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Officer 666, a novel by Barton W. Currie |
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Chapter 36. Repartee And A Revolver Muzzle |
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_ CHAPTER XXXVI. REPARTEE AND A REVOLVER MUZZLE The inky blackness fell upon the room with palpable suddenness--like a blinding flash, numbing for a moment the senses of all who had been taken by surprise. The reflex of the shock was manifested in a very babel of incoherent shouts, jostlings and stumblings and sharp collisions with the furniture. "Turn up the lights," shouted Captain Stone, amid the tumult. Travers Gladwin made a blind dive toward the wall and stumbled headlong over the great antique chest which stood to one side of where he and the thief had stood contemplating "The Blue Boy." In stumbling against the chest he felt something that was a revelation to him by the time he found the switch button and brought back a flood of light. "Quick, men, cover the doors--don't let any one get out," yelled Captain Stone, pivoting on his heel as his eyes vainly sought the picture expert. "He's gone!" cried Kearney. "Yes, up the stairs--I hear him," yelled Gladwin. "There are two back stairways and the roof. There are two basement exits--post your men out there, and down through that hallway on the left--the panel door--that leads to the kitchen. Barnes, you and Bateato take the young lady up to my study--quick!--I'll look after this room." The most remarkable thing about it was that every command the young man shouted was obeyed. Even Kearney was fooled and rushed headlong up the stairs, followed by two policemen and Barnes, who was yelling: "Hey! come back here and unlock me! How can I hunt that chap with these handcuffs on?" He might as well have appealed to the moon. Bateato fairly dragged Helen up the stairs after him and guided her to the magnificently furnished study and den to the right of the staircase, when he switched on the lights and became furiously active in the interest of the young girl's comfort. Captain Stone had rushed out into the street and posted men on the stoop and at the basement exits; then, followed by the last lone patrolman of his squad, he darted through the alley at the side of the mansion which led to the rear yard. The emptying of the room was accomplished in a few seconds, whereupon Gladwin hastened to the doorway, reached for the folding doors and hauled them to, fastening the latch. Next he shut the door to the kitchen hallway and fastened that, when, with a sigh of relief, he walked to the long carved oak table that flanked the window, hoisted himself on it, produced his gold cigarette case, took out a cigarette, set fire to it, snapped the case and returned it to his pocket. While he inhaled a deep breath of stimulating smoke his eyes were fixed upon the great chest directly in front of him. He was sitting easily on the table, kicking his legs, and he continued just in that attitude when the lid of the chest lifted a few inches and a small brilliantly nickelled revolver came out and covered him. "I'm waiting for yez, Misther Gladwin," chuckled the young man. By some strange psychologic freak he was not in the least dismayed by the ominous menace of that shining muzzle, which gradually came further out as the arm and head of the picture expert followed it. Once the thief had glimpsed the young man and made out that they had the room to themselves he came out of the chest as lightly and noiselessly as he had enveloped himself in it. But his smile was gone now and in its place there was the wariness of the hunted animal. Still covering Gladwin and surveying the room he said in low, level tones: "If you move it'll be the last act of your life, McGinty." "Murphy, sorr," purred Gladwin, his face abeam. "I like your nerve, young un." "I've been taking lessons from the man who invented nerve." "Well, you don't seem anxious to give the alarm," said Wilson, toying with the little automatic and turning it over in the expanse of his palm. "No, I'm afraid it might make you nervous." "Might make me so nervous that this gun would go off, eh?" A shadow of the old smile came back as he went stealthily to the door and listened. "You seem to enjoy smoking," said the peer of art collectors, turning his back to Gladwin. "Don't you?" "Yes." "Have you time to smoke a cigar?" "Is it a good one?" "I don't know--it's the one you gave me while I was Officer 666." Gladwin tossed the cigar to the thief, who caught it deftly and inserted it between his lips. "And here's some more of your possessions," added the young man, drawing out the bribe money he had accepted while he masqueraded in the officer's uniform. "Thanks," said Wilson, as he caught the money, "and here's your little yellow boy, though I wish that intellectual giant of a cop were here so I could hire his uniform for a bit." "You amaze me by your generosity," murmured Gladwin as he pocketed the $500 bill. "Oh," said the other easily, while he again listened at the door. "I'm not a regular crook--I'm in the picture business." "Still, if you kept that bill it might help you get better accommodations when you reach Sing Sing." "If I don't need it till then I won't need it for a long, long time." "You mean you think you're going to escape?" Gladwin slid down from the table and leaned against it, making no effort to conceal the admiration he experienced for this man's superhuman aplomb. "And with guards all around the house and policemen tearing thirty rooms apart upstairs and camping on the roof scuttle--yes, and more coming, maybe." "I venture to hope so," chuckled the other. "I admit it's close enough to be interesting." "Well, I'll say one thing for you," the young millionaire said earnestly, "you're the coolest chap I ever hope to meet. You're a marvel." "Built to order to work in story books, eh? Well, to be candid with you, McGinty, there are times when I'm not so cool as I look. I'm almost human." "Those cops will finish their work soon--then they'll come in here," Gladwin warned him. "I'm listening for them," said Wilson softly, putting his ear to the door again. "Just because your pistol prevents me from calling them now, don't think"---- "This gun isn't stopping you," came the short reply. "If you wanted to call them you'd take a chance--I've found that out in the last hundred seconds or so." "Thank you for the compliment, but I"---- "Well, I'll prove it," the thief intervened, and tossed the gun to Gladwin, who caught it as if it were something hot. "Go ahead and call them." "How do you know I wouldn't call them?" the young man asked, examining the automatic and finding it empty. "Don't be a child," shrugged the other. "You closed these doors, and you butted in about the 'Blue Boy' just as that Central Office owl produced his jewelry. Yes, and you stumbled against the chest and knew that I was in it." "But I say," asked Gladwin, abruptly. "How did you come to use my name?" "It wasn't safe to use mine, and when I met Miss----that girl--your name was in my mind--I borrowed it." "That's the thing I can't forgive you for," said Gladwin, regretfully--"to deceive her as you did. That was rotten." "I don't care for your opinion on that," said the picture expert, warmly. "How can a man like you understand a man like me? It can't be done. We're further apart than the poles." "But you must see, Wilson--that's the name, isn't it?" "It will do for the nonce, kind sir." "But you must see that the game is up. If you take my advice you won't even try to escape." "Then I won't take your advice," said Wilson, softly. "But all these policemen know you're a big prize. If they find you and you break for it, they'll shoot--and shoot to kill if necessary." The thief flung round on him and his face was suddenly drawn and serious. "Death, my dear Gladwin, is the very least of my troubles, if it will only come like that." "By Jove! I like you--and I hope you escape!" "I know you do," said Wilson, shaking his head, "but not altogether on my account. You're thinking of her--the girl. You don't want it to be known that she was going to marry me." "To be frank, yes. They're coming now. Quick! Do something!" The thief seized from the floor one of the portieres he had torn down to wrap the canvases in, wound it about him and darted behind the curtains that screened the window. As he vanished Gladwin went to the door and heard the voice of his friend, Whitney Barnes, demanding admission. _ |
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