“Who’s there?”
“Cady,” informed the arrival. “Let me in, Clink. I got something important!”
The hallway light showed a troubled scowl on the stoop-shouldered man’s face. There was a twitch to Cady’s features that accentuated a ratlike expression that seemed to be a permanent imprint. Cady showed increased anxiety as he waited for the door to open.
As soon as the barrier was released, Cady darted into the apartment, pushing back a tall, dark-faced man who had admitted him. This individual was attired in a garish dressing gown. He possessed a furrowed face, with eyes that blinked from beneath heavy, lowered brows.
“What’s the idea, Cady?” snarled the man in the dressing gown. “How come you’re barging in here like a wild man gone goofy?”
“Look at this!” exclaimed Cady, thrusting out the newspaper. “Read them headlines, Clink. About the Zouave!”
“Humph.” “Clink’s” eyes scanned the newspaper and read the news flash below the headline. “This doesn’t mean much. Rigger and his outfit just got busy with their gats, that’s all.”
“Yeah? Well, it says the mutiny was quelled, don’t it?”
“Yes. I guess it was tough, for Rigger.”
“Then he didn’t get Delka, after all.”
Clink thrust Cady into a chair; then tossed the newspaper on a couch. He strolled to the window and stared out toward the city. The fog had cleared since dawn; only a mild haze remained to dim more distant portions of the sky line.
“Rigger got Delka, all right,” decided Clink, slowly. “Jed Barthue wouldn’t have sent that radiogram if he hadn’t been sure about it. That crew aboard the Zouave wouldn’t have known who Delka was. Chances are, Rigger bumped him.”
“But suppose Delka got away?”
“Jed will have to watch his step. We can count on Jed to do that. But I’ll get in touch with the big shot about it. I think I know what we will do.”
“What’s that, Clink?”
“He’ll have me send a message to Jed. You’ll deliver it at the Goliath, Cady.”
“Right off, today?”
“Sure. After we’re sure that Jed’s in there. Flash the gag when you see him. He’ll give you the countersign.”
“And he’ll send back a reply?”
“Sure. I think so — ” A telephone bell began to ring. Clink answered the call; Cady listened while the big man talked in brief monosyllables. The conversation ended. Clink laughed as he hung up.
“No news to the big boy,” he informed Cady. “He reads the newspapers, too. What he just told me was what I guessed he would. I’ll write you out the message, Cady. It calls for a reply.”
CLINK seated himself at a writing desk and brought a small book from the drawer. He began to prepare a code message while Cady looked on. As he worked, Clink talked.
“It’s a sweet racket, Cady,” he declared; “the best I’ve ever been in. Too bad we’ve had to use mugs like Rigger Luxley. But we won’t need any more of them for a little while. When we do, I’ll get them.”
“Plenty of birds will work for Clink Huron,” agreed Cady. “The way you keep clear of the bulls is hot stuff.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Cady,” chuckled Clink. “You’ve done fairly well yourself. That’s why you’re in on this proposition. But you’ve got to use your bean. Don’t forget that.”
“I’m remembering it, Clink.”
Clink completed his message. He folded the paper, sealed it in an envelope and handed it to Cady.
“Mr. Jarvis Knight will be at the Hotel Goliath,” he informed, in his harsh tone. “It is likely that Knight will be Jed Barthue. A clever fellow — Barthue. A few of us over here in New York have heard a lot about him.”
“But this business on the Zouave,” broke in Cady. “Maybe it means that Delka—”
“It’s a chance,” interposed Clink, “that Delka got away from the Zouave. If he did, he’ll show up at the Hotel Goliath under the name of Jarvis Knight. That was his plan. Barthue slipped us the Goliath set-up from London. You found out that an Englishman reserved rooms there as Jarvis Knight.”
“Yeah — by cable. But suppose Delka does show up. Suppose he runs into Jed Barthue, passing as Jarvis Knight.”
“I told you Jed is clever. He’ll read what’s happened on the Zouave. He’ll be on the lookout for Delka. Probably he’ll stay under cover until he knows it’s O.K.”
“I get you, Clink. That’s why I’m to flash the button.”
“Right. If Jarvis Knight muffs it, he’s Delka. If he gets it, he’s Barthue. If it’s Barthue, you’re all set. If it’s Delka, lay off until we get some word from Barthue.”
A grin appeared upon Cady’s ratlike face. Clink showed a harsh smile as he ushered his visitor to the door. Crooks had gained their warning. They were prepared.
CHAPTER IX. MR. JARVIS KNIGHT
SHORTLY before noon, a taxicab stopped in front of the Hotel Goliath. A stockily built man alighted and entered the lobby. He had no luggage; the suit that he wore was poorly fitted and looked like a ready-made affair that might have come directly from a clothing store dummy.
Arriving at the desk, the new guest spoke quietly to the clerk. He announced himself as Jarvis Knight; and stated that he had reserved Suite 3612. The clerk glanced curiously at the guest’s attire, then noted that the man’s face was a keen one. Jarvis Knight had the look of an Englishman who had traveled.
“You came in on the Doranic?” inquired the clerk, as he pushed a registration card across the desk.
“Yes,” replied the arrival. “We were delayed a short time by the fog. We docked later than expected.”
“Indeed? Your luggage is here already, sir.”
“I was fortunate in having a prompt customs inspection. I did not leave the ship immediately. You know how it is: Friends met en voyage. ‘Goodbye, old chappie. See you on some other crossing’ — and things like that.”
Jarvis Knight delivered a quiet laugh as he spoke. He applied his signature; the clerk bowed pleasantly.
But he could not help observing that the guest appeared tired. He decided that the last night on the Doranic must have been a “large” one.
The stocky man stood stolidly in the elevator that took him to the thirty-sixth floor. The elevator operator glanced at him; he, too, observed the firmness of the new guest’s square-jawed face. He recognized the man as an Englishman.
The clerk had passed the key directly across the desk, since Jarvis Knight had no hand luggage that would require a bell boy’s services. Arriving at 3612, the square-jawed man unlocked the door and entered. He found himself in the outer room of his suite. Two wardrobe trunks were standing in the corner; beside them, a large suitcase.
There were key’s upon a writing desk. Captain Murgin had sent them up along with the luggage. The square-jawed man unlocked the suitcase; then did the same with both wardrobe trunks.
He picked out a suit and placed it on the bed. He pulled odds and ends from his coat pocket and laid them on the writing desk. A small wad of American bills, a few coins and some time-tables constituted all the contents of his pockets.
He detached a heavy wrist watch and put it with the articles on the writing desk. He started to take off the suit that he was wearing; then stopped suddenly as he heard the ring of the telephone that stood upon a table in a corner opposite the trunks.
“Hello…” The square-jawed man spoke briskly, as soon as he had lifted the receiver. “Yes… Yes, this is Mr. Knight… That’s correct. Jarvis Knight, of London.”
“My word!” The speaker laughed pleasantly. “I had no idea that I would hear from you so promptly…
Certainly, Mr. Marquette… Yes, come over immediately… An excellent idea. Come right to the room.”