The Deaves Affair

"I am not so sure – the second time – "

"They wouldn't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs," said Evan grimly.

Deaves saw nothing humorous in the illustration.

"Have you shown the letter to Mrs. Deaves?" asked Evan.

Deaves shook his head. "I suppose they will be writing to her next," he moaned.

"Your father?"

"What's the use?" Deaves struck his forehead. "My position is becoming unbearable!" he cried.

"I'm sorry for you," Evan said, thinking: "If you only had a little more backbone!"

Deaves arose lugubriously. "After all there is nothing for me to do but to ignore this letter," he said. "I suppose you do not feel inclined to help me any further in the matter."

"On the contrary, I'll be glad to," said Evan quickly. "But on my own terms. I have my own score to settle with this gang."

Deaves looked heartened. "Then if I hear from them again what is your telephone number?"

"There is no telephone in this house."

"But I may send to you?"

"By all means."

" – Er – would you mind coming down-stairs with me?" said Deaves. "The halls are so dark. And this letter has made me wretchedly nervous."

Evan went with him, concealing his smile.

In the lower hall Deaves said: "Of course I shall not venture out on foot after this. I shall always use the car." A new and dreadful thought struck him. "But then in a car one offers such a conspicuous mark to a bullet!"

"You needn't fear bullets," said Evan. "A dead man can't pay blackmail."

Deaves seemed to take little comfort from this. "What do you think about my chauffeur?" he asked anxiously. "Take a look at him. Does he look honest?"

Evan glanced through the narrow pane beside the door. "There's nothing remarkable about him," he said. "He looks like – like a chauffeur. How can one tell from a man's looks what he's thinking about?"

"Suppose they were to bribe him, and he drove me off to their lair?" stuttered Deaves. "I – I think I'd better stay home altogether hereafter."

But he was back again at nine o'clock that night in a still greater state of agitation. "Father has not come home!" he cried. "Where is he?"

"How should I know?" said Evan.

"But you accompanied him on all his walks! You know his haunts!"

"His haunts!" exclaimed Evan. "His haunts comprised the whole five boroughs of Greater New York with occasional excursions into Jersey!"

"But you must go in search of him! I cannot let the night pass and do nothing!"

"My dear sir, I wouldn't have the faintest notion where to begin. The only thing to do is to send out a general alarm through the police."

Deaves wrung his hands. "I can't do that! I can't risk another horrible newspaper sensation on top of everything else!"

"Then there's nothing to do but wait to see what happens," said Evan patiently. "If he's had an accident in the street, you will be notified."

"You think I'd be glad if something happened to him," said Deaves. "Everybody thinks so. But after all he's my father. It's the suspense that drives me out of my mind!"

"It cannot be for long. If the blackmailers have kidnapped him – "

"That is what I fear!"

"They will open negotiations in the morning. And you need not fear that anything will happen to him during the course of negotiations."

"But what good will it do to negotiate?" cried poor Deaves. "I cannot possibly meet their demands."

"Tell them so," said Evan. "Put it up to them."

"Then they'll make him suffer."

"In that case he can pay them."

"Ah, you don't know my father! Four hundred thousand dollars! He'd die rather!"

"Well, that's up to him, isn't it?" said Evan coolly.

"Ah, you have no heart!" cried George Deaves.

"My dear sir," said Evan patiently, "it is your 'heart' as you call it that these fellows are working on. They would not dare to harm Mr. Deaves, really. If they did, it would arouse public opinion to that extent we could catch and hang every man jack of them!"

"Your cold words cannot ease the heart of a son!" cried Deaves.

Evan ushered him gently towards the staircase. "Take it easy!" he said soothingly. "Wait until to-morrow. Perhaps in opening negotiations they will give us a good chance to trip them up."

Deaves returned next morning before Evan had finished his breakfast. He extended a letter in a trembling hand.

"In the first mail," he said.

Evan read:

"One of our members happened to meet Mr. Simeon Deaves on the street yesterday, and invited him to spend a few days as our guest at the clubhouse. He is with us now, and appears to be enjoying himself pretty well, but unfortunately the climate of the vicinity is very bad for him. At his age one cannot be too careful. We think he should be returned home at once. A single day's delay might be fatal. If you agree, hang out the flag at eleven, Monday. We realize that you feel you must be extra careful in regard to the old gentleman's health, because you would profit so greatly by his death. You are so conscientious! Personally we would be very glad to see you come in for a great fortune; it would enable you to put so much more into the enterprise in which we are jointly associated."

Said Evan: "Stripped of its humorous verbiage this means: 'Come across or we'll croak the old man. And you needn't think you would profit by his death because we'd come down on you harder than ever then!'"

"Isn't it awful! Isn't it awful!" gasped Deaves. "Was ever a man put in so frightful a position? What am I to do?"

"Three courses are open to you," said Evan patiently; "the first, and in my opinion the wisest, course is – to do nothing. Put it up to them."

"But my father! He will suffer for it! A rotting old house overrun with rats, you said. And such an ordeal as you went through! It might very well kill him. How can I risk it?"

"He will always have the option of freeing himself," said Evan.

"He would die rather than submit!"

Evan shrugged. "Well, we went over all that last night. Your second course would be to take that letter to the police and put the whole matter in their hands. A force of ten thousand men with the information I can give them ought to be able to locate the clubhouse before night."

"And find papa's body!"

"Well, your third course is to hang out the flag and open negotiations."

"I have nothing to negotiate with! I cannot raise a cent more!"

"Never mind; bluff them. Spin them along as far as you can, on the chance of outwitting them in the end."

"What chance would I have of outwitting them?" cried Deaves mournfully.

Evan looked at the poor distraught figure and thought: "Not much, I guess." Aloud he said: "Well, that's the best I can do for you."

"All three courses are equally impossible!" cried Deaves desperately.

"Yet you must follow one of them."

"You are no help at all!" cried Deaves. He turned like a demented person, and ran down-stairs.

Evan thought he had seen the last of him.

But on the afternoon of the following day he returned once more. He was still perturbed, but his desperate agitation had passed; there was even a certain smugness about him. Clearly something had happened to ease his mind.

"Well, what did you do?" asked Evan.

Deaves looked confused. "Well – I couldn't make up my mind what to do," he confessed. "I – I didn't do anything."

"Just what I advised," said Evan. "Then what happened?"

Deaves evaded a direct answer. "I came to ask you if you would accompany me on a little expedition to-night?"

"What for?" demanded Evan.

"Is it necessary for me to tell you? I would pay you well."

"It's not a question of pay," said Evan. "I must know what I'm doing."

"You wouldn't approve of my course of action."

"All the more reason for telling me."

Deaves still hesitated.

"Let me see the latest letter," said Evan at a venture.

Deaves stared. "How did you know there was a letter?"

"Well there always is another when the first doesn't work, isn't there?"

Deaves looking a little foolish produced a letter and handed it over. Evan read:

"The enclosed speaks for itself. You will please proceed as follows: – bearing in mind that the slightest departure from our instructions in the past has invariably been followed by disaster:

You will leave home in your car at eight P.M. Tuesday. You may bring a companion with you in addition to your chauffeur, as we realize you have not the constitution to carry this through alone and we do not wish to ask the impossible. Therefore you may bring the huskiest body-guard obtainable – but neither you nor he must bear weapons of any description.

You will proceed over the Queensboro Bridge and wait on the North side of the Plaza at the corner of Stonewall avenue until eight-thirty precisely. You will not get out of your car during this wait. You will be under observation the whole way, and we will instantly be apprised of any departure from our instructions. In that case you will have your trip for nothing and the consequences will be on your head.

At eight-thirty you will proceed out Stonewall avenue to the corner of Beechurst, an insignificant street in the village of Regina. It is about ten minutes' drive from the Plaza. You will know Beechurst street by the large and ugly stone church with twin towers on your left hand. You get out on the right-hand side and send your chauffeur back. Tell him to return to the bridge Plaza and wait for you.

When he is out of sight you proceed up Beechurst street to the right. It climbs a hill and seems to come to an end in less than a block among a waste of vacant lots. You will find, however, that it is continued by a rough road which you are to follow. It crosses waste lands and passes through a patch of woods. You will be held up on the way, but do not be alarmed. This is merely for the purpose of searching you for weapons.

In the patch of woods further along, you will find two men waiting for you. To them you will deliver the securities. They will examine them and if they are all right you will be allowed to proceed. Do not return the way you came, but continue to follow the rough road. A short way further along it will bring you to a highway with a trolley line by which you may return to the Bridge Plaza.

If you do your part Mr. Simeon Deaves will be home before morning.

THE IKUNAHKATSI."

"What was the enclosure they speak of?" asked Evan.

"A note from my father."

"Ah! May I see it?"

"I haven't it. It was addressed to Culberson, President of the Mid-City Bank."

"An order?"

"Yes, for Culberson to buy $400,000. of non-registered Liberty bonds and deliver them to me!"

"So he gave in!" cried Evan in strong amazement. "Even Simeon Deaves values his skin more than his money!" he added to himself. "You have already secured the bonds?" he asked Deaves.

The latter nodded. "They're at home."

"By God! I hate to let those rascals get away with it!" cried Evan. "Four hundred thousand! Think of the good you could do with such a sum!"

"But they have promised to let us alone for good," said Deaves eagerly.

"They can afford to!" said Evan dryly. "It fairly drives me wild to think of them triumphing!"

"But you'll come with me?" said Deaves anxiously.

"Sure, I'll go with you. I may get a chance at them yet!"

"No! No!" cried Deaves in a panic. "That would ruin everything! You must promise me you will make no attempt against them!"

"I must be free to act as I see fit!" said Evan stubbornly.

"Then I cannot take you!"

"That's up to you," said Evan with an indifferent shrug. He turned away.

Deaves lingered in a state of pitiable indecision. "I have no one else I can ask," he said appealingly. "I beg of you to be reasonable, Weir. You must see that we are helpless against them. Promise me you will do nothing against them, and you may ask me what you like."

"I want nothing from you," said Evan coldly. "I won't promise."

"Then I must take a servant," said Deaves helplessly – "and perhaps lay myself open to fresh demands from another quarter!" He turned to go.

Evan of course was keen on going. When he saw that Deaves was actually prepared to stick to what he said, Evan gave in.

"I'll compromise with you," he said. "I promise to carry out instructions exactly as given in the letter until after the securities are handed over. After that I must be free to act as I see fit."

"What do you mean to do?" asked Deaves anxiously.

"I don't know. How can I tell? I'm hoping that something may happen to give me a clue that I may follow up later."

"Oh well, that's all right," said Deaves. "You'll be at my house before eight then?"

"I'll be there."

CHAPTER XX

THE BEGINNING OF THE NIGHT

George Deaves and Evan sat in the Deaves limousine with the package of bonds between them. Deaves was perspiring and fidgetty, Evan the picture of imperturbability – not but what Evan was excited too, but the display of agitation the other was making put Evan on his mettle to show nothing. The car was lying against the curb on the North side of the Queensboro Bridge Plaza, and they were watching the hands of a clock in a bank building creep to half-past eight.

"Why do you suppose they insisted on our waiting here?" said Deaves querulously.

"Can't say," answered Evan. "I have fancied that some of their orders were just thrown in to mystify us, to undermine our morale. Possibly they stipulated we must leave this point at eight-thirty so they would know exactly when to expect us."

"That man who just passed us, how he stared! Do you suppose he could have been one of them?"

"There must be a lot of them then. Everybody stares. Like ourselves, they wonder what we're waiting here for."

On the stroke of the half hour they gave the chauffeur word to proceed out Stonewall avenue. The village of Regina is not a beautiful hamlet. Its founders had large ideas; they laid off the principal street a hundred feet wide, but the city has its own ideas about the proper width of streets, and when in the course of time the municipality took over Regina it paved but two-thirds of Stonewall avenue, leaving a muddy morass at each side. The buildings that lined this thoroughfare were something between those of a city slum and those of a Western boom town. They had no difficulty in picking out Beechurst street; the big stone church in its muddy yard was a horror.

They alighted in the middle of the street, for the chauffeur opined that if he fell off the hard pavement he'd never be able to climb back on it. They dismissed him, and watched him turn and roll out of sight.

Deaves shuddered. "I wish I was safe inside!" he murmured.

Evan took careful note of their surroundings. On the corner where they stood was a stationery store, and across Beechurst street was a saloon. "Someone watching us from in there I'll be bound," thought Evan. If he had been alone he would have gone in. Across Stonewall avenue from the saloon was the church aforementioned, and the fourth corner was vacant.

They turned up Beechurst street, which was swallowed up in unrelieved blackness a few yards ahead.

"I feel as if there were watching eyes on every side of us," said Deaves tremulously.

"They're welcome to look at me if it does them any good," said Evan lightly.

"You carry the package," said Deaves.

"Aren't you afraid I might skip with it?" said Evan teasingly.

Deaves had no humour. He hastily took the package back. Evan chuckled.

The sidewalk ended abruptly, and they took to the centre of the street. Here they found a rough and stony road grown high with weeds on either hand. Mounds of ashes and tin cans obstructed the way; an automobile would have found it well-nigh impassable. It wound across that ugly no-man's land between the pavements and the cultivated land. What with his terrors and the tenderness of his feet, Deaves made heavy going over the stones.

To complete his demoralisation, a shrill whistle presently rang out of the dark behind them. Deaves gasped and clutched Evan.

"That's only their signal that all's well," said Evan.

"This is no place for me!" moaned Deaves.

The road became a little smoother, and alongside they saw the neat rows of a market garden. Evan sniffed that curious odor compounded of growing vegetables and fertilizer. Then the road dipped into a hollow and thick bushes rose on either side. The air was sweet of the open countryside here. It was very dark under the bushes. Deaves clung to Evan's arm.

Suddenly they found themselves surrounded by several figures with masked faces. A crisp voice commanded:

"Hands up, gentlemen!"

Deaves obeyed so quickly that the package rolled on the ground. Somebody sniggered. The first voice sternly bade him to be quiet. Deaves stooped to pick up the precious package. He was ordered to let it lie. Evan and Deaves, their hands aloft, were rapidly and thoroughly frisked for weapons. Deaves gasped with terror when they touched him. The spot was so dark, Evan could make but few observations. He did see though that the men – he counted four of them – were roughly dressed, and from this he deduced that they were from the higher walks of life. Clever and successful crooks nowadays are invariably well-dressed. The rough clothes were in line with the gruff voices the men assumed. Gruffness could not hide the educated forms of speech that they used.

The search was over in a minute. "Pick up the package, gentlemen, and proceed," ordered the voice. The figures melted away in the darkness. Evan and Deaves went on. The road rose out of the hollow, and they had more light to pick their tracks. Again a whistle sounded behind them.

"The word is being passed along to those in front of us," said Evan.

After the market gardens came a patch of woods. Deaves halted at the edge and peered into the shadows.

"I cannot trust myself in there," he muttered. "I simply cannot!"

"Just as you say," said Evan. "I don't suppose they'll let us back now."

With a groan Deaves started ahead. Evan sniffed the trees gratefully.

In the thick of the woods two figures faced them. White cotton masks over their faces gave them an unearthly look. Deaves tremulously held out the package, and it was taken from his hands. No word was spoken. One man snapped on an electric flash, and in the disk of light that it threw the other hastily unwrapped the package and examined the bonds.

Now from the white papers a certain amount of light was reflected back on the man who was holding the flash, and Evan studied him attentively. He was holding a pistol in his other hand. Something familiar in the creases of the suit he wore first arrested Evan's attention. That is to say, these creases suggested the lines of a figure that Evan had often drawn and painted. When in addition he perceived a certain well-remembered involuntary twitching in the figure, amazement and incredulity gave place to certainty.

"Charl!" he cried.

The two masked figures started back. He who held the light took his breath sharply, and Evan knew he was not mistaken. The man with the bonds quickly recovered himself.

"Be quiet!" he sharply commanded.

But Evan in his anger had forgotten prudence. "Charl!" he cried. "What does this mean? Have you turned crook!"

The other man whispered in a passion: "Shoot him if he doesn't shut his mouth!"

"Yes, shoot your partner," cried Evan.

Charley shrunk back.

"Give me the gun and I'll do it," said the other man.

"Weir, for God's sake, for God's sake, for God's sake!" Deaves was gabbling in an ecstasy of terror.

With an effort Evan commanded himself. Nothing was to be gained by making a row there in the woods. Indeed he already saw how foolish he had been to betray his discovery.

The examination of the bonds was concluded. The man who had them spoke to his partner: "These are all right. Hold them here while I start the engine."

Evan, more accustomed now to the darkness of the woods, made out that at the point where they stood the road forked. In the left fork he dimly perceived the form of a car at a few paces distance. The top was down. Presently the engine started, and Evan recognised that it was the same car that had carried him off. The engine had its own rattle.

Charley said in a disguised voice: "Keep straight ahead to the right."

He started to back away from them, keeping the light playing on the agonised, fascinated face of Deaves, who stood rooted to the ground. The hand that held the light trembled a little. Suddenly it was switched off and Charley ran the last few steps that separated him from the car.

Evan involuntarily sprang forward, leaving a speechless and gasping Deaves in the road. But Evan was not thinking of Deaves then. He saw Charley take the driver's seat in the car. The noise of the engine drowned what sounds Evan's feet made. He laid hands on the back of the car as it started to move, and swung himself off the ground. His knees found the gasoline tank. He cautiously turned around and let himself down upon it in a sitting position, his hands still clinging to the folds of the lowered top above his head. As they got under way the man beside Charley blew a blast on a whistle similar to those they had heard before.

They went but slowly for the way was rough. Evan prayed that the tank beneath him might be stoutly swung to the frame. As well as he could he distributed his weight between the tank and the top. After passing over some spring-testing bumps in safety he felt somewhat reassured. If she stood that there would not be much danger on a smoother road when they hit up speed.

Emerging from the woods they turned into a farm road not so bad, and by means of the farm road they gained a dirt highway, ever increasing speed as the way became smoother. All this neighbourhood was quite unknown to Evan of course, and his point of view was somewhat restricted, being directed solely towards the rear. He watched the stars and made out that the car was choosing roads that were gradually bringing it around in a great circle. He supposed that it was bound back for town – for the "club-house," if he was lucky.

Evan had no clear idea of what he meant to do. His one purpose was to get Charley by himself. He knew the ascendancy that he possessed over that mercurial youth.

They finally struck a smooth macadam road upon which they travelled East at thirty-five miles an hour, the best, no doubt, the old car could do. It was a well-travelled road. They passed all cars bound in the same direction, and to the drivers of these cars Evan on his perch was brilliantly revealed in the rays of their headlights. With the idea of suggesting that it was all a joke, Evan waved facetiously to them. They accepted it as intended, or at any rate none of them sought to give him away. They passed through several villages, but the people on the sidewalks rarely noticed Evan, or, if they did, they merely gaped at him.

They crossed the long viaduct over the railway yards in Long Island City, and Evan began to grow anxious. If they were going to traverse the whole length of town how could he hope to avoid having the attention of the two men on the front seat called to him by the sharp-eyed small boys? They crossed the Plaza and swung out on Queensboro Bridge, keeping close to the speed limit, or edging over it a little. The drivers they passed still obligingly accepted Evan's suggestion that he was paying an election bet, or was up to some other foolishness.

They passed a limousine which looked familiar. Evan looked twice and recognized the Deaves turnout. George Deaves sat behind the glass windows, looking pale and shaken. So he had got out of the woods all right! The chauffeur stared at Evan, then grinned widely, and stepped on his accelerator. The big car came up close.

Evan saw Deaves lean forward to rebuke his chauffeur for the speed. The chauffeur called his attention to Evan. Deaves' eyes nearly started out of his head. Evan waved his hand. Deaves, with emphatic adjurations to his chauffeur to slow up, fell back on his seat and closed his eyes. "He wants to forget about me," thought Evan. The limousine gradually dropped back out of sight.

Evan's anxiety about the streets of town was presently relieved. After crossing the Bridge Plaza, where, to be sure, a number of people laughed and pointed at him but without apparently attracting the attention of the two men in front, they turned into the darkest and quietest streets. Evan soon saw that they were not bound for the club-house. Their journey through town was not long; through Fifty-eighth to Lexington; down Lexington in the car tracks to Thirty-ninth, and East again. In Thirty-ninth street the car slowed down and Evan held himself in readiness to drop off.