A Man and His Money Part 10

"She knew your other maid had left; this confederate had, of course, told her. It was all arranged that she should come here. Rest a.s.sured of that. And having accomplished her purpose--clever that she is!--she at once started to ingratiate herself with your niece, to make herself useful. As a mistress of languages she _was_ useful, in fact more so than any ordinary maid. Where did she come from? Find out whom she represents, and--we'll have the key to the mystery. But she, too, has disappeared; after turning the game over to the others, perhaps. I would suggest cabling those foreign references this young woman gave you. They will, of course, including your Paris friend, know nothing of her; the name she gave you was not her own."

"But by what unfortunate combination of circ.u.mstances"--Miss Van Rolsen spoke somewhat incoherently--"should these people have been led to settle on my niece as the victim of their cowardly designs? There are so many others--"

"You forget the publicity concerning this prince your niece is to marry." The old lady stiffened. "Pardon my mentioning it, but Miss Dalrymple has in this connection been very much before the public gaze."

"Against her wish, sir, and mine!" snapped Miss Van Rolsen.

"She--I--have both lamented the fact. But what can one do? The journalists settled on the prince as a fruitful source for speculation.

He is of n.o.ble family, very wealthy, no fortune-hunter; which has made it all the more distressing for him and us." She seemed about to say something further; then her lips suddenly tightened. "As I say, it has been very distressing," she ended, after a pause. "I expect it was one of the reasons my niece wanted to get away from New York for a time."

"No doubt!" The caller's voice was courtesy itself although he probably but half-credited Miss Van Rolsen's protestations in the matter. People liked to complain of the press and newspaper notoriety, when in their hearts, perhaps, they were not so displeased to be in that terrible lime-light; especially when the person a.s.sociated with them happened to be a count, or a duke, or a prince. "Unfortunately, one has to put up with these things," he now added. "But you are positive you have told me everything?"

An instant she seemed to hesitate. "I am positive you know everything relative to the subject."

He arose. "In that event"--his manner indicated a sudden resolution--"there is one little preliminary to be attended to."

"Which is--"

"To arrest this fellow, Heatherbloom!"

"Arrest? When?"

"At once! There is no time to be lost. Already--" He gave a sudden exclamation.

"What is it?" she asked.

He stepped toward the curtain; it moved perceptibly.

"Some one has been listening," exclaimed Miss Van Rolsen excitedly.

"Yes, some one." Significantly. As he spoke he threw back the curtain and revealed the door partly ajar.

"It must have been--Not one of my old servants--- They would not have--"

He stopped her. "There's the front way out of this house and the area way below," he said rapidly. "Is there any other way of escaping to the street?"

"No."

He darted out of the room to the front door. She followed.

"Quite in time!" he said, casting a quick look both ways along the avenue and then letting his glance fall to the servants' entrance below.

"You think he will try to--"

He regarded her swiftly. "While I stand guard here, would you mind getting some one to 'phone my office and ask two or three of my men to step over at once? Not that I doubt my own ability to cope with the case"--fingering the handle of a weapon on his pocket--"only it is always well to take no chances. Especially now!"

"Now?"

"Since he has practically convicted himself and confirmed my theory. We shall get at the truth through him. We're nearer the solution of the matter than I dared hope for."

"I'll telephone myself!" she cried. And started back to do so when an excited face confronted her.

"If ye plase, ma'am!" It was the cook.

"What is it?" Miss Van Rolsen spoke sharply.

"If ye plase, I think, ma'am, this Mr. Heatherbloom has taken lave av his senses."

"Why, what has he been doing?"

"He has, faith, just jumped over the fence into our neighbor's yard on the corner, and--"

The man on the steps did not wait to hear more; with something that sounded like an imprecation he sprang quickly down to the sidewalk and ran toward the corner.

CHAPTER IX

WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS

As Mr. Heatherbloom prepared to issue from his neighbor's gate opening on the side street, the feminine voice of one of the servants in the rear of the corner house called out in alarm at sight of the strange figure speeding across their metropolitan imitation of a back yard. If anything were needed to stimulate the fugitive's footsteps, it was the sound of that voice. He stayed not on the order of his going, but pushing back the heavy bolt--fortunately his egress was not barred by a locked door--he tore open the gate and sprang to the sidewalk. Then without stopping, he ran on, away from the fashionable avenue. The street he traversed like many thoroughfares of its kind was comparatively deserted most of the time; n.o.body impeded his progress, though one or two people gazed after him from their windows.

He had gone about three-quarters of a block when the window spectators discerned a heavier built figure come lumbering around the corner, apparently in hot pursuit. Mr. Heatherbloom, glancing over his shoulder, also observed this person; his capture and subsequent incarceration seemed inevitable. Already the fugitive was drawing near to busier Fourth Avenue; there he would be obliged to relax his pace; he could not sprint down that thoroughfare without attracting undue attention.

Behind, the pursuer called out; he was, however, too short of breath for compelling vocal effect.

Mr. Heatherbloom, on the contrary, had good control of his breathing and was, moreover, yet fresh and physically capable. Which fact made it the more difficult for him to settle down to a forced, albeit sharp walk as he approached the corner, when his gait suddenly accelerated once more.

A street-car had just started not very far from him and Mr. Heatherbloom ran after it. A fine pretext for speed was offered him; as he "let himself go" in the way he had once gone somewhere in the past in a hundred-yards' dash, he felt joyously conscious both of covering s.p.a.ce quickly and that he did so without making himself particularly prominent. Fools who ran after street-cars were born every moment; he was happy to be relegated to that idiotic cla.s.s by any onlookers. He caught the car while it was going; he didn't want it to stop for him.

Neither did it stop to pick up any one else for several blocks; there was a s.p.a.ce before it un.o.bstructed by traffic. The motorman turned on more power and Mr. Heatherbloom listened gratefully to the humming wheels. At the same time he looked back; at the corner where he had turned into Fourth avenue he fancied a number of people were gathering.

He could surmise the cause; the stockily-built man--his pursuer--was asking questions; he had learned what had become of the fugitive and was presumably looking around for a "taxi." In vain. At least, Mr.

Heatherbloom so concluded, because one did not appear in hot chase behind them.

The motorman still gave "rapid service"; the conductor looked at his watch, by which Mr. Heatherbloom imagined they had time to make up. He hoped so, then resented a pause at a corner for an old lady. How he wished she had not been afflicted with rheumatism, and could have got on without help! But at length the light-weight conductor did manage to pull the heavy-weight pa.s.senger aboard. Time lost, thirty seconds! The motorman manipulated the lever more deliberately now and they gathered headway slowly. Mr. Heatherbloom dared not remain longer where he was; as the car approached a corner near an elevated station, he got off. He was obliged to walk now a short distance but he did so hastily. Drawing near the iron steps, leading upward, he once more looked back; a "taxi"

_was_ whirling after him and he had no doubt as to its occupant. The street-car could easily have been kept in sight and his leaving it been noted.

Mr. Heatherbloom now threw discretion to the winds; dashing toward the stairway he ran up. Just as he reached the ticket window, the pursuing vehicle stopped below. Some one sprang out, did not pause to pay the chauffeur, but calling out to him his name, started after Mr.

Heatherbloom. That gentleman had by this time boarded the train waiting above; he stood on the rear platform. Any moment the pursuer would appear. He did appear as the gates of the train were closed and the cars had started on their way.

Yet he did not give up for running alongside the last car he called out to the guard:

"Fugitive from justice! Criminal--on this train! Open the gate for me!"

An instant the guard hesitated; rules, however, were rules.

"Five hundred dollars if you let me on!" the voice panted.