MRS1 The Under Dogs

by Hulbert Footner

  In our slow gyrations, swinging up to one couple, and sheering off from another, Jessie, her bold, dark eyes roving about, missing nothing, kept up a curious line of conversation, presumably for my benefit, which ran something like this:

  "She told me his name was Alfred Booker." (A pause to give time for one couple to go, and another to approach.) "Of all the fellows there they said the best dancer was Alfred Booker." (Pause.) "She was crazy about a fellow called Alfred Booker ... Alfred Booker ... Alfred Booker...." and so on. And so on.

  When we returned to our table, more fellows came up, but Jessie remained obdurate. Her reply, delivered in the haughtiest manner, was always the same:

  "We're waitin' for friends."

  We danced again.

  During the intermission that followed, there came to our table a young fellow who had more style than most of the swains present. With his wavy blond hair and incipient side-whiskers, his bold nose and predatory mouth, he would have been quite good-looking, had it not been for the pasty complexion, and the smirk of the house-servant off duty. His extremely fashionable clothes, which were yet somehow not quite the thing, stamped him for what he was; a gentleman's gentleman. The type does not change, though fashions do.

  "Good-evening," he said, with all the assurance of one who is not accustomed to being turned down.

  "Excuse me," said Jessie haughtily. "I don't remember your face."

  "You know me," he said, not in the least abashed. "'Cos a friend of mine heard you talkin' about me on the floor."

  "And who may you be?" queried Jessie coldly.

  "Alfred Booker."

  "O-oh!" said Jessie, expressing volumes in a side glance, and bridling a little. "Is that who you are."

  He slid into the seat beside her. I was sitting across the table.

  "What was it you was sayin' about me?" he asked with intense curiosity.

  "You ought to know if your friend heard it."

  "She only heard you mention my name. Go on, tell me."

  "I rally don't remember," said Jessie, hiding an imaginary yawn.

  I watched and listened with delight. That marvellous actress opposite me had, as you can see, subtly changed her rôle. The downright outspokenness of the East Side girl was now sophisticated by the airs and graces of the servant's hall. The young man understood her perfectly (he thought).

  After much pressing she coyly confessed that she had heard a girl in the dressing-room say that Alfred Booker was the best dancer on the floor, and she supposed she must have mentioned it to her friend.

  "Well, come and try me out," he said, as the music started again.

  It was a treat to watch them dance.

  When they returned to the table she had him going fast. She said:

  "Meet my friend, Miss Ruby de Simmer ... Mr. Booker."

  He gave me half a nod. "You ain't told me your name yet."

  "Miss Miriam la Count," she said languidly.

  "Gee!" said the young man. "Any relation to Queen Mary?"

  During the rest of the evening, he never left Jessie's side. Other girls walking or dancing past our table made eyes at him in vain. Decidedly, Alfred Booker was the catch of Foley's. He addressed a good deal of his conversation to Jessie's ear in tones so low I was unable to catch it; but I judged from her curt refusals that it had to do with various methods of getting rid of me. While they danced I sat alone. I was thankful, though, that nobody came to ask me, for I would never have been able to play up to those self-assured young village sports.

  When Jessie said it was time to go, Mr. Booker steered her affectionately along the village road with a hand under her elbow, whispering into her ear, while I tagged along on the other side. We halted outside the hotel, and Mr. Booker, eyeing me, said pointedly:

  "Don't let us keep you up, Ruby."

  Jessie instantly slipped her hand through my arm, and turned on him. "Say, who do you think you are, speaking to my friend like that?" she demanded haughtily. "If you want to know it, I prefer her company to yours!"

  I thought this was pretty strong, but she knew her man. He cringed under it. "Aw, I didn't mean no harm," he muttered. "It was just a joke."

  "Then beg her pardon."

  "Say ... I'm sorry," he mumbled.

  "Oh, that's all right," I said quickly.

  Jessie relented. "Well, good-night, Alfred," she said sweetly. "Thanks for a pleasant evening."

  "See you to-morrow, two-thirty," he said.

  Jessie explained to me that as he was free the following afternoon, he proposed to borrow a friend's car, and carry us over to Greenwood Lake.

  "A summer vacation place exactly after his own style," said Jessie. He had promised to bring along a fellow for me.

  Well, he turned up more resplendently dressed than ever, and driving a fine car, which I suspected had come out of the Walbridge Sterry garage. With Jessie beside him on the front seat, the effect when he drove fast was not so very different from that created by his master and mistress. The fellow he brought for me was not much; I should not have rated him above a fourth or fifth line fellow; nevertheless he had the cheek to look disappointed when he saw me, and scarcely opened his mouth the whole way to Greenwood Lake. As soon as we parked the car there, he disappeared, and was not seen again. Alfred was very sore, for this threw me on him and Jessie again. I felt rather foolish.

  We rowed on the lake in a clumsy, flat-bottomed boat, and had refreshments on the porch of a cheap summer hotel, filled with the most awful specimens of clownish and dishevelled vacationers. Afterwards we drove over the hills at a furious rate; for, it appeared, Alfred had to be back at six-thirty—to dress his master for dinner, I suppose. Jessie and I had to walk into the village rather ingloriously. Alfred made a date to meet her at Foley's later.

  I tried to beg off from Foley's that night—"I am only in the way," I said; but Jessie would not hear of it.

  "You've got an important part in this comedy," she said. "As they understand the game, as long as I keep you by me, it signifies 'nothing doing,' see? And when I let you go, it means the bars are down."

  That night was largely a repetition of the previous one, with this exception; that Alfred was much more deeply enamoured. She played him with a rare skill; she knew exactly when to advance and when to retreat. "These experienced lady-killers are the easiest game of all to bring down," she whispered to me. She was not very successful though, in getting him to talk about his employers. Alfred wished to pose before Jessie as a king of men, and he was chary, naturally, of bringing up anything that suggested his menial state.

  It was on our third night at Foley's that the vital piece of information slipped out. "You're only goin' to be here a week," said Alfred, "and just by bad luck I gotta be away two days! Ain't it rotten?"

  "How's that?" said Jessie.

  "The folks (thus Alfred always referred to his employers) are goin' to motor down to New York on Friday morning. Friday night they're goin' to some big jamborree out at Glen Cove, Long Island, and they'll dine and dress in the New York house, and go back there to sleep after the garden fête, or whatever it is. We won't get back here till late Saturday."

  "Too bad!" said Jessie, with cruel indifference. "I'll have to get me another fella for them two days."

  "A-ah!" said Alfred, scowling.

  Nothing more was said about it.

  Next morning Jessie and I went for a country walk. From the next village she telephoned the important information down to New York, and we waited around awhile for her further instructions to come through. She issued out of the telephone booth with rather a peculiar expression.

  "Well?" I asked eagerly.

  "I am to get Alfred to invite me to visit him in the Walbridge Sterry's town house," she said.

  "Oh heavens!" I said. "Must you go through with it!"

  "Oh, Alfred's a cinch!" she said carelessly. "Suppose I had a real man to deal with."

  That night, our fourth and last at Foley's, Alfred was full of gloom. He evidently b
elieved that by the time he had returned to Tuxedo, he would for ever have lost his chance with the desirable Miriam la Count. And Jessie lost no opportunity of subtly promoting that idea. The conceited young fellow suffered cruelly. Finally he blurted out:

  "Look ahere! If I pay your fare down and back, will you meet me in New York to-morrow evening? I got to go down with the folks in the car."

  "Ruby, too?" asked Jessie wickedly.

  "A-ah!" said Alfred, twisting his shoulders.

  "But I'm on my vacation," said Jessie.

  "What of it?" he said eagerly. "Look at the fun we could have in New York. Not like this burg. I'll be off for the whole night. We'll go down to Coney Island. I'll blow to the whole works. Will yeh? Will yeh?"

  "I can go to Coney Island any time," said Jessie.

  "Well, what else would you like to do? There's everything in New York. You only got to name it."

  Jessie, however, wished to make him name it.

  "A roof garden? The Follies? One of the big dance halls?"

  To each of these Jessie shook her head.

  "How would you like to see our town house?" he asked as a last resort.

  Jessie suddenly raised her eyes in a glance that intoxicated the infatuated youth. "I'd like that," she murmured.

  "Well, that's easy fixed," he said. "Nina Trudeau, she goes down with the madame, and she'll have her fellow to see her to-morrow night. We'll make a little party of four. There won't be nobody else in the house but the cook and the second butler. I'll square them. I'll show you the whole house."

  "Oh, will yeh?" murmured Jessie ecstatically.

  "But you couldn't bring Ruby," he said.

  "Oh, I wouldn't expect that," she said, demurely letting her eyes fall.

  The young man was beside himself with delight. "Good work!" he cried. "I'll be free as soon as I get the folks out of the house. That'll be eight-thirty or nine. Where'll I meet you?"

  "Where is the house?" asked Jessie.

  "— East Sixty-Third."

  "I'll wait for you at the Park entrance," said Jessie. "Just behind the Sherman statue."

  "I'll be there with bells on!"

  During the rest of the evening Jessie's manner towards Alfred was much warmer than heretofore, and the young man scarcely knew which end he was standing on. When we parted for the night, Jessie said:

  "Shall I see you before you go?"

  "No, worse luck!" he said. "We'll be busy all morning getting ready, and right after lunch we start."

  "Why do you start so early?"

  "The madame's got to get to town in time to get her jewels out of the safety deposit. This is going to be a big affair."

  At the mention of "jewels," my heart rose slowly into my throat.

  After lunch next day, Jessie and I were hanging about the snuffy parlour of the little hotel, waiting to see the Walbridge Sterry outfit drive past. We intended to take the first train after they had gone. While we waited, we amused ourselves by reading the local newspaper, copies of which were lying on the table. Suddenly my attention was arrested by a sharp exclamation from my companion.

  "Read this!" she said, pointing to an item. "It has been clipped from a New York paper, and is therefore, several days old."

  I read:

  "It has lately become known that Walbridge Sterry, of New York and Tuxedo, is the purchaser of the marvellous Pavloff tiara, once the property of the late Czarina of Russia, which was brought to America to be sold by His Highness Prince Yevrienev. This is said to be one of the most valuable pieces of jewellery in existence, and it is known that the price paid by Mr. Sterry runs high into six figures. He presented it to his wife on her birthday. Certainly no other American woman possesses an ornament to match it.

  "Those who have been privileged to view it, describe it as a marvel of the combined arts of lapidary and goldsmith, in the florid Russian manner. Diamonds, rubies and emeralds are the leading motives, combined with a row of priceless black pearls. The centre of the design is formed by the famous Pavloff emerald, which was presented to the Emperor Paul of Russia by a Tartar chief—a square-cut stone, one of the largest emeralds in existence.

  "Mrs. Walbridge Sterry is taking a prominent part in the grand Oriental fête to be given at Idlewild, the famous B. B. Hagland estate near Glen Cove, next Friday night, in aid of several charities. In the pageant of All Nations which opens the affair, Mrs. Sterry has chosen to appear as Catherine the Great of Russia, and it is an open secret that she will wear the Pavloff tiara as part of her costume. All society is on the tiptoe of expectation."

  "So that is the milk in the cocoanut," said Jessie softly.

  I was half beside myself with terror. "Must you? Must you?" I cried helplessly. "This is too terrible! How can you hope to ... single-handed.... I never thought of anything like this!"

  "What, Bella!" she said firmly, "just because the loot runs into six figures instead of five! Mrs. Sterry isn't going to lose her bauble. This is playing directly into my hands. Unless I have made an error in my calculations, before to-morrow morning comes our work will be done, my dear."

  The Walbridge Sterry cortège went by in two fine cars. From the second one, the infatuated Alfred cast a sidelong look of yearning towards the hotel. As soon as they were out of sight we got our suit-cases, and walked to the railway station.

  CHAPTER XXII

  A LITTLE PARTY BELOW STAIRS

  As soon as Jessie and I reached town, we had to separate, because, naturally, I was not supposed to know anything about the Varick Street address. Jessie proceeded there, while I went to my room on Twenty-Fourth Street, where I waited all afternoon within hearing of the telephone, half sick with anxiety and suspense.

  Jessie had already telephoned ahead the substance of Alfred's invitation for the evening, and she found further instructions awaiting her, through Black Kate. Black Kate, impressed by the magnitude of the task which had been allotted to Jessie, was obliged for the moment to conceal her real feelings towards the girl. She had Jessie up in her own room, where they could talk without any other member of the gang being present.

  "So you made a mash on the valet," sneered Black Kate.

  Jessie shrugged.

  "Have you got him just where you want him?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Well, your instructions are to get him to let you stay in the house all night."

  Jessie expected something of this sort, and she was not at all put about. She judged it prudent, though, to make believe to protest a little. "Do you mean that I am supposed to..."

  "A girl in your position can't afford to be too particular," said Black Kate.

  "Oh, well," said Jessie shrugging. "I can handle him."

  "In a house as big as that, with so few people in it, he can easy conceal you," said Black Kate.

  "Sure," said Jessie. "What else?"

  "In the early part of the evening," said Black Kate, "you must familiarise yourself with the interior of the house, so you can find your way about later."

  "Alfred promised to show me around," said Jessie.

  "Oh, he did, did he? Nice of Alfred. When Mr. and Mrs. Sterry come home, the jewels will be locked in a safe in their private sitting-room on the second floor. Another operative has secured the combination of that safe, which will be given you. Do you know how to work the combination of a safe?"

  "No."

  "Well, I'll give you a lesson on our safe here, before you leave. Inside the safe there's a locked steel drawer, and you'll be provided with a duplicate key to that, also. Do you know what a tiara is?"

  "A sort of crown."

  "That's near enough. You bring the entire contents of that drawer, just to be on the safe side.... When you go in to-night you want to satisfy yourself how the door is fastened at night, so you can get out when you're ready. And get your Alfred to show you where the switch is that turns the burglar alarm on and off, so you can throw it off before you go out."

  "I get you," said Jessie.

  "Well,
that's about all, then. After the master and the missus get home, give them an hour or so to settle themselves, and then go get the stuff. The sitting-room, where the safe is, in the middle room of their private suite; and on either side of it are their bedrooms. Then make your way out of the house. There's a private watchman in that block you want to look out for. You can locate him from the vestibule of the house before you show yourself."

  "Suppose, when I'm ready to get to work, Alfred gives me trouble," said Jessie coolly.

  "I was coming to that," said Black Kate. "There'll be drinking during the evening. I'll give you some drops to put in Alfred's glass, when you're alone with him. It'll put him to sleep."

  "Nice little plan!" thought Jessie. "I can make a better one at half the risk."

  "Can I go out this afternoon?" she asked Black Kate.

  "No."

  "But I've been on my own for the past four days."

  "I don't care anything about that. Orders is orders."

  "Can I go with Bill, then?"

  "No. What do you want to go for?"

  "I need a few things."

  "I'll supply you with everything you need.... You'd better sleep till supper-time."

  Jessie went away to her own room—but not to sleep. There was much to be thought out. Later she heard Kate leave her room, but she went no farther than the dining-room below, and Jessie dared not risk the telephone. On the other hand, it was absolutely necessary for her to communicate with Melanie, and she might not get another chance. She wrote a short note, and getting the wire-cutters from out their hiding-place, carried them into the bathroom with the broom.