That Mainwaring Affair Part 48

A dull, cheerless day in the early part of December was merging into a stormy night as the west-bound express over one of the transcontinental railways, swiftly winding its way along the tortuous course of a Rocky Mountain canyon, suddenly paused before the long, low depot of a typical western mining city. The arc lights swinging to and fro shed only a ghastly radiance through the dense fog, and grotesque shadows, dancing hither and thither to the vibratory motion of the lights, seemed trying to contest supremacy with the feeble rays.

The train had not come to a full stop when a man sprang lightly from one of the car platforms, and, pa.s.sing swiftly through the waiting crowd, concealed himself in the friendly shelter of the shadows, where he remained oblivious to the rain falling in spiteful dashes, while he scanned the hurrying crowd surging in various directions. Not one of the crowd observed him; not one escaped his observation. Soon his attention was riveted upon a tall man, closely m.u.f.fled in fur coat and cap, who descended from one of the rear coaches, and, after a quick, cautious glance about him, pa.s.sed the silent, motionless figure in the shadow and hastily entered a carriage standing near. The other, listening intently for the instructions given the driver, caught the words, "545 Jefferson Street."

As the carriage rolled away, he emerged from the shadow and jotted down the address in a small note-book, soliloquizing as he did so,--

"I have tracked him to his lair at last, and now, unless that infernal hoodoo looms upon the scene, I can get in my work in good shape. I would have had my game weeks ago, but for his appearance, confound him!"

He looked at his watch. "Dinner first," he muttered, "the next thing in order is to find the alias under which my gentleman is at present travelling. No one seems to know much about him in these parts."

The dim light revealed a man below medium height, his form enveloped in a heavy English mackintosh thrown carelessly about his shoulders, which, as he made his notes, blew partially open, revealing an immaculate shirt front and a brilliant diamond which scintillated and sparkled in open defiance of the surrounding gloom. A soft felt hat well pulled down concealed his eyes and the upper part of his face, leaving visible only a slightly aquiline nose and heavy, black mustache, which gave his face something of a Jewish cast. Replacing his note-book in his pocket, he called a belated carriage, and hastily gave orders to be taken to the Clifton House.

Arriving at the hotel, the stranger registered as "A. Rosenbaum, Berlin," and, having secured one of the best rooms the house afforded, repaired to the dining-room. Dinner over, Mr. Rosenbaum betook himself to a quiet corner of the office, which served also as a reading-room, and soon was apparently absorbed in a number of Eastern papers, both English and German, though a keen observer would have noted that the papers were occasionally lowered sufficiently to give the eyes--again concealed beneath the hat-brim--an opportunity for reconnoitering the situation. He was attired in a black suit of faultless fit, and a superb ruby on his left hand gleamed and glowed like living fire, rivalling in beauty the flashing diamond. He speedily became the subject of considerable speculation among the various cla.s.ses of men congregating in the hotel office, most of them for an evening of social enjoyment, though a few seemed to have gathered there for the purpose of conducting business negotiations.

Among the latter, after a time, was the tall man in fur coat and cap, who appeared to be waiting for some one with whom he had an appointment, as he shunned the crowd, selecting a seat near Mr.

Rosenbaum as the most quiet place available. Having removed his cap and thrown back the high collar of his fur coat, he appeared to be a man of about fifty years of age, with iron-gray hair and a full, heavy beard of the same shade. He wore dark gla.s.ses, and, having seated himself with his back towards the light, drew forth from his pocket a number of voluminous type-written doc.u.ments, and became absorbed in a perusal of their contents.

Meanwhile, the proprietor of the Clifton House, feeling considerable curiosity regarding his new guest, sauntered over in his direction.

"Well, Mr. Rosenbaum," he remarked, genially, "you have hit on rather a stormy night for your introduction to our city, for I take it you are a stranger here, are you not?"

The soft hat was raised slightly, revealing a rather stolid, expressionless face, with dark eyes nearly concealed by long lashes.

"Not the most agreeable, certainly," he answered, with an expressive shrug and a marked German accent, at the same time ignoring the other's question.

"Your first impressions are not likely to be very pleasant, but if you stop over a few days you will see we have a fine city. Do you remain here long?"

"I cannot say at present; depends entirely upon business, you understand."

"I see. What's your line?"

For reply the stranger handed the other a small card, on which was engraved, "Rosenbaum Brothers, Diamond Brokers, Berlin," and bearing on one corner his own name, "A. Rosenbaum."

"Diamond brokers, eh? You don't say!" exclaimed the proprietor, regarding the bit of pasteboard with visible respect. "Must be quite a business. You represent this firm, I suppose; you are their salesman?"

The stranger shook his head with a smile. "We have no salesmen," he answered, quietly. "We have branch houses in Paris, London, and New York, but we employ no travelling salesmen. Any one can sell diamonds; my business is to buy them," with marked emphasis on the last words.

"Well," said his interlocutor, "you're not looking for 'em out here, are you?"

"Why not here as well as anywhere? So far as my experience goes, it is nothing uncommon in this part of the country to run across owners of fine stones who, for one reason or another, are very glad to exchange the same for cash."

"Yes, I suppose so. When a fellow gets down to bedrock, he'll put up most anything to make a raise."

"There are many besides those who are down to bedrock, as you call it, who are glad to make an exchange of that kind," said Mr.

Rosenbaum, speaking with deliberation and keeping an eye upon his neighbor in the fur coat; "but their reasons, whatever they may be, do not concern us; our business is simply to buy the gems wherever we can find them and ask no questions."

By this time a fourth man was approaching in their direction, evidently the individual for whom the man in the fur coat was waiting, and Mr. Rosenbaum, thinking it time to put an end to the conversation, rose and began to don his mackintosh.

"Surely you are not going out to-night!" said the proprietor; "better stay indoors, and I'll make you acquainted with some of the boys."

"Much obliged, but an important engagement compels me to forego that pleasure," said Mr. Rosenbaum, and, bidding his host good-evening, he sallied forth, well aware that every word of their conversation had been overheard by their silent neighbor, notwithstanding the voluminous doc.u.ments which seemed to engross his attention.

Pa.s.sing out into the night, he found the storm fast abating.

Stopping at a news-stand, he inquired for a directory, which he carefully studied for a few moments, then walked down the princ.i.p.al thoroughfare until, coming to a side street, he turned and for a number of blocks pa.s.sed up one street and down another, plunging at last into a dark alley.

Upon emerging therefrom a block away, the soft felt hat had given place to a jaunty cap, while a pair of gold-rimmed eye-gla.s.ses perched upon the aquiline nose gave the wearer a decidedly youthful and debonnaire appearance. Approaching a secluded house in a dimly lighted location, he glanced sharply at the number, as though to rea.s.sure himself, then running swiftly up the front steps, he pulled the door-bell vigorously and awaited developments. After considerable delay the door was unlocked and partially opened by a hatchet-faced woman, who peered cautiously out, her features lighted by the uncertain rays of a candle which the draught momentarily threatened to extinguish.

"Good-evening, madam," said the stranger, airily. "Pardon such an unseasonable call, but I wish to see Mr. Lovering, who, I understand, has rooms here."

"There's no such person rooming here," she replied, sharply, her manner indicating that this bit of information ended the interview, but her interlocutor was not to be so easily dismissed.

"No such person!" he exclaimed, at the same time scrutinizing in apparent perplexity a small card which he had produced. "J. D.

Lovering, 545 Jefferson Street; isn't this 545, madam?"

"Yes," she answered, testily, "this is 545; but there's n.o.body here by the name of Lovering."

The young man turned as if to go. "Have you any roomers at present?"

he inquired, doubtfully.

"I have one, but his name is Mannering."

"Mannering," he repeated, thoughtfully, once more facing her; "I wonder if I am not mistaken in the name? Will you kindly describe Mr. Mannering?"

The woman hesitated, eying him suspiciously. "He ain't likely to be the man you want," she said, slowly, "for he don't have no callers, and he never goes anywhere, except out of the city once in a while on business. He's an oldish man, with dark hair and beard streaked with gray, and he wears dark gla.s.ses."

"Ah, no," the young man interrupted hastily, "that is not the man at all; the man I am looking for is rather young and a decided blond.

I am sorry to have troubled you, madam; I beg a thousand pardons,"

and with profuse apologies he bowed himself down the steps, to the evident relief of the landlady.

As the door closed behind him, Mr. Rosenbaum paused a moment to reconnoitre. The house he had just left was the only habitable building visible in the immediate vicinity, but a few rods farther down the street was a small cabin, whose dilapidated appearance indicated that it was unoccupied. Approaching the cabin cautiously, Mr. Rosenbaum tried the door; it offered but slight resistance, and, entering, he found it, as he had surmised, empty and deserted.

Stationing himself near a window which overlooked No. 545, he regarded the isolated dwelling with considerable interest. It was a two-story structure with a long extension in the rear, only one story in height. With the exception of a dim light in this rear portion, the house was entirely dark, which led Mr. Rosenbaum to the conclusion that the landlady's private apartments were in this part of the building and remote from the room occupied by her lodger, which he surmised to be the front room on the second floor, a side window of which faced the cabin.

For more than an hour Mr. Rosenbaum remained at his post, and at last had the satisfaction of seeing the tall figure in the fur coat approaching down the dimly lighted street. He ascended the steps of 545, let himself in with a night-key, and a moment later the gas in the upper front room was turned on, showing Mr. Rosenbaum's surmise to be correct. For an instant the flaring flame revealed a pale face without the dark gla.s.ses, and with a full, dark beard tinged with gray; then it was lowered and the window blinds were closely drawn, precluding the possibility of further observation.

The face was like and yet unlike what Mr. Rosenbaum had expected to see; he determined upon a nearer and better view, without the dark gla.s.ses, before making any decisive move.

The following evening, as soon as it was dusk, found Mr. Rosenbaum again at the window of the deserted cabin, keenly observant of No.

545. A faint light burned in the rear of the lower floor, while in the front room upstairs a fire was evidently burning in an open grate, the rest of the house being in darkness. Presently a man's figure, tall and well formed, could be seen pacing up and down the room, appearing, vanishing, and reappearing in the wavering firelight. For nearly an hour he continued his perambulation, his hands clasped behind him as though absorbed in deep thought. At last, arousing himself from his revery, the man looked at his watch and vanished, reappearing ten minutes later at the front door, in the usual fur coat and cap, and, descending the steps, turned towards town and proceeded leisurely down the street, Mr. Rosenbaum following at some distance, but always keeping him in view and gradually diminishing the distance between them as the thoroughfare became more crowded, till they were nearly opposite each other.

Finally, the man paused before a restaurant and, turning, looked carefully up and down the street. For the first time he observed Mr. Rosenbaum and seemed to regard him with close attention, but the latter gentleman was absorbed in the contemplation of an a.s.sortment of diamonds and various gems displayed in a jeweller's window, directly opposite the restaurant. In the mirrored back of the show-case the restaurant was plainly visible, and Mr. Rosenbaum noted with satisfaction the other's evident interest in himself, and continued to study the contents of the show-case till the man had entered the restaurant, seating himself at one of the unoccupied tables. Having observed his man well started on the first course of dinner, Mr. Rosenbaum crossed the street slowly, entered the restaurant and with a pre-occupied air seated himself at the same table with Mr. Mannering. After giving his order, he proceeded to unfold the evening paper laid beside his plate, without even a glance at his vis-a-vis. His thoughts, however, were not on the printed page, but upon the man opposite, whom he had followed from city to city, hearing of him by various names and under various guises; hitherto unable to obtain more than a fleeting glimpse of him, but now brought face to face.

"Alias Henry J. Mannering at last!" he commented mentally, as he refolded his paper; "you have led me a long chase, my man, but you and I will now have our little game, and I will force you to show your hand before it is over!"

Glancing casually across at his neighbor, he found the dark gla.s.ses focused upon himself with such fixity that he responded with a friendly nod, and, making some trivial remark, found Mr. Mannering not at all averse to conversation. A few commonplaces were exchanged until the arrival of Mr. Rosenbaum's order, when the other remarked,--

"Evidently you do not find the cuisine of the Clifton House entirely satisfactory."

"It is very good," Mr. Rosenbaum answered, indifferently, "but an occasional change is agreeable. By the way, sir, have I met you at the Clifton? I do not remember to have had that pleasure."

"We have not met," replied the other. "I saw you there last evening, however, as I happened in soon after your arrival."