The Million-Dollar Suitcase Part 15

There was where the poor rabbit of a bank clerk got his fling."

"Oh, yes, it works logically. He held himself down to Clayte at the St.

Dunstan and in the bank, and he let himself go to--what?--outside of it, beyond it, where he really lived."

"He let himself go to Steve Skeels--won't that do you?"

"No," she said so positively that it was annoying. "That won't do me at all."

"But it's what you got," I reminded her rather unkindly, and then was sorry I'd done it. "It's what you got for me--and I thank you for it."

"You needn't," she came back at me--s.p.u.n.ky little thing. "It isn't worth thanking anybody for. It's only a partial fact."

"And you think half truths are dangerous?" I smiled at her.

"There isn't any such thing," she instructed me. "Even _facts_ can hardly be split into fractions; while the truth is always whole and complete."

"As far as you see it," I amended. "For instance, you insist on keeping the gang all under Clayte's hat--or you did at first. Now you're refusing to believe, as both Worth and I believe, that Steve Skeels is Clayte himself. I should think you'd jump at the idea. Here's your Wonder Man."

She leaned back in her chair and laughed. I was glad to hear the sound again, see the dimples flicker in her cheeks, even if she was laughing at me.

"A wonderful Wonder Man, Mr. Boyne," she said. "One who does things so bunglingly that you can follow him right up and put your hand on him."

"Not so I could," I reminded her gaily. "So you could. Quite a different matter." She took my compliment sweetly, but she said with smiling reluctance,

"I'm not in this, of course, except that your kindness allowed me to be for this day only. But if I were, I shouldn't be following Skeels as you are. I'd still be after Clayte."

"It foots up to the same thing," I said rather tartly.

"Oh, does it?" she laughed at me. "Two and two are making about three and a half this afternoon, are they?"

"What we've got to-day ought to land something," I maintained. "You've been fine help, Barbara--" and I broke off suddenly with the knowledge that I'd been calling her that all through the rush of the work.

"Thank you." She smiled inclusively. I knew she meant my use of her name as well as my commendation. I began clearing my desk preparatory to leaving. Worth was going to take her home and as he brought her coat, he spoke again of the suitcase.

"Hey, there!" I remonstrated, "You don't want to be lugging that thing with you everywhere, like a three-year-old kid that's found a dead cat.

Leave it where it is."

"Give me an order for it then," he said. And when I looked surprised, "Might need that box, and you not be in the office."

"Need it?" I grumbled. "I'd like to know what for."

But I scribbled the order. Over by the window the young people were talking together earnestly; they made a picture against the light, standing close, the girl's vivid dark face raised, the lad's tall head bent, attentive.

"But, Bobs, you must get some time to play about," I heard Worth say.

"Awfully little," Her look up at him was like that of a wistful child.

"You said you were in the accounting department," he urged impatiently.

"A lightning calculator like you could put that stuff through in about one tenth of the usual time."

"I use an adding machine," she half whispered, and it made me chuckle.

"An adding machine!" Worth exploded in a peal of laughter. "For Barbara Wallace! What's their idea?"

"It isn't their idea; it's mine," with dignity. "They don't know that I used to be a freak mathematician. I don't want them to. Father used to say that all children could be trained to do all that I did--if you took them young enough. But till they are, I'd rather not be. It's horrid to be different; and I'm keeping it to myself--in the office anyhow--and living my past down the best I can."

As though her words had suggested it, Worth spoke again,

"Where did you meet c.u.mmings? Seems you find time to go out with him."

"I've known Mr. c.u.mmings for years," Barbara spoke quietly, but she looked self-conscious. "I knew he was with those friends of mine at the Orpheum last night, but I didn't expect him to call for me at Tait's--or rather I thought they'd all come in after me. There wasn't anything special about it--no special appointment with him, I mean."

I had forgotten them for a minute or two, closing my desk, finding my coat, when I heard some one come into the outer office, a visitor, for little Pete's voice went up to a shrill yap with the information that I was busy. Then the k.n.o.b turned, the door opened, and there stood c.u.mmings. At first he saw only me at the desk.

"Your friend calling for you again, Bobs--by appointment?" Worth's question drew the lawyer's glance, and he stared at them apparently a good deal taken aback, while Worth added, "Seems to keep pretty close tab on your movements." The low tone might have been considered joking, but there was war in the boy's eye.

It was as though c.u.mmings answered the challenge, rather than opened with what he had intended.

"My business is with you, Gilbert." He came in and shut the door behind him, leaving his hand on the k.n.o.b. "And I've been some time finding you." He stopped there, and was so long about getting anything else out that Worth finally suggested,

"The money?" And when there was no reply but a surprised look, "How do you stand now?"

"Still seventy-two thousand to raise." c.u.mmings spoke vaguely. This was not what had brought him to the office. He finished with the abrupt question, "Were you at Santa Ysobel last night?"

"Hold on, c.u.mmings," I broke in. "What you got? Let us--"

I was shut off there by Worth's,

"It's Sunday afternoon. I want that money to-morrow morning. You've not come through? You've not dug up what I sent you after?"

I could see that the lawyer was absolutely nonplussed. Again he gave Worth one of those queer, probing looks before he said doggedly,

"The question of that money can wait."

"It can't wait." Worth's eyes began to light up. "What you talking, c.u.mmings--an extension?" And when the lawyer made no answer to this, "I'll not crawl in with a broken leg asking favors of that bank crowd.

Are you quitting on me? If so, say it--and I'll find a way to raise the sum, myself."

"I've raised all but seventy-two thousand of the necessary amount," said c.u.mmings slowly. "What I want to know is--how much have you raised?"

"See here, c.u.mmings," again I mixed in. "I was present when that arrangement was made. Nothing was said about Worth raising any money."

c.u.mmings barely glanced around at me as he said, "I made a suggestion to him; in your presence, as you say, Boyne. I want to know if he carried it out." Then, giving his full attention to Worth, "Did you see your father last night?"

On instinct I blurted,

"For heaven's sake, keep your mouth shut, Worth!"

For a detective that certainly was an incautious speech. c.u.mmings' eye flared suspicion at me, and his voice was a menace.