The Bandbox

“Have you thought of going to Hartford?”

“I’m no such fool. If that letter was posted in Hartford this morning, it means that Ismay’s in Philadelphia.”

“But isn’t he wise enough to know you’d think just that?”

Iff sat up with a flush of excitement. “By George!” he cried – “there’s something in that!”

“It’s a chance,” said Staff thoughtfully.

The little man jumped up and began to pace the floor. To and fro, from the hall-door to the windows, he strode. At perhaps the seventh turn at the windows he paused, looking out, then moved quickly back to Staff’s side.

“Taxicab stopping outside,” he said in a low voice: “woman getting out – Miss Landis, I think. If you don’t mind, I’ll dodge into your bedroom.”

“By all means,” assented his host, rising.

Iff swung out of sight into the back room as Staff went to and opened the hall-door.

Alison had just gained the head of the stairs. She came to the study door, moving with her indolent grace, acknowledging his greeting with an insolent, cool nod.

“Not too late, I trust?” she said enigmatically.

“For what?” asked Staff, puzzled.

“For this appointment,” she said, extending a folded bit of paper.

“Appointment?” he repeated with the rising inflection, taking the paper.

“It was delivered at my hotel half an hour ago,” she told him. “I presumed you …”

“No,” said Staff. “Half a minute…”

He shut the door and unfolded the note. The paper and the chirography, he noticed, were identical with those of the note received by Iff from Hartford. With this settled to his satisfaction, he read the contents aloud, raising his voice a trifle for the benefit of the listener in the back room.

“‘If Miss Landis wishes to arrange for the return of the Cadogan collar, will she be kind enough to call at Mr. Staff’s rooms in Thirtieth Street at a quarter to ten tonight.

“‘N. B. – Any attempt to bring the police or private detectives or other outsiders into the negotiations will be instantly known to the writer and – there won’t be any party.’”

“Unsigned,” said Staff reflectively.

“Well?” demanded Alison, seating herself.

“Curious,” remarked Staff, still thinking.

“Well?” she iterated less patiently. “Is it a practical joke?”

“No,” he said, smiling; “to me it looks like business.”

“You mean that the thief intends to come here – to bargain with me?”

“I should fancy so, from what he says… And,” Staff added, crossing to his desk, “forewarned is forearmed.”

He bent over and pulled out the drawer containing his revolver. At the same moment he heard Alison catch her breath sharply, and a man’s voice replied to his platitude.

“Not always,” it said crisply. “Be good enough to leave that gun lay – just hold up your hands, where I can see them, and come away from that desk.”

Staff laughed shortly and swung smartly round, exposing empty hands. In the brief instant in which his back had been turned a man had let himself into the study from the hall. He stood now with his back to the door, covering Staff with an automatic pistol.

“Come away,” he said in a peremptory tone, emphasising his meaning with a flourish of the weapon. “Over here – by Miss Landis, if you please.”

Quietly Staff obeyed. He had knocked about the world long enough to recognise the tone of a man talking business with a gun. He placed himself beside Alison’s chair and waited, wondering.

Indeed, he was very much perplexed and disturbed. For the first time since Iff had won his confidence against his better judgment, his faith in the little man was being shaken. This high-handed intruder was so close a counterpart of Mr. Iff that one had to look twice to distinguish the difference, and then found the points of variance negligible – so much so that the fellow might well be Iff in different clothing and another manner. And Iff could easily have slipped out of the bedroom by its hall door. Only, to shift his clothes so quickly he would have to be a lightning-change artist of exceptional ability.

On the whole, Staff decided, this couldn’t be Iff. And yet … and yet …

“You may put up that pistol,” he said coolly. “I’m not going to jump you, so it’s unnecessary. Besides, it’s bad form with a lady present. And finally, if you should happen to let it off the racket would bring the police down on you more quickly than you’d like, I fancy.”

The man grinned and shoved the weapon into a pocket from which its grip projected handily.

“Something in what you say,” he assented. “Besides, I’m quick, surprisingly quick with my hands.”

“Part of your professional equipment, no doubt,” commented Staff indifferently.

“Admit it,” said the other easily. He turned his attention to Alison. “Well, Miss Landis …?”

“Well, Mr. Iff?” she returned in the same tone.

“No,” he corrected; “not Iff – Ismay.”

“So you’ve changed identities again!”

“Surely you don’t mind?” he said, grinning over the evasion.

“But you denied being Ismay aboard the Autocratic.”

“My dear lady, you couldn’t reasonably expect me to plead guilty to a crime which I had not yet committed.”

“Oh, get down to business!” Staff interrupted impatiently. “You’re wasting time – yours as well as ours.”

“Peevish person, your young friend,” Ismay commented confidentially to Alison. “Still, there’s something in what he says. Shall we – ah – begin to negotiate?”

“I think you may as well,” she agreed coldly.

“Very well, then. The case is simple enough. I’m here to offer to secure the return of the Cadogan collar for an appropriate reward.”

“Ten thousand dollars has been offered,” she began.

“Not half enough, my dear lady,” he interposed. “You insult the necklace by naming such a meagre sum – to say nothing of undervaluing my intelligence.”