The Marathon Mystery/Part 1/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V
Simmonds Snares a Bird
"WELL," said Godfrey, sinking back in his chair, “who are they, anyway?”
“Mr. an’ Mrs. Tremaine—that’s all I know. But they’re mighty nice people—he is, anyway—I don’t see much o’ her—’cept when she rings fer me t’ tell me they ain’t enough heat.”
“How long have they been here?”
“About three weeks—an’ he’s a gentleman. That there Thompson, now—I was leery about lettin’ him have th’ rooms in th’ first place—I didn’t like his looks. But he offered t’ pay in advance. I was goin’ t’ give him notice in th’ mornin’. Th’ agent won’t stand fer no sech goin’s-on.”
“Was he in the habit of getting drunk?”
“Oh, he’s been comfortable tanked ever since he’s been here—I could smell it on him—but never so bad as t’-night. We can’t have that here—our other people wouldn’t stand it.”
“Are all the apartments occupied?”
“No—y’ see, they’ve been remodellin’ th’ house, tearin’ it all apart, turnin’ it inside out. It used to be a hotel an’ a damn poor one. It wasn’t makin’ any money, so th’ guy that owns it thought he’d turn it int’ an apartment house. Th’ men that was a-workin’ on it got three soots done, an’ then around come a walkin’ delegate with a red nose an’ a big black moustache, an’ ordered ‘em out on a strike. Them three that’s done are all full, though. Thompson had one; Tremaine an’ his wife’s got another, an’ two young sports what ’re lettin’ on t’ study art’s got th’ third—away up at th’ top with a skylight.”
Godfrey smoked on placidly. He suspected that Higgins had something more to tell, and he saw that the only way to get it was to wait with what patience he could. He was in no hurry; besides, he wanted time to think. He had not yet recovered from that shock of realising how he had gone wandering after a will-o’-the-wisp of his own creation. He had fancied himself astute…
The door opened; he heard Higgins utter a sharp cry of amazement. He looked up to see Simmonds-and with him another man, short, heavy-set, with a dark moustache. He caught the gleam of steel at his wrists.
Higgins was on his feet, staring.
“So you recognize him, do you?” asked Simmonds, his face seining with triumph. “I thought I couldn’t be wrong. I got him quicker ’n I expected, Godfrey; I didn’t even have to hunt for him. Of course, you know him?”
“How do you do, Mr. Godfrey?” said the prisoner politely. “Oh, yes, Mr. Godfrey knows me—he knows me too well to think I’d be mixed up in anything like this!”
“How are you, Jimmy?” returned Godfrey. “No, I didn’t suppose”
“Of course not!” said Jimmy, with scorn. “I wouldn’t put a man out—that ain’t my line.” And, indeed, it wasn’t, for Jimmy the Dude had gained his reputation as an expert manipulator of combination locks.
The detective had listened with a satisfied smile.
“Higgins,” he said, “this is the fellow who brought Thompson home ain’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” responded the janitor inarticulately.
“This,” observed Jimmy, with fine indignation, “is what a man gets for doing a good action. I found that cove over at Magraw’s just spoilin’ for trouble, and I took him in tow and brought him home. Now you say I put him out! I’d better have kept my hands off!”
“We all know you’ve got a kind heart, Jimmy,” retorted Simmonds. “Did he have anything in his pockets besides that key?”
“What key?”
“The key to his room; of course you took that.”
“Of course I did!” said Jimmy, with deep irony. “Why, of course I did! You’ll find it on me.”
“Oh, no, we won’t,” returned Simmonds, still smiling. “I’ve a much better opinion of you than that, Jimmy.”
“Why, look here,” cried Jimmy, seemingly deeply exasperated, “what ’d I want t’ put him out for? Did he have any dough?”
“You probably know more about that than we do,” answered Simmonds, with meaning.
“You mean I went through him? Well, I didn’t! But if I did, what ’d I want t’ come back and kill him for?”
“Of course,” murmured Simmonds, gazing meditatively at the ceiling, “it’s quite impossible that he’d drop a word about the pile he had salted down in his room.”
“Oh, hell!” said Jimmy. “A bum like that! But come; let’s see how far you’ll go-of course you’ve got it figgered out! How did I work it? Mr. Higgins, here, saw me leave the building”
“No, he didn’t, Jimmy,” corrected Simmonds gently. “He only saw you start for the street door. But as soon as the elevator started, you took to the stairs.”
Jimmy threw up his hands with a fine gesture of despair.
“Oh, you’ve got it all fixed,” he cried. “You’ll railroad me to the chair, if you can. I suppose you’ve got somebody that’ll swear they saw me do it?”
“Yes,” agreed Simmonds quietly, “we have.”
Jimmy paused to look at him and turned a little pale when he saw he was in earnest. He began to realise that perhaps he was really in a tight place.
“Come, Mr. Simmonds,” he said, at last, “you don’t mean that!”
“You ought to know. I’ll have you identified to-morrow.”
“Identified?”
“Yes—by the woman who saw you kill Thompson.”
“A woman is it?” asked Jimmy helplessly. “Mebbe she’s already been so obligin’ as to give you my name?”
“No; but she gave us a description of you—a mighty good one. I spotted you as soon as I heard Higgins’s story.”
“So Mr. Higgins had a tale to tell, too, did he?” asked the cracksman, with a somewhat venomous glance at the janitor. “Was he also on the scene? Or mebbe he was lookin’ through the transom?”
“No cause to get funny, Jimmy. You won’t feel that way after I get through with you.”
“Oh, won’t I? We all know you’re a bright man, Mr. Simmonds!”
“Bright or not,” said Simmonds complacently, “I’ve got you. Your record’s against you, Jimmy.”
“That’s it—give a dog a bad name. See here, Mr. Godfrey, you don’t believe I’d be such a damned fool as to put a man out with a woman watchin’ me do it?”
“I don’t know what to think,” answered Godfrey slowly. “It doesn’t seem quite like you, Jimmy.”
“Like me! I should say not! And if I was crazy enough to do a thing like that, would I go back to Pete Magraw’s and hang around there, waitin’ for the police to come after me? If you think I’d do a thing like that, you’d better send me to Bellevue and be done with it!”
“I was expecting that argument, Jimmy,” said Simmonds, still smiling. “You’re a deep one!”
Jimmy threw up his hands again.
“Of course!” he cried. “You win; I lose! If I’d run away, it’d be a confession of guilt; if I stay, it’s because I’m a deep un! Oh, it’s lots of justice I’ll get! Well, go ahead. Go ahead and prove it! I’ll prove an alibi.”
“Oh, I know you’ve got that all fixed, Jimmy,” retorted Simmonds. “I expected that—I knew you’d think of that, right away. Who’ll swear to it? Magraw?”
Jimmy’s face was growing flushed; his temper was getting the better of him, which, perhaps, was just what Simmonds wanted.
“Magraw got a share of that last deal, didn’t he?” he continued imperturbably. “Naturally, he’s grateful. But you ought to have waited a little, Jimmy-you really ought. When was it you got, back?”
“Yesterday,” answered Jimmy sullenly. He evidently realised the danger of losing his temper and managed to control himself.
“And after an absence of two years! Come, Jimmy,” pursued Simmonds persuasively, “what did you do it for? Was it a plant?”
Jimmy relieved his feelings by some vigorous swearing.
“I didn’t do it, and you know it!” he shouted. “You know it! Only you’ve got t’ do somethin’—you’ve got t’ make a showin’ so’s th’ people ’ll think they’re gittin’ somethin’ fer their money when th’ papers puff you. I know th’ game! Oh, come,” and he stopped himself abruptly. “What’s th’ use? Are you goin’ t’ lock me up?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to,” said Simmonds regretfully.
“Then, for God’s sake, do it. When’s this identification-long-lost-orphan scene goin’ t’ take place?”
“To-morrow afternoon at two o’clock. Don’t you feel a little nervous about it, Jimmy?”
“Not a damn bit!” retorted Jimmy. “But say—you might tell me her name—I’d like t’ know who this posy is that says I did it while she was about it, I don’t see why she didn’t give you my address.”
“I don’t think she has the honour of your acquaintance, Jimmy. You see, she doesn’t move in just your circle. I warn you her word will count more with a jury than yours and Magraw’s together.”
“Well, who is she?” repeated Jimmy impatiently.
“She’s Miss Croydon—sister-in-law of Dickie Delroy.”
The prisoner’s mouth fell open, his colour changed…
“What!” he gasped. “What!”
Then his jaws snapped shut.
“Well,” inquired Simmonds, “what ’ve you got to say?”
“Nothin’,” answered Jimmy sullenly. “Not a damn word. Lock me up, if you’re goin’ to.”
“Simmonds laughed.
“All right; I thought I could take some of the ginger out of you.”
“Lock me up, will you?” repeated Jimmy fiercely. “Come, now; lock me up.”
Simmonds shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the door.
Godfrey, looking at the prisoner, noted his ruffled brow and troubled eyes. Plainly, Jimmy wanted an opportunity to arrange his thoughts—but what was there in the mere mention of Miss Croydon’s name that should so disturb him? What connection could there be between them?