He halted for a moment, and the girl nodded, squeezed his hand.
“Of course,” she said.
The calm faith of her tone heartened him, and he went on. His tale was more coherent now.
“I’m at Cremlin’s, you know, the jewelry house. They used me as messenger to take gems out for inspection. There was a Franklin T. Vane at the Westmoreland Hotel who wanted a diamond necklace. I took him two yesterday. Neither satisfied him. Today he telephoned and wanted the same two brought back for a second inspection.
“I took them. He had two men in his room. One was an expert appraiser. The appraiser examined the necklaces, advised against a purchase, and I had to take them both back.
“I’d swear they put the same necklaces back in the bag. I know they did. And then — well, then I did the thing that damns me. I didn’t go directly back to the store.
“There’s a girl. She wanted to see me about something awfully important — we were going to be married — and she’d telephoned. I though it’d be all right to run a little out of the way to see her.
“I wasn’t there over ten minutes, and only she and I were there. She didn’t even know what I had in the bag. But when I got back to the store — well, the genuine necklaces weren’t in the bag. There were two paste imitations, fairly good imitations, but not perfect.
“They telephoned for an officer, and they gave me two hours to restore the originals. I told them the whole story, but they wouldn’t believe it.
“Franklin Vane was awfully bitter. He said I looked nervous when I was in his room at the hotel. And, of course, the others back him up in his statements about returning the originals to me. There was Cohen, the expert appraiser, and there was Purdy, from the bank. The word of those men can’t be doubted.”
The young man gave a dry, choking sob.
“She won’t believe me. She won’t even see me again. And the officers are looking for me. I got in a panic, knocked down the chap who was guarding me and bolted through the back door.
“Think of my folks. My mother’s sick — I can’t go on with it. I’ve got to end it all. Kindness is wasted. Oh, why didn’t he let me go through with it. It’d have all been over by this time.”
The girl stroked his cold hand.
“This girl, how long had you known her?”
“A week, but it was — gee, it was love at first sight.”
Vera Thurmond nodded, then got to her feet with the easy grace of a trained dancer, walked to the inner door, flung it open.
“Come in,” she said to Sidney Zoom.
Sidney Zoom entered the room, the dog at his heels. The hawklike eyes fastened themselves upon the shamed face of the young man, then turned to the girl.
“Well?”
In short, simple words she formed crisp sentences that told him the story of the young man. During the recital, the visitor nodded from time to time, watched the expressionless face of Sidney Zoom anxiously.
When Vera had finished her recital, Sidney Zoom regarded the young man, “Your name?”
“Otto Shaffer.”
“What sort of a bag did you carry the diamonds in?”
“A black hand bag.”
“Locked?”
“No, but I held it in my hand all the time.”
“The girl’s name?”
“Lois Manly.”
“What does she do?”
“Works — I don’t know just where.”
“Vane? What do you know about him?”
“Nothing. He gave credit references at the store. He was just a customer.”
Sidney Zoom made a swift turn or two about the room, then his eyes caught those of his secretary, made a suggestive flicker toward an alcohol lamp upon which sat a teapot.
The girl sighed, set about brewing tea. Sidney Zoom walked the floor in purposeful concentration.
At length the tea was made. The girl set out three cups. As she poured the tea into the cup that was placed nearest the hand of Otto Shaffer, she gave a slight flickering motion of her left wrist. A small portion of white powder drifted unnoticed to the cup, was instantly dissolved in the tea.
They drank, talked for a few minutes. Then, as the eyes of the young man filmed under the influence of the drug, Sidney Zoom walked to a closet, flung it open.
Within the closet were numerous disguises, wigs, mustaches, spectacles, hats, coats, beards, grease paint, mirror, stains. In the hands of a novice they would have been ludicrous. But Sidney Zoom had been known as the Master of the Disguise when he had served the intelligence departments of three nations.
The young man tried to say something. His head nodded forward, then his eyes closed in surrender, and he slept.
“You gave him a strong dose?”
“Yes. He’ll sleep for twenty-four hours.”
“He’ll need to. This may prove a difficult case. I think I know what happened, but I can’t tell until I’ve looked up the girl.”
As he spoke his deft fingers fitted a small mustache to his upper lip. A stick of grease paint slid rapidly over his features, left little lines which suddenly blended into a composite whole. The man had apparently aged twenty years in as many seconds.
“You’ll be back, when?”
“Some time before morning. I’ll put that young man to bed.”
And he stooped, picked up the sleeping form, carried it with effortless ease to a bunk, covered it with a blanket, loosened the clothes.
“It seems horrible to drug them this way.”
Sidney Zoom snorted.
“Getting squeamish? Quit if you are. We’re snatching souls back from black despair. It takes rest. And we can’t soothe their nerves until we’ve relieved their troubles. We can’t do that by a wave of the hand.”
Her eyes were starry now as she regarded him.
“But you seem to do it by magic.”
“Well, it’s hard work.”
His tone was gruff, the eyes busy surveying a mirrored reflection of his face.
“It’s a wonderful work!”
He either did not notice the admiration in her tone, or else chose to disregard it. His hands busied themselves over a selection of garments, finally removed a rather shabby suit of brown worsted, shiny, baggy, frayed.
“We deal,” he said, “in lost souls, and our methods must be more or less irregular... I’ll be back by ten o’clock in the morning.”
IV
But it was noon before the deck planks thudded to the returning steps of Sidney Zoom.
The girl rushed to meet him. The dog flung himself wearily in the sunshine. Sidney Zoom’s skin showed some trace of graying fatigue, but his eyes were as bright as ever.
“You’ve found out something?”
The Master of the Disguise nodded. His voice was sharp, his words rapid.
“As I suspected. There were altogether too many witnesses to what happened in that room at the Westmoreland Hotel. It was too much of a coincidence that two men who were gem experts and of unimpeachable veracity should have seen those gems returned to the bag, the bag given to Shaffer.
“That would lead one to believe Franklin T. Vane knew of the impending robbery. So I started with Vane. I’ve traced his record, but it’s been a job. He’s really a fence from Chicago.
“And the girl, Lois Manly, was an accomplice, of course. Thus it’s not difficult to reconstruct what happened.
“The girl had the messenger in love with her. Vane had a credit at the jewelry store. He ordered gems for inspection. While he had them in his hands he observed sufficient details to enable copies to be made. And he had a copy of the black bag made up.
“Then he surrounded himself with reputable witnesses, telephoned for the same gems to be sent up again. And Lois Manly, relying on the young man’s love for her, gave him a pleading call for help. He must stop on the way back to the store.