The Mardi Gras Mystery

by H. Bedford-Jones

  CHAPTER III

  _The Bandit_

  Joseph Maillard's library was on the ground floor of the house; it was asedate and stately room, and was invariably shut off to itself. Not evento-night, of all nights, was it thrown open with the remainder of thehouse.

  Here, for a good half hour, had been Uncle Neb. The old butler wasmysteriously engaged with certain tall silver goblets, fragrant mint,and yet more fragrant--if illegal--bottles. And it was here that JosephMaillard summoned half a dozen of his particular cronies and friends,after the stroke of midnight had assured him that there was no danger tobe expected from the bandit. His son was not among the number. The halfdozen were nearly all elderly men, and, with the exception of JachinFell, all were men of prominent affairs.

  About the table grouped Maillard and his guests, while in the backgroundhovered Uncle Neb, glistening black, hugely important, and grinningwidely. Fell was the last to enter the room, and as he did so old JudgeForester turned to him smilingly.

  "Ah, here is an attorney in whom there is no guile! Jachin, come andsettle a dispute. I maintain that the dignity of the law is not less nowthan in the old days; that it has merely accommodated itself to changingconditions, and that it is a profession for gentlemen now as always.Jules, state your argument!"

  Jules Delagroux, a white-haired Creole lawyer of high standing, smiled atrifle sadly.

  "My case," he said, "is that the old days are dead; that the law is nolonger a profession, but a following for charlatans. In a word, that thelaw has been killed by the lawyers." He gestured finality and glanced atFell.

  "So?" Jachin Fell smiled in his shy fashion. "Gentlemen, I heartilyagree with you both. I am an attorney, but I do not practise because Icannot accommodate myself to those very changing conditions of whichJudge Forester speaks. To-day, the lawyer must be a politician; he mustbe an adept in the trick of words and deeds; he must be able not toserve his profession but to make it serve him, and he must rememberalways that the rights of property are more sacred than those of lifeand liberty. Otherwise, he will remain honest and poor."

  An ejaculation of "True" from the judge brought smiles. Jachin Fellcontinued whimsically:

  "Regarding these very conditions many years ago, gentlemen, I wastempted to change my profession--but to what? I was tempted to enter thechurch until I saw that the same conditions hold good of a clergyman. Iwas tempted to enter medicine until I saw that they also held true of adoctor. I was tempted to other things, always with the like result.Well, you know the story of Aunt Dixie and her black underwear--'Honey,I ain't ashamed of mah grief; when I mourns, I _mourns_!' Even so withthe law----"

  A burst of laughter drowned him out, and the original argument wasforgotten. Maillard, standing before a small wall safe that flanked theopen hearth, lifted his silver goblet, asteam with beads. The moment forwhich he had been waiting was here; he launched his little thunderboltwith an air of satisfied importance.

  "My friends, I have a confession to make!" he announced. "To-day Ireceived a note from the Midnight Masquer stating that he would be withus this evening, presumably at the hour of midnight, his usual time."

  These words brought an instant silence. Uncle Neb, from his corner,uttered a startled "Fore de lawd!" that rang through the room; yet noone smiled. The half-dozen men were tense, watchful, astonished. ButMaillard swung up his silver cup and laughed gaily.

  "I took full precautions, gentlemen. The hour of danger is past, and thenotorious bandit has not arrived--or, if he has arrived, he is now inthe hands of the law. After all, that note may have been something inthe nature of a carnival jest! So up with your cups, my friends--alifelong health to Mardi Gras, and damnation to prohibition and theMidnight Masquer!"

  From everyone broke a swift assent to the toast, a murmur of relievedtension. The silver goblets were lifted, touched in a musical clinkingof edges, and the aromatic breath of juleps filled the library as thedrinkers, in true Southern fashion, buried noses in the fragrant mint.Then, as the cups were lowered, from the recess of the curtained windowsat one end of the room came a quiet voice:

  "I thank you, gentlemen! But I must remind you, Maillard, that there wasnot a time limit set in the note."

  With a simultaneous gasp everyone turned. Maillard staggered; his facewent livid. Uncle Neb, who had been advancing to refill the cups,dropped his silver tray with a crash that went unheeded, indeed unheard.Every eye was fastened upon that amazing figure now advancing from theshadows of the recess.

  It was the figure of an aviator, clad in leather from top to toe, thegoggles and helmet shield completely masking his head and features fromrecognition. In his hand he held an automatic pistol, which covered thegroup of men before him with its threatening mouth.

  "Not a sound, if you please," he warned, his voice thin andnasal--obviously disguised. "I trust that none of you gentlemen isarmed, because I am very quick on the trigger. A very pleasant surprise,Maillard? You'd given me up, eh?"

  For an instant no one spoke. Then Maillard moved slightly, moved hishand toward a button set in the wall near the safe. The voice of thebandit leaped out at him like thin steel:

  "Quiet, you fool! If you touch that button----"

  Maillard stiffened, and gripped the table edge with his shaking hand.

  "This is an outrage, suh!" began Judge Forester, his white goateebristling. The bandit bowed slightly, and addressed the gathering in atone of dry raillery:

  "An outrage? Exactly. You were just now discussing the majesty of thelaw. Well, I assure you that I found your discussion intenselyinteresting. Mr. Fell correctly stated that the rights of property aremore sacred in legal eyes than the rights of human life. You see,gentlemen, the discussion touched me very closely!

  "I am now engaged in outraging the law, and I have this amendment topropose to Mr. Fell: That if he had been tempted to follow theprofession of a robber he would have found the same conditionsprevailing which he quoted as applying to other professions."

  Jachin Fell, alone of those about the table, allowed a smile to curvehis lips.

  "The rights of property," pursued the bandit with a deadly smoothness,"are to me, also, far more sacred than human life; there I agree withthe law. So, gentlemen, kindly empty your pockets on the table." Hisvoice became crisp. "The jewelled scarf-pins which you received asfavours this evening may be added to the collection; otherwise, I shallnot touch your private possessions. No watches, thank you. Maillard,kindly begin! I believe that you carry a wallet? If you please."

  The banker could not but obey. His hands trembling with fear and rage,he took from his pocket a wallet, and emptied a sheaf of bills upon thetable. One after another, the other men followed his example. The banditmade no attempt to search them, but watched with eyes that glitteredfrom behind his mask as they laid money and scarf-pins on the table.When it came his turn, Jachin Fell drew a single bill from his pocket,and laid it down.

  "You put some faith in that warning, Mr. Fell?" The bandit laughed. "Doyou think that you will know me again?"

  "I hardly believe so, sir," answered Fell in his apologetic fashion."Your disguise is really excellent."

  "Thank you." The bandit's voice held a thin mockery. "Coming from you,sir, that compliment is most welcome."

  "What the devil does the fellow mean?" exploded Judge Forester.

  "Then you are not aware that Mr. Fell is a man of large affairs?" Thebandit's white teeth flashed in a smile. "He is a modest man, thisattorney! And a dangerous man also, I assure you. But come, Mr. Fell,I'll not betray you."

  Jachin Fell obviously did not appreciate the pleasantry. His shy andwondering features assumed a set and hardened look.

  "Whoever you are," he responded, a subtle click of anger in his tone,"you shall be punished for this!"

  "For what, Mr. Fell? For knowing too much of your private affairs?" Thebandit laughed. "Fear not--I am only an amateur at this game,fortunately! So do your worst, and my blessing upon you!
Now, gentlemen,kindly withdraw a few paces and join Uncle Neb yonder against the wall.All but you, Maillard; I'm not through with you yet."

  The automatic pistol gestured; under its menace everyone obeyed thecommand, for the calm assurance of the bandit made it seem extremelylikely that he would use the weapon without compunction. The menwithdrew toward the far end of the room, where a word from the aviatorhalted them. Maillard remained standing where he was, his heavy featuresnow mottled with impotent anger.

  The Masquer advanced to the table and gathered the heap of money andscarfpins into the leathern pocket of his coat. During the process hisgaze did not waver from the group of men, nor did the threat of hisweapon lift from the banker before him.

  "Now, Maillard," he quietly ordered, "you will have the kindness to turnaround and open the wall safe behind you. And don't touch the button."

  Maillard started.

  "That safe! Why--why--damn you, I'll do nothing of the sort!"

  "If you don't," was the cool threat, "I'll shoot you through theabdomen. A man fears a bullet there worse than death. It may kill you,and it may not; really, I care very little. You--you financier!"

  Scorn leaped into the quiet voice, scorn that lashed and bit deep.

  "You money trickster! Do you think I would spare such a man as you? Youdraw your rents from the poor and destitute, your mortgages cover halfthe parishes in the state, and in your heart is neither compassion norpity for man or woman. You take the property of others from behind thesafety curtain of the law; I do it from behind a pistol! I rob onlythose who can afford to lose--am I really as bad as you, in the eyes ofmorality and ethics? Bah! I could shoot you down without a qualm!"

  In his voice was so deadly a menace that Maillard trembled. Yet thebanker drew himself up and struggled for self-control, stung as he wasby this flood of vituperation before the group of his closest friends.

  "There is nothing of mine in that safe," he said, his voice a low growl."I have given it to my son to use. He is not here."

  "That," said the Masquer, calmly, "is exactly why I desire you to openit. Your son must make his contribution, for I keenly regret hisabsence. If you are a criminal, he is worse! You rob and steal undershelter of the law, but you have certain limitations, certain bounds ofan almost outgrown honour. He has none, that son of yours. Why, he wouldnot hesitate to turn your own tricks back upon you, to rob _you_, if hecould! Open that safe or take the consequences; no more talk, now!"

  The command cracked out like a whiplash. With a shrug of helplessnessthe banker turned and fumbled with the protruding knob of the safe. Withone exception all eyes were fastened upon this amazing Masquer. Theexception was Jachin Fell, who, suddenly alert and watchful, had turnedhis attention to Maillard and the safe, a keen speculation in his gazeas though he were wondering what that steel vault would produce.

  All were silent. There was something about this Midnight Masquer thatheld them intently. Perhaps some were inclined to think him a jester,one of the party masquerading under the famous bandit's guise; if so,his last words to Maillard had removed all such thought. That indictmenthad been deadly and terrible--and true, as they knew. Bob Maillard wasnot greatly admired by those among his father's friends who best knewhim.

  Now the door of the safe swung open. The compartments appeared empty.

  "Take out the drawers and turn them up over the table," commanded theMasquer.

  Maillard obeyed. He took several of the small drawers, and all proved tobe empty; this development drew a dry chuckle from Jachin Fell. Then,from the last drawer, there fell out on the table a large envelope,sealed. The Masquer leaned forward, seized upon this envelope, andcrushed it into his pocket.

  "Thank you," he observed. "That is all."

  "Damn you!" cried Maillard, shaking a fist. "You'd try blackmail, wouldyou?"

  The bandit regarded him a moment, then laughed.

  "If you knew what was in that envelope, my dear financier, you might notspeak so hastily. If I knew what was in it, I might answer you. But Idon't know. I only suspect--and hope."

  While he spoke the bandit was backing toward the door that opened uponthe lower hallway of the house. He drew this door open, glanced swiftlyout into the hall, and then placed the key on the outside.

  "And now, my friends--_au revoir_!"

  The Masquer sprang backward into the hall. The door slammed, the keyclicked. He was gone!

  Maillard was the first to wake into voice and action. "The other door!"he cried. "Into the dining room----"

  He flung open a second door and dashed into the dining room, followed bythe other men. Here the windows, giving upon the garden, were open. ThenMaillard came to a sudden halt, and after him the others; through thenight was pulsating, with great distinctness, the throbbing roar of anairplane motor! From Maillard broke a bitter cry:

  "The detectives--I'll get the fools here! You gentlemen search thehouse; Uncle Neb, go with them, into every room! That fellow can'tpossibly have escaped----"

  "No word of alarm to the ladies," exclaimed Judge Forester, hurriedly."If he was not upstairs, then they have seen nothing of him. We mustdivide and search."

  They hastily separated. Maillard dashed away to summon the detectives,also to get other men to aid in the search.

  The result was vain. Within twenty minutes the entire house, from cellarto garret, had been thoroughly gone over, without causing any alarm tothe dancers in the ballroom. Maillard began to think himself a littlemad. No one had been seen to enter or leave the house, and certainlythere had been no airplane about. The Masquer had not appeared except inthe library, and now he was most indubitably not in the house. By alltestimony, he had neither entered it nor left it!

  "Well, I'm damned!" said Maillard, helplessly, to Judge Forester, whenthe search was concluded. "Not a trace of the scoundrel! Here,Fell--can't you help us out? Haven't you discovered a thing?"

  "Nothing," responded Jachin Fell, calmly.

  At this instant Bob Maillard rushed up. He had just learned of theMasquer's visit. In response to his excited questioning his fatherdescribed the scene in the library and added:

  "I trust there was nothing important among those papers of yours,Robert?"

  "No," said the younger man. "No. Nothing valuable at all."

  Henry Gramont was passing. He caught the words and paused, his gazeresting for an instant upon the group. A faint smile rested upon hisrather harshly drawn features.

  "I just found this," he announced, holding out a paper. "It was pinnedto the outside of the library door. I presume that your late visitorleft it as a memento?"

  Jachin Fell took the paper, the other men crowding around him.

  "Ah, Maillard! The same handwriting as that of your letter!"

  Upon the paper was pencilled a single hasty line:

  My compliments to Robert Maillard--and my thanks.

  Bob Maillard sprang forward, angrily inspecting the paper. When herelinquished it, Fell calmly claimed it again.

  "Confound the rogue!" muttered the banker's son, turning away. Hisfeatures were pale, perhaps with anger. "There was nothing but stockcertificates in that envelope--and they can be reissued."

  The festivities were not broken up. As much could hardly be said for thehost, who felt keenly the verbal lashing that had been administered tohim before his friends. News of the robbery gradually leaked out amongthe guests; the generally accepted verdict was that the Masquer hadappeared, only to be frightened away before he could secure any loot.

  It was nearly two in the morning when Jachin Fell, who was leaving,encountered Henry Gramont at the head of the wide stairway. He haltedand turned to the younger man.

  "Ah--have you a pencil, if you please?"

  "I think so, Mr. Fell." Gramont felt beneath his Franciscan's robe, andextended a pencil.

  Jachin Fell examined it, brought a paper from beneath his domino, andwrote down a word. The paper was that on which the farewell message ofthe Midnight Masquer had been written.

 
"A hard lead, a very hard point indeed!" said Fell. He pocketed thepaper again and regarded Gramont steadily as he returned the pencil."Few men carry so hard a pencil, sir."

  "You're quite right," and Gramont smiled. "I borrowed this from BobMaillard only a moment ago. Its hardness surprised me."

  "Oh!" said Jachin Fell, mildly. "By the way, aren't you the Prince deGramont? When we met this evening, you were introduced as plain Mr.Gramont, but it seems to me that I had heard something----"

  "Quite a mistake, Mr. Fell. I'm no prince; simply Henry Gramont, andnothing more. Also, an American citizen. Some of these New Orleanspeople can't forget the prince business, most unfortunately."

  "Ah, yes," agreed Fell, shyly. "Do you know, a most curious thing----"

  "Yes?" prompted Gramont, his eyes intent upon the little gray man.

  "That paper you brought us--the paper which you found pinned to thelibrary door," said Fell, apologetically. "Do you know, Mr. Gramont,that oddly enough there were no pin holes in that paper?"

  Gramont smiled faintly, as though he were inwardly amused over theremark.

  "Not at all curious," he said, his voice level. "It was pinned ratherstoutly--I tore off the portion bearing the message. I'll wager thatyou'll find the end of the paper still on the door downstairs. You mightmake certain that its torn edge fits that of the paper in your pocket;if it did not, then the fact _would_ be curious! I am most happy to havemet you, Mr. Fell. I trust that we shall meet again, often."

  With a smile, he extended his hand, which Mr. Fell shook cordially.

  As Jachin Fell descended the wide staircase his face was red--quite red.One would have said that he had just been worsted in some encounter, andthat the sense of defeat still rankled within him.

  Upon gaining the lower hall he glanced at the door of the library.There, still pinned to the wood where it had been unregarded by thepassersby, was a small scrap of paper. Mr. Fell glanced at it again,then shook his head and slowly turned away, as though resisting atemptation.

  "No," he muttered. "No. It would be sure to fit the paper in my pocket.It would be sure to fit, confound him!"

  A little later he left the house and walked along the line of cars thatwere waiting parked in the drive and in the street outside. Before oneof the cars he came to a halt, examining it closely. The sleepychauffeur got out and touched his cap in a military salute; he was asturdy young fellow, his face very square and blunt.

  "A very handsome car. May I ask whose it is?" inquired Fell, mildly.

  "Mr. Gramont's, sir," answered the chauffeur.

  "Ah, thank you. A very handsome car indeed. Good-night!"

  Mr. Fell walked away, striding briskly down the avenue. When heapproached the first street light he came to a pause, and began softlyto pat his person as though searching for something.

  "I told you that you'd pay for knowing too much about me, young man!" hesaid, softly. "What's this, now--what's this?"

  A slight rustle of paper, as he walked along, had attracted hisattention. He passed his hands over the loose, open domino that cloakedhim; he detected a scrap of paper pinned to it in the rear. He loosenedthe paper, and under the street light managed to decipher the writingwhich it bore.

  A faint smile crept to his lips as he read the pencilled words:

  I do not love you, Jachin Fell, The reason why I cannot tell; But this I know, and know full well, I do not love you, Jachin Fell!

  "Certainly the fellow has wit, if not originality," muttered Mr. Fell,as he carefully stowed away the paper. The writing upon it was in thehand of the Midnight Masquer.