ambitious student of ballet is tempted to overstep his limits. He watches. He studies. He memorizes every step, every leap of his master, and then, almost invariably, falls flat on his face.' Phillip's voice was hardening. He sat in the armchair.
He pressed the cigar carefully and neatly bit the end looking across at Harry. 'I know every big hit you've made Harry.'
Harry was trapped by his absolute belief of the claim. The other voice continued. 'The Duluth and Milwaukee jobs, that Florida business, the three in Connecticut. You've studied me carefully, every hit, and I must say you're an exceptional student.' He laughed softly.
'They even had us confused for awhile, which I didn't consider too unflattering.'
Harry watched him and said nothing.
'A brilliant student, Harry.' Phillip hesitated, and then with conviction, 'Yes, and a foolish one. The Elsworth job. A rather high leap, wasn't it? And a pretty ugly fall.' Phillip paused, and then spoke warmly with a quiet incredulity.
'You didn't realize there was a floor-pressure alarm in that room?'
Harry looked at him directly. 'There was no way of knowing.'
'Then how did I know?' demanded Phillip.
'You're guessing,' Harry answered coldly and looked at the floor with a rebuked adolescent's expression.
Phillip cleared his throat. 'What do you know about a Specific Pyrostat?'
Harry answered him with a stare of hostility.
He repeated his question. 'What do you know about a Specific Pyrostat?'
No answer.
'Then obviously you're not too thorough.'
Harry was raging. 'Don't play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey with me, Mr. Fingers.'
'I'm not playing any game with you Harry. A Specific Pyrostat is a fire detecting device. If the temperature of any point in the house indicated a fire, a chemical that puts out the fire is aimed directly at that point, not sprayed about the room, mind you, but directly to the point.'
He watched Harry expectantly.
'All right, what the hell's the point?' Harry demanded impatiently.
Drawing a diagrammatic arc with his hand, Phillip explained, 'It can concentrate to as low as a one-foot radius. A rather specialized mechanism, wouldn't you say? With interesting fittings on the exteriors of the house, on the roof corners. Perhaps you noticed them?
'No? That's unfortunate, because it's almost a sociological law that anyone with a Specific Pyrostat in the house is fanatical enough to have a floor-pressure alarm as well. Elsworth, as you may or may not know, is a past president of the National Society of Electrical Engineers.'
Harry fixed his eyes on the chessman in his hand. 'A real nut.'
Phillip tapped his forefinger against his forehead. 'Exactly my boy, exactly. Obsessed with electrical devices, very fond of using them, very attached to his wife's pretties. An unbeatable combination, Harry.
One to be avoided by men of our calling.'
Finished with the body of his address, Phillip offered Harry a cigar, but the young man musingly shook his head. He seemed immeasurably withdrawn.
'I'm still curious,' interjected Phillip lighting his cigar, 'as to what you've done with all the property you've collected.'
Harry came back slowly to their conversation. 'That's pretty personal, don't you think?'
Phillip was superbly unperturbed. 'I thought that if you were looking to move something, Carol might be of help.' Harry remembered, with a shock, that Carol had been sitting quietly on the couch all the while they spoke, covetously observing them and sipping her drink. Phillip turned to her, as did Harry, unwillingly. He found her eyes fixed on his face.
'But I forget myself,' declared Phillip expansively. 'You've not been properly introduced. This is Miss Stoddard, my runner. All my stuff goes over to Carol. She deals directly with the legitimates.
Highest bidders and tiptop prices.' He paused and looked at her.
'Occasionally she knows just what at a certain time will bring an exceptional top price. For example, right now 16 matched two-carat blues, if you could find them, are worth $26,000.'
Harry was silently watching them as Phillip asked, 'You don't by any chance still happen to have the Meltzer-Arpel necklace tucked away somewhere, do you?'
Harry snorted a laugh and finally looked directly at Phillip. He got up from his chair, walked back to the chess set, opened his hand and dropped the knight into its proper place.
Phillip studied Harry's back. 'If you have the necklace, it probably would be the first time you ever managed to get the right price for anything you sold.'
Harry concentrated on Carol. 'What happens with you?' he asked.
'A flat fifteen percent. The usual brokerage fee,' she said.
'You can't beat Carol when it comes to driving a bargain,' Phillip interrupted.
Harry smiled at Phillip. 'I don't suppose you're telling me all this because you think I still have the Meltzer necklace?'
Phillip seemed genuinely congenial. 'I think an association between us would be a profitable one. You'll be needing some kind of legitimate income as long as you're on probation. I thought you might like to be my assistant. You could stand to cultivate your taste, and I need an assistant if I'm to continue indulging mine.' He made a modest Anonymous The Pleasure Thieves Page 24
gesture toward his paintings. 'My Flemish collection needs filling out, and there are a number of new things I'd like to acquire.'
Harry didn't answer, and Carol fidgeted nervously. She seemed annoyed at his indifference. Harry concentrated on Phillip. 'And if there's a bust, with my record, I suppose I'll be expected to take it?'
At first it seemed Phillip wouldn't bother to answer. Then he acknowledged the question. 'Harry my boy, there can't be a bust working my way.'
Harry looked at him closely. Carol was the one who started to break the conference. She mixed them a drink that was a silent pledge of acquiescence, and said casually, 'Where are you staying, Harry?'
'The Netherlands Plaza.' His smile was sheepish.
'Comfortable?' Comfort was next to Godliness in this bright new world.
'I think I will be.'
Harry rose to leave. Carol was getting her hat and gloves together.
'I'll drop you,' she offered.
'Thanks,' Harry responded, 'but I think I'll just wander about the city awhile.' She seemed rebuked, and he added, 'It's been a long time.'
'Of course,' Carol said.
'What about lunch tomorrow?' Phillip asked of Harry as they reached the outer foyer. 'Suppose I call you at the hotel tomorrow morning?' Harry turned suddenly to Phillip.
'You're pretty infallible, aren't you?'
'Interested, Mr. Hatch?' questioned Carol.
He glanced at her. 'Yes, interested. I'm especially interested to find out how he got in stir.' He spoke as though Phillip weren't smiling at his side. Carol glanced amusedly at Phillip. 'Well?' Harry insisted.
'Income tax,' she said archly. 'For having lots and lots of money, Mr. Hatch, all in tens, twenties and fifties.' She gave Harry a bittersweet smile. In answer, he held out his hand to Phillip and said,
'Lunch will be fine, Mr. Johns.' The door closed behind him, and he left Phillip and Carol standing quietly inside the foyer.
Alone, Carol turned to Phillip and said, 'What do you think?'
'I think he'll do magnificently. I think he'll be well worth my ten months in prison.'
'You should have told him who you were,' she complained poutingly.
'An oversight, my dear.' He cupped her delicately molded chin. 'I didn't want to clutter his handsome head with details.'
