The whole absurd story reminded me of one of the melodramas that so fascinated me in my younger days. All I needed to complete the picture was a fair-haired heroine, her aged and honorable father and a mortgage on the family homestead. I laughed at the thought and cursed myself for a blooming idiot.
I turned my car into the driveway, left it there and dashed into the house, where I shed my dripping coat and hat. Now to return to my books. I stepped into the study and stood, for a moment, dum-founded.
The place had been ransacked. By the light of the dying coals in the grate I saw that my desk had been pried open, my papers and books were scattered about on the floor, and the doors of the cabinets on the wall were ajar. My eyes went quickly about the room. From beneath the Japanese screen at the left of the fireplace I saw a foot, a very small foot, and a slim, silk clad ankle.
With the blood pounding in my wrists and temples, I closed the door, locked it and dropped the key in my pocket. Then, feeling very much like a motion picture hero, I walked across the room and quietly folded the screen to one side.
A girl stood there, a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl, in a bright green evening dress, all covered with some sort of luminous spangles. She seemed paralyzed with fear, unable to command her quivering mouth or her nervous hands that twisted an absurdly small handkerchief.
“Well,” I said pleasantly, “I perceive that the characters in my melodrama are beginning to make their appearance. You, I presume, are the heroine.”
She stared at me from wide eyes, and her distress was evident. Natural, thought I, to be distressed when caught rummaging through a man’s house at midnight.
“On the other hand,” I continued airily, “you may be the villain. We shall see. Now, perhaps, you will be good enough to explain what you are doing here? Don’t be frightened. I would not have the heart to turn such a pretty burglar over to the police.”
The girl’s red lips formed three words:
“Let me go.”
“Why should I? You have broken into my house, searched my desk, surely you don’t expect to depart without even telling me what you are after. Come now, what is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can.”
There was an edge to my voice now. She retreated into the corner and stood there, and at the look in her eyes I resumed my bantering tone.
“What kind of an act is this? How can I save you from the scheming double-dyed monster who undoubtedly pursues you, unless I know the plot? Can’t you see that I am the hero? Give me a chance to do a little heroing.”
The girl smiled. She was relieved. She was glad to see that I did not take the situation too seriously.
“Once again.” I persisted, “would it be impertinent for me to ask what you are doing here?”
She laughed, a charmingly defiant laugh.
“You have something in your possession that does not belong to you. I came to get it. I am afraid that my visit was a — a little premature.”
“So?” said I. “That’s it. Well, well. The plot takes form. You are the agent of the pirates who seek the contents of the black capsule. Hum. I really believe this is going to be worth while.”
I sat down, picked up my pipe, filled it and struck a match.
“Pardon me for not asking you to have a seat.”
“I really prefer to stand.”
I studied my guest carefully through the smoke. What was this girl? I had not decided. She was either a crook with the finesse of a fine actress or a very fine young lady in a devilish situation of some kind.
Suddenly I dropped my bantering.
“Why didn’t they send a man?” I growled. “I would have been delighted to give him a good beating.”
“You look ferocious.”
“Indeed I am.”
She regarded me with a hint of a smile as I puffed on my pipe and racked my brain for a reasonable answer to the riddle. I had concluded that the girl was after the black capsule which reposed in my vest pocket, but it was difficult to connect her with such a story as Copeland had related. Frowzy bums. River front crooks. Dark deeds. Hidden treasure. She looked more like gay parties, dancing, sunlight, music — anything but a silly quest for a document with an unsavory past.
And why, I asked myself, had she been sent to my home? If Copeland’s enemies had trailed me, certainly they would have waited until I had a chance to hide the capsule.
“How did you know I had this thing you seek?” I demanded.
“You are known,” said the girl steadily. She had recovered her poise now. “You are known to have removed a certain person from a hospital. We, that is, I, concluded that he had passed it on to you.”
I fumbled in my pocket and withdrew the capsule.
“Is that what you are after?”
“Yes!” There was an eager light in her eyes. “Give it to me and let me go. Trust me. Believe me, when I tell you that this is none of your affair. Give me that capsule. Keep it and your life will be in danger!”
Danger! I considered carefully, watching the girl, partly in perplexity, partly in admiration and not without flashes of suspicion. Danger! The very word caught at my imagination. I was bored to death by garrulous and complaining old men, asthmatic and gabby women, and homely, squalling infants. Danger! I drew a quick breath. Give me danger and a girl in a green evening dress!
I dropped the capsule back into my pocket.
“I’ll keep it,” I said decisively. “At least I’ll keep it until I find out what this thing is all about.”
Eagerness turned to incredulity in the girl’s eyes.
“You fool!” she blazed at me. “You conceited idiot! Do you think this is a child’s game that you can say smugly, ‘I will keep it?’ You will keep it until it is taken from you. Then you will probably get a bullet for your meddling!”
I was on my feet now. Her open scorn had sent the blood to my head.
“Listen to me, young lady,” I snapped. “I can take care of myself. When you get back to your thieves’ hangout, tell the boss brigand that I have this document and I intend to keep it. Invite him to come and get it, if he has the courage. I may shoot the next thief I find in my house, even if she does happen to be wearing skirts!”
Pale and defiant, she stared at me.
“Don’t put on airs with me,” she said evenly. “I know you. Dr. Waring, for just what you are, a cocaine smuggling, drug-peddling disgrace to your profession. May I go now?”
“You may go when I get ready to let you go,” I retorted savagely. “Answer my questions. I am weary of this horseplay. Quit talking riddles to me and tell the truth if it is in you! Come now, who sent you to my house, and who told you that I am a drug peddler?”
“Do you really want to know?” she asked sweetly.
“Certainly!”
“Then try and find out.”
And before I could stop her, she whirled, dashed to a window, threw it open and stepped out into the rain. A swish of the green skirt and she was gone, leaving me open-mouthed before the fireplace. For a second I stood there, then I hurried to the door, flung it open and gazed out into the darkness, but I could see nothing, and there was no sound save the splatter of the rain.
I laughed grimly and returned to the library, I had ruined my own plot. The heroine had flown, leaving me with the black capsule, and by all the rules of pirate conduct it was for me to search her out, halve her enemies neatly with a broadsword and then collect the treasure or whatever it might be.
I stirred up the fire in the grate and sat down to examine the mysterious capsule. It had been sealed with wax at one time but it was open now and I easily extracted a small piece of greasy paper which I unfolded. It appeared to be a half of a letter. I held it up to the light and read: