The Cab of the Sleeping Horse Part 26

CARPENTER

Harleston took a taxi to the Collingwood, arriving just as Ranleigh came up, and the two men went in together.

Whiteside was there; gagged and bound to the same chair that had held Crenshaw.

The rooms were in confusion. Everything had been gone through; clothes were scattered over the floor, papers were strewn about, drawers stood open.

They released Whiteside, and presently he was able to talk.

"When did it happen?" Ranleigh asked.

"About five o'clock this afternoon, sir," Whiteside replied, in a most apologetic tone. He knew there was no sympathy and no excuse for the detective who let his prisoner escape. "The bell rang. I went to the door--and was shot senseless by a chemical revolver. When I came to, I had exchanged places with the prisoner, and he and another man were just departing. 'My compliments to Mr. Harleston when he returns,' said Crenshaw, as he went out."

"Describe the other man!" said Ranleigh.

"Medium sized, slender, dark hair and eyes, good features, looked like a gentleman, wore a blue sack-suit, black silk tie, and stiff straw hat."

"It's Sparrow," Harleston remarked. "Did they take anything with them?"

"Nothing whatever that I saw, sir."

"You're excused until morning," said the Chief curtly.

The detective saluted and went out.

"I am exceedingly sorry I overlooked Whiteside when I escaped from Crenshaw's garrote in the Chateau," Harleston remarked. "The simple fact is, I clean forgot him until I was talking with you on the telephone."

"It's just as well, Mr. Harleston," Ranleigh replied. "It served him right. He will be fortunate if his want of precaution doesn't cost him his job."

"No, no!" Harleston objected. "Whiteside has been punished. I intercede for him. Let him continue in his job, please."

"Very good, sir," Ranleigh acquiesced. "But he'll be informed that he owes his retention entirely to you."

When Ranleigh departed, after hearing a detailed account of the evening's doings at the hotel, Harleston sat for a little while thinking; finally he drew over a pad and made a list of things that required explanation, or seemed to require explanation, at the present stage of the matter:

"(1) The translation of the cipher letter. This should explain Madeline Spencer's connection with the affair.

"(2) Did the following persons, incidents, or circ.u.mstances have any bearing on the affair.

"(a) The lone and handsome woman, who left the Collingwood at three that morning.

"(b) The note 'a l'aube du jour' (signed) 'M,' found in Crenshaw's pocket.

"(c) The telephone call of the Chartrand apartment at 12:52 A.M., by a man who said that he was 'here' and to meet him at 10 A.M.

"(d) The persons in the Chartrand apartment the previous night.

"(e) After 1 P.M. no one entered the Collingwood by the usual way, and no one telephoned; how, therefore, did anyone in the Collingwood know of the incident of the cab, and of my connection with it.

"(f) Who is Mrs. Winton of the Burlingame apartments?

"(g) Why was she in Peac.o.c.k Alley, wearing black and red roses, at five o'clock this afternoon?"

Harleston read over the list, folded it, and put it in his pocket-book; then he went to bed. There was plenty for him to seek, in regard to the affair of the cab of the sleeping horse, but nothing more for the Spencer gang to inspect in his apartment. Crenshaw had made a thorough job of his investigation.

In the morning he took out the list and went over it again. They all were dependent on the translation of the letter; if it did not show that the United States was concerned in the matter, the rest became merely of academic interest--and Harleston had little inclination and no time for things academic. The difficulty was, that until the key to the cipher was found nothing was academic which appeared to have any bearing on the affair.

So he sent for the manager of the Collingwood, and asked as to the Chartrands. The manager's information, which was definite if not extensive, was to the effect that the Chartrands were people of means from Denver, with excellent social position there, and with connections in Was.h.i.+ngton. They had been tenants of the Collingwood less than a week, having sublet the Dryand apartment. It was a large apartment. Mr.

Chartrand was possibly forty-five, his wife thirty-eight or forty and exceedingly good-looking. There was, of course, no record kept of their visitors, nor did the house know who they were entertaining the previous evening. He was entirely sure, however, that the Chartrands were above suspicion. Mrs. Chartrand was a blonde, pet.i.te and slender; Chartrand was tall and rather stout, with red hair, and a scar across his forehead. As for the tall, slender woman who left the Collingwood at three in the morning, he did not recognize her from the description; he would, however, investigate at once.

That it might be Madeline Spencer, now that her presence in Was.h.i.+ngton was declared, Harleston thought possible. "Slender, twenty-eight, walks as though the ground were hers," the telephone operator had said. He would get the photograph from Carpenter and let Miss Williams see it. If she recognized it as Spencer, much would be explained.

He stopped a moment at the Club, then went on to the State Department.

As he turned the corner near the Secretary's private elevator, the Secretary himself was on the point of embarking and he waited.

"You want to see me?" he asked.

"Just a moment, Mr. Secretary, since you're here," Harleston responded.

"I came particularly to see Carpenter. There has been a plenty doing in that matter, but nothing worthy of report to you--except one thing.

Madeline Spencer is in town."

"The devil she is!" exclaimed the Secretary.

"And as beautiful, as fascinating, as sinuous, and as young as ever."

"She must be a vision."

"She is--and an extraordinarily dangerous vision."

"Only to you impressible chaps!" the Secretary confided. "She is not dangerous to me, be she ever so beautiful, and fascinating, and sinuous, and young. When will you present me?"

"When do you suggest?" Harleston asked.

"Tomorrow, at four?"

"If I can get the lady, certainly."

"Later she'll get me, you think!" the Secretary laughed.

"If she is so minded she'll get you, I have not the least doubt,"

Harleston shrugged.

"Then here is where you have your doubt resolved into moons.h.i.+ne."

"Very well; it won't be the first time I've had the pleasure of seeing moons.h.i.+ne. I'll try to make the appointment for tomorrow at four."

"Self-opinionated old mountebank," Harleston thought, as he went down the corridor to Carpenter's office. "I shall enjoy watching Spencer make all kinds of an a.s.s of him. 'You impressible chaps!--not dangerous to me!' Oh, Lord, the patronizing b.u.mptiousness of the man!... Have you anything for me, Carpenter?" he asked, as he entered the latter's office.