Chapter 16

A PARLEY

Nature was kind that morning. A flood of sunshine greeted Curtis when he turned into Fifth Avenue with the detective, as the latter had suggested that they might walk a little way before taking a taxi, there being plenty of time before the hour fixed for the meeting in Schmidt's office. It was a morning when life and good health assumed their fitting places in the forefront of those many and varied considerations which form the sum of human happiness. The world had suddenly resumed its everyday aspect of bustle and content. New York smiled at its new citizen, and the new citizen beamed appreciatively on New York.

"I cannot explain matters to you fully even yet----" Steingall was saying, when an automobile drew up close to the curb, and a well-known voice cried joyously:

"Just in time. Where's the fire? There's bound to be a blaze when you two run in a leash."

Devar bounced out of the car, and Brodie grinned with pleasure. The chauffeur was beginning to like the excitement of acting as supernumerary on the staff of the Detective Bureau.

"Will you jump in, or shall I prowl with you down Fifth Avenue?" asked Devar, blithely ignoring Steingall's somewhat strained welcome.

"We are keeping an appointment," said Curtis. "I, for one, shall be more than pleased if the combination which proved so effective last night may remain intact this morning."

"Steingall daren't cut adrift from me," said Devar. "If you knew the truth about him, you'd find that he is deeply superstitious, and I'm a real mascot for bringing good luck. Perhaps he is not aware, John D., that I was the impresario who 'presented' you to an admiring public. Tell him that, and see if he has the nerve to say I'm not wanted."

"Come along, Mr. Devar," said the detective, apparently yielding to a sudden resolve. "I think I can make use of you--justify your presence, that is. Tell your chauffeur to wait for us at 42d Street."

Off went Brodie, jubilant at the prospect of his services being in requisition again. He had not yet learnt the application to all things mundane of Disraeli's quip that it is the unexpected which happens.

"Now, I want you two gentlemen to attend closely to what I have to say," said Steingall seriously, placing himself between them, so that his words might not reach other ears than those for which they were intended. "Mr. Hunter's murder has passed long ago out of the common class of crimes. It will be inquired into thoroughly, of course, and punishment will be dealt out impartially to those responsible for its commission. But--and this is the point I want to emphasize--neither of you know, nor am I at liberty to inform you--just what bounds the authorities may reach, or stop at. Have I made my meaning clear?"

"Yes," said Curtis.

"We're to be good little boys, and sit still, and say nothing, and do as we're told," said Devar.

"I'm not asking impossibilities," said Steingall, who had a dry humor, and seldom missed a chance of gratifying it. "I have merely laid down a proviso which must be observed, not for a day, or a week, but as long as any of us is alive. State affairs are not the property of individuals. They come first, all the time. If they don't suit our convenience, we must simply adjust ourselves to the new conditions."

"You alarm me, Steingall," cried Devar. "Have we been drawn into an international squabble? Don't tell me that Devar's canned salmon is really a deadly sort of bomb."

"I've heard more improbable things. But you would not be your father's son, Mr. Devar, if you can't keep a tight lip when statements are made in your presence which may astonish you. Mr. Curtis and you are now about to meet a very clever man, Otto Schmidt, the lawyer, and I fancy your name will help in the argument. Is your father in New York?"

"He arrives here from Chicago to-night."

"He has never met Mr. Curtis?"

"No, but he jolly soon will."

"But, if it were possible to get hold of him by telephone or telegraph to-day, he would say he had never heard of him?"

"I guess that's so. What are you driving at?"

"Schmidt must know your father. They are bound to have come together in more than one important deal."

"Well?"

"It seems to me that, if the father's evidence is not available, the son's gains a trifle more weight."

"Dash me if I can imagine where you are getting off at, Steingall."

"You regard Mr. Curtis as a friend?"

"I am proud of the fact."

"Stick to that, and you will do him good service."

"Well, that's easy."

The detective seemed to be picking his words with a good deal of care. He covered several paces in silence, and Curtis, who had reverted to his normal habit of sober gravity, took no part in the conversation. His estimate of its purport differed from Devar's. That light-hearted youngster was somewhat annoyed by the detective's implied hint that his friendship with Curtis rested on no more solid foundation than a steamer acquaintance, and would hardly bear the test of close scrutiny if it came to analysis on the score of prior knowledge, or if his testimony were sought as to Curtis's earlier career. But he had the good sense to understand that Steingall was actuated by no light motive, so he held his peace. Curtis went farther. He believed that the detective was telling Devar what to say and how to say it.

"Now that we have settled the matter of Mr. Curtis's references," said Steingall, resuming the talk as though it had not been interrupted, "I reach the next item. Both of you are aware that two men have been arrested, and one is dead, and that all three were concerned in the attack on Mr. Hunter."

"Yes," came the simultaneous answer.

"I want you to forget names, except with regard to Lamotte, the chauffeur. Martiny and Rossi, for the time being, vanish into the Ewigkeit."

"What--forever?" Curtis could not help saying.

"No, for a week or so." Steingall darted a quick glance to his questioner. "I have a stupid trick of adopting phrases from my pet authors," he said. "Does Ewigkeit mean eternity?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, I withdraw it."

"Try Niflheim."

"Or Ruedesheim," suggested Devar wickedly.

Steingall laughed. Despite his German-sounding name, he spoke French fluently, but German not at all.

"They're off the map," he said. "There, that's good American, and I'll get on with my story, or rather, with the lack of it. I cannot, of course, foretell the exact lines our discussion with Schmidt and his clients will follow, but if I have made you understand that your combined share in it is to say little, and be thoroughly non-committal in anything you may have to say, I am content."

"You are as mysterious as an astrologer," vowed Devar. "Having money to burn one day in Paris, I visited one of those jokers, and he told me I was born in Capricorn, under the sign of Aries, and I as good as told him he was a liar, because I was born in Manhattan under an ordinary roof. By Jove! that reminds me, John D., you're a whale on stars. Did you spot those two last night, low down in the west?"

"Yes."

"And what did they prognosticate?"

"That you and I would promise Mr. Steingall not to spoil any scheme he may have in mind by interfering at an inopportune moment."

"I suppose I ought to feel crushed, but I don't," said Devar.

"My dear fellow, if it hadn't been for you and your loyal championship at the right moment, I might easily have been in jail as an accomplice of the unknown scoundrels who killed Mr. Hunter."

"That's the right kind of remark," broke in the detective. "I think I'll offer each of you a post in the Bureau after this business is ended."

"Give me a pointer on one matter," said Devar. "You spoke of Schmidt's clients. Who are they?"

He whistled softly when he heard the names of Valletort and Vassilan and de Courtois.

"Up to the neck in it again!" he crowed. "Oh, it's me that is the happy youth because I blew in to New York at the right time yesterday."

Otto Schmidt's office was in Madison Square, perched high above the clatter of 23d Street. The windows of the lawyer's private sanctum commanded magnificent views of the city to south and west, and in that marvelously clear air the Statue of Liberty seemed to be little more than a mile away, while the villas of Montclair and houses on other heights in the neighboring State were distinctly visible.

Steingall and his friends were the first to arrive, and Schmidt received them with the air of armed neutrality a lawyer displays towards the opposite camp. He begged them to be seated, smiled pleasantly when Curtis asked to be allowed to admire the interesting panorama spread before his eyes, but gave Devar a contemplative look when Steingall introduced him.

"Mr. Howard Devar, son of my friend William B. Devar?" he asked.

"Yes," said Devar, feeling that this was safe ground. "My father and you put it that way since you pulled off the Saskatchewan Combine together, but I've heard him describe you differently."

Schmidt, who looked more egg-like than ever at this hour of the morning, disapproved of such flippancy.

"William B. Devar is a fair fighter," he said. "He gives and takes hard knocks with perfect good humor. But, may I inquire how you come to figure in a matter which, if I understand aright a message received from Mr. Steingall, concerns persons with whom you can have little in common?"

"It was a mere toss-up whether I or my friend, John Delancy Curtis, took the floor against the combination of noble lords who have retained you to look after their interests, or protect them, I ought to say; but fate favored him, so I am a mere bottle-holder. To push the simile a bit farther, Mr. Schmidt, I may describe Mr. Steingall as the referee and watch-holder. When he cries 'Time' someone will go to Sing-Sing."

Perhaps some attribute of the father revealed itself in the son, because Steingall, who thought at first that Devar had allowed his tongue to run away with him, fancied that the lawyer dropped his inquiries somewhat suddenly.

"The Earl of Valletort and Count Vassilan are due now," he said, glancing at a clock.

"Oh, they will be here without fail," said the detective. "Mr. Clancy, of the Bureau, is bringing de Courtois."

"Bringing him?" repeated Schmidt.

"Yes."

"Unofficially?"

"That depends wholly on de Courtois. He has to come, whether he likes it or not. Whether he will be allowed to go away again is another matter."

Schmidt's eyelids fell in thought. Probably he reflected that there are two sides to every argument, and he had heard but one. Certainly, John Delancy Curtis did not strike him as the dare-devil meddler, if not worse, he had been depicted by the fiery Earl.

"The Earl of Valletort and Count Ladislas Vassilan," announced a clerk, and Curtis took one square look at his rival. He needed no more to confirm Hermione's unfavorable opinion. The Count's appearance was not prepossessing. His nose was still swollen, and the earnest effort of a doctor to paint out two black eyes had not been wholly successful.

His lordship looked mightily displeased when he discovered the presence of Curtis and Devar, but he was a self-confident man, and regarded himself as a personage of such importance that he assumed the lead in this company at once. Moreover, it was evident that he had resolved to keep a firm rein on his temper.

"Now, Mr. Schmidt," he said brusquely, "your time and mine is valuable. Why have Count Vassilan and I been summoned here this morning by the police authorities?"

Schmidt looked at Steingall, and the detective seemed to be almost at a loss for words.

"I am--not aware--there is any particular call--for hurry," he said. "Are you, my lord, and Count Vassilan thinking of returning to Europe to-morrow?"

The Hungarian laughed, not mirthfully, but with the forced gayety of a man who had considered how to act, and meant to adopt a decided attitude.

"Certainly not," said the Earl stiffly, with uplifted eyebrows.

Steingall pursed his lips, and his forehead seamed in a reflective frown.

"I ought to explain," he said, "that I put that question as offering what appeared to me an easy way out of a situation which bristles with difficulties otherwise."

His hesitancy had suddenly been replaced by slowness of utterance, but it is reasonable to suppose that, of those present, Curtis and Schmidt alone noted the marked distinction.

"My good man," said the Earl, "you must have the strangest notion of the reason which accounts for my presence in New York. I came here to rescue my daughter from a set of designing ruffians, some of whom I knew of, and others whom I had never heard of. Why you should think that I may have it in mind to leave the country without being accompanied by Lady Hermione Grandison I cannot tell, and it is in the highest degree improbable that she will be prepared to sail to-morrow. Apart from my private arrangements, too, I mean to remain here until I have punished at least one person as he deserves."

"Jean de Courtois?" inquired Steingall.

"No, sir. That man who stands there, and whose name is given as Curtis."

The Earl nearly grew wrathful. It annoyed him to find that Curtis was not looking at him at all, but was greatly interested in Schmidt. That was another trait of Curtis's. He had learnt long ago to select the ablest among his adversaries, and watch that man's face. Mere impassivity supplied no real cloak, for Curtis, in his time, had dealt with Chinese mandarins whose countenances betrayed no more expression than a carved ivory mask.

"But it was de Courtois who meant to marry Lady Hermione?" persisted Steingall.

"That remains to be seen. The person who did marry her signed himself John Delancy Curtis."

Instantly the detective turned to Otto Schmidt.

"It will assist the inquiry if you tell us whether or not such a marriage, if it took place under the assumed conditions, that is, by use of a marriage license not intended for one of the parties, is legal," he said.

"I have no doubt whatever that, in the circumstances, the courts will find it to be illegal," was the answer.

"What circumstances?"

"That the lady quitted her supposed husband as soon as she discovered the fraud which had been practised on her."

Steingall weighed the point for a moment.

"I see," he nodded. "If she refused to remain with him, the marriage would be declared void. But if she elected to treat the marriage as a binding act, no matter how it was procured, and continued to live with her husband, that vital fact would affect the question of validity?"

"As you say, it would be a vital fact."

The detective was clearly impressed, but Lord Valletort swept aside these quibbles of jurisprudence.

"My daughter's actions will be revealed in detail to a judge," he said loftily. "At present I fail to see what bearing they have on the discussion, unless, indeed, you mean to arrest Curtis immediately on a charge which I am prepared to formulate."

"No, that is not why I requested your lordship and Count Vassilan to come here this morning," said Steingall, gazing anxiously at the clock. "I would prefer to await the arrival of Detective Clancy with Jean de Courtois, but, if the Frenchman refuses to come, he is within his rights, and I suppose I shall have to apply for a warrant, though, if I choose, I can arrest him merely on suspicion."

"Suspicion of what?" demanded the Earl.

"Of complicity in the murder of Mr. Hunter last night."

"The man was tied in his room at the time of the murder," cried the Hungarian hoarsely, speaking for the first time since he had entered Schmidt's office. He was obviously excited, and excitement is a powerful foe of good resolutions, with which the moral pavement is littered in Hungary and elsewhere.

"That does not affect the charge of complicity," said Steingall thoughtfully. "A man may be an accomplice, though the actual crime is committed at a time and place when he is far distant. It is possible for an accomplice to be in Paris, or on the high seas, while a victim is falling under an assassin's knife in New York. A man, or a number of men, can even be what I may term unconscious accomplices, in the sense that their actions and instructions have brought about a crime, though their intent may have stopped short of actual violence. I assure you, my lord, the arm of the law reaches far when life is taken, and the death of a popular and prominent journalist like Mr. Hunter will be inquired into most searchingly."

The detective spoke so impressively that Lord Valletort eyed him with a species of misgiving, while Count Vassilan, whose knowledge of English was excellent, had broken out into a perspiration.

A smooth, mellifluous voice suddenly intervened. Otto Schmidt thought fit to assume a role for which Lord Valletort was manifestly ill equipped.

"We seem to be dealing with two items which, though related, by accident, as it were, yet differ widely. The Earl of Valletort is interested only in his daughter's marriage, Mr. Steingall."

The detective wheeled round on him.

"Precisely, Mr. Schmidt, but it happens, unfortunately, that the marriage of Lady Hermione and Mr. Curtis was the direct outcome of the murder of Mr. Hunter. More than that, Mr. Hunter met his death because of the plot and counter-plot attending the preliminary arrangements for her ladyship's marriage. The two events, so far apart in their nature, thus become indissolubly connected."

"And is that why we are to have the pleasure of seeing Monsieur de Courtois?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps, before he comes, you will be good enough to give us some idea, informally of course, as to the statement,--or, shall I say revelation?--he may make."

"It is asking a good deal of a police official," said Steingall, smiling pleasantly, "but if I am assured that the discussion will really be regarded as informal, I am ready to speak quite openly."

"It is a characteristic of yours, Mr. Steingall, which has often commanded the admiration of the New York bar," said Schmidt.

"Then," said the detective, "I must begin by telling you that Mr. Clancy and I were in Morris Siegelman's saloon in East Broadway shortly after midnight last night."

A curious click issued from the throat of that distinguished Hungarian magnate, Count Ladislas Vassilan, and everyone present noticed it except the chief of the Detective Bureau. He, it would appear, was busy marshaling his thoughts.

"For all practical purposes, our inquiry began there," he continued. "We intercepted a note written by a certain gentleman, and intended to be conveyed to a Pole named Peter Balusky. He, and a Hungarian, Franz Viviadi, together with a French chauffeur, whose real name is Lamotte, but who has been passing recently as Anatole Labergerie, are now under arrest. Mr. Curtis has recognized Lamotte as the driver of the automobile out of which Mr. Hunter stepped to meet his death, and Lamotte himself has confessed his share in the crime. The precise connection of Balusky and Viviadi with it remains yet to be determined. They undoubtedly visited the Central Hotel last night. They undoubtedly were the paid agents of some person or persons interested in preventing the marriage of Lady Hermione Grandison. They undoubtedly received letters and wireless messages which seem to implicate others, far removed from them in social position, in the plot, or undertaking, that her ladyship's marriage should not take place. As a lawyer, Mr. Schmidt, you will see that I cannot possibly enter into full details, but I think I have said sufficient to prove my main contention, which is, you will remember, that it will be difficult, very difficult, to dissociate the two incidents--I mean the marriage and the murder."

During quite an appreciable time there was no sound in the spacious apartment other than the heavy breathing of Count Ladislas Vassilan. He had openly and candidly abandoned all pretense. He was now nothing more nor less than a burly, well-fed, well-dressed evil-doer quaking with fear.

"Difficult, you say, Mr. Steingall?" repeated the lawyer, selecting, as was his way, the word which supplied the key to a whole sentence.

"Very difficult," corrected the detective.

"But not impossible?"

"I would not care to hazard a reasoned opinion, but it seems to me that, in certain conditions, the District Attorney might elect to confine the inquiry to its main issues, which are, of course, the causes of the crime, and the conviction of the persons actually engaged in it."

"Why did you want to bring Jean de Courtois here?"

"Because he is the connecting link between the one set of circumstances and the other."

"Is he coming, do you think?"

Steingall looked at the clock, and showed a disappointment which he did not try to conceal.

"I fear not," he said. "I told Clancy only to try and persuade him to come. The Frenchman is pretending to be ill, but he is not ill, only frightened."

"Frightened of what?"

"Of the consequences of his own acts. In a sense, Mr. Hunter was his ally, but only from a journalist's standpoint, which centered in the sensation which would be provided by the projected marriage."

Schmidt's eyelids had fallen and risen regularly during the past few minutes. They dropped now for a longer period than usual. As for Lord Valletort and his would-be son-in-law, they were profoundly and unfeignedly ill at ease. Even a British Earl cannot afford to play fast and loose with the law, and it did seem most convincingly clear that they had brought themselves within measurable reach of the law by the tactics they had employed prior to their arrival in New York.

Oddly enough, their own possible connection with the murder of the journalist was a good deal more patent to them than to Curtis and Devar, who were vastly better posted in the evidence affecting them. Still more curiously, not a word had been said about Martiny or Rossi.

"Let us suppose," said Schmidt, when his eyes had opened again, "that Lady Hermione elects to return to Europe at once with her father, the Earl----"

Steingall shook his head with a weary smile, and the lawyer's voice ceased suddenly.

"Out of the question, Mr. Schmidt, out of the question. I am sure of it. Why, little more than half an hour ago I found her with Mr. Curtis in their apartments at the Plaza Hotel----"

"Ridiculous!" shrieked Lord Valletort in a shrill falsetto. "My daughter passed the night in her apartment in 59th Street. I myself saw her go there."

"Probably. Your lordship would know the facts if you watched her departure from the Plaza Hotel. But a woman has the inalienable privilege of changing her mind, and Lady Hermione has returned to her husband. In fact, I am given to understand that she and Mr. Curtis are arranging a new marriage, not because the earlier ceremony is illegal, or can be upset, but in deference to certain natural scruples which such a charming young lady would be bound to entertain. . . . There can be no manner of doubt as to the correctness of what I am saying," and the detective's tone grew emphatic in view of the Earl's pish-tush gestures. "You have a telephone there, Mr. Schmidt. Ring up the Plaza, and speak to the lady yourself."

The lawyer did nothing of the sort. He eyed Curtis in his contemplative way, being aware that the quiet man standing near a window had favored him with his exclusive attention during the proceedings.

But Lord Valletort was moved now to stormy protest. He was convulsed with passion, and seemed to be careless what the outcome might be so long as he lashed Curtis with venom.

"You are the only person in this infernal city whose actions are consistent," he roared at him. "It is quite evident that you have ascertained by some means that my daughter is exceedingly wealthy, and you have managed to delude her into the belief that your conduct is altruistic and above reproach. But you make a great mistake if you believe that I can be set aside as an incompetent fool. I shall go straight from this office to that of the District Attorney, and lay the whole of the facts before him. I----"

"Does your lordship wish to dispense with my services?" broke in Schmidt, speaking without flurry or heat. The angry Earl choked, but remained silent, and the lawyer kept on in the same even tone:

"May I suggest, Mr. Steingall, that you and Mr. Curtis and Mr. Devar should step into another room while I have a brief consultation with Lord Valletort and Count Vassilan?"

"I cannot become a party to any arrangement----" began Steingall, but Otto Schmidt bowed him and his companions out suavely. Those two understood each other fully, no matter what divergencies of opinion might exist elsewhere.

When the door had closed on the three men in a smaller room, Devar was about to say something, but Steingall checked him with a warning hand. Walking to a window, he stood there, with his back turned on his companions, and stared out into the square beneath. Once they fancied they saw him nod his head in a species of signal, but they might have been in error. At any rate, their thoughts were soon distracted by the entrance of the stout lawyer.

"On some occasions, the fewest words are the most satisfactory," he said, "so I wish to inform you, Mr. Steingall, that Lord Valletort and Count Vassilan intend to sail for Europe by to-morrow's steamer. They have empowered me to offer to pay the passage money to France of the music-teacher, Jean de Courtois, though not by the same vessel as that in which they purpose traveling. As for you, Mr. Curtis, the Earl withdraws all threats, and leaves you to settle your dispute with the authorities as you may think fit. May I add that if you choose to consult me I shall be glad to act for you. I would not say this if it was merely a professional matter, but there are circumstances-- Certainly, I shall be here at eleven o'clock on Monday. Till then, sir, I wish you good-day. Good-day, Mr. Devar. Remember me to your father. By, by, Mr. Steingall. You and I will meet at Philippi."

Once the three were in Madison Square, Devar could not be restrained.

"Steingall," he said, "if you don't tell me how you managed it, I'll sit down right here on the sidewalk and blubber like a child."

"You were present. You heard every word," said the detective blandly.

"Yes, I know you scared them stiff. But who, in Heaven's name, are Peter Balusky and Franz Viviadi? Where, did you find 'em? Did they drop from the skies, or come up from-- Well, where _did_ you get 'em?"

"Clancy and I bagged them quite easily after Mr. Curtis and you left Siegelman's cafe. All we had to do was wait till Vassilan quit. They were hanging about all the time, but afraid to meet him. . . . Now, you must ask me no more questions. I am going to Clancy. He is keeping an eye on Jean de Courtois."

"Did you ever intend to have the Frenchman brought to Schmidt's office?"

"Of course I did. What a question! Good-by. There's your car. I'm off," and the detective swung himself into a passing streetcar.

"Do you know," said Devar thoughtfully, "I am beginning to believe that Steingall says a lot of things he really doesn't mean. I haven't quite made up my mind yet as to whether or not he hasn't run an awful bluff on the noble lord and the most noble count. And the weird thing is that Schmidt didn't call it. Did it strike you, Curtis, that----"

Then he looked at his friend, whose silent indifference to what he was saying could no longer pass unnoticed.

"What is it, old man?" he asked, with ready solicitude. "Are you feeling the strain, or what?"

"It is nothing," said Curtis. "A run in the car will soon clear my head. Perhaps you and I might arrange for a long week-end, far away from New York."

A second time did Devar look at his friend, but, being really a good-natured and sympathetic person, he repressed the imminent cry of amazement. Somehow, he realized the one spear-thrust which had pierced Curtis's armor. It was hateful that such a man should be told he had married Hermione for her money. It was hateful to think that this might be said of him in the years to come. It was even possible that she herself might come to believe it of him, and John Delancy Curtis's knight-errant soul shrank and cringed under the thought, even while the memory of Hermione's first kiss of love was still hot on his lips.