City of Schemes

by Victoria Thompson

  “I don’t like to brag, but I’m sure I can help you make your decision. My, that’s some fine-looking horseflesh,” he said, turning to see the horses grazing peacefully in the paddock.

  They did look good, Percy had to admit, but the ones in the barn would look better. He pulled the motorcar to a stop. By the time he and Mr. Westerly were out of the motor, Humphrey had emerged from the barn. Today his ratty wool coat had straw stuck to it here and there. He sauntered over.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hyde-Langdon,” he said.

  Percy returned the greeting and introduced Mr. Westerly.

  “Is this the fellow who’s gonna help you choose your horses?” Humphrey asked, lifting his disreputable hat to scratch his head.

  “He is indeed. I hope you’ve gathered up your best stock for him to see.”

  “All my stock is good,” Humphrey insisted, a little insulted.

  “I’m sure it is,” Mr. Westerly said jovially. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

  Humphrey led the way and brought out each animal in turn. The stallion was a bit unruly, so they contented themselves with a look into the stall. The mares all pranced prettily and meekly submitted to an examination of their hooves and teeth.

  “Fine animals,” Westerly proclaimed more than once. He had no fault to find with any of them, as Percy had expected. Rosemary had, of course, warned him that her father knew nothing about horses.

  While Humphrey was putting the last mare away, Percy told Westerly which animals he was considering purchasing. One stallion and a half-dozen mares seemed like a good start, Westerly agreed, and he confirmed Percy’s selections. A brief discussion with Humphrey revealed the price of each animal. Mr. Westerly felt obliged to negotiate the prices, and Humphrey felt obliged to reduce them a bit, although Percy realized he was still overcharging them.

  After arranging to return soon to make the actual purchase, Percy and Mr. Westerly left in search of the inn where Percy had dined with the ladies previously.

  Over lunch, Percy told Westerly all about Hartwood and how anxious he was to restore it to its former glory.

  “The war was hard on everyone,” he explained. “Even though England itself saw no fighting, almost every able-bodied man was in the army, and the women worked in the factories, so the farms were badly neglected.”

  “Which is why America had to provide so much food for you folks,” Westerly said. “It’s good to see one of you at least is spending a bit of coin over here in return.”

  “And that is my problem, Mr. Westerly. You see, I didn’t explain everything to Rosemary because one doesn’t bother women with such matters, but the truth is, my tenants were all in the army, the men at least, and a lot of the younger women went to the city for better jobs, so we weren’t able to cultivate all the farms and I didn’t collect much in rents over the past four years. I told Rosemary I needed to return to England to arrange for more funds to buy the horses, but the truth is, I don’t actually have more funds. I really need to return to sell some of my property so I can afford to ship the horses back.”

  “I did think it was strange when she told me you had to go back to England to arrange for a letter of credit. But now that the war is over, your tenants will return, won’t they?”

  “Those who can,” Percy said sadly, remembering all the boys who would never return from the war. “But it will take a while for us to get back to where we were when the war started.”

  Westerly nodded sagely. He might not know anything about horses, but he did know a thing or two about money. “I’m guessing you’ll need a big investment to get the place back on its feet.”

  Percy smiled gratefully. “How pleasant to deal with a man who understands finance, Mr. Westerly.”

  “I know you have to spend money to make money, son, and luckily for you, I’ve got some to spend. Now I know you’ve got your eye on my little girl, so I think we might be able to make a deal.”

  Percy winced a little at his frankness. The English handled such things with more delicacy, or at least Percy assumed they did. He’d never bargained for a bride before. “Yes, buying the horses is the least of it. Shipping them will be quite costly, and I’ll need to hire some men to accompany them, since I plan to stay on in America for a while.”

  “Yes, until the wedding,” Westerly said with a booming laugh.

  “I’m afraid you have spoiled my little speech, sir. I was planning to ask your permission to marry your lovely daughter when we concluded our business.”

  “I suppose that’s how they do it where you come from, but in America, the girl makes up her own mind, and we both know Rosemary has made up her mind to have you. I don’t have much to say about it except to pay the bills. I just need to know what that bill will be.”

  Percy shifted uneasily in his chair. “I can give you a detailed accounting. In addition to the horses, we’ll need to repair the outbuildings and replace the equipment. A lot of it was confiscated for the war effort.”

  “Did they use plows in the war effort?” Westerly asked, plainly amused by his own joke.

  “I understand they melted the equipment down to make military machinery.”

  “Of course they did. Did the same thing here, too. I’m just pulling your leg, son. What else do you need?”

  “Workers, of course, and—”

  “Just give me a round number, why don’t you?”

  Percy leaned back in his chair and studied Mr. Westerly’s jowly face for a long moment while he mentally multiplied his round number by two and divided it by four to convert it to English pounds and added a little to make it come out even. “I think thirteen thousand pounds should cover my expenses and return Hartwood to a manor worthy of your daughter, Mr. Westerly.”

  “And how much would that be in real money?” Westerly asked, signaling the waiter to refill his coffee cup.

  Percy pretended to consider. “About fifty-two thousand American dollars, I think, although your banker could surely—”

  “That’s fine, son. We’ll make it an even fifty-five. Rosemary is going to want a nice ring to show off, and you’ll want to take a wedding trip somewhere.”

  Percy could only blink in surprise.

  “Now don’t think I just fell off the turnip truck. I’m going to make this all legal and official. You’ll sign a promissory note for the whole bundle.”

  Percy didn’t have to feign dismay. “Mr. Westerly, I cannot hope to repay you for decades.”

  But Westerly was still smiling. “Don’t worry, son. The note will become null and void the minute you marry Rosemary. Let’s just call it an incentive to make sure you toe the mark. My little girl has been disappointed too many times. I want to guarantee the knot gets tied good and tight this time.”

  Percy smiled with relief. “Mr. Westerly, I would like nothing more.”

  Mr. Westerly clapped his hands together. The sound made Percy jump. “By God, Vanderbilt had to pay two-and-a-half million to buy his daughter a duke, and I got an earl for my girl for only fifty-five thousand!”

  * * *

  —

  Thornton had taken to reading the newspapers in the lobby. At least there he might meet someone and have a conversation. Not that he’d met anyone he wanted to ever see again, but it was somewhat better than sitting in his room alone, at least. Only a few more days until he collected his money from Bates, and Vane should also be arriving soon with Berta’s trunk and her fortune. Then he could leave this town behind.

  For the past few days he’d been trying to decide where he would go first. Maybe he would take a run down to Cuba where it was warm. With the war over, ships were running everywhere now. He didn’t want to go on a tramp steamer, though. No, he wanted one of those luxury ocean liners. Or had the navy claimed all of them for troop transports? He’d have to look into that.

  “Thornton?”

  He looked
up to find Leo Vane standing over him. “You’re back,” was all he could think to say.

  Vane glanced around as if worried they might be overheard. “We need to talk. Can we go up to your suite?” He did not look like a man who had just completed a successful venture.

  “Of course,” Thornton said with a frown.

  Vane still wore his overcoat and carried a valise covered with stickers from many ports of call. Thornton saw no sign of a trunk, but Vane had probably moved the securities to the valise. You couldn’t carry a trunk around New York City. They took the stairs up to the second floor, and Thornton let them into his suite.

  Vane set down the valise and started taking off his coat. “Could I have a drink?”

  It was still early in the day, but Thornton could see Vane needed it. He poured two glasses. Vane sank into one of the chairs and accepted a glass gratefully. He took a long sip.

  “I didn’t expect you so soon,” Thornton said, sitting down in the other chair.

  “Yes, it would have taken me a few more days if I’d come all the way by boat, but I had to get off in Charleston.”

  “I know. Berta told me, but she said you would be staying on the boat.”

  “Berta? Have you seen her?” Vane asked in surprise.

  “Yes, she sent me word when she arrived in the city, like you told her to, and she told me what happened and that you’d put her on the train and would be coming later on the boat.”

  Vane’s puzzled frown was worrisome. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Berta, your cousin,” Thornton snapped, losing patience. “She said you sent her ahead so she would be safe, and you were bringing the securities.”

  But Vane was shaking his head. “You couldn’t have seen Berta.”

  “But I did. She’s here in New York and staying at the Waldorf.”

  “No, she isn’t. She’s in Charleston, South Carolina, and she’s in jail.”

  “Jail?” Thornton echoed. “She can’t be in jail.”

  “But she is. We had to put in at Charleston because something went wrong with the boat. The engine or something. We had to wait a few days to get it fixed, and the authorities came aboard to check for contraband and found Berta.”

  “But they couldn’t have found her. She’s here, I tell you. I saw her.”

  “And I’m telling you, they found her, and they also found the false bottom in the trunk. She had . . .” He looked away and took another long sip of his whiskey.

  “She had the securities, yes, I know. Did they find them?”

  “Yes, but she also had some papers, instructions.”

  “What kind of instructions?”

  “Instructions on what to do with the money. Who to give it to after she cashed in the securities. It wasn’t her money at all. It was for the Bolsheviks.”

  “Bolsheviks?”

  “Yes, the Germans and the Russians formed a pact when Russia withdrew from the war. The Germans are financing the revolution in Russia, and they’re going to finance one here, too.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “But it’s also true. Berta confessed everything after they arrested her and she saw that they knew it all anyway. She’s trying to save her own neck. They’re going to take her to Washington, DC, to testify at some congressional committee.”

  Thornton took a sip of his own drink, thinking one of them was very confused. “But Berta is here, in New York. She said you took her off the boat when you heard the authorities were going to search it and put her on a train. She got here last . . . Well, she contacted me last Thursday. I’m not sure exactly when she arrived.”

  “That woman couldn’t have been Berta.”

  But Thornton wasn’t going to be fooled. If Elizabeth Miles had taught him nothing else, he now knew a lie when he heard one. “If she wasn’t Berta, how did she know all about you and the trunk and the securities?”

  “I have no idea, but she couldn’t have been Berta, because last Thursday, Berta was in a jail in Charleston. Here, look at this.” He jumped up and grabbed his valise, setting it on a table and opening it to reveal a jumble of clothes and a newspaper on top. He pulled out the newspaper and slammed the valise closed. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so I brought this.”

  The newspaper was from Charleston, South Carolina, and dated last Thursday. On the bottom of the front page was a picture of a middle-aged woman who looked frightened to death and who also looked nothing at all like the woman he had taken to his bank last week. The caption read, “Alberta Volker.” The headline read, “German Operative Caught Sneaking into Country to Fund Sabotage.” He skimmed the article and then went back and read it more carefully, unable to believe it the first time. The report said the police had arrested a woman who was trying to enter the United States illegally with over half a million dollars that she was going to use to fund a Bolshevik revolution in America. She had been working in league with a man named Leopold Volker, alias Leo Vane, who was now wanted for questioning by federal authorities.

  Thornton was so enraged, he could hardly focus on the words. “How did you . . . ?” He had to stop and clear his throat because his fury was literally choking him. “How did you escape?”

  Vane had dropped back into his chair, and he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. “It was pure luck. I’d gone ashore to buy some things for Berta. She was staying on board because we didn’t want anyone to see her and ask questions about why a woman was traveling on a boat like that. I think the captain must have betrayed us. At any rate, these men came aboard, and they took Berta and all her belongings. I guess that’s how they finally found the false bottom in the trunk, or maybe she told them about it. It seems she told them everything else.”

  “But not my name. I’m not mentioned here.”

  “I don’t think she knows your name. I just told her . . .” He stopped to rub his forehead as if it ached. It probably did. “I told her an associate was helping me. She wanted to know where I’d gotten the money to buy the boat after I told her I was broke.”

  “So the police aren’t looking for me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But if they’re following you, you’ve led them right here,” Thornton said, not bothering to hide his anger.

  “No one was following me. Do you take me for a fool?” Vane asked, outraged. “I stayed in Charleston for a few days so I could be there if they let Berta go, but after this story, there was nothing else in the newspapers about her. I didn’t dare make inquiries because I knew they were looking for me, so I caught a train and came back here.”

  “You idiot,” Thornton said, although his heart wasn’t really in it. He was thinking about all the plans he’d made, how careful he had been, and all of it for nothing. He felt as if a boulder had settled in his stomach.

  “What else could I have done? Someone betrayed us. That’s the only explanation.” Vane drained his glass and got up to serve himself another, but he stopped halfway to the sideboard where the whiskey sat. “But what about . . . ? You said you’d seen Berta. You said she’s here in New York. Maybe they did let her go.”

  Thornton shook his head as he contemplated this final blow. He pointed to the photograph on the front page of the paper he still held. “That woman wasn’t her.”

  “That . . . That’s not a good picture of her,” Vane said, determined to find a solution. “And you said she knew all about me and the trunk and . . . How could anyone else know all those things?”

  “I don’t know. How did the captain know Berta was a German operative?”

  “I . . .” Vane ran a hand over his face and finished his trip to the whiskey bottle. He poured a generous amount and took a large gulp before returning to his seat. When he’d had a chance to think a bit, he said, “What did she want, though? This woman, I mean. The real Berta had all the securities.”<
br />
  “She wanted me to give her some money of course. She said you’d sent her off with just a few hundred dollars. She was staying at the Waldorf, and she needed some nice clothes.”

  “And you gave her money?” Vane asked, as if that was the most amazing part of this whole fiasco.

  Thornton glared at him until he cringed a little. “Of course I gave her money. You’ll be interested to know that she and I struck a new deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” Vane asked uneasily.

  “She said because I was the one who had helped her the most, she was going to give me half of her fortune and leave you out altogether.”

  “Why, that ungrateful little—”

  Thornton’s bark of laughter stopped him. “She wasn’t the real Berta, you fool. You just said so yourself. That woman didn’t have any money to share at all except what I gave her.”

  “How much was that?”

  “Twenty-five hundred.”

  Vane whistled in amazement.

  “She asked me for five thousand, so it could have been worse.”

  They sat in silence for a long moment as they considered what they had lost.

  “It must have been the captain,” Vane said at last. “He was always hanging around, talking to Berta. He spoke German, too. I didn’t realize it at first, so he probably overheard us talking. And we made a stop in Florida on the way. He must have contacted that woman then.”

  Thornton made a rude noise. “How likely is that?”

  “He could have told her about you. She could have taken a train to New York to get there ahead of us.”

  “How could he have known what to tell her though? I thought you didn’t tell Berta about me,” Thornton said, angry all over again.

  He drained his glass again. “I guess I must have.”

  “Which means the real Berta knows about me, too.”

  Vane started to deny it, but he couldn’t, as he realized the truth of it.

  “What are you going to do now?” Thornton asked.