CHAPTER EIGHT
AS the clock struck ten the next morning, Caruth, with Tom Wilkins at his heels, stepped from the elevator in the Chimneystack Building and walked to the great entrance. Just as he reached it a red automobile drew up at the curb. Caruth motioned Wilkins into it, and jumped in behind him; and before he had time even to take his seat the machine was off. Caruth, glancing back expectantly, was somewhat surprised to see that his hasty departure had apparently roused no interest. The spies in attendance, if spies there were, either did not care to follow or recognized the hopelessness of attempting to do so.
After racing northward for several blocks, the motor turned into a side street, ran east past two or three streets, and, once more turning, sped downtown, finally stopping at the ladies’ entrance of one of the big Broadway hotels.
Caruth laughed to himself as he got out. Anything less like the mysterious Nihilistic rendezvous at which he had expected to land could scarcely be conceived. Still less excitement remained in the venture when, after sending up his card by a very matter-of-fact bell-boy, the two were shown into aparlor and allowed to wait for a very characteristically feminine interval.
If the plainsman felt out of place in surroundings which must have been wholly new to him, at least he did not show it. His face was as expressionless as a poker player’s, and he carried himself as if he owned the place, seemingly unconscious of his ill-fitting, ready-made clothing, and of the heavy boots that clattered loudly on the polished floors.
Caruth had told him little as to the object of their visit, merely saying that the lady on whom they were to call had something to say that might throw light on the object of his search. Wilkins had asked no questions. His small, furtive eyes had rested for a moment on the younger man’s face, and then he had nodded. “I’m your potato,” he remarked.
Miss Fitzhugh kept the two waiting for a time which seemed long to the plainsman, unused as he was to the intricacies of the feminine toilet. When she swept in at last, her appearance made both men catch their breath, Caruth not less than the unsophisticated Westerner.
Dressed entirely in black, high-throated, and with her hair arranged with severe plainness, she looked years older and more sedate than the magnificently vital creature Caruth had before seen. In her eyes lay a look of slumbering sorrow which persisted even when she smiled. Caruth, amazed, wondered what facet of her kaleidoscopic nature would manifest itself next.
But if her appearance bewildered Caruth, it absolutely overwhelmed Wilkins. He dropped his hat, stammered, and almost gasped at sight of her. When she gave him her hand, he seemed afraid to touch it.
But this phase passed. Miss Fitzhugh had a way with her—whether inborn or acquired it might be hard to guess—that was most effective in dealing with the opposite sex. Within ten minutes, Wilkins, his errand forgotten, was telling her a story of his experiences as a sheep-herder. “Yes, ma’am,” he wound up. “Muttons are all right when they’re served with mint sauce or when they’ve been cropped to furnish trouserings, but for steady company they’re about on the level of a Boston tea party. When you’ve watched ’em masticating daisies for a few spaces, you begin to yearn for something that don’t look like it had come out of a Noah’s ark.”
Miss Fitzhugh smiled sympathetically. “So when you got your brother’s letter, with its promise of millions, you were glad enough to hurry east,” she suggested. “You wanted some of the fleshpots of Egypt.”
Wilkins hesitated. “No’m,” he answered uncertainly. “I ain’t caring much about no foreign grub; chile con carne is good enough for me. But, of course, if there’s any chance of strikin’ a pocket and dredgin’ a million or so out of that ship, I’d like to do it. And, of course, I’d like to do up the fellows that did for Jim.”
Miss Fitzhugh stared at him questioningly. “There is a chance of doing it,” she answered meaningly; “but it isn’t as easy as you may suppose. You may have to fight for it.”
Wilkins’s right hand wandered back to his hip-pocket, reappearing with a huge revolver, while the other hand suddenly became possessed of a great knife. “I’m heeled,” he responded grimly.
Miss Fitzhugh showed no surprise. Deliberately she took the revolver from the plainsman’s hand and with practised fingers twirled the cylinder and drew back the hammer, smiling at the man’s warning exclamation. “I’m used to them,” she explained.
She handed back the weapon and went on. “Your brother’s ship was theOrkney, Mr. Wilkins. It sailed from Liverpool March 5, nearly two years ago, and was wrecked somewhere in the Baltic four days later. It had on board more than a million pounds sterling—nearly five million dollars. That money really belongs to me and my friends, though it is claimed by others who have been moving heaven and earth to get it. Your brother who wrote the letter had no right to any part of it. Your brother who was murdered had no right to it. You have no right to it. But we are very generous to our friends. It is really impossible that you should get this gold yourself. You will have to call either on us or on our enemies to help you. If your letter proves valuable and enables us to get it—to get our own money, mind you—we will share it with you.”
The plainsman’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth changed to a straight slit above his chin. For the first time Caruth noticed his likeness to the dead man. This was business, and accordingly Wilkins promptly relegated sentiment to the background. “How big a share?” he demanded roughly.
“Well——” Miss Fitzhugh hesitated. “First let me explain,” she went on at last. “TheOrkneywas wrecked in the Baltic Sea about three thousand miles from here. We shall have to charter a steamer and seek for her. Your letter may or may not enable us to find her. If we do find her, we will have to send down divers and bring the gold up—not a very easy task, I imagine. The search will have to be made secretly, for our foes are watchful and able. We may have to fight to save both the gold and ourselves after or before we get it on board. The whole trip will cost money—a great deal of money. It will strain our resources to the utmost—and it may come to nothing in the end. We need the money—need it desperately. Now, considering all this, what do you think will be a fair share for your aid?”
Wilkins considered. His small eyes wandered from Miss Fitzhugh to Caruth and back again, but his impassive face gave no clue to the thoughts that were passing in his mind. The others believed that he was calculating how large a share he could demand. Long afterwards, they suspected that his ideas had been very different.
“Well,” he declared, at last, “I don’t mean noofficiousness. Maybe you’re givin’ it to me straight. But I reckon the other side would have about as good a yarn to tell, and maybe it would have more money to pay with. I guess this money don’t belong to either of you. If it did, you wouldn’t be so durned mysterious about it. I reckon you’re both out to steal it. But, h——l! that don’t make no difference to me. I’ll steal just as soon as any otherhombrewill, if he can steal enough to make it worth while and can get away with the goods. Now, let’s talk straight. Who are your fellows, any way?”
Miss Fitzhugh hesitated, but only for a moment. After all, it was better to tell this plain-spoken frontiersman what he wanted to know rather than to have him make inquiries that might perhaps come to the ears of the Russian government and lead to the betrayal of the whole plan. If he were really a traitor or a spy all was lost anyhow. He could ruin everything by telling what he already knew in the right quarter; he could do no worse if he knew more. Perhaps he might be forced to hold his tongue by fear, although this did not seem very probable. However, it was neck or nothing.
She leaned forward. “Did you ever hear of the Russian revolutionists, Mr. Wilkins?” she asked.
“Them fellows that are tryin’ to knock the Czar into the middle of a puddle duckski? Sure! They’re all right, if they’d only talk less like a seidlitz powder.”
“I am a member of the inner circle of the Brotherhood.This gold belongs to us. It was borrowed on our credit by the Russian Government. We tried to take it from them, and we succeeded, but lost it in the moment of success. We need it to help the cause of freedom—to get for our people the freedom that you have as a birthright. We are trying to get it back. Your letter may enable us to do so. Will you help us?”
Wilkins nodded. “I reckon so,” he responded. “What’ll they do to us if they catch us?”
“Do!” The girl laughed harshly. “I don’t know. Shoot us, hang us, drown us, or jail us for life. Are you afraid?”
“No’m! Not to say afraid. But I always like to know what I’m goin’ up against. Buckin’ the Czar looks to me a good deal like going against a phony faro game. But, thunder! I always was willing to take a sporting chance. I’ll go you for one-tenth of what we get. I guess that’s fair.”
Miss Fitzhugh nodded slowly. “That’s a good deal,” she remarked, “considering that we take all the risks. But I accept. One-tenth of all we recover shall be yours. You shall go with us and help us to get it, and you shall have your share. Here’s my hand on it.”
Awkwardly the plainsman took the smooth, slim fingers which she stretched out to him. “It’s a whack, ma’am,” he said.
“It’s a ‘whack’! But, Mr. Wilkins, there is something more that I want to say, and I want youto understand that I say it not as a threat, but simply as a warning. I don’t know how much you may know of our society, but it has representatives all over the world, and it does not tolerate traitors. No one who has ever betrayed it has lived long. If either you or Mr. Caruth here tried to play fast and loose with it, you might succeed for the moment, but it would be for a moment only. Your heirs might profit by your treachery, but you would not.”
Wilkins laughed. He seemed neither offended nor worried by the girl’s words. “Sure!” he answered cheerfully. “That’s understood. No gang can hold together or be successful unless they does for anybody that splits on ’em. I ain’t boastin’ none of my whiteness. Maybe I’d sell out if I thought it would pay me; but, naturally, I count myself some better than the State of New Jersey. I ain’t offerin’ myself for sale promiscuous desultory. And in this case it don’t look as if it would be altogether healthy to sell out. No! You can count on me as long as you play fair yourselves. Now, what’s the program?”
Miss Fitzhugh leaned back in her chair with an expression of relief on her face. “I believe you are truer than you say, Mr. Wilkins,” she murmured. “I’m going to trust you. As to the program, I must consider. The first thing is to let me look at that letter.”
“Sure!” Without hesitation, the plainsman handed over a folded sheet.
Miss Fitzhugh only glanced at it. “I mean the original,” she explained, with a steely glint in her eyes.
But Wilkins shook his head decidedly. “Not any,” he replied. “The aboriginal is safe, and I don’t show it to no one yet aways. It tells where theOrkney’s sunk, all right, and I’ll go with you and guide you till we get somewhere near. I’ve been lookin’ up the place on the map, and I can do it. Or I’ll tell you: I’ll show you the letter as soon as we get into the Baltic? How’ll that do?”
“It won’t do at all. The letter may be valueless, and——”
“It ain’t valueless. It tells, all right. It says ‘in a narrow strait between this island and that island.’ You needn’t worry about that part of it.”
The woman hesitated. Was all this a cunningly devised plot of the Czar’s agents or was the man honest? His refusal to disclose his secret was not unnatural, and yet——
“Mr. Wilkins,” she said slowly, “I’ll take your word for it, since I can do nothing else. But I warn you solemnly that if I fail in this thing after I have spent all the money that I shall have to spend, it will cost both you and me our lives. The Brotherhood will not tolerate such a costly failure as this would be. So beware.”
Wilkins nodded. “Shoot,” he said. “You’re faded.”
Miss Fitzhugh looked slightly bewildered. “Verywell,” she said. “On your head be it. Now we must see about getting a ship.”
“A ship!” Caruth leaned forward. All through the conversation he had lain back in his chair, listening but not uttering a single word. The girl seemed entirely competent to manage things, and he felt no call to intervene, though he shivered once or twice when she spoke so openly to this plainsman, who frankly confessed that he was ready to play traitor for a sufficiently large reward. But his chance had come around at last.
“A ship!” he echoed. “Don’t worry about that. I have a thousand-ton yacht eating its head off down the bay. I’ll be delighted if you will use it as your own. When shall we sail?”