The Chase of the Golden Plate. Futrelle Jacques
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with deliciously rounded chin, slightly parted rose-red lips, and sparkling, eager eyes as blue as – as blue as – well, they were blue eyes. An envious mask hid cheeks and brow, but above a sombrero was perched arrogantly on crisp, ruddy-gold hair, flaunting a tricoloured ribbon. A revolver swung at her hip – the wrong hip – and a Bowie knife, singularly inoffensive in appearance, was thrust through her girdle. The Burglar looked curiously a moment, then smiled.
"How did you know me?" he asked.
"By your chin," she replied. "You can never hide yourself behind a mask that doesn't cover that."
The Burglar touched his chin with one gloved hand.
"I forgot that," he remarked ruefully.
"Hadn't you seen me?"
"No."
The Girl drew nearer and laid one hand lightly on his arm; her voice dropped mysteriously.
"Is everything ready?" she asked.
"Oh, yes," he assured her quickly. His voice, too, was lowered cautiously.
"Did you come in the auto?"
"Yes."
"And the casket?"
For an instant the Burglar hesitated.
"The casket?" he repeated.
"Certainly, the casket. Did you get it all right?"
The Burglar looked at her with a new, businesslike expression on his lips. The Girl returned his steady gaze for an instant, then her eyes dropped. A faint colour glowed in her white chin. The Burglar suddenly laughed admiringly.
"Yes, I got it," he said.
She took a deep breath quickly, and her white hands fluttered a little.
"We will have to go in a few minutes, won't we?" she asked uneasily.
"I suppose so," he replied.
"Certainly before unmasking-time," she said, "because – because I think there is someone here who knows, or suspects, that – "
"Suspects what?" demanded the Burglar.
"Sh-h-h-h!" warned the Girl, and she laid a finger on her lips. "Not so loud. Someone might hear. Here are some people coming now that I'm afraid of. They know me. Meet me in the conservatory in five minutes. I don't want them to see me talking to you."
She moved away quickly and the Burglar looked after her with admiration and some impalpable quality other than that in his eyes. He was turning away toward the conservatory when he ran into the arms of an oversized man lumpily clad in the dress of a courtier. The lumpy individual stood back and sized him up.
"Say, young fellow, that's a swell rig you got there," he remarked.
The Burglar glanced at him in polite astonishment – perhaps it was the tone of the remark.
"Glad you like it," he said coldly, and passed on.
As he waited in the conservatory the amusement died out of his eyes and his lips were drawn into a straight, sharp line. He had seen the lumpy individual speak to another man, indicating generally the direction of the conservatory as he did so. After a moment the Girl returned in deep agitation.
"We must go now – at once," she whispered hurriedly. "They suspect us. I know it, I know it!"
"I'm afraid so," said the Burglar grimly. "That's why that detective spoke to me."
"Detective?" gasped the Girl.
"Yes, a detective disguised as a gentleman."
"Oh, if they are watching us what shall we do?"
The Burglar glanced out, and seeing the man to whom the lumpy individual had spoken coming toward the conservatory, turned suddenly to the Girl.
"Do you really want to go with me?" he asked.
"Certainly," she replied eagerly.
"You are making no mistake?"
"No, Dick, no!" she said again. "But if we are caught – "
"Do as I say and we won't be caught," declared the Burglar. His tone now was sharp, commanding. "You go on alone toward the front door. Pass out as if to get a breath of fresh air. I'll follow in a minute. Watch for me. This detective is getting too curious for comfort. Outside we'll take the first auto and run for it."
He thoughtfully whirled the barrel of his revolver in his fingers as he stared out into the ballroom. The Girl clung to him helplessly a moment; her hand trembled on his arm.
"I'm frightened," she confessed. "Oh, Dick, if – "
"Don't lose your nerve," he commanded. "If you do we'll both be caught. Go on now, and do as I say. I'll come – but I may come in a hurry. Watch for me."
For just a moment more the Girl clung to his arm.
"Oh, Dick, you darling!" she whispered. Then, turning, she left him there.
From the door of the conservatory the Burglar watched her splendid, lithe figure as she threaded her way through the crowd. Finally she passed beyond his view and he sauntered carelessly toward the door. Once he glanced back. The lumpy individual was following slowly. Then he saw a liveried servant approach the host and whisper to him excitedly.
"This is my cue to move," the Burglar told himself grimly.
Still watching, he saw the servant point directly at him. The host, with a sudden gesture, tore off his mask and the Burglar accelerated his pace.
"Stop that man!" called the host.
For one brief instant there was the dead silence which follows general astonishment – and the Burglar ran for the door. Several pairs of hands reached out from the crowd toward him.
"There he goes, there!" exclaimed the Burglar excitedly. "That man ahead! I'll catch him!"
The ruse opened the way and he went through. The Girl was waiting at the foot of the steps.
"They're coming!" he panted as he dragged her along. "Climb in that last car on the end there!"
Without a word the Girl ran to the auto and clambered into the front seat. Several men dashed out of the house. Wonderingly her eyes followed the vague figure of the Burglar as he sped along in the shadow of a wall. He paused beneath a window, picked up something and raced for the car.
"Stop him!" came a cry.
The Burglar flung his burden, which fell at the Girl's feet with a clatter, and leaped. The auto swayed as he landed beside her. With a quick twist of the wheel he headed out.
"Hurry, Dick, they're coming!" gasped the Girl.
The motor beneath them whirred and panted and the car began to move.
"Halt, or I'll fire," came another cry.
"Down!" commanded the Burglar.
His hand fell on the Girl's shoulder heavily and he dragged her below the level of the seat. Then, bending low over the wheel, he gave the car half power. It leaped out into the road in the path of its own light, just as there came a pistol-shot from behind, followed instantly by another.
The car sped on.
CHAPTER III
Stuyvesant Randolph, millionaire, owner of Seven Oaks and host of the masked ball, was able to tell the police only what happened, and not the manner of its happening. Briefly, this was that a thief, cunningly disguised as a Burglar with dark lantern and revolver in hand, had surreptitiously attended the masked ball by entering at the front door and presenting an invitation card. And when Mr. Randolph got this far in his story even he couldn't keep his face straight.
The sum total of everyone's knowledge, therefore, was this:
Soon after the grand march a servant entered the smoking room and found the Burglar there alone, standing beside an open window, looking out. This smoking room connected, by a corridor, with a small dining room where the Randolph gold plate was kept in ostentatious seclusion. As the servant entered the smoking-room the Burglar turned away from the window and