Chapter XVI Rough Stuff
“You’re quite sure it belongs to you?” asked Sam, his scrutiny of Rosalind’s face pointed to the verge of annoyance.
“I have said so,” she answered with finality.
A fifteen-minute conversation had preceded.
“It’s not the kind of a job I’d pick of my own choosing,” he remarked reflectively.
“I tell you, it must be done!”
“Why not give me a handful of money and let me go in to-morrow and buy it?”
“No! It’s mine!”
“Why not claim it, then?”
“I cannot. I—”
He waited patiently for the remainder of the sentence.
“Oh, what is the use of explaining?” she exclaimed irritably. “The point is, it belongs to me. I must have it. I will have it! Why should you haggle over the question as to the real owner—after what you have done?”
“Which is to say—”
“Come,” said Rosalind. “You and I have no need to beat about the bush in this matter. You are perfectly well aware that I know what you are. I’m not blind, or even dense.”
“No, ma’am,” he said meekly enough.
“The point is, you know how to do it.”
“I suppose that’s a compliment.”
“Judge it as you please. It may be a compliment or a reproach. I’m not talking about the ethics of the matter, I’m talking about results.”
“Well, what is there in it for me?” he demanded bluntly.
“I’ll pay you!”
“How much?”
“Why—almost anything you ask.”
“You don’t drive a very sharp bargain, ma’am,” he commented.
“I am not accustomed to dealing with—”
“Thieves?”
Rosalind nodded.
“Well, it might be done,” he admitted slowly. “But it has risks. And it can’t be done alone.”
“It will be necessary for you to have help?”
“Yes! that’s certain. I’ll need you, in fact.”
Rosalind evinced no hesitation. She was thinking only of her bracelet, in the winning of which she was willing to burn all bridges.
“Very well; what do you want me to do?”
The boatman eyed her curiously.
“It depends,” he answered, “on just what we figure to do. Of course, we could crack the case and make a run for it. But that’s too simple to get away with. No chance.
“We could get a crowd into the lobby perhaps, and then try it. That’s a little better. Or we might be able to manage to get everybody out of the lobby, even the clerks, and make a stab at it that way. I’m not very strong for that, either.”
“Couldn’t you wait until the hotel was closed?” asked Rosalind.
It did not occur to her for an instant that she was plotting against the criminal law.
He shook his head, after appearing to consider the suggestion.
“There’s always a bell-hop on duty,” he said. “I don’t see how it could be done, unless we both hang around until after the crowd is gone. And I suppose you’ve got to go home with your people.”
“That’s true,” she admitted.
“No,” said the boatman. “If it’s going to be done at all it must be pulled off while the crowd is still here. That’s a cinch. I may be willing to take a chance after hours somewhere else, but not here. It seems to me if we’re going to get that bracelet we’ve got to make a different sort of play. How about stealing the whole show-case?”
Rosalind stared.
“That is, stealing it for a while,” he continued. “I don’t mean carting all that truck away; we wouldn’t know what to do with it. Besides, most of it isn’t worth anything. You don’t happen to be wearing a badge, do you?”
“A badge?”
“One of those red-and-gold affairs that say something about the Belgians.”
“Of course not.”
“We need a couple,” he reflected. “Will you get them?”
“Where?”
“Well, a lot of the men are wearing them. I’ve seen a few on the women, too. You might go in and dance a couple of times.’
“You mean—”
The boatman nodded.
“Impossible!”
“Not a bit, ma’am, if you’ll only dance the way you did with me. You can make a man forget everything else except his feet. It’ll be dead easy. He’ll be in a trance. All you do when you’ve got him under the influence is to cop his badge. And be sure to get two; that means two dances.”
Rosalind was unconvinced.
“Tell me more,” she commanded.
For another five minutes the boatman talked earnestly. She hesitated doubtfully and shook her head several times, yet she listened. When the wavering instants came upon her she thought of the bracelet. Whenever she remembered that fresh resolution re-enforced her soul.
“It is despicable—hateful!” she said.
“But it’s reasonably sure,” he supplemented.
“And then—if I get them?”
“Meet me at the end of the porch.”
She hesitated.
“Of course, it really belongs to me,” she remarked parenthetically.
Sam chuckled.
“Now you’re getting back to the morals of it. That won’t get you anything, ma’am.”
“But—”
“Take the bull outside and shoot it,” he interrupted tersely. “What difference does it make whether you own it or not? Maybe you do; perhaps you don’t. I’m not asking you to produce any title-deeds. The point to aim at is—get the bracelet!
“It may belong to the Queen of England for all I know. I don’t think you’d be particular if it did, provided you wanted it. You asked me to go shares on this job—”
“I didn’t!”
“I guess that’s right, too. You wanted me to do it alone. That’s worse because you were sticking all the chances on me. But so far as stealing it goes, you’ll have to admit that I didn’t suggest it. I only told you where the thing was. Then you make a proposition to hire me.”
She flushed, but remained silent.
“So it becomes a fifty-fifty deal,” he concluded.
Rosalind thought of the name of the boatman’s launch. It assumed a new significance.
“So it’s up to you to get those two badges and get ’em quick,” he declared bruskly. “I don’t care how; only I suggested a way. If you can think of a better one, go to it.”
Rosalind compressed her lips and started toward the hotel.
“Any time you get cold feet,” he advised, “just remember the bracelet.”
It was superfluous advice. There was no fear she would forget it. It constituted her whole sustaining motive.
Three dances went by, and the boatman still waited under the trees. The music had heralded a fourth when he sighted a tall, slim figure in white approaching with quick steps.
“Here they are,” said Rosalind shortly.
She thrust two red-and-gold badges into his hand so roughly that the pins pricked him.
“It took you three dances,” he grumbled as he sucked one of his fingers.
“Well, I got them!” she exclaimed fiercely. “Now let me see you do something.”
For answer, he coolly pinned one of the badges against her snow-white gown and stepped back to study the result.
“Now we belong,” he commented as he affixed the second badge to the lapel of his coat. “Of course, it makes us just like common folks, but we can’t be particular, considering what we’re after. Did your partners happen to notice that they’d been frisked?”
Rosalind forbore to answer; she was outraged and incensed.
“Remember, now!” he cautioned. “We’re both on the committee. What we say goes. And if you try to run out on me, look out, ma’am.”
Her figure stiffened perceptibly.
“Not afraid?” he asked.
“I’m rather inclined to believe that you are,” said Rosalind coldly.
“Come on, then,” said the boatman.
Together they walked into the lobby of the hotel. All of the dancers were elsewhere, but the clerks and the bell-boys were in their accustomed places. Across the lobby, their red badges proclaiming ostentatious sympathy with a war-stricken hemisphere, the boatman and Rosalind Chalmers made their way at a deliberate pace. There was a flush in her cheeks—not of guilt, but of shame. If any one should see!
“Loosen up a little,” he cautioned in a whisper. “Act human. Remember you’re just common folks now. Smile at me; you’re not headed for a funeral. That’s better; that’s more natural.”
They paused in front of the glass case. For a second time Rosalind’s glance rested upon her bracelet. The sight filled her with new courage.
Sam turned and beckoned authoritatively toward a uniformed youth who lolled on a bench.
“Yes, sir,” said the boy as he advanced and saluted.
“Get some of the other boys or some porters. We want this case moved,” he said briskly.
The boy eyed him doubtfully.
“It’s to be taken into the ballroom, isn’t it?” inquired the boatman, turning to Rosalind.
“Of course,” she answered.
“It’s getting no display here at all,” said Sam, turning to the boy. “The committee wants it where the guests can see it. Hurry up, now. Get some boys.”
“I’ll speak to the manager,” said the bell-hop.
“Mr. Saunders? No need; I’ve already spoken to him. And he said to make you boys jump. Incidentally, there’s half a dollar apiece in it for you. Step lively!”
The boy was galvanized. He made a swift gesture to a uniformed group on the other side of the lobby, and was joined by four other boys.
“Now, boys,” explained the boatman, “this case is to be moved into the ballroom. We want it to get a little advertising. You must be very careful with it.”
The five boys nodded and ranged themselves about the table.
“You’ll see why you must be careful if you look inside,” continued Sam. “There’s a lot of valuable stuff in there, boys—stuff that can be broken if it’s handled roughly. Stuff that might be lost, too—and couldn’t be replaced.
“See that pair of earrings? They’ll sell for fifty dollars, easy. See those brass candlesticks? They’re worth twenty-five. And if there wasn’t anything else in the case, that bracelet is enough to make you careful. It’s worth a hundred at the very least; perhaps five hundred. Now, do you understand?”
The five boys were staring in fascination at the magic bauble. The boatman made a swift scrutiny of their faces.
To Rosalind his harangue was without meaning. She tapped one foot restlessly upon the floor and looked about her.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re not going to drop it, grab hold,” advised the boatman.
The captain boy and his four assistants laid hold of the case and raised it gingerly from the table.
“Which way, sir?”
“By way of the porch,” said Sam. “Careful now! I’m responsible for this stuff, and I’d hate to have to replace some of it—especially that bracelet. That’s it; steady! Take it easy.”
The five boys moved slowly across the lobby to the main entrance, clinging grimly to the glazed box that contained so many wonderful trinkets. Their eyes, hitherto incurious concerning its contents, were now fascinated.
“Nothing like a little judicious barking,” whispered the boatman to Rosalind as they followed in the rear of the procession.
The owner of the bracelet was mystified. Something, she knew, had not been confided to her. But there was no time to demand an explanation.
Out upon the porch the burden-bearers, breathing rapidly, turned in the direction indicated by Sam, and began a laborious journey between tables and chairs.
“Take it slowly,” cautioned the boatman. “There’s no hurry.”
“If we don’t hurry, we’ll have to set it down!” gasped the captain. “It’s heavy!”
“Tired, eh? Well, take a rest. No use running a chance of dropping it. Here—not that way! Tilt the end of it up on the rail. There! Now ease up on it. That’s it. Take a breathing-spell.”
The show-case lay balanced across the railing of the veranda, while five boys recovered breath. One of them steadied it with a hand, while four mopped their brows. Sam bent over the gaudy display beneath the glass, and seemed to be talking to himself.
“Good stuff, some of that. It ought to sell high. I wouldn’t mind bidding on that brooch myself. But the bracelet—whew! That’s going high, I’ll bet. Why, I know a dealer—”
The boatman’s foot slipped and he lurched heavily against the case. There was a warning cry from the boy who balanced it upon its precarious perch, echoed by a sharp exclamation from Rosalind as the case upended and slid gently over the railing. An instant later it landed with a jingling crash on the gravel path, six feet below.
Sam swore fervently at his own carelessness.
“Quick!” he commanded. “Get down here, you, and pick up the stuff!”
Five boys scrambled over the railing and leaped to the ground. Rosalind, almost in a frenzy of solicitude for her precarious property, started to run toward the nearest steps. She was pulled back.
“S-sh! Stay here!” commanded the boatman. “Watch!”
He leaned over the railing and looked down upon the wreckage, amid which his uniformed helpers were already on their knees, heedless of broken glass and intent only upon retrieving the treasures that had come such a melancholy cropper.
Bit by bit they rescued the miscellaneous donations to the cause of Belgian relief. Bit by bit they tossed aside the broken glass and piled in a loose heap the gaudy gifts that had been so tenderly guarded.
“Watch!” repeated Sam in a whisper.
Rosalind watched, but she was still bewildered. A moment later her lips parted and her eyes widened with alarm.
“Keep still!” cautioned her companion. “I saw it, too. It’s the black-haired one, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“That’s the way I made it. I spotted him back in the lobby,” said the boatman in a low tone. “Leave him to me.”
“But another one—that one”—she pointed—“has a ring, and I think—”
“Hush! What do you care? It’s the one with the black hair for us.”
A minute later the captain looked up at the watchers.
“We’ve got it all picked up, sir,” he said. “What’ll we do with it?”
“Carry it back to the lobby,” said the boatman. “It was my fault; I’ll explain how it happened. We’ll see if we can get another case.”
“Go get an omnibus tray,” ordered the head bell-boy.
A uniformed youth with black hair detached himself from the group and hurried to obey. But he did not move in the direction of the dining-room. Instead, having ascended to the porch, he headed in an opposite direction and made off at a brisk pace.
“I’ll attend to him,” said the boatman hurriedly to Rosalind. “It’s all right. Beat it, you! Take off that badge and make yourself scarce. That’s what I’m going to do as soon as I interview our enterprising young friend. See you to-morrow, maybe. Don’t worry—pal.”
He was gone down the porch. Rosalind looked after him doubtfully. Then, with a swift movement, she tore the red badge from her dress, concealed it in her hand, and moved off in an opposite direction.
There was nothing more to be done save escape. The enterprise was on the knees of the gods. Only one thing was certain—Mr. Schmidt, of Chicago, would never desecrate the property of a princess.
In a dark angle of the porch a wriggling boy in uniform was pinned against the wall by a sinewy hand that grasped his shoulder none too gently.
“Fork it out!” hissed the boatman.
“I—I—”
“You little crook, I saw you! Come on! Kick in with it!”
“But I didn’t mean—honest!”
“Produce! I don’t care what you meant. I saw you pipe it, you young burglar! Ah—I thought so!”
The boatman held a heavy yet flexible object close to his eyes to make sure. Then he slipped it into his pocket.
“If I catch you around this hotel again it’ll be you for the lockup!” he growled as he swung the youth away from the wall and held him at arm’s length.
Then the bell-boy was booted off into the gloom.
The boatman waited until the sound of terrified footsteps faded away. He laughed, a second later, as he vaulted the railing to the sod beneath and vanished among the trees on the darkest part of the lawn.