City of Schemes

by Victoria Thompson

  “No!” Thornton cried. “It’s true, all of it. Both of those women are cheats and crooks, and I’m innocent!”

  “Then we’ll find that out when we finish our investigation, won’t we, Mr. Thornton? Meanwhile, you’ll come along with us for questioning. I’m sure you are anxious to clear your name.”

  Thornton started swearing, shocking Stevenson and Mr. Devoss who hurried the guards along to get him away from the ladies. Gideon had no reason to follow except that the baby was still screaming, so he decided to see Stevenson and his crew out to the street, where it would be quieter. Devoss must have felt the same way, but they didn’t get very far because a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk outside the office. The crowd was all men in ready-made overcoats, holding notebooks and pencils.

  “What in the world?” Devoss said.

  “Reporters,” Stevenson said, although he didn’t sound a bit dismayed. In fact, he sounded pleased.

  “What are they doing here?” Gideon asked, thoroughly baffled.

  “I don’t know, but I suppose I should speak with them,” Stevenson said, having gone from pleased to delighted. Gideon remembered that Stevenson had recently been featured on the front page of practically every newspaper in the country with his list of supposed subversives. He had obviously come to enjoy publicity.

  “Mr. Stevenson,” one of the reporters called. “Is it true you’ve arrested Oscar Thornton for financing a Bolshevik conspiracy?”

  “I didn’t finance anything!” Thornton shouted. He straightened in the grip of his guards and adjusted his coat because all the reporters were now looking at him. “It’s those women in there. They cheated me and tricked me. They stole my money, but nobody will listen to me!”

  “And what about the rifles?” Stevenson said with a slight smirk.

  “Yes, yes, she stole my rifles, too! She stole my rifles and my money!”

  “What rifles are those?” another reporter asked, obviously mystified.

  “The ones I was selling to the army.”

  “Why did this woman steal them?” another reporter called.

  “So I couldn’t sell them to the army. She stole my money! But they won’t arrest her and they won’t arrest that other woman, either. She’s a German spy!”

  A rumble of excitement went through the crowd, but Stevenson waved his hands to calm them. “Gentlemen,” he said, addressing the guards, “would you take Mr. Thornton to the MID offices? I will meet you there as soon as I finish with the good men of the press.”

  Thornton objected strenuously to being denied a chance to explain his grievances to the newspapermen, but the guards finally succeeded in getting him into the motorcar they had arrived in. As it drove away, the reporters turned their attention back to Stevenson.

  “As you saw, Mr. Thornton has proven to be less than reliable, but we hope to discover the truth about his relationship to the Bolsheviks who are trying to undermine our government.”

  “Who are the women he keeps babbling about?” a reporter called.

  “As I said, Mr. Thornton is not exactly reliable. It appears that he has chosen to identify two innocent women who happened to be in the waiting room as we left the building as the people he claims have wronged him in some way.”

  “He said one of them was a German spy,” one reporter reminded him.

  “Yes, he did. You see, Mr. Thornton came to my attention because he was providing funds to smuggle a German woman into this country illegally. She was carrying a fortune in securities that were to be used to fund a Bolshevik revolution. This is what I have been predicting for months, so naturally I was interested in proving I was right.”

  “And is the woman inside the German spy he helped smuggle into this country?” a reporter asked.

  “Sadly, no. She is just a French war bride who happened to be here with her soldier husband to ask for some legal advice. And the other woman is apparently the fiancée of one of the attorneys here. She brought the couple here to see the attorney.”

  “So neither of them are trying to overthrow American democracy?” a reporter joked.

  “I am happy to report that they are not, and I cannot explain why Mr. Thornton tried to convince us that they are. The real German operative is in jail in South Carolina at the moment, and there doesn’t seem to be any explanation for Thornton’s conviction that he was cheated by the army over some rifles. I’m very much afraid his mind may be disturbed, which would explain how the foreign saboteurs were able to take advantage of him and convince him to give them so much money. Apparently, he did give this German woman quite a bit, so he would be justified in thinking himself ill-used, but he also claims she was going to repay him at least tenfold, so it could also be sheer greed that is motivating him to protect her.”

  The reporters kept shouting questions, which Stevenson tried to answer, but eventually, the men of the press realized they had gotten as much information from him as they could. They were starting to disperse when the front door of the office opened and Elizabeth stepped out.

  “Oh dear,” she exclaimed when she saw the reporters had not left. Kellogg and Oriel had come out behind her and were blocking any possible retreat, so she just stood there, gazing at the crowd in dismay.

  “Are these the women Thornton accused?” one of the reporters shouted.

  The baby started screaming again, and Kellogg tried to create a path for them to escape, pushing between Stevenson and Devoss. Oriel began to berate the reporters in French, and the more she objected, the more closely they crowded her, calling out question after question until she burst into tears and they finally allowed Kellogg to lead her and the baby away.

  “And who are you?” a reporter called to Elizabeth, having just remembered she was still there.

  “No one,” Gideon announced, taking her arm to lead her back inside, but she stopped him.

  “Perhaps I should answer their questions, darling,” she said with a beatific smile. “Once they understand that I was just escorting Sergeant Kellogg and his family and that I never saw Thornton before in my life, they’ll know that everything he says about me is a lie.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  So we thought we should come immediately and tell you what happened, Percy,” Elizabeth said after she and Gideon had explained to him, Rosemary, and Rosemary’s parents about Thornton’s arrest. They had gone straight to the Westerly house as soon as Elizabeth finished with the reporters, hoping to catch them during the ladies’ “at home” hours. Fortunately, Mr. Westerly happened to be home as well.

  “But I don’t understand how you are involved in all this, Percy,” Rosemary said, obviously unimpressed by Elizabeth’s tale.

  “Because he’s a government agent,” Mr. Westerly said, obviously as delighted as his daughter was bored. “Isn’t that so, son?”

  Percy smiled modestly. “That is not the term I would use. You must understand, I’m here informally.”

  “Yes, yes, on some diplomatic mission,” Mr. Westerly said. He was grinning broadly, probably thinking what a good story this would be to tell at his club.

  “And when information was reported to me, naturally, I had to share it with the authorities,” Percy said. “Although I am mystified as to why this man Thornton accused you, Elizabeth.”

  “Me and that other poor woman,” Elizabeth said, trying to look just as mystified. “She was nearly hysterical with terror by the time the reporters had finished with her.”

  “I suppose it’s a blessing she didn’t speak English very well,” Gideon said with only a trace of irony. “Maybe she didn’t even understand what was going on.”

  “I’m sure that just made it worse for her,” Elizabeth said, patting his hand.

  “You say she was a friend of yours, Gideon?” Percy asked.

  “Sergeant Kellogg served under Lo . . . a friend of mine,” Gideon clarified a bit stiffly. Elizab
eth noticed he had avoided mentioning that his “friend” was Logan Carstens. He also didn’t mention Oriel because he couldn’t refer to her as Kellogg’s wife. Elizabeth had been careful not to make that claim, either. She was trying so hard not to actually lie anymore, except in emergencies.

  “And what was it that man accused you of, Elizabeth?” Rosemary asked, having recognized a chance to cause her a bit of discomfort.

  “Good heavens, I hardly know,” Elizabeth said, not discomfited at all. “Something about stealing rifles from him.”

  “What would you do with rifles?” Mrs. Westerly asked, completely confused.

  “Exactly,” Elizabeth said. “And then he claimed that my brother and I had stolen money from him, too.”

  Percy shook his head, making his curls dance. “Elizabeth, I have known you since you were twelve—”

  “I was thirteen when we first met,” she corrected him, ignoring Rosemary’s jealous glare.

  “Thirteen then. Do you have a brother of whom I am unaware?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I didn’t think so. This Thornton fellow is obviously insane.”

  “Which is why the government believes this Mr. Volker was able to take advantage of him. It’s all very tragic, really,” Elizabeth said with a sigh.

  “We are so grateful you came to tell us all this,” Rosemary said, making it plain she wasn’t grateful at all. She probably thought they were just being morbid. Her next statement would most likely have been a thinly veiled invitation to leave, but Percy interrupted her.

  “Yes, very grateful, because now I know what I must do next.” He turned to Rosemary, who was sitting beside him on the sofa, and smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid the government will need me to testify against this man Thornton.”

  “Testify?” Mrs. Westerly echoed in dismay. Apparently, people of her acquaintance did not testify.

  “Yes, to the Overman Committee. They are the ones investigating these things.”

  “The Overman Committee,” Mr. Westerly crowed. “In Washington City. That will make you famous, my boy!”

  Rosemary wasn’t so thrilled. “Washington City? Do you mean you have to go there?”

  “Of course he does,” her father said. “That’s where all the important business is happening.”

  “You always say the important business happens in New York,” Mrs. Westerly reminded him.

  “Government business happens in Washington City,” he clarified. “We’ll be reading about you in the newspapers.”

  “I certainly hope not,” Percy said, visibly dismayed. “But perhaps it cannot be helped. One must do one’s duty, mustn’t one?”

  “Yes, one must,” Gideon agreed. Elizabeth seemed to be the only one who noticed his sarcastic tone.

  “How long will you be gone?” Rosemary whined. “I was planning a party to announce our engagement.” She took the opportunity to wave her left hand in Elizabeth’s direction, even though Elizabeth had already admired the ring Rosemary had held under her nose the moment she’d entered the parlor.

  “Not long, I hope. Perhaps a week or even less.”

  “A week!”

  “Don’t be selfish, Rosemary,” her father chided. “Lord Percy is doing important work.”

  “But I need to announce my engagement before Logan . . .” She caught herself, although Elizabeth had no trouble at all understanding how that sentence would have ended. Rosemary wanted to announce her engagement well before Logan Carstens returned with his new bride.

  “Can’t you just put it in the newspapers?” Elizabeth asked ingenuously, remembering how Rosemary had revealed Elizabeth’s engagement. “I’m sure your reporter friends would be happy to publish it.”

  “I do not have reporter friends,” Rosemary replied coldly.

  “Yes, indeed,” Percy said. “Why not just put it into the newspapers? No sense having a lot of fuss. People will pop over to congratulate you in person, I daresay.”

  Rosemary frowned. She obviously wanted as much fuss as possible.

  “I’m sure we’ve kept you long enough,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sorry to have brought the news, but when Mr. Devoss told us he had learned about all this from Percy, I thought he would want to know as soon as possible.”

  “Indeed I did. If you’re leaving now, perhaps we can share a cab.”

  “A cab?” Rosemary echoed in alarm. “Where are you going?”

  “To Washington City, my dear. If I hurry, I can be packed and on a train this evening. I’ll need to meet with some people at the British embassy before I appear before the committee.”

  “But you can’t just leave!” Rosemary insisted.

  “I am so very sorry, my dear, but needs must. I’ll write to you as soon as I know when I can return.”

  Mrs. Westerly murmured her distress and Mr. Westerly shook Percy’s hand and slapped him on the back and Rosemary pulled out a hankie and dabbed at her dry eyes in a show of grief as Percy took his leave.

  The three of them walked over to the next avenue to catch a cab.

  “Will you go to Cybil’s with us?” Elizabeth asked Percy.

  “Sure. I’m guessing Gideon has some questions.”

  “You bet I do,” Gideon replied with a thunderous frown.

  Elizabeth took his hand and gave it a squeeze. To her relief, he squeezed back. At least he wasn’t too angry.

  They didn’t speak during the cab ride. No sense being overheard by someone who might decide to sell the story to a newspaper. When they arrived at Cybil’s, Gideon paid the driver and followed the other two into the house. Cybil came to greet them, and she frowned in confusion when she saw Percy. “Jake, are you going to a costume ball or something?”

  “Don’t you like my outfit?” he said with mock dismay.

  “The outfit is outlandish, and what have you done to your hair?”

  He reached up and pulled off the elaborate wig. “I’ll be glad to see the last of this.”

  “Keep the beard, though,” Cybil advised. “It makes you look smarter.”

  By the time Cybil had called Zelda to admire Jake’s sartorial splendor, they had removed their coats and hats and retired to the parlor. Jake sprawled in the most comfortable chair, massaging his head and making his own hair stand on end, while Elizabeth asked Cybil and Zelda to give them some privacy. Cybil in particular did not enjoy hearing about this type of exploit.

  Elizabeth sat down next to Gideon on the sofa. He didn’t look quite as angry as he had in the cab. “What would you like to know, darling?”

  Gideon gave the question a few moments’ thought. “I was figuring it out on the drive down, and I think I understand most of it. The business with the Volker woman, that was the con your father was running on Thornton.”

  “Yes, the Spanish Prisoner.”

  “The same one Kellogg and the French woman were running on Logan,” Gideon said.

  “Yes, but the Old Man did a much better job of it. Oriel isn’t very skilled, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” Gideon advised. “So how did it work?”

  Elizabeth explained how Vane had “accidentally” met Thornton in the hotel dining room and then dropped the letter from Berta where Thornton would find it.

  “And Thornton already knew Vane?” Gideon asked.

  “He was one of the men who sold Thornton extra rifles back when we conned him the last time. Thornton always believed that part of the deal was legitimate.”

  “I see, so he had no idea Vane was working with your father.”

  “None at all. Then Vane pretended to travel to Mexico and he brought back phony stock certificates, but he couldn’t cash them because they weren’t signed by the owner.”

  “And they weren’t real stock certificates,” Jake added. “In case you were wondering.”

  “
But seeing them convinced Thornton that Berta really had a fortune,” Elizabeth said. “So when she needed money to buy a boat to get her out of Mexico and into New York, he was only too happy to help.”

  “Did he really believe she would give him half of her fortune?” Gideon asked in amazement.

  Elizabeth gave him a gentle smile. “Of course. That is the whole point of the con, darling.”

  Gideon glared at Jake when he chuckled, but he said, “What was all that business about Berta’s arrest being in the newspapers though? Berta doesn’t even exist, does she?”

  “No, and she certainly wasn’t arrested. Vane traveled down to Charleston, South Carolina, and bought a few newspapers. Then he had the front page reprinted with Berta’s photograph and the story about her arrest.”

  “Is that legal?” Gideon asked, somehow more outraged about this than anything else in this astonishing tale.

  “I can’t imagine anyone would care, darling,” Elizabeth said. “So Vane brought the newspaper back and showed it to Thornton. No one questions what they see in the newspapers.”

  “But Devoss said he’d seen the newspaper story, too,” Gideon remembered.

  “Yes, Vane had two versions printed. One of them without any mention of Thornton, which he showed to Thornton, and one that did mention him, which he showed to Mr. Devoss.”

  “Which explains why Devoss believed Percy.” Gideon gave Jake a scowl. “Lord Percy, I mean. All right. I think I understand all that, but why did Thornton insist the French woman was Berta? And by the way, what was she doing in the office in the first place, because she certainly didn’t have an appointment with me?”

  “I brought her there for Thornton to see her, because she really is Berta. Or at least Thornton thought so.”

  “Why did he think so?” Gideon asked, even though it sounded as if he really didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Yeah, Lizzie,” Jake taunted. “Why did he think so?”