HALF an hour later the stone, reposing in a tin box of cigarettes, wasin the mails on the way to Trent's camp at Kennebago. Mrs. Kinney hadinstructions to hold all mail and its safety was thus assured. There wasnothing more to fear. He wanted very much to know what had happened atMiss Thompson's apartment and proposed to call after breakfast.
But Devlin called first upon him. It was a depressed Devlin. Not indeeda Devlin come to be apologetic, but one less assured.
"Well?" said Trent affably, "come to search me again. I'm getting alittle tired of it, my good man."
"I want to know why you pass here under the name of Maltby of Chicagowhen your name is Trent and you live in New York City."
"A private detective has no right to demand any such knowledge. Lastnight you took upon yourself powers and authority which we could haveresisted if we chose. You had no legal right to search us. I submittedfirst because I had nothing to fear and secondly to see if the othershad the stone. I didn't think they had."
"What do you know about the stone?" Devlin demanded suspiciously.
"Everything except just where it is at this present moment. Between youand me, Devlin, I'm here after it too. I was at Groton, as can easily beproved, on the day after the murder." Trent smiled as a curious lookpassed over the detective's face, "I'm going to disappoint you. I passedthe day and night in Boston when the murder was done. I have just asmuch use for that ten thousand dollars as you have. By the way I supposeyou got the stone?"
"Like hell I did," Devlin cried red in the face, "I got this." He showedTrent the piece of cut glass which had hung in his room for so long."Glass, that's what it is." Devlin leaned forward and looked hard intoAnthony Trent's eyes. "You know more about this than you pretend. Itain't accident that brings you around when two such stones asDangerfield's ruby and this here emerald get stolen. There's somethingmore to it than that. There's something mighty queer about you, MisterAnthony Trent, and I'm going to see what it is."
Trent looked at him for a moment and then smiled. It was the tolerantsmile of the superior. It angered Devlin. His red face grew redderstill.
"My good Devlin," said Trent, "stupidity such as yours may be a goodarmor but it is a poor diving suit."
"Talk sense," Devlin commanded.
"If you wish," Trent agreed easily. "I mean that you haven't the mentalequipment to live up to your desires. You have the impertinence to think_you_ can outwit _me_. I'm your superior in everything. Mentally,morally and physically I can beat you and in your heart you know it. Ithink I've stood about as much from you as I care to take from any man.For a time you amused me. At Sunset Park you thought you were beingvery subtle searching my room with your twin ass, O'Brien, but I waslaughing at you."
"You was drunk," said Devlin slowly.
"That's how gin takes me," said the other, "I see the ludicrous in menand things. Just listen to me. My past and present bears investigation.You looked me up and you know." Trent drew his bow at a venture. "Youfound that out, didn't you?"
"Because I couldn't find anything against you doesn't prove you're whatyou pretend," Devlin admitted grudgingly.
"The point I wish to make is this," Anthony Trent said incisively, "I'mtired of you. You bore me. You weary me. You exasperate me. I am willingto overlook your blundering stupidity this time but if you worry meagain I shall go after you so hard you'll wish you'd never heard myname. I've got money and that means influence. You've neither. Think itover. Now get out."
Devlin looked at him doubtfully. There was a strong personal animusagainst Anthony Trent. He hated anything suave, smiling or polite. Andwhen these qualities were in conjunction with physical prowess theyspelled danger. But for the moment nothing was to be gained by violence.Devlin essayed a genial air.
"We all of us make mistakes," he admitted. "I'm willing to say it. I'msorry I've gone wrong over this case." He held out a big short fingeredhand. "Good-bye."
"What's the use?" Trent demanded. "You will always be my enemy and Inever shake hands with an enemy if I can get out of it."
Devlin was at a loss for the moment. It had been his experience thatwhen he offered a hand it was grasped gladly, eagerly. There wassomething in this harder unsmiling Trent which impressed him against hiswill.
"They shake hands before the last round of a prize fight," he remindedthe other man.
"So they do," said Trent smiling a little, and offered his hand.
* * * * *
Two weeks later he was compelled to concede that Devlin's pertinacitysometimes won its reward.
Devlin had always been an advocate of the third degree. Together withsome operatives from his agency he staged a gruesome drama into whichhysterical and frightened the drink-enervated Norah Thompson wasdragged. Under the pitiless cross-examination of these hard men shebroke down. Andrew Apthorpe's murderer was found. But the triumph wasincomplete. She convinced them that although the emerald had been hersfor a time, of its destination or present ownership she had no idea. Shewent into penal servitude for life with a newspaper notoriety that madethe Takowaja emerald the most famous stone in existence.