The Black Bag by Louis Joseph Vance (best manga ereader .TXT) đ
- Author: Louis Joseph Vance
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Dorothy, âYou understand, I trust, what this means?â he demanded. âI offer
you a homeâand a good one. Refuse, and you work for your living, my girl!
Youâve forfeited your legacyââ
âI know, I know,â she told him in cold disdain. âI am content. Wonât you be
kind enough to leave me alone?â
For a breath, Calendar glowered over her; then, âI presume,â he observed,
âthat all these heroics are inspired by that whipper-snapper, Kirkwood. Do
you know that he hasnât a brass farthing to bless himself with?â
âWhat has thatâ?â cried the girl indignantly.
âWhy, it has everything to do with me, my child. As your doting parent, I
canât consent to your marrying nothing-a-yearâŠ. For I surmise you intend
to marry this Mr. Kirkwood, donât you?â
There followed a little interval of silence, while the warm blood flamed in
the girlâs face and the red lips trembled as she faced her tormentor. Then,
with a quaver that escaped her control, âIf Mr. Kirkwood asks me, I shall,â
she stated very simply.
âThat,â interposed Kirkwood, âis completely understood.â His gaze sought
her eyes, but she looked away.
âYou forget that I am your father,â sneered Calendar; âand that you are a
minor. I can refuse my consent.â
âBut you wonât,â Kirkwood told him with assurance.
The adventurer stared. âNo,â he agreed, after slight hesitation; âno,
I shanât interfere. Take her, my boy, if you want herâand a fatherâs
blessing into the bargain. The Lord knows Iâve troubles enough; a parentâs
lot is not what itâs cracked up to be.â He paused, leering, ironic.
âBut,ââdeliberately, âthereâs still this other matter of the gladstone
bag. I donât mind abandoning my parental authority, when my childâs
happiness is concerned, but as for my propertyââ
âIt is not your property,â interrupted the girl.
âIt was your motherâs, dear child. Itâs now mine.â
âI dispute that assertion,â Kirkwood put in.
âYou may dispute it till the cows come home, my boy: the fact will remain
that I intend to take my property with me when I leave this room, whether
you like it or not. Now are you disposed to continue the argument, or may I
count on your being sensible?â
âYou may put away your revolver, if thatâs what you mean,â said Kirkwood.
âWe certainly shanât oppose you with violence, but I warn you that Scotland
Yardââ
âOh, that be blowed!â the adventurer snorted in disgust. âI can sail
circles round any tec. that ever blew out of Scotland Yard! Give me an
hourâs start, and youâre free to do all the funny business youâve a mind
to, withâScotland Yard!â
âThen you admit,â queried Brentwick civilly, âthat youâve no legal title to
the jewels in dispute?â
âLook here, my friend,â chuckled Calendar, âwhen you catch me admitting
anything, you write it down in your little book and tell the bobby on
the corner. Just at present Iâve got other business than to stand round
admitting anything about anythingâŠ. Capân, letâs have that bag of my
dutiful daughterâs.â
ââEre you are.â Stryker spoke for the first time since entering the room,
taking the valise from beneath the chair and depositing it on the table.
âWell, we shanât take anything that doesnât belong to us,â laughed
Calendar, fumbling with the catch; ânot even so small a matter as my own
childâs traveling bag. A smallâheavyâgladstone bag,â he grunted, opening
the valise and plunging in one greedy hand, âwillâjustâaboutâdo for
mine!â With which he produced the article mentioned. âThis for the discard,
Capân,â he laughed contentedly, pushing the girlâs valise aside; and,
rumbling with stentorian mirth, stood beaming benignantly over the
assembled company.
âWhy,â he exclaimed, âthis moment is worth all it cost me! My children,
I forgive you freely. Mr. Kirkwood, I felicitate you cordially on having
secured a most expensive wife. Reallyâdâyou know?âI feel as if I ought to
do a little something for you both.â Gurgling with delight he smote his fat
palms together. âI just tell you what,â he resumed, âno one yet ever called
Georgie Calendar a tight-wad. I just believe Iâm going to make you kids a
handsome wedding presentâŠ. The good Lord knows thereâs enough of this for
a fellow to be a little generous and never miss it!â
The thick mottled fingers tore nervously at the catch; eventually he got
the bag open. Those about the table bent forward, all quickened by the
prospect of for the first time beholding the treasure over which they had
fought, for which they had suffered, so longâŠ.
A heady and luscious fragrance pervaded the atmosphere, exhaling from the
open mouth of the bag. A silence, indefinitely sustained, impressed itself
upon the little audience,âa breathless pause ended eventually by a sharp
snap of Calendarâs teeth. âMmm!â grunted the adventurer in bewilderment.
He began to pant.
Abruptly his heavy hands delved into the contents of the bag, like the paws
of a terrier digging in earth. To Kirkwood the air seemed temporarily thick
with flying objects. Beneath his astonished eyes a towel fell upon the
tableâa crumpled, soiled towel, bearing on its dingy hem the inscription
in indelible ink: âHïżœtel du Commerce, Anvers.â A tooth-mug of substantial
earthenware dropped to the floor with a crash. A slimy soap-dish of the
same manufacture slid across the table and into Brentwickâs lap. A battered
alarm clock with never a tick left in its abused carcass rang vacuously as
it fell by the open bagâŠ. The remainder wasâoranges: a dozen or more
small, round, golden globes of ripe fruit, perhaps a shade overripe,
therefore the more aromatic.
The adventurer ripped out an oath. âMulready, by the living God!â he raged
in fury. âDone up, I swear! Done by that infernal sneakâme, blind as a
bat!â
He fell suddenly silent, the blood congesting in his face; as suddenly
broke forth again, haranguing the company.
âThatâs why he went out and bought those damned oranges, is it? Think of
itâme sitting in the hotel in Antwerp and him lugging in oranges by the
bagful because he was fond of fruit! When did he do it? How do I know? If I
knew, would I be here and him the devil knows where, this minute? When my
back was turned, of course, the damned snake! Thatâs why he was so hot
about picking a fight on the boat, hey? Wanted to get thrown off and take
to the woodsâleaving me with this! And thatâs why he felt so awful
done up he wouldnât take a hand at hunting you two down, hey?
WellâbyâtheâEternal! Iâll camp on his trail for the rest of his
natural-born days! Iâll have his eye-teeth for this, Iâllââ
He swayed, gibbering with rage, his countenance frightfully contorted, his
fat hands shaking as he struggled for expression.
And then, while yet their own astonishment held Dorothy, Kirkwood,
Brentwick and Stryker speechless, Charles, the mechanician, moved suddenly
upon the adventurer.
There followed two metallic clicks. Calendarâs ravings were abrupted as if
his tongue had been paralyzed. He fell back a pace, flabby jowls pale and
shaking, ponderous jaw dropping on his breast, mouth wide and eyes crazed
as he shook violently before him his thick fleshy wristsâsecurely
handcuffed.
Simultaneously the mechanician whirled about, bounded eagerly across the
floor, and caught Stryker at the door, his dexterous fingers twisting in
the captainâs collar as he jerked him back and tripped him.
âMr. Kirkwood!â he cried. âHere, pleaseâone moment. Take this manâs gun,
from him, will you?â
Kirkwood sprang to his assistance, and without encountering much trouble,
succeeded in wresting a Webley from Strykerâs limp, flaccid fingers.
Roughly the mechanician shook the man, dragging him to his feet. âNow,â he
ordered sternly, âyou march to that corner, stick your nose in it, and be
good! You canât get away if you try. Iâve got other men outside, waiting
for you to come out. Understand?â
Trembling like a whipped cur, Stryker meekly obeyed his instructions to the
letter.
The mechanician, with a contemptuous laugh leaving him, strode back to
Calendar, meanwhile whipping off his goggles; and clapped a hearty hand
upon the adventurerâs quaking shoulders.
âWell!â he cried. âAnd are you still sailing circles round the men
from Scotland Yard, Simmons, or Bellows, or Sanderson, or Calendar, or
Crumbstone, or whatever name you prefer to sail under?â
Calendar glared at him aghast; then heaved a profound sigh, shrugged his
fat shoulders, and bent his head in thought. An instant later he looked up.
âYou canât do it,â he informed the detective vehemently; âyou havenât got a
shred of evidence against me! Whatâs there? A pile of oranges and a peck
of trash! What of it?⊠Besides,â he threatened, âif you pinch me, youâll
have to take the girl in, too. I swear that whatever stealing was done,
she did it. Iâll not be trapped this way by her and let her off without a
squeal. Take meâtake her; dâyou hear?â
âI think,â put in the clear, bland accents of Brentwick, âwe can consider
that matter settled. I have here, my man,âânodding to the adventurer as he
took up the black leather wallet,ââI have here a little matter which
may clear up any lingering doubts as to your standing, which you may be
disposed at present to entertain.â
He extracted a slip of cardboard and, at armâs length, laid it on the
table-edge beneath the adventurerâs eyes. The latter, bewildered, bent over
it for a moment, breathing heavily; then straightened back, shook himself,
laughed shortly with a mirthless note, and faced the detective.
âItâs come with you now, I guess?â he suggested very quietly.
âThe Bannister warrant is still out for you,â returned the man. âThatâll be
enough to hold you on till extradition papers arrive from the States.â
âOh, Iâll waive those; and I wonât give you any trouble, eitherâŠ. I
reckon,â mused the adventurer, jingling his manacles thoughtfully, âIâm a
back-number, anyway. When a half-grown girl, a half-baked boy, a flub like
Mulreadyâdamn his eyes!âand a club-footed snipe from Scotland Yard can
put it all over me this way,⊠why, I guess itâs up to me to go home and
retire to my country-place up the Hudson.â He sighed wearily.
âYep; time to cut it out. But I would like to be free long enough to get in
one good lick at that mutt, Mulready. My friend, you get your hands on him,
and Iâll squeal on him till Iâm blue in the face. Thatâs a promise.â
âYouâll have the chance before long,â replied the detective. âWe received
a telegram from the Amsterdam police late this afternoon, saying theyâd
picked up Mr. Mulready with a woman named Hallam, and were holding them
on suspicion. It seems,ââturning to Brentwick,ââthey were opening
negotiations for the sale of a lot of stones, and seemed in such a precious
hurry that the diamond merchantâs suspicions were roused. Weâre sending
over for them, Miss Calendar, so you can make your mind easy about your
jewels; youâll have them back in a few days.â
âThank you,â said the girl with an effort.
âWell,â the adventurer delivered his peroration, âI certainly am blameâ
glad to hear it. âTwouldnât âve been a square deal, any other way.â
He paused, looking his erstwhile dupes over with a melancholy eye; then,
with an uncertain nod comprehending the girl, Kirkwood and Brentwick, âSo
long!â he said thickly; and turned, with the detectiveâs hand under his arm
and, accompanied by the thoroughly cowed Stryker, waddled out of the room.
IIIâ-THE JOURNEYâS END
Kirkwood, following the exodus, closed the door with elaborate care and
slowly, deep in thought, returned to the table.
Dorothy seemed not to
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