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Within the Law: From the Play of Bayard Veiller, a novel by Marvin Dana |
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Chapter 13. The Advent Of Griggs |
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_ CHAPTER XIII. THE ADVENT OF GRIGGS Later on, Garson, learning from the maid that Dick Gilder had left, returned, just as Mary was glancing over the release, with which General Hastings was to be compensated, along with the return of his letters, for his payment of ten thousand dollars to Miss Agnes Lynch. "Hello, Joe," Mary said graciously as the forger entered. Then she spoke crisply to Agnes. "And now you must get ready. You are to be at Harris's office with this document at four o'clock, and remember that you are to let the lawyer manage everything." Aggie twisted her doll-like face into a grimace. "It gets my angora that I'll have to miss Pa Gilder's being led like a lamb to the slaughter-house." And that was the nearest the little adventuress ever came to making a Biblical quotation. "Anyhow," she protested, "I don't see the use of all this monkey business here. All I want is the coin." But she hurried obediently, nevertheless, to get ready for the start. Garson regarded Mary quizzically. "It's lucky for her that she met you," he said. "She's got no more brains than a gnat." "And brains are mighty useful things, even in our business," Mary replied seriously; "particularly in our business." "I should say they were," Garson agreed. "You have proved that." Aggie came back, putting on her gloves, and cocking her small head very primly under the enormous hat that was garnished with costliest plumes. It was thus that she consoled herself in a measure for the business of the occasion--in lieu of cracked ice from Tiffany's at one hundred and fifty a carat. Mary gave over the release, and Aggie, still grumbling, deposited it in her handbag. "It seems to me we're going through a lot of red tape," she said spitefully. Mary, from her chair at the desk, regarded the malcontent with a smile, but her tone was crisp as she answered. "Listen, Agnes. The last time you tried to make a man give up part of his money it resulted in your going to prison for two years." Aggie sniffed, as if such an outcome were the merest bagatelle. "But that way was so exciting," she urged, not at all convinced. "And this way is so safe," Mary rejoined, sharply. "Besides, my dear, you would not get the money. My way will. Your way was blackmail; mine is not. Understand?" "Oh, sure," Aggie replied, grimly, on her way to the door. "It's clear as Pittsburgh." With that sarcasm directed against legal subtleties, she tripped daintily out, an entirely ravishing vision, if somewhat garish as to raiment, and soon in the glances of admiration that every man cast on her guileless-seeming beauty, she forgot that she had ever been annoyed. Garson's comment as she departed was uttered with his accustomed bluntness. "Solid ivory!" "She's a darling, anyway!" Mary declared, smiling. "You really don't half-appreciate her, Joe!" "Anyhow, I appreciate that hat," was the reply, with a dry chuckle. "Mr. Griggs," Fannie announced. There was a smile on the face of the maid, which was explained a minute later when, in accordance with her mistress's order, the visitor was shown into the drawing-room, for his presence was of an elegance so extraordinary as to attract attention anywhere--and mirth as well from ribald observers. Meantime, Garson had explained to Mary. "It's English Eddie--you met him once. I wonder what he wants? Probably got a trick for me. We often used to work together." "Nothing without my consent," Mary warned. "Oh, no, no, sure not!" Garson agreed. Further discussion was cut short by the appearance of English Eddie himself, a tall, handsome man in the early thirties, who paused just within the doorway, and delivered to Mary a bow that was the perfection of elegance. Mary made no effort to restrain the smile caused by the costume of Mr. Griggs. Yet, there was no violation of the canons of good taste, except in the aggregate. From spats to hat, from walking coat to gloves, everything was perfect of its kind. Only, there was an over-elaboration, so that the ensemble was flamboyant. And the man's manners precisely harmonized with his clothes, whereby the whole effect was emphasized and rendered bizarre. Garson took one amazed look, and then rocked with laughter. Griggs regarded his former associate reproachfully for a moment, and then grinned in frank sympathy. "Really, Mr. Griggs, you quite overcome me," Mary said, half-apologetically. The visitor cast a self-satisfied glance over his garb. "I think it's rather neat, myself." He had some reputation in the under-world for his manner of dressing, and he regarded this latest achievement as his masterpiece. "Sure some duds!" Garson admitted, checking his merriment. "From your costume," Mary suggested, "one might judge that this is purely a social call. Is it?" "Well, not exactly," Griggs answered with a smile. "So I fancied," his hostess replied. "So, sit down, please, and tell us all about it." While she was speaking, Garson went to the various doors, and made sure that all were shut, then he took a seat in a chair near that which Griggs occupied by the desk, so that the three were close together, and could speak softly. English Eddie wasted no time in getting to the point. "Now, look here," he said, rapidly. "I've got the greatest game in the world.... Two years ago, a set of Gothic tapestries, worth three hundred thousand dollars and a set of Fragonard panels, worth nearly as much more, were plucked from a chateau in France and smuggled into this country." "I have never heard of that," Mary said, with some interest. "No," Griggs replied. "You naturally wouldn't, for the simple reason that it's been kept on the dead quiet." "Are them things really worth that much?" Garson exclaimed. "Sometimes more," Mary answered. "Morgan has a set of Gothic tapestries worth half a million dollars." Garson uttered an ejaculation of disgust. "He pays half a million dollars for a set of rugs!" There was a note of fiercest bitterness come into his voice as he sarcastically concluded: "And they wonder at crime!" Griggs went on with his account. "About a month ago, the things I was telling you of were hung in the library of a millionaire in this city." He hitched his chair a little closer to the desk, and leaned forward, lowering his voice almost to a whisper as he stated his plan. "Let's go after them. They were smuggled, mind you, and no matter what happens, he can't squeal. What do you say?" Garson shot a piercing glance at Mary. "It's up to her," he said. Griggs regarded Mary eagerly, as she sat with eyes downcast. Then, after a little interval had elapsed in silence, he spoke interrogatively: "Well?" Mary shook her head decisively. "It's out of our line," she declared. Griggs would have argued the matter. "I don't see any easier way to get half a million," he said aggressively. Mary, however, was unimpressed. "If it were fifty millions, it would make no difference. It's against the law." "Oh, I know all that, of course," Griggs returned impatiently. "But if you can----" Mary interrupted him in a tone of finality. "My friends and I never do anything that's illegal! Thank you for coming to us, Mr. Griggs, but we can't go in, and there's an end of the matter." "But wait a minute," English Eddie expostulated, "you see this chap, Gilder, is----" Mary's manner changed from indifference to sudden keen interest. "Gilder?" she exclaimed, questioningly. "Yes. You know who he is," Griggs answered; "the drygoods man." Garson in his turn showed a new excitement as he bent toward Mary. "Why, it's old Gilder, the man you----" Mary, however, had regained her self-control, for a moment rudely shaken, and now her voice was tranquil again as she replied: "I know. But, just the same, it's illegal, and I won't touch it. That's all there is to it." Griggs was dismayed. "But half a million!" he exclaimed, disconsolately. "There's a stake worth playing for. Think of it!" He turned pleadingly to Garson. "Half a million, Joe!" The forger repeated the words with an inflection that was gloating. "Half a million!" "And it's the softest thing you ever saw." The telephone at the desk rang, and Mary spoke into it for a moment, then rose and excused herself to resume the conversation over the wire more privately in the booth. The instant she was out of the room, Griggs turned to Garson anxiously. "It's a cinch, Joe," he pleaded. "I've got a plan of the house." He drew a paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to the forger, who seized it avidly and studied it with intent, avaricious eyes. "It looks easy," Garson agreed, as he gave back the paper. "It is easy," Griggs reiterated. "What do you say?" Garson shook his head in refusal, but there was no conviction in the act. "I promised Mary never to----" Griggs broke in on him. "But a chance like this! Anyhow, come around to the back room at Blinkey's to-night, and we'll have a talk. Will you?" "What time?" Garson asked hesitatingly, tempted. "Make it early, say nine," was the answer. "Will you?" "I'll come," Garson replied, half-guiltily. And in the same moment Mary reentered. Griggs rose and spoke with an air of regret. "It's 'follow the leader,'" he said, "and since you are against it, that settles it." "Yes, I'm against it," Mary said, firmly. "I'm sorry," English Eddie rejoined. "But we must all play the game as we see it.... Well, that was the business I was after, and, as it's finished, why, good-afternoon, Miss Turner." He nodded toward Joe, and took his departure. Something of what was in his mind was revealed in Garson's first speech after Griggs's going. "That's a mighty big stake he's playing for." "And a big chance he's taking!" Mary retorted. "No, Joe, we don't want any of that. We'll play a game that's safe and sure." The words recalled to the forger weird forebodings that had been troubling him throughout the day. "It's sure enough," he stated, "but is it safe?" Mary looked up quickly. "What do you mean?" she demanded. Garson walked to and fro nervously as he answered. "S'pose the bulls get tired of you putting it over on 'em and try some rough work?" Mary smiled carelessly. "Don't worry, Joe," she advised. "I know a way to stop it." "Well, so far as that goes, so do I," the forger said, with significant emphasis. "Just what do you mean by that?" Mary demanded, suspiciously. "For rough work," he said, "I have this." He took a magazine pistol from his pocket. It was of an odd shape, with a barrel longer than is usual and a bell-shaped contrivance attached to the muzzle. "No, no, Joe," Mary cried, greatly discomposed. "None of that--ever!" The forger smiled, and there was malignant triumph in his expression. "Pooh!" he exclaimed. "Even if I used it, they would never get on to me. See this?" He pointed at the strange contrivance on the muzzle. Mary's curiosity made her forget for a moment her distaste. "What is it?" she asked, interestedly. "I have never seen anything like that before." "Of course you haven't," Garson answered with much pride. "I'm the first man in the business to get one, and I'll bet on it. I keep up with the times." For once, he was revealing that fundamental egotism which is the characteristic of all his kind. "That's one of the new Maxim silencers," he continued. "With smokeless powder in the cartridges, and the silencer on, I can make a shot from my coat-pocket, and you wouldn't even know it had been done.... And I'm some shot, believe me." "Impossible!" Mary ejaculated. "No, it ain't," the man asserted. "Here, wait, I'll show you." "Good gracious, not here!" Mary exclaimed in alarm. "We would have the whole place down on us." Garson chuckled. "You just watch that dinky little vase on the table across the room there. 'Tain't very valuable, is it?" "No," Mary answered. In the same instant, while still her eyes were on the vase, it fell in a cascade of shivered glass to the table and floor. She had heard no sound, she saw no smoke. Perhaps, there had been a faintest clicking noise. She was not sure. She stared dumfounded for a few seconds, then turned her bewildered face toward Garson, who was grinning in high enjoyment. "I would'nt have believed it possible," she declared, vastly impressed. "Neat little thing, ain't it?" the man asked, exultantly. "Where did you get it?" Mary asked. "In Boston, last week. And between you and me, Mary, it's the only model, and it sure is a corker for crime." The sinister association of ideas made Mary shudder, but she said no more. She would have shuddered again, if she could have guessed the vital part that pistol was destined to play. But she had no thought of any actual peril to come from it. She might have thought otherwise, could she have known of the meeting that night in the back room of Blinkey's, where English Eddie and Garson sat with their heads close together over a table. "A chance like this," Griggs was saying, "a chance that will make a fortune for all of us." "It sounds good," Garson admitted, wistfully. "It is good," the other declared with an oath. "Why, if this goes through, we're set up for life. We can quit, all of us." "Yes," Garson agreed, "we can quit, all of us." There was avarice in his voice. The tempter was sure that the battle was won, and smiled contentedly. "Well," he urged, "what do you say?" "How would we split it?" It was plain that Garson had given over the struggle against greed. After all, Mary was only a woman, despite her cleverness, and with all a woman's timidity. Here was sport for men. "Three ways would be right," Griggs answered. "One to me, one to you and one to be divided up among the others." Garson brought his fist down on the table with a force that made the glasses jingle. "You're on," he said, strongly. "Fine!" Griggs declared, and the two men shook hands. "Now, I'll get----" "Get nothing!" Garson interrupted. "I'll get my own men. Chicago Red is in town. So is Dacey, with perhaps a couple of others of the right sort. I'll get them to meet you at Blinkey's at two to-morrow afternoon, and, if it looks right, we'll turn the trick to-morrow night." "That's the stuff," Griggs agreed, greatly pleased. But a sudden shadow fell on the face of Garson. He bent closer to his companion, and spoke with a fierce intensity that brooked no denial. "She must never know." Griggs nodded understandingly. "Of course," he answered. "I give you my word that I'll never tell her. And you know you can trust me, Joe." "Yes," the forger replied somberly, "I know I can trust you." But the shadow did not lift from his face. _ |
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