Joan of Arc of the North Woods Part 37

He was not inspired by politeness. He was putting himself in an att.i.tude of defense and was depending on the brawn of a man who had been a tough proposition when he swung his police club on a New York beat. He even moved a chair which might get underfoot in a rough-and-tumble. But his muscles relaxed when he looked at the man who entered.

Latisan was deprecatory, if his manners were revealing his feelings. He was apologetic in his mien before he spoke; he gave Mern the impression of a man whose spirit was broken and whose estimate of himself had gone far toward condemnation. And Mern read aright! The bitter dregs of days and nights of doleful meditation were in Latisan--the memory of aimless venturings into this or that corner where he could hide away, the latest memory of the stale little room in a cheap New York hotel persisting most vividly in his shamed thoughts because he had penned himself there day after day, trying to make up his mind to do this or that--and, especially at the nadir of what he felt was his utter degradation, had he dwelt on the plan of ending it all, and from time to time had turned on a gas jet and sniffed at the evil fumes, wondering of what sort would be death by that means. To think that he would descend to that depth of cowardice! Nevertheless, he was not especially surprised by this weakness, even while he hated himself for entertaining such a base resolve. One after the other, right and left, the blows in his business affairs had crashed down on him. He understood those attacks, and he was still able to fight on. But the enemy that had ambuscaded him behind the guise of the first honest love of his experience had killed faith and pride and every tender emotion that enables a man to fight the ordinary battles of life.

Therefore, he ventured into the presence of Mern with down-hunched shoulders under the sagging folds of a ready-made coat, bought from the pile in an up-country village.

"Well, what can I do for you, sir?" demanded Mern, relieved of apprehension, seeing his advantage and more coldly curt than usual in his dealings with men whom he could bully.

"I had this address," faltered Latisan; he pulled from his pocket a sheet of paper which had been crumpled into a ma.s.s and then folded back into its original creases. "I was thinking--I've been sort of planning--I thought I'd come around and ask you----" It was one of the things, this errand, for which he had been trying to summon resolution while he sat in the stuffy room, glancing up at the gas jet.

Mern jerked away the paper, noting that its letterhead was his own. It was his epistle to one "Miss Patsy Jones, Adonia," demanding from her information as to just what she was doing as an operative for the Vose-Mern agency.

"It's about Miss Jones. I thought I'd step in----"

"Well?" demanded Mern when Latisan paused.

"That's her real name, is it? I know how detectives----"

"It's her real name," stated Mern, of a mind to protect her until he was convinced that she did not deserve protection by him.

"She works for you?"

"She does."

"Could I see her for a few minutes--for a few words----"

"I don't think so," hedged the chief. "Just why do you want to see Miss Jones?"

"I've been thinking matters over. I did a terrible thing when I was sort of out of my mind. She had something to say to me and I didn't wait to hear it. Perhaps I have made a mistake. Now I'd like to talk with her and find out about something."

"Just what?" probed Mern.

"I can't say right now. It's between us two, Miss Jones and myself--at least I thought it was. I'm going to have a talk with her before I tell anything to anybody else." He declared that stubbornly.

"How do I know what your scheme is? You're probably holding a grudge against one of my operatives. I can't turn her over to you to be harmed."

Latisan straightened. "I shall not harm her by a word or a touch."

"I suppose you hold a grudge against this agency, don't you?"

"The Comas company--Craig, rather--hired you to do a thing, and it has been done. Craig is the one with a grudge; it's against me. I trigged him. I reckon he has a right to get even, as he looks at it, if his money can buy what you have to sell."

"We don't like to do some of the things that are put up to us, Latisan.

But I may as well be out and open with you. Craig paid us a lot of money when we broke the strike for him. We have to consider business. That's why we went ahead and got you, as we did. If you had been able to turn around and get us, I would not have held any hard feelings. It's all in the game." There was no especial sympathy in Mern's tone; he was treating a victim with a patronizing air.

"I'm afraid I'm not up to tricks enough to play that game," retorted Latisan. "We'll have to let it stand as it is. I'm sort of trying to clear up my mind about the whole matter, so as to put it behind me. I don't want to feel that there's any mistake about Miss Jones. That's why I'd like to see her once more."

He was showing nervous anxiety.

It came to Mern that here was offered an opportunity to go even farther with Latisan than the contract had demanded. Now that the man had been pulled off the drive, a little shrewd maneuvering would hold him in New York, away from the Flagg interests, until the Comas folks could have their way. No doubt Craig would consider that the extra service was an acceptable bonus, over and above what the agency had done.

"I'll tell you." Mern was affable. "Miss Jones is away on another case.

She is likely to report 'most any time. The best way for you is to drop in each day, say around three o'clock in the afternoon. I think she will be glad to explain anything you're now puzzled about. You still think, do you, you'd better not tell me?" The chief's curiosity, his desire to dig into the doings of his operatives, urged him to solicit Latisan again. "My advice----"

"I don't want it. I don't take any stock in a man who does the kind of work you're up to," declared Latisan, bluntly. "I don't take much stock in anybody, any more. I may be a fool for wanting to see that young lady again--but I'll call in to-morrow."

"About three!" Mern reminded him, having an object in setting that hour.

Latisan nodded and went away.

The chief called the Comas corporation offices and got Director Craig on the telephone. When Mern announced his ident.i.ty, Craig evidently supposed that it was a matter of a dun and broke in, chuckling: "I'll bring the check in to-morrow. I'd have done so, anyway, for I plan to start north right away. What's the matter, Mern? Grabbing for the coin because you are afraid the job isn't going to stay put?"

"That isn't the idea at all. I simply want to show you something which will prove that the money has been well earned. I'll show you Latisan."

"I don't care to meet that gentleman right now. Oh no!"

"I'll plant you where you won't be seen. You can view Exhibit A. I think I'll be able to promise that Latisan is going to stay here in New York.

That ought to make you feel safer when you go back north into the jungle. No tiger behind a tree!"

"Say, I'll hand you that check like daddy giving a stick of candy to the baby!" said Craig with hearty emphasis. "I'll own up that I have been killing time here in the city, waiting to get a line on Latisan--where he is. I have found that he's a lunatic when he's ugly--and there's no telling how far a grudge will drive a man in the big woods. So he's here in town?"

"Yes, and I'm rigging hopples to keep him here, I tell you. Come in at two forty-five. See the tame tiger!"

Then Mern called in Crowley, who was very ill at ease, but was obstinately and manifestly at bay. "Let's see. Didn't I understand you to say, Buck, that Miss Kennard had gone chasing Latisan?"

"That's the way I figured it."

"You're wrong. He's chasing her. That's why he came in here."

The chief had snarled, "You're wrong," in a peculiarly offensive tone.

Mr. Crowley, after his proclaimed success in the Latisan case, had come up a number of notches in self-esteem and was inclined to dispute an allegation that he was wrong in that matter or in anything else. He was provoked into disclosures by sudden resentment. "She stood out there in the public street and said she was in love with him and would marry him after the drive was down, and she grabbed up his cap and coat when he ran away, and if it ain't natural to suppose that she was going to chase him up and hand 'em over, then what?"

"Look here, Crowley, what kind of a yarn is this?"

"It's true."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"It didn't have anything to do with the case, as I was working it. It was a side issue!" Crowley raised his voice, insisting on his own prowess. "The idea was to get him off the job--and I did it. I claim----"

"You infernal, d.a.m.nation lunkhead, get out of my office till I calm down," raged the chief.

He yelped at Crowley when the operative was at the door: "Go hunt up Elsham and bring her here. It looks to me as if Kennard was foxier than the dame I sent, and has turned the trick in her own way."

"I ain't afraid of questions," declared the operative. "They'll only bring out that I'm right when I claim the credit."

He hastened to shut the door behind him. Mern acted as if he were looking for a missile.

"But where is she? Why in the blue blazes doesn't she report in?"