IXTHE ADVENTURE OF ROOM 407
Raffles Holmes and I had walked up-town together. It was a beastly coldnight, and when we reached the Hotel Powhatan my companion suggested that westop in for a moment to thaw out our frozen cheeks, and incidentally, warmup the inner man with some one of the spirituous concoctions for which thathostelry is deservedly famous. I naturally acquiesced, and in a moment wesat at one of the small tables in the combination reading-room and cafe ofthe hotel.
"Queer place, this," said Holmes, gazing about him at the motley company ofguests. "It is the gathering place of the noted and the notorious. Thathandsome six-footer, who has just left the room, is the Reverend Dr.Harkaway, possibly the most eloquent preacher they have in Boston. At thetable over in the corner, talking to that gold-haired lady with a roastedpheasant on her head in place of a hat, is Jack McBride, the light-weightchampion of the Northwest, and--by thunder, Jenkins, look at that!"
A heavy-browed, sharp-eyed Englishman appeared in the doorway, stood amoment, glanced about him eagerly, and, with a gesture of impatience, turnedaway and disappeared in the throngs of the corridor without.
"There's something doing to bring 'Lord Baskingford' here," muttered Holmes.
"Lord Baskingford?" said I. "Who's he?"
"He's the most expert diamond lifter in London," answered Holmes. "Hisappearance on Piccadilly was a signal always to Scotland Yard to wake up,and to the jewellers of Bond Street to lock up. My old daddy used to saythat Baskingford could scent a Kohinoor quicker than a hound a fox. I wonderwhat his game is."
"Is he a real lord?" I asked.
"Real?" laughed Holmes. "Yes--he's a real Lord of the Lifters, if that'swhat you mean, but if you mean does he belong to the peerage, no. His realname is Bob Hollister. He has served two terms in Pentonville, escaped oncefrom a Russian prison, and is still in the ring. He's never idle, and if hecomes to the Powhatan you can gamble your last dollar on it that he has agood, big stake somewhere in the neighborhood. We must look over the list ofarrivals."
We finished our drink and settled the score. Holmes sauntered, in leisurelyfashion, out into the office, and, leaning easily over the counter,inspected the register.
"Got any real live dukes in the house to-night, Mr. Sommers?" he asked ofthe clerk.
"Not to-night, Mr. Holmes," laughed the clerk. "We're rather shy on thenobility to-night. The nearest we come to anything worth while in that lineis a baronet--Sir Henry Darlington of Dorsetshire, England. We can show youa nice line of Captains of Industry, however."
"Thank you, Sommers," said Holmes, returning the laugh. "I sha'n't troubleyou. Fact is, I'm long on Captains of Industry and was just a bit hungryto-night for a dash of the British nobility. Who is Sir Henry Darlington ofDorsetshire, England?"
"You can search me," said the clerk. "I'm too busy to study genealogy--butthere's a man here who knows who he is, all right, all right--at least Ijudge so from his manner."
"Who's that?" asked Holmes.
"Himself," said Sommers, with a chuckle. "Now's your chance to ask him--forthere he goes into the Palm Room."
We glanced over in the direction indicated, and again our eyes fell upon themuscular form of "Lord Baskingford."
"Oh!" said Holmes. "Well--he is a pretty fair specimen, isn't he! Little toolarge for my special purpose, though, Sommers," he added, "so you needn'twrap him up and send him home."
"All right, Mr. Holmes," grinned the clerk. "Come in again some time when wehave a few fresh importations in and maybe we can fix you out."
With a swift glance at the open page of the register, Holmes bade the clerkgood-night and we walked away.
"Room 407," he said, as we moved along the corridor. "Room 407--we mustn'tforget that. His lordship is evidently expecting some one, and I think I'llfool around for a while and see what's in the wind."
A moment or two later we came face to face with the baronet, and watched himas he passed along the great hall, scanning every face in the place, and onto the steps leading down to the barber-shop, which he descended.
"He's anxious, all right," said Holmes, as we sauntered along. "How wouldyou like to take a bite, Jenkins? I'd like to stay here and see this out."
"Very good," said I. "I find it interesting."
So we proceeded towards the Palm Room and sat down to order our repast.Scarcely were we seated when one of the hotel boys, resplendent in brassbuttons, strutted through between the tables, calling aloud in a shrillvoice:
"Telegram for four-oh-seven. Four hundred and seven, telegram."
"That's the number, Raffles," I whispered, excitedly.
"I know it," he said, quietly. "Give him another chance--"
"Telegram for number four hundred and seven," called the buttons.
"Here, boy," said Holmes, nerving himself up. "Give me that."
"Four hundred and seven, sir?" asked the boy.
"Certainly," said Holmes, coolly. "Hand it over--any charge?"
"No, sir," said the boy, giving Raffles the yellow covered message.
"Thank you," said Holmes, tearing the flap open carelessly as the boydeparted.
And just then the fictitious baronet entered the room, and, as Holmes readhis telegram, passed by us, still apparently in search of the unattainable,little dreaming how close at hand was the explanation of his troubles. I wason the edge of nervous prostration, but Holmes never turned a hair, and,save for a slight tremor of his hand, no one would have even guessed thatthere was anything in the wind. Sir Henry Darlington took a seat in the farcorner of the room.
"That accounts for his uneasiness," said Holmes, tossing the telegram acrossthe table.
I read: "Slight delay. Will meet you at eight with the goods." The messagewas signed: "Cato."
"Let's see," said Holmes. It is now six-forty-five. Here--lend me yourfountain-pen, Jenkins.
I produced the desired article and Holmes, in an admirably feigned hand,added to the message the words: "at the Abbey, Lafayette Boulevard. Safer,"restored it in amended form to its envelope.
"Call one of the bell-boys, please," he said to the waiter.
A moment later, a second buttons appeared.
"This isn't for me, boy," said Holmes, handing the message back to him."Better take it to the office."
"Very good, sir," said the lad, and off he went.
A few minutes after this incident, Sir Henry again rose impatiently and leftthe room, and, at a proper distance to the rear, Holmes followed him.Darlington stopped at the desk, and, observing the telegram in his box,called for it and opened it. His face flushed as he tore it into scraps andmade for the elevator, into which he disappeared.
"He's nibbling the bait all right," said Holmes, gleefully. "We'll just waitaround here until he starts, and then we'll see what we can do with Cato.This is quite an adventure."
"What do you suppose it's all about?" I asked.
"I don't know any more than you do, Jenkins," said Holmes, "save this, thatold Bob Hollister isn't playing penny-ante. When he goes on to a job aselaborately as all this, you can bet your last dollar that the game runsinto five figures, and, like a loyal subject of his Gracious Majesty KingEdward VII, whom may the Lord save, he reckons not in dollars but in poundssterling."
"Who can Cato be, I wonder?" I asked.
"We'll know at eight o'clock," said Holmes. "I intend to have him up."
"Up? Up where?" I asked.
"In Darlington's rooms--where else?" demanded Holmes.
"In four hundred and seven?" I gasped.
"Certainly--that's our headquarters, isn't it?" he grinned.
"Now see here, Raffles," I began.
"Shut up Jenkins," he answered. "Just hang on to your nerve--"
"But suppose Darlington turns up?"
"My dear boy, the Abbey is six miles from here and he won't by any livingchance, get back before ten o'clock to-night. We shall have a good two hoursand a half to do up old Cato without any interference from him," saidHolmes. "Suppose he does come--what then
? I rather doubt if Sir HenryDarlington, of the Hotel Powhatan, New York, or Dorsetshire, England, wouldfind it altogether pleasant to hear a few reminiscences of Bob Hollister ofPentonville prison, which I have on tap."
"He'll kick up the deuce of a row," I protested.
"Very doubtful, Jenkins," said Raffles. "I sort of believe he'll be asgentle as a lamb when he finds out what I know--but, if he isn't, well,don't I represent law and order?" and Holmes displayed a detective's badge,which he wore for use in emergency cases, pinned to the inner side of hissuspenders.
As he spoke, Darlington reappeared, and, leaving his key at the office, wentout through the revolving doorway, and jumped into a hansom.
"Where to, sir?" asked the cabman.
"The Abbey," said Darlington.
"They're off!" whispered Holmes, with a laugh. "And now for Mr. Cato."
We walked back through the office, and, as we passed the bench upon whichthe bell-boys sat, Raffles stopped before the lad who had delivered thetelegram to him.
"Here, son," he said, handing him a quarter, "run over to the news-stand andget me a copy of this months _Salmagundi_--I'll be in the smoking-room."
The boy went off on his errand, and in a few minutes returned with amagazine.
"Thanks," said Holmes. "Now get me my key and we'll call it square."
"Four hundred and seven, sir?" said the boy, with a smile of recognition.
"Yep," said Holmes, laconically, as he leaned back in his chair andpretended to read.
"Gad, Holmes, what a nerve!" I muttered.
"We need it in this business," said he.
The buttons returned and delivered the key of Sir Henry Darlington'sapartment into the hands of Raffles Holmes.
Ten minutes later we sat in room 407--I in a blue funk from sheernervousness, Raffles Holmes as imperturbable as the rock of Gibraltar fromsheer nerve. It was the usual style of hotel room, with bath, pictures,telephone, what-nots, wardrobes, and centre-table. The last proved to be themain point of interest upon our arrival. It was littered up with papers ofone sort and another: letters, bills receipted and otherwise, and a largeassortment of railway and steamship folders. "He knows how to get away," wasHolmes's comment on the latter. Most of the letters were addressed to SirHenry Darlington, in care of Bruce, Watkins, Brownleigh & Co., bankers.
"Same old game," laughed Holmes, as he read the superscription. "The mostconservative banking-house in New York! It's amazing how such institutionsissue letters indiscriminately to any Tom, Dick, or Harry who comes alongand planks down his cash. They don't seem to realize that they therebyunconsciously lend the glamour of their own respectability and credit topeople who, instead of travelling abroad, should be locked up in the mostconvenient penitentiary at home. Aha!" Holmes added, as he ran his eye oversome of the other documents and came upon a receipted bill. "We're gettingclose to it, Jenkins. Here's a receipted bill from Bar, LeDuc & Co., ofFifth Avenue, for $15,000--three rings, one diamond necklace, a ruby stick-pin, and a set of pearl shirt-studs."
"Yes," said I, "but what is there suspicious about that? If the things arepaid for--"
"Precisely," laughed Holmes. "They're paid for. Sir Henry Darlington hasenough working capital to buy all the credit he needs with Messrs. Bar,LeDuc & Co. There isn't a house in this town that, after a cash transactionof that kind, conducted through Bruce, Watkins, Brownleigh & Co., wouldn'tsend its own soul up on approval to a nice, clean-cut member of the Britisharistocracy like Sir Henry Darlington. We're on the trail, Jenkins--we're onthe trail. Here's a letter from Bar, LeDuc & Co.--let's see what light thatsheds on the matter."
Holmes took a letter from an envelope and read, rapidly:
Sir Henry Darlington--care of Bruce, Watkins and so forth--dear Sir Henry--We are having some difficulty matching the pearls--they are of unusualquality, but we hope to have the necklace ready for delivery as requested onWednesday afternoon at the office of Messrs. Bruce, Watkins and so forth,between five and six o'clock. Trusting the delay will not--and so forth--andhoping to merit a continuance of your valued favors, we beg to remain, andso forth, and so forth.
"That's it," said Holmes. "It's a necklace that Mr. Cato is bringing up toSir Henry Darlington--and, once in his possession--it's Sir Henry for someplace on one of these folders."
"Why don't they send them directly here?" I inquired.
"It is better for Darlington to emphasize Bruce, Watkins, Brownleigh & Co.,and not to bank to much on the Hotel Powhatan, that's why," said Holmes."What's the good of having bankers like that back of you if you don'tunderscore their endorsement? Anyhow, we've discovered the job, Jenkins; to-day is Wednesday, and the 'goods' Cato has to deliver and referred to in histelegram is the pearl necklace of unusual quality--hence not less than a$50,000 stake."
At this point the telephone bell rang.
"Hello," said Holmes, answering immediately, and in a voice entirely unlikehis own. "Yes--what? Oh yes. Ask him to come up."
He hung up the receiver, put a cigar in his mouth, lit it, and turned to me.
"It's Cato--just called. Coming up," said he.
"I wish to Heavens I was going down," I ejaculated.
"You're a queer duck, Jenkins," grinned Holmes. "Here you are with a frontseat at what promises to be one of the greatest shows on earth, a real livemelodrama, and all you can think of is home and mother. Brace up--for herehe is."
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," said Holmes, cheerily.
A tall cadaverous-looking man opened the door and entered. As his eye fellupon us, he paused on the threshold.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I--I'm afraid I'm in the wrong--"
"Not at all--come in and sit down," said Holmes, cordially. "That is if youare our friend and partner, Cato--Darlington couldn't wait--"
"Couldn't wait?" said Cato.
"Nope," said Holmes. "He was very much annoyed by the delay, Cato. You seehe's on bigger jobs than this puny little affair of Bar, LeDuc's, and yourfailure to appear on schedule time threw him out. Pearls aren't the onlychips in Darlington's game, my boy."
"Well--I couldn't help it," said Cato. "Bar, LeDuc's messenger didn't getdown there until five minutes of six."
"Why should that have kept you until eight?" said Holmes.
"I've got a few side jobs of my own," growled Cato.
"That's what Darlington imagined," said Holmes, "and I don't envy you yourmeeting with him when he comes in. He's a cyclone when he's mad and ifyou've got a cellar handy I'd advise you to get it ready for occupancy.Where's the stuff?"
"In here, said Cato, tapping his chest.
"Well," observed Holmes, quietly, "we'd better make ourselves easy until theChief returns. You don't mind if I write a letter, do you?"
"Go ahead," said Cato. "Don't mind me."
"Light up," said Holmes, tossing him a cigar, and turning to the table wherehe busied himself for the next five minutes, apparently in writing.
Cato smoked away in silence, and picked up Holmes's copy of the _SalmagundiMagazine_ which lay on the bureau, and shortly became absorbed in itscontents. As for me, I had to grip both sides of my chair to conceal mynervousness. My legs fairly shook with terror. The silence, broken only bythe scratching of Holmes's pen, was becoming unendurable and I think Ishould have given way and screamed had not Holmes suddenly risen and walkedto the telephone, directly back of where Cato was sitting.
"I must ring for stamps," he said. "There don't seem to be any here.Darlington's getting stingy in his old age. Hello," he called, but withoutremoving the receiver from the hook. "Hello--send me up a dollar's worth oftwo-cent stamps--thank you. Good-bye."
Cato read on, but, in a moment, the magazine dropped from his hand to thefloor. Holmes was at his side and the cold muzzle of a revolver presseduncomfortably against his right temple.
"That bureau cover--quick," Raffles cried, sharply, to me.
"What are you doing?" gasped Cato, his face turning a greenish-yellow withfear.
"Another sound from you and you're a dead one," said Holmes. "You'll seewhat I'm doing quickly enough. Twist it into a rope, Jim," he added,addressing me. I did as I was bade with the linen cover, snatching it fromthe bureau, and a second later we had Cato gagged. "Now tie his hands andfeet with those curtain cords," Holmes went on.
Heavens! how I hated the job, but there was no drawing back now! We had gonetoo far for that.
"There!" said Holmes, as we laid our victim out on the floor, tied hand andfoot and as powerless to speak as though he had been born deaf and dumb."We'll just rifle your chest, Cato, and stow you away in the bath-tub with asofa-cushion under your head to make you comfortable, and bid you farewell--not au revoir, Cato, but just plain farewell forever."
The words were hardly spoken before the deed was accomplished. Tearing asidepoor Cato's vest and shirt-front, Raffles placed himself in possession ofthe treasure from Bar, LeDuc & Co., after which we lay Darlington's unhappyconfederate at full length in the porcelain-lined tub, placed a sofa-cushionunder his head to mitigate his sufferings, locked him in, and started forthe elevator.
"Great Heavens, Raffles!" I chattered, as we emerged upon the street. "Whatwill be the end of this? It's awful. When Sir Henry returns--"
"I wish I could be there to see," said he, with a chuckle.
"I guess we'll see, quick enough. I leave town to-morrow," said I.
"Nonsense," said Holmes. "Don't you worry. I put a quietus on Sir HenryDarlington. _He'll_ leave town to-night, and we'll never hear from himagain--that is, not in this matter."
"But how?" I demanded, far from convinced.
"I wrote him a letter in which I said: 'You will find your treasure in thebath-tub,'" laughed Holmes.
"And _that_ will drive him from New York, and close his mouth forever!" Iobserved, sarcastically. "So very likely!"
"No, Jenkins, not that, but the address, my dear boy, the address. I putthat message in an envelope, and left it on his table where he'll surely seeit the first thing when he gets back to-night, addressed to 'Bob Hollister,'Diamond Merchant, Cell No. 99, Pentonville Prison."
"Aha!" said I, my doubts clearing.
"Likewise--Ho-ho," said Holmes. "It is a delicate intimation to Sir HenryDarlington that somebody is on to his little game, and he'll evaporatebefore dawn."