The Woman in the Alcove

  XX. MOONLIGHT--AND A CLUE

  "Are you satisfied? Have you got what you wanted?" asked Sweetwater,when they were well away from the shore and the voice they had heardcalling at intervals from the chasm they had left.

  "Yes. You're a good fellow. It could not have been better managed."Then, after a pause too prolonged and thoughtful to please Sweetwater,who was burning with curiosity if not with some deeper feeling: "Whatwas that light you burned? A match?"

  Sweetwater did not answer. He dared not. How speak of the electric torchhe as a detective carried in his pocket? That would be to give himselfaway. He therefore let this question slip by and put in one of his own.

  "Are you ready to go back now, sir? Are we all done here?" This withhis ear turned and his eye bent forward; for the adventure they hadinterrupted was not at an end, whether their part in it was or not.

  Mr. Grey hesitated, his glances following those of Sweetwater.

  "Let us wait," said he, in a tone which surprised Sweetwater. "If he ismeditating an escape, I must speak to him before he reaches the launch.At all hazards," he added after another moment's thought.

  "All right, sir--How do you propose--"

  His words were interrupted by a shrill whistle from the direction ofthe bank. Promptly, and as if awaiting this signal, the two men in therowboat before them dipped their oars and pulled for the shore, takingthe direction of the manufactory.

  Sweetwater said nothing, but held himself in readiness.

  Mr. Grey was equally silent, but the lines of his face seemed to deepenin the moonlight as the boat, gliding rapidly through the water, passedthem within a dozen boat-lengths and slipped into the opening under themanufactory building.

  "Now row!" he cried. "Make for the launch. We'll intercept them on theirreturn."

  Sweetwater, glowing with anticipation, bent to his work. The boatbeneath them gave a bound and in a few minutes they were far out on thewaters of the bay.

  "They're coming!" he whispered eagerly, as he saw Mr. Grey lookinganxiously back. "How much farther shall I go?"

  "Just within hailing distance of the launch," was Mr. Grey's reply.

  Sweetwater, gaging the distance with a glance, stopped at the properpoint and rested on his oars. But his thoughts did not rest. He realizedthat he was about to witness an interview whose importance he easilyrecognized. How much of it would he hear? What would be the upshot andwhat was his full duty in the case? He knew that this man Wellgood waswanted by the New York police, but he was possessed with no authority toarrest him, even if he had the power.

  "Something more than I bargained for," he inwardly commented. "But Iwanted excitement, and now I have got it. If only I can keep my headlevel, I may get something out of this, if not all I could wish."

  Meantime the second boat was very nearly on them. He could mark thethree figures and pick out Wellgood's head from among the rest. It hada resolute air; the face on which, to his evident discomfiture, themoon shone, wore a look which convinced the detective that this was nopatent-medicine manufacturer, nor even a caterer's assistant, but a manof nerve and resources, the same, indeed, whom he had encountered inMr. Fairbrother's house, with such disastrous, almost fatal, results tohimself.

  The discovery, though an unexpected one, did not lessen his sense of theextreme helplessness of his own position. He could witness, but he couldnot act; follow Mr. Grey's orders, but indulge in none of his own. Thedetective must continue to be lost in the valet, though it came hard andwoke a sense of shame in his ambitious breast.

  Meanwhile Wellgood had seen them and ordered his men to cease rowing.

  "Give way, there," he shouted. "We're for the launch and in a hurry."

  "There's some one here who wants to speak to you, Mr. Wellgood,"Sweetwater called out, as respectfully as he could. "Shall I mentionyour name?" he asked of Mr. Grey.

  "No, I will do that myself." And raising his voice, he accosted theother with these words: "I am the man, Percival Grey, of DarlingtonManor, England. I should like to say a word to you before you embark."

  A change, quick as lightning and almost as dangerous, passed over theface Sweetwater was watching with such painful anxiety; but as the otheradded nothing to his words and seemed to be merely waiting, he shruggedhis shoulders and muttered an order to his rowers to proceed.

  In another moment the sterns of the two small craft swung together, butin such a way that, by dint of a little skilful manipulation on the partof Wellgood's men, the latter's back was toward the moon.

  Mr. Grey leaned toward Wellgood, and his face fell into shadow also.

  "Bah!" thought the detective, "I should have managed that myself. But ifI can not see I shall at least hear."

  But he deceived himself in this. The two men spoke in such low whispersthat only their intensity was manifest. Not a word came to Sweetwater'sears.

  "Bah!" he thought again, "this is bad."

  But he had to swallow his disappointment, and more. For presently thetwo men, so different in culture, station and appearance, came, as itseemed, to an understanding, and Wellgood, taking his hand from hisbreast, fumbled in one of his pockets and drew out something which hehanded to Mr. Grey.

  This made Sweetwater start and peer with still greater anxiety at everymovement, when to his surprise both bent forward, each over his ownknee, doing something so mysterious he could get no clue to its naturetill they again stretched forth their hands to each other and he caughtthe gleam of paper and realized that they were exchanging memoranda ornotes.

  These must have been important, for each made an immediate endeavorto read his slip by turning it toward the moon's rays. That both weresatisfied was shown by their after movements. Wellgood put his slip intohis pocket, and without further word to Mr. Grey motioned his men to rowaway. They did so with a will, leaving a line of silver in their wake.Mr. Grey, on the contrary, gave no orders. He still held his slip andseemed to be dreaming. But his eye was on the shore, and he did not eventurn when sounds from the launch denoted that she was under way.

  Sweetwater; looking at this morsel of paper with greedy eyes, dipped hisoars and began pulling softly toward that portion of the beach wherea small and twinkling light defined the boat-house. He hoped Mr. Greywould speak, hoped that in some way, by some means, he might obtain aclue to his patron's thoughts. But the English gentleman sat likean image and did not move till a slight but sudden breeze, blowingin-shore, seized the paper in his hand and carried it away, pastSweetwater, who vainly sought to catch it as it went fluttering by, intothe water ahead, where it shone for a moment, then softly disappeared.

  Sweetwater uttered a cry, so did Mr. Grey.

  "Is it anything you wanted?" called out the former, leaning over the bowof the boat and making a dive at the paper with his oar.

  "Yes; but if it's gone, it's gone," returned the other with somefeeling. "Careless of me, very careless,--but I was thinking of--"

  He stopped; he was greatly agitated, but he did not encourage Sweetwaterin any further attempts to recover the lost memorandum. Indeed, suchan effort would have been fruitless; the paper was gone, and there wasnothing left for them but to continue their way. As they did so itwould have been hard to tell in which breast chagrin mounted higher.Sweetwater had lost a clue in a thousand, and Mr. Greywell, no one knewwhat he had lost. He said nothing and plainly showed by his changedmanner that he was in haste to land now and be done with this doubtfuladventure.

  When they reached the boat-house Mr. Grey left Sweetwater to pay for theboat and started at once for the hotel.

  The man in charge had the bow of the boat in hand, preparatory topulling it up on the boards. As Sweetwater turned toward him he caughtsight of the side of the boat, shining brightly in the moonlight. Hegave a start and, with a muttered ejaculation, darted forward and pickedoff a small piece of paper from the dripping keel. It separated in hishand and a part of it escaped him, but the rest he managed to keepby secreting it in his palm, where it still clung, wet and possiblyillegible, when
he came upon Mr. Grey again in the hotel office.

  "Here's your pay," said that gentleman, giving him a bill. "I am veryglad I met you. You have served me remarkably well."

  There was an anxiety in his face and a hurry in his movements whichstruck Sweetwater.

  "Does this mean that you are through with me?" asked Sweetwater. "Thatyou have no further call for my services?"

  "Quite so," said the gentleman. "I'm going to take the train to-night. Ifind that I still have time."

  Sweetwater began to look alive.

  Uttering hasty thanks, he rushed away to his own room and, turning onthe gas, peeled off the morsel of paper which had begun to dry on hishand. If it should prove to be the blank end! If the written part werethe one which had floated off! Such disappointments had fallen to hislot! He was not unused to them.

  But he was destined to better luck this time. The written end had indeeddisappeared, but there was one word left, which he had no sooner readthan he gave a low cry and prepared to leave for New York on the sametrain as Mr. Grey.

  The word was--diamond.