The Bandbox

“Yes – I know,” Staff agreed, bewildered; “but – but Miss Searle – your daughter – !”

“That’s a hard one for you to swallow – what? I don’t blame you. But it’s true. And that’s why I’m all worked up – half crazed by my knowledge that that infamous blackguard has managed to deceive her and make her believe he is me – myself – her father.”

“But what makes you think that?”

“Oh, I’ve his word for it. Read!”

Iff whipped an envelope from his pocket and flipped it over to Staff. “He knew, of course, where I get my letters when in town, and took a chance of that catching me there and poisoning the sunlight for me.”

Staff turned the envelope over in his hands, remarking the name, address, postmark and special delivery stamp. “Mailed at Hartford, Connecticut, at nine this morning,” he commented.

“Read it,” insisted Iff irritably.

Staff withdrew the enclosure: a single sheet of note-paper with a few words scrawled on one side.

“‘I’ve got her,’” he read aloud. “‘She thinks I’m you. Is this sufficient warning to you to keep out of this game? If not – you know what to expect.’”

He looked from the note back to Iff. “What does he mean by that?”

“How can I tell? It’s a threat, and that’s enough for me; he’s capable of anything fiendish enough to amuse him.” He shook his clenched fists impotently above his head. “Oh, if ever again I get within arm’s length of the hound …!”

“Look here,” said Staff; “I’m a good deal in the dark about this business. You’ve got to calm yourself and help me out. Now you say Miss Searle’s your daughter; yet you were on the ship together and didn’t recognise one another – at least, so far as I could see.”

“You don’t see everything,” said Iff; “but at that, you’re right – she didn’t recognise me. She hasn’t for years – seven years, to be exact. It was seven years ago that she ran away from me and changed her name. And it was all his doing! I’ve told you that Ismay has, in his jocular way, made a practice of casting suspicion on me. Well, the thing got so bad that he made her believe I was the criminal in the family. So, being the right sort of a girl, she couldn’t live with me any longer and she just naturally shook me – went to Paris to study singing and fit herself to earn a living. I followed her, pleaded with her, but she couldn’t be made to understand; so I had to give it up. And that was when I registered my oath to follow this cur to the four corners of the earth, if need be, and wait my chance to trip him up, expose him and clear myself. And now he’s finding the going a bit rough, thanks to my public-spirited endeavours, and he takes this means of tying my hands!”

“I should think,” said Staff, “you’d have shot him long before this.”

“Precisely,” agreed Iff mockingly. “That’s just where the bone-headedness comes in that so endears you to your friends. If I killed him, where would be my chance to prove I hadn’t been guilty of the crimes he’s laid at my door? He’s realised that, all along… I passed him on deck one night, coming over; it was midnight and we were alone; the temptation to lay hands on him and drop him overboard was almost irresistible – and he knew it and laughed in my face!.. And that’s the true reason why I didn’t accuse him when I was charged with the theft of the necklace – because I couldn’t prove anything and a trumped-up accusation that fell through would only make my case the worse in Nelly’s sight… But I’ll get him yet!”

“Have you thought of going to Hartford?”

“I’m no such fool. If that letter was posted in Hartford this morning, it means that Ismay’s in Philadelphia.”

“But isn’t he wise enough to know you’d think just that?”

Iff sat up with a flush of excitement. “By George!” he cried – “there’s something in that!”

“It’s a chance,” said Staff thoughtfully.

The little man jumped up and began to pace the floor. To and fro, from the hall-door to the windows, he strode. At perhaps the seventh turn at the windows he paused, looking out, then moved quickly back to Staff’s side.

“Taxicab stopping outside,” he said in a low voice: “woman getting out – Miss Landis, I think. If you don’t mind, I’ll dodge into your bedroom.”

“By all means,” assented his host, rising.

Iff swung out of sight into the back room as Staff went to and opened the hall-door.

Alison had just gained the head of the stairs. She came to the study door, moving with her indolent grace, acknowledging his greeting with an insolent, cool nod.

“Not too late, I trust?” she said enigmatically.

“For what?” asked Staff, puzzled.

“For this appointment,” she said, extending a folded bit of paper.

“Appointment?” he repeated with the rising inflection, taking the paper.

“It was delivered at my hotel half an hour ago,” she told him. “I presumed you …”

“No,” said Staff. “Half a minute…”

He shut the door and unfolded the note. The paper and the chirography, he noticed, were identical with those of the note received by Iff from Hartford. With this settled to his satisfaction, he read the contents aloud, raising his voice a trifle for the benefit of the listener in the back room.

“‘If Miss Landis wishes to arrange for the return of the Cadogan collar, will she be kind enough to call at Mr. Staff’s rooms in Thirtieth Street at a quarter to ten tonight.

“‘N. B. – Any attempt to bring the police or private detectives or other outsiders into the negotiations will be instantly known to the writer and – there won’t be any party.’”

“Unsigned,” said Staff reflectively.

“Well?” demanded Alison, seating herself.

“Curious,” remarked Staff, still thinking.

“Well?” she iterated less patiently. “Is it a practical joke?”

“No,” he said, smiling; “to me it looks like business.”

“You mean that the thief intends to come here – to bargain with me?”

“I should fancy so, from what he says… And,” Staff added, crossing to his desk, “forewarned is forearmed.”

He bent over and pulled out the drawer containing his revolver. At the same moment he heard Alison catch her breath sharply, and a man’s voice replied to his platitude.

“Not always,” it said crisply. “Be good enough to leave that gun lay – just hold up your hands, where I can see them, and come away from that desk.”

Staff laughed shortly and swung smartly round, exposing empty hands. In the brief instant in which his back had been turned a man had let himself into the study from the hall. He stood now with his back to the door, covering Staff with an automatic pistol.

“Come away,” he said in a peremptory tone, emphasising his meaning with a flourish of the weapon. “Over here – by Miss Landis, if you please.”

Quietly Staff obeyed. He had knocked about the world long enough to recognise the tone of a man talking business with a gun. He placed himself beside Alison’s chair and waited, wondering.

Indeed, he was very much perplexed and disturbed. For the first time since Iff had won his confidence against his better judgment, his faith in the little man was being shaken. This high-handed intruder was so close a counterpart of Mr. Iff that one had to look twice to distinguish the difference, and then found the points of variance negligible – so much so that the fellow might well be Iff in different clothing and another manner. And Iff could easily have slipped out of the bedroom by its hall door. Only, to shift his clothes so quickly he would have to be a lightning-change artist of exceptional ability.

On the whole, Staff decided, this couldn’t be Iff. And yet … and yet …

“You may put up that pistol,” he said coolly. “I’m not going to jump you, so it’s unnecessary. Besides, it’s bad form with a lady present. And finally, if you should happen to let it off the racket would bring the police down on you more quickly than you’d like, I fancy.”

The man grinned and shoved the weapon into a pocket from which its grip projected handily.

“Something in what you say,” he assented. “Besides, I’m quick, surprisingly quick with my hands.”

“Part of your professional equipment, no doubt,” commented Staff indifferently.

“Admit it,” said the other easily. He turned his attention to Alison. “Well, Miss Landis …?”

“Well, Mr. Iff?” she returned in the same tone.

“No,” he corrected; “not Iff – Ismay.”

“So you’ve changed identities again!”

“Surely you don’t mind?” he said, grinning over the evasion.

“But you denied being Ismay aboard the Autocratic.”

“My dear lady, you couldn’t reasonably expect me to plead guilty to a crime which I had not yet committed.”

“Oh, get down to business!” Staff interrupted impatiently. “You’re wasting time – yours as well as ours.”

“Peevish person, your young friend,” Ismay commented confidentially to Alison. “Still, there’s something in what he says. Shall we – ah – begin to negotiate?”

“I think you may as well,” she agreed coldly.

“Very well, then. The case is simple enough. I’m here to offer to secure the return of the Cadogan collar for an appropriate reward.”

“Ten thousand dollars has been offered,” she began.

“Not half enough, my dear lady,” he interposed. “You insult the necklace by naming such a meagre sum – to say nothing of undervaluing my intelligence.”

“So that’s it!” she said reflectively.

“That is it, precisely. I am in communication with the person who stole your necklace; she’s willing to return it for a reward of reasonable size.”

“She? You mean Miss Searle?”

The man made a deprecating gesture. “Please don’t ask me to name the lady…”

“I knew it!” Alison cried triumphantly.

“You puppy!” Staff exclaimed. “Haven’t you the common manhood to shoulder the responsibility for your crimes yourself?”

“Tush,” said the man gently – “tush! Not a pretty way to talk at all – calling names! I’m surprised. Besides, I ought to know better than you, acting as I do as agent for the lady in question.”

“That’s a flat lie,” said Staff. “If you repeat it – I warn you – I’ll jump you as sure ’s my name’s Staff, pistol or no pistol!”

“Aren’t you rather excited in your defence of this woman?” Alison turned on him with a curling lip.

“I’ve a right to my emotions,” he retorted – “to betray them as I see fit.”

“And I,” Ismay put it, “to my freedom of speech – ”

“Not in my rooms,” Staff interrupted hotly. “I’ve warned you. Drop this nonsense about Miss Searle if you want to stop here another minute without a fight. Drop it! Say what you want to say to Miss Landis – and get out!”

He was thoroughly enraged, and his manner of expressing himself seemed to convince the thief. With a slight shrug of his shoulders he again addressed himself directly to Alison.

“In the matter of the reward,” he said, “we’re of the opinion that you’ve offered too little by half. Twenty thousand at the least – ”

“You forget I have the duty to pay.”

“My dear lady, if you had not been anxious to evade payment of the duty you would be enjoying the ownership of your necklace today.”

As he spoke the telephone-bell rang. Staff turned away to his desk, Ismay’s voice pursuing him with the caution.

“Don’t forget about that open drawer – keep your hands away from it.”

“Oh, be quiet,” returned Staff contemptuously. Standing with his back to them, he took up the instrument and lifted off the receiver.

“Hello?” he said irritably.

He was glad that his face was not visible to his guests; he could restrain a start of surprise, but was afraid his expression would have betrayed him when he recognised the voice at the other end of the line as Iff’s.

“Don’t repeat my name,” it said quickly in a tone low but clear. “That is Iff. Ismay still there?”

“Yes,” said Staff instantly: “it’s I, Harry. How are you?”

“Get rid of him as quick ’s you can,” Iff continued, “and join me here at the Park Avenue. I dodged down the fire-escape and caught his motor-car; his chauffeur thinks I’m him. I’ll wait in the street – Thirty-third Street side, with the car. Now talk.”

“All right,” said Staff heartily; “glad to. I’ll be there.”

“Chauffeur knows where Nelly is, I think; but he’s too big for me to handle alone, in case my foot slips and he gets suspicious. That’s why I need you. Bring your gun.”

“Right,” Staff agreed promptly. “The club in half an hour. Yes, I’ll come. Good-bye.”

He turned back toward Ismay and Alison, his doubts resolved, all his vague misgivings as to this case of double identity settled finally and forever.

“Alison,” he said, breaking in roughly upon something Ismay was saying to the girl, “you’ve a cab waiting outside, haven’t you?”

Alison stared in surprise. “Yes,” she said in a tone of wonder.

Staff paused beside the divan, one hand resting upon the topmost of a little heap of silken cushions. “Mind if I borrow it?” he asked, ignoring the man.

“No, but – ”

“It’s business – important,” said Staff. “I’ll have to leave you here at once. Only” – he watched Ismay closely out of the corners of his eyes – “if I were you I wouldn’t waste any more time on this fellow. He’s bluffing – can’t carry out anything he promises.”

Ismay turned toward him, expostulant.

“What d’ you mean by that?” he demanded.

“Miss Searle has escaped,” said Staff deliberately.

“No!” cried Ismay, startled and thrown off his guard by the fear it might be so. “Impossible!”

“Think so?” As he spoke Staff dextrously snatched up the uppermost pillow and with a twist of his hand sent it whirling into the thief’s face.

It took him utterly unawares. His arms flew up too late to ward it off, and he staggered back a pace.

“Lots of impossible things keep happening all the time,” chuckled Staff as he closed in.

There was hardly a struggle. Staff’s left arm clipped the man about the waist at the same time that his right hand deftly abstracted the pistol from its convenient pocket. Then, dropping the weapon into his own pocket, he transferred his hold to Ismay’s collar and spun him round with a snap that fairly jarred his teeth.

“There, confound you!” he said, exploring his pockets for other lethal weapons and finding nothing but three loaded clips ready to be inserted in the hollow butt of the pistol already confiscated. “Now what ’m I going to do with you, you blame’ little pest?”

The question was more to himself than to Ismay, but the latter, recovering with astonishing quickness, answered Staff by suddenly squirming out of his coat and leaving it in his assailant’s hands as he ducked to the door and flung himself out.

Staff broke into a laugh as the patter of the little man’s feet was heard on the stairs.

“Resourceful beggar,” he commented, going to the window and rolling up the coat as he went. He reached it just in time to see the thief dodge out.

The coat, opening as it descended, fell like a blanket round Ismay’s head. He stumbled, tripped and fell headlong down the steps, sprawling and cursing.

“Thought you might need it,” Staff apologised as the man picked himself up and darted away.

He turned to confront an infuriated edition of Alison.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded with a stamp of her foot. “What right had you to interfere? I was beating him down; in another minute we’d have come to terms – ”

“Oh, don’t be silly, my dear,” said Staff, taking his revolver from the desk-drawer and placing it in the hip-pocket of tradition. “To begin with, I don’t mind telling you I don’t give much of a whoop whether you ever get that necklace back or not.” He grabbed his hat and started for the door. “What I’m interested in is the rescue of Miss Searle, if you must know; and that’s going to happen before long, or I miss my guess.” He paused at the open door. “If we get her, we get the necklace, of course – and the Lord knows you’ll be welcome to that. Would you mind turning out the lights before you go?”

“Staff!”

Her tone was so peremptory that he hesitated an unwelcome moment longer.

“Well?” he asked civilly, wondering what on earth she had found to fly into such a beastly rage about.

“You know what this means?”

“You tell me,” he smiled.

“It means the break; I won’t play A Single Woman!” she snapped.

“That’s the best guess you’ve made yet,” he laughed. “You win. Good night and – good-bye.”

XVI

NINETY MINUTES

Commandeering Alison’s taxicab with the promise of an extra tip, Staff jumped in and shut the door. As they swung into Fourth Avenue, he caught a glimpse of Ismay’s slight figure standing on the corner, his pose expressive of indecision and uncertainty; and Staff smiled to himself, surmising that it was there that the thief had left his motor-car to be confiscated by Iff.

Three blocks north on Fourth Avenue, and they swung west into Thirty-third Street: a short course quickly covered, but yet not swiftly enough to outpace Staff’s impatience. He had the door open, his foot on the step, before the taxicab had begun to slow down preparatory to stopping beside the car waiting in the shadow of the big hotel.

Iff was in the tonneau, gesticulating impatiently; the chauffeur had already cranked up and was sliding into his seat. As the taxicab rolled alongside, Staff jumped, thrust double the amount registered by the meter into the driver’s hand, and sprang into the body of Ismay’s car. Iff snapped the door shut; as though set in motion by that sharp sound, the machine began to move smoothly and smartly, gathering momentum with every revolution of its wheels. They were crossing Madison almost before Staff had settled into his seat. A moment later they were snoring up Fifth Avenue.

Staff looked at his watch. “Ten,” he told Iff.

“We’ll make time once we get clear of this island,” said the little man anxiously; “we’ve got to.”

“Why?”

“To beat Ismay – ”

Staff checked him with a hand on his arm and a warning glance at the back of the chauffeur’s head.

“Oh, that’s all right now,” Iff told him placidly. “I thought we might ’s well understand one another first as last; so, while we were waiting for you, I slipped him fifty, gave him to understand that my affectionate cousin had about come to the end of his rope and – won his heart and confidence. It’s a way I have with people; they do seem to fall for me,” he asserted with insufferable self-complacence.

He continued to impart his purchased information to Staff by snatches all the way from Thirty-fourth Street to the Harlem River.

“He’s a decent sort,” he said, indicating the operator with a nod; “apparently, that is; name, Spelvin. Employed by a garage upon the West Side, in the Seventies. Says Ismay rang ’em up about half-past two last night, chartered this car and driver, to be kept waiting for him whenever he called for it… Coarse work that, for Cousin Arbuthnot – very, very crude…

“Still, he’d just got home and hadn’t had time to make very polished arrangements… Seems he told this chap he was to see nothing but the road, hear nothing but the motor, say nothing whatever to nobody. Gave him a fifty, too. That habit seems to run in the family…

“He called for the car around five o’clock, with Nelly. Spelvin says she seemed worn out, hardly conscious of what was going on. They lit out for – where we’re bound: place on the Connecticut shore called Pennymint Point. On the way Ismay told him to stop at a roadhouse, got out and brought Nelly a drink. Spelvin says he wouldn’t be surprised if it was doped; she slept all the rest of the way and hardly woke up even when they helped her aboard the boat.”

“Boat!”

“Motor-boat. I infer that Cousin Arbuthnot has established headquarters on a little two-by-four island in the Sound – Wreck Island. Used to be run as a one-horse summer resort – hotel and all that. Went under several years ago, if mem’ry serveth me aright. Anyhow, they loaded Nelly aboard this motor-boat and took her across…

“Spelvin was told to wait. He did. In about an hour – boat back; native running it hands Spelvin a note, tells him to run up to Hartford and post it and be back at seven P.M. Spelvin back at seven; Ismay comes across by boat, is driven to town…

“That’s all, to date. Spelvin had begun to suspect there was something crooked going on, which made him easy meat for my insidious advances. Says he was wondering if he hadn’t better tell his troubles to a cop. All of which goes to show that Cousin Artie’s fast going to seed. Very crude operating – man of his reputation, too. Makes me almost ashamed of the relationship.”

“How are we going to get to Wreck Island from Pennymint Point?”

“Same boat,” said Iff confidently. “Spelvin heard Ismay tell his engineer to wait for him – would be back between midnight and three.”

“He can’t beat us there, can he, by any chance?”

“He can if he humps himself. This is a pretty good car, and Spelvin says there isn’t going to be any car on the road tonight that’ll pass us; but I can’t forget that dear old New York, New Haven & Hartford. They run some fast trains by night, and while of course none of them stops at Pennymint Centre – station for the Point – still, a man with plenty of money to fling around can get a whole lot of courtesy out of a railroad.”

“Then the question is: can he catch a train which passes through Pennymint Centre before we can reasonably expect to get there?”

“That’s the intelligent query. I don’t know. Do you?”

“No – ”

“Spelvin doesn’t, and we haven’t got any time to waste trying to find out. Probabilities are, there is. The only thing to do is to run for it and trust to luck. Spelvin says it took him an hour and thirty-five minutes to run in, this evening; and he’s going to better that if nothing happens. Did you remember to bring a gun?”

“Two.” Staff produced the pistol he had taken from Ismay, with the extra clips, and gave them to the little man with an account of how he had become possessed of them – a narrative which Iff seemed to enjoy immensely.

“Oh, we can’t lose,” he chuckled; “not when Cousin Artie plays his hand as poorly as he has this deal. I’ve got a perfectly sound hunch that we’ll win.”

Staff hardly shared his confidence; still, as far as he could judge, the odds were even. Ismay might beat them to Pennymint Centre by train, and might not. If he did, however, it could not be by more than a slight margin; to balance which fact, Staff had to remind himself that two minutes’ margin was all that would be required to get the boat away from land, beyond their reach.

“Look here,” he put it to Iff: “suppose he does beat us to that boat?”

“Then we’ll have to find another.”

“There’ll be another handy, all ready for us, I presume?”

“Spare me your sarcasm,” pleaded Iff; “it is, if you don’t mind my mentioning the fact, not your forte. Silence, on the other hand, suits your style cunningly. So shut up and lemme think.”

He relapsed into profound meditations, while the car hummed onwards through the moon-drenched spaces of the night.

Presently he roused and, without warning, clambered over the back of the seat into the place beside the chauffeur. For a time the two conferred, heads together, their words indistinguishable in the sweep of air. Then, in the same spry fashion, the little man returned.

“Spelvin’s a treasure,” he announced, settling into his place.

“Why?”

“Knows the country – knows a man in Barmouth who runs a shipyard, owns and hires out motorboats, and all that sort of thing.”

“Where’s Barmouth?”

“Four miles this side of Pennymint Point. Now we’ve got to decide whether to hold on and run our chances of picking up Ismay’s boat, or turn off to Barmouth and run our chances of finding chauffeur’s friend with boat disengaged. What do you think?”

“Barmouth,” Staff decided after some deliberation but not without misgivings.

“That’s what I told Spelvin,” observed Iff. “It’s a gamble either way.”

The city was now well behind them, the car pounding steadily on through Westchester. For a long time neither spoke. The time for talk, indeed, was past – and in the future; for the present they must tune themselves up to action – such action as the furious onrush of the powerful car in some measure typified, easing the impatience in their hearts.

For a time the road held them near railroad tracks. A train hurtled past them, running eastwards: a roaring streak of orange light crashing through the world of cool night blues and purple-blacks.

The chauffeur swore audibly and let out another notch of speed.