Part 16 (2/2)

”Told with a remarkable feeling for detail,” added Mr. Magee. ”In fact, it seems to me that only one of the two partic.i.p.ants in it could remember all the fine points so well. Mr. Max, you don't exactly look like Mark Dennen to me, therefore--if you will pardon the liberty--”

”I get you,” replied Max sadly. ”The same old story.

Suspicion--suspicion everywhere. It does a lot of harm, believe me. I wouldn't--”

He jumped from his chair and disappeared, for the voice of Cargan had hailed him from below. Mr. Magee and the professor with one accord followed. Hiding in the friendly shadows of the landing once again, they heard the loud tones of the mayor's booming voice, and the softer tones of Bland's.

”How about this?” bellowed the mayor. ”Hayden's squealed. Phones to Bland--not to me. Whines about the courts--I don't know what rot. He's squealed. He didn't phone the combination.”

”The rat!” screamed Mr. Max.

”By the Lord Harry,” said the mayor, ”I'll have it open, anyhow. I've earned what's in there, fair and--I've earned it. I'm going to have it, Max.”

”See here, Cargan--” put in Mr. Bland.

”Keep out of the way, you,” cried Cargan. ”And put away that pop-gun before you get hurt. I'm going to have what's mine by justice. That safe comes open to-night. Max, get your satchel.”

Mr. Magee and the professor turned and ascended to the second floor. In front of number seven they paused and looked into each other's eyes.

Professor Bolton shrugged his shoulders.

”I'm going to bed,” he said, ”and I advise you to do the same.”

”Yes,” replied Mr. Magee, but had no idea what he had said. As for the old man's advice, he had no intention of taking it. Melodrama--the thing he had come to Baldpate Inn to forget forever--raged through that home of solitude. Men spoke of guns, and swore, and threatened. What was it all about? And what part could he play in it all?

He entered number seven, and paused in amazement. Outside one of his windows Miss Norton stood, rapping on the gla.s.s for him to open. When he stood facing her at last, the window no longer between, he saw that her face was very pale and that her chin trembled as it had in the station.

”What is it?” cried Magee.

”I mustn't come in,” she answered. ”Listen. You said you wanted to help me. You can do so now. I'll explain everything later--this is all I need tell you just at present. Down-stairs in the safe there's a package containing two hundred thousand dollars. Do you hear--two hundred thousand. I must have that package. Don't ask me why. I came here to get it--I must have it. The combination was to have been phoned to Cargan at eight o'clock. I was hiding outside the window. Something went wrong--they didn't phone it. He's going to open the safe by force. I heard him say so. I couldn't wait to hear more--I saw him.”

”Who?” asked Mr. Magee.

”I don't know--a tall black figure--hiding outside a window like myself.

The man with one of the other keys, I suppose. The man Mr. Bland heard walking about to-night. I saw him and I was terribly frightened. It's all right when you know who the other fellow is, but when--it's all so creepy--I was afraid. So I ran--here.”

”The thing to do,” approved Mr. Magee. ”Don't worry. I'll get the money for you. I'll get it if I have to slay the city administration of Reuton in its tracks.”

”You trust me?” asked the girl, with a little catch in her voice. The snow lay white on her hair; even in the shadows her eyes suggested June skies. ”Without knowing who I am, or why I must have this money--you'll get it for me?”

”Some people,” said Mr. Magee, ”meet all their lives long at pink little teas, and never know one another, while others just smile at each other across a station waiting-room--that's enough.”

”I'm so glad,” whispered the girl. ”I never dreamed I'd meet any one like you--up here. Please, oh, please, be very careful. Neither Cargan nor Max is armed. Bland is. I should never forgive myself if you were hurt. But you won't be--will you?”

”I may catch cold,” laughed Mr. Magee; ”otherwise I'll be perfectly safe.” He went into the room and put on a gay plaid cap. ”Makes me look like Sherlock Holmes,” he smiled at the girl framed in the window. When he turned to his door to lock it, he discovered that the key was gone and that it had been locked on the outside. ”Oh, very well,” he said flippantly. He b.u.t.toned his coat to the chin, blew out the candles in number seven, and joined the girl on the balcony.

”Go to your room,” he said gently. ”Your worries are over. I'll bring you the golden fleece inside an hour.”

”Be careful,” she whispered, ”Be very careful, Mr.--Billy.”

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