Part 16 (1/2)
Only for a moment, however, did the man hesitate--just long enough to cast a glance up and down the deserted street, which was fairly well lighted. No one being in sight, he stepped from the sidewalk to the lawn, and keeping the gra.s.s under his feet, noiselessly made his way through the shrubbery to the south side of the residence. Here a conservatory formed a wing which jutted into the grounds.
The German softly approached, mounted the three steps leading to a gla.s.s door, and rapped upon the sash in a peculiar manner. Almost immediately the door was opened by a woman, who beckoned him in. The conservatory was unlighted save by a mellow drift that filtered through the plants from a doorway beyond, leading to the main house.
From behind the concealment of a thick bush Josie O'Gorman had noted the woman's form but was unable to see her face. The girl happened to know the house, however. It was the residence of Dorfield's social leader, Mrs. Charleworth.
Josie squatted behind that bush for nearly half an hour. Then the gla.s.s door opened and Kauffman stepped out.
”By the way,” he said in a low voice, ”it's just as well we didn't take Kasker in with us. He's a loud-mouthed fool. I've tested him and find he blats out everything he knows.”
”We do not need him, since I've decided to finance the affair,”
returned the woman, and Josie recognized her voice. It was the great Mrs. Charleworth herself. Mrs. Charleworth, in secret conference with Abe Kauffman, the suspender salesman!
Then Josie experienced another surprise. A second man stepped through the shadowy doorway, joining Kauffman on the steps.
”It seems to me,” said this last person, ”that there is danger in numbers. Of course, that's your affair, Kauffman, and none of my business, but if I'm to help you pull it off, I'd rather there wouldn't be too many of us. It's a ticklish thing, at the best, and--”
”Shut up!” growled Kauffman, suspiciously peering around him into the darkness. ”The less we talk in the open, the better.”
”That is true. Good night,” said the woman, and went in, closing the door behind her.
”I think I will light a cigar,” said Kauffman.
”Wait until you are in the street,” cautioned the other.
They walked on the gra.s.s, avoiding the paths and keeping in the darkest places. Finally they emerged upon the sidewalk, and finding the coast clear, traveled on side by side.
At times they conversed in low tones, so low that the little red-headed girl, dodging through the parkings in their wake, could not overhear the words they spoke. But as they approached the more frequented part of the town, they separated, Kauffman turning into Broadway and the other continuing along a side street.
Josie O'Gorman followed the latter person. He was tall and thin and stooped a trifle. She had been unable, so far, to see his face. He seemed, from the turnings he made, to be skirting the business section rather than pa.s.s directly through it. So the girl took a chance, darted down one street and around the corner of another, and then slipped into a dim doorway near which hung an electric street-light.
She listened eagerly and soon was rewarded by a sound of footsteps. The man she was shadowing leisurely approached, pa.s.sed under the light and continued on his way, failing to note the motionless form of the girl in the doorway.
Josie gave a little laugh.
”You're a puzzling proposition, Professor,” she whispered to herself, ”and you came near fooling me very properly. For I imagined you were on your way to Was.h.i.+ngton, and here you've mixed up with another important job!”
CHAPTER XVII THE BLACK SATCHEL
When Josie reached the hotel it was nearly midnight. Half the lights in the office had been extinguished and behind the desk, reading a novel, the night clerk sprawled in an easy chair.
She hadn't seen the night clerk before. He was a sallow-faced boy, scarcely twenty years old, attired in a very striking suit of clothes and wearing a gorgeous jewelled scarf-pin in his cravat. As he read, he smoked a cigarette.
”h.e.l.lo,” said this brilliant individual, as Josie leaned over the counter and regarded him with a faint smile. ”You're No. 43, I guess, and it's lucky old Boyle ain't here to read you a lecture--or to turn you out. He won't stand for unmarried lady guests bein' out till this hour, an' you may as well know it first as last.”
”He's quite right,” was Josie's calm reply. ”I'll not do it again. My key, please!”
He rose reluctantly and gave her the key.
”Do you sit up all night?” she asked sweetly.
”I'm s'posed to,” he answered in a tone less gruff, ”but towards mornin' I snooze a little. Only way to pa.s.s the time, with noth'n' to do an' n.o.body to talk to. It's a beastly job, at the best, an' I'm goin' to quit it.”