A Discord in Avalon/Chapter 11

"I guess you'll have to identify me again, Burlington," said Quentin coolly, watching the detective bearing down upon them. "Here comes a chap who took me for a housebreaker last night when I was up at Mathews' cottage. I had a scrap with him and left him tied up."

"You seem to be making the most of your holiday," grunted Burlington, stopping.

Quentin laughed a little. Fairly breathing forth rage and vengeance, Osgood came striding down on them; his face was purple with suppressed fury, his clothes were torn and awry, and he looked anything but prepossessing. Quentin quietly reached for his pocketbook, extracting a twenty-dollar bill, and stood holding it unostentatiously as the detective raged up with fists waving.

"You—you—you" gasped Osgood, choked by his own vehement anger.

"Hello, old man!" chuckled Quentin pleasantly. "Been detained?"

The detective managed to emit an oath, but he was unarmed and plainly had not any great desire to taste Quentin's fist again, without the requisite backing.

"You come along with me, you dirty crook!" he stormed, careless of the passing tourists who paused to watch him curiously. "I've got the goods on you now, all right, and I'll land you for ten years"

"Here, what's all this row?" demanded Burlington with some asperity. He had managed to regain some of his customary air; which, in conjunction with his silk hat and frock coat, impressed the detective to the point of giving definite and coherent answer. "You can't go on like this in the street, my man. What does this mean, anyway?"

"It means that I'm a headquarters man," returned Osgood truculently, transferring his attentions to Burlington, who instantly ruffled up. Quentin reached up, took the star from his vest, and silently folded the twenty-dollar bill under it. "Don't you come any of your gay stuff on me, or I'll pull you along with this pal of yours. What's your name?"

"My name is Burlington, my man—Hall Burlington, M.D., of Long Beach," stiffly answered the other, his ire restoring all his pompous air. "A little more of your impertinence, sir, and I'll have the officials deport you from the island."

There was nothing weak about Hall Burlington. For all his rage, the keen-eyed detective gave back before the other's bristling dignity; accustomed to judge men, Osgood was sobered down on the instant, being placed on the defensive. "No offense," he blurted out. "Only you're trailin' around with this fellow, and he's playing the doctor game likewise."

"I take it you're a detective?" queried Burlington. Quentin saw that his bullying instincts were fully aroused, and chuckled to himself.

"I am that," retorted Osgood bluntly. "And if you're what you say, show me. I ain't aiming to be offensive, doc, but I'm goin' to run in this guy and do it prompt."

"I fancy not," exploded Burlington. "This gentleman is Doctor Allan Quentin, and is very well known to me; if you have any doubt as to my character, sir, you may make inquiries of any of the officials here. Now explain the meaning of this outrage, or I shall take this matter up with your superiors. I don't fancy being made the butt of a crowd of people by a bull-headed plain-clothes man."

As he spoke, Burlington glared around at the curious tourists who had assembled; some of these moved on hastily, others gave him brazen applause, which was as a red rag to a bull. Osgood flung a black look at Quentin.

"Doc, you're the goods, I guess; since this guy is your friend, I'll put it up to you, and you can come over and go bail for him if you want to."

With that, Osgood gave a succinct description of what had happened on the previous evening from his point of view, briefly prefacing it with his tale of the pickpocket and concluding with the story of how he had gotten away from the shed.

"My name was on my gun belt, and when I made that old fool of a caretaker understand what was what, half an hour ago, he unlocked me, and here I am. Now, doc, I ain't got my gun, but if your friend here wants to start anything, I guess he'll get all he's after. This thing is kind o' balled up, but I know what assault is, all right."

Quentin stepped forward, holding out the star and smiling a little.

"Here's your badge, Osgood. You might need it."

The detective gave him another black look and reached out; as his hand closed around the star and he felt the folded bill, he glanced down quickly. The black look vanished, and Quentin drew out his pocketbook, telling of how it had been located.

"Now, Osgood, here are cards and papers to establish my identity," he laughed easily. "As for our little scrap, you forced that yourself, but I'm quite willing to make it right with you. I told you the exact truth last night when I said that I had put a note under the door for Mr. Mathews"

"I know that," interrupted the other, shoving the bill into his pocket with a furtive grin. "I seen it this morning after I'd got free. Now if the other doc here will step over to the pier, we can fix this thing up with the officials, I guess."

Quentin grinned to himself. Great was the power of money! That twenty-dollar bill had changed the detective's whole outlook on life in a flash; from a blustering, vengeance-seeking minion of the law he had become a person very anxious to oblige. Of course, Burlington's aid had been all-powerful, and the production of the pocketbook had substantiated the story, yet at the back of the change in Osgood had been that folded bill under the star. After all, one's point of view largely depends on the cash in hand, thought Quentin.

He reckoned without his host, however. At this instant the detective paused and directed a puzzled look toward him.

"Say. I clear forgot about that girl! Maybe the other doc here can straighten that up, too I mean that there Miss Elsmere you was toting around."

"Eh? What's that? Miss Elsmere?" Burlington halted suddenly, his heavy jaw falling as he stared at Osgood.

Quentin's face went white. Now the fat was in the fire, indeed! Suspicion had darted swiftly into the detective's face once more, Burlington was staring from one to the other of them in bewildered surmise, and Quentin saw that the show-down was imminent with no sign of Mathews in guise of rescuer. However, since Mary Palmer had disappeared, it did not matter.

"Never mind this chump, Burlington," said Quentin hastily. "He's a bit twisted about things"

"Not much!" exclaimed the physician savagely, his ugly jaw shoving out. "This detective has been in touch with the young woman, and I intend to find out about it. Now, my man, I want to know where you heard the name of Miss Elsmere."

Quentin subsided. The game was up, indeed, and he would need all his energies if he was to come out of the thing decently. He suddenly perceived that Burlington would be an exceedingly ugly customer to deal with.

"I don't know a whole lot, doc," answered the detective slowly. "This here friend of yours can tell you more than I can. I was sent from headquarters to nab a woman thief, like I told you. I spotted a blind girl with this guy on the boat, yesterday, comin' over from Pedro. I butted in and asked the skirt's name, this guy answers up that it's Miss Enid Elsmere, and says who he is, so I thinks maybe I've made a mistake. That's all I know about the lady, except what come after, like I told you."

During this brief recital Burlington's face became black with suspicion and suppressed rage. When Osgood finished, he whirled on Quentin; but for all his anger there was a hint of fear in the darting blue eyes.

"Quentin, you met Miss Elsmere on the boat?" he exclaimed, forcing himself into calm. Quentin, seeing that he still held a lash over the older man, smiled slightly, although his eyes hardened.

"I did not," he returned flatly. "Nor did I see anything of her."

Burlington gasped, and took a step forward with outstretched fist, baffled fury in his face.

"Don't lie to me, Quentin!" he stormed. "I'm no"

"Look here," and the cold acid of Quentin's voice bit through his vehemence and quieted him. "I don't propose to be called a liar by you, Burlington. This thing can be explained, but I want an apology from you for that word, and I want it now."

Osgood grinned furtively as he listened. The steely note in Quentin's voice, which had failed to warn the detective on the previous evening, had its effect on Burlington, whose eyes rested on Quentin's. The younger man's icy coldness pierced Burlington's rage and sobered him on the instant.

"I didn't mean to be hasty, Quentin," he retracted. "But there's something behind all this, and I'm going to get to it. Have you been trying to play with me, sir? Why have you been concealing your knowledge of this young lady, and pretending to help me in seeking for her?"

Osgood suddenly remembered his personal property, and the effects of the twenty-dollar bill faded out. He pushed forward, facing Quentin with swift truculence.

"Say, where's my money and the stuff you took from me, hey? This thing ain't been squared up yet"

"Oh, shut up!" broke out Quentin, and at the flame in his eyes Osgood retreated a pace. "Your stuff is at the hotel desk, waiting for you. Now get out of this, and let me settle matters with Burlington. Your injuries are wholly personal, and you'll find your money all safe and sound."

He impatiently shoved the burly detective aside, but Burlington had not yet done with the man. Catching his arm, he whirled him about.

"See here, Osgood—what was this blind girl like whom you saw with Quentin on the boat?"

The detective gave prompt reply.

"She had fluffy brown hair, wore a white, tailored suit, and was neat as a pin. The dip I was after had played the fine lady, so"

"What? You're sure her hair was not black! Was she tall or short?"

"Tall, doc. Tall and fair."

"Good heavens!" Burlington took a step back, brushing a hand across his eyes in bewilderment. Osgood's tone was too positive to admit of doubt, and Quentin laughed shortly.

"You see, Burlington, the girl Osgood saw with me was Miss Palmer and no other. Now let's get out of this we can go to my room at the hotel, and I'll have it out with you if you want it."

"Wait!" cried Burlington hoarsely, staring at him. "Why did you give her Miss Elsmere's name? How had you heard anything of Miss Elsmere? If her name was Palmer, why did you lie to Osgood about it?"

"By thunder, that's right, doc!" blurted out the detective, whirling angrily on Quentin. "So you gave me a bum steer, eh? I guess we ain't out of the woods on this thing yet, bo! Now come across lively, or there'll be trouble."

Quentin gave him a contemptuous look. The gathering crowd irritated him, for he had no mind to expose his hand in public, and since the thing had to come out, he determined to take the aggressive before Burlington had a chance to do so.

"All right," he said shortly, facing Burlington. "If you want it straight, my friend, you can have it. I've been doing a heap of lying this morning, Burlington, and it ends right here. I happen to know all about Enid Elsmere, your villainy in connection with her, your keeping her hidden away in your house, and all the rest of it. What's more, you've got to move mighty softly if you're going to side-step the biggest scandal that ever woke up this part of the world."

His quiet but intense words had all the effect for which he could have wished. The big physician's bloodshot face went white as he listened, then became mottled again; he breathed stertorously, and there was terror in his wild stare, but it was the terror of desperation. His square jaw clamped shut swiftly, and when Quentin had finished he seemed suddenly to regain the air of masterful poise which had been stripped from him.

Seeing that transformation, Quentin knew that it boded trouble. Burlington was desperate; the fact that Quentin knew his secret meant exposure and disgrace for him, and social ruin at the least. For a moment he did not reply, while the amazed Osgood stood looking from one to the other in questioning conjecture. Quentin's abrupt change from defense to attack had set him all adrift.

"Let's get out of this," exclaimed Burlington, once more becoming aware of the crowd. His sudden calm was anything but reassuring. "Quentin, we can't settle this thing here in the street. Come along to your room at the hotel."

"Here, I guess I'll trot along," broke in Osgood, as Burlington took a step away. Quentin hesitated.

"This matter is between ourselves," he began, but the physician swung around with a savage oath.

"No, by Osgood, you come along with us and see this thing through. I fancy I'll have some use for you in a mighty short time."

And, catching his malevolent look, Quentin led the way to the hotel with foreboding in his heart. He could not fathom Burlington's intent, but he saw that the man was dangerous—terribly dangerous, and the more so for his forced calm.