Читать книгу The Mystery Lady - Robert William Chambers - Страница 16
IV
ОглавлениеAfter Lanier had dined at the club he put on hat and coat and went blithely to the Ritz. Miss Dirck was out, he was politely informed, but had left word that Mr. Lanier should be kind enough to await her return.
He waited. He was enormously interested.
And, at the very moment when this young man most impatiently awaited the return of Maddaleen Dirck, that young lady descended from a taxi and entered the shabby portal of the Forty Club, and rang for the doorman, Riley Gorm.
The old doorman appeared, presently, and informed her that Mr. Lanier had gone out after dinner.
She then inquired for Mr. Welper. Mr. Welper, also, it appeared, had left the club for bournes unknown.
Miss Dirck, who was in a black evening gown and wearing a cloak of silver fox, seemed to hesitate.
“I wish,” she said, “to leave with you a very important and confidential note for Mr. Welper.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Is there writing material in my bedroom?”
“Yes, Madam.”
She nodded a pleasant “Thanks” and went up the velvet staircase to the bedroom floor, unlocked her door, turned on the light, and entered.
She had left her door ajar. And now, as she seated herself at the desk and started to write, she listened intently for any step in the corridor outside.
She wrote: “There is no need to inform you why I have not gone to the police in this affair. You took a cowardly, dastardly advantage of a lonely, frightened boy in fear of arrest, to gain his confidence and then rob him.
“And now you are to learn that what you stole from him will be worth millions to me. And so I take it from you.
“You look and speak like a pious old fraud, but they say you are murderous when irritated. But if you’ll be advised you had better keep your temper in this matter.
“Because it is not safe to bother those who, not daring to ask protection from the police, must depend entirely upon themselves for safety.
“Keep your temper and keep away, Barney Welper. There will be no more blackmail: there will be only bullets, now, if you ever bother us again.
“(Signed) The Boy’s Sister.”
When Maddaleen finished, folded, sealed and addressed the note to Room A, she took a pistol and the master-key from her reticule, went out to the passageway, listened; then silently traversed the corridor to Mr. Welper’s room. Swiftly she unlocked his door, turned on the light, locked the door from the inside, and began her feverish search. Flinging the contents of the bureau drawers in every direction, she rummaged everything, scattering hosiery, underwear, portfolios, jewelry about. She jerked the pillows from the bed, tore the coverings away, searched every pocket of every garment in his wardrobe, turned breathlessly to the small bookcase and began to open and shake out the pages of each volume in turn.
That is where she found the paper she was looking for, among the leaves of a large, fat Bible.
It was the copy, not the original parchment. Probably that was in his safe-deposit. But it didn’t matter now.
Pistol in hand, muffled in her silver-fox cloak, the girl unlocked the door, stole out, relocked it, and sped away through the corridor.
It was necessary for her to recover her breath before descending. Flushed and breathing rapidly she waited until self-command was restored; then she locked her door, placed pistol and master-key in her reticule, went leisurely downstairs, and handed to Gorm the letter addressed to “B. Welper, Esq.”
“—As soon as he comes in, please,” she said with her engaging smile.
“Yes, Madam.”
As she descended the stoop, she met Welper coming up.
For a second her knees almost gave way, then she smiled prettily:
“Good evening, Mr. Welper,” she said.
He lifted his very shiny top hat, and his bow was almost a cringe.
She forced herself to walk leisurely to her taxi, and to say in a clear, careless voice: “To the Ritz, please.”
As she seated herself and the cab moved off, she glanced sideways. Mr. Welper had paused on the stoop to watch her.
As soon as her taxi turned the corner of Park Avenue she leaned forward and opened the sliding glass in front.
“The Pennsylvania Station,” she said. “Fifty dollars if you don’t get caught in the traffic!”
There was comparatively little traffic at that hour; the theatre and opera rush was over; and her driver took empty one-way streets with all the speed he dared.
At the station she hurried to the telephone; called the Ritz; asked the desk to page Mr. Lanier; got him in a few moments:
“Mr. Lanier?”
“Oh, it’s you!”
“Yes. I have the paper I wanted—”
“What!”
“I have it. I came near being caught. Welper came into the club as I left. I tore his room to pieces but I found my paper.”
“Are you crazy!”
“No, but he will be. He probably is by this time. ... And I want to warn you. He may suspect you. Because you were with me when I took the master-key. You recollect?”
“Good heavens—”
“That’s how I got into his room to-night.... And I left a letter for him warning him to keep away from me and mine.... And he may go to the Ritz to look for me because he heard me tell my taxi driver to go to the Ritz. So look out—”
“You look out!” he interrupted harshly. “If you’re not utterly mad you’ll stay away from the Ritz! I tell you that man is bad all through—”
“I’m not going to the Ritz. I’m going aboard my train in a moment—”
“What train? Where?”
“Don’t ask me, Mr. Lanier, but give me an address. On my honour, if that paper is of any value, I shall share with you half and half. When can I reach you?”
“The Imperial Loan and Trust.”
“I’ll remember.... Thank you for what you’ve done—”
“Maddaleen!”
“I hear you quite plainly, Mr. Lanier.”
“I beg you to let me see you a moment—”
“No; my train leaves at eleven-five—”
“Where are you? Which station?”
“I can’t answer.... Look out for Welper. ... I’m worried.”
“You should be—”
“Not about myself,” she returned scornfully.
“You need have no concern about me,” he said, “but this is a bad business. I wish you’d let me see you a moment before you—”
“No.... Thank you again, and—good-bye.”
“Maddaleen—”
She hung up in his ear.
The next moment he called up the New York Central Station. There was no train leaving at eleven-five. But a minute later he learned there was a train for the South leaving the Pennsylvania Station at eleven-five.
It was just ten o’clock. He telephoned to an apartment on Park Avenue: “Is this you, Donald?”
“It is,” replied a calm young voice.
“I’m leaving the Penn Station at eleven-five. Will you have Tikko pack what he can and get it to me in time?”
“All right. Wait—” Lanier heard young Mayne call sharply, “Tikko! Two suit-cases for Mr. Lanier at the Penn Station by eleven sharp!” Then, to Lanier: “Do you need me, Jack?”
“Not so far.... I think I’m in Dutch at the Forty Club. I think they may conclude to get me. Can’t tell yet.”
“What is it about?”
“I can’t talk now. Send my cheque book and five hundred. Don’t worry. I’ll get into touch with you as soon as I can. Good-bye.”
By ten-forty Lanier had secured a drawing-room on the eleven-five and was standing near the iron gates when a little, smiling Japanese came trotting up laden with two suit-cases.
“Fine!” said Lanier, also smiling; “give them to that red-cap, Tikko.”
“Missa John has ticket?” inquired Tikko.
“Everything.”
Tikko handed him an envelope, lisping: “Chekk and money, Sir.”
“Thank you. And please say to Mr. Mayne that he need have no concern about my safety.”
Tikko smiled, lifted his little bowler hat, turned and trotted cheerfully away.
At that moment Maddaleen Dirck, followed by two red-caps with her luggage, came out of the waiting-room and walked leisurely to the gates.
“Maddaleen,” he said as she passed him.
The girl turned deathly white. Then, as he came up to her, a furious colour flamed in her cheeks:
“Damn you,” she said breathlessly, “if you interfere with me I’ll kill you! Do you understand that, you petty crook?”
