Jim fired two shots. “By Jimmy, they’re running away,” he yelled. “We-e-e-e!”
“There are cars coming,” called. Clarice. “I can see three cars away down the cañon.”
“The police,” said Dick glumly. “Our of the frying pan, into the fire.”
I nodded. “This may be a deserted cañon but the battle going on here must have been heard for miles.”
The enemy, in fact, were retreating down the cañon. They clustered by their car. The procession of cars coming up halted below the parked car and men with rifles piled out.
I saw one of Maroni’s band approach the riflemen. I saw him gesticulating wildly to the leader who paused and talked with him.
“Well,” said Dick. “No sense in fighting the State of, California. It’s jail sentences instead of death.” He thrust his automatic in his pocket.
“They’re disarming Maroni’s men,” cried Clarice shrilly.
“Of course,” said Dick. “They had no authority to wage war. But it’s only a formality. Patterson will take care of them.”
Leaving three riflemen to guard the Maroni outfit deprived of its weapons, the remainder, eight or ten in number, came steadily up the grade and turned into the private road. Dick and I and Jim stood in the center of the living room looking at each other despondently.
“Dick, Tim,” screamed Clarice. “Upton Reynolds is with them. Look!”
We rushed in a body out upon, the porch, forgetting our prisoner. It was all right because nothing would have induced him to come out from under the bed.
The party halted forty feet from the porch and a big burly mustached man stepped forward.
“You are under arrest,” he shouted. “I’m the sheriff of this county. You are charged with abducting Jonathan Steele.”
“It’s a lie,” called Dick. “We have a man here who has been impersonating Jonathan Steele. Fetch him, Jim. Come up, gentlemen. We are law-abiding citizens. We’ve been besieged by gangsters. We have any citizen’s right to defend himself.”
The sheriff, accompanied by Upton Reynolds, who looked incongruous in a mob of rough, armed men, came forward.
“How are you, Upton, old top?” inquired Dick with his usual impudence.
Upton gravely shook hands with Clarice and Dick and me. “Let me introduce Colonel Edwards,” he said. “Colonel Edwards is superintendent of The Soldiers’ Home at Sawtelle.”
“Miss Barton,” exclaimed that gentleman, who was middle aged, mild looking and as uncomfortable in his surroundings as was Reynolds, “this is a most astonishing situation.”
“Here he is,” exclaimed Jim Bridgeman. He appeared, dragging the prisoner by one arm.
“By Jove,” exclaimed the Superintendent. “It’s Tommy Donnegan! Why, you old rascal!”
Tommy’s faded eyes widened, his legs began to shake but he clicked his heels together and made a military salute.
“How are you, Colonel Edwards?” he asked with a deprecating smirk.
There was a burst of laughter from the sheriff.
“Donnegan,” said Reynolds loudly, “do you confess that you have been impersonating Jonathan Steele?”
“I didn’t want to do it,” pleaded the old man. “Mr. Farrell was the one. He made me do it, sir.”
“I... I must sit down,” gasped Upton Reynolds. “Your arm, Cody. Lead me to a chair.”
I took him inside and he flopped upon a chair. He pulled out a big handkerchief and wiped his brow and then he looked up at me with twinkling eyes.
“I have imperiled my reputation, I perhaps my liberty,” he said, “by staking everything upon a crack-brained theory. I have been in a state of mortal terror since leaving Los Angeles, since last night when Rhoda phoned me your message. I didn’t really believe that it was Donnegan — and, if you had abducted Jonathan Steele, all of you would have got a long term of imprisonment.”
“If you’re responsible for the arrival of the sheriff and his posse, you saved all our lives, sir,” I told him.
“Of course I’m responsible,” he said testily. “I rose at seven this morning and motored down to the Soldiers’ Home. I persuaded Colonel Edwards, against his better judgment, to accompany me to Santa Barbara. If he hadn’t thought there was something queer about Donnegan’s departure from the Home, he wouldn’t have budged.
“I went to the Sheriff of Santa Barbara and told him — well, I made flights of the imagination sound like facts. What persuaded him to investigate was that no report of the abduction of Jonathan Steele had been made and when he phoned to Steele’s residence it was absolutely denied that Steele had been abducted. He collected deputies and we started for this place.”
“But what made you think we were in danger, sir?”
“It was obvious, if the ring around Jonathan hadn’t reported his kidnaping, it was because they hoped to recapture him. And it meant that it wasn’t Jonathan Steele but Donnegan you had carried off. Now it happens that the men employed as private detectives by Steele, in their off hours have incurred the enmity of the police of Santa Barbara. The sheriff of the county said he would be very glad to catch them taking the law into their own hands.
“Well, when we turned into this cañon we heard heavy firing going on — it seems that we were just in time. Did you find Stephen Steele?”
“No, sir. We had no time to search the place. We are sure that, if we have Jonathan unmasked, Patterson will have to have Steele released.”
“Well, well, I’ve never before risked my professional reputation on such a long shot,” he said. “Cody, there is a phase of this situation that probably has not occurred to you. Whether Stephen Steele is dead or not, we know he was alive a month ago.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Then, since it appears that Donnegan has been impersonating Jonathan for a year, Stephen inherited the entire Steele fortune.”
“That’s right.”
And you and Miss Robinson were willed all the goods of which he was possessed. It’s possible, Cody, that you own ten per cent of the Jonathan Steele holdings in motors and other corporations.” He gazed at me whimsically.
I almost fainted. Fifty million dollars would be ten per cent of that vast estate. Then I drew a deep breath. “I’d rather have Steve alive,” I told him. “And furthermore, he is alive. And I was robbed of half my five thousand dollars.”
In came the sheriff and Donnegan and Dick and Jim. Clarice came up and took my arm.”
“I got my man, Mr. Reynolds,” she said. “Though I practically proposed to him.”
“You did not,” I said indignantly. “I reached out and grabbed you.”
“Huh!” said Clarice Dick whooped with laughter.
“You’ve been right so far, Mr. Reynolds,” said the sheriff. “What’s the next move?”
“Since Donnegan accused John Farrell, Steele’s secretary, of having arranged this impersonation, the next move is to arrest him before he learns what happened at this place.”
“I’ll phone from the nearest place to have him nabbed and brought to the District Attorney’s office.”
Chapter XXIII
The Great Conspiracy
The District Attorney of Santa Barbara County sat behind his desk. There were present Dick Barton, Upton Reynolds and myself. Tommy Donnegan was under guard in an outer office. John Farrell was being given the works.
The secretary of Jonathan Steele was a heavy set man of forty-eight or fifty with black hair touched with gray. He had large well-shaped features, hard gray eyes and a solid jaw. He was pale but composed.
“You have heard the case against you,” said the District Attorney. “These gentlemen took the law into their hands. If they had failed in their enterprise they would be sitting where you are. I’m aware that you took orders from Roscoe Patterson of New York. I’ll do what I can for you at the trial if you come clean. You know the jig is up. We don’t actually need your testimony. The facts are damning enough. Use your own judgment.”