The Cab of the Sleeping Horse. John Reed Scott
appeared around the corner.
Like a flash, the latter's revolver shifted to him.
"Easy there!" said he.
Sparrow sprang up—then he laughed.
"Easy yourself!" said he. "Marston, let this gentleman see your hand."
Marston came slowly forward until he stood a little behind but sufficiently in view to enable the stranger to see that he himself was covered by an automatic.
"For heaven's sake, Crenshaw," said Sparrow, "don't let us get to shooting here! If you wing me, Marston will wing you, and we'll only stir up a mess for ourselves."
"Then hand over the letter," said Crenshaw
"Do you fancy we would be hunting it if we had it?"
"I don't fancy—produce the goods!"
"We haven't the goods," Marston shrugged. "We can't find it."
Sparrow shook his head curtly.
"It's the truth," Harleston interjected. "They haven't found the goods for the very good reason that the goods are not here. Plunge in and aid in the search; I wish you would; it will relieve me of your triple intrusion in one third less time. I'm becoming very tired of it all; it has lost its novelty. I prefer to sleep."
"I want the letter!" Crenshaw exclaimed.
"I assumed as much from the vigour of your quest," Harleston shrugged. "The difficulty is that I haven't the letter. Neither is it in my apartment. But you'll facilitate the search if you'll depress your respective cannon from the angle of each other's anatomy and get to work. As I remarked before, I'm anxious to compose myself for sleep. You can hold your little dispute later on the sidewalk, or in jail, or wherever is most convenient."
"Mr. Harleston," said Marston, "do you give us your word that the letter is not in your apartment?"
"You already have it," Harleston replied wearily.
"Then, sir, we'll take your word and withdraw."
"Thank you," said Harleston.
"He has it somewhere!" Crenshaw declared, fingering his revolver.
"My dear fellow," Marston returned, "we are willing to accept Mr. Harleston's averment."
"He knows where it is—he took it—let him tell where it is hidden."
"What good will that subserve? We can't get it tonight, and tomorrow will be too late."
"And all because of you two meddlers."
"Three meddlers, Crenshaw!" Marston laughed. "You must not forget your sweet self. We've bungled the affair, I admit. We can't improve it now by murdering each other—"
"We can make it very uncomfortable for the fourth meddler," Crenshaw threatened, eyeing the figure on the bed.
"Haven't you made me uncomfortable enough by this untimely intrusion?" Harleston muttered sleepily.
"What is your idea in not offering any opposition?" Crenshaw demanded. "Is it a plant?"
"It was courtesy at first, and the novelty of the experience; but it's ceased to be novel, and courtesy is a bit supererogatory. By the way, which of you came up the fire-escape?"
The three shook their heads.
"I'm not a burglar," Crenshaw snapped.
"The burden is on you to prove it, my friend!" Harleston smiled. "However, it's no matter. Just drop cards before you leave so that I can return your call. Once more, good-night!"
"I'm off," said Marston. "Come along, Crenshaw, you can't do anything more here, and we'll all forget and forgive and start fresh in the morning."
"Start?" cried Crenshaw? "what for—home? I tell you the letter is here—he took it, didn't he? He was at the cab."
"Will you also give your word that you didn't take a letter from the cab?" Crenshaw demanded, turning upon Harleston.
"I'll give you nothing since you've asked me in that manner," Harleston replied sharply; "unless you want this." His hand came from under the sheet, and Crenshaw was looking into a levelled 38. Harleston had a pair of them.
"Beat it, my man!" Harleston snapped. "None of you are of much success as burglars; you're not familiar with the trade. You're novices, rank novices. Also myself. I'll give you until I count five, Crenshaw, to make your adieux. One … two … No need for you two to hurry away—the time limit applies only to Mr. Crenshaw."
"It's quite time we were going, Mr. Harleston," Marston answered. "Good-night, sir—and pleasant dreams. Come on, Crenshaw."
"Three … four … "
Crenshaw made a gesture of final threat.
"Meddler!" he exclaimed. Then he followed the other two.
IV—Crenshaw
Harleston lay for a few minutes, brows drawn in thought; then he arose, crossed to the telephone, and took down the receiver.
"Good-morning, Miss Williams," he said. "Has it been a long night?"
"Pretty long, Mr. Harleston," the girl answered. "There hasn't been a thing doing for two hours."
"Haven't three gentlemen just left the building?"
"No one has passed in or out since you came in, Mr. Harleston."
"Then I must be mistaken."
"You certainly are. It's so lonely down here, Mr. Harleston, you can pick up chunks of it and carry off."
"Been asleep?"
"I don't think!" she laughed. "I'm not minded to lose my job. Suppose some peevish woman wanted a doctor and she couldn't raise me; do you think I'd last longer than the morning and the manager's arrival? Nay! Nay!"
"It's an unsympathetic world, isn't it, Miss Williams?"
"Only when you're down—otherwise it's not half bad. Say, maybe here's one of your men now; he's walking down. Shall I stop him?"
"No, no, let him go. When he's gone, tell me if he's slender, or stout, or has a moustache and imperial."
"Sure, I will."
Through the telephone Harleston could hear someone descend the stairs, cross the lobby, and the revolving doors swing around.
The next moment, the operator's voice came with a bit of laugh.
"Are you there, Mr. Harleston?"
"I'm here."
"Well, your man was a woman—and she was accidentally deliberately careful that I shouldn't see her face."
"H-u-m!" said Harleston. "Young or old?"
"She's got ripples enough on her gown to be sixty, and figure enough to be twenty."
"Slender?"
"Yes; a perfect peach!"
"How's her walk?"
"As if the ground was all hers."
"I see!" Harleston replied. "What would you, as a woman, make her age—being indifferent and strictly truthful?"
"Not over twenty-eight—probably less!" she laughed. "And I've a notion she's some to look at, Mr. Harleston."
"You mean she's a beauty?"
"Sure."
"Call me if she comes back; also if any of the men go out. They are strangers to the Collingwood so you will know them."
"Very