The Strange Case of Cavendish Page 6

  CHAPTER VI: AT STEINWAY'S

  It was the second night after Farriss had given them his instructionsthat Miss Donovan and Willis, sitting in the last darkened booth inSteinway's Cafe, were rewarded for their vigil. The booth theyoccupied was selected for the reason that it immediately joined thatinto which Willis had but three days before seen Cavendish and the LaRue woman enter, and now as they sat toying with their food, their eyescommanding the entire room, they saw a woman swing into the cafeentrance and enter the booth directly ahead of them.

  "La Rue!" whispered Willis to Miss Donovan.

  Ten minutes later a young man entered the cafe, swept it quickly withhis eyes, then made directly for the enclosure occupied by hisinamorata. The man was Cavendish.

  In the booth behind. Miss Donovan and Willis were all attention, theirears strained to catch the wisps of conversation that eddied over thelow partition.

  "Pray for the orchestra to stop playing," whispered Miss Donovan, and,strangely enough, as she uttered the words the violins obeyed, leavingthe room comparatively quiet in which it was not impossible to catchstray sentences of the subdued conversation.

  "Well, I'm here." It was John's voice, an ill-humoured voice, too."But this is the last time, Celeste. These meetings are dangerous."

  "Yes--when you talk so loud." Her soft voice scarcely reached thelisteners. "But this time there was a good reason." She laughed."You didn't think it was love, did you, deary?"

  "Oh, cut that out!" disgustedly. "I have been foolish enough tosatisfy even your vanity. You want more money, I suppose."

  "Well, of course," her voice hardening. "Naturally I feel that Ishould share in your good fortune. But the amount I want now, and musthave to-night--to-night, John Cavendish--is not altogether for myself.I've heard from the West."

  "My God! Has he been located?"

  "Yes, and is safe for the present. Here, read this telegram. It's notvery clear, but Beaton wants money and asks me to bring it."

  "You? Why does he need you?"

  "Lack of nerve, I guess; he's out of his element in that country. Ifit was the Bowery he'd do this sort of job better. Anyhow, I'm going,and I want a roll. We can't either of us afford to lie down now."

  Cavendish half smothered an oath.

  "Money," he ejaculated fiercely. "That is all I hear. Enright hasheld me up something fierce, and you never let me alone. Suppose I sayI haven't got it."

  "Why, then, I'd laugh at you, that's ail. You may not love me anymore, my dear, but surely you have no occasion to consider me a fool.I endeavour to keep posted on what the court is doing in our case; I amnaturally interested, you know. You were at the Commercial NationalBank this afternoon."

  "How the devil did you know that?"

  "I play my cards safe," she laughed mirthlessly. "I could even tellyou the size of your check, and that the money is still on your person.You intended to place it in a safe-deposit box and keep it hidden foryour own use."

  "You hellion, you!" Cavendish's voice rose high, then later MissDonovan heard him say more softly: "How much do you want?"

  "Ten thousand. I'm willing enough to split fifty-fifty. This Coloradojob is getting to be expensive, deary. I wouldn't dare draw on youthrough the banks."

  Miss Donovan had only time to nudge Willis enthusiastically before sheoverheard the next plea.

  "Celeste, are you trimming me again?"

  "Don't be a fool!" came back in subdued tones. "Do you think thattelegram is a fake? My Gawd--that is what I want money for! Moreover,I should think you would be tickled, Johnnie boy, to get me out oftown--and the price is so low."

  In the back booth Willis muttered:

  "God, things are going great." Then he bent his ear to sedulousattention and again he could hear the voice of Cavendish.

  "You've got to tell me what you're going to do with the money," it said.

  The La Rue woman's answer could not be heard; evidently it was awhispered one, and therefore of utmost importance. Came a pause, aclink of glasses, and then a few straggling words filtered over thepartition.

  "Isn't that the best way?" Celeste La Rue's voice was easilyrecognisable. "Of course it will be a--well, a mere accident, and noquestions asked."

  "But if the man should talk!"

  "Forget it! Ned Beaton is an oyster. Besides, I've got the screws onhim. Come on, Johnnie boy, don't be a fool. We are in this game andmust play it out. It has been safe enough so far, and I know what I amdoing now. You've got too much at stake to haggle over a few thousand,when the money has come to you as easily as this has. Why, if I'dbreathe a word of what I know in this town----"

  "For God's sake, not so loud!"

  "Bah! No one here is paying any attention to us. Enright is the onlyone who even suspicions, and his mouth is shut. It makes me laugh tothink how easily the fools were gulled. We've got a clear field if youwill only let me play the game out in my own way. Do I get the money?"

  He must have acceded, for his voice no longer rose to a high pitch.Presently, when the orchestra began playing again. Miss Donovan andWillis judged the pair were giving their attention to the dinner.Finally, after an hour had passed, Cavendish emerged from the booth,went to the check-room, and hurriedly left the cafe. Waiting only longenough to satisfy herself that Cavendish was gone, Celeste La Rueherself emerged from the booth and paused for a moment beside itsbamboo curtains. Then turning suddenly, she made her way, not towardthe exit of the cafe, but to another small booth near the check-room,and into this she disappeared.

  But before she had started this short journey, a yellow piece of paper,closely folded, slipped from her belt where it had been tucked.

  "It's the telegram! The one of which they were speaking." MissDonovan's voice whispered dramatically as her eyes swept the tiny cluewithin their ambit.

  Willis started. He almost sprung from the booth to pick it up, but thegirl withheld him with a pressure of the hand.

  "Not yet," she begged. "Wait until we see who leaves the other boothinto which La Rue just went."

  And Willis fell back into the seat, his pulse pounding. Presently,with startled eyes, they beheld Celeste la Rue leave the booth, andthen five minutes later a well-dressed man, a suave, youthful man witha head inclined toward baldness.

  "Enright!" muttered Willis.

  "Enright," echoed Miss Donovan, "and, Jerry, our hunch was right. Heand La Rue are playing Cavendish--and for something big. But now isour time to get the telegram. Quick--before the waiter returns."

  At her words Willis was out of the booth. As Miss Donovan watched, shesaw him pass by the folded evidence. What was wrong? But,no--suddenly she saw his handkerchief drop, saw him an instant laterturn and pick it up, and with it the telegram. Disappearing in thedirection of the men's room, he returned a moment later, paid thecheck, and with Miss Donovan on his arm left the cafe.

  Outside, and three blocks away from Steinway's, they paused under anarc-light, and with shaking hands Willis showed her the message. Therein the flickering rays the girl read its torn and yet enlighteningmessage.

  lorado, May 19, 1915.

  him safe. Report and collect. come with roll Monday sure 've seen papers. Remember Haskell.

  NED.

  "It's terribly cryptic, Jerry," she said to the other, "but two thingswe know from it."

  "One is that La Rue's going to blow the burg some day--soon."

  "The other, that 'Ned' is Ned Beaton, the man mentioned back there inSteinway's. Whatever his connection is, we don't know. I think we hadbetter go to Farriss, don't you?"

  "A good hunch," Willis replied, taking her arm. "And let's move on itquick. One of us may have to hop to Colorado if Farriss thinks well ofwhat we've dug up."

  "I hope it's you--you've worked hard," said Miss Donovan.

  "But you got the big clue of it all--the telegram," gallantly returnedher companion, as he raised his arm to signal a passing cab which wouldtake them to the Star offic
e.

  Once there, in their enthusiasm they upset the custom of the office andbroke into Farriss's fullest hour, dragged him from his slot in thecopy desk and into his private office, which he rarely used. There,into his impatient ears they dinned the story of what they had justlearned, ending up by passing him the telegram.

  For a mere instant he glanced at them, then his lips began to move."Beaton--Ned--Ned Beaton--Ned Beaton," he mused, and then sat boltupright in his chair, while he banged the desk with a round, hard fist."Hell's bells!" he ejaculated. "You've run across something. I knowthat name. I know the man. Ned Beaton is a 'gun,' and he pulled hisfirst job when I was doing 'police' in Philadelphia for the _Record_.Well, well, my children, this is splendid! And what next?"

  "But, Mr. Farriss, where is he?" put in Stella Donovan. "Where was themessage sent from? Colorado, yes, but where in Colorado? That's thething to find out."

  "I thought it might be the last word in the message--Haskell," venturedWillis.

  Mr. Farriss paused a moment, then,

  "Boy!" he yelled through the open door.

  "Boy, get me an atlas here quick, or I'll hang your hair on aproof-hook!"

  A young hopeful, frightened into frenzy, obeyed with alacrity, andFarriss, seizing the atlas from his hand, thumbed it until he found amap of Colorado. Together the three pored over it.

  "There it is!" Stella Donovan cried suddenly. "Down toward the bottom.Looks like desert country."

  "Pretty dry place for Celeste," laughed Willis. "I might call her upand kid her about it if----"

  Farriss looked at him sourly. "You might get a raise in salary," hesnapped sharply, "if you'd keep your mind on the job. What you can dois call up, say you're the detective bureau, and ask carelessly aboutBeaton. That'll throw a scare into her. You've got her number?"

  "Riverside 7683," Willis said in a businesslike voice. "The Beecherapartments. I'll try it."

  He disappeared into the clattering local room, to return a momentlater, white of face, bright of eye, and with lips parted.

  "What's the dope?" Farriss shot at him.

  "Nothing!" cried the excited young man. "Nothing except that fifteenminutes ago Celeste La Rue kissed the Beecher apartments good-bye and,with trunk, puff, and toothbrush, beat it."

  "To Haskell," added the city editor, "or my hair is pink. And by God,I believe there's a story there. What's more, I believe we can get it.It's blind chance, but we'll take it."

  "Let Mr. Willis----" began Miss Donovan.

  "Mind your own business, Stella," commanded Farriss, "and see that yourhat's on straight. Because within half an hour you're going to draw onthe night cashier for five hundred dollars and pack your littleportmanteau for Haskell."

  Willis's face fell. "Can't I go, too?" he began, but Farriss silencedhim on the instant.

  "Kid," he said sharply but kindly, "you're too good a hound for thedesert. The city needs you here--and, dammit, you keep on sniffing."

  Turning to the unsettled girl beside him, he went on briskly:

  "Work guardedly; query us when you have to; be sure of your facts, andconsign your soul to God. Do I see you moving?"

  And when Farriss looked again he did.