The Mardi Gras Mystery

by H. Bedford-Jones

  CHAPTER XI

  _The Gangsters_

  Gramont left the covert and walked forward.

  He was thinking about that odd mention of Jachin Fell--had Chacherrelied in saying he had come here on his master's business? Perhaps. Theman had come in Fell's car, and would not hesitate to lie about usingthe car. For the moment, Gramont put away the circumstance, but did notforget it.

  He walked openly toward the Gumberts buildings, thinking that he wouldhave time for a good look around the place before dusk fell; he wouldthen get off for Houma, and attend to Hammond's defence.

  As for the place before him, he was convinced that it was abandoned. Hadany one, other than Chacherre and his two friends, been about thebuildings, the late excitement would have brought out the fact. No onehad appeared, and the buildings seemed vacant.

  Gramont's intent was simple and straightforward. In case he found, as heexpected to find, any evidence of illegal occupation about the place--asthe sheriff seemed to have discovered to his cost--he would layChacherre and the other two men by the heels that night in Houma. Hewould then go on to New Orleans and have Gumberts arrested, although hehad no expectation that the master crook could be held on themurder-accessory charge. If this place were used for the lotteries,even, he was fairly certain that Memphis Izzy would have his own trackscovered. The men higher up always did.

  He walked straight in upon the barn. It loomed before him, closed, luridin the level rays of the westering sun. The doors in front had been onlyloosely swung together and Gramont found them unlocked. He stood in theopening, and surprise gripped him. He was held motionless, gazing withastonished wonder at the sight confronting him.

  Directly before him was a small roadster, one which he remembered tohave seen Jachin Fell using; in this car, doubtless, Ben Chacherre haddriven from the city. He recalled the fact later, with poignant regretfor a lost opportunity. But, at the present moment, he was lost inamazement at the great number of other cars presenting themselves to hisview.

  They were lined up as deep as the barn would hold them, crammed intoevery available foot of space; well over a dozen cars, he reckonedswiftly. What was more, all were cars of the highest class, with theexception of Fell's roadster. Directly before him were two which he waswell aware must have cost close upon ten thousand each. What did thismean? Certainly no one man or one group of men, in this back-countryspot, could expect to use such an accumulation of expensive cars!

  Gramont glanced around, but found no trace of machinery in the barn.Remembering the motor that he had heard, he turned from the doorway infrowning perplexity. He strode on toward the long shed which stoodcloser to the house. At the end of this shed was a door, and when hetried it, Gramont found it unlocked. It swung open to his hand, and hestepped inside.

  At first he paused, confused by the vague objects around, for it wasquite dark in here. A moment, and his eyes grew accustomed to thegloomier lighting. Details came to him: all around were cars andfragments of cars, chassis and bodies in all stages of dismemberment.Still more cars!

  He slowly advanced to a long bench that ran the length of the shopbeneath the windows. A shop, indeed--a shop, he quickly perceived,fitted with every tool and machine necessary to the most completeautomobile repair establishment! Even an air-brush outfit, at one end,together with a drying compartment, spoke of repaint jobs.

  Comprehension was slowly dawning upon the mind of Gramont; a momentlater it became certainty, when he came to a stop before an automobileengine lying on the bench. He found it to be the engine from aStutz--the latest multi-valve type adopted by that make of car, and thisparticular bit of machinery looked like new.

  Gramont inspected it, and he saw that the men had done their work well.The original engine number had been carefully dug out, and the place ascarefully filled and levelled with metal. Beside it a new number hadbeen stamped. A glance at the electrical equipment around showed thatthese workers had every appliance with which to turn out the mostfinished of jobs.

  As he straightened up from the engine Gramont's eyes fell upon a typedsheet of paper affixed to the wall above the bench. His gaze widened ashe inspected it by the failing light. Upon that paper was a list ofcars. After each car was a series of numbers plainly comprising theoriginal numbers of the engine, body, radiator, and other componentparts, followed by another series of new numbers to be inserted. Thatsheet of paper showed brains, organizing ability, care, and attention tothe last detail!

  Here was the most carefully planned and thorough system of automobilethievery that Gramont had ever heard of. He stood motionless, knowingthat this typed sheet of paper in itself was damning evidence againstthe whole gang of workers. What was more to the point, that paper couldbe traced; the typewriting could be traced to the man higherup--doubtless Memphis Izzy himself! These men ran in cars by thewholesale, probably from states adjacent to Louisiana. Here, at thissecluded point on the bayou, they changed the cars completely about, innumber, paint, style of body, and then probably got rid of the newproduct in New Orleans.

  Gramont stood motionless. Surprise had taken hold of him, and even afeeling of slight dismay. This was not at all what he had hoped to findthere. He had thought to come upon some traces of the lottery game----

  "Seen all you want, bo?" said a voice behind him.

  Gramont turned. He found himself gazing directly into an automaticpistol over which glittered a pair of blazing eyes. The man was astranger to him. The place had not been deserted, after all. He wascaught.

  "Who are you?" demanded Gramont, quietly.

  "Me?" The stranger was unsmiling, deadly. In those glittering eyesGramont read the ferocity of an animal at bay. "I s'pose you would liketo know that, huh? I guess you know enough right now to get all that'scomin' to you, bo! Got any particular business here? Speak up quick!"

  Gramont was silent. The other sneered at him, viciously.

  "Hurry up! Turn over the name and address, and I'll notify the survivin'relatives. Name, please?"

  "Henry Gramont," was the calm response. "Don't get hasty, my friend.Didn't you see me here a little while ago with Chacherre and the otherboys?"

  "What's that?" The glittering eyes flamed up with suspicion anddistrust. "Here--with them? No, I didn't. I been away fishing allafternoon. What the hell you doing around this joint?"

  "Your best scheme," said Gramont, coldly, "is to change your style oftone, and to do it in a hurry! If you don't know what's happened herethis afternoon, don't ask me; you'll find out soon enough when the otherboys get back. You'd better tell them I'm going to get in touch withMemphis Izzy the minute I get back to the city, and that the lesstalking they do----"

  "What the hell's all this?" demanded the other again, but with asoftening of accent. The moniker of Gumberts had its effect, and seemedto shake the man instantly. Gramont smiled as he perceived that the gamewas won.

  "I never heard of no Gramont," went on the other, quickly. "What youdoin' here?"

  "You're due to learn a good many things, I imagine," said Gramont,carelessly. "As for me, I happened on the place largely by accident. Ihappen to be in partnership with a man named Jachin Fell, and I came outhere on business----"

  To Gramont's astonishment the pistol was lowered instantly. It was wellthat he ceased speaking, for what he had just said proved to be open tomisconstruction, and if he had said any more he would have spoiled it.For the man facing him was staring at him in mingled disgust andsurprise.

  "You're in partnership with _the boss_!" came the astounding words."Well, why in hell didn't you say all that in the first place, insteado' beefin' around? That's no way to butt in, and me thinking you wassome dick on the job! Got anything to prove that you ain't pullin'something cute on me?"

  "Do you know Fell's writing?" asked Gramont, with difficulty forcinghimself to meet the situation coherently. Jachin Fell--the boss!

  "I know his mitt, all right."

  From his pocket Gramont produced a paper--
the memorandum or agreementwhich he had drawn up with Fell on the previous afternoon, relating tothe oil company. The other man took it and switched on an electric lightbulb overhead. In this glare he was revealed as a ratty littleindividual with open mouth and teeth hanging out--an adenoidal type, andcertainly a criminal type.

  It crossed the mind of Gramont that one blow would do the work--but hestood motionless. No sudden game would help him here. The discovery thatFell was "the boss" paralyzed him completely. He had never dreamed ofsuch a contingency. Fell, of all men!

  Jachin Fell the "boss" of this establishment! Jachin Fell the man higherup--the brains behind this criminal organization! It was a perfectthunderbolt to Gramont. Now he understood why Chacherre was in theemploy of Fell--why no arrest of the man had been possible! Now heperceived that Chacherre must have told the truth about coming here onbusiness for Fell. Reaching farther back, he saw that Fell must havereceived the loot of the Midnight Masquer, must have turned it over toLucie Ledanois----

  Did _she_ know?

  "All right, Mr. Gramont." The ratty little man turned to him withevident change of front. "We ain't takin' no chances here, y'understand.Got quite a shipment of cars comin' in from Texas, and we're tryin' toget some o' these boats cleaned out to make room. Bring out any orders?"

  Gramont's brain worked fast.

  By overcoming this guttersnipe he might have the whole place at hismercy--but that was not what he wanted. He suddenly realized that he hadother and more important fish to fry in New Orleans. Gumberts was there.Fell was there. What he must do demanded time, and his best play was togain all the time possible, and to prevent this gang from suspecting himin any way.

  "Did you see Ben Chacherre?" he countered.

  "Uh-huh--seen him just after he come. Gumberts will be out day afterto-morrow, he said. The boss is framin' some sort of deal on a guy thathe wants laid away--some guy name o' Hammond. Chacherre is running it.He figgers on gettin' Hammond on account of some car that's bein' huntedup----"

  Gramont laughed suddenly, for there was a grim humour about the thing.So Jachin Fell wanted to "get something" on poor Hammond! And Chacherrehad seized the golden opportunity that presented itself thisafternoon--instead of "getting" Hammond for the theft of a car,Chacherre had coolly fastened murder upon him!

  "Ben is one smart man; I expect he thinks the gods are working for him,"said Gramont, thinly. "So you don't know what happened to-day, eh? Well,it's great news, but I've got no time to talk about it. They'll tell youwhen they get back----"

  "Where'd they go?" demanded the other.

  "Houma. Now listen close! Chacherre did not know that I was inpartnership with the boss, get me? I didn't want to tell all the crowdin front of him. Between you and me, the boss isn't any too sure aboutBen----"

  "Say, I get you there!" broke in the other, sagely. "I tells him sixmonths ago to watch out for that Creole guy!"

  "Exactly. You can tell the boys about me when they come back--I don'tsuppose Ben will be with them. Now, I've been looking over that placenext door----"

  "Oh!" exclaimed the other, suddenly. "Sure! The boss said that one ofhis friends would be down to----"

  "I'm the one--or one of them," and Gramont chuckled as he reflected onthe ludicrous aspects of the whole affair. "I'm going to Houma now, andthen back to the city. My car's over next door. Mr. Fell wanted me towarn you to lay low on the lottery business. He's got a notion thatsomeone's been talking."

  "You go tell the boss," retorted the other in an aggrieved tone, "tokeep his eye on the guys that _can_ talk! Who'd we talk to here?Besides, we're workin' our heads off on these here boats. Memphis Izzyis attending to the lottery--he's got the whole layout up to the house,and we ain't touching it, see? Tell the boss all that."

  "Tell him yourself," Gramont laughed, good-humouredly. "Gumberts iscoming out day after to-morrow, is he? That'll be Friday. Hm! I thinkthat I'd better bring Fell out here the same day, if I can make it. Iprobably won't see Gumberts until then--I'm not working in with him andhe doesn't know me yet--but I'll try and get out here on Friday withFell. Now, I'll have to beat it in a hurry. Any message to send?"

  "Not me," was the answer.

  Gramont scarcely knew how he departed, until he found himself scramblingback through the underbrush of the Ledanois place.

  He rushed into the house, found the fire had died down beyond alldanger, and swiftly removed the few things they had taken from the car.Carrying these, he stumbled back to where he had hidden the automobile.He scarcely dared to think, scarcely dared to congratulate himself onthe luck that had befallen him, until he found himself in his own caronce more, and with open throttle sweeping out through the twilighttoward Paradis and Houma beyond. A whirlwind of mad exultation wasseething within him--exultation as sudden and tremendous as the pastweeks had been uneventful and dragging!

  Gramont, in common with many others, had heard much indefinite rumour ofan underground lottery game that was being worked among the negroes ofthe state and the Chinese villages along the Gulf coast. And now he knewdefinitely.

  Lotteries have never died out in Louisiana since the brave old days ofthe government-ordained gambles, laws and ordinances to the contrary. Nolaws can make the yellow man and the black man forego the get-rich-quickheritage of their fathers. On the Pacific coast lotteries obtain andwill obtain wherever there is a Chinatown. In Louisiana the days of thegrand lottery have never been forgotten. The last two years of highwages had made every Negro wealthy, comparatively speaking. The lotterymongers would naturally find them a ripe harvest for the picking. Andwho would gravitate to this harvest field if not the great Gumberts, theuncaught Memphis Izzy, the promoter who had never been "mugged!"

  Here, at one stroke, stumbling on the thing by sheer blind accident,Gramont had located the nucleus of the whole business!

  Gradually his brain cooled to the realization of what work lay beforehim. He was through Paradis, almost without seeing the town, andswitched on his lights as he took the highway to Houma. Sober reflectionseized him. Not only was this crowd of crooks working a lottery, butthey were also managing a stupendous thievery of automobiles, in whichcars were looted by wholesale! And the man at the head of it all, theman above Memphis Izzy and his crooks, was Jachin Fell of New Orleans.

  Did Lucie Ledanois dream such a thing? No. Gramont dismissed thequestion at once. Fell was not an unusual type of man. There were manyJachin Fells throughout the country, he reflected. Men who applied theirbrains to crooked work, who kept themselves above any actual share inthe work, and who profited hugely by tribute money from every crook inevery crime.

  To the communities in which they lived such men were patterns of allthat wealthy gentlemen should be. Seldom, except perhaps in gossip ofthe underworld, was their connection with crime ever suspected.And--this thought was sobering to Gramont--never did they come withindanger of retribution at the hands of the law. Their ramificationsextended too far into politics; and the governors of some southernstates have unlimited powers of pardon.

  "This is a big day!" reflected Gramont, dismissing the sinistersuggestion of this last thought. "A big day! What it will lead to, Idon't know. Not the least of it is the financial end of it--the oilseepage! That little iridescent trickle of oil on the water means thatmoney worries are over, both for me and for Lucie. I'm sorry that I ammixed up with Fell; I've enough money of my own to drill at least onegood well, and one is all we'll need to bring in oil on that place.Well, we'll see what turns up! My first job is to make sure Hammond issafe, and to relieve his mind. I'll have to leave him in jail, Isuppose----"

  Why did Fell want to "get something" on Hammond? To this there was noanswer.

  He drove into Houma to find the town abuzz with excitement, for the newsof the sheriff's murder had stirred the place wildly. Proceedingstraight to the court house, Gramont encountered Ben Chacherre as he wasleaving the car.

  "Hello, there!" he exclaimed. "Lost my road. Where's Hammond?"

  Chacherre jerked his head toward
the court house.

  "In yonder. Say, are you going back to the city to-night?"

  "Yes." Gramont regarded him. "Why?"

  "Take me back, will you? I've missed the last up train, and if you'regoin' back anyhow I won't have to hire a car. I can drive for you, andwe'll make it in a couple of hours, before midnight sure."

  "Hop in," said Gramont, nodding toward the car. "I'll be back as soon asI've had a word with Hammond. No danger of his getting lynched, I hope?"

  "Not a chance," said the other, conclusively. "Six deputies up therenow, and quite a bunch of ex-soldiers comin' to stand guard. You goin'to fight the case?"

  "No," said Gramont. "Can't fight a sure thing, can you? I'm sorry forhim, though."

  Chacherre shrugged his shoulders and got into the car.

  Gramont was much relieved to find that there was no danger of lynching,which had been his one fear. It was only with much persuasion that hegot past the guard and into the court house, where he was received by anumber of deputies in charge of the situation.

  After conferring with them at some length, he was grudgingly taken tothe cell occupied by Hammond. The latter received him with a wide grin,and gave no signs of the gruelling ordeal through which he had passed.

  "Listen, old man," said Gramont, earnestly. "Will you play out the gamehard to the end? I'll have to leave you here for two days. At the end ofthat time you'll be free."

  The listening deputies sniffed, but Hammond merely grinned again and puta hand through the bars.

  "Whatever you say, cap'n," he rejoined. "It sure looks bad----"

  "Don't you think it," said Gramont, cheerfully. "A lot of things havehappened since I saw you last! I've got the real murderer right where Iwant him--but I can't have him arrested yet."

  "It's a gang," said Hammond. "You watch out, cap'n, I heard 'em saysomethin' about Memphis Izzy--remember the guy I told you about one day?Well, this is no piker's game! We're up against somethin' solid----"

  "I know it," and Gramont nodded. He turned to the deputies. "Gentlemen,you have my address if you wish to communicate with me. I shall be backhere day after to-morrow--at least, before midnight of that day. I warnyou, that if anything happens to this man in the meantime, you shall beheld personally responsible. He is innocent."

  "Looks like we'd better hold you, too," said one of the men. "You seemto know a lot!"

  Gramont looked at him a moment.

  "I know enough to tell you where to head in if you try any funny workhere," he said, evenly. "Gentlemen, thank you for permitting theinterview! I'll see you later."

  The coroner's jury had already adjudged Hammond guilty of the murder.Returning to the car, Gramont had Ben Chacherre drive to a restaurant,where they got a bite to eat. Twenty minutes later they were on theirway to New Orleans--and Gramont learned for the first time of JosephMaillard's murder by the Midnight Masquer, and of the arrest of BobMaillard for the crime.