The Mask Part 41

"Find where Keralio lives--then, perhaps, we'll find the lost diamonds."

CHAPTER XVIII

"This way," whispered d.i.c.k, as he darted swiftly from door to door, "keep close behind me, and stick to the wall, or he'll see you."

But Francois was so utterly f.a.gged after his long walk from the Elevated road, carrying his heavy suitcase, that he worried about nothing save his own discomfort. Unable to find a taxi, he had been compelled to tramp the entire distance, and the fatigue of it had made him peevish. He could have saved himself at least a mile if he had taken a more direct road, but Keralio's orders were explicit. He must always follow a circuitous route so as to throw possible pursuers off the scent. There was no disobeying the orders of the chief, so on he trudged, looking neither to right nor left, up one street, down another, now crossing an empty lot, now darting through a narrow alley, through the wastes and dreariness of Bronxville.

As he approached his journey's end, he accelerated his pace, going along so fast that it was as much as d.i.c.k and Steell could do to keep up with him. The night was dark and foggy, and at times they could not see him for the mist. But as he came within the glare of each lamp post, they could make out his lithe figure, scurrying along as if the devil himself were at his heels.

"Let's get up closer," gasped d.i.c.k, who was winded from the long chase.

"I guess their den is in this neighborhood. He'll slip in somewhere and we'll lose him if we keep so far away."

"No--he may see us," whispered Steell cautiously. "We can make him out all right."

They increased their pace a little. The valet was less than two blocks away, and once he actually stopped and looked around as if to see if he was followed. Quickly Steell and d.i.c.k darted under a doorway, and, seeing nothing to arouse his suspicion, Francois went on.

The lawyer was taking no chances to-night. It was too good a game to spoil. That they were on the right trail at last he was morally certain. Ray's experience had given him the first clue. After that it was easy. For two days d.i.c.k had shadowed the valet, and seen him changing crisp $10 bills in half a dozen different places. The lawyer could have had him arrested at once, but he was after bigger game. It was not enough to arrest Francois. He was only the tool. They must get the man higher up, the man who employed him. That man, the lawyer felt equally confident, was Keralio. He was the master counterfeiter.

The first step to take was to find out where the counterfeiting was done, where Keralio had his plant, and the only way to do this was to follow the valet to his master's secret den.

For several days they had shadowed the Frenchman constantly, until to-night they were rewarded by seeing him start with a suit case in the direction of the Bronx. They quickly gave chase, the lawyer confident of results. It was not part of his plan, however, to hurry matters or do things prematurely. To-night they would merely reconnoiter. They would content themselves by watching the premises, seeing who came and went, and trying to obtain a glimpse of the interior. If the evidence was incriminating enough to make a raid successful, it would always be time enough to call in the police. Keralio, he was also well convinced, had something to do with the missing diamonds, and possibly the present investigation would throw some light on the mystery surrounding Kenneth himself. He had made no mention of his suspicions to Helen, but he could not help feeling that in some way, yet to be discovered, his old comrade had become involved with a band of crooks.

How otherwise explain his acquaintance with Keralio, an utter stranger of dubious antecedents. How explain the loss of the diamonds? The explanation Kenneth had given was decidedly fishy. Parker did not believe a word of it--in fact, frankly expressed, his opinion was that his vice-president had disposed of the gems. Had he himself not seen Kenneth driving about the Bronx with Keralio at an impossible hour?

Had not Helen discovered Francois conversing on intimate terms with his master? It all looked decidedly bad; only time could unravel it all.

It was a fearful thing to suspect a man of Kenneth's standing, but everything pointed to his being involved in a vast network of crime.

He was aroused from his reflections by an exclamation of warning from his companion.

"Quick--there he goes!" whispered d.i.c.k.

The valet had suddenly made a sharp turn to the right, and was lost to view. But quick as he was, d.i.c.k was quicker. The young man was a little ahead of the lawyer, and, putting on a spurt of speed, he reached the corner just in time to see the Frenchman and suitcase disappear into a grimy, dilapidated looking tenement at the end of a blind alley.

"We've run the fox to earth," whispered Steell exultantly.

"Could any melodrama wish for a more appropriate _mise-en-scene_?"

grinned d.i.c.k.

"Come opposite, and find out what we can see from the outside."

Crossing the street they took up positions in the shadow of a doorway.

The house which the Frenchman had entered was all dark and apparently tenantless, except on the top floor where lights could be faintly seen behind hermetically sealed shutters. Straining his ears, Steell thought he could hear the steady hum of machinery in motion. With an exclamation of satisfaction, he turned to his companion:

"We've got 'em, d.i.c.k, we've got 'em. Do you hear the presses going?"

The young man listened. The sound was plainly audible, but it was a m.u.f.fled sound, as if the walls and windows were padded with mattresses to prevent any sounds of the operations within from reaching inquisitive, outside ears.

"Let's go upstairs," whispered Steell.

Recrossing the road, they entered the house and began to grope their way up the narrow, winding staircase. They could make only slow progress, not only because of the absence of light, but owing to the rotten condition of the stairs. Indescribably filthy and littered with all sorts of rubbish and broken gla.s.s, in some places the boards had broken through entirely, leaving gaping holes, which were so many dangerous pitfalls. Twice the lawyer came near breaking his neck.

At last they reached the top, both out of breath from the long and perilous climb.

"Hush--there it is!" whispered d.i.c.k pointing at the end of a narrow hall to a door from underneath which issued a faint glimmer of light.

Cautiously, noiselessly, treading on tiptoe, the lawyer and his companion crept along the pa.s.sage until they came to the door. They listened. There was not a sound. Even the hum of machinery which they had heard in the street, had ceased. Could the inmates have taken alarm?

All at once they heard people talking. Instantly, Steell recognized the voice of Keralio. He was questioning someone, no doubt the valet.

They listened.

"Well, did you carry out my orders?"

"_Oui_, monsieur, ze last of ze ten-dollar bills has been pa.s.sed. I have ze money here."

"I did not mean that," broke in Keralio impatiently. "I mean as regards the child----"

"_Oui_, monsieur. Didn't you receive my telegram. I brought the child from Philadelphia yesterday evening."

Steell, puzzled, turned to his companion.

"What child are they talking about?" he whispered.

"I have no idea. Some more mischief they're up to, I guess."

Again Keralio's voice was heard asking:

"Where is Handsome to-day? I told him to come. Why isn't he here?"

"He's drinking again, monsieur. When he's drunk you can't do anything with him. He's getting ugly about ze diamonds."

Steell nudged his fellow eavesdropper.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered. "He spoke of diamonds!"

Keralio was heard bursting into a peal of savage laughter.

"Getting ugly is he? What does he want?"

"He says you promised him half of ze proceeds when ze diamonds were sold, and that now you are trying to do him out of it---- He says he's sick of ze whole thing and will squeal to ze police unless you do ze right thing."

Straining every nerve to hear, Steell glued his ear to the door.

Keralio burst out fiercely:

"Squeal, will he, the dog? I'd like to know what will become of him when the final reckoning's paid. Will he tell the police that he was a drunken adventurer in the South African mining camps before his twin brother, Kenneth Traynor, arrived at Cape Town? Will he tell the police that he set the steamer afire, murdered his own brother, and, profiting by the extraordinary resemblance, returned to New York, pa.s.sing himself off as the man who went away. No, he won't tell all that, will he? But I will. Did you bring the money? Let me see it."

The talking suddenly ceased, and was followed by a deep silence.