They were now waiting at the Bowery café for the arrival of an acquaintance, one Julius Mantelle by name, who was to conduct them to a private interview with a female fortune teller over whom the city was at that time in a craze.
The appointment had been made that evening during the rehearsal already mentioned, and was for two o’clock at the woman’s rooms, not far from the place where the young men waited.
“I wish you hadn’t mentioned the diamonds,” said Maynard presently. “You have about spoiled my evening. It makes me nervous, now that you mention them, to think of their being here at this time.”
“I should think it would,” said Townsend. “How did you come to do it?”
“Oh, they are to be used during the play, you know, and this was the last full-dress rehearsal, so I carried them down. Then, during the rehearsal, this appointment was made, unexpectedly, as you know, and I had to bring the gems with me or leave them there with the other properties.”
“They would have been safer there,” urged Townsend. “We don’t know what sort of a game we are going up against at the den of this African fortune teller. She is a mystery to the police, and is surrounded by a lot of servants who would, I actually believe, even do murder for her. We don’t even know Mantelle, who made the appointment for us at the hour of two in the morning—an unusual time, to say the least. Yes, I know! He seems to have plenty of money, and is a good entertainer, but what else do we know about him? It will never answer, Maynard. You must get rid of those diamonds before we go to that woman’s den.”
“But how?”
“Let me carry them to the nearest respectable hotel and have them placed in the vault.”