Leith said: “Good heavens, man, are you hurt? I’m so sorry. I was polishing that cane and—”
Deekin grabbed for the gun. “Say,” he said, “I’ve seen enough of you. Beat it!”
“But, my heavens!” Leith said. “It was an accident, purely and simply. Great heavens, man, what are you doing with that gun? I suppose Mainwaring makes you carry it, but—”
Deekin said: “Never mind all that talk. Just pass over that cane of mine.”
“Oh, yes,” Leith said, “a thousand pardons. I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you to your feet.”
“You keep your distance,” Deekin said, menacing him with the gun. “Give me that cane. Hold ‘em out so I can see both of them. Don’t try any funny stuff now. Give me that shorter one. O.K., that’s it. Pass it over, and don’t come close.”
“But I don’t understand,” Leith said. “After all, this was just an accident. Perhaps the blunder was on my part, but still—”
“Go on,” Deekin said. “Beat it. I’ve seen all of you I want to see. I crave to be alone. I don’t want to have anyone tagging around. Turn around and walk back the other way, and keep walking for ten minutes.”
“But I simply can’t understand,” Leith said, “why you should adopt this attitude. Man, you’re pointing that gun at me! You’re—”
“Beat it,” the chauffeur ordered.
Leith, apparently realizing all at once the menace of that gun, turned and took to his heels, the cane held under his arm.
Deekin took four or five quick steps, then paused to dust off his clothes, walked another fifteen or twenty feet, and then apprehensively twisted the head off the cane, and peered into the interior. The street light reflected in reassuring green scintillations from the interior, and Deekin, breathing easier, swung into a rapid walk.
Chapter VII
Beaver’s Deductions
Beaver, the undercover man, coughed significantly until he caught Sergeant Ackley’s eye, then motioned toward the door.
They held a conference in the car vestibule.
“There’s something fishy about this, sergeant,” the undercover man said.
“I’ll say there’s plenty fishy about it,” Sergeant Ackley said suspiciously. “I’m going to put that guy who let Leith give him the slip back to pounding pavements.”
“He couldn’t have helped it,” Beaver said, “but that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, sergeant.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Those two emeralds couldn’t have been in that suitcase.”
“What do you mean, they couldn’t have been?” Sergeant Ackley shouted. “Where else could they have been?”
“Right in Lester Leith’s pockets,” Beaver said.
“Bosh and nonsense,” Sergeant Ackley snapped. “If that’s all you have to offer in the way of suggestions, I’m—”
“Just a moment, sergeant,” Beaver said. “ You forget that Leith told the baggageman to look through the suitcase in order to familiarize himself with the contents. Now, if those emeralds had been in there, the baggageman certainly would have seen them, and then he wouldn’t have let the suitcase go for any fifty-dollar deposit. He’d have got in touch with the claim department and—”
Sergeant Ackley’s expression of dismay showed that he appreciated only too keenly the logic of the undercover man’s words.
“So you see what that means,” Beaver said. “If those gems weren’t in the suitcase, then Leith must have brought them; and if Leith brought them, he’d never have stuck them to the under side of that table and then got off the train.”
“Well, then the girl stuck them there,” Ackley said.
“No, she didn’t, sergeant. That girl is just a plant.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just a red herring to keep us occupied while Leith is actually getting the stones.”
“You’re crazy!” Sergeant Ackley said. “We have the stones.”
“No, we haven’t, sergeant. You left the chewing gum on them so they’d be evidence, but if you’ll pull that chewing gum off and wash those stones in gasoline, I’ll bet you’ll find they’re two of the imitation stones that I got for Leith. He fixed this whole thing so that we’d be carried away on the train ‘way past Beacon City while he was doubling back by an airplane to shake down the guy who has those stones.”
“Who?” Sergeant Ackley asked.
“The chauffeur,” Beaver said. “Can’t you see? The chauffeur was a thin guy. He had a board with some nails in it planted so he could puncture a tire on the car right where he wanted to. No one knows that the jack was broken. They only have his word for it. He said he was going out to get another jack. What he really did was climb in this stolen car which he’d planted before he went down to the dock to meet the boat. He slipped this rubberized suit of clothes over his others, drove into a service station, blew himself up, put on a mask, went over to the stalled automobile, stuck them up, killed the monkey, took the stones, drove back, parked the car, deflated the suit, put it in the suitcase, checked it up, salted the emeralds somewhere, and then came back to the car. To keep suspicion from centering on him, he said that he’d seen this fat man and gave the license number of the car. He—”
Sergeant Ackley groaned. “You’re right! But, by gosh, we’ll get a plane, we’ll telephone, we’ll—” His hand shot up to the emergency air cord.
A moment later, the long string of Pullmans, rocketing through the night, suddenly started screaming to an abrupt stop, with passengers thrown about in their berths like popcorn in a corn popper. Sergeant Ackley started forward. His right shoe went stickety-stick — stickety-stick. He looked down at the wad of chewing gum stuck to the sole of his shoe. Curses poured from his quivering lips. He pawed at the wad of moist chewing gum. The motion of the stopping train pitched him forward, threw him off balance. His hat was jerked from his head. With gum-covered fingers, he retrieved the hat, clamped it back on his head, and then, feeling a lump between his hair and the hatband, realized too late that he had pressed the wad of moist gum into his hair.
Chapter VIII
Beavers Big Moment
Sergeant Ackley, Beaver, and the two detectives burst into Leith’s apartment to find Lester Leith sprawled in a lounging robe, reading. He looked up with a frown as the men came charging through the door.
“Scuttle,” he said, “what the devil’s the meaning of this, and where have you been, Scuttle? I didn’t tell you you could have the evening off— Good evening, sergeant and... gentlemen.”
“Never mind all that stuff,” Sergeant Ackley yelled. “What the hell did you do with those emeralds?”
“Emeralds, sergeant?” Lester Leith asked. “Come, come, sergeant; let’s get at this logically and calmly. You’re all excited, sergeant. Sit down and tell me what you’re talking about. And is that gum in your hair, sergeant? Tut, tut, I’m afraid you’re getting careless.”
“Search him,” Sergeant Ackley yelled to the two detectives.
“Now, just a minute, sergeant,” Lester Leith said. “This is indeed an utterly useless procedure. I certainly don’t know what you’re looking for, but—”
“Search him!” Sergeant Ackley repeated, his voice rising with his rage. The detectives searched the unresisting Leith.
“Come, come, sergeant,” Leith said, when they had finished with their search. “I suppose you’ve made another one of your perfectly asinine blunders, but, after all, there’s no use getting so incensed about it. Do you know, sergeant, I’m commencing to get so I’m rather attached to you, and you’re going to burst a blood vessel if you don’t control your temper. Tut, tut, man, your face is all purple.”