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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mardi Gras Mystery, by H. Bedford-Jones
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Title: The Mardi Gras Mystery
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<div class="figcenter" style="width: 476px;"> <img class="border" src="images/cover.jpg" width="476" height="700" alt="Book cover" title="Book cover" /></div>
<hr class="hr2" />
<h1>THE MARDI GRAS<br />
MYSTERY</h1>
<hr class="hr2" />
<div class="bbox">
<p class="h2a">BOOKS BY<br />
H. BEDFORD-JONES</p>
<p class="hangindent"><span class="smcap">Conquest</span></p>
<p class="hangindent"> <span class="smcap">Cross and the Hammer: A
Tale of the Days of the Vikings</span></p>
<p class="hangindent"> <span class="smcap">Flamehair the Skald: A
Tale of the Days Of Hardrede</span></p>
<p class="hangindent"> <span class="smcap">Golden Ghost</span></p>
<p class="hangindent"> <span class="smcap">The Mesa Trail</span></p>
<p class="hangindent"> <span class="smcap">The Mardi Gras Mystery</span></p>
<p class="hangindent"> <span class="smcap">Under Fire</span></p>
</div>
<hr class="hr2" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 457px;"> <img class="border" src="images/illus-fpc.jpg" width="457" height="700" alt="" title="" />
<p class="caption">"<i>'You frightened me, holy man!' she cried gaily. 'Confess
to you, indeed! Not I.'</i>"</p>
</div>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p class="h2a">THE MARDI GRAS<br />
MYSTERY</p>
<p class="cnobmargin">BY</p>
<p class="cnotmargin">H. BEDFORD-JONES</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 198px;"> <img src="images/title-emb.png" width="198" height="194" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p> </p>
<p class="cnobmargin">FRONTISPIECE</p>
<p class="cnomargins">BY</p>
<p class="cnotmargin">JOHN NEWTON HOWITT</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="cnobmargin"><span class="smcap">garden city, n. y., and toronto</span></p>
<p class="cnomargins">DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</p>
<p class="cnotmargin">1921</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="cnobmargin">COPYRIGHT, 1920, 1921, BY</p>
<p class="cnomargins">DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY</p>
<p class="cnomargins">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION</p>
<p class="cnotmargin">INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<p class="margin-left8">CHAPTER <span class="ralign">PAGE</span></p>
<blockquote>
<ul class="TOCR">
<li><span class="smcap">Carnival</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page3">3</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">Masquers</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page21">21</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">The Bandit</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page38">38</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">Callers</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page58">58</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">The Masquer Unmasks</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page82">82</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">Chacherre</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page107">107</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">In the Open</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page125">125</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">Comus</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page143">143</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">On the Bayou</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page169">169</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">Murder</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page190">190</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">The Gangsters</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page209">209</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">The Ultimatum</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page228">228</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">The Coin Falls Heads</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page249">249</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">Chacherre's Bundle</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page262">262</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">When the Heavens Fall</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page280">280</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">The Impregnability of Mr. Fell</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page299">299</a></span></li>
<li><span class="smcap">Mi-Carême</span> <span class="ralign"><a href="#page310">310</a></span></li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
<hr class="hr2" />
<h1>THE MARDI GRAS<br />
MYSTERY</h1>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span></p>
<h1>THE MARDI GRAS MYSTERY</h1>
<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Carnival</i></p>
<p>JACHIN FELL pushed aside the glass
curtains between the voluminous over-draperies
in the windows of the Chess
and Checkers Club, and gazed out upon the
riotous streets of New Orleans. Half an hour
he had been waiting here in the lounge room
for Dr. Cyril Ansley, a middle-aged bachelor
who had practised in Opelousas for
twenty years, and who had come to the city
for the Mardi Gras festivities. Another man
might have seemed irritated by the wait, but
Jachin Fell was quite unruffled.</p>
<p class="indent">He had much the air of a clerk. His features
were thin and unremarkable; his pale
eyes constantly wore an expression of wondering
aloofness, as though he saw around
him much that he vainly tried to understand.
In his entire manner was a shy reticence. He
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span>
was no clerk, however, this was evident from
his attire. He was garbed from head to
foot in soberly blending shades of gray whose
richness was notable only at close view. One
fancied him a very precise sort of man, an
old maid of the wrong sex.</p>
<p class="indent">Doctor Ansley, an Inverness flung over his
evening clothes, entered the lounge room, and
Fell turned to him with a dry, toneless
chuckle.</p>
<p class="indent">"You're the limit! Did you forget we
were going to the Maillards' to-night?"</p>
<p class="indent">Ansley appeared vexed and irritated.
"Confound it, Fell!" he exclaimed. "I've
been all over town looking for El Reys.
Caught in a crowd—no El Reys yet!"</p>
<p class="indent">Again Fell uttered his toneless chuckle.
His voice was absolutely level, unmarked by
any change of inflection.</p>
<p class="indent">"My dear fellow, there are only three
places in the city that can afford to carry
El Reys in these parlous times! This club,
however, happens to be one of the three.
Here, sit down and forget your troubles over
a real smoke! We need not leave for fifteen
minutes yet, at least."</p>
<p class="indent">Doctor Ansley laid aside his cape, stick,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span>
and hat, and dropped into one of the comfortable
big chairs. He accepted the proffered
cigar with a sigh. Across his knees he
laid an evening paper, whose flaring headlines
proclaimed an extra.</p>
<p class="indent">"I suppose you've been gadding all around
the town ever since the Revellers opened the
season?" he inquired.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hardly," said Fell with his shy air. "I'm
growing a bit stiff with age, as Eliza said
when she crossed the ice. I don't gad much."</p>
<p class="indent">"You intend to mask for the Maillards'?"
Ansley cast his eye over the gray business
attire of the little man.</p>
<p class="indent">"I never mask." Jachin Fell shook his
head. "I'll get a domino and go as I am.
Excuse me—I'll order a domino now, and
also provide a few more El Reys for the evening.
Back in a moment."</p>
<p class="indent">Doctor Ansley, who was himself a non-resident
member of the club and socially
prominent when he could grant himself
leisure for society, followed the slight figure
of the other man with speculative eyes.
Well as he knew Jachin Fell, he invariably
found the man a source of puzzled speculation.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span>
During many years Jachin Fell had been a
member of the most exclusive New Orleans
clubs. He was even received in the inner
circles of Creole society, which in itself was
evidence supreme as to his position. At this
particular club he was famed as a wizard
master of chess. He never entered a tournament,
yet he consistently defeated the champions
in private matches—defeated them
with a bewildering ease, a shy and apologetic
ease, an ease which left the beholders incredulous
and aghast.</p>
<p class="indent">With all this, Jachin Fell was very much of
a mystery, even among his closest friends.
Very little was known of him; he was inconspicuous
to a degree, and it was usually assumed
that he was something of a recluse,
the result of a thwarted love affair in his
youth. He was a lawyer, and certainly
maintained offices in the Maison Blanche
building, but he never appeared in the courts
and no case of his pleading was known.</p>
<p class="indent">It was said that he lived in the rebuilt casa
of some old Spanish grandee in the Vieux
Carre, and that this residence of his was a
veritable treasure-trove of historic and beautiful
things. This was mere rumour, adding a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span>
spice of romance to the general mystery.
Ansley knew him as well as did most men,
and Ansley knew of a few who could boast
of having been a guest in Jachin Fell's home.
There was a mother, an invalid of whom
Fell sometimes spoke and to whom he appeared
to devote himself. The family, an
old one in the city, promised to die out with
Jachin Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">Ansley puffed at his cigar and considered
these things. Outside, in the New Orleans
streets, was rocketing the mad mirth of carnival.
The week preceding Mardi Gras was
at its close. Since the beginning of the new
year the festival had been celebrated in a
steadily climaxing series of balls and entertainments,
largely by the older families who
kept to the old customs, and to a smaller
extent by society at large. Now the final
week was at hand, or rather the final three
days—the period of the great balls, the
period when tourists were flooding into town;
for tourists, the whole time of Mardi Gras was
comprised within these three days. Despite
agonized predictions, prohibition had not adversely
affected Mardi Gras or the gaiety of
its celebration.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span>
Now, as ever, was Mardi Gras symbolized
by masques. In New Orleans the masquerade
was not the pale and pitiful frolic of colder
climes, where the occasion is but one for
display of jewels and costumes, and where
actual concealment of identity is a farce.
Here in New Orleans were jewels and costumes
in a profusion of splendour; but here
was preserved the underlying idea of the
masque itself—that in concealment of identity
lay the life of the thing! Masquers
swept the streets gaily; if harlequin husband
flirted with domino wife—why, so much the
merrier! There was little harm in the Latin
masque, and great mirth.</p>
<p class="indent">When Jachin Fell returned and lighted his
cigar he sank into one of the luxurious chairs
beside Ansley and indicated the newspaper
lying across the latter's knee, its
flaring headlines standing out blackly.</p>
<p class="indent">"What's that about the Midnight Masquer?
He's not appeared again?"</p>
<p class="indent">"What?" Ansley glanced at him in surprise.
"You've not heard?"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell shook his head. "I seldom read the
papers."</p>
<p class="indent">"Good heavens, man! He showed up last
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span>
night at the Lapeyrouse dance, two minutes
before midnight, as usual! A detective had
been engaged, but was afterward found
locked in a closet, bound with his own handcuffs.
The Masquer wore his usual costume—and
went through the party famously,
stripping everyone in sight. Then he backed
through the doors and vanished. How he
got in they can't imagine; where he went
they can't imagine, unless it was by airplane.
He simply appeared, then vanished!"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell settled deeper into his chair, pointed
his cigar at the ceiling, and sighed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, most interesting! The loot was
valued at about a hundred thousand?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I thought you said you'd not heard of it?"
demanded Ansley.</p>
<p class="indent">Fell laughed softly and shyly. "I didn't.
I merely hazarded a guess."</p>
<p class="indent">"Wizard!" The doctor laughed in unison.
"Yes, about that amount. Exaggerated, of
course; still, there were jewels of great
value——"</p>
<p class="indent">"The Masquer is a piker," observed Fell,
in his toneless voice.</p>
<p class="indent">"Eh? A piker—when he can make a
hundred-thousand-dollar haul?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span>
"Don't dream that those figures represent
value, Doctor. They don't! All the loot the
Masquer has taken since he began work is
worth little to him. Jewels are hard to sell.
This game of banditry is romantic, but it's
out of date these days. Of course, the crook
has obtained a bit of money, but not enough to
be worth the risk."</p>
<p class="indent">"Yet he has got quite a bit," returned
Ansley, thoughtfully. "All the men have
money, naturally; we don't want to find
ourselves bare at some gay carnival moment!
I'll warrant you've a hundred or so in your
pocket right now!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not I," rejoined Fell, calmly. "One ten-dollar
bill. Also I left my watch at home.
And I'm not dressed; I don't care to lose my
pearl studs."</p>
<p class="indent">"Eh?" Ansley frowned. "What do you
mean?"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell took a folded paper from his
pocket and handed it to the physician.</p>
<p class="indent">"I met Maillard at the bank this morning.
He called me into his office and handed me
this—he had just received it in the mail."</p>
<p class="indent">Doctor Ansley opened the folded paper;
an exclamation broke from him as he read
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span>
the note, which was addressed to their host
of the evening.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Joseph Maillard</span>, President,</p>
<p class="indent">Exeter National Bank, City.</p>
<p>I thank you for the masque you are giving to-night.
I shall be present. Please see that Mrs. M. wears her
diamonds—I need them.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">The Midnight Masquer.</span></p>
</blockquote>
<p class="indent">Ansley glanced up. "What's this—some
hoax? Some carnival jest?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Maillard pretended to think so." Fell
shrugged his shoulders as he repocketed the
note. "But he was nervous. He was afraid
of being laughed at, and wouldn't go to the
police. But he'll have a brace of detectives
inside the house to-night, and others outside."</p>
<p class="indent">Ever since the first ball of the year by the
Twelfth Night Club this Midnight Masquer,
as he was termed, had held New Orleans
gripped in terror, fascination, and vivid
interest. Until a month previous to this
week of Mardi Gras he had operated rarely;
he had robbed with a stark and inelegant
forcefulness, a brutality. Suddenly his methods
changed—he appeared and transacted his
business with a romantic courtesy, a daredevil
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span>
gaiety; his robberies became bizarre and extraordinary.</p>
<p class="indent">During the past month he appeared at
least once a week, now at some private ball,
now at some restaurant banquet, but always
in the same garb: the helmet, huge goggles
and mask, and leathern clothes of a service
aviator. On these occasions the throbbing
roar of an airplane motor had been reported
so that it was popular gossip that he landed
on the roof of his designated victims and made
his getaway in the same manner—by airplane.
No machine had ever been seen, and the theory
was believed by some, hooted at by others.</p>
<p class="indent">The police were helpless. The Midnight
Masquer laughed openly at them and conducted
his depredations with brazen unconcern,
appearing where he was least expected.
The anti-administration papers were clamouring
about a "crime wave" and "organization
of crooks," but without any visible basis for
such clamours. The Midnight Masquer
worked alone.</p>
<p class="indent">Doctor Ansley glanced at his watch, and
deposited his cigar in an ash tray.</p>
<p class="indent">"We'd best be moving, Fell. You'll want
a domino?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span>
"I ordered one when I got my cigars. It'll
be here in a minute."</p>
<p class="indent">"Do you seriously think that note is genuine?"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell shrugged lightly. "Who knows? I'm
not worried. Maillard can afford to be
robbed. It will be interesting to see how
he takes it if the fellow does show up."</p>
<p class="indent">"You're a calm one!" Ansley chuckled.
"Oh, I believe the prince is to be there to-night.
You've met him, I suppose?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No. I've had a rush of business lately,
as Eliza said when she crossed the ice: haven't
gone out much. Heard something about him,
though. An American, isn't he? They say
he's become quite popular in town."</p>
<p class="indent">Ansley nodded. "Quite a fine chap. His
mother was an American—she married the
Prince de Gramont; an international affair
of the past generation. De Gramont led her
a dog's life, I hear, until he was killed in a duel.
She lived in Paris with the boy, sent him to
school here at home, and he was at Yale
when the war broke. He was technically a
French subject, so he went back to serve his
time.</p>
<p class="indent">"Still, he's an American now. Calls himself
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span>
Henry Gramont, and would drop the
prince stuff altogether if these French people
around here would let him. He's supposed to
be going into some kind of business, but just
now he's having the time of his life. Every
old dowager is trying to catch him."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell nodded. "I've no use for
nobility; a rotten crowd! But this chap
appears interesting. I'll be glad to size him
up. Ah, here's my domino now!"</p>
<p class="indent">A page brought the domino. Fell, discarding
the mask, threw the domino about
his shoulders, and the two men left the club
in company.</p>
<p class="indent">They sought their destination afoot—the
home of the banker Joseph Maillard. The
streets were riotous, filled with an eddying,
laughing crowd of masquers and merrymakers
of all ages and sexes; confetti twirled
through the air, horns were deafening, and
laughing voices rose into sharp screams of
unrestrained delight.</p>
<p class="indent">Here and there appeared the rather constrained
figures of tourists from the North.
These, staid and unable to throw themselves
into the utter abandon of this carnival spirit,
could but stare in perplexed wonder at the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span>
scene, so alien to them, while they marvelled
at the gaiety of these Southern folk who
could go so far with liberty and yet not overstep
the bounds of license.</p>
<p class="indent">At last gaining St. Charles Avenue, with the
Maillard residence a half-dozen blocks distant,
the two companions found themselves well
away from the main carnival throngs. Even
here, however, was no lack of revellers afoot
for the evening—stray flotsam of the downtown
crowds, or members of neighbourhood
gatherings on their way to entertainment.</p>
<p class="indent">As the two walked along they were suddenly
aware of a lithe figure approaching from
the rear; with a running leap and an exclamation
of delight the figure forced itself
in between them, grasping an arm of either
man, and a bantering voice broke in upon
their train of talk.</p>
<p class="indent">"Forfeit!" it cried. "Forfeit—where are
your masks, sober gentlemen? This grave
physician may be pardoned, but not a domino
who refuses to mask! And for forfeit you
shall be my escort and take me whither you
are going."</p>
<p class="indent">Laughing, the two fell into step, glancing
at the gay figure between them. A Columbine,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span>
she was both cloaked and masked.
Encircling her hair was a magnificent scarf
shot with metal designs of solid gold—a
most unusual thing. Also, from her words
it was evident that she had recognized them.</p>
<p class="indent">"Willingly, fair Columbine," responded Fell
in his dry and unimpassioned tone of voice.
"We shall be most happy, indeed, to protect
and take you with us——"</p>
<p class="indent">"So far as the door, at least," interrupted
Ansley, with evident caution. But Fell drily
laughed aside this wary limitation.</p>
<p class="indent">"Nay, good physician, farther!" went on
Fell. "Our Columbine has an excellent passport,
I assure you. This gauzy scarf about
her raven tresses was woven for the good
Queen Hortense, and I would venture a
random guess that, clasped about her slender
throat, lies the queen's collar of star
sapphires——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh!" From the Columbine broke a cry
of warning and swift dismay. "Don't you
dare speak my name, sir—don't you dare!"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell assented with a chuckle, and subsided.</p>
<p class="indent">Ansley regarded his two companions with
sidelong curiosity. He could not recognize
Columbine, and he could not tell whether
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span>
Fell were speaking of the scarf and jewels in
jest or earnest. Such historic things were
not uncommon in New Orleans, yet Ansley
never heard of these particular treasures.
However, it seemed that Fell knew their companion,
and accepted her as a fellow guest at
the Maillard house.</p>
<p class="indent">"What are you doing out on the streets
alone?" demanded Fell, suddenly. "Haven't
you any friends or relatives to take care of
you?"</p>
<p class="indent">Columbine's laughter pealed out, and she
pressed Fell's arm confidingly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Have I not some little rights in the world,
monsieur?" she said in French. "I have
been mingling with the dear crowds and enjoying
them, before I go to be buried in the
dull splendours of the rich man's house.
Tell me, do you think that the Midnight
Masquer will make an appearance to-night?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I have every reason to believe that he
will," said Jachin Fell, gravely.</p>
<p class="indent">Columbine put one hand to her throat,
and shivered a trifle.</p>
<p class="indent">"You—you really think so? You are not
trying to frighten me?" Her voice was no
longer gay. "But—the jewels——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span>
"Wear them, wear them!" There was
command in the tone of Fell. "Were they
not given you to wear to-night? Then wear
them, by all means. Don't worry, my dear."</p>
<p class="indent">Columbine said nothing for a moment; her
gaiety seemed to be suddenly extinguished
and quenched. Ansley was wondering uneasily
at the constraint, when at length she
broke the silence.</p>
<p class="indent">"Since you have ordered, let the command
be obeyed!" She essayed a laugh, which appeared
rather forced. "Yet, if they are lost
and are taken by the Masquer——"</p>
<p class="indent">"In that case," said Fell, "let the blame
be mine entirely. If they are lost, little
Columbine, others will be lost with them,
fear not! I think that this party would be
a rich haul for the Masquer, eh? Take the
rich man and his friends—they could bear
plucking, that crowd! Rogues all."</p>
<p class="indent">"Confound you, Fell!" exclaimed Ansley,
uneasily. "If the bandit does show up
there would be the very devil to pay!"</p>
<p class="indent">"And Maillard would do the paying."
Fell's dry chuckle held a note of bitterness.
"Let him. Who cares? Look at his house,
there, blazing with lights. Who pays for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span>
those lights? The people his financial tentacles
have closed their sucker-like grip upon.
His wife's jewels have been purchased with
the coin of oppression and injustice. His
son's life is one of roguery and drunken
wildness——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Man, are you mad?" Ansley indicated the
Columbine between them. "We're not alone
here—you must not talk that way——"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell only chuckled again. Columbine's
laugh broke in with renewed gaiety:</p>
<p class="indent">"Nonsense, my dear Galen! We surely
may be allowed to be ourselves during carnival!
Away with the heresies of hypocritical
society. Our friend speaks the sober
truth. We masquers may admit among ourselves
that Bob Maillard is——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Is not the man we would have our daughters
marry, provided we had daughters,"
said Fell. Then he gestured toward the
house ahead of them, and his tone changed:
"Still, now that we are about to enter that
house, we must remind ourselves of courtesy
and the limitations of guests. Say no more.
Produce your invitation, Columbine, for I
think we shall find that the doors to-night
are guarded by Cerberus."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span>
They had come to a file of limousines and
cars, and approached the gateway of the
Maillard home. They turned into the gate.</p>
<p class="indent">The house loomed before them, a great
house set amid gardens, stately in the fashion
of olden days. The lower floors were discreetly
darkened to the streets, but on the
upper floor, where was the ballroom with
its floor of cypress, there was a glitter of
bright lights and open windows. Music
drifted to them as they approached. Jachin
Fell touched the arm of Ansley and indicated
an inconspicuous figure to one side of the
entrance steps.</p>
<p class="indent">"An outer guardian," he murmured. "Our
host, it seems, is neglecting no precaution!
I feel sorry for the Masquer, if he appears
here."</p>
<p class="indent">They came to the doorway. Columbine
produced an invitation, duly numbered, and
the three entered the house together.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Masquers</i></p>
<p>JOSEPH MAILLARD might have hopefully
considered the note from the Midnight
Masquer to be a hoax perpetrated
by some of his friends, but he took no chances.
Two detectives were posted in the grounds outside
the house; inside, two others, masked
and costumed, were keeping a quietly efficient
eye on all that transpired.</p>
<p class="indent">Each guest upon entering was conducted
directly to the presence of Joseph Maillard
himself, or of his wife; was bidden to unmask
in this private audience, and was then
presented with a favour and sent forth masked
anew to the festivities. These favours were
concealed, in the case of the ladies, in corsage
bouquets; in that of the men, inside false
cigars. There was to be a general opening of
the favours at midnight, the time set for unmasking.
All this ceremony was regarded
by the guests as a delightful innovation, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span>
by Joseph Maillard as a delightful way of
assuring himself that only the invited guests
entered his house. Invitations might be
forged—faces, never!</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie Ledanois entered the presence of her
stately relative, and after unmasking, dutifully
exchanged kisses with Mrs. Maillard.
Until some months previously, until she had
come into the management of her own
property—or what was left of it—Lucie had
been the ward of the Maillards. Their former
attitude of possession still lingered, but
they were relatives for whom she felt little
real affection.</p>
<p class="indent">"Mercy, child, how marvellous you look
to-night!" exclaimed Mrs. Maillard, holding
her off and examining her high colour with
obvious suspicion. Mrs. Maillard was herself
rather plump and red, and stern of eye
into the bargain. She was a keen, masterful
woman.</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you, ma'am," and Lucie made a
mock courtesy. "Do you like little Columbine?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Very much. Here's Aunt Sally; take
Miss Lucie's cloak, Sally."</p>
<p class="indent">An old coloured servant bobbed her head
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span>
in greeting to Lucie, who removed her cloak.
As she did so, she saw that Mrs. Maillard's
voice died away, and that the lady's eyes
were fastened in utter amazement upon her
throat.</p>
<p class="indent">"Isn't it pretty, auntie?" she asked, smilingly.
This was straining the relationship
a trifle, but it was a custom which Lucie
usually followed with the family.</p>
<p class="indent">"My goodness gracious!" The stern eyes
hardened. "Where—where on earth did <i>you</i>
obtain such a thing? Why—why——"</p>
<p class="indent">Columbine's features flinched. She was
a poor relation, of course, so the look in the
older woman's eyes and the implication of
the words formed little less than an insult.</p>
<p class="indent">Quietly she put one hand to her throat
and removed the collar, dropping it into the
hand of Mrs. Maillard. It was a thing to
make any woman's eyes widen—a collar of
exquisitely wrought gold studded with ten
great blazing star sapphires. Beside it the
diamonds that bejewelled Mrs. Maillard's
ample front looked cold and lifeless.</p>
<p class="indent">"That?" queried Lucie, innocently, producing
a scrap of chamois and dabbing at
her nose. "Oh, that's very interesting! It
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span>
was made for Queen Hortense—so was this
scarf that keeps my ragged hair from lopping
out!"</p>
<p class="indent">"You didn't buy them, certainly!" demanded
Mrs. Maillard.</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course not. They were a present—only
this morning."</p>
<p class="indent">"Girl!" The lady's voice was harsh. "A
present? From whom, if you please?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, I promised not to tell; he's a particular
friend of mine. Aren't the stones
pretty?"</p>
<p class="indent">Mrs. Maillard was speechless. She compressed
her firm lips and watched Lucie
replace the sapphire collar without a word to
offer. Silently she extended a corsage bouquet
from the pile beside her; then, in a
trembling voice, forced herself to explain
about the favour inside.</p>
<p class="indent">"And I hope," she added, "that before
receiving any more such valuable presents
you'll consult <i>me</i>. Of course, if you don't
wish to tell about this, you needn't; but a
word of advice will often save a girl from
making very serious mistakes."</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you, auntie dear," and Lucie
nodded as she pinned the bouquet. "You're
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span>
just as dear to me as you can be! See you
later."</p>
<p class="indent">Slipping her mask into place she was gone,
not without relief. She knew very well that
within half an hour Bob Maillard would be
informed that she had accepted gifts of
jewels from other men, with all the accompanying
implications and additions that imagination
could furnish. For, although Bob
Maillard wanted very much indeed to marry
her his mother had no intention of sanctioning
such a union.</p>
<p class="indent">"Neither has Uncle Joseph," she reflected,
smiling to herself, "and neither have I! So
we're all agreed, except Bob."</p>
<p class="indent">"Columbine!" A hand fell upon her wrist.
"Columbine! Turn and confess thy sins!"</p>
<p class="indent">A cry of instinctive alarm broke from the
girl; she turned, only to break into a laugh
of chagrin at her own fright.</p>
<p class="indent">She had come to the foot of the wide, old-fashioned
stairway that led to the floors
above, and beside her had suddenly appeared
a Franciscan monk, cowled and gowned in
sober brown from head to foot.</p>
<p class="indent">"You frightened me, holy man!" she cried,
gaily. "Confess to you, indeed! Not I."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span>
"Never a better chance, butterfly of the
world!" It was a voice that she dimly
recognized, yet she could not name the
owner: a merry, carefree voice that was
slightly disguised.</p>
<p class="indent">"Never a better chance," and the Franciscan
offered his arm. "Haste not to the
dance, fair sister—tarry a while and invite
the soul in speech of import! Having passed
the dragon at the gate, tarry a moment with
this man of vows——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Shrive me quickly, then," she said, laughing.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now, without confession? Would you
have me read your thoughts and give penance?"</p>
<p class="indent">"If you can do that, holy man, I may
confess; so prove it quickly!"</p>
<p class="indent">For the moment they stood alone. Higher
on the stairs, and among the rooms behind
them, were gay groups of masquers—dominoes,
imposing Mephistos, backwoodsmen,
gallants of Spain and France, red Indians and
turbaned Hindus.</p>
<p class="indent">The Franciscan leaned forward. His voice
came low, distinct, clear-cut, and he spoke
in the French which Lucie understood as
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span>
another mother-tongue, as do most of the
older families of New Orleans.</p>
<p class="indent">"See how I read them, mademoiselle! One
thought is of uneasy suspicion; it is typified by
a hard-lipped, grasping man. One thought is
of profound regret; it is typified by a darkly
welling stream of oil. One thought——"</p>
<p class="indent">Suddenly Lucie had shrunk away from him.
"Who—who are you?" she breathed, with a
gasp that was almost of fear. "Who are
you, monsieur?"</p>
<p class="indent">"A humble brother of minor orders," and
he bowed. "Shall I not continue with my
reading? The third thought, mademoiselle,
is one of hope; it is typified by a small man
who is dressed all in gray——"</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie turned away from him quickly.</p>
<p class="indent">"I think that you have made some grave
error, monsieur," she said. Her voice was
cold, charged with dismissal and offended
dignity. "I pray you, excuse me."</p>
<p class="indent">Not waiting any response, she hastily ran
up the stairs. After her, for a moment,
gazed the Franciscan, then shrugged his wide
shoulders and plunged into the crowd.</p>
<p class="indent">The ballroom on the top floor was throbbing
with music, gay with costumes and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span>
decorations, thronged with dancing couples.
Into the whirl of it pirouetted Columbine.
Almost at once she found herself dancing
with a gorgeously attired Musketeer; she
separated from him as quickly as possible,
for she recognized him as Bob Maillard. Nor
did he find her again, although he searched,
not knowing her identity; for she evaded him.</p>
<p class="indent">While she danced, while she chattered and
laughed and entered into the mad gaiety of
the evening, Lucie Ledanois could not banish
from her mind that ominous Franciscan.
How could he have known? How could he
have guessed what only she and one other
barely suspected? There was no proof, of
course; the very breath of suspicion seemed
a calumny against an upright man!</p>
<p class="indent">Joseph Maillard had sold that Terrebonne
land six months before any gas or oil had been
discovered there, and eight months before
Lucie had come into the management of her
own affairs. He had not known about the
minerals, of course; it was a case only of bad
judgment. Yet, indubitably, he was now a
shareholder and officer in the Bayou Oil
Company, the concern which had bought that
strip of land.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span>
Two years previously Maillard had sold
that swamp land up in St. Landry parish; the
land had been drained and sectioned off by
real estate people at enormous profit.</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie strove angrily to banish the dark
thoughts from her mind. Why, Maillard
was a rich man, a banker, an honorable
gentleman! To doubt his honour, although
he was a harsh and a stern man, was impossible.
Lucie knew him better than most,
and could not believe——</p>
<p class="indent">"May I crave pardon for my error?" came
a voice at her elbow. She turned, to see the
Franciscan again beside her. "With a thousand
apologies for impertinence, mademoiselle;
I am very sorry for my faults. Will
not that admission obtain for me one little
dance, one hint of forgiveness from fair
Columbine?"</p>
<p class="indent">Something in his voice spelt sincerity.
Lucie, smiling, held out her hand.</p>
<p class="indent">"You are pardoned, holy man. If you
can dance in that friar's robe, then try it!"</p>
<p class="indent">Could he dance, indeed! Who could not
dance with Columbine for partner? So saying,
the monk proved his word by the deed
and proved it well. Nor did he again hint
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span>
that he had recognized her; until, as they
parted, he once more left her astonished and
perturbed. As he bowed he murmured:</p>
<p class="indent">"Beware, sweet Columbine! Beware of
the gay Aramis! Beware of his proposals!"</p>
<p class="indent">He was gone upon the word.</p>
<p class="indent">Aramis? Why, that must be the Musketeer,
of course—Bob Maillard! The name,
with its implications, was a clever hit. But
who was this brown monk, who seemed to
know so much, who danced so divinely,
whose French was like music? A vague
suspicion was in the girl's mind, but she had
no proof.</p>
<p class="indent">Half an hour after this Bob Maillard came
to her, and with impatient words made a
path through the circle which surrounded her.
He caught her hand and bent over it with an
affectation of gallantry which became him
well, for in his costume he made a handsome
figure.</p>
<p class="indent">"I know you now, Lucie!" he murmured.
"I must see you at once—in the conservatory."</p>
<p class="indent">She was minded to refuse, but assented
briefly. The words of the monk intrigued
her; what had the man guessed? If Bob
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span>
were indeed about to propose, she would this
time cut off his hopes for good. But—was
it that sort of a proposal?</p>
<p class="indent">As she managed to rid herself of her admirers,
and descended to the conservatory,
she was highly vexed with herself and the
Franciscan, and so came to her appointment
in no equable frame of mind. She found
Maillard waiting in the old-fashioned conservatory;
he had unmasked, and was puffing
a cigarette. His heavy features and bold,
shrewd eyes were fastened hungrily upon her
as he came to meet her.</p>
<p class="indent">"By gad, Lucie, you're beautiful to-night!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Thanks, cousin Robert. Was it for
that——?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No! See here, where did you get that
collar of jewels?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Indeed!" The girl proudly drew herself
up. "What business is that of yours, sir?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Aren't you one of the family? It's our
business to protect your rep——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Be careful!" Anger trembled in her voice,
cut off his words. "Be careful!"</p>
<p class="indent">"But damn it—Lucie! Don't you know
that I want to marry you——"</p>
<p class="indent">"My dear Robert, I certainly do not want
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span>
to marry any man who swears to my face—you
least of all!" she coldly intervened. "I
have already refused you three times; let this
be the fourth and last. I owe you no account
of my possessions nor where I get them; I am
entirely capable of managing my own affairs.
Now, kindly inform me why you wished me
to meet you here. Also, you know that I
don't like cigarette smoke."</p>
<p class="indent">Sulkily, Maillard threw away his cigarette;
with an effort he calmed himself. He was
anything but a fool, this young man. He was
rather clever, and saw that he had so long
considered his pretty cousin a personal possession
that he was now in some danger of
losing her.</p>
<p class="indent">"I have a chance to make some money
for you in a hurry," he said. "Your father
left you a good deal of land up Bayou Terrebonne
way——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Your father sold some of it," she put in,
idly. His eyes flickered to the thrust.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes; but you've plenty left, near Paradis.
It's away from the gas field, but I'm interested
in an oil company. We've plenty of
money, and we're going to go strong after the
liquid gold. That land of yours is good for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span>
nothing else, and if you want to make some
money out of it I'll swing the company into
leasing at a good figure and drilling there."</p>
<p class="indent">"You think there's oil on the land?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No." He made a swift, energetic gesture
of dissent. "To be frank, I don't. But I'd
like to throw a bit of luck your way, Lucie.
We're getting a lot of money into the company,
and some brains. That fellow Gramont—the
prince, you know him—he's an
engineer and a geologist, and he's in the
swim."</p>
<p class="indent">"So," the girl smiled a little, "you would
betray your business friends in order to make
a bit of money for me?"</p>
<p class="indent">Maillard stared at her. "Well, if you put
it that way, yes! I'd do more than that
for——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you," she interrupted, her voice
cold. "I don't think I'd trust your sagacity
very far, Robert. Good-night."</p>
<p class="indent">She turned from him and was gone, dancing
through the great rooms like a true Columbine.
Later he saw her among the dancers
above, although he obtained no further speech
with her.</p>
<p class="indent">Midnight neared, and brought a concern
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span>
to many; the Midnight Masquer had gained
his name by invariably appearing a moment
or two before the stroke of twelve. Jachin
Fell, who divided his time between enjoying
the smoking room and wandering about
among the masquers, perceived that Joseph
Maillard was watching the time with anxiety.</p>
<p class="indent">A large man, stern and a bit scornful of
look, Maillard was imposing rather than
handsome. He appeared the typical banker,
efficient, devoid of all sentiment. Amused
by the man's evident uneasiness, Jachin
Fell kept him in view while the moments
dragged. One might have thought that the
little gray man was studying the financier
as an entomologist studies a butterfly on a
pin.</p>
<p class="indent">Shortly before twelve Columbine pirouetted
up to Jachin Fell and accepted the
arm he offered her. They were for the moment
alone, in a corner of the ballroom.</p>
<p class="indent">"I must see you to-morrow, please," she
breathed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Gladly," he assented. "May I call? It's
Sunday, you know——"</p>
<p class="indent">"If you will; at three. Something has
happened, but I cannot speak of it here.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span>
Does any one else know that you—that you
are interested in my affairs?"</p>
<p class="indent">The pale gray eyes of the little gray man
looked very innocent and wondering.</p>
<p class="indent">"Certainly not, my dear! Why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll tell you to-morrow." Then she broke
into a laugh. "Well, it is midnight—and the
Masquer has not appeared! I'm almost
sorry."</p>
<p class="indent">The lights flickered off for a moment, then
on again. The signal for unmasking!</p>
<p class="indent">The dancing ceased. From the whole
room arose a babel of voices—cries of surprise,
exclamations, merry laughter. Columbine removed
her mask. An instant later Joseph
Maillard approached them, chuckling to himself
and looking hugely relieved.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ha, Lucie! I guessed you beneath the
Columbine daintiness! Well, Jachin, it was a
hoax after all, eh? Some confounded joke.
Come down to the library in five minutes,
will you? A meeting of the select circle,
to discuss prohibition."</p>
<p class="indent">"Aren't you going to invite me, Uncle
Joseph?" broke in Lucie, gaily.</p>
<p class="indent">"No, no, little one!" Maillard reproved
her, laughingly. "Look not upon the silver
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span>
cup at your age, my dear. Have you examined
your favour yet?"</p>
<p class="indent">Remembering, the girl caught at her corsage.
Cries of delight were arising on all
sides as the favours were revealed—most
handsome favours, even for Mardi Gras!
From the heart of the rosebuds in her hand
Lucie removed a brooch of old filigree work set
with a group of pearls. She glanced about
for Jachin Fell, but he had vanished with
Maillard. A voice rose at her elbow:</p>
<p class="indent">"Mademoiselle, you are not less lucky than
beautiful! Pearls to the pearl!"</p>
<p class="indent">She turned to see the Franciscan—no
longer masked, but now gazing at her from
a frank, laughing countenance, still partially
veiled by the brown cowl that was drawn up
close about his head.</p>
<p class="indent">"Henry Gramont!" she exclaimed. "Oh,
I half suspected that it was you——"</p>
<p class="indent">"But you were not sure?" he chuckled.
"You're not offended with me, Lucie?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I should be." She tossed her head. "You
were impertinent, M. le prince!"</p>
<p class="indent">He made a distasteful gesture. "None
of that, Lucie! You know I don't like it——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, la, la!" she mocked him. "M. le
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span>
prince is seeing America, <i>n'est ce pas</i>? He
has come to America to find a rich wife, is
it not?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont's face lost its smile, and suddenly
became almost harsh.</p>
<p class="indent">"I shall call upon you at four to-morrow,
Lucie," he said, abruptly, and turned. Nor
did he pause to get her reply. An instant
afterward Lucie was surrounded by a merry
group of friends, and she saw no more of
Henry Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">About five minutes later those in the ballroom
distinctly heard, through the open windows,
the heavy pulsations of an airplane
motor.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>The Bandit</i></p>
<p>JOSEPH MAILLARD'S library was on the
ground floor of the house; it was a sedate
and stately room, and was invariably
shut off to itself. Not even to-night, of all
nights, was it thrown open with the remainder
of the house.</p>
<p class="indent">Here, for a good half hour, had been Uncle
Neb. The old butler was mysteriously engaged
with certain tall silver goblets, fragrant
mint, and yet more fragrant—if illegal—bottles.
And it was here that Joseph Maillard
summoned half a dozen of his particular
cronies and friends, after the stroke of midnight
had assured him that there was no danger
to be expected from the bandit. His
son was not among the number. The half
dozen were nearly all elderly men, and,
with the exception of Jachin Fell, all were
men of prominent affairs.</p>
<p class="indent">About the table grouped Maillard and his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span>
guests, while in the background hovered
Uncle Neb, glistening black, hugely important,
and grinning widely. Fell was the last
to enter the room, and as he did so old Judge
Forester turned to him smilingly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, here is an attorney in whom there is
no guile! Jachin, come and settle a dispute.
I maintain that the dignity of the law is not
less now than in the old days; that it has
merely accommodated itself to changing conditions,
and that it is a profession for gentlemen
now as always. Jules, state your
argument!"</p>
<p class="indent">Jules Delagroux, a white-haired Creole
lawyer of high standing, smiled a trifle sadly.</p>
<p class="indent">"My case," he said, "is that the old days
are dead; that the law is no longer a profession,
but a following for charlatans. In a
word, that the law has been killed by the
lawyers." He gestured finality and glanced
at Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"So?" Jachin Fell smiled in his shy fashion.
"Gentlemen, I heartily agree with you both.
I am an attorney, but I do not practise because
I cannot accommodate myself to those
very changing conditions of which Judge
Forester speaks. To-day, the lawyer must
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span>
be a politician; he must be an adept in the
trick of words and deeds; he must be able not
to serve his profession but to make it serve
him, and he must remember always that the
rights of property are more sacred than those
of life and liberty. Otherwise, he will remain
honest and poor."</p>
<p class="indent">An ejaculation of "True" from the judge
brought smiles. Jachin Fell continued whimsically:</p>
<p class="indent">"Regarding these very conditions many
years ago, gentlemen, I was tempted to
change my profession—but to what? I was
tempted to enter the church until I saw
that the same conditions hold good of a
clergyman. I was tempted to enter medicine
until I saw that they also held true of a doctor.
I was tempted to other things, always with
the like result. Well, you know the story
of Aunt Dixie and her black underwear—'Honey,
I ain't ashamed of mah grief; when
I mourns, I <i>mourns</i>!' Even so with the
law——"</p>
<p class="indent">A burst of laughter drowned him out,
and the original argument was forgotten.
Maillard, standing before a small wall safe
that flanked the open hearth, lifted his silver
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span>
goblet, asteam with beads. The moment for
which he had been waiting was here; he
launched his little thunderbolt with an air
of satisfied importance.</p>
<p class="indent">"My friends, I have a confession to make!"
he announced. "To-day I received a note
from the Midnight Masquer stating that
he would be with us this evening, presumably
at the hour of midnight, his usual time."</p>
<p class="indent">These words brought an instant silence.
Uncle Neb, from his corner, uttered a startled
"Fore de lawd!" that rang through the
room; yet no one smiled. The half-dozen
men were tense, watchful, astonished. But
Maillard swung up his silver cup and laughed
gaily.</p>
<p class="indent">"I took full precautions, gentlemen. The
hour of danger is past, and the notorious
bandit has not arrived—or, if he has arrived,
he is now in the hands of the law. After
all, that note may have been something in
the nature of a carnival jest! So up with
your cups, my friends—a lifelong health to
Mardi Gras, and damnation to prohibition
and the Midnight Masquer!"</p>
<p class="indent">From everyone broke a swift assent to
the toast, a murmur of relieved tension. The
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span>
silver goblets were lifted, touched in a musical
clinking of edges, and the aromatic breath
of juleps filled the library as the drinkers, in
true Southern fashion, buried noses in the
fragrant mint. Then, as the cups were lowered,
from the recess of the curtained windows
at one end of the room came a quiet voice:</p>
<p class="indent">"I thank you, gentlemen! But I must remind
you, Maillard, that there was not a
time limit set in the note."</p>
<p class="indent">With a simultaneous gasp everyone turned.
Maillard staggered; his face went livid.
Uncle Neb, who had been advancing to refill
the cups, dropped his silver tray with a crash
that went unheeded, indeed unheard. Every
eye was fastened upon that amazing figure
now advancing from the shadows of the
recess.</p>
<p class="indent">It was the figure of an aviator, clad in
leather from top to toe, the goggles and helmet
shield completely masking his head and
features from recognition. In his hand he
held an automatic pistol, which covered the
group of men before him with its threatening
mouth.</p>
<p class="indent">"Not a sound, if you please," he warned,
his voice thin and nasal—obviously disguised.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span>
"I trust that none of you gentlemen is armed,
because I am very quick on the trigger. A
very pleasant surprise, Maillard? You'd
given me up, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">For an instant no one spoke. Then Maillard
moved slightly, moved his hand toward
a button set in the wall near the safe. The
voice of the bandit leaped out at him like
thin steel:</p>
<p class="indent">"Quiet, you fool! If you touch that button——"</p>
<p class="indent">Maillard stiffened, and gripped the table
edge with his shaking hand.</p>
<p class="indent">"This is an outrage, suh!" began Judge
Forester, his white goatee bristling. The
bandit bowed slightly, and addressed the
gathering in a tone of dry raillery:</p>
<p class="indent">"An outrage? Exactly. You were just
now discussing the majesty of the law. Well,
I assure you that I found your discussion
intensely interesting. Mr. Fell correctly
stated that the rights of property are more
sacred in legal eyes than the rights of human
life. You see, gentlemen, the discussion
touched me very closely!</p>
<p class="indent">"I am now engaged in outraging the law,
and I have this amendment to propose to Mr.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span>
Fell: That if he had been tempted to follow
the profession of a robber he would have
found the same conditions prevailing which
he quoted as applying to other professions."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell, alone of those about the table,
allowed a smile to curve his lips.</p>
<p class="indent">"The rights of property," pursued the
bandit with a deadly smoothness, "are to
me, also, far more sacred than human life;
there I agree with the law. So, gentlemen,
kindly empty your pockets on the table."
His voice became crisp. "The jewelled scarf-pins
which you received as favours this evening
may be added to the collection; otherwise,
I shall not touch your private possessions.
No watches, thank you. Maillard, kindly
begin! I believe that you carry a wallet?
If you please."</p>
<p class="indent">The banker could not but obey. His
hands trembling with fear and rage, he took
from his pocket a wallet, and emptied a sheaf
of bills upon the table. One after another,
the other men followed his example. The
bandit made no attempt to search them,
but watched with eyes that glittered from
behind his mask as they laid money and scarf-pins
on the table. When it came his turn,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span>
Jachin Fell drew a single bill from his pocket,
and laid it down.</p>
<p class="indent">"You put some faith in that warning, Mr.
Fell?" The bandit laughed. "Do you think
that you will know me again?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I hardly believe so, sir," answered Fell
in his apologetic fashion. "Your disguise
is really excellent."</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you." The bandit's voice held a
thin mockery. "Coming from you, sir, that
compliment is most welcome."</p>
<p class="indent">"What the devil does the fellow mean?"
exploded Judge Forester.</p>
<p class="indent">"Then you are not aware that Mr. Fell is a
man of large affairs?" The bandit's white
teeth flashed in a smile. "He is a modest
man, this attorney! And a dangerous man
also, I assure you. But come, Mr. Fell,
I'll not betray you."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell obviously did not appreciate
the pleasantry. His shy and wondering features
assumed a set and hardened look.</p>
<p class="indent">"Whoever you are," he responded, a subtle
click of anger in his tone, "you shall be punished
for this!"</p>
<p class="indent">"For what, Mr. Fell? For knowing too
much of your private affairs?" The bandit
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span>
laughed. "Fear not—I am only an amateur
at this game, fortunately! So do your worst,
and my blessing upon you! Now, gentlemen,
kindly withdraw a few paces and join
Uncle Neb yonder against the wall. All but
you, Maillard; I'm not through with you
yet."</p>
<p class="indent">The automatic pistol gestured; under its
menace everyone obeyed the command, for
the calm assurance of the bandit made it
seem extremely likely that he would use the
weapon without compunction. The men
withdrew toward the far end of the room,
where a word from the aviator halted them.
Maillard remained standing where he was, his
heavy features now mottled with impotent
anger.</p>
<p class="indent">The Masquer advanced to the table and
gathered the heap of money and scarfpins
into the leathern pocket of his coat. During
the process his gaze did not waver from the
group of men, nor did the threat of his weapon
lift from the banker before him.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now, Maillard," he quietly ordered, "you
will have the kindness to turn around and
open the wall safe behind you. And don't
touch the button."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span>
Maillard started.</p>
<p class="indent">"That safe! Why—why—damn you, I'll
do nothing of the sort!"</p>
<p class="indent">"If you don't," was the cool threat, "I'll
shoot you through the abdomen. A man
fears a bullet there worse than death. It
may kill you, and it may not; really, I care
very little. You—you financier!"</p>
<p class="indent">Scorn leaped into the quiet voice, scorn
that lashed and bit deep.</p>
<p class="indent">"You money trickster! Do you think I
would spare such a man as you? You draw
your rents from the poor and destitute, your
mortgages cover half the parishes in the
state, and in your heart is neither compassion
nor pity for man or woman. You take the
property of others from behind the safety
curtain of the law; I do it from behind a
pistol! I rob only those who can afford to
lose—am I really as bad as you, in the eyes
of morality and ethics? Bah! I could shoot
you down without a qualm!"</p>
<p class="indent">In his voice was so deadly a menace that
Maillard trembled. Yet the banker drew
himself up and struggled for self-control,
stung as he was by this flood of vituperation
before the group of his closest friends.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span>
"There is nothing of mine in that safe,"
he said, his voice a low growl. "I have given
it to my son to use. He is not here."</p>
<p class="indent">"That," said the Masquer, calmly, "is
exactly why I desire you to open it. Your
son must make his contribution, for I keenly
regret his absence. If you are a criminal,
he is worse! You rob and steal under shelter
of the law, but you have certain limitations,
certain bounds of an almost outgrown honour.
He has none, that son of yours. Why, he
would not hesitate to turn your own tricks
back upon you, to rob <i>you</i>, if he could! Open
that safe or take the consequences; no more
talk, now!"</p>
<p class="indent">The command cracked out like a whiplash.
With a shrug of helplessness the banker
turned and fumbled with the protruding
knob of the safe. With one exception all
eyes were fastened upon this amazing Masquer.
The exception was Jachin Fell, who,
suddenly alert and watchful, had turned his
attention to Maillard and the safe, a keen
speculation in his gaze as though he were
wondering what that steel vault would produce.</p>
<p class="indent">All were silent. There was something about
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span>
this Midnight Masquer that held them intently.
Perhaps some were inclined to think
him a jester, one of the party masquerading
under the famous bandit's guise; if so, his
last words to Maillard had removed all such
thought. That indictment had been deadly
and terrible—and true, as they knew. Bob
Maillard was not greatly admired by those
among his father's friends who best knew
him.</p>
<p class="indent">Now the door of the safe swung open. The
compartments appeared empty.</p>
<p class="indent">"Take out the drawers and turn them up
over the table," commanded the Masquer.</p>
<p class="indent">Maillard obeyed. He took several of the
small drawers, and all proved to be empty;
this development drew a dry chuckle from
Jachin Fell. Then, from the last drawer,
there fell out on the table a large envelope,
sealed. The Masquer leaned forward, seized
upon this envelope, and crushed it into his
pocket.</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you," he observed. "That is all."</p>
<p class="indent">"Damn you!" cried Maillard, shaking a
fist. "You'd try blackmail, would you?"</p>
<p class="indent">The bandit regarded him a moment, then
laughed.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span>
"If you knew what was in that envelope,
my dear financier, you might not speak so
hastily. If I knew what was in it, I might
answer you. But I don't know. I only suspect—and
hope."</p>
<p class="indent">While he spoke the bandit was backing
toward the door that opened upon the lower
hallway of the house. He drew this door
open, glanced swiftly out into the hall, and
then placed the key on the outside.</p>
<p class="indent">"And now, my friends—<i>au revoir</i>!"</p>
<p class="indent">The Masquer sprang backward into the
hall. The door slammed, the key clicked.
He was gone!</p>
<p class="indent">Maillard was the first to wake into voice
and action. "The other door!" he cried.
"Into the dining room——"</p>
<p class="indent">He flung open a second door and dashed
into the dining room, followed by the other
men. Here the windows, giving upon the
garden, were open. Then Maillard came to a
sudden halt, and after him the others; through
the night was pulsating, with great distinctness,
the throbbing roar of an airplane motor!
From Maillard broke a bitter cry:</p>
<p class="indent">"The detectives—I'll get the fools here!
You gentlemen search the house; Uncle Neb,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span>
go with them, into every room! That fellow
can't possibly have escaped——"</p>
<p class="indent">"No word of alarm to the ladies," exclaimed
Judge Forester, hurriedly. "If he
was not upstairs, then they have seen nothing
of him. We must divide and search."</p>
<p class="indent">They hastily separated. Maillard dashed
away to summon the detectives, also to get
other men to aid in the search.</p>
<p class="indent">The result was vain. Within twenty minutes
the entire house, from cellar to garret,
had been thoroughly gone over, without
causing any alarm to the dancers in the ballroom.
Maillard began to think himself a
little mad. No one had been seen to enter or
leave the house, and certainly there had been
no airplane about. The Masquer had not
appeared except in the library, and now he was
most indubitably not in the house. By all
testimony, he had neither entered it nor left it!</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, I'm damned!" said Maillard, helplessly,
to Judge Forester, when the search
was concluded. "Not a trace of the scoundrel!
Here, Fell—can't you help us out?
Haven't you discovered a thing?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Nothing," responded Jachin Fell, calmly.</p>
<p class="indent">At this instant Bob Maillard rushed up. He
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span>
had just learned of the Masquer's visit. In
response to his excited questioning his father
described the scene in the library and added:</p>
<p class="indent">"I trust there was nothing important
among those papers of yours, Robert?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No," said the younger man. "No. Nothing
valuable at all."</p>
<p class="indent">Henry Gramont was passing. He caught
the words and paused, his gaze resting for an
instant upon the group. A faint smile rested
upon his rather harshly drawn features.</p>
<p class="indent">"I just found this," he announced, holding
out a paper. "It was pinned to the outside
of the library door. I presume that
your late visitor left it as a memento?"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell took the paper, the other men
crowding around him.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, Maillard! The same handwriting
as that of your letter!"</p>
<p class="indent">Upon the paper was pencilled a single hasty
line:</p>
<blockquote>
<p class="center">My compliments to Robert Maillard—and my
thanks.</p>
</blockquote>
<p class="indent">Bob Maillard sprang forward, angrily inspecting
the paper. When he relinquished
it, Fell calmly claimed it again.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span>
"Confound the rogue!" muttered the
banker's son, turning away. His features
were pale, perhaps with anger. "There was
nothing but stock certificates in that envelope—and
they can be reissued."</p>
<p class="indent">The festivities were not broken up. As
much could hardly be said for the host, who
felt keenly the verbal lashing that had been
administered to him before his friends. News
of the robbery gradually leaked out among the
guests; the generally accepted verdict was that
the Masquer had appeared, only to be frightened
away before he could secure any loot.</p>
<p class="indent">It was nearly two in the morning when
Jachin Fell, who was leaving, encountered
Henry Gramont at the head of the wide
stairway. He halted and turned to the
younger man.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah—have you a pencil, if you please?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I think so, Mr. Fell." Gramont felt
beneath his Franciscan's robe, and extended
a pencil.</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell examined it, brought a paper
from beneath his domino, and wrote down a
word. The paper was that on which the
farewell message of the Midnight Masquer
had been written.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span>
"A hard lead, a very hard point indeed!"
said Fell. He pocketed the paper again and
regarded Gramont steadily as he returned
the pencil. "Few men carry so hard a pencil,
sir."</p>
<p class="indent">"You're quite right," and Gramont smiled.
"I borrowed this from Bob Maillard only a
moment ago. Its hardness surprised me."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh!" said Jachin Fell, mildly. "By the
way, aren't you the Prince de Gramont?
When we met this evening, you were introduced
as plain Mr. Gramont, but it seems to
me that I had heard something——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Quite a mistake, Mr. Fell. I'm no prince;
simply Henry Gramont, and nothing more.
Also, an American citizen. Some of these
New Orleans people can't forget the prince
business, most unfortunately."</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, yes," agreed Fell, shyly. "Do you
know, a most curious thing——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes?" prompted Gramont, his eyes intent
upon the little gray man.</p>
<p class="indent">"That paper you brought us—the paper
which you found pinned to the library door,"
said Fell, apologetically. "Do you know,
Mr. Gramont, that oddly enough there were
no pin holes in that paper?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span>
Gramont smiled faintly, as though he were
inwardly amused over the remark.</p>
<p class="indent">"Not at all curious," he said, his voice
level. "It was pinned rather stoutly—I tore
off the portion bearing the message. I'll
wager that you'll find the end of the paper
still on the door downstairs. You might make
certain that its torn edge fits that of the
paper in your pocket; if it did not, then the
fact <i>would</i> be curious! I am most happy to
have met you, Mr. Fell. I trust that we shall
meet again, often."</p>
<p class="indent">With a smile, he extended his hand, which
Mr. Fell shook cordially.</p>
<p class="indent">As Jachin Fell descended the wide staircase
his face was red—quite red. One would
have said that he had just been worsted in
some encounter, and that the sense of defeat
still rankled within him.</p>
<p class="indent">Upon gaining the lower hall he glanced
at the door of the library. There, still pinned
to the wood where it had been unregarded
by the passersby, was a small scrap of paper.
Mr. Fell glanced at it again, then shook his
head and slowly turned away, as though resisting
a temptation.</p>
<p class="indent">"No," he muttered. "No. It would be
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span>
sure to fit the paper in my pocket. It would
be sure to fit, confound him!"</p>
<p class="indent">A little later he left the house and walked
along the line of cars that were waiting parked
in the drive and in the street outside. Before
one of the cars he came to a halt, examining
it closely. The sleepy chauffeur got out
and touched his cap in a military salute;
he was a sturdy young fellow, his face very
square and blunt.</p>
<p class="indent">"A very handsome car. May I ask whose
it is?" inquired Fell, mildly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Mr. Gramont's, sir," answered the chauffeur.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, thank you. A very handsome car indeed.
Good-night!"</p>
<p class="indent">Mr. Fell walked away, striding briskly
down the avenue. When he approached
the first street light he came to a pause,
and began softly to pat his person as though
searching for something.</p>
<p class="indent">"I told you that you'd pay for knowing
too much about me, young man!" he said,
softly. "What's this, now—what's this?"</p>
<p class="indent">A slight rustle of paper, as he walked
along, had attracted his attention. He
passed his hands over the loose, open domino
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span>
that cloaked him; he detected a scrap of paper
pinned to it in the rear. He loosened the
paper, and under the street light managed
to decipher the writing which it bore.</p>
<p class="indent">A faint smile crept to his lips as he read
the pencilled words:</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I do not love you, Jachin Fell,</span><br />
<span class="i0">The reason why I cannot tell;</span><br />
<span class="i0">But this I know, and know full well,</span><br />
<span class="i0">I do not love you, Jachin Fell!</span>
</div>
</div>
<p class="indent">"Certainly the fellow has wit, if not originality,"
muttered Mr. Fell, as he carefully
stowed away the paper. The writing upon
it was in the hand of the Midnight Masquer.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Callers</i></p>
<p>THE house in which Lucie Ledanois
lived had been her mother's; the furniture
and other things in it had been
her mother's; the two negro servants, who
spoke only the Creole French patois, had
been her mother's. It was a small house,
but very beautiful inside. The exterior betrayed
a lack of paint or the money with
which to have painting done.</p>
<p class="indent">The Ledanois family, although distantly
connected with others such as the Maillards,
had sent forth its final bud of fruition in the
girl Lucie. Her mother had died while she
was yet an infant, and through the years
she had companioned her father, an invalid
during the latter days. He had never been
a man to count dollars or costs, and to a large
extent he had outworn himself and the family
fortunes in a vain search for health.</p>
<p class="indent">With Lucie he had been in Europe at the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span>
outbreak of war, and had come home to
America only to die shortly afterward. Once
deprived of his fine recklessness, the girl had
found her affairs in a bad tangle. Under
the guardianship of Maillard the tangle
had been somewhat resolved and simplified,
but even Maillard would appear to have
made mistakes, and of late Lucie had against
her will suspected something amiss in the
matter of these mistakes.</p>
<p class="indent">It was natural, then, that she should take
Jachin Fell into her confidence. Maillard
had been her guardian, but it was to Fell
that she had always come with her girlish
cares and troubles, during even the lifetime
of her father. She had known Fell all her
life; she had met him in strange places, both
at home and abroad. She entertained a well-grounded
suspicion that Jachin Fell had loved
her mother, and this one fact lay between
them, never mentioned but always there,
like a bond of faith and kindliness.</p>
<p class="indent">At precisely three o'clock of the Sunday
afternoon Jachin Fell rang the doorbell
and Lucie herself admitted him. She ushered
him into the parlour that was restful with its
quiet brasses and old rosewood.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span>
"Tell me quickly, Uncle Jachin!" eagerly
exclaimed the girl. "Did you actually see
the Midnight Masquer last night? I didn't
know until afterward that he had really been
downstairs and had robbed——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I saw him, my dear," and the little gray
man smiled. There was more warmth to
his smile than usual just now. Perhaps
it was a reflection from the eager vitality
which so shone in the eyes of Lucie. "I
saw him, yes."</p>
<p class="indent">A restful face was hers—not beautiful at
first glance; a little too strong for beauty
one would say. The deep gray eyes were
level and quiet and wide apart, and on most
occasions were quite inscrutable. They were
now filled with a quick eagerness as they
rested upon Jachin Fell. Lucie called him
uncle, but not as she called Joseph Maillard
uncle; here was no relationship, no formal
affectation of relationship, but a purely abiding
trust and friendship.</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell had done more for Lucie than
she herself knew or would know; without her
knowledge he had quietly taken care of her
finances to an appreciable extent. Between
them lay an affection that was very real.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span>
Lucie, better than most, knew the extraordinary
capabilities of this little gray man; yet
not even Lucie guessed a tenth of the character
that lay beneath his surface. To her
he was never reserved or secretive. Nonetheless,
she touched sometimes an impenetrable
wall that seemed ever present within
him.</p>
<p class="indent">"You saw him?" repeated the girl, quickly.
"What was he like? Do you know who he
is?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Certainly I know," replied Fell, still
smiling at her.</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh! Then who is he?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Softly, softly, young lady! I know him,
but even to you I dare not breathe his name
until I obtain some direct evidence. Let us
call him Mr. X., after the approved methods
of romance, and I shall expound what I know."</p>
<p class="indent">He groped in his vest pocket. Lucie sprang
up, bringing a smoking stand from the corner
of the room to his chair. She held a match to
his El Rey, and then curled up on a Napoleon
bed and watched him intently while he spoke.</p>
<p class="indent">"The bandit did not enter the house during
the evening, nor did he leave, nor was he
found in the house afterward," he said, tonelessly.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span>
"So, incredible as it may appear,
he was one of the guests. This Mr. X. came
to the dance wearing the aviator's costume,
or most of it, underneath his masquerade
costume. When he was ready to act, he
doffed his outer costume, appeared as the
Midnight Masquer, effected his purpose, then
calmly donned his outer costume again and
resumed his place among the guests. You
understand?</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, then! Maillard yesterday received
a note from the Masquer, brazenly stating
that he intended to call during the evening.
I have that note. It was written with an
extremely hard lead pencil, such as few men
carry, because it does not easily make very
legible writing. Last night I asked Mr. X.
for a pencil, and he produced one with an
extra hard lead—mentioning that he had
borrowed it from Bob Maillard, as indeed he
had."</p>
<p class="indent">"What! Surely, you don't mean——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course I don't. Mr. X. is very clever,
that's all. Here is what took place last night.
Mr. X. brought us another note from the
Masquer, saying that he had found it pinned
to the library door. As a matter of fact,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span>
he had written it on a leaf torn from his notebook.
I took the note from him, observing
at the time that the paper had no pin holes.
Probably, Mr. X. saw that there was something
amiss; he presently went back downstairs,
took the remainder of the torn leaf
from his notebook, and pinned it to the door.
A little later, I met him and mentioned the
lack of pin holes; he calmly referred me to
the piece on the door, saying that he had
merely torn off the note without removing
the pins. You follow me?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course," murmured the girl, her eyes
wide in fascinated interest. "And he knew
that you guessed him to be the Masquer?"</p>
<p class="indent">"He suspected me, I think," said Fell,
mildly. "It is understood that you will not
go about tracing these little clues? I do not
wish to disclose his identity, even to your
very discreet brain——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't be silly, Uncle Jachin!" she broke
in. "You know I'll do nothing of the sort.
Go on, please! Did you find the airplane?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes." Jachin Fell smiled drily. "I was
thinking of that as I left the house and came
to the line of waiting automobiles. A word
with one of the outside detectives showed me
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span>
that one of the cars in the street had been
testing its engine about midnight. I found
that the car belonged to Mr. X.</p>
<p class="indent">"How simple, Lucie, and how very clever!
The chauffeur worked a powerful motor
with a muffler cutout at about the time Mr.
X., inside the house, was making his appearance.
It scarcely sounded like an airplane
motor, yet frightened and startled, people
would imagine that it did. Thus arose the
legend that the Midnight Masquer came
and departed by means of airplane—a theory
aided ingeniously by his costume. Well,
that is all I know or suspect, my dear Lucie!
And now——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Now, I suppose," said the girl, thoughtfully,
"you'll put that awful Creole of yours
on the track of Mr. X.? Ben Chacherre is
a good chauffeur, and he's amusing enough—but
he's a bloodhound! I don't wonder that
he used to be a criminal. Even if you have
rescued him from a life of crime, you haven't
improved his looks."</p>
<p class="indent">"Exactly—Ben is at work," assented Jachin
Fell. "The gentleman under suspicion is
very prominent. To accuse him without
proof would be utter folly. To catch him
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span>
<i>in flagrante delicto</i> will be difficult. So, I am
in no haste. He will not disappear, believe
me, and something may turn up at any moment
to undo him. Besides, I can as yet
discover no motive for his crimes, since he is
quite well off financially."</p>
<p class="indent">"Gambling," suggested the girl.</p>
<p class="indent">"I cannot find that he has lost any considerable
sums. Well, no matter! Now that
I have fully unbosomed myself, my dear, it is
your turn."</p>
<p class="indent">"All right, Uncle Jachin." Lucie took
a large morocco case from the chair beside
her, and extended it. "You lent me these
things to wear last night, and I——"</p>
<p class="indent">"No, no," intervened Fell. "I gave them
to you, my dear—in fact, I bought them for
you two years ago, and kept them until now!
You have worn them; they are yours, and
you become them better than even did poor
Queen Hortense! So say no more. I trust
that Mrs. Maillard was righteous and envious?"</p>
<p class="indent">"She was disagreeable," said Lucie. She
leaned forward and imprinted a kiss upon
the cheek of the little gray man. "There!
that is all the thanks I can give you, dear
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span>
uncle; the gift makes me very happy, and I'll
not pretend otherwise. Only, I feel as though
I had no right to wear them—they're so
wonderful!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Nonsense! You can do anything you
want to, as Eliza said when she crossed the
ice. But all this isn't why you summoned
me here, you bundle of mystery! What
bothered you last night, or rather, who?"</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie laughed. "There was a Franciscan
who tried to be very mysterious, and to read
my mind. He talked about oil, about a
grasping, hard man, and mentioned you as
my friend. Then he warned me against a proposal
that Bob might make; and sure enough,
Bob did propose to buy what land is left to
me on Bayou Terrebonne, saying he'd persuade
his oil company that there was oil on
it, and that they'd buy or lease it. I told
him no. The Franciscan, afterward, proved
to be Henry Gramont; I wondered if you had
mentioned——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Fell, piously.
"I never even met Gramont until
last night! Do you like him?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Very much." The girl's eyes met his
frankly. "Do you?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span>
"Very much," said Jachin Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie's gray eyes narrowed, searched his
face. "I'm almost able to tell when you're
lying," she observed, calmly. "You said
that a trifle too hastily, Uncle Jachin. Why
don't you like him?"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell laughed, amused. "Perhaps I have
a prejudice against foreign nobles, Lucie.
Our own aristocracy is bad enough, but——"</p>
<p class="indent">"He's discarded all that. He was never
French except in name."</p>
<p class="indent">"You speak as though you'd known him for
some time. Have you had secrets from me?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I have!" laughter dimpled in the girl's
face. "For years and years! When I was
in New York with father, before the war, we
met him; he was visiting in Newport with
college friends. Then, you know that father
and I were in France when the war broke
out—father was ill and almost helpless at
the time, you remember. Gramont came
to Paris to serve with his regiment, and met
us there. He helped us get away, procured
real money for us, got us passage to New
York. He knows lots of our friends, and
I've always been deeply grateful to him for
his assistance then.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span>
"We've corresponded quite frequently during
the war," she pursued. "I mentioned
him several times after we got home from
France, but you probably failed to notice
the name. It's only since he came to New
Orleans that I really kept any secrets from
you; this time, I wanted to find out if you
liked him."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell nodded slowly. His face was
quite innocent of expression.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, yes," he said. "Yes—of course.
He's a geologist or engineer, I think?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Both, and a good one. He's a stockholder
in Bob Maillard's oil company, and I
think he's come here to stay. Well, about
last night—he probably guessed at some of
my private affairs; I've written or spoken
rather frankly, perhaps. Also, Bob may
have blabbed to him. Bob still drinks—prohibition
has not hit <i>him</i> very hard!"</p>
<p class="indent">"No," agreed Fell, gravely. "Unfortunately,
no. Lucie, I've discovered a most
important fact. Joseph Maillard did not
own any stock in the Bayou Oil Company
at the time your land was sold them by him,
and he had no interest at all in the real estate
concern that bought your St. Landry swamplands
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span>
and made a fortune off them. We
have really blamed him most unjustly."</p>
<p class="indent">For a moment there was silence between
them.</p>
<p class="indent">"We need not mince matters," pursued
Fell, slowly. "Maillard has no scruples and
no compassion; all the same, I am forced
to the belief that he has maintained your
interest uprightly, and that his mistakes
were only errors. I do not believe that he
has profited in the least from you. Two small
fortunes were swept out of your grip when he
sold those lands; yet they had been worthless,
and he had good offers for them. His
investments in the companies concerned were
made afterward, and I am certain he sold the
lands innocently."</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie drew a deep breath.</p>
<p class="indent">"I am glad you have said this," she returned,
simply. "It's been hard for me to
think that Uncle Joseph had taken advantage
of me; I simply couldn't make myself
believe it. I think that he honestly likes
me, as far as he permits himself to like any
one."</p>
<p class="indent">"He'd not loan you money on it," said
Fell. "Friendship isn't a tangible security
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span>
with him. And a girl is never secure, as
Eliza said when she crossed the ice."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, who really did profit by my loss?
Any one?"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell's pale gray eyes twinkled, then cleared
in their usually wide innocence.</p>
<p class="indent">"My dear Lucie, is there one person in
this world to whose faults Joseph Maillard is
deliberately blind—one person to whose influence
he is ever open—one person to whom
he would refuse nothing, in whom he would
pardon everything, of whom he would never
believe any evil report?"</p>
<p class="indent">"You mean——" Lucie drew a quick breath,
"Bob?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, I mean Bob. That he has profited
by your loss I am not yet in a position to
say; but I suspect it. He has his father's
cupidity without his father's sense of honour
to restrain him. When I have finished with
the Masquer, I shall take up his trail."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell rose. "Now I must be off,
my dear. By the way, if I have need of you
in running down the Masquer, may I call
upon your services?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Certainly! I'd love to help, Uncle Jachin!
We'd be real detectives?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span>
"Almost." Jachin Fell smiled slightly.
"Will you dine with us to-morrow evening,
Lucie? My mother commanded me to bring
you as soon as possible——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, your mother!" exclaimed the girl,
contritely. "I was so absorbed in the Masquer
that I forgot to ask after her. How is
she?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Quite as usual, thank you. I presume
that you'll attend Comus with the Maillards?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes. I'll come to-morrow night gladly,
Uncle Jachin."</p>
<p class="indent">"And we'll take a look at the Proteus ball
afterward, if you like. I'll send Ben Chacherre
for you with the car, if you're not
afraid of him."</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie looked gravely into the smiling eyes
of Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm not exactly afraid of him," she responded,
soberly, "but there is something
about him that I can't like. I'm sorry that
you're trying to regenerate him, in a way."</p>
<p class="indent">Fell shrugged lightly. "All life is an effort,
little one! Well, good-bye."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell left the house at three-forty.
Twenty minutes later the bell rang again.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>[pg 72]</span>
Lucie sent one of the servants to admit Henry
Gramont; she kept him waiting a full fifteen
minutes before she appeared, and then she
made no apologies whatever for the delay.</p>
<p class="indent">Not that Gramont minded waiting; he
deemed it a privilege to linger in this house!
He loved to study the place, so reflective of
its owner. He loved the white Colonial mantel
that surrounded the fireplace, perpetually
alight, with its gleaming sheen of old brasses,
and the glittering fire-set to one side. The
very air of the place, the atmosphere that it
breathed, was sweet to him.</p>
<p class="indent">The Napoleon bed that filled the bow
window, with its pillows and soft coverings;
the inlaid walnut cabinet made by Sheraton,
with its quaintly curved glasses that reflected
the old-time curios within; the tilt
tables, the rosewood chairs, the rugs, bought
before the oriental rug market was flooded
with machine-made Senna knots—about
everything here had an air of comfort, of long
use, of restfulness. It was not the sort of
place built up, raw item by raw item, by the
colour-frenzied hands of decorators. It was
the sort of place that decorators strive desperately
to imitate, and cannot.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span>
When Lucie made her appearance, Gramont
bent over her hand and addressed her
in French.</p>
<p class="indent">"You are charming as ever, Shining One!
And in years to come you will be still more
charming. That is the beauty of having a
name taken direct from the classics and bestowed
as a good fairy's gift——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you, monsieur—but you have
translated my name at least twenty times,
and I am weary of hearing it," responded
Lucie, laughingly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Poor taste, mademoiselle, to grow weary
of such beauty!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not of the name, but of your exegesis
upon it. Why should I not be displeased?
Last night you were positively rude, and
now you decry my taste! Did you leave
all your manners in France, M. le prince?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Some of them, yes—and all that prince
stuff with them." Smiling as he dropped into
English, Gramont glanced about the room,
and his eyes softened.</p>
<p class="indent">"This is a lovey and loveable home of
yours, Lucie!" he exclaimed, gravely. "So
few homes are worthy the name; so few have
in them the intimate air of use and friendliness—why
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span>
are so many furnished from
bargain sales? This place is touched with
repose and sweetness; to come and sit here
is a privilege. It is like being in another
world, after all the money striving and the
dollar madness of the city."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh!" The girl's gaze searched him
curiously. "I hope you're not going to take
the fine artistic pose that it is a crime to
make money?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont laughed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Not much! I want to make money
myself; that's one reason I'm in New Orleans.
Still, you cannot deny that there is a craze
about the eternal clutching after dollars. I
can't make the dollar sign the big thing in
life, Lucie. You couldn't, either."</p>
<p class="indent">She frowned a little.</p>
<p class="indent">"You seem to have the European notion
that all Americans are dollar chasers!"</p>
<p class="indent">He shrugged his shoulders slightly. His
harshly lined face was very strong; one
sensed that its harshness had come from the
outside—from hunger, from hardship and
privations, from suffering strongly borne. He
had not gone through the war unscathed,
this young man who had tossed away a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span>
princely "de" in order to become plain
Henry Gramont, American citizen.</p>
<p class="indent">"In a sense, yes; why not?" he answered.
"I am an American. I am a dollar chaser,
and not ashamed of it. I am going into
business here. Once it is a success, I shall go
on; I shall see America, I shall come to know
this whole country of mine, all of it! I have
been a month in New Orleans—do you know,
a strange thing happened to me only a few
days after I arrived here!"</p>
<p class="indent">With her eyes she urged him on, and he
continued gravely:</p>
<p class="indent">"In France I met a man, an American
sergeant named Hammond. It was just at
the close of things. We had adjoining cots
at Nice——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah!" she exclaimed, quickly. "I remember,
you wrote about him—the man who
had been wounded in both legs! Did he get
well? You never said."</p>
<p class="indent">"I never knew until I came here," answered
Gramont. "One night, not long after I had
got established in my pension on Burgundy
Street, a man tried to rob me. It was this
same man, Hammond; we recognized each
other almost at once.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span>
"I took him home with me and learned his
story. He had come back to America only
to find his wife dead from influenza, his home
broken up, his future destroyed. He drifted
to New Orleans, careless of what happened to
him. He flung himself desperately into a
career of burglary and pillage. Well, I gave
Hammond a job; he is my chauffeur. You
would never recognize him as the same man
now! I am very proud of his friendship."</p>
<p class="indent">"That was well said." Lucie nodded her
head quickly. "I shan't call you M. Le
prince any more—unless you offend again."</p>
<p class="indent">He smiled, reading her thought. "I try
not to be a snob, eh? Well, what I'm driving
at is this: I want to know this country of
mine, to see it with clear, unprejudiced eyes.
We hide our real shames and exalt our false
ones. Why should we be ashamed of chasing
the dollar? So long as that is a means to the
end of happiness, it's all right. But there are
some men who see it as an end alone, who can
set no <i>finis</i> to their work except the dollar
dropping into their pouch. Such a man is
your relative, Joseph Maillard—I say it
without offence."</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie nodded, realizing that he was driving
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[pg 77]</span>
at some deeper thing, and held her
peace.</p>
<p class="indent">"You realize the fact, eh?" Gramont smiled
faintly. "I do not wish to offend you, and
I shall therefore refrain from saying all
that is in my mind. But you have not
hesitated to intimate very frankly that you
are not wealthy. Some time ago, if you
recall, you wrote me how you had just missed
wealth through having sold some land. I
have taken the liberty of looking up that
deal to some extent, and I have suspected
that your uncle had some interest in putting
the sale through——"</p>
<p class="indent">The gray eyes of the girl flashed suddenly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Henry Gramont! Are my family affairs
to be an open book to the world?" A slight
flush, perhaps of anger, perhaps of some
other emotion, rose in the girl's cheeks. "Do
you realize that you are intruding most unwarrantably
into my private matters?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Unwarrantably?" Gramont's eyes held
her gaze steadily. "Do you really mean to
use that word?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I do, most certainly!" answered Lucie
with spirit. "I don't think you realize just
what the whole thing tends toward——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[pg 78]</span>
"Oh, yes I do! Quite clearly." Gramont's
cool, level tone conquered her indignation.
"I see that you are orphaned,
and that your uncle was your guardian, and
executed questionable deals which lost money
for you. Come, that's brutally frank—but
it's true! We are friends of long standing;
not intimate friends, perhaps, and yet I
think very good friends. I am most certainly
not ashamed to say that when I had
the occasion to look out for your interests
I was very glad of the chance."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont paused, but she did not speak.
He continued after a moment:</p>
<p class="indent">"You had intimated to me, perhaps without
meaning to do so, something of the
situation. I came here to New Orleans and
became involved in some dealings with your
cousin, Bob Maillard. I believed, and I
believe now, that in your heart you have some
suspicion of your uncle in regard to those
transactions in land. Therefore, I took the
trouble to look into the thing to a slight extent.
Shall I tell you what I have discovered?"</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie Ledanois gazed at him, her lips compressed.
She liked this new manner of his,
this firm and resolute gravity, this harshness.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span>
It brought out his underlying character very
well.</p>
<p class="indent">"If you please, Henry," she murmured
very meekly. "Since you have thrust yourself
into my private affairs, I think I should
at least get whatever benefit I can!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Exactly. Why not?" He made a grave
gesture of assent. "Well, then, I have discovered
that your uncle appears to be honestly
at fault in the matter——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Thanks for this approval of my family,"
she murmured.</p>
<p class="indent">"And," continued Gramont, imperturbably,
"that your suspicions of him were groundless.
But, on the other hand, something new has
turned up about which I wish to speak—but
about which I must speak delicately."</p>
<p class="indent">"Be frank, my dear Henry—even brutal!
Speak, by all means."</p>
<p class="indent">"Very well. Has Bob Maillard offered to
buy your remaining land on the Bayou
Terrebonne?"</p>
<p class="indent">She started slightly. So it was to this that
he had been leading up all the while!</p>
<p class="indent">"He broached the subject last night," she
answered. "I dismissed it for the time."</p>
<p class="indent">"Good!" he exclaimed with boyish vigour.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span>
"Good! I warned you in time, then! If you
will permit me, I must advise you not to
part with that land—not even for a good
offer. This week, immediately Mardi Gras
is over, I am going to inspect that land for the
company; it is Bob Maillard's company, you
know.</p>
<p class="indent">"If there's any chance of finding oil there,
I shall first see you, then advise the company.
You can hold out for your fair share of the
mineral rights, instead of selling the whole
thing. You'll get it! Landowners around
here are not yet wise to the oil game, but
they'll soon learn."</p>
<p class="indent">"You would betray your business associates
to help me?" she asked, curious to hear
his reply. A slow flush crept into his cheeks.</p>
<p class="indent">"Certainly not! But I would not betray
you to help my business friends. Is my
unwarrantable intrusion forgiven?"</p>
<p class="indent">She nodded brightly. "You are put on
probation, sir. You're in Bob's company?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes." Gramont frowned. "I invested
perhaps too hastily—but no matter now. I
have the car outside, Lucie; may I have the
pleasure of taking you driving?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Did you bring that chauffeur?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>[pg 81]</span>
"Yes," and he laughed at her eagerness.</p>
<p class="indent">"Good! I accept—because I must see that
famous soldier-bandit-chauffeur. If you'll
wait, I'll be ready in a minute."</p>
<p class="indent">She hurried from the room, a snatch of song
on her lips. Gramont smiled as he waited.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>[pg 82]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>The Masquer Unmasks</i></p>
<p>IN NEW ORLEANS one may find pensions
in the old quarter—the quarter which is
still instinct with the pulse of old-world
life. These pensions do not advertise. The
average tourist knows nothing of them. Even
if he knew, indeed, he might have some
difficulty in obtaining accommodations, for
it is not nearly enough to have the money;
one must also have the introductions, come
well recommended, and be under the tongue
of good repute.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont had obtained a small apartment
<i>en pension</i>—a quiet and severely retired house
in Burgundy Street, maintained by a very
proud old lady whose ancestors had come
out of Canada with the Sieur d'Iberville.
Here Gramont lived with Hammond, quite on a
basis of equality, and they were very comfortable.</p>
<p class="indent">The two men sat smoking their pipes before
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>[pg 83]</span>
the fireplace, in which blazed a small fire—more
for good cheer than through necessity.
It was Sunday evening. Between Gramont
and Hammond had arisen a discussion regarding
their relations—a discussion which
was perhaps justified by Gramont's quixotic
laying down of the law.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's all very well, Hammond," he mused,
"to follow custom and precedent, to present
to the world a front which will not shock its
proprieties, its sense of tradition and fitness.
In the world's eye you are my chauffeur.
But when we're alone together—nonsense!"</p>
<p class="indent">"That's all right, cap'n," said Hammond,
shrewdly. To him, Gramont was always
"cap'n" and nothing else. "But you know's
well as I do it can't go on forever. I'm
workin' for you, and that's the size of it. I
ain't got the education to stack up alongside
of you. I don't want you to get the notion
that I'm figuring on takin' advantage of
you——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Bosh! I suppose some day I'll be
wealthy, married, and bound in the chains of
social usage and custom," said Gramont,
energetically. "But that day isn't here yet.
If you think I'll accept deference and servility
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>[pg 84]</span>
from any man who has endured the same
hunger and cold and wounds that I endured
in France—then guess again! We're friends
in a democracy of Americans. You're just as
good a man as I am, and vice versa. Besides,
aren't we fellow criminals?"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond grinned at this. There was no
lack of shrewd intelligence in his broad and
powerful features, which were crowned by a
rim of reddish hair.</p>
<p class="indent">"All that line o' bull sounds good, cap'n,
only it's away off," he returned. "Trouble
with you is, you ain't forgot the war yet."</p>
<p class="indent">"I never will," said Gramont, his face
darkening.</p>
<p class="indent">"Sure you will! We all will. And you
ain't as used to this country as I am, either.
I've seen too much of it. You ain't seen
enough."</p>
<p class="indent">"I've seen enough to know that it's my
country."</p>
<p class="indent">"Right. But I ain't as good a man as you
are, not by a long shot!" said Hammond,
cheerfully. "You proved that the night you
caught me comin' into the window at the
Lavergne house. You licked me without
half tryin', cap'n!</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>[pg 85]</span>
"Anyhow," pursued Hammond, "America
ain't a democracy, unless you're runnin' for
Congress. It sounds good to the farmers,
but wait till you've been here long enough to
get out of your fine notions! Limousines
and money ain't got much use for democracy.
The men who have brains, like you, always
will give orders, I reckon."</p>
<p class="indent">"Bosh!" said Gramont again. "It isn't a
question of having brains. It's a question of
knowing what to do with them. All men
are born free and equal——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not much!" retorted the other with
conviction. "All men were born free, but
mighty few were born equal, cap'n. That
sort o' talk sounds good in the newspapers,
but it don't go very far with the guy at the
bottom, nor the top, either!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont stared into the flickering fire and
sucked at his pipe. He realized that in a
sense Hammond was quite correct in his
argument; nonetheless, he looked on the
other man as a comrade, and always would
do so. It was true that he had not forgotten
the war. Suddenly he roused himself and
shot a glance at Hammond.</p>
<p class="indent">"Sergeant! You seem to have a pretty
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>[pg 86]</span>
good recollection of that night at the Lavergne
house, when I found you entering and jumped
on you."</p>
<p class="indent">"You bet I have!" Hammond chuckled.
"When you'd knocked the goggles off me and
we recognized each other—hell! I felt like a
boob."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont smiled. "How many places had
you robbed up to then? Three, wasn't it?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Three is right, cap'n," was the unashamed
response.</p>
<p class="indent">"We haven't referred to it very often, but
now things have happened." Gramont's face
took on harsh lines of determination. "Do
you know, it was a lucky thing that you had
no chance to dispose of the jewels and money
you obtained? But I suppose you didn't
call it good luck at the time."</p>
<p class="indent">"No chance?" snorted the other. "No
chance is right, cap'n! And I was sore, too.
Say, they got a ring of crooks around this
town you couldn't bust into with grenades!
I couldn't figure it out for a while, but only the
other day I got the answer. Listen here, and
I'll tell you something big."</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond leaned forward, lowered his
voice, and tamped at his pipe.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>[pg 87]</span>
"When I was a young fellow I lived in a
little town up North—I ain't sayin' where.
My old man had a livery stable there, see?
Well, one night a guy come along and got the
old man out of bed, and slips him fifteen
hundred for a rig and a team, see? I drove
the guy ten miles through the hills, and set
him on a road he wanted to find.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now, that guy was the biggest crook in the
country in them days—still is, I guess. He was
on the dead run that night, to keep out o'
Leavenworth. He kep' out, all right, and he's
settin' in the game to this minute. Nobody
never pinched him yet, and never will."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont's face had tensed oddly as he
listened. Now he shot out a single word:</p>
<p class="indent">"Why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Because his gang runs back to politicians
and rich guys all over the country. You ask
anybody on the inside if they ever heard of
Memphis Izzy Gumberts! Well, cap'n, I
seen that very identical guy on the street the
other day—I never could forget his ugly
mug! And where <i>he</i> is, no outside crooks
can get in, you believe me!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Hm! Memphis Izzy Gumberts, eh?
What kind of a crook is he, sergeant?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>[pg 88]</span>
"The big kind. You remember them
Chicago lotteries? But you don't, o' course.
Well, that's his game—lotteries and such
like."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont's lips clenched for a minute, then
he spoke with slow distinctness:</p>
<p class="indent">"Sergeant, I'd have given five hundred
dollars for that information a week ago!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Why?" Hammond stared at him suddenly.
Gramont shook his head.</p>
<p class="indent">"Never mind. Forget it! Now, this stunt
of yours was clever. You showed brains
when you got yourself up as an aviator and
pulled that stuff, sergeant. But you handled
it brutally—terribly brutally."</p>
<p class="indent">"It was a little raw, I guess," conceded
Hammond. "I was up against it, that's all—I
figured they'd pinch me sooner or later, but
I didn't care, and that's the truth! I was
out for the coin.</p>
<p class="indent">"When you took over the costume and
began to get across with the Raffles stuff—why,
it was a pipe for you, cap'n! Look
what we've done in a month. Six jobs,
every one running off smooth as glass! Your
notion of going to parties ready dressed
with some kind of loose robe over the flyin'
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>[pg 89]</span>
duds was a scream! And then me running
that motor with the cutout on—all them
birds that never heard an airplane think you
come and go by air, for certain! I will say
that I ain't on to why you're doing it; just
the same, you've got them all fooled, and I
ain't worried a particle about the cops or the
crooks, either one. But watch out for the
Gumberts crowd! They're liable to show
us up to the bulls, simply because we ain't in
with 'em. Nobody else will ever find us
out."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded thoughtfully.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes? But, sergeant, how about the quiet
little man who came along last night at the
Maillard house and asked about the car?
Perhaps he had discovered you had been
running the engine."</p>
<p class="indent">"Him?" Hammond sniffed in scorn. "He
wasn't no dick."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, I was followed to-day; at least, I
think I was. I could spot nobody after me,
but I felt certain of it. And let me tell you
something about that same quiet little man!
His name is Jachin Fell."</p>
<p class="indent">"Heluva name," commented Hammond,
and wrinkled up his brow. "Jachin, huh?
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>[pg 90]</span>
Seems like I've heard the name before. Out
o' the Bible, ain't it? Something about
Jachin and Boaz?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I imagine so." Gramont smiled as he
replied. "Fell is a lawyer, but he never
practises law. He's rich, he's a very fine
chess player—and probably the smartest
man in New Orleans, sergeant. Just what
he does I don't know; no one does. I imagine
that he's one of those quiet men who
stay in the backgrounds of city politics and
pull the strings. You know, one administration
has been in power here for nearly
twenty years—it's something to make a man
stop and think!</p>
<p class="indent">"This chap Fell is sharp, confoundedly
sharp!" went on Gramont, while the chauffeur
listened with frowning intentness. "He's
altogether too sharp to be a criminal—or
I'd suspect that he was using his knowledge
of the law to beat the law. Well, I think
that he is on to me, and is trying to get the
goods on me."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh!" said Hammond. "And someone
was trailin' you? Think he's put the bulls
wise?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont shrugged his shoulders. "I don't
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>[pg 91]</span>
know. He almost caught me last night.
We'll have to get rid of that aviator's suit at
once, and of the loot also. I suppose you've
reconciled yourself to returning the stuff?"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond stirred uneasily, and laid down
his pipe.</p>
<p class="indent">"Look here, cap'n," he said, earnestly.
"I wasn't runnin' a holdup game because I
liked it, and I wasn't doing it for the fun of
the thing, like you are. I was dead broke, I
hadn't any hope left, and I didn't care a
damn whether I lived or died—that's on the
dead! Right there, you come along and
picked me up.</p>
<p class="indent">"You give me a job. What's more, you've
treated me white, cap'n. I guess you seen
that I was just a man with the devil at his
heels, and you chased the devil off. You've
given me something decent to live for—to
make good because you got some faith in me!
Why, when you went out on that first job of
ours, d'you know it like to broke me up? It
did. Only, when we got home that night and
you said it was all a joke, and you'd send
back the loot later on, then I begun to feel
better about it. Even if you'd gone into it
as a reg'lar business, I'd have stuck with you—but
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>[pg 92]</span>
I was darned glad about its bein' a
joke!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded in comprehension of the
other's feeling.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's not been altogether a joke, sergeant,"
he said, gravely. "To tell the truth, I did
start it as a joke, but soon afterward I learned
something that led me to keep it up. I
kept it up until I could hit the Maillard house.
It was my intention to turn up at the Comus
ball, on Tuesday night, and there make public
restitution of the stuff—but that's impossible
now. I dare not risk it! That man Fell is too
smart."</p>
<p class="indent">"You're not goin' to pull the trick again,
then?" queried Hammond, eagerly.</p>
<p class="indent">"No. I'm through. I've got what I
wanted. Still, I don't wish to return the
stuff before Wednesday—Ash Wednesday,
the end of the carnival season. Suppose you
get out the loot and find me some boxes.
And be sure they have no name on them or
any store labels."</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond leaped up and vanished in the
room adjoining. Presently he returned, bearing
several cardboard boxes which he dumped
on the centre table. Gramont examined them
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>[pg 93]</span>
closely, and laid aside a number that were best
suited to his purpose. Meantime, the chauffeur
was opening a steamer trunk which he
pulled from under the bed.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm blamed glad you're done, believe
me!" he uttered, fervently, glancing up at
Gramont. "Far's I'm concerned I don't
care much, but I'd sure hate to see the bulls
turn in a guy like you, cap'n. You couldn't
ever persuade anybody that it was all a joke,
neither, once they nabbed you. They're a
bad bunch o' bulls in this town—it ain't like
Chi or other places, where you can stand in
right and do a bit o' fixing."</p>
<p class="indent">"You seem to know the game pretty well,"
and Gramont smiled amusedly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ain't I been a chauffeur and garage
man?" retorted Hammond, as though this
explained much. "If there's anything us
guys don't run up against, you can't name
it! Here we are. Want me to keep each
bunch separate, don't you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Sure. I'll be writing some notes to go
inside."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont went to a buhl writing desk in the
corner of the room, and sat down. He took
out his notebook, tore off several sheets, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>[pg 94]</span>
from his pocket produced a pencil having an
extremely hard lead. He wrote a number of
notes, which, except for the addresses, were
identical in content:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:</p>
<p class="indent">I enclose herewith certain jewellery and articles, also
currency, recently obtained by me under your kind
auspices.</p>
<p class="indent">I trust that you will assume the responsibility of
returning these things to the various guests who lost
them while under your roof. I regret any discomfort
occasioned by my taking them as a loan, which I now
return. Please convey to the several owners my profound
esteem and my assurance that I shall not in future
appear to trouble any one, the carnival season having
come to an end, and with it my little jest.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">The Midnight Masquer.</span></p>
</blockquote>
<p class="indent">Gathering up these notes in his hand,
Gramont went to the fireplace. He tossed
the pencil into the fire, following it with the
notebook.</p>
<p class="indent">"Can't take chances with that man Fell,"
he explained. "All ready, sergeant. Let's
go down the list one by one."</p>
<p class="indent">From the trunk Hammond produced ticketed
packages, which he placed on the table.
Gramont selected one, opened it, carefully
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>[pg 95]</span>
packed the contents in one of the boxes,
placed the proper addressed note on top, and
handed it to the chauffeur.</p>
<p class="indent">"Wrap it up and address it. Give the
return address of John Smith, Bayou Teche."</p>
<p class="indent">One by one they went through the packages
of loot in the same manner. Before them on
the table, as they worked, glittered little
heaps of rings, brooches, watches, currency;
jewels that flashed garishly with coloured
fires, historic and famous jewels plucked
from the aristocratic heart of the southland,
heirlooms of a past generation side by side
with platinum crudities of the present fashion.</p>
<p class="indent">There had been heartburnings in the loss of
these things, Gramont knew. He could picture
to himself something of what had followed
his robberies: family quarrels, new purchases
in the gem marts, bitter reproaches, fresh
mortgages on old heritages, vexations of
wealthy dowagers, shrugs of unconcern by
the <i>nouveaux riches</i>; perchance lives
altered—deaths—divorces——</p>
<p class="indent">"There's a lot of human life behind these
baubles, sergeant," he reflected aloud, a cold
smile upon his lips as he worked. "When
they come back to their owners, I'd like to be
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>[pg 96]</span>
hovering around in an invisible mantle to
watch results! Could we only know it,
we're probably affecting the lives of a great
many people—for good and ill. These things
stand for money; and there's nothing like
money, or the lack of it, to guide the destinies
of people."</p>
<p class="indent">"You said it," and Hammond grinned.
"I'm here to prove it, ain't I? I ain't pulling
no more gunplay, now I got me a steady
job."</p>
<p class="indent">"And a steady friend, old man," added
Gramont. "Did it occur to you that maybe
I was as much in need of a friend as you
were?"</p>
<p class="indent">He had come to the last box now, that
which must go to Joseph Maillard. On top
of the money and scarfpins which he placed
in the box he laid a thin packet of papers.
He tapped them with his finger.</p>
<p class="indent">"Those papers, sergeant! To get them,
I've been playing the whole game. To get
them and not to let their owner suspect that
I was after them! Now they're going back
to their owner."</p>
<p class="indent">"Who's he?" demanded Hammond.</p>
<p class="indent">"Young Maillard—son of the banker. He
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>[pg 97]</span>
roped me into an oil company; caught me,
like a sucker, almost the first week I was here.
I put pretty near my whole wad into that
company of his."</p>
<p class="indent">"You mean he stung you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not yet." Gramont smiled coldly,
harshly. "That was his intention; he thought
I was a Frenchman who would fall for any
sort of game. I fell right enough—but I'll
come out on top of the heap."</p>
<p class="indent">The other frowned. "I don't get you,
cap'n. Some kind o' stock deal?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, and no." Gramont paused, and
seemed to choose his words with care. "Miss
Ledanois, the lady who was driving with us
this afternoon, is an old friend of mine. I've
known for some time that somebody was
fleecing her. I suspected that it was Maillard
the elder, for he has had the handling of
her affairs for some time past. Now, however,
those papers have given me the truth.
He was straight enough with her; his son was
the man.</p>
<p class="indent">"The young fool imagines that by trickery
and juggling he is playing the game of high
finance! He worked on his father, made his
father sell land owned by Miss Ledanois, and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>[pg 98]</span>
he himself reaped the profits. There are
notes and stock issues among those papers
that give his whole game away, to my eyes.
Not legal evidence, as I had hoped, but
evidence enough to show me the truth of
things—to show me that he's a scoundrel!
Further, they bear on my own case, and I'm
satisfied now that I'd be ruined if I stayed
with him."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, that's easy settled," said Hammond.
"Just hold him up with them papers—make
him come across!"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm not in that sort of business. I stole
those papers, not to use them for blackmail,
but to get information. By the way, get that
tin box out of my trunk, will you? I want to
take my stock certificates with me in the
morning, and must not forget them."</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond disappeared into the adjoining
room.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont sat gazing at the boxes before
him. Despite his words to Hammond,
there was a fund of puzzled displeasure in his
eyes, sheer dissatisfaction. He shook his
head gloomily, and his eyes clouded.</p>
<p class="indent">"All wasted—the whole effort!" he murmured.
"I thought it might lead to something,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>[pg 99]</span>
but all it has given me is the reward of
saving myself and possibly retrieving Lucie.
As for the larger game, the bigger quarry—it's
all wasted. I haven't unravelled a single
thread; the first real clue came to me to-night,
purely by accident. Memphis Izzy
Gumberts! That's the lead to follow! I'll
get rid of this Midnight Masquer foolishness
and go after the real game."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont was to discover that it is not
nearly so easy to be rid of folly as it is to don
the jester's cap and bells; a fact which one
Simplicissimus had discovered to his sorrow
three hundred years earlier. But, as Gramont
was not versed in this line of literature,
he yet had the discovery ahead of him.</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond reëntered the room with the
tin box, from which Gramont took his stock
certificates issued by Bob Maillard's oil company.
He pocketed the shares.</p>
<p class="indent">"Does this here Miss Ledanois," asked
Hammond, "play in with you in the game?
Young Maillard's related to her, ain't he?"</p>
<p class="indent">"She's quite aware of his drawbacks, I
think," answered Gramont, drily.</p>
<p class="indent">"I see." Hammond rubbed his chin, and
inspected his employer with a twinkle denoting
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>[pg 100]</span>
perfect comprehension. "Well, how
d'you expect to come out on top of the heap?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I want to get my own money back,"
explained Gramont. "You see, young
Maillard thinks that he's cleaned me up
fine. I've invested heavily in his company,
which has a couple of small wells already
going. As I conceive the probable scheme,
this company is scheduled to fail, and another
company will take over the stock at next to
nothing. Maillard will be the other company;
his present associates will be the
suckers! It's that, or some similar trick.
I'm no longer interested in the affair."</p>
<p class="indent">"Why not, if you got money in it?"</p>
<p class="indent">"My son, to-morrow is Monday. Proteus
will arrive out of the sea to-morrow, and the
Proteus ball comes off to-morrow night. In
spite of these distractions, the banks are
open in the morning. Savvy?</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll go to Maillard the banker—Joseph
Maillard—first thing in the morning, and
offer him my stock. He'll be mighty glad to
get it at a discount, knowing that it is in his
son's company. You see, the son doesn't
confide in the old man particularly. I'll let
the father win a little money on the deal
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span>
with me, and by doing this I'll manage to
save the greater part of my investment——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Holy mackerel!" Hammond exploded
in a burst of laughter as he caught the idea.
"Say, if this ain't the richest thing ever
pulled! When the crash comes, the fancy
kid will be stinging his dad good and hard,
eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Exactly; and I think his dad can afford
to be stung much better than I can," agreed
Gramont, cheerfully. "Also, now that I'm
certain Bob Maillard is the one who was
behind the fleecing of Miss Ledanois, I'll first
get clear of him, then I'll start to give him his
deserts. I may form an oil company of my
own."</p>
<p class="indent">"Do it," advised Hammond, still chuckling.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now," and Gramont rose, "let's take
those packages and stow them away in the
luggage compartment of the car. I'm getting
nervous at the thought of having them
around here, and they'll be perfectly safe
there overnight—safer there than here, in
fact. To-morrow, you can take the car out
of town and send the packages by parcels
post from some small town.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span>
"In that way they ought to be delivered
here on Wednesday. You'd better wear one
of my suits, leaving your chauffeur's outfit
here, and don't halt the car in front of the
postoffice where you mail the packages——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I get you," assented Hammond, sagely.
"I'll leave the car outside town, and hoof it in
with the boxes, so that nobody will notice the
car or connect it with the packages, eh? But
what about them aviator's clothes?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Take them with you—better get them
wrapped up here and now. You can toss
them into a ditch anywhere."</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond obeyed.</p>
<p class="indent">Ten minutes afterward the two men left
the room, carrying the packages of loot and
the bundle containing the aviator's uniform.
They descended to the courtyard in the rear
of the house. Here was a small garden, with
a fountain in its centre. Behind this were
the stables, which had long been disused as
such, and which were now occupied only by
the car of Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">It was with undisguised relief that Gramont
now saw the stuff actually out of the
house. Within the last few hours he had
become intensely afraid of Jachin Fell.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>[pg 103]</span>
Concentrating himself upon the man, picking
up information guardedly, he had that day
assimilated many small items which increased
his sense of peril from that quarter. Straws,
no more, but quite significant straws. Gramont
realized clearly that if the police ever
searched his rooms and found this loot, he
would be lost. There could be no excuse
that would hold water for a minute against
such evidence.</p>
<p class="indent">In the garage, Hammond switched on the
lights of the car. By the glow they disposed
their burdens in the luggage compartment of
the tonneau, which held them neatly. The
car was a large twelve-cylinder, four-passenger
Nonpareil, which Gramont had
picked up in the used-car market. Hammond
had tinkered it into magnificent shape,
and loved the piece of mechanism as the very
apple of his eye.</p>
<p class="indent">The luggage compartment closed and
locked, they returned into the house and
dismissed the affair as settled.</p>
<p class="indent">Upon the following morning Gramont,
who usually breakfasted <i>en pension</i> with
his hostess, had barely seated himself at
the table when he perceived the figure of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>[pg 104]</span>
Hammond at the rear entrance of the
dining room. The chauffeur beckoned him
hastily.</p>
<p class="indent">"Come out here, cap'n!" Hammond was
breathing heavily, and seemed to be in some
agitation. "Want to show you somethin'!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Is there anything important?" Gramont
hesitated. The other regarded him with a
baleful countenance.</p>
<p class="indent">"Important? Worse'n that!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont rose and followed Hammond out
to the garage, much to his amazement. The
chauffeur halted beside the car and extended
him a key, pointing to the luggage
compartment.</p>
<p class="indent">"Here's the key—you open her!"</p>
<p class="indent">"What's the matter, man?"</p>
<p class="indent">"The stuff's gone!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont seized the key and opened the
compartment. It proved empty indeed. He
stared up into the face of Hammond who
was watching in dogged silence.</p>
<p class="indent">"I knew you'd suspect me," broke out
the chauffeur, but Gramont interrupted him
curtly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't be a fool; nothing of the sort.
Was the garage locked?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span>
"Yes, and the compartment, too! I came
out to look over that cut tire, and thought
I'd make sure the stuff was safe——"</p>
<p class="indent">"We're up against it, that's all." Gramont
compressed his lips for a moment. Then he
straightened up and clapped the other on the
shoulder. "Buck up! I never thought of
suspecting you, old fellow. Someone must
have been watching us last night, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">"The guy that trailed you yesterday,
most like," agreed Hammond, dourly. "It
ain't hard to break into this place, and any
one could open that compartment with a
hairpin."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, you're saved a trip into the country."</p>
<p class="indent">"You think they got us, cap'n? What can
we do?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Do?" Gramont shrugged his shoulders
and laughed. "Nothing except to wait and
see what happens next! If you want to
run, I'll give you enough money to land you
in New York or Frisco——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Run—hell!" Hammond sniffed in scorn.
"What d'you think I am—a boche? I'll
stick."</p>
<p class="indent">"Good boy." Gramont turned toward the
house. "Come along in and get breakfast,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span>
and don't touch that compartment door. I
want to examine it later."</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond gazed admiringly after him as
he crossed the garden. "If you ain't a cool
hand, I'm a Dutchman!" he murmured, and
followed his master.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Chacherre</i></p>
<p>AT TEN o'clock that Monday morning
Gramont's car approached Canal
Street, and halted a block distant.
For any car to gain Canal, much less to follow
it, was impossible. From curb to curb the
wide avenue was thronged with carnival folk,
who would hold their own until Proteus came
ashore to manage his own parade and his own
section of the festivities.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont left the car, and turned to speak
with Hammond.</p>
<p class="indent">"I've made out at least two fingerprints on
the luggage compartment," he said, quietly.
"Drive around to police headquarters and
enter a complaint in my name to a robbery
of the compartment; say that the thief got
away with some valuable packages I had been
about to mail. They have a process of transferring
fingerprints such as these; get it done.
Perhaps they can identify the thief, for it must
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span>
have been some clever picklock to get into the
compartment without leaving a scratch. Take
your time about it and come home when
you've finished."</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond listened stolidly. "If it was
the bulls done it, cap'n, going to them will get
us pinched sure——"</p>
<p class="indent">"If they had done it," said Gramont,
"we'd have been pinched long before this!
It was someone sent by that devil Jachin
Fell, and I'll land him if I can!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Then Fell will land us if he's got the
stuff!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Let him! How can he prove anything,
unless he had brought the police to open up
that compartment? Get along with you!"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond grinned, saluted, and drove
away.</p>
<p class="indent">Slowly Gramont edged his way through the
eddying crowds to Canal Street, and presently
gained the imposing portals of the Exeter
National Bank. Entering the building, he
sent his card to the private office of the
president; a moment later he was ushered
in, and was closeted with Joseph Maillard.</p>
<p class="indent">The interior of the Exeter National reflected
the stern personality that ruled it.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span>
The bank was dark, old fashioned, conservative,
guarded with much effrontery of iron
grills and bars against the evil doer.</p>
<p class="indent">The window men greeted their customers
with infrequent smiles, with caution and
reserve so great that it was positively chilly.
Suspicion seemed in the air. The bank's
reputation for guarding the sanctity of wealth
seemed to rest heavily upon each pair of
bowed shoulders. Even the stenographers were
unhandsome women, weary-eyed, drearily efficient,
and obviously respectable.</p>
<p class="indent">As befitted so old and conservative a New
Orleans institution, much of its business was
transacted in French.</p>
<p class="indent">The business customers of this bank found
their affairs handled coldly, efficiently, with
an inhuman precision that was admirable.
It was good for business, and they liked it.
There were no mistakes.</p>
<p class="indent">People who were accustomed to dealing
with bankers of cordial smile and courteous
word, people who liked to walk into a bank
and to be met with a personal greeting, did
not come here, nor were they wanted here.
The Exeter National was a place for business,
not for courtesy. It was absolutely precise,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span>
cold, inhuman, and spelled business from the
ground up. Its oldest customer could not
buy a draft on Paris or London or other of the
bank's correspondents without paying the
required fee. The wealthiest depositor could
not expect to overdraw his checking account
one dollar without being required to settle up
before the next day was gone. Loans were
made hesitatingly, grudgingly, and of necessity,
always on security and never on character.</p>
<p class="indent">Such was the Exeter National. Its character
was reflected in the cold faces at its
windows, and the chance customers who
entered its sacred portals were duly cowed
and put in their proper place. Most of them
were, that is. Occasionally some intrepid
soul appeared who seemed impervious to the
gloomy chill, who seemed even to resent it.
One of these persons was now standing in the
lobby and staring around with a cool impudence
which drew unfavourable glances from
the clerks.</p>
<p class="indent">He was a decently dressed fellow, obviously
no customer of this sacrosanct place,
obviously a stranger to its interior. Beneath
a rakishly cocked soft hat beamed a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span>
countenance that bore a look of self-assured
impertinent deviltry. After one look at that
countenance the assistant cashier crooked a
hasty finger at the floor guard, who nodded and
walked over to the intruder with a polite query.</p>
<p class="indent">"Can I help you, sir?"</p>
<p class="indent">The intruder turned, favoured the guard
with a cool stare, then broke into a laugh and
a flood of Creole dialect.</p>
<p class="indent">"Why, if it isn't old Lacroix from Carencro!
And look at the brass buttons—<i>diable</i>! You
must own this place, hein? <i>la tchè chatte
poussé avec temps</i>—the cat's tail grows in time,
I see! You remember me?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Ben Chacherre!" exclaimed the guard,
losing his dignity for an instant. "Why—you
<i>vaurien</i>, you! You who disappeared
from the parish and became a vagrant——"</p>
<p class="indent">"So you turn up your sanctified nose at
Ben Chacherre, do you?" exclaimed that
person jauntily. He thrust his hat a bit farther
over one ear, and proceeded to snap his
fingers under the nose of Lacroix.</p>
<p class="indent">"A <i>vaurien</i>, am I? Old peacock! Lead
me to the man who cashes checks, lackey,
brass buttons that you are! Come, obey me,
or I'll have you thrown into the street!"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span>
"You—you wish to cash a check?" The
guard was overcome by confusion, for the
loud tones of Chacherre penetrated the entire
institution. "But you are not known
here——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Bah, insolent one! <i>Macaque dan calebasse</i>—monkey
in the calabash that you are! Do
you not know me?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Heaven preserve me! I will not answer
for your accursed checks."</p>
<p class="indent">"Go to the devil, then," snapped Chacherre,
and turned away.</p>
<p class="indent">His roving eyes had already found the
correct window by means of the other persons
seeking it, and now he stepped into the small
queue that had formed. When it came his
turn, he slid his check across the marble slab,
tucked his thumbs into the armholes of his
vest, and impudently stared into the questioning,
coldly repellent eyes of the teller.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well?" he exclaimed, as the teller examined
the check. "Do you wish to eat it,
that you sniff so hard?"</p>
<p class="indent">The teller gave him a glance. "This is
for a thousand dollars——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Can I not read?" said Chacherre, with an
impudent gesture. "Am I an ignorant
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span>
'Cajun? Have I not eyes in my head? If
you wish to start an argument, say that the
check is for a hundred dollars. Then, by
heaven, I will argue something with you!"</p>
<p class="indent">"You are Ben Chacherre, eh? Does any
one here know you?"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre exploded in a violent oath. "Dolt
that you are, do I have to be known when the
check is endorsed under my signature? Who
taught you business, monkey?"</p>
<p class="indent">"True," answered the teller, sulkily. "Yet
the amount——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, bah!" Chacherre snapped his fingers.
"Go and telephone Jachin Fell, you
old woman! Go and tell him you do not
know his signature—well, who are you looking
at? Am I a telephone, then? You are
not hired to look but to act! Get about
it."</p>
<p class="indent">The enraged and scandalized teller beckoned
a confrere. Jachin Fell was telephoned.
Presumably his response was reassuring, for
Chacherre was presently handed a thousand
dollars in small bills, as he requested. He
insisted upon counting over the money at the
window with insolent assiduity, flung a final
compliment at the teller, and swaggered across
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span>
the lobby. He was still standing by the entrance
when Henry Gramont left the private
office of the president and passed him by without
a look.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont was smiling to himself as he left
the bank, and Ben Chacherre was whistling
gaily as he also left and plunged into the
whirling vortex of the carnival crowds.</p>
<p class="indent">Toward noon Gramont arrived afoot at
his pension. Finding the rooms empty, he
went on and passed through the garden.
Behind the garage, in the alley, he discovered
Hammond busily at work cleaning and polishing
the engine of the car.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hello!" he exclaimed, cheerily. "What
luck?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Pretty good, cap'n." Hammond glanced
up, then paused.</p>
<p class="indent">A stranger was strolling toward them along
the alleyway, a jaunty individual who was
gaily whistling and who seemed entirely
carefree and happy. He appeared to have
no interest whatever in them, and Hammond
concluded that he was innocuous.</p>
<p class="indent">"They got them prints fine, cap'n. What's
more, they think they've located the fellow
that made 'em."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span>
"Ah, good work!" exclaimed Gramont.
"Some criminal?"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond frowned. The stranger had
come to a halt a few feet distant, flung them
a jerky, careless nod, and was beginning to
roll a cigarette. He surveyed the car with a
knowing and appreciative eye. Hammond
turned his back on the man disdainfully.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yep—a sneak thief they'd pinched a
couple of years back; didn't know where he
was, but the prints seemed to fit him. They'll
come up and look things over sometime to-day,
then go after him and land him."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont gave the stranger a glance, but
the other was still surveying the car with
evident admiration. If he heard their words
he gave them no attention.</p>
<p class="indent">"Who was the man, then?" asked Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">"A guy with a queer name—Ben Chacherre."
Hammond pronounced it as he
deemed correct—as the name was spelled.
"Only they didn't call him that. Here, I
wrote it down."</p>
<p class="indent">He fished in his pocket and produced a
paper. Gramont glanced at it and laughed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, Chacherre!" He gave the name the
Creole pronunciation.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span>
"Yep, Sasherry. I expect they'll come
any time now—said two bulls would drop
in."</p>
<p class="indent">"All right." Gramont nodded and turned
away, with another glance at the stranger.
"I'll not want the car to-day nor to-night
that I know of. I'm not going to the Proteus
ball. So your time's your own until to-morrow;
make the most of it!"</p>
<p class="indent">He disappeared, and Hammond returned
to his work. Then he straightened up, for
the jaunty stranger was bearing down upon
him with evident intent to speak.</p>
<p class="indent">"Some car you got there, brother!" Ben
Chacherre, who had overheard most of the
foregoing conversation, lighted his cigarette
and grinned familiarly. "Some car, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">"She's a boat, all right," conceded Hammond,
grudgingly. He did not like the other's
looks, although praise of the car was sweet
unto his soul. "She sure steps some."</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes. All she needs," drawled Chacherre,
"is some good tires, a new coat of paint, a
good steel chassis, and a new engine——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Huh?" snorted Hammond. "Say, you
'bo, who sold you chips in this game? Move
along!"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span>
Ben grinned anew and rested himself against
a near-by telephone pole.</p>
<p class="indent">"Free country, ain't it?" he inquired, lazily.
"Or have you invested your winnings and
bought this here alley?"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond reddened with anger and took
a step forward. The next words of Chacherre,
however, jerked him sharply into self-control.</p>
<p class="indent">"Seen anything of an aviator's helmet
around here?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Huh?" The chauffeur glared at his tormentor,
yet with a sudden sick feeling inside
his bosom. He suddenly realized that the
man's eyes were meeting his squarely, with a
bold and insolent directness. "Who you
kiddin' now?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Nobody. I was asking a question, that's
all." Ben Chacherre flung away his cigarette,
untangled himself from the telephone pole,
and moved away. "Only," he flung over
his shoulder, "I was flyin' along here last
night in my airplane, and I lost my helmet
overboard. Thought maybe you'd seen it.
So long, brother!"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond stood staring after the swaggering
figure; for once he was speechless. The
jaunty words had sent terror thrilling into
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span>
him. He started impulsively to pursue that
impudent accoster—then he checked himself.
Had the man guessed something? Had the
man known something? Or had those words
been only a bit of meaningless impertinence—a
chance shaft which had accidentally flown
home?</p>
<p class="indent">The last conjecture impressed itself on
Hammond as being the truth, and his momentary
fright died out. He concluded that
the incident was not worth mentioning to
Gramont, who surely had troubles enough
of his own at this juncture. So he held his
peace about it.</p>
<p class="indent">As for Ben Chacherre, he sauntered from
the alley, a careless whistle upon his lips.
Once out of Hammond's sight, however, he
quickened his pace. Turning into a side
street, he directed his step toward that part
of the old quarter which, in the days before
prohibition, had been given over to low
cabarets and dives of various sorts. Most of
these places were now boarded up, and
presumably abandoned. Coming to one of
them, which appeared more dirty and desolate
than the rest, Chacherre opened a side door
and vanished.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span>
He entered what had once been the Red
Cat cabaret. At a table in the half-darkened
main room sat two men. A slovenly waiter
pored over a newspaper at another table in a
far corner. The two in the centre nodded to
Chacherre. One of them, who was the proprietor,
jerked his chin in an invitation to
join them.</p>
<p class="indent">A man famous in the underworld circles, a
man whose renown rested on curious feats and
facts, this proprietor; few crooks in the
country had not heard the name of Memphis
Izzy Gumberts. He was a grizzled old bear
now; but in times past he had been the head
of a far-flung organization which, on each pay
day, covered every army post in the country
and diverted into its own pockets about two
thirds of Uncle Sam's payroll—a feat still
related in criminal circles as the <i>ne plus ultra</i>
of success. Those palmy days were gone, but
Memphis Izzy, who had never been "mugged"
in any gallery, sat in his deserted cabaret
and still did not lack for power and influence.</p>
<p class="indent">The man at his side was apparently not
anxious to linger, for he rose and made his
farewells as Chacherre approached.</p>
<p class="indent">"We have about eighteen cars left," he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span>
said to Gumberts. "Charley the Goog can
attend to them, and the place is safe enough.
They're up to you. I'm drifting back to Chi."</p>
<p class="indent">"Drift along," and Gumberts nodded, a
leer in his eyes. His face was broad, heavy-jowled,
filled with a keen and forceful craft.
"It's a cinch that nobody in this state is
goin' to interfere with us. About them cars
from Texas—any news?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I've sent orders to bring 'em in next
week."</p>
<p class="indent">Gumberts nodded again, and the man departed.
Into the chair which he had vacated
dropped Ben Chacherre, and took from
his pocket the money which he had obtained
at the bank. He laid it on the table before
Gumberts.</p>
<p class="indent">"There you are," he said. "Amounts
you want and all. The boss says to gimme
a receipt."</p>
<p class="indent">"Wouldn't trust you, eh?" jeered Gumberts.
He took out pencil and paper,
scrawled a word or two, and shoved the paper
at Chacherre. Then he reached down to a
small satchel which lay open on the floor beside
his chair. "Why wouldn't the boss leave
the money come out of the takin's, hey?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>[pg 121]</span>
"Wanted to keep separate accounts," said
Chacherre.</p>
<p class="indent">Gumberts nodded and produced two large
sealed envelopes, which he pushed across
the table.</p>
<p class="indent">"There's rakeoff for week before last," he
announced. "Last week will be the big
business, judgin' from early reports."</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre pocketed the envelopes, lighted
a cigarette, and leaned forward.</p>
<p class="indent">"Say, Izzy! You got to send a new man
down to the Bayou Latouche right away.
Lafarge was there, you know; a nigger shot
him yesterday. The nigger threatened to
squeal unless he got his money back—Lafarge
was a fool and didn't know how to handle
him. The lottery's goin' to get a bad name
around there——"</p>
<p class="indent">Gumberts snapped his fingers. "Let it!"
he said, calmly. "The big money from all
that section is Chinese and Filipino, my
friend. The niggers don't matter."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, the boss says to shoot a new man
down there. Also, he says, you'd better
watch out about spreadin' the lottery into
Texas and Alabama, account of the government
rules."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>[pg 122]</span>
The heavy features of Gumberts closed in a
scowl.</p>
<p class="indent">"You tell your boss," he said, "that when
it comes to steerin' clear of federal men, I
don't want no instructions from nobody!
We got every man in this state spotted.
Every one that can be fixed is fixed—and
that goes for the legislators and politicians
clear up the line! Tell your boss to handle
the local gov'ment as well as I handle other
things, and he'll do all that's necessary. What
he'd ought to attend to, for one thing, is this
here guy who calls himself the Midnight
Masquer. I've told him before that this
guy was playing hell with my system! This
Masquer gets no protection, see? The quicker
Fell goes after him, the better for all concerned——"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre laughed, not without a swagger.</p>
<p class="indent">"We've attended to all that, Izzy—we've
dropped on him and settled him! The guy
was doin' it for a carnival joke, that's all.
His loot is all goin' back to the owners to-day.
It needn't worry you, anyhow! There was
nothin' much to it—jewellery that couldn't
be disposed of, for the most part. We
couldn't take chances on that sort o' junk."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>[pg 123]</span>
"I should say not." Gumbert regarded
him with a scowl. "You've got the stuff?"</p>
<p class="indent">"The boss has. Look here, Izzy, I want you
to use a little influence with headquarters on
this deal—the boss doesn't want to show his
hand there," and leaning forward, Ben Chacherre
spoke in a low tone. Then, Gumberts
heard him out, chuckled, and nodded assent.</p>
<p class="indent">At two that afternoon Henry Gramont,
who was writing letters in total disregard of
the carnival parade downtown, was summoned
to the telephone. He was greeted
by a voice which he did not recognize, but
which announced itself promptly.</p>
<p class="indent">"This is Mr. Gramont? Police headquarters
speakin'. You laid a charge this
morning against a fellow named Chacherre?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes," answered Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">"Must ha' been some mistake, then,"
came the response. "We thought the prints
fitted, but found later they didn't. We
looked up the Chacherre guy and found he
was workin' steady and strictly O. K. What's
more to the point, he proved up a dead sure
alibi for the other night."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh!" said Gramont. "Then there's nothing
to be done?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>[pg 124]</span>
"Not yet. We're workin' on it, and maybe
we'll have some news later. Good-bye."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont hung up the receiver, a puzzled
frown creasing his brow. But, after a minute,
he laughed softly—a trace of anger in the
laugh.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah!" he murmured. "I congratulate you
on your efficiency, Mr. Fell! But now wait a
little—and we'll meet again. I think I'm
getting somewhere at last, and I'll have a
surprise for you one of these days!"</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>[pg 125]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>In The Open</i></p>
<p>IN NEW ORLEANS the carnival season is
always opened by the ball of the Twelfth
Night Revellers soon after Christmas, and
is closed by that of the Krewe of Comus on
Mardi Gras night. Upon this evening of
"Fat Tuesday," indeed, both Rex and Comus
hold forth. Rex is the popular ball, the
affair of the people, and is held in the Athenaeum.
From here, about midnight, the king
and queen proceed to Comus ball.</p>
<p class="indent">Comus is an assembly of such rigid exclusiveness
that even the tickets to the galleries
are considered social prizes. The <i>personae</i>
of the Krewe, on this particular year
as in all previous ones, would remain unknown;
there is no unmasking at Comus.
This institution, a tremendous social power
and potentially a financial power also, during
decades of the city's life, is held absolutely
above any taint of favouritism or commercialism.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>[pg 126]</span>
Even the families of those concerned
might not always be certain whether their
sons and brothers belonged to the Krewe
of Comus.</p>
<p class="indent">Henry Gramont did not attend the ball of
Proteus on Monday night. Instead, he sat
in his own room, while through the streets
of the French quarter outside was raging
the carnival at its height. Before him were
maps and reports upon the gas and oil fields
about Bayou Terrebonne—fields where great
domes of natural gas were already located
and in use, and where oil was being found in
some quantity. Early on Wednesday morning
Gramont intended to set forth to his work.
He had been engaged to make a report to
Bob Maillard's company, and he would make
it. Then he would resign his advisory job,
and be free. A smile curled his lips as he
thought of young Maillard and the company.</p>
<p class="indent">"The young gentleman will be sadly surprised
to discover that I've gotten out from
under—and that his respected father holds
my stock!" he reflected. "That was a good
deal; I lost a thousand to old Maillard in order
to save the balance of thirty thousand!"</p>
<p class="indent">A knock at his door interrupted the thread
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>[pg 127]</span>
of this thought. Gramont opened, to find
the concierge with a note which had been
left at the door below by a masked Harlequin,
who had then disappeared without awaiting
any reply.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont recognized the writing on the
envelope, and hastened to the note inside.
His face changed, however, as he read it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p class="indent">Please call promptly at eleven to-morrow morning.
I wish to see you upon a matter of business.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucie Ledanois.</span></p>
</blockquote>
<p class="indent">Gramont gazed long at this note, his brows
drawn down into a harsh line. It was not
like Lucie in its tone, somehow; he sensed
something amiss, something vaguely but most
decidedly out of tune. Certainly it was not
her way to write thus curtly and harshly—the
words disquieted him. What could have
turned up now? Then, with a shrug, he tossed
the note on the table.</p>
<p class="indent">"Eleven to-morrow morning, eh?" he murmured.
"That's queer, too, for she's to be
at the Proteus ball to-night. Most girls
would not be conducting business affairs
at eleven in the morning, after being up all
night at Proteus! It must be something important.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>[pg 128]</span>
Besides, she's not in the class with
any one else. She's a rare girl; no nonsense
in her—full of a deep, strong sense of
things——"</p>
<p class="indent">He forced himself from thoughts of Lucie,
forced himself from her personality, and returned
to his reports with an effort of concentration.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont wanted to look over her Terrebonne
land with a full knowledge of its geology
and situation. Oil drilling is a gamble
in any case, yet Gramont took a scholar's
solid satisfaction in getting his subject thoroughly
in hand before he went to work at it.
Then, he reflected, he would get his task
finished as rapidly as might be, turn in his
report, and resign from the company. After
that—freedom! He regretted sadly enough
that he had ever gone into any relations with
Maillard's company.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yet, what's to hinder my going ahead,
in the meantime?" he considered. "What's
to hinder getting my own company on its
feet? Nothing! All I need is backing. I'll
put in twenty-five thousand, and that much
more added to it will give us plenty of capital
to start in drilling with. If I could find someone
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span>
who had a positive faith in my judgment
and whom I could trust in turn——"</p>
<p class="indent">He checked himself suddenly, and stared
at the papers before him with widening eyes.
A slow whistle came from his lips, and then
he smiled and pulled the papers to him. Yet,
as he worked he could not keep down the
thought that had forced itself upon him. It
was altogether absurd, of course—yet why
not?</p>
<p class="indent">When Gramont went to bed that night
it was with a startling and audacious scheme
well defined in his brain; a scheme whose
first conception seemed ludicrous and impossible,
yet which, on second consideration,
appeared in a very different light. It deserved
serious thought—and Gramont had
made his decision before he went to sleep.</p>
<p class="indent">The following day was Tuesday—Mardi
Gras, Shrove Tuesday, the last day before
Lent began, and the final culminating day
of carnival. Henry Gramont, however, was
destined to find little in its beginning of much
personal pleasure.</p>
<p class="indent">At eleven in the morning Hammond drove
him to the Ledanois home, where Gramont
was admitted by one of the coloured servants
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span>
and shown into the parlour. A moment later
Lucie herself appeared. At first glance her
smiling greeting removed the half-sensed apprehensions
of Gramont. Almost immediately
afterward, however, he noted a
perceptible change in her manner, as she
led him toward the rear of the room, and gestured
toward a mahogany tilt-top table which
stood in a corner.</p>
<p class="indent">"Come over here, please. I have something
which I wish to show you."</p>
<p class="indent">She needed to say no more. Gramont,
following her, found himself staring blankly
down at the symbol of consternation which
overwhelmed him. For upon that table, lay
all those self-same boxes which he himself
had packed with the loot of the Midnight
Masquer—the identical boxes, apparently unopened,
which had been stolen from his
automobile by the supposed thief Chacherre!</p>
<p class="indent">For a moment Gramont found himself unable
to speak. He was thunderstruck by
the sight of those unmistakeable boxes. A
glance at the calm features of the girl showed
him that there was nothing to be concealed
from her, even had he wished it. He was
further stunned by this realization. He could
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span>
not understand how the packages had come
here. Recovering his voice with an effort, he
managed to break the heavy silence.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well? I suppose you know what is in
those parcels?"</p>
<p class="indent">She nodded. "Yes. One of them was
opened, and the note inside was discovered.
Of course, it gave a general explanation. Will
you sit down, please? I think that we had
better talk it over quietly and calmly."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont obeyed, and dropped into a chair.</p>
<p class="indent">He was absurdly conscious of his own confusion.
He tried to speak, but words and
thoughts failed him. Torn between pride
and chagrin, he found himself able to say
nothing. Explanations, at any time, came
to him with difficulty; now, at least, he felt
that he could not lie to this girl. And how
was he to tell her the truth?</p>
<p class="indent">And how had Lucie come into the affair?
This staggered him above all else. Was she
behind the theft of the loot? It must be.
How long had she suspected him, then? He
had thought Jachin Fell the sole danger-point—he
had never dreamed that this gray-eyed
Athene could be tracing down the
Masquer! He tried to visualize the situation
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span>
more clearly and his brain whirled. He
knew, of course, that she was fairly intimate
with Fell, but he was not aware of any particular
connection——</p>
<p class="indent">He glanced up at her suddenly, and surprised
a glint of laughter in her eyes as she
watched him.</p>
<p class="indent">"You seem to be rather astonished," she
observed.</p>
<p class="indent">"I am." Gramont drew a deep breath.
"You—do you know that those boxes were
taken from my car?"</p>
<p class="indent">She nodded again. "Certainly. They were
brought to me."</p>
<p class="indent">"Then you had someone on my trail?"
Gramont flushed a little as he put the question
to her.</p>
<p class="indent">"No. I have been chosen to settle affairs
with you, that is all. It has been learned
from the note in the opened box that you
were not criminal in what you did."</p>
<p class="indent">She leaned forward, her deep eyes searching
him with a steady scrutiny.</p>
<p class="indent">"Tell me, Henry Gramont, what mad
impulse brought you to all this? Was it a
silly, boyish effort to be romantic—was it a
mere outburst of bravado? It was not for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span>
the sake of robbery, as the note explained
very clearly. But why, then? Why? There
must have been a definite reason in your
mind. You would not have taken such dangerous
chances unless you had something to
gain!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded slightly, then flushed
again and bit his lip. For a moment he
made no response to her query.</p>
<p class="indent">He might, of course, say that he had been
the Midnight Masquer because of her alone;
which would be decidedly untrue. He might
tell her, as he had told Hammond, that all
his efforts had led up to that scene in the
Maillard library, when without suspicion by
any concerned he might verify his own surmise
as to who had been defrauding Lucie
Ledanois. It would sound very well—but
it would be a lie. That had been far from
his only reason for playing the Midnight
Masquer's game.</p>
<p class="indent">But why tell her anything?</p>
<p class="indent">A slight smile touched his lips. "You're
not going to send me to prison, I trust?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I ought to!" The girl broke into a laugh.
"Why, I can hardly yet believe that it was
really you who were guilty of those things!
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span>
It mortified me, it stunned me—until I realized
the truth from the note. Even the fact that
you did not do it for criminal ends does not
relieve the sheer folly of the act. Why did
you do it? Come, tell me the truth!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont shrugged. "The truth? Well,
my chauffeur, Hammond, was the original
Masquer. I caught him in the act—you
remember I told you about him? After
taking him into my employ, I became the
Masquer. Poor Hammond was some time
in realizing that my motives were altruistic
and not criminal. He was quite distressed
about it until he found that I meant to return
all the loot intact."</p>
<p class="indent">"Why did you do it, then?" persisted the
girl.</p>
<p class="indent">"Call it bravado, my dear Lucie. Call
it anything you like—I can't lie to you! I
had a motive, and I refuse to admit what it
was; that's all."</p>
<p class="indent">"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not particularly." He smiled. "I had
a good end in view, and I accomplished it.
Also, I flatter myself that I accomplished
it very decently; there's nothing like being
a good workman, you know. Now that I'm
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span>
all through, now that I've finished playing
my little game, you happened to discover it.
I am ashamed on that point, Lucie—ashamed
because the discovery has very naturally
made you think harshly of me——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I think you've been very silly," she said
with a disconcerting calmness. He regarded
her for a moment, steadily. "And you
have displayed a fearful lack of judgment!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Silly? Well—perhaps. What are you going
to do with those boxes?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll put them in the mail. I'm going downtown
for luncheon, and will do it then. They'll
be delivered this afternoon."</p>
<p class="indent">He nodded. "I had meant to have them
delivered to-morrow; it makes no difference.
You're the boss. It will give the good people
a little more reason for jubilation to-night, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">A sudden laugh broke upon his lips. "I'm
beginning to see the humour of it, Lucie—and
I know who put you next to me. It was
Jachin Fell, the old fox! I suspected that he
was on my trail, and I thought that he had
managed the theft of those boxes. In fact,
I was preparing to give him a big surprise
this afternoon. But tell me, Lucie—are you
angry?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>[pg 136]</span>
She looked at him steadily for a space,
then a swift smile leaped to her lips and she
extended a pardoning hand. Her gesture
and words were impulsive, sincere.</p>
<p class="indent">"Angry? No. I think you've some good
reason behind it all, which you won't confide
to me. I can read you pretty clearly, Henry
Gramont; I think I can understand some
things in you. You're no weakling, no romantic,
filibustering crackbrain! And I like
you because you won't lie to me. You've
a motive and you refuse to tell it—very well!
I'll be just as frank and say that I'm not a bit
angry. So, that's settled!</p>
<p class="indent">"Now what was the big surprise that you
just mentioned you were going to give poor
Mr. Fell this afternoon?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont's eyes twinkled. "You remember
that I thought he suspected me of being the
Masquer? Well, I was going to him and
propose that we enter business together."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh! As bandits?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No, as oil promotors. I'm out of Maillard's
company, or shall be out of it soon.
The minute I'm out, I'll be free to go into
business for myself. It occurred to me that
if Jachin Fell had brains enough to run down
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span>
the Midnight Masquer, he would be a mighty
good business partner; because I'm poor on
business detail. Also, I think Fell is to be
trusted. The things you've told me and
written me about him prove that much.
He's very strong politically, I have found—although
few people know it."</p>
<p class="indent">"But he's not interested in oil is he?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't know; I take for granted that he's
interested in making money. Most men are.
The only way to make money in oil is to have
money—and he has some! I have a little.
I can put in twenty-five thousand. With
an equal amount from him, we can sink
a couple of wells, perhaps three. If we
go broke, all right. If we find oil, we're
rich!"</p>
<p class="indent">"But, my dear Henry, if he knew you to
be the Midnight Masquer, do you think he'd
want to go into business with you?" Her
gray eyes were dancing with amusement
as she put the query.</p>
<p class="indent">"Why not?" Gramont laughed. "If he
knew that I had brains enough to pull off
that stunt and keep all New Orleans up in
the air—wouldn't I make a good partner?
Besides, I believe that I have some notion
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span>
where to go after oil; I'm going to examine
your land first——"</p>
<p class="indent">"My good prince, you surely have no lack
of audacity!" She broke into a peal of
laughter. "Your argument about inducing
Mr. Fell to go into business with you is
naïve——"</p>
<p class="indent">"But, as an argument, isn't it quite sound?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Possibly. Since it is Lucie Ledanois and
not Jachin Fell who has brought you to a
confession of your crimes against society—aren't
you going to propose that she go into
business with you? Doesn't the argument
hold good with her?"</p>
<p class="indent">Although Gramont was taken aback, he
met her gaze squarely.</p>
<p class="indent">"No. Oil is no woman's game, unless she
can well afford to lose. I imagine that you
cannot, Lucie. Once I get my company
formed, however——"</p>
<p class="indent">"You're right, I can't put in any money.
I'm land poor. Unless I were to sell that
Bayou Terrebonne land—it's an old farm,
abandoned since before father died——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't sell it!" he exclaimed, quickly.
"Don't consider any dealings with it until
I have looked it over, will you?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span>
"Since you ask it, no. If there's gas near
by, there must be oil."</p>
<p class="indent">"Who knows?" he shrugged. "No one
can predict oil."</p>
<p class="indent">"Then you still mean to go to Jachin Fell
with your scheme?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded. "Yes. See here, Lucie—it's
about noon! Suppose you come along
and lunch with me at the Louisiane, if you've
no engagement. We can put those boxes
in the mail en route, and after luncheon I'll
try and get hold of Fell."</p>
<p class="indent">She put her head on one side and studied
him reflectively.</p>
<p class="indent">"You're sure you'll not kidnap me or
anything like that? It's risky to become a
friend of hardened criminals, even if one is
trying to uplift them."</p>
<p class="indent">"Good! You'll come?"</p>
<p class="indent">"If you can give me ten minutes——"</p>
<p class="indent">"My dear Lucie, you are the most charming
object in New Orleans at this minute! Why
attempt to make yourself still more attractive?
Gilding the lily is an impossible task."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, wait for me. Is your car here?
Good! I want to see Hammond's face when
he sees us carrying out those boxes."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span>
Laughing, the girl started toward the
stairs. At the doorway she paused.</p>
<p class="indent">"One thing, M. le prince! Do you solemnly
promise, upon your honour, that the
Midnight Masquer is dead for ever?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Upon my honour!" said Gramont, seriously.
"The farce is ended, Lucie."</p>
<p class="indent">"All right. I'll be right down. Smoke
if you like——"</p>
<p class="indent">In her own room upstairs Lucie closed
the door and sat down before her dressing
table. She made no move toward the array
of toilet articles, however. Instead, she took
a desk telephone from the table, and called a
number. In a moment she received a response.</p>
<p class="indent">"Uncle Jachin!" she exclaimed. "Yes—it's
just as we thought; it's all a joke. No,
it was not a joke, either, because he had some
motive behind it, but he won't tell me what
it was. I'm terribly glad that you opened
one of those boxes and found the letter—if
you had gone to the police it would have
been perfectly dreadful——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I never go to the police," said Jachin Fell
with his dry chuckle. "You are quite satisfied
that there is nothing serious in the affair, then?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span>
"Absolutely! He told me that he had accomplished
his purpose, whatever it was,
and that it's all ended. He just gave me his
word that the Masquer was dead for ever.
Now, aren't you glad that you confided in
me?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Very," said Jachin Fell. "Very glad,
indeed!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Now you're laughing at me—never mind!
We're going to lunch downtown, and we'll
mail those boxes on the way, by parcels post.
Is that all right?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Quite all right, my dear. It is the method
adopted by the most exclusive and elusive
criminals in the country, I assure you. Every
handbag snatcher gets rid of his empty bags by
mailing them back to the owner—unless
first caught. It pays to follow professional
examples, as Eliza said when she crossed the
ice. Did your gown come for to-night?"</p>
<p class="indent">"It's to come this afternoon."</p>
<p class="indent">"Very well. Do not plan to wear any
jewels, Lucie. I have a set to lend you for
the occasion—no, not a gift, merely a loan
for the sake of Comus. They are very nice
pearls; a little old fashioned, because they
were mounted for the Princesses de Lamballe,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span>
but you will find that they fit in excellently
with your gown. I'll bring them with me
when I call for you——"</p>
<p class="indent">"And I'll tender fitting thanks then. One
thing more: Henry Gramont is going to see
you after luncheon, I think—on business.
And I want you to be nice to him, Uncle
Jachin."</p>
<p class="indent">"Most assuredly," said the other, drily.
"I should like to be associated in business with
that young man. The firm would prosper."</p>
<p class="indent">"Will you stop laughing at me? Then I'll
ring off—good-bye!"</p>
<p class="indent">And, smiling, she hung up the receiver.</p>
<p class="indent">Ten minutes later, when Gramont and
Miss Ledanois entered the waiting car, Hammond
saw the boxes that they carried. He
stood beside the open door, paralyzed, his
eyes fastened on the boxes, his mouth agape.</p>
<p class="indent">"To the postoffice, sergeant," said Gramont,
then affected to observe his stupefaction.
"Why, what's the matter?"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond met his twinkling eyes, saw the
laughter of Lucie, and swallowed hard.</p>
<p class="indent">"I—er—nothing at all, cap'n," he answered,
hoarsely. "A—a little chokin' spell,
that's all. Postoffice? Yes, sir."</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>[pg 143]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Comus</i></p>
<p>FROM the time they left the Ledanois
house with Lucie, Gramont had no
opportunity of seeing his chauffeur
in private until, later in the afternoon, he
left the Maison Blanche building. He had
enjoyed a thoroughly satisfactory interview
with Jachin Fell. So wholly had Gramont's
thoughts been given over to the business, indeed,
that it was almost a shock to emerge into
Canal Street and find everyone else in the
world thinking only of the water carnival and
the Rex parade.</p>
<p class="indent">As for the Midnight Masquer and the
mystery of the boxes of loot, all this had
quite fled Gramont's mind before larger and
more important things. The car was waiting
for him in Royal Street, not far from the
Monteleone, and Gramont approached it to
find Hammond in deep worry over the outcome
of the interview with Fell.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>[pg 144]</span>
"Well, cap'n!" he exclaimed, anxiously, as
Gramont drew up. "You're smilin', so I guess
it ain't a pinch!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont laughed gaily. "Those boxes?
Nonsense! Say, sergeant, you must have
been scared stiff when you saw them!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Scared? I was ready to flop, that's all!
And how in the name o' goodness did they
get in <i>her</i> house? What's behind all this?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont glanced around. He walked with
Hammond to the front of the car, where he
could speak without being overheard by the
passersby.</p>
<p class="indent">"It seems that I was more or less mistaken
about Fell being on our trail," he explained,
reflectively. "We had a very frank talk
about it, and he disclaimed all knowledge of
the boxes themselves. I gathered from little
things he dropped that some criminal had
looted the stuff from the car, and that it came
to his attention yesterday in a legal capacity——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Legal capacity, hell!" snorted Hammond.
"Did you swallow all that?"</p>
<p class="indent">"My swallowing capacity was pretty good,"
and Gramont chuckled. "It seems that he
opened one of the boxes, and found the note
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>[pg 145]</span>
I had written. This explained the business,
and by way of a little joke he turned over the
loot to Miss Ledanois and she had a bit of fun
with us. Fell, in fact, proved to be a pretty
good fellow——"</p>
<p class="indent">"He sure handed you out a fine line of
bull!" commented Hammond, savagely.
"What gets me is your falling for all that
dope! Looks like you wanted to believe
him, cap'n."</p>
<p class="indent">"Perhaps I did." Gramont shrugged his
shoulders. "Why not? I've no reason to
disbelieve him. The note made it plain that
we were not criminals; now the whole affair
is cleaned up and out of the way. We're
out of it in good shape, if you ask me!"</p>
<p class="indent">"You said something there," agreed Hammond,
not without a sigh of relief. "All
right, if you say so, only I ain't sure about
this Fell——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't worry. The stuff is returned, and
the matter is now closed. We can forget all
about the Midnight Masquer. Now, there's
another and more important thing that I
want to speak with you about, a matter of
business——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Hold on, cap'n!" interrupted Hammond,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>[pg 146]</span>
quietly, his eye on a spot behind Gramont.
"One of your friends is headed over this way,
and if I know anything about it, he's got
blood in his eye."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont turned, to see Bob Maillard approaching.
The latter addressed him without
any response to his greeting.</p>
<p class="indent">"Have you a moment to spare, Gramont?"</p>
<p class="indent">"All afternoon," answered Gramont, cheerfully.
He affected not to observe Maillard's
air of heavy business, nor the frowning suspicion
that lurked half-veiled in the other's
glowering features. "By the way, I've been
looking up a New Orleans landmark without
much success—the Ramos gin fizz establishment.
It seems to be gone!"</p>
<p class="indent">"It is," returned Maillard, sourly. "Prohibition
killed it, like it's killing everything.
François moved into the place last September
from Old 27, and it's become his restaurant
now. But look here, Gramont!" The two
were standing a bit apart, and Hammond was
fussing with one of the headlights, but Gramont
suspected that the chauffeur was listening
avidly. "I've just come from a talk with
dad. How did it happen that you sold him
that stock of yours in the company?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>[pg 147]</span>
Gramont smiled a little. He was amused
by the way Maillard was endeavouring to
keep down an outburst of angry passion.</p>
<p class="indent">"I happened to need the money. Why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"But why the devil didn't you hang on to
that stock? Or if you needed money, why
didn't you come to me?" exploded the other,
angrily.</p>
<p class="indent">"Heavens!" drawled Gramont, who was
quite willing to exasperate young Maillard to
the limit. "You seem frightfully concerned
about it! What's the big idea, anyway? I
don't recall that any of us went into an
agreement not to sell if we wanted to. I
offered the stock to your father at a discount.
He realized that it was a good buy, and took
it. What's wrong with that?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Nothing wrong, if you put it that way,"
snapped Maillard, angrily. "But it's a confounded
sly way of doing things——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Now, just wait right there!" Gramont's
easy smile vanished. "I don't take that
kind of talk, Maillard. One more such
insinuation, and you'll need to use a mask at
the ball to-night, I promise you! I'll show
you how sly I am, my friend! I'm off in the
morning to start work on that report I was
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>[pg 148]</span>
engaged to make. When the report comes in,
my resignation comes with it."</p>
<p class="indent">"All right. Let it come here and now,
then." Maillard's tone was ugly. "If you're
so blamed anxious to get out of the company,
get out!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Thanks. I'll be glad to be relieved of the
job." Gramont turned and addressed his
chauffeur. "Hammond, you'll kindly remember
this conversation, in case your future
testimony is needed——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Confound you, what d'you mean talking
that way?" broke out Maillard. "Do you
suppose I'll deny firing you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't care to have you offer any reflections
on my actions, Maillard," said Gramont,
evenly. "My course in this matter is
perfectly open and above board, which is more
than you can say for your doings."</p>
<p class="indent">"What?" Maillard clenched his stick and
took a forward step, anger working in his
face. "What the devil d'you mean?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Exactly what I say—and perhaps I can
prove it. Remember the oil concern to
which you persuaded your precious father to
sell some of Miss Ledanois's bayou land?
Remember the real estate company to which
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>[pg 149]</span>
you persuaded him to sell her St. Landry
parish property? You had interests in both
concerns; I don't imagine you'd care to have
your share in those transactions exposed.
Further, I entirely understand your indignation
over my getting rid of this stock before
the crash, and it ill becomes you to assume
any such attitude."</p>
<p class="indent">Maillard glared at him for a long moment,
a red tide of rage flooding and ebbing from
his heavy countenance. Then, mastering
himself, he turned and strode away without
further speech.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hurray!" observed Hammond, when he
was gone. "Cap'n, that guy is off you for
life! I bet he'd like to meet you alone on a
dark night!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont shook his head. "He's a bad
enemy, all right. Here, get into the car!"</p>
<p class="indent">He climbed in beside Hammond.</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't drive—I want to speak with you.
Now that Maillard has relieved me of the
necessity of making any report to his company,
I'm free, and glad of it! I've been
talking business with Mr. Fell, and I'm to
have my own company."</p>
<p class="indent">"With him?" Hammond sniffed.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>[pg 150]</span>
"Yes. He's matching his money against
mine, and we're going to look for oil on some
land owned by Miss Ledanois. It'll be a
close corporation, and if we strike oil, we'll
all three have a good thing. We may go
broke, and we may go rich; if you're saving
any coin out of your salary and feel like taking
a gamble, I'll get you a bit of the stock
after Mr. Fell gets things in shape. You can
think it over——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't want to think it over," broke in
Hammond, eagerly. "I'm on, here and now—and
it sure is mighty good of you, cap'n!
Say, I ain't had any chance to tell you before,
but I pulled two hundred out o' the lottery
last week——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Lottery!" Gramont looked at him
quickly. "What lottery?"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond looked a trifle sheepish. "Well,
it's against the law, o' course, but they run
'em right along just the same. A bunch of
the chauffeurs here are wise to it; they put up
some coin for me last week, and as I was
sayin' I pulled out two hundred. I got most
of it left, and have some saved up on the side.
I'll stick it all in, huh?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded. "Well, we'll see later.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>[pg 151]</span>
You're free until morning, sergeant. I'm
going to the Comus ball to-night as a guest of
the Lavergnes, and they'll call for me. Enjoy
yourself, keep out of jail, and be ready to
start at six in the morning for Terrebonne."</p>
<p class="indent">Leaving Hammond to take the car home,
Gramont headed for Canal Street to mingle
with the carnival crowd and revel in his new-found
sense of freedom. Now that he was his
own master, he felt like a new man.</p>
<p class="indent">Overnight, it seemed, all weights had
dropped from his shoulders. On the score of
the Midnight Masquer, he was vastly relieved;
all that was over and forgotten.
Financially, he had achieved what was nothing
less than a masterly triumph. In a
business way, he was free of all ties and able
to look forward to decisive action on his own
behalf and that of a partner in whom he
could feel a perfect reliance.</p>
<p class="indent">Consequently, he began really to enjoy
Mardi Gras for the first time, and plunged
into the eddying crowds in a free and light-hearted
manner which had not been his for
years.</p>
<p class="indent">It was the moment for the carnival spirit
to seize on him, and seize him it did. With
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>[pg 152]</span>
a boyish abandon he tramped the streets
merrily, exchanging jests and confetti, shoves
and bladder-blows, laughs and kisses. Madness
and reckless gaiety were in the very
air, and Gramont drank deep of these youthful
tonics. When at last he wandered home
to his pension, he was footsore, weary, disarranged,
and touseled—and very happy. The
wine of human comradeship is a good wine.</p>
<p class="indent">That evening the Comus ball, the most
exclusive revel of the most exclusive aristocracy
of the southland, crowded the edifice in
which it was held to capacity. Here evening
dress was prescribed for all the guests. The
Krewe of Comus alone were masked and
costumed, in grotesque and magnificent costumes
which had been in the making for
months. The Krewe is to the South what
the Bohemian Club is to the western coast,
with the added enhancement of mystery.</p>
<p class="indent">Despite the revels of the Krewe, however—despite
the glittering jewels, the barbaric
costumes, the music, the excitement—an
indefinable air of regret, almost of sadness,
pervaded the entire gathering. This feeling
was something to be sensed, rather than observed
definitely. Some said, afterward, that
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>[pg 153]</span>
it was a premonition of the terrible event that
was to happen this night. Wrong! It was
because, for the first time in many generations,
the Comus ball was held in one of the
newer public buildings instead of in its accustomed
place. Everyone was speaking of
it. Even Maillard the banker, that cold man
of dollars, spoke uneasily of it when Gramont
encountered him in the smoking room.</p>
<p class="indent">"It doesn't seem like Comus," said Maillard,
with a vexed frown. "And to think that
we had just finished redecorating the Opera
House when it was burned down! Comus
will never be the same again."</p>
<p class="indent">"I didn't know you could feel such emotion
for a ruined building, Maillard," said Gramont,
lightly. The banker shrugged a trifle.</p>
<p class="indent">"Emotion? No. Regret! None of us, who
has been brought up in the traditions of the
city but regarded the French Opera House
as the centre of all our storied life. You
can't understand it, Gramont; no outsider can.
By the way, you haven't seen Bob? He's
in costume, but he might have spoken to
you——"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont answered in the negative, with a
slight surprise at the question.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>[pg 154]</span>
It was not long before he came to comprehend
more fully just what the loss of the old
French Opera House meant to the assembly.
He heard comparisons made on every hand,
regretful allusions, sighs for the days that
were no more.</p>
<p class="indent">This present building, to be sure, was one
of the city's finest, up to date in every way,
with an abundance of room—and yet everyone
said that Comus would never be the same.
About the Opera House had clung the romance
of many generations. About it, too, had
clung the affections of the people with a
fierceness beyond reason. More famous buildings
had been allowed to go to ruin, like the
Hotel Royale, but the Opera House had been
kept in repair for Mardi Gras. It was itself—a
landmark. Nothing else would ever be like
it.</p>
<p class="indent">From his seat in the Lavergne box Gramont
contented himself during the early evening
with the common rôle of all the "blackcoats"—that
of looking on idly. More than once he
saw Lucie Ledanois called out, among others
of the fair sex, as a dancing partner for some
member of the Krewe. None of the male
guests, however, was allowed to participate
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span>
in the festivity until Rex and his queen should
arrive—at midnight; thus, Gramont saw almost
nothing of Lucie during the evening.</p>
<p class="indent">There was, inevitably, more or less visiting
in boxes and foyers, and not a little lounging
in the smoking room. The building was a
huge structure, and richly furnished. Only a
portion of it was in use by the Krewe; the
remainder was, of course, deserted for the
time being.</p>
<p class="indent">While in search of smoking companions,
Gramont encountered many of his acquaintances,
and among them Doctor Ansley and
Jachin Fell. In order to enjoy Fell's proffered
El Reys in a somewhat clearer atmosphere
these three strolled off together into one of the
unused passages leading to other parts of the
building. They opened a window and stood
watching the crowd that surged in the street
below, constantly increasing as the hour
grew later, for the procession of Rex would be
well worth seeing and nobody meant to miss
anything upon this night of nights.</p>
<p class="indent">Suddenly, at the sound of an approaching
footstep, the three men turned. The electric
lights were going in all of the hallways, and
they perceived that the individual approaching
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>[pg 156]</span>
them was a member of the Krewe of Comus.
He was also, it became evident, giving a share
of his allegiance to Bacchus, for his feet were
obviously unsteady. He was clad in a parti-coloured
costume, which was crowned by an
exaggerated head of Mephisto.</p>
<p class="indent">"Good evening to you, worthy gentlemen!"
He came to a fuddled halt and stood there,
laughing at the stares of the three. "Evening,
I say."</p>
<p class="indent">They responded to his liquor-tinged words
with a laughing reply.</p>
<p class="indent">"Wonderin' who I am, aren't you!" he
hiccuped. "Well, don't wonder; 'sall between
ol' friends to-night! Tell you what, m'
friends—come with me and I'll find you a
li'l drink, eh? No prohibition booze, upon
m' honour; real old Boone pinchneck—got it
from some boys in Louisville, been savin'
it up for to-night."</p>
<p class="indent">He wagged his head at them, and pursued
his subject in a half-maudlin burst of confidential
assurance. An unsteady hand waved
down the hallway.</p>
<p class="indent">"Havin' a little party in one of the rooms,"
he continued. "All of us friends—lots more
fun than dancin'! And say! I'm going pull
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span>
something great, positively great; you don't
want to miss it, gentlemen! You come along
with me and I'll fix it for you. Come on,
Gramont, that's a good fellow! You'n I had a
dis'greement to-day—don't matter to-night,
nothin' matters to-night, nothin' at all.
Mardi Gras only comes once a year, eh?
Come along, now."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell very civilly refused the invitation,
as did the others. Gramont, who now
recognized their accoster, was less civil in his
refusal. Mephisto sadly wagged his huge
headpiece and regarded them with vinous regret.</p>
<p class="indent">"No 'joyment in you any more? Better
come along. Tell you, I've got the biggest
joke of the season ready to pull off—something
rich! Gramont, come on!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Thanks, no," responded Gramont, curtly.</p>
<p class="indent">The masquer gave up the struggle and
moved on down the empty hallway. The
three "blackcoats" watched in silence until
the grotesque figure had vanished.</p>
<p class="indent">"I wonder who that was, now?" mused
Doctor Ansley, frowning. "Evidently, someone
who knew us; at least, he recognized you,
Gramont."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span>
"So it seemed," put in Jachin Fell. His
tone, like his eyes, held a sombre fire. "A
party of them drinking, eh? that will make
trouble. The Krewe won't like it. Ten to
one, that young man and his friends will
start the makings of a fine scandal and the
Krewe will come down hard on them—mighty
hard. Who was he, Gramont?
Sounded like——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Young Maillard." At Gramont's response
a whistle broke from Doctor Ansley. Jachin
Fell nodded assent.</p>
<p class="indent">"You took the words out of my mouth.
So Bob is drinking again, eh? And they've
occupied one of the rooms somewhere, and
are enjoying a bit of liquor and a card game
by themselves. Cursed slippery going, as
Eliza said when she crossed the ice! The
Krewe will expel them. Hello, Gramont—where
to?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont tossed his cigar through the open
window.</p>
<p class="indent">"I think I'll make my adieux, Fell. I intend
to be up early in the morning and get off
to work——"</p>
<p class="indent">"What?" protested Ansley in astonishment.
"You must stay until Rex comes, at least!
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span>
Why, that's the event of the carnival! The
evening hasn't started yet."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm growing old and sober, doctor," and
Gramont chuckled. "To tell the truth,"
and he gave Fell a whimsical glance, "I am
head over ears in some new business matters
which have actually fired me with the divine
afflatus of enthusiasm. What's more, I was
drifting with the crowds all afternoon, and I've
just begun to realize that I'm dead tired.
Rex or no Rex, I'm afraid that I'd best say
good-night, gentlemen."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont persisted in his intention, and
bade the other two good-night. In truth, he
cared very little about Rex, and a very great
deal about getting off to Bayou Terrebonne
early in the morning. The oil matter filled
his mind. He had formed a thousand plans,
he was fired with enthusiasm, and was anxious
to make his preliminary investigation.</p>
<p class="indent">Returning to the auditorium, Gramont
sought out his hosts and made his farewells,
although not without encountering some opposition.
At length he was free, he had obtained
his hat and coat, and as he passed out
of the building he again met Fell and Ansley,
who were finishing their cigars at the entrance.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span>
He bade them a final adieu and plunged into
the crowd.</p>
<p class="indent">It lacked half an hour of midnight. The
streets were filled with merrymakers, who
were making the night riotous with songs,
yells, and noise-producing apparatus, anticipating
the arrival of Rex. For a little Fell
and Doctor Ansley stood talking, then tossed
away their cigars and turned into the building.</p>
<p class="indent">They halted in the foyer before the appearance
of two men—Joseph Maillard, looking
extremely agitated, and behind him old Judge
Forester, who wore a distinctly worried expression.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, here are Fell and Ansley!" exclaimed
Maillard, almost with relief. "I—ah—my
friends, I don't suppose you've seen Bob
recently?"</p>
<p class="indent">Ansley was silent. Jachin Fell, however,
responded with a cold nod of assent.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes," he said in his peculiarly toneless
manner. "Yes, we have. At least, I believe
it was he——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm worried," said Maillard, anxiously,
hurriedly. He made an expressive gesture of
despair. "He's in costume, of course. I've
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span>
been given to understand that—well, that he
has been—well, drinking."</p>
<p class="indent">"He has," said Jachin Fell, without any
trace of compassion. "A number of the
Krewe are occupying one of the rooms in the
building, and they must have been visiting it
frequently. I trust for your sake that the
fact hasn't become generally known inside?"</p>
<p class="indent">Maillard nodded. Shame and anger lay
heavily in his eyes.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, Jachin. I—I was asked to exert my
influence over Bob. The request came to me
from the floor. This—this is a disgraceful
thing to admit, my friends——"</p>
<p class="indent">Judge Forester, in his kindly way, laid his
hand on the banker's arm.</p>
<p class="indent">"Tut, tut, Joseph," he said, gently, a fund of
sympathy in his voice. "Boys will be boys,
you know; really, this is no great matter!
Don't let it hit you so hard. I'll go with you
to find the room, of course. Where is it,
Jachin?"</p>
<p class="indent">"We'll all go," put in Ansley. "We'll
have a little party of our own, gentlemen.
Come on, I believe we'll be able to discover the
place."</p>
<p class="indent">The four men left the foyer and started
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[pg 162]</span>
through the corridors. Among them was a
tacit understanding, a deep feeling of sympathy
for Joseph Maillard, a bond which held them
to his aid in this disgrace which had befallen
him. Jachin Fell, who felt the least compassion
or pity, cursed Bob Maillard—but under
his breath.</p>
<p class="indent">They walked through the empty, lighted
corridors, following the direction in which Fell
and Ansley had seen young Maillard disappear.</p>
<p class="indent">"I hear," said Judge Forester to Doctor
Ansley, as they followed the other two, "that
there has been astonishing news to-day from
the Midnight Masquer. It seems that a
number of people have received back property
this afternoon—loot the bandit had taken.
It came by mail, special delivery. One of the
Lavergne boys tells me that they received a
box containing everything that was taken at
their home, even to cash, with a note asking
them to return the things to their guests. It
appears to have been some sort of a carnival
joke, after all."</p>
<p class="indent">"A poor one, then," responded Ansley,
"and in doubtful taste. I've heard nothing
of it. I wouldn't mind getting back the little
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[pg 163]</span>
cash I lost, though I must say I'll believe the
story when I see the money——"</p>
<p class="indent">He broke off quickly.</p>
<p class="indent">As they turned a corner of the corridor to
the four men came realization that they had
attained their goal. From one of the rooms
ahead there sounded snatches of a boisterous
chorus being roared forth lustily. As they
halted, to distinguish from which door the
singing proceeded, the chorus was broken off
by an abrupt and sudden silence. This silence
was accentuated by the preceding noise, as
though the singers had checked their maudlin
song in mid-career.</p>
<p class="indent">"Damn it!" muttered Maillard. "Did
they hear us coming? No, that wouldn't
matter a hang to them—but what checked
them so quickly?"</p>
<p class="indent">"This door," said Fell, indicating one to
their right. He paused at it, listening, and
over his features came a singular expression.
As the others joined him, they caught a low
murmur of voices, a hushed sound of talk, a
rattle as a number of chips fell from a table.</p>
<p class="indent">"Cursed queer!" observed Jachin Fell,
frowning. "I wonder what happened to them
so abruptly? Perhaps the deal was finished—they're
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[pg 164]</span>
having a game. Well, go ahead,
Joseph! We'll back you up as a deputation
from the blackcoats, and if you need any moral
support, call on Judge Forester."</p>
<p class="indent">"Correct!" assented that gentleman with
dignity. "I'll give these jackanapes a little
advice! It's going a bit far, this sort of thing;
we can't have Comus turned into a common
drinking bout. Ready, Joseph?"</p>
<p class="indent">He flung open the door, and Maillard entered
at his side. They then came to a
startled halt, at view of the scene which
greeted them.</p>
<p class="indent">The room was large and well lighted, windows
and transom darkened for the occasion.
Tobacco smoke made a bluish haze in the air.
In the centre of the room stood a large table,
littered with glasses and bottles, with scattered
cards, with chips and money.</p>
<p class="indent">About this table had been sitting half a
dozen members of the Krewe of Comus. Now,
however, they were standing, their various
identities completely concealed by the grotesque
costumes which cloaked them. Their
hands were in the air.</p>
<p class="indent">Standing at another doorway, midway between
their group and that of the four unexpected
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span>
intruders, was the Midnight Masquer—holding
them up at the point of his
automatic!</p>
<p class="indent">There was a moment of tense and strained
silence, as every eye went to the four men in
evening attire. It was plain what had cut
short the boisterous song—the Masquer must
have made his appearance only a moment or
two previously. From head to foot he was
hidden under his leathern attire. His unrecognizable
features, at this instant, were
turned slightly toward the four new arrivals.
It was obvious that he, no less than the others,
was startled by this entry.</p>
<p class="indent">Maillard was the first to break that silence
of stupefaction.</p>
<p class="indent">"By heavens!" he cried, furiously. "Here's
that damned villain again—hold him, you!
at him, everybody!"</p>
<p class="indent">In a blind rage, transported out of himself
by his sudden access of passion, the banker
hurled himself forward. From the bandit
burst a cry of futile warning; the pistol in his
hand veered toward his assailant.</p>
<p class="indent">This action precipitated the event. Perhaps
because the Masquer did not fire instantly,
and perhaps because Maillard's mad
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span>
action shamed them, the nearer members of
the drinking party hurled themselves at the
bandit. The threat of the weapon was forgotten,
unheeded in the sweeping lust of the
man-hunt. It seemed that the fellow feared
to fire; and about him closed the party in a
surging mass, with a burst of sudden shouts,
striking and clutching to pull him down and
put him under foot.</p>
<p class="indent">Then, when it seemed that they had him
without a struggle, the Masquer broke from
them, swept them apart and threw them off,
hurled them clear away. He moved as though
to leap through the side doorway whence he
had come.</p>
<p class="indent">With an oath, Maillard hurled himself forward,
struck blindly and furiously at the
bandit, and fastened upon him about the
waist. There was a surge forward of bodies
as the others crowded in to pull down the
Masquer before he could escape. It looked
then as though he were indeed lost—until
the automatic flamed and roared in his hand,
its choking fumes bursting at them. The
report thundered in the room; a second report
thundered, deafeningly, as a second bullet
sought its mark.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span>
Like a faint echo to those shots came the
slam of a door. The Masquer was gone!</p>
<p class="indent">After him, into the farther room, rushed
some of the party; but he had vanished utterly.
There was no trace of him. Of course,
he might have ducked into any of the dark
rooms, or have run down the corridor, yet his
complete disappearance confused the searchers.
After a moment, however, they returned
to the lighted room. The Masquer had gone,
but behind him had remained a more grim and
terrible masquer.</p>
<p class="indent">In the room which he had just left, however,
there had fallen a dread silence and
consternation. One of the masqued drinkers
held an arm that hung helpless, dripping
blood; but his hurt passed unseen and uncared
for, even by himself.</p>
<p class="indent">Doctor Ansley was kneeling above a motionless
figure, prone on the dirty floor; and
it was the figure of Joseph Maillard. The
physician glanced up, then rose slowly to
his feet. He made a terribly significant
gesture, and his crisp voice broke in upon the
appalled silence.</p>
<p class="indent">"Dead," he said, curtly. "Shot twice—each
bullet through the heart. Judge
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span>
Forester, I'm afraid there is no alternative
but to call in the police. Gentlemen, you
will kindly unmask—which one of you is
Robert Maillard?"</p>
<p class="indent">Amid a stunned and horrified silence the
members of the Krewe one by one removed
their grotesque headgear, staring at the dead
man whose white face looked up at them with
an air of grim accusation. But none of
them came forward to claim kinship with the
dead man. Bob Maillard was not in the
room.</p>
<p class="indent">"I think," said the toneless, even voice of
Jachin Fell, "that all of you gentlemen had
better be very careful to say only what you
have seen—and know. You will kindly remain
here until I have summoned the police."</p>
<p class="indent">He left the room, and if there were any
dark implication hidden in his words, no one
seemed to observe it.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>[pg 169]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>On The Bayou</i></p>
<p>AT THREE o'clock in the morning a
great office building is not the most
desolate place on earth, perhaps;
but it approaches very closely to that definition.</p>
<p class="indent">At three o'clock on the morning of Ash
Wednesday the great white Maison Blanche
building was deserted and desolate, so far as
its offices were concerned. The cleaners and
scrub-women had long since finished their
tasks and departed. Out in the streets the
tag-ends of carnival were running on a swiftly
ebbing tide. A single elevator in the building
was, however, in use. A single suite of offices,
with carefully drawn blinds, was lighted and
occupied.</p>
<p class="indent">They were not ornate, these offices. They
consisted of two rooms, a small reception
room and a large private office, both lined to
the ceiling with books, chiefly law books.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>[pg 170]</span>
In the large inner room were sitting three
men. One of the three, Ben Chacherre, sat
in a chair tipped back against the wall, his
eyes closed. From time to time he opened
those sparkling black eyes of his, and through
narrow-slitted lids directed keen glances at
the other two men.</p>
<p class="indent">One of the men was the chief of police.
The second was Jachin Fell, whose offices
these were.</p>
<p class="indent">"Even if things are as you say, which I
don't doubt at all," said the chief, slowly,
"I can't believe the boy did it! And darn it
all, if I pinch him there's goin' to be a hell of
a scandal!"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell shrugged his shoulders, and made response
in his toneless voice:</p>
<p class="indent">"Chief, you're up against facts. Those
facts are bound to come out and the newspapers
will nail your hide to the wall in a
minute. You've a bare chance to save yourself
by taking in young Maillard at once."</p>
<p class="indent">The chief chewed hard on his cigar. "I
don't want to save myself by putting the
wrong man behind the bars," he returned.
"It sure looks like he was the Masquer all
the while, but you say that he wasn't. You
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>[pg 171]</span>
say this was his only job—a joke that turned
out bad."</p>
<p class="indent">"Those are the facts," said Fell. "I
don't want to accuse a man of crimes I know
he did not commit. We have the best of
evidence that he did commit this crime. If
the newspapers fasten the entire Midnight
Masquer business on him, as they're sure to
do, we can't very well help it. I have no
sympathy for the boy."</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course he did it," put in Ben Chacherre,
sleepily. "Wasn't he caught with the
goods?"</p>
<p class="indent">The others paid no heed. The chief indicated
two early editions of the morning
papers, which lay on the desk in front of Fell.
These papers carried full accounts of the return
of the Midnight Masquer's loot, explaining his
robberies as part of a carnival jest.</p>
<p class="indent">"The later editions, comin' out now,"
said the chief, "will crowd all that stuff off
the front page with the Maillard murder.
Darn it, Fell! Whether I believe it or not,
I'll have to arrest the young fool."</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre chuckled. Jachin Fell smiled
faintly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Nothing could be plainer, chief," he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>[pg 172]</span>
responded. "First, Bob Maillard comes to
us in front of the opera house, and talks
about a great joke that he's going to spring on
his friends across the way——"</p>
<p class="indent">"How'd you know who he was?" interjected
the chief, shrewdly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Gramont recognized him; Ansley and I
confirmed the recognition. He was more or
less intoxicated—chiefly more. Now, young
Maillard was not in the room at the moment
of the murder—unless he was the Masquer.
Five minutes afterward he was found in a
near-by room, hastily changing out of an
aviator's uniform into his masquerade costume.
Obviously, he had assumed the guise
of the Masquer as a joke on his friends, and
the joke had a tragic ending. Further, he
was in the aviation service during the war,
and so had the uniform ready to hand. You
couldn't make anybody believe that he hasn't
been the Masquer all the time!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course," and the chief nodded perplexedly.
"It'd be a clear case—only you
call me in and say that he <i>wasn't</i> the Masquer!
Damn it, Fell, this thing has my goat!"</p>
<p class="indent">"What's Maillard's story?" struck in Ben
Chacherre.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[pg 173]</span>
"He denies the whole thing," said the
worried chief. "According to his story, which
sounded straight the way he tells it, he meant
to pull off the joke on his friends and was
dressing in the Masquer's costume when
he heard the shots. He claims that the shots
startled him and made him change back.
He swears that he had not entered the other
room at all, except in his masquerade clothes.
He says the murderer must have been the real
Masquer. It's likely enough, because all
young Maillard's crowd knew about the party
that was to be held in that room during the
Comus ball——"</p>
<p class="indent">"No matter," said Fell, coldly. "Chief,
this is an open and shut case; the boy was
bound to lie. That he killed his father was an
accident, of course, but none the less it did
take place."</p>
<p class="indent">"The boy's a wreck this minute." The
chief held a match to his unlighted cigar.
"But you say that he ain't the original
Masquer?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No!" Fell spoke quickly. "The original
Masquer was another person, and had nothing
to do with the present case. This information
is confidential and between ourselves."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[pg 174]</span>
"Oh, of course," assented the chief. "Well,
I suppose I got to pull Maillard, but I hate
to do it. I got a hunch that he ain't the right
party."</p>
<p class="indent">"Virtuous man!" Fell smiled thinly. "According
to all the books, the chief of
police is only too glad to fasten the crime on
anybody——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Books be damned!" snorted the chief, and
leaned forward earnestly. "Look here, Fell!
Do you believe in your heart that Maillard
killed his father?"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell was silent a moment under that intent
scrutiny.</p>
<p class="indent">"From the evidence, I am forced against
my will to believe it," he said at last. "Of
course, he'll be able to prove that he was not
the Masquer on previous occasions; his alibis
will take care of that. Up to the point
of the murder, his story is all right. And,
my friend, there is a chance—a very slim,
tenuous chance—that his entire story is true.
In that case, another person must have
appeared as the Masquer which seems unlikely——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Or else," put in Ben Chacherre, smoothly,
"the real original Masquer showed up!"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[pg 175]</span>
There was an instant of silence. Jachin
Fell regarded his henchman with steady gray
eyes. Ben Chacherre met the look with
almost a trace of defiance. The chief frowned
darkly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes," said the chief. "That's the size of
it, Fell. You're keepin' quiet about the name
of the real Masquer; why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Because," said Fell, calmly, "I happen to
know that he was in the auditorium at the time
of the murder."</p>
<p class="indent">Again silence. Ben Chacherre stared at
Fell, with amazement and admiration in his
gaze. "When the master lies, he lies magnificently!"
he murmured in French.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well," and the chief gestured despairingly,
"I guess that lets out the real Masquer, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Exactly," assented Fell. "No use dragging
his name into it. I'll keep at work on
this, chief, and if anything turns up to clear
young Maillard, I'll be very glad."</p>
<p class="indent">"All right," grunted the chief, and rose.
"I'll be on my way."</p>
<p class="indent">He departed. Neither Fell nor Chacherre
moved or spoke for a space. When at length
the clang of the elevator door resounded
through the deserted corridors Ben Chacherre
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[pg 176]</span>
slipped from his chair and went to the outer
door. He glanced out into the hall, closed
the door, and with a nod returned to his chair.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well?" Jachin Fell regarded him with intent,
searching eyes. "Have you any light
to throw on the occasion?"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre's usual air of cool impudence was
never in evidence when he talked with Mr. Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"No," he said, shaking his head. "Hammond
worked on the car until about nine
o'clock, then beat it to bed, I guess. I quit
the job at ten, and his light had been out some
time. Well, master, this is a queer affair!
There's no doubt that Gramont pulled it, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">"You think so?" asked Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre made a gesture of assent. "<i>Quand
bois tombé, cabri monté</i>—when the tree falls,
the kid can climb it! Any fool can see that
Gramont was the man. Don't you think so
yourself, master?"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell nodded.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes. But we've no evidence—everything
lies against young Maillard. Early in the
morning Gramont goes to Paradis to examine
that land of Miss Ledanois' along the bayou.
He'll probably say nothing of this murder to
Hammond, and the chauffeur may not find
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span>
out about it until a day or two—they get few
newspapers down there.</p>
<p class="indent">"Drive down to Paradis in the morning,
Ben; get into touch with Hammond, and discover
what time Gramont got home to-night.
Write me what you find out. Then take
charge of things at the Gumberts place.
Make sure that every car is handled right.
A headquarters man from Mobile will be here
to-morrow to trace the Nonpareil Twelve that
Gramont now owns."</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre whistled under his breath.
"What?"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell smiled slightly and nodded.
"Yes. If Gramont remains at Paradis, I
may send him on down there—I'm not sure
yet. I intend to get something on that man
Hammond."</p>
<p class="indent">"But you can't land him that way, master!
He bought the car——"</p>
<p class="indent">"And who sold the car to the garage people?
They bought it innocently." A peculiar smile
twisted Fell's lips awry. "In fact, they bought
it from a man named Hammond, as the evidence
will show very clearly."</p>
<p class="indent">Ben Chacherre started, since he had sold
that car himself. Then a slow grin came into
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[pg 178]</span>
his thin features—a grin that widened into a
noiseless laugh.</p>
<p class="indent">"Master, you are magnificent!" he said, and
rose. "Well, if there is nothing further on
hand, I shall go to bed."</p>
<p class="indent">"An excellent programme," said Jachin Fell,
and took his hat from the desk. "I must get
some sleep myself."</p>
<p class="indent">They left the office and the building together.</p>
<p class="indent">Three hours afterward the dawn had set
in—a cold, gray, and dismal dawn that rose
upon a city littered with the aftermath of
carnival. "Lean Wednesday" it was, in sober
fact. Thus far, the city in general was ignorant
of the tragedy which had taken place at the
very conclusion of its gayest carnival season.
Within a few hours business and social circles
would be swept by the fact of Joseph Maillard's
murder, but at this early point of the day the
city slept. The morning papers, which to-day
carried a news story that promised to shock
and stun the entire community, were not yet
distributed.</p>
<p class="indent">Rising before daylight, Henry Gramont and
Hammond breakfasted early and were off by
six in the car. They were well outside town
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[pg 179]</span>
and sweeping on their way to Terrebonne
Parish and the town of Paradis before they
realized that the day was not going to brighten
appreciably. Instead, it remained very cloudy
and gloomy, with a chill threat of rain in the
air.</p>
<p class="indent">Weather mattered little to Gramont. When
finally the excellent highway was left behind,
and they started on the last lap of their
seventy-mile ride, they found the parish roads
execrable and the going slow. Thus, noon was
at hand when they at length pulled into Paradis,
the town closest to Lucie Ledanois' bayou
land. The rain was still holding off.</p>
<p class="indent">"Too cold to rain," observed Gramont.
"Let's hit for the hotel and get something to
eat. I'll have to locate the land, which is
somewhere near town."</p>
<p class="indent">They discovered the hotel to be an ancient
structure, and boasting prices worthy of Lafitte
and his buccaneers. As in many small
towns of Louisiana, however, the food proved
fit for a king. After a light luncheon of quail,
crayfish bisque, and probably illegal venison,
Gramont sighed regret that he could eat no
more, and set about inquiring where the
Ledanois farm lay.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[pg 180]</span>
There was very little, indeed, to Paradis,
which lay on the bayou but well away from
the railroad. It was a desolate spot, unpainted
and unkept. The parish seat of
Houma had robbed it of all life and growth on
the one hand; on the other, the new oil and gas
district had not yet touched it.</p>
<p class="indent">Southward lay the swamp—fully forty miles
of it, merging by degrees into the Gulf. Forty
miles of cypress marsh and winding bayou,
uncharted, unexplored save by occasional
hunters or semi-occasional sheriffs. No man
knew who or what might be in those swamps,
and no one cared to know. The man who
brought in fish or oysters in his skiff might
be a bayou fisherman, and he might be a murderer
wanted in ten states. Curiosity was apt
to prove extremely unhealthy. Like the
Atchafalaya, where chance travellers find
themselves abruptly ordered elsewhere, the
Terrebonne swamps have their own secrets
and know how to keep them.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont had no difficulty in locating the
Ledanois land, and he found that it was by
no means in the swamp. A part of it, lying
closer to Houma, had been sold and was
now included in the new oil district; it was
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span>
this portion which Joseph Maillard had sold
off.</p>
<p class="indent">The remainder, and the largest portion, lay
north of Paradis and ran along the west bank
of the bayou for half a mile. A long-abandoned
farm, it was high ground, with the
timber well cleared off and excellently located;
but tenants were hard to get and shiftless
when obtained, so that the place had not been
farmed for the last five years or more. After
getting these facts, Gramont consulted with
Hammond.</p>
<p class="indent">"We'd better buy some grub here in town
and arrange to stay a couple of nights on
the farm, if necessary," he said. "There are
some buildings there, so we'll find shelter.
Along the bayou are summer cottages—I
believe some of them are rather pretentious
places—and we ought to find the road pretty
decent. It's only three or four miles out of
town."</p>
<p class="indent">With some provisions piled in the car, they
set forth. The road wound along the bayou
side, past ancient 'Cajun farms and the squat
homes of fishermen. Here and there had been
placed camps and summer cottages, nestling
amid groups of huge oaks and cypress, whose
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span>
fronds of silver-gray moss hung in drooping
clusters like pale and ghostly shrouds.</p>
<p class="indent">Watching the road closely, Gramont suddenly
found the landmarks that had been
described to him, and ordered Hammond to
stop and turn in at a gap in the fence which
had once been an entrance gate.</p>
<p class="indent">"Here we are! Those are the buildings
off to the right. Whew! I should say it had
been abandoned! Nothing much left but
ruins. Go ahead!"</p>
<p class="indent">Before them, as they drove in from the road
by a grass-covered drive, showed a house, shed,
and barn amid a cluster of towering trees.
Indeed, trees were everywhere about the farm,
which had grown up in a regular sapling forest.
The buildings were in a ruinous state—clapboards
hanging loosely, roofs dotted by gaping
holes, doors and windows long since gone.</p>
<p class="indent">Leaving the car, Gramont, followed by the
chauffeur, went to the front doorway and surveyed
the wreckage inside.</p>
<p class="indent">"What do you say, Hammond? Think we
can stop here, or go back to the hotel? It's
not much of a run to town——"</p>
<p class="indent">Hammond pointed to a wide fireplace facing
them.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span>
"I can get this shack cleaned out in about
half an hour—this one room, anyhow. When
we get a fire goin' in there, and board up the
windows and doors, we ought to be comfortable
enough. But suit yourself, cap'n! It's
your funeral."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont laughed. "All right. Go ahead
and clean up, then, and if rain comes down we
can camp here. Be sure and look for snakes
and vermin. The floor seems sound, and if
there's plenty of moss on the trees, we can make
up comfortable beds. Too bad you're not a
fisherman, or we might get a fresh fish out of
the bayou——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I got some tackle in town," and Hammond
grinned widely.</p>
<p class="indent">"Good work! Then make yourself at home
and go to it. We've most of the afternoon
before us."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont left the house, and headed down
toward the bayou shore.</p>
<p class="indent">He took a letter from his pocket, opened it,
and glanced over it anew. It was an old letter,
one written him nearly two years previously
by Lucie Ledanois. It had been written
merely in the endeavour to distract the
thoughts of a wounded soldier, to bring his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span>
mind to Louisiana, away from the stricken
fields of France. In the letter Lucie had
described some of the more interesting features
of Bayou Terrebonne—the oyster and shrimp
fleets, the Chinese and Filipino villages along
the Gulf, the far-spread cypress swamps; the
bubbling fountains, natural curiosities, that
broke up through the streams and bayous of
the whole wide parish—fountains that were
caused by gas seeping up from the earth's interior,
and breaking through.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont knew that plans were already afoot
to tap this field of natural gas and pipe it to
New Orleans. Oil had been found, too, and
all the state was now oil-mad. Fortunes were
being made daily, and other fortunes were
being lost daily by those who dealt with oil-stocks
instead of with oil.</p>
<p class="indent">"Those gas-fountains did the work!" reflected
Gramont. "And according to this
letter, there's one of those fountains here in the
bayou, close to her property. 'Just opposite
the dock,' she says. The first thing is to find
the dock, then the fountain. After that, we'll
decide if it's true mineral gas. If it is, then the
work's done—for I'll sure take a chance on
finding oil near it!"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span>
Gramont came to the bayou and began
searching his way along the thick and high
fringe of bushes and saplings that girded the
water's edge. Presently he came upon the
ruined evidences of what had once been a
small boat shed. Not far from this he found
the dock referred to in the letter; nothing was
left of it except a few spiles protruding from the
surface of the water. But he had no need to
look farther. Directly before him, he saw
that which he was seeking.</p>
<p class="indent">A dozen feet out from shore the water was
rising and falling in a continuous dome or
fountain of highly charged bubbles that rose
a foot above the surface. Gramont stared at
it, motionless. He watched it for a space—then,
abruptly, he started. It was a violent
start, a start of sheer amazement and incredulity.</p>
<p class="indent">He leaned forward, staring no longer at the
gas dome, but at the water closer inshore.
For a moment he thought that his senses had
deceived him, then he saw that the thing was
there indeed, there beyond any doubt—a
very faint trace of iridescent light that played
over the surface of the water.</p>
<p class="indent">"It can't be possible!" he muttered, bending
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span>
farther over. "Such a thing happens too
rarely——"</p>
<p class="indent">His heart pounded violently; excitement
sent the blood rushing to his brain in blinding
swirls. He was gripped by the gold fever that
comes upon a man when he makes the astounding
discovery of untold wealth lying at his feet,
passed over and disregarded by other and less-discerning
men for days and years!</p>
<p class="indent">It was oil, no question about it. An extremely
slight quantity, true; so slight a
quantity that there was no film on the water,
no discernible taste to the water. Gramont
brought it to his mouth and rose, shaking his
head.</p>
<p class="indent">Where did it come from? It had no connection
with the gas bubbles—at least, it did not
come from the dome of water and gas. How
long he stood there staring Gramont did not
know. His brain was afire with the possibilities.
At length he stirred into action and
started up the bayou bank, from time to time
halting to search the water below him, to make
sure that he could still discern the faint iridescence.</p>
<p class="indent">He followed it rod by rod, and found that it
rapidly increased in strength. It must come
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span>
from some very tiny surface seepage close at
hand, that was lost in the bayou almost as
rapidly as it came from the earth-depths. Only
accidentally would a man see it—not unless he
were searching the water close to the bank,
and even then only by the grace of chance.</p>
<p class="indent">Suddenly Gramont saw that he had lost the
sign. He halted.</p>
<p class="indent">No, not lost, either! Just ahead of him was
a patch of reeds, and a recession of the shore.
He advanced again. Inside the reeds he found
the oily smear, still so faint that he could only
detect it at certain angles. Glancing up, he
could see a fence at a little distance, evidently
the boundary fence of the Ledanois land; the
bushes and trees thinned out here, and on
ahead was cleared ground. He saw, through
the bushes, glimpses of buildings.</p>
<p class="indent">Violent disappointment seized him. Was
he to lose this discovery, after all? Was he
to find that the seepage came from ground
belonging to someone else? No—he stepped
back hastily, barely in time to avoid stumbling
into a tiny trickle of water, a rivulet that ran
down into the bayou, a tributary so insignificant
that it was invisible ten feet distant!
And on the surface a faint iridescence.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span>
Excitement rising anew within him, Gramont
turned and followed this rivulet, his
eyes aflame with eagerness. It led him for
twenty feet, and ceased abruptly, in a bubbling
spring that welled from a patch of low, tree-enclosed
land. Gramont felt his feet sinking
in grass, and saw that there was a dip in
the ground hereabouts, a swampy little section
all to itself. He picked a dry spot and lay
down on his face, searching the water with his
eyes.</p>
<p class="indent">Moment after moment he lay there, watching.
Presently he found the slight trickle of
oil again—a trickle so faint and slim that even
here, on the surface of the tiny rivulet, it could
be discerned only with great difficulty. A
very thin seepage, concluded Gramont; a
thin oil, of course. So faint a little thing, to
mean so much!</p>
<p class="indent">It came from the Ledanois land, no doubt
of it. What did that matter, though? His
eyes widened with flaming thoughts as he gazed
down at the slender thread of water. No
matter at all where this came from—the main
point was proven by it! There was oil here for
the finding, oil down in the thousands of feet
below, oil so thick and abundant that it forced
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span>
itself up through the earth fissures to find an
outlet!</p>
<p class="indent">"Instead of going down five or six thousand
feet," he thought, exultantly, "we may have
to go down only as many hundred. But first
we must get an option or a lease on all the
land roundabout—all we can secure! There
will be a tremendous boom the minute this
news breaks. If we get those options, we can
sell them over again at a million per cent.
profit, and even if we don't strike oil in paying
quantities, we'll regain the cost of our drilling!
And to think of the years this has been here,
waiting for someone——"</p>
<p class="indent">Suddenly he started violently. An abrupt
crashing of feet among the bushes, an outbreak
of voices, had sounded not far away—just the
other side of the boundary fence. He was
wakened from his dreams, and started to rise.
Then he relaxed his muscles and lay quiet,
astonishment seizing him; for he heard his own
name mentioned in a voice that was strange to
him.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Murder</i></p>
<p>THE voice was strange to Gramont, yet
he had a vague recollection of having at
some time heard it before. It was a
jaunty and impudent voice, very self-assured—yet
it bore a startled and uneasy note, as
though the speaker had just come unaware
upon the man whom he addressed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Howdy, sheriff!" it said. "Didn't see you
in there—what you doin' so far away from
Houma, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Why, I've been looking over the place
around here," responded another voice, which
was dry and grim. "I know you, Ben Chacherre,
and I think I'll take you along with
me. Just come from New Orleans, did
you?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Me? Take <i>me</i>?" The voice of Chacherre
shrilled up suddenly in alarm. "Look
here, sheriff, it wasn't me done it! It was
Gramont——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span>
There came silence. Not a sound broke
the stillness of the late afternoon.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont, listening, lay bewildered and
breathless. Ben Chacherre, the sneak thief—how
had Chacherre come here? Gramont
knew nothing of any tie between Jachin Fell
and Chacherre; he could only lie in the grass
and wonder at the man's presence. What
"place" was it that the sheriff of Houma
had been looking over? And what was it
that he, Gramont, was supposed to have
done?</p>
<p class="indent">Confused and wondering, Gramont waited.
And, as he waited, he caught a soft sound from
the marshy ground beside him—a faint "plop"
as though some object had fallen close by on
the wet grass. At the moment he paid no
heed to this sound, for again the uncanny silence
had fallen.</p>
<p class="indent">Listening, Gramont fancied that he caught
slow, stealthy footsteps amid the undergrowth,
but derided the fancy as sheer imagination.
His brain was busy with this new problem.
Houma, he knew, was the seat of the parish or
county. This Ben Chacherre appeared to
have suddenly and unexpectedly encountered
the sheriff, to his obvious alarm, and the sheriff
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg 192]</span>
had for some reason decided to arrest him; so
much was clear.</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre had something to do with the
"place"—did that mean the adjacent property,
or the Ledanois farm? In his puzzled
bewilderment over this imbroglio Gramont for
the moment quite forgot the trickle of oil at
his feet.</p>
<p class="indent">But now the deep silence became unnatural
and sinister. What had happened? Surely,
Ben Chacherre had not been arrested and taken
away in such silence! Why had the voices so
abruptly ceased? Vaguely uneasy, startled by
the prolongation of that intense stillness,
Gramont rose to his feet and peered among the
trees.</p>
<p class="indent">The two speakers seemed to have departed;
he could descry nobody in sight. A step to
one side gave Gramont a view of the land adjoining
the Ledanois place. This was cleared
of all brush, and under some immense oaks to
the far left he had a glimpse of a large summer
cottage, boarded up and apparently deserted.
Nearer at hand, however, he saw other buildings,
and these drew his attention. He heard
the throbbing pound of a motor at work, and
as there was no power line along here, the place
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span>
evidently had its own electrical plant. He
scrutinized the scene before him appraisingly.</p>
<p class="indent">There were two large buildings here. One
seemed to be a large barn, closed, the other
was a long, low shed which was too large to
be a garage. The door of this was open, and
before the opening Gramont saw three men
standing in talk; he recognized none of them.
Two of the talkers were clad in greasy overalls,
and the third figure showed the flash of a collar.
The sheriff, Ben Chacherre, and some other
man, thought Gramont. He would not have
known Chacherre had he encountered him face
to face. To him, the man was a name only.</p>
<p class="indent">The mention of his own name by Chacherre
impelled him to go forward and demand some
explanation. Then it occurred to him that
perhaps he had made a mistake; it would have
been very easy, for he was not certain that
Chacherre had referred to him. There could
be other Gramonts, or other men whose name
would have much the same sound in a Creole
mouth.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'd better attend to my own business,"
thought Gramont, and turned away. He noticed
that the motor had ceased its work.
"Wonder what rich chap can be down here at
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span>
his summer cottage this time of year? May
be only a caretaker, though. I'd better give
all my attention to this oil, and let other
things alone."</p>
<p class="indent">He retraced his steps to the bayou bank and
turned back toward the house. As he did so,
Hammond appeared coming toward him, knife
in hand.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm going to cut me a pole and land a couple
o' fish for supper," announced the chauffeur,
grinning. "Got things cleaned up fine, cap'n!
You won't know the old shack."</p>
<p class="indent">"Good enough," said Gramont. "Here,
step over this way! I want to show you
something."</p>
<p class="indent">He led Hammond to the rivulet and pointed
out the thin film of oil on the surface.</p>
<p class="indent">"There's our golden fortune, sergeant! Oil
actually coming out of the ground! It doesn't
happen very often, but it does happen—and
this is one of the times. I'll not bother to look
around any farther."</p>
<p class="indent">"Glory be!" said Hammond, staring at the
rivulet. "Want to hit back for town?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No; we couldn't get back until sometime
to-night, and the roads aren't very good for
night work. I'm going to get some leases
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span>
around here—perhaps I can do it right away,
and we'll start back in the morning. Go ahead
and get your fish."</p>
<p class="indent">Regaining the house, he saw that Hammond
had indeed cleaned up in great style, and had
the main room looking clean as a pin, with a
fire popping on the hearth. He did not pause
here, but went to the car, got in, and started it.
He drove back to the road, and followed this
toward town for a few rods, turning in at a
large and very decent-looking farmhouse that
he had observed while passing it on the way
out.</p>
<p class="indent">He found the owner, an intelligent-appearing
Creole, driving in some cows for milking, and
was a little startled to realize that the afternoon
was so late. When he addressed the
farmer in French, he received a cordial reply,
and discovered that this man owned the land
across the road from the Ledanois place—that
his farm, in fact, covered several hundred acres.</p>
<p class="indent">"Who owns the land next to the Ledanois
place?" inquired Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">"I sold that off my land a couple of years
ago," replied the other. "A man from New
Orleans wanted it for a summer place—a business
man there, Isidore Gumberts."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg 196]</span>
Gumberts—"Memphis Izzy" Gumberts!
The name flashed to Gramont's mind, and
brought the recollection of a conversation with
Hammond. Why, Gumberts was the famous
crook of whom Hammond had spoken.</p>
<p class="indent">"I saw the sheriff awhile ago, heading up the
road," observed the Creole. "Did you meet
him?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont shook his head. "No, but I saw
several men at the Gumberts place. Perhaps
he was there——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not there, I guess," and the farmer
laughed. "Those fellows have rented the
place from Gumberts, I hear; they're inventors,
and quiet enough men. You're a stranger
here?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont introduced himself as a friend of
Miss Ledanois, and stated frankly that he was
looking for oil and hoped to drill on her land.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'd like a lease option from you," he went
on. "I don't want to buy your land at all;
what I want is a right to drill for oil on it, in
case any shows up on Miss Ledanois' land.
It's all a gamble, you know. I'll give you a
hundred dollars for the lease, and the usual
eighth interest in any oil that's found. I've
no lease blanks with me, but if you'll give me
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg 197]</span>
the option, a signed memorandum will be entirely
sufficient."</p>
<p class="indent">The farmer regarded oil as a joke, and said
so. The hundred dollars, however, and the
prospective eighth interest, were sufficient to
induce him to part with the option without
any delay. He was only too glad to get the
thing done with at once, and to pocket Gramont's
money.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont drove away, and was just coming
to the Ledanois drive when he suddenly
threw on the brakes and halted the car,
listening. From somewhere ahead of him—the
Gumberts place, he thought instantly—echoed
a shot, and several faint shouts. Then silence
again.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont paused, indecisive. The sheriff
was making an arrest, he thought. A hundred
possibilities flitted through his brain,
suggested by the sinister combination of Memphis
Izzy, known even to Hammond as a prince
among crooks, with this secluded place leased
by "inventors." Bootlegging? Counterfeiting?</p>
<p class="indent">As he paused, thus, he suddenly started; he
was certain that he had caught the tones of
Hammond, as though in a sudden uplifted
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span>
oath of anger. Gramont threw in his clutch
and sent the car jumping forward—he remembered
that he had left Hammond beside the
rivulet, close to the Gumberts property. What
had happened?</p>
<p class="indent">He came, after a moment of impatience, to
an open gate whose drive led to the Gumberts
place. Before him, as he turned in, unfolded
a startling scene. Three men, the same three
whom he had seen from the bushes, were standing
in front of the low shed; two of them held
rifles, the third, one of the "inventors" in
overalls, was winding a bandage about a bleeding
hand. The two rifles were loosely levelled
at Hammond, who stood in the centre of the
group with his arms in the air.</p>
<p class="indent">Whatever had happened, Hammond had
evidently not been easily captured. His
countenance was somewhat battered, and the
one captor who wore a collar was bleeding
copiously from a cut cheek. The three turned
as Gramont's car drove up, and Hammond
gave an ejaculation of relief.</p>
<p class="indent">"Here he is now——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Shut up!" snapped one of his armed captors
in an ugly tone. "Hurry up, Chacherre—get
a rope and tie this gink!"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span>
Gramont leaped from the car and strode
forward.</p>
<p class="indent">"What's been going on here?" he demanded,
sharply. "Hammond——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I found a dead man over in them bushes,"
shot out Hammond, "and these guys jumped
me before I seen 'em. They claim I done
it——"</p>
<p class="indent">"A dead man!" repeated Gramont, and
looked at the three. "What do you mean?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Give him the spiel, Chacherre," growled
one of them. Ben Chacherre stepped forward,
his bold eyes fastened on those of Gramont
with a look of defiance.</p>
<p class="indent">"The sheriff was here some time ago, looking
for a stolen boat," he said, "and went off
toward the Ledanois place. We were following,
in order to help him search, when we came
upon this man standing in the bushes, over the
body of the sheriff. A knife was in his hand,
and the sheriff had been stabbed to death.
He drew a pistol and shot one of us——"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont was staggered for a moment.
"Wait!" he exclaimed. "Hammond, how
much of this is true?"</p>
<p class="indent">"What I'm tellin' you, cap'n," answered
Hammond, doggedly. "I found a man layin'
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span>
there and was looking at him when these guys
jumped me. I shot that fellow in the arm,
all right, then they grabbed my gun and got
me down. That's all."</p>
<p class="indent">The sheriff—murdered!</p>
<p class="indent">Into the mind of Gramont leaped that brief
conversation which he had overheard between
Ben Chacherre and the sheriff; the strange,
unnatural silence which had concluded that
broken-off conversation. He stared from
Hammond to the others, speechless for the
moment, yet with hot words rising impetuously
in him.</p>
<p class="indent">Now he noticed that Chacherre and his
two companions were watching him very
intently, and were slightly circling out. He
sensed an acquaintance among all these men.
He saw that the wounded man had finished
his bandaging, and was now holding his
unwounded hand in his jacket pocket, bulkily,
menacingly.</p>
<p class="indent">Danger flashed upon Gramont—flashed upon
him vividly and with startling clearness.
He realized that anything was possible in this
isolated spot—this spot where murder had so
lately been consummated! He checked on his
very lips what he had been about to blurt forth;
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span>
at this instant, Hammond voiced the thought
in his mind.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's a frame-up!" said the chauffeur,
angrily.</p>
<p class="indent">"That's likely, isn't it?" Chacherre flung the
words in a sneer, but with a covert glance at
Gramont. "This fellow is your chauffeur,
ain't he? Well, we got to take him in to
Houma, that's all."</p>
<p class="indent">"Where's the sheriff's body?" demanded
Gramont, quietly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Over there," Chacherre gestured. "We
ain't had a chance to bring him back yet—this
fellow kept us busy. Maybe you want to
frame up an alibi for him?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont paid no attention to the sneering
tone of this last. He regarded Chacherre
fixedly, thinking hard, keeping himself well in
hand.</p>
<p class="indent">"You say the sheriff was here, then
went over toward the Ledanois land?" he
asked. "Did he go alone, or were you with
him?"</p>
<p class="indent">"We were fixin' to follow him," asserted
Chacherre, confidently. This was all Gramont
wanted to know—that the man was lying.
"We were trailin' along after him when he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span>
stepped into the bushes. This man of yours
was standing over him with a knife——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I was, too, when they found me—I was
cuttin' me a fishpole," said Hammond, sulkily.
He was plainly beginning to be impressed and
alarmed by the evidence against him. Gramont
only nodded.</p>
<p class="indent">"No one saw the actual murder, then?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No need for it," said Chacherre, brazenly.
"When we found him that way! Eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I suppose not," answered Gramont, his
eyes fastened thoughtfully on Hammond.
The latter caught the look, let his jaw fall in
astonishment, then flushed and compressed his
lips—and waited. Gramont glanced at Chacherre,
and launched a chance shaft.</p>
<p class="indent">"You're Ben Chacherre, aren't you? Do
you work for Mr. Fell?"</p>
<p class="indent">The chance shot scored. "Yes," said Chacherre,
his eyes narrowing.</p>
<p class="indent">"What are you doing here, then?"</p>
<p class="indent">For an instant Chacherre was off guard.
He did not know how much—or little—Gramont
knew; but he did know that Gramont
was aware who had taken the loot of the Midnight
Masquer from the luggage compartment
of the car. This knowledge, very naturally,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span>
threw him back on the defence of which he was
most sure.</p>
<p class="indent">"I came on an errand for my master," he
said, and with those words gave the game into
Gramont's hands.</p>
<p class="indent">There was a moment of silence. Gramont
stood apparently in musing thought, conscious
that every eye was fastened upon him, and that
one false move would now spell disaster. He
gave no sign of the tremendous shock that
Chacherre's words had just given him; when
he spoke, it was quietly and coolly:</p>
<p class="indent">"Then your master is evidently associated
with Memphis Izzy Gumberts, who owns this
place here. Is that right?"</p>
<p class="indent">Both Hammond and Chacherre's two friends
started at this.</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't know anything about that," returned
Chacherre, with a shrug which did not
entirely conceal his uneasiness. "I know
that we've got a murderer here, and that we'll
have to dispose of him. Do you object?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Of course not," said Gramont, calmly.
"Step aside and give me a moment in private
with Hammond. Then by all means take
him in to Houma. I'd suggest that you tie
him up, or make use of handcuffs if the sheriff
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span>
brought any along. Then you'd better take
in the body of the sheriff also. Hammond, a
word with you!"</p>
<p class="indent">This totally unexpected acquiescence on the
part of Gramont seemed to stun Chacherre
into inaction. He half moved, as though uncertain
whether to bar Gramont from the
prisoner, then he stepped aside as Gramont
advanced. A gesture to his two companions
prevented them from interfering.</p>
<p class="indent">"Keep 'em covered, though," he said, shifting
his own rifle slightly and watching with a
scowl of suspicion.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont ignored him and went up to Hammond,
with a look of warning.</p>
<p class="indent">"You'll have to submit to this, old man,"
he said, in a tone that the others could not
overhear. "Don't dream that I'm deserting
you; but I want a good look at this place if
all three of them go away. They must not
suspect——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Cap'n, look out!" broke in Hammond,
urgently. "This here is a gang—the whole
thing is a frame-up on me!"</p>
<p class="indent">"I know it—I was present when the sheriff
was murdered; but keep quiet. I'll come to
Houma later to-night and see you." He
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span>
turned away with a shrug as though Hammond
had denied him some favour, and lifted his
voice. "Chacherre! How are you to take
this man into town? How did you get here?
Will you need to use my car?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No." The Creole jerked his head toward
the barn. "I came in Mr. Fell's car—it's got
a sprung axle and is laid up. We'll take him
back in another one."</p>
<p class="indent">"Very well," Gramont paused and glanced
around. "This is a terrible blow, men. I
never dreamed that Hammond was a murderer
or could be one! You don't know of any motive
for the crime?"</p>
<p class="indent">They shook their heads, but suspicion was
dying from their eyes. Gramont glanced again
at his chauffeur.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll not abandon you, Hammond," he said,
severely, coldly. "I'll stop in at Houma and
see that you have a lawyer. I think, gentlemen,
we had better attend to bringing in the
body of the sheriff, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">The wounded man dodged into the barn
and returned with a strip of rope. Chacherre
took this, and firmly bound Hammond's arms,
then forced him to sit down and bound his
ankles.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span>
"You watch him," he ordered the wounded
member of the trio. "We'll get the sheriff."</p>
<p class="indent">Allowing Chacherre and his companion to
take the lead, Gramont went with them to the
place where the murdered officer lay. As he
went, the conviction grew more sure within
him that, when he lay there by the rivulet,
he had actually heard the last words uttered by
the sheriff; that Chacherre had committed the
murder in that moment—a noiseless, deadly
stab! That Hammond could or would have
done it he knew was absurd.</p>
<p class="indent">They found the murdered man lying among
the bushes. He had been stabbed under the
fifth rib—the knife had gone direct to the heart.
Chacherre announced that he had Hammond's
knife as evidence and Gramont merely nodded
his head.</p>
<p class="indent">Lifting the body between them, they bore
it back to the barn.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now," said Gramont, quickly, "I'm off
for Houma—if I don't miss my road! You
men will be right along?"</p>
<p class="indent">"In a jiffy," said Chacherre, promptly.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont climbed into his car and drove
away. He had no fear of anything happening
to Hammond; the evidence against the latter
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span>
was damning, and with three men to swear him
into a hangman's noose, they would bring him
to jail safe enough.</p>
<p class="indent">"A clever devil, that Chacherre!" he
thought, grimly. "We're up against a gang,
beyond any doubt. Now, if they don't suspect
me——"</p>
<p class="indent">He turned in at the Ledanois gate, knowing
himself to be beyond sight or hearing of the
Gumberts place. He drove the car away
from the house, and into the thick of the
densest bush-growth that he could find where
it was well concealed from sight. Then, on
foot, he made his way along the bank of the
bayou until he had come to the rivulet where
oil showed.</p>
<p class="indent">Here he paused, concealing himself and
gaining a place where he could get a view of
the Gumberts land. He saw Chacherre and
Hammond there, beside the body of the sheriff;
the other two men were swinging open the
barn door. They disappeared inside, and a
moment later Gramont heard the whirr of an
engine starting. A car backed out into the
yard—a seven-passenger Cadillac—and halted.</p>
<p class="indent">The three men lifted the body of the sheriff,
into the tonneau. Chacherre took the wheel,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span>
Hammond being bundled in beside him. The
other two men climbed in beside the body,
rifles in hand. Chacherre started the car
toward the road.</p>
<p class="indent">"All fine!" thought Gramont with a thrill
of exultation. "They've all cleared out and left
the place to me—and I want a look at that
place."</p>
<p class="indent">Suddenly, as he stood there, he remembered
the slight "plump" that he had heard during
that interminable silence which had followed
the conversation between the sheriff and Ben
Chacherre. It was a sound as though something
had fallen near him in the soggy ground.</p>
<p class="indent">The remembrance startled him strangely.
He visualized an excited murderer standing
beside his victim, knife in hand; he visualized
the abhorrence which must have seized the man
for a moment—the abhorrence which must have
caused him to do something in that moment
which in a cooler time he would not have done.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont turned toward the little marshy
spot where he had lain listening. He bent
down, searching the wet ground, heedless that
the water soaked into his boots. And, after a
minute, a low exclamation of satisfaction broke
from him as he found what he sought.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>The Gangsters</i></p>
<p>GRAMONT left the covert and walked
forward.</p>
<p class="indent">He was thinking about that odd
mention of Jachin Fell—had Chacherre lied in
saying he had come here on his master's business?
Perhaps. The man had come in Fell's
car, and would not hesitate to lie about using
the car. For the moment, Gramont put away
the circumstance, but did not forget it.</p>
<p class="indent">He walked openly toward the Gumberts
buildings, thinking that he would have time
for a good look around the place before dusk
fell; he would then get off for Houma, and
attend to Hammond's defence.</p>
<p class="indent">As for the place before him, he was convinced
that it was abandoned. Had any one,
other than Chacherre and his two friends, been
about the buildings, the late excitement would
have brought out the fact. No one had appeared,
and the buildings seemed vacant.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span>
Gramont's intent was simple and straightforward.
In case he found, as he expected to
find, any evidence of illegal occupation about
the place—as the sheriff seemed to have discovered
to his cost—he would lay Chacherre
and the other two men by the heels that night
in Houma. He would then go on to New
Orleans and have Gumberts arrested, although
he had no expectation that the master crook
could be held on the murder-accessory charge.
If this place were used for the lotteries, even,
he was fairly certain that Memphis Izzy would
have his own tracks covered. The men higher
up always did.</p>
<p class="indent">He walked straight in upon the barn. It
loomed before him, closed, lurid in the level
rays of the westering sun. The doors in front
had been only loosely swung together and
Gramont found them unlocked. He stood
in the opening, and surprise gripped him.
He was held motionless, gazing with astonished
wonder at the sight confronting him.</p>
<p class="indent">Directly before him was a small roadster,
one which he remembered to have seen Jachin
Fell using; in this car, doubtless, Ben Chacherre
had driven from the city. He recalled
the fact later, with poignant regret for a lost
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span>
opportunity. But, at the present moment,
he was lost in amazement at the great number
of other cars presenting themselves to his
view.</p>
<p class="indent">They were lined up as deep as the barn
would hold them, crammed into every available
foot of space; well over a dozen cars, he
reckoned swiftly. What was more, all were
cars of the highest class, with the exception of
Fell's roadster. Directly before him were two
which he was well aware must have cost close
upon ten thousand each. What did this mean?
Certainly no one man or one group of men, in
this back-country spot, could expect to use
such an accumulation of expensive cars!</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont glanced around, but found no trace
of machinery in the barn. Remembering the
motor that he had heard, he turned from the
doorway in frowning perplexity. He strode
on toward the long shed which stood closer to
the house. At the end of this shed was a door,
and when he tried it, Gramont found it unlocked.
It swung open to his hand, and he
stepped inside.</p>
<p class="indent">At first he paused, confused by the vague
objects around, for it was quite dark in here.
A moment, and his eyes grew accustomed to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>[pg 212]</span>
the gloomier lighting. Details came to him:
all around were cars and fragments of cars,
chassis and bodies in all stages of dismemberment.
Still more cars!</p>
<p class="indent">He slowly advanced to a long bench that
ran the length of the shop beneath the windows.
A shop, indeed—a shop, he quickly perceived,
fitted with every tool and machine
necessary to the most complete automobile
repair establishment! Even an air-brush outfit,
at one end, together with a drying compartment,
spoke of repaint jobs.</p>
<p class="indent">Comprehension was slowly dawning upon
the mind of Gramont; a moment later it became
certainty, when he came to a stop before
an automobile engine lying on the bench.
He found it to be the engine from a Stutz—the
latest multi-valve type adopted by that
make of car, and this particular bit of machinery
looked like new.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont inspected it, and he saw that the
men had done their work well. The original
engine number had been carefully dug out,
and the place as carefully filled and levelled
with metal. Beside it a new number had been
stamped. A glance at the electrical equipment
around showed that these workers had
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span>
every appliance with which to turn out the
most finished of jobs.</p>
<p class="indent">As he straightened up from the engine Gramont's
eyes fell upon a typed sheet of paper
affixed to the wall above the bench. His gaze
widened as he inspected it by the failing light.
Upon that paper was a list of cars. After each
car was a series of numbers plainly comprising
the original numbers of the engine, body,
radiator, and other component parts, followed
by another series of new numbers to be inserted.
That sheet of paper showed brains, organizing
ability, care, and attention to the last
detail!</p>
<p class="indent">Here was the most carefully planned and
thorough system of automobile thievery that
Gramont had ever heard of. He stood motionless,
knowing that this typed sheet of paper
in itself was damning evidence against the
whole gang of workers. What was more to
the point, that paper could be traced; the
typewriting could be traced to the man higher
up—doubtless Memphis Izzy himself! These
men ran in cars by the wholesale, probably
from states adjacent to Louisiana. Here, at
this secluded point on the bayou, they changed
the cars completely about, in number, paint,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span>
style of body, and then probably got rid of the
new product in New Orleans.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont stood motionless. Surprise had
taken hold of him, and even a feeling of slight
dismay. This was not at all what he had
hoped to find there. He had thought to come
upon some traces of the lottery game——</p>
<p class="indent">"Seen all you want, bo?" said a voice behind
him.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont turned. He found himself gazing
directly into an automatic pistol over which
glittered a pair of blazing eyes. The man was
a stranger to him. The place had not been
deserted, after all. He was caught.</p>
<p class="indent">"Who are you?" demanded Gramont, quietly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Me?" The stranger was unsmiling, deadly.
In those glittering eyes Gramont read the
ferocity of an animal at bay. "I s'pose you
would like to know that, huh? I guess you
know enough right now to get all that's comin'
to you, bo! Got any particular business here?
Speak up quick!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont was silent. The other sneered at
him, viciously.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hurry up! Turn over the name and address,
and I'll notify the survivin' relatives.
Name, please?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span>
"Henry Gramont," was the calm response.
"Don't get hasty, my friend. Didn't you see
me here a little while ago with Chacherre and
the other boys?"</p>
<p class="indent">"What's that?" The glittering eyes flamed
up with suspicion and distrust. "Here—with
them? No, I didn't. I been away fishing
all afternoon. What the hell you doing around
this joint?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Your best scheme," said Gramont, coldly,
"is to change your style of tone, and to do it
in a hurry! If you don't know what's happened
here this afternoon, don't ask me; you'll
find out soon enough when the other boys get
back. You'd better tell them I'm going to
get in touch with Memphis Izzy the minute I
get back to the city, and that the less talking
they do——"</p>
<p class="indent">"What the hell's all this?" demanded the
other again, but with a softening of accent.
The moniker of Gumberts had its effect, and
seemed to shake the man instantly. Gramont
smiled as he perceived that the game was won.</p>
<p class="indent">"I never heard of no Gramont," went on
the other, quickly. "What you doin' here?"</p>
<p class="indent">"You're due to learn a good many things, I
imagine," said Gramont, carelessly. "As for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span>
me, I happened on the place largely by accident.
I happen to be in partnership with a
man named Jachin Fell, and I came out here
on business——"</p>
<p class="indent">To Gramont's astonishment the pistol was
lowered instantly. It was well that he ceased
speaking, for what he had just said proved to
be open to misconstruction, and if he had said
any more he would have spoiled it. For the
man facing him was staring at him in mingled
disgust and surprise.</p>
<p class="indent">"You're in partnership with <i>the boss</i>!"
came the astounding words. "Well, why in
hell didn't you say all that in the first place,
instead o' beefin' around? That's no way to
butt in, and me thinking you was some dick
on the job! Got anything to prove that you
ain't pullin' something cute on me?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Do you know Fell's writing?" asked Gramont,
with difficulty forcing himself to meet
the situation coherently. Jachin Fell—the
boss!</p>
<p class="indent">"I know his mitt, all right."</p>
<p class="indent">From his pocket Gramont produced a paper—the
memorandum or agreement which he
had drawn up with Fell on the previous afternoon,
relating to the oil company. The other
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span>
man took it and switched on an electric light
bulb overhead. In this glare he was revealed
as a ratty little individual with open mouth
and teeth hanging out—an adenoidal type, and
certainly a criminal type.</p>
<p class="indent">It crossed the mind of Gramont that one
blow would do the work—but he stood motionless.
No sudden game would help him here.
The discovery that Fell was "the boss" paralyzed
him completely. He had never dreamed
of such a contingency. Fell, of all men!</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell the "boss" of this establishment!
Jachin Fell the man higher up—the brains
behind this criminal organization! It was a
perfect thunderbolt to Gramont. Now he
understood why Chacherre was in the employ
of Fell—why no arrest of the man had been
possible! Now he perceived that Chacherre
must have told the truth about coming here on
business for Fell. Reaching farther back,
he saw that Fell must have received the loot of
the Midnight Masquer, must have turned it
over to Lucie Ledanois——</p>
<p class="indent">Did <i>she</i> know?</p>
<p class="indent">"All right, Mr. Gramont." The ratty little
man turned to him with evident change of
front. "We ain't takin' no chances here,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span>
y'understand. Got quite a shipment of cars
comin' in from Texas, and we're tryin' to get
some o' these boats cleaned out to make room.
Bring out any orders?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont's brain worked fast.</p>
<p class="indent">By overcoming this guttersnipe he might
have the whole place at his mercy—but that
was not what he wanted. He suddenly realized
that he had other and more important fish
to fry in New Orleans. Gumberts was there.
Fell was there. What he must do demanded
time, and his best play was to gain all the time
possible, and to prevent this gang from suspecting
him in any way.</p>
<p class="indent">"Did you see Ben Chacherre?" he countered.</p>
<p class="indent">"Uh-huh—seen him just after he come.
Gumberts will be out day after to-morrow, he
said. The boss is framin' some sort of deal
on a guy that he wants laid away—some guy
name o' Hammond. Chacherre is running it.
He figgers on gettin' Hammond on account of
some car that's bein' hunted up——"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont laughed suddenly, for there was a
grim humour about the thing. So Jachin Fell
wanted to "get something" on poor Hammond!
And Chacherre had seized the golden
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span>
opportunity that presented itself this afternoon—instead
of "getting" Hammond for the
theft of a car, Chacherre had coolly fastened
murder upon him!</p>
<p class="indent">"Ben is one smart man; I expect he thinks
the gods are working for him," said Gramont,
thinly. "So you don't know what happened
to-day, eh? Well, it's great news, but I've
got no time to talk about it. They'll tell you
when they get back——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Where'd they go?" demanded the other.</p>
<p class="indent">"Houma. Now listen close! Chacherre
did not know that I was in partnership with the
boss, get me? I didn't want to tell all the
crowd in front of him. Between you and me,
the boss isn't any too sure about Ben——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Say, I get you there!" broke in the other,
sagely. "I tells him six months ago to watch
out for that Creole guy!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Exactly. You can tell the boys about me
when they come back—I don't suppose Ben
will be with them. Now, I've been looking
over that place next door——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh!" exclaimed the other, suddenly.
"Sure! The boss said that one of his friends
would be down to——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm the one—or one of them," and Gramont
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span>
chuckled as he reflected on the ludicrous
aspects of the whole affair. "I'm going to
Houma now, and then back to the city. My
car's over next door. Mr. Fell wanted me to
warn you to lay low on the lottery business.
He's got a notion that someone's been talking."</p>
<p class="indent">"You go tell the boss," retorted the other
in an aggrieved tone, "to keep his eye on the
guys that <i>can</i> talk! Who'd we talk to here?
Besides, we're workin' our heads off on these
here boats. Memphis Izzy is attending to the
lottery—he's got the whole layout up to the
house, and we ain't touching it, see? Tell the
boss all that."</p>
<p class="indent">"Tell him yourself," Gramont laughed,
good-humouredly. "Gumberts is coming out
day after to-morrow, is he? That'll be Friday.
Hm! I think that I'd better bring Fell out
here the same day, if I can make it. I probably
won't see Gumberts until then—I'm not
working in with him and he doesn't know me
yet—but I'll try and get out here on Friday
with Fell. Now, I'll have to beat it in a hurry.
Any message to send?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not me," was the answer.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont scarcely knew how he departed,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span>
until he found himself scrambling back through
the underbrush of the Ledanois place.</p>
<p class="indent">He rushed into the house, found the fire had
died down beyond all danger, and swiftly removed
the few things they had taken from the
car. Carrying these, he stumbled back to
where he had hidden the automobile. He
scarcely dared to think, scarcely dared to congratulate
himself on the luck that had befallen
him, until he found himself in his own car once
more, and with open throttle sweeping out
through the twilight toward Paradis and
Houma beyond. A whirlwind of mad exultation
was seething within him—exultation as
sudden and tremendous as the past weeks
had been uneventful and dragging!</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont, in common with many others, had
heard much indefinite rumour of an underground
lottery game that was being worked
among the negroes of the state and the Chinese
villages along the Gulf coast. And now
he knew definitely.</p>
<p class="indent">Lotteries have never died out in Louisiana
since the brave old days of the government-ordained
gambles, laws and ordinances to the
contrary. No laws can make the yellow man
and the black man forego the get-rich-quick
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span>
heritage of their fathers. On the Pacific coast
lotteries obtain and will obtain wherever there
is a Chinatown. In Louisiana the days of the
grand lottery have never been forgotten. The
last two years of high wages had made every
Negro wealthy, comparatively speaking. The
lottery mongers would naturally find them a
ripe harvest for the picking. And who would
gravitate to this harvest field if not the great
Gumberts, the uncaught Memphis Izzy, the
promoter who had never been "mugged!"</p>
<p class="indent">Here, at one stroke, stumbling on the thing
by sheer blind accident, Gramont had located
the nucleus of the whole business!</p>
<p class="indent">Gradually his brain cooled to the realization
of what work lay before him. He was through
Paradis, almost without seeing the town, and
switched on his lights as he took the highway
to Houma. Sober reflection seized him. Not
only was this crowd of crooks working a lottery,
but they were also managing a stupendous
thievery of automobiles, in which cars were
looted by wholesale! And the man at the
head of it all, the man above Memphis Izzy and
his crooks, was Jachin Fell of New Orleans.</p>
<p class="indent">Did Lucie Ledanois dream such a thing?
No. Gramont dismissed the question at once.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span>
Fell was not an unusual type of man. There
were many Jachin Fells throughout the country,
he reflected. Men who applied their
brains to crooked work, who kept themselves
above any actual share in the work, and who
profited hugely by tribute money from every
crook in every crime.</p>
<p class="indent">To the communities in which they lived
such men were patterns of all that wealthy
gentlemen should be. Seldom, except perhaps
in gossip of the underworld, was their
connection with crime ever suspected. And—this
thought was sobering to Gramont—never
did they come within danger of retribution
at the hands of the law. Their ramifications
extended too far into politics; and the
governors of some southern states have unlimited
powers of pardon.</p>
<p class="indent">"This is a big day!" reflected Gramont,
dismissing the sinister suggestion of this last
thought. "A big day! What it will lead to,
I don't know. Not the least of it is the financial
end of it—the oil seepage! That little
iridescent trickle of oil on the water means
that money worries are over, both for me and
for Lucie. I'm sorry that I am mixed up with
Fell; I've enough money of my own to drill at
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span>
least one good well, and one is all we'll need
to bring in oil on that place. Well, we'll see
what turns up! My first job is to make sure
Hammond is safe, and to relieve his mind. I'll
have to leave him in jail, I suppose——"</p>
<p class="indent">Why did Fell want to "get something" on
Hammond? To this there was no answer.</p>
<p class="indent">He drove into Houma to find the town abuzz
with excitement, for the news of the sheriff's
murder had stirred the place wildly. Proceeding
straight to the court house, Gramont encountered
Ben Chacherre as he was leaving
the car.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hello, there!" he exclaimed. "Lost my
road. Where's Hammond?"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre jerked his head toward the court
house.</p>
<p class="indent">"In yonder. Say, are you going back to
the city to-night?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes." Gramont regarded him. "Why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Take me back, will you? I've missed the
last up train, and if you're goin' back anyhow
I won't have to hire a car. I can drive for
you, and we'll make it in a couple of hours,
before midnight sure."</p>
<p class="indent">"Hop in," said Gramont, nodding toward
the car. "I'll be back as soon as I've had a
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span>
word with Hammond. No danger of his
getting lynched, I hope?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not a chance," said the other, conclusively.
"Six deputies up there now, and quite a bunch
of ex-soldiers comin' to stand guard. You
goin' to fight the case?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No," said Gramont. "Can't fight a sure
thing, can you? I'm sorry for him, though."</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre shrugged his shoulders and got
into the car.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont was much relieved to find that
there was no danger of lynching, which had
been his one fear. It was only with much
persuasion that he got past the guard and into
the court house, where he was received by a
number of deputies in charge of the situation.</p>
<p class="indent">After conferring with them at some length,
he was grudgingly taken to the cell occupied
by Hammond. The latter received him with
a wide grin, and gave no signs of the gruelling
ordeal through which he had passed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Listen, old man," said Gramont, earnestly.
"Will you play out the game hard to the end?
I'll have to leave you here for two days. At
the end of that time you'll be free."</p>
<p class="indent">The listening deputies sniffed, but Hammond
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span>
merely grinned again and put a hand
through the bars.</p>
<p class="indent">"Whatever you say, cap'n," he rejoined. "It
sure looks bad——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't you think it," said Gramont, cheerfully.
"A lot of things have happened since
I saw you last! I've got the real murderer
right where I want him—but I can't have him
arrested yet."</p>
<p class="indent">"It's a gang," said Hammond. "You
watch out, cap'n, I heard 'em say somethin'
about Memphis Izzy—remember the guy I told
you about one day? Well, this is no piker's
game! We're up against somethin' solid——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I know it," and Gramont nodded. He
turned to the deputies. "Gentlemen, you
have my address if you wish to communicate
with me. I shall be back here day after to-morrow—at
least, before midnight of that
day. I warn you, that if anything happens to
this man in the meantime, you shall be held
personally responsible. He is innocent."</p>
<p class="indent">"Looks like we'd better hold you, too," said
one of the men. "You seem to know a lot!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont looked at him a moment.</p>
<p class="indent">"I know enough to tell you where to head
in if you try any funny work here," he said,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span>
evenly. "Gentlemen, thank you for permitting
the interview! I'll see you later."</p>
<p class="indent">The coroner's jury had already adjudged
Hammond guilty of the murder. Returning
to the car, Gramont had Ben Chacherre drive
to a restaurant, where they got a bite to eat.
Twenty minutes later they were on their way
to New Orleans—and Gramont learned for the
first time of Joseph Maillard's murder by the
Midnight Masquer, and of the arrest of Bob
Maillard for the crime.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>The Ultimatum</i></p>
<p>UPON the following morning Gramont
called both Jachin Fell and Lucie
Ledanois over the telephone. He acquainted
them briefly with the result of his oil
investigation, and arranged a meeting for ten
o'clock, at Fell's office.</p>
<p class="indent">It was slightly before ten when Gramont
called with the car for Lucie. Under the spell
of her smiling eagerness, the harshness vanished
from his face; it returned again a moment
later, for he saw that she, too, was changed.
There was above them both a cloud. That of
Gramont was secret and brooding. As for
Lucie, she was in mourning. The murder of
Joseph Maillard, the arrest and undoubted
guilt of Bob Maillard, dwarfed all else in her
mind. Even the news of the oil seepage, and
the fact that she was probably now on the road
to wealth, appeared to make little impression
upon her.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span>
"Thank heaven," she said, earnestly, as they
drove toward Canal Street, "that so far as you
are concerned, Henry, the Midnight Masquer
affair was all cleared up before this tragedy
took place! It was fearfully imprudent of
you——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes," answered Gramont, soberly, reading
her thought. "I can realize my own folly
now. If this affair were to be laid at my door,
some kind of a case might be made up against
me, and it would seem plausible. But, fortunately,
I was out of it in time. Were we
merely characters in a standardized detective
story, I suppose I'd be arrested and deluged
with suspense and clues and so forth."</p>
<p class="indent">"Your escape was too narrow to joke
over, Henry," she reproved him, gravely.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm not joking, my dear Lucie. I learned
nothing about the tragedy until late last night.
From what I can find in the papers, it seems
agreed that Bob was not the real Masquer,
but had assumed that guise for a joke. A
tragic joke! Since he was undoubtedly drunk
at the time, his story can't be relied upon
as very convincing. And yet, it's frightfully
hard to believe that, even by accident, a son
should have shot down his own father——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span>
"Don't!" Lucie winced a little. "In spite
of all the evidence against him, in spite of
the way he was found with that aviation
uniform, it's still awful to believe. I can't
realize that it has actually happened."</p>
<p class="indent">"According to the papers, poor Mrs. Maillard
has gone to pieces. No wonder."</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes. I was there with her all day yesterday,
and shall go again to-day. They say
Bob is terribly broken up. He sent for his
mother, and she refused to see him. I don't
know how it is all going to end! Do you
think his story might be true—that somebody
else might have acted as the Masquer
that night?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont shook his head.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's possible," he said, reluctantly, "yet
it hardly seems very probable. And now,
Lucie, I'm very sorry indeed to say it—but
you must prepare yourself against another
shock in the near future."</p>
<p class="indent">"What do you mean? About the oil——"</p>
<p class="indent">"No. It's too long a story to tell you now;
here we are at the Maison Blanche. Just
remember my words, please. It's something
that I can't go into now."</p>
<p class="indent">"Very well. Henry! Do you think that
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span>
it's possible your chauffeur, Hammond, could
have learned about the drinking party, and
could have——"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont started. "Hammond? No. I'll
answer for him beyond any question, Lucie.
By the way, does Fell know anything about
Hammond having been the first Masquer?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not from me," said the girl, watching him.</p>
<p class="indent">"Very well. Hammond got into a bit of
trouble at Houma, and I had to leave him
there. It was none of his fault, and he'll
get out of it all right. Well, come along up
to our oil meeting! Forget your troubles,
and don't let my croakings about a new
shock cause you any worry just yet."</p>
<p class="indent">He was thinking of Jachin Fell, and the
girl's closeness to Fell. Had he not known
that Fell was responsible for Hammond's being
in jail, he might have felt differently. As
it was, he was now fore-warned and fore-armed,
although he could not see what
animus Fell could possibly have against Hammond.</p>
<p class="indent">It was lucky, he reflected grimly, that he
had never breathed to a soul except Lucie
the fact that Hammond had been the first
Masquer! Had Fell known this fact, his
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span>
desire to lay Hammond by the heels might
have been easily fulfilled—and Hammond
would probably have found himself charged
with Maillard's murder.</p>
<p class="indent">They found Jachin Fell dictating to a
stenographer. He greeted them warmly, ushering
them at once into his private office.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont found it difficult to convince
himself that his experiences of the previous
afternoon had been real. It was almost
impossible to believe that this shy, apologetic
little man in gray was in reality the "man
higher up!" Yet he knew it to be the case—knew
it beyond any escape.</p>
<p class="indent">"By the way," and Fell turned to Gramont,
"if you'll dictate a brief statement
concerning that oil seepage, I'd be obliged!
Merely give the facts. I may have need of
such a statement from you."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded and joined the stenographer
in the outer office where he dictated
a brief statement. It did not occur to him
that there might be danger in this; at the
moment, he was rather off his guard. He
was thinking so much about his future assault
on Fell that he quite ignored the possibility
of being placed on the defensive.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span>
Within five minutes he had returned to
Lucie and Jachin Fell, who were discussing
the condition of Mrs. Maillard. Gramont
signed the statement and handed it to Fell,
who laid it with other papers at his elbow.</p>
<p class="indent">"I suppose we may proceed to business?"
began Fell. "I have drawn up articles of
partnership; we can apply for incorporation
later if we so desire. Lucie, both Henry
Gramont and I are putting twenty-five thousand
dollars into this company, while you are
putting in your land, which I am valuing at an
equal amount. The stock, therefore, will be
divided equally among us. That is understood?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes. It's very good of you, Uncle
Jachin," said the girl, quietly. "I'll leave
everything to your judgment."</p>
<p class="indent">The little gray man smiled.</p>
<p class="indent">"Judgment is a poor horse to ride, as
Eliza said when she crossed the ice. Here's
everything in black and white. I suggest
that you both glance over the articles, sign
up, and we will then hold our first meeting."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont and Lucie read over the partnership
agreement, and found it perfectly correct.</p>
<p class="indent">"Very well, then, the meeting is called to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span>
order!" Jachin Fell smiled as he rapped on
the desk before him. "Election of officers—no,
wait! The first thing on hand is to give
our company a name. Suggestions?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I was thinking of that last night," said
Lucie, smiling a little. "Why not call it
the 'American Prince Oil Company'?" And
her eyes darted to Gramont merrily.</p>
<p class="indent">"Excellent!" exclaimed Jachin Fell. "My
vote falls with yours, my dear—I'll fill in the
blanks with that name. Now to the election
of officers."</p>
<p class="indent">"I nominate Jachin Fell for president,"
said Gramont, quickly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Seconded!" exclaimed the girl, gaily, a
little colour in her pale cheeks.</p>
<p class="indent">"Any other nominations? If not, so approved and ordered,"
rattled Fell, laughingly.
"For the office of treasurer——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Miss Lucie Ledanois!" said Gramont.
"Move nominations be closed."</p>
<p class="indent">"Seconded and carried by a two-thirds
vote of stockholders," chirped Fell in his
toneless voice. "So approved and ordered.
For secretary——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Our third stockholder," put in Lucie.
"He'll have to be an officer, of course!"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span>
"Seconded and carried. So approved and
ordered." Mr. Fell rapped on the table.
"We will now have the report of our expert
geologist in further detail than yet given."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont told of finding the oil; he was not
carried away by the gay mock-solemnity of
Jachin Fell, and he remained grave. He
went on to relate how he had secured the
lease option upon the adjoining land, and
suggested that other such options be secured
at once upon other property in the neighbourhood.
He handed the option to Fell, who laid
it with the other documents.</p>
<p class="indent">"And now I have a proposal of my own
to make," said Jachin Fell. He appeared
sobered, as though influenced by Gramont's
manner. "Although we've actually found
oil on the place, there is no means of telling
how much we'll find when we drill, or what
quality it will be. Is that not correct, Mr.
Gramont?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Entirely so," assented Gramont. "The
chances are, of course, that we'll find oil in
both quality and quantity. On the other
hand, the seepage may be all there is. Oil is a
gamble from start to finish. Personally, however,
I would gamble heavily on this prospect."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>[pg 236]</span>
"Naturally," said Mr. Fell. "However,
I have been talking over the oil business with
a number of men actively engaged in it in the
Houma field. I think that I may safely say
that I can dispose of the mineral rights to
our company's land, together with this lease
option secured yesterday on the adjoining
land, for a sum approximating one hundred
and fifty thousand dollars; reserving to our
company a sixteenth interest in any oil
located on the property. Personally, I believe
this can be done, and I am willing to
undertake the negotiations if so empowered
by a note of our stockholders. Lucie, you do
not mind if we smoke, I know? Let me
offer you a cigar, Mr. Gramont."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont took one of the El Reys offered
him, and lighted it amid a startled silence.
Fell's proposal came to him as a distinct
shock, and already he was viewing it in the
light of prompt suspicion.</p>
<p class="indent">"Why," exclaimed Lucie, wide-eyed, "that
would be fifty thousand dollars to each of
us, and not a cent expended!"</p>
<p class="indent">"In case it went through on that basis,"
added Jachin Fell, his eyes on Gramont,
"I would vote that the entire sum go to Miss
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span>
Ledanois. Her land alone is involved. If
she then wishes to invest with us in a new
company to exploit other fields, well and
good. One moment, my dear! Do not protest
this suggestion. The sixteenth interest
reserved to our company would provide both
Mr. Gramont and me with a substantial reward
for our slight activity in the matter.
Don't forget that interest, for it might amount
to a large figure."</p>
<p class="indent">"Right," assented Gramont. "I would
second your vote, Mr. Fell; I think the idea
very just and proper that Miss Ledanois
should receive the entire amount."</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie seemed a trifle bewildered.</p>
<p class="indent">"But—but, Henry!" she exclaimed. "What
do you think of selling the lease to these other
men?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont eyed the smoke from his cigar
reflectively, quite conscious that Mr. Fell
was regarding him very steadily.</p>
<p class="indent">"I can't answer for you, Lucie," he said at
last. "I would not presume to advise."</p>
<p class="indent">Mr. Fell looked slightly relieved. Lucie,
however, persisted.</p>
<p class="indent">"What would you do, then, if you were in
my place?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span>
Gramont shrugged his shoulders.</p>
<p class="indent">"In that case," he said, slowly, "I would
gamble. We know oil is in that ground; we
know that it has been found in large quantities
at Houma or near there. To my
mind there is no doubt whatever that under
your land lies a part of the same oil field—and
a rich one. To sell fifteen-sixteenths of that
oil for a hundred and fifty thousand is to
give it away. I would sooner take my
chances on striking a twenty-thousand barrel
gusher and having the whole of it to myself.
However, by all means disregard my words;
this is not my affair."</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie glanced at Jachin Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"You think it is the best thing to do; Henry
does not," mused the girl. "I know that
you're both thinking of me—of getting that
money for me. Just the same, Uncle Jachin,
I—I won't be prudent! I'll gamble! Besides,"
she added with smiling naïveté, "I'm
not a bit willing to give up having a real oil
company the very minute it is formed! So
we'll outvote you, Uncle Jachin."</p>
<p class="indent">Despite their tension, the two men smiled
at her final words.</p>
<p class="indent">"That motion of mine has not yet been
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span>
made," said Fell. Her rejection of his proposal
had no effect upon his shyly smooth
manner. "Will you excuse us one moment,
Lucie? If I may speak with you in the
outer office, Mr. Gramont, I would like to
show you some confidential matters which
might influence your decision in this regard."</p>
<p class="indent">Lucie nodded and leaned back in her chair.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont accompanied Fell to the outer
office, where Fell sent the stenographer to
keep Lucie company. When the door had
closed and they were alone, Fell took a chair
and motioned Gramont to another. A cold
brusquerie was evident in his manner.</p>
<p class="indent">"Gramont," he said, briskly, "I am going
to make that motion, and I want you to vote
with me against Lucie. Unfortunately, I
have only a third of the voting power. I
might argue Lucie into agreement, but she is
a difficult person to argue with. So I mean
that you shall vote with me—and I'm going
to put my cards on the table before you."</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah!" Gramont regarded him coolly.
"Your cards will have to be powerful persuaders!"</p>
<p class="indent">"They are," returned Jachin Fell. "I
have been carefully leading up to this point—the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span>
point of selling. I have practically arranged
the whole affair. I propose to sell
the mineral rights in that land, largely on the
strength of the signed statement you gave me
a few moments ago. That statement is
going to be given wide publicity, and it will
be substantiated by other reports on the oil
seepage."</p>
<p class="indent">"You interest me strangely." Gramont
leaned back in his chair. The eyes of the two
men met and held in cold challenge, cold
hostility. "What's your motive, Fell?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll tell you: it's the interest of Lucie
Ledanois." In the gaze of Fell was a strange
earnestness. In those pale gray eyes was
now a light of fierce sincerity which startled
and warned Gramont. Fell continued with
a trace of excitement in his tone.</p>
<p class="indent">"I've known that girl all her life, Gramont,
and I love her as a father. I loved her
mother before her—in a different way. I
can tell you that at this moment Lucie is
poor. Her house is mortgaged; she does not
know, in fact, just how poor she really is.
Of course, she will accept no money from me
in gift. But for her to get a hundred and
fifty thousand in a business deal will solve
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>[pg 241]</span>
all her problems, set her on her feet for
life!"</p>
<p class="indent">"I see," said Gramont with harsh impulse.
"What do you get out of it?"</p>
<p class="indent">He regretted the words instantly. Fell
half rose from his chair as though to answer
them with a blow. Gramont, aware of his
mistake, hastened to retract it.</p>
<p class="indent">"Forgive me, Fell," he said, quickly. "That
was an unjust insinuation, and I know it.
Yet, I can't find myself in agreement with you.
I'm firmly set in the belief that a fortune in
oil will be made off that land of Lucie's. I
simply can't agree to sell out for a comparative
pittance, and I'll fight to persuade her
against doing it! As I look at it, the thing
would not be just to her. I'm thinking,
as you are, only of her interest."</p>
<p class="indent">A light of sardonic mockery glittered in the
pale eyes of Jachin Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"You are basing your firm conviction,"
he queried, "very largely upon your discovery
of the free oil?"</p>
<p class="indent">"To a large extent, yes."</p>
<p class="indent">"I thought you would," and Fell laughed
harshly.</p>
<p class="indent">"What do you mean?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>[pg 242]</span>
"I mean," said the other, fiercely earnest,
"that for a month I've worked to sell that
land! I had young Maillard hooked and
landed—it would have been poetic justice to
make him hand over a small fortune to Lucie!
But that deal is off, since he's in jail. And do
you know why young Maillard wanted to buy
the land? For the same reason you don't
want to sell. I sent him out there and he
saw that oil seepage, as I meant that he
should! He thought he would skin Lucie
out of her land, not dreaming that I had
prepared a nice little trap to swallow him.
And now you come along——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Man, what are you driving at?" exclaimed
Gramont. He was startled by what
he read in the other man's face.</p>
<p class="indent">"Merely that I planted that oil seepage
myself—or had it done by men I could
trust," said Jachin Fell, calmly. He sat back
in his chair and took up his cigar with an air
of finality. "The confession is shameless.
I love Lucie more than my own ethical
purity. Besides, I intend to wrong no one in
the matter."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont sat stunned beyond words. The
oil seepage—a plant!</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>[pg 243]</span>
The thing could have been very easily
done, of course. As he sat silent there unfolded
before him the motives that underlay
Fell's entire action. The amazing disclosure
of Jachin Fell's intrigue to enrich the girl
left him bewildered. This, coupled with
what he had learned on the preceding day
about Jachin Fell, put his own course of action
into grave perplexity.</p>
<p class="indent">There was no reason to doubt what Fell
said. Gramont believed the little man sincere
in his love for Lucie.</p>
<p class="indent">"No matter what the outcome, your reputation
will not be affected," said Fell, quietly.
"The company which will buy this land of
Lucie's is controlled by me. You understand?
Even if no oil is ever found there, I shall see
to it that you will not be injured because of
that signed statement."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded dull comprehension. He
realized that Fell had devised this whole
business scheme with infernal ingenuity; had
devised it in order to take a hundred and
fifty thousand dollars out of his own pocket
and put it into that of Lucie. It was a
present which the girl would never accept as
a gift, but which, if it came in the way of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>[pg 244]</span>
business, would make her financially independent.
Nobody would be defrauded.
There was no chicanery about it. The thing
was straight enough.</p>
<p class="indent">"That's not quite all of my plan," pursued
Fell, as though reading Gramont's unuttered
thoughts. "The minute this news becomes
public, the minute your statement is published,
there will be a tremendous boom in
that whole section. I shall take charge of
Lucie's money, and within three weeks I
should double it, treble it, for her. Before the
boom bursts she will be out of it all, and
wealthy. Now, my dear Gramont, I do not
presume that you will still refuse to vote
with me? I have been quite frank, you see."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont stirred in his chair.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes!" he said, low-voiced. "Yes, by
heavens, I do refuse!"</p>
<p class="indent">With an effort he checked hotly impulsive
words that were on his tongue. One word
now might ruin him. He dared not say that
he did not want to see Fell's money pass into
the hands of Lucie—money gained by fraud
and theft and crime! He dared not give his
reasons for refusing. He meant now to
crush Fell utterly—but one wrong word
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>[pg 245]</span>
would give the man full warning. He must
say nothing.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's not straight work, Fell. Regardless
of your motives, I refuse to join you."</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell sighed slightly, and laid down
his cigar with precision.</p>
<p class="indent">"Gramont," his voice came with the softly
purring menace of a tiger's throat-tone,
"I shall now adjourn this company meeting
for two days, until Saturday morning, in
order to give you a little time to reconsider.
To-day is Thursday. By Saturday——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I need no time," said Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">"But you will need it. I suppose you
know that Bob Maillard has been arrested for
parricide? You are aware of the evidence
against him—all circumstantial?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont frowned. "What has that got to
do with our present business?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Quite a bit, I fancy." A thin smile
curved the lips of Jachin Fell. "Maillard is
not guilty of the murder—but you are."</p>
<p class="indent">"Liar!" Gramont started from his chair as
those three words burned into him. "Liar!
Why, you know that I went home——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, wait!" Fell lifted his hand for peace.
His voice was calm. "Ansley and I both
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>[pg 246]</span>
saw you depart, certainly. We have since
learned that you did not reach home until
some time after midnight. You have positively
no alibi, Gramont. You may allege,
of course, that you were wandering the
streets——"</p>
<p class="indent">"As I was!" cried Gramont, heatedly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Then prove it, my dear fellow; prove it—if
you can. Now, we shall keep Lucie out of
all this. What remains? I know that you
were the Midnight Masquer. My man, Ben
Chacherre, can prove by another man who
accompanied him that the Masquer's loot was
taken from your car. A dictograph in the
private office, yonder, has a record of the talk
between us of the other morning, in which
you made patent confession to being the
Masquer.</p>
<p class="indent">"Once let me hand this array of evidence
over to the district attorney, and you will
most certainly stand trial. And, if you do
stand trial, I can promise you faithfully that
you will meet conviction. I have friends,
you see, and many of them are influential in
such small matters."</p>
<p class="indent">It was not a nice smile that curved the lips
of Fell.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>[pg 247]</span>
Gramont choked back any response, holding
himself to silence with a firm will. He
dared say nothing, lest he say too much. He
saw that Fell could indeed make trouble for
him—and that he must strike his own blow
at Fell without great delay. It was a battle,
now; a fight to the end.</p>
<p class="indent">Fell regarded Gramont cheerfully, seeming
to take this crushed silence as evidence of his
own triumph.</p>
<p class="indent">"Further," he added, "your man Hammond
is now in jail at Houma, as you know,
for the murder of the sheriff. Now, my
influence is not confined to this city, Gramont,
I may be able to clear Hammond of this
charge—if you decide to vote with me. I
may keep what I know about the Midnight
Masquer from the press and from the district
attorney—if you decide to vote with me.
You comprehend?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded. He saw now why Fell
wanted to "get something" on Hammond.
Fell had rightly reasoned that Gramont
would do more to save Hammond than to
save himself.</p>
<p class="indent">"You think I murdered Maillard, then?"
he asked.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>[pg 248]</span>
"Gramont, I don't know what to think,
and that's the honest truth!" answered Fell,
with a steady regard. "But I am absolutely
determined to put this oil deal across, to
make Lucie Ledanois at least independent, if
not wealthy. I can do it, I've made all my
plans to do it, and—I <i>will</i> do it!</p>
<p class="indent">"We'll hold another meeting day after to-morrow—Saturday
morning." Fell rose.
"That will give me time to conclude all
arrangements. I trust, Mr. Gramont, that
you will vote with me for the adjournment?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes," said Gramont, dully. "I will."</p>
<p class="indent">"Thank you," and Jachin Fell bowed
slightly, not without a trace of mockery in his
air.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>[pg 249]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>The Coin Falls Heads</i></p>
<p>GRAMONT sat in his own room that
afternoon. It seemed to him that he
had been away from the city for weeks
and months. Yet only a day had intervened.
He sat fingering the only piece of mail that
had come to him—a notice from the post of the
American Legion which he had joined, to the
effect that there would be a meeting that
Thursday evening. Only Thursday! And
to-morrow was Friday.</p>
<p class="indent">If he was to effect anything against the
headquarters of Fell's gang he must act on
the morrow or not at all. Gumberts was to
be out there to-morrow. Gumberts would
talk with the ratty little man of the projecting
teeth and adenoids, would find Gramont
had imposed upon the fellow, and there would
be upheavals. The gang would take to
flight, certainly, or at least make certain that
Gramont's mouth was shut.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>[pg 250]</span>
He sat fingering the postal from the Legion,
and turning over events in his mind. Against
Fell he had particular animosity. All that
the little gray man had done had been done
with the thought of Lucie Ledanois as a
spur.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yet he can't realize that Lucie wouldn't
have the money if she knew that it came from
criminal sources," he thought, smiling bitterly.
"He's been scheming a long time
to make a fortune for her, and now he's
determined to push it through regardless of
me. It was clever of him to jail Hammond!
He guessed that I'd do a great deal to save
the redhead—more even than to save myself.
Mighty clever! And now he's pretty
sure that he's got me between a cleft stick,
where I can't wriggle.</p>
<p class="indent">"If I'm to strike a blow, I'll have to do it
to-morrow—before noon to-morrow, also. I'll
have to leave here mighty early, and get
there before Gumberts does. What was it
Hammond said that day about him—that
nobody in the country had ever caught
Memphis Izzy? I bet I could do it, and his
whole gang with him—if I knew how. There's
the rub! Fell won't hesitate a minute in
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>[pg 251]</span>
having me arrested. And as he said, once
he got me arrested, I'd be gone. He must
be able to exert powerful influence, that
man!"</p>
<p class="indent">Should he strike or not? If he struck, he
might expect the full weight of Jachin Fell's
vengeance—unless his blow would include
Fell among the victims.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont was still pondering this dilemma
when Ben Chacherre arrived.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont heard the man's voice on the
stairs. Ben's impudence, perhaps added to
his name and the Creole French upon his
lips, had carried him past the concierge
unannounced, although not without a continued
exchange of repartee that served to
give Gramont warning of the visitor. Smiling
grimly, Gramont drew a coin from his
pocket, and flipped it.</p>
<p class="indent">The coin fell heads. He pocketed it again
as Ben Chacherre knocked, and opened the
door.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah, Chacherre!" he exclaimed. "Come
in.</p>
<p class="indent">Ben swaggered inside and closed the door.</p>
<p class="indent">"Brought a message for you, Mr. Gramont,"
he said, jauntily, and extended a note.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>[pg 252]</span>
Gramont tore open the envelope and read a
curt communication:</p>
<blockquote>
<p class="indent">Kindly let me know your answer as soon as possible.
By to-morrow evening at the latest. It will be necessary
to arrange affairs for Saturday.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Jachin Fell.</span></p>
</blockquote>
<p class="indent">To arrange affairs! Fell was taking for
granted that Gramont would give an assent,
under force of persuasion, to the scheme.
He would probably have everything in readiness,
and if assured by Friday night of
Gramont's assent, would then pull his strings
and perhaps complete the whole deal before
the following Monday.</p>
<p class="indent">The meeting of the company had been
adjourned to Saturday morning. Gramont
thought a moment, then went to his buhl
escritoire and opened it. Chacherre had
already taken a seat. Gramont wrote:</p>
<blockquote>
<p class="indent"><span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Fell</span>,</p>
<p class="indent">If you will arrange the company meeting for to-morrow
evening, say nine o'clock, at your office, I think
that everything may then be arranged. As I may not
see Miss Ledanois in the meantime, will you be kind
enough to assure her presence at the meeting?</p>
</blockquote>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>[pg 253]</span>
He addressed an envelope to Fell's office,
and then stamped and pocketed it.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, Chacherre," he said, rising and
returning to the Creole, "any further news
from Houma? They haven't found the real
murderer yet?"</p>
<p class="indent">The other came to his feet with an exclamation
of surprise. As he did so, Gramont's fist
caught him squarely on the point of the jaw.</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre crumpled back across his chair,
senseless for the moment.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm afraid to take any chances with you,
my fine bird," said Gramont, rubbing his
knuckles. "You're too clever by far, and too
handy with your weapons!"</p>
<p class="indent">He obtained cloths, and firmly bound the
ankles and wrists of Chacherre. Not content
with this, he placed the man in the
chair and tied him to it with merciless knots.
As he was finishing his task, Chacherre
opened his eyes and gazed rapidly around.</p>
<p class="indent">"Awake at last, are you?" said Gramont,
genially. He got his pipe, filled and lighted
it. The eyes of Chacherre were now fastened
upon him venomously. "Too bad for you,
Chacherre, that the coin fell heads up! That
spelled action."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>[pg 254]</span>
"Are you crazy?" muttered the other in
French. Gramont laughed, and responded
in the same tongue.</p>
<p class="indent">"It does look that way, doesn't it? You're
slippery, but now you're caught."</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre must have realized that he stood
in danger. He checked a curse, and regarded
Gramont with a steady coolness.</p>
<p class="indent">"Be careful!" he said, his voice deadly.
"What do you mean by this?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont looked at him and puffed his
pipe.</p>
<p class="indent">"The game's up, Ben," he observed. "I
know all about the place down there—about
the cars, and about the lottery. Your gang
has had a pleasant time, eh? But now you
and the others are going to do a little work
for the state on the road gangs."</p>
<p class="indent">"Bah! <i>Ça? va rivé dans semaine quatte
zheudis!</i>" spat Chacherre, contemptuously.
"That will happen in the week of four Thursdays,
you fool! So you know about things,
eh? My master will soon shut your mouth!"</p>
<p class="indent">"He can't," said Gramont, placidly.
"You'll all be under arrest."</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre laughed scornfully, then spoke
with that deadly gravity.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>[pg 255]</span>
"Look here—you're a stranger here? Well,
since you know so much, I'll tell you more!
We can't be arrested, and even if you get
us pinched, we'll never be convicted. Do
you understand? We have influence! There
are men here in New Orleans, men in the
legislature, men at Washington, who will
never see us molested!"</p>
<p class="indent">"They'll be surprised," said Gramont, although
he felt that the man's words were
true. "But not all of them are your friends,
Ben. I don't think the governor of the state
is in your gang. He's a pretty straight man,
Ben."</p>
<p class="indent">"He's a fool like you! What is he? A
puppet! He can do nothing except pardon
us if the worst happens. You can't touch
us."</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, maybe not," agreed Gramont, tapping
at his pipe. "Maybe not, but we'll
see! You seem mighty sure of where you
stand, Ben."</p>
<p class="indent">Encouraged, Ben Chacherre laughed insolently.</p>
<p class="indent">"Let me loose," he commanded. "Or
else you'll go over the road for the Midnight
Masquer's work! My master has a dictograph
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>[pg 256]</span>
in his office, and has your confession
on record."</p>
<p class="indent">"So?" queried Gramont, his brows lifted.
"You seem much in Mr. Fell's confidence,
Ben. But I think I'll leave you tied up a
little while. Memphis Izzy is going down to
his summer cottage to-morrow, isn't he?
I'll be there—but you won't. By the way, I
think I'd better look through your pockets."</p>
<p class="indent">Ben Chacherre writhed suddenly, hurling
a storm of curses at Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">The latter, unheeding the contortions of
his captive, searched the man thoroughly.
Except for a roll of money, the pockets gave
up little of interest. The only paper Gramont
secured was a fresh telegraph blank.
He would have passed this unheeded had he
not noted a snaky flitting of Chacherre's eyes
to it.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah!" he said, pleasantly. "You appear
to be interested in this, Ben. Pray, what is
the secret?"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre merely glared at him in silence.
Gramont inspected the blank, and a sudden
exclamation broke from him. He held the
bit of yellow paper to the light at varying
angles.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>[pg 257]</span>
"It's the most natural thing in the world,"
he said after a moment, "for a man to walk
into a telegraph office, write out his telegram,
and then find that he's torn two blanks instead
of one from the pad on the desk. Eh?
I've done it, often—and I've always put the
extra blank into my pocket, Ben, thinking it
might come in handy; just as you did, eh?
Now let's see!</p>
<p class="indent">"You were excited when you wrote this,
weren't you? You'd just thought of something
very important, and you took care of it
hurriedly—that made you jab down your
pencil pretty hard. Who's Dick Hearne at
Houma? An agent of the gang there?"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre merely glared, sullenly defiant.
Word by word, Gramont made out the message:</p>
<p class="center">Burn bundle under rear seat my car. Have done at
once.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont looked up and smiled thinly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Your car? Why, you left it in the garage
at Gumberts' place, eh? That little roadster
of Fell's, with the extra seat behind. If
you'd been just a little bit cooler yesterday,
Ben, you would have made fewer mistakes.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>[pg 258]</span>
It never occurred to you that other people
might have been there in the bushes when the
sheriff was murdered, eh?"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre went livid.</p>
<p class="indent">"It was another mistake to throw away
your knife after you killed him," pursued
Gramont, reflectively. "You should have held
on to that knife, Ben. There's no blood,
remember, on Hammond's knife—a hard
thing for you and your friends to explain
plausibly. Yet your knife is heavy with
blood, which tests will show to be human
blood. Also, the knife has your name on it;
quite a handsome knife, too. On the whole,
you must admit that you bungled the murder
from start to finish——"</p>
<p class="indent">Chacherre broke in with a frightful oath—a
frantically obscene storm of curses. So
furious were his words that Gramont very efficiently
gagged him with cloths, gagged him
hard and fast.</p>
<p class="indent">"You also bungled when you forgot all
about burning that bundle, in your excitement
over getting Hammond jailed for the
murder," he observed, watching Chacherre
writhe. "No, you can't get loose, Ben.
You'll suffer a little between now and the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>[pg 259]</span>
time of your release, but I really can't spare
much pity on you.</p>
<p class="indent">"I think that I'll send another wire to
Dick Hearne on this blank which you so
thoughtfully provided. I'll order him, in
your name, not to burn that bundle after all;
I fancy it may prove of some value to me.
And I'll also tell your friend—I suppose he
has some familiar cognomen, such as Slippery
Dick—to meet Henry Gramont at Houma
early in the morning. I'd like to gather Dick
in with the other gentlemen. I'll mention
that you were kind enough to supply a few
names and incidents."</p>
<p class="indent">At this last Ben Chacherre writhed anew,
for it was a shrewd blow. He and his friends
belonged to that class of crook which never
"peaches." If by any mischance one of
this class is jailed and convicted, he invariably
takes his medicine silently, knowing
that the whole gang is behind him, and
that when he emerges from prison he will be
sure to find money and friends and occupation
awaiting him.</p>
<p class="indent">To know that he would be placed, in the
estimation of the gang, in the same class with
stool-pigeons, must have bitten deeper into
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>[pg 260]</span>
Ben Chacherre than any other lash. He
stared at Gramont with a frightful hatred in
his blazing eyes—a hatred which gradually
passed into a look of helplessness and of impotent
despair.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont, meantime, was writing out the
telegram to Dick Hearne. This finished, he
got his hat and coat, and from the bureau
drawer took an automatic pistol, which he
pocketed. Then he smiled pleasantly at his
prisoner.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll be back a little later, Ben, and I'll
probably bring a friend with me—a friend
who will sit up with you to-night and take
care of your health. Kind of me, eh? It's
getting late in the afternoon, but I don't
think that it will harm you to go without
any dinner. I'll 'phone Mr. Fell that
you said you'd be away for a few hours, eh?</p>
<p class="indent">"This evening, Ben, I think that I'll
attend a meeting of my post of the American
Legion. You don't belong to that organization
by any chance? No, I'm quite sure
you don't. Very few of your exclusive acquaintances
do belong. Well, see you later!
Work on those bonds all you like—you're
quite safe. I'm curious to see what is in
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>[pg 261]</span>
that bundle under the rear seat of your car;
I have an idea that it may prove interesting.
Good afternoon!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont closed the door, and left the house.</p>
<p class="indent">Going downtown, he mailed the letter to
Fell, confident that the latter would receive
it on the following morning; but he did not
telephone Fell. He preferred to leave the
absence of Chacherre unexplained, rightly
judging that Fell would not be particularly
anxious about the man. It was now Thursday
evening. The meeting of the oil company
would be held at nine on Friday evening.
Between those two times Gramont figured on
many things happening.</p>
<p class="indent">He chuckled as he sent the telegram to
Dick Hearne at Houma—a telegram signed
with the name Chacherre, instructing Hearne
not to burn the bundle, but to meet Gramont
early in the morning at Houma. He
had a very shrewd idea that this Dick Hearne
might prove an important person to dispose
of, and quite useful after he had been disposed
of. In this conjecture he was right.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>[pg 262]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Chacherre's Bundle</i></p>
<p>IT WAS seven in the morning when Henry
Gramont drove his car into Houma.</p>
<p class="indent">In the wire which he had sent over
Chacherre's signature he had commanded
Dick Hearne to meet Gramont at about
this time at a restaurant near the court house.
Putting his car at the curb, Gramont went into
the restaurant and ordered a hasty breakfast.
He had brought with him copies of
the morning papers, and was perusing the
accounts of Bob Maillard's pitifully weak
story regarding his father's murder, when a
stranger stopped beside him.</p>
<p class="indent">"Gramont?" said the other. "Thought
it was you. Hearne's my name—I had
orders to meet you. What's up?"</p>
<p class="indent">The other man dropped into the chair
opposite Gramont, who put away his papers.
Hearne was a sleek individual of pasty
complexion who evidently served the gang
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>[pg 263]</span>
in no better light than as a go-between and
runner of errands. That he suspected nothing
was plain from his casual manner, although
he had never seen Gramont previously.</p>
<p class="indent">"Business," said Gramont, leaning back to
let the waitress serve his breakfast. When
she had departed, he attacked it hungrily.
"You got Chacherre's wire about the stuff in
his car? Was it burned?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No. He countermanded it just as I was
hirin' a car to go over to Paradis," said
Hearne. "What's stirrin', anyhow?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Plenty. Memphis Izzy's coming down
to-day. When'll he get in?"</p>
<p class="indent">"He'll go direct to the other place, won't
come here. Oh, I reckon he'll get there
along about nine this morning. Why?"</p>
<p class="indent">"We'll have to go over there to meet him,"
said Gramont. "I stopped in here to pick
you up. Hammond is still safe in jail?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Sure." Hearne laughed evilly. "I don't
guess he'll get out in a hurry, neither!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Chacherre was pinched last night for
the murder," said Gramont, watching the
other.</p>
<p class="indent">"The hell!" Hearne looked astonished,
then relaxed and laughed again. "Some fly
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>[pg 264]</span>
cop will sure lose his buttons, then! They
ain't got nothin' on him."</p>
<p class="indent">"I heard they had plenty."</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't worry." Hearne waved a hand
grandiloquently. "The boss is solid with the
bunch up to Baton Rouge, and they'll take
care of everybody. So old Ben got pinched,
huh? That's one joke, man!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont's worst suspicions were confirmed
by the attitude of Hearne, who plainly
considered that the entire gang had nothing
to fear from the law. Chacherre's boasts
were backed up solidly. It was obvious to
Gramont that the ramifications of the gang
extended very high up indeed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Better cut out the talk," he said, curtly,
"until we get out of here."</p>
<p class="indent">Hearne nodded and rolled a cigarette.</p>
<p class="indent">When his hasty meal was finished Gramont
paid at the counter and led the way
outside. He motioned toward the car, and
Hearne obediently climbed in, being evidently
of so little account in the gang that
he was accustomed to taking orders from
everyone.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont headed out of town and took the
Paradis road. Before he had driven a mile,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>[pg 265]</span>
however, he halted the car, climbed out, and
lifted one side of the hood.</p>
<p class="indent">"Give me those rags from the bottom of
the car, Hearne," he said, briefly.</p>
<p class="indent">The other obeyed. As Gramont made no
move to come and get them, Hearne got out
of the car; then Gramont rose from the
engine unexpectedly, and Hearne looked into
a pistol.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hold out your hands behind you and turn
around!" snapped Gramont. "No talk!"</p>
<p class="indent">Hearne sputtered an oath, but as the
pistol jerked at him he obeyed the command.
Gramont took the strips of cloth, which he
had previously prepared, and bound the
man's wrists.</p>
<p class="indent">"These are better than handcuffs," he
commented. "Too many slick individuals
can get rid of bracelets—but you'll have one
man's job to get rid of these! Ah! a gun in
your pocket, eh? Thanks."</p>
<p class="indent">"What t'ell you doin'?" exclaimed the
bewildered Hearne.</p>
<p class="indent">"Placing you under arrest," said Gramont,
cheerfully.</p>
<p class="indent">"Here, where's your warrant? You ain't
no dick——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>[pg 266]</span>
Gramont cut short his protests with a long
cloth which effectually bound his lower jaw in
place and precluded any further idea of talk.</p>
<p class="indent">"You climb into that car, Hearne," he
ordered, "and I'll attend to your feet next.
That's the boy! Nothing like taking it
calmly, Hearne. You didn't know that I
was the fellow who pinched old Ben, did you?
But I am. And before night your whole
crowd will be hooked up, from the big boss
down to you."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont tied Dick Hearne securely, hand
and foot, and then lashed him to one of the
top supports of the car. When he had
finished, Hearne was reasonably safe. He
then climbed under the wheel again and
proceeded on his way. Hearne's lashings
were inconspicuous to any one whom the car
passed.</p>
<p class="indent">It was a little after eight in the morning
when Gramont drove into Paradis. He
noticed that two large automobiles were
standing in front of the postoffice, and that
about them were a group of men who eyed
him and his car with some interest. Paying
no attention to these, he drove on through
town without a halt.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>[pg 267]</span>
Sweeping out along the north road, he
encountered no one. When at length he
reached the Ledanois farm he drove in
toward the deserted house and parked the
car among some trees, where it could not be
seen from the road.</p>
<p class="indent">"You'll have some pleasant company before
long, Dicky, my lad," he observed,
cheerfully. A last inspection showed that
his prisoner was quite secure. "In the meantime,
sit and meditate upon your sins, which
I trust have been many and deep. Chacherre
is up for murder, and he's trying to
save his neck by blowing on the remainder of
your gang. We may give you a chance to
do the same thing and corroborate his testimony.
It's worth thinking over, isn't it?</p>
<p class="indent">"Perhaps you imagine that you're safe
from conviction. If so, take comfort while
you can—I'll chance that end of it! When
Memphis Izzy comes along, I'll have a nice
comfortable little conversation with him.
Then we'll all join up and go back to the
city together. You get the idea? Well, be
good!"</p>
<p class="indent">Leaving the car Gramont took his way
toward the bank of the bayou and followed this
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>[pg 268]</span>
in the direction of the adjoining property.
He looked at the water, a bitter smile upon
his lips, and again made out the faint iridescent
sheen of oil. When he came to the
rivulet which gave birth to the oil he paused.
He remembered the excitement that had so
shaken him upon the discovery of this supposed
seepage two days previously—he remembered
ironically the visions it had aroused in his brain.</p>
<p class="indent">"Farewell, too sudden wealth!" he murmured.
"Farewell, toil's end and dreams of
luxury! I'm still a poor but honest workingman—but
I still think that there's some real
oil under this land. Well, we'll see about
that later on, perhaps. Our company is by
no means busted up yet!"</p>
<p class="indent">He passed on, wondering not a little at the
deft skill of Jachin Fell in planting that oil;
the men next door had done the work, of
course. Gramont did not attempt to delude
himself with the idea that Fell had acted
selfishly. The whole affair had been handled
with a clever secrecy, only in order that Fell's
oil company might buy the land from Lucie,
and that Fell might use the resultant boom
to make her financially secure.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>[pg 269]</span>
"He doesn't believe there's oil here,"
reflected Gramont, "and he's sincere in the
belief. Where Lucie is concerned, I think
the man's absolutely unselfish. He'd do
anything for her! And yet Jachin Fell is an
enemy, a deadly enemy, of society! Hm—these
criminals show some queer streaks. You
can't call a man like Fell wholly bad, not by
a good deal; I'll almost regret sending him
to the pen—if I do!"</p>
<p class="indent">He went on to an opening in the bushes
which, over the low rail fence, gave him a
clear view of the Gumberts property. There
he paused, quickly drew back, and gained a
point whence he could see without danger of
his presence being discovered. He settled
into immobility and watched.</p>
<p class="indent">That Memphis Izzy himself had not yet
arrived, he was fairly certain. Near the
barn were drawn up two flivvers, and sitting
in chairs on the cottage veranda were three
men who must have come in these cars.
Gramont had come provided with binoculars,
and got these out. He was not long in
discovering that all three men on the veranda
were strangers to him. They, no doubt,
were men in the lottery game, waiting for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>[pg 270]</span>
Gumberts to arrive. Gramont turned his
attention to the other buildings.</p>
<p class="indent">Both the barn and shop were open, and the
buzzing thrum of machinery bore witness that
the mechanics were hard at work upon the
stolen cars. Gramont thought of Ben Chacherre,
still tied and lashed to the chair in
his room, and wondered what was to be found
under the rear seat of Ben's car. He could
see the car from where he lay.</p>
<p class="indent">The minutes dragged interminably, and
Gramont settled down to a comfortable
position in the grass. Would Fell come?
He hoped so, but strongly doubted it. Fell
appeared to be merely "the boss" and it was
Gumberts who was actually managing the
lottery swindle.</p>
<p class="indent">Nine o'clock came and passed. A third
flivver came roaring into the opening, and
Gramont leaned forward intently. Three
workers came to the door of the shop. A
single man left the flivver and greeted them,
then went on to the cottage and joined the
other three on the veranda. He was greeted
with no excitement. The house door remained
closed. The newcomer lighted a cigarette and
sat on the steps.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>[pg 271]</span>
"Evidently he's not Gumberts," thought
Gramont. "Seven of them so far, eh? This
is going to be a real job and no mistake."</p>
<p class="indent">Almost on his thought, a high-powered and
noiseless car came sweeping down the road and
he knew at once that Memphis Izzy had arrived.
He knew it intuitively, even before
he obtained a good glimpse of the broad, heavy
figure, and the dominating features. Memphis
Izzy was far from handsome, but he
possessed character.</p>
<p class="indent">"Where's the Goog?" As he left the
car, which he had driven himself, Gumberts
lifted his voice in a bull-like roar that carried
clearly to Gramont. "Where's Charlie the
Goog?"</p>
<p class="indent">The mechanics appeared hurriedly. One
of them, no other than Gramont's friend of the
adenoidal aspect, who seemed to own the mellifluous
title of Charlie the Goog, hastened to
the side of Gumberts, and the latter gave him
evident directions regarding some repair to the
car. Then, turning, Memphis Izzy strode to
the cottage. He nodded greetings to the four
men who awaited him, took a bunch of keys
from his pocket, and opened the cottage door.
All five vanished within.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>[pg 272]</span>
Gramont rose. A moment previously, fever
had thrilled him; the excitement of the manhunt
had held him trembling. Now he was
cool again, his fingers touching the pistol in
his pocket, his eyes steady. He glanced at
his watch, and nodded.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's time!" he murmured. "Let's hope
there'll be no slip-up! All ready, Memphis
Izzy? So am I. Let's go!"</p>
<p class="indent">Unhurried and openly, he advanced, making
his leisurely way toward the barn and shop.
Charlie the Goog, who was bent over the car
of Gumberts, was first to discern his approach,
and straightened up. Gramont waved his
hand in greeting. Charlie the Goog turned
his head and called his brethren, who came into
sight, staring at Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">The latter realized that if he passed them
the game was won. If they stopped him, he
bade fair to lose everything.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hello, boys!" he called, cheerily, as he drew
near. "I came out on an errand for the boss—got
a message for Gumberts. Where is he?
In the house?"</p>
<p class="indent">The others nodded, plainly mistrusting him
yet puzzled by his careless manner and his
reference to Fell.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span>
"Sure," answered Charlie the Goog. "Go
right in—he's in the big front room."</p>
<p class="indent">"Thanks."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont continued his way, conscious that
they were staring after him. If there was anything
phony about him, they evidently considered
that Memphis Izzy would take care of
the matter very ably.</p>
<p class="indent">The steps of the cottage porch creaked
protestingly as Gramont ascended them.
Perhaps Memphis Izzy recognized an
unaccustomed footstep; perhaps that conversation
outside had penetrated to him. Gramont
entered the front door into the hall, and as
he did so, Gumberts opened the door on
his right and stood gazing at him—rather,
glaring.</p>
<p class="indent">"Who're you?" he demanded, roughly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Came out with a message from Mr. Fell,"
responded Gramont at once. "Brought some
orders, I should say——"</p>
<p class="indent">The sixth sense of Memphis Izzy, which
had carried him uncaught into a grizzled age,
must have flashed a warning to his crook's
brain. In the man's eyes Gramont read a
surge of suspicion, and knew that his bluff
could be worked no longer.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span>
"Here's his note," he said, and reached into
his pocket.</p>
<p class="indent">Gumberts' hand flashed down, but halted
as Gramont's pistol covered him.</p>
<p class="indent">"Back into that room, and do it quickly,"
said Gramont, stepping forward. "Quick!"</p>
<p class="indent">Memphis Izzy obeyed. Gramont stood in
the doorway, his eyes sweeping the room and
the men inside. Startled, all four of them had
risen and were staring at him. In his other
hand he produced the automatic which he had
taken from Dick Hearne.</p>
<p class="indent">"The first word from any of you gentlemen,"
he declared, "will draw a shot. I'm doing all
the talking here. Savvy?"</p>
<p class="indent">They stood staring, paralyzed by this apparition.
They had been sitting about a table
which was heaped with papers and with packages
of money. A large safe in the wall stood
open. Beside the table was a small mail sack,
partially emptied of its contents; torn envelopes
littered the floor.</p>
<p class="indent">That this was the headquarters of at least
a section of the lottery gang Gramont saw
without need of explanation.</p>
<p class="indent">"You're under arrest," said Gramont,
quietly. "The game's up, Gumberts. Hands
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>[pg 275]</span>
up, all of you! Dick Hearne has peached on
the whole gang, and from the boss down you're
all in for a term in stir. You with the derby!
Take Gumberts' gun, and those of your
companions, then your own; throw 'em on the
floor in the corner, and if you make the wrong
kind of a move, heaven help you! Step lively,
there!"</p>
<p class="indent">One of the men who wore a derby on the
back of his head obeyed the command. All
five of the men facing Gramont realized that
a single shout would call help from outside,
but in the eyes of Gramont they read a strict
attention to business. It was altogether too
probable that one man who dared arrest them
alone would shoot to kill at the first false
move—and not even Memphis Izzy himself
opened his mouth.</p>
<p class="indent">Each man there had a revolver or pistol, and
one by one the weapons clattered into the
corner. Gumberts stood motionless, licking
his thick lips, unuttered curses in his glaring
eyes. And in that instant Gramont heard
the porch steps creak, and caught a low,
startled cry.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hey, boss! They's a gang comin' on the
run——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span>
It was Charlie the Goog, bursting in upon
them in wild haste. Gramont stepped into
the room and turned slightly, covering with
one of his weapons the intruder, who stood
aghast in the doorway as he comprehended the
scene.</p>
<p class="indent">No words passed. Staring at the five men,
then at Gramont, the adenoidal mechanic
gulped once—and like a flash acted. He
ducked low, and fired from his pocket.
Gramont fired at the same instant, and the heavy
bullet, catching Charlie the Goog squarely in
the chest, hurled his body half across the
room.</p>
<p class="indent">With the shots Memphis Izzy flung himself
forward in a headlong rush. That desperate
shot of the little mechanic had broken Gramont's
right arm above the wrist; before he
could fire a second time, with the weapon
in his left hand, Gumberts had wrested the
pistol aside and was struggling with him.
The other four came into the mêlée full
weight.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont went down under a crashing blow.
Over him leaped Memphis Izzy and rushed
into the doorway—then stopped with astounding
abruptness and lifted his arms. After
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>[pg 277]</span>
him the other four followed suit. Two men,
panting a little, stood outside the door and
covered them with shotguns.</p>
<p class="indent">"Back up," they ordered, curtly. Memphis
Izzy and his four friends obeyed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Tie 'em, boys," said Gramont, rising
dizzily to his feet. "No, I'm not hurt—my
arm's broken, I think, but let that wait. Got
the ones outside?"</p>
<p class="indent">A stamping of feet filled the hall, and other
men appeared there.</p>
<p class="indent">"Got two of 'em, Gramont!" responded the
leader. "The third slipped in here—ah, there
he is!"</p>
<p class="indent">Poor Charlie the Goog lay dead on the floor—a
touch of heroic tragedy in his last desperate
action; the one great action of his life, possibly.
He had realized that it meant doom
yet he had done what he could.</p>
<p class="indent">"I think that's all," said Gramont. "We've
sure made a killing, boys—and it's a good
thing you jumped in to the minute! A second
later and they'd have done for me. Take care
of that evidence, will you? Get that mail sack
and the letters particularly; if they've been
working their lottery outside the state, it'll be
a Federal matter."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>[pg 278]</span>
Gumberts, who was being tied up with his
friends, uttered a hoarse cry.</p>
<p class="indent">"Who are you guys? You can't do this
without authority——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't be silly, Memphis Izzy!" said Gramont,
smiling a little, then twitching to the
pain of his arm. "These friends of mine are
members with me of the American Legion,
and they've come along at my request to put
you crooks where you belong. As for authority,
you can ask and go hang.</p>
<p class="indent">"Here, boys, I've got to get out to that
barn. Come along, some of you! We'll get my
arm tied up later. Nobody hurt out here?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Not a scrap, even," responded the leader,
with a trace of disgust. "All three of those
bums were outside, and we covered 'em as we
came out of the brush. The one that got
away did so by getting his friends between
us and him. But you attended to him."</p>
<p class="indent">"And he attended to me likewise," added
Gramont, not without a wince of pain.</p>
<p class="indent">He led the way out to the barn, and, the
others trooping in behind him, entered. He
pointed out the car which had brought Chacherre
here previously, and ordered the extra
seat in back opened up.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span>
"I think there's a bundle inside," he said.
"What's in it, I don't know——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Here we are, cap."</p>
<p class="indent">A bundle was produced, and opened. In
it was found the aviator's costume which Gramont
had worn as the Midnight Masquer,
and which Chacherre had stolen with the loot.
Wrapped among the leathern garments was
an automatic pistol.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont stood aghast before this discovery,
as realization of what it meant broke full upon
him.</p>
<p class="indent">Good lord!" he exclaimed, amazedly.
"Boys—why, it must have been Ben Chacherre
who killed Maillard! See if that pistol has
been used——"</p>
<p class="indent">The Midnight Masquer had fired two bullets
into Maillard. Two cartridges were gone from
this automatic.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>[pg 280]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>When the Heavens Fall</i></p>
<p>THE chief of police entered the office of
Jachin Fell, high in the Maison Blanche
building, at eight o'clock on Friday
evening. Mr. Fell glanced up at him in surprise.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hello, chief! What's up?"</p>
<p class="indent">The officer gazed at him in some astonishment.</p>
<p class="indent">"What's up? Why, I came around to see
you, of course!"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell smiled whimsically. "To see
me? Well, chief, that's good of you; sit down
and have a cigar, eh? What's the matter?
You look rather taken aback."</p>
<p class="indent">"I am," said the other, bluntly. "Didn't
you expect me?"</p>
<p class="indent">"No," said Jachin Fell, halting suddenly in
the act of reaching for a cigar and turning his
keen gaze upon the chief. "Expect you?
No!"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>[pg 281]</span>
"It's darned queer, then! That chap Gramont
called me up about ten minutes ago and
said to get around here as quick as I could
make it, that you wanted to see me."</p>
<p class="indent">"Gramont!" Jachin Fell frowned. "Where's
Ben Chacherre? Haven't you found him yet?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Nary a sign of him, chief."</p>
<p class="indent">The door opened, and Henry Gramont
appeared, his right hand bandaged and in a
sling.</p>
<p class="indent">"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said, smiling.</p>
<p class="indent">"Here's Gramont now," exclaimed Fell.
"Did you call the chief over here——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I sure did," and Gramont came forward.
"I wanted to see you two gentlemen together,
and so arranged it. Miss Ledanois is to be
here at nine, Fell?"</p>
<p class="indent">The little man nodded, his eyes intent upon
Gramont. He noticed the bandaged arm.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes. Have you been hurt?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Slightly." Gramont brought up a chair
across the desk from Fell, and sat down. He
put his left hand in his breast pocket, and
brought forth a document which he handed to
the chief of police. "Cast your eye over that,
chief, and say nothing. You're here to listen
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>[pg 282]</span>
for the present. Here's something to cover
your case, Mr. Fell."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont produced his automatic from the
pocket of his coat, and laid it on the desk
before him. There was a moment of startled
silence. The officer, looking over the paper
which Gramont had handed him, seemed to
find it of sudden, intense interest.</p>
<p class="indent">"What means all this mystery and melodramatic
action, Gramont?" demanded Jachin
Fell, a slight sneer in his eyes, his voice quite
toneless.</p>
<p class="indent">"It means," said Gramont, regarding him
steadily, "that you're under arrest. I went
out to the Gumberts place on Bayou Terrebonne
this morning, arrested Memphis Izzy
Gumberts and four other men engaged in operating
a lottery, and also arrested two mechanics
who were engaged in working on stolen cars.
We took in, further, a gentleman by the name
of Dick Hearne; a lesser member of the gang,
who is now engaged in dictating a confession.
Just a moment, chief! I prefer to do the talking
at present."</p>
<p class="indent">The chief of police had been about to interfere.
At this, however, he leaned back in his
chair, tapping in his hand the paper which he
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>[pg 283]</span>
had perused. He looked very much as though
in danger from a stroke of apoplexy.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont smiled into the steady, unfaltering
eyes of Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"You are next on the programme," he said,
evenly. "We know that you are at the head
of an organized gang, which is not only operating
a lottery through this and adjacent states,
but also is conducting an immense business in
stolen automobiles. Therefore——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Just one minute, please," said Jachin Fell.
"Do you forget, Mr. Gramont, the affair of
the Midnight Masquer? You are a very zealous
citizen, I have no doubt, but——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I was about to add," struck in Gramont,
"that your pleasant friend Ben Chacherre is
charged with the murder of the sheriff of
Terrebonne Parish, in which I have clear
evidence against him, having been present at the
scene of the crime. He is also charged with
the murder of Joseph Maillard——-"</p>
<p class="indent">"What!" From both Fell and the officer
broke an exclamation of undisguised amazement.</p>
<p class="indent">"Quite true, I assure you," said Gramont.
"The evidence is, at least, a good deal clearer
than the evidence against young Maillard."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>[pg 284]</span>
"My heavens!" said Fell, staring. "I
never dreamed that Chacherre——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Perhaps you didn't." Gramont shrugged
his shoulders. "Neither did any one else. I
imagine that Ben learned of this room and
drinking party, and rightly decided that he
could make a rich haul off a small crowd of
drunken young sports. He had the costume
stolen from my car, as you know, also the
automatic which went with it. Two shots were
missing from the automatic when we found it
in Ben's possession; and you remember the
Masquer fired twice at the time Maillard was
killed."</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah! I always said young Maillard wasn't
guilty!" exclaimed the chief.</p>
<p class="indent">"And your man Hammond——" began Fell.
Gramont interposed.</p>
<p class="indent">"You thought you had Hammond sewed up
tight, didn't you? To use the language of
your favourite game, Fell, development is
everything, and the player who gives up a pawn for
the sake of development shows that he is
possessed of the <i>idée grande</i>. You took the
pawn, or thought you did—but I've taken
the game!</p>
<p class="indent">"In one way, Fell, I'm very sorry to arrest
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>[pg 285]</span>
you. It's going to hurt a mutual friend of
ours. I realize that you've been trying very
hard to be unselfish toward her, and I think
that you've been perfectly sincere in this
respect. Nonetheless, I've only one duty in
the matter, and I propose to carry it through
to the finish."</p>
<p class="indent">Fell's keen eyes sparkled angrily.</p>
<p class="indent">"You're a very zealous citizen, young man,"
he said, softly. "I see that you've been hurt.
I trust your little game did not result in casualties?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded. "Charlie the Goog went
west. He was desperate, I fancy; at all events
he got me in the arm, and I had to shoot him.
Memphis Izzy hardly justified his tremendous
reputation, for he yielded like a lamb."</p>
<p class="indent">"So you killed the Goog, eh?" said Fell.
"Very zealous, Mr. Gramont! And I suppose
that the exigencies of the case justified you, a
private citizen, in carrying arms and using
them? Who aided you in this marvellous
affair?"</p>
<p class="indent">"A number of friends from my post of the
American Legion," said Gramont, evenly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah! This organization is going in for
politics, then?"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>[pg 286]</span>
"Not for politics, Fell; for justice. I deputized
them to assist me."</p>
<p class="indent">"Deputized!" repeated Fell, slowly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Certainly." Gramont smiled. "You see,
this lottery business has been going on for
a year or more. Some time ago, before I came
to New Orleans, the governor of this state appointed
me a special officer to investigate the
matter. There is my commission, which the
chief has been reading. It gives me a good
deal of power, Fell; quite enough power to
gather in you and your bunch.</p>
<p class="indent">"I might add that I have secured an abundance
of evidence to prove that the lottery
gang, under your supervision, has extended its
operations to adjacent states. This, as you
are aware, brings the affair into Federal hands
if necessary."</p>
<p class="indent">The chief of police looked very uneasily from
Gramont to Jachin Fell, and back again. Fell
sat erect in his chair, staring at Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">"You were the original Midnight Masquer,"
said Fell in his toneless voice. At this direct
charge, and at Gramont's assent, the chief
started in surprise.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes. One reason was that I suspected
someone in society, someone high up in New
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>[pg 287]</span>
Orleans, to be connected with the gang; but I
never dreamed that you were the man, Fell.
I rather suspected young Maillard. I am now
glad to say that I was entirely wrong. You
were the big boss, Fell, and you're going to
serve time for it."</p>
<p class="indent">Fell glanced at the chief, who cleared his
throat as if about to speak. At this moment,
however, a sharp knock sounded at the door.</p>
<p class="indent">"Come!" called Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">A man entered. It was one of Gramont's
deputies, who happened also to be a reporter
from one of the morning papers of the city.
He carried several sheets of paper which he
laid before Gramont. He glanced at Fell, who
recognized him and exchanged a nod of greeting,
then returned his attention to Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah!" said the latter with satisfaction, as he
examined the papers. "So Hearne has given
up everything, has he? Does this confession
implicate Mr. Fell, here?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, rather," drawled the other, cheerfully.
"And see here, cap! There are two more of us
in the crowd and we've arranged to split the
story. We'd like to rush the stuff to our papers
the minute you give the word, because——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I know." Gramont returned the papers
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>[pg 288]</span>
that bore the confession of Hearne. "You've
made copies of this, of course? All right.
Shoot the stuff in to your papers right away,
if you wish."</p>
<p class="indent">Fell raised a hand to check the other.</p>
<p class="indent">"One moment, please!" he said, his eyes
boring into the newspaper man. "Will you
also take a message from me to the editor of
your newspaper—and see that it goes to the
others as well?"</p>
<p class="indent">"If Mr. Gramont permits, yes."</p>
<p class="indent">"Go ahead," said Gramont, wondering what
Fell would try now. He soon learned.</p>
<p class="indent">"Then," pursued Fell, evenly, "you will
kindly inform the editors of your papers that,
in case my name appears in connection with
this matter, I shall immediately institute suit
for libel. No matter what Mr. Gramont may
say or do, I assure you fully that no publicity
is going to attach to me in this matter.
Neither, I may add, am I going to be arrested.
That is all, sir."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont smiled. "Take the message if
you see fit, by all means," he said, carelessly.
"You may also take my fullest assurance that
within twenty minutes you will observe Mr.
Fell safely in jail. That's all."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>[pg 289]</span>
The newspaper man saluted and departed,
grinning.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont leaned forward, the harsh lines of
his face spelling determination as he looked at
Jachin Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"So you won't be arrested, eh? Let's see.
I know that this gang of yours has influence
running up into high places, and that this
influence has power. The governor knows it
also. That is why I was appointed to investigate
this lottery game secretly, and in my own
way. That is why, also, I brought the chief
of police here to-night."</p>
<p class="indent">He turned to the perturbed officer, and spoke
coldly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Now, chief, you've seen my authority,
you've heard my charges, and you know they
will be proved up to the hilt. Dick Hearne
gave up the names of most of the lottery gang
and their confederates; my deputies already
wired to their various places of operation for
the purpose of securing their arrest. We'll
make a clean sweep.</p>
<p class="indent">"The same may be said of the automobile
gang, although we will probably miss a few of
the smaller fry. What other forms of criminality
the organization may be engaged in
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>[pg 290]</span>
I can't say at this moment; but we have
secured quite enough evidence. Are you willing
to arrest Jachin Fell, or not?"</p>
<p class="indent">The chief cleared his throat.</p>
<p class="indent">"Why, Mr. Gramont," he observed, nervously,
"about the rest of the gang, we'll take
care of 'em, sure! But it's different with Mr.
Fell here. He's a friend of the senator——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Different, hell!" snapped Gramont, angrily.
"He's a criminal, no matter who his friends
may be, and I have the proof of it!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, that may be so," admitted the chief
of police. "But this thing is goin' to raise
one hell of a scandal, all up and down the state!
You know that as well as I do. Now, if I was
you, I'd act kind of slow——"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont smiled bitterly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Perhaps you would, chief. In fact, I don't
doubt that you would. But you are not <i>me</i>.
Now, as a duly-appointed officer acting under
authority of the governor of the state, I call
upon you to arrest this criminal, and I make
you duly responsible for his safe-keeping. Do
you dare refuse?"</p>
<p class="indent">The chief hesitated. He looked at Fell for
help, but none came. Fell seemed to be rather
amused by the situation.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>[pg 291]</span>
"Well," said the chief, "I ain't seen the
evidence yet——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll show you some evidence of another
kind, chief," said Gramont, sternly quiet.
"Outside the door, here, there are two men
who will obey my orders and my authority.
If you dare refuse to do your duty you will
yourself be taken from this room under arrest,
on a John Doe warrant which is already prepared
and waiting; and you will be charged
with being an accomplice of this gang. Now
choose, and choose quickly!"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont leaned back in his chair. The purpling
features of the chief were streaming with
perspiration; the man was in a frightful dilemma,
and his plight was pitiable. At this
instant Jachin Fell interposed.</p>
<p class="indent">"Let me speak, please," he said, gently.
"My dear Mr. Gramont, it has just occurred
to me that there may be a compromise——"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm not compromising," snapped Gramont.</p>
<p class="indent">"Certainly not; I speak of our mutual friend
here," and Fell indicated the chief with a
bland gesture. "I believe that Judge Forester
of this city is at present consulting with the
governor at Baton Rouge on political matters.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292" id="page292"></a>[pg 292]</span>
With them, also, is Senator Flaxman, who
has come from Washington on the same errand.
Now, it would be a very simple matter to end
all this anxiety. Suppose that you call up the
governor on long distance, from this telephone,
and get his assurance that I am not to be arrested.
Then you'll be convinced."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont laughed with deep anger.</p>
<p class="indent">"You gangsters are all alike!" he said, turning
to the desk telephone. "You think that
because you have planted your slimy tentacles
in high places you can do anything with absolute
impunity. But the governor of this state
is not in your clutches.</p>
<p class="indent">"He's a man, by heaven! I have his assurance
that he'll prosecute to the limit whoever
is behind this criminal gang—and he keeps his
word! Don't think that if your friend the
senator is with him, you will be saved. I'll call
him, if only to show the chief, here, that influence
is not going to count in this game."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont took down the receiver, called long
distance, and put in a hurried call for the
executive mansion, asking for the governor in
person.</p>
<p class="indent">"So you think that he's immune from influence,
do you?" Jachin Fell smiled patronizingly
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293" id="page293"></a>[pg 293]</span>
and lighted a fresh cigar. The chief of
police was mopping his brow.</p>
<p class="indent">"My dear Gramont, you exhibit a youthful
confidence in human nature! Let me topple
your clay-footed idol from its pedestal in a
hurry. Mention to the governor that you
have me under arrest, and that I have asked
him to speak with Judge Forester and Senator
Flaxman before confirming the arrest. I'll
wager you five hundred dollars——"</p>
<p class="indent">The smile in Fell's pale eyes drove Gramont
into a cold fury of rage.</p>
<p class="indent">"You devil! So your damnable influence
goes as far as those two men, does it—those
men who are respected above all others in this
city? By the lord, I'll call your bluff! I know
the governor, and I know he doesn't give a
damn for all the dirty crooks and slimy politicians on earth!"</p>
<p class="indent">"What sublime faith!" laughed Fell, softly.</p>
<p class="indent">The telephone rang sharply. Taunted almost
beyond endurance, Gramont seized the
instrument and made answer. In a moment
he had the governor on the wire. His gaze
went exultantly to Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"Governor, this is Henry Gramont speaking,"
he said. "I've just succeeded in my
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page294" id="page294"></a>[pg 294]</span>
work, as I wired you this afternoon—no, hold
on a minute! This is important.</p>
<p class="indent">"The head of the entire gang is a man here
in New Orleans by the name of Jachin Fell.
Yes, Fell. I find it very hard to get him arrested.
Fell boasts that his influence is superior
to any that I can bring to bear. He
asks that you speak with Judge Forester and
Senator Flaxman before confirming the arrest,
and boasts that you will order me to keep hands
off.</p>
<p class="indent">"Speak with them, governor! If they're in
the gang, too, don't you worry. You confirm
this arrest, and I'll put Fell behind the bars if
I have to turn all New Orleans inside out.
Go ahead! I know that you can't be reached
by any of these crooks—I'm merely calling
Fell's bluff. We have the chief of police here,
and he's sweating. Eh? Sure. Take as long
as you like, governor."</p>
<p class="indent">He smiled grimly at Jachin Fell as he
waited. Two minutes passed—three—four.
Then he heard the voice of the governor again.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't arrest him, Gramont."</p>
<p class="indent">"What?" Gramont gasped.</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't touch him, I said! Get in all the
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295" id="page295"></a>[pg 295]</span>
others, no matter who they are, but leave Fell
alone——"</p>
<p class="indent">"You damned coward!" shouted Gramont,
in a heat of fury. "So this is the way you keep
your promises, is it? And I thought you were
above all influences—real American! You're
a hell of a governor—oh, I don't want to hear
any more from you."</p>
<p class="indent">He jerked up the receiver.</p>
<p class="indent">There was a moment of dead silence in the
room. The chief mopped his brow, in evident
relief. Jachin Fell sat back in his chair and
scrutinized Gramont with his thin-lipped smile.</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont sat helpless, wrung by chagrin,
rage, and impotency. There was nothing he
could say, nothing he could do. The man
behind him had failed him. The entire power
of the state, which had been behind him, had
failed him. There was no higher power to
which he could appeal, except the power of the
Federal Government. His head jerked up
sharply.</p>
<p class="indent">"Fell, I've got the evidence on you, and I've
got the evidence to put this lottery business
into Federal hands. Boys! Come in here!"</p>
<p class="indent">At his shout the door opened and two of his
men entered. Gramont looked at the chief.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296"></a>[pg 296]</span>
"You're willing to take care of all the rest
of the gang, chief?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Sure," assented the officer, promptly.</p>
<p class="indent">"All right. Boys, turn over the whole
crowd to the chief, and I'll trust you to see
that they're properly booked and jailed. Turn
over all the evidence likewise, except that
mail sack. Have that brought up here, to
this room, and see that the corridor outside is
kept guarded. Get me?"</p>
<p class="indent">The two saluted. "Yes, sir."</p>
<p class="indent">"Good. Send to the Federal building, find
out where there's an agent of the Department
of Justice, and get him here. Have him here
inside of fifteen minutes."</p>
<p class="indent">Fell smiled. "I can save you time, gentlemen.
The agent in charge of this district
will probably be home at this hour. I can
give you his address——"</p>
<p class="indent">He did so. In the pale eyes Gramont read
an imperturbable challenge. The effrontery
of the man appalled him. He turned to his
men.</p>
<p class="indent">"Confirm fully that he <i>is</i> the agent before
you get him," he ordered, curtly. "Have him
bring one of his deputy agents likewise, to
meet you here. That's all, chief, if you'll go
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297" id="page297"></a>[pg 297]</span>
along with these men, you'll be put in charge
of our prisoners and evidence. I've left a
guard at the Gumberts place at Terrebonne,
and I'd suggest that you go through the residence
of Gumberts here in town. You might
find evidence. That's all."</p>
<p class="indent">The chief departed without a word. It was
obvious that he was mighty glad to be gone.
Gramont and Fell were left alone together.</p>
<p class="indent">"My dear Gramont, your devotion to
duty is Roman in spirit," said Jachin Fell,
lightly. "I really regret that circumstances
so conspire to defeat you! Why can't you
be satisfied with bagging so many other
victims? You can't bag me——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Can't I?" said Gramont, taking a cigar
and biting at it. He was cooler now. "By
heavens, Fell, there's one thing in this country
that you and no other man can reach with any
influence, political bribery, or crooked connections—and
that's the Government of the
United States! You can reach judges and
senators and governors, but you can't reach
the unknown and humble men who carry the
badge of the Department of Justice!"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell made a slight gesture.</p>
<p class="indent">"Human nature, my dear Gramont. It is
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298" id="page298"></a>[pg 298]</span>
quite true that I have not established this
gang of criminals, as you call them, without
taking proper precautions. Memphis Izzy,
for instance, has influence that reaches far
and wide. So have I. So have others in the
party. I give you my assurance that your
Department of Justice man will not arrest
me."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont paled.</p>
<p class="indent">"If——" He choked on the word, then
touched the automatic on the desk before
him. "If he won't, Jachin Fell, I'll put a
bullet through you myself!"</p>
<p class="indent">For the first time the pale eyes of Jachin
Fell looked slightly troubled.</p>
<p class="indent">"You'll hang if you do," he said, gently.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll be damned if I don't!" snapped
Gramont, and put the weapon in his lap.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page299" id="page299"></a>[pg 299]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>The Impregnability of Mr. Fell</i></p>
<p>JACHIN FELL glanced at his watch.</p>
<p class="indent">"Lucie will be here at any minute
now," he observed. "I suppose your
sense of duty will force you to disclose everything
to her?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont merely nodded, tight-lipped. A
knock at the door, and one of his men entered
with the sack of mail they had taken as evidence.</p>
<p class="indent">"A lady is coming here at any moment,"
said Gramont. "Allow her to enter."</p>
<p class="indent">The other saluted and departed.</p>
<p class="indent">"A sense of duty is a terrible thing," and
Jachin Fell sighed. "What about the oil
company? Are you going to let Miss Ledanois'
fortunes go to wrack and ruin?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Better that," said Gramont, "than to
have her profit come through criminal money
and means. She'd be the first to say so,
herself. But I'll tell you this: I'm convinced
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300" id="page300"></a>[pg 300]</span>
that there is oil under the land of
hers! If she'll agree, I'll put up what money
I have against her land; we'll be able to have
one well drilled at least, on the chance!"</p>
<p class="indent">"If it's dry," said Fell, "you'll be broke."</p>
<p class="indent">"I can always get work," and Gramont
laughed harshly.</p>
<p class="indent">Fell regarded him in silence a moment.
Then: "I think Lucie loves you, Gramont."</p>
<p class="indent">A trembling seized Gramont; a furious
impulse to shoot the man down as he sat.
Did he have the baseness to try and save
himself through Lucie? Something of his
stifled anger must have shone in his eyes, for
Jachin Fell laid down his cigar and continued
quickly:</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't misunderstand. I say that I think
she cares for you; it is merely surmise on my
part. Lucie is one person for whom I'd do
anything. I stand and have stood in the
place of a parent to her. She is very dear to
me. I have a special reason for intruding on
your personal affairs in this manner, and
some right to ask you in regard to your
intentions."</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't recognize any right whatever on
your part," said Gramont, steadily.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page301" id="page301"></a>[pg 301]</span>
Fell smiled. "Ah! Then you are in love.
Well, youth must be served!"</p>
<p class="indent">"I'd like to know one thing," struck in
Gramont. "That is, why you were so cursed
anxious to get something on my man Hammond!
And why you held the Midnight
Masquer affair over me as a threat. Did you
suspect my business?"</p>
<p class="indent">Fell threw back his head and laughed in
a hearty amusement that was quite unrestrained.</p>
<p class="indent">"That," he responded, "is really humorous!
Do you know, I honestly thought
you a fortune-hunter from Europe? When
I suspected you of being the Midnight
Masquer, and afterward, I was convinced
that you, and very likely Hammond as well,
were very clever swindlers of some kind.
There, I confess, I made a grave error. My
friend Gumberts never forgets faces, and he
said to me, one day, that Hammond's face
was vaguely familiar to him, but he could not
place the man. That led me to think——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Ah!" exclaimed Gramont. "Gumberts
saw Hammond years ago, when he was
escaping from the law—and to think he remembered!
Hammond told me about it."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page302" id="page302"></a>[pg 302]</span>
"That's why I wanted you and Hammond
in my gang," said Fell. "I thought it would
be very well to get you into the organization
for my own purposes."</p>
<p class="indent">"Thanks," answered Gramont, drily. "I
got in, didn't I?"</p>
<p class="indent">Without a knock the door opened and
Lucie Ledanois entered.</p>
<p class="indent">"Good evening, stockholders!" she exclaimed.
"Do you know there's a crowd
down in the street—policemen and automobiles
and a lot of excitement?"</p>
<p class="indent">"Allow me," said Gramont, taking her
coat and placing a chair for her. "Oh, yes,
we've had quite a strenuous evening, Miss
Ledanois."</p>
<p class="indent">"Your hand! Why, what has happened?"</p>
<p class="indent">"One of Mr. Fell's friends tried to shoot
me. Will you sit down, please? You remember
that I warned you regarding a
shock that would come; and now I must
explain." Gramont gravely handed her his
commission from the governor, and resumed
his seat. "When I say that I have come
here, not to attend a meeting of our oil
company, but to arrest Mr. Fell, you will
understand. I am very sorry, Lucie, to
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page303" id="page303"></a>[pg 303]</span>
have to tell you all this, for I know your
attachment to him."</p>
<p class="indent">"Arrest—you, Uncle Jachin?" The girl
glanced from the paper to Fell, who nodded.
"And you, Henry—a special officer of the
governor's? Why—this isn't a joke of some
kind?"</p>
<p class="indent">"None whatever, my dear," said Fell,
quietly. "Mr. Gramont is to be congratulated.
He has discovered that I was
the head of a large organization of criminals.
He has there, under the table, a sack of mail
which proves that my organization was conducting
a lottery throughout several states;
we are now expecting the arrival of Federal
agents, to whom Gramont intends to turn
me over as a prisoner."</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh!" The girl stared at him, wide-eyed.
Her voice broke. "It—it can't be
true——"</p>
<p class="indent">"It is quite true, my dear," and Jachin
Fell smiled. "But don't let it distress you in
the least, I beg. Here, if I mistake not, are
your Department of Justice friends, Gramont."</p>
<p class="indent">A knock at the door, and it opened to admit
one of Gramont's men.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page304" id="page304"></a>[pg 304]</span>
"Here they are, sir—the chief agent and a
deputy. Shall I let them in?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont nodded. Two men entered the
room, and Gramont dismissed his own man
with a gesture. He saw that the agents
both nodded to Fell.</p>
<p class="indent">"Do you gentlemen know this man?" he
demanded, rising.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes," said one of them, regarding him
keenly. "Who sent for us?"</p>
<p class="indent">"I did." Gramont gave his name, and
handed them his commission. "I have been
investigating a lottery which has been conducted
in this state for a long time by an
organization of very clever criminals. Jachin
Fell is the man at the head of this organization.
To-day I rounded up the entire gang,
and procured all the evidence necessary.
Under that table is a sack of mail proving
that the lottery has been extended to other
states, and that part of its operations have
been conducted by means of the United
States mails.</p>
<p class="indent">"The lesser members of the gang are in
custody. The police department will not
arrest this man Fell; his influence and that of
his gang is extensive in political fields and
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page305" id="page305"></a>[pg 305]</span>
elsewhere. I have called up the governor,
and have been told not to arrest him. I have
disregarded these facts, and I now call upon
you to hold him in custody as a Federal
prisoner. He has boasted to me that you
will not touch him—and if you don't, there's
going to be a shakeup that will make history!
Now go to it."</p>
<p class="indent">The chief agent laid Gramont's commission
on the table and looked at Jachin Fell. For
an instant there was a dead silence. Then,
when the Federal man spoke, Gramont was
paralyzed.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm very sorry, Mr. Gramont, to have to
refuse——"</p>
<p class="indent">"What!" cried Gramont, incredulously.
"Do you dare stand there and——"</p>
<p class="indent">"One moment please," said Fell, his quiet
voice breaking in. "It is quite true that I
have organized all the criminals possible,
Mr. Gramont, and have put the underground
lottery into a systematized form. I have
done this by the authority of the United
States, in order to apprehend Memphis Izzy
Gumberts and other men at one crack.
These gentlemen will tell you that I am a
special agent of the Department of Justice,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page306" id="page306"></a>[pg 306]</span>
employed in that capacity through the efforts
of Judge Forester and Senator Flaxman. I
regret that this had to be held so secret that
not even the governor himself was aware
of it until this evening. The conflict was
quite unavoidable. Not a member of that
gang must become aware of my real identity."</p>
<p class="indent">Fell turned to the two agents, who were
smiling.</p>
<p class="indent">"I would suggest that you take this sack
of mail, and arrange with the chief of police
in regard to the prisoners," he said.
"The chief, of course, must suspect nothing."</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont sank into his chair, the automatic
dropping from his hand. He was suddenly
dazed, thunderstruck. Yet he had to believe.
He was dimly aware that Lucie had gone to
Jachin Fell, her arms about his neck. He
stared from unseeing eyes.</p>
<p class="indent">Realization smote him like a blow, numbing
his brain. He saw now why the governor
had conferred with Judge Forester and the
senator, why he had been ordered off the
trail. He saw now why Fell had preserved
secrecy so great that even to the chief of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307" id="page307"></a>[pg 307]</span>
police his impregnable position was supposedly
due to influence higher up.</p>
<p class="indent">He saw how Fell must have been working
month after month, silently and terribly, to
form one compact organization of the most
talented criminals within reach—headed by
Memphis Izzy, the man who had laughed at
the government for years! And he saw himself,
furious, raging like a madman——</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont dropped his head into his hands.
The pain of his forgotten wounded arm
stabbed him like a knife. He jerked his head
sharply up, and was aware that the agents
had departed. He was alone with Lucie and
Fell, and the latter was rising and holding
out his hand, smiling.</p>
<p class="indent">"Gramont, you got ahead of me in this
deal, and I congratulate you with all my
heart!" said Fell, earnestly. "Neither of us
suspected the part played by the other man;
but you've done the work and done it well.
Will you shake hands?"</p>
<p class="indent">Gramont confusedly took the hand extended
to him.</p>
<p class="indent">"I've been a fool," he said, slowly. "I
might have guessed that something unusual
was——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page308" id="page308"></a>[pg 308]</span>
"No; how could you guess?" said Fell.
"There are three men in Baton Rouge who
know the truth, and three persons in this
room. That's all, outside of the regular
government men. I had not told even Lucie,
here! I dared not. And I dare say nothing
even now. To the underworld at large
I will be known as the crook whom not
even the government could touch; in days
to come I may be of untold service to my
country."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm so glad!" Lucie took Gramont's
hand as Jachin Fell dropped it, and Gramont
looked down to meet her brimming eyes.
"For a moment I thought that all the world
had gone mad—but now——"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell regarded them for an instant,
then he quietly went to the door.</p>
<p class="indent">"If you will excuse me one moment," he
said, "I shall speak with your men who are
on guard, Gramont. I—ah—I will be back
in a moment, as Eliza said when she crossed
the ice; and we may then discuss business.
If you agree, I think that your company
may proceed upon the original lines, and
we shall set to work drilling for oil without
delay——"</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page309" id="page309"></a>[pg 309]</span>
Gramont scarcely heard the words, nor did
he hear the door close. He was still looking
into the eyes of Lucie Ledanois, and wondering
if the message they held were really
meant for him.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page310" id="page310"></a>[pg 310]</span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
<p class="h2a"><i>Mi-Carême</i></p>
<p>A NAMELESS gentleman from the
effete North was enjoying for the first
time the privileges of a guest card at
the Chess and Checkers. In a somewhat perplexed
manner he approached the secretary's
desk and obtained a cigar. Then he paused,
listening to the sounds of revelry which
filled the club, and which came roaring in
from the city streets outside.</p>
<p class="indent">"Say!" he addressed the secretary.
"What's this Mi-Carême I've been reading
about in the papers, anyhow? I thought
everything was tight as a clam down here
after Mardi Gras! It's still the Lenten season,
isn't it? Mardi Gras doesn't come more than
once a year? Then what's all the celebration
about?"</p>
<p class="indent">The secretary smiled.</p>
<p class="indent">"Certainly, sir, it's still Lent. But the
French people have what they call Mi-Carême,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page311" id="page311"></a>[pg 311]</span>
or Mid-Lent, and they certainly
give it a big celebration! You see, it's a
night halfway through Lent, when they can
enjoy themselves to the limit—let off steam,
as it were. We're having several dinner
parties here in the club to-night, for the
occasion."</p>
<p class="indent">A slightly built little man, who had much
the air of a shy clerk—had it not been for his
evening attire—approached the desk. He
signed a check for a handful of cigars, which
he stowed away.</p>
<p class="indent">"Please provide a fresh box of the El Reys
later," he said to the secretary. "Most of
my party is here, I believe."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll send them up, Mr. Fell," answered
the secretary, quickly. "Yes, I think the
dining room is all ready for you, sir. By
the way, Mr. Gramont was looking for
you a moment ago—ah! Here he comes
now!"</p>
<p class="indent">Jachin Fell turned. Gramont was plunging
at him, a yellow telegraph form in his
hand, excitement in his eyes.</p>
<p class="indent">"Look here, Jachin! This wire just came
in from Hammond—you know, I left him in
charge of things down at Bayou Terrebonne!
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312" id="page312"></a>[pg 312]</span>
Read it, man—read it! They've struck oil-sands
at five hundred feet—and sands at
five hundred, with these indications, mean
a gusher at a thousand! Where's Lucie?
Have you brought her?"</p>
<p class="indent">"She's upstairs. Well, well!" Jachin Fell
glanced at the telegram, and returned it.
"So oil is actually found! This is certainly
going to be one big night, as Eliza said when
she crossed the ice! Come along. Let's
find Lucie and tell her about it——"</p>
<p class="indent">The two men turned away together.</p>
<p class="indent">After them gazed the man from the North,
not a little agape over what he had chanced to
hear. Before the wondering questions in his
eyes the assiduous secretary made haste to
enlighten him.</p>
<p class="indent">"That's Mr. Gramont, sir. They say that
he used to be a real prince, over in France, and
that he threw it up because he wanted to be
an American. Mr. Fell is having a dinner
upstairs—it's Mr. Gramont's engagement,
you know—and the Mi-Carême ball afterward——"</p>
<p class="indent">"Oh, I know, I know," and the man
from the North sighed a little. "I was
reading all about that in the paper. Fell
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page313" id="page313"></a>[pg 313]</span>
is one of the crack chess players here, isn't
he?"</p>
<p class="indent">The secretary smiled.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, he plays a very fair game, sir—a
very fair game indeed!"</p>
<p class="center"> THE END</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 196px;"> <img src="images/illus-endpage.png" width="196" height="206" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p class="center">THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS<br/>
GARDEN CITY, N. Y.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<div class="tnote">
<h2>Transcriber Notes:</h2>
<hr />
<p class="indent">Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of
the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.</p>
<p class="indent">Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected
unless otherwise noted. For instance, scarfpins was sometimes hyphenated
and some times not.</p>
<p class="indent">On page 49, a quotation mark was placed after "You'd try blackmail, would you?"</p>
<p class="indent">On page 99, "hundered" was replaced with "hundred".</p>
<p class="indent">On page 124, "geting" was replaced with "getting".</p>
<p class="indent">On page 156, "asurance" was replaced with "assurance".</p>
<p class="indent">On page 156, "he" was replaced with "be".</p>
<p class="indent">On page 296, "I am not be arrested." was replaced with "I am not to be arrested."</p>
</div>
<pre>
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