Part 52 (2/2)
”Nothing much. I made a cigarette out of the letter and smoked it.”
Jones chuckled. ”I see that you have had an adventure of some sort; but it can wait.”
”It can.”
”Because I want you to pack off to Was.h.i.+ngton.”
”Was.h.i.+ngton?”
”Yes. I want you to interview those officials who are most familiar with the extradition laws.”
”A new kink?”
”What I wish to learn is this: Can a man, formerly undesirable, take out naturalization papers and hold to the protection of the United States government? That is to say, a poisoner, menaced by Siberia, becomes an American citizen. He is abducted and carried back to Russia. Could he look to this government for protection? That is what I want you to find out?”
”That will be easy. When shall I start?”
”As soon as you can pack your grip.”
”That's always packed,” replied the reporter. ”You see, I'm eternally shunted hither and yon, at a moment's notice, so I always have an extra grip packed for quick travel.”
”The Russian agent wants Braine, Vroon, and the countess; and to-night I'm going to try to point them out to him. It would satisfy me more than anything I know to eliminate this precious trio in Russian fas.h.i.+on. It's thorough; and once accomplished, good day to the Black Hundred in America. The organization in Russia has still some political significance, but on this side of the water it is merely an aggregation of merciless thugs.”
”I'll take the first train out. But you will tell Florence?”
”Surely.”
”And take care of your own heels. You were watched at the hotel.”
”I know it; but the watcher could learn nothing. Henri Servan as a name will suggest nothing to the fool who followed me. Besides we both knew that he was trying to peek through the keyhole. That hotel, you know, still retains the old-fas.h.i.+oned keyholes.”
”To keep the maids in good humor, I suppose,” laughed Jim. ”Well, I must be on my way to make that flyer.”
The two shook hands and Jim hurried off. The butler watched him till he disappeared down the subway.
”He's a good lad,” he murmured, ”and a brave lad; and money is only an incident in human affairs after all. I'll be a good angel and let the two be happy, since they love each other and have proved it in a thousand ways.”
Meanwhile the Russian agent settled down before his writing portfolio; and once or twice as he wrote he thought he heard a sound outside the door. No doubt this butler of Hargreave's had been watched and followed. By and by he rose, drew his revolver, and tiptoed to the door obliquely so that the watcher outside might not become aware of his approach. Swiftly he swung back the door and the member of the Black Hundred stumbled into the room. Almost instantly the Russian caught him by the collar and held him up.
”What were you doing outside my door?”
The man, trying to collect his thoughts, did not answer.
”A spy of some sort, eh?”
”I'm a detective,” said the man finally, thinking he saw his way clear.
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