CHAPTER XVI
THE TAN SATCHEL ONCE MORE
She told him about it. He was much cleverer than most people thought, young Jimmy Stiles, and he was overpoweringly anxious to help the Lawsons. There was no length to which his loyalty to them would not carry him. Kendrick nodded, recalling the boy's story as he had heard it from her father.
"I had no hesitation in taking Jimmy into my confidence from the first," said Cristy, "and it has been a big help to have someone watching Nickleby from the inside. He is a great, little actor, that boy, and has succeeded in fooling our friend, Nickleby, into the belief that all he has to do is to snap his fingers and the frightened Jimmy will perform his bidding without question. Daddy told you about Stiles' early indiscretion, you said. Well, Jimmy has been pretending right along that he is afraid of exposure for that, and Nickleby has felt so sure of him that there have been occasions when he has permitted Jimmy to see behind the scenes and get a peek at some methods of doing business that would not stand analysis."
"Have you tried to get a line on Nickleby's past, Miss Lawson?" asked
Phil with interest. "I understand that he was less than nobody when
your father befriended him, and he may have drifted up here from the
States and have a police record a yard long."
"We've thought of that. There is nothing in the local police records, but I believe Mr. Wade is making some quiet investigations in the States.
"Well, anyway, to make a long story short, Stiles knew the Alderson Construction Company was planning to make a substantial contribution to the Government campaign-fund—J. C. Nickleby, that is; for he really is the Alderson Construction Company. When Jimmy reported this to me I thought I saw a good chance to get some sensational illustrations for the exposure story the Recorder was after if only we could get hold of the money long enough to photograph it. Jimmy was enthusiastic over the idea and told me to leave it to him. On thinking it over more carefully, though, I saw risks attached to the stunt which made it very unwise, and when I met Jimmy by his own appointment at the Union Station one night I asked him at once to make no attempt to obtain possession of the money, even for a short time.
"But I was too late. He was carrying a suitcase and calmly informed me that the money was inside. I was badly frightened. If we were caught with that money in our possession we would be arrested at once as a pair of ordinary thieves. I had jeopardized my editor's plans that we had been working out so secretly and regretted the foolishness a thousand times. Stiles wanted me to take the suitcase then and there—take it home and do the photographing, then have a messenger deliver it to Ferguson's office; or, if I preferred to give it back to him, he'd arrange to get the money to its destination somehow without anybody being able to trace it.
"But I was too frightened to decide and it was not long before I felt that we were being watched. You cannot imagine a more disagreeable feeling! We strolled around a bit to make sure that we really were being followed and when we found that the man we suspected was still on our trail, Jimmy was as badly scared as I was.
"While we were wondering what we'd better do I suddenly spied President Wade standing near the door of the big rotunda waiting-room and I had hard work to keep from calling out. I said good-bye to Jimmy, and walked over to him with the suitcase, blessing my stars for the good fortune. His private car was standing down on the track and as soon as he saw that I was in trouble of some kind he took me down to the car and I told him the whole story. There was nobody around except ourselves at the moment and he was not only greatly interested, but agreed to help me. We lifted out the envelope of money and he placed this in his safe aboard the car. He would not tell me what he intended to do with it, except that he promised it should be photographed for me and that it would be taken care of. He told me to ask no questions, but just leave everything to him and forget all about it. The less I knew about it the better, in case I was questioned.
"He had asked me a short time before if I thought I could obtain a place as a stenographer or office clerk of some kind in Ferguson's office for a few weeks and it had been agreed that I would try and, if I succeeded, I was to sit tight and keep my eyes and ears open. I have wondered how much of what happened he was half anticipating; he was so matter-of-fact. He escorted me out to a taxi and I went home while he sent a porter down to the parcel-room to check the empty suitcase. It may be there yet for all I know.
"You see now why I was so worried to learn that an envelope had been stolen from Mr. Wade's private car by Podmore and hidden up here at Thorlakson. I naturally jumped to the conclusion that it was the actual money that had been stolen. I should have known better, because Mr. Wade had asked me to have Stiles secure for him an envelope from the construction company's office, similar to the one containing the money. To tell you the truth, I had forgotten all about this and it did not occur to me that the envelope in the stump was a decoy. I see now, though, that Mr. Wade had plans of his own all the time."
"You're right as to that, Miss Lawson. This game is bigger than we think," said Kendrick thoughtfully. "One thing we may be sure of, Ben Wade can be trusted to act wisely. What you've just told me has interested me tremendously. Will you tell me something more? How under the sun did Stiles manage to turn the trick—get possession of that fifty thousand without getting caught?"
"It was cleverly done," laughed Cristy, "but like most clever things of that kind, it was as simple as A. B. C. Jimmy laid his plans carefully and the chief danger to threaten his success was that he would not be selected as the messenger between his own office and Ferguson's. He knew that the chances were he would be watched all the way by a detective; so he planned to make his substitution before leaving the building in which the Alderson company has its office.
"He had been keeping a close watch on Podmore for some days, for he did not trust him and felt sure that he would not hesitate to play false to Nickleby and Alderson whom he had been cultivating so carefully of late. Jimmy is shrewd. His patience was rewarded one day by the sight of Podmore in a leather-goods store around the corner, purchasing two satchels which were identical in size, shape and color. Stiles had the clerk lay aside a third satchel which was the mate of the two Podmore had just bought. When one of the satchels was delivered at the office from Podmore, Jimmy knew he had guessed right. Just how Podmore was proposing to change the satchels worried Jimmy quite a bit until he began to suspect a new arrival in town by the name of Clayton. He found out that Podmore and this Clayton were meeting in Podmore's room at different times, but ignoring each other as utter strangers in the hotel rotunda. Then when Clayton turned up quite casually at All Saints' Mission—the church Jimmy attends, you know—and began to ingratiate himself, Stiles thought he saw daylight. It turned out that he was right, too, in suspecting that Clayton was Podmore's accomplice.
"It fitted in fine with Jimmy's own plan. When he came out of the office with that tan satchel, which contained the money, his kid brother—Bertie—was sitting on the bottom step of the stairway on the same floor, watching the door. As soon as he saw Jimmy come out, the kid ran upstairs to the next floor, picked up the satchel Jimmy had bought and in which he had placed some old newspapers, and took the elevator down. Jimmy got into the same elevator and they transferred the satchels going down to the street. So, you see, when Stiles walked out onto the street he was carrying the satchel that had the old newspapers inside, while young Bertie just stayed in the elevator, went up a few floors and calmly walked down the back stairs and so on home where he chucked satchel, fifty thousand dollars and all, under Jimmy's bed."
"By George!" chuckled Kendrick.
"Jimmy was able to laugh up his sleeve all the way through. I told you he was clever. Sure enough, he found Clayton lying in wait for him at the Jessup Grill which Stiles would have to pass. He almost laughed in that professional con man's face when he was invited inside for a drink and he proved an easy victim when Clayton switched the satchels on him. Jimmy saw that Clayton had spotted the detective who was trailing along and was on his guard. With that danger over, he knew everything was safe; for Podmore could not afford to do anything else but keep quiet even after he discovered that with all his slickness somebody had beaten him out. There wasn't a shred of evidence to implicate Jimmy, you see."
"He tells me they're watching him down at the office pretty closely, though," said Kendrick when she paused for breath.
"That's to be expected, of course. Those two men who attacked us in the park were private detectives in Nickleby's pay and they probably thought Jimmy was passing something on to me and it was time to search both of us. Nickleby and the others have kept close mouths about the theft of the election money because they didn't want any investigation by the regular police. I am inclined to think they planned their election contribution for a definite purpose and could not afford any publicity about it."
"They must be a fine bunch of crooks, that outfit!" remarked Kendrick.
"The fellow who was watching Jimmy and me at the station that night was probably acting on his own initiative. It was the same detective who had made such a bungle of following Jimmy in the afternoon and I guess it nearly cost him his job. He must have been feeling pretty well worked up at the way things turned out. If it hadn't been for Mr. Wade's timely arrival there's no telling what might have happened. Can—can we—sit down for a little rest?" she gasped.
Phil glanced at her quickly, apologizing for his thoughtlessness. He had been so absorbed in her recital that he had forgotten the strain under which she was laboring with the pain in her foot. They must have covered a lot of ground while they talked. Five miles to Thorlakson's, he had told her, but it might just as easily be eight or ten.
After a short rest they went on. They passed through rock cuttings where their voices and the sound of their feet flung back hollowly from the walls. They rounded curves, looking eagerly for some sign of habitation, only to be met by the same stretch of deserted track leading off into nebulous gloom. Or perhaps they would see a dim white speck ahead or the black outlines of a rocky spur where the track disappeared and they would comfort themselves with the thought that around that particular curve or beyond that mile-post they would see buildings. But when they had hobbled down the track and gained the goal there were always more rocky spurs and more track to hobble over.
They talked of many things. Phil told her all about McCorquodale. They discussed politics and the Rives case and newspaper work and universities and music and the latest books. As the hours crept by their laughter and talk lessened and the spaces of silence between them grew longer. The girl was limping badly and leaning more heavily upon him, and for him the adventure grew more serious in his concern for her welfare.
"Aren't we nearly there, Mr. Kendrick?" she asked quietly after a long period of silence on her part.
"We must be," he answered cheerfully and held his watch close to his nose as he scrutinized the dial in the moonlight. "It's nearly four o'clock. I fancy the moon is a little paler than it was," he added, craning his neck to look at it riding high above them, "and the sky back there behind that hill—it looks lighter, too, don't you think? Daylight can't be far off now, as it comes pretty early up here and we're bound to reach the Thorlakson shanty soon, Miss Lawson."
They trudged on again while he told her about Mrs. Thorlakson, the good-hearted Icelandic woman, and the giant Swede section-hand, Svenson, who was a friendly sort of elephant. He tried to entertain her with a humorous account of his surveying experiences, information about the country and funny stories that he had picked up here and there. Occasionally they heard small animals scurrying away in the underbrush on either side as they passed by; but she had ceased to take notice of such sounds.
"I might carry you for a while, if you'd let me," he offered at last in what he hoped was a matter-of-fact tone. But she would not hear of that.
Dawn was coming quickly. The night gloom fled off the tops of the ridges and sought brief respite in the shelter of the water bottoms. The gray sky warmed to rose tints. New bird notes came twittering from the bushes on all sides, while frisky cotton-tails scampered ahead of them on the roadbed. The air seemed to take on a freshness that it had lacked before, laden with sweet scents of wild grasses, perfume of spruce and the aromatic smell of the wood mould. A wave of light crept across the hills, stole round about and it was day.
They came slowly around a long curve and when the track straightened out again Phil gave a whoop of satisfaction.
"Hallelujah! Miss Lawson, there's a light!" He pointed to where a yellow dot shone steadily, close to the track.
But the girl did not reply. She swayed a moment, then went limp in his arms.