CHAPTER XXII
A THIEF TO CATCH A THIEF
IT was not a matter of much difficulty for Trent, still Mr. Maltby, tobecome acquainted with male members of the set in San Francisco whichMiss Thompson affected. He knew that she dined each night at a cafewhich attracted many motion picture people. And he learned that therewas a producer from Los Angeles now looking for easy money in SanFrancisco who was very friendly with her. Since this man Weiller waseasy of approach to such as seemed prosperous it was not difficult forTrent to strike up an acquaintance one day at the St Charles. Weillerfirst of all, as became a loyal native son, spoke of climate. Then witheven greater enthusiasm he spoke of the movies as money-makers. Hewanted to get a little money together, put on a feature and sell it. Hearranged all the details on the back of a St. Charles menu card. He hadan idea which, if William Reynard of New York could learn of it, wouldbring that eminent producer of features a cool million.
Anthony Trent hung back with the lack of interest a man with money toinvest may properly exhibit. Weiller was sure he had money. He lived ata first class hotel, he dined well and he was a "dresser" to be admired.Also Weiller had seen a sizeable roll of bills on occasion.
There came a night when at Anthony Trent's expense, Miss Norah Thompson,Weiller and a svelte girl called by Weiller California's leading"anjenou," partook of a sumptuous repast. Had it not been that Trent wasout for business the whole thing would have disgusted him. Weiller andNorah were blatantly vulgar and intent on impressing their host. The"anjenou" said a hundred times that he was like one of her dearest"gentlemen friends" now being featured by the Jewbird Film company. Herfriend was handsome but she liked Anthony's nose better.
With coffee came the great scheme. Weiller wanted to make a five reelfeature of the Andrew Apthorpe murder. Norah Thompson was to play thelead!
"It'll knock 'em dead!" cried Weiller. "Gee! What press agent stuff!" Hehelped himself with a hand trembling from excitement to another gulp ofwine. "My boy, you're in luck. We'll go into this thing on equal shares.I'm putting up fifty thousand dollars and you shall put up a like sum.We'll clear up five hundred per cent."
"You've put up fifty thousand in actual cash?" Trent demanded.
"That's what I capitalize my knowledge of pictures at," Weillerexplained.
"George is one of the best known producers in the game," Miss Thompsonsaid, a trifle nettled at what she thought was a smile of contempt onthe other's face. "He don't need your money. I've got enough in this bagright here to produce it." She waived a black moire bag before Trent'seyes.
George Weiller looked at her and frowned. What a foolish project, hethought, to spend one's own money when here was a victim.
"You keep that, little one," he said generously. "We're gentlemen; wedon't want to take a lady's money. We'll talk it over later."
A keen salesman, he noted Trent was growing restive. If the matter werepersisted in he might either take a fright or take offence. All this heexplained later. "You see, Norah," he remarked, "that guy has a chin onhim that means you can't drive him."
"He's got a cold, nasty eye," said Norah who was not without her justfears of strangers.
"I'm going to play the game so he'll beg me to let him in on it,"Weiller boasted. "I know the way to play that sort of bird."
The negotiations resulted in Trent's seeing a great deal more of thisprecious couple than he cared for. The "anjenou" finding her charms madeno impression on him was rarely included in the little dinners andexcursions.
It was when Trent had met Miss Thompson a dozen times that he consultedthe notes he had made on each occasion. It was a method of workingunique so far as he could learn. It might yield no results in a thousandcases. In the thousand and first it might be the clue. It was nothingmore than a list of the costumes he had seen the ex-nurse wear.
On going through the list he saw that whereas Miss Thompson had worn anew dress on each occasion of the dinners in public restaurants withshoes and hosiery to harmonize or match the color scheme of her gown shehad always carried the black moire bag. And since it was a fashion ofthe moment for women to own many and elaborate bags of this sort tomatch or harmonize with the color scheme or details of their costumes,it seemed odd that Norah Thompson, who had been buying everything thatseemed modish, should fail to follow the way of the well dressed.
The bag as he remembered it was about seven inches wide and perhaps teninches long. It was closed by a silver buckle and a pendant of some sortswung at each corner. Concentrating upon it he remembered they were notbeads but made of the same material as the bag itself and in size aboutthat of an English walnut. He called to mind the fact that he had neverseen her without this bag. Why should she cling so closely to what wasalready demode? Were he a genuine detective the problem had been an easyone. He could seize the bag, search it and denounce her. But that wouldentail giving up a priceless stone for a few thousand dollars of reward.
On the pretext of having to buy a present for a Chicago cousin, AnthonyTrent led the willing Weiller into one of the city's exclusivedepartment stores. Weiller was anxious to do anything and everything forhis new friend. That night he, Norah and some other friends were to beTrent's guests at a very recherche dinner. He felt, as the born salesmansenses these things, that he would get his answer that night and that itwould be favorable. And with fifty thousand dollars to play with hemight do anything. Probably the last project would be to make a picturehimself.
Trent asked to be shown the very latest thing in bags. The counter waspresently laden with what the salesgirl claimed to be directimportations from Paris. Trent selected one which he said would suithis cousin.
"You ought to get one for Norah," he said. "What color is she going towear to-night?"
"Light blue," Weiller returned almost sulkily. He had been with her whenshe purchased the gown and resented the extravagance. If she went on atthat rate there would be nothing left for him. "What they call gentianblue."
The salesgirl picked out an exquisite blue bag on which the lilies ofFrance had been painted daintily by hand. It was further decorated witha border of fleur-de-lis in seed pearls.
"This is the biggest bargain we have," the girl assured them. "Thegovernment won't allow any more to be brought over. It's marked down toa hundred dollars." She looked at George Weiller, "Will you take it?"
"I'm not sure it's the shade my friend wants," he prevaricated. Inreality he cursed Trent for dragging him into a proposition which couldcost such a sum. He had not a tenth of the amount upon him.
"I'll take it," Trent said carelessly, pushing a hundred dollar billover the counter, "I've plenty of cousins and girls always like thesethings."
Weiller sighed enviously. He often remarked if he could capitalize hisbrains he would pay an income tax of a million dollars; but that did notprevent him from being invariably short of ready money.
He was looking forward to the dinner Trent was to give him and hisfriends that night. Besides Norah there were five other moving picturepeople who were to be used to impress Trent with their knowledge of thegame and the money he could make out of it. They would be amply repaidby the dinner; for there are those who serve the screened drama whosesalaries are small. These ancilliary salesmen and women were to meet athalf past six in the furnished flat Norah Thompson had rented. Therethey were to be drilled.
It was while they were receiving the finishing touches that AnthonyTrent knocked upon the door, blandly announcing that he had brought anautomobile to take Norah and George to the hotel where he was staying.
Instantly the gathering registered impatience to start. Weiller, alwayssuspicious, feared that Trent might think it curious that so many wereengaged in earnest conversation, and he wondered if their voices hadcarried to the hall where Trent had waited.
Suave and courteous, Trent made himself at home among the crowd ofpeople who were, so they informed him, world famous in a screen sense.
Trent, as usual, had timed things accurately. It was part of his schemethat Norah
should want to banish from his mind the idea that there hadbeen any collusion. She was bright and vivacious in her manner towardhim.
"You are a sweet man," she exclaimed, "I'm dreadfully hungry--andthirsty. Come on boys and girls."
He noticed that although arrayed in a new costume of blue, she clung toher back moire bag. He called Weiller aside while Norah mixed a lastcocktail for the men.
"George," he whispered, "that blue bag I bought is just the thing togive Norah." George felt a parcel thrust into his hand. "It's a littlepresent from me to you and she mustn't know I bought it."
"She shan't from me," Weiller said almost tremulously. Nothing couldhave happened more delightfully. Not ten minutes ago in the presence ofhis even less prosperous motion picture colleagues, Norah had called hima tightwad who didn't think enough of the woman he was to marry to buyher a ring. He explained that easily enough by saying nothing in SanFrancisco was good enough for her and that he was ordering one from NewYork. This present from a rich and careless spender would proveaffluence no less than affection. "Thanks, old man, a million times."
Norah was at the door when he presented it. She was genuinely affectedby the gift. Perhaps her thanks were even warmer when one of her friendspicked up the sales slip which had fluttered to the ground and readaloud the price. "I'm tired of that black bag," George complained.
"Norah's never going to carry that when she's got this," one of theother women cried. "It matches her gown exactly."
"I took care of that," George said complacently. "I told the saleswomanto get me the best she had but it must be gentian blue."
There seemed a momentary hesitation before the black bag was discarded.To cling to it at such a moment would be to court suspicion. This wasTrent's strategy. Her manner was not lost upon one of the others, acharacter woman named Richards.
"Why, George," she laughed, "I believe a former lover gave Norah thatbag and she hates to part with it. I was in a picture once where theheroine carried the ashes of her first sweetheart around with her. I'dlook into it if I was you."
Nonchalantly Norah emptied the contents of the black bag into the newone. Then she pitched the old one onto a chair.
"Now for the eats," she said cheerily.
Anthony Trent, Master Criminal Page 22
