Reaching one of the entrances to the ballroom, he hesitated. He had notthe faintest desire to return and take part in that scene of festivity.He was tired of being pestered and having to talk and make himselfagreeable. He wanted to get away and be let alone, so very swiftly heresolved to hunt up Mrs. Hamersley, and take his leave as gracefully ashe could.
He found the lady after some trouble, told her that he was not feelingvery fit--which was quite true--and said good night. Securing histhings in the coat room, he made haste to take the elevator downstairs.
But, once on the steps of the building, with the cold wind blowingagainst his heated face, he paused, irresolute.
Where should he go? What could he find to take his mind from thedisappointment he seemed unable to shake off? It was scarcely half pasttwelve, and he had never felt less sleepy. The idea of going back to hisrooms and tossing restlessly about for hours, with only his thoughts tokeep him company, was intolerable.
As he waited, undecided, the doors behind him were thrust suddenly open,and two young fellows issued forth precipitately. One of them wassinging a popular song, to which the other beat time on the marblepavement with his stick, laughing boisterously at frequent intervals.
As Lawrence drew aside to let them pass, the song ceased instantly, anda pair of arms were flung about his neck with an unexpectedness andforce which made him stagger back a pace or two.
"Li'l' Barry!" exclaimed the youth, with maudlin joyousness. "M'long-los' college chum! Lemme give you good hug!"
The flash of annoyance which Lawrence had felt at first gave placeinstantly to a thrill of pleasure as he recognized Reggie Minturn, oneof his classmates, whom he had not seen in months.
"Hel-lo, Reg!" he cried, removing the arms gently, but firmly, from hisshoulders, and shaking the chap's hand heartily. "What in the world areyou up to, leaving the dance so early?"
Minturn, still gripping his hand, teetered gently back and forth on hisheels, regarding Lawrence with a wide stare of preternatural gravity.
"Child's play," he presently announced solemnly. "Jack 'n' I want some'citement. You know Jack? No, course not. Jack, this's myfrien'--very dear frien'. Wantche know--Mister--er--Barry. Shakehan's."
The other individual, still chuckling inanely, took Barry's hand, andshook it until Minturn forcibly intervened.
"That's 'nough," he said, linking his arm with Lawrence's. "You'recomin' with us, Barry. We goin' to have some 'citement. Dean's, youknow."
Barry started slightly, and a faint frown furrowed his forehead. Dean'swas one of the most select and high-class gambling houses in the city,and he pictured to himself the alacrity with which these two helplesschaps would be stripped of their last cent.
"What do you want to go there for?" he asked quietly. "Why don't youcome around to my place and have a game of poker? It's much nearer."
Minturn shook his head stubbornly. "Do' want poker," he announced."Wan' roulette. Come on!"
For a second Lawrence hesitated. Then, realizing his helplessness, hegave a resigned shrug, and allowed himself to be dragged out to where ataxi waited at the curb. If he could not keep the two away from thegambling joint, at least he might prevent their losing very much.
They piled into the car, with much laughter, and, when Minturn had givena certain address to the chauffeur, and settled down for a second, Barryproceeded to put his plan into operation.
"Look here, Reggie," he said suddenly, "I can't go into Dean's withoutany money."
"No money!" exclaimed the inebriated one jocosely. "Ha, ha! Tha'sheasy. We'll lend you some--eh, Jack? Show your roll."
Still chuckling, he reached his pocket with some difficulty, andproduced a crumpled handful of yellowbacks which he thrust at Barry.
"Take all you want, ol' man," he announced. "Lot's more where that camefrom, eh, Jack?"
That Barry could readily believe. The elder Minturn was almost sinfullywealthy, and his only son had hitherto led an existence as carefree andlacking in responsibility as the proverbial lily of the field. A swiftglance told Barry that there was close to seven hundred dollars in theroll, mostly in fifties and twenties, with the single exception of onefive-hundred-dollar bill. Without hesitation Lawrence took the latter,and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.
"This'll do for me," he said carelessly, handing the remainder back.
From the other youth's generously extended bill case he extracted twoone-hundred-dollar yellowbacks, leaving less than half that amount.After that he settled back, much more relieved. Of course, it was reallynone of his business, but he hated to see them simply throwing all thatmoney away, even if they could afford it.
On a cross street, not far from Park Avenue, the chauffeur drew upbefore an unpretentious-looking brownstone front, and the party rolledout of the taxi. While his two companions were fumbling in theirpockets, Lawrence paid the man, who drove off at once.
There was an instant expostulation, which Barry silenced,good-naturedly, following with a last attempt to dissuade the other twofrom their purpose. As he expected, it was quite useless. Both werefixed in their resolve to have some excitement, and Minturn led the wayup the steps with firm, but somewhat swaying, gravity.
After a considerable delay, and a very careful inspection of them by anattendant, they were admitted to the lower hallway, which differed not awhit from the hall of any ordinary private house. Here Minturn and hiscompanion were recognized, and, both vouching for Lawrence, they wereallowed to proceed upstairs.
The second floor consisted of two large rooms furnished with great tasteand luxury, and provided with all sorts of gambling paraphernalia. Theywere both fairly well filled with men, mostly in evening clothes; and,as he followed his companions into the one containing the roulettewheels, Barry smiled a little at the realization of how completely hismind was being distracted.
In spite of Minturn's insistence that he chance his money with them,Lawrence managed to put it off by saying that he preferred _rouge etnoir_. He waited until they were well started at the wheel, and quiteoblivious to everything save the excitement of betting, then he strolledoff into the other room.
Here quite a crowd was gathered about the board. Evidently the playingwas of a sort to attract unusual attention, and Barry made his wayforward to a place from which he had a fair view of the table.
Half a dozen men were sitting there, betting at irregular intervals, butthe attention of the onlookers seemed given entirely to one individual,whom Lawrence could not quite see from where he stood. A bit of smoothblack hair, a portion of a low forehead, and now and again a handstretching out to place his bets, was all that came within the Harvardfellow's vision.
It was enough, however, to show him very swiftly that the man, whoeverhe was, was plunging heavily. He was also having a spell of the mostpersistent ill luck, for in the few minutes that Barry stood there hesaw something like six hundred dollars swept in by the expressionlessdealer.
"Wonder who he is?" Lawrence thought. "Some millionaire, I suppose,throwing away his car fare."
Then, more because he had nothing else to do than from any realcuriosity on the subject, he strolled around to the other side of thetable, and glanced over another man's shoulder.
In a second he had stiffened slightly, and his features seemed suddenlyto become tense and alert and eager. The individual who was betting asif a hundred-dollar bill was so much trash to be thrown away without aqualm, was no millionaire, or anything like it.
He was the man who, more than any other, had been active in bringingdisgrace upon Barry Lawrence--Julian Farr, the cashier of the BeekmanTrust Company.
*CHAPTER XX.*
*THE MAN WHO LOST.*
For a second Barry stood with eyes riveted on the florid face, with itsblue-black shadow of heavy beard darkening the clean-shaven cheeks andchin. Then he stepped swiftly back out of sight, and, turning,pretended to examine a painting hanging on the wall near by.
He scarcely saw the wonderful Corot landscape, however, for his brainwas fairly seething with the discovery he had just made, thesignificance of which he realized in a flash.
Julian Farr received, to his positive knowledge, a salary of tenthousand dollars a year, and the manner in which he lived must use upevery penny of it. Yet here he was gambling recklessly in a place likeDean's.
In an instant Lawrence knew where those missing funds had gone as surelyas if the proof in every smallest detail lay before him.
Farr had stolen them! He was the thief who had so cleverly foisted theblame upon an innocent man's shoulders.
For a moment Barry was furiously angry. He wanted to catch the fellowby the scruff of his neck and thrash him within an inch of his miserablelife. It was impossible, of course, and Barry knew it; but he wantedterribly to do it, just the same.
A passing wonder came into his mind as to how Farr could have had thenerve to show himself in such a place. Of course, Dean's was patronizedmostly by the very wealthy members of the younger sporting set, and theBeekman Trust Company had a clientele made up almost altogether ofshopkeepers, proprietors of lofts and the like, on the lower East Side.Two such extremes were scarcely ever likely to come together, but therewas always a chance of discovery, as had been proved in this veryinstance.
But Barry did not waste much thought on how his enemy happened to behere. His presence in the rouge et noir game was the important thing,and Lawrence instantly began to cudgel his brains as to how he mighttake advantage of this discovery.
His own unsupported word as to Farr's doings would not be enough toconvince Tappin or any of the directors. He must have a witness whollyabove the charge of bias.
Barry glanced swiftly around at the men near the table, and his heartsank. He did not know a single one of them, and without a previousacquaintance it would be time wasted to ask any of them to do such afavor.
His eyes ranged over the faces for the second time, and stopped at atall, lean, slightly dissipated-looking chap who sat opposite Farr,watching him with a languid interest, between whiles placing a bethimself of no small amount.
"By Jove!" Lawrence said to himself. "I'll be hanged if that isn'tCharlie Biddle. It is!" he went on positively, after a carefulscrutiny. "I wonder if he wouldn't help me out?"
Biddle was a man of means, with extremely rapid tendencies, and a typeof mind which caused his photograph to blaze forth frequently in themetropolitan papers, while columns were devoted to his divertinglyeccentric escapades. He was a thoroughgoing, out-and-out sport, however,and it struck Barry that he might possibly consent to become the verydesirable witness in the present case. At all events, he was the youngman's only hope.
Having reached this conclusion, Lawrence went back to the other room,eager to get away. He did not wish to have Farr see him.
The matter proved easier than he expected. Minturn greeted him with apathetic wail that he was busted, and so was Jack, and begged for aloan. Barry managed to put him off by intimating that he also had beencleaned out, and, after a somewhat prolonged argument, succeeded inpersuading the two fellows to depart with him.
Suppressing their tendencies to play tricks with the officer on thecorner, Lawrence managed at length to find a taxi, into which theypiled, and started for the Minturn mansion. His companions pleaded fora "joy ride" through Central Park, and were moved to tears when he saidit was too cold for an early-morning plunge in the reservoir. There wasalmost a fight at the Minturn house, but, with the unexpected andwelcome assistance of a footman who had been waiting up, Barry managedto get them both inside, having first slipped the borrowed money intotheir waistcoat pockets.
It was just four o'clock when Barry reached the St. Albans, and he wasfeeling tired and sleepy. Reaching his rooms, he lost no time inflinging off his clothes and diving into bed.
In the interest and excitement of the past few days he had almostforgotten that in less than a week he would be free to live his own lifeas he chose. He had been going about in a sort of dream, but the sightof Julian Farr's face that night, bent over the gaming table, and therealization of everything it might mean to him, had awakened himeffectually. To-morrow he would seek out Charlie Biddle, and enlist hiscooeperation.
After that--well, he had an idea that things would be doing.
*CHAPTER XXI.*
*IN THE NEXT COMPARTMENT.*
Lawrence intended to be up early, but it was late in the morning beforehe was awakened with a start by the tinkle of the room telephone.Leaping out of bed, he hastened into the sitting room, and, unhookingthe receiver, recognized Jock Hamersley's booming voice at the other endof the wire.
"You're a deuce of a fellow, you are! What in thunder did you go andquit last night for?"
"I wasn't feeling a bit fit, Jock," Barry explained, "so I lit outbefore supper. I'll bet you didn't notice I was gone till it came timeto go home. Say, can't you meet me in the Belmont cafe about five thisafternoon? I want to talk to you about something."
"I'm going to be mighty busy. Why not lunch together?"
"Can't. I've got a date for luncheon."
Hamersley's snort made the wires buzz. "Hang you and your dates!" heexploded. "That's what you said yesterday. You're such a popular guy Is'pose you've got every lunch and dinner taken for a week ahead."
Lawrence's lips twitched at the unconscious closeness with which hisfriend came to the truth, but he only laughed.
"Sure, I have!" he returned lightly.
"Well," retorted Hamersley sarcastically, "seeing you're such anunaccommodating grouch, I'll meet you at the Belmont, only just blameyourself if you cool your heels for half an hour."
Barry hung up the receiver, chuckling. Then his face grew suddenlyserious, and he reached for the telephone directory. Having found thenumber of Biddle's apartment, he called it without delay, and a man'svoice answered.
"No, sir, this is not Mr. Biddle," came in response to Barry's swiftquestion. "Mr. Biddle has gone to Baltimore, and will not be back tillSunday afternoon. Do you wish to leave any message, sir?"
"No; I'll call again."
Barry clicked the receiver into place with an impatient movement, andsat frowning for a moment on the arm of his chair. Presently his facerelaxed. Sunday afternoon was not so very far away, and nothing changedthe fact that he had Julian Farr in an exceedingly awkward position.
He dressed leisurely, and it was after twelve when he left his room.Breakfast and luncheon were combined that day in one, and he took themeal at the Ritz-Carlton, enjoying the music, entertained by the crowd,and altogether in a more peaceful mood than he had been for some time.
Now and again the thought of Shirley Rives--if that were really hername--returned to torment him and make him unhappy, but he did his bestto thrust the recollection from his mind, and fancied he had succeeded.He could not help pondering, however, on the one apparently inexplicablefeature of the affair. If she were not in the desperate straits she hadpretended to be, how was it that she had known anything of Sally Barton?
It was possible, of course, that she had taken the name of anotherperson with whom the black-haired stenographer had once been on friendlyterms; but still the matter puzzled Barry until he finally gave upthinking of it, and turned his attention to the question of whether ornot it would be wise to confide his affairs to Jock Hamersley.
He had reached a point where he longed desperately to talk things overwith some one, and Jock had seemed, that morning, the only personavailable. But now, in the light of second thoughts, he began to havegrave doubts as to the wisdom of such a step.
The Yale man was good nature personified, and had a heart as large ashis big body. He had also a total absence of tact in his make-up, andthe more Lawrence considered the matter, the more he became certain thathe had better keep the nature of Julian Farr's behavior to himself.
This made it necessary, of course, to hit upon something else to takeits plac
e, but that was not difficult. After his friend's kindness ofthe night before, Barry felt that it was decidedly up to him to dosomething in return; and, with dinner out of the question, a theaterparty, with supper afterward, seemed the only alternative.
Having come to this decision, Lawrence finished his luncheon slowly, andleft the restaurant. He had been too occupied the night before tonotice whether the mysterious men had continued to trail him after heleft Sherry's, but they were certainly on the job to-day, and the factbegan presently to wear a little on his nerves. A person may be ever soinnocent, and still become exasperated when a persistent taxi or anequally persistent man dogs his every movement.
Having nothing special to do between two and five, Barry decided to pithis wits against those of the two pursuers. The little game wasinteresting, not to say exciting, and consumed considerable time, themaneuvers taking Lawrence from the Battery to Fifty-ninth Street. Itended, however, with comparative satisfaction, and a few minutes beforefive Barry entered the Belmont on Forty-second Street with the pleasantconviction that he was unobserved for the first time in over twenty-fourhours.
The cafe was rather full as he entered it, but one or two of thecushioned wall seats were empty, and Lawrence promptly settled downcomfortably, and proceeded to take things easily until his friend'sarrival.
Instinctively he noticed that on his left was a party of three men,talking over the cloak-and-suit industry with an interest which left noroom for any other thought in their minds. The compartment on the otherside was occupied by a typical broker, absorbed in the financial page ofan evening paper.
The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve Page 8
