likely, I should say. Here’s the situation in a nutshell, and you must carry instructions to Ashenhurst. Jordan is the man—Bert Jordan. I’m convinced of that. That is, he’s the fugitive statue! With the aid of a theatrical friend of mine, I ran down the ‘family’; and the fact is, Bert’s missing! I let it be known that I wanted to hire the whole outfit for a street carnival in Aurora, and said I wanted them all to leave town tonight. Couldn’t be done; they couldn’t locate Bert! Tomorrow night, maybe—they weren’t sure. I think they were sore at Bert, for they wanted the engagement; and I think they don’t know just what he’s up to. I said I’d see them again tomorrow.
“Well, Bert will run tonight, as usual, at midnight; that’s a certainty. That’s where Ashenhurst comes in. I’ll see him before he starts, but you must prepare him. The minute he sees Jordan coming, he is to leave the room, run downstairs after him, and follow him down the street. I think Jordan will give battle, and Ashenhurst must be prepared to defend himself. Jordan may be very ugly. Anyway, there’ll be a couple of plain-clothes men hidden away nearby, and at the proper moment they’ll nab Jordan. If possible, though, I want to know where he goes, for I think he turns in some place in the block, as you once suggested.”
“Where will you be all this time?” I pertinently asked, for by now it was obvious that Lavender’s role was to be cast elsewhere.
“I’ll be in Ashenhurst’s rooms, and so will you. You go to Ashenhurst now, with my instructions. Get into the house quietly; it may be watched. We’ve worked so quickly, though, that I think we have aroused no suspicion. I’ll follow you in a little while, and I, too, must get in without being seen. I could tell you all this later, I suppose; but it may be close to midnight before I can risk entering the house.”
“One question, Jimmie,” I said. “Why is Ashenhurst to run out while we stay behind in the room?”
“Well,” smiled Lavender grimly, “I want it to be supposed that when Ashenhurst runs out, his room is empty.”
“Oh!” I said, suddenly enlightened. “The principal—”
“Is the man I want. Exactly!”
“I see—I think I do! Then the statue—Jordan—was to attract attention?”
“Quite so, and to draw Ashenhurst from his room. That was the ultimate design. It might never have worked, or it might have worked wrong—as it did, by Jove!—but that was the plan. If it had failed, I suppose some other plan would have been worked out.”
“And what is in Ashenhurst’s room?”
“Hanged if I know,” said Lavender. “Whatever it is, somebody wants it pretty badly, don’t you think? And I know, at last, who Mr. Somebody is. I’ll introduce you to him in a little while. Now hurry along, and don’t be seen entering the house. And not a sound, after you have entered, from either of you!”
Well, the affair was getting warm! And something told me that we were all in for a lively evening.
I left the park in leisurely fashion, and plunged into the inky depths of Cambridge Court. Not a soul was in the block as far as could be seen. The trio of sickly street lamps, long distances apart, blinked sadly in the blackness. I passed the first one hastily; the next was in the center of the block opposite Ashenhurst’s room, but on the far side of the street. I approached cautiously, but without ostentatious secrecy, and quietly climbed the stairs of the objective dwelling. The door was unlocked, and I entered without ceremony, climbing stairs again to Ashenhurst’s room so softly that when I had closed his door behind me the student had his first knowledge of my approach.
The room, as usual, was in darkness save for the blaze of light from the electric lamp upon the table. This gleamed on one wall, and was faintly reflected on the window; but the corners of the room were black. I motioned Ashenhurst to silence, and whispered his instructions. He nodded understandingly—relieved, I think, that shortly the whole matter would be ended. A glance at the clock showed three hours before midnight, and another intolerable wait was before us.
At ten o’clock, Ashenhurst snapped off his light at the switch, and the remainder of the vigil was kept in darkness. At eleven, the door creaked gently, and through the blackness Jimmie Lavender came to our side.
“All well,” he whispered. “Our men are placed, and there ought to be no hitch. You understand your part, Ashenhurst?”
“Every comma,” said the long student, in the same tone, “except this damned silence, Mr. Lavender. It gets on my nerves.”
“Sorry,” Lavender whispered back, “but it can’t be helped. The danger is from within the house. I thought you had guessed that. You may smoke if you like.”
We felt better when we had all lighted cigars. The room seemed less black, the silence less profound. So another hour passed away and midnight was upon us.
“Ready!” murmured Lavender. “Stand by the window, Ashenhurst; let yourself be seen. When he passes, rush for the door, with some noise, and downstairs after him. Don’t upset the neighborhood, but don’t be afraid of a little noise. I want it perfectly evident that you are leaving the house.”
Ashenhurst followed instructions without an error. The stone faun held no terror for any of us now, and the patter of racing feet in the outside darkness only told us that the moment for action had come. Ashenhurst, leaning far out of the window, cried out once as the white figure shot past, then jumped for the door and pelted down the stairs in the darkness. I moved toward the window, but Lavender’s hand restrained me.
“Careful!” he sharply whispered. “The trouble begins now—and I don’t know where it will come from!”
Almost as he spoke, there sounded beyond the door a light thudding of feet; then the door creaked and swung inward and a long beam of white light cut a rib-bony path across the carpet. It was followed by the dark figure of a man, holding an electric torch, who, with a swift lithe bound, sprang to a corner of the room and stooped to the boards. It had all happened so quickly that for a moment I was breathless; then as I was about to spring upon the intruder, Lavender’s restraining hand again fell upon my arm. There followed a moment of tense and painful silence, then a crackling sound as of splintering wood, and the heavy breathing of the man in the corner. He was working furiously in the patch of light thrown by his torch, and once, as he half-turned, the gleam fell across a hard, seamed face and an eye that glittered like that of a madman. Save for his asthmatic breathing, and the occasional crackling of wood, the room was heavy with silence.
Our time had come. Lavender’s hand was taken from my arm. Then his voice, swift and hard, and icy as a mountain stream, cut through the chamber.
“Hands up, Wilcox! Quick!” And to me, “Lights, Gilly!”
But as I sprang for the electric lamp, the intruder, ignoring the command and the leveled revolver which he knew lay back of it, flung himself forward in the darkness in the direction of Lavender’s voice. Instantly, I, too, jumped into action, and more by luck than design, blundered at once into the man called Wilcox. In an instant the fight of my life was on.
We met with a shock that was terrific, and clung like tigers. The fellow had a grasp like an animal; against it my own proved powerless. A chair crashed over, and we began to whirl. We whirled until I thought my wits were deserting me. Up and down the room we thrashed, colliding with everything, unmindful of bumps and bruises; and all without a sound from either of us. Inextricably mixed as we were, Lavender could do nothing but encourage me with his voice.
