CHAPTER XX
THE FIRST WAYFARER HAS ONE TREASURE THRUST UPON HIM--AND FORTHWITHCLAIMS ANOTHER
"That fellow is a rat-catcher," said Sprouse. "What are you doing here?"demanded Barnes, staring. He seized the man's arm and inquired eagerly:"Have you got the jewels?"
"No; but I will have them before morning," replied Sprouse coolly. Heshot a furtive glance around the deserted lobby. "Better not act asthough you knew me. That bull is no fool. He doesn't know me, but bythis time he knows who you are."
"He is trailing Peter Ames."
"Ship Peter to-morrow," advised Sprouse promptly.
"I had already thought of doing so," said Barnes, surprised by theuncanny promptness of the man in hitting upon the strategy he hadworked out for himself after many harassing hours. "He goes to mysister's place to-morrow morning."
"Send him by train. He will be easier to follow. There is a trainleaving for the south at 9:15."
"You were saying that before morning you would--"
"Be careful! Don't whisper. People don't whisper to utter strangers.Step over here by the front door. Would you be surprised if I were totell you that his royal nibs is hiding in this town? Well, he certainlyis. He bought a railway ticket for Albany at Hornville the day he beatit, but he got off at the second station,--which happens to be thisone."
"How can you be sure of all this?"
"Simple as falling off a log," said Sprouse, squinting over hisshoulder. "The Baroness Hedlund has been here for a week or ten days.The Baron wasn't so far wrong in his suspicions, you see. He lost trackof her, that's all. I happened to overhear a conversation at Hart'sTavern between him and his secretary. I have a way of hearing thingsI'm not supposed to hear, you know. By a curious coincidence I happenedto be taking the air late one night just outside his window at theTavern,--on the roof of the porch, to be accurate. I told Ugo what I'dheard and he nearly broke his neck trying to head her off. O'Dowd andDe Soto rushed over to Hornville and telegraphed for her to leave thetrain at the first convenient place and return to New York. She was onher way up here, you see. She got off at Crowndale and everybodysupposed that she had taken the next train home. But she didn't doanything of the kind. She is a silly, obstinate fool and she's crazyabout Ugo,--and jealous as fury. She hated to think of him being uphere with other women. A day or so later she sent him a letter. No onesaw that letter but Ugo, and--your humble servant.
"I happened to be the one to go to Spanish Falls for the mail that day.The postmark excited my curiosity. If I told you what I did to thatletter before delivering it to Mr. Loeb, you could send me to a federalprison. But that's how I came to know that she had decided to wait inCrowndale until he sent word that the coast was clear. She went to thebig sanatorium outside the town and has been there ever since,incognito, taking a cure for something or other. She goes by the nameof Mrs. Hasselwein. I popped down here this afternoon and found outthat she is still at the sanatorium but expects to leave earlyto-morrow morning. Her trunks are over at the station now, to beexpressed to Buffalo. I made another trip out there this evening andwaited. About eight o'clock Mr. Hasselwein strolled up. He sat on theverandah with her for half an hour or so and then left. I followed him.He went to one of the little cottages that belong to the sanatorium. Icouldn't get close enough to hear what they said, but I believe heexpects to take her away in an automobile early in the morning. It is aseventy mile ride from here to the junction where they catch the trainfor the west. I'm going up now to make a call on Mr. Hasselwein. Wouldyou like to join me?"
Barnes eyed him narrowly. "There is only one reason why I feel that Iought to accompany you," he said. "If you have it in your mind to killhim, I certainly shall do everything in my power to prevent--"
"Possess your soul in peace. I'm not going to do anything foolish. Timeenough left for that sort of thing. I will get him some day, but notnow. By the way, what is the number of your room?"
"Twenty-two,--on the next floor."
"Good. Go upstairs now and I'll join you in about ten minutes. I willtap three times on your door."
"Why should you come to my room, Sprouse? We can say all that is to besaid--"
"If you will look on the register you will discover that Mr. J. H.Prosser registered here about half an hour ago. He is in room 30. Heleft a call for five o'clock. Well, Prosser is another name for Ugo."
"Here in this hotel? In room 30?" cried Barnes, incredulously.
"Sure as you're alive. Left the cottage an hour ago. Came in a jitneyor I could have got to him on the way over."
Barnes, regardless of consequences, dashed over to inspect theregister. Sprouse followed leisurely, shooting anxious glances up thestairs at the end of the lobby.
"See!" cried Barnes, excitedly, putting his finger on the name "MissJones." "She's in room 32,--next to his. By gad, Sprouse, do yousuppose he knows that she is here? Would the dog undertake anything--"
"You may be sure he doesn't know she's here, or you either, for thatmatter. The country's full of Joneses and Barneses. Go on upstairs.Leave everything to me."
He strolled away as the clerk came shuffling down the steps. As Barnesmounted them, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Sprouse take up asuitcase near the door and return to the desk, evidently for thepurpose of engaging a room for the night.
Before going to his room, he strode lightly down the hall in thedirection of room 30. There was no light in the transom. Stepping closeto the door, he listened intently for sounds from within. He startedback almost instantly. The occupant was snoring with extreme heartiness.
A glance revealed a light in the transom of room 32. As he looked,however, it disappeared. Abashed, he turned and went swiftly away. Shewas going to bed. He felt like a snooping, despicable "peeping Tom"caught in the act.
He had been in his room for twenty minutes before he heard the tappingon his door. He opened it and Sprouse slid into the room. The instantthe door closed behind him, he threw open his coat and coolly produceda long, shallow metal box, such as one finds in safety vaults.
"With my compliments," he said drily, thrusting the box into Barnes'shands. "You'd better have the Countess check them up and see if they'reall there. I am not well enough acquainted with the collection to bepositive."
Barnes was speechless. He could only stare, open-mouthed, at thisamazing man.
"Grip 'em tight," went on Sprouse, grinning. "I may relieve you of themif you get too careless. My advice to you is to hide them and keep yourlips closed--"
"My God, Sprouse, have you been in that man's room since I saw youdown--"
"I forgot to say that no questions were to be asked," broke in theother.
"But I insist upon having everything cleared up. Here am I with a boxof jewels stolen from a lodger's room, God knows how, and in danger ofbeing slapped into jail if they catch me with the--"
"All you have to do is to keep quiet and look innocent. Stay out of thehall to-night. Don't go near the door of No. 30. Act like a man withbrains. I said I would square myself with you and with him, too. Well,I've done both. Maybe you think it is easy to give up this stuff. Thereis a half million dollars' worth of nice little things in that box,small as it is. I went to a lot of trouble to get 'em, and all I'llreceive for my pains is a thank you from Mr. Thomas K. Barnes, NewYork."
"I cannot begin to thank you enough," said Barnes. "See here, you mustallow me to reward you in some way commensurate with your--"
"Cut that out," said Sprouse darkly. "I'm not so damned virtuous that Ihave to be rewarded. I like the game. It's the breath of life to me."
"The time will surely come when I can do you a good turn, Sprouse, andyou will not find me reluctant," said Barnes, lamely. He was completelyat a loss in the presence of the master-crook. He felt very small, andstupid, and inadequate,--as one always feels when confronted by genius.Moreover, he was utterly stupefied.
"That's different. If I ever need a friendly hand I'll call on you.It's only fair that I should give you a tip, Barnes, just to put y
ou onyour guard. I've lived up to my word in this business, and I've doneall that I said I would. From now on, I'm a free agent. I want toadvise you to put that stuff in a safe place. I'll give you two days'start. After that, if I can get 'em away from you, or whoever may havethem, I'm going to do it. They will be fair plunder from then on.Notwithstanding the fact that I put them in your hands to-night,--andso wash my own of them temporarily,--I haven't a single scruple aboutrelieving you of them on some later occasion. I may have to crack youover the head to do it,--so a word to the wise ought to be sufficient.If you don't guard them pretty closely, my friend, you will regainconsciousness some day and find you haven't got them any longer. Goodnight--and good-bye for the present. Stick close to your room tillmorning and--then beat it with her for New York. I give you two days'start, remember."
He switched off the light suddenly. Barnes gasped and prepared todefend himself. Sprouse chuckled.
"Don't be nervous. I'm merely getting ready to leave you with yourill-gotten gains. It isn't wise, you see, to peep out of a door with alight in the room behind you. Keep cool. I sha'n't be more than aminute."
There was no sound for many seconds, save the deep breathing of the twomen. Then, with infinite caution, Sprouse turned the knob and openedthe door a half inch or so. He left the room so abruptly that Barnesnever quite got over the weird impression that he squeezed through thatslender crack, and pulled it after him!
Many minutes passed before he turned on the light. The key of the boxwas tied to the wire grip. With trembling fingers he inserted it in thelock and opened the lid.... "A half-million dollars' worth of nicelittle things," Sprouse had said!
He did not close his eyes that night. Daybreak found him lying in bed,with the box under his pillow, a pistol at hand, and his eyeswide-open. He was in a graver quandary than ever. Now that he had thetreasure in his possession, what was he to do with it? He did not dareto leave it in the room, nor was it advisable to carry it about withhim. The discovery of the burglary in room 30 would result in a searchof the house, from top to bottom.
Cold perspiration started out on his brow. The situation was far frombeing the happy one that he had anticipated.
He solved the breakfast problem by calling downstairs for a waiter andordering coffee and rolls and eggs sent up to his room. Singularlyenough the waiter solved the other and more disturbing problem for him.
"SOME robbery last night," said that worthy, as he re-appeared with thetray. Barnes was thankful that the waiter was not looking at him whenhe hurled the bomb, figuratively speaking. He had a moment's time torecover.
"What robbery?" he enquired, feigning indifference.
"Feller up in one of the cottages at the sanatorium. All beat up,something fierce they say."
"Up in--Where?" almost shouted Barnes, starting up.
The man explained where the cottages were situated, Barnes listening asone completely bereft of intelligence.
"Seems he was to leave by auto early this mornin', and they didn't knowanything was wrong till Joe Keep--he's driving a Fierce-Arrow that Mr.Norton has for rent--till Joe'd been settin' out in front for nearlyhalf an hour. The man's wife was waitin' fer him up at the mainbuildin' and she got so tired waitin' that she sent one of the clerksdown to see what was keeping her husband. Well, sir, him and Joecouldn't wake the feller, so they climb in an open winder, an' by gosh,Joe says it was terrible. The feller was layin' on the bed, feet an'hands tied and gagged, and blood from head to foot. He was inconscious,Joe says, an'--my God, how his wife took on! Joe says he couldn't standit, so he snook out, shakin' like a leaf. He says she's a pippin, too.Never seen a purtier--"
"Is--is the man dead?" cried Barnes, aghast. He felt that his face wasas white as chalk.
"Nope! Seems like it's nothing serious: just beat up, that's all.Terrible cuts on his head and--"
"What is his name?" demanded Barnes.
"Something like Hackensack."
"Have they caught the thief?"
"I should say not. The police never ketch anything but drunks in thisburg, and they wouldn't ketch them if they could keep from stumblin'."
"What time did all this happen?" Barnes was having great difficulty inkeeping his coffee from splashing over.
"Doc Smith figgers it was long about midnight, judgin' by the way theblood co'gulated."
"Did they get away with much?"
"Haven't heard. Joe says the stove pipe in the feller's room wasknocked down and they's soot all over everything. Looks like they musthave been a struggle. Seems as though the burglar,--must ha' beenmore'n one of 'em, I say,--wasn't satisfied with cracking him over thehead. He stuck the point of a knife or something into him,--just alittle way, Joe says--in more'n a dozen places. What say?"
"I--I didn't say anything."
"I thought you did. Well, if I hear anything more I'll let you know."
"Anything for a little excitement," said Barnes casually.
He listened at the door until he heard the waiter clattering down thestairway, and then went swiftly down the hall to No. 30. Mr. Prosserwas sleeping just as soundly and as resoundingly as at midnight!
"By gad!" he muttered, half aloud. Everything was as clear as day tohim now. Bolting into his own room, he closed the door and stoodstock-still for many minutes, trying to picture the scene in thecottage.
No stretch of the imagination was required to establish the facts.Sprouse had come to him during the night with Prince Ugo's blood on thehands that bore the treasure. He had surprised and overpowered thepseudo Mr. Hasselwein, and had actually tortured him into revealing thehiding place of the jewels. The significance of the scattered stovepipe was not lost on Barnes; it had not been knocked down in a strugglebetween the two men. Prince Ugo was not, and never had been, in aposition to defend himself against his wily assailant. Barnes's bloodran cold as he went over in his mind the pitiless method employed bySprouse in subduing his royal victim. And the coolness, the unspeakablebravado of the man in coming direct to him with the booty! Hisamazingly clever subterfuge in allowing Barnes to think that room No.30 was the scene of his operations, thereby forcing him to remaininactive through fear of consequences to himself and the Countess if heundertook to investigate!
He found a letter in his box when he went downstairs, after stuffingthe tin box deep into his pack,--a risky thing to do he realised, butno longer perilous in the light of developments. It was no longerprobable that his effects would be subjected to inspection by thepolice. He walked over to a window to read the letter. Before he slitthe envelope he knew that Sprouse was the writer. The message was brief.
"After due consideration, I feel that it would be a mistake for you toabandon your present duties at this time. It might be misunderstood.Stick to the company until something better turns up. With this thoughtin view I withdraw the two days' limit mentioned recently to you, andextend the time to one week. Yours very truly, J. H. Wilson."
"Gad, the fellow thinks of everything," said Barnes to himself. "He ispositively uncanny."
He read between the lines, and saw there a distinct warning. It had notoccurred to him that his plan to leave for New York that day with MissCameron might be attended by disastrous results.
On reflection, he found the prospect far from disagreeable. A week orso with the Rushcroft company was rather attractive under thecircumstances. The idea appealed to him.
But the jewels? What of them? He could not go gallivanting about thecountry with a half million dollars' worth of precious stones in hispossession. A king's ransom strapped on his back! He would not be ableto sleep a wink. Indeed, he could see himself wasting away to a mereshadow through worry and dread. Precious stones? They would developinto millstones, he thought, with an inward groan.
He questioned the advisability of informing Miss Cameron that the crownjewels were in his possession. Her anxiety would be far greater thanhis own. There was nothing to be gained by telling her in any case; sohe decided to bear the burden alone.
The play was not to open in C
rowndale until Tuesday night, three fulldays off. He revelled in the thought of sitting "out front" in theempty little theatre, watching the rehearsals. At such times he wasconfident that his thoughts would not be solely of the jewels. He wouldat least have surcease during these periods of forgetfulness.
He spent the early part of the forenoon in wandering nervously aboutthe hotel,--upstairs and down. The jewels were locked in his packupstairs. He went up to his room half a dozen times and almostinstantly walked down again, after satisfying himself that the pack hadnot been rifled.
Exasperation filled his soul. Ten o'clock came and still no sign of thelazy actors. Rehearsal at eleven, and not one of them out of bed.
Peter came to the hotel soon after ten. He had forgotten Peter and hisdecision to send him down to the Berkshires that day, and was sharplyreminded of the necessity for doing so by the appearance of the man whohad registered just before midnight. This individual strolled casuallyinto the lobby a few seconds behind Peter.
He acted at once and with decision. The stranger took a seat in thewindow not far away. Barnes, in a brisk and business-like tone,informed Peter that he was to leave on the one o'clock train for thesouth, and to go direct to his sister's place near Stockbridge. He wasto leave the automobile in Crowndale for the present.
"Here is the money for your railroad fare," he announced in conclusion."I have telegraphed Mrs. Courtney's man that you will arrive thisevening. He will start you in on your duties to-morrow. I understandthey are short-handed on the place. And now let me impress upon you,Peter, the importance of holding yourself ready to report when needed.You know what I mean. Remember, I have guaranteed that you will appear."
The stranger drank in every word that passed between the two men. Whenthe one o'clock train pulled out of Crowndale, it carried Peter Ames inone of the forward coaches, and a late guest of the Grand Palace Hotelin the next car behind. Barnes took the time to assure himself of thesefacts, and smiled faintly as he drove away from the railway stationafter the departure of the train. Miss Cameron, her veil lowered, satbeside him in the "hack."
For the next three days and nights rehearsals were in full swing, withscarcely a moment's let-up. The Rushcroft company was increased by thearrival of three new members and several pieces of baggage. The dingybarn of a theatre was the scene of ceaseless industry, both peacefuland otherwise. The actors quarrelled and fumed and all but fought overtheir grievances. Only the presence of the "backer" and the extremelypretty and cultured "friend of the family" in "front" preventedsanguinary encounters among the male contenders for the centre of thestage. The usually placid Mr. Dillingford was transformed into asnarling beast every time one of his "lines" was cut out by therelentless Rushcroft, and there were times when Mr. Bacon loudlyaccused his fiancee of "crabbing" his part. Everybody called everybodyelse a "hog," and God was asked a hundred times a day to bear witnessto as many atrocities.
Each day the bewildered, distressed young woman who sat with Barnes inthe dim "parquet," whispered in his ear:
"Can they ever be friendly again?"
And every night at supper she rejoiced to find them all on the best ofterms, calling each other "dearie," and "old chap," and "honey," anddeclaring that no such company had ever been gotten together in thehistory of the stage! Such words as "slob," "fat-head," "boob" or "youpoor nut" never found their way outside the sacred precincts of thetheatre.
Mr. Rushcroft magnanimously offered to coach "Miss Jones" in the parthe was going to write in for her just as soon as he could get around toit.
"No use writing a part for her, Mr. Barnes, until I get through beatingthe parts we already have into the heads of these poor fools up here.I've got trouble enough on my hands."
And so the time crept by, up to the night of the performance. MissCameron remained in ignorance of the close proximity of the jewels, andthe police of Crowndale remained in even denser ignorance as to thewhereabouts of the man who robbed Mr. Hasselwein of all his spare cashand an excellent gold watch.
Hasselwein's story was brief but dramatic. He was recovering rapidlyfrom his experience and the local newspaper, on Tuesday, announced thathe would be strong enough to accompany his wife when she left the"city" toward the end of the week. (Considerable space was employed bythe reporter in "writing up" the wonderful devotion of Mrs. Hasselwein,who, despite the fact that she was quite an invalid, conducted herselfwith rare fortitude, seldom leaving her husband's room in the hospital.)
According to the injured man, his assailant was a huge, powerfulindividual, wearing a mask and armed to the teeth. He came in throughan open window and attacked him while he was asleep in bed.Notwithstanding the stunning blow he received while prostrate, Mr.Hasselwein struggled to his feet and engaged the miscreant--(while theword was used at least twenty times in the newspaper account, I promiseto use it but once)--in a desperate conflict. Loss of blood weakenedhim and he soon fell exhausted upon the bed. To make the story evenshorter than Prince Ugo made it, not a word was said about the jewels,and that, after all, is the only feature of the case in which we areinterested.
Barnes smiled grimly over Ugo's failure to mention the jewels, and themisleading description of the thief. He was thankful, however, andrelieved to learn that the one man who might recognise Miss Cameron wasnot likely to leave the hospital short of a week's time.
No time was lost by the Countess in getting word to her compatriots inNew York. Barnes posted a dozen letters for her; each contained thetidings of her safety and the assurance that she would soon follow inperson.
Those three days and nights were full of joy and enchantment forBarnes. True, he did not sleep very well,--indeed, scarcely atall,--but it certainly was not a hardship to lie awake and think of herthroughout the whole of each blessed night. He recalled and secretlydilated upon every sign of decreasing reserve on her part. He shamedhimself more than once for deploring the fact that her ankle wasmending with uncommon rapidity, and that in a few days she would bequite able to walk without support. And he actually debased himself bywishing that the Rushcroft company might find it imperative to go onrehearsing for weeks in that dim, enchanted temple.
It was not a "barn of a place" to him. It was paradise. He sat forhours in one of the most uncomfortable seats he had ever known,devouring with hungry eyes the shadowy, interested face so close to hisown,--and never tired.
And then came a time at last when conversation became difficult betweenthem; when there were long silences fraught with sweet peril, exceedingshyness, and a singular form of deafness that defied even the roars ofthe players and yet permitted them to hear, with amazing clearness, thefaintest of heart-beats.
On the afternoon of the dress rehearsal, he led her, after an hour ofalmost insupportable repression, to the rear of the auditorium, in theregion made gloomy by the shelving gallery overhead. Dropping into theseat beside her, he blurted out, almost in anguish:
"I can't stand it any longer. I cannot be near you without--why,I--I--well, it is more than I can struggle against, that's all. You'veeither got to send me away altogether or--or--let me love you withoutrestraint. I tell you, I can't go on as I am now. I must speak, I musttell you all that has been in my heart for days. I love you--I loveyou! You know I love you, don't you? You know I worship you. Don't befrightened. I just had to tell you to-day. I could not have held itback another hour. I should have gone mad if I had tried to keep it upany longer." He waited breathlessly for her to speak. She sat silentand rigid, looking straight before her. "Is it hopeless?" he went on atlast, huskily. "Must I ask your forgiveness for my presumption and--andgo away from you?"
She turned to him and laid her hand upon his arm.
"Am I not like other women? Have you forgotten that you once said thatI was not different? Why should I forgive you for loving me? Doesn'tevery woman want to be loved? No, no, my friend! Wait! A moment ago Iwas so weak and trembly that I thought I--Oh, I was afraid for myself.Now I am quite calm and sensible. See how well I have myself in hand? Ido not tremble, I am s
trong. We may now discuss ourselves calmly,sensibly. A moment ago--Ah, then it was different! I was being drawninto--Oh! What are you doing?"
"I too am strong," he whispered. "I am sure of my ground now, and I amnot afraid."
He had clasped the hand that rested on his sleeve and, as he pressed itto his heart, his other arm stole over her shoulders and drew her closeto his triumphant body. For an instant she resisted, and then relaxedinto complete submission. Her head sank upon his shoulder.
"Oh!" she sighed, and there was wonder, joy--even perplexity, in thetremulous sign of capitulation. "Oh," came softly from her parted lipsagain at the end of the first long, passionate kiss.
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