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Ghost Breaker, The

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IX CHECKMATE THE FIRST The detective glared at the nobleman, with fingers obviously itching for action. He sucked his teeth contemptuously, and then turned his back squarely upon the noble countenance. Over his face spread the beatific smile which strong, rough men deem overpowering with a member of the weaker sex. "As you was saying, lady, before we was so impolitely interrupted, you was in the hotel when this gunplay went on. Did you hear it?" "Yes, sir, I heard two shots." "Did you hear anything else?" "Yes, indeed. I heard a great many people running up and down the corridor, outside my door." The detective scribbled away in his notebook. Jarvis winked again at the Princess, over the doughty shoulders which were backed toward him. The Duke caught the wink, and pondered over it. "Did anyone come in your room, miss?" "Yes. My maid was frightened, poor child. She came in, and begged me to protect her." "Ah-ha! A-hum! And how did your lock get broken?" "It was broken when we came to the room. I was foolish not to complain to the management at once, for I might have been robbed by some sneak-thief. I explained all that at the hotel." "Um ... All right. What about the colored man who came to your room afterwards and carried away a large bundle?" The Duke's eyes were sparkling now. He was biding his chance to intervene. Jarvis watched him without the flicker of an eyelash. "That was my servant," explained the Princess, easily. "I sent for him, because I had made a number of purchases too late to get them into my trunk. They are here unopened; you may examine them if you wish." The detective waved aside the offer: he was nothing if not gallant—if the questioned one were fair enough! "Oh, that's all right. But what do you know about this, miss?" He produced a pocket-knife, and walked toward her slowly, examining it with care. The Duke of Alva leaned over his shoulder with absorbed interest. "This knife has the initial 'W.' How about it?" The girl reached forward, with a graceful hand. "Oh, I'm so glad you found it! Thank you for bringing it to me." "Then it's yours? Who is this party 'W'? Your name is Aragon, I believe." The Princess laughed. "I am Maria Theresa of Aragon, you see." "I don't see. Where does the 'W' come in? I know how to spell, you know, even if I'm only a bull." And he glared pugnaciously at the duke. "Why ... it isn't 'W'—can't you understand? You're holding it upside down. It is 'M'—standing for my first name: Maria Theresa." The detective grudgingly handed her the trinket. He looked into his memorandum book again, chewing the end of his pencil. "Now, there's just one more thing, Miss..." Carlos could control himself no longer. He caught the officer's arm in a feverish grip, which was as promptly thrown off. "You will pardon me, but I wish to inform you that this man's name is Warren..." he began. The detective spun about, and protruded his heavy chin at the Duke. "Say, who's running this 'Third Degree'—you or me?" The Duke tried to temporize. "But, my dear man..." "Say, cull, I ain't your dear man. Cut that guff—don't dearie me. I'm a big rough fellow, but I've got some gumption. You get out of here." He gave him a thoroughly plebeian push toward the door. "Yes, Carlos, do go. Leave us to attend to this matter. These gentlemen are so kind and so sympathetic. I am sure we can finish this better without you." "I merely wished to point out..." "You point him out, Jim," ordered the first detective to his assistant. "You hear what the lady says. This is her cabin." The second official caught the aristocrat with a rude grasp of the velvet coat-collar and shook him as one would a child. The Duke's teeth chattered. "Out yer goes, and if yer butts in again I'll fan yer. Beat it! Do yer hear? Do yer get me? Skibooch!" The Duke tried to regain his equilibrium before braving the publicity of the saloon. His voice trembled with passion, as he retorted: "An infernal outrage! I'll report this to his Majesty, the King." The first detective looked at the jocular Warren Jarvis, who published his third wink, this time in the direction of the big sleuth. "King! Huh! Roosevelt wasn't elected! Did yer get that, Jim? Well, what do you know about that?" Jarvis leaned forward, with a sibilant whisper of secrecy: "Sssh! Gentlemen. Don't be disturbed. He is quite harmless. You heard him raving about a king? He suffers from pernicious megalomania. That's all—nothing more. He has grandiose ideas." Jim coughed apologetically as his superior officer blinked. "What does them words mean, Jim?" "Wheels—bats in his belfry—just plain nutty, Mike." "You mean he is crazy, mister?" Jarvis nodded. "Yes, he is at times. But don't be cross with him, for he has a beautiful nature, except when the ravages of the disease are upon him. You know, he doesn't even like me when he has a spell like this. But he's not at all dangerous. It is just necessary to humor him—he's not to blame—it's the way he was raised." "Then you're looking out for him?" and the detective looked furtively toward the door, as he reassured himself by fumbling with the revolver in his own hip-pocket. "Yes, that's my job." The big sleuth shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry I had to be rough with him, like that, miss. But you seen as well as I did that he was gumming the game. Why, with some boob detectives that I know, a feller like that might queer the crowd of you—making it look as though you was implicated." He looked into the ubiquitous notebook. "One question more. How do you account for the blood on the knob of the door—from the inside, too?" The girl was honestly surprised this time. "Blood on my door? Why—I——? "I can explain that, Inspector." "Go ahead, then, Doctor." "Do you mind?" and the Kentuckian turned politely toward the girl. She shook her head, wondering what could be in his mind. "You see, that colored man—the one you were talking about—brought the bundle there. He tied it up and, cutting the string carelessly, broke the blade of the knife and cut his hand. That was it, wasn't it? You see the long blade snapped off near the handle." The detective nodded—not completely convinced. "Where is this colored man now?" was his question. It seemed to Maria Theresa that they were getting hopelessly into the toils. She was discouraged, as she glanced at the imperturbable Jarvis. He nodded ever so slightly, and she caught her cue. "He is in stateroom 729," she said. "All right. I'll look at him. 729? Thanks, miss. You know, this ain't personal at all. I'm just taking the chief's orders. I'm sorry to bother you." He walked toward the door with the dignified flat-footed gait which distinguishes the Manhattan sleuth and all others in the world. "Good-by, miss. Watch that maniac, do! He looks like a bad actor to me." They were gone, and Maria Theresa sank into a chair weakly. Jarvis energetically sprang to the telephone. "Hello! Give me room 729." After a pause he continued: "Hello, hello, hello, Rusty! Yes, Rusty. Damn it all, answer me, do you hear me?" There was another pause, and the girl began to lose her control again. "Yes, I know I told you to keep mum, but I'm telling you to talk now." Jarvis knew that every second was precious. "Do just what I tell you and do it quick. Take your knife and cut your left hand.... What?... No, don't cut it off, you damn fool. Just enough to make it bleed a little, and then tie it up with a handkerchief.... Never mind ... That's none of your business! Remember don't answer questions! You're deaf and dumb again." He hung up the receiver and turned toward the Princess with a newborn laugh. "By George, blood will tell! You're game. You certainly handled the detective with European statecraft. Then your cousin Carlos broke in at the psychological moment to scatter their gum-shoe wits. It was beautiful comedy." "Now they believe him crazy!" she answered. "How will that turn out?" "Nothing could be better. They won't believe a word he says. He'll be crazy before he gets through with it. Could you handle him all right now?" She nodded abstractedly. She was looking at his hand, which had gone without attention all this time, and which had been adroitly snuggled inside his pocket during the visit of the New York detectives. "Yes. You must hurry and have your hand dressed before it develops into something serious." "All right. The ship's surgeon will dress it, with collodion so that you can't even see that it's hurt.... Crazy! Hum! That's funny!" And he left by the door to the promenade deck, with a merry laugh which showed how the nervous strain had lightened, after all these solitary, bitter hours. There was a knocking on the entry from the saloon, and at her word it opened. The Duke entered, glaring savagely. "Well!" "Well!" "Well—I'm waiting!" he exclaimed. "Waiting for what, Carlos?" "For some explanation of all this deceit. Who is this man Warren? Alone with you here in your cabin!" She raised her eyebrows in beautiful surprise, as she asked: "Must I tell you all over again? He is a professional ghost breaker, just as he said." "How did you find such a creature?" "I met him quite by accident. I knew at once that he was a man in a thousand." "What do you know about him, Maria?" "Why ... that he is as well known in America as you are in Spain." The Duke sniffed. "Indeed! Well, he will be better known when I turn him over to the police. He will get much of that free advertising which Americans love so well." "Why, Carlos, what do you mean?" "I think you know what I mean," and there was a threat in his manner. Just then the large detective thrust his red face into the door. "It's all right, miss. We're going ashore now in the pilot boat. But you should have told us that your nigger was a dummy!" Here was the last chance for the Duke. He grasped it, hurrying toward the door. "One moment, gentlemen, one moment!" and he laughed in Maria's face, confident of his success. "If this person is famous, these gentlemen should know him.... Do you know Warren, the Ghost Breaker?" "The what?" asked the detective. "The Ghost Breaker!" Both men now entered the room, grinning at each other. "He's off his trolleys again, Jim," said the big fellow to the other. Jarvis stepped in through the deck door. "Is this man Warren, the famous Ghost Breaker? This man right here!" "The guy's dippy all right, cull," remarked the nearest sleuth to Jarvis, who nodded most seriously. "Agree with anything he says. You know!" he muttered. The Duke was beside himself with rage. "Answer my question! Is this man Warren the Ghost Breaker?" "Aw, Dook, old top, that's all right. Don't worry about it!... Sure he's a ghost breaker, ain't he, Jim?" "Best bet you know," replied obliging Jim. "He's the prince of all ghost breakers!" The Duke smote his breast furiously, while the detectives smiled sympathetically into Jarvis' serious face. "Sacristi! Am I Carlos Hernando, Duke of Alva, to be mocked at by two grinning bull-necked scullions?" "Whatever you say goes, Dook!" amiably replied the first detective. A ship's officer appeared on the promenade deck and called through the open door at them. "Hurry up, if you're going ashore with the pilot, officers." The two men bowed with their best imitation of gallantry, to the Princess Maria Theresa of Aragon. Nita, standing in the vestibule, sent a melting glance at the faithful Jim, who stumbled over the treacherous cabin threshold. The superior of the two shook hands pompously with Jarvis, whose left hand was still in his pocket. "Be kind to the little rascal, Doc. He might not get such good treatment from them Scotland Yard bulls, on the other side. They don't understand human nature like us fellers—they ain't got no education over there. Good-by, Doc! Don't let your foot slip!" He turned toward the Duke, as he passed through the door. "You're all right, Dook, old boy, if you do have fits! Ghost Breaker—ha, ha!" Carlos started toward the other door, with a bound. "It's not too late. I'll see the captain." Jarvis, sitting on the trunk, whistled with typical American lack of reverence. As the nobleman turned about, he found himself looking into the barrel of the revolver. A quizzical smile played about the firm lines of the Kentuckian's mouth. "Don't be in too big a hurry, your Excellency. The captain is apt to be busy just now. And besides, he may not believe in ghosts!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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