He broke off. There was the sound of a knob upon the outer door, turning very softly, very slowly.
The undercover man shot out a guarding hand to the diamonds.
The outer door swung slowly open.
The white face of Louise Huntington appeared in the crack. Scuttle recognized her, and the hand that had been at his hip relaxed slightly. But the hand that had held the diamond necklace remained in place.
“Hello, dearie!” said roly-poly Sadie Crane.
The girl acknowledged the salutation with a nod.
“Well,” snapped Garland, “come in — if you’re coming in.”
“Are you alone?” asked Scuttle, suspiciously.
She nodded her head, came in, and kicked the door shut behind her. Then her right arm, coming slowly up, disclosed the glint of businesslike, blue steel.
“Those diamonds,” she said, “are stolen. Put up your hands!” Sheer surprise held the figures in that room motionless.
“Stolen!” exclaimed Scuttle.
The girl nodded down the barrel of the shaking gun.
“Don’t point that gun this way. You might let it go off,” said Scuttle, moving toward her.
“P-p-put up your hands!” said the girl. “I shall shoot!”
“Nonsense!” snapped Scuttle and took the gun from the quivering hand. “You fool! You might have killed somebody.”
The girl flung herself against his shoulder and began to sob.
“No, no. I couldn’t have. The gun wasn’t loaded!”
The undercover man snapped back the breech of the weapon, laughed, and tossed it on the table.
“She’s right. It wasn’t loaded.”
Stanley Garland regarded the valet with speculative eyes.
“You are brave, my friend. You advanced in the face of a threatening weapon in the hands of a hysterical woman.”
“Bosh!” disclaimed Scuttle. “I’ve had experience with ’em. She wouldn’t have shot, even if the gun had been loaded, but she might have jiggled her hand so bad the trigger got pulled. That was the danger.”
“Nevertheless, it was brave.”
Scuttle turned to the girl.
“Come on, Louise, kick through. What was the big idea?”
The girl sobbed, straightened, dried her eyes.
“Well, thank God, that’s over with,” she said.
Scuttle let his beady eyes bore into hers.
“Look here, you didn’t think that necklace was stolen at all. You had orders from Lester Leith, now, didn’t you?”
The girl hesitated, gulped, and nodded.
“Yes, I did. He told me to take this empty gun, come here and hold you up, on the pretext that the gems were stolen and that I thought you were all accomplices. Then I was to get the gems and go back into the printery... and then comes the funny part... I was to throw the stones out of the window and hide in the printery until Sergeant Ackley came.”
Scuttle stiffened with astonishment,
“Sergeant Ackley!”
“Yes, I was to telephone him just before I came in here, telling him what I was to do. But I wasn’t to tell anyone what I had done with the gems. I was to let them search me, and search the printery. I think Mr. Leith wanted Ackley to think the stones were hidden somewhere in the printery, and that I was a thief. I guess he wanted a search made.”
Scuttle sat down in a chair.
“I’ve seen that goof pull some fool schemes, but this is the worst of the lot. You telephoned Ackley?”
“Yes, of course.”
“He said he’d be here in fifteen minutes.”
Sadie Crane glanced at a huge watch that was strapped around her fat wrist.
“I gotta be goin’. I gotta catch that train.”
“You got a cab waiting?” asked Louise.
The fat woman nodded. “A special cab with a wide door, dearie.”
“I saw it outside,” said the girl in a toneless voice.
“What I don’t understand...” began Scuttle, and stopped as a cold circle of metal touched his neck.
He rolled his eyes backward, saw the snapping orbs of Stanley Garland, the thin lips, the shrewd features.
“You are a brave man,” said Garland, “and I do not take chances with you. Get them up, quickly! And this gun is loaded!”
The undercover man read the expression in those snapping eyes, and his hands shot up in the air, instantly, and without hesitation.
The exploring hands of Stanley Garland fished in Scuttle’s hip pockets, found the service revolver, the handcuffs.
“Ah!” he purred, “a trap, perhaps. You are a special officer, eh? Well, my special officer, we shall give you a taste of your own medicine. How would you like to feel the bite of your own handcuffs, eh?”
And the printer clicked the handcuffs on Scuttle’s wrists. Then he turned to the women — the beautiful social secretary, whose sobs had dried as though by magic, and the professional fat woman who regarded the whole proceeding with bubbling good nature.
“Stay where you are,” he said. “A move and you will be dead.”
And he scooped up the necklace which had been described as the most perfectly matched diamond necklace in the city, and darted through the door into the printery. He slammed that door shut, and there was the click of a bolt.
Scuttle regarded his handcuffed wrists in impotent fury.
“Well, of all things!” said Louise Huntington. “Now what do you think of that?”
Sadie Crane looked at her watch.
“I gotta make that train, an’ I got to have my shorts an’ my jacket. I promised him I would, an’ he’s been just like a brother to me! And now that sneaky-eyed cuss has gone and locked the door on my suitcase!”
Suddenly the roar of a revolver sounded from the printery. A call for help. That call was in the unmistakable voice of Lester Leith.
Then came the sounds of a struggle, of articles turning over with a crash. Type, piles of paper, chairs, tables, marble slabs, crashed to the floor. Then — silence.
“If you could just lean against that door right,” suggested Scuttle to the three-hundred-and-fifty-pound woman, “I have an idea I could kick the lock and—”.
He never finished. The bolt shot back and Lester Leith appeared on the threshold. His clothes were torn. His collar was ripped off. There was dust on his expensive evening suit. His hat was gone.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
Scuttle regarded him with black, accusing eyes.
“That’s what I want to know.”
Lester Leith slumped in a chair. For once his calm control of himself and the situation seemed to have slipped from his grasp.
“I thought Garland was guilty of those Demarest and other ambulance robberies. I got Louise to pretend those gems were stolen, thinking Garland might fall into my trap when he heard the police were coming. I felt I could hide in the printery, watch him as he escaped, and that he might direct me to the hiding place of the Demarest loot.
“It worked like a charm, but when I tried to arrest him, he fought with the skill of a professional. And he had an extra gun on him. I took one away. He had another.”
“Mine,” admitted Scuttle.
Lester Leith regarded him reproachfully.
“Scuttle, I’m surprised. You shouldn’t go around armed. That was where my plans went awry. He had that extra gun. I escaped being shot by a miracle — but, Sadie, you must get that train!”
She nodded.
“But my suitcase was locked up in the other room.”
“Get it,” said Lester Leith, “and get started! If you miss the train, my whole side show will be ruined.”
The fat woman waddled toward the printery door.
“Did you really telephone Ackley?” asked Scuttle of Louise Huntington.