CHAPTER XXIV--CARDS ON THE TABLE
In spite of Molly's excited certainty that Willitts was the thief,Ferguson was not convinced. He met her impetuous demand for the valet'sarrest with a recommendation for a fuller knowledge of his activities onthe night of the robbery. Willitts had gone to the movies with theGrasslands servants and if he had been with them the whole evening hewas as innocent as Dixon or Isaac. She had to agree and promised to donothing until she had satisfied herself that his movements tallied withtheir findings.
Ferguson had a restless night. There was matter on his mind to keep himawake; he was fearful that Suzanne might make some false step. She wasat best a shifty, unstable creature, how much more so now strained tothe breaking point. He felt he ought to be in town where he could keepher under his eye, and decided to motor in in the morning. Also he beganto think that Molly was probably right; she was shrewd and experienced,knew more of such matters than he. He would go to the Whitney office andput the Willitts' affair in their hands, then run up to the St.Boniface, take a room, and have a look in at Suzanne.
He left the house at nine-thirty, telling the butler he was called tothe city on business, and might be gone a day or two. At the Whitneyoffice he was informed that Mr. and Mrs. Janney were in consultationwith the heads of the firm, and, saying he would not disturb them,waited in an outer room from whence he telephoned to Suzanne, tellingher he would be at the hotel later. When the Janneys had gone he wasushered into the old man's office where he found the air still vibratingwith the clash of battle. A combined attack had been made on Mrs. Janneywho, under its pressure and the slow undermining of her confidence by aweek of failure, had given in and consented to a move on Price. It hadbeen planned for that afternoon, when he was to be summoned to theoffice, charged with the kidnaping and commanded to render up the child.
Whitney and his son listened to Ferguson's story of the cigar band withunconcealed interest. George, however, was skeptical--it was ingeniousand plausible, showed Molly's fine Italian hand; but his mind hadaccepted the theory of Esther's participation and was of the unelastic,unmalleable kind. His father was obviously impressed by it, admittingthat his original conviction of the girl's guilt had been shaken. ToGeorge's indignant rehearsal of the evidence, he accorded a series ofacquiescing nods, agreed that the facts were against him and maintainedhis stand. He would see Willitts as soon as possible and put him througha grilling examination. O'Malley could be sent to Council Oaks at onceto bring him in, and his business could be disposed of before they gotround to Price. As Ferguson rose to go George had the receiver of thedesk telephone down and was giving low-voiced instructions to O'Malleyto report immediately at the office.
It was nearly one when the young man found himself on the street level.There was no use going to the St. Boniface now as the family would be atlunch and speech alone with Suzanne impossible. On the way uptown hestopped at a restaurant, ordered food which he hardly touched, fillingout the time with cigarettes. By half-past two he was on the move again,threading a slow way through the traffic, his eye lingering on the clockfaces that loomed at intervals along the Avenue. Suzanne had told himthat the old people always went for a drive after lunch and he scannedthe motors that passed him, hoping to see them. He was in no mood forpolite conversation--felt with the passing of the hours an increasingtension, a gathering of his forces for a leap and a struggle.
At the desk in the St. Boniface he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Janney hadjust gone out, and waited while Mrs. Price's room was called up. Therewas no response; Mrs. Price must be out too. The information made himuneasy; she had told him she went nowhere except to Larkin's. More thanever anxious to see her, he engaged a room and left the message that hewould be there and to be called up when she came in. The door shut onhim, his uneasiness increased; wondering what had taken her out,wondering if she had done anything foolish, cursing the fate that hadplaced so much in her feeble hands, perturbed and restless as a lion ina cage.
Suzanne had gone to Larkin's, called there by a telephone message. Ithad come almost on the heels of her parents' departure and was brief--arequest to come to him as soon as she could. She had scrambled into herstreet clothes, and, shaking in every limb, slipped out of the hotel'sside door and sped across town in a taxi to hear how Bebita was to befound.
She was hardly inside the door, her veil lifted from a face as pale asCaesar's ghost, when Larkin answered her look of agonized question:
"Yes, the letter's come--what we expect, very clear and explicit. It wassent to me this time--came on the two o'clock delivery."
He turned to the desk and took up a folded paper. Before he could offerit to her, she had leaned forward and snatched it out of his hand.Instantly her eyes were riveted on the lines:
"Mr. Horace Larkin,
"_Dear Sir_:
"In answer to the ad. in the _Daily Record_, we are dealing through you as the agent named by Mrs. Price. We do this as we realize that a lady of Mrs. Price's type and experience would be unable to handle alone so important a matter. Before we enter into details we must again repeat our warnings--not only the return of the child but her life is dependent on the actions of her mother and yourself. If you are wise to this and follow our instructions Bebita will be restored to her family on Saturday night.
"The plan of procedure must be as follows: At eight-thirty a roadster, containing only the driver and marked by a handkerchief fastened to the windshield, must leave the village of North Cresson by the Cresson turnpike, at a rate of speed not exceeding fifteen miles an hour. It must proceed eastward along the pike for a distance of ten miles. Somewhere during this run a car will pass it and from its tonneau flash an electric lantern twice. Follow this car. Make no attempt to hail or to overtake it. It will turn from the main road and proceed for some distance. When it stops the driver of the roadster must alight, place the money at a spot indicated, and submit, without parley, to being bound and gagged. When this is done the child will be left beside him. If agreed to insert following personal in _The Daily Record_ of Saturday morning: 'James, meet you at the time and place specified. Tom.'
"(Signed) _Clansmen_."
The letter fluttered to the desk and Suzanne sank into a chair. Larkinlooked at her; his glance showed some anxiety but his voice was heartyand encouraging:
"Well, you agree, of course?"
She nodded, swallowing on a throat too dry for speech.
He picked up the letter and ran a frowning eye over it:
"It simply confirms what I thought--old hands. It's about as secure assuch a thing could be. I don't see a loose end."
She made no answer and he went on still studying the paper:
"I'm not familiar with this country, but they wouldn't have picked itout unless it offered every chance of escape."
"Escape!" she breathed. "They've _got_ to escape."
It made him smile, the eye he turned on her showed a quizzicalamusement:
"You're almost talking like an accomplice, Mrs. Price." But he quicklygrew grave as he met her tragic glance. "Pardon me, I shouldn't havesaid that, but the fact is, with the climax in sight, I'm a bit on edgemyself." Then with a brusque change of tone, "Do you know this sectionof Long Island?"
"Yes, well--I've driven over it often."
"Am I right in thinking there are numbers of roads leading from theCresson Turnpike?"
"Lots of them, to the Sound and inland."
"Umph!" he threw the letter on the desk and sat down, "I don't think youneed worry about their getting away. Now we must settle this up and thenI'll go out and have the ad inserted. We've got to hustle--they've onlygiven us a little over twenty-four hours."
She looked dazedly at him and murmured:
"What have we got to do?"
"Why--" he was very gentle as to a stupid and bewildered child--"we haveto arrange about this car--our car, the one that gets the signal."
"We can hire it, can't we?"
"Well, we could hire the car, but the driver--we can't very well hirehim. He must be some one upon whom we can rely."
She stared at him, her eyes dilating:
"Yes, yes, of course. I'd forgotten that."
"Is there any one you can suggest--any one that you _know_ you couldtrust and who would be willing to undertake it?"
"Yes," the word came with a sudden decision. "I know some one." Larkineyed her sharply. She looked more alive than she had done since herentrance, seemed to be vitalized into a roused, responsive intelligence."I know exactly the person."
"Entirely trustworthy?"
"Absolutely. Mr. Ferguson--Dick Ferguson."
"Oh, yes, Ferguson of Council Oaks." He mused a moment under her hungryscrutiny. "Do you think he'd be willing to--er--agree to their demandsas you have?"
"Yes, he'd do it to help me. He's an old friend; I know him through andthrough. He'd do it if I asked him."
The detective was silent for a moment, then said:
"Well, we have to have some one and if you're willing to vouch for himI'll abide by what you say. Before you came in I was thinking ofoffering to do it myself. But there are reasons against that. I don'tmind helping you this way--quietly, on the side--but to be an actualparticipant in the final deal, handle the money, be more or lessresponsible for the person of the child--I'd rather not--I'd better not.And anyway I think I can be more useful as an observer, an unsuspectedspectator who may see something worth while."
She gave a stifled scream and caught at his hand, resting on the edge ofthe desk:
"No, no, Mr. Larkin, _please_, I beg of you. You're not going to try andcatch them."
Her fingers gripped like talons; he laid his free hand over them,soothingly patting them:
"Now, now, Mrs. Price, please have confidence in me. Am I likely, atthis stage of the game, to do anything to queer it?"
She did not reply, her eyes shifting from his, her teeth set tight onher quivering underlip. He waited a moment and then spoke with a newnote, dominating, authoritative, as one in command:
"My dear lady, you've got to get hold of yourself. I can't go on withthis if you don't trust me. We're launched on an enterprise by no meanseasy and if we don't pull together we'll fail, that's all."
That steadied her. She dropped his hand and broke into tremulousprotestations:
"I do, I do, Mr. Larkin. It's only that I'm so terribly afraid, so upsetand desperate. Of course I trust you. Would I be here, day after day, ifI didn't?"
He was mollified, dropped back with the crisp, alert manner of thedetective.
"All right, we'll let it go at that. Now as to Ferguson--you'll have toget word to him at once. Is he in the country?"
"No--he's here. I had a telephone from him this morning to say he was intown and would be at the hotel later in the day. He's probably therenow, waiting for me."
"Um!" Larkin considered for a moment. "That's lucky. There's no time towaste. Get his consent and then 'phone me here. Just a word. And youunderstand he'll have to know the circumstances; he'll have to be wiseto everything if he's to play his part."
Suzanne had lied so long and so variously that she did it with a naturalease. No one, having seen her as Larkin had, would have guessed theknowledge she hid. Her air of innocently comprehending his charge was atriumph of duplicity.
"Of course, I know, I understand. It'll be a dreadful surprise to himbut he'll see it as I do. And he'll do what I ask--I'm as certain ofthat as I am of his secrecy."
She would have to have the letter to show him, and Larkin, after a last,careful perusal of it, handed it to her. Then she went, cutting off hisheartening words of farewell, making her way out in a quick, noiselessrush. At the desk in the hotel she learned that Ferguson was there,asked to have him apprised of her return and sent at once to her sittingroom.