Part 42 (2/2)
”Why?”
”To beat Ismay--”
Staff checked him with a hand on his arm and a warning glance at the back of the chauffeur's head.
”Oh, that's all right _now_,” Iff told him placidly. ”I thought we might 's well understand one another first as last; so, while we were waiting for you, I slipped him fifty, gave him to understand that my affectionate cousin had about come to the end of his rope and--won his heart and confidence. It's a way I have with people; they do seem to fall for me,” he a.s.serted with insufferable self-complacence.
He continued to impart his purchased information to Staff by s.n.a.t.c.hes all the way from Thirty-fourth Street to the Harlem River.
”He's a decent sort,” he said, indicating the operator with a nod; ”apparently, that is; name, Spelvin. Employed by a garage upon the West Side, in the Seventies. Says Ismay rang 'em up about half-past two last night, chartered this car and driver, to be kept waiting for him whenever he called for it.... Coa.r.s.e work that, for Cousin Arbuthnot--very, very crude....
”Still, he'd just got home and hadn't had time to make very polished arrangements.... Seems he told this chap he was to see nothing but the road, hear nothing but the motor, say nothing whatever to n.o.body. Gave him a fifty, too. That habit seems to run in the family....
”He called for the car around five o'clock, with Nelly. Spelvin says she seemed worn out, hardly conscious of what was going on. They lit out for--where we're bound: place on the Connecticut sh.o.r.e called Pennymint Point. On the way Ismay told him to stop at a roadhouse, got out and brought Nelly a drink. Spelvin says he wouldn't be surprised if it was doped; she slept all the rest of the way and hardly woke up even when they helped her aboard the boat.”
”Boat!”
”Motor-boat. I infer that Cousin Arbuthnot has established headquarters on a little two-by-four island in the Sound--Wreck Island. Used to be run as a one-horse summer resort--hotel and all that. Went under several years ago, if mem'ry serveth me aright. Anyhow, they loaded Nelly aboard this motor-boat and took her across....
”Spelvin was told to wait. He did. In about an hour--boat back; native running it hands Spelvin a note, tells him to run up to Hartford and post it and be back at seven P.M. Spelvin back at seven; Ismay comes across by boat, is driven to town....
”That's all, to date. Spelvin had begun to suspect there was something crooked going on, which made him easy meat for my insidious advances.
Says he was wondering if he hadn't better tell his troubles to a cop.
All of which goes to show that Cousin Artie's fast going to seed. Very crude operating--man of his reputation, too. Makes me almost ashamed of the relations.h.i.+p.”
”How are we going to get to Wreck Island from Pennymint Point?”
”Same boat,” said Iff confidently. ”Spelvin heard Ismay tell his engineer to wait for him--would be back between midnight and three.”
”He can't beat us there, can he, by any chance?”
”He can if he humps himself. This is a pretty good car, and Spelvin says there isn't going to be any car on the road tonight that'll pa.s.s us; but I can't forget that dear old New York, New Haven & Hartford. They run some fast trains by night, and while of course none of them stops at Pennymint Centre--station for the Point--still, a man with plenty of money to fling around can get a whole lot of courtesy out of a railroad.”
”Then the question is: can he catch a train which pa.s.ses through Pennymint Centre before we can reasonably expect to get there?”
”That's the intelligent query. I don't know. Do you?”
”No--”
”Spelvin doesn't, and we haven't got any time to waste trying to find out. Probabilities are, there is. The only thing to do is to run for it and trust to luck. Spelvin says it took him an hour and thirty-five minutes to run in, this evening; and he's going to better that if nothing happens. Did you remember to bring a gun?”
”Two.” Staff produced the pistol he had taken from Ismay, with the extra clips, and gave them to the little man with an account of how he had become possessed of them--a narrative which Iff seemed to enjoy immensely.
”Oh, we can't lose,” he chuckled; ”not when Cousin Artie plays his hand as poorly as he has this deal. I've got a perfectly sound hunch that we'll win.”
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