Local Color Part 34

He was locked in. With his foot he dragged forward a footstool, kicking it close up against the panels so that should any person coming in open the door suddenly, the stool would r.e.t.a.r.d that person's entrance for a moment anyway. He faced about then, considering his next move. The circular pane of thick gla.s.s in the porthole showed as a black target in the white wall; through it only blankness was visible. D-deck plainly was well down in the s.h.i.+p's hull, below the level of promenades and probably not very far above the waterline. Nevertheless, the handcuffed man crossed over and drew the short silken curtains across the window, making the seclusion of his quarters doubly secure.

Now, kneeling upon the floor, he undid the hasps of the two handbags, opened them and began rummaging in their cluttered depths. Doing all these things, he moved with a sureness and celerity which showed that he had worn his bonds for an appreciable s.p.a.ce of time and had accustomed himself to using his two hands upon an operation where, unhampered, he might have used one or the other, but not both at once. His chain clinked briskly as he felt about in the valises. From them he first got out two travelling caps--one a dark grey cap, the other a cap of rather a gaudy check pattern; also, a plain razor, a safety razor and a box of cigars. He examined the safety razor a moment, then slipped it back into the flap pocket where it belonged; took a cigar from the box and put the box back into the grip; tried on first one of the travelling caps and then the other, and returned them to the places from which he had taken them; and reclosed and refastened the grips themselves. But he took the other razor and dropped it in a certain place, close down to the floor at the foot of one of the beds.

He shoved the footstool away from the door, and, after dusting off his knees, he went and stood at the porthole gazing out into the night through a cranny in the curtains. The s.h.i.+p no longer nuzzled up alongside the dock like a great sucking pig under the flanks of an even greater mother-sow; she appeared to stand still while the dock seemed to be slipping away from her rearward; but the man who looked out into the darkness was familiar enough with that illusion. With his manacled hands crossed upon his waistcoat and the cigar hanging unlighted between his lips, he watched until the liner had turned and was swinging down stream, heading for the mouth of the river and the bay.

He lit the cigar, then, and once more sat himself down upon the edge of the bed. He puffed away steadily. His head was bent forward and his hands dangled between his knees in such ease as the snugness of the bracelets and the shortness of the chain permitted. Looking in at him you would have said he was planning something; that he was considering various problems. He was still there in that same hunching position, but the cigar had burned down two-thirds of its length, when the lock snicked a warning and his companion re-entered, bearing a key with which he relocked the door upon the inner side.

"Well," said the newcomer, "we're on our way." There was no reply to this. He took off his derby hat and tossed it aside, and began unb.u.t.toning his waistcoat.

"Making yourself comfortable, eh?" he went on as though trying to manufacture conversation. The manacled one didn't respond. He merely canted his head, the better to look into the face of his travel mate.

"Say, look here," demanded the new arrival, his tone and manner changing. "What's the use, your nursing that grouch?"

Coming up the gangway, twenty minutes before, they might have pa.s.sed, at a casual glance, for brothers. Viewed now as they faced each other in the quiet of this small room such a mistake could not have been possible. They did not suggest brothers; for all that they were much the same in build and colouring they did not even suggest distant cousins.

About the sitting man there were abundant evidences of a higher and more cultured organism than the other possessed; the difference showed in costume, in manner, in speech. Even wearing handcuffs he displayed, without trying to do so, a certain superiority in poise and a.s.surance.

In a way his companion seemed vaguely aware of this. It seemed to make him--what shall I say?--uneasy; maybe a bit envious; possibly arousing in him the imitative instinct. Judging of him by his present aspect and the intonations of his voice, a shrewd observer of men and motives might have said that he was amply satisfied with the progress of the undertaking which he had now in hand, but that he lately had ceased to be entirely satisfied with himself.

"Say, Bronston," he repeated, "I tell you there's no good nursing the grouch. I haven't done anything all through this matter except what I thought was necessary. I've acted that way from the beginning, ain't I?"

"Have you heard me complain?" parried the gyved man. He blew out a mouthful of smoke.

"No, I haven't, not since you made the first kick that day I found you out in Denver. But a fellow can't very well travel twenty-five hundred miles with another fellow, sharing the same stateroom with him and all that, without guessing what's in the other fellow's mind."

There was another little pause.

"Well," said the man upon the bed, "we've got this far. What's the programme from this point on regarding these decorations?" He raised his hands to indicate what he meant.

"That's what I want to talk with you about," answered the other. "The rest of the folks on this boat don't know anything about us--not a blessed thing. The officers don't know--nor the crew, nor any of the pa.s.sengers, I reckon. To them we're just two ordinary Americans crossing the ocean together on business or pleasure. You give me your promise not to make any breaks of any sort, and I'll take those things off you and not put them on again until just before we land. You know I want to make this trip as easy as I can for you."

"What earthly difference would it make whether I gave you my promise or not? Suppose, as you put it, I did make a break? Where would I break for out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean? Are you still afraid of yourself?"

"Certainly not; certainly I ain't afraid. At that, you've been back and forth plenty of times across the ocean, and you know all the ropes on a s.h.i.+p and I don't. Still, I ain't afraid. But I'd like to have your promise."

"I won't give it," said he of the handcuffs promptly. "I'm through with making offers to you. Four days ago when you caught up with me, I told you I would go with you and make no resistance--make no attempt to get away from you--if you'd only leave my limbs free. You knew as well as I did that I was willing to waive extradition and go back without any fuss or any delay, in order to keep my people in this country from finding out what a devil's mess I'd gotten myself into over on the other side.

You knew I was not really a criminal, that I'd done nothing at all which an American court would construe as a crime. You knew that because I was an American the British courts would probably be especially hard upon me. And you knew too--you found that part out for yourself without my telling you--that I was intending to go back to England at the first chance. You knew that all I needed was a chance to get at certain papers and doc.u.ments and produce them in open court to prove that I was being made a scapegoat; you knew that if I had just two days free on British soil, in which to get the books from the place those lying partners of mine hid them, I could save myself from doing penal servitude. That was why I meant to go back of my own accord. That was why I offered to give you my word of honour that I would not attempt to get away. Did you listen? No!"

"Well, didn't I make the whole thing as easy for you as I could?"

protested his companion. He spoke as if in self-defence, or at least in extenuation.

"Easy? Didn't you put these things on me? Haven't I worn them every minute since then, awake or asleep, except when I was dressing or undressing?"

"What's the use of going into all that all over again? This was too big a case for me to be taking any risks. I'd had a hard enough job locating you; I couldn't afford to lose you. Let me ask you a few questions: Didn't we travel all the way from Denver in a stateroom, so that outside of the conductors and a couple of porters there wasn't a soul knew you was in trouble? Didn't I show you how to carry that overcoat over your arms when we were changing cars at Chicago, and again coming across New York to-night, so's n.o.body would catch on? Didn't I steer clear of reporters all along the line? Didn't I keep it all a secret when I was sending the wire on ahead to book the pa.s.sage?"

He paused; then remembered something else:

"Didn't I go to the trouble of buying a lighter pair of cuffs than the ones I usually use and having an extra link set in the chain so as to keep your arms from cramping, wearing them? Yes, I did--I did all those things and you can't deny it.

"n.o.body on this boat suspects anything," he went on. "n.o.body here knows you're Bronston, wanted in London for that Atlas Investment Company swindle, and I'm Keller, chief operative for the Sharkey Agency. So far as anybody else knows we're just Mr. Brown and Mr. Cole, a couple of friends travelling together. Until the day we land over there on the other side you can keep on being Mr. Brown and I'll keep on being Mr.

Cole. I'll keep this stateroom door locked at night just to be on the safe side. And seeing as we've got seats together at the same table I guess we'd better make a point of taking our meals together at the same time. Otherwise, you can do just what you please and go where you please and I won't bother you. These folks on this boat will think we're just a couple of pretty close friends." He fished a key ring out of his pocket, selected a certain key and bent over the other man. "Here, hold your hands up for a minute. You ought to be glad enough to get rid of those darbies. There!"

He lifted the opened bracelets off his prisoner's wrists and pitched them, clinking, upon the bedcover.

"Have it your own way," said the freed Bronston. "But remember, I've had my say. I'm making no pledges, now or hereafter." With his fingers, which were long and slender, he chafed his flesh where the steel had bruised it red.

"Oh, all right, all right," answered Keller; "I'm willing to take the chance--although there ain't really any chance to take. I'll get these things out of sight first thing."

He picked up the handcuffs and dropped them into a pocket of his ulster where it lay on the one chair in the room, and wadded a handkerchief down into the pocket upon them. "Now, then, everything is s.h.i.+pshape and proper. There's no reason why we can't be pals for three or four days anyway. And now what do you say to turning in and getting a good night's rest? I'm good and tired and I guess you are too."

Whistling to himself like a man well satisfied with the latest turn in a difficult situation, he began to undress. The other followed suit. They were both in their pajamas and both were in bed and the lights had been put out before Bronston spoke:

"Mind you, Keller," he said, "I'm not fooled to any great extent by this change in att.i.tude on your part."

"What do you mean?" asked Keller sharply.

"Well," said Bronston, "I can't help but realise that you've got a selfish and a personal motive of your own for doing what you've just done. You're bound to know that if the truth about us were to get out the people on this boat probably wouldn't value your company any higher than they'd value mine--maybe not so highly as they might value mine."

Keller sat up in bed.

"I don't get you," he said. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"You're a private detective, aren't you?"

"Well, what of it?" demanded Keller. "What's wrong with my being a private detective?"

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," said Bronston, suddenly grown drowsy. He settled his head down in the pillow and rolled over on his side, turning his back to his roommate. "Let's go to sleep."

Instantly he seemed to be off; he began drawing long, heavy breaths.

With a snort Keller settled down, uttering grumbled protests in an injured and puzzled tone. Presently he slept, too, with the choky snores of a very weary man.

So far as we know they both slept the sleep of travel-worn men until morning. It was seven o'clock and the sunlight was flooding in at the porthole when their bathroom steward knocked upon the outer panels of their door, at first softly, then more briskly. When they had roused and answered him, he told them that their baths were ready and waiting for them; also that the weather was fine and the sea smooth. It was Bronston who went first to the bathroom. He had come back, and was dressing himself when Keller, after clearing his throat several times, reopened a subject which seemingly had laid uppermost in his dormant mind while he slept.

"Say, Bronston," he began in an aggrieved voice, "what made you say what you said just after we turned in last night--about private detectives, you know?"

"Oh, let it drop," answered Bronston, as though the topic were of no consequence.

"No," pressed Keller, "I won't let it drop. I'd like to know what you meant. I don't care much for that sort of talk."

Bronston had his shaving kit open and was soaping his cheeks in front of a small mirror at a stationary washstand in the corner of the room. He turned with the lather brush in his hand.

"If you insist then," he said, "I'll tell you what I meant. If the facts about our relations.h.i.+p should get out--if the truth should leak out in any way--I'm inclined to think there might be some sympathy for me aboard this s.h.i.+p. People are apt to have a sympathy for any man who's in trouble through no real fault of his own, especially as there are apt to be people on this boat--Americans--who've heard some of the inside history of this trouble I'm in. They might believe me when I told them that I was an innocent party to the transaction, especially as there is no way, as things stand now, of my proving my innocence. But you're a private detective, and at the risk of wounding your feelings I'm going to repeat something which you probably realise already, and that is that people at large don't particularly fancy a person of your calling in life. No, nor the calling either. I presume you remember, don't you, what the biggest detective in America said not so very long ago in a signed article? He said most of the private detective agencies were recruited from among ex-convicts--said a big percentage of the private detectives in the United States were jailbirds and evidence-fixers and blackmailers and hired thugs!"

"I don't care what Burns or anybody else said." Keller's voice betokened indignation. "I may not have had as much education as some other people, but I've made my own way in the world and I'm no crook, nor no old lag neither. There's n.o.body got anything on me. Besides, unless somebody tells 'em, how're they going to know what line of business I'm in, any more than they'll know, just from looking at you, that you're on your way back to London to stand trial for a felony?"

"My friend," said Bronston gently, "everything about you spells private detective. You've got it written all over you in letters a foot high."

"What now, for instance, gives me away?" There was incredulity in the question, but also there was a tinge of doubtfulness too.

"Everything about you, or nearly everything, gives you away--your clothes, your shoes, your moustache. But particularly it's your shoes and your moustache. I wonder why all detectives wear those broad-toed, heavy-soled shoes?" he added, half to himself.