On Secret Service

by William Nelson Taft

  V

  PHYLLIS DODGE, SMUGGLER EXTRAORDINARY

  Bill Quinn tossed aside his evening paper and, cocking his feet upon aconvenient chair, remarked that, now that peace was finally signed,sealed, and delivered, there ought to be a big boom in the favoritepastime of the idle rich.

  "Meaning what?" I inquired.

  "Smuggling, of course," said Quinn, who only retired from Secret Servicewhen an injury received in action forced him to do so.

  "Did you ever travel on a liner when four out of every five people onboard didn't admit that they were trying to beat the customs officialsone way or another--and the only reason the other one didn't follow suitwas because he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. That's how UncleSam's detectives pick up a lot of clues. The amateur crook neverrealizes that silence is golden and that oftentimes speech leads to aheavy fine.

  "Now that the freedom of the seas is an accomplished fact the whole crewof would-be smugglers will doubtless get to work again, only to benabbed in port. Inasmuch as ocean travel has gone up with the rest ofthe cost of living, it'll probably be a sport confined to thecomparatively rich, for a couple of years anyhow.

  "It was different in the old days. Every steamer that came in was loadedto the eyes and you never knew when you were going to spot a hiddennecklace or a packet of diamonds that wasn't destined to pay duty. Therewere thrills to the game, too, believe me.

  "Why, just take the case of Phyllis Dodge...."

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Dodge [Quinn continued, after he had packed his pipe to a conditionwhere it was reasonably sure to remain lighted for some time] was,theoretically at least, a widow. Her full name, as it appeared on manypassenger lists during the early part of 1913, was Mrs. Mortimer C.Dodge, of Cleveland, Ohio. When the customs officials came to look intothe matter they weren't able to find anyone in Cleveland who knew her,but then it's no penal offense to give the purser a wrong address, oreven a wrong name, for that matter.

  While there may have been doubts about Mrs. Dodge's widowhood--orwhether she had ever been married, for that matter--there could be noneabout her beauty. In the language of the classics, she was there. Blackhair, brown eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion that came and wentwhile you watched it, and a figure that would have made her fortune inthe Follies. Joe Gregory said afterward that trailing her was one of theeasiest things he had ever done.

  To get the whole story of Phyllis and her extraordinarycleverness--extraordinary because it was so perfectly obvious--we'llhave to cut back a few months before she came on the scene.

  For some time the Treasury Department had been well aware that a numberof precious stones, principally pearl necklaces, were being smuggledinto the country. Agents abroad--the department maintains a regularforce in Paris, London, Rotterdam, and other European points, youknow--had reported the sale of the jewels and they had turned up a fewweeks later in New York or Chicago. But the Customs Service neverconsiders it wise to trace stones back from their owners on this side.There are too many ramifications to any well-planned smuggling scheme,and it is too easy for some one to claim that he had found them in along-forgotten chest in the attic or some such story as that. The burdenof proof rests upon the government in a case of this kind and, except inthe last extremity, it always tries to follow the chase from the otherend--to nab the smuggler in the act and thus build up a jury-proof case.

  Reports of the smuggling cases had been filtered into the departmenthalf a dozen times in as many months, and the matter finally got on thechief's nerves to such a degree that he determined to thrash it out ifit took every man he had.

  In practically every case the procedure was the same--though the onlyprincipals known were different each time.

  Rotterdam, for example, would report: "Pearl necklace valued at $40,000,sold to-day to man named Silverburg. Have reason to believe it isdestined for States"--and then would follow a technical description ofthe necklace. Anywhere from six weeks to three months later the necklacewould turn up in the possession of a jeweler who bore a shadyreputation. Sometimes the article wouldn't appear at all, which mighthave been due to the fact that they weren't brought into this country orthat the receivers had altered them beyond recognition. However, theEuropean advices pointed to the latter supposition--which didn't soothethe chief's nerves the least bit.

  Finally, along in the middle of the spring of nineteen thirteen, therecame a cable from Paris announcing the sale of the famous Yquememerald--a gorgeous stone that you couldn't help recognizing once yougot the description. The purchaser was reported to be an American namedWilliamson. He paid cash for it, so his references and his antecedentswere not investigated at the time.

  Sure enough, it wasn't two months later when a report came in fromChicago that a pork-made millionaire had added to his collection a stonewhich tallied to the description of the Yquem emerald.

  "Shall we go after it from this end, Chief?" inquired one of the men onthe job in Washington. "We can make the man who bought it tell us wherehe got it and then sweat the rest of the game out of the go-betweens."

  "Yes," snorted the chief, "and be laughed out of court on sometrumped-up story framed by a well-paid lawyer. Not a chance! I'm goingto land those birds and land 'em with the goods. We can't afford to takeany chances with this crowd. They've evidently got money and brains, acombination that you've got to stay awake nights to beat. No--we'll nail'em in New York just as they're bringing the stones in.

  "Send a wire to Gregory to get on the job at once and tell New York toturn loose every man they've got--though they've been working on thecase long enough, Heaven knows!"

  The next morning when Gregory and his society manner strolled into thecustomhouse in New York he found the place buzzing. Evidently theinstructions from Washington had been such as to make the entire forcefear for their jobs unless the smuggling combination was broken upquickly. It didn't take Joe very long to get the details. They weren'tmany and he immediately discarded the idea of possible collusion betweenthe buyers of the stones abroad. It looked to be a certainty on the faceof it, but, once you had discovered that, what good did it do you? Itwasn't possible to jail a man just because he bought some jewels inEurope--and, besides, the orders from Washington were very clear thatthe case was to be handled strictly from this side--at least, the finalarrest was to be made on American soil, to avoid extraditioncomplications and the like.

  So when Joe got all the facts they simply were that some valuable jewelshad been purchased in Europe and had turned up in America, without goingthrough the formality of visiting the customhouse, anywhere from sixweeks to three months later.

  "Not much to work on," grumbled Gregory, "and I suppose, as usual, thatthe chief will be as peevish as Hades if we don't nab the guilty partywithin the week."

  "It's more than possible," admitted one of the men who had handled thecase.

  Gregory studied the dates on which the jewels had been purchased andthose on which they had been located in this country for a few momentsin silence. Then:

  "Get me copies of the passenger lists of every steamer that has dockedhere in the past year," he directed. "Of course it's possible that thesethings might have been landed at Boston or Philadelphia, but New York'sthe most likely port."

  When the lists had been secured Gregory stuffed them into his suit caseand started for the door.

  "Where you going?" inquired McMahon, the man in charge of the New Yorkoffice.

  "Up to the Adirondacks for a few days," Gregory replied.

  "What's the idea? Think the stuff is being brought over by airplane andlanded inland? Liners don't dock upstate, you know."

  "No," said Gregory, "but that's where I'm going to dock until I candigest this stuff," and he tapped his suit case. "Somewhere in thisbunch of booklets there's a clue to this case and it's up to me to spotit. Good-by."

  Five days later when he sauntered back into the New York office the suitcase was surprisingly light. Apparently every one of the passenger li
stshad vanished. As a matter of fact, they had been boiled down to threenames which were carefully inscribed in Joe's notebook.

  "Did you pick up any jewels in the Catskills?" was the question thatgreeted him when he entered.

  "Wasn't in the Catskills," he growled. "Went up to a camp in theAdirondacks--colder'n blazes. Any more stuff turn up?"

  "No, but a wire came from Washington just after you left to watch outfor a hundred-thousand-dollar string of pearls sold at a private auctionin London last week to an American named--"

  "I don't care what _his_ name was," Gregory cut in. "What was the datethey were sold?"

  "The sixteenth."

  Gregory glanced at the calendar.

  "And to-day is the twenty-second," he mused. "What boats are due in thenext three days?"

  "The _Cretic_ docks this afternoon and the _Tasmania_ ought to get into-morrow. That'll be all until the end of the week."

  "Right!" snapped Gregory. "Don't let a soul off the _Cretic_ until I'vehad a look at her passenger list. It's too late to go down the harbornow, but not a person's to get off that ship until I've had a chance tolook 'em over. Also cable for a copy of the _Tasmania's_ passenger list.Hurry it up!"

  Less than ten minutes after he had slipped on board the _Cretic_,however, Gregory gave the signal which permitted the gangplank to belowered and the passengers to proceed as usual--except for the fact thatthe luggage of everyone and the persons of not a few were searched withmore than the average carefulness. But not a trace of the pearls wasfound, as Joe had anticipated. A careful inspection of the passengerlist and a few moments with the purser had convinced him that none ofhis three suspects were on board.

  Shortly after he returned to the office, the list of the _Tasmania's_passengers began to come over the cables. Less than half a page had beenreceived when Gregory uttered a sudden exclamation, reached for hisnotebook, compared a name in it with one which appeared on the cabledreport, and indulged in the luxury of a deep-throated chuckle.

  "Greg's got a nibble somewhere," commented one of the bystanders.

  "Yes," admitted his companion, "but landin' the fish is a differentmatter. Whoever's on the other end of that line is a mighty cagyindividual."

  But, though he undoubtedly overheard the remark, Gregory didn't seem tobe the least bit worried. In fact, his hat was at a more rakish anglethan usual and his cane fairly whistled through the air as he wanderedup the Avenue half an hour later.

  The next the customs force heard of him was when he boarded thequarantine boat the next morning, clambering on the liner a little laterwith all the skill of a pilot.

  "You have a passenger on board by the name of Dodge," he informed thepurser, after he had shown his badge. "Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge. What doyou know about her?"

  "Not a thing in the world," said the purser, "except that she is a mostbeautiful and apparently attractive woman. Crossed with us oncebefore--"

  "Twice," corrected Gregory. "Came over in January and went right back."

  "That's right," said the purser, "so she did. I'd forgotten that. But,beyond that fact, there isn't anything that I can add."

  "Seem to be familiar with anyone on board?"

  "Not particularly. Mixes with the younger married set and I've noticedher on deck with the Mortons quite frequently. Probably met them on herreturn trip last winter. They were along then, if I remember rightly."

  "Thanks," said the customs operative. "You needn't mention anythingabout my inquiries, of course," and he mixed with the throng ofnewspaper reporters who were picking up news in various sections of thebig vessel.

  When the _Tasmania_ docked, Gregory was the first one off.

  "Search Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge to the skin," he directed the matron."Take down her hair, tap the heels of her shoes, and go through all theusual stunts, but be as gentle as you can about it. Say that we'vereceived word that some uncut diamonds--not pearls, mind you--areconcealed on the _Tasmania_ and that orders have been given to go overeverybody thoroughly. Pass the word along the line to give out the sameinformation, so she won't be suspicious. I don't think you'll findanything, but you never can tell."

  At that, Joe was right. The matron didn't locate a blessed thing out ofthe way. Mrs. Dodge had brought in a few dutiable trinkets, but theywere all down on her declaration, and within the hour she was headeduptown in a taxi, accompanied by a maid who had met her as she steppedout of the customs office.

  Not far behind them trailed another taxi, top up and Gregory's eyesglued to the window behind the chauffeur.

  The first machine finally drew up at the Astor, and Mrs. Dodge and themaid went in, followed by a pile of luggage which had been searcheduntil it was a moral certainty that not a needle would have beenconcealed in it.

  Gregory waited until they were out of sight and then followed.

  In answer to his inquiries at the desk he learned that Mrs. Dodge hadstopped at the hotel several times before and the house detectiveassured him that there was nothing suspicious about her conduct.

  "How about the maid?" inquired Gregory.

  "Don't know a thing about her, either, except that she is the same oneshe had before. Pretty little thing, too--though not as good-looking asher mistress."

  For the next three days Joe hung around the hotel or followed the ladyfrom the _Tasmania_ wherever she went. Something in the back of hishead--call it intuition or a hunch or whatever you please, but it's thefeeling that a good operative gets when he's on the right trail--toldhim that he was "warm," as the kids say. Appearances seemed to deny thatfact. Mrs. Dodge went only to the most natural places--a few visits tothe stores, a couple to fashionable modistes and milliners, and somedrives through the Park, always accompanied by her maid and always inthe most sedate and open manner.

  But on the evening of the third day the house detective tipped Joe offthat his prey was leaving in the morning.

  "Guess she's going back to Europe," reported the house man. "Gave ordersto have a taxi ready at nine and her trunks taken down to the docksbefore them. Better get busy if you want to land her."

  "I'm not ready for that just yet," Gregory admitted with a scowl.

  When Mrs. Dodge's taxi drove off the following morning Joe wasn't faraway, and, acting on orders which he had delivered over the phone, noless than half a dozen operatives watched the lady and the maid veryclosely when they reached the dock.

  Not a thing came of it, however. Both of them went to the stateroomwhich had been reserved and the maid remained to help with the unpackinguntil the "All-ashore-that-'re-going-ashore" was bellowed through theboat. Then she left and stood on the pier until the ship had cleared thedock.

  "It beats me," muttered Gregory. "But I'm willing to gamble my job thatI'm right." And that night he wired to Washington to keep a closelookout for the London pearls, adding that he felt certain they wouldturn up before long.

  "In that case," muttered the chief at the other end of the wire, "why inHeaven's name didn't he get them when they came in?"

  Sure enough, not a fortnight had passed before St. Louis reported that astring of pearls, perfectly matched, answering to the description of themissing jewels, had been offered for sale there through privatechannels.

  The first reaction was a telegram to Gregory that fairly burned thewires, short but to the point. "Either the man who smuggled thatnecklace or your job in ten days," it read.

  And Gregory replied, "Give me three weeks and you'll have one or theother."

  Meanwhile he had been far from inactive. Still playing his hunch thatPhyllis Dodge had something to do with the smuggling game, he had put intime cultivating the only person on this side that appeared to knowher--the maid.

  It was far from a thankless task, for Alyce--she spelled it with a"y"--was pretty and knew it. Furthermore, she appeared to be entirelyout of her element in a cheap room on Twenty-fourth Street. Most of thetime she spent in wandering up the Avenue, and it was there that Gregorymade her acquaintance--through the expedient of bumping her bag out ofher
hands and restoring it with one of his courtly bows. The next minutehe was strolling alongside, remarking on the beauty of the weather.

  But, although he soon got to know Alyce well enough to take her to thetheater and to the cabarets, it didn't seem to get him anywhere. She wasperfectly frank about her position. Said she was a hair dresser by tradeand that she acted as lady's maid to a Mrs. Dodge, who spent the betterpart of her time abroad.

  "In fact," she said, "Mrs. Dodge is only here three or four days everytwo months or so."

  "And she pays you for your time in between?"

  "Oh yes," Alyce replied; "she's more than generous."

  "I should say she was," Gregory thought to himself--but he considered itbest to change the subject.

  During the days that followed, Joe exerted every ounce of hispersonality in order to make the best possible impression. Posing as aman who had made money in the West, he took Alyce everywhere and treatedher royally. Finally, when he considered the time ripe, he injected alittle love into the equation and hinted that he thought it was abouttime to settle down and that he appeared to have found the proper personto settle with.

  But there, for the first time, Alyce balked. She didn't refuse him, butshe stated in so many words that she had a place that suited her for thetime being, and that, until the fall, at least, she preferred to keep onwith it.

  "That suits me all right," declared Gregory. "Take your time about it.Meanwhile we'll continue to be good friends and trail around together,eh?"

  "Certainly," said Alyce, "er--that is--until Tuesday."

  "Tuesday?" inquired Joe. "What's coming off Tuesday?"

  "Mrs. Dodge will arrive on the _Atlantic_," was the reply, "and I'llhave to be with her for three days at least."

  "Three days--" commenced Gregory, and halted himself. It wasn't wise toshow too much interest. But that night he called the chief on longdistance and inquired if there had been any recent reports of suspiciousjewel sales abroad. "Yes," came the voice from Washington, "pearlsagain. Loose ones, this time. And your three weeks' grace is up at noonSaturday." The click that followed as the receiver hung up was finalityitself.

  The same procedure, altered in a few minor details, was followed whenMrs. Dodge landed. Again she was searched to the skin; again her luggagewas gone over with microscopic care, and again nothing was found.

  This time she stayed at the Knickerbocker, but Alyce was with her asusual.

  Deprived of his usual company and left to his own devices, Gregory tooka long walk up the Drive and tried to thrash out the problem.

  "Comes over on a different boat almost every trip," he thought, "so thateliminates collusion with any of the crew. Doesn't stay at the samehotel two times running, so there's nothing there. Has the same maid andalways returns--"

  Then it was that motorists on Riverside Drive were treated to the sightof a young and extremely prepossessing man, dressed in the height offashion, throwing his hat in the air and uttering a yell that could beheard for blocks. After which he disappeared hurriedly in the directionof the nearest drug store.

  A hasty search through the phone book gave him the number he wanted--theoffices of the Black Star line.

  "Is Mr. MacPherson, the purser of the _Atlantic_, there?" he inquired.Then: "Hello! Mr. MacPherson? This is Gregory, Customs Division. Youremember me, don't you? Worked on the Maitland diamond case with you twoyears ago.... Wonder if you could tell me something I want to know--isMrs. Mortimer C. Dodge booked to go back with you to-morrow?... She is?What's the number of her stateroom? And--er--what was the number of theroom she had coming over?... I thank you."

  If the motorists whom Gregory had startled on the Drive had seen himemerge from the phone booth they would have marveled at the look of keensatisfaction and relief that was spread over his face. The cat thatswallowed the canary was tired of life, compared with Joe at thatmoment.

  Next morning the Customs operatives were rather surprised to see Gregorystroll down to the _Atlantic_ dock about ten o'clock.

  "Thought you were somewhere uptown on the chief's pet case," said one ofthem.

  "So I was," answered Joe. "But that's practically cleaned up."

  With that he went aboard, and no one saw him until just before the"All-ashore" call. Then he took up his place beside the gangplank, withthree other men placed near by in case of accident.

  "Follow my lead," he directed. "I'll speak to the girl. Two of you stickhere to make certain that she doesn't get away, and you, Bill, beat iton board then and tell the captain that the boat's not to clear until wegive the word. We won't delay him more than ten minutes at the outside."

  When Alyce came down the gangplank a few minutes later, in the midst ofpeople who had been saying good-by to friends and relatives, she spottedJoe waiting for her, and started to move hurriedly away. Gregory caughtup with her before she had gone a dozen feet.

  "Good morning, Alyce," he said. "Thought I'd come down to meet you.What've you got in the bag there?" indicating her maid's handbag.

  "Not--not a thing," said the girl, flushing. Just then the matron joinedthe party, as previously arranged, and Joe's tone took on its officialhardness.

  "Hurry up and search her! We don't want to keep the boat any longer thanwe have to."

  Less than a minute later the matron thrust her head out of the door longenough to report: "We found 'em--the pearls. She had 'em in the front ofher dress."

  Gregory was up the gangplank in a single bound. A moment later he wasknocking at the door of Mrs. Dodge's stateroom. The instant the knobturned he was inside, informing Phyllis that she was under arrest on acharge of bringing jewels into the United States without the formalityof paying duty. Of course, the lady protested--but the _Atlantic_sailed, less than ten minutes behind schedule time, without her.

  Promptly at twelve the phone on the desk of the chief of the CustomsDivision in Washington buzzed noisily.

  "Gregory speaking," came through the receiver. "My time's up--and I'vegot the party you want. Claims to be from Cleveland and sails under thename of Mrs. Mortimer C. Dodge--first name Phyllis. She's confessed andpromises to turn state's evidence if we'll go light with her."

  * * * * *

  "That," added Quinn, "was the finish of Mrs. Dodge, so far as thegovernment was concerned. In order to land the whole crew--the peoplewho were handling the stuff on this side as well as the ones who weremixed up in the scheme abroad--they let her go scot-free, with theproviso that she's to be rushed to Atlanta if she ever pokes her noseinto the United States again. The last I heard of her she was in Monaco,tangled up in a blackmail case there.

  "Gregory told me all about it sometime later. Said that the first hunchhad come to him when he studied the passengers' lists in the wilds ofthe Adirondacks. Went there to be alone and concentrate. He found thatof all the people listed, only three--two men and a Mrs. Dodge--had madethe trip frequently in the past six months. The frequency of Mrs.Dodge's travel evidently made it impracticable for her to use differentaliases. Some one would be sure to spot her.

  "But it wasn't until that night on Riverside Drive that the significanceof the data struck him. Each time she took the same boat on which shehad come over! Did she have the same stateroom? The phone call toMacPherson established the fact that she did--this time at least. Therest was almost as obvious as the original plan. The jewels were broughtaboard, passed on to Phyllis, and she tucked them away somewhere in herstateroom. Her bags and her person could, of course, be searched withperfect safety. Then, what was more natural than that her maid shouldaccompany her on board when she was leaving? Nobody ever pays anyattention to people who board the boat at _this_ end, so Alyce was ableto walk off with the stuff under the very eyes of the customsauthorities--and they found later that she had the nerve to place it inthe hands of the government for the next twenty-four hours. She sent itby registered mail to Pittsburgh and it was passed along through anunderground "fence" channel until a prospective purchaser appeared.

 
"Perfectly obvious and perfectly simple--that's why the plan succeededuntil Gregory began to make love to Alyce and got the idea that Mrs.Dodge was going right back to Europe hammered into his head. It hadoccurred to him before, but he hadn't placed much value on it....

  "O-o-o-o!" yawned Quinn. "I'm getting dry. Trot out some grape juice andput on that Kreisler record--'Drigo's Serenade.' I love to hear it.Makes me think of the time when they landed that scoundrel Weimar."