CHAPTER VI
THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN
Mr. Birnes' busy heels fairly spurned the pavements of Fifth Avenueas he started toward Madison Square. Here was a long line of cabsdrawn up beside the curb, some twenty or thirty in all. The fifthfrom the end bore the number he sought--Mr. Birnes chuckled; andthere, alongside it, stood William Johns, swapping Billingsgate withthe driver of a hansom, the while he kept one eye open for aprospective fare. It was too easy! Mr. Birnes paused long enoughto congratulate himself upon his marvelous acumen, and then heapproached the driver.
"You are William Johns?" he accused him sharply.
"That's me, Cap," the cabby answered readily.
"A few minutes past four o'clock this afternoon you went up FifthAvenue, and stopped at the corner of Thirty-fourth Street to pick upa fare--a young man."
"Yep."
"You drove him to the corner of Sixty-seventh Street and FifthAvenue," the detective went on just to forestall possible denials."He got out there, paid you, and you went on up Fifth Avenue."
"Far be it from me to deceive you, Cap," responded the cabby withirritating levity. "I done that same."
"Who was that man?" demanded Mr. Birnes coldly.
"Search me! I never seen him before."
The detective regarded the cabby with accusing eyes. Then, quitecasually, he flipped open his coat and Johns caught a glimpse ofa silver shield. It might only have been accident, of course,still--
"Now, Johns, who was the man in the cab when you stopped to pick upthe second man at Thirty-fourth Street?"
"Wrong, Cap," and the cabby grinned. "There wasn't any man."
"Don't attempt to deny--"
"No man, Cap. It was a woman."
"A woman!" the detective repeated. "A woman!"
"Sure thing--a woman, a regular woman. And, Cap, she was a pippin,a peachorino, a beauty bright," he added, gratuitously.
Mr. Birnes stared thoughtfully across the street for a little while.So there was a woman in it! Mr. Wynne had transferred the contentsof the gripsack to her, in a cab, on a crowded thoroughfare, rightunder his nose!
"I was a little farther down the line there," Johns went on toexplain. "About a quarter of four o'clock, I guess, she came along.She got in, after telling me to drive slowly up Fifth Avenue so Iwould pass Thirty-fourth Street five minutes or so after fouro'clock. If a young man with a gripsack hailed me at the corner Iwas to stop and let him get in; then I was to go on up Fifth Avenue.If I wasn't stopped I was to drive on to Thirty-fifth Street, cutacross to Madison Avenue, down to Thirty-third Street, then back toFifth Avenue and past Thirty-fourth Street again, going uptown. Theguy with the gripsack caught us first crack out of the box."
"And then?" demanded the detective eagerly.
"I went on up Fifth Avenue, according to sailing orders, and the guyinside stopped me at Sixty-seventh Street. He got out and gimme afive-spot, telling me to go a few blocks, then turn and bring thelady back to the Sixth Avenue 'L' at Fifty-eighth Street. I done it.That's all. She went up the steps, and that's the last I seen ofher."
"Did she carry a small gripsack?"
"Yep. It would hold about as much as a high hat."
Explicit as the information was it led nowhere, apparently. Mr.Birnes readily understood this much, yet there was a chance--a barechance--that he might trace the girl on the 'L,' in which case--anyway,it was worth trying.
"What did she look like? How was she dressed?" he asked.
"She had on one of them blue tailor-made things with a lid to match,and a long feather in it," the cabby answered obligingly. "She waspretty as a--as a--she was a beaut, Cap, sort of skinny, and had allsorts of hair on her head--brownish, goldish sort of hair. She wasabout twenty-two or three, maybe, and--and--Cap, she was the goods,that's all."
In the course of a day a thousand women, more or less, answering thatdescription in a general sort of way, ride back and forth on theelevated trains. Mr. Birnes sighed as he remembered this; still itmight produce results. Then came another idea.
"Did you happen to look in the cab after the young woman left it?" heinquired.
"No."
"Had any fares since?"
"No."
Mr. Birnes opened the door of the closed cab and glanced in. Perhapsthere might be a stray glove, a handkerchief, some more definite clewthan this vague description. He scrutinized the inside of thevehicle carefully; there was nothing. Yes, by Jingo, here _was_something--a white streak under the edge of the cushion on the seat!Mr. Birnes' hopeful fingers fished it out. It was a white envelope,sealed and--_and addressed to him!_
If you are as clever as I imagine you are, you will find this. My address is No. ---- East Thirty-seventh Street. I shall be pleased to see you if you will call. E. VAN CORTLANDT WYNNE.
It was most disconcerting, really.