The Spectacles of Mr. Cagliostro

by Harry Stephen Keeler

  CHAPTER VI

  A PURSE OF TEN THOUSAND

  IT was with considerable intentness that Fortescue surveyed the younger man before he spoke. At last his answer came, and a surprising one it was, to his auditor. “Well, Jerry, I have the proposition all right, and if you want to take it — it’s altogether up to you, you know — you can make more out of it in a week or ten days than if you worked for two entire years. Jerry, there’s the sum of fifteen thousand dollars in two parts, ten thousand and five thousand, respectively, waiting for you — waiting for just a very little trouble and effort on your part. A total of fifteen thousand dollars, Jerry — as much as I earned in a year and a half at my old job with your father. Does that surprise you, eh?”

  Middleton sat up quickly in his chair. He gave vent to a low whistle. “The devil you say, Fortescue. Let’s — let’s hear it,” he urged. “Why the most I’ve been able to find offered in your help-wanted advertisements is from twenty-five to thirty-five dollars a week.”

  Fortescue paused a bare moment as though marshalling his facts. Then he began speaking.

  “I don’t know whether you know it or not, Jerry,” he began slowly, “and I am sure that I would never have told you had you and Miss Martindale not broken with each other; but now that such is the case and she is to be married to someone else, you had perhaps best know the truth. Pamela Martindale, Jerry, has jilted probably a dozen fairly prominent men here in Chicago; her affairs, some of them culminating in engagements and some of them not, have been rather multitudinous for one so young in the game. And I think I may as well say that every time she has jilted someone, it has been because she has seen a chance to connect up with someone else with more money or more social standing. You did not know this, did you?”

  Middleton shook his head rather dazedly. “No — I certainly did not. I presumed my case was the only instance of that.”

  “There has been handed you,” went on Fortescue, “what we here in America call a dirty deal, and you will have no trouble in translating that colloquialism for yourself. As I say, however, you were not the only one in the case — there were several ahead of you.

  “Now this noon,” continued Fortescue, “a man who exacted a promise from me never to mention his name under any conditions came to me at the office, partly because he has a slight acquaintance with me and partly because he knows that I represent the Middleton estate and am, so to speak, a sort of adviser and guardian to you — not in a legal sense, of course. It seems that he and three other men whom she jilted in the past have been particularly hot under the collar for a long, long time — and now that it appears that she is actually going to marry this fellow, van Ware, they have concocted a scheme to punish her — a scheme which they have not the nerve to put through themselves. To cut the story short, they have between them made up a purse of ten thousand dollars — they have money, you see, Jerry, plenty of it — and ten thousand is not a great deal to their combined purses. They have made out a certified cheque in my favour. And even I do not know who the three men other than the one who came to me to day are. The whole thing is shrouded in secrecy, which one might easily dissolve were one to delve back into the social history of this city. Suffice it to be for us, however, that the ten thousand dollars is real and is in evidence.”

  With which words Fortescue took from his pocket a tan-leather wallet and from it abstracted a crisp salmon-coloured piece of paper made out on a typewriter. The words ten thousand dollars, the figures corresponding to it, and the fact that it was made out in favour of Luther Fortescue were all clearly evident; but the bottom portion which contained the signature had been carefully folded under, so that the name of the drawer was concealed. “I am sorry,” Fortescue was saying, “that I cannot show you the whole cheque, but the matter of my word of honour to this man — ”

  “Quite all right,” Middleton assured him hastily. “Perfectly satisfactory. Just go ahead. They offer this ten thousand dollars to whom — for what?”

  “They have an idea,” said Fortescue, replacing the cheque “of revenge. Their idea in brief, Jerry, is that at the particular point of the wedding where the preacher asks if there is anyone who forbids the marriage, a dirty, tattered, unshaven, unkempt tramp will rise up in the church and in a loud voice will say:

  “ ‘I forbid the marriage. I am the affianced husband of Pamela Martindale. I forbid the marriage!’ “

  Middleton’s lower jaw dropped slowly in astonishment. “Heavens, Fortescue, I don’t need to know much about American journalism to know that an episode like that would cause pitiless newspaper publicity. But — but which of the ex-suitors is to be the dirty tramp?”

  Fortescue laughed mirthlessly. “Not one of these fellows could or would dare to do such a thing, Jerry. But you — well, they feel sorry for you, having read about how you were cut off in your father’s will without practically a cent. Likewise, you, you see, are, or were, the affianced husband of Pamela Martindale — the last on the list, so to speak. Hence they have elected you — if you’ll accept the office and ten thousand dollars with it.”

  The whistle that escaped from Jerry Middleton this time was considerably longer than the one of a few minutes previous. Ten thousand dollars! Ten thousand cold-blooded American dollars to help four unknown men, bristling with resentment at their treatment by the blonde regal beauty who was in the market for the best marriage, to obtain revenge. Just as the meaning of the part that he was supposed to play had come slowly to him, so, too, did the significance of it seep but slowly into his mentality — the realisation of the lengths to which men with money will go to get revenge for their trampled-upon egos. And then a flush came to his face, for it suddenly seemed to him that somehow, in some way, an insult had been offered him — an insult in the matter of the ten thousand dollars that had been so confidently tendered to him.

  “What would happen?” he queried slowly, “were I to take the main part in this — what you call stunt?”

  Fortescue made a peculiar gesture with his hands. “Well, for one thing, a high society marriage would be spoiled — but not aborted. There would be a commotion. A newspaper story would be born that would travel clear around the world — certainly to the heart of London society where these three people are heading for.”

  Middleton sat back in his chair, chin in hand. Presently he looked up. “What would you do were you face to face with such a proposition, Fortescue?”

  “Well, to be frank with you,” replied the other without hesitation, “I would take it up. These people — I refer to Pamela Martindale and her fond mamma, who is undoubtedly a moving force in her doings — have been interfering with more destinies and careers in the last few years than they have had any right to do. They — both of them — did you a rude, rotten sort of trick — they made you the laughing-stock of the city by shooting in that announcement to the Chicago papers and then following it with this second announcement that appeared this morning. If this thing is pulled off, the entire city will be for you and with you — don’t forget that — considering that that trio have frankly announced that they intend to shake the dust of America from their heels for good. Everybody, Jerry, will do their laughing on your side.”

  “Hm,” was all Middleton said. “It’s — it’s rather a staggering idea, Fortescue, to say the least. I’m a bit curious about it, just the same. On the theory that I would accept, what ideas did you or they have as to how this thing was to be engineered?”

  “Well — I admit that I figured you would accept on the spot,” Fortescue pronounced, “and my only doubts lay in how I could help you to gain this plum, considering that I am absolutely barred by your father’s will from aiding you financially in the way that I would like to do — by giving you a position in the business. It occurred to me, likewise, that in return for a further favour which I am going to do for you, by which you are going to obtain a further lucrative piece of employment that will net you just about a hundred dollars a week for one year, that you would do so
mething for me, and in the doing of this you would get an opportunity of quietly evolving into the unshaven tramp that is going to rise up at the Martindale-van Ware nuptials. And this, in brief, is the favour which you are in a position to do for me:

  “I have,” went on Fortescue, “a government grant of land on the shores of Lake Winneback, Illinois, a most splendid fishing lake, by the way. The land will be exceedingly valuable some day, if not already so. My ownership, however, being a government grant, compels me by certain laws not only to improve my holdings but to maintain actual occupancy of the place till I get title. I have improved it, and thus far solved the occupancy part by hiring an old fellow to stay there and live in my shack. He wrote me yesterday that he was forced to leave there next Monday, and, in view of the fact that my term of settlement matures in nine days more, I expect government agents to check up during these next nine days, after which I will obtain a full and inalienable title. So it simply struck me that you could go out there Monday to my shack, take along a few books and some fishing tackle and the keys, and not only during the next ten days maintain legal occupancy for me, but at the same time be growing a beard on your face that would be worthy of our most eminent wanderer of the road, the famous hobo A-No. I. With a face like that and the proper clothing you ought to be able to crab the wedding very successfully. Now as to your helping me out on that legal occupancy business I could fit you up with some fishpoles, some new pots and pans and a pair of blankets, and you could pack up a supply of food. Figure — if you decide to take up this proposition — that you’re not only doing me a favour which I’m going to return to you, but that you’re getting a big salary for a little self-imposed exile. All you need for clothes is a corduroy hunting suit, a flannel shirt, and a corduroy cap. There’s a good rowboat there, and I’ll wager you’ll find real sport in the waters of Lake Winneback.”

  “But what about the night of the — er — disturbance?” queried Middleton. “Is that supposed to move on greased wheels? And where does the tramp clothing get in? Where — ”

  “My idea,” interrupted Fortescue, “was that you stay on there at Lake Winneback till late Thursday afternoon of the day of the Martindale-van Ware wedding, and then, so as to get into the city about dusk, come into Chicago on the inter-urban that runs past that region. Your father, among the multitudinous pieces of property which he left, owned an old wooden house in Kinzie Street near Cass, on each side of which is a big storage warehouse — something he had been holding on to on account of the rise of prices in that locality. The house is deserted and boarded up in front. As for me, I could in the meantime be digging up the raggedest suit of misfit clothing I can get hold of — and oould have it over — say — in the first floor back parlour of this deserted house. You would have the key and you could go straight there in your corduroy suit, where you could change over into your tramp habiliments. By means of an accurately set clock which I will have there on the wall you could start for St. Andrew’s Church just about fifteen minutes before the wedding was to begin. I have named this Kinzie Street house, from the hundreds of pieces of property owned all over Chicago by your estate, for the reason that it is but three blocks south and two blocks west of St. Andrew’s Church. Most of your travel will be through a deserted warehouse region to get to the place where the fun begins.”

  “But why wouldn’t I, under such conditions, go home to the Astor Street place and dress? asked Middleton. “Of course, I’ll gladly help you out on that Lake Winneback. affair — and no charge whatever. But why — ”

  “Because,” put in Fortescue promptly, “these fellows who are cooking up this scheme want to sow just a bit of preliminary seed where it will reach the ears of the Martindales and the van Wares to the effect that you have gone to the dogs and have disappeared as well. It’s barely possible that either family might be worried enough to employ a detective or two during the few days before the marriage to keep an eye on you — hence better that you be — well — not in evidence at all in your usual circles. Does that make it plain? Remember, Jerry, the employer generally dictates the terms to the employee the world over.”

  “Well — let that stand then,” said the younger man. “But now another question: Wouldn’t such a disreputable looking figure as this tramp be barred from the church by the door-tender?

  “Yes, he would,” was Fortescue’s response, “only if I pass the doorkeeper a twenty-dollar bill the night of the wedding and say that I want to see Miss Martindale married, but. that I don’t want to come in the main entrance because of meeting a certain somebody, and that I would like to slip down the side passage of the church and would expect to find the little side door unlocked — well you can readily anticipate that that little door will be unlocked. If this tramp slips in there — then he’s in, isn’t he? If he’s a quiet well-behaved tramp, and keeps his raincoat buttoned about him, no one can put him out. And there you are.”

  “It seems to me, Fortescue,” protested Middleton, “that you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to work this thing out.”

  “I have,” replied the other calmly, “because I feel responsible for your well-being in this land. It’s the only way in which I can help to get some money into your hands. You can’t live on that paltry stipend your father left you, you know.”

  “Suppose I get arrested?” asked Middleton.

  “You might even be,” said Fortescue calmly, “but there is no law against a verbal protest against the customary ecclesiastical query — either church law or civil law — nor is there any law forbidding the wearing of ragged clothing and a ten days’ beard.”

  “Why didn’t they hire some tramp to do it?”

  “Ah — that’s where the artistry of their scheme shows up. The theme of this melodramatic little act is to convey to the world the depths of depravity to which this young lady drives her ex-fiancés by her heartlesssness and callousness. There’s the punch — a real ex-fiancé, not a spurious one — reduced to the status of a hobo by milady’s preference for a husband with a million.”

  “It’s subtle all right,” agreed Middleton. “A work of art by a few painters who don’t care how expensive are the pigments they paint with. Incidentally, what was that other money-making plan you were going to suggest — a plan by which I could earn nearly a hundred dollars a week for a year?”

  “That,” said Fortescue, “proves to me conelusively that you are a child of Lady Fortune herself. A man whom I have known for a long time wants to bet me privately that you will never live up to your father’s wishes about wearing those spectacles daily for a year, in exact compliance with the terms of the will. He wants, in fact, to wager me five thousand dollars. Now I don’t want to wager on such an uncertain thing as what another man will do — but if you want to make five thousand dollars by living up to what would be my part of the wager, I’ll go so far as to put up the bet for you rather than myself — to advance the money for you — to function myself only as one of the bettors — and if you play square with me you get all the winnings. If you don’t — well — I’m out five thousand, that’s all. In other words, I’m giving you the chance to profit on this wager, to play a sure thing, that’s all.”

  “Well, that’s awfully square of you, Fortescue. So he doesn’t think I’ll live up to it, eh? Who is he?”

  “You wouldn’t know him,” said the other briefly. “Just a retired sporting man with plenty of money and gambling instincts. Ferdinand Wheeler is his name.”

  “I see.” The younger man thought for a long moment. “Is there any chance that this man Wheeler might welch on the payment of the bet providing I lived up to the request of father’s unjust will?”

  “We wouldn’t give him a chance,” said Fortescue promptly. “In the first place we’d call in the reporters and publicly announce that you were going to live up to the will. That would be official announcement to the world. Then, when in due course, before the expiration of the ninety days after his death, you began the actual wearing of the spectacles, you’
d be so much a figure in the public eye than if you continued faithfully to live up to the will Wheeler couldn’t possibly crawl out. Incidentally, the money would be put in the hands of a third party and everything would be sewed up tight. Only you, my boy, by lapsing or voluntarily going somewhere or some place unadorned by those spectacles after you’ve commenced wearing them, could lose the bet for us. So say the word, and I’ll shoot a few reporters down to your place to-night, and to-morrow I’ll have old Wheeler on the wire and tell him to put up or shut up. He’ll put up, of course.”

  A considerable silence filled the room at the conclusion of Fortescue’s second offer. Middleton finally spoke.

  “Your second proposition means considerably more work than the first — for it takes a year to earn it, although I don’t dispute that it’s mighty good pay. Your first means a small fortune in just about thirty minutes time — the time taken in getting over from this old wooden house of father’s to the church and playing my little part.” He paused. “I suppose it was your intention, providing I made an affirmative decision, to show me over the ground to-morrow, Sunday: the old wooden house, the little side door to St. Andrew’s Church — everything?”

  Fortescue nodded. “That had been my intention. We could go over every inch of the route. I can get you a duplicate key to the cottage — and also a key to that place of mine out on Lake Winneback. Now think it over, Jerry, and think hard. Is there nothing in this world that you want badly — and can’t have — and that fifteen thousand dollars might help you to get?”

  Was there anything in the world that he wanted badly — and couldn’t have? Yes, there was indeed something in the world that he wanted — and wanted deeply, intensely. For he was starved, heart-hungry. Though fifteen thousand dollars might not buy it, how far might that sum, spread over a dozen detective agencies and branches, go toward locating for him a certain girl whose warm lips had once been pressed to his in far-off Australia, whose slim little body in its crisp nurse’s uniform had lain in his arms for a few brief seconds — and whose adorable self had then slipped from his life for good? It might be possible. She might be found, somehow, some way, by methods known only to those who search the world for missing persons.