CHAPTER XVIII
"This way," whispered Dick, as he darted swiftly from door to door, "keep close behind me, and stick to the wall, or he'll see you."
But François was so utterly fagged after his long walk from the Elevated road, carrying his heavy suitcase, that he worried about nothing save his own discomfort. Unable to find a taxi, he had been compelled to tramp the entire distance, and the fatigue of it had made him peevish. He could have saved himself at least a mile if he had taken a more direct road, but Keralio's orders were explicit. He must always follow a circuitous route so as to throw possible pursuers off the scent. There was no disobeying the orders of the chief, so on he trudged, looking neither to right nor left, up one street, down another, now crossing an empty lot, now darting through a narrow alley, through the wastes and dreariness of Bronxville.
As he approached his journey's end, he accelerated his pace, going along so fast that it was as much as Dick and Steell could do to keep up with him. The night was dark and foggy, and at times they could not see him for the mist. But as he came within the glare of each lamp post, they could make out his lithe figure, scurrying along as if the devil himself were at his heels.
"Let's get up closer," gasped Dick, who was winded from the long chase. "I guess their den is in this neighborhood. He'll slip in somewhere and we'll lose him if we keep so far away."
"No—he may see us," whispered Steell cautiously. "We can make him out all right."
They increased their pace a little. The valet was less than two blocks away, and once he actually stopped and looked around as if to see if he was followed. Quickly Steell and Dick darted under a doorway, and, seeing nothing to arouse his suspicion, François went on.
The lawyer was taking no chances to-night. It was too good a game to spoil. That they were on the right trail at last he was morally certain. Ray's experience had given him the first clue. After that it was easy. For two days Dick had shadowed the valet, and seen him changing crisp $10 bills in half a dozen different places. The lawyer could have had him arrested at once, but he was after bigger game. It was not enough to arrest François. He was only the tool. They must get the man higher up, the man who employed him. That man, the lawyer felt equally confident, was Keralio. He was the master counterfeiter. The first step to take was to find out where the counterfeiting was done, where Keralio had his plant, and the only way to do this was to follow the valet to his master's secret den.
For several days they had shadowed the Frenchman constantly, until to-night they were rewarded by seeing him start with a suit case in the direction of the Bronx. They quickly gave chase, the lawyer confident of results. It was not part of his plan, however, to hurry matters or do things prematurely. To-night they would merely reconnoiter. They would content themselves by watching the premises, seeing who came and went, and trying to obtain a glimpse of the interior. If the evidence was incriminating enough to make a raid successful, it would always be time enough to call in the police. Keralio, he was also well convinced, had something to do with the missing diamonds, and possibly the present investigation would throw some light on the mystery surrounding Kenneth himself. He had made no mention of his suspicions to Helen, but he could not help feeling that in some way, yet to be discovered, his old comrade had become involved with a band of crooks. How otherwise explain his acquaintance with Keralio, an utter stranger of dubious antecedents. How explain the loss of the diamonds? The explanation Kenneth had given was decidedly fishy. Parker did not believe a word of it—in fact, frankly expressed, his opinion was that his vice-president had disposed of the gems. Had he himself not seen Kenneth driving about the Bronx with Keralio at an impossible hour? Had not Helen discovered François conversing on intimate terms with his master? It all looked decidedly bad; only time could unravel it all. It was a fearful thing to suspect a man of Kenneth's standing, but everything pointed to his being involved in a vast network of crime.
He was aroused from his reflections by an exclamation of warning from his companion.
"Quick—there he goes!" whispered Dick.
The valet had suddenly made a sharp turn to the right, and was lost to view. But quick as he was, Dick was quicker. The young man was a little ahead of the lawyer, and, putting on a spurt of speed, he reached the corner just in time to see the Frenchman and suitcase disappear into a grimy, dilapidated looking tenement at the end of a blind alley.
"We've run the fox to earth," whispered Steell exultantly.
"Could any melodrama wish for a more appropriate mise-en-scène?" grinned Dick.
"Come opposite, and find out what we can see from the outside."
Crossing the street they took up positions in the shadow of a doorway.
The house which the Frenchman had entered was all dark and apparently tenantless, except on the top floor where lights could be faintly seen behind hermetically sealed shutters. Straining his ears, Steell thought he could hear the steady hum of machinery in motion. With an exclamation of satisfaction, he turned to his companion:
"We've got 'em, Dick, we've got 'em. Do you hear the presses going?"
The young man listened. The sound was plainly audible, but it was a muffled sound, as if the walls and windows were padded with mattresses to prevent any sounds of the operations within from reaching inquisitive, outside ears.
"Let's go upstairs," whispered Steell.
Recrossing the road, they entered the house and began to grope their way up the narrow, winding staircase. They could make only slow progress, not only because of the absence of light, but owing to the rotten condition of the stairs. Indescribably filthy and littered with all sorts of rubbish and broken glass, in some places the boards had broken through entirely, leaving gaping holes, which were so many dangerous pitfalls. Twice the lawyer came near breaking his neck.
At last they reached the top, both out of breath from the long and perilous climb.
"Hush—there it is!" whispered Dick pointing at the end of a narrow hall to a door from underneath which issued a faint glimmer of light.
Cautiously, noiselessly, treading on tiptoe, the lawyer and his companion crept along the passage until they came to the door. They listened. There was not a sound. Even the hum of machinery which they had heard in the street, had ceased. Could the inmates have taken alarm?
All at once they heard people talking. Instantly, Steell recognized the voice of Keralio. He was questioning someone, no doubt the valet. They listened.
"Well, did you carry out my orders?"
"Oui, monsieur, ze last of ze ten-dollar bills has been passed. I have ze money here."
"I did not mean that," broke in Keralio impatiently. "I mean as regards the child——"
"Oui, monsieur. Didn't you receive my telegram. I brought the child from Philadelphia yesterday evening."
Steell, puzzled, turned to his companion.
"What child are they talking about?" he whispered.
"I have no idea. Some more mischief they're up to, I guess."
Again Keralio's voice was heard asking:
"Where is Handsome to-day? I told him to come. Why isn't he here?"
"He's drinking again, monsieur. When he's drunk you can't do anything with him. He's getting ugly about ze diamonds."
Steell nudged his fellow eavesdropper.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered. "He spoke of diamonds!"
Keralio was heard bursting into a peal of savage laughter.
"Getting ugly is he? What does he want?"
"He says you promised him half of ze proceeds when ze diamonds were sold, and that now you are trying to do him out of it—— He says he's sick of ze whole thing and will squeal to ze police unless you do ze right thing."
Straining every nerve to hear, Steell glued his ear to the door.
Keralio burst out fiercely:
"Squeal, will he, the dog? I'd like to know what will become of him when the final reckoning's paid. Will he tell the police that he was a drunken adventurer in the South African mining camps before his twin brother, Kenneth Traynor, arrived at Cape Town? Will he tell the police that he set the steamer afire, murdered his own brother, and, profiting by the extraordinary resemblance, returned to New York, passing himself off as the man who went away. No, he won't tell all that, will he? But I will. Did you bring the money? Let me see it."
The talking suddenly ceased, and was followed by a deep silence. Steell, staggered at this unexpected revelation, almost stumbled in his eagerness to hear more. Turning to his companion, he exclaimed in a horror-stricken whisper:
"My God! Did you hear that? It's even worse than I feared. They've done away with Kenneth. That man at the house is an impostor!"
"An impostor?" ejaculated Dick. "Impossible. Don't we all know Kenneth when we see him?"
"Nothing's impossible!" rejoined the lawyer hurriedly. "Kenneth had a twin brother—the resemblance was so extraordinary as children that no one knew them apart. The brother disappeared years ago. They thought him dead. Kenneth must have come across him in South Africa. This brother killed him and took his place. It's all clear to me now. We're in a den of assassins!"
Inside the conversation began again.
"Hush! Listen!" whispered Steell.
The voice of Keralio was once more raised in angry tones.
"Didn't I tell you that I wanted the child brought here at once?"
"Oui, monsieur, but I could not. I had ze rest of ze money to get rid of and ze suitcase to carry. I will bring her in a taxi to-morrow."
"Where is she?"
"Safe in the care of the woman who runs my boarding house."
"When did you bring her from Philadelphia?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Did you have any trouble?"
"Non, monsieur. I didn't even have to go to ze house, although I had a plausible story all ready. I was going to say that Mrs. Traynor had sent me to fetch Miss Dorothy because her mother wanted her home for ze coming marriage of Miss Ray. But it wasn't necessary to lie about it. I found ze child playing in ze street near the house. I merely told her her mamma wanted her to come home, gave her some candy, and she followed me willingly enough."
"By this time the alarm has been given."
"Sans doute, monsieur. They probably telegraphed Mrs. Traynor last night that ze child was missing——"
The voices again stopped. Steell, his face white, and fists clenched, turned to his companion:
"Good Heavens, Dick, did you hear that? They've kidnapped Mrs. Traynor's little girl—no doubt, with the idea of demanding ransom. Thank God, we're in time to frustrate that crime——"
"Hush!" exclaimed his companion. "Listen!"
Keralio proceeded:
"Now you understand what you are to do. You bring the child here to-morrow morning. Meantime, I have already written in a disguised hand to Mrs. Traynor telling her that her child is safe—for the present, and that if she wants to see her she must come here to-morrow afternoon. I warned her that if she communicated with the police or informed any of her friends, the child would be put to death before it would be possible to effect a rescue. That ought to bring her here——"
"Would monsieur go as far as to kill——"
"Why not," demanded Keralio fiercely. "I permit nothing to stand in the way of my will. That woman can save her child's life, but she must pay the price I ask. She shall learn what it costs to dismiss me from her house——"
The valet was heard to chuckle as he said:
"I don't love her any too much myself. She discharged me from her employ the other day so haughtily I felt like a whipped cur."
Again there was silence, followed by a muffled hammering.
"They're taking the printing press apart," whispered Dick, who through the keyhole, had managed to get a glimpse of machinery. "If we don't act quickly, they'll get away with all the evidence. Hadn't we better go and call the police?"
For answer, the lawyer put his fingers to his lips with a warning gesture, and beckoning the young man to follow, retraced his steps on tiptoe along the narrow, dark hall and down the filthy, winding staircase. Not a word was spoken by either man until they reached the street. Once in the open air, the lawyer turned and said:
"Dick, we've uncovered as black a plot as was ever hatched in hell. If we don't queer the game and put them all in the chair it won't be my fault. We can't bring poor Kenneth back to life, but we can and will revenge his cowardly murder. It will be a positive joy to me to see that arch-scoundrel Keralio electrocuted."
"What do you propose to do?" asked his companion. "Hadn't we better call Mrs. Traynor on the telephone and warn her before it's too late?"
The lawyer was silent for a few moments. Then meditatively, he said:
"No, that would be a mistake. No doubt, by this time, she has received Keralio's anonymous letter. She is probably frantic with anxiety over the news of her child's disappearance, and will respond eagerly to any clue that promises to take her to her child. If we warned her she would pay no heed. She might pretend to, but only to pacify us. Afraid that punishment might be visited on the child, she would obey the warning not to talk, and she will come here to Keralio's flat to-morrow at the time the letter stated. Of course, she has no idea Keralio wrote the letter. But even if she had, it would make no difference. I know her. She would run any risk to save her child."
"I think you're right," replied Dick, "but how, then, will you help her? There is no knowing what Keralio's object is in enticing her here—you can be sure it's nothing good."
"Precisely—that's why we, too, must be on hand, together with a strong force of detectives. We'll get them all. There will be no possible escape. We'll surround the house with men. They'll be caught like rats in a trap."
The lawyer turned to go.
"Where are you bound now?" asked Dick.
"To police headquarters!"