The Million Dollar Mystery Part 15

"I must see Mr. Jones upon vitally important business."

"He has gone out," said Susan, and very sensibly closed the door before Felton's foot succeeded in getting inside.

It was time to act. He ran around to the rear. The ladder convinced him that Jones had tricked him. He was wild with rage. He was over the wall in an instant. Away down the back street his eye discovered his man in full flight. He gave chase. As he came to the first corner he was nearly knocked over by a man coming the other way.

"Who are you b.u.mping into?" growled Felton.

"Not so fast, Felton!"

"Who the devil are you?"

The stranger made a sign which Felton instantly recognized.

"Quick! What has happened?"

"Jones has the million and is making his getaway. See him hiking toward the water front?"

The two men began to run.

There followed a thrilling chase. Jones engaged a motorboat and it was speeding seaward when the two pursuers arrived. They were not laggard.

There was another boat and they made for it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JONES ENGAGED A MOTOR BOAT]

"A hundred if you overtake that boat," said Felton's strange companion.

Felton eyed him thoughtfully. There was something familiar about that voice.

Great plumes of water shot up into the air. It did not prove a short race by any means. It took half an hour for the pursuer to overhaul the pursued.

"Is that Jones?"

"Yes." Felton fired his revolver into the air in hopes of terrifying Jones' engineer; but there was five hundred dangling before that individual's eyes.

"Let them get a little nearer," shouted the butler.

The engineer let down the speed a notch. The other boat crept up within twenty yards. Jones sought a perfect range. He would have to find this spot again.

"Surrender!" yelled Felton.

In reply Jones raised the precious box and deliberately dropped it into the sea. Then he turned his automatic upon his pursuers and succeeded in setting their boat afire.

All this within the s.p.a.ce of an hour. During dinner that night (there was now a cook) Jones walked about the dining-table, rubbing his hands together from time to time.

"Jones," said Florence, "why do you rub your hands like that?"

"Was I rubbing my hands, Miss Florence?" he asked innocently.

CHAPTER VI

"Did you get the range?" asked the countess, when that night Braine recounted his adventure.

"Range!" he snarled. "My girl, haven't I just told you that I had to fight for my life? My boat was in flames. We had to swim for it till we were picked up by a Long Island barge tug. I don't know what became of the motorman. He must have headed straight for sh.o.r.e. And I'm glad he did. Otherwise he'd be howling for the price of another boat.

Olga, for the first time I've had to let one of the boys have a look at my face. Doesn't know the name; but one of these days he'll stumble across it, and the result will be blackmail, unless I push him off into the dark. It was accidental."

The countess leaned forward, her hands tightly clinched.

"But the box!"

Braine made a gesture of despair.

"Leo, are you using any drug these days?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "LEO, ARE YOU USING ANY DRUGS THESE DAYS?"]

"Don't make fun of me, Olga," impatiently. "Did you ever see me drink more than a pint of wine or smoke more than two cigars in an evening?

Poor fools! What! Let my brain go into the wastebasket for the sake of an hour or so of exhilaration? No, and never will I! I'm keen about the gray matter I've got, and by the Lord Harry, I'm going to keep it. There's only one dope fiend in the Hundred, and he's one of the best decoys we have; so we let him have his c.o.ke whenever he really needs it. But this man Felton has seen my face. Some day he'll see it again, ask questions, and then..."

"Then what?"

"A burial at sea," he laughed. The laughter died swiftly as it came.

"Threw it into eight hundred feet of water, on a bar where the sands are always s.h.i.+fting. He'll never find it, even if he took the range.

He could not have got a decent one. The sun was dropping and the shadows were long. He threw the chest into the water and then began pegging away at us, cool as you please, and fired our tank."

"It looks to me as if he had wasted his time."

"That depends. Between you and me and the gatepost, I've a sneaking idea that this man Jones, whom n.o.body has given any particular attention, is a deep, clever man. He may have been honestly attempting to find a new hiding place; the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the newspaper may have drawn him. He may have thrown the box over in pure rage at seeing himself checkmated. Again, the whole thing may have been worked up for our benefit, a blind. But if that's the case, Jones has us on the hip, for we can't tell. But we can do what in all probability he expects we'll cease to do--watch him just as shrewdly as before."

Olga caught his hand and drew him down beside her. "I wasn't going to bother you to-night, but it may mean something vital."

"What?" alertly.

For reply she rose and walked over to the light b.u.t.ton. She pressed it and the apartment became dark.

"Come over to the window, quick!" She dragged him across the room.

"Over the way, the house with the marble frontage."

A man emerged, lit a cigarette, and walked leisurely down the street.

"No!" she cried, as Braine turned to make for the door doubtless with the intention of finding out who the man was. "Every night after you leave he appears."

"Does he follow me?"

"No. And that's what bothered me at first. I believed he was watching some apartment above. But regularly when I turn out the lights he comes forth. So there's no doubt he watches you enter and takes note of your departure."

"But doesn't follow me. That's odd. What the devil is his idea?"