Queen of the Flaming Diamond Part 7

He tossed a small envelope of paper at Jim's feet and was gone through the window as silently as a floating cloud.

Jim stood speechless for a second, then he went toward the window and looked down the long line shadow of the fire escape. There was no one in sight. A small dog darted along the edge of the alley far below. Or was it a dog? His bewildered mind told him the animal was more like a fox in its quick, sly movements.

Drake picked up the slip of paper in shaking fingers. He opened it and stared at the neat longhand message:

_We were very close to love, Jim Drake. Love is not good for a woman who has my obligations._

The outer door rattled noisily. Drake took a second quick look at the note and stuffed it into his pocket. Puffy Adams stormed in and stopped abruptly with a shocked look in his eyes.

"Been havin' a party?" he asked whimsically. "Looks like the guests came on a whirlwind."

Drake was silent. He started to rearrange the room mechanically. Duffy collected the clothing from the floor and replaced it in the closet.

The boss would talk when he got ready.

From the chair by the c.o.c.ktail table, Drake said suddenly, "What about Lardner? Did Mary know where he went?"

Puffy, his job completed, slumped across the bed.

"That guy Lardner is off on another trip." He started to slip his shoes off, thought better of it, and tied the laces again. "Mary says he gave the employees all a month's pay and said he'd be back in time to keep them in cash next month."

Through a cloud of pipe smoke, Drake was placing more pieces into the jigsaw of Sylvia Fanton's life.

"Any idea where he's going?" he asked.

Puffy shook his head.

"Not the slightest," he admitted. "Mary says her boss is tighter than a b.u.m's pocketbook when it comes to information."

Drake had enough pipe smoke. He put it away carefully and stood up.

"I see you didn't get the shoes off after all," he said a little slyly. "Going somewhere?"

Puffy arose, took a suitcase from the closet shelf and started tossing clothing into it.

"I think so," he said grimly. "If I'm half as good a stooge as I think I am, we'll be needing overcoats before we get back."

Drake was already waiting at the door when his companion lifted the heavy bag to his shoulder and prepared to follow.

"Got your long underwear?" he asked soothingly. "We're going to the airport first, but after that I've got a hunch we'll go diamond prospecting somewhere east of Hudson Bay."

Puffy s.h.i.+vered.

"Cinderella Drake hunts the silver slipper." His voice was doubtful, his eyes were twinkling. "If you find it up there, you'll freeze your foot trying the d.a.m.ned thing on."

The Munic.i.p.al Airport was deserted, save for a small group of men waiting just outside the main lobby. They were obviously the members of a dance band. Instruments were packed and waiting on the baggage truck outside as Drake and Puffy entered. Drake went straight to the ticket window. The man behind the ticket cage looked up with a smile as he approached. His eyes were tired and questioning.

"Yes, sir?" in quiet friendliness.

Drake tossed a roll of bills on the counter.

"We're thinking of taking the night plane to Winnipeg," he said indecisively. "Any empty berths?"

The clerk grinned.

"Fortunately for you," he said, "there aren't any priority pa.s.sengers tonight. The Winnipeg job has been full of flyers headed for the Canadian border for the past two weeks. Nothing of importance tonight.

Five berths available."

Drake looked around curiously.

"Have you a pa.s.senger named George Lardner?" he asked.

The clerk took down a small file and thumbed through it. He shook his head.

"No. Had you planned to meet him here?"

Drake smiled.

"We had a date," he admitted. "George Lardner is headed for the same destination. He'll no doubt catch a later plane and meet us in Winnipeg."

The clerk was penning figures rapidly across the ticket.

"You won't lack for entertainment," he laughed in a low voice. "That gang at the door call themselves Harry's Rhythm Rascals. Headed for a dance job up there."

"I'd rather have a quiet berth," Drake admitted. "Need sleep more than I need rhythm."

The clerk collected the two fares and said sleepily,

"Your plane will take off in twenty minutes, sir. May as well get aboard. The berths are made up."

"Thanks." Drake pocketed the tickets and motioned for Adams to follow.

As they pa.s.sed Harry's Rhythm Rascals, Drake watched one of the men turn slowly and follow him.

"That guy must be the tuba player," Puffy said quickly. "He sure looks as though he'd been pushed around."

The luggage was disposed of and in ten minutes Drake was lying quietly under the dome of the plane. A sudden throb of motors came from up ahead. With half closed eyes he wondered, if at the end of this mad journey, Sylvia Fanton might be waiting for him. George Lardner wouldn't be far away. Although the plane trip had started like a wild goose chase, at least he was headed in the general direction of trouble, and the grandest girl he had ever met. Turning restlessly on one side, he was aware that the b.u.mpy ground was no longer under the plane and the three great motors were purring smoothly as they drifted ahead through the starlit night.

"Jim!--Jim!" Drake opened one eye with effort, remembered that he was in a plane bound for Winnipeg, and sat up. Through the parted curtain he could see the dark earth underneath sprinkled occasionally with a handful of twinkling lights. Puffy Adams was leaning over the berth, his body clad in oversized pajamas, eyes wide with excitement.

"The orchestra!" Puffy was muttering. "They ain't! They're Lardner's gunmen! Lardner's on board!" He babbled on.

"Wait a minute!" Drake was wide awake now. He helped Adams into the berth, holding a warning finger over his lips. "Now," he said firmly, "one thing at a time."