CHAPTER XVIII
THE GREAT BLACK BIRD
THERE was exactly one week to the night of the fancy dress dance at theUplands from the time that the Northend sisters gave the abstractor somuch information. Every moment of it was carefully taken up by thatcalculating gentleman.
For example, on the following morning, Wednesday he played a round withthe club's champion, an amateur of some skill. Dangerfield posing forthe moment as a warm admirer of the local player, followed the two ontheir match, betting freely on Blackhall, his clubmate. Also, heviolated every rule of the royal and ancient game by speaking as Trentmade his strokes. Never in his ten years of golf had Trent played such agame. It was characteristic of him to do his best when conditions wereworst.
When the game was over at the thirteenth hole Dangerfield turned crosslyto Blackhall.
"You played a rotten game!" he said.
"I never played a better," that golfer exclaimed. "The whole troublewith me was that I was up against a better man."
It may be observed that Blackhall was a sportsman.
Dangerfield was astonished and gratified next day when he was essayingsome approaching to find Trent watching his efforts in a not unfriendlyspirit.
"The trouble with you," said the younger player graciously, "is that youchop your stroke instead of carrying through. I'll show you what Imean."
In the half hour he devoted to Dangerfield he improved the millionaire'sgame six strokes a round.
"It would be no fun to play with you," he said when Dangerfield againinvited him, "but I hate to see a man trying to approach as you did whena little help could put him right."
Thus were any Dangerfield suspicions disarmed. He helped him once ortwice more and on every occasion insisted that the hovering attendant besent away.
"Your keeper," said Trent genially, "puts me off my stroke."
"Keeper," grinned Dangerfield, "I'm not as bad as that. He's my valet."
Two days before the ball at the Uplands it was observed that AnthonyTrent visited the Nineteenth Hole more frequently and stayed therelonger. He was playing less golf now. The bartender confided in Mr.Dangerfield, who was also a consistent patron, that he was drinkingheavily.
"I guess," said the tender of the bar with the sapience of his kind,"that he's one of these quiet periodic souses. They tell me he has thestuff sent up to his room."
"Too bad!" said Mr. Dangerfield, shaking his head as he ordered another.
It was true that to Trent's room much dry gin and lemon juice found itsway, together with siphons of iced carbonic. The carbonic and the lemonjuice was drunk since a belated heat wave was visiting the Sunset ParkHotel. The gin found its way into his flower laden window boxes, whichshould have bloomed into juniper berries. Trent liked a drink as well asany other golfer, but he found that it just took the keen edge off hisnerves. He was less keen to realize danger and too ready to meet a riskwhen he drank. As a conscientious workman he put it behind him whenprofessionally engaged.
On the night of the ball he was, to quote a bell boy, dead to the world,which proves that bell boys may be deceived by appearances. On the nightof the ball he was keyed up to his highest personal efficiency.
Physically he was at his best. His muscles were always hard and his windgood. The resisting exercises he practised maintained the former and alittle running every day aided the latter.
The great costume ball was to take place on the third of September, whenthe sun would set at half-past six. The Uplands was no more than a halfhour motor spin distant from the hotel. The time set was half-past nine,which meant few would be there before ten. It was plain then that Mrs.Jerome Dangerfield would not commence her preparations for dressinguntil after the dinner. She was devoted to the pleasures of the table,as her maid lamented when she harnessed her mistress within her corsets.
Looking from his window, Trent saw that the sun had retired behindclouds early in the afternoon. Darkness would not be delayed, and thesuccess of his venture depended upon this.
Reviewing the amazing events of the evening of September the third, itis only fair to let Jerome Dangerfield relieve his feelings in a letterto his closest friend, the president of the First Agricultural Bank ofNew York.
"You were right in warning me not to bring the Mt. Aubyn ruby up to thisplace. It was Adele's fault. She wanted it for the wedding. The damnedthing has gone, Steve, vanished into thin air. If you told me what I'mgoing to tell you, I should say you were crazy. The people here and thefool police thought I'd been drinking. I'd had three or four cocktails,but what is that to me--or you? I was absolutely in possession of mysenses.
"We dined early and we dined alone. At eight I went down for the jewelsAdele wanted to wear. The ruby was the _piece de resistance_ of course.I went down my own private stairway as usual and unlocked the doorleading from it to the hotel lobby. Devlin is here, and O'Brien, butthey were both outside keeping tabs on strangers. The papers have playedthis costume ball up so much that every crook in the land knew what wehad to offer in the way of loot. Graham, the hotel clerk, came with meto the private stairway and swears he pushed the door to as I started togo up the stairs. And he swears also that, although it wasn't lighted aswell as usual, there was nobody in sight. They are steep stairs, Steve,but they save me rubbing shoulders with every man or woman who mightwant to get acquainted in the public elevators; and, naturally, I wasn'tcarrying a fortune where any crook could get a crack at me.
"Read this carefully. I was on the fifteenth step of the flight oftwenty-two steps when the thing happened. The light was dim because oneof the bulbs wasn't working and the only illumination came from a redlight at the head of the stairway.
"I was holding the jewel box in both hands resting it almost on my chestwhen the thing happened. There was suddenly a noise that might have beenmade by the beating of wings and something swooped out of nowhere andhit me on my wrists with such violence that I went backwards down thestairs and was unconscious for more than ten minutes. On each wristthere is an abrasion that might be caused by the sharp bill of a bigbird. I'm bruised all over and have three stitches over one eye.
"I found the box lying on one of the steps closed as I had held it. _Theonly thing that was missing was the Mt. Aubyn Ruby!_
"Devlin and O'Brien have all kinds of theories but I told them I wantedthe stone back and if they didn't get it I wouldn't have them any longerin my employ.
"Devlin says he will swear a car passed him on the Boston road yesterdaycontaining some Continental crooks who used to operate along the Italianand French riviera. He's full of wild fancies and swears I shall get theruby back. I'm not so sure. I've given up the theory that it was a greatblack bat which hit me, but whatever it was it was a stunt pulled by amaster craftsman who is laughing at Devlin and his kind. Can you imaginea crook who would leave behind what this fellow did?
"I wish you'd go to the Pemberton Detective Agency and get them to sendsome one up here capable of handling the situation. I shall be comingdown to New York as soon as I'm able. I'm too much bruised to play golfbut when I do I shall win some of your money. I've had some lessonsfrom a crackerjack golfer up here who goes round the eighteen holes inanything from seventy-two to seventy-eight. My stance was wrong and Iwasn't gripping right."
So much for Jerome Dangerfield. When Devlin and O'Brien examined thescene of the crime they immediately noticed that some fifteen feet abovethe ground level a stained glass window lighted the stairway. "Ofcourse," they exclaimed in unison, "that is the solution." But thetheory did not hold water, as the soil of the flower-beds showed no signof a ladder or any footmark. They had been raked over that afternoon andthe gardener swore no foot but his had set foot in this enclosed gardenwhich supplied the hotel tables with blooms. An examination of thewindow showed no helpful finger marks. It was an indoor job, theydeclared, amending their first opinion.
But they were thorough workmen in their way. For instance: AnthonyTrent, reclining fully dressed across his bed with cigarette stubs andemptied
glasses about him within thirty minutes of the robbery, wasevidently in fear of interruption. An onlooker would have seen him takethree gin fizzes in rapid succession until indeed his face wore a faintflush. He listened keenly when outside his door footsteps lingered. Andhe was snoring alcoholically when the hotel clerk entered, bringing withhim Messrs. Devlin and O'Brien.
"He's been like this for days," Graham, the clerk, asserted. "If itwasn't that he was no trouble and made no noise I should have told himto get out. A pity," Graham shook his head, "one of thepleasantest-spoken men in the hotel, and some golfer, they tell me."
"You leave us," Devlin commanded. "We are acting for the boss and it'llbe all right."
Out of the corner of his eye Trent watched the two trained men make athorough examination of his room and effects. Indeed, their thoroughnessgave him ideas which were later to prove of use. But they drew blank.They examined the two fly rods he had brought with him and a collapsiblelanding net with great care, tapping the handles and balancing the rods.They sighed when nothing was found.
"This guy is all right," said O'Brien.
"I don't know," said Devlin. "He looks a little too much like amoving-picture hero to suit me. He may have it on him."
At this moment Trent sat up with an effort and looked from one to theother of the visitors. As drunken men do, it appeared not easy to getthem in proper focus.
Devlin was not easily put in the wrong. His manner was most respectful.
"Mr. Dangerfield wants you to join him in a little game of bridge," hebegan ingratiatingly.
"Sure," said the inebriate. "Any time at all." He attempted to get up.
"You can't go like this," Devlin assured him. "You'd better sober up abit. Take a cold bath."
O'Brien obligingly turned the water on and five minutes later Devlinassisted him into the tub, while O'Brien examined the clothes he hadleft in his sitting-room.
Then the two left him abruptly and made no more mention of bridge orDangerfield. Trent rolled on the bed chuckling. The honors were his.
The great black bird swooping from nowhere to relieve Dangerfield of hisgreat ruby and other stones of value, to strike that worthy upon hisstrong wrists with such startling effect as to make him fall down adozen steps, was capable of a simpler explanation than he had supposed.
Trent, a week before the robbery, had observed with peculiar attentionthe window leading to Dangerfield's private stairway. He could see oneeasy approach to it and one of greater difficulty. The first wasapproach by a step-ladder. The second was a great arm of the enormoustree that reared its head above the hotel roof. This arm hung down fromthe roof almost twenty feet above the little window. He believed thathis weight would bring it swaying down to the window-ledge. He tried itone moonless night and found the scheme feasible. Already the chillermountain breezes following the heat spell were making visitors closetheir windows. On the evening of the third of September he stole fromhis room by climbing over the roof until he came to the side where thebig tree was. In one hand he held a coil of rope to hold the branch whenhis weight was taken off it. This rope he tied to the iron staple of theshutter outside the window. It was easy to open this.
Dropping silently on to the stairs, he unscrewed the bulb of the lightuntil the staircase was in partial darkness. Tense, he knelt on the edgeof the window and waited for the millionaire. And as the man came insight he suddenly lifted from a step his landing net, the samecollapsible one Devlin had examined with such care. But this time it wasdraped in dark material to conceal its form. The brass rim, sharp andheavy, struck Dangerfield's wrists as he held the box by both hands on alevel with his heart. Into the open net the precious casket fellsilently. Trent was in his room ten minutes ere Dangerfield came toconsciousness. His next move seemed strange and unnecessary. With a usedgolf ball in his pocket, he slid down the veranda posts until he came,by devious routes, to the shed in which the lockers were of those whoused the links. It had long since been closed for the night. Parkerunfastened Dangerfield's locker and placed the ball in the pocket, whereit lay with others of similar age and make.
He was able to return to his room unobserved. It was less than a halfhour afterward that he received his call from the two detectives.
Although he was anxious to get on the links again and breathe the air ofthe pine woods, he was careful not to undo his artistic preparations. Itwas noticed that no more drink was sent to his room. There came insteadice water and strong coffee. He was getting over it, they said. Two dayslater he was out on the links and made a peculiarly bad round, takingten more strokes than usual. Dangerfield watched him from the piazza.One of his arms was in a sling.
"Cut the rough stuff out," said Dangerfield, "that's the second time youtopped your ball."
Trent passed a hand across his face, possibly to hide a smile.
"I guess I'll have to," he returned simply. "It was that damned heatwave that got me going."
* * * * *
It happened that the Dangerfields and Trent returned to New York on thesame train. Devlin and O'Brien were in attendance. Trent noticed thatwhen Devlin's eye fell on the golf bag over his shoulder he frowned. Sofar the ruby had not been recovered and here was a piece of baggage thatmight hold crown jewels. Over Devlin's broad shoulders his master's golfbag was suspended. Cheerily and with respect he approached the crackplayer.
"Let me hold your golf bag, sir," he said with a ready smile. "I'll putit on the train for you."
Trent relinquished it with relief. "Thank you," he returned, "it will bea help."
He had long ago noticed that his own bag and Dangerfield's were alikesave for the initials. They were both of white canvas, bound with blackleather. Watching the smiling Devlin with a well-disguised curiosity, hesaw that Dangerfield's bag had been substituted for his own. Devlin haddone exactly as Trent expected him to do and had, in the doing of it,saved him much trouble.
There were not many people in his Pullman. Dangerfield had his privatecar. None saw Anthony Trent open the ball pouch on the Dangerfield bagand extract therefrom an aged and somewhat dented ball. He balanced italmost lovingly in his hand. Never in the history of the great game hada ball been seen with the worth of this one. And yet he had so cunninglyextracted its core and repaired it when once the Mount Aubyn ruby wasnestling in its strange home that detection was unlikely, even were anexamination made. A porter had the Dangerfield bag and Trent's suitcasewhen Devlin came up to him. He was no longer obliging. He had spentwearisome hours in the privacy of the Dangerfield car examining everypart of the Trent impedimenta. The task had wearied him and had beenfruitless.
"You got the boss's clubs," he said shortly.
Languidly Trent examined what his porter carried.
"You're to blame for it," he answered, and as Mr. Dangerfield came upraised his voice a little. He knew Devlin suspected him, and he sensedthat some day the two would meet as open foes.
"This man of yours," cried Trent, "tried to give me your clubs insteadof my own. I wouldn't lose mine for anything."
"You crack golfers couldn't do anything without your own specially builtclubs," jeered the millionaire, "I believe it's half the game."
Trent smiled.
"There's something in the ball, too," he admitted, and had difficulty inkeeping his face straight.
Mrs. Kinney was delighted to see her employer home again, and hurried toa convenient delicatessen store so that he might be fed. It was when shecame back that her eye caught sight of the brass lamp from Benares.
Where had been the unsightly gap caused by her breaking of the red glasswas now a piece which glittered gaily.
"Why, you've had it mended, sir," she cried. "I feel I ought to pay forit, since it was my carelessness which broke it."
"I'm glad you did," he laughed. "If you hadn't I shouldn't have gotthis." He looked at it with pride. "Do you know, Mrs. Kinney, I likethis one better."
"It makes the other ones look common though," she commented.
"You
're right," he admitted. "I think I shall have to replace them,too."
Anthony Trent, Master Criminal Page 18
