Under Cover Part 45

"I never saw a more typical criminal," Michael said, severely looking at the captive; "every earmark of it. I could pick him out of a thousand.

Now, Denby, we want to hear all about it."

"He's crazy," Taylor shouted indignantly. "Don't you believe him. He's the crook. I'm an agent of the United States Customs and I came here to get Denby."

"That's a pretty poor bluff," Denby scoffed. "This porch climber was one of the two who held up Monty and Miss Rutledge in the grounds to-night."

"I said they'd break in!" Alice cried, and believed her statement. "And how fortunate Ethel moved her room. This man looks like the sort who wouldn't stop short of murder, Michael."

"The lowest human type!" Michael cried. "Look at his eyes and ears, and nose!"

"I tell you I came to arrest him!" Taylor cried, striving to keep his already ruffled temper.

"Arrest that charming man?" Mrs. Harrington cried with scorn. "Was there ever anything so utterly absurd!"

"Absurd!" he sneered. "You won't think so when you learn who I am. Ask that girl there; she knows; she'll tell you whether I'm absurd."

Instantly they all centred their gaze on Ethel. For a second she looked at him blankly. "I never saw the man before," she told them.

"You didn't, eh?" Taylor cried, after a pause of sheer astonishment, "I guess you'll remember me when I serve a warrant for your sister's arrest. It's in my pocket now with other papers that prove I'm working for the United States Government." He made a motion as though to get them but found Denby's gun close under his nose.

"No you don't," Denby warned him. "You've probably got a neat little automatic pistol there. I know your sort."

But when he seemed about to relieve the deputy-collector of his papers Taylor shouted a loud protest.

"Very well," Denby cried. "If you had rather Mr. Harrington did, it's all the same to me. Mr. Harrington," turning to his host, "will you please remove whatever doc.u.ments you find in his inner pocket, so that we may find out if what he says is true."

"Surely," Michael returned. "I like every man to have justice even if the electric chair yearns for him." Carefully he removed a bundle of papers neatly tied together. And one of them, as Ethel Cartwright saw, was the warrant made out for her sister's arrest. She wondered why Denby had invited inspection of them, but was not long to remain in doubt.

"Now," said Michael judicially, "we'll do the thing properly."

But before he had unfolded a single one of the papers, they were s.n.a.t.c.hed violently from his hand, and Denby, gun pointed at Taylor, was backing to the door. "Keep out of range, Harrington," the retreating man warned. He cast a swift look of triumph toward Ethel. "It's all right, Miss Cartwright," he called cheerfully. "Don't worry, it's all right now."

As the door closed, Taylor sprang from the chair with a curse. "Grab him, I tell you," he cried raging. "He's a crook. The Government wants him, and they'll hold you people responsible if he gets away." He blew his whistle loudly, and then rushed out of the door and down the hall taking the steps four at a time.

The French windows were open and out of them he ran, calling sharply for his men. But Gibbs and Duncan were even now fiercely searching the other wing and disturbing frightened servants above. It was not for some minutes that they made their way to their chief, and searched the grounds as he bade them.

And even here they were frustrated. Lambart's tactical genius had forbidden him to remove the clothes-lines he had laid to bring wandering tramps low, and among them Duncan and Gibbs floundered with dreadful profanity.

There were two other men aiding them now, Ford and Hammett, who were stationed outside the grounds to watch the only road by which Denby could escape. When Taylor was satisfied they were doing what they could, he came back into the big hall where the frightened group was awaiting him.

"We'll get your friend yet," he observed disagreeably to Mrs.

Harrington. "It's bright moonlight, and my men'll nab him."

"But he's not my friend," she objected; "I had no idea he was that kind of a person."

"When I find a man like that a guest in a house like this," Taylor retorted, "I think I'm justified in calling him your friend. You'll have time to think what to say later when you're called as a witness."

"I want to beg your pardon, Mr. Taylor," said Michael anxiously. The idea of being cross-examined and made a fool of by a bullying counsel horrified him. He'd be a jest forever more at Meadow Brook and Piping Rock. The Harringtons casually to pick up a smuggler and make him free of their exclusive home! Never had he needed a drink to steady his nerves as he did now!

"Well, I certainly think there is an apology due me," Taylor sneered. He was not one to forget an affront and Harrington had alluded to his criminal type in a way that rankled yet.

"But how could we know?" asked Mrs. Harrington; "he seemed perfectly all right, although I did say he might be a murderer."

"That'll come out in court," Taylor reminded her disagreeably. "If it hadn't been that my men were here to swear to me, I'd have spent the night in one of your little one-horse jails, and he'd have got away.

When I do get him he'll remember Daniel Taylor till the day he dies."

Monty, overhearing these direful threats from behind a door, and happy because of his friend's escape, walked boldly in.

"Did you get the burglar?" he demanded airily.

"There wasn't any burglar," Alice told him.

"It was your old friend Denby that caused all the trouble," Michael informed him, "the old friend you introduced into my house. I tell you, Monty--"

"Don't explain," Taylor commanded. "Now," he snapped to Monty, "have you seen Steven Denby in the last ten minutes?"

Monty found with glee that so far from being nervous he was enjoying the scene. He only regretted that his moustache was not long enough to permit him to curl it to a fierce and martial angle. He was glad that Nora had crept into the room and was watching him.

"Isn't he in bed?" he demanded, yawning.

"You know he isn't in bed," Taylor answered. "Maybe you're his pal--in on this job with him. Come here."

Monty wished to refuse, but Taylor had a compelling manner, so he advanced with an insolent slowness.

Alice Harrington flew to his defence. "That's too absurd!" she cried.

"We've known Mr. Vaughan since he was a child."

"Who is this person?" Monty demanded superciliously.

"Never mind who I am," Taylor said gruffly, and started to search him.

"Don't hurt him," Nora cried, rus.h.i.+ng to her fiance's side.

"It's all right, Nora," Monty said; submitting quietly. "He thinks he's doing his duty. When you're through with me," he said to Taylor, "I'll take you to my room. You'd probably like to go through that, too."

"Here, that'll be enough from you," Taylor said frowning. "You aren't smart enough to be Denby's pal. Clear out--get back to the nursery."

Nora cast a glance of vivid hatred at him, but Taylor turned his back on her.

"Do you want us any longer?" Michael asked.

"No," he was told. "You can go and leave me with this girl," pointing to Ethel, who had not said a word. "I want a little talk with her."

"Please keep her out of it," Michael asked him. "I'm sure she's absolutely innocent in the matter."

Taylor looked at him, exasperated. "See here," he cried, "you've put enough obstacles in my way to-night as it is! Do you want to put any more?"

"It's all right," Ethel Cartwright said quickly; "there's just some misunderstanding. Please go!"