The Mask Part 19

"Oh, it was you who sent him. If I had known----"

"Why?" demanded Ray, opening wide her eyes. "Where is he? I want my ice."

"I'll get you an ice, dear," said Helen.

"No, let me go," exclaimed Mr. Parker.

"No--no one will get the ice but myself," said Mr. Steell. "It's my fault that the ice is not already forthcoming. It is only just that I suffer accordingly."

Mr. Parker laughed.

"The ice episode threatens to become a diplomatic incident."

"Why--whatever is the matter?" smiled Helen.

The lawyer was so much amused that he could hardly keep his face straight. With an effort he controlled himself, and said:

"Just now I was talking with a pretty girl and d.i.c.k suddenly forced his way through the crowd, going in the direction of the buffet. I had no idea on what a serious mission he was bound, of course, and so I called him to introduce him to the pretty girl, who had with her an aunt, a veritable witch, as hideous as a Medusa, and who, in addition, is afflicted with a wooden leg. d.i.c.k gave the aunt only a glance. That was enough, but he was all smiles for her pretty niece, who, I must admit, is somewhat of a flirt. Anyhow she rolled her eyes so eloquently at him that he forgot all about the important errand on which he was bound. Just at that moment the musicians struck up a _schottische_, and, on the spur of the moment, he asked the pretty girl to dance. She declined, with an arch smile, but, pointing to the old witch, said her aunt would be delighted. Poor d.i.c.k! There was no help for it. The Medusa got up, seized him in her claws, and, the last thing I saw of the poor youth, they were doing a sort of Bunny Hug, the wooden leg of his lady partner marking time on the waxed floor."

"Please stop! If you go on--I shall expire."

Ray was nearly in convulsions of laughter in which all joined. When Helen had somewhat regained her composure, she said:

"I think it's unkind to make fun of the poor woman. Who is she?"

"I haven't the least idea. Perhaps d.i.c.k will tell us."

At that moment the youth emerged from the throng and came towards them, his linen mussed, his hair dishevelled. But in one hand he held grimly a plate of ice cream. Looking shamelessly at Ray, he smiled:

"I've got it--at last."

"Where have you been all this time?" she demanded innocently.

"Oh, I've been having no end of a good time!"

Steell burst out laughing.

"Did she ask you to call, d.i.c.k?"

"If she had I'd have killed her."

"How did the artificial leg work?"

"She jammed it on my foot once. How it did hurt!"

Ray, by this time, was almost in hysterics, and Helen and the others, catching the contagion, the whole group were soon shaken by uncontrollable laughter.

The orchestra struck up a quadrille. A man came rushing up to Ray.

"My dance, I believe."

With a comical expression of resignation, the young girl allowed herself to be led away, while Helen and Mrs. Brewster-Curtis took seats to watch the figures.

"Come, d.i.c.k," said Steell in an undertone. "Let's go and smoke a cigar."

Leading the way he went into the smoking-room, where cigars and liquors were laid out. Turning to the youth, he inquired eagerly:

"Well--what about the Signor? What have you found out?"

d.i.c.k lit a cigarette and then calmly he said:

"Everything."

"What--to be specific."

"He's all and more than we expected."

"In other words--a crook?"

"Yes, and a dangerous one."

"What's his game?"

"Confidence man, bank robber, blackmailer."

"How did you find out?"

"Very easily. I found his record. The police haven't disturbed him because his clever disguise has deceived them. They have not recognized in the polished, suave Signor Keralio, the popular fencing master, the man they have been hunting for years. His real name is Richard Barton. His pals call him Baron Rapp. Five years ago he was convicted of robbing a bank out West and was sent up for ten years. He served a year in Joliet and then broke jail and he has been at liberty ever since."

"Good!" exclaimed the lawyer, rubbing his hands with satisfaction.

"We've got him where we want him. What else?"

"He has managed to elude the police so far owing to the fact that he has not been operating of late, but from what I've been able to ferret out, he is preparing some big haul. Everything points that way. I don't know what it is, but it's the biggest thing in which he has yet been mixed up. He's affiliated with crooks who operate all over the country. Some of his men are disguised as servants and valets in rich houses. They spy on their masters and tell him if there is anything worth robbing. He is the master-mind that schemes the operations that others carry out. He tells his men what banks and homes to break into and instructs them how to do it. He receives all the stolen property.

At this very moment his flat in the Bronx is full of stolen loot. I also suspect him of being engaged in counterfeiting."

The lawyer was lost in admiration.

"d.i.c.k, you're a wonder!"

The young man grinned with pride.

"Well--what's it to be--shall we tip off the police?"

"Not by a long shot. We'll have the gun loaded--all ready for use. If the Signor gets ugly we'll shoot--that's all. Not a word, do you hear.

Leave everything to me. Come, let's go back or they'll think something's wrong."

In the ballroom, they were still dancing the quadrille, the pretty gowns of the girls and black coats of the men making a picturesque sight as they blended in the ever changing figures.