Part 30 (1/2)

”And that's all right!” he announced cheerfully, swinging round to face Iff. ”She was in a taxicab accident and got lost in Central Park--just got home, I infer. The necklace is safe and I'm to call and get it at twelve o'clock.”

”Where's she stopping?” demanded Iff, shaking his little head as though impatient. Staff named the hotel, and Iff fairly jumped. ”Why that's impossible!” he cried. ”She can't afford it.”

”How do you happen to know she can't?” enquired Staff, perplexed.

Momentarily Iff showed a face of confusion. ”I know a lot of things,” he grumbled, evasively.

Staff waited a moment, then finding that the little man didn't purpose making any more adequate or satisfactory explanation, observed: ”It happens that she's Mrs. Ilkington's guest, and I fancy Mrs. Ilkington can afford it--unless you know more about her, too, than I do.”

Iff shook his head, dissatisfied. ”All right,” he said wearily. ”Now what're you going to do?”

”I'm going to try to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' sleep. There's no reason why I shouldn't, now, with nothing to do before noon.”

”Pleasant dreams,” said Iff sourly, as Staff marched off to his bedroom.

Then he sat down on the edge of the divan, hugging the dressing-gown round him, scowled vindictively at nothing and began thoughtfully to gnaw a bony knuckle.

In the other room, his host was undressing with surprising speed. In spite of his nap, he was still tremendously tired; perhaps the reaction caused by Eleanor's rea.s.surance capping the climax of his excitement had something to do with the sense of complete mental and physical fatigue that swept over him the instant his back rested upon the bed. Within two minutes he was fast asleep.

But in the study Mr. Iff kept vigil, biting his knuckles what time he was not depleting his host's stock of cigarettes.

Daylight broadened over the city. The sun rose. Not to be outdone, so did Mr. Iff--moving quietly round the room, swearing beneath his breath as his conscience dictated, gradually acc.u.mulating more and more of the articles of clothing which he had so disdainfully discarded some hours earlier.

The telephone interrupted him somewhat after six o'clock. He answered it, a.s.suming Staff's ident.i.ty for the moment. When the conversation had closed, he sat in reverie for some minutes, then consulted the telephone book and called two numbers in quick succession. Immediately thereafter he tiptoed into the bedroom, a.s.sured himself that Staff was fast asleep and proceeded calmly to rifle that gentleman's pockets, carefully placing what he found in an orderly array upon the bureau. In the end, bringing to light a plump bill-fold, he concluded his investigations.

The pigskin envelope contained a little less than four-hundred dollars, mostly in gold Treasury certificates. Mr. Iff helped himself generously and replaced the bill-fold. Then he returned to the study, found paper and pens and wrote Staff a little note, which he propped against the mirror on the bedroom dresser. Finally, filling one of his pockets with cigarettes, he smiled blandly and let himself out of the apartment and, subsequently, of the house.

Staff slept on, sublimely unconscious, until the sun, slipping round to the south, splashed his face with moulten gold: when he woke, fretful and sweatful. He glanced at his watch and got up promptly: the hour approached eleven. Diving into a bathrobe, he turned the water on for his bath, trotted to the front room and discovered the evasion of Mr.

Iff. This, however, failed to surprise him. Iff was, after all, not bound to sit tight until Staff gave him leave to stir.

He rang for Mrs. Shultz and ordered breakfast. Then he bathed and began to dress. It was during this latter ceremony that he found his pockets turned inside out and their contents displayed upon his bureau.

This was a shock, especially when he failed to find his bill-fold at the first sweep. The bottom dropped out of the market for confidence in the integrity of Mr. Iff and conceit in the perspicacity of Mr. Staff. He saw instantly how flimsy had been the tissue of falsehood wherewith the _soi-disant_ Mr. Iff had sought to cloak his duplicity, how egregiously stupid had been his readiness to swallow that extraordinary yarn. The more he considered, the more he marvelled. It surpa.s.sed belief--his asininity did; at least _he_ wouldn't have believed he could be so easily fooled. He felt like kicking himself--and longed unutterably for a chance to kick his erstwhile guest.

In the midst of this transport he found himself staring incredulously at the envelope on the dresser. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, tore it open and removed three pieces of white paper. Two of them were crisp and tough and engraved on one side with jet-black ink. The third bore this communication:

”MY DEAR MR. STAFF:--Your bill-fold's in your waistcoat pocket, where you left it last night. It contained $385 when I found it. It now contains $200. I leave you by way of security Bank of England notes to the extent of 40. There'll be a bit of change, one way or the other--I'm too hurried to calculate which.

”The exchange manager has just called up. The interrupted call has been traced back to the Hotel St. Simon in 79th Street, W.

I have called the St. Regis; neither Miss Searle nor Mrs.

Ilkington has registered there. I have also called the St.

Simon; both ladies are there. Your hearing must be defective--or else Miss S. didn't know where she was at.

”I'm off to line my inwards with food and decorate my outwards with purple and fine underlinen. After which I purpose minding my own business for a few hours or days, as the circ.u.mstances may demand. But do not grieve--I shall return eftsoons or thereabouts.

”Yours in the interests of pure crime--

”WHIFF.