The Doctor Who Held Hands

3.

3. I quickly realized that the situation implied something more serious than my personal humiliation. If Jacmer Touchon's suspicions had been actively aroused, he would certainly have me followed when I left his place. It would have been fatal to allow him to discover who I was. Grace and I were forced to travel all the way out to Indiana on one limited train, and back on another in order to shake off possible espionage.

I pass over the painful interview with my employer that took place on my return. With her customary kindness she made light of my failure.

"It was really my fault, Bella," she said. "I asked the impossible of you. There is one thing that cannot be camouflaged and that is common sense. Anybody who looked in your eyes could see you were no fool."

I took what comfort I could from that.

"Moreover, I underrated our friend the doctor," she went on drily. "I had forgotten his personal charms—until I was reminded yesterday."

"Where did you see him?" I eagerly asked.

"Oh, I picked him up out in the square," she said airily; "I was giving Giannino an airing."

Giannino is Mme. Storey's black ape, a little beast I have not much love for. He is one of her pet vanities. I must confess that the ugly little creature makes an extremely effective foil as he sits in the crook of her arm in his green jacket and cap trimmed with tiny golden bells.

"Picked him up!" I said, aghast.

"Giannino was only an excuse," she said—there was a touch of grimness in her humour; "the truth is, I went out especially to renew my acquaintance with the doctor. Like many another precious scoundrel he has his little softnesses. He comes into the square every day with a pocketful of crumbs to feed the birds."

"All pretense!" I said indignantly.

"Very likely!"

"What happened?" I asked eagerly.

"I was sitting on a bench," she said, "and Giannino was standing up, facing me, pulling on his chain and arguing with me. Along comes Dr. Touchon—very handsome man, eh, Bella?"

I shivered at the recollection of those good looks.

"He stood there smiling at Giannino and me," she went on, "and we smiled back—but Giannino's smile was hardly friendly. In fact, he showed his teeth at the doctor."

"His instinct was sound there," I said.

"'How human!' said the doctor. 'Oh, quite!' I said; 'he is trying to persuade me to unhook the chain so he can climb into the elm tree, and I won't do it because the last time he climbed a tree I had to hire a man to bring him down. He bit the man and I had to pay damages besides.' The doctor laughed heartily and persuaded me to give Giannino another chance. So I released him; he climbed into the tree and the doctor sat down beside me. He had recognized me by this time."

"What did you talk about?" I asked.

"We exchanged compliments," she said with her somewhat grim smile. "I told the doctor that his books on psychology still occupied the first place in my library and he told me how interested he had been in following my recent career by means of the newspapers. In short, we laid the foundation of a beautiful friendship."

"But how can you keep it up—under the circumstances?"

"I can keep it up as long as he can," she replied enigmatically. "He's coming here to call some day soon," she added.

"Good heavens!" I said agitatedly. "Suppose he identifies me as his caller of the other day?"

"I cannot see that it will make much difference if he does," said Mme. Storey with the utmost coolness. "Clever as he is, he must soon find out that we are after him, if he does not know it already. I am counting on it. If I read him aright it would exactly suit his sardonic humour to come here and make believe to be friends while he twitted us with subtle insolence. So be it. It would exactly suit my humour to have him here where I can watch him. He may prove to be a little too clever for his own good. Something tells me that we shall get him in the end through his overconfidence in his own powers. Meanwhile, it will be excellent comedy."

I looked at her in dismay. It will be terrible comedy, I thought. Mme. Storey's eyes were bright and her lips firm. I knew that look. She and Jacmer Touchon would be worthily matched; the contest between them would be like the play of finely tempered rapiers. But unfortunately I had not the spirit to appreciate it. I had to confess to myself that I belonged to a lower order of beings. I wondered how I should ever be able to live through such dangerous scenes.

Mme. Storey picks up her operators in the unlikeliest places. For her chief helper in this case she chose a young man whom I shall call Basil Thorne. He was one of the best known of our younger character actors, a delightful fellow, attractive, clever, and humorous. He jumped at Mme. Storey's offer partly because of the spice of adventure he saw in the affair, and partly because he was out of engagement. He had long been an admirer of my employer, devoted, hopeless, and whimsical. His reports now began to come in. I shall quote from the most significant of them.

In order to explain certain references in his reports, I should state that Gramercy Park, on which our offices faced, and also the luxurious apartment of Jacmer Touchon, is not a park in the usual sense of the word but only a small city square. It is the last of the private squares; that is to say, it is surrounded by an iron fence with locked gates. The people who live upon the park have keys, and none others are admitted. Our offices were on the south side and Dr. Touchon's place on the east.

Report Number 3

... My Scotty, McGillicuddy, gives me a good excuse to be seen walking around outside the railings at all hours. I have done miles to-day. McGillicuddy enjoys it. When we become tired I go inside the park and sit down, but always within sight of the entrance to the Westmoreland. J. T. comes into the park every afternoon and feeds the birds ostentatiously. He also tries to get the kids to gather around him so that he can tell them a story à la patriarch, but the little beggars know their onions. Won't go within fifty yards of him. I have scraped a passing acquaintance with J. T. I shan't attempt to carry it any further. My object was merely to get an opportunity to tell him I was an actor out of work, in order to account for my endless loafing around the park. But nobody ever seems to take a suspicion of happy-go-lucky me. My smile is my fortune. It never occurs to anybody that a man can smile and smile and be a detective still.

..........

Among the various people who enter and leave the Westmoreland, one can generally pick out J. T.'s patients from their style: rich, fat, and discontented. I have succeeded in identifying three of his patients, and will get the names of others from time to time. These three are all the wives of prominent men: Mrs. George J. Julian, Mrs. Joseph Marine, Mrs. Carter Treves.

BASIL.

Report Number 7

At last I am able to report a bit of real progress. Last night as I was watching J. T.'s windows from the pavement outside, the lights of his living room were switched off, switched on, and switched off again. I thought nothing of this at the time. It was just as if somebody had forgotten something in leaving the room, and had switched on the lights again. But to-night the same thing happened again at about the same time, and after the lights were off I noticed that one of the blinds of the room was drawn up. Only one, mark. So I got the notion that some kind of signalling was going on.

The sills of the windows were about four feet above my head as I stood on the sidewalk, and I could see nothing from there. Nor could I see anything from the park. This was about eleven o'clock, and there was no one in that part of the park. I climbed a tree to get sufficient elevation to see over the fence and into J. T.'s room. You can imagine my excitement when I saw the blink of a tiny light deep in J. T.'s room. It was so small it took me several minutes to pick it up, but you could see it plain once you knew it was there. Flashes long and short, evidently sending a message according to code. I don't know the Morse code, but they would scarcely risk that anyway. It was probably a code of their own.

It took me a long time to pick up the answering signal, but I got it at last. It came from a third-story window on the west side of the park. The whole business is very ingeniously contrived. Both signals must be sent from far back in the room, and so directed that they can only be seen in the windows for which they are intended. From the fact that the windows are on different levels, I figure that J. T. must send his while sitting on the floor, while his friend across the park sends back from a stepladder. To-morrow night I will take notebook and pencil, and try to put it down in dots and dashes. With your cleverness perhaps you can decode it.

I have marked the window from which the answering signals were sent, and to-morrow morning I will investigate what is behind it.

BASIL.

Report Number 8

The window with which J. T. was exchanging signals last night is in the third floor of one of the fine old dwellings on the west side of the park which have been converted into furnished apartments. In the letter box the name of the occupant of the third-floor front is given as Francis Fay. In making inquiries at the house I learned that the second-floor front was vacant and I promptly engaged it. I took it under my own name. The fact that I am somewhat well known will help me in my present work. From my windows I will scarcely be able to intercept messages from J. T.'s window, but if I have luck I shall make friends with Fay.

I have already passed him on the stairs. He is a small man in his early thirties, well set up and active. He has thin brown hair, and I suspect is bald on his pate. He has thin lips which suggest a hawk's beak, a long thin nose, and gray eyes that are both wary and piercing. A cagey lad! It is not going to be easy to make up to him. Even in our accidental meeting on the stairs he threw me a dirty look of suspicion. I shall not make any overtures in his direction until a real opportunity presents itself. He is very well dressed in a conservative style. He moves with energy and resolution. Has a sour expression. I hear him working the typewriter overhead. Apparently he sticks around the house most of the day.

BASIL.

Report Number 9

I sat in my tree last night. As well as I could I put down the messages that passed between the two windows in dots and dashes. I had to keep my eyes fastened on the flashes, and let the pencil travel where it would. The result is pretty wild looking. I hope you can make something of it.

This morning while I was in my new rooms I heard Fay go out. I could hear the maid at work in his rooms overhead, and I faked an excuse to go up and speak to her. Thus I got a look at Fay's rooms. There was nothing in them except the furnishings supplied by the landlord; no books, papers, photographs, or knickknacks visible that might furnish information about the tenant. There was a desk with a drop leaf standing innocently open and empty; however, I noticed that a new and efficient lock had been put on the drawers. One thing that caught my eye was a large copper fire extinguisher standing just inside the door. These articles are not supplied by the house and its presence suggests that Fay has something there that he guards carefully. The maid told me that Mr. Fay lived alone and had very little company. Two young men call on him sometimes in the evenings, she said. Always the same two.

At tea time this afternoon, while I was sitting in the park, I saw Fay come out of the house and hail a taxi. I had Pete in his taxi waiting on the north side in case of just such a contingency. Fay had to travel all around the park in order to get headed uptown, and I was ready for him when he started up Lexington Avenue. I gave Pete the word to follow. Fay had himself driven to the Madagascar Hotel and, dismissing his cab, went in. I found him in the long corridor at the rear where all the dates are made, talking with a woman. I could not approach them close or Fay would certainly have spotted me, so I can only give you what I was able to observe at a distance.

It was perfectly clear to me what was the nature of that interview; but unfortunately my observations would hardly be received as evidence in court. The woman was about fifty years old, very smartly dressed, fat, unhealthy looking, and peevish. She's the kind you see dancing in the night clubs until they turn black in the face. In short, the very type of J. T.'s patients. There's a certain something that distinguishes them all, but it's hard to describe; a suggestion of having a minor screw loose; of not being able quite to catch on; of not belonging. Fay's manner toward this lady was cold, courteous, and hard boiled, while she was flabby and agitated. They talked for some time. He gradually wore her down. Finally something passed from her to him that I am sure was a roll of bills, but I did not see it. This pretty well establishes Fay as the head of the blackmailing end.

When they parted I followed the lady home. I have established that she is Mrs. Elmer Sartain of No. — East Sixty-seventh Street. I'm afraid this won't be of much service to you, for you could certainly never get so terrified and weak willed a person to come into court and testify against Fay or J. T.

BASIL.

Report Number 12

I inclose some more of the messages which I took down as well as I could in the park last night.

After I came in I was sitting in my rooms listening to Fay moving about overhead and threshing my brains for some way of getting acquainted with him naturally, when suddenly I thought of that big fire extinguisher, and a fool stunt suggested itself to me. Fortunately it worked. Its very wildness was in its favour.

I set the portières in my apartment alight, and then went out in the hall and yelled "Fire!" I got plenty of action. Fay, who evidently has a dread of fire, came cascading down the stairs with his big extinguisher, and the other tenants appeared from everywhere. Fay had the fire out in a jiffy, and it was not necessary to put in an alarm. There's nothing like the excitement of a fire to establish a fellow feeling. After the other tenants had gone back to bed, Fay lingered on to smoke and chin. I all but fell on his neck in my gratitude, of course, and exerted all the charm for which I am famous (!!!). I think it took, but Lord! he's a ticklish customer; suffers from a complex of some kind that makes him think everybody is trying to get at him. I pose for just what I am, an actor out of work. Saves a lot of lying. Apparently he has a great respect for the stage and is flattered by the idea of having a more or less well-known actor for a friend. He has seen me in several of my parts and so he never dreams that I might be something else at the moment. We made a date to dine together to-night. All goes well.

BASIL.