The Incendiary: A Story of Mystery

by William Augustine Leahy

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  INSIDE THE DOVE-COTE.

  "Here we are!" cried Kennedy.

  The sudden flood of light dazzled Shagarach's eyes. Glitteringchandeliers threw prismatic reflections upon the twenty or thirtyoccupants of the room, many of them in full evening dress, like hisescort, and several adding the sparkle of diamonds to the iridescence ofmirrors and cut glass around them. Across one corner stretched anarc-shaped bar, from which two colored waiters served liquors to thepatrons, while others at intervals disappeared behind curtains andreappeared balancing platters of light delicious viands for the men whochatted at the tables. These were octagon-topped and covered with plush.The carpeted floor yielded like turf to the feet. The conversation ranlow. The servants whispered their requests and answers. It was anatmosphere of stealth and suppression.

  The getting there had been a story in two brief chapters. This palace offortune owed its name to its location on the uppermost floor of one ofthose tall, slender structures, like dominoes set on end, whichillustrate the reaching upward for space in our cities when horizontalexpansion becomes no longer possible. It fronted on a blind passagewayin the heart of the hotel district. Its proprietor was a jovialman-about-town, rather prone than averse to the society of policecaptains. On the ground floor a commercial agency conducted its businessquietly. Tailors rented the second and third flights, but the fourthstory was always unoccupied and never advertised for hire. Applicantscovetous of its advantages were frightened away by the rental asked. Itwas at the head of the stairs leading from this landing up that Kennedyhad pressed the three white bell buttons in the massive door.

  The door immediately swung open, and the pair found themselves in frontof a second door, similar to the first except that the opaque panelswere replaced by glass. Through these the stairs could be seen beyond.Kennedy repeated his signal, this time, however, reversing the order andbeginning with the lowest knob. A slide opened at the head of thestairs, and the two men were the object of scrutiny for awhile.Shagarach's sponsor was evidently persona grata to the sentinel, for thesecond door now swung in and they were free to mount the stairs.

  "Sure it's true-blue, Kennedy?" said the sentinel, when they passed him.

  "Sure," answered the manikin, but his smirk was forced. "Wine, Sambo."

  Kennedy began breaking the ice in this manner for his companion.

  "Not a life-long votary of the fickle goddess, I should judge," remarkeda man introduced as Mr. Faught.

  "This is my initiation into her mysterious rites," answered Shagarach,sweeping the room for Harry Arnold.

  "Ah, then, it is not too late for you to withdraw. The ceremonies aretrying. I myself am only a neophyte of low degree. Perhaps, being astudent of character, you have observed as much from my appearance?"

  "I should have known that you had not lost a fortune this evening, atleast."

  "There is one simple rule to escape that."

  "Not to bring one here?"

  "Precisely."

  Shagarach had indeed been contrasting Faught with the other habitues,most of them men of fashion, still young in years, but middle-aged inthe lines of their faces. Several beardless youths appeared to becollege students. Two or three wore the style of confidentialbookkeepers or bank cashiers. As many more were flush-faced veterans,with wrinkled pouches under their worldly eyes and gray mustaches ofknowing twist. Against such a gathering, smiling, but irritable withalunderneath from the nervous tension, the large man of bland visage andironical phrase certainly struck a discordant note.

  "Come to the altar and I will explain our ritual."

  They moved toward the table in the middle of the room, which was thecenter of all interest. If men appeared to be chatting absently in acorner, their heads were constantly swiveled this way, their ears caughtthe announcement of every result.

  "None of that, Perley. It was on Stuart's spot," cried a harsh voicefrom behind the table.

  "The needle was on the line," protested Perley, reckless-looking andsadly young. "I say, the needle was on the line, Reddy."

  He had missed the prize by a hair. Perhaps the bill he had laid down forthis turn was his last. But a friend led him away, still muttering, bythe arm, and the gap in the circle which his removal made was quicklyclosed. The man called Reddy gathered the pile of bills together,separated a small portion, which he swept into the till, and passed theremainder to Stuart.

  "Reddy runs things," whispered Faught, not so low but that thebank-tender heard and looked the newcomer over suspiciously. "Comes fromthe west, a desperado. Just the man to keep them down."

  "The bad blood breaks out sometimes?"

  "Would if there wasn't a strong hand at the needle."

  There was certainly nothing weak about Reddy. He sprawled sidewise inhis chair, with his left elbow on the table and his right arm free for avariety of uses--a big-boned ruffian with a sandy face and an eyeapparently riveted on the disk before him, but really sweeping in thewhole compass of the room. Overhanging eyebrows veiled these furtiveglances. As a rule he spoke quietly, in a sepulchral bass, warning theplayers to adjust their stakes more evenly on the spots, or announcingthe winners of the prizes. The recent jar with Perley was somethinguncommon in the mute and decorous chamber over which Reddy presided.

  "It's a new game--roletto; simple as odd or even," explained Faught."The circle is segmented off into black and white rays, or spots, as wecall them----"

  "And red?"

  "Those are used, too. You see, they are numbered like the others. Butthey are specially colored for the game with the bank. In the ordinarygame some one proposes a stake and puts it down on its lucky number.Then the rest follow suit. Would you like to try this round? It's only a$10 trick."

  "Very well."

  Shagarach laid his stake down on one of the spaces.

  "That starts it. See them join in. Twenty-four spaces, black and white,and twenty-three filled. My ten spot quits it out. Now thank your starsif you see that bill again."

  The gamblers stood near while Reddy reached toward the needle. A squadof grenadiers at attention would not be more rigid. They were frozenwith suspense. But something paralyzed Reddy's wrist. He had caught thefull glance of Shagarach. It was several seconds before he twisted thepointer. For several more it spun around, gradually slowing up andcoming to a rest over Shagarach's number.

  "Twenty!" called Reddy.

  "Mine!"

  Shagarach coolly smoothed out the bills and folded them in his pocket,while the unsuccessful players eyed him greedily. Eleven-twelfths of thestakes went to the winner, and 2,000 per cent would be considered a fairprofit in any speculation. But the return to the bank was still moreliberal, being the steady harvest of two-spots. It was easy to see howthe luxuries and free accessories of the Dove-Cote could be provided.

  "Try again," said Faught, shaking Shagarach's hand.

  "Perhaps that is enough for an experiment," answered the lawyer, alittle undecided still whether Faught were a decoy of the establishment.

  "A hundred dollars even I come out whole to-night!" cried a voice at thedoor. It was Harry Arnold.

  "A little quieter, gentlemen," said Reddy, tapping on his desk. "Thisisn't the stock exchange."

  "It's a more respectable place," answered Harry, surrendering his wrapsto a servant.

  "I take you," said several, picking up the gantlet he had thrown down.Faught had spoken first and Kennedy was chosen stake-holder. Shagarach,meanwhile, had retired to a table in the corner and ordered some wine.

  "One thousand to ten I break the bank," called Harry as loudly asbefore.

  "I will debar any man who uses that tone again," said Reddy, nevermoving a muscle. His eyes were as cold and steady as the barrels of twoDerringers in the hands of a Texan train robber, and the young bravo,though his lip curled, did not reply. His second bet was taken and thegame resumed amid its former silence.

  The losers repaired to the sideboard now and then and renewed theircourage with stimulants, but one or two w
ho called for brandy were toldthat no strong liquors were allowed. The little outbreak over Perley'sprotest showed the wisdom of this rule. Harry Arnold's purse seemed tobe well lined to-night, for he led the play higher and higher.

  Shagarach held his wineglass toward the chandelier, so as to shield asearching glance at the young man's face. Under the artificial light itwas brilliantly beautiful, the face of a man who could say to almost anywoman "Come" and she would follow him to the ends of the earth.

  "Do you know young Arnold?" asked Faught of Shagarach, who had justlowered his wineglass. He began to take some notice of this large, quietman, who, all unobserved, was making the rounds of the room.

  "By sight," he answered, suppressing a yawn. "You took his bet, Inoticed?"

  "Only a hundred, and as good as mine already. He's bucking the reds."

  "Gad, Harry, you have nerve," Kennedy's pipe was heard exclaiming.

  "I see you don't understand," continued Faught. "There are four redspots, you remember. Ordinarily these are not used. In the common gameit is impossible for the bank to lose, though one of the players maywin."

  He smiled in allusion to Shagarach's maiden try.

  "But sometimes the bank condescends to take a risk. Then the stakes arehigh. Each player lays a thousand opposite one of the four reds. If theneedle stops over white or black, Reddy scoops the pot. But if it favorsa red the man on the spot opposite gets $5,000 from the bank and theothers quit whole. You see it's perfectly fair. Twenty blacks and whitesand four reds, that makes the odds five to one against the players. Sothe bank, if red wins, quintuples the stakes all round."

  "But the bank twists the needle," said Shagarach.

  "Oh, that's all open and above board."

  "Do you see Reddy looking down?"

  "He is watching the checker board."

  "Why not a mirror under the table?"

  "What would it show?"

  "Two slender bar magnets crossed under the disk. His foot can rotatethem so as to underlie any four of the spots; and the needle is ofsteel." Faught opened his eyes.

  "Bravo!" an exclamation burst from the crowd.

  "That's number one," Harry Arnold was heard exulting. Followed byKennedy and the taker of his second bet, he crossed over to the bar.

  "Has Arnold set the place on fire?" asked Shagarach. It was said duringa pause of the hum and he raised his voice. In one of the facets of hiswineglass he saw Harry, who had just passed him, start and turn, but itwas impossible to tell whether the expression of his face had altered.Certainly it was no more than a glance and he took no notice ofShagarach. The lawyer's low stature diminished at a distance the effectof his splendid head and eyes, which were so powerful at short range. Onthe present occasion, if disguise were at all his purpose, thisinsignificance was useful.

  "He has beaten the bank," said Faught.

  "A Pyrrhic victory," answered Shagarach, "and a Parthian flight." Hiscompanion rose and sauntered behind Reddy, but either the mirror washidden or the bank-tender was too wary to be caught. Suddenly his harshvoice was heard again.

  "Put that down, Perley."

  Every one looked in the direction of the youthful gambler, who had beenthe center of the dispute when Shagarach and Kennedy entered. He hadbrooded moodily since his loss, sitting alone at a corner table, and wasjust raising a revolver to his temple when Reddy's command checked andbewildered him. Instantly Harry Arnold, who was nearest, wrenched hiswrist and some one else secured the weapon. Perley writhed like amadman, so that it took several minutes to quiet him. When at last hiscontortions were helpless his spirit seemed to give suddenly and heburst into tears.

  Shagarach felt a deep pity in his breast. The youth looked weak ratherthan wicked. Possibly others, whom he loved, would suffer by hisrecklessness this night. An aversion to the whole tinseled exterior,gilding over soul-destroying corruption, came upon him and he longedfor the sight of something wholesome and pure--if only a basketful ofspeckled eggs or a clothes-press hung with newly lavendered linen. Buthis purpose in coming was still unfulfilled, so he merely stopped theyouth as he was passing out in dejection, accompanied by a friend.

  "I was luckier than you," he said, taking out the roll of bills he hadwon. "Will you accept my first winnings as a loan?"

  Perley halted irresolutely.

  "They amount to $200 or so. You may have them on one condition."

  "What is it?"

  "That you go immediately home."

  "I will," said Perley.

  From now on the play became more and more exciting, as the champagnebegan to work in the veins of the gamblers. Once again Harry Arnold won,then lost and lost again. Still he laid down bill after bill from abulky roll, sometimes leading at the simple game, oftener challengingthe bank. As luck turned against him (if luck it were) his temperchanged. He grew hilarious, but at the same time savage. Once or twicehis differences with Reddy promised to culminate in a serious quarrel,but each time the coolness of the experienced bank-tender prevailed.Shagarach paid no attention to Kennedy, little to Faught. He wasstudying the soul of Prince Charming.

  When Harry came over and demanded brandy and struck the bar with hisclenched fist because he could not have it, every one knew that his wadof crisp bills had shrunken to almost nothing. But still he would notsurrender.

  "The whole pile," he cried, laying the roll down opposite a red spot. Itwas the same one he had played all the evening. Reddy counted the moneycoolly.

  "A thousand is all we go," he said, returning one bill to Arnold--thelast poor remnant of Rabofsky's loan.

  "I challenge you to play higher. I dare you to give me my revenge."

  "There's only a hundred over and you'll need more than that to settleyour outside bets with," answered Reddy, as if victory for the bank werea foregone conclusion. Three others, carried away by the force of play,put down stakes of $1,000 each and all of the reds were covered. Reddysnapped the needle with his forefinger as carelessly as a schoolboytwirling a card on a pin. Four necks craned over, four lungs ceased todraw breath, while it slowly, slowly paused.

  "Mine!" exulted Harry, stretching forth his hand; but Reddy interceptedit.

  "The bank!" he growled.

  "It's on the line," said Harry, flushing.

  "By the rules I am judge, and I say the bank!" Reddy lowered his voiceto its most sepulchral register, while Harry raised his to a shriek.

  "Between man and man, but not between a player and the bank. I leave itto these gentlemen if it wasn't on the line."

  "Always," answered Reddy. He snapped the needle again. Whether thebar-magnets below had been carelessly adjusted, whether the pointer hadreally rested over the line, that was a matter upon which arbitrationwas now rendered forever impossible. Then he reached for the money.

  "You swindler!" shrieked Harry, striking at his face across the table.Instantly Reddy's right hand, the free hand, opened a drawer andpresented a cocked revolver. His finger was on the trigger to pull, whenShagarach gave the shout of warning.

  "Spies!" he cried. It was a word to strike terror. Perhaps it savedHarry's life.

  During the confusion, observed of none but Shagarach, a whistle had beenheard from the outside, and the quiet man, Faught, had passed over toone of the windows. There were only two, and these were protected byiron shutters, which closed with a latch. The first sound heard wasFaught lifting the latch and throwing the shutters apart. A uniformedman dropped into the room, followed by another and another. Faughtrushed behind Reddy and the second window was soon opened. All theofficers carried lanterns and clubs.

  "The first man who moves his little finger dies," said the foremost ofthe invaders, advancing. His tone was easy and his pistol covered Reddy.The whole room looked toward the desperado as if expecting him to dosomething. He turned his revolver's muzzle quickly as if from Arnold tothe officer, but instantly his right hand was knocked up by Faught. Withhis left he pressed an electric button for some daring purpose. Then thepistol shot rang out, a moment too late, and the room
was in totaldarkness.

  The slides of the officer's lanterns, however, were opened at once, andin a jiffy the door was guarded. Through the yellowish light Shagarachcould see tussling groups and hear cries of anger and pain. He himselfwas seized and handcuffed. Presently the uproar quieted down and thevoice of the spokesman was heard ordering one of the negroes to lightup.

  But it was a different sight that met Shagarach's eye when thechandeliers blazed again. The roletto table had disappeared, probablycarried downstairs by a trapdoor at Reddy's touch of the button. Thiswas the use for which the vacant fourth story was reserved. All aroundamong the smaller tables the gamblers stood like lambs, trembling andpale in the grip of the law. In the middle of the floor lay Reddy, theblood bubbling from a pea-sized hole that divided his left eyebrow andgathering in a thick pool on the carpet. McCausland's bullet had flowntrue to its target.

  Only one of the gamblers was missing.

  "He must have climbed out of the window," said Shagarach, sotto voce.