“‘Either will do,’ I replied, ‘Peters or Pervis. Trot ’em up, time is precious.’
“Away he went, but in a couple of minutes was back again, looking scared, ‘They’re both engaged,’ he says.
“‘Then they’ll have to break it off,’ I responded, ‘and mighty quick. I’m here to talk with them, so get a move on you again and give that message.’
“If it hadn’t been for the policeman I don’t think he would have gone, but the policeman backed me up, and the clerk hurried off again; and in the end the bosses decided they had better see me. They looked precious cross, I can assure you, but before I had done speaking they looked crosser still.
“‘You say you’ve done that puzzle,’—they shouted—‘the puzzle that has stuck all the mathematical guns at Harvard and Yale—you—a nonentity like you—begone, sir, don’t waste our time with such humbug as that.’
“‘All right,’ I said, ‘give me some paper and a pen, and I’ll prove it.’
“‘That’s very reasonable,’ the policeman chipped in, ‘do the thing fair and square—I’m here as a witness.’
“Well, with much grunting and grumbling they handed me paper and ink, and in a trice the puzzle was done; and it appeared so easy that the policeman clapped his hands and broke out into a loud guffaw. My eyes! you should have seen how the faces of Pervis and Peters fell, and have heard what they said. But it was no use swearing and cursing, the thing was done, and there was the policeman to prove it.
“‘We’ll give you five hundred dollars,’ they said, ‘to clear out and say no more about it.’
“‘Five hundred dollars when you’ve advertised three thousand,’ I cried. ‘What do you take me for? I’ll have that three thousand or I’ll show you both up.’
“‘A thousand, then?’ they said.
“‘No!’ I retorted; ‘three! Three, and look sharp. And look here,’ I added, as my glance rested on some of the samples of their pastes they had round them, ‘I understand the secrets of all these so-called patents of yours—there isn’t one of them I couldn’t imitate. Take that “Rabsidab,” for instance. What is it? Why, a compound of horseflesh, turnips and popcorn, flavoured with Lazenby’s sauce—for the infringement of which patent you are liable to prosecution—and coloured with cochineal. Then there’s the stuff you label “Ironcastor,”’—but they shut me up. ‘There, take your three thousand dollars, write us out a receipt for it, and clear.’”
“Nine thousand dollars in one day! We’ve done well,” Kelson ejaculated. “What’s the programme for to-morrow?”
“Same as to-day and plenty of it,” Curtis said, pouring himself out another glass of champagne and making a vigorous attack on a chicken. “I think I’ll let you two fellows do all the work to-morrow, and content myself here. Waiter! What time’s breakfast?”
CHAPTER VII
SAN FRANCISCO LADIES AND DIVINATION
Curtis was as good as his word. The following day he remained indoors eating, and planning what he should eat, whilst Hamar and Kelson went out with the express purpose of adding to their banking accounts.
In a garden in Bryant Street, Hamar saw a man resting on his spade and mopping the perspiration from his forehead. As he stopped mechanically to see what was being done, a cold sensation ran up his right leg into his right hand, the first and third fingers of which were drawn violently down. With a cry of horror he shrank back. Directly beneath where he had been standing, he saw, under a fifteen or sixteen feet layer of gravel soil—water; a huge caldron of water, black and silent; water, that gave him the impression of tremendous depth and coldness.
“Hulloa! matey, what’s the matter?” the man with the spade called out. “Are you looking for your skin, for I never saw any one so completely jump out of it?”
“So would you,” Hamar said with a shudder, “if you saw what I do!”
“What’s that, then?” the man said leering on the ground. “Snakes! That’s what I always see when I’ve got them.”
“So long as you don’t see yourself, there’s some chance for you!” Hamar retorted. “What makes you so hot?”
“Why, digging!” the man laughed; “any one would get hot digging at such hard ground as this. As for a little whippersnapper like you, you’d melt right away and only your nose would remain. Nothing would ever melt that—there’s too much of it.”
Hamar scowled. “You needn’t be insulting,” he said, “I asked you a civil question, and I repeat it. What makes you so hot—when you should be cold—or at least cool?”
“Oh, should I!” the man mimicked, “I thought first you was merely drunk; I can see quite clearly now that you’re mad.”
“And yet you have such defective sight.”
“What makes you say that?” the man said testily.
“Why,” Hamar responded, “because you can’t see what lies beneath your very nose. Shall I tell you what it is?”
“Yes, tell away,” the man replied, “tell me my old mother’s got twins, and that Boss Croker is coming to lodge with us. I’d know you for a liar anywhere by those teeth of yours.”
“Look here,” said Hamar drawing himself up angrily, “I have had enough of your abuse. If I have any more I’ll tell your employers. It is evident you take me for a bummer, but see,”—and plunging his hand in his pocket he pulled it out full of gold. “Kindly understand I’m somebody,” he went on, “and that I’m staying at one of the biggest hotels in the town.”
“I’m damned if I know what to make of you,” the man muttered, “unless you’re a hoptical delusion!”
“Underneath where I was standing—just here,”—and Hamar indicated the spot—“is water. Any amount of it, you have only to sink a shaft fifteen feet and you would come to it.”
“Water!” the man laughed, “yes, there is any amount of it—on your brain, that’s the only water near here.”
“Then you don’t believe me?” Hamar demanded.
“Not likely!” the man responded, “I only believe what I see! And when I see a face like yours holding out a potful of dollars, I know as how you’ve stolen them. Git!”—and Hamar flew.
But Hamar was not so easily nonplussed; not at least when he saw a chance of making money. Entering the garden, and keeping well out of sight of the gardener, he arrived at the front door by a side path, and with much formality requested to see the owner of the establishment. The latter happening to be crossing the hall at the time, heard Hamar and asked what he wanted.
Hamar at once informed him he was a dowser, and that, chancing to pass by the garden on his way to his hotel, he had divined the presence of water.
“I only wish there were,” the gentleman exclaimed, “but I fear you are mistaken. I have attempted several times to sink a well but never with the slightest degree of success. I have had all the ground carefully prospected by Figgins of Sacramento Street—he has a very big reputation—and he assures me there isn’t a drop of water anywhere near here within two hundred feet of the surface.”
“I know better,” Hamar said. “Will you get your gardener—who by the way was very rude to me just now when I spoke to him—to dig where I tell him. I have absolute confidence in my power of divination.”
The owner of the property, whom I will call Mr. B. assented, and several gardeners, including the one who had so insulted Hamar, were soon digging vigorously. At the depth of fifteen feet, water was found, and, indeed, so fast did it begin to come in that within a few minutes it had risen a foot. The onlookers were jubilant.
“I shall send an account of it to the local papers,” Mr. B. remarked. “Your fame will be spread everywhere. You have increased the value of my property a thousandfold, I cannot tell you how grateful I am”—and he, then and there, invited Hamar to luncheon.
After luncheon Mr. B. made him a present of a cheque—rather i
n excess of the sum which Hamar had all along intended to have, and could not have refrained from demanding much longer.
In the afternoon all the San Francisco specials were full of the incident, and Hamar, seeing his name placarded for the first time, was so overcome that he spent the rest of the evening in the hotel deliberating how he could best turn his sudden notoriety to account.
At ten o’clock Kelson came in, looking somewhat fatigued, but, nevertheless, pleased. He, too, had had adventures, and he detailed them with so much elaboration that the other two had frequently to tell him to “dry up.”
“I began the morning,” he commenced, “by accosting a very fashionably dressed lady coming out of Bushwell’s Store in Commercial Street. Divination at once told me she was the popular widow of J.K. Bater, the Biscuit King of Nob Hill, and that she was carrying in her big seal-skin muff a gold hatpin mounted with an emerald butterfly, a silver-backed hair brush, a blue enamelled scent bottle, and a porcelain jar, all of which she had slyly ‘nicked,’ when no one was looking.
“I stepped up to her, and politely raising my hat said, ‘Good morning, Mrs. Bater. I’ve a message for you.’
“‘I don’t know you,’ she said eyeing me very doubtfully, ‘who are you?’
“‘Forgotten!’ I said tragically, ‘and I had flattered myself it would be otherwise. Still I must try and survive. I wanted to ask you a favour, Mrs. Bater.’
“‘A favour!’ she exclaimed nervously, ‘what is it? You are really a very extraordinary individual.’
“‘I was only going to ask if I might examine the contents of your muff? I think you have certain articles in it that have not been paid for—and I believe I am right in saying this is by no means the first time such a thing has happened.’
“She turned so pale I thought she was going to faint. ‘Why, whatever do you mean,’ she stammered, ‘I’ve nothing that does not belong to me.’
“‘Opinions differ on that score, Mrs. Bater,’ I replied, ‘you have a pin, a hair brush, a scent bottle and a jar,’ and I described them each minutely, ‘whilst in your house you have on your dressing-table a silver-backed clothes brush, a silver manicure set you kleptomaniad—if you prefer to call it so—from Deacon’s in Sacramento Street; a tortoiseshell manicure set, and an ivory card case you obtained in the same manner from Varter’s in Market Street; a set of silver buttons, a glove stretcher, and a mauve pin-cushion—you likewise helped yourself to—from Selter’s in Kearney Street; but I might go on detailing them to you till further orders, for your house is literally crammed with them. You have done very well, Mrs. Bater, with the San Francisco storekeepers.’
“‘Good God, man, what are you?’ she gasped. ‘You seem to read into the innermost recesses of my soul, and to know everything.’
“‘You are right, madam,’ I said, trying to appear very stern and almost failing, she was so pretty. By Jove! you fellows, I wonder I didn’t kiss her; she had such fine eyes, my favourite nose, a ripping mouth and—”
“Oh! go on! go on with your story. Never mind her looks,” Curtis interrupted, “I’ve got a touch of indigestion.”
“As I was saying,” Kelson went on complacently, “I could have kissed her and I felt downright mean for upsetting her so.
“‘Now you have found me out,’ she said, ‘what do you intend doing? Show me up in there?’ and she pointed shudderingly at the store.
“‘No,’ I said, ‘not if you are sensible and come to terms. I will agree to say nothing about either this or any of your other—ahem!—thefts—if you let me escort you home, and write me out a cheque for a thousand dollars!’
“‘Beast!’ she hissed, ‘so you are a blackmailer!’
“‘A black beetle if you like,’ I responded, ‘but I assure you, Mrs. Bater, I am letting you off cheap. I have only to call for a policeman and your reputation would be gone at once. Besides, I know other things about you.’
“‘What other things?’ she stuttered.
“‘Well, madam!’ I replied, ‘some things are rather delicate—er—for single men like me to mention, but I do know that—er—a lady—very like—remarkably like—you, has in her pocket at this moment a rattle which she bought and paid for in Oakland’s late last night. And as, madam, Mr. Bater has been dead over two years—let me see—yes, two years yesterday—one can—!’
“‘Stay! that will do,’ she whispered; ‘come to my house and I will give you the thousand dollars. You must pretend you are my cousin.’
“‘I will pretend anything, Mrs. Bater,’ I murmured, helping her into a taxi, ‘anything so long as I can be with you.’”
“You got the money?” Hamar queried.
“Yes,” Kelson said with a smile, “I got the money—in fact, everything I asked for.”
There was silence for some minutes, and then Hamar said, “What next?”
“What next!” Kelson said, “why I thought I had done a very good day’s work and was on my way back here to take a much needed rest, when I’m dashed if the Unknown hadn’t another adventure in store for me. Coming out of a garden in Gough Street, within sight of Goad’s house, was a lady, young and very plain, but rigged out in one of those latest fashion costumes—a very tight, short skirt, and huge hat with high plume in it. By the bye, I can’t think why this costume, which is so admirably suited to pretty girls—because it attracts attention to them—should be almost exclusively adopted by the ugly ones. But to continue. I knew immediately that she was Ella Barlow, the much-pampered and only daughter of J.B. Barlow, the vinegar magnate; that she was in love, or imagined herself in love with Herbert Delmas, the manager of the Columbian Bank—a young, good-looking fellow, whom she had been trying to set against his fiancée, Dora Roberts. Dora is only nineteen, very pretty and a trifle giddy—nothing more. But this failing of hers—if you can call it a failing, was just the very weapon Ella Barlow wanted. She worked on it at once, and by sending Delmas a series of anonymous letters made him mad with jealousy. This resulted in a breach between Delmas and Dora, and Ella Barlow, much elated, at once tried to step into her shoes. She has been going out a good deal with Delmas, who is in reality still very much in love with Dora, and consequently exceedingly miserable. This morning Ella, anxious to show off a magnificent set of diamonds, given her by her father, telephoned to Delmas to take her to the Baldwyn Theatre, where she has engaged a box for this evening—fondly hoping that the diamonds will bring him up to the scratch, and that he will propose to her. When I saw her she was on her way to a notorious quack doctor and beauty specialist in Californian Street. She suffers from some nasty skin disease, and is in mortal terror lest Delmas should get to know of it, and also of the fact that all her teeth are false, and that two of her toes are badly deformed.”
“By Jupiter!” Hamar ejaculated, “this divination of yours beats mine into fits—nothing escapes you!”
“No!” Kelson laughed, “nothing! Ella Barlow, metaphysical and physical was laid before me just as bare as if the Almighty had got hold of her with his dissecting knife. I saw everything—and what is more I said to myself—here’s plenty I can turn to a profitable account. Well! I didn’t stop her—I let her go.”
“Let her go!” Curtis growled, his mouth full of almonds and raisins. “You squirrel!”
“Only for a time,” Kelson said, “I went to see Delmas!”
“Delmas!” Hamar interlocuted, “why the deuce Delmas?”
“Impulse!” Kelson explained, “purely impulse.”
“Yes, but impulse is often a dangerous thing!” Hamar said, “it is essential for us three, especially, to be on our guard against impulse. What did you get out of Delmas?”
“Nothing!” Kelson said looking rather shamefaced, “But the matter hasn’t ended yet. I’m going to the theatre after I’ve had something to eat. I’ll tell you what happens, to-morrow.”
/> It was late ere Kelson came down to breakfast the following day, and Hamar and Curtis were comfortably seated in armchairs reading the Examiner, when he joined them.
“Well!” Hamar said, looking up at him, “what luck?”
But Kelson wouldn’t say a word till he had finished eating. He then lolled back in his seat and began:—
“Arriving at the Baldwyn I went straight to box one. A tall figure rose to greet me, and then, an angry voice exclaimed, ‘Why it’s not Herbert! Who are you, sir? Do you know this box is engaged?’
“‘I humbly beg your pardon, Miss Barlow,’ I said, ‘I do know it is engaged, but I came as Mr. Delmas’ deputy and friend.’
“‘Came as Herbert’s deputy and friend,’ Ella Barlow repeated—and by Jove the diamonds did shine—she was simply a mass of them, hair, neck, arms and fingers—and she had been so well faked up for the occasion that she was almost good-looking; but I thought of all I knew about her—and shuddered.
“‘I will explain myself,’ I said, ‘Mr. Delmas telephoned to you this afternoon, did he not?’
“She nodded.
“‘Saying that he very much regretted he could not leave business in time to escort you here. Would you mind very much going by yourself, and he would join you as soon as possible.’
“‘Yes,’ Ella Barlow said, ‘he told me all that.’
“‘Very well, then,’ I went on, ‘he rang me up some minutes later and asked me if I would take his place for the first hour or so, and he would be here by the end of the first act.’
“‘But it is most unheard of,’ Ella Barlow ejaculated, ‘I don’t know you—I’ve never seen you before!’
“‘That is, of course, very regrettable,’ I said, ‘but I will do all I can for the past. I’ve something to say that I’m sure will interest you. Have I your permission?’—and without waiting for her reply I sat next to her. The box was a big one, big enough to hold half a dozen people, and we sat in the extreme front of it. The lights were not full up, as the orchestra had not started playing. I kept her attention fixed on my face so that she was unaware what was taking place, immediately behind her.
The Elliott O’Donnell Supernatural Megapack Page 89
