Part 26 (1/2)

”Has Mr. Gale of New York arrived yet?” was the pressman's inquiry.

Yes. Mr. Gale of New York had arrived.

Upon learning which, Sheard seemed to hesitate, glancing about him as if suspicious of espionage. Mr. Alden, deeply engaged, or so it appeared, in selecting a cigar at the stall, was all ears--and through a mirror before which he had intentionally placed himself, he could watch Sheard's movements whilst standing with his back towards him.

At last Sheard took out his notebook and hastily scribbled something therein. Tearing out the leaf, he asked for an envelope, which the boy procured for him. With the closed book as a writing-pad, he addressed the envelope. Then, enclosing the note, carefully sealed up the message, and handed it to the boy, glancing about him the while with a palpable apprehension.

Finally, lighting a cigarette with an air of nonchalance but ill a.s.sumed, Sheard strolled out of the hotel.

He had not pa.s.sed the door ere Alden was clamouring for an hotel envelope. The boy was just about to enter a lift as the detective darted across the lobby and entered with him. Short as the time at his disposal had been, Mr. Alden had scrawled some illegible initial followed by ”Gale, Esq.,” upon the envelope, and had stuck down the flap.

The boy quitted the lift on the fourth floor. So did Alden. One or two pa.s.sengers joined at that landing, but the unsuspecting boy went on his way along the corridor, turned to the right and rapped on a door numbered 63.

”Come in,” he was instructed.

He entered, tray in hand. A tanned and bearded gentleman who was busily engaged unpacking a large steamer trunk, looked up inquiringly.

”Gentleman couldn't wait, sir,” said the boy, and proffered the message.

The bearded man took the envelope, drew his brows together in an endeavour to recognise the scrawly handwriting; failed, and tore the envelope open.

It was empty!

”See here, boy! What's the game?”

He threw the envelope on the floor beside him and stared hard at the page.

”Excuse me, sir”--the boy was frightened--”excuse me, sir; but I saw the gentleman put a note in!”

”Did you!” laughed the American, readily perceiving that whoever the joker might be the boy was innocent of complicity. ”You mean, you thought you did! See here, what was he like?”

The boy described Sheard, and described him so aptly that he was recognised.

”That's Sheard,” muttered the recipient of the empty envelope. ”It's Sheard, sure! Right oh! I'll ring him up at the office in a minute and see what sort of game he's playing. Here boy, stick that in your pocket; you might make a descriptive writer, but you'll never s.h.i.+ne at sleight of hand! You didn't watch that envelope half close enough!”

Thus, the man to whom the note was addressed. Let us glance at Mr. Alden again.

Having effected the subst.i.tution with the ease of a David Devant, he hastened to a quiet corner to inspect his haul. He was not unduly elated. He had been prompt and clever, but in justice to him, it must be admitted that he was a clever man. Therefore he regarded the incident merely as part of the day's work. His success wrought no quickening of the pulse.

In a little palmy balcony which overlooked the lobby he took the envelope from his pocket. It bore the inscription:

RADLEY GALE, ESQ.

Quietly, his cheroot stuck in a corner of his mouth, he opened it--tearing the end off as all Americans do. He pulled out the scribbled note, and read as follows:

”MY DEAR GALE,--Don't forget that we're expecting your wife and yourself along about 7. I will say no more as I rather think an impudent American detective (?) is going to purloin this note.

”SHEARD.”