpon him now, at the Hotel Westmorland, before he expects us, and beforebothering with O'Reilly. These pearls must be well known. Peterson can'tget rid of them, even to a fence, for any big sum. I think he'dexchange, for money, and less important jewels that he might dare tosell. Haven't you got something that your husband's forgotten--or won'tmind if he doesn't see you wear?"
"Yes," Beverley answered. "I have six or seven hundred dollars by me.There's a diamond muff-chain, too, and a tiara that Roger himself thinkstoo old looking for me. He proposed to have the stones reset--but that'smonths ago. He has forgotten, I'm sure, for he's given me so many otherthings since. I could bargain with the chain and tiara--and perhaps afew bracelets and rings."
"Let me take the jewels and money in a bag to the Westmorland. I canleave it at the desk while I do the bargaining. It's best to be on thesafe side, if you're a mouse holding up a ferret! Besides, there's aquestion we've 'most lost sight of in this business, Angel. We're notsure the right papers were in the envelope I took from O'Reilly. Theymight be something else he valued."
"Why, yes!" cried Beverley. "For a moment I counted on their being theright ones--the ones I must give Peterson----"
"Well, I've only to see him to make sure," Clo went on. "He may lie, butI know I can tell by his face. Angel, waste no time on O'Reilly. There'snot one second to lose! Get your jewels together, and I'll go."
"We'll both go," said Beverley. "Don't object; it's useless! I won'thave you go alone. You've done more than enough already. I'm a wretch tolet you slave for me, your first day out of bed! But I daren't call atPeterson's alone, not because I'm afraid for myself, but because ofRoger. Besides, I can depend on you to keep your head."
"Very well," Clo consented. "The first thing that occurs to me is this:we must put on plain coats and hats. My new hat I left at the Dietz: Ihad to! But you'll lend me something. And we'll not 'phone for a taxi.Best slip away and not let the servants know we've gone. If you've alatch-key, we may go and even get back without a soul being the wiser."
"Come to my room and choose wraps for us both, while I collect the moneyand what jewels I dare spare," Beverley said. As she spoke, she ran infront of Clo, and opened a safe in the wall not unlike the hiding placeClo had rifled at the Dietz.
The girl selected two automobile coats, one of gray silk, the other ofbrown, both intended to match the colours of dresses, but inconspicuousand plain. There were toques made of the same material, with thin veilsattached. Clo took for herself the brown coat, which was shorter thanthe gray, and pulled the brown toque well over her red hair. By thistime Beverley had stuffed a roll of greenbacks, a chain of platinum setwith brilliants, half a dozen sparkling rings and bracelets, and aflexible diamond tiara, into a dark leather handbag. Clo helped her intothe long gray coat which covered her evening dress; and the two stoleout of the flat like flitting shadows. They went down in the elevator,but the hall-porter was off duty for the night, having left a youngunderstudy in charge.
The girls walked fast to the nearest taxi stand, Clo trying not tobreathe hard and so remind Angel of her weakness. As the chauffeurslowed down in front of the Westmorland, Beverley held up her wristwatch for Clo to see.
"Twenty-five minutes to ten," Clo assured her confidently. "I only hopehe won't have gone out. Now, you wait for me in the taxi, Angel, whileI----"
"No, you're to wait for me," Beverley decided. "I can do more with theman than you, because there are things you don't know. But don't waithere. It's too far away. I might need you in a hurry. We'll keep thetaxi, so there'll be no delay in getting off, and we'll both go into thehotel together. You came this afternoon, so you had better ask forPeterson. We can make up our minds what to do next when we get theanswer."
A moment later a tall young woman in a gray motor cloak, and a smallyoung woman in a brown cloak, entered the hotel. The veils that coveredtheir close-fitting toques and fell over their faces were not thick, yetin the electric light the gauze took on a disguising glitter. The pairin their plain wraps, were not conspicuous figures even in a third-ratehotel like the Westmorland, and the clerk whom they approached was notmoved to curiosity.
"Mr. Peterson? He's in; came in over an hour ago, and mentioned that heexpected a caller; party to go right up."
"He's expecting us, one or both," Clo cut in hastily. "What's hisnumber?"
"658, top floor," said the clerk. "The elevator's just over there to theleft--see?"
"We'll go up together," Clo whispered, "and then, if you really thinkbest to see the man alone, I'll hang about somewhere in the hall tillyou come out and call me."
Beverley made no reply. Already she was fathoms deep in thought. Themusty-smelling lift shot them up to the top floor; Beverley, steppingout ahead of Clo, had the air of having forgotten her existence. Thegirl's anxiety deepened. The best she could do was to guide her friendthrough dimly lighted, dark-walled corridors, to the right number, 658.Beverley had, before they left the taxi, given the money and jewels intoher companion's hand. Clo's over-strained nerves began to take theirrevenge. This shabby hotel was an evil place. To her it seemed that eachclosed door hid something secret and sinister. They met no one betweenthe elevator and Peterson's room. Involuntarily, the two paused aninstant in front of number 658 before knocking. No sound came fromwithin. If Peterson were in his room, apparently he was alone. Beverleytapped--a sharp, nervous tap.
"Come in!" cried a voice which sounded far off, as if the speaker calledfrom the furthest corner of the room, or from the depths of a wallcupboard.
"Keep near, but not too near," whispered Beverley, and opened the door.To her surprise and Clo's there was no light in the room; yet it was notreally dark. The blind on the curtainless window opposite the door wasrolled up to the top, and let in light from the brilliantly illuminatedstre
et six storeys below. As Beverley passed in, Clo caught a glimpse ofa man's figure comfortably seated in a high-backed armchair in front ofthe window. She even recognized the mean profile of Peterson, outlinedin black against the luminous square of a window pane, and anger prickedher that he should dare receive Mrs. Sands without rising. Then the doorshut, and Clo, obeying the order to "keep near, but not too near," tooka few steps down the corridor. Within sight of the door, but not withinhearing of voices on the other side unless they should rise to a shout,she hovered uneasily.
It was hateful to Clo that Angel should be alone with the ferret-facedman behind the closed door. He might choke Beverley to death with thosesly, thievish hands of his, and the sentinel outside would not know."Why was he sitting there in the dark," she puzzled, "like a spider inhis web, waiting to pounce?" She could not put away the impression thatthere was something more terrible even than Beverley had expected. Noone came or went. After all, she had been there only four or fiveminutes, though the time seemed long. It might easily be half an hour,Clo reminded herself, before she could hope to be called intoconsultation, or invited to hand over the precious bag. She lookedwistfully toward the nearest end of the corridor. There, in front of awindow, was a big brown trunk. She would go and sit on that trunk torest. It was well within sight of Peterson's door. Her eyes would neverleave that door! With renewed life she could spring up as she saw itopened by Angel.
"Yes, I've got to the limit!" the girl said. She was so spent that herfeet seemed to have weights attached to them as she dragged herselftoward the trunk. Reaching it, she dropped, rather than sat, upon therounded top. No sooner had she touched the lid, however, than shebounded up as if she had received an electric shock. It seemed thatsomething inside the trunk had given a leap, and that the great box hadquivered under her. At the same instant the door of number 658 wasthrown open. Beverley came out.