The Romance of Elaine

  CHAPTER VI

  THE LOST TORPEDO

  From the rocks of a promontory that jutted out not far from the wharfwhere Wu Fang's body was found and Kennedy had disappeared, opened up abeautiful panorama of a bay on one side and the Sound on the other.

  It was a deserted bit of coast. But any one who had been standing nearthe promontory the next day might have seen a thin line as if thewater, sparkling in the sunlight, had been cut by a huge knife.Gradually a thin steel rod seemed to rise from the water itself, stillmoving ahead, though slowly now as it pushed its way above the surface.After it came a round cylinder of steel, studded with bolts. It was thehatch of a submarine and the rod was the periscope.

  As the submarine lay there at rest, the waves almost breaking over it,the hatch slowly opened and a hand appeared groping for a hold. Thenappeared a face with a tangle of curly black hair and keen forcefuleyes. After it the body of a man rose out of the hatch, a tall,slender, striking person. He reached down into the hold of the boat anddrew forth a life preserver.

  "All right," he called down in an accent slightly foreign, as hebuckled on the belt. "I shall communicate with you as soon as I havesomething to report."

  Then he deliberately plunged overboard and struck out for the shore.Hand over hand, he churned his way through the water toward the beachuntil at last his feet touched bottom and he waded out, shaking thewater from himself like a huge animal.

  The coming of the stranger had not been entirely unheralded. Along theshore road by which Kennedy and I had followed the crooks whom wethought had the torpedo, on that last chase, was waiting now a powerfullimousine with its motor purring. A chauffeur was sitting at the wheeland inside, at the door, sat a man peering out along the road to thebeach. Suddenly the man in the machine signalled to the driver.

  "He comes," he cried eagerly. "Drive down the road, closer, and meethim."

  The chauffeur shot his car ahead. As the swimmer strode shivering upthe roadway, the car approached him. The assistant swung open the doorand ran forward with a thick, warm coat and hat.

  Neither the master nor the servant spoke as they met, but the manwrapped the coat about him, hurried into the car, the driver turned andquickly they sped toward the city.

  Secret though the entrance of the stranger had been planned, however,it was not unobserved.

  Along the beach, on a boulder, gazing thoughtfully out to sea andsmoking an old briar pipe sat a bent fisherman clad in an oilskin coatand hat and heavy, ungainly boots. About his neck was a long woolenmuffler which concealed the lower part of his face quite as effectuallyas his scraggly, grizzled whiskers.

  Suddenly, he seemed to discover something that interested him, slowlyrose, then turned and almost ran up the shore. Quickly he droppedbehind a large rock and waited, peering out.

  As the limousine bearing the stranger, on whom the fisherman had kepthis eyes riveted, turned and drove away, the old salt rose from behindhis rock, gazed after the car as if to fix every line of it in hismemory and then he, too, quickly disappeared up the road.

  The stranger's car had scarcely disappeared when the fisherman turnedfrom the shore road into a clump of stunted trees and made his way to ahut. Not far away stood a small, unpretentious closed car, also with adriver.

  "I shall be ready in a minute," the fisherman nodded almost runninginto the hut, as the driver moved his car up closer to the door.

  The larger motor had disappeared far down the bend of the road when thefisherman reappeared. In an almost incredible time he had changed hisoilskins and muffler for a dark coat and silk hat. He was no longer afisherman, but a rather fussy-looking old gentleman, bewhiskered still,with eyes looking out keenly from a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

  "Follow that car--at any cost," he ordered simply as he let himselfinto the little motor, and the driver shot ahead down a bit of sideroad and out into the main shore road again, urging the car forward toovertake the one ahead.

  Such was the entrance of the stranger--Marcius Del Mar--into America.

  . . . . . . .

  How I managed to pass the time during the first days after the strangedisappearance of Kennedy, I don't know. It was all like a dream--theapartment empty, the laboratory empty, my own work on the Staruninteresting, Elaine broken-hearted, life itself a burden.

  Hoping against hope the next day I decided to drop around at the Dodgehouse. As I entered the library unannounced, I saw that Elaine, with afaith for which I envied her, was sitting at a table, her back towardthe door. She was gazing sadly at a photograph. Though I could not seeit, I needed not to be told whose it was.

  She did not hear me come in, so engrossed was she in her thoughts. Nordid she notice me at first as I stood just behind her. Finally I put myhand on her shoulder as if I had been an elder brother.

  She looked up into my face. "Have you heard from him yet?" she askedanxiously.

  I could only shake my head sadly. She sighed. Involuntarily she roseand together we moved toward the garden, the last place we had seen himabout the house.

  We had been pacing up and down the garden talking earnestly only ashort time when a man made his way in from the Fifth Avenue gate.

  "Is this Miss Dodge?" he asked.

  "Yes," she replied eagerly.

  Neither Elaine nor I knew him at the time, though I think she thoughthe might be the bearer of some message from Craig. As a matter of facthe was the emissary to whom the stenographer had thrown the torpedomodel from the Navy Building in Washington.

  His visit was only a part of a deep-laid scheme. Only a few minutesbefore, three crooks--among them our visitor--had stopped just belowthe house on a side street. To him the others had given finalinstructions and a note, and he had gone on, leaving the two standingthere.

  "I have a note for you," he said, bowing and handing an envelope toElaine, which she tore open and read.

  WASHINGTON, D. C.

  MISS ELAINE DODGE, Fifth Avenue, New York.

  MY DEAR MISS DODGE,

  The bearer, Mr. Bailey, of the Secret Service, would like to questionyou regarding the disappearance of Mr. Kennedy and the model of historpedo.

  MORGAN BERTRAND, U. S. Secret Service.

  Even as we were talking the other two crooks had already moved up andhad made their way around back of the stone wall that cut off the Dodgegarden back of the house. There they stood, whispering eagerly andgazing furtively over the wall as their man talked to Elaine.

  After a moment I stepped aside, while Elaine read the note, and as heasked her a few questions, I could not help feeling that the affair hada very suspicious look. The more I thought of it, the less I liked it.Finally I could stand it no longer.

  "I beg your pardon," I excused myself to the alleged Mr. Bailey, "butmay I speak to Miss Dodge alone just a minute?"

  He bowed, rather ungraciously I thought, and Elaine followed me asidewhile I told her my fears.

  "I don't like the looks of it myself," she agreed. "Yes, I'll be verycareful what I say."

  While we were talking I could see out of the corner of my eye that thefellow was looking at us askance and frowning. But if I had had anX-ray eye, I might have seen his two companions on the other side ofthe wall, peering over as they had been before and showing everyevidence of annoyance at my interference.

  The man resumed his questioning of Elaine regarding the torpedo and shereplied guardedly, as in fact she could not do otherwise.

  Suddenly we heard shouts on the other side of the wall, as though someone were attacking some one else.

  There seemed to be several of them, for a man quickly flung himselfover the wall and ran to us.

  "They're after us," he shouted to Bailey.

  Instantly our visitor drew a gun and followed the newcomer as he ran toget out of the garden in the opposite direction.

  Just then a tall, well-dressed, striking man came over the wall,accompanied by another dressed as a policeman, and rushed toward us.

 
. . . . . . .

  The car bearing the mysterious stranger, Del Mar, kept on until itreached New York, then made its way through the city until it came tothe Hotel La Coste.

  Del Mar jumped out of the car, his wet clothes covered completely bythe long coat. He registered and rode up in the elevator to rooms whichhad already been engaged for him. In his suite a valet was alreadyunpacking some trunks and laying out clothes when Del Mar and hisassistant entered.

  With an exclamation of satisfaction at his unostentatious entry intothe city, Del Mar threw off his heavy coat. The valet hastened toassist him in removing the clothes still wet and wrinkled from hisplunge into the sea.

  Scarcely had Del Mar changed his clothes than he received two visitors.Strangely enough they were men dressed in the uniform of policemen.

  "First of all we must convince them of our honesty," he said lookingfixedly at the two men. "Orders have been given to the men employed byWu Fang to be about in half an hour. We must pretend to arrest them onsight. You understand?"

  "Yes, sir," they nodded.

  "Very well, come on," Del Mar ordered taking up his hat and precedingthem from the room.

  Outside the La Coste, Del Mar and his two policemen entered the carwhich had driven Del Mar from the sea coast and were quickly whiskedaway, up-town, until they came near the Dodge house.

  Del Mar leaped from the car followed by his two policemen. "There theyare, already," he whispered, pointing up the avenue.

  All three hastened up the avenue now where, beside a wall, they couldsee two men looking through intently as though very angry at somethinggoing on inside.

  "Arrest them!" shouted Del Mar as his own men ran forward.

  The fight was short and sharp, with every evidence of being genuine.One of the men managed to break away and jump the garden wall, with DelMar and one of the policemen after him, while the other only reachedthe wall to be dragged down by the other policeman.

  Elaine and I had been, as I have said, talking with the man namedBailey who posed as a Secret Service man, when the rumpus began. As theman came over the fence, warning Bailey, it was evident that neither ofthem had time to escape. With his club the policeman struck thenewcomer of the two flat while the tall, athletic gentleman leaped uponBailey and before we knew it had him disarmed. In a most clean-cut andprofessional way he snapped the bracelets on the man.

  Elaine was astounded at the kaleidoscopic turn of affairs, tooastounded even to make an outcry. As for me, it was all so sudden thatI had no chance to take part in it. Besides I should not have knownquite on which side to fight. So I did nothing.

  But as it was over so quickly, I took a step forward to our latestarrival.

  "Beg pardon, old man," I began, "but don't you think this is just alittle raw? What's it all about?"

  The newest comer eyed me for a moment, then with quiet dignity drewfrom his pocket and handed me his card which read simply:

  M. Del Mar, Private Investigator.

  As I looked up, I saw Del Mar's other policeman bringing in anothermanacled man.

  "These are crooks--foreign agents," replied Del Mar pointing to theprisoners. "The government has employed me to run them down."

  "What of this?" asked Elaine holding up the note from Bertrand.

  "A fake, a forgery," reiterated Del Mar, looking at it a momentcritically. Then to the men uniformed as police he ordered, "You cantake them to jail. They're the fellows, all right."

  As the prisoners were led off, Del Mar turned to Elaine. "Would youmind answering a few questions about these men?"

  "Why--no," she hesitated. "But I think we'd better go into the house,after such a thing as this. It makes me feel nervous."

  With Del Mar I followed Elaine in through the conservatory.

  . . . . . . .

  Del Mar had scarcely registered at the La Coste when the smaller carwhich had been waiting at the fisherman's hut drew up before the hotelentrance. From it alighted the fussy old gentleman who bore such aremarkable resemblance to the fisherman, hastily paid his driver andentered the hotel.

  He went directly to the desk and with well-manicured finger, scarcelyreminiscent of a fisherman, began tracing the names down the list untilhe stopped before one which read:

  Marcius Del Mar and valet. Washington, D. C. Room 520.

  With a quick glance about, he made a note of it, and turned away,leaving the La Coste to take up quarters of his own in the Prince Henrydown the street.

  Not until Del Mar had left with his two policemen did the fussy oldgentleman reappear in the La Coste. Then he rode up to Del Mar's roomand rapped at the door.

  "Is Mr. Del Mar in?" he inquired of the valet.

  "No, sir," replied that functionary.

  The little old man appeared to consider, standing a moment dandling hissilk hat. Absent-mindedly he dropped it. As the valet stooped to pickit up, the old gentleman exhibited an agility and strength scarcely tobe expected of his years. He seized the valet, while with one foot hekicked the door shut.

  Before the surprised servant knew what was going on, his assailant hadwhipped from his pocket a handkerchief in which was concealed a thintube of anesthetic. Then leaving the valet prone in a corner with thehandkerchief over his face, he proceeded to make a systematic search ofthe rooms, opening all drawers, trunks and bags.

  He turned pretty nearly everything upside down, then started on thedesk. Suddenly he paused. There was a paper. He read it, then with anair of extreme elation shoved it into his pocket.

  As he was going out he stopped beside the valet, removed thehandkerchief from his face and bound him with a cord from theportieres. Then, still immaculate in spite of his encounter, hedescended in the elevator, reentered a waiting car and drove off.

  Quite evidently, however, he wanted to cover his tracks for he had notgone a half dozen blocks before he stopped, paid and tipped the drivergenerously, and disappeared into the theatre crowd.

  Back again in the Prince Henry, whither the fussy little old man madehis way as quickly as he could through a side street, he went quietlyup to his room.

  His door was now locked. He did not have to deny himself to visitors,for he had none. Still, his room was cluttered by a vast amount ofparaphernalia and he was seated before a table deep in work.

  First of all he tied a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Then hetook up a cartridge from the table and carefully extracted the bullet.Into the space occupied by the bullet he poured a white powder andadded a wad of paper, like a blank cartridge, placing the cartridge inthe chamber of a revolver and repeating the operation until he had itfully loaded. It was his own invention of an asphyxiating bullet.

  Perhaps half an hour later, the old gentleman, his room cleaned up andhis immaculate appearance restored, sauntered forth from the hotel downthe street like a veritable Turveydrop, to show himself.

  . . . . . . .

  Elaine seemed quite impressed with our new friend, Del Mar, as we madeour way to the library, though I am not sure but that it was a pose onher part. At any rate he seemed quite eager to help us.

  "What do you suppose has become of Mr. Kennedy?" asked Elaine.

  Del Mar looked at her earnestly. "I should be glad to search for him,"he returned quickly. "He was the greatest man in our profession. Butfirst I must execute the commission of the Secret Service. We must findhis torpedo model before it falls into foreign hands."

  We talked for a few moments, then Del Mar with a glance at his watchexcused himself. We accompanied him to the door, for he was indeed acharming man. I felt that, if in fact he were assigned to the case, Iought to know him better.

  "If you're going down-town," I ventured, "I might accompany you part ofthe way."

  "Delighted," agreed Del Mar.

  Elaine gave him her hand and he took it in such a deferential way thatone could not help liking him. Elaine was much impressed.

  As De
l Mar and I walked down the avenue, he kept up a running fire ofconversation until at last we came near the La Coste.

  "Charmed to have met you, Mr. Jameson," he said, pausing. "We shall seea great deal of each other I hope."

  I had not yet had time to say good-bye myself when a slight exclamationat my side startled me. Turning suddenly, I saw a very brisk, fussy oldgentleman who had evidently been hurrying through the crowd. He hadslipped on something on the sidewalk and lost his balance, falling nearus.

  We bent over and assisted him to his feet. As I took hold of his hand,I felt a peculiar pressure from him. He had placed something in myhand. My mind worked quickly. I checked my first impulse to speak and,more from curiosity than anything else, kept the thing he had passed tome surreptitiously.

  "Thank you, gentlemen," he puffed, straightening himself out. "One ofthe infirmities of age. Thank you, thank you."

  In a moment he had bustled off quite comically.

  Again Del Mar said good-bye and I did not urge him to stay. He hadscarcely gone when I looked at the thing the old man had placed in myhand. It was a little folded piece of paper. I opened it slowly. Insidewas printed in pencil, disguised:

  "BE CAREFUL. WATCH HIM."

  I read it in amazement. What did it mean?

  . . . . . . .

  At the La Coste, Del Mar was met by two of his men in the lobby andthey rode up to his room.

  Imagine their surprise when they opened the door and found the valetlying bound on the floor.

  "Who the deuce did this?" demanded Del Mar as they loosened him.

  The valet rose weakly to his feet. "A little old man with graywhiskers," he managed to gasp.

  Del Mar looked at him in surprise. Instantly his active mind recalledthe little old man who had fallen before us on the street.

  Who--what was he?

  "Come," he said quickly, beckoning his two companions who had come inwith him.

  Some time later, Del Mar's car stopped just below the Dodge house.

  "You men go around back of the house and watch," ordered Del Mar.

  As they disappeared he turned and went up the Dodge steps.

  . . . . . . .

  I walked back after my strange experience with the fussy little oldgentleman, feeling more than ever, now that Craig was gone, that bothElaine and Aunt Josephine needed me.

  As we sat talking in the library, Rusty, released from the chain onwhich Jennings kept him, bounded with a rush into the library.

  "Good old fellow," encouraged Elaine, patting him.

  Just then Jennings entered and a moment later was followed by Del Mar,who bowed as we welcomed him.

  "Do you know," he began, "I believe that the lost torpedo model issomewhere in this house and I have reason to anticipate another attemptof foreign agents to find it. If you'll pardon me, I've taken theliberty of surrounding the place with some men we can trust."

  While Del Mar was speaking, Elaine picked up a ribbon from the tableand started to tie it about Rusty's neck. As Del Mar proceeded shepaused, still holding the ribbon. Rusty, who hated ribbons, saw hischance and quietly sidled out, seeking refuge in the conservatory.

  Alone in the conservatory, Rusty quickly forgot about the ribbon andbegan nosing about the palms. At last he came to the pot in which thetorpedo model had been buried in the soft earth by the thief the nightit had been stolen from the fountain.

  Quickly Elaine recalled herself and, seeing the ribbon in her hand andRusty gone, called him. There was no answer, and she excused herself,for it was against the rules for Rusty to wander about.

  In his haste the thief had left just a corner of the handkerchiefsticking out of the dirt. What none of us had noticed, Rusty's keeneyes and nose discovered and his instinct told him to dig for it. In amoment he uncovered the torpedo and handkerchief and sniffed.

  Just then he heard his mistress calling him. Rusty had been whipped fordigging in the conservatory and now, with his tail between his legs, heseized the torpedo in his mouth and bolted for the door of thedrawing-room, for he had heard voices in the library. As he did so hedropped the handkerchief and the little propeller, loosened by histeeth, fell off.

  Elaine entered the conservatory, still calling. Rusty was not there. Hehad reached the stairs, scurrying up to the attic, still holding thetorpedo model in his mouth. He pushed open the attic door and ran in.Rusty's last refuge in time of trouble was back of a number of trunks,among which were two of almost the same size and appearance. Behind oneof them, he had hidden a miscellaneous collection of bones, pieces ofbiscuit and things dear to his heart. He dropped the torpedo amongthese treasures.

  Del Mar, meanwhile, had followed Elaine through the hall and into theconservatory. As he entered he could see her stooping down to lookthrough the palms for Rusty. She straightened up and went on out.

  Del Mar followed. Beside the palm pot where Rusty had found thetorpedo, he happened to see the old handkerchief soiled with dirt.Near-by lay the little propeller. He picked them up.

  "She has found it!" he exclaimed in wonder, following Elaine.

  By this time Rusty had responded to Elaine's calls and came tearingdown-stairs again.

  "Naughty Rusty," chided Elaine, tying the ribbon on him.

  "So--you have found him at last?" remarked Del Mar looking quickly atElaine to see if she would get a double meaning.

  "Yes. He's had a fine time running away," she replied.

  Del Mar was scarcely able to conceal his suspicion of her. Was she aclever actress, hiding her discovery, he wondered?

  . . . . . . .

  Outside, on the lawn, Del Mar's men had been looking about, but haddiscovered nothing. They paused a moment to speak.

  "Look out!" whispered one of them. "There's some one coming."

  They dropped down in the shadow. There in the light of the street lampswas the fussy old gentleman coming across the lawn. He stole up to thedoor of the conservatory and looked through. Del Mar's men crawled afew feet closer. The little old man entered the conservatory and lookedabout again stealthily. The two men followed him in noiselessly andwatched as he bent over the palm pot from which the dog had dug up thetorpedo. He looked at the hole curiously. Just then he heard soundsbehind him and sprang to his feet.

  "Hands up!" ordered one of the men covering him with a gun.

  The little old man threw up his hands, raising his cane still in hisright hand. The man with the gun took a step closer. As he did so, thelittle old man brought down his cane with a quick blow and knocked thegun out of his hand. The second man seized the cane. The old man jerkedthe cane back and was standing there with a thin tough steel rapier. Itwas a sword-cane. Del Mar's man held the sheath.

  As the man attacked with the sheath, the little old man parried, sentit flying from his grasp, and wounded him. The wounded man sank down,while the little old man ran off through the palms, followed by theother of Del Mar's men.

  Around the hall, he ran, and back into the conservatory where he pickedup a heavy chair and threw it through the glass, dropping himselfbehind a convenient hiding-place near-by. Del Mar's man, close afterhim, mistaking the crash of glass for the escape of the man he waspursuing, went on through the broken exit. Then the little old mandoubled on his tracks and made for the front of the house.

  . . . . . . .

  With Aunt Josephine I had remained in the library.

  "What's that?" I exclaimed at the first sounds. "A fight?"

  Together we rushed for the conservatory.

  The fight followed so quickly by the crash of glass also alarmed Elaineand Del Mar in the hallway and they hurried toward the library, whichwe had just left, by another door.

  As they entered, they saw a little old gentleman rushing in from theconservatory and locking the door behind him. He whirled about, and heand Del Mar recognized each other at once. They drew
guns together, butthe little old man fired first.

  His bullet struck the wall back of Del Mar and a cloud of vapor wasinstantly formed, enveloping Del Mar and even Elaine. Del Mar fell,overcome, while Elaine sank more slowly. The little old man ran forward.

  In the conservatory, Aunt Josephine and I heard the shooting, just asone of Del Mar's men ran in again. With him we ran back toward thelibrary.

  By this time the whole house was aroused. Jennings and Marie werehurrying down-stairs, crying for help and making their way to thelibrary also.

  In the library, the little old man bent over Del Mar and Elaine. But itwas only a moment later that he heard the whole house aroused. Quicklyhe shut and locked the folding-doors to the drawing-room, as, with DelMar's man, I was beating at the rear library door.

  "I'll go around," I suggested, hurrying off, while Del Mar's man triedto beat in the door.

  Inside the little old man who had been listening saw that there was nomeans of escape. He pulled off his coat and vest and turned them insideout. On the inside he had prepared an exact copy of Jennings' livery.

  It was only a matter of seconds before he had completed his change. Fora moment he paused and looked at the two prostrate figures before him.Then he took a rose from a vase on the table and placed it in Elaine'shand.

  Finally, with his whiskers and wig off he moved to the rear door whereDel Mar's man was beating and opened it.

  "Look," he cried pointing in an agitated way at Del Mar and Elaine."What shall we do?"

  Del Mar's man, who had never seen Jennings, ran to his master and thelittle old man, in his new disguise, slipped quietly into the hall andout the front door, where he had a taxicab waiting for him, down thestreet.

  A moment later I burst open the other library door and Aunt Josephinefollowed me in, just as Jennings himself and Marie entered from thedrawing-room.

  It was only a moment before we had Del Mar, who was most in need ofcare, on the sofa and Elaine, already regaining consciousness, lay backin a deep easy chair.

  As Del Mar moved, I turned again to Elaine who was now nearly recovered.

  "How do you feel?" I asked anxiously.

  Her throat was parched by the asphyxiating fumes, but she smiledbrightly, though weakly.

  "Wh-where did I get that?" she managed to gasp finally, catching sightof the rose in her hand. "Did you put it there?"

  I shook my head and she gazed at the rose, wondering.

  Whoever the little man was, he was gone.

  I longed for Craig.