Four Hours/Chapter 4

OR a moment they whispered plans, and then they went on to the door of the big room and listened there.

“About half an hour longer, Waldorp,” Granilton was saying. “And the man to use the knife is the one your tip sent to prison for a year. You'd better be thinking of the future, Waldorp.”

“If you're expecting me to whine you might as well save your breath, Granilton. And you'd better be thinking of the future yourself. Don't think this won't be brought home to you and the others. I know, of course, that this plan is yours. In the old days you were jealous of me, Granilton. Even then I had doubts, a couple of times, about you.”

“Yet it remained for you to be the one to turn traitor,” Granilton said sneeringly.

Barnes pressed Dratter's shoulder, and the latter stepped to one side of the door. And then Barnes deliberately flung the door open and strode into the room.

Granilton whirled to face him, and the others whipped out their weapons.

“It's only me, gents,” Barnes said.

“What are you doing here?” Granilton demanded. “I told you to watch that man”

“He's safe, sir. I bound and gagged him, sir, and lashed him to the chair. He'll be ready when you want him.”

“Well, what do you want here?”

“I was thinking about that girl upstairs, sir. She may get out of her room again.”

“If you're sure that man is safe, you can run up and take a look,” Granilton told him.

“Very well, sir,” said Barnes.

He had been watching them closely. Their first alarm over, they were off guard. Three of the four men had returned their automatics to their pockets, the fourth had tossed his on the table, and Granilton had dropped his on the chair from which he had sprung up at Barnes' entrance.

“And be quick about it!” Granilton commanded, turning to face Waldorp again.

“Yes, sir,” Barnes answered.

He turned as if to go back to the door. And, just as suddenly, he turned and faced them again, his revolver in his hand.

“Hands up, everybody!” he commanded, in a stern voice.

Dratter rushed in from the hall, menacing them with the big revolver they had taken from Elizabeth Waldorp.

“Hands up!” he added his command to that of Barnes.

“I'll plug the first man that makes a move,” Barnes warned. “Watch yourself, Granilton!”

“What's the meaning of this?” Granilton cried.

Barnes did not answer him. He nodded to Dratter, who went forward and took the automatic from the chair, and the one on the table. He slipped them into his pockets, and then disarmed the three who had put up their weapons.

“Toss those gats into a corner and get the other stuff,” Barnes directed him.

“Confound you, Barnes, what is the meaning of this?” Granilton asked again. “Joining forces with that bum, are you? What is it—want more money? Think you can play a game like this against us? We'll get you, Barnes—get you if it takes ten years—and get you good.”

Barnes made no reply.

Dratter had reëntered the room with the ropes and cords.

“Attend to Granilton first,” Barnes directed. “But don't gag him. Let him have his fill of talk.”

Granilton attempted to resist, but Dratter whirled him back into the chair and lashed his hands to the back of it. The four men beside the table were looking on in wonder, their hands still held in the air. They had been disarmed so quickly that they were helpless now. They glanced at the corner where Dratter had tossed some of their automatics, and they knew they could not reach them before Barnes fired a bullet to cut them down.

Granilton was cursing now, trying to get Barnes to explain. Dratter finished with him, and went on to the next man.

“Not a move, or I plug you,” Barnes warned again. “This is my party, you know. I am enjoying it hugely.”

“Barnes, what do you mean?” Granilton demanded again. “What do you expect to get by helping this outcast? Think Waldorp will reward you, do you? We can pay more.”

“Not when you are in jail,” Barnes said.

“You must be an ass, Barnes. How about your own record? It will be known that you were one of us. Think you'll go free, do you? Let me tell you that the whole story will come out. You don't know what you're mixed up in.”

“I know that I didn't agree to be an accessory to a murder,” Barnes said.

“Then let us pay you off—and get out. We don't need you any longer.”

“This is my game, I said.”

Dratter finished binding the last man. Barnes lowered his revolver and stepped back.

“Very pretty!” he commented. “So you would kill Waldorp and put the blame on an innocent man, would you? You are a clever gang, aren't you? You'd have The Chameleon blamed, get Detective Slone looking for him, would you? And go ahead with your jewel thefts with Slone off the right track? And Dratter would go to the chair, and you'd get through with me and perhaps send me to the chair, too.”

“Barnes, we'd protect you,” Granilton said. “You've got the wrong idea. That bum has talked you into this. Release me, let me give you money—a lot of money—then make your get-away, and we'll handle the rest of it.”

“I don't need your coin. And I'd much rather have you like this when the police come.”

“And where will you stand? Is your own record clear?”

“I'm not worrying about that.”

“You'd better worry about it,” Granilton said. “We'll swear you were in it as deep as we are. Waldorp can't save you, not when we show that he used to be one of us. And that man Slone—he'll hear the story, never think you are one of the original gang. We've turned a few tricks, remember. Slone will send you up with the rest of us. You can expect about twenty years!”

“I'm not worrying about the police,” Barnes said. “And I'm not worrying about Detective Slone. You see, Granilton—I am Slone!”

“You What?” Granilton cried.

“I am Detective Slone, Granilton. You thought that you were very clever, didn't you? You would do this thing and make Slone believe that one of The Chameleon's men were guilty, that The Chameleon was the head of the gang of jewel thieves to which Waldorp formerly belonged. Why, you were easy, Granilton! Don't think that all American detectives are fools! I managed to meet you, to get you to hire me. I waited and learned what I wanted to know. I even went this far, risked Waldorp's life, possibly. And then I simply closed in on you.”

“You—you are Slone?” Granilton queried again, gasping.

“I am. You're done, Granilton—you and the others. I'm Slone, and I know that The Chameleon isn't the head of the jewel gang. I'm after him, next, though, for a little matter of a bank robbery.”

Granilton hung his head; the others showed their fright. Waldorp exhibited the sudden relief he felt, though he was stupefied like a man rescued from certain death.

“Now, Dratter, we'll go ahead,” Slone said. “It will be a pleasure to send for the police. Detective Slone will get the credit, too. And I'll see that you are rewarded, Dratter. I know you were decoyed here. You may not always have been on the sunny side of the law, but I don't think you're much of a criminal. I feel that I can reward you and let you go, and express the hope that you'll behave yourself hereafter.”

Dratter walked toward him. He extended his hand, as if he wanted Slone to shake it. Slone tossed his revolver to a chair, and extended his own hand.

And suddenly Dratter presented the muzzle of one of the automatics at Slone's breast.

“Suppose you put up your hands!” he said.

“That's the boy!” Granilton exclaimed. “I'll not forget this, Dratter. I'll reward you well—and let you go! Turn the tables on him for us, Dratter! Detective Slone, is he? Well, we can rid ourselves of him the same time we shuffle off Waldorp!”

“Dratter, you traitor,” Slone cried.

“Keep them up, Slone! I'm not helping them turn the tables, so don't worry. Sit down!”

“But”

“Sit down!” Dratter said, in thundrous [sic] tones. “Put your hands behind the chair. I intend to bind you, too.”

“Dratter”

“And I can shoot quick and straight,” Dratter reminded him. “No tricks, Slone!”

He bound the detective's hands deftly, looped one of the portière cords, and lashed his feet to the chair, then sprang backward.

“Very pretty!” he said.

“Dratter, you fool!” Slone cried. “I'll get you for this. Want some of Granilton's dirty money, do you?”

“Untie me, Dratter,” Granilton said. “I'll pay you—and then you get out of here. We'll attend to Detective Slone.””

“Neither of you seems to have the idea,” Dratter said softly. “I am not doing this to earn some of your filthy money, Granilton. I'm not helping you at all. And I have no intention of having Detective Slone murdered by a bunch of thugs like you and your friends. I am going to leave you like this, hurry from this house, and telephone the police. When they get here, they can unravel this puzzle. They'll take some of the credit from Slone maybe, but that won't help you and your friends, Granilton. You fiend! Kill a man and a girl and hang the crime on me, and make people believe The Chameleon ordered it, will you?”

“But why tie me up?” Slone cried. “Do you doubt that I am the man I say? Is that it?”

“I know you are Slone, and that's why I tied you up,” Dratter said. “I can't have you bothering me, Slone, rewarding me, asking a lot of fool questions. The less I have to do with you the better for me. You have the gang of jewel thieves, and I am satisfied that this same gang will cause me no trouble hereafter.”

“What do you mean? Talk sense man,” Slone cried.

“I mean that I'll unfasten the girl, get away, then telephone for the police to come and take care of you all. I don't want to be bothered by you, Slone, while I'm making a get-away.”

“Great Scott, man, I'll not bother you. Maybe you are a petty thief, but what you've done for me to-night offsets that.”

“But it doesn't offset other things, Slone. I fear you would be much interested in bothering me. You see, I am The Chameleon!”

“What?”

“I've been suspicious of the Granilton crowd for some time. I let him decoy me here—it's a good word 'decoy.' I must leave you now, gentlemen, It is almost dawn!”

The Chameleon bowed before them—and hurried from the room.