“Goodbye,” she returned.
He stood for a moment in the doorway regarding her with mingled annoyance and admiration. As he caught the steps of the approaching servant in the hall, he said:
“Possibly I can save you some little trouble. You need not call at the Rangnow Apartments. Up to last night, Allan Morris had not notified Mr. Tobin as to his new hiding-place. However, if you feel that you must see him, you can call at my place at this hour on the day after tomorrow. I am not sure, of course, but it occurs to me that he will be there.”
XXIII
The Secret of the Portrait
The morning papers had all announced the fact that the detail of police would that day be withdrawn from the scene of the murder in Christie Place. With them it had been a mere matter-of-fact news item, but with the evening sheets it was different. They had had time to digest the matter, and their view of the order was one of surprise. Two or three allowed this feeling to expand itself into headlines of some size; a few also commented on the situation editorially.
Superintendent Weagle had been interviewed. He stated that he could not be expected to maintain a detail at 478 indefinitely; even with the police withdrawn from within, so he maintained, the place would be as effectually guarded as were other buildings. What more was required?
Ashton-Kirk read all this with some satisfaction in the late afternoon.
“They have given the thing even more publicity than I had hoped for,” he said, as he helped Pendleton in the details of a rough-looking costume which that worthy was donning. “It must be a bad day for news, and they have plenty of space. At any rate, anyone who is at all interested in the fact, is now aware that after this evening, 478 Christie Place will be unguarded, except for the regular patrolman. Of course,” with a glance at Pendleton and another in a mirror at himself, “if a brace of rough-looking characters are hidden away within, there will only be a few who know it.”
He opened a drawer and took out two black shining objects; the short barrels and blocky shapes told Pendleton that they were automatic revolvers.
“They will throw ten slugs as thick as your little finger while you’re winking your eye as many times,” said Ashton-Kirk.
They each slipped one of the squat, formidable weapons into a hip pocket; then they made their way out at the rear of the house. With the collars of their sack coats turned up and their long visored cloth caps pulled down, they hurried along among the dull-eyed throngs that bartered and quarreled and sought their own advantage.
And when, in the uncertain dusk, a wagon drew up at 478 and two sack-coated, cloth-capped men began carrying parcels up the stairs, is it any wonder that Berg, watching from the window of his delicatessen store, said to his clerk:
“Dot furrier that rents der rooms by der third floor is putting some more things in storage over the summer, yet.”
And when the wagon finally drove away, neglectfully leaving the two men behind, it is not surprising that the fancy grocer did not notice it. And, then, when the two policemen who had been on duty during the afternoon, came out, carelessly left the door unlocked, looked up to make sure that they had left none of the windows open, and then strode away with a satisfied air that follows a duty well done, who so keenly watched as to suspect?
The shadows on the second floor lengthened and grew grayer; they thickened in the corners; pieces of furniture grew vague and monstrous as the darkness began to cling to them and their outlines became lost; suits of armor loomed menacingly out of the gloom, the last rays of light striking palely upon helm or gorget; hideous gods of wood and stone smiled evilly at the two watchers.
“There was food in the bundles which we carried up, then,” commented Pendleton, as he lay back on the old claw-footed sofa.
“Yes,” answered his friend. “The person or persons whom we expect will hardly come tonight, though we, of course, don’t know; if they fail to appear we shall be forced to stick close to these rooms during the whole of tomorrow and also tomorrow night. Perhaps it will even be longer.”
“In that case,” said Pendleton, a little disconsolately, “the eatables will be very welcome. But I hope we won’t have to stay long enough to finish them.”
“Perhaps,” said Ashton-Kirk, “I’ve let you in for too hard a task in this, Pen?”
The other rose up instantly.
“You couldn’t give me too much to do in this matter,” declared he, earnestly. “I would do it alone if you were not here, and I had brains enough, Kirk. The thing must end. If it goes on much longer and I keep seeing those infernal insinuations in the papers, I’ll go completely off my chump.”
There was a little silence; then Ashton-Kirk said:
“I never knew that you were—ah—this way, old chap, until the other day. How long has it been going on?”
“Why, for years, I think,” answered Pendleton. “Being very distantly related, Edyth and I saw quite a deal of each other when she was a slip of a girl. And she was a stunner, Kirk, even then. Kid-like, I fancied I’d get it all over with when the proper time came; but somehow I never got around to it. She turned out to be a dickens of a strong character, you see; and she expected so much of life that I got the notion that perhaps I wasn’t just the right sort of fellow to realize her ideals.
“You know, old boy, there are times when a man thinks quite a bit of himself. This
