by Otto Penzler
“My partner couldn’t see it at first,” said Hawkins, assuming that air of a man who can say “I-told-you-so.” “But I kept after him, and finally he gave in. The day has passed when old fashioned merchandising methods are going to pay for overhead. It’s an age of keener competition, a more sound appreciation of values. It’s time for an innovation in the jewelry trade.
“Look at our own case. Since we put in that window display we’ve sold exactly three hundred per cent as much merchandise. People pause to look at the display because it’s unusual. The woman who pauses with her husband or father sees something that looks attractive. She wants to buy one like it. That’s the way clothes are sold. Why not jewelry?”
He paused for an answer.
There was none.
Dan Seller drawled a comment.
“Your observation about keen competition is interesting,” he said. “How does it affect the crooks, Inspector?”
Inspector Brame started, flashed his hard eyes upon the younger man.
“Huh?” he said.
“I was wondering,” said Dan Seller, “if crooks weren’t feeling the depression, and turning to more efficient methods. I wondered, for instance, if they’d overlook the challenge of that unique window display.”
Inspector Brame cleared his throat importantly.
“The police,” he said, “can also become more efficient, as the necessity arises.”
Hawkins added a comment.
“And don’t think for a minute that we didn’t take some pretty elaborate precautions before we decided on such spectacular advertising,” he said. “We’ve got things fixed so that it’s a physical impossibility for a crook to enter our store and get away with anything!”
Dan Seller’s voice showed tolerant amusement.
“Really?” he drawled.
“Yes, really!” snapped Hawkins.
Dan Seller yawned, patted his lips with four polite fingers.
“Impossible,” he said, “is rather a big word.”
And he walked away.
Behind him, four pair of eyes regarded him with varying expressions. In each pair of eyes was a certain wonderment. In one was amusement, in at least one the dawning of a suspicion.
Inspector Brame was a hard man, and no respecter of persons.
II
Dan Seller, his overcoat turned up, felt hat pulled down, left the club, turned into the gusts of the windy night.
Apparently, he was just taking a walk.
He strolled for half a mile, leaning against the rush of the raw wind. A cruising cab solicited his patronage. Dan Seller climbed in. He went to one of the largest and most fashionable of the transient hotels, where hundreds of visitors checked in and checked out every day.
He secured a room under the name of Rodney Stone, was shown to his room, gave certain claim checks to the hotel porter. Half an hour later his light suitcases and hand trunks had arrived. They had been claimed under the checks from the baggage storage company.
To all appearances Dan Seller, masquerading as Rodney Stone, was merely a business man whose occupation necessitated frequent business trips. He had the poise of a seasoned traveller; the complete boredom of hotel life which characterizes one who is much on the road.
It was after midnight when Rodney Stone stepped from his room. He left the hotel by a back stairway and service entrance. He slipped unobtrusively into an apartment hotel which was within two doors of the transient hotel, and the transformation was complete.
The minute Dan Seller stepped into the Maplewood Hotel he became a different and very definite personality altogether. The boy at the desk nodded to him. The girl at the telephone gave him a smile.
Dan Seller was Dan Seller, the millionaire clubman, man about town no longer. He had become The Patent Leather Kid, and he had a definite niche in the underworld.
“You been away, Kid,” said the elevator boy.
Dan Seller nodded.
Here, in this new world, every one called him “Kid.” There was nothing disrespectful about it. It was a mark of honor, a badge of respect. The very voice of the elevator boy was deferential.
“Have a good trip?” asked the elevator boy as he shot The Kid up to the penthouse apartment.
“So, so,” said Seller.
He took a key from his pocket, and, in so doing, opened his coat, disclosing that he was attired in evening clothes, that his shirt bosom sparkled with diamond studs. His shoes were patent leather.
He entered his apartment. The telephone was ringing as he closed the door behind him. He answered it at once. The voice of the girl at the switchboard reached his ears.
“Kid, I didn’t want to tell you before the gang down here, but there’s been a woman trying to reach you for the last two days. She says it’s life and death. She’s left a number. Says to call it and ask for Kate. What’ll I do?”
Dan Seller squinted his eyes in thought for a moment.
“Give me the connection,” he said.
“Okay,” the girl answered.
There sounded the whir of dialed numbers, then the noise made by a ringing of the telephone bell at the other end of the line. Then a man’s voice.
“Kate there?” asked The Kid, making his voice sound casual.
“Who’s speaking?”
“The Prince of Wales,” said The Kid, “and don’t wait too long to think it over because these transatlantic calls run into money.”
He heard the man’s voice, more distant this time.
“Is Kate here?”
Then a woman’s voice, sounding just audible.
“I’ll take the call for her. I’m a friend of hers.”
The banging noise was made by steps coming over a wooden floor, Seller decided. Then a woman’s voice said “Hello!” That voice was filled with suspense and excitement.
“The Kid speaking,” said Dan Seller.
The woman’s voice came to his ears now, low, vibrant, confidential, as though she was holding her mouth close to the transmitter.
“Listen, I’ve got to see you. Where, when, how? Quick!”
Dan Seller spoke without hesitation.
“Go to the Ship Café. Get a private room. Leave word with the head waiter that you’re not to be disturbed, and that if anybody asks him for the number of Kate’s room he’s to tell that person the number of the private dining room. G’bye.”
And The Kid hung up.
He was slightly irritated. This call undoubtedly was of grave import in the life of the young woman who had left her number. That much was apparent from the anguish of her voice, the tremulous words with which the message had been conveyed. But Dan Seller had not wished to waste time keeping after-midnight appointments with strange young women who thought their errands were of life and death. He had been interested in studying the possibilities of the new window display at Hawkins & Grebe’s Jewelry Store.
However, Dan Seller, in his new character of The Patent Leather Kid, was always on the lookout for adventure, and anything sufficiently out of the usual called him with an irresistible attraction.
He took a taxi to the Ship Café.
He knew the head waiter, the manager, most of the waiters. He entered by a back door, slipped into a curtained room and rang a bell.
Within a matter of minutes the head waiter answered that summons.
“Hello, Kid!”
“Hello, Jack!”
“What can I do for you tonight, Kid?”
“A moll, coming in soon. She’ll give the name of Kate and ask for a room. I want to look her over…”
“She’s here already. Been here ten minutes. In room nineteen,” said the head waiter.
The Kid whistled.
“That,” he said, “is fast work. It looks almost as though…”
“As though what?” asked the head waiter, interested.
“As though the party had rather expected I’d pick this joint as the place for a meeting,” vouchsafed The Kid. “Get me another room, Jack. Got one
adjoining?”
“Nope. They’re occupied. Give you sixteen.”
“Okay.”
“Want to let the broad know you’re in?”
“Nix.”
“Okay, Chief. How’s tricks? You been away, ain’t you?”
“Just on a business trip, Jack. I’m going on up. You stall the moll along, and send me a waiter into sixteen.”
“Okay.”
Dan Seller went to room sixteen, drew the curtain. Three minutes later a deferential waiter appeared with a menu, a glass of water, knives, forks and spoons, napkins, butter.
“Two?” he asked. And then started to set two places at the table without waiting for an answer.
“The order comes when I ring,” said Dan Seller.
“Yes, sir.”
The waiter glided from the room. Dan Seller picked up the water, the butter, the napkins, knives and forks. He threw one of the napkins over his arm, giving himself the appearance of a professional waiter, bowed his head slightly, and stepped into the corridor.
It was but a few feet to room nineteen.
He pushed aside the door and curtain, entered the room.
The girl who was seated at the table looked up with a face that was flushed, eyes that were starry, lips that were half parted. She saw the figure of a man, slightly stooped, bearing knives, forks, water, butter. The face underwent a rapid change of expression. She frowned.
“I’m served already. I’m waiting.” Dan Seller straightened and met her eyes.
The eyes were brown. The lids were slightly reddened, as though she had been weeping. The face was young. So much of the figure as was visible across the table showed that she was attractive. A silken leg protruded from beneath the folds of the table cloth and the view was generous and enjoyable.
Both hands were in sight.
Dan Seller set the water and butter on the table, dumped the silverware into a pile, kicked the door shut with his heel, and let his hard gray eyes bore into those of the girl.
“Keep your hands in sight,” he said.
She gasped.
The Patent Leather Kid gripped the table with his hands, swung it to one side. The girl remained motionless, frightened, staring.
Without the concealment of the table, the significance of the shapely limb which had been protruding from beneath the cloth became apparent. She was seated, skirts elevated sufficiently far to be out of the way of her snatching hand when it should drop to the butt of the pearl-handled automatic which nestled within the rolled top of the silk hose.
The Patent Leather Kid regarded the weapon.
“So that’s the game, eh?”
She flushed as the concealment of the table vanished, but was mindful of the admonition to keep her hands elevated.
“No,” she rasped, “that’s not it. I just had that gun in case—”
“In case what?” asked Dan Seller.
“In case something happened.”
“Well,” said Seller, “it’s happened.”
And he leaned forward, possessed himself of the gun.
“Now,” he said, “you can lower your hands.”
She grasped at the hem of her skirt, pulled it down, raised her eyes.
“You’re The Kid?”
“Yes,” said Seller. “What’s the lay?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Nothing now, except that I’m going for a ride. I was sent to frame you. I didn’t want to. They gave me my choice between putting the finger on you or getting framed for a rap. I was to put you on the spot. Now I’ve ranked the job and they’ll rub me out.”
Dan Seller drew up a chair, sat down.
“Who will?”
“Beppo the Greek, of course. He’s sore at you over that Carmichael job. Him and his mob are out to get you.”
Dan Seller frowned.
“Beppo the Greek is becoming a source of annoyance. Would your safety be insured if you could tell him exactly where The Kid will be within exactly sixty minutes?”
She nodded.
“Sure. If it was a place where they could give him the works. That’s what I was sent for.”
The Patent Leather Kid lit a cigarette. He regarded the glowing end of it speculatively. Then he smiled.
“Okay, sister,” he said. “I’m not The Kid. I’m the man he sent. The Kid ain’t fool enough to walk into a trap like this. But he’s fool enough to trust me, and I’ve got it in for him on a personal matter. The Kid is going to be knocking over Hawkins & Grebe’s Jewelry Store in exactly sixty minutes. He’s working on the joint now. Now that tip ain’t for the bulls. It’s just a private tip for Beppo the Greek. Do you get me?”
Her eyes studied his face.
“If that’s on the level it means an out for me,” she said.
“It’s on the level,” said The Patent Leather Kid, and extracted the shells from the automatic, skidded it along the floor to a corner of the room, grinned at her, and opened the door.
“Tell Beppo the Greek I’m expecting a cut,” he said. “There’s something I want, a favor. I’ll ask for it when The Kid’s rubbed out. You can hand it to him as the play came up, The Kid was wise. He sent me. I’ve got a score to settle. I’m putting him on the spot, not for the bulls, but for the mob. G’bye.”
And Dan Seller banged the door shut, sprinted down the corridor and vanished into dining room sixteen.
Five seconds later he heard rapid steps walking past the curtained doorway of his dining room. Two minutes later the headwaiter sent him word that the mysterious woman in number nineteen had left quite hurriedly.
III
Dan Seller used a pair of long-nosed pliers to disconnect the wire which led from the barred window. That wire was one of the newer types of burglar alarms. A certain amount of current must flow through it regularly in order to keep the alarm inactive. Let that wire be cut, or the current short-circuited at any point and the alarm would ring.
Dan Seller performed a very difficult operation with those long-nosed pliers of his, and, when he had finished, the current was flowing just as it had been, yet the barred window offered no resistance to entrance save in the bars.
Those bars were speedily cut through. Dan Seller slid through the opening, dropped to the floor of the interior.
Apparently this interior was what would have been expected in the rear of a jewelry store. But The Patent Leather Kid knew that modern science has baited many clever traps for the criminal, and he governed himself accordingly.
In this game of matching his wits with the law, The Patent Leather Kid found his most fascinating recreation. He gambled with life and liberty, and enjoyed the game.
He dared not use a flashlight. He knew that delicate cells of selenium were advantageously placed so that the slightest change in the amount of light which impinged upon them would cause a change in electric current over a wire, would, in turn, ring an alarm at the headquarters of the detective agency which safeguarded the jewelry store.
The Kid knew that there would be some arrangement by which the early daylight would not set off this alarm. He started out to explore.
He finally found his lead in a narrow channel through which reflected rays from an electric sign were directed against an opposite wall. The principle was the same, only shadow instead of light served to give the alarm.
The Kid found a piece of ground glass, held that in front of his flashlight so that there was a generally diffused flow of light with no sharp pencil of brilliant illumination. And, as he glided in front of the selenium cells, he held the ground glass and the flashlight in such a manner that he cast no perceptible shadow as he made the passage, the diffused light taking the place of the reflected light which came from the sign.
The vault represented a more difficult problem. It had been cunningly constructed. But the burglar alarm was antiquated. The Kid found that within fifteen seconds of the time he started to work on the vault, and the burglar alarm was utterly valueless within ten seconds after it had been
located.
When it came to the combination, The Kid had an invention of his own. It was a device by which an electric current was sent through the mechanism of the lock, the dials slowly twirled. Whenever there was the slightest interruption in that current, the slightest jar within the safe, that fact was communicated via the electric current to the ears of The Kid.
It took him fifteen minutes to get the door of the vault open and to inspect the contents.
The Patent Leather Kid was not in the least interested in the glittering array of gems which shone from the interior. He had learned long ago to restrain any natural cupidity which he might have.
He searched patiently and thoroughly, with gloved fingers going through the stock, searching, segregating, choosing. At length he selected three things, a wrist watch studded with diamonds, a necklace of pearls, and a pendant of platinum and diamonds with blood red rubies flanking either side.
When he had selected these things he looked at his wrist watch.
He found that he still had time to do that which he wished to do.
He moved more boldly toward the wrapping department of the big establishment. One does not customarily safeguard the package department of a store with the same elaborate protection given to jewels.
The Patent Leather Kid found a typewriter, and he addressed shipping labels to the individuals to whom he had determined to present the articles. He wrapped them securely, weighed them on scales which he found in the shipping department, and even went so far as to stamp them with postage stamps taken from the stamp drawer of the jewelry concern.
When he had done these things, Dan Seller, chuckling, went to a rear window on the second story of the building and surveyed the darkened shadows of the alleyway.
He found that the darkness impeded his vision, so he made one more requisition upon the stock of the jewelry store, a handsome and expensive pair of night glasses.
He focused these, raised them to his eyes, and contemplated the shadows.
The result was doubly gratifying.
He could see the form of a man crouching in the dark blob of shadow at the corner of a fence. This man was holding something in his hands. It looked like a snub-nosed telescope, supported on a three-legged stand.
