by Frank Cobb
CHAPTER VIII
An hour passed, during which a whirling horde of hopes, ambitions andanticipations, not unmixed with fears, passed through Lawrence's mind.There was so much to hope for; so little to build on. It had been a longwhile since the day when Moll went down to the river with the two littlechildren, the hapless babies whose tender little feet had been so rudelytorn from the pleasant paths that Fate had set for them. Lawrencethought sadly of the little brother who had gone down in the sly andruthless current of the Ohio River.
At first he could scarcely wait to share his news with Mr. Ridgeway;then the habits of a lifetime of self-dependence commenced to assertthemselves. Mr. Ridgeway was involved in an adventure that might turnout to have a serious, indeed possibly a fatal outcome. Lawrence smiled.The knowledge that had come to him in such a strange and unexpected wayseemed of more importance than all the crown jewels in the world.Jewels!...
Why, he had a chance at last for a name, for a home, for people of hisown! The thought made him dizzier than any flight through the unchartedupper reaches of endless ether. Yet after all, the affair did not touchhis new employer and friend, and Lawrence doubted the wisdom ofbothering him about it. It would be better, he finally decided, to waituntil the job was over, and then hurry back to Louisville. It would beeasy enough to find out from the records or old files of the papers whentwo little children and their nurse had been drowned. That was all thathe needed to know. It made him wild to think that he had lived so manyyears, poor, cast-off, lonely, in the same city with his own people.That they might have left Louisville did not occur to Lawrence. Heimagined them still there, still sadly and tenderly grieving for thelost babies.
Yes, he would wait! He would see the thing through himself. Then hewould return to Mr. Ridgeway and tell him the glad news. Perhaps hismother and father would accompany him. But like a cloud came thethought, suppose in all the passing years death had overtaken father ormother, perhaps both?
Lawrence could scarcely endure the thought, and put it from him with adetermined effort to let nothing mar his happiness. But all the more hedecided he would keep it all locked in his own breast until the presenttask was well accomplished. He felt tenderly of the flat square in hispocket, the outline of the case holding the photograph. A warmth seemedto spread from it. No, she at least--mother, sister, some one, the ownerof that loving and beautiful face--was waiting for him. On earth,living, he felt that some day he should greet her. He patted the case."Oh, who are you, dear?" he whispered.
Mr. Ridgeway came rushing up and jumped into the machine.
"It is all set now!" he exclaimed. "Everything ready! Everythingarranged! I have just sent one of the White House messengers withinstructions to O'Brien. The man will return to my private secretarywith O'Brien's personal receipt. I have also sent a telegram to the manin charge at Barnegat. I want you to drop me at the house and take thecar up to your apartment. Have you a suitcase? Pack in it just what youwill need while we are in the dirigible. When we get across, we will buyeverything we need in the way of clothes. As soon as you get your thingspacked, come back and join me. We will spend the night quietly at home,and about four o'clock tomorrow morning we will go to the field, stuffthe suitcases in one of the airplanes, and sail down to Barnegat. Atdawn, O'Brien is to make a fuss around the field, and will start offwith the dirigible that is there. If any chasing is to be done, thosescoundrels will chase _him_. He is to have a good crew with him and isto follow our general direction but keep out of sight of us. We can pickhim up by wireless any time. I don't believe there is a flaw in thewhole thing!"
Lawrence agreed to this, and dropping Mr. Ridgeway went on to hisapartment, where it took him about five minutes to pack. He was back atthe house in no time, and soon in bed.
Little did either of them dream of the adventures befalling O'Brien.O'Brien, having read the letter of instructions from Mr. Ridgeway,buttoned the letter in an inside pocket. He then changed his coat andputting on a cap, took a car and went within walking distance of thedisreputable flat building which housed the gang. O'Brien was going topin all his hopes on what he would find in their rooms. He had changedhis coat and had slung a small packet over his shoulder.
O'Brien was now a plumber! He entered the flat whistling, walked up aninterminable number of stairs to the top floor, where Lawrence hadtracked the two men. Here the whistling which had grown very low ceasedentirely as O'Brien, putting an ear to the door, listened for soundsfrom within. Hearing nothing, he resumed the whistle and rapped gaily onthe panel. There was no response and O'Brien repeated the knock. It wasnot late, but he feared that one or more of the gang might have takenthat night of all nights to get some sleep. The silence continuing,O'Brien cast a keen glance around the small and sordid hallway.
Once more O'Brien turned his attention to the door. He slipped askeleton key from his pocket and noiselessly tried it. The door openedunder his touch. O'Brien's manner changed. He was no longer themerry-eyed plumber, whistling as he came in a hurry call to tighten aleaky gas jet that threatened to snuff out some worthy without whom thecountry could doubtless stagger along. He became keen eyed and cat like.Slipping in, he closed and locked the door.
The room in which he stood had a ceiling cut into many angles andirregularities, and the front part of it was the inside of a tower orturret which formed the top ornamentation of the building. This part ofthe room alone had a flat ceiling, and in the center of it was somethingthat looked like a small trap door. That too looked unused. In the backpart of the room was a door leading into a back room. Out of this stillanother door opened into a dark passageway, and there was a steep flightof stairs. At the sight of the stairs O'Brien nodded. He meant to usethose himself if he happened to be surprised while on his tour ofinspection. He commenced to be sorry that he had not brought anotherdetective with him. But hurrying back to the front room he commenced acareful search for the papers he was hoping to discover. There were butfew places to put anything, and O'Brien's hopes went steadily down as helooked. All over the wall loose plaster hung or crumbled off as hebrushed against it. He finished with the front room and went carefullyover the back room, where two cots and a deal table comprised thefurnishings.
On the floor beside one of the cots stood a bottle almost full, and anempty glass. O'Brien picked up the bottle and smelled of it.
"The proper stuff for a nightcap," he said to himself and taking a smallbottle out of his pocket, shook the contents into the larger bottle. "Adruggist for a brother is a handy thing," he chuckled as he returned tothe front room.
He stood irresolute for a moment, then looked up at the small squaretrap above him. A rickety table stood near one of the windows, andsetting it under the trap he leaped lightly to its soiled top. Theceiling was very high, but he managed to reach up and shove the trapaside, and catching the ledge swung himself up.
O'Brien was no fairy, and it was a tight squeeze, but he wriggledthrough with no greater damage than a torn coat and a barked knuckle.Using his flashlight, he saw that he was in a small circular space abouttwelve feet across. The top was cone shape, and there was no floor. Dustlay inches deep on the rafters where he sat uncomfortably. Then he sawsomething that caused his heart to leap delightedly. Directly besidehim, tied with a cord and covered with broken seals, lay a packet ofpapers. O'Brien knew that his hunt had not been in vain. Buttoning thepapers carefully inside his coat, he put a leg down through the trapwhen a sound below caused him to drag it quickly back and clap the trapover in its place.
A key grated in the lock. Someone was coming.
"An all night job for me!" sighed O'Brien, then remembered with a gleamof hope the powder he had added to the contents of the bottle. Changinghis position, he stretched himself along a rafter, nearly losing hisbalance as he did so. But he managed to save himself from burstingthrough the plaster, although he heard it crack beneath the foot thathad pressed on it for a moment.
"Who left the gas on?" said someone with an oath.
; O'Brien recognized the gruff voice of Brown.
"Search me!" someone else answered, and another hastened to clearhimself of the charge.
"It must have been John," said Brown. "Where is he? I thought he wasright on our heels. He is no good at all. Wish someone would croak him!"He slammed the door, and came over to the table under the trap. A momentlater one of the other men came into O'Brien's narrow range of vision,carrying the bottle and glass. He set it on the table, and looked atBrown.
"Leave it there for awhile. There is none too much in it. If Smith comeshe will want most of it."
O'Brien's heart leaped. So they were expecting Smith! This was almosttoo good to be true. He grinned. He prayed that Smith _would_ want mostof it. The fourth man came, but no one thought to ask him about the gas.Chairs creaked and the cheap cots groaned and squeaked as the men flungthemselves down to rest. At the table, Brown, who was the only onewithin O'Brien's line of vision, took out a pencil and commenced to jotdown something on a piece of paper. No one said anything. O'Brien senseddiscord in the air, and a tense nervousness. It was clear from the veryatmosphere that the four cutthroats hated each other cordially.
Almost an hour passed. Someone snored. Then a gentle tap sounded on thedoor, the sleeper awoke with a snort, someone opened the door, and therewas a low murmur of greetings.
The mysterious Mr. Smith came over to the table and took Brown's chair.As he looked down O'Brien nearly groaned. A broad brimmed fedora wasdrawn down over the man's face, and O'Brien was unable to see a featureof the arch-plotter. But at least he could hear him talk.
It was evident that Smith was in a bad humor.
"Well, what have you to tell me?" he demanded in the silky, smooth tonesthat had irritated Lawrence.
"Nothing," said Brown. "Won't you have a drink?"
"Not yet, thank you," answered Smith politely. "Afterwards, perhaps.Where do you get this?"
"Downstairs," said Brown, who seemed to be the spokesman.
"Well, _I_ have news and plenty of it," said Smith. "Not much longerwill we have to eat our hearts out here. In an hour, two hours, I shallgive you the best of news. Yes, indeed!" He nodded. "But first there issomething for you to do, you over there, and you, Brown. I will sithere, perhaps comforting myself with this friendly bottle, while youtake a taxi and bring O'Brien here."
"Bring O'Brien?" cried Brown.
The fedora nodded.
"Just that!"
"Why, he won't come! Where is he?" asked Brown.
"Either at the Ridgeway place or his own apartment. Oh, I have it allclear now, and O'Brien is in the thick of it. He is what you call thesolution. He knows all. He is going to be made to tell. Won't come? Of_course_ he will come! That is what you are for, Brown. A messenger fromthe White House gave him a letter tonight. Go and bring him here."
"He won't come easy," growled Brown.
Smith was angry. He brought his fist down on the table with a bang.
"Bring him if you have to carry him!" he said in a low, hissing tone.And O'Brien, listening, knew why Lawrence had called him theRattlesnake. Then with a muttered curse Smith swept off his broad hat,and flinging it across the room, leaned back in his chair. Looking downfull in the upturned face, O'Brien involuntarily gave a violent start.Instantly there was a crackle and a piece of plaster half the size ofthe turret came down with a crash. It missed hitting Smith by a hair andsurrounded him with a cloud of dust, but he did not start. Instead, withthe quickness of light, he flashed an automatic from his pocket, andcovered the leg he saw lying along the beam above him. Then getting thedirection of a man's body as the dust cleared, he aimed full atO'Brien's body and drawled, "Come down!"
"Sure!" said O'Brien obligingly. "The jig bein' up, I will that!"
He pushed the useless trap aside and swung down to the table, someonesnatching off the bottle and glass as he did so.
They did not even make a move to seize him. The odds were too great intheir favor. He jumped off the table and stood looking at the group ofastonished villains, then his eyes turned back to Smith and sneered.
"I will say I never suspected _you_!" he said. "Of all the double-faced,low, lyin', sneakin' scoundrels, you are the worst!"
"Don't make your end harder than it needs to be," warned the man Smith."Keep a civil tongue in your head and hand over your revolver. Searchhim, but don't kill him," he added, as O'Brien struck out fiercely atthe first man who moved toward him.
Someone in the rear flung a rope over his head and instantly his ankleswere bound and a gag inserted between his lips. O'Brien realized that astruggle was worse than useless. He saw them take away the papers he hadfound up in the ceiling, and a moment later from the inner pocket camethe precious letter from Mr. Ridgeway. O'Brien bitterly reflected thathe should have destroyed it. Smith read his thought and laughed.
"Never, never carry important documents around with you," he said as heopened it and read the clear, concise instructions. Nodding, he placedit in his pocket. "Well, Brown, it wasn't so hard to get him here, wasit? Is he securely tied?" He glanced at his watch.
"It is all clear now," he said. "Their dirigible is at Barnegat Inlet.It is not the one you have been looking after at all, Brown. They starttomorrow night with the papers and jewels, and O'Brien here is supposedto follow in the other dirigible. This he will use as a decoy, if wefollow him. (It is too bad, O'Brien; too bad to spoil your fun!) Then ifhe succeeds in shaking us, he will follow them and pick them up soon aspossible. So he will be able to see the finish; be in at the death, asthey say. You will be _that_ all right, O'Brien!"
He laughed a chill laugh: the rattles again, and pulled out a cigarettewhich he lighted. O'Brien, watching, all at once recognized the brandand the monogram. But it was _not_ an S.
"I am going now, to see that everything is ready for our flight. We willfollow the dirigible straight out to sea, and----"
"He hears, Excellency," said Brown. The word Excellency went unrebuked.
"Yes, he hears now, but it does not matter," said Smith. He went ontalking. "We will follow the dirigible straight out to sea, and when weget close enough to the other side, just there where the white cliffsshow up, we will begin shooting. There will be a fishing boat belowfilled with our men. We will get the telling shots before they doubtthat O'Brien follows. That will be about all, except the division of thetreasure."
"What are we going to do with O'Brien?" asked Brown.
"Oh, _him_," said Smith as though he had forgotten. "Oh, yes, to besure." He opened the cigarette case, and from a slot in one side tookout a hypodermic needle which he filled from a tiny vial.
"Shooting is too noisy," he said as he bent over his infernal littlecontraption. "And knifing is very untidy. Even here in this hole itwon't do. Brown, you will come with me. Go at once to the hangar and seethat the dirigible is in order, then keep out of sight. We have plentyof time. You three others, listen to me. All your safety and the jewelsthemselves hinge on your obedience." He laid the hypodermic needle onthe table, padding it round with his own handkerchief.
"Now listen. You will be interested too, O'Brien. I want plenty of timefor an alibi, but not too much time. I want to start at dawn instead oftomorrow night, as dear Mr. O'Brien planned. It is now twelve o'clock.How the hours do fly when we are in pleasant company! At exactly threeone of you will administer this little dose in the left forearm. Verysoon the patient will show every sign of extreme intoxication, and youwill then take off his bonds, hurry him downstairs and out into thestreet. Go around the block and into the alley. By that time you canease him gently to the ground and leave him. Empty that bottle and putit in his pocket."
"He will yell," said one of the men.
"Not a sound!" the fiend said smoothly. "The first action of thisadmirable dose is complete paralysis of the vocal chords and the tongue.Really, O'Brien, it might be worse. It would be if I did not feel thatcaution is most necessary. There is no pain until the last. Only abouthalf an hour, O'Brien. Sorry to cut you off, man, but you should no
thave chosen such a profession." He turned to Brown. "Come on!" he said,then as an afterthought to the three assassins, "Don't drink any of thatstuff. You want all the wits you have. Good-bye, O'Brien!"