Part 40 (1/2)

I could neither deny nor explain, and I frankly admitted it, a.s.suring her that she would not remain long in the dark.

'Oh, I can wait,' she smiled. 'Do not fancy me so unreasonable as to expect the full confidence of a detective. Only, don't fear for my ”nerves,” and let me help in any way that I can. I think,' laughing, 'that I have said this before.'

I was anxious to go now, and, rising, I took her at her word. 'You can help me in two ways,' I said, 'but I must ask you not to demand reasons just yet.'

'Go on,' she said promptly.

'First, should this brunette, this ”H. A.,” write you again, will you inform me at once, and--I don't think it likely to occur, but if she should call here, will you refuse to receive her?'

'Yes to both. But she does not know my address.'

'You forget; she has been seen to pa.s.s this house. Don't be too sure.'

'I will be on my guard. Is that all?'

'There is another point--a delicate one. I could not but see that Monsieur Voisin's company that day in Midway was not entirely welcome to your aunt and yourself; and--bear with me, please, I am speaking in the interest of another. Promise me that you will not close your doors against Monsieur Voisin, or treat him too coldly, for a little while.

Believe me, my reason is one that you will be first to endorse when it is known to you.'

She hesitated, and I hurried on:

'The man is of a fiery disposition, and he recognises a rival in the field--pardon my intrusion upon delicate ground. He comes from the land of duellists.' She started. 'A little patience and diplomacy upon your part, and I think I can promise that he will not annoy you much longer.'

'Very well,' she a.s.sented, 'I agree. Auntie, strange to say, has urged the same thing--concerning Monsieur Voisin, that is. At the worst we can go home. It is now the last of June, and we go, in any case, in July. Never fear, I shall not forget your admonitions, any of them.'

And she gave me her hand at the door with a rea.s.suring smile.

Half-way over the threshold I turned back to say: 'By the way, Miss Jenrys, if I chance to appear here at the same time as Monsieur Voisin, please be kind to me.'

Late that same night Dave Brainerd and I held one of our long, and, in the past, ofttimes useless and mistaken, symposiums. But this time we were in perfect accord. We had spread upon the table before us our old memoranda from the very beginning of our campaign, and also some few letters and other doc.u.ments. It had been a long 'session,' according to Dave, but the conclusion was so satisfactory that, at the last, we had each lighted a cigar, and celebrated thus what we considered a fully mapped out campaign at last.

'Well,' p.r.o.nounced Dave, with a sigh of content, as he tipped back his chair, and elevated his feet to the top of the table between us. 'This looks like business! Let us see! First,' checking off on his fingers, 'we're to keep away from Midway--all but Billy--so that they may not make another flitting, eh?'

'Yes,' I a.s.sented.

'And we're to patrol Stony Island Avenue and the surrounding country by day and by night, with a full force. Ain't that it?'

'Perfectly. Dave, you are as full of repet.i.tions as an old woman!'

'Or a young one,' he retorted; 'and you think it is proved that the brunette's a man, do you?'

'It was proved, for me, long ago.'

'And that letter? I can't see why it should not be launched at once.'

I had written to Mr. Trent, telling him of certain facts and theories, and among them was the suggestion that we should cause a copy of the 'Roe' letter, with its proposed barter, to be published in the morning papers, giving him my reasons at length, and requesting his opinion before taking what might prove a very decisive if not aggressive step.

Dave was delighted with this idea, and, wearied with our 'masterly inactivity,' he would, as he put it, 'launch the thing at once.' My reasons, as explained to both Dave and Mr. Trent, were:

The letter signed 'Roe,' and offering to liberate young Trent, and at the same time to defraud the comrades of the 'clique,' if genuine, would, when published, expose the writer, who would then be obliged to 'leave the clique,' as he had expressed it, and with an additional 'reason' for so doing; this would at least lessen their numbers, and perhaps force them to take into their confidence some new colleague.

Or, possibly, it would result in a quarrel among themselves, which also might result in some way in our favour.