by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XV A LIVING PICTURE
Johnny Thompson had always supposed he loved mysteries. But in the "Houseof Magic," the old professor's house, they came so thick and fast, andapparently without reason, that at times he felt dizzy in his head andready enough to run away from it all.
On the day following the visit to Madame LeClare's house, he was given astrange commission. It was Felix who said to him, "You will do us a greatfavor if you will sit and watch a certain picture on the wall."
"Watch a picture?" Johnny exclaimed. "Is it worth a million dollars? Anddo you expect it to be stolen?"
"It is worth," Felix said without breaking into a smile, "very little. Ieven doubt if you could sell it at all.
"And yet," he added, "if you watch it long enough, something may come ofit after all!"
Something did come of it, you may be sure. But to Johnny, ever keen foraction, this at first seemed a dull occupation.
The picture was in his own room, the tall room that during his firstnight had shown an inclination to become a short one.
"Nothing could be more stupid!" he told himself after a half hour ofwatching. "Picture isn't even halfway interesting."
This was true. Though quite evidently an oil painting, this canvas withina narrow gilt frame was very dark. An old Dutch master, one would say; asuggestion of some cabin in the foreground, clumps of trees behind. Theremight have been a sunset in the beginning. If there were, time had takencare of the sunset. It had put out the sun.
"Just to sit in this chair and look at that picture!" he grumbled tohimself. "Nothing could be worse!"
His eyes strayed to the far side of the room where the strange roundreflector rested.
"Whispers," he murmured. "Those whispers that wakened me at dawn. Wonderif they come from that thing? I feel sure they do. Person can tell whatdirection sound comes from. But who whispers? How? Why? That's what I'mgoing to find out." That the whisperer would speak again, that he wouldat last deliver some important message, perhaps many important messages,he did not doubt.
But now-- It was with great reluctance that he dragged his eyes from thismysterious instrument to fix them once more upon the dull and quitecommonplace Dutch master.
When at last he accomplished the feat, he fairly bounced from his chair.The Dutch master was gone! In its stead was a square of glass. Out fromthat square, well down toward the left-hand corner, shone a yellow spotof light.
"Like a moon in the midst of a black sky," he told himself. "What--"
The spot of light began revolving. It broke itself up into a hundredyellow moons. It became a golden circle, a hundred golden circles. Then,to Johnny's utter astonishment, a face, a living face appeared in thatframe.
It was a wavering sort of face. Had Johnny been superstitious he mighthave said it was a ghost, for now the lips and eyes were distinct, andnow they were irregular and all but lost.
Then with a sharp cry Johnny sprang to his feet.
"Where is he?" he cried. "I must find him!"
He had recognized that face. It was the man who sat beside him at theauction, who had all but forced him to bid in that package containing thebronze lamp, who had later more than likely struck him over the head inthat dark alley.
"Iggy the Snake!" He fairly shouted the name aloud.
That this was the living image of Iggy he could not doubt. He wasblinking his eyes. He was talking to someone; that is, his lips moved,though no sound reached Johnny.
That this was no mere moving picture Johnny knew well enough. That Iggywas not in the next room, looking in at him, he knew quite as well. Iggycould never have held the expression of quiet unconcern registered on hisface had he known that any honest person, let alone Johnny, was lookingupon him.
"It's magic!" Johnny exclaimed. At the same instant he knew this was nottrue.
"Where is he?" he exclaimed once again.
He leaped for the door. It was locked. It was a massive door. He couldnot hope to break it down, even should he desire to do so.
He raced to the window and threw up the sash. It was a quiet, sunshinyday. There were people passing in the street. To attract their attentionwould be an easy matter. But did he wish to do this? Had he a right to doso?
"You will promise to betray none of our secrets?" the professor had said.He had promised. The outer air cooled his heated brow. Slowly he turnedabout, retraced his steps, then sank down in his chair. He would watch.That, after all, was what he had been told to do. Perhaps in the end hewould learn a great deal, just watching.
The hour that followed will stand out in Johnny's mind as a vivid memoryas long as Johnny draws a breath. He was looking, he knew beyond theshadow of a doubt, upon the living image of the one man he most fearedand hated, Iggy the Snake. He was watching his every gesture, everymovement of his lips and eyes; yet he could not touch him nor speak tohim. He could not say to the policeman on the corner, "Officer, this manis a thief and a murderer! Arrest him!" He did not know even where theman was. He might, for all he knew, be in the next room or a mile away.He could only watch.
Watch he did, and that which he saw was well worth his hour of waiting.
But to wait, powerless to act, to sit there biting his lips, clenchinghis fists, watching that smiling, grimacing image, that was terrible.
For a long time there was only that face. Smiling, talking, bobbing hishead, Iggy was beyond doubt telling a very interesting story. Once as hethrew back his head his fist came swinging into view.
"As if he were showing how he struck me!" Johnny sprang from his chair.Then, reluctantly, he settled back.
Well that he did, for a moment later the man in that distorted livingpicture partially disappeared and a cardboard box came into view.
"That's it," Johnny muttered, "that's the box I bought, the very one!"There could be no doubt about that. He could even distinguish the yellowexpress label.
But this was not all, not nearly all. The package disappeared. Iggy'shead bent low. Presently he held the metal lamp to view. He was laughing,was Iggy.
It was strange, sitting there looking on. That laugh was so real, souproarious, Johnny felt that he should hear it.
"It's as if I were deaf," he told himself.
But wait! There was still more. Once again "the Snake" bent his head.When his hands came up this time they were filled with bundles of paper.At first, with their edges toward him, Johnny could make nothing of this.But now Iggy's hand turned about, and Johnny saw.
His mouth flew open in astonishment. Those papers were bonds. There werehundreds of them.
"The stolen bonds!" he muttered. "The bonds that broke a bank and madepaupers of thousands!" He could not believe his eyes. The bonds had beenin that package! It had been his, his! He had bought it. Had he lookedclosely, he would have found those bonds. And now--
A sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach caused him to double over. Hesaw it all now, clear as day. Those were "hot" bonds. Someone had takenthem away, perhaps to New York. They had been frightened, had concealedthem in that package and shipped them back. The person at the other end,more afraid than his confederate, had refused to accept the shipment. Thepackage was to be sold at auction. Afraid to bid it in, Iggy had inducedJohnny to buy it. When Johnny tried to take the package to his lodging,Iggy and his men had fallen upon him, robbed him of the package, and hithim on the head in the bargain.
"That," Johnny hissed, "is Chapter One. There will be other chapters tothis little romance of the underworld."
Again his eyes were upon that square of glass. Iggy had, beyond doubt,replaced the treasure. He was smiling and going through the motions ofdrinking. A moment more and he was gone. The glass went black. The spotof yellow light reappeared. And then, to Johnny's vast amazement, hefound himself looking once more at the uninteresting Dutch master.
"Never mind." He sprang from his chair. "Felix will return. He will knowwhere Iggy was when he put on this little show. I'll get Drew Lane andTom
Howe. We'll crash the door, and then perhaps--"
He did not finish. Instead he sprang for the door. He was prepared now,if such a thing were possible, to break it down. He put his hand to theknob. It turned. The door opened. _It was not locked._
He was a long time finding Felix; a much longer time finding Drew Laneand Tom Howe, who were out on a hot scent. It was dark when he at lastled them to the street that faces the lake where the gaunt towers of thedeserted Fair grounds hung dark against the sky.