"I thought the lady'd used a key, and I saw plain that he did. The door opened and he went in. I crossed over and looked at the bells. There were nine of them, all with names underneath except the top floor ones. These, the last three of the line, had no names, showing the top floor was vacant.
"There was a drug store right opposite and I went in, took a soda, and asked the clerk about the locality—said I was looking for lodgings in that section. I got him round to the house, where I heard I might get a room cheap. He said maybe I could—being summer there'd be vacancies—that the place was decent enough, but he'd heard pretty poor and mean. Just as I got through talking to him and was leaving I saw the door across the street open, and Mr. Price come out. He came quick, on the slant, and was among the folks on the sidewalk before you could notice. It was the way a man acts when he doesn't want to be seen. He walked off toward Seventh Avenue, his head down, keeping close to the houses. I didn't wait for Miss Maitland—thought I'd better come back here and report."
"Well!" said Mr. George. "I'm jiggered if I can make head or tail of it."
The Chief took the cigar out of his mouth and addressed O'Malley:
"Find out Price's movements on the night of July seventh, everything he did, everywhere he went." He turned to me. "And you want to remember not a hint of this gets to Mrs. Janney. She hates Price and when her blood's up she's a red Indian. We don't want the family drawn in until we know something."
[CHAPTER XI—FERGUSON'S IDEA]
During these days Dick Ferguson thought a good deal and said very little. Like the rest of his world he wondered over the unsolved mystery of the Janney robbery, but his wonderings contained an element of discomfort. He heard the subject discussed everywhere and often the name of Esther Maitland came up in the discussions. Not that any one ever suggested she might be involved;—it was more a sympathetic appreciation of her position. Every one spoke very feelingly about it:—poor girl, so uncomfortable for her, knowing the combination and all that sort of thing—the Janneys had stood by her splendidly, but still it was trying.
It tried him a good deal, made inroads on his temper, until it lost its sunny evenness and he was sometimes short and surly. The day after Molly and Esther went to town he had been called to a conference in the Fairfax house on the bluff. A gang of motor boat thieves had been operating along the Sound, had already stolen two launches, and the owners of water-front property had convened to decide on a course. Ferguson, with a small fleet to his credit, had taken rather a high hand, and shown an unwonted irritation at the indecision of his associates. If they wanted their boats protected it was up to them to do it, establish a shore police patrol financed by themselves. That was what he intended to do and they could join with him or not as they pleased. He left them, ruffled by his brusqueness and remarking grumpily that "Ferguson was beginning to feel his money."
He went from the meeting to his own beach and on the way met Suzanne returning with Bébita from the morning bath. They stopped for a chat in the course of which Suzanne made a series of remarks not calculated to soothe his perturbed spirit. They were apropos of Miss Maitland, who had taken an early morning swim, all alone, refusing to wait and go in with them. Suzanne said it was a pity Miss Maitland kept so much to herself—the girl seemed depressed and out of spirits lately, didn't he think so? Quite different to what she had been earlier in the season, seemed to be troubled about something. Too bad—every one liked her so much, and people did talk so. Then with an artless smile she went off under her white parasol.
There was no smile on Ferguson's face as he walked to his boat houses. He told his men of the police patrol—to operate along the shore after nightfall—gave a few gruff orders and disappeared into a bath house. When he emerged, stripped for a swim, he stalked silently by them and dove from the end of the wharf. They were surprised at his manner, usually so genial, and wondered among themselves watching his head, sleek as a wet seal's, receding over the shining water.