The Mardi Gras Mystery by Henry Bedford-Jones (best ebook reader under 100 TXT) 📖

>"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."

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.

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 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.

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.

"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?

"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 that bundle under the rear seat of your car; I have an idea that it may prove interesting. Good afternoon!"

Gramont closed the door, and left the house.

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.

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.

CHAPTER XIV

Chacherre's Bundle

IT WAS seven in the morning when Henry Gramont drove his car into Houma.

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.

"Gramont?" said the other. "Thought it was you. Hearne's my name—I had orders to meet you. What's up?"

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 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.

"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?"

"No. He countermanded it just as I was hirin' a car to go over to Paradis," said Hearne. "What's stirrin', anyhow?"

"Plenty. Memphis Izzy's coming down to-day. When'll he get in?"

"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?"

"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?"

"Sure." Hearne laughed evilly. "I don't guess he'll get out in a hurry, neither!"

"Chacherre was pinched last night for the murder," said Gramont, watching the other.

"The hell!" Hearne looked astonished, then relaxed and laughed again. "Some fly cop will sure lose his buttons, then! They ain't got nothin' on him."

"I heard they had plenty."

"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!"

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.

"Better cut out the talk," he said, curtly, "until we get out of here."

Hearne nodded and rolled a cigarette.

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.

Gramont headed out of town and took the Paradis road. Before he had driven a mile, however, he halted the car, climbed out, and lifted one side of the hood.

"Give me those rags from the bottom of the car, Hearne," he said, briefly.

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.

"Hold out your hands behind you and turn around!" snapped Gramont. "No talk!"

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.

"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."

"What t'ell you doin'?" exclaimed the bewildered Hearne.

"Placing you under arrest," said Gramont, cheerfully.

"Here, where's your warrant? You ain't no dick——"

Gramont cut short his protests with a long cloth which effectually bound his lower jaw in place and precluded any further idea of talk.

"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."

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.

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.

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.

"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?

"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!"

Leaving the car Gramont took his way toward the bank of the bayou and followed this 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.

"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!"

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.

"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!"

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.

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