CHAPTER XVI
KIDNAPPED AGAIN
As Stone surmised, Iris was kidnapped again. When she leaned down togather in her arms the little, yelping dog, a figure sprang from theshrubbery, and pressing a cloth into and over her mouth a man lifted herfrom the ground and carried her swiftly away.
Iris was a slender girl and the man had no difficulty in carrying her toa small motor car, which was waiting out in the main road. The duskrendered them nearly invisible, and the detention of Stone by Lucilleprecluded what might have been a capture of the invader.
Placed in the car, Iris recognized at once that it was the same one inwhich she had been carried off before, and she well knew it was for thesame purpose--to get possession of the pin.
But now that Stone had told her it was valuable, she had no mind to letit go easily. She sat quietly, as the car flew along, thinking hard whatshe would better do. She knew Stone would follow and rescue her if hehad heard any signs of her departure. But the car made little noise,and the whole affair had been so quickly accomplished that Iris fearedStone knew nothing of it all. She assumed that he would naturally followher out-of-doors, to learn what had happened to her pet dog, but hemight not hasten on that errand, and a delay of a minute would make hisadvent of small use to her.
They had gone a mile or so, when the car turned into a little used paththrough the woods. Another man was driving the car, and her captor satin the back with Iris. He still held her and kept the cloth, whichsmelled faintly of chloroform, over her mouth.
At last, when well into the woods, the car stopped, and the man got out,and ordered Iris to get out, too.
Her mind was made up now; she meant secretly to draw the pin from herbelt, and drop it on the ground. It was running a risk of losing it, butit was a worse risk to have this man take it from her, and, too, afterFibsy's successful search of the coal bin, she felt pretty sure the boycould find the pin in the woods. She was carefully noting the trees andstones about, when the low voice of her tormentor said, "You will handthat pin over at once, if you please."
"I'll do no such thing," Iris retorted with spirit. "I am not afraid ofyou."
"Nor have you reason to be, if you give up the pin quietly; otherwise,you will find yourself in a sorry predicament."
"I haven't the pin with me," declared Iris, feeling the falsehoodjustifiable in the circumstances.
"I regret to contradict a lady, but I don't believe you."
The man was masked, but Iris recognized his voice and form and she wellknew it was the man who had intruded upon her in her aunt's room thatnight, and she was sure it was the man who had instigated the kidnappingand search by Flossie. Moreover, she realized it was the man she hadseen in Chicago.
She felt an anxiety to detain him and somehow to get him in the grip ofthe law, but she could think of no way to do that.
She dared not take the pin from her belt, for his eyes were upon her,and the dusk, though deepening, left sufficient light for him to observeher movements.
"Now, look here," he said, speaking more roughly, "there's no Flossiehere. You don't want me to take all the pins you have in your clothing,do you?"
This suggestion, and the threatening tone of the man, frightened Irismore than all that had gone before. She was not afraid of physicalviolence, something in the man's manner precluded that, but she sensedhis desperate determination to secure the pin, and she knew he wouldsearch her clothing for it, if she refused to hand it over.
Also, she knew there was small use in trying to fool him. Since Stonehad verified the fact that there was something about that special pinthat made it of value, since this man had tried devious ways to get it,and since she was absolutely at his mercy, the outlook was pretty black.
A vague hope that Fleming Stone would come to her rescue was not wellfounded, for how could he know that the car that carried her off hadturned into that little woodland road?
She thought of appealing to the manliness or better nature of her enemy,but she knew that he would only reply that if she would give him the pinhe would not trouble her further. An idea of asking help from the manwho was in the driver's seat of the car brought only the sameconclusion.
"Come, now," said Pollock, for it was by that name she thought of him."I can't waste any more time. If you don't give me that pin in twoseconds, I'll take it."
"Don't you dare!" exclaimed Iris, trying the effect of sheer bravado.
"Two seconds I'll give you, and they've passed. You needn't scream, forwe're far from any habitation."
He came nearer to her, and touched the frill that was about the neck ofher gown.
Iris was at her wits' end. She knew she would give up the pin ratherthan have him search her clothing for it, and yet, she meant to put offher surrender as long as possible.
His own words gave her a hint, and though knowing it could do no good,she screamed loud and long.
The sound infuriated the man, and he sprang at her, grasping her roundthe waist.
"Stop that!" he cried, "Stop or I'll kill you!"
His fingers were at her throat, and his frenzy was such that Iris fearedhe would carry out his threat on a sudden impulse.
But the strangle-hold he had on her brought his body near hers, and bychance Iris' hand was flung against his side coat pocket, where she feltwhat was indubitably an automatic pistol.
Pretending to faint, she let her head sink backward, and heinvoluntarily put his hand back of her neck to support her.
With a quick motion she snatched the pistol from his pocket without hisknowledge.
Exultant, and feeling herself safe, Iris commanded him to release her.
He only laughed, and she whispered faintly, "Let me go, and I'll----"
Her voice died away as if from weakness, and he partially released hishold on her, which freed entirely her right arm.
With a wrench, she stepped back, and aiming the automatic at him, shesaid, quietly, "Step toward me, and I'll fire!"
With a profane exclamation, Pollock clapped his hand to his side pocketand fell back a pace or two.
"You little vixen!" he cried. "Give me that! You'll harm yourself!"
"Oh, no, I won't. But I'll harm you. Unless you give your driver ordersto take me straight back home, I shall make this little weapon give goodaccount of itself."
From where Iris now stood, she covered the two men, and her mannershowed no signs of fear, as she calmly informed them that a move on thepart of either would be followed by a shot.
"And," she said, "while I'm not an expert, I can manage to hit at thisshort range."
"Come, come, now, let's arbitrate," said Pollock, who, evidently, knewwhen he was cornered. "Give me the pin and I'll go halves with you."
"Halves of what?"
"Of the treasure. Oh, don't pretend you don't know all about it! Didn'tthat old smarty-cat you've got on the job tell you what the pin means?"
"If he did, _you_ don't know," said Iris, talking blindly, for she couldmake no guess why the pin was a factor in the case at all.
"Don't I? I'm the only one who does know! Your Stone detective can neverget a cent's worth of good out of that pin without my help. I'm the onlyone on earth who knows its secret, or who can turn it to use. So, now,miss, will you make terms? Wait! You needn't take my word for this. Willyou agree that if you return safe home with your precious pin, and whenyour precious detective fails to utilize the pin's secret, you'll let medisclose it to you, and you'll give me half the value of the jewels?"
"I most certainly will not!"
"Then, listen. I swear to you that you will never find those hiddenjewels. Only I can tell you what the pin means, and how it leads to youraunt's fortune. Refuse my offer, and neither you nor anyone else willever see one tiniest gem of your aunt's hoard."
There was something in the man's voice that carried conviction. Iris wasa good reader of human nature, and a surety of his truthfulness cameover her.
But she was far from willing to accede to his terms.
"I
do not entirely disbelieve you," she said, "but I most certainly willnot give you the pin----"
"You said you didn't have it!"
"You interrupted me! I was about to say I will not give it to you, evenafter my return home."
"Then we'll take it now! Come on, Bob."
Evading the pointed pistol by a quick jump, Pollock dashed it from Iris'hand, having really caught her off her guard as she grew interested intheir conversation. The driver, Bob, sprang toward them both, and theyseized Iris between them.
A terrific scream from the girl rang through the silent woods and as thepistol struck the ground it went off with a fairly loud report.
Iris felt her senses going as the two men clutched her roughly, butmanaged, in spite of a restraining hand, to give another loud scream.
And it was these sounds that guided Fibsy's flying feet toward the sceneof conflict.
He had come with Stone in the car that the detective had used to followIris from Pellbrook, but as no one knew which way to look for thekidnapper's car, they had separated, and Stone with Campbell wenthunting the highroads, while Fibsy, scenting the truth, had dived intothe wood.
He had heard Iris' last scream, also the noise of the automatic, and heblew a loud blast on a shrill whistle, as he hurried to the girl.
Nearing the three, Fibsy's quick eyes saw the pistol on the ground, andhe snatched it up, and aimed it straight at the masked man.
"Hands up!" he cried, and Pollock turned to see a small butdauntless-looking boy threatening him.
Again endangered by his own firearm, Pollock stood at bay, raging butimpotent in the face of the steady aim of the boy.
In another moment Stone came, with Campbell, in the Pell car and Irisbreathed freely once more, as she felt stealthily for the pin in herbelt ribbon. It was safe, and she sank down on the ground, satisfied tolet the newcomers take charge of the whole matter.
This they did with neatness and dispatch.
Bidding Fibsy keep the two men covered with the small but efficaciousweapon, Stone and Campbell tied the hands of Pollock and his man Bob,using the dustrobe from Pollock's car, cut into strips for the purpose.
Then they bundled them unceremoniously into their own car and Stonehimself took the wheel.
Campbell drove Iris home, but Fibsy traveled with his chief.
The boy was thrilling with satisfaction at the way things were turningout, and not at all vain-glorious over his own part in the affair.
Stone turned the two men over to the police on a charge of kidnappingand then, elated, returned to Pellbrook.
"How can I be grateful enough to you," Iris cried at sight of thedetective, "for coming to my aid! And Fibsy, too! Oh, what should I havedone if you hadn't arrived just as you did? But how did you know wherewe were?"
"I didn't," said Stone; "it was Fibsy's idea that the man would take tothe woods. But your screams and the noise of the revolver led us at thelast. I congratulate you, Miss Clyde, on a pretty narrow escape. Thosemen were desperate."
"Oh, I know it! Pollock began by being fairly courteous, but when Iwouldn't give up the pin, he grew rough and rude."
"Miss Clyde, we must look out for that pin. Though, now that the one whowants it is in safe-keeping himself, there's not so much danger. But hemay have clever assistants. By the way, there's no doubt that thisso-called Pollock is Charlie Young. Hughes is putting him through athird degree, and I think we need not concern ourselves about him justnow. He won't escape from his present quarters easily."
"This child must go to bed now," said Lucille Darrel, with anaffectionate glance at Iris. "She's had enough to upset any ordinary setof nerves, and she must rest."
"Yes, Miss Clyde, go now, and I think, if you leave the pin with me I'llkeep it safely, and moreover, to-morrow morning, I'll tell you itssecret."
"Oh, tell me now! Please do, Mr. Stone. What can it be that makes it akey to the jewels' hiding-place?"
"Not to-night. Indeed, I don't yet know its secret myself, but I hope tofind it out. If I may, I'll stay alone in Mrs. Pell's sitting-room for atime, until I puzzle it out."
Iris reluctantly went off with Lucille, and the detective locked himselfin the room where Mrs. Pell had met her tragic death.
He had, as his working implements, the pin, a strong magnifying glass, athick pad of paper and a lead pencil.
As the first streaks of dawn began to show in the eastern heavens,Fleming Stone had, as results of his night's work, forty or fiftyscribbled pages of the pad, all of which were in the waste basket, asmall, remaining stub of lead pencil and the pin and the magnifyingglass.
Also he had a heavy heart and a feeling of despair and dejection.
He went to his room for a few hours' sleep before breakfast time andwhen he met the family at table, he said shortly, "Finding a needle in ahaystack is child's play compared to the task ahead of us."
He refused to explain until after breakfast, and then, Iris and Lucillewent with him to the sitting room and the door was closed upon them.Fibsy was there, too, as the boy was never excluded from importantconferences.
Stone locked the door, and then said, impressively, "The dime and pinbequeathed you by your aunt, Miss Clyde, form a far more valuableinheritance than any diamond pin I have ever seen. I congratulate you onthe possession of the pin, and I ask you where the dime is."
"Gracious, I don't know," replied Iris. "I threw it out of the windowthe day I received it, and I've never thought of it since."
"The pin is a key to the hiding-place of the jewels, as I will explainfully in a few minutes," Stone proceeded, "but it may be necessary torecover the dime also, before we can utilize the information given us bythe pin."
Iris looked bewildered, but repeated her statement as to the whereaboutsof the dime.
"And again," Stone said, "the dime may be of no importance in thematter. I'm inclined to think it is not, because Pollock--or Youngrather--made no effort to gain possession of the dime, did he?"
"No; I think not. That first day he called on me, as Mr. Pollock, andwanted the pin, I told him he might search the lawn for the dime if hechose, but I don't think he did so."
"I'll find the dime if it's out in the side yard," Fibsy volunteered.
"Now, I'll tell you what this pin is," resumed Stone, holding up themysterious bit of brass. "It contains a cipher--a cryptogram."
"How can it?" asked Iris, blankly.
"On the head of this pin is engraved a series of letters which form acipher message telling of the hiding-place of your aunt's jewels."
"On the head of that little pin! Impossible!"
"It does seem impossible, but I assure you that on the surface of thehead of this pin there are thirty-nine letters, which, meaningless inthemselves, form a cipher statement. If we can solve their message----"
"If we _can_!" cried Iris. "We _must_!"
"You bet Mr. Stone will work it out, if it's a cipher," Fibsy declared,looking with pride and confidence at his employer's face.
"Not so easy, Fibs," Stone returned. "It's a cryptogram whichnecessitates another bit of information, a keyword, before it canpossibly be solved. By the way, Miss Clyde, that's what your aunt'sdiary means by its reference to the jewels being hidden in a crypt. Ifyou read her diary carefully, you'll see that she very frequentlyabbreviates her words, not only Tues., for Tuesday, and Dec., forDecember, but other words, just as the whim took her. So, as we mayconclude, the word crypt stands for cryptogram. And here's thecryptogram. Now, to explain this seemingly miraculous feat of engravingthirty-nine letters on the head of an ordinary pin, I'll say that it isnot an unheard-of accomplishment. Several years ago, I saw on exhibitiona pin with forty-five letters to it, and I have seen one or two othersimilar marvels. They are done, in every instance, by a most expertengraver, who has much time and infinite patience and capacity forcarefulness. Indeed, it is an art all by itself, and I doubt if thereare many people in the world who could accomplish it at all."
"Can you show them to me?" Iris asked, her e
yes wide with wonder.
"Oh, yes, you can see them with this glass, though even with its aid youmay have difficulty in making out the letters."
Iris looked long and carefully through the powerful lens, and finallydeclared that she could discern the letters, but could not read themclearly.
Stone passed the pin and glass to Miss Darrel, and continued, "I spentnearly the whole night over it. I have copied off the letters, so now,if the pin should be stolen, at least we have its secret. Though, Iconfess the secret is still a secret."
"Lemme see it," begged Fibsy, as Miss Darrel gave up the effort to makeout the letters at all.
The younger eyes of the boy read them with comparative ease.
"O, I, N, V, L, D, L," he spelled out "Sounds like gibberish, but allciphers do that--why, Mr. Stone, the letters are clear enough and youcan read any cipher that ever was made up, I'll bet! You know, you firstsee what letter's used most, and that's E----"
"Hold on, Terence, not so fast. That's one kind of a cipher, to besure. But this is another sort. These are the letters:
"O I N V L D L Q P S V T H P J R C R N O X X I V B A Y O D I J Y A W W KM E U
"There's no division into words, which, of course, makes it infinitelymore difficult."
"Aunt Ursula was crazy over ciphers!" exclaimed Iris, "she was alwaysmaking them up. But she always called them ciphers, never cryptograms,or perhaps I might have thought that crypt. was an abbreviation. Butcan't you guess it, Mr. Stone?"
"One doesn't guess ciphers, they must be solved. And this one is of thatpeculiar kind that needs an arbitrary keyword for its solution, withoutthe knowledge of which there is little hope of ever getting the answer."
"And you give it up?"
"Oh, no, indeed? I shall solve it, but we must find the word we need tomake it clear."