the tremendous popular excitement that followed on the capture of lorina and her gang does not help on my story, so i will pass over it quickly. the haul we made in the modern cave of aladdin staggered the public imagination. much against mr. dunsany's advice the jewels were publicly exhibited in police headquarters for three days.
mr. dunsany and i were elevated into the position of newspaper heroes. he at least deserved it, but i doubt if he enjoyed his honours. i know i didn't enjoy what fell to me. i couldn't help but think if we had only been able to hush up this noise for twenty-four hours, maybe the grand boss of the outfit might have walked into our welcoming arms.
i will simply say that a thorough combing of lorina's house, and of her offices, revealed not the slightest bit of evidence leading to the man we sought. she was a wonder at covering her tracks. in the midst of all the popular praises i was discouraged. there was nothing as far as i could see to prevent the organiser of the gang from presently organising another. meanwhile i was in hourly expectation of receiving his compliments in the shape of a bullet.
i had one small hope left, and that was in blondy. the fact of his escape had been duly published, and i was praying that lorina, deprived now of any better instrument might be led to use him. i carefully stayed away from the boy, keeping in touch with him by letter and phone. i would not, of course, put him up to communicating with lorina. that would instantly have aroused her suspicions. any move must come from her. i append some of blondy's letters.
july 10th.
dear mr. enderby:
the house was pinched last night, as you know by this time. i had gone to the back room on the third floor by myself because i thought they were going to murder a man in the office, and i was sickened by it. i don't know if he got away or not. i suppose the whole story will be in the evening papers. anyhow i heard the three shots outside, which you told me would be the signal, so i beat it up the ladder to the scuttle. you told me if any one else tried to get out that way, i was to let them go on ahead of me and hide in the hall closet, but i was all alone. there was a deuce of a racket down-stairs. the servants in the front room were hollering, but they didn't come out. i got out on the roof and met the detectives coming over from the hotel. they grabbed me and threw a light in my face. seeing who it was they let me go. i was glad. i was afraid maybe you had forgotten to give them instructions. i went down to the street through the hotel, and chased home as quick as i could. according to your instructions i shall go on living here as usual until i hear from you.
yours respectfully,
ralph andrus.
for nearly a week nothing of any importance happened. then i received this:
july 16th.
dear mr. enderby:
i called you up this morning to tell you about the lawyer coming to the association rooms to see me. this afternoon i went down to his office as you told me i should. the fellow said he was one of the lawyers hired by mrs. mansfield to defend her, and she had given him my name to see if i would make a witness on her side at the trial. then he put me through a cross-examination that lasted a couple of hours. i was kind of flustered by it, because i didn't know how you would have wanted me to answer his questions. but you told me if i didn't know what to say to tell the truth. so i did. the only time i lied was when he asked me how i got out of the house that night. i said when i got out on the roof i saw the officers coming, and hid behind a chimney till they passed. it seems i didn't know enough about the gang one way or another to make any difference. the lawyer told me to keep my mouth shut if i wanted to stay out of trouble, gave me a couple of dollars and sent me home. i hope i handled this matter right.
yours respectfully,
r. a.
the lawyer blondy referred to was a junior partner in one of the best-known firms engaged in criminal cases. it had been announced that this firm had been retained by lorina. since the lawyer had approached the boy openly there could be no doubt but that he himself was acting in good faith. i could not but feel though that there was something behind this visit, because, of course, lorina knew that blondy could tell next to nothing about her affairs, and that little not to her credit.
i finally decided that she must have used the young lawyer as a kind of cat's-paw to discover blondy's situation and present disposition towards herself. if i was right there would no doubt be developments presently. i awaited the event in no little anxiety.
sure enough, three days later blondy called me up to tell me he had just received a long letter from lorina that i ought to read at once. i arranged to meet him in an hour at the office of the doctor who had first brought us together. he was instructed to make sure that he was not followed there.
lorina's letter enclosed a second letter. the enclosure was not sealed. the friendly tone of the first so different from lorina's attitude towards him out of jail, excited the boy's derision. it read:
dear blondy:
i am so glad you made your getaway. the lawyer told me about it. you certainly were lucky. he tells me you are broke. i have been worrying about this. he will take this letter out to post, but he doesn't know what i am going to say to you. that's between ourselves. i know i can count on you not to split on a pal. burn this as soon as you get the contents fixed in your mind.
i can't send you anything from here, because these devils have stripped me. they have even taken my keys, so i can't send and get into my safety deposit box for funds. but if you will help me, i'll be in a position to do something handsome for you. i have a duplicate set of keys that nobody knows about, and i want you to get them for me.
i enclose a letter to mrs. bradford who is the janitress of the house at no. — east fifty-ninth street. i kept a room there that i could go to when i wanted to be quiet. read the enclosed letter then seal it so she will think you don't know what's in it. do everything just as the letter says. don't forget that my name is mrs. watkins to this woman. you will find fifty dollars in my pocketbook there. give her thirty for the rent and ten for herself. you keep the other ten. get a receipt for the rent.
the keys are in the pocketbook. be very careful of them. in a few days a man will call you up and ask you if you have them. you ask him his name, and he will say thomas wilkinson. then he will tell you what to do, and you must obey him exactly. as soon as he gets the keys and can open my box he will send you five thousand dollars in bills, which will set you up in business or give you a good time, whichever you like.
if this turns out all right there will be a chance for you to make other good things out of the crowd.
i enclose the combination to the safe on a separate slip.
take care of yourself,
with love,
lorina.
p.s. you mustn't think from my letter to mrs. b. that i do not trust you. that's just to stall her off.
l.
the enclosure was a masterpiece.
dear mrs. bradford:
i have been taken real sick, threatened with nervous prostration they say. i have had to go to dr. ——'s sanatorium at amityville. don't know how long i'll be here. now mrs. bradford, i'm in a fix because i've lost my keys. i keep duplicates in my safe, and so i'm sending my nephew to you with this to get them. he has wavy, blond hair and blue eyes, and nice white teeth. he slurs his rs a little when he talks like a child. so he will call you mrs. b'adfo'd. these details will identify him to you.
please let him into my room with your pass-key, and remain with him while he is there. not but what he is a good boy, but boys will be boys you know. don't let him see this. i have given him the combination of my safe. inside is an old handbag with fifty dollars in it and a bunch of keys. he will give you thirty dollars of it for the rent, and ten for your trouble. nothing else in the safe must be touched. thanking you for your trouble,
yours sincerely,
(mrs.) elizabeth watkins.
p.s. i hope your rheumatism is better.
i made copies of the letters and the safe combination, and told blondy to go ahead and do exactly as he had been told. i suspected from lorina's care that the little safe would make interesting disclosures. however, i could get into it some other time. i was inclined to believe her story about the safety deposit box. like all first-class liars she wove truth into her lies when she could. i was hoping, while scarcely daring to hope, that in a matter of such vital importance she would not dare trust any one short of the "boss" himself. if he would only come after the keys!
next day i got the following letter from blondy.
dear mr. enderby:
i did everything just as the letter said. mrs. bradford was a suspicious kind of woman. she lived in a cellar kind of place below the street level. she asked me about a thousand questions before she would let me in. but i wasn't afraid of her. suspicious people are generally easy to fool.*
* pretty good observation for eighteen years old! b. e.
no. — east fifty-ninth street is an old building that is let out in stores and studios. mrs. mansfield's room was second floor rear. i couldn't look around much the old woman watched me so close. it was just an ordinary furnished room, nothing rich like the lexington avenue house. there was an alcove with a bed in it. the only thing funny was the number of trunks standing around. i counted seven of them. they had covers and cushions on them.
the safe was a little one. i opened it all right. there was nothing in the main part but a lot of papers and the little satchel. there was an inside locked compartment. after i locked the safe again the old woman made me destroy the combination before her eyes. i paid her the money, put the keys in my pocket, and she hustled me out. that's all.
yours respectfully,
r. a.
after this followed a period of strained anxiety for me. i could not stay near blondy, of course, and i was afraid the man we hoped to get might circumvent him in some way. maybe instead of telephoning him he would call on him in person. blondy was instructed of course in that event to hang on to him like grim death, but how could i expect a boy of his age to get the better of an astute crook?
however, this fear proved groundless. on thursday morning about eleven blondy called me up. i instantly knew by his breathlessness that something had happened.
"guy just called up," said blondy. "said: 'have you got the keys?' i came back: 'who are you?' 'thomas wilkinson.' 'o.k.,' said i. then he started in quick to give me my instructions."
"i must take the twelve noon train from the long island terminal for greenwood city. i get off at greenwood city and walk one block north to suffolk avenue which is the main street of the village. i turn to the right on suffolk which is to say turn east or away from new york, and keep straight on right out of town to the wide, empty stretch of land that they call ringstead plains. i have to walk about two miles out this road. half a mile beyond the last house there's a locust tree beside the road. he said i couldn't miss it because it was the only tree standing by itself as far as you could see. motor cars pass up and down the road frequently. but i must not accept a ride if it's offered to me. i must sit down under this tree as if i was tired and stay there ten minutes or so, until anybody who may have seen me stop there will have passed out of sight. then i am to leave the keys on the ground behind the tree and walk back to greenwood city, and take the first train for new york. if he gets the keys all right, he said he would send the money in a package by mail to-morrow."
i made notes of all this while the boy was speaking.
"is it all right?" he asked anxiously.
"fine!" i said.
"but the twelve o'clock train! it's quarter past eleven now. i wanted to put him off to give you more time, but you said do exactly what he said."
"quite right," i said. "run along and get your train. follow your instructions exactly and leave the rest to me."
