Torchy and Vee
Also I gets an encouragin', admirin' glance from Vee. That settles it. I
was bound to make some sort of play after that. Besides, I did have kind
of a vague hunch.
"I ain't promisin' anything," says I, "but I'll give it a whirl. First
off though, maybe you can tell me what youth around the place wears a
black-and-white checked cap?"
That gets a quick rise out of the former Myrtle Mapes, now Mrs. Zosco.
"Why--why," says she, "my brother Ellery does."
"That's so," put in Zosco. "Where is the youngster?"
"Ellery?" says Myrtle, givin' him that innocent baby-doll look. "Oh, he
must be in his room. I--I will look."
"Never mind," says I. "Probably he is. It doesn't matter. Visiting here,
too, eh? How long? About two weeks. And he comes from----"
"From my old home, Shelby, North Carolina," says she. "But he isn't the
one who's missing, you know."
"That's so," says I. "Gettin' off the track, wasn't I? Shows what a poor
sleuth I am. And now if I can have the missing man's hat I'll do a
little scoutin' round outside."
"His hat!" grumbles Zosco. "What do you want with that?"
"Why," says I, "if I find anyone it fits it's likely to be Jake, ain't
it?"
"Of course," says Matilda. "Here it is," and she hands me a seven and
three-quarters hard boiled lid with his initials punched in the sweat
band.
That move gave 'em something to chew over anyway, and kind of took their
minds off what I'd been askin' about Ellery. For after hearin' about him
I knew I hadn't been mistaken about seein' somebody down by the lodge.
That's right where I makes for.
As I gets to the bottom of the hill I slips through the hedge and walks
on the grass so if there should be anyone at the gate they wouldn't hear
me. And say, that was a reg'lar hunch I'd collected. Standing there in
the moonlight is the youth in the checked cap.
Near as I can make out he's a narrow-chested, loose-jawed young hick of
19 or 20 and costumed a good deal like a village sport. You know--slit
coat pockets, a high turn-up to his trousers, bunion-toed shoes, and a
necktie that must have been designed by a wall-paper artist who'd been
shell-shocked. On his left arm he has a basket partly covered by a
napkin. Also he's just handin' something in through a little window
about a foot above his head.
Course, it don't take any super-brain to guess that there must be
another party inside the lodge. What would Ellery be passin' stuff
through the window for if there wasn't? And anybody inside couldn't very
well get out, for the only door is a heavy, iron-studded affair
padlocked on the outside and the little window is covered with an
ornamental iron grill. Besides, as I edges up closer, I hears talking
going on. It sounds like the inside party is grumblin' over something or
other. His voice sounds hoarse and indignant, but I can't get what it's
all about. When the youth in the checked cap gave him the come-back
though it was clear enough.
"Aw, shut up, you big stiff!" says he. "You're lucky to get cold
chicken and bread and jam. Where do you think I'm goin' to get hot
coffee for you, anyway? Ain't I runnin' a chance as it is, swipin' this
out of the ice-box after the servants leave? It's more'n you deserve,
you crook."
More grumbles from inside.
"Yah, I got the cigars," says the other, "but you don't get 'em until
you pass out them dishes. Think I can stick around here all night? And
remember, one peep to your pals, or to anyone else, and my trusty guards
will start shootin' through the window. Hey? How long? Until we get 'em
all into the net. So you might as well quit your belly-achin' and
confess."
It was a more or less entertainin' dialogue but I thought I'd enjoy it
more if I could hear both sides. So I was workin' my way through the
bushes with my ear stretched until I was within almost a yard of the
window when I steps on a dry branch that cracks like a cap pistol. In a
flash the youth has dropped the basket and whirled on me with a long
carvin' knife. Which was my cue for quick action.
"'Sall right, Ellery," says I. "Friend."
"What friend?" he demands, starin' at me suspicious.
"You know," says I, whisperin' mysterious.
"Oh!" says he. "From Headquarters?"
"You've said it," says I.
"But--but how can I tell," he goes on, "that you ain't----"
"Look!" says I, throwin' back my coat and runnin' my thumb under the
armhole of my vest.
Sure it worked. Why, if you flash a nickel-plated suspender buckle quick
enough you can pass it for a badge even by daylight.
"I didn't think you'd get my letter so soon," says Ellery. "I'm glad you
came, though. See, I've got one of the gang already. He's the
ringleader, too."
"Fine work!" says I. "But what's the plot of the piece? You didn't make
that so clear. Is it a case of----"
"Hist!" says Ellery. "I ain't told him how much I know. Let's get off
where he can't hear. Back in the bushes there."
And when we've circled the lodge and put some shrubbery between us and
the road Ellery consents to open up.
"They're tryin' to do away with Sister Maggie," says he. "You know who
she is--Mrs. Andres Zosco?"
"But I thought she was Myrtle Mapes," says I.
"Ah, that's only her screen name," says Ellery. "It was Maggie Bean back
in Shelby, where we come from. And she was Maggie Bean when she went to
New York and got that job as a stenog. in old Zosco's office. It was
him that gave her a chance to act in the movies, you know. Guess she
made good, eh? And then Zosco got so stuck on her that he married her.
Well, that was all right, too. Course, he's an old pill, but he's got
all kinds of dough. Rollin' in it. Maggie's done a lot for the fam'ly,
too. Gave me a flivver all for myself last Christmas; took me out of the
commission house and started me in at high school again. She's right
there with the check book, Maggie.
"That's what makes them other Zoscos so sore--that Brother Jake and his
wife. See? They'd planned all along comin' in for most of his pile
themselves. Most likely meant to put him out of the way. But when they
comes on and finds the new wife--Well, the game is blocked. It would go
to her. So they starts right in to get rid of Maggie. I hadn't been in
the house a day before I'd doped that out. I knew there was a plot on to
do Maggie."
"You don't say!" says I. "How?"
"Slow poison, I expect," says Ellery. "In her coffee, maybe. Anyway, it
had begun to work. Maggie was mopin' around. I found her cryin'. I
spotted Jake Zosco right off. You can tell just by lookin' at him that
he's that kind. Besides, he acts suspicious. Always prowlin' around
restless. Then there's the butler. He's in it, too. I caught him and
Jake whisperin' together. I don't know how many more. Some of the maids,
maybe, and most likely a few men on the outside. They might be plannin'
to stage a jewel robbery with a double murder and lay it all onto
unknown burglars. Get me?"
"Uh-huh!" says I. "But how much have you got on Brother Jake? And how
did you come to get him locked up here?"
"Oh, I had the goods on Jake, all right," says Ellery. "After I saw him
confabbin' with that crook butler the other night I shadows him
constant. I was on his trail when he sneaks down here after dinner. I
saw him unlock the lodge house. I heard him fumblin' around inside. Then
I slips up and locks him in. Half an hour later down comes the butler
and two others of the gang, but when they sees me they beats it. I
expect they'd try to rescue him, if they thought he was there. And they
may find out any minute."
"That's right," says I. "Lucky I came out just as I did. There's only
one thing to do."
"What's that?" asks Ellery.
"Lug Jake up to the house, confront him with the butler, tell 'em
they're both pinched, and give 'em the third degree," says I. "You'll
see. One or the other will break down and tell the whole plot."
"Say!" gasps Ellery. "Wouldn't that be slick! Just the way they do in
the movie dramas, eh?"
I had to smother a chuckle when that came out, for I'd already
recognized some of the symptoms of a motion picture mind while Ellery
was sketchin' out this wild tale.
"Go to the movies much down in Shelby?" I asks.
"Most every night," says Ellery. "I used to even before Maggie got into
the game. Begun goin' when I was 'leven. At first I was strong for this
Wild West stuff, but no more. Give me a good crook drama with a big
punch in every reel. They're showin' some corkers lately. I've seen 'em
about all. That's how I come to get wise to this plot of Jake Zosco's.
Come on! Got your wrist irons ready for him?"
"Oh, I never use the bracelets unless I have to," says I. "I expect
he'll toddle along meek enough when he sees the two of us."
I hadn't overstated the case much at that. Course, Jake Zosco has
developed more or less of a grouch durin' his 36 hours of solitary
confinement, but when Ellery orders him to march out with his hands up
he comes right along.
"What foolishness now, you young rough necker?" he demands.
"You'll soon find out how foolish it is," says Ellery. "You're in the
hands of the law."
"Wha-a-at!" gasps Jake. "For such a little thing as that? It--it can't
be. Who says it of me?"
"Isn't this your hat?" says I, handin' him the hail-proof kelly. "It
is, eh? Then you're the one. Come on, now. Right up to the house."
"It's a foolishness," he protests. "In Saginaw it couldn't be done."
All the way up the hill he mutters and grumbles but he keeps on going.
Not until he gets near enough to get a glimpse of all the people in the
drawin'-room does he balk.
"Matilda and all!" says he. "Why couldn't we go in by the back?"
"Nothing doin'," says Ellery, flourishing his knife. "You're goin' to
face the music, you are."
"That's the way to talk to him, Ellery," says I. "But if you don't mind
I think I'd better take charge of him from now on."
"Sure thing," says Ellery. "He's your prisoner."
"Then in you go, Jake," says I. "And don't forget about keepin' the
hands up. Now!"
Say, you should have seen that bunch when our high tragedy trio marches
in; Ellery with his butcher knife on one side; me on the other; and
leadin' in the center Mr. Jake Zosco, his arms above his head, his
dinner coat all dusty and wrinkled, and a two days' stubble of whiskers
decoratin' his face.
It was Mrs. Jake who got her breath first and swooped down on her little
man with wild cries of "Oh, Jake! My own Jakey at last!" And in another
second his head is all tangled up with the pearl ropes.
Next Andres Zosco comes to. "What is it, a holdup act?" he asks.
"Ellery, what you doing with that knife? What's it all about, somebody?"
That seems to be my cue, so I steps to the front. "Sorry, Mr. Zosco,"
says I, "but Ellery has discovered a deep laid plot."
"Eh?" says Zosco, gawpin'.
"To do away with you and your wife," I goes on. "He says your brother
Jake is in it, and Mrs. Jake, and the butler, and maybe a lot of others.
Isn't that right, Ellery?"
"Yep," says Ellery. "They're all crooks."
"What confounded tommyrot!" says Zosco. "Why--why, Jake wouldn't hurt a
fly."
"Tell what you saw, Ellery," I prompts.
"I heard 'em plottin'," says Ellery. "Anyway, I saw Jake and the butler
whisperin' on the sly. And they planned to meet down at the lodge with
the others. I think that dago chauffeur was one. But I foiled 'em. I
followed Jake when he sneaked into the lodge house and locked him in.
Then I wrote to the chief detective at Headquarters and they sent out
this sleuth to help me round 'em up." He finishes by wavin' at me
triumphant.
And you might know that would get a chuckle out of Mr. Robert. "Oh,
yes!" says he. "Detective Sergeant Torchy!"
Meanwhile Andres Zosco is starin' from one to the other of us and
scratchin' his head puzzled. "I can't get a word of sense out of it