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I had agreed to meet Esper Indiman at the Utinam and dine there. The weather had turned cold again, for it was the end of our changeable March, and the fireplace in the common room of the club was heaped high with hickory logs, a cheerful sight, were it not for that odious motto, "Non Possumus," graven over the mantel-shelf where it must inevitably meet every eye.
Now if you will kindly allow me to pass " "What do you want in my shop?" "I desire to purchase that hat," replied Indiman, and pointed to the atrocity in the window. "It is not for sale." "I am prepared to pay liberally for what strikes my fancy." He took out a roll of bills. "The hat is not for sale." "Madame," said Indiman, with the utmost suavity, "are you in business for your health?" "I am."
As we walked towards Chatham Square a stout man joined us, a man with one ear noticeably larger than the other. "Mr. Indiman " he began, deferentially. "What, you, Brownson?" "Yes, sir. I have an assignment on this job from the Central Office. I saw you coming out of L. Hernandez's just now. Smooth old bird, ain't it?" "You on this case?" said Indiman, stupefied. "Yes, sir.
John has survived the slow process of contamination, a single rock rising above the sordid tide. The coach stopped before one of the most pretentious of the old-time houses-now, alas! one of the dirtiest and most dilapidated. We were directed to the upper story, Indiman leading the way.
Not the slightest sound nor sign has been vouchsafed from the void. He who was Esper Indiman is gone, like a stone dropped into the gulf, and I have lost something that is not easily replaced a friend. But since it is his wish, there is nothing more to be said. He may return a message may come The gates of chance!
"I think not," replied Indiman, calmly. "I am sure that the last card is the knave of hearts." This was my cue. I stepped to the door and made an imperceptible signal to Brownson, who, with two other plain-clothes men, was lounging in a door-way across the street.
From down the street came the sound of a childish voice singing. Great Heavens! It was Verdi's aria "Celeste Aida," with F natural in the third bar instead of F sharp. "I am going out for a few minutes," I said, carelessly. "Just around the corner to get a special-delivery stamp. Of course you'll wait, Ellison," and I gave Indiman a quick glance. He understood.
"I have in my possession one of your copies of the 'Red Duchess. Tell me the truth." There was no audible response from the bloodless lips, but the dark eyes were full of ironic laughter. Then they closed again. "Richmond!" said Indiman, sharply. "Richmond!" I had been standing by the door, but now I came forward and joined Indiman. "Gone!" he said, briefly. "Gone, and taken his secret with him.
"Five dollars," said a voice at the rear, and a short, stout man, with little, black, beadlike eyes, held up his hand to identify his bid. "Joe Bardi," said a man to his neighbor. Both turned interestedly. "And who is Joe Bardi?" inquired Indiman, blandly. "Business of shipping sailors. There's big money in it, they say." "Ah, yes, a crimp isn't that what they call them?" "Right you are, mister.
He listened to my story with grave attention. "It promises well decidedly so," admitted Indiman. "Confound it! If it were not for this unlucky accident of a sprained ankle " and he glanced ruefully at his injured limb encased in its plaster-of-Paris form. "I like the name," I went on, somewhat irrelevantly. "The Lady Allegra." "There are possibilities in it," assented Indiman, grumpily.
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