The Burglar and the Blizzard Part 12

It was a revelation to Geoffrey to find how completely, as his alarm showed, he had cast in his interests with McVay's. He stepped forward in silence and opened the door.

Not the police, but a man in plain clothes was standing there.

"I'm glad to see you safe, Mr. Holland," he said. "There has been great anxiety felt for your safety. I am a detective working on the Vaughan and Marheim cases. I got word to come and look you up as you did not get back to the gardener's cottage the night before last."

"The snow detained me," said Geoffrey slowly.

"Come in, come in, friend," said McVay briskly. "You must be cold."

It speaks well for the professional eye that the detective, after studying McVay for an instant, asked:

"I did not catch this gentleman's name. Who is he?"

There was a barely perceptible pause. Then Geoffrey answered coolly: "That is the man you are after."

"Are you crazy, Holland?" shouted McVay.

"What, the Vaughan burglar? You caught him without a.s.sistance?" Envy and admiration struggled on the detective's countenance. "I must congratulate you, sir."

Geoffrey allowed himself the luxury of a groan. "You needn't," he said; "I am no subject for congratulation. I can't even prosecute him, confound him, for several reasons. We were at school together, and I can take no steps in the matter."

"But I can," said the detective; "indeed it is my duty to."

"No," said Geoffrey, "nor can you. This man cannot be sent to prison.

Yes, I know, it is compounding a felony. Well, sit down, and we'll compound it."

"I could not agree to anything of the kind," said the detective.

"I don't see exactly what you can do about it." Geoffrey was deliberate and very polite. "For reasons which I can't explain, but which you would appreciate, leave me no choice. I have to save this man from jail. If you intend to work against me, I shall simply let him escape at once.

Don't draw your revolver, please. I prefer to be the only person with a weapon in my hand. He has made a list of all the things he has stolen, and I shall see that they are returned to their owners at any cost. Will you undertake to get him safely to a mine I own in Mexico? Once there he can't get away. It is forty-five miles from a railway. If you accomplish this, I will give you ten thousand to make up for the reward you didn't get,--five thousand down, and five thousand at the end of a year."

"I don't know what to say," said the man. "It sounds like a bribe."

"It is," said Geoffrey coolly.

"I never received such a proposition," returned the man.

"That scheme won't do, Holland," put in McVay. "Can't you see it lays you open to blackmail?"

"From you?" said Geoffrey. "I had thought of that, but you can't blackmail me at La Santa Anna, and if you get away and come close enough to blackmail me, I'll put you in prison without a moment's hesitation. I shall be in a position by that time to take care of the feelings of the other people concerned."

"You don't understand me," answered McVay; "I meant blackmail from this man."

"Oh," said Geoffrey civilly, "I am convinced he is not a blackmailer.

And besides, he won't get his second five thousand for a year, and as I was saying to you, after a year I don't so much mind having the whole thing known. My reputation will stand it, I think, if yours and his will."

"I'm no blackmailer," said this detective. "If I accept, I'll be on the square."

"If you do, let me offer you a piece of advice," observed Geoffrey, "and that is not to take your eye off that man for a single instant. He is a slippery customer, and you run a fair chance of not seeing my money at all, if you give him the smallest loophole."

The detective considered McVay carefully from head to foot. Then he said gravely:

"Is there any way of getting to this place of yours by water? I don't see my way to taking this customer in a Pullman car. If he chooses to slip overboard from a boat, why no one would be any the worse, unless maybe the sharks."

"Very true," agreed Geoffrey amiably. "Fortunately you can get a steamer in New York."

It soon became apparent that the detective failed to see any good reason for declining so advantageous an offer as Geoffrey's, and they were presently deep in the discussion of their plans, McVay meanwhile studying the map with unfeigned interest in the situation of his future residence.

Cecilia, fortunately, gave them plenty of time for their arrangements, for she had fallen asleep again, after the alarm of the early morning, and the men must have been talking for two hours when she appeared at the library door.

She cast a look of surprise at the addition to their party and Geoffrey saw with a sort of paralysis that she was inclined to set him down as the burglar whose footsteps she had heard in the night. To prevent any betrayal of this opinion, Geoffrey advanced a few steps to meet her, although as he did so, he realised that he had nothing to answer when she asked, as of course she did ask: "Who is that?"

A sort of desperation, the cowardice that will sometimes attack the brave took hold of Geoffrey. He looked at her hopelessly and would perhaps in another instant have told her the truth, had not McVay, not the least disconcerted, taken the lead.

"This, Cecilia," he said exuberantly, laying his hand on the detective's shoulder, "is my old friend Picklebody,--Henderson Picklebody. You have heard his name often enough, and he, yours, too. Eh, Henderson, in the old Machita days?"

The detective, whose name was George P. Cook, was so taken up with his surprise at the apparition of a beautiful woman that he scarcely heard McVay. He began to guess something of the motives that led Holland to shield this offender against the law, nor had he ever found it unwise to yield to the whims of young millionaires.

Cecilia, who was too gentle or too politic to betray the fact that she heard the interesting name of Picklebody for the first time, remarked in a tone as cheerful as she could make it:

"I suppose that if Mr. Picklebody could get in we can get out now."

"Can and will," rejoined McVay beamingly. "Hen comes as he has always come to his friends, as a rescuer."

"I seem to require a great deal of rescuing," said the girl, looking up at the monopolist in the art who had so far said nothing.

"Ah, but you don't understand, my dear," went on McVay ruthlessly cutting into the look which the lovers were exchanging; "You don't yet understand how fortunate we are in our friends. Henderson did not, it is true, come to find me. It was the greatest coincidence his meeting me here. It seems that he and Holland are both interested in a mine in Mexico, and what do you think?" McVay paused and rubbed his hands; "Really, we have the kindest friends; they have been arranging between them to offer me a job down there. What do you think of that?"

Cecilia who had been trying to imagine any future after they left the shelter of the grey stone house, would have answered if she had been thoroughly candid that she thought Mexico was a terribly long distance away, but she only observed:

"How very kind of them. I am sure we shall like Mexico."

"There, there, do you hear that? 'We.' Gentlemen," cried McVay, throwing up his hands, "I cannot leave my sister alone,--deserted. Consider it all off."

"Oh, I wasn't to go?" asked Cecilia, looking up with more enthusiasm.

"My dear," replied McVay, "I must own that I was base enough to consider a plan that would separate us. The mine, it seems, is no place for ladies. But we will think no more about it. I see by your manner that your feelings..."

"Dear Billy," said the girl gently, "you must not give it up. You know that I can always go to the Lees, until--until I get a position. And nothing is so important as that you should have work that is satisfactory to you. Of course you must accept."

"Did you ever hear anything so n.o.ble?" asked McVay. "Yes, I suppose I ought to accept. So they both tell me. I must go, mustn't I, Hen?"

"Well, it looks like it would be better for you if you did," replied the detective, who had fortunately his legitimate share of American humour.

"There is another point, Cecilia," McVay went on, "if I do accept, I shall have to leave at once. When did you say, Hen?"

"Train to New York this afternoon,--steamer sails to-morrow."

"Oh, dear. That's very sudden," said Cecilia.