Three Thousand Dollars — 4 - Chapters 13-16

"_I am from headquarters_" For just a minute Grace Lee paused before the blank door of the safe, then she passed around to an unused speaking tube in the neighboring wall.

Halting before it, in low but distinct tones she began to sing the famous aria from "The Magic Flute."

All agog, with eyes starting and ears alert, the man behind listened and watched.

Nothing happened.

Then came a change.

Gradually her voice rose, sweet and piercing, till it reached that famous F in alt so rarely attempted, so exciting to the ear when fairly taken and fairly held.

Grace Lee could take it, and as it hung, sweet and deliciously thrilling in the air, Beau Johnson saw, to his amazement, though he was in a way prepared for it, the heavy safe door slip softly ajar.

She had done it with her voice.

How, he could only vaguely guess.

He was better educated than most of his class, or he could not have understood it at all.

As it was, he laid it to the vibration caused by a certain definite note acting on some delicate mechanism set in accord with that note, which mechanism starting another and a stronger one gradually led up to that which drew the bolts and set the door ajar.

Whether his theory were true or not mattered little at the moment.

The event for which he waited had been accomplished and accomplished before his eyes.

To profit by it was his next thought, and to this end he held himself ready for the spring which had laid latent in his eyes since he first saw her advance toward the safe.

She was ignorant of his presence.

This was evident from the jaunty way she turned from the tube, still singing, but in a desultory way, which showed that her thoughts were no longer on her music.

But she was not so engrossed that she did not see him.

The moment that her face turned his way, her eyes enlarged, her body stiffened, her whole personality took on power and purpose and _she_ sprang more quickly than he did and shut the safe door with one quick movement of her hand that fastened it as securely as before.

Then she drew herself up to meet his rush, a noble figure of resolute womanhood which any other man would have hesitated to assail.

But he was proof to any appeal of this kind.

She had been quicker than he who was esteemed the readiest in his class, and he owed her a grudge, if only for that.

Smiling--it was a way of his when deeply moved or deeply dangerous--he accosted her with smooth and treacherous words.

"Don't scream, young lady; screaming will do you no good.

Mr. Fellows has left the business to me and I am quite competent to manage it.

I am from headquarters--a detective.

Yesterday you aroused the manager's suspicions, and I was detailed this morning to watch you.

What do you want from Mr. Stoughton's safe?

An honest answer may help you.

Nothing else will."

[Illustration: "_She was ignorant of his presence_"] "I want----" she hesitated, eyeing him over with an insight and an undoubted air of self-command which told the hardy rascal that in this woman he was likely to meet his match.

"I want some securities of Mr. Stoughton's which he has ordered me to dispose of for him.

I am in his confidence, as I can prove to you if you will give me the opportunity.

I

have papers at home that will satisfy any one of my right to open this safe and to negotiate such papers as are designated in Mr. Stoughton's cablegrams."

"I don't doubt it."

The words came easily from the mobile lips of the wily Beau Johnson.

"But it was not to do Mr. Stoughton's business that you opened the safe just now.

You have had no orders to-day; you had no order yesterday.

Another purpose is in your mind--a personal purpose.

It is this abuse of Mr. Stoughton's confidence which brings me here.

_You want three thousand dollars badly!

_" CHAPTER XIV

"_You do not answer_" She recoiled.

Strong as she was, she was not proof against this surprise.

"How do you know that?"

she asked, her voice losing its clear tone.

"I do not deny it, but how could you know what I thought to be a secret between----" "You and your lover?

Well--we--the police know many things, young lady.

We have a gift.

We also have a kind of foreknowledge.

I could tell you something of your future if you will deign to listen to me.

Your lover is an honest man.

What do you suppose he will do when he hears that you have been arrested for attempted burglary on your employer's effects?"

He had been slowly advancing as he reeled off these glib sentences, but he paused as he met her smile.

It was not of the same sort as his, but it was not without a certain suggestiveness which he felt it would be best for him to understand before he threw off his mask.

"I don't know what he will do," said she, meeting the false detective's eye as she laid her hand on the safe, "but I know what I shall do if you carry out the purpose you threaten.

Show my papers to the police and demand evidence of my having any bad intentions in opening this safe this morning.

I think you will have difficulty in producing any.

I think that you will only prove yourself a fool.

Are you so strong with the authorities as to brave that?"

Astonished at her insight and more than astonished at her self-control, the experienced cracksman paused, and then in tones he rarely used, remarked quietly: "You are playing with your life, Miss Lee.

I have a pistol leveled at you from my pocket, and I'm the man to fire if you give me the slightest occasion to do so.

I'm Beau Johnson, miss, a detective if you please, but also a tolerably experienced cracksman, and I want a taste of those bonds."

"And Mr. Fellows?"

The words rang out clear and fearlessly.

"Oh, he?

He's a muff.

You needn't concern yourself about him.

The matter's between us two.

Three thousand dollars for you, and a little more, perhaps, for me, and I to take all the blame."

Her eye stole toward the door.

No one could enter that way, she knew.

Even her screams, if she survived them, might alarm, but could not bring her help for several minutes, if not longer.

Yet she did not tremble;

only grew a shade paler.

"You do not answer.

What have you to say?"

"This."

She was like marble now.

"You will not kill me, because that would be virtually to kill yourself.

You cannot leave this room without my help, nor fire a shot without being caught like a rat in a trap.

I

want three thousand dollars, and I mean to have them, but I do not see how you are going to get the few more which you promise yourself.

Certainly I am not going to aid you in doing so, and you cannot open that safe.

You have not the musical training."

"No." The word came like a shot, possibly in lieu of a shot, for if ever he felt murderous it was at that moment.

"I have not a musical training, but that does not make me helpless.

In a few moments I shall have the pleasure of hearing you test your voice again.

There's the office clock ticking; count the strokes."

She stood fascinated.

What did he mean by this?

Involuntarily she did his bidding.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, _eleven_!"

"Yes," he repeated, "eleven!

And at half past your old father dies."

"Dies?"

Her lips did not frame the words; her eyes looked it, her whole sinking, suddenly collapsing figure gave voice to the maddening query, "_Dies?

_" CHAPTER XV

"_Now, if Fellows will stay away_" "Yes.

Such is the understanding if I do not telephone my pals to hold off.

He's not at home; he's with my friends.

They don't care very much about old men, and if I have not a decent show of money by half-past eleven this morning the orders are to knock him on the head.

It won't take a very hard knock.

He was far from being in prime condition this morning."

She had shown great feeling at the beginning of this address, but at its close she drew herself up again and met him with something of her old composure.

"These are all lies," said she.

"My father would never leave his house at the instigation of any gang.

In the first place, he is not strong enough to attempt the stairs.

You cannot deceive me in this fashion."

"He might be carried down."

"He wouldn't submit to that, nor would the other lodgers in the house allow it without an express order from me."

"They got the order; not from you, but from him.

He demanded to be allowed to go.

You see, Mr. Fellows sent a message that you were hurt--I will speak the whole truth, and say dying.

The old man could not be held after that.

He went with the messenger."

Her cheeks were now like ashes.

She had gauged the man before her and felt that he was fully capable of this villainy.

How great a villainy she alone knew who had the history of this old man in her heart.

"He went with the messenger," repeated Johnson, watching her face with a cruel leer.

"That messenger knew where to take him.

You may be sure it was to a place quite unknown to the police and to every one else but myself.

Five minutes more gone, miss. In just twenty-five minutes more you will be an orphan and one impediment to your marriage will be at an end.

How about the other?"

"Oh!"

she wailed.

"If I could really believe you!"

"I can smooth away that doubt.

If you will promise not to compromise me with the clerks or any one inside there, I will allow you to telephone home and learn the truth of what I have told you.

Anything further will end all business between us and wind up your father's affairs at the hour set.

I can afford to humor you for ten minutes more in this nonsense."

"I will do it," she cried.

"I must know what I am fighting before----" She caught herself back, but he was quite able to finish the sentence for her.

"Before you submit to the inevitable," he smiled.

Her head fell and he pointed toward the door.

"I will trust you to guard my--our interests," said he.

"Open and go directly to your own telephone."

With a staggering step she obeyed.

Creeping up stealthily behind her he watched her manner of opening the door and profited by the one quick glance he got of the office as she stepped through and passed hurriedly forward to her desk.

There was no one within sight.

Mr. Fellows had not yet returned and the clerks were too remote to notice her agitation or pay attention to her gait or the tremulousness of her tone as she called for her home number.

"Couldn't be better," thought he.

"Now if Fellows will stay away long enough, I'll be able to double the boodle I've promised myself."

This with a chuckle.

Meantime Miss Lee had got in her message.

The answer sent her flying toward him.

"He's gone!

He's gone!"

she gasped.

"My old, old father!

Oh, you wretch!

Save him and----" "You save me first," he whispered, and was about to draw her back into the room with the safe, when the outer door opened and a stranger entered on business.

Her agony at the interruption and the few necessary words it involved caused the visitor to stare.

But she was able to make herself intelligible and to turn him over to one of the clerks, after which she rejoined Johnson, closing the door quietly behind her.

His greeting was characteristic.

"You waste breath," said he, "by all this emotion.

You'll need it to open the safe."

"What guarantee have I that you will keep your part of the contract?"

she cried.

"I sing--the door opens--you help yourself, and you go.

That does not restore to me my father."

"Oh, I'll play fair.

In proof of it, here's my pistol.

If on our going out I do not stop with you at the telephone and let you communicate with your father and send my own message of release, then shoot me in the back.

I give you leave."

Taking the pistol he held out, she cocked it, and looking into the chambers, found they were all full.

"I know how to use it," she said simply.

Admiration showed in his face.

He bowed and pointed toward the tube.

"Now for the song," he cried.

CHAPTER XVI

"_It was not paper I meant to have_" With a bound she took her stand.

She was white as death and greatly excited.

Watching her curiously, the crafty villain noted the quick throbbing of her throat and the feverish grip on the pistol.

"Time is galloping," he remarked.

She gave a gasp, opened her lips and essayed to sing.

An awful, indescribable murmur was all that could be heard.

Stiffening herself, she resolutely calmed down her agitation and tried again.

The result was but little better than before.

Turning with a cry, she looked with horror-stricken eyes into the unmoved, slightly sardonic face of the man behind her.

"I cannot sing!

You have frightened away my voice.

I cannot raise that note even to save my father's life.

I'm choking, choking."

Then as she caught the devilish gleam lighting up his eye, she added, "You will never have those thousands!

The safe is closed to us both."

He laughed, a very low, cautious laugh, but it made her eyes distend with uncertainty and dread.

"You fail to do justice to my forethought," said he.

"I took this into my calculations.

I know women; they can be wicked enough, but they lack coolness.

Let me see now what I can do.

I cannot sing, but I have a little _aide de camp_ which can."

Walking away from her, he approached a small table on which stood an object she had never seen in that room before.

It was covered with a cloth, and as he removed this cloth, she reeled with surprise; then she became still with hope and the rush of fresh and overpowering emotions.

A graphophone stood revealed, one of the finest quality.

It was set to play the air so often on her lips, and in another moment that keen, high note rang through the room,--that and no more.

It answered.

Slowly, softly, after one breathless moment, the door they both watched with fascinated gaze swung slowly ajar, just as they had seen it do at the beginning of this interview, and Johnson, coming forward, pulled it open with a jerk and began to fumble among the contents of the safe.

She could have killed him easily.

He had forgotten--but so had she, and there was no one else by to remind her.

Had there been, he would have seen a strange spectacle, for no sooner had Johnson's hand struck those shelves and minute drawers, than Grace Lee's whole attitude and expression changed.

From a terrified, incapable woman, she became again her old self, strong, self-controlled, watchful.

Creeping up behind him, she looked over his shoulders as he examined with his quick, experienced eye the various papers he drew out, noting his anger and growing disappointment as he found them unavailable for immediate use.

Conscious of her presence, his rage grew till it shot forth in words.

Not stinting oaths, he whirled on her after a moment and asked where the securities were.

"_You_ meant to have them; you know where the ready money is.

Show me, show me at once or----" Then a great anguish passed across her face, a look of farewell to hopes sweet and dearly cherished.

If he saw it he did not heed.

All his evil, indomitable will shone in the eye he turned up askance at her, and though she held the means of killing him in her hand, she bowed to that will, and leaning over him, she whispered in his ear: "It was not paper I meant to have, but--but something else--I----" She stopped, for breath was leaving her.

His slim, assured hand was straying toward a certain knob hidden partly from sight, but plain to the touch if his fingers crept that way.

"Listen!"

She was gasping now, but her hand laid on his shoulder emphasized her words.

"There are jewels at the other end; Mrs. Stoughton's bridal jewels.

They are worth thousands.

I--I--meant to take those.

They are in a compartment under that lower drawer.

Yes, yes--there they are; take them and be gone.

I--I have lost--but you will give me back my father?

See!

there are not many minutes left.

Oh, be merciful and----"