Calamity Jane 10

by J. T. Edson

  ‘What happened?’ “Father Matthew Devlin” demanded, without wasting time on preliminary greetings, as he stalked into the sitting room of the house in Chicago’s Polish quarter which Phineas Branigan had declared was unknown to the police and would offer a safe refuge.

  ‘Your brother is dead, mademoiselle,’ Arnaud Cavallier announced, coming to his feet and directing the words to Vera Gorr-Kauphin. She had followed the impostor in and had a far from pleasant look on her face which did not change to grief at the news. Still holding the J. Russell & Co. Green River knife he had been cleaning while seated at the table and awaiting the couple’s arrival, le Loup-Garou continued, ‘And so is Raoul Fourmies, although he is no great loss. It also cost me Pierre and Jean-Louis.’

  Having succeeded in evading Lieutenant Edward Ballinger’s pursuit, not without difficulty, Cavallier had decided against returning to the vicinity of the Bistro le Marsellaise to find out whether he had silenced Marcel Tinville. He had known that to do so would entail far greater danger than lurking among the crowd outside the Streeterville Municipal Hospital. Furthermore, confident in his ability to wield the knife, he had no doubt that the would-be betrayer had died without being able to divulge any information.

  Making his way towards O’Malley’s Grand Emerald Isle Theater, Cavallier had learned why “Father Devlin” had been so insistent that he should only return from one direction. Before he had arrived, he was intercepted by one of Branigan’s men and informed that the impostor and actress had left, but there were police on the premises. Although they were there to guard against any further attempts at arson, he had appreciated the dangers of having his presence questioned and possibly being taken to be interviewed by Ballinger. He had found the moccasins invaluable while eluding the detective in the darkness, but realized they were such an unusual kind of footwear in Chicago that they were sure to be noticed. Nor had he doubted that Ballinger was shrewd enough to conclude on seeing them that he might be with the two men in similar attire who had been killed at the hospital.

  On being taken to the house in which Vera and “Devlin” would be spending the night, Cavallier was informed that they had not returned. Wanting to hear how they had fared with the arms salesman, he had elected to await their arrival in the sitting room instead of accepting the offer of a bed. His vigil had not been prolonged and he had only just finished giving the knife a thorough cleaning when they made their appearance.

  ‘What went wrong, damn it?’ the impostor inquired, his harsh voice showing more than its usual asperity.

  ‘Ballinger came to the hospital shortly after Fourmies had gone up to do his work,’ Cavallier explained and, being sensitive to atmosphere, deduced there was not the best of feelings between the couple. ‘When he learned of the visit, he must have guessed what Fourmies was up to and went to stop it.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you stop him?’ “Devlin” challenged.

  ‘We tried,’ le Loup-Garou replied gently, but his eyes tightened in a way which indicated he did not care for the impostor’s tone. He went on, with less truth, ‘And, in fact, we delayed Ballinger and his party for long enough to let Fourmies carry out his task. But, when it was over, our gallant brotherhood had lost three of its valiant and valued members.’

  ‘And you escaped,’ “Devlin” commented, oozing offence.

  ‘As I am here and talking with you, mon cher Pére Mathieu, it is reasonable to assume I escaped,’ Cavallier answered and made a slight, but noticeable gesture with the knife he had not put down. ‘And, for your sake, as well as for the sake of our Great Cause, you may consider it was fortunate I not only escaped but had the courage to remain near the hospital which you declined to visit.’

  ‘What might that mean?’ the impostor snarled, his right hand reaching across to unbutton his jacket and allow access to the short barreled Smith & Wesson Russian Model revolver which had been returned to the cross draw holster on the left side of his waist belt on leaving Ernst Kramer’s house.

  ‘Personally,’ Vera put in. ‘I fail to see how it would have served the purpose of any of us if Mr. Cavallier had been killed.’

  ‘As always, mademoiselle,’ le Loup-Garou responded, bowing without relaxing his watch on “Devlin”. ‘Your wisdom is exceeded only by your beauty and charm. Shall we sit down while I tell you of my adventures?’

  ‘Very well,’ Vera assented, pulling out a chair and, after scowling for a moment, the impostor did the same.

  As Cavallier had deduced, the actress was feeling anything but well disposed towards “Devlin”. There had been an acrimonious debate on the journey from Kramer’s home. Neither had the kind of temperament to tolerate criticism. So, when she had protested about them having to find an extra fifteen hundred dollars as well as the money lost in the fire, he had countered by pointing out it was she who suggested paying the bonus in the first place. He had gone on to say that she had almost ruined everything before he prevented her from telling the arms salesman that they would be leaving Chicago.

  A shrewd strategist, Cavallier was not averse to making the most of the rift between his fellow conspirators. When he had heard that the anarchists from Europe with whom he was allying himself were led by a woman, he had looked forward to meeting her. Like the Champlain brothers, his sexual appetite was well developed. However, considering himself to be a conqueror of female hearts, he had also anticipated being able to turn her into an eager and unquestioning supporter of his wishes. In view of his relationship with the imposter, he had felt this would be of inestimable value.

  From the beginning of their association, there had never been any rapport between le Loup-Garou and “Devlin”. Not only had the impostor a tendency towards racial prejudice he could never entirely conceal, in spite of his pretence of believing in equality, he assumed he had the right to command and everybody else must accept his orders without question. That the Metis was not only born of mixed parentage, but was also rich and influential, served as a constant irritant. So did his refusal to accept subordinate status. Nor was the situation improved by “Devlin” realizing that neither his pose as a priest, nor his genuine reputation for being tough and unscrupulous caused Cavallier any trepidation. While he had always been able to dominate his male associates with one or the other in the past, having found it useful to masquerade in a similar guise on two previous occasions, he was soon aware this did not apply to the handsome and equally ruthless le Loup-Garou.

  ‘I followed Ballinger, a man, and a most remarkable young woman who were with him when they left the hospital,’ Cavallier commenced, when they were all seated, picking up the cloth and pretending to continue cleaning his knife blade. He had not seen any sign that Vera was impressed by his flattery, so went on, ‘Not without some risk to myself, I might add.’

  ‘Who were they?’ “Devlin” asked, watching the Metis’ hands.

  ‘That is what I hoped to find out,’ Cavallier replied. ‘So I followed them to what I believe you Irish call Frog Town. Straight to the Bistro le Marselliaise, which was clearly their destination and not just being visited by chance. So charming a person as yourself will never have heard of it, mademoiselle, although I would have expected Pére Mathieu to know of it if only when some of its usual customers attend the confessional.’

  ‘I’ve heard of it,’ the impostor admitted, although his information had not come about from carrying out the parochial duty to which le Loup-Garou referred.

  ‘And who do you think was there?’ Cavallier continued. ‘I mean apart from Papa Champlain and his two fine sons?’

  ‘Who?’ Vera asked, seeing that “Devlin” was growing uneasy and, having no idea what made the Bistro le Marseillaise out of the ordinary, wondering why this should be.

  ‘None other than our good, if absent friend Marcel Tinville,’ Cavallier announced dramatically.

  ‘Tinville!’ “Devlin” ejaculated, his frown increasing.

  ‘In person, as large as life and, some might say, twice as handsome,’ Cavallier confir
med in a silky purr, delighted by the reaction his news had produced. Tm only surprised that somebody hadn’t already guessed he would go there in search of succor.’

  ‘There was no reason to think he would, seeing he’s Belgian, not French,’ the bogus priest pointed out in exculpation, knowing the accusation was leveled at him. Then a realization of what the news might mean drove away his resentment over the jibe about his lack of forethought. ‘Do you mean Ballinger’s got Tinville?’

  ‘Ballinger has him,’ Cavallier answered, amused by the consternation which was displayed by his companions and, tossing aside the cloth, he flourished the knife. ‘At least, Ballinger has his silent and worthless corpse.’

  ‘You killed him?’ Vera asked, showing no more emotion than she had when informed of her brother’s death.

  ‘Of course,’ le Loup-Garou confirmed in a matter of fact tone. ‘The risk was great, but worth taking considering what was involved.’

  ‘Are you sure he’s dead?’ “Devlin’ challenged, reluctant to concede that his disliked fellow conspirator had achieved such a coup.

  ‘I didn’t give him la Petite here “up to the Green River”,’ Cavallier admitted, tossing the knife in a glistening somersault which brought the hilt back to his palm without him needing even a glance to ensure it was falling correctly. ‘But a cut across the inside of the thigh, mon cher Pére Mathieu, is just as effective and even more certain to kill quickly.’

  ‘Did he have time to talk about us before you killed him?’ Vera asked, displaying no revulsion over the details and refraining from appearing curious in spite of wondering what the term “up to the Green River” meant.

  ‘He had no time, mademoiselle,’ Cavallier declared, but he did not mention he had taken his departure and made no attempt to find out whether the deserter had died before being able to supply information. Wanting to avoid further questions, in case the matter should be raised, he went on, ‘But I did hear something. Not from him. The man I had thought to be no more than one of Ballinger’s detectives claimed he was an inspector of the Canadian Northwest Mounted Police.’

  ‘The hell you say!’ “Devlin” spat out. ‘Then they may have heard—’

  ‘Perhaps, mon cher Pére Mathieu,’ Cavallier interrupted, more amused than alarmed by the impostor’s unconcealed perturbation. ‘But, to the best of my knowledge, there is no Inspector Macdonald—which is the name he gave—in the Mounties.’

  ‘Then why?’ “Devlin” began.

  ‘Then who?’ the actress commenced at the same instant.

  ‘I have been asking myself both questions,’ le Loup-Garou confessed wryly. ‘His voice was that of the kind of upper class Scot who provide the British Army’s Highland regiments with most of their officers. But he was dressed in the same way as most of the Irish working men in this part of Chicago. Whoever he might be, he must have some kind of official standing or a man like Ballinger would not be on such good terms with him.’

  ‘What did he look like?’ Vera inquired, just beating “Devlin” to the question.

  ‘He was about Ballinger’s height, slightly more slender,’ Cavallier supplied, ‘with a neat black mustache and a large nose that looked as if it had been broken.’

  ‘Had he a scar on his left cheek?’ the impostor snapped, the Metis’ last words having reminded him of the description he had been given of Shamus O’Toole’s assailant.

  ‘Not that I saw,’ Cavallier replied. ‘But I didn’t have a chance to look at him too closely. Why?’

  ‘We had trouble at O’Malley’s with a man answering to that description, except that he had a scar,’ “Devlin” explained.

  ‘And spoke with an Irish brogue,’ Vera supplemented, annoyed by the bogus priest having raised the points which she had been on the point of mentioning.

  ‘Then he couldn’t have been the one with Ballinger,’ Cavallier asserted, seeing a chance of strengthening his position with the actress. ‘I’ve heard his kind of accent often enough to recognize it and nobody could mistake it for an Irish brogue.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Vera gasped, a thought striking her as “Devlin”—who was seething with anger over the way she and Cavallier were combining to refute everything he said—was drawing a similar conclusion. ‘If it should have been the same man, he could be a member of the British Secret Service.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ the Metis admitted, more from a desire to show support for the actress than because he had given the matter any consideration.

  ‘It’s more than just possible!’ Vera protested and, although like most of her political persuasion she would generally try to decry her country’s achievements, she went on to strengthen her arguments. ‘If some of them can pass themselves off as natives in India and Arabia, which has been done, it would be far easier for one to be capable of impersonating a Scot and an Irishman. But would Ballinger help him in that case?’

  ‘If he’s got Republican sympathies, he’s never shown them,’ the impostor answered as the other two swung their gaze in his direction. ‘And, from what I’ve heard of him, he’d help any other peace officer, even one from a foreign country, if he thought the reason was good enough.’

  ‘But Mr. Cavallier said he wasn’t a member of the Canad—’ Vera commenced, but stopped as a realization struck her.

  ‘If he’s in the British Secret Service, they’d be able to supply him with all he’d need to pass as a Mountie,’ “Devlin” carried on, making the point which had just occurred to the actress. Swinging an accusatory gaze at le Loup-Garou, he growled. ‘Have any of your—’

  ‘As he was here and dressed in the fashion of your men, it’s more likely he learned what you were up to at the theater tonight and about the money from one of them,’ Cavallier countered and a note of asperity entered his voice for the first time. ‘None of mine knew anything about that.’

  ‘You said something about there being a woman with them,’ Vera injected hurriedly, seeking a change of subject before an open confrontation erupted between the two men. She told herself bitterly that she could not do without either under the circumstances and wondered how many times she had been compelled to intervene when clashes of ego, or temperament among her male associates threatened to ruin the aims towards which they were working. ‘Was there something unusual about her?’

  ‘Everything about her was unusual,’ Cavallier declared. Having described what he had seen and deduced about Belle Boyd, he concluded, ‘But who she was—’

  ‘Holy Mother of God!’ “Devlin” barked. Hearing how the mystery woman had been allowed to enter the Bistro le Marsellaise unescorted and what had followed, he added it to the theory expounded by Ballinger on how Colin Gorr-Kauphin was injured and drew a conclusion for which he did not care. ‘She could have been the Rebel Spy!’

  ‘We’ve heard of her, even in Canada,’ Cavallier conceded. ‘But that was during your Civil War. By all accounts, she gave you Yankees a great deal of trouble.’

  ‘She did!’ the impostor gritted, thinking bitterly of various incidents which fitted the description given by the Metis. ‘According to what I heard, she was very good at savate.’

  ‘Savate?’ Vera put in, duplicating “Devlin”s’ line of thought on that aspect. ‘Are you saying it was she who was in the theater and started the fire?’

  ‘All I’m saying is she’s said to be good at savate,’ the bogus priest corrected. ‘And you know how Ballinger said your brother—’

  ‘Is she working for the British Secret Service now?’ the actress interrupted.

  ‘Like hell she is!’ “Devlin” answered, bristling with indignation. ‘She was allowed to join the U.S. Secret Service after the war and is still with them.’

  ‘Then your people are after us!’ Vera snapped and le Loup-Garou found satisfaction from the reproachful manner in which she was speaking.

  ‘My people, as you call them, aren’t!’ the impostor contradicted angrily, noticing how the Metis was reacting to the accusation. ‘But the United States Se
cret Service might be. All those who were in sympathy with us during the war were kicked out when that bastard Handiman took charge after it was over.’

  ‘Your Government would never let him set his spies on us!’ Vera objected.

  ‘Congress wouldn’t have to be told he was. doing it,’ “Devlin” warned. ‘He’s answerable only to the President. And it’s not every Congressman who’d be in agreement with what we’re up to, even if it was no more than just collecting money to buy and send arms to Ireland. Don’t forget, Congress made the Fenians give up Fort Erie, Ontario, after they captured it in ’Sixty-six. 46 And they’re even more wary since the Alabama Arbitration Tribunal found for them in ’Seventy-two. So, if Handiman got word of it, he’d send her to find out more about what we’re up to and, if necessary, to stop it.’

  ‘Would she dare go as far as setting fire to the theater?’ Vera asked.

  ‘She’d come prepared for something of the sort,’ “Devlin” replied. ‘I told you that fire wasn’t just started by dropping a match on to the money.’

  ‘But to endanger her own people like that!’ the actress protested, despite knowing she herself would take similar measures to achieve her purpose.

  ‘She broke the Brotherhood For Southron Freedom a couple of years back and they were Rebs she’d fought alongside in the War,’ 47 the impostor pointed out. ‘And, anyway, there wasn’t any great chance of the whole theater going up in flames before somebody saw the fire and set about putting it out. So she’d know she could burn, or damage the money without too much risk of anybody getting hurt.’

  ‘How does the loss and damage affect the buying of the arms?’ Cavallier put in.

  ‘We can still get them,’ “Devlin” answered, scowling balefully at Vera as he was reminded of what had caused the latest breach between them. ‘All we have to do is make good the money that was burned—and pay an extra fifteen hundred dollars so he’ll take the damaged coins.’

  ‘You agreed to that?’ Cavallier snapped, sounding incredulous and directing the words at the impostor.