XXVIII
MR. JONES OF PEORIA
O'Reilly had only just finished reading Clo's note, had folded it up,and put it in his pocket when he was joined by a man at whom, for asecond, he stared as at a stranger. Then a slight contraction of thenewcomer's eyelid and a twinkle in his eye enlightened Justin.
"Well, this is good, meeting you!" exploded a jolly voice. "I hoped youhadn't forgotten poor old Dick Jones, though it's a long time since youblew out our way to Peoria. I'm here in little old New York, seeing thesights."
"Why, of course, I remember you very well, Mr. Jones," said O'Reilly."Sit down at my table, do. What'll you have, in memory of old times?"
As he spoke, he took in the extraordinary changes Mr. William J. Denhamhad made in his personal appearance. Denham was a slender, youngish man,neat and dapper, with light brown hair, a smooth face, and pale skin.Jones had reddish, rumpled eye-brows, puffy pink lids, and large, rovingeyes behind convex glasses. His hair was also red and rumpled, andthough he was not enormously stout, he was clumsily built, with adecided paunch.
When he had sat down at O'Reilly's table, the absence of near neighboursand the momentary inattention of waiters gave the two men a chance tospeak freely. "You sent a hurry call. Something up at Krantz's thispeaceful Sabbath?"
"There's more up than I want to come out," said O'Reilly. "Things havechanged since I 'phoned, but there's more need of you than ever. Thegirl I wanted to help was with me. While I talked to you, shedisappeared...."
"Disappeared!"
"Yes. I couldn't follow, because when I knew what had happened it wastoo late to get on her track; otherwise you'd have found me flown. I'dhave sacrificed you for her, if there'd been even a sporting chance. ButI didn't see one. Maybe you will, when I put you wise: or somebody mayshow up whose face will give you a tip. I'll tell you what Iknow--except the name of a lady which mustn't come into the businesseven with discretion incarnate like you."
"Reservations often spoil jobs," said Denham.
"Mine won't."
The coming of a waiter broke the conversation.
"Anybody interesting here?" asked Justin, when the waiter had gone.
"No familiar faces. But there may be, later."
O'Reilly shook his head. "It's a quarter to twelve. The man or men whomade an appointment--not with me; with the girl who's gone--should haveturned up at eleven-thirty."
"If they're sure of themselves--sure their faces aren't known--they'reprobably here," remarked Denham. "But out with your story. A lot mayhang on that."
"A lot does," said O'Reilly; and told it. He omitted no detail given byClo except such as led too close to Mrs. Sands. O'Reilly hardlydisguised the fact that the crime and its punishment were of slightimportance to him compared with the finding of Clo Riley. "I don't wanther mixed up in this murder business," he finished, "and she doesn'twant to be mixed up in it, not for her own sake, but because of thewoman she's protecting. You could get the name of that woman, but I askyou not to concern yourself with it."
"Right you are," Denham reassured him. "I've got enough to do withoutmeddling in other folks' business. The lady outside the case doesn'texist. But as for 'Churn' being Lorenz Czerny, it doesn't go withoutsaying that we shall spot Chuff and Jake, and the rest of the gangthrough him. That will depend on himself, and his Moll--Kit. I wouldn'tmind offering your young lady a good place and good pay when this mix-upcomes to an end."
"I do not believe she'll be looking for work," said O'Reilly.
"This Kit must be pretty sharp, too. It looks as if Churn was her'steady.' If she did the job at the Westmorland, it was to set him andher up in housekeeping, later on, well away from Chuff and Co. Looks asif Kit had been used for a catspaw, and maybe hadn't got enough out ofthe job for herself. Suddenly she saw a whole dazzling lot. I can't geton to who this Kit is yet. But maybe I will. Your little friend doesshoot quick--and low."
"She does," said O'Reilly. "But she doesn't hit below the belt."
"Folks like Kit and Churn and Chuff haven't got belts," said Denham.
O'Reilly laughed again. But he wanted Clo. She was made for him--thedemon, the darling, the only girl he had ever seriously desired. Hehadn't known that she existed till to-night, when she'd begun theiracquaintance by tricking and stealing from him. Though he might laugh,he wouldn't know a happy moment till she was safe. For an instant heforgot Denham and the business in hand. "I think she likes me," he toldhimself. "I'll make her like me a lot more when I get half a chance."
"That couple will hide," Denham was saying. "Churn may send word toKrantz that he can't sing; he'll say he's sick. But I shan't do any suchthing as put Krantz wise that his tenor is wanted. Krantz is a fox. Ourhope is in Miss Riley."
"You'll come to the Dietz, won't you?" asked O'Reilly.
"Yes," said the detective, finishing his cool beer. "I'll come. But Ihaven't got much hope from what may be in that bead bag. People who havethings to hide, hide 'em better than in bags. However, we'll see." WhenJustin had paid for Denham's drink, they went, with the bead bag in thepocket of Clo's brown cloak hanging over O'Reilly's arm. It was aftermidnight.
The Lion's Mouse Page 28