At last, convinced that Roke was actually on his way to the bank, Lence became active. Stepping across to the wastebasket, he stooped and fumbled among the torn letters. He found the one that Roke had received from the New Orleans book shop.
Roke had torn the letter in two pieces. Lence held the portions before the desk lights. He chuckled as he noted the thickness of the paper. Moistening thumb and forefinger, he began a peeling process. The thick paper came apart in two portions. Lence laid the rear sheets upon the desk.
Leaving the living room, he returned with a glass of water. Moistening a corner of his handkerchief, Lence dabbed the inner surfaces of the rear sheets. Writing appeared. It was in code.
Seating himself at the desk, Lence began to translate. The message was a brief one, addressed to himself. It read:
LENCE: COME AT ONCE TO NEW
ORLEANS. 421 DOLIER STREET.
INQUIRE FOR BRILLIARD.
FOLLOW HIS INSTRUCTIONS.
CYRO.
Laying the deciphered message beside the torn sections of the peeled letter, Lence drew a watch from his pocket and noted the time. It was half past eight. Lence made a mental calculation; a smile appeared upon his smooth face.
Rowden had spoken of a table drawer where railway schedules were kept. Lence noted the table in an alcove at the far corner of the room. He moved in that direction, found the drawer he wanted, and began to examine the schedules that he found. He chose three that included listings of through trains to New Orleans. He thrust them into his inside pocket.
Closing the drawer, Lence took a metal case from his pocket and extracted a cigarette. He was obtaining a light as he strolled from the alcove. As he puffed, he shook the flame to extinguish it. He looked up.
Lence’s fingers relaxed. The burnt match dropped to the floor. The smile left his lips as he stared toward the dark where he had left the message. Tracy Lence was staring into the mouth of a revolver. The gun was held by Roke Rowden.
The other crook had returned while Lence was in the alcove. The turn of his key had not been sufficient to attract Lence’s attention. Entering, Roke had noted Lence’s absence. He had seen the message on the desk; he had read the translation.
Gun in readiness, Roke Rowden was waiting to demand an explanation of this surreptitious correspondence. His suave countenance had hardened. Roke was prepared to hear facts from his partner, Tracy Lence.
CHAPTER II
ONE MAN DEPARTS
“WELL?” rasped Roke.
Lence made no reply. He framed a weak grin that brought a sneer to Rowden’s lips.
“Speak up!” ordered Roke, with a significant gesture of his revolver. “What’s the game you’re working?”
“Put up the rod,” suggested Lence, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll talk — on a friendly basis.”
“You’ll talk the way I want it. This looks like a double cross, Tracy. Stand where you are — and answer the questions that I put to you.”
“All right. Have it your own way.”
Eyes steady and gun leveled, Rowden made a gesture with his free hand. His thumb-nudge indicated the torn letter on the table.
“I’ve heard of this fellow, Cyro,” announced Rowden. “Supposed to be the slickest swindler in the business. Who is he?”
“I don’t know,” replied Lence.
“No?” snarled Rowden. “Well, I’ll take your word for it. They say that Cyro is so smart that even the stooges who work for him don’t know who he is. Is that right?”
“It is.”
“And you’re one of his outfit?”
“I am.”
Roke relaxed slightly and resumed his suavity. He did not lower the revolver, however. Lence still faced the threatening weapon.
“I thought Cyro was a big shot,” he snorted. “One who kept his stooges in the money. That doesn’t seem to apply in your case.”
“It doesn’t,” admitted Lence. “I fluked one job for him, Roke. That put me on probation.”
“Probation?”
“Certainly. That’s the way Cyro works. Ordered me to shift for myself for six months. Maybe he’d take me back after that.”
“He knew where you were?”
“Yes. With you.”
“How did you know this letter came from him?”
“I was watching for it. I’ve taken a look through the wastebasket every day I’ve been here.”
“So that’s why you’ve kept coming around so much, eh? Double-crossing me, on account of Cyro.”
“Don’t take that slant, Roke. I’m playing on the level, so far as you’re concerned.”
Roke considered. There was truth in Lence’s statement. The gun began to lower; then Roke changed his mind. He saw a loophole in his companion’s argument.
“WHEN we teamed up,” decided Roke, eyeing Lence narrowly, “we made a straight fifty-fifty agreement. I said that I’d work the front to begin with. You could be the blind. But the gag was fifty-fifty, wasn’t it?”
“Certainly.”
“All right. We trim Lucaster tonight. Then we tackle this Cyro business — fifty-fifty.”
“I can’t let you in on it, Roke.”
“Why not?”
“Cyro wouldn’t have it, that’s all. Be reasonable, Roke. Here’s a proposition for you: I’ll go through with this Lucaster deal; but I’ll only take five grand. All the rest will be yours. Our partnership will be ended.”
“That doesn’t suit me, Tracy.”
Lence considered.
“Take all of it, Roke,” he pleaded. “That’s fair enough, isn’t it? All yours and quits.”
“That doesn’t sound bad,” remarked Roke, with a touch of sarcasm in his tone. “Not bad at all. At least it wouldn’t, if it came from some other guy than you.
“But I haven’t forgotten a crack you made — just before I went out to the bank. You called twenty-five grand chicken feed. I was thinking that over while I was out. I thought it was just big talk, coming from a fellow who was on his uppers. Now I’ve got the answer.
“I guess twenty-five grand is small change to you. It would be, for a fellow that used to work with Cyro. I’d like to be in with his outfit myself. Do you hear that, Tracy?”
“I do. But it couldn’t be arranged.”
“Why not?”
“You wouldn’t make the grade.”
Rowden became tense. His face took on a vicious expression. For a moment, he was threatening with the revolver. Lence smiled.
“No offense, Roke,” he remarked. “I simply stated a fact. That was all. Cyro picks the men he wants. He is particular. To begin with, his associates have to be gentlemen—”
“Why you—”
“Gentlemen, I said. Men who can talk and act like gentlemen. Not posers who go in for pointed mustaches and swagger around with a cane. That may bluff retired business men from Iowa. It doesn’t go with the Four Hundred.
“That’s where Cyro finds the saps — among the upper crust. But he leaves the plucking to fellows like myself—”
Lence broke off. He was telling Rowden too much. Roke caught the reason for the interruption.
“Fellows like yourself, eh?” he quizzed. “And like Brilliard, the man mentioned in the note. So you don’t know who Cyro is. Well — who’s Brilliard?”
“I never met him, Roke. He’s probably someone working for Cyro.”
“Who have you met in Cyro’s outfit?”
LENCE made no response. Nonchalantly, he began to puff his cigarette. Each time he removed the cigarette from his lips, he kept his hand high and away from his body, out of respect to Rowden’s leveled gun.
“Gentlemen!” snapped Rowden. “You and the rest of them. I can’t make the grade, the way you look at it. Calling it quits. That’s your proposition.”