The Gates of Chance Part 23

Grenelli looked haggard in the gray light that streamed into the room as I drew the curtains. He started, too, when he saw that the day had come--it was quite perceptible.

"I should like to know the time," he growled. "It's only fair."

"To be sure," a.s.sented Indiman, and he pushed his watch, face upward, into the middle of the table. The dial indicated half-past seven, at which I was somewhat surprised, for I had not thought it so late. But my own watch had run down, and it will be remembered that Indiman had stopped the mantel-clock the night before. Half-past seven it was, then, for all that the hour again struck me as being rather advanced for a cloudy morning in mid-November. And evidently Grenelli thought so too. He could hardly suppress the exclamation that rose to his lips as he glanced at the dial.

Ten minutes pa.s.sed, and then Grenelli spoke.

"If I tell you what you want to know," he said, "am I to be allowed to leave the house at once?"

"Yes."

"And I am to be safe from arrest? At least, sufficient time will be given--"

"Bah!" interrupted Indiman, scornfully. "Come and go as you will. I can break you like a rotten stick whenever it pleases me."

Grenelli drew in his breath with a vicious hiss. "At five minutes to eight I will tell you," he said, in a loud, overbearing voice.

"Very good," answered Indiman, placidly.

But the fellow's courage deserted him at the pinch, in accordance with Indiman's prediction. He sat there dry-lipped and wet-browed, a half-burned cigarette in his yellow-stained fingers, and his eyes fixed immovably on Indiman's watch. It was barely a quarter to the hour when he gave in. He wanted to cut the corner as closely as he could, but his nerve was gone. "I will tell you--" he began.

He stopped as abruptly as he had started. Suddenly the ticking of the clock-work had ceased, and it was succeeded by a pause infinitesimally brief and withal infinitely extended. Grenelli half rose from his chair, his hands beating backward at the air. Then came a curious premonitory whir of the hidden mechanism. The metallic rattle of the gong was magnified in my ears to the dimensions of a roll of thunder; then I saw that Indiman had torn the wrappings from the box and had opened it. There was no mistaking the object that lay within--a common American alarm-clock. Grenelli looked at it, wide-eyed, then he rolled off his chair in some sort of a fit, and Indiman and I were left to stare each other out of countenance.

"Plain enough, I think," said Indiman. "There WAS another box containing the infernal machine, but Grenelli made up the dummy so successfully as to deceive even himself. He got the two mixed up, and this, the original and harmless package, was the one that should have reached the Russia if Ben Day hadn't stopped to buy a red apple. Of course, it was the ticking of the clock escapement that misled him--and me.

"The alarm mechanism must have been wound up and set just before the clock left Redfield & Company's yesterday morning. Possibly a practical joke on some clerk's part, but that doesn't matter. You see, there is a twenty-four hour dial for the alarm, and it was set at a little before XIX, corresponding to about a quarter of seven."

"But your watch says a quarter of eight," I objected.

"I set it an hour ahead," answered Indiman. "I'm not altogether a fool, and although I was certain that Grenelli would weaken, I wanted some leeway for myself and you. Undoubtedly, the infernal machine was timed for eight o'clock, and Grenelli knew it. He tried to hold on long enough to insure our destruction, and yet get away himself, but he couldn't be sure of those last few minutes. By-the-way, the box containing the bomb must be at his house. It ought to be put out of business at once. Can you get the fellow on his feet?"

But it took some time to bring the man around, and it was more than half an hour later before we got away, the three of us together in a hansom. I should say that the lodging occupied by Grenelli and Day was the loft of a disused private stable, situated in a side street, three or four blocks off, and the driver was instructed to get there as quickly as possible. As we pa.s.sed a jeweler's place Grenelli glanced at the electric-clock dial in the window and saw that it was twenty-five minutes of eight. He had been deceived, then; he knew it instantly.

"But it worked both ways," he sneered. "I have my secret still."

"Quite so," answered Indiman, and smiled.

At the corner we were halted by a hail from the sidewalk. It was Brownson, of the detective bureau.

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Indiman, but I want that man with you.

Charged with larceny of a package consigned to Oceanic Express Company.

I've been waiting for him all night."

"By all means, officer," and the three of us got out.

"I managed it pretty well, I think," continued Brownson. "Searched every nook and corner of the stable where Grenelli and Day lived, and finally I found the parcel. It answered precisely to the description, and I sent it down by Officer Smith to the RUSSIA not more than an hour ago."

"To the RUSSIA! Why she sailed yesterday afternoon at four o'clock."

"Slight accident to her low-pressure cylinder," explained Brownson.

"She was delayed for several hours and was to sail early this morning.

I beg your pardon--why, excuse me, Mr. Indiman--"

There was a public telephone in the corner shop, and Indiman dashed into the booth, upsetting Officer Brownson into the gutter as he rushed past him. The clerk at the pier of the Cis-Atlantic Company answered that the RUSSIA had sailed a little before seven, and must be in the lower bay by this time. Impossible to reach her, as the morning was densely foggy and she carried no wireless apparatus. An indescribable expression came into the man Grenelli's face as he realized what this new turn of the kaleidoscope meant. But Indiman and I involuntarily looked the other way.

Officer Smith had returned from his mission, and apparently his superior was not pleased with its outcome.

"Block on the Elevated!" he exclaimed, disgustedly. "Always some excuse. Then you missed the Russia?"

"She had just been pulled into the stream when I reached the pier."

"Where's the package?"

"I brought it back with me."

Now, to be honest, I jumped at that. It was possible that the b.o.o.by had the box under his coat, and it was now ten minutes of eight. But Brownson, who didn't know, went on imperturbably. "You should have handed it over to the representative of the express company. What did you do with it?"

"It's at the stable where Grenelli lived," explained Officer Smith. "I locked it up in a bureau drawer, and here's the key."

Brownson looked at his subordinate patronizingly. "You have much to learn, young man--" he began. "Much to learn. Hallo! Something's blown up down the block."

Well, to sum up briefly, there was no stable left. Fortunately no one had been injured by the explosion, and the outside damage was confined to a few broken windows. We all went poking about in the ruins looking for a clew to the mystery.

"Here's that box, Brownson," said Indiman, suddenly. "The cover is somewhat torn, but you can make out the address easily enough. It's the lost property, certainly, and you've got the thief, too." He handed the officer the package containing the alarm-clock.

"That I have," answered the gratified Brownson. "Keep close eye on Grenelli, Officer Smith, and I may be able to overlook your shortcomings of this morning. I say, Mr. Indiman, but there's a regular miracle in this 'ere business. Now, how do you suppose this blessed little twopenny box ever come through an earthquake like that there."

"I'll never tell you," said Indiman.

We had been dining with Ellison, the deferred settlement of that little account which we had been owing him since August. However, we made it up, interest and all. The occasion had been an undeniably cheerful one, and it was close to midnight when we finally separated. Ellison went on his way up-town and Indiman and I stood on the corner waiting for a hansom, for as it chanced there was not a single disengaged one in the rank before the restaurant. "Here we are," said Indiman, and raised his stick as a four-wheeler was about to pa.s.s us. But the driver made a negative sign and drove on. "He has a fare, after all," said Indiman, with some annoyance. "But look, Thorp!"

The rolling shades at the doors had been closely drawn, but just as the carriage came opposite us a sudden jolt displaced the spring catch of the curtain and up it flew with a snap. There were two persons in the cab, and the electric light from the corner shone full upon them. The one nearest us was an undersized, swarthy-faced person who wore a Turkish fez; his companion was a portly man attired in evening clothes and having his head entirely enveloped in a bag of some dark material gathered at the neck by a draw-string.

With an exclamation that might pa.s.s for a blood-curdling Levantine oath the man of the fez seized the window-curtain and pulled it down; the carriage rolled on.

"An extraordinary spectacle," I remarked. "There ought to be a big story behind that."

"I admit," said Indiman, calmly, "that it is not usual for gentlemen to drive about town with their heads done up in black bags. Nevertheless, I doubt if there is much in the mystery worthy of a connoisseur's attention. It strikes me as smacking of the made-up, the theatric; it has something of the air commercial about it--an advertis.e.m.e.nt, perhaps."

"Nonsense!" I retorted, warmly.

"Well, let the event decide. The cab's number--did you note it?"

"No."

"It was No. 872," said Indiman.