The Harold Lamb Megapack

by Harold Lamb

  “Professor de Bacourt could chaperon us.”

  “No—I must see you alone, Ruth. Supper after the show, anywhere you like. Dancing—I know you are a great little dancer.”

  He waited anxiously for her response.

  “It does sound attractive,” she meditated. “I love dancing. And I’ve heard so much about the New York cafés—”

  “I’ll come in a taxi for you at seven!” Hollis closed the bargain swiftly. “I’ll send up word—if Aunt Emma doesn’t want to see me—for you.”

  He left the switchboard, directed Mrs. Henderson to have his evening clothes, hat, and stick sent to the near-by hotel, and returned to the office exultantly. From there he reserved a table at Guffarone’s and two seats for a fashionable musical comedy. Not until then did he stop to wonder if his conversation over the telephone had not convinced Ruth Carruthers that he was a professional gangster, with a penchant for jewelry.

  CHAPTER X

  Closing the Nets

  At six thirty that evening Tom Lemoire entered the elaborate facade of the Riverside Drive apartment without waiting for the elevator he ascended the stars three at a time to the Lemoire rooms. In the parlor he found Gladys dozing. At her brother’s hasty entrance she roused with an inquiring glance.

  “Move swiftly, sister,” snapped Lemoire. “Get your bag packed. The Lemoire family is leaving town tonight. I got a buzz over the wire from one of Wong’s men. The bulls have traced the Hoffman stones, somehow. Traced ’em to us.”

  As Gladys hurried into her room and began throwing articles into a suitcase, she talked.

  “We ain’t got ’em.”

  “No—but the bulls are wised that we had ’em at the Charity Ball.”

  Gladys’s mouth curled in a sneer.

  “I thought you and Fo Lon was going to get the stones, Tom.”

  Lemoire swore under his breath.

  “Fo Lon is through with us—quit, see? He’s hangin’ out in Chinatown. Wouldn’t go to see Wong. He said we left him out in the cold over them sapphires. Fo Lon told me something. He was in Wong’s when the shooting was pulled off. Followed a guy who grabbed the Ming elephant, to the Boston train. Wanted to get even for the shooting, I expect; all them Chinks is nuts on squaring accounts—”

  “Then it was Fo Lon tried to switch elephants through the curtains of lower eight,” guessed Gladys swiftly. “How’d he get the dummy?”

  “What the—does that matter? He ain’t got the sparklers—or he wouldn’t be tryin’ to get hold of the guy he followed out of Wong’s. I ain’t got ’em. I’m beginnin’ to think you ain’t got ’em—”

  “Thanks,” smiled the girl coldly. “Listen, Tom. A fellow named Hollis was in Wong’s the time of the shooting. He’s got the other elephant, and the stones. I tipped off the cops about him. They’ll get after him before they tackle us. We got time—”

  “About two minutes. I tell you, the cops or Mrs. Hoffman have traced the stones. They’re on to us—somehow. We’re leaving New York—first stop Buffalo, then Toronto, if we ain’t pinched, and our luck holds—”

  Gladys ran to the window and looked out. A touring car bearing three men in plain clothes was swinging in to the curb by the building. She waited long enough to see that all three went into the front entrance. Then she called to Tom, snapped out the lights of the rooms, and made for the servant’s entrance of the apartment.

  A rear stairway for servants led down to the court behind the building. The Lemoires descended this in safety. The court opened into a side street. There they sighted a taxi.

  At seven o’clock the Lemoires were installed on a fast, north-bound train.

  And at seven o’clock, precisely, Andrew Hollis, immaculately dressed, halted his taxi before the apartment house in Washington Square. He waited impatiently in the street for Ruth’s coming.

  Here was his opportunity to clear up the muddle of circumstances that had estranged him and Ruth. He thought, with a quickening of the pulse, that she had broken her engagement with the professor to be with him. It would be an evening to be remembered, showing the night life of the city to his cousin from New Orleans. He might even have a chance to tell her—

  He greeted her with a strange shyness. Ruth had evidently been visiting one of the shops. She wore a dark-red cloak, tipped with fur, that harmonized with her dark hair. Her eyes were bright with all a girl’s expectancy of an evening’s entertainment. As he helped her into the taxi a hand fell on his shoulder.

  “You’re wanted at police headquarters, Hollis.”

  He whirled and saw two men with bulky shoulders and clean-shaven faces standing beside him.

  “Wanted?” he demanded. “For what? Have you a warrant?”

  “We got a warrant,” announced the speaker. “Sorry to take you away from the lady. But there’s some things you got to explain.”

  The girl leaned forward and watched the three anxiously. Hollis felt the touch of her gloved hand on his arm. He shrugged his shoulders, remembering what Gladys had said.

  “As a favor to me,” he asked calmly, “would you tell me what I’m wanted for and why? I’ve never been arrested before and I’d like to understand the procedure from the first.”

  The plain-clothes men glanced at each other.

  “Well—if you want to know,” said the first speaker, “we got you on two counts. First, you was in Wong Li’s shop at the time he was shot—and left an envelope that looked like a pay envelope with your name on it. You left in a hurry and quit the burg. Then you come back to another hotel—not to your rooms. Since Gladys Lemoire tipped us off, we been watching you, Hollis.”

  “And the second count?” he inquired, with a sinking heart.

  “Well, Gladys spilled the dope you knew something about the stolen Hoffman sapphires. Said you had ’em. If you haven’t, you can clear it up easy. Just come along with us.”

  “Just a minute,” assented Hollis. He met the girl’s anxious glance squarely, and cut off her quick protest. He gave her the envelope containing the theater tickets.

  “I’ll have to keep this date with the police, Ruth,” he grinned. “But that needn’t spoil your evening. Call up De Bacourt and get him to take you to the show. Don’t worry about me.”

  He waved his hand and moved off between the detectives. If he had looked back he would have seen that the girl was watching him with flushed face and eyes in which gleamed a suspicion of tears. It occurred to Hollis presently to make a suggestion to his escort. Wong Li, he explained, could tell them, if he was faced with Hollis, that the latter was not the man who shot him.

  “Yeah,” assented his conductor indifferently. “He could if you could see him. Wong Li left the hospital alone an’ unexpectedly, sick as he was. We ain’t able to locate him. Those Chinks are scared of the law.”

  “Well, there’s Gladys Lemoire—if that’s her name,” suggested Hollis. “Get her, and I’ll convince you she’s lying.”

  “She an’ Tom ’ve flown the coop—beat it outa the burg. Maybe we can land ’em in a week, maybe not. P’r’aps you’ll tip us where they are. We know you’re in thick with ’em. They lifted the stones an’ passed ’em on to you.”

  Hollis breathed a malediction on the vagaries of fate that had led him to Wong Li’s and the Ming antique.

  “Look here!” he cried, “I can prove I wasn’t at the Charity Ball, where those jewels were stolen. And Mrs. Hoffman can tell you she’s never seen me. All you have against me is the word of a woman crook.”

  “No, not all, Hollis,” the man shook his head. “The stones was returned to Mrs. Hoffman yesterday by a friend who didn’t claim the reward. He said he got ’em away from you. His name is Professor de Baycoor. Look here, sport, Mrs. Hoffman is raising hell about that stone lifting. We got to have something to show her for what we been doin’—see. We want the Lemoires—they musta done the trick at the Char’ty Bazoo. But, likewise, we wants you, too.”

  CHAPTER XI

  De Bacourt Explains


  At court, Hollis learned a number of things. First, as Wong Li was not there to appear against him—had, in fact, said nothing as to the identity of the man who shot him—the count of the shooting failed to hold him. On the other hand he was faced with a network of circumstantial evidence regarding the theft of the Hoffman sapphires—evidence which pointed to the fact that he had been an accomplice of the Lemoires. Evidence not less portentous because of his knowledge of how he had taken the Ming elephant from Wong.

  He learned that Mrs. Hoffman’s telephone message to the police had stated that Professor de Bacourt had restored the jewels to her, alleging that they had been found in his—Hollis’s—personal baggage. Nothing more than that was known.

  “If It had not been for the information from Gladys Lemoire,” he was told, “there would be no warrant out for you, because Mrs. Hoffman did not accuse you of the theft of the jewels. You have established a valid alibi, proving that you were not present at the Charity Ball, where the sapphires were stolen. Probably through Mrs. Hoffman, or Mr. de Bacourt, you can clear yourself of all suspicion.”

  Hollis reflected grimly that Gladys had made good her threat—and that she was at present beyond reach. He began to be convinced that he had had the missing jewels in his possession. But where? And how had they been removed from him?

  With the wisdom of a newspaperman in dealing with the law, Hollis denied everything, and then kept his mouth shut. It cost him three hours, the presence of his friends on the News, and three thousand-dollar bonds before he was admitted to bail and allowed to leave the court, pending arraignment.

  Hollis jumped into a taxi, directed the man to Chinatown, and glanced at his watch. It was quarter to eleven.

  Ruth had said, he reflected, that De Bacourt would take her to Chinatown late that evening. Probably they would go there from the theater, about now. He wanted to see De Bacourt, and learn the part the latter had played in the affair of the jewels. Vague suspicion flooded upon him.

  De Bacourt had been assiduous in his attentions to Ruth. Had he planned to keep Hollis from his cousin? Why had he gone to Chinatown that night? A slow anger rose in Hollis, and fastened upon him. He would find out what De Bacourt knew. And then he would order the man out of Ruth’s presence. The girl was unacquainted with the city and the ways of its men. She might be in danger that minute. And he, Hollis, was her champion.

  He left the machine at the door of the Chinese Delmonico’s and sought through the restaurant purposefully. The two he wanted were not there, but he remembered the room upstairs, and ascended to its lacquered and latticed privacy.

  In a corner, screened from the rest of the room, he found Ruth Carruthers, a middle-aged man in evening dress, and a Chinaman. He wondered fleetingly if this was the man who had come to buy the ivory elephant. The Oriental, however, was heavily bandaged about the head, and pale. His cousin sprang to her feet with a cry.

  She wore an evening dress of dark brown which accentuated the white of arms and throat. Hollis saw that her eyes lighted warmly as she caught his hand. He glared hostilely at the other, who had risen courteously. He saw a striking-looking individual, evidently a foreigner, with monocle and carefully tended mustache.

  “Oh, I’m so glad!” cried the girl. “They have let you go, haven’t they, Andy?”

  Hollis scowled.

  “No thanks to this gentleman that they have,” he said shortly. “May I ask what he is doing here alone with you at this time of night, Ruth? Now that your aunt is sick, I consider myself your guardian.”

  Ruth laughed suddenly, deliriously; the Frenchman smiled. Hollis scowled the more.

  “Why, Andy!” she exclaimed, “you know you told me to invite M. de Bacourt to the theater.” Her voice softened quickly. “It was—was right splendid of you, when you were in such trouble. I would have gone with you, only M. de Bacourt said they would release you at once. And we had to come here so that monsieur could see Wong Li. Wong has been here, waiting for someone ever since he left the hospital.”

  Hollis’s glance flew to the Oriental. The bandage had kept him from recognizing Wong Li. He seated himself beside the girl at the table and stared blankly at the other three.

  “You had no trouble, I hope,” observed the professor in fair English, “in satisfying the police? I made it clear to Mrs. Hoffman that you had assisted me in recovering her sapphires.”

  “She failed to make that clear to the police,” retorted Hollis. “And the Lemoire gang gave some information against me.”

  “Ah, that I did not know. A word from me will release you,” said the Frenchman quickly. “I regret that we could not have appeared before the police, but we had important information to get from Wong Li.”

  “More important than keeping me out of a cell?”

  Hollis glanced from the impassive face of the Chinaman to the others.

  “Suppose,” he suggested to De Bacourt, “that you tell me three things. You seem to know what’s happening to me. First—why I am accused of shooting Wong Li, when I am fully aware that I never did anything of the kind. Second—why I am credited with the possession of valuable jewelry that I have never laid eyes on. Third—why you and my cousin know more about my affairs than I do.”

  “They think you shoot me?” Wong Li spoke suddenly. “That must be because you visit at my shop two minutes before somebody else shoot at me. You left an envelope there—eh? They find that, other man fire at me and run out with suitcase, just same you.”

  “All right,” nodded Hollis. He caught Ruth’s glance on him and was surprised to read warm sympathy in her expressive face.

  “Andy,” she said impulsively, “you must forgive me for treating you the way I did. But you were so—so mean to me at Aunt Emma’s when I tried to win your confidence—”

  De Bacourt leaned forward smilingly.

  “It is a riddle for you, is it not, monsieur? You do not know me? I am a professor of the college where mademoiselle hopes to study. Also, I have some knowledge of the Orient, and—what you call—a fad for the psychology of the East—the criminal mind. Wong Li is known to me—he has often sold me antiques. Eh bien, on Monday mademoiselle appeared before me with a tale of distress, and a note to introduce. In a gift from you to your aunt she had found a collection of valuable sapphires.”

  Hollis turned to his cousin in surprise. She nodded.

  “You remember the ivory elephant, Andy. When you said someone had tried to steal it, I was curious. I love Oriental puzzles, and before long I found the concealed pockets which contained a dozen splendid sapphires. I couldn’t imagine how they got there. I took them out to test you—see if you would miss them. I saw about Wong Li’s injury in the paper, and I knew that you had bought it at his store.

  “It was such an exciting mystery, and you were so rude, I couldn’t ask your help. When you said you paid only fifteen dollars for it, and snubbed me, I guessed you knew nothing about the jewels. But I was real mad at you. So I went to monsieur for advice.”

  Into Hollis’s memory flashed the repeated demand of his unknown customer.

  “I was just all on fire with curiosity,” continued Ruth eagerly, “because I reckoned the sapphires were those stolen from Mrs. Hoffman. When I took them to Professor de Bacourt, Monday, he offered to restore them to Mrs. Hoffman, whom he knew. Then he promised to take me to Wong Li and find out how the jewels came to be in the elephant.”

  “Monsieur,” interrupted De Bacourt, with a humorous lift of the eyebrow, “the curiosity of a woman and a running brook are alike. Both have no end.”

  Wong Li’s heavy voice broke in on him.

  CHAPTER XII

  The Last Word

  “I tell you how that happen,” he said. “You listen. Monday afternoon Fo Lon, butler fellow for Miss Lemoire, who are good customer with me, come to my shop. He bring ivory elephant with stand, much like one I had, and tell me to keep it for Miss Lemoire, not to sell. So I put too high price on Miss Lemoire’s Ming elephant.”

  “I kn
ow you did,” nodded Hollis, who was beginning to see light.

  “Yes, Mr. Hollis. This fellow Fo Lon him suspect valuables hidden in Ming elephant—hear Miss Lemoire talking to brother. So we look. Chinaman has good eyes.” He smiled fleetingly. ”We find jewels, Fo Lon and I. Fo Lon said Lemoires stole sapphires. Just then you come in door and we put elephant with jewels back on stand, to be secretly hidden. I watch, because Fo Lon is low-caste thief, without honor. Then you buy other, inferior animal.“

  “When Wong went back for your change,” interrupted the girl eagerly, “neither Wong nor Fo suspected at first you had the one with the jewels, you took one of the elephants and ran out. Fo Lon seized the chance to carry off what he thought was the Ming curio—which he put in his suitcase. Wong tried to prevent him, and Fo Lon shot him, wounding him in the head. Then Fo Lon must have run to the railway station around the corner, and taken the first train out, which was the same you were on.”

  “And incidentally tried to break into my suitcase when he found out that he had the wrong beast—knowing I must have the other,” concluded Hollis. “By the way, that’s what started Gladys Lemoire on my trail. She saw me looking at my purchase in the car, and recognized it.”

  Wong Li raised his hand blandly.

  “Fo Lon,” he said somberly, “is one who betrayed both his master and his friend—myself. Evil comes to those without honor.”

  Hollis laughed.

  “All clear,” he assented. “I had the jewels in my bag all the time—Great Scott! That’s why when Fo Lon found out the mistake he made he tried to get me to sell him my elephant and stand when he returned to town. I’ll bet Fo Lon’s the one who was going to meet me here to bargain for it.”

  He smiled at the girl, whose eyes were dancing with excitement. The room echoed with the murmur of voices, and the pad-pad of silk-clad waiters, De Bacourt’s smile faded as Wong Li turned to Hollis, dark eyes narrowed to a pinpoint, his slender hands clenched on the table.

  “Fo Lon will be here to meet you?” Wong asked softly. “Tonight?”