Under Cover

“You don’t look as though it is,” she said provocatively.

He made an effort to appear as light-hearted as she.

“But I am,” he assured her. “It is delightful to see you again.”

“It’s no more delightful than for me to see you,” she returned.

“Really?” he returned. “Isn’t it curious that when you like people you may not see them for a year, but when you do, you begin just where you left off.”

“Where did we leave off?” she demanded with a smile.

“Why – in Paris,” he said with a trace of embarrassment. “You don’t want to forget our Paris, I hope?”

“Never,” she cried, enthusiastically. “It was there we found that we really were congenial. We are, aren’t we?”

“Congenial?” he repeated. “We’re more than that – we’re – ”

She interrupted him. “And yet, somehow, you’ve changed a lot since Paris.”

“For better or for worse?” he asked.

She shook her head. “For worse.”

He looked at her reproachfully. “Oh, come now, Miss Cartwright, be fair!”

“In Paris you used to trust me,” she said.

“And you think I don’t now?” he returned.

“I’m quite sure you don’t,” she told him.

“Why do you say that?” Denby inquired.

“There are lots of things,” she answered. “One is that when I asked you why you were here in America, you put me off with some playful excuse about being just an idler.” She looked at him with a vivacious air.

“Now didn’t you really come over on an important mission?”

Poor Denby, who had been telling himself that Monty’s suspicions were without justification, and that this girl’s good faith could not be doubted even if several circumstances were beyond his power to explain, groaned inwardly. Here she was, trying, he felt certain, to gain his confidence to satisfy the men who were even now investing the house.

But he was far from giving in yet. How could she, one of Vernon Cartwright’s daughters, reared in an atmosphere wholly different from this sordid business, be engaged in trying to betray him?

“Well,” he said, “suppose I did come over on something more than pleasure, what do you want to know concerning it? And why do you want to know?”

“Shall we say feminine curiosity?” she returned.

He shook his head. “I think not. There must be something more vital than a mere whim.”

“Perhaps there is,” she conceded, leaning forward, “I want us to be friends, really good friends; I regard it as a test of friendship. Why won’t you tell me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Shall we say man’s intuition? Oh, I know it’s not supposed to be as good as a woman’s, but sometimes it’s much more accurate.”

“So you can’t trust me?” she said, steadily trying to read his thoughts.

“Can I?” he asked, gazing back at her just as steadily.

“Don’t you think you can?” she fenced adroitly.

“If you do,” he said meaningly.

“But aren’t we friends,” she asked him, “pledged that night under the moon in the Bois? You see I, too, have memories of Paris.”

“Then you put it,” he said quietly, “to a test of friendship.”

“Yes,” she answered readily.

He thought for a moment. Well, here was the opportunity to find out whether Monty was right or whether the woman he cared for was merely a spy set upon him, a woman whose kindnesses and smiles were part of her training.

“Very well,” he said, “then so do I. You are right. I did not come to America idly – I came to smuggle a necklace of pearls through the Customs. I did it to-day.”

The girl rose from her seat by the little table where she had sat facing him and looked at him, all the brightness gone from her face.

“You didn’t, you didn’t!”

“I did,” he assured her.

She turned her face away from him. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she wailed. “I’m sorry.”

Denby looked at her keenly. He was puzzled at the manner in which she took it.

“But I fooled ’em,” he boasted.

She looked about her nervously as though she feared Taylor might have listened to his frank admission and be ready to spring upon them.

“You can’t tell that,” she said in a lower-keyed voice. “How can you be sure they didn’t suspect?”

“Because I’m comfortably settled here, and there are no detectives after me. And if there were,” he confided in her triumphantly, “they’d never suspect I carry the necklace in my tobacco-pouch.”

“But your pouch was empty,” she cried.

“How do you know that?” he demanded quickly.

“I was here when Lambart spilt it,” she explained hastily. “There it is on the mantel, I meant to have given it to you.”

“I don’t need it,” he said, taking one similar in shape and color from his pocket.

“Two pouches!” she cried aghast. “Two?”

“An unnecessary precaution,” he said carelessly, “one would have done; as it is they haven’t suspected me a bit.”

“You can’t be certain of that,” she insisted. “If they found out they’d put you in prison.”

“And would you care?” he demanded.

“Why, of course I would,” she responded. “Aren’t we friends?”

He had that same steady look in his eyes as he asked: “Are we?”

It was a gaze she could not bring herself to meet. Assuredly, she groaned, she was not of the stuff from which the successful adventuress was made.

“Of course,” she murmured in reply. “But what are you going to do?”

“I’ve made my plans,” he told her. “I’ve been very careful. I’ve given my confidence to two people only, both of whom I trust absolutely – Monty Vaughan and” – he looked keenly at her, – “and you. I shan’t be caught. I won’t give in, and I’ll stop at nothing, no matter what it costs, or whom it hurts. I’ve got to win.”

It seemed to him she made an ejaculation of distress. “What is it?” he cried.

“Nothing much,” she said nervously, “it’s the heat, I suppose. That’s why I wouldn’t dance, you know. Won’t you take me into the garden and we’ll look at the moon – it’s the same moon,” she said, with a desperate air of trying to conceal from him her agitation, “that shines in Paris. It’s gorgeous,” she added, looking across the room where no moon was.

“Surely,” he said. “It is rather stuffy indoors on a night like this.” He moved leisurely over to the French windows. But she called him back. She was not yet keyed up to this supreme act of treachery.

“No, no,” she called again, “don’t let’s go, after all.”

“Why not?” he demanded, bewildered at her fitful mood.

“I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “But let’s stay here. I’m nervous, I think.”

“Nonsense,” he said cheerily, trying to brace her up. “The moon is a great soother of nerves, and a friendly old chap, too. What is it?” he asked curiously. “You’re miles away from here, but I don’t think you’re in Paris, either. It’s your turn to tell me something. Where are you?”

He could not guess that her thoughts were in her home, where her poor, gentle, semi-invalid mother was probably now worrying over the sudden mood of depression which had fallen upon her younger girl. And it would be impossible for him to understand the threat of prison and disgrace which was even now hanging over Amy Cartwright’s head.

“I was thinking of my sister,” she told him slowly. “Come, let’s go.”

Before he could unfasten the French windows there was a sound of running feet outside, and Monty’s nervous face was seen looking in. Nora, breathless, was hanging on to his arm.

Quickly Denby opened the doors and let the two in, and then shut the doors again. “What is it?” he demanded quickly.

“Don’t go out there, Steve,” Monty cried, when he could get breath enough to speak.

“Why, what is it?” Ethel Cartwright asked nervously.

“Nora and I went for a walk in the garden, and suddenly two men jumped out on us from behind the pagoda. They had almost grabbed us when one man shouted to the other fellow, ‘We’re wrong,’ and Nora screamed and ran like the very devil, and I had to run after her of course.”

“It was dreadful,” said Nora gasping.

“What’s dreadful?” Alice Harrington demanded, coming on the scene followed by her husband. They had been disturbed by Nora’s screams.

“Won’t someone please explain?” Michael asked anxiously.

“It was frightful,” Nora cried.

“Let me tell it,” Monty protested.

“You’ll get it all wrong,” his companion asserted. “I wasn’t half as scared as you.”

“I was talking to Nora,” Monty explained, “and suddenly from the shrubbery – ”

“Somebody stepped right out,” Nora added.

“One at a time,” Michael admonished them, “one at a time, please.”

“Why, you see, Monty and I went for a walk in the garden,” Nora began —

“And two men jumped out and started for us,” Monty broke in.

“Great Scott,” Michael cried, indignant that the privacy of his own estate should be invaded, “and here, too!”

“What did you do?” Alice asked eagerly.

“I just screamed and they ran away,” Nora told her a little proudly. “Wasn’t it exciting?” she added, drawing a deep breath. “Just like a book!”

“Michael,” his wife said, shocked, “they might have been killed.”

“What they need is a drink,” he said impressively; “I’ll ring for some brandy.”

“I’d be all right,” Monty stated emphatically, “if I could get one long breath.”

“You do look a bit shaken, old man,” Denby said sympathetically. “What you need is a comforting smoke. You left a pipe on the table in my room. Take my tobacco and light up.”

Monty looked at the pigskin pouch as his friend handed it to him. “Gee!” he said, regarding it as one might a poisonous reptile, “I don’t want that.”

“That’s all right,” Denby said. “I can spare it. And when you’re through with it, drop it in the drawer of the writing-table, will you? I always like to make myself one for coffee in the morning. I’ve smoked enough to-night.”

By this time Monty understood what was required of him. He took the pouch respectfully and crossed toward the stairs. “I’ll leave it in the drawer,” he called out as he ascended the stairs.

Michael had been looking through the glass doors with a pair of binoculars. “I see nothing,” he declared.

“But suppose they come back later, and break in here at night?” Alice cried.

“I shall organize the household servants and place Lambart at their head,” he said gravely. “He is an excellent shot. Then there are three able-bodied men here, so that we are prepared.”

“I’m sure you needn’t take any such elaborate precautions,” Denby told him. “No men, after once warning us, would break in here with so many servants. I imagine they were a couple of tramps who were attracted by Miss Rutledge’s rings and thought they could make a quick getaway.”

“This is a lesson to me to provide myself with a couple of Airedales,” Michael asserted. “Things are coming to a pretty pass when one invites one’s friends to come down to a week-end party and get robbed. It’s worse than a hotel on the Riviera.”

“Well, they didn’t get anything,” Nora cried. “You should have seen me run. I believe I flew, and I do believe I’ve lost weight!”

“But oughtn’t I to go out and see?” Michael asked a little weakly.

“Certainly not,” Alice commanded him firmly. “I can imagine nothing more useless than a dead husband.”

He took her hand affectionately. “How right you are,” he murmured gratefully. “I think, though, I ought to ask the police to keep a sharp watch.”

“That’s sensible,” his wife agreed. “Go and telephone.”

“Goodness,” Nora cried suddenly, “I haven’t any rings on. I must have left them on my dressing-table.”

Alice looked alarmed. “And I left all sorts of things on mine. Let’s go up together. And you, Ethel, have you left anything valuable about?”

“There’s nothing worth taking,” the girl answered.

“You look frightened to death, child,” Mrs. Harrington exclaimed, as she was passing her.

Ethel sat down on the fender seat with a smile of assurance. “Oh, not a bit,” she said. “There are three strong men to protect us, remember.”

“Yes – two men and Michael,” her hostess laughed, passing up the stairway out of view.

“The moon is still there, Miss Cartwright,” Denby observed quietly. “Surely you are not tired of moons yet?”

“But those men out there,” she protested.

“I’m sure they weren’t after me,” he returned. “They wouldn’t wait in the garden, and even if they are detectives, they wouldn’t get the necklace, it’s safe – now.”

Ethel Cartwright shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ve got nerves like every other woman,” she confessed, “and the evening has been quite eventful enough as it is. I think I prefer to stay here.”

She glanced up to see Monty descending the stairs. All this talk of robbery and actual participation in a scene of violence had induced in Monty the desire for the company of his kind.

“I thought I’d rather be down here,” he stated naively.

“All right, old man,” Denby said smiling. “Glad to have you. Did you put the pouch where I said?”

“Yes,” Monty answered, handing him a key, “and I locked it up,” he explained.

“Good!” his friend exclaimed, putting the key in his pocket.

Miss Cartwright yawned daintily. “Excitement seems to make me sleepy,” she said. “I think I shall go.”

“You’re not going to leave us yet?” Denby said reproachfully.

“I was up very early,” she told him.

“I guess everything is safe now,” Monty assured her.

“Let’s hope so,” Denby said. “Still, the night isn’t half over yet. Pleasant dreams, Miss Cartwright.”

She paused on the half landing and looked down at the two men.

“I’m afraid they won’t be quite – that.”

Monty crept to the foot of the stairway and made certain she was passed out of hearing. “Steve,” he said earnestly, “she’s gone now to get into your room.”

“No, she hasn’t,” Denby protested, knowing he was lying.

Monty looked at his friend in wonderment. Usually Denby was quick of observation, but now he seemed uncommonly dull.

“Why, she never made a move to leave until she knew I’d put the pouch in the drawer. Then she said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You must have noticed how she took in everything you said. She’s even taken to watching me, too. What makes you so blind, Steve?”

“I’m not blind,” Denby said, a trifle irritably. “It happens you are magnifying things, till everything you see is wrong.”

“Nonsense,” Monty returned bluntly. “If she gets that necklace it’s all up with us, and you needn’t pretend otherwise.”

“Make your mind easy,” Denby exclaimed, “she won’t get it.”

“May I ask what’s going to stop her?” Monty inquired, goaded into sarcasm. “Do you think she needs to know the combination of an ordinary lock like that top drawer?”

“The necklace isn’t there,” Denby said.

Monty looked at him piteously. “For Heaven’s sake don’t tell me I’ve got it somewhere on me!”

Denby drew it out of a false pocket under the right lapel of his coat and held the precious string up to the other’s view. “That’s why,” he observed.

“Then everything’s all right,” Monty cried with unrestrained joy.

“Everything’s all wrong,” Denby corrected.

“But, Steve,” Monty said reproachfully, “the necklace – ”

“Oh, damn the necklace!” Denby interrupted viciously.

Monty shook his head mournfully. His friend’s aberrations were astounding.

“Steve,” he said slowly, “you’re a fool!”

“I guess I am,” the other admitted. “But,” he added, snapping his teeth together, “I’m not such a fool as to get caught, Monty, so pull yourself together, something’s bound to happen before long.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” sighed Monty.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ON the way to her room Ethel Cartwright met Michael Harrington, a box of cigars in his hand, coming toward the head of the stairway.

“Whither away?” he demanded.

“To bed,” she returned. “The excitement’s been too much for me.”

“This box,” he said, lovingly caressing it, “contains what I think are the best that can be smoked.” He opened and showed what seemed to her cigars of a very large size. “I’m going to give the boys one apiece as a reward for bravery.” He laughed with glee. “And as Lambart is going to be one of the search party, I’m going to give him one, too. He’ll either leave at my temerity in offering him the same kind of weed his employer smokes, or else he’ll have it framed.”

“A search party?” she said. “What do you mean?”

“We’re going to beat the bushes for tramps,” he said. “I am directing operations from the balcony outside my room. The general in command,” he explained, “never gets on the firing-line in modern warfare.”

“Is Mr. Denby going?” she asked.

“No, no,” he said. “I can’t expect my guests to expose themselves to the risk of being shot. Don’t you be alarmed,” he said solicitously, “I shall be at hand in case of trouble.”

When she reached her room she sat motionless for a few moments on the edge of the bed. Then suddenly, she rose and walked along a corridor and knocked at the door of the room she knew was Alice Harrington’s.

“Alice,” she said nervously, and there was no doubt in the elder woman’s mind that the girl was thoroughly upset, “I’m nervous of sleeping in the room you’ve given me. Can’t I sleep somewhere near people? Let me have that room I had the last time I was here.”

“Why, my dear girl, of course, if you want it,” Alice said sympathetically. “But it isn’t as pretty, and I especially had this bigger room for you. Don’t be a silly little girl; you’ll be asleep in five minutes. Better still, I’ll come and read till you’re drowsy.”

“Please humor me,” the other pleaded. “I’d rather be where, if I scream, someone can hear, and the men are sleeping down there, and one after all does depend on them in emergencies.”

“All right,” Alice said good-humoredly, “I’ll ring for the servants to take your things in.”

“We can do it,” Ethel said eagerly. “I’ve only one cabin trunk, and it weighs nothing. Why disturb them?”

When they had moved the baggage down the halls to the smaller room, there was no key to lock the door which led to a connecting room.

“Whose is that?” Ethel demanded.

“Mr. Denby’s,” she was told. “I always give men big rooms, because they’re so untidy. Michael will know where the key is. He has every one of the hundred keys with a neat label on it. He’s so methodical in some things. By the time you’re ready for bed I’ll have it.”

A few minutes later the intervening door was safely locked and Mrs. Harrington had left the girl, feeling that perhaps she, too, would be nervous if she had not her Michael close at hand.

Directly the girl was alone she sprang out of bed and hurriedly put on a white silk negligée. So far her plans had prospered admirably. The bedroom from which she had moved was so situated that if she were to undertake the search of Denby’s room, she must pass the rooms of her host and hostess and also that of Nora Rutledge. And this search was imperative. Out in the darkness Taylor and his men were waiting impatiently. Presently a band of men, armed in all probability, would sally forth from the house and might just as likely capture the Customs officers. Supposing Taylor took this as treachery on her part and denounced her before the Harringtons? Nothing would save Amy then.

If only she could discover the necklace and give the signal in time so that the deputy-surveyor could come legitimately into the house! She told herself that she must control this growing nervousness; that her movements must be swift and sure, and that she must banish all thought of the man she had met in Paris, or the punishment that would be his.

Fortunately his guests could not escape Michael and his big cigars; and cigars, as she knew from her father’s use of them, are not consumed as a cigarette may be and thrown quickly away.

The key turned in the lock stiffly and it seemed to her, waiting breathless, that the sound must be audible everywhere. But as quiet still ruled outside in the corridors, she pushed the door half-open and peered into the room. It was dark save for the moonlight, but she could see to make her way to a writing-table, on which was an electric lamp.

She turned it on and then looked about her nervously. It was a large, well-furnished room, and to the right of her a big alcove with a bed in it. There was a large French window leading to the balcony which Taylor had noted and proposed to use if she were successful in her search.

She did not dare to look out, for fear the search party might see her, so she centered her attention upon the locked drawer in which the necklace was awaiting her. There was a brass paper-knife lying on the table, heavy enough she judged, to pry open any ordinary lock. Very cautiously she set about her work. It called for more strength than she had supposed, but the lock seemed to be yielding gradually when there fell upon her anxious ear sounds of footsteps coming down the corridor.

She sprang to her feet and listened intently, and was satisfied herself that she was in imminent danger. Putting out the light she turned to run to her room, and in doing so knocked the paper-knife to the floor. To her excited fancy it clattered hideously as it fell, but she reached her room safely and locked the door.

She was hardly in shelter before Denby came into his room and switched on the light. He was still smoking the first third of his host’s famous cigar. He sauntered to the window and looked over the lawn and wondered what luck the searchers would have. He had permitted himself to be urged by Harrington to a course of inactivity. It was not his wish to be brought face to face with his enemy while he had the jewels in a place they would instantly detect. He took the pearls from their hiding-place and threw them carelessly on the table. Then seeing the paper-knife on the floor he stooped to pick it up. But lying near it were little splinters of white wood that instantly arrested his attention. He knelt down, lit a match, and examined them without disturbing them in any way. And then his eyes travelled upward, until the scratches by the lock were plain.

Experience told him plainly that the drawer had been attempted and that recently, in fact, within a half-hour since Monty had placed his pouch there with the pearls as he supposed in it.

While he was standing there motionless, sounds in the hall outside disturbed him. Presently a knock sounded on the door. Before answering he picked up the pearls and placed them in his pocket. Then he called out: “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came Monty’s voice in answer.

“Come in,” he called.

Monty entered nervously. “Everything all right?” he demanded.

“Yes,” his friend said, and then looked at him. Monty’s appearance was slightly dishevelled. “What’s happened?” he asked.

Monty ignored the question. “I was afraid everything might be all wrong,” he cried. “This is the first time I’ve been able to swallow comfortably for an hour. I thought my heart was permanently dislocated.”

“What’s been happening downstairs?” Denby inquired.

“Nothing,” Monty told him, “and it’s the limit to have nothing happen.”

“I thought Harrington was organizing a search party.”

“Oh, we searched,” Monty admitted. “I was nominally in charge, but Lambart was the directing genius. He was an officer’s orderly in his youth and is some tactician, believe me.” Monty pointed to his muddied knees. “He stretched clothes-lines over the paths to catch the tramps, and I was the first victim. We looked everywhere, all of us, Lambart, the under-butler, two chauffeurs and I, and we didn’t even flush a cat.”

“That’s odd,” his listener commented. “They’ll be back. They’re not frightened away by you fellows with lanterns. They’ll be back.”

“I bet they will,” Monty grumbled, “and with the militia.”

“Don’t lose your nerve now, old man,” Denby counselled.

“I wish I could,” Monty cried. “This certainly is getting on it. It’s a lesson not to get discontented with my lot. I’ve got that creepy feeling all the time that they’re coming closer to us.”

“But that’s the real sport of it,” Denby pointed out.

“Sport be damned,” he said crossly. “Your ideas about foxes and mine don’t coincide. I don’t think he likes being hunted. And at that he’s got something on us; he knows who’s chasing him.”

“So shall we soon,” he was reminded.

“Yes,” Monty grumbled, “when we’re shot full of holes.”

“Don’t be afraid of getting shot at,” Denby said smiling. “You amateurs have no idea how few shots hit the mark even at short range. I’ve been shot at three times and I’ve not a scar to show.”

“Job must be your favorite author,” Monty commented sourly. “I hate the noise. I’m scared to death; I thought I wanted excitement, but life on a farm for me hereafter.”