arrangements at Clinch's were quitesimple. Two large drain pipes emerged from the kitchen floor besideSmith, and ended in Star Pond. In case of alarm the tub of beer waspoured down one pipe; the whiskey down the other.
Only the trout in Star Pond would ever sample that hootch again.
Clinch, now slightly intoxicated, leaned heavily on the pantry shelfbeside Smith, adjusting his pistol under his suspenders.
"Young fella," he said in his agreeable voice, "you're dead right. Yousure said a face-full when you says to me, `Eve's a lady, by God!'_You_ oughta know. You was a gentleman yourself once. Even if you taketo stickin' up the turn. She _is_ a lady. All I'm livin' for is to gether down to the city and give her money to live like a lady. I'll do ityet. ... Soon! ... I'd do it to-morrow -- to-night -- if I dared ... IfI thought it sure fire. ... If I was dead certain I could get away withit. ... I've _got_ money, _Now!_ ... Only it ain't in _money_ ...Smith?"
"Yes, Mike."
"You know me?"
"Sure."
"You size me up?"
"I do."
"All right. If you ever tell anyone I got money that ain't money I'llshoot you through the head."
"Don't worry, Clinch."
"I ain't. You're a crook; you won't talk. You're a gentleman, too._They_ don't sell out a pal. Say, Hal, there's only one fella I don'twant to meet."
"Who's that, Mike?"
"Lemme tell you," continued Clinch, resting more heavily on the shelfwhile Smith, looking out through the pantry shutter at the dancing,listened intently.
"When I was in France in a Forestry Rig'ment," went on Clinch, loweringhis always pleasant voice, "I was to Paris on leave a few days beforethey sent us home."
"I was in the washroom of a caffy -- a-cleanin' up for supper, whendod-bang! into the place comes a-tumblin' a man with two cops pushingand kicking him.
"They didn't see me in there for they locked the door on the man. Hewas a swell gent, too, in full dress and silk hat and all like that, anda opry cloak and white kid gloves, and mustache and French beard.
"When they locked him up he stood stock still and lit a cigarette, ascool as ice. Then he begun walkin' around looking for a way to get out;but there wasn't no way.
"Then he seen me and over he comes and talks English right away: `Wantto make a thousand francs, soldier?' sez he in a quick whisper. `You'reon,' sez I; `Show your dough.' `Them Flies has went to get theCommissaire for to frisk me,' sez he. `Go to 13 roo Quinze Octobre andgive it to the concierge for Jose Quintana.' And he shoves the packeton me and a thousand-franc note.
"Then he grabs me sudden and pulls open my collar. God, he was strong.
"`What's the matter with you?' says I. `Lemme go or I'll mash your mugflat.' `Lemme see your identification disc,' he barks.
"Bein' in Paris for a bat, I had exchanged with my bunkie, Bill Hanson.`Let him look,' thinks I; and he reads Bill's check.
"`If you fool me,' says he, 'I'll folly ye and I'll do you in if ittakes the rest of my life. You understand?' `Sure,' says I, me tonguein me cheek. `Bong! Alez vouz en!' says he.
"`How the hell,' sez I, `do I get out of here?' `You're a Yankeesoldier. The Flies don't know you were in here. You go and kick onthat door and make a holler.'
"So I done it good; and a cope opens and swears at me, but when he seesa Yankee soldier was locked in the wash-room by mistake, he lets me out,you bet."
Clinch smiled a thin smile, poured out three fingers of hooch.
"What else?" asked Smith quietly.
"Nothing much. I didn't go to no roo Quinze Octobre. But I don't neverwant to see that fella Quintana. I've been waiting till it's safe tosell -- what was in that packet."
"Sell what?"
"What was in that packet," replied Clinch thickly.
"What was in it?"
"Sparklers -- since you're so nosey."
"Diamonds?"
"And then some. I dunno what they're called. All I know is I'll croakQuintana if he even turns up askin' for 'em. He frisked somebody. Ifrisked him. I'll kill anybody who tries to frisk me."
"Where do you keep them?" enquired Smith naively.
Clinch looked at him, very drunk: "None o' your dinged business," hesaid very softly.
The dancing had become boisterous but not unseemly, although all the menhad been drinking too freely.
Smith closed the pantry bar at midnight, by direction of Eve. Now hecame out into the ballroom and mixed affably with the company, evendancing with Harvey Chase's sister once -- a slender hoyden, all flushedand dishevelled, with a tireless mania for dancing which seemed tointoxicate her.
She danced, danced, danced, accepting any partner offered. But Smith'sskill enraptured her and she refused to let him go when her beau, a latearrival, one Charly Berry, slouched up to claim her.
Smith, always trying to keep Clinch and Quintana's men in view, took nopart in the discussion; but Berry thought he was detaining Lily Chaseand pushed him aside.
"Hold on, young man!" exclaimed Smith sharply. "Keep your hands toyourself. If your girl don't want to dance with you she doesn't haveto."
Some of Quintana's gag came up to listen. Berry glared at Smith.
"Say," he said, "I seen you before somewhere. Wasn't you in Russia?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Yes, you was. You was an officer! What you doing at Clinch's?"
"What's that?" growled Clinch, shoving his way forward and shoulderingthe crowd aside.
"Who's this man, Mike?" demanded Berry.
"Well, who do you think he is?" asked Clinch thickly.
"I think he's gettin' the goods on you, that's what I think," yelledBerry.
"G'wan home, Charlie," returned Clinch. "G'wan, all o'you. The danceis over. Go peaceable, every one. Stop that fiddle!"
The music ceased. The dance was ended; they all understood that; butthere was grumbling and demands for drinks.
Clinch, drunk but impassive, herded them through the door out into thestarlight. There was scuffling, horse-play, but no fighting.
The big Englishman, Harry Beck, asked for accommodations for his partover night.
"Naw," said Clinch, "g'wan back to the Inn. I can't bother with youfolks to-night." And as the others, Salzar, Georgiades, Picquet andSanchez gathered about to insist, Clinch pushed them all out of doors ina mass.
"Get the hell out o' here!" he growled; and slammed the door.
He stood for a moment with head lowered, drunk, but apparently capableof reflection. Eve came from the melodeon and laid one slim hand on hisarm.
"Go to bed, girlie," he said, not looking past her.
"You also, dad."
"No. ... I got business with Hal Smith."
Passing Smith, the girl whispered: "You look out for him and undresshim."
Smith nodded, gravely preoccupied with coming events, and nervinghimself to meet them.
He had no gun. Clinch's big automatic bulged under his armpit.
When the girl had ascended the creaking stairs and her door, above,closed, Clinch walked unsteadily to the door, opened it, fished out hispistol.
"Come on out," he said without turning.
"Where?" enquired Smith.
Clinch turned, lifted his square head; and the deadly glare in his eyesleft Smith silent.
"You comin?"
"Sure," said Smith quietly.
But Clinch gave him no chance to close in: it was death even to swerve.Smith walked slowly out into the starlight, ahead of Clinch -- slowlyforward in the luminous darkness.
"Keep going," came Clinch's quiet voice behind him. And, after they hadentered the woods, -- "Bear to the right."
Smith knew now. The low woods were full of sink-holes. They wereheaded for the nearest one.
* * * * *
On the edge of the thing they halted. Smith turned and faced Clinch.
"What's the idea?" he asked without a quaver.
"Was you in Roosia?"
"Yes."
"Was you an officer?"
"I was."
"Then you're spyin'. You're a cop."
"You're mistaken."
"Ah, don't had me none like that. You're a State Trooper or a SecretService guy, or a plain, dirty cop. And I'm a-going to croak you."
"I'm not in any service,
The Flaming Jewel Page 7