Children of the Whirlwind Part 38

"I have not."

"Did he tell you where he came from?--where he hangs out?"

"No."

Old Jimmie interrupted this cross-examination.

"You're wasting good time asking these questions. Barney, do you realize the cold fact that it's not a good thing for you, nor for us, for Larry Brainard to be back in New York, floating around as he pleases?"

"I should say not!" Barney saw he was facing a sudden crisis, and in the need for quick action he spoke without thought of Maggie. "We've got to look after him at once!"

"Tell the bunch he's back, and let them take care of him?" suggested Old Jimmie.

Barney considered rapidly. If Larry knew of his arrangement with the police, then perhaps his secret was beginning to leak through to others.

He decided that for the present it would be wiser to keep from these old friends and allies.

"Not the bunch--the police!" he said inspiredly. "They're after him, anyhow, and are sore. All we've got to do is slip them word--they'll do the rest!" And then with the sharper emphasis of an immediate plan: "We don't want to lose a minute. I know where Gavegan hangs out at this time of night. Come on!"

With a bare "Good-night" to Maggie the two men hurried forth on their pressing mission. Left to herself, Maggie sank into a chair and wildly considered the many elements of this new situation. Presently two thoughts emerged to dominance: Whether Larry was right or wrong, he had risked coming out of his safety for her sake--perhaps had risked all he had won for her sake. And now the police were to be set after him, with that Gavegan heading the pack.

Perhaps the further thinking Maggie did did not result in cool, mature wisdom--for her thoughts were the operations of a panicky mind. Somehow she had to get warning to Larry of this imminent police hunt! Without doubt Larry would return to Cedar Crest sometime that night. Word should be sent to him there. A letter was too uncertain in such a crisis.

Of course she had an invitation to go to Cedar Crest the following afternoon, and she might warn him then--but that might be too late.

She dared not telephone or telegraph--for that might somehow direct dangerous attention to the exact spot where Larry was hidden. Also she had an instinct, operating unconsciously long before she had any thought of what she was eventually to do, not to let Barney or Old Jimmie find out, or even guess, that she had warned Larry--not yet.

There seemed nothing that she herself could do. Then she thought of the d.u.c.h.ess. That was the way out! The d.u.c.h.ess would know some way in which to get Larry word.

Five minutes later, in her plainest suit and hat, Maggie in a taxicab was rolling down toward the d.u.c.h.ess's--from where, only a few months back, she had started forth upon her great career.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Old Jimmie did not like meeting the police any oftener than a meeting was forced upon him, and so he slipped away and allowed Barney Palmer to undertake alone the business of settling Larry. Barney found Gavegan exactly where he had counted: lingering over his late dinner in the cafe of a famous Broadway restaurant--a favorite with some of the detectives and higher officials of the Police Department--in which cafe, in happier days now deeply mourned, Gavegan had had all the exhilaration he wanted to drink at the standing invitation of the proprietor, and where even yet on occasion a bit of the old exhilaration was brought to Gavegan's table in a cup or served him in a room above to which he had had whispered instructions to retire. The proprietor had in the old days liked to stand well with the police; and though his bar was now devoted to legal drinks--or at least obliging Federal officers reported it to be--he still liked to stand well with the police.

Gavegan was at a table with a minor producer of musical shows, to whom Barney had been of occasional service in securing the predominant essential of such music--namely, shapely young women. Barney nodded to Gavegan, chatted for a few minutes with his musical-comedy friend, during which he gave Gavegan a signal, then crossed to the once-crowded bar, now sunk to isolation and the lowly estate of soft drinks, and ordered a ginger ale. Not until then did he notice Barlow, chief of the Detective Bureau, at a corner table. Barney gave no sign of recognition, and Barlow, after a casual glance at him, returned to his food.

Barney, in solitude at one end of the bar, slowly sipped with a sort of indignation against his kickless purchase. Presently Gavegan was beside him, having most convincing ill-luck in his attempts to light his cigar from a box of splintering safety matches which stood at that end of the bar.

"Well, what is it?" Gavegan whispered out of that corner of his mouth which was not occupied by his cigar. He did not look at Barney.

"Any clue to Larry Brainard yet?" Barney whispered also out of a corner of his mouth, gla.s.s at his lips. Like-wise he seemed not to notice the man beside him.

"Naw! Still out West somewhere. Them Chicago b.u.ms couldn't catch a crook if he walked along State Street with a sign-board on him!"

"Saw Larry Brainard to-night."

Gavegan had difficulty in maintaining his att.i.tude of non-awareness of his bar-mate.

"Where?"

"Right here in New York."

"What! Where'd you see him?"

"Coming out of the Grantham."

"When?"

"Fifteen minutes ago."

"Know where he went to?--where he hangs out?--know anything else?"

"That's everything. Thought I'd better slip it to you as quick as I could."

"This time that bird'll not get away!" growled Gavegan, still in a whisper. "Twenty-four hours and he'll be in the cooler!"

Finally Gavegan managed to get a flame from one of those irritatingly splintery Swedish matches made in j.a.pan. Cigar alight he walked over to Barlow's table. He conversed with his Chief a moment or two, then went out. After a minute Barney saw Chief Barlow crossing toward the bar.

Barney seemed not to notice this movement. Barlow likewise paused beside him to light a cigar; and from the side of the Chief's mouth there issued: "Room 613."

Barlow pa.s.sed on. Presently Barney finished the dreary drudgery of drink and sauntered out. Five minutes later, having exercised the proper caution, he was in Room 613, and the door was locked.

"What's this dope you just handed Gavegan about Larry Brainard?"

demanded Barlow.

Barney gave his information, again, but this time more fully. Of course he omitted all mention of Maggie and the enterprise which Larry had sought to interrupt; it was part of the tacit understanding between these two that Barlow should have no knowledge of Barney's professional doings, unless such knowledge should be forced upon him by events or people too strong to be ignored.

"Did Brainard drop any clue that might give us a lead as to where he's hiding out?"

Barney remembered something Larry had said half an hour before, which he had considered mere boasting. "He said he knew I had some game on, and he said he knew who the sucker was I was planning to trim."

"Did he say who the sucker was?"

"No."

"If Larry Brainard really did know, then who would he be having in mind?"

Barney hesitated; but he perceived that this was a question which had to be answered. "Young d.i.c.k Sherwood, of the swell Sherwood family--you know."

Barlow did not pursue the subject. According to his arrangement with Barney, the latter's private activities were none of his business.

"I'll get busy with the drag-net; we'll land Brainard this time," said Barlow. And then with a grim look at Barney: "But Larry Brainard's not what I got you up here to talk about, Palmer. I wanted to talk about two words to you--and say 'em to you right between your eyes."

"Go ahead, Chief."

"First, you ain't been worth a d.a.m.n to me for several months. You've given me no value received for me keeping my men off of you. You haven't turned up a single thing."

"Come, now, Chief--you're forgetting about Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt."