Seven Keys to Baldpate
Page 8
CHAPTER VIII
MR. MAX TELLS A TALE OF SUSPICION
An hour passed. Mr. Max admitted when pressed that a good cigar soothedthe soul, and accepted another from Magee's stock. The professorcontinued to talk. Obviously it was his favorite diversion. He seemed tobe quoting from addresses; Mr. Magee pictured him on a Chautauquaplatform, the white water pitcher by his side.
As he talked, Mr. Magee studied that portion of his delicate scholarlyface that the beard left exposed to the world. What part had ThaddeusBolton, holder of the Crandall Chair of Comparative Literature, in thisnetwork of odd alarms? Why was he at Baldpate? And why was he so littlemoved by the rapid changes in the make-up of the inn colony--changesthat left Mr. Magee gasping? He took them as calmly as he would take hisgrapefruit at the breakfast-table. Only that morning Mr. Magee, by wayof experiment, had fastened upon him the suspicion of murder, and theold man had not flickered an eyelash. Not the least strange of all thestrange figures that floated about Baldpate, Mr. Magee reflected, wasthis man who fiddled now with Chaucer while, metaphorically, Romeburned. He could not make it out.
Mr. Max inserted a loud yawn into the professor's discourse.
"Once I played chess with a German," he said, "and another time I wentto a lecture on purifying politics, but I never struck anything somonotonous as this job I got now."
"So sorry," replied Magee, "that our company bores you."
"No offense," remarked the yellow-faced one. "I was just thinking as Iset here how it all comes of people being suspicious of one another. NowI've always held that the world would be a better place if there wasn'tno suspicion in it. Nine times out of ten the suspicion ain't got a legto stand on--if suspicion can be said to have a leg."
Evidently Mr. Max desired the floor; graciously Professor Boltonconceded it to him.
"Speaking of suspicion," continued the drab little man on the threshold,turning his cigar thoughtfully between his thin lips, "reminds me of acase told me by Pueblo Sam, a few years ago. In some ways it's realfunny, and in others it's sad as hell. Pueblo Sam was called in themterms because he'd never been west of Sixth Avenue. He was a swellrefined gentleman who lived by his wits, and he had considerable."
"A confidence man," suggested Magee.
"Something along that order," admitted Mr. Max, "but a good sport amonghis friends, you understand. Well, this case of suspicion Sam tells meabout happened something like this. One scorching hot day in summer Samgets aboard the Coney boat, his idea being to put all business caresaway for an hour or two, and just float calm and peaceful down the bay,and cool off. So he grabs out a camp chair and hustles through the crowdup to the top deck, beside the pilot's hangout, and sits down to getacquainted with the breeze, if such there was.
"Well, he'd been sitting there about ten minutes, Sam tells me, whenalong came about the easiest picking that ever got loose from the oldhomestead--"
"I beg your pardon," protested Professor Bolton.
"The ready money, the loosened kale, the posies in the garden waiting tobe plucked," elucidated Mr. Max. "This guy, Sam says, was such a perfectrube he just naturally looked past him to see if there was a trail ofwisps of hay on the floor. For a while Sam sits there with a grouch ashe thought how hard it was to put business aside and get a little restnow and then, and debating whether, being on a vacation, as it was, he'dexert himself enough to stretch forth his hand and take whatever moneythe guy had. While he was arguing the matter with himself, the jaysettled the question by coming over and sitting down near him.
"He's in the city, he tells Sam, to enjoy the moving pictures of thestreets, and otherwise forget the trees back home that grow the cherriesin the bottom of the cocktail glasses. 'And believe me,' he says to Sam,'there ain't none of those confidence men going to get me. I'm toowise,' he says.
"'I'll bet money you are,' Sam tells him laughing all over at the fishthat was fighting to get into the net.
"'Yes, siree,' says the last of the Mohicans, 'they can't fool me. I cantell them as fur away as I can see 'em, and my eyesight's perfect. Oneof 'em comes up to me in City Hall park and tries to sell me some miningstock. I guess he ain't recovered yet from what I said to him. I tellyou, they can't fool Mark Dennen,' says the guy.
"Sam told me that at them words he just leaned back in his seat andstared at the jay and whistled under his breath. Years ago, it seemed,Sam had lived in the town of Readsboro, Vermont, and run up and down thestreets with one suspender and a stone bruise, and the kid that had runwith him was Mark Dennen. And Sam says he looked at this guy from thewoods that was running round crying to high heaven he needed a guardian,and he sees that sure enough it was the tow-head Mark Dennen and--Samtold me--something seemed to bust inside him, and he wanted to stretchout his arms and hug this guy.
"'Mark Dennen,' shouts Sam, 'as I live. Of Readsboro, Vermont. The kid Iused to play with under the arc lights--don't you remember me?'
"But Sam says the guy just looked him straight in the eye and shut hisjaw, and says: 'I suppose you'll be asking after my brother Georgenext?'
"'You ain't got any brother George, you idiot,' laughs Sam. He told mehe was thinking how he'd treat his old friend Mark to a dinner thatwould go down in history in Readsboro. 'Mark, you old rascal,' he says,'don't you remember me--don't you remember little Sam Burns that used toplay andy-over with you, and that stole your girl in 1892? Don't youremember the old days in Readsboro?' He was all het up by this time, Samtells me, and all the old memories came creeping back, and he keptthinking he never was so glad to run across anybody in his life. 'Youremember little Sam Burns, don't you?' he asks once more.
"But this guy just looks back into Sam's eye with his own cold as steel,and he says, says he: 'You're pretty clever, mister, but you don't foolme. No, you don't come any games on Mark Dennen.'
"'But, Mark,' says Sam, 'I swear to you by all that's holy that I'm thatkid--I'm Sam Burns. What proof do you want? Do you remember old EdHaywood that used to keep the drug store right across from thepost-office? The guy that never washed his windows? I do. And MissHunter that taught the sixth grade school when we went there--a littlewoman with washed-out gray eyes and a broken front tooth? And thatpretty little girl, Sarah somebody--wait a minute, I'll get it orbust--Sarah--Sarah--Sarah Scott, you used to be so sweet on? Did youmarry her, Mark? And old Lafe Perkins, who used to be on hand wheneverthere was any repairs being made anywhere--rheumatism and a cane and ahigh squeaky voice that he used to exercise giving orders about thingsthat wasn't any of his business. Why, Mark, I remember 'em all. Goodlord, man,' says Sam, 'do you want any more proof?'
"But this country blockhead just looked Sam up and down, and remarksjudicious: 'It's certainly wonderful how you know all these things.Wonderful. But you can't fool me,' he says, 'you can't fool MarkDennen.'"
Mr. Max paused in his narrative for a moment. The sound of voices cameup from the office of Baldpate Inn. One, that of the mayor, boomedloudly and angrily. In an evident desire to drown it, Mr. Max went onwith spirit:
"Well, gentlemen, it got to be a point of honor, as you might say, forSam to convince that guy. He told me he never wanted anything so much inhis life as for Mark Dennen to give in. It was a hot afternoon, and he'dcome aboard that boat for a rest, but he peeled off his collar andstarted in. He gave Mark Dennen the number of bricks in the MethodistChurch, as reported in the Readsboro _Citizen_ at the time it was built.He told him the name of the piece Mark's sister recited at the schoolentertainment in the spring of 1890. He bounded on all four sides thelot where the circuses played when they came to Readsboro. He namedevery citizen of the town, living or dead, that ever got to be knownoutside his own family, and he brought children into the world andmarried them and read the funeral service over them, and still thatbonehead from the woods sat there, his mouth open, and says: 'It'sbeyond me how you know all that. You New Yorkers are slicker then I giveye credit for. But you can't fool me. You ain't Sam Burns. Why, I wentto school with him.'
"They was drawing near Co
ney now," went on Mr. Max, "and Sam's face waspurple and he was dripping with perspiration, and rattling off Readsborohappenings at the rate of ten a second, but that Mark Dennen he satthere and wouldn't budge from his high horse. So they came up to thepier, Sam almost weeping real tears and pleading like his heart wouldbreak: 'Mark, don't you remember that time we threw little Bill Barnabyinto the swimming hole, and he couldn't swim a stroke and nearly drownedon us?' and still getting the stony face from his old pal.
"And on the pier this Dennen held out his hand to Sam, who was aphysical wreck and a broken man by this time, and says: 'You sure arecute, mister. I'll have great times telling this in Readsboro. Once youmet one too smart for ye, eh? Much obliged for your company, anyhow!'And he went away and left Sam leaning against the railing, with no faithin human nature no more. 'I hope somebody got to him,' says Sam to me,'and got to him good. He's the kind that if you work right you can sellstock in a company for starting roof gardens on the tops of the pyramidsin Egypt. I'd trimmed him myself,' says Sam to me, 'but I hadn't theheart.'"
Mr. Max finished, and again from below came the sound of voices raisedin anger.
"An interesting story, Mr. Max," commented Professor Bolton. "I shalltreasure it."
"Told with a remarkable feeling for detail," added Mr. Magee. "In fact,it seems to me that only one of the two participants in it couldremember all the fine points so well. Mr. Max, you don't exactly looklike Mark Dennen to me, therefore--if you will pardon the liberty--"
"I get you," replied Max sadly. "The same old story.Suspicion--suspicion everywhere. It does a lot of harm, believe me. Iwouldn't--"
He jumped from his chair and disappeared, for the voice of Cargan hadhailed him from below. Mr. Magee and the professor with one accordfollowed. Hiding in the friendly shadows of the landing once again, theyheard the loud tones of the mayor's booming voice, and the softer tonesof Bland's.
"How about this?" bellowed the mayor. "Hayden's squealed. Phones toBland--not to me. Whines about the courts--I don't know what rot. He'ssquealed. He didn't phone the combination."
"The rat!" screamed Mr. Max.
"By the Lord Harry," said the mayor, "I'll have it open, anyhow. I'veearned what's in there, fair and--I've earned it. I'm going to have it,Max."
"See here, Cargan--" put in Mr. Bland.
"Keep out of the way, you," cried Cargan. "And put away that pop-gunbefore you get hurt. I'm going to have what's mine by justice. That safecomes open to-night. Max, get your satchel."
Mr. Magee and the professor turned and ascended to the second floor. Infront of number seven they paused and looked into each other's eyes.Professor Bolton shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm going to bed," he said, "and I advise you to do the same."
"Yes," replied Mr. Magee, but had no idea what he had said. As for theold man's advice, he had no intention of taking it. Melodrama--the thinghe had come to Baldpate Inn to forget forever--raged through that homeof solitude. Men spoke of guns, and swore, and threatened. What was itall about? And what part could he play in it all?
He entered number seven, and paused in amazement. Outside one of hiswindows Miss Norton stood, rapping on the glass for him to open. When hestood facing her at last, the window no longer between, he saw that herface was very pale and that her chin trembled as it had in the station.
"What is it?" cried Magee.
"I mustn't come in," she answered. "Listen. You said you wanted to helpme. You can do so now. I'll explain everything later--this is all I needtell you just at present. Down-stairs in the safe there's a packagecontaining two hundred thousand dollars. Do you hear--two hundredthousand. I must have that package. Don't ask me why. I came here to getit--I must have it. The combination was to have been phoned to Cargan ateight o'clock. I was hiding outside the window. Something wentwrong--they didn't phone it. He's going to open the safe by force. Iheard him say so. I couldn't wait to hear more--I saw him."
"Who?" asked Mr. Magee.
"I don't know--a tall black figure--hiding outside a window like myself.The man with one of the other keys, I suppose. The man Mr. Bland heardwalking about to-night. I saw him and I was terribly frightened. It'sall right when you know who the other fellow is, but when--it's all socreepy--I was afraid. So I ran--here."
"The thing to do," approved Mr. Magee. "Don't worry. I'll get the moneyfor you. I'll get it if I have to slay the city administration of Reutonin its tracks."
"You trust me?" asked the girl, with a little catch in her voice. Thesnow lay white on her hair; even in the shadows her eyes suggested Juneskies. "Without knowing who I am, or why I must have this money--you'llget it for me?"
"Some people," said Mr. Magee, "meet all their lives long at pink littleteas, and never know one another, while others just smile at each otheracross a station waiting-room--that's enough."
"I'm so glad," whispered the girl. "I never dreamed I'd meet any onelike you--up here. Please, oh, please, be very careful. Neither Cargannor Max is armed. Bland is. I should never forgive myself if you werehurt. But you won't be--will you?"
"I may catch cold," laughed Mr. Magee; "otherwise I'll be perfectlysafe." He went into the room and put on a gay plaid cap. "Makes me looklike Sherlock Holmes," he smiled at the girl framed in the window. Whenhe turned to his door to lock it, he discovered that the key was goneand that it had been locked on the outside. "Oh, very well," he saidflippantly. He buttoned his coat to the chin, blew out the candles innumber seven, and joined the girl on the balcony.
"Go to your room," he said gently. "Your worries are over. I'll bringyou the golden fleece inside an hour."
"Be careful," she whispered, "Be very careful, Mr.--Billy."
"Just for that," cried Magee gaily, "I'll get you _four_ hundredthousand dollars."
He ran to the end of the balcony, and dropping softly to the ground, wasready for his first experiment in the gentle art of highway robbery.