XXI
"KIT!"
Somehow Clo got to the telephone, which was placed on the wall by thedoor, and her hand trembled on the receiver before she realized that thebell which rang was in the adjoining room. There was no communicatingdoor between, but the wall must be almost as thin as cardboard, for thenoise seemed to smite her ear-drum. For an instant Clo's relief wasoverwhelming; but as the shrill noise struck her nerves blow after blow,they rebelled. Her brain refused to work until, suddenly, blessedsilence fell.
Once more she had a sense of being saved. The power of recollection cameback. She knew that she had been going to look for the thing which haddropped out of Peterson's handkerchief, and rolled out of sight. Shewent down on her knees for the second time, but only to spring up, andstand quivering like a creature at bay. Again the telephone bell wasringing, and now the sound was in the room. The call was for 658. Sheanswered at once.
"Hello!" she saluted the unknown.
"Hello!" came the response, in a man's voice. "This is Chuff calling.Are you Peterson?"
"Peterson is in the room," returned Clo, after an instant's pause, inwhich her heart missed a beat. "But he can't come to the 'phone."
"Oh, say, is that you, Kit?" the man wanted to know.
Clo was almost incapable of thinking; but she was vaguely aware that theaccent was slightly foreign. "Yes," she ventured. "It's Kit."
"Nice thing you are! I've been trying to get you the last ten minutes.Thought your room was next door to his. Couldn't you hear your own'phone from Petes'?"
"I've just come in," said Clo.
"You're late. Anything wrong? Your voice sounds sort of queer."
"I've got chewing gum in my mouth," said Clo "What do you want to say toPete?"
"I want to know if he's got the papers."
Clo's blood rushed to her head. This looked like a wonderful chance totap a secret, if she didn't lose it by giving the wrong answers.Beverley Sands' whole future might depend upon the next few minutes.
"Hold the line a second or two," she said. She needed to think.
If she replied that Peterson had the papers, embarrassing questionsmight be asked. If she said that he hadn't, the man at the telephonemight end the conversation before she had learned enough to help Angel."I'll try hedging," she decided, and began again with a tentative"Hello!" For an instant there was no response, and Clo was sick withfear lest she had been cut off. But luck was with her. Theforeign-sounding voice began again: "Well, is Pete there this time?"
"No," said the girl. "Pete is--packing. He wants me to say it isn't muchafter ten. He's expecting to get the papers any minute now."
"He 'phoned me he'd made ten the time limit. Didn't he tell Olga thatStephen would sure be done for if she didn't hand over the real docs byten o'clock sharp?"
"Olga!" ... "Stephen!" ... Clo felt that she was hearing things she hadno right to know.
"The lady's had her hands full all the afternoon and evening," sheanswered carefully. "I suppose you know what's been going on?"
"Don't know a damned thing since Pete 'phoned some little skirt hadbrought around the wrong papers to the hotel. Tell him to quit hispacking and show up at the 'phone."
"He's gone out this very instant," said Clo. "A boy has come to the doorto say there was someone to see him downstairs. Maybe it's the rightone. He won't be long anyhow. But I'm just as glad to have a chance fora word with you while he's out of the way. Seems sort of funny he didn'tput you wise about the excitement, you know where."
"You mean Park Avenue?"
"Yes. I can't talk in the 'phone the way I would if the wall wasthicker. Didn't Pete tell you about the present of pearls the lady gotfrom her husband?"
"What pearls?"
"I can't give you their whole history, but maybe Pete could, if hewanted to."
"What makes you think so? Have you got on to some frame up, or are youkidding?"
"Well. Somebody relieved the lady of them. That's what's made her busythe rest of the time. Might account for documents being late."
"Say, what are you giving me? Has Pete made a deal on his own?... Pearlsinstead of papers?"
"Hold the line again for a jiffy, and I'll go through his togs."
"All right. Look sharp."
Clo let the receiver hang loose, and for the third time went down on herknees before the chest of drawers. Thrusting her arm underneath, shepassed her hand over the dirty carpet. Lodged against the wall at theback, and in a corner, was something round and hard, a thing whichseemed to be about the size of a small filbert. The girl brought it outbetween thumb and finger, freed it of dust, and saw an immense pearl.
"That settles that!" she said to herself. Peterson was the thief. Buthad he stolen the envelope as well as the pearls? Oh, if she could onlygalvanize the dead to speak! But the next best thing was to speak to thetelephone. The truth might come from that direction, bit by bit, piecingthe different parts of the story together.
Clo, getting to her feet again, was struck with a sudden luminous idea.
"Kit," the woman she was personating, the woman apparently set to watchPeterson, had found out about the pearls. Either she had believed him atraitor to the "gang," or she had wanted the pearls for herself. Ineither case she had killed him to get them; and one pearl had escaped totell the tale of its fellows.
Yes, "Kit" had the pearls. But where were they, and where was she? Thewoman was not in her room, because the telephone bell had been ringingthere and she hadn't answered. What if she hadn't been able to get backto her room after the murder? Kit might have locked her door when shecame to have a chat with Peterson. It was likely enough there'd bethings in her quarters which she wouldn't want a prying chambermaid tosee! Perhaps she'd seen Peterson looking at the pearls. Perhaps, whenshe knocked, he had thrust the broken rope back into his pocket with theloose pearls. Perhaps Kit had put him off his guard, chatting of otherthings, while he packed. But no, she had caught him unawares when he satas he was sitting now! Clo pictured her offering to help him pack. Hehad lolled comfortably while Kit worked. Then, she had come behind himand dealt that frightful blow with the butt of his own pistol. A strong,determined woman, Kit!
Clo remembered how she and Beverley had walked slowly from the corridorof the lift into Peterson's corridor, looking at the numbers over thedoors; and remembered how she had said to Angel, "This must be the rightway to turn." Even after that, they had paused a moment for Beverley togather up her failing courage; and if Kit had then been in the act ofopening the trunk, she could easily have hidden herself inside beforethe owners of the voices she heard had turned the corner. It must havegiven her a beautiful fright when someone sat down on the trunk with athud! No wonder she had jumped, and made the big box shake!
Kit's actions later could be plausibly accounted for, too. She must haveguessed that one of the women she had heard speaking (had seen, perhaps,if she contrived to peep from the trunk when their backs were turned)had been in Peterson's room. How she must have wished that she'd takentime to lock his door on the outside! As it was, she couldn't have beensure that an alarm would not be given downstairs. Her one thought musthave been haste; and Clo doubted that, if she had forgotten her key inPeterson's room, she would have ventured back to get it. No, she wouldhave crept out of the trunk, and looked at her dress in the dim light tosee whether blood stains showed. If she wore dark clothing, she mighthave run the risk. Clo pictured her locking the trunk, and following, asclosely as she dared, the cloaked figures in gray and brown; picturedher pausing in the background to see whether the pair stopped at thedesk, or went away with their secret; pictured her relief when theypassed on in silence; and the bid for freedom she must have made aminute later.
"I bet, by the time we were in our taxi, that woman was out of this, andlegging it as fast as she could go. She wouldn't have taken a cab, forfear of being traced," Clo finished her reflections. She stared at thepearl in her hand.
"Awkward for me if Kit gets to the man at the other end while her doublech
ats to him at the Westmorland!" the girl thought, and flew back to thetelephone. "Are you there?" she called.
"You bet your sweet life I'm here. Did you find the beans?"
"I've found something I must bring to you. Where's the safest place?"
"What's the matter with here?"
"It won't do," she answered. "It's on account of Pete!"
"Well, then, come to Churn's. When'll you be there?"
This was a blow. Clo was angling for an address, with street and number.But she would not be downed by one disappointment. "Same reason holdsgood for Churn's," she said. "Can't you think of some place Pete doesn'tknow? And think quick, or he'll be back."
"Think quick yourself! We'll go round to your own house, you dub! Peteain't sure where your real pitch is--unless you've blabbed."
"I may have dropped something that's put him wise," the girl persistedin desperation. "I tell you I'm not talking to hear myself talk when Iask for a new place."
"Krantz's Keller, then, eleven thirty."
"Right for Krantz's Keller. But I can't be sure of eleven thirty. I'llhave to keep an eye on Pete till I know what he's up to. Maybe I can'phone you there. What's Krantz's number?"
"Can't give it to you without looking it up. Haven't you got the bookthere?"
"No. Somebody must have nicked it."
"Ain't there one in your own room next door?"
"Yes. But say--a fool thing's happened. I locked my door when I came into Pete's, and I've dropped my key."
"Find it, and go look at the book. Jake's got mine. I'll call you up inyour room in five minutes. Then if Pete's back it won't matter. See?"
"Yes. But----Have you gone?"
There was no answer. Clo could do nothing save hang up the receiver, andbegin to search for a key which, despite her elaborate deductions, mightbe in "Kit's" pocket for all she knew. Luck was with her once more,however. On the floor by the mantelpiece lay a key, almost hidden in thedeep fur of a mangy, goat-hair rug. Clo might have wasted twice the timein her search, had she not stepped on it.
"I'll make the best of a bad bargain," she promised herself. "If I mustgo to Kit's room, I won't throw away a single second."
She fastened Peterson's door on the outside, and fitted the key she hadfound, into the lock of the door at the left, in front of which stoodthe brown trunk.
The key served, as she had felt certain it would. Hastily she lockedherself into the room, and switched on the light. It was a mean littleroom, a facsimile of Peterson's in most of its features, but a woman'sclothing hung from hooks on the door, and on the bed and chairs anddressing table a woman's belongings were flung untidily about; hats,gloves, collars, and a handbag of jet and steel beads. Kit must havehated to leave that bag, thought Clo. She drew the ribbons, and took ahasty peep at the bag's contents. There was a soiled suede purse, and inthat purse, mixed up with a few greenbacks, there were some papers. Clodared not stop to examine them. She could only hope that they might giveclues which she had failed to obtain from the telephone.
There were four or five frocks hanging on the door, showy blouses andbright-coloured skirts; but Clo searched in vain for pockets. In thechest of drawers, which was the twin of Peterson's, was a certain amountof underclothing, much trimmed with cheap lace. There were silkpetticoats with torn frilling, and shoes and slippers. But nothing wasmarked with name, or even initials. Kit, though gaudily coquettish inher taste, was apparently careless in her habits. Clo no longer visionedKit large, masculine, and determined, a tigress woman. Instead she saw alithe, cat-like creature, strong, no doubt (it had taken strength tostrike that blow and Clo would have staked her life that it had beenstruck by Kit) but not big or massive.
The five minutes grace must certainly have passed before Clo had come tothe end of her inspection, but the telephone was silent. This struck thegirl as ominous, for it might mean that Kit had appeared in person atthe other end of the line. It might mean that some trap was being laidto catch Kit's double.
"If she turns up, and tells everything, they can't let me get away withwhat I know, even about Krantz's Keller," Clo told herself. "They'llhave to send someone to watch, especially if they think I'm a 'tec,who's found Peterson's body. They won't know what I'm like. All thesame, if they don't call me up in just one minute more, I must make abolt. I'll count sixty, and--see what happens."