Anthony Trent, Master Criminal

by Wyndham Martyn

  CHAPTER IX

  "THE COUNTESS"

  The next morning Anthony Trent observed that Mrs. Kinney was filled withthe excitement that attended the reading of an unusual crime as setforth by the morning papers. It was in those crimes committed in thehigher circles of society which intrigued her most, that society whichshe had served.

  As a rule Trent let her wander on feeling that her pleasures were few.Sometimes he thought it a little curious that she should concern herselfwith affairs in which he was sure, sooner or later, to be involved. Itwas a relief to know she spoke of them to none but him. He rarelybothered to follow her rambling recitals, contenting himself now andagain with exclamations of supposed interest. But this morning he wassuddenly roused from his meditations by the mention of the wordGuestwick.

  "What's that?" he demanded.

  "I was telling you about the Guestwick robbery, sir," she said as shefilled his cup.

  He did not as a rule look at the paper until his breakfast was done. Tosend her for it now might, later, be used as a chain in the evidencethat might even now be forging for him. He affected a luke-warminterest.

  "What was it?" he asked.

  "Money mad!" returned Mrs. Kinney, shaking her head. "All money mad. Theroot of all evil."

  "A robbery was it?"

  "It was like this," Mrs. Kinney responded, strangely gratified that heremployer found her recital worth listening to. "There was fifty-thousanddollars in cash in the safe in Mr. Guestwick's library. He's amillionaire and lives on Fifth Avenue. It's a most mysterious case. Thebutler swears his master rang him up and told him to send all theservants to bed."

  At length Mrs. Kinney recited Briggs's evidence before the policecaptain who was hurriedly summoned to the mansion. "They arrested thebutler," said Mrs. Kinney. "Mr. Guestwick says he came from one of thosecastles in England where dissolute noblemen do nothing but shoot foxesall day and play cards all night. The police theory is that the butleradmitted them and then went bed so as to prove an alibi."

  "Mr. Guestwick denies sending any such message?"

  "Yes. He was at the Opera."

  Anthony Trent fought down the desire to rush out into the kitchen andtake the paper from before Mrs. Kinney's plate. She had said that Briggswas to have admitted more than one person.

  "How many did this suspected butler let in?"

  "Only one, the man. He was in evening dress. Briggs suspected him fromthe first, but daren't go against his master's positive instructions.Briggs, the butler, says the man must have opened the door to hisaccomplice when he'd been sent off to bed with instructions not toanswer any bell or telephone. The other was a beautiful young womandressed just as she'd come from the Opera herself."

  "Who saw her if Briggs did not?" he demanded.

  "They caught her," Mrs. Kinney returned triumphantly, "and the arrest ofher accomplice is expected any minute. They know who he is."

  Anthony Trent put down his untasted coffee.

  "That's interesting," he commented. "Do they mention his name?"

  "I don't know as they did," she replied. "I'll go fetch the paper."

  He read it through with a deeper interest than he had ever taken inprinted sheet before. Such was Guestwick's importance that two columnshad been devoted to him.

  Mr. Guestwick on returning from the Opera was incensed to find none tolet him in his own house. He was compelled to use a latchkey. The housewas silent and unlighted. Mr. Guestwick, although a man of courage, feltthe safety of his women folk would be better guarded if he called in apassing policeman. In the library they came face to face with crime.

  There, standing at the closed safe, her skirt caught as the heavy doorshad swung to, was a beautiful woman engaged as they came upon her intrying to tear off the imprisoning garments. Five minutes later and shewould have escaped said police sapience.

  Finger prints revealed her as a very well-known criminal known to thecontinental police as "The Countess." She was one of a high-class gangwhich operated as a rule on the French and Italian Riviera, and owed itssuccess to the ease with which it could assume the manners and customsof the aristocracy it planned to steal from. "The Countess," forexample, spoke English with a perfection of idiom and inflection thatwas unequaled by a foreigner. She was believed to come from an oldfamily of Tuscany. Despite a rigid examination by the police she haddeclined to make any explanation. That, she told them, would be done incourt.

  Anthony Trent looked at the clock. It was nine and she would be broughtbefore a magistrate at half-past ten.

  So he had been fooled! All those high resolves of his had been broughtinto being by a woman who must have been laughing at him all the while,who must have congratulated herself that her lies had touched a man'sheart and left fifty thousand dollars for her.

  It was a bitter and harder Anthony Trent that came to the police court;a man who was now almost as ashamed at his determination of last nightto abandon his career as he was now anxious to pursue it.

  There was possibly some danger in going. Briggs would be there. Thewoman might point at him in open court. There were a hundred dangers,but they had no power to deter him. He swore to watch her, gain whatparticulars he might as to her past life and associates, and then takehis revenge. God! How she had hoodwinked him!

  His face he must, of course, disguise in some simple manner. It was notdifficult. In court he took a seat not too far back. Chewing gum, as hehad often observed in the subway, had a marvelous power in altering anexpression. He sat there, his lower jaw thrust out and his mouth drawndown, ceaselessly chewing. And one eye was partially closed. He hadbrought the thing to perfection. With shoulders hunched he lookedwithout fear of detection into the fascinating green eyes of "TheCountess."

  By this time her defense was arranged. Last night, her lawyer explained,she was so overcome with the shock that she could not make even a simplestatement to the police.

  Miss Violet Benyon, he declared, of London, England, and temporarily atthe Plaza, had felt on the previous evening need for a walk. KnowingFifth Avenue to be absolutely safe she walked North. Passing theGuestwick mansion she saw a man in evening dress stealing down thesteps, across the road and into the Park. Fearing robbery she had rungthe bell. Getting no answer and finding the door open she went in. Theonly light was in the library. Of a fearless nature, Miss Benyon ofLondon went boldly in. There was an open safe. This she closed and inthe doing of it was imprisoned. That was all. The lawyer swept thefinger-prints aside as unworthy evidence. He was appearing before aneolithic magistrate who was prejudiced against them.

  An imposing old lady who claimed to be Miss Benyon's aunt went bail forher niece's appearance to the amount of ten thousand dollars. Shementioned as close friends names of well known Americans, sociallyelect, who would rush to her rescue ere the day was out. So impressivewas she, and so splendid a witness did Miss Benyon make, that themagistrate disregarded Mr. Guestwick's plea and admitted her to bail.

  Trent knew very well that Central Office men would dog the steps of auntand niece, making escape almost impossible. But he was neverthelessconvinced that Miss Violet Benyon of London, or the Countess from theRiviera, would never return to the magistrate's court as that trustingjurist anticipated.

  And Anthony Trent was right. The two women, despite police surveillance,left the hotel and merged themselves among the millions. The youngerwoman taking advantage of a new maid's inexperience offered her a rewardfor permitting her to escape by back ways in order to win, as sheaverred, a bet. The aunt's escape was unexplained by the police. Theyfound awaiting the elder woman's coming a girl from a milliner's shop.She was allowed to go without examination. Trent read the account verycarefully and stored every published particular in his trained memory.There was no doubt in his mind that the milliner's assistant was theso-called aunt. He remembered her as a slim, elderly woman, very muchmade-up.

  On his own account he called at the milliner's and made some inquiries.He found that there was no account with the Benyons and no assistant h
adbeen sent to the hotel. It was none of his business to aid policeauthorities. And he was not anxious that the two should be caught inthat way. There would come a time when he was retired from his presentoccupation when he would feel the need of excitement. Getting even withthe clever actress who prevented him from taking the Guestwick moneywould call for his astutest planning.