Adventure Tales 6. H. Bedford-Jones
worth your while. Honestly, old man! A lot of tiresome inquiries, that’s all. If there were any chance of danger, rest assured I’d want you right beside me.”
“I don’t see what you can do,” said Ashenhurst curiously.“You don’t know which way to look, do you?”\
“I’m going to look in a number of directions. I expect to talk with detectives, policemen, citizens, and heaven knows whom else. I’ll be a busy young man for a time. Also, I want to make some close inquiry about a theatrical family by the name of Jordan.”
“Lavender!” I cried reproachfully. “You’ve been holding out on us! You have found something!”
“Well,” he laughed, “just an indication—no more. It’s here in The Playbill, and it may not amount to a thing. You may read the notice for yourselves. On my honor, it’s all I have up my sleeve.”
He selected a paper from the top of the heap and tossed it over to me, then leaned across and placed a finger on a black-face “card,” halfway down a column of advertisements. Ashenhurst, greatly excited, bent over my shoulder and we read the notice together.
“Living Statuary,” ran the first line; and there followed a brief announcement that the “Famous Jordan Family” was now at liberty and was prepared to accept engagements in vaudeville or circus.
A premonitory thrill ran along my spine, and my old newspaper instinct whispered significantly. Intuitively, I felt that Lavender was on the right track.
“You see,” he chuckled, “there are four of them—Tom, Bert, Florence, and Lillian—all of them at liberty.”
“By heaven!” said Ashenhurst huskily, “I believe one of them’s at large!”
IV
The day that followed was a weary one for me; possibly. for Ashenhurst, also. He solved the difficulty, however, by reporting for work, after all, some hours late, whilst I moped in the bookshops and purchased nothing. At six o’clock I joined Ashenhurst, and we supped recklessly at a favorite restaurant where I had hoped we might encounter Lavender. That ingenious person failed to appear, however, and it was with small hope of catching him at home that I called his number on the telephone. To my delight he was in his rooms; had just entered, in fact, when I rang him.
“You are a clairvoyant, Gilly,” he said. “I was just wondering where I could catch you before you started for Ashenhurst’s. Where are you now?”
I told him, adding the information that Ashenhurst was with me.
“Good,” came the familiar voice, across the wires, “send him home at once. He is to stay there until one or the other of us joins him. You must not be seen with him at this time. Tell him not to leave his room in any circumstances, once he gets in it. You are to meet me as soon as dark has fallen, beside the fountain in the square. Understand?”
I understood perfectly, and said so. Ashenhurst was frankly alarmed.
“He must expect trouble tonight,” he said
“All I know is what he told me,” said I. “You follow instructions to the letter, Ash, or you may ball up the whole show.”
“Oh, I’ll behave,” he assured me, and he did, admirably.
Dusk was already settling over the city, and I calculated that if I took a street car I should reach the park at about the appointed time. But a wagon-load of cement very nearly ruined the program; it broke down in front of my car, and tied up traffic for an unconscionable period. When I had waited as long as I dared, I alighted and hailed a passing taxi, performing the rest of my journey in comfort. Even so, it was black dark when I entered Belden Square and hastened toward the central fountain.
Lavender, slightly impatient, awaited my coming.
“We can talk here in safety,” he remarked. “This is about the last place any of our victims will visit tonight. The fountain, I think, has served its purpose. Tonight its counterfeit will run for the last time.”
“Great Scott!” I exclaimed, amazed. “Is it all cleared up?”
“I know nearly everything I need to know,” said Lavender, “except the exact ‘why’ of it all. That I merely suspect. But the case ends tonight, I feel certain—happily, I hope, for Ashenhurst. But he has a dangerous part to play. He seems pretty husky.”
“He’s a whale of a boxer,” said I. “Do you mean that he’s likely to be assaulted?”
“Very likely, I should say. Here’s the situation in a nutshell, and you must carry instructions to Ashenhurst. Jordan is the man—Bert Jordan. I’m convinced of that. That is, he’s the fugitive statue! With the aid of a theatrical friend of mine, I ran down the ‘family’; and the fact is, Bert’s missing! I let it be known that I wanted to hire the whole outfit for a street carnival in Aurora, and said I wanted them all to leave town tonight. Couldn’t be done; they couldn’t locate Bert! Tomorrow night, maybe—they weren’t sure. I think they were sore at Bert, for they wanted the engagement; and I think they don’t know just what he’s up to. I said I’d see them again tomorrow.
“Well, Bert will run tonight, as usual, at midnight; that’s a certainty. That’s where Ashenhurst comes in. I’ll see him before he starts, but you must prepare him. The minute he sees Jordan coming, he is to leave the room, run downstairs after him, and follow him down the street. I think Jordan will give battle, and Ashenhurst must be prepared to defend himself. Jordan may be very ugly. Anyway, there’ll be a couple of plain-clothes men hidden away nearby, and at the proper moment they’ll nab Jordan. If possible, though, I want to know where he goes, for I think he turns in some place in the block, as you once suggested.”
“Where will you be all this time?” I pertinently asked, for by now it was obvious that Lavender’s role was to be cast elsewhere.
“I’ll be in Ashenhurst’s rooms, and so will you. You go to Ashenhurst now, with my instructions. Get into the house quietly; it may be watched. We’ve worked so quickly, though, that I think we have aroused no suspicion. I’ll follow you in a little while, and I, too, must get in without being seen. I could tell you all this later, I suppose; but it may be close to midnight before I can risk entering the house.”
“One question, Jimmie,” I said. “Why is Ashenhurst to run out while we stay behind in the room?”
“Well,” smiled Lavender grimly, “I want it to be supposed that when Ashenhurst runs out, his room is empty.”
“Oh!” I said, suddenly enlightened. “The principal—”
“Is the man I want. Exactly!”
“I see—I think I do! Then the statue—Jordan—was to attract attention?”
“Quite so, and to draw Ashenhurst from his room. That was the ultimate design. It might never have worked, or it might have worked wrong—as it did, by Jove!—but that was the plan. If it had failed, I suppose some other plan would have been worked out.”
“And what is in Ashenhurst’s room?”
“Hanged if I know,” said Lavender. “Whatever it is, somebody wants it pretty badly, don’t you think? And I know, at last, who Mr. Somebody is. I’ll introduce you to him in a little while. Now hurry along, and don’t be seen entering the house. And not a sound, after you have entered, from either of you!”
Well, the affair was getting warm! And something told me that we were all in for a lively evening.
I left the park in leisurely fashion, and plunged into the inky depths of Cambridge Court. Not a soul was in the block as far as could be seen. The trio of sickly street lamps, long distances apart, blinked sadly in the blackness. I passed the first one hastily; the next was in the center of the block opposite Ashenhurst’s room, but on the far side of the street. I approached cautiously, but without ostentatious secrecy, and quietly climbed the stairs of the objective dwelling. The door was unlocked, and I entered without ceremony,