The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve, Page 2

  Under normal conditions he was not a fellow to act in this fashion, butconditions were far from normal. He was half starved, and half frozen.He had lost his job four months before, under circumstances which madeit almost impossible to get another, and he was desperate. On top ofthis, the extraordinary situation in which he found himself was enoughto make any man lose his head.

  But Lawrence did not quite do that.

  He was flustered, nervous, almost terrified; but through it all he clungto one idea--to get back to his miserable room he had thought never tosee again. There, at least, he would have security for the moment, anda chance to pull himself together.

  So he sped on, dodging through cross streets and down wide avenues, thewind whistling in his ears unheeded, the cold penetrating anew hisflimsy garments. As block after block was set behind him without theexpected happening, a shaky sort of confidence began to take possessionof him. And when at last he ran up the steps of the dilapidated roominghouse on Twenty-fourth Street, he gave a long sigh of relief.

  "I'm glad I didn't throw it away, after all," he muttered, feeling forhis key with fingers blue with cold. "There's just a chance it may begood."

  But in his heart he felt that the chance was slim indeed.

  *CHAPTER IV.*

  *THE EMERALD RING.*

  In the absorption of the greater trouble, Lawrence had quite forgottenone of his lesser worries--his landlady. That argus-eyed female was onthe watch, however, and darted up from the basement just in time tocatch him in the hall.

  "I s'pose you're comin' to pay me the three weeks' rent you're owin'?"she said, with sarcasm.

  Lawrence winced at her tone. He was not yet hardened to that sort of athing.

  "I hope to have it for you this afternoon, Mrs. Kerr," he returnedquietly.

  "You hope, do you?" shrilled the woman caustically. "Well, let me tellyou right here, I ain't livin' on hopes. If that money ain't paid downby three o'clock, out you go. I don't care if it is below zero. I'vestood your triflin' long enough, an' if you can't pay you can beat itan' find another lodging place. I hear they're letting loafers sleep inthe churches these nights. That might suit you, bein' it's free."

  Barry's face flushed, and his hand strayed toward the wallet in hispocket. For a second he was sorely tempted to hand her one of thosecrisp twenties, and tell her to keep the change. She would never findout its worthlessness until he was safe away. He stifled the impulse,however, and, repeating briefly that she should have her money thatafternoon, passed on up the stairs.

  The instant his door was shut and the key turned, he jerked the walletout and opened it with trembling fingers. As he shook out the mass ofyellowbacks on the bed, the sight of them was like a stab of a knife.They looked so real it seemed impossible that they could be counterfeit.

  He took up a fifty, and, carrying it to the light, examined it closely,feeling the texture and scrutinizing every little detail with care. Hecould see nothing wrong about it. Four months before, had such a billbeen offered him at the bank, he would have accepted it withouthesitation.

  He took up another, which seemed equally good. He examined half a dozenwithout finding a single flaw, and then decided that the trouble was inhimself. His judgment was no longer what it had been, and he dared nottrust it.

  "They look good, but they can't be," he muttered, frowning down at thebeautiful bits of yellow paper strewn so carelessly over the bed. "Whatthe mischief can I do?"

  For fully ten minutes he stood there, his eyes thoughtful and hisforehead wrinkled. Then, gathering the bills up, he put them all backin the wallet save one, a ten; after which he lifted the mattress, andshoved the wallet well underneath it.

  "There!" he said, straightening up; "now, if I'm pinched, they won'tfind but one on me. I hate to take this over to the bank, but that'sthe only way I can be sure."

  Ten minutes later he entered the big Twenty-third Street National Bank,and walked directly to one of the tellers.

  "Will you kindly tell me if this is all right?" he said quietly,thrusting the ten-dollar bill through the window.

  The teller picked it up, and examined it intently. Then he glancedkeenly and with some suspicion at Lawrence.

  The latter bore the scrutiny well, however, and the official looked thebill over carefully again, drew it through his fingers, and finallytossed it back.

  "Certainly it's good," he said, rather brusquely. "What made you thinkit wasn't?"

  For a second Barry was silent. He could not have spoken to save hislife. Then he stammered something about "just wanting to make sure,"and turned away, quite heedless of the impatient exclamation of theteller at having his time wasted in that manner.

  Lawrence had no distinct recollection of how he got back to his room.His brain was in a whirl, and the only thing which stood out vivid andclean-cut was the realization that the money was real.

  Real! Ye gods! The thought intoxicated him like champagne. He forgotthe cold and wind, his thin clothes, his ravenous hunger. He gave nothought to who the donor might be, or how he had acquired those crispyellow bills. They were his, every one of them. All he had to do wasto buy clothes, to take an apartment at the St. Albans, to dine for aweek at the Waldorf! He laughed aloud, and a shivering, frosty-nosedcitizen turned and stared after him suspiciously as he hurried down thestreet.

  Lawrence did not see this; nor, seeing, would he have cared. He flewthrough the snowy streets, and on the doorstep of his lodging house wassmitten with a sudden fear for the safety of his treasure. Racing upthe two flights of stairs, he darted into his room and tore up themattress.

  The wallet was safe, but what might have been made him tingle all overwith a sickening sensation, for he had gone out without even locking hisdoor.

  Having turned the key, he sat down on the bed, and opened the wallet.Slowly, deliberately, and with a delicious thrill, he counted the bills.There were fifteen one hundreds, eight fifties, and an odd hundreddollars in twenties and tens.

  Evidently the little man in black had been prepared for his acceptanceof the extraordinary offer, and the realization brought into Lawrence'smind a swift wonder as to what it could all be about. What reason--whatpossible reason--could the stranger have for making those astonishing,seemingly absurd, conditions? What purpose would be accomplished byBarry's appearing at the places mentioned for the short space of a week?

  Urged on by a fresh curiosity, Lawrence took up the wallet again, toexamine it for some mark of identification.

  It was of heavy pigskin, finely made, and bearing the stamp of awell-known English firm. That much told nothing; but, in turning itover, Barry noticed something which had escaped his attention before.One corner was bulkier than the rest. His inquiring fingers told himthat there was undoubtedly a hard object in one of the numerouscompartments of the case.

  Eagerly he searched, and at last, slipping his fingers into a slit inthe back of the wallet, drew forth a ring.

  For a moment he sat staring at it in wonder and admiration, for it wasone of the strangest jewels he had ever seen.

  A great, square-cut emerald was in the center, and twined about it weretwo serpents in dull, exquisitely chiseled gold, with tiny flecks ofemerald for their eyes. Their heads were slightly raised, and theunknown craftsman had wrought them in amazing similitude to life. Withpatient cunning he had carved each tiny line of flat, broad head andsinuous, undulating body, until it seemed to Barry as if the things mustactually wriggle presently, and dart out forked tongues.

  "By Jove!" Lawrence exclaimed aloud. "I never saw anything like it inall my life. That emerald's a perfect whopper, and must be worth afortune. He forgot to take it out, of course; and, hang it all, I don'tsee how the mischief I can get it back to him. I don't even know hisname."

  He slipped it on his finger, and found that it fitted well. Then, as hesat admiring its perfect, almost uncanny, beauty, the thought flashedinto his mind that, by its means, h
e might solve the mystery of the manin black.

  "Of course he'll come for it," he thought. "I have only to keep it, andhe'll show up before long to claim it. Then perhaps I'll find outsomething."

  He began to gather up the bills and stow them carefully away, hisfingers trembling with excitement. There was much to be done if he wereto carry out the stranger's conditions.

  *CHAPTER V.*

  *THE POWER OF AVARICE.*

  In the hall of the lodging house, Lawrence stood by the door, holding acrisp yellowback in his hand. Mrs. Kerr was panting up the basementstairs, from which came the odor of cooking cabbage to join the ghostsof a thousand boiled dinners that lingered in the stuffy, airless place.

  Barry was not yet used to it. He felt stifled, breathless, almostnauseated, and he longed to get away. He did not look at the ferretlikeface of the slovenly woman as he handed her the bill. There wassomething about her he could not abide.

  "Here's your money," he said brusquely. "I am leaving at once."

  She grasped the bill, and examined it closely. Then she flashed a swift,sidelong glance at Lawrence. There was something about his face andbearing which she had never seen before, and it aroused her curiosity.

  "I ain't got a bit of change in the house," she said, in a verydifferent tone from the one she had used an hour before. "Mebbe youwant it to count on this week."

  Barry's fingers had closed around the knob.

  "You can keep the change," he returned shortly. "I said I was leavingat once. I am not coming back."

  "Lord save us!" she gasped. "Don't say that, Mr. Lawrence. Don't sayas you're leavin' on account of them hasty words I spoke this mornin'.Fergit it. I'm a lonely widder woman as has to work my fingers to thebone to make both ends meet." Her voice took on a whining tone. "I hasto count every penny, an' sometimes I'm most distracted, an' says what Idon't mean. You----"

  She broke off abruptly as the door slammed, and instantly a venomousexpression leaped into her face. Like a flash, she had yanked the dooropen, and run out on the little stoop, to peer around the corner.

  For a moment or two she stood shivering in the cold, her small,close-set eyes fixed intently on the back of the man hurrying towardNinth Avenue. When he had disappeared she came back into the hall, herface thoughtful.

  "Now, what's come to him, I wonder," she muttered, making her way slowlyback to the basement stairs. "It's somethin', I'll be bound. I neverseen him look that way before. He was excited, too, when he come inbefore. If I'd had any sense I'd 'a' looked around his room whilst hewas out."

  An instant later she was pounding up the stairs to the top floor. Thedoor of the hall bedroom was ajar, and, pushing it open, she walked in.For a moment she stood there, her sharp eyes taking in every detail ofthe miserable place. The scantily covered bed showed signs of havingbeen sat upon, but that was nothing unusual. Most of Mrs. Kerr'slodgers found the bed more comfortable than the straight, hard chair shesupplied. The woman noticed something else, however, which brought aswift frown to her face, and made her step quickly forward, and jerk upthe cornhusk mattress.

  "He's been hiding something away here," she snapped aloud, peeringclosely at the rusty springs. "I knowed it! What a fool I was not tolook before! but who'd 'a' thought it, after the times I've went throughhis----"

  She broke off with a queer, choking sound, and in a second every traceof color had left her face. For a moment she stood as if turned tostone, staring at the floor with a look of utter incredulity in hernarrowed eyes. Then, with a guttural sound, half groan, halfexclamation of joy, she dropped on her knees and snatched up a crisptwenty-dollar bill that lay under the bed.

  "Good Lord!" she gasped.

  Stumbling to her feet, she held it out, devouring it with her eyes.Then, fumbling in her dress, she drew forth the money Lawrence had justgiven her, and compared the two. Both were crisp and new and yellow;both were uncreased, as if they had lain together in the same longwallet or package. And Mrs. Kerr's eyes lit up with a horrible sort ofcupidity.

  "An' I let him go!" she muttered, through clenched teeth. "I let himstep out of the house with his pockets full of dough, leaving a twentybehind he never knowed he'd lost! I'm a dope! But mebbe it ain't toolate. Mebbe---- Jim! Jim!"

  Her face flushed and mottled, her hands trembling, she flung herselfinto the hall and down the stairs, calling the name at intervals.

  She had reached the second floor, and was panting toward a door in therear, when it was jerked open, and a man appeared on the threshold.

  "Shut your face, you fool!" he snarled. "What're you yowling round likethat for? You'll bust yer pipes!"

  She caught her breath with a queer gurgle, and, putting out both hands,pushed him back into the room.

  "Wait till you see what I found," she gasped. "Wait till you hear----"

  Then the door slammed shut, and the sound of her voice ceased abruptly,leaving the hall dark and silent, save only for the rapid, indistinctmurmur rising and falling in the room beyond.

  *CHAPTER VI.*

  *AS IN A DREAM.*

  It was not until he had reached Broadway that Lawrence remembered hisfailure to turn over the latchkey before leaving the miserable lodgingsfor good. For a moment he hesitated, wondering whether he ought to goback. Then he remembered the extra money he had given the woman, andthe small cost of a new key.

  "She can get another for a quarter," he murmured. "Besides, I simplycouldn't go back there now. I wonder I was able to stand the oldharridan as long as I did."

  Dismissing the matter from his mind, he turned down Broadway, and a fewminutes later entered the big clothing store of Butler & Bloss.

  "I wish to look at some fur-lined coats," he said quietly to thegray-haired man who stepped up to him.

  Whatever surprise the latter may have felt at this request from a manwearing no overcoat at all, and a thinnish suit, at that, none showed inhis face. Besides looking the gentleman, Barry had an undeniable airabout him which commanded respect. No doubt he might have stepped infrom some near-by building without stopping to put on his overcoat. Atany rate, the customer had the appearance of one used to instantconsideration, so a salesman was summoned without delay, and Barry wascommitted to his care.

  Lawrence had decided that about five hundred dollars of the expense sumshould be reserved for hotel, restaurants, and incidentals. Theremainder, therefore, was left to be spent on his wardrobe, for he haddetermined to carry out the conditions of the strange bargain to thevery letter.

  For a full hour he was busy in the various departments of Butler &Bloss, and though in that time he ran up a bill of close on to fourhundred dollars, the fur-lined coat was his only extravagance. Eventhat was not expensive, as such things go, but he had been so cold forso many days that he could not resist the handsome garment, with itsluxurious lining and wide collar of unplucked otter.

  In addition to this, he bought another, lighter overcoat, of soft darkcheviot, two sack suits, and a Tuxedo. There were also, of course,several pairs of shoes necessary, shirts of various sorts, collars,neckties, underwear, gloves, and a quantity of various odds and ends,which added materially to the total of the bill. When he had paid it,and ordered the things delivered at the St. Albans before six o'clock,he slipped into the fur coat, drew on a new pair of gloves, and went outinto the street.

  There he did not hesitate an instant, but made a bee line for thenearest Broadway restaurant. The interest and excitement of spendingmoney after such a long deprivation had kept him from realizing howravenously hungry he was, but at the first lull the fact smote him withrenewed force.

  The glamour of that first real meal in weeks will linger long in thememory of Barry Lawrence. He ordered lavishly, luxuriously, and yetwith the instinctive good taste which had characterized him in the dayswhen that sort of thing was a part of his regular life. And, as thecourses followed one anothe
r, he ate slowly, enjoying every mouthful,reveling in the hum and buzz of conversation, the animated faces of thepeople about him, and the plaintive murmur of violins playing the latestpopular airs.

  It was during the progress of the meal that he suddenly solved theproblem of the evening clothes which had been troubling him. A dresssuit had always seemed to him the one thing it was impossible to getready-made, and for that reason he had refrained from looking at them inthe shop. A sudden remembrance came to him, of the suit which Tyson,his tailor, up on Thirty-eighth Street, had been making for him when thecrash came. He had never shown up for the final fitting, and it wasjust possible that the man had held the garments, awaiting some wordfrom him.

  Having paid his bill and left the restaurant, Barry walked through toFifth Avenue and turned up that thoroughfare toward the tailor's rooms.One might have supposed he would have taken a stage or taxi, but no suchthought entered his head. Walking, when one is well fed and wellclothed, is a very different thing from the exhausting struggle of thatmorning, when the cold seemed to freeze his very marrow.

  He reveled in the warm comfort of his fur-lined coat and heavy deerskingloves. The passing crowd pleased him, and the very contents of theshop windows interested him as they had never done when he had beenpenniless. There were few things among the myriads displayed in suchtempting array which he could not step in and buy if he chose. The factthat he did not choose made no difference whatever.

  Past the brick facade of the Waldorf he walked briskly, glancing in atthe dining-room windows with a smile. He would dine there later. Itwas a pleasant thought.