CHAPTER XVIII--A FORMIDABLE ADVERSARY
What a merry mad wag that hammer-thrower really must be at heart!thought Bob. How he was chuckling inside, or laughing in his sleeve mostof the time while he went around with that heavy, serious, reliablevisage of his! And that ponderous manner?--What lively little imps ofmischief or fancy it concealed! That simulated slow tread, too?--Bobsurmised he could get around pretty fast on occasions, if he wanted to,or had to. He was dancing very seriously with Miss Gerald now, seemingto take dancing as a kind of a moral lesson. Oh, that "duty talk" toBob! He would "consider" Bob's case!--He wanted to ponder over it--he?And how painfully in earnest he had been when he had sprung what hisfather had said about not giving a fellow a shove when he was down!
Bob disentangled himself as soon as he could from the temperamentallittle thing and went into the billiard room, where he began to toy withthe ivories. If there was one thing he could do, it was play billiards.But he retired to the seclusion of the billiard room now principally forthe reason that he expected the hammer-thrower would follow him there.He felt almost sure the other would seek him. So, though Bob proceededto execute one or two fancy shots with much skill, his thoughts were noton the ivories. He was considering his position in relation to thehammer-thrower. He (Bob) might entertain a profound conviction regardingthe latter's profession, but could he prove anything?
True, he now remembered and could point out that the latter had attendedall those functions where losses had occurred. But that wasn't in itselfparticularly significant. Other people, also, had attended all thefunctions in question. Bob couldn't even actually swear he had seen theother in his room when he had dropped something from Bob's window tosome one lurking below. Bob hadn't had the chance to recognize him onthat occasion. As far as evidence went, the "boot was all on the otherleg." The hammer-thrower was obviously in a position to use Bob to pullchestnuts out of the fire for him.
But why had he not denounced Bob to the entire household, then andthere, when he had discovered him before Gee-gee's door? Perhaps thehammer-thrower didn't yet know that any one knew there had beensubstituted one or two imitation articles of jewelry for real ones. Ifthis were so, then from his point of view a denunciation of Bob mightlead to an investigation which would reveal the fact that substitutionshad occurred and in consequence he would be but curtailing the period ofhis own future activities in this decidedly fertile field. He hadn't, ofcourse, refrained through any feeling of charity or commiseration forBob. He had, moreover, paved the way to use Bob in the future, if needbe, by discreetly mentioning the incident to Miss Gerald. Bob mightprove serviceable as an emergency man. All this had no doubt beenfloating through the hammer-thrower's brain while he had stood therewith that puzzled, aggrieved and righteous expression.
A slight sound behind him caused Bob to turn quickly and, as he hadexpected, he beheld the hammer-thrower. Here was renewed confirmation ofthat which he had just learned.
"I felt it my duty to inform Miss Gerald of what occurred last night,"began the hammer-thrower without prelude.
"I know that already," said Bob, continuing his play.
"Ah, then I am wasting time. But having concluded that it was incumbenton me to take that course, I thought it but right to come to you andtell you what I had done. Square thing, you know."
Bob grinned. "Say it in Latin," he observed flippantly.
A slight frown gathered on the other's brow. "I really fail tounderstand. You placed me in an unpleasant position. It was not easy tospeak of such a matter."
"Then why did you?" said Bob lightly, executing a difficult play.
"You do not seem to realize there are some things we have to do."
"Duty, eh?" observed Bob with another grin.
"Without wishing to pose as puritanical, or as a prig, I may say youhave hit the nail fairly on the head."
"Oh, you aren't a prig," said Bob. "You're a lu-lu."
"I don't know whether you mean to be complimentary or not," returned thehammer-thrower with unvarying seriousness. "As I believe I have remarkedbefore, you appear totally not to comprehend your own position. I mighthave awakened the house and what would have been your status then? Therehave of late been so many mysterious burglaries at large country-housesand in the big city homes of the affluent that a guest, found ramblingabout in pajamas at unseemly hours, courts, to put it mildly, suspicion.Anyhow, for my own protection, I had to speak to Miss Gerald. You seethat, don't you? We'll waive the moral side."
"'Your own protection' is good," said Bob, sending his ball twice aroundthe table and complacently observing the result.
"I mean that if it became known that I had secreted you in my room andsaid nothing about it, it would, in a measure, place me in the light ofbeing an accomplice," returned the hammer-thrower, ignoring the point inBob's last words. "I don't know whether anything will be discoveredmissing here or not, but if there should be--?"
"Things will be discovered missing, all right," returned Bob. "What wasthat you dropped out of the window in my room last night?"
The hammer-thrower stared at him. "I?--your room?" he said at lengthvery slowly, with the most genuine amazement written all over hisserious reliable features.
"You! My room!" repeated Bob. "You didn't expect me to come back. I gaveyou quite a surprise, didn't I? You are certainly some sprinter."
Still the hammer-thrower continued to stare. "Mad!" he said at last. "Ihardly credited it before, but now--That private sanatorium!--No doubt,it was best."
Bob laughed. "That sanatorium fits in fine, doesn't it? You'll be tryingthe little abduction act next, yourself, I suppose."
"I'm trying to make up my mind whether you aren't really a dangerousperson to be at large," said the hammer-man heavily. "You might saysomething like that to some one else. You appear absolutelyirresponsible."
"I might," observed Bob tentatively. Oh, if he only could!
"However, I hardly think you will," remarked the other in his heaviestmanner. "By the way, you play pretty good billiards."
"Thanks awfully. Want to play?"
"Don't mind." And the hammer-thrower took down a cue.
"I should dearly like to beat you," said Bob in wistful tones.
"And I should as dearly like not to be beaten by you, or any one else,"returned the other.
"I know," conceded Bob, not without a touch of admiration, "you're agreat chap for winning prizes and things. You've taken no end of cups,haven't you? I mean, legitimately."
"Yes; I usually go in to win." The other professed not to hear Bob'slast words.
"And you've been feted some, in consequence, too, haven't you?" said Bobsuddenly. "You were at the Duke of Somberland's, I remember." Meaningly.He remembered, too, that articles of great value had disappeared fromthe duke's place at the same time.
"I believe I was. Met no end of interesting people!"
"And weren't you at Lord Tumford's?" Bob recalled reading how jewels hadmysteriously vanished in the case of Lord Tumford's guests, also.
"Yes, got asked over for the shooting. Believe I did very well for anAmerican not accustomed to the British method of slaughter."
"No doubt," said Bob. The hammer-thrower was getting bigger in his wayevery moment. Now he had become an operator of international importance.
"Speaking about winning, you were on the losing team at college, weren'tyou?" he observed significantly.
"Quite so!" answered Bob. "We worked awfully hard and ought to have won,but fate, I guess, was against us."
"We," said the hammer-man in his ponderous way, "are fate. Arbiters ofour destinies! We succeed, or we don't. And when we fail, it is we thatfail. Fate hasn't anything to do with it."
"Maybe you're right," assented Bob. "I don't know. Anyhow, it's a testof true sportsmanship to know how to lose."
"Not to whine, you mean? True. But it's better not to lose. Now go aheadand try to beat me."
Bob tried his best. He let the other name the game and the number ofpoint
s, and for a time it was nip and tuck. Once Bob ran a string ofseventy. Then the hammer-thrower made one hundred and one. His playingwas brilliant. Some of the heaviness seemed to have departed from hisbig frame. His steps nearly matched Bob's for litheness while his bigfingers handled the cue almost daintily. All the inner force of the manseemed focused on the task of winning. He had made up his mind hecouldn't lose. Bob was equally determined, too, not to lose.
The game seemed symbolical of that bigger game they were playing asadversaries, and more and more Bob realized here was an opponent not tobe despised. He was resourceful, delicate, subtle, as he permitted Bobnow to gaze behind that shield of heaviness. He had never beforeexhibited his real self at the table, playing heretofore in ponderousfashion, but this time, perhaps, he experienced a secret delight intantalizing an enemy. Those big fingers seemed capable of administeringa pretty hard squeeze when the hour arrived; they might even nothesitate at a death-clutch. The game now was very close.
"Shall we make it a thousand for the winner?" suggested thehammer-thrower.
"Haven't that much," said Bob. "Only got about seven dollars and a half,or so."
"I'll bet you seven dollars and a half, then."
Bob accepted, and immediately had a run of luck. He was within twopoints of being out. The hammer-thrower had about fifty to go.
"Get that seven dollars and a half ready," he said easily as he beganhis play.
"Maybe I shan't have to," replied Bob.
"Yes, you will." He spoke as one not capable of making mistakes aboutwhat he could do. And he didn't make a mistake this time. He ran out.Bob paid with as good grace as he could. Then the hammer-thrower movedheavily away and left Bob alone.
The latter didn't feel quite so jubilant now over his secret knowledgeas he had a little earlier. The hammer-thrower had permitted him to testhis mettle--indeed, he had deliberately put himself out to do so, andmake Bob realize even more thoroughly that he might just about as wellnot know anything for all the good it would do him (Bob). His lips mightas well be sealed, as far as his being able to prove anything; if he didspeak, people would answer as the hammer-thrower had. "Mad!" Or worse!That sanatorium incident was certainly unfortunate.
Bob put his hand in his pocket to get his handkerchief to wipe a fewdrops of perspiration from his brow. He drew out his handkerchief, buthe also drew out something else--something hard--that glittered-aring--a beautiful one--with perfect blue white diamonds--a ring heremembered having seen on certain occasions adorning one of MissGerald's fingers.
Bob stared at it. He stood like one frozen to the spot. That hammer-manhad done more than beat him at billiards. While he (Bob) had extended aportion of his person over the table to execute difficult shots theother had found it an easy trick to slip Miss Gerald's ring in thecoat-tail pocket of Bob's garment. Could you exceed that for diabolicalintention? Now what on earth was Bob to do with Miss Gerald's ring?
He couldn't keep it and yet he didn't want to throw away her property.It seemed as if he would be forced to, though. After an instant'shesitation he made up his mind that he would toss it out of the windowand then write her anonymously where it could be found. The hammer-manhadn't calculated Bob would discover it on his person so soon, orperhaps he had told himself the odds were against Bob's discovering itat all. He would, of course, have preferred that others should discoverit on Bob. The latter now strode to the window; the glittering ringseemed fairly to burn his fingers. He raised the curtain as softly as hecould--the window was already open--and then suddenly started back.
The light from within, shining on the garden, revealed to him withdisconcerting abruptness a man's face. The man sprang back withconsiderable celerity, but not before Bob had recognized in him thatconfounded maniac-medico. He had tracked Bob here, but not wishing tocreate a scene among Mrs. Ralston's guests, was no doubt waiting outsidewith his assistants and the first time Bob stepped out of the house, heexpected to nab him. All the while Bob had been playing billiards, thatmiserable maniac-medico had probably been spying upon him, peeping fromunder the curtain.
Bob moved from the window, the ring still in his fingers, and at thisinopportune moment, the monocle-man walked in. He seemed to have timedhis coming to a nicety. Perhaps he had noticed that little episode atthe window. Bob, in a panic, thrust the ring hurriedly into hiswaistcoat pocket and tried to face the other without showing undueagitation, but he feared guilt was written all over his countenance.
"Hot," muttered Bob. "Thought a breath of fresh air would do me good."
"Quite so. We English believe in plenty of fresh air," returned themonocle-man, just as if he swallowed the reason the other had given forgoing to the window.
But after that Bob couldn't get rid of him. It was as if he knewsomething was wrong and that Bob needed watching. He began to fool withthe balls, telling how hard it was for him to get accustomed to thesesmall American tables. The British game was far better, he went on, allthe while keeping his eyes pretty closely on Bob, until the latter gotdesperate and went back to where people were. But the monocle-man went,too. By this time Bob was convinced the other knew what was in hispocket. "Caught with the goods!" That's the way the yellow press woulddescribe his predicament.
"Aren't you the regular hermit-crab?" It was the temperamental littlething's reproachful voice that at this point broke in upon his sorrowfulmeditations, and Bob turned to her quickly. At the moment he was awfullyglad she had come up. "What have you been doing?" she went on.
"Oh, just rolling the balls. Will you dance?" Eagerly.
"Can't! Engaged. You should have asked me sooner and not run away." Thenperhaps she saw how disappointed Bob looked or caught that desperateexpression in his eyes, for she added: "Yes, I will. Can say I wasengaged to you first and forgot. Come on."
Bob did. He was a little afraid the monocle-man might not let him, butthe other permitted him to dance. Perhaps he wouldn't have done so if hehad known what was in Bob's mind. That young man felt as if he had nowtruly reached his last ditch.
"Say, I'm in an awful hole," he breathed to the temperamental littlething, as they glided over the floor.
"Are you?" She snuggled closer. "Anything worse than has been?"
"A heap worse! I've got something I simply must get rid of."
"What is it?" she said in a thrilling whisper.
"A ring." Hoarsely.
"No. Whose?"
"Miss Gerald's." More hoarsely still.
"How wildly exciting! Though I didn't think you would rob her." In anodd voice.
"I didn't."
"But you say you've got her ring?"
"Some one put it in my pocket."
"Isn't it the funny little hermit-crab, though!" she answered.
"Well, never mind whether you believe me or not. The point is, I've gotto get rid of it and I can't. That monocle-man is watching me. I needhelp."
"Mine?" Snuggling once more.
"Yours. Will you do it?"
"Didn't I tell you I'd go through fire and water for you? Am I not nowyour eternal and everlasting chum? Say it."
"What?"
"That jolly-little-pal talk."
"Jolly little pal!" he breathed in her ear.
She sighed happily. "Now what do you want me to do?"
"I want you to take this ring"--slipping it into her fingers--"andreturn it to Miss Gerald's room. You can slip in without attracting anyattention. Besides no one would think anything of your going in herroom, even if you were seen doing so--you're such friends."
"But," she said wonderingly, "I don't see why you took it at all if--"She broke off--"Unless that monocle-man knows you've got it on you?"
"That's the point," observed Bob hoarsely.
"All right," she assented. "I'll do it. When?"
"Now."
"No," she said firmly. "Not until our dance is over. I want every bit ofit. That's--that's my salary. My! I feel awful wicked with that ring inmy hand. You can take a firmer hold of me if you want--the way you didthat firs
t day! I need reassuring!"
Bob laughed in spite of himself, but he reassured "jolly little pal," inthe manner indicated.
"Now just fly around," she said.
And Bob "flew" with a recklessness that satisfied even her. When it wasover she turned to him with an odd look.
"I've got another condition."
"What is it?"
"That you ask Miss Gerald to dance!"
"But--" he began, disconcerted as well as surprised.
"That's the condition."
"She would only refuse." Gloomily.
"Do you agree?" There was something almost wistful in the temperamentaleyes of little pal at that moment.
"I--can't." Desperately.
"Very well. Take back the--"
"All right. I will," Bob half-groaned.
As he walked over toward Gwendoline Gerald, he saw the temperamentallittle thing moving toward the stairway. Half-way up, she stopped andlooked back over the banister. Perhaps she wanted to see if Bob wasfulfilling his part of the contract.