CHAPTER XXVI
ANTHONY TRENT--"PAYING GUEST"
And in the end, he did. When Captain Monmouth suggested that the matchbetween the two be ridden off on his own grounds near Westbury, AnthonyTrent felt certain that he was taken there to be inspected by the othermembers of the household.
Edward Conway was a taciturn, drink-sodden man not inclined to befriendly with the affable Oscar Lindholm. Of the match little need besaid. Trent, a good rider, had engaged to beat a professional at his owngame. Captain Monmouth was the richer by a thousand dollars.
In the billiard room of Elm Lodge after the race Monmouth offered hisguest some excellent Scotch whiskey and grew a little more amiable.
"I presume, Mr. Lindholm," he said, "that you would have no objection tomy man of business looking up your rating in Madison?"
"Go as far as you like. What you will find will be satisfactory."
"It is," Monmouth smiled. "I wish I had half the money that you have. Ishould consider myself rich enough and God knows my tastes are notsimple."
"So you had me investigated?" Trent smiled a little. "When?"
"When we made this match."
Trent had found that the assumption of a name might be dangerous ifinvestigations were made concerning it. It was with his customarycaution that he had taken Lindholm's name. David Moor, his littledetective, often spoke of his cases to his patron. He had spoken atlength about the case of Oscar Lindholm of Madison, Wisconsin. A lumbermillionaire, Oscar came to New York to have a good time in thetraditional manner of wealthy men from far states. A joyride in which aman was run down figured prominently in his first night's entertainment.Fearing that the notoriety of this would affect his politicalaspirations in the west he was sentenced to a month on Blackwell'sIsland under an assumed name. During this month his name could safely beused. The day that Trent became a member of the household at Elm Lodgethe real Lindholm had ten days more to serve.
The wardrobe which Trent had gathered about him was utterly unlike hisown perfect outfit. He conceived Oscar Lindholm to be withoutrefinements and he dressed the part. He could see Captain Monmouthshudder as he came into the drawing room on the night of his arrival.Lindholm wore a Prince Albert coat and wore it aggressively.
His patent leather shoes had those hideous knobs on them wherein a dozentoes might hide themselves.
"My dear man," gasped Monmouth, "we dress for dinner always."
"What's the matter with me?" the indignant guest asked.
"Everything," Monmouth cried. "You look like an undertaker. Fortunatelywe are very much of a size and I have some dress clothes I've neverworn. If Madame de Beaulieu had seen you I don't know what would havehappened."
In ten minutes Trent was back in the drawing room this time arrayed ashe himself desired to be. Madame de Beaulieu had not yet come down.
"Madame is particular then?" Trent hazarded.
"She has a right to be," Monmouth said a little stiffly, "she belongs toone of the great families of France."
Trent, watching him, saw that he believed it. This was a new angle. Shehad deceived Monmouth without a doubt. For the first time, and the last,Trent observed a certain confusion about Captain Monmouth.
"In confidence," he said, "Madame de Beaulieu and I are engaged to bemarried. Captain de Beaulieu and she were negotiating for divorce whenthe war broke out and we must wait therefore."
Trent remembering Moor's report as to the members of the householdpointed to Edward Conway sipping his third cocktail. "That's thechaperon, eh?"
"Madame de Beaulieu's aunt, Madame de Berlaymont, is here," Monmouthsaid affably. "It is our custom to use French at the table as much tostarve the servants of food for gossip as anything else. You speakFrench of course?"
"Not a word," Trent lied promptly, "now if you want to talk Danish orSwedish I'm with you."
Madame de Berlaymont! No doubt the French maid resuming the aunt pose.At the Guestwick affair she had been an English lady of fashion. Hadthey put themselves to this bother simply for his sake? He doubted it.
"We've not been here long," Captain Monmouth went on, "and we know veryfew people. Of course we could easily know the wrong sort but that'sdangerous. To-night one of the most popular and influential men in thecountry is coming."
Captain Monmouth had no time to mention his name for Madame de Beaulieucame in. It was the first time Trent had met her face to face since thatnight at the Guestwick's. He was not without a certain nervousness.Looking at himself in the mirror he seemed so much the product ofperoxide that it must easily be recognized. But Madame de Beaulieu gavehim the most cursory of glances. There was a certain nervousness abouther and Monmouth which had little enough to do with him.
This visit of the influential neighbor plainly was what concerned them.Trent assumed, shrewdly enough, that they were trying, for reasons oftheir own, to break into the wealthy hunting set and had not found iteasy.
Madame de Beaulieu was beautifully gowned. She looked to be a woman ofthirty, whereas when he had first seen her she looked no more than twoand twenty. She carried herself splendidly. Her French accent wasmarked. In the police court she spoke as the English do. When the littlebent, gray-ringletted but distinguished aunt came in, he could notrecognize her at all. Assuredly he had stumbled upon as high class bandof crooks as had ever bothered police. He could sense that they regardedhim as a necessary nuisance whose five hundred dollars a week helped thehousehold expenses. And he knew, instinctively, that Captain Monmouthand Edward Conway would plan to get some of the millions he wassupposed to have.
Trent's Swedish accent was copied faithfully from his janitor who hadbeen of a superior class in his own country before he had fallen tofurnace tending. He did not overdo it. To those listening, he appearedanxious to overcome his accent and lapsed into it only occasionally.
Trent heard Monmouth tell Madame de Beaulieu that Lindholm's dress wasterrible and that by God's grace their measurements were identical orthey would have been disgraced by a guest in a frock coat. He spoke inrapid French and in an undertone but Trent's ears were sharp and had erethis warned him of danger where another man would have heard nothing.
The guest of honor was no less than Conington Warren. He was ripelyaffable. He had come to this dinner more to report on the behavior ofthe strangers occupying Elm Lodge than anything else. A bachelor may sitat a table--or a divorced man--where the married man cannot go. At theMineola Show Madame de Beaulieu had made a good impression on the womenbut they were not sure of her. They had found that Captain Monmouth wasindeed the second son of Sir John Monmouth, Bart, and formerly anofficer of Lancers. He had wasted his money at the race track and thegaming table; but then that was not wholly frowned upon by the youngbloods of American society.
Trent could see that Warren was impressed. There was an air of breedingabout his hostess and host he had not thought to see. The dinner wasgood enough to win his distinguished commendation. He unbent so far asto question Mr. Lindholm about political conditions in his native state.He congratulated Madame de Beaulieu on the single string of exquisitepearls that were about her white throat. And well he might. Cartier hadcharged Peter Chalmers Rosewarne a pretty penny for them not so longago.
Had he but known it he would have been even more interested in the ringwhich Oscar Lindholm wore. It was a plain gold band in which a singleruby blazed. He had never worn it till now. He felt Lindholm mighteasily allow himself the luxuries of which Anthony Trent was denied. Thestone had adorned a stick pin which Conington Warren once loved andlost.
Monmouth's knowledge of horses commended itself to the owner ofthoroughbreds. Two men such as these could not play a part where horseswere concerned. Conington Warren remembered seeing Monmouth win thatgreatest of all steeplechases the Grand National. A _camaraderie_ wasinstantly established. It was a triumphant night. Undoubtedly thehousehold at Elm Lodge would be accepted.
Thinking over the situation in his own room that night Trent admitted hewas puzzled. Why this struggle for socia
l recognition? His first theorythat it was in order to rob wealthy homes was dismissed as untenable. Tobegin with it was an old trick and played out. Directly an alienhousehold in a colony of old friends attracts attention it also attractssuspicion. And if this section of Westbury were to suffer an epidemic ofburglaries Madame de Beaulieu's home would come under policesupervision.
There was little doubt in Trent's mind that this Captain Monmouth was amember of the family he claimed as his. Conington Warren and he hadcommon friends in England. What was his game?
And yet Madame de Beaulieu, or "The Countess," had been notorious as theleading member of a gang of high class crooks. She had even beenfingerprinted and had he believed served a sentence. Not a month beforeshe had taken a hundred thousand dollars' worth of jewels from St.Michael's Mount and an amount of currency not specified. As the dayswent by Trent made other discoveries. He found for one thing that theman whose name he had taken had a reputation for drinking for he found adecanter and siphon ever at his elbow. By degrees he and Edward Conwaygravitated together. This Conway, whose part in the game he could notyet guess, was drinking himself steadily to death.
One morning Trent came upon Conway scribbling on a pad of paper. Hestared hard at what he wrote and then tossed the crumpled paper into anearby open fire. The day was chilly and the blazing logs were cheerful.When Conway was gone Trent retrieved the paper and saw the signature hehad assumed copied to a nicety. Conway probably had his uses as aforger. The gang of the Countess had accomplished notable successes bythese means.
Trent had not been an hour in the house when he discovered that Monmouthand Madame de Beaulieu had eyes only for one another. It was a vulgarintrigue Trent supposed and explained the situation. But as daysucceeded day he found he was wrong. Here were two people, a beautifulwoman accomplished and fascinating and a man of uncommon good looks anddistinction, head over ears in love with one another. Conceivably suchpeople, removed from the conventions of society, would pay smallattention to the _convenances_ and yet he saw no gesture or heard noword in French or English that was not proper. Sometimes he felt he musthave mistaken the aristocratic Madame de Beaulieu and her Empire auntfor the wrong women. But he could not mistake the Rosewarne pearls whichhe had viewed in Cartier's only a week before the mining man bought themas a birthday present for his wife.
The night that Monmouth and the woman he loved were asked to a dinnerparty at Conington Warren's home, Oscar Lindholm had two more days toserve on Blackwell's Island. So far Anthony Trent had accomplishednothing. He had lost a thousand dollars on a horse race, two weeklypayments of five hundred dollars for board and another thousand in smallamounts at auction and pool. He was most certainly a paying guest.
Conway and Trent were not asked. Madame de Berlaymont was indisposed. Itwas the opportunity he had wanted. It was Conway's habit to sleep fromabout ten in the evening until midnight. Every night since Trent hadbeen at Elm Lodge the so-called secretary had done so. In a large wingchair with an evening paper unopened on his knees he would fall intosleep. He could be counted upon therefore not to interrupt. The servantsretired no later than ten to their distant part of the rambling house.Only Madame de Berlaymont might be in the way. In reality this amiablechaperone was a woman in the early twenties Trent believed and couldnot be counted upon to remain unmoved if she heard strange noises in thenight as of burglars moving.
Trent already knew the lay-out of the house. It was just past ten whenthe servants went to bed and Conway sunk in his two hours' slumber thatOscar Lindholm went exploring.
Stepping very carefully by Madame de Berlaymont's room he listened along while. No sound met his ears. Then with a practiced skill he turnedthe door knob and entered an unlighted room. Still there was no sound ofbreathing. And when he switched on the light the apartment was empty.The indisposition which had kept the aged lady two days confined to herchamber was plainly a ruse. Trent could return to it later.
Never before to-night had Trent carried an automatic pistol and beenprepared to use it if necessary. He was now in a house whose inmateswere, like himself, shrewd, resourceful and strong. For all he knewConway might long ago have suspected him.
Madame de Beaulieu and her chaperone occupied the bedrooms of one wingof the low rambling house. In the other wing Monmouth, Lindholm andConway slept. Over this bachelor wing as it was called were some smallerrooms where the four maid servants slept.
The rooms of Madame de Beaulieu were beautifully furnished. It was asuite, with salon, bedroom and a large bathroom. Trent determined toallow himself an hour and a half. Skilled as he was in searching he felthe would discover something in those ninety minutes.
But the time had almost gone by and he was baffled. There was nothing.He probed and sounded and measured as he had seen Dangerfield'sdetectives do but nothing rewarded him. What jewels Madame de Beaulieuowned she had probably worn. But how dare she wear at a dinner partywhere the Rosewarne's might conceivably be, so well known a string ofpearls? And what of those other baubles which were missing from St.Michael's home?
A carved ivory jewel box on her dressing table revealed only a ball thesize of a golf ball made of silver paper. She had begged him to save thetinsel in the boxes of cigarettes he smoked so that she might bind thismass until it became worthy of sending to the Red Cross.
Anthony Trent balanced the silver sphere in his hand. Naturally it washeavy. "If I," he mused, "wanted to hide my three beauties I couldn'tthink of anything safer than this. She's clever, too. Why shouldn't sheuse it for something she's afraid of anybody seeing?"
A steel hat pin was to his hand. Exerting a deal of wrist strength hethrust it through the mass. In the middle it met with a resistance thatthe pin could not pierce. It was twelve o'clock as he put it in hispocket and locked the door of his own room. It seemed minutes before hiseager fingers could strip off piece after piece of silver paper. Andthen the palm of his hand cupped one of the most beautiful diamonds hehad ever seen.
It was fully a hundred carats in weight and its value he could hardlyapproximate. No stone of this size had ever been lost in the UnitedStates. He remembered however some four years ago the Nizam ofHyderabad--one of the greatest of Indian potentates and owner of anunparalleled collection of diamonds--had bought a famous stone inLondon. It was never delivered to him. The messenger had been foundfloating in the Thames off Greenhithe. The reputed price of purchase hadbeen thirty-five thousand pounds. The Nizam's had been a blue-whitediamond and Anthony Trent believed he held it in his hand. He thought ofhis Benares lamp and chuckled. If he desired to avenge himself on Madamede Beaulieu for the loss of the Guestwick money he was amply rewardednow. The blazing thing in his hand would fetch at least two hundredthousand dollars if he dared dispose of it.
Obviously the correct procedure for the supposed Oscar Lindholm was tomake his escape at once. He would have little chance to do so were theabstraction to become known. Of course Madame de Beaulieu would look inher ivory casket directly she came in. Did he himself not always glanceanxiously at his lamp whenever he had been away from it for a few hours?
Cautiously he made his way down to the hall where his coat and hat were.
As he passed the door it opened and Madame de Beaulieu entered withMonmouth. She was pale, so pale indeed that Trent stopped to look ather.
"Back early, aren't you?" he asked.
"Madame has had bad news," said Monmouth and looked at her anxiously.She sank into a big chair before the open fire. Certainly she was verybeautiful. Looking at her it seemed incredible that she could be one ofthe best known adventuresses in the world. Perhaps, after all, much ofthe anecdote that was built about her was legendary. Presently she spokein French to Monmouth.
"Bear with me, my dear one," she said, "but I must see him alone. I am acreature of premonitions. Let me have my way."
The look that Captain Monmouth bent upon Anthony Trent was not afriendly one. There was a new quality of suspicion and antagonism in it.
"Madame de Beaulieu," he said stiffly, "wan
ts to speak with you alone. Isee no occasion for it but her wish is law. I shall leave you here."
When they were alone she did not speak for some minutes. Then she turnedto him and looked at him searchingly. He felt the necessity of being onhis guard.
"Mr. Lindholm," she said quietly, "I do not understand you."
"Why should you bother to?" he asked.
"Because I am afraid of everything I do not trust. You say you are anaturalized Swede. That would explain your hair." She leaned forward andlooked him full in the face, "Mr. Lindholm, you have made one very sillymistake which no woman would make."
"And that is--what?" he demanded.
"You have let your bleached hair get black at the roots. You are ablackhaired man. Why deny it?"
"I don't," he said. "I admit it."
"Then why are you here?"
"Captain Monmouth knows. A desire to break into society if you like."
"Will you answer me one question truthfully," she asked, "on yourhonor?"
"Yes," he said. There was no reason why he should not.
"Are you a detective?"
"On my honor, no. Why should Madame de Beaulieu fear detectives?"
There was a faint flush in her cheeks now and a brighter color in hereyes. She was enormously relieved at his answer.
"Why are you here, then?"
"If you must know," he told her, "it was for revenge."
"Not to harm Captain Monmouth?" she cried paling.
"I came on your account," he said quietly. "You don't remember me?"
She shook her head. "When did we meet? In Europe?"
"No less a place than Fifth avenue."
"Ah, at some social function? One meets so many that one has no time forrecalling names or even faces."
"Later I saw you at a police court. You were an indignant youngEnglish-woman accused of robbing Mr. Guestwick or trying to. You mayrecall a man who opened the Guestwick safe for you, a man upon whosegood nature you imposed." He looked very somber and stern. She shrankback, and covered her face with her white hands.
"I knew happiness was not for me," she said brokenly. "I said, when Ifound the man I loved was the man who loved me. 'It is too wonderful,too beautiful. It is not for me. I am born under an unlucky star.' Andyou see I was right."
Trent considered her for a moment. Here was no acting. Here was a womanwhose soul was in agony.
"You forget," he said, "that I don't know what you mean."
"I had better tell you," she said with a gesture of despair. "CaptainMonmouth and I love each other. It has awakened the good in us that weboth thought was buried or had never existed. While my husband, Captainde Beaulieu, lived there was no chance of a divorce. He is Catholic.To-night after dinner one of Mr. Warren's guests brought a late paperfrom New York and I saw that my husband was killed. I could stay thereno longer. Coming home in the motor I asked myself whether it would bemy fate to win happiness. I doubted it even though I repented in ashes.Then it was I began to think of you, the stranger whose money we needed,the stranger who reminded me vaguely of some day when there was dangerin the air. Under the light as I came in I saw your hair. Then I knewthat in the hour of my greatest hope I was to experience the most bitterdespair."
"You forget, Madame," he said harshly, "that I have had the benefit ofyour consummate acting before."
"And you think I am acting now?"
"Why shouldn't I?" he retorted, "you have everything to gain by it. Ican collect the Guestwick reward, and send you back to prison."
"I can pay you more than the ten thousand dollars he offered," she criedquickly.
"With the sale of the Rosewarne jewels?"
She shrank back. "Ciel! How could you know?"
"I do," he said brusquely, "and that's enough. You see you are tryingto fool me again. You say your love has brought out the good in you thatyou didn't know you possessed and yet a few weeks back you are at yourold tricks again. Is that reasonable?"
"I'll tell you everything," she cried wildly. "You must understand. Itwas I who took the Rosewarne jewels. Why? Because I am fighting for myhappiness. Captain Monmouth knows nothing of what my life has been. Ihave told him that after the war I shall go back to France and sell myproperty and with it help him to buy a place that was once a seat of hisfamily. There, away from the world, we shall live and die. I want onlyhim and he wants only me. We have known life and its vanities. We wanthappiness. You hold it in your hands. If you take your revenge bytelling him, you break my heart. Is that a vengeance which satisfiesyou, Monsieur l'Inconnu? If so, it is very easy. He is in the next room.Call him. You have only to say, 'Captain Monmouth, this woman whom youlove is a notorious criminal. All Europe knows her as the Countess. Themoney that she wants to build her house of love with is stolen money.She will assuredly disgrace your name as she has that of the greatfamily from which she sprang.'"
She looked supplicatingly at Anthony Trent. "You have only to tell himthat and there is no happiness left for me in all the world."
"Do you think I would do that?" he demanded.
"How can I tell? Why should you not? I am in your power."
There was no doubting the genuineness of her emotion. Formerly she hadtricked him but here was her bared soul to see.
"I came here," he said slowly, "angry because you had played upon mysympathies and outwitted me. I schemed to gain an entrance to this housefor no other reason. I shall leave it admiring you and Monmouth andhoping you will be happy."
It was as though she could scarcely believe him.
"Then you will not tell him?" she exclaimed. "You will go without thatfor which you came?"
She did not understand his smile.
"I shall not tell him," Anthony Trent declared. "As for the rest--we arequits, Madame."
At the hour when the real Oscar Lindholm left Blackwells Island thepretender was lovingly setting the fourth jewel in the Benares lamp. Itwould have been difficult to find two happier men in all America thatmorning.
Anthony Trent, Master Criminal Page 26
