The Ghost Breaker Part 16

"Yes, indeed. I heard a great many people running up and down the corridor, outside my door."

The detective scribbled away in his notebook. Jarvis winked again at the Princess, over the doughty shoulders which were backed toward him.

The Duke caught the wink, and pondered over it.

"Did anyone come in your room, miss?"

"Yes. My maid was frightened, poor child. She came in, and begged me to protect her."

"Ah-ha! A-hum! And how did your lock get broken?"

"It was broken when we came to the room. I was foolish not to complain to the management at once, for I might have been robbed by some sneak-thief. I explained all that at the hotel."

"Um ... All right. What about the colored man who came to your room afterwards and carried away a large bundle?"

The Duke's eyes were sparkling now. He was biding his chance to intervene. Jarvis watched him without the flicker of an eyelash.

"That was my servant," explained the Princess, easily. "I sent for him, because I had made a number of purchases too late to get them into my trunk. They are here unopened; you may examine them if you wish."

The detective waved aside the offer: he was nothing if not gallant--if the questioned one were fair enough!

"Oh, that's all right. But what do you know about this, miss?"

He produced a pocket-knife, and walked toward her slowly, examining it with care. The Duke of Alva leaned over his shoulder with absorbed interest.

"This knife has the initial '_W_.' How about it?"

The girl reached forward, with a graceful hand.

"Oh, I'm so glad you found it! Thank you for bringing it to me."

"Then it's yours? Who is this party '_W_'? Your name is Aragon, I believe."

The Princess laughed.

"I am Maria Theresa of Aragon, you see."

"I don't see. Where does the '_W_' come in? I know how to spell, you know, even if I'm only a bull." And he glared pugnaciously at the duke.

"Why ... it isn't '_W_'--can't you understand? You're holding it upside down. It is '_M_'--standing for my first name: Maria Theresa."

The detective grudgingly handed her the trinket. He looked into his memorandum book again, chewing the end of his pencil.

"Now, there's just one more thing, Miss..."

Carlos could control himself no longer. He caught the officer's arm in a feverish grip, which was as promptly thrown off.

"You will pardon me, but I wish to inform you that this man's name is Warren..." he began.

The detective spun about, and protruded his heavy chin at the Duke.

"Say, who's running this 'Third Degree'--you or me?"

The Duke tried to temporize.

"But, my dear man..."

"Say, cull, I ain't your dear man. Cut that guff--don't dearie me. I'm a big rough fellow, but I've got some gumption. You get out of here."

He gave him a thoroughly plebeian push toward the door.

"Yes, Carlos, do go. Leave us to attend to this matter. These gentlemen are so kind and so sympathetic. I am sure we can finish this better without you."

"I merely wished to point out..."

"You point _him_ out, Jim," ordered the first detective to his a.s.sistant. "You hear what the lady says. This is her cabin."

The second official caught the aristocrat with a rude grasp of the velvet coat-collar and shook him as one would a child. The Duke's teeth chattered.

"Out yer goes, and if yer b.u.t.ts in again I'll fan yer. Beat it! Do yer hear? Do yer get me? Skibooch!"

The Duke tried to regain his equilibrium before braving the publicity of the saloon. His voice trembled with pa.s.sion, as he retorted: "An infernal outrage! I'll report this to his Majesty, the King."

The first detective looked at the jocular Warren Jarvis, who published his third wink, this time in the direction of the big sleuth.

"King! Huh! Roosevelt wasn't elected! Did yer get that, Jim? Well, what do you know about that?"

Jarvis leaned forward, with a sibilant whisper of secrecy:

"Sss.h.!.+ Gentlemen. Don't be disturbed. He is quite harmless. You heard him raving about a king? He suffers from pernicious megalomania. That's all--nothing more. He has grandiose ideas."

Jim coughed apologetically as his superior officer blinked.

"What does them words mean, Jim?"

"Wheels--bats in his belfry--just plain nutty, Mike."

"You mean he is crazy, mister?"

Jarvis nodded.

"Yes, he is at times. But don't be cross with him, for he has a beautiful nature, except when the ravages of the disease are upon him.

You know, he doesn't even like _me_ when he has a spell like this. But he's not at all dangerous. It is just necessary to humor him--he's not to blame--it's the way he was raised."

"Then you're looking out for him?" and the detective looked furtively toward the door, as he rea.s.sured himself by fumbling with the revolver in his own hip-pocket.

"Yes, that's my job."

The big sleuth shook his head sadly.