The Brass Bowl
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Louis Joseph Vance >> The Brass Bowl
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Did he catch a gleam of admiration in the eyes behind the goggles?
"Now, if ever they get hold of _my_ portrait and print it....
Well!" sighed the girl wickedly, lifting slim, bare fingers in
affected concern to the mass of ruddy hair, "in that event I
suppose I shall have to become a natural blonde!"
Her humor, her splendid fearlessness, the lightness of her tone,
combined with the half-laughing, half-serious look that she swept
up at him, to ease the tension of his emotions. For the first time
since entering the room, he smiled; then in silence for a time
regarded her steadfastly, thinking.
So he resembled this burglar, Anisty, strongly enough to be
mistaken for him--eh? Plainly enough the girl believed him to be
Anisty.... Well, and why not? Why shouldn't he be Anisty for the
time being, if it suited his purpose so to masquerade?
It might possibly suit his purpose. He thought his position one
uncommonly difficult. As Maitland, he had on his hands a female
thief, a hardened character, a common malefactor (strange that he
got so little relish of the terms!), caught red-handed; as
Maitland, his duty was to hand her over to the law, to be dealt
with as--what she was. Yet, even while these considerations were
urging themselves upon him, he knew his eyes appraised her with
open admiration and interest. She stood before him, slight,
delicate, pretty, appealing in her ingenuous candor; and at his
mercy. How could he bring himself to deal with her as he might
with--well, Anisty himself? She was a woman, he a gentleman.
As Anisty, however,--if he chose to assume that expert's identity
for the nonce,--he would be placed at once on a plane of equality
with the girl; from a fellow of her craft she could hardly refuse
attentions. As Anisty, he would put himself in a position to earn
her friendship, to gain--perhaps--her confidence, to learn
something of her necessities, to aid and protect her from the
consequences of her misdeeds; possibly--to sum up--to divert her
footsteps to the paths of a calling less hazardous and more
honorable.
Worthy ambition: to reform a burglar! Maitland regained something
of his lost self-esteem, applauding himself for entertaining a
motive so laudable. And he chose his course, for better or worse,
in these few seconds. Thereby proving his incontestable title to
the name and repute of Mad Maitland.
His face lightened; his manner changed; he assumed with avidity
the role for which she had cast him and which he stood so ready to
accept and act.
"Well and good," he conceded with an air. "I suppose I may as well
own up----"
"Oh, I know _you_," she assured him, with a little, confident
shake of her head. "There's no deceiving me. But," and her smile
became rueful, "if only you'd waited ten minutes more! Of course I
recognized you from the first--down there by the river; and knew
very well what was your--lay; you gave yourself away completely by
mentioning the distance from the river to the Manor. And I did so
want to get ahead of you on this job! What a feather in one's cap
to have forestalled Dan Anisty!... But hadn't you better be a
little careful with those lights? You seem to forget that there
are servants in the house. Really, you know, I find you most
romantically audacious, Mr. Anisty--quite in keeping with your
reputation."
"You overwhelm me," he murmured. "Believe me, I have little
conceit in my fame, such as it is." And, crossing to the windows,
he loosed the heavy velvet hangings and let them fall together,
drawing their edges close so that no ray of light might escape.
She watched him with interest. "You seem well acquainted here."
"Of course. Any man of imagination is at pains to study every
house he enters. I have a map of the premises--house and grounds--
here." He indicated his forehead with a long forefinger.
"Quite right, too--and worth one's while. If rumor is to be
believed, you have ordinarily more than your labor for your pains.
You have taught me something already.... Ah, well!" she sighed, "I
suppose I may as well acknowledge my inferiority--as neophyte to
hierophant. Master!" She courtesied low. "I beg you proceed and
let thy cheela profit through observation!" And a small white hand
gestured significantly toward the collection of burglar's tools,--
drills and chisels, skeleton keys, putty, and all,--neatly
displayed upon the rug before the massive safe.
"You mean that you wish me to crack this safe for you?" he inquired,
with inward consternation.
"Not for me. Disappointment I admit is mine; but not for the loss
I sustain. In the presence of the master I am content to stand
humbly to one side, as befits one of my lowly state in--in the
ranks of our profession. I resign, I abdicate in your favor;
claiming nothing by right of priority."
"You are too generous," he mumbled, confused by her thinly veiled
ridicule.
"Not at all," she replied briskly. "I am entirely serious. My loss
of to-day will prove my gain, tomorrow. I look for incalculable
benefit through study of your methods. My own, I confess," with a
contemptuous toss of her head toward the burglar's kit, "are
clumsy, antiquated, out of date.... But then, I'm only an
amateur."
"Oh, but a woman----" he began to apologize on her behalf.
"Oh, but a woman!" she rapped out smartly. "I wish you to
understand that this woman, at least, is no mean----" And she
hesitated.
"Thief?" he supplied crudely.
"Yes, thief! We're two of a feather, at that."
"True enough.... But you were first in the field; I fail to see
why I should reap any reward for tardiness. The spoils must be
yours."
It was a test: Maitland watched her keenly, fascinated by the
subtlety of the game.
"But I refuse, Mr. Anisty--positively refuse to go to work while
you stand aside and--and laugh."
Pride! He stared, openly amazed, at this bewilderingly feminine
bundle of inconsistencies. With each facet of her character
discovered to him, minute by minute, the study of her became to
him the more engrossing. He drew nearer, eyes speculative.
"I will agree," he said slowly, "to crack the safe, but upon
conditions."
She drew back imperceptibly, amused, but asserting her dignity.
"Yes?" she led him on, though in no accent of encouragement.
"Back there, in the river," he drawled deliberately, forcing the
pace, "I found you--beautiful."
She flushed, lip curling. "And, back there, in the river, I
thought you--a gentleman!"
"Although a burglar?"
"A gentleman for all that!"
"I promise you I mean no harm," he prefaced. "But don't you see
how I am putting myself in your power? Every moment you know me
better, while I have not yet even looked into your face with the
light full upon it. Honor among thieves, little woman!"
She chose to ignore the intimate note in his voice. "You're
wasting time," she hinted crisply.
"I am aware of that fact. Permit me to remind you that you are
helping me to waste it. I will not go ahead until I have seen your
face. It is simply an ordinary precaution."
"Oh, if it's a matter of business----"
"Self-preservation," he corrected with magnificent gravity.
She hesitated but a moment longer, then with a quick gesture
removed her mask. Maitland's breath came fast as he bent forward,
peering into her face; though he schooled his own features to an
expression of intent and inoffensive studiousness, he feared the
loud thumping of his heart would betray him. As he looked it
became evident that the witchery of moonlight had not served to
exaggerate the sensitive, the almost miniature, beauty of her. If
anything, its charm was greater there in the full glare of the
electric chandelier, as she faced him, giving him glance for
glance, quite undismayed by the intentness of his scrutiny.
In the clear light her eyes shone lustrous, pools of tawny flame;
her hair showed itself of a rich and luminous coppery hue, spun to
immeasurable fineness; a faint color burned in her cheeks, but in
contrast her forehead was as snow--the pure, white, close-grained
skin that is the heritage of red-headed women the world over, and
their chiefest charm as well; while her lips....
As for her lips, the most coherent statement to be extracted from
Mr. Maitland is to the effect that they were altogether desirable,
from the very first.
The hauteur of her pose, the sympathy and laughter that lurked in
her mouth, the manifest breeding in the delicate modeling of her
nostrils, and the firm, straight arch of her nose, the astonishing
allurement of her eyes, combined with their spirited womanliness:
these, while they completed the conquest of the young man, abashed
him. He found himself of a sudden endowed with a painful
appreciation of his own imperfections, the littleness of his ego,
the inherent coarseness of his masculine fiber, the poor futility
of his ways, contrasted with her perfections. He felt as if
rebuked for some unwarrantable presumption.... For he had looked
into eyes that were windows of a soul; and the soul was that of a
child, unsullied and immaculate.
You may smile; but as for Maitland, he deemed it no laughing
matter. From that moment his perception was clear that, whatever
she might claim to be, however damning the circumstances in which
she appeared to him, there was no evil in her.
But what he did not know, and did not even guess, was that, from
the same instant, his being was in bondage to her will. So Love
comes, strangely masked.
IV
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S MADNESS
At length, awed and not a little shamefaced, "I beg your pardon,"
he stammered wretchedly.
"For what?" she demanded quickly, head up and eyes light.
"For insisting. It wasn't--ah--courteous. I'm sorry."
It was her turn now to wonder; delicacy of perception such as this
is not ordinarily looked for in the person of a burglar. With a
laugh and a gibe she tried to pass off her astonishment.
"The thief apologizes to the thief?"
"Unkind!"
Briefly hesitant, with an impulsive gesture she flung out a
generous hand.
"You're right; I was unkind. Forgive me. Won't you shake hands? I ...
I do want to be a good comrade, since it has pleased Fate to
throw us together like this, so--so oddly." Her tone was almost
plaintive; unquestionably it was appealing.
Maitland was curiously moved by the touch of the slim, cool
fingers that lay in his palm. Not unpleasantly. He frowned in
perplexity, unable to analyze the sensation.
"You're not angry?" she asked.
"No--but--but--"
"Yes?"
"Why do you do this, little woman? Why do you stoop to this--this
trade of yo--of ours? Why sully your hands,--and not only your
hands,--imperil your good name, to say nothing of your liberty----?"
She drew her hand away quickly, interrupting him with a laugh that
rang true as a coin new from the mint, honest and genuine.
"And this," she cried, "this from Dan Anisty! Positively, sir, you
are delightful! You grow more dangerously original every minute!
Your scruples, your consideration, your sympathy--they are
touching--in _you_!" She wagged her head daintily in pretense
of disapprobation. "But shall I tell you?" more seriously,
doubtfully. "I think I shall ... truly. I do this sort of thing,
since you must know, because--_imprimis_, because I like it.
Indeed and I do! I like the danger, the excitement, the exercise
of cunning and--and I like the rewards, too. Besides----"
The corners of her adorable mouth drooped ever so slightly.
"Besides----?"
"Why.... But this is not business! We must hurry. Will you, or
shall I----?"
A crisis had been passed; Maitland understood that he must wait
until a more favorable time to renew his importunities.
"I will," he said, dropping on his knees by the safe. "In my
lady's service!"
"Not at all," she interposed. "I insist. The job is now yours;
yours must be the profits."
"Then I wash my hands of the whole affair," he stated in accents
of finality. "I refuse. I shall go, and you can do as you will,--
blunder on," scornfully, "with your nitroglycerin, your rags, and
drills and--and rouse the entire countryside, if you will."
"Ah, but--"
"Will you accept my aid?"
"On conditions, only," she stipulated. "Halvers?"
He shook his head.
"Half shares, or not at all!" She was firm.
"A partnership?"
This educed a moue of doubt, with: "I'm not worthy the honor."
"But," he promised rashly, "I can save you--oh, heaps of trouble
in other--ah--lays."
She shrugged helplessly. "If I must--then I do accept. We are
partners, Dan Anisty and I!"
He nodded mute satisfaction, brushed the tools out of his way, and
bent an attentive ear to the combination.
The girl swept across the room, and there followed a click
simultaneous with the total extinction of light.
Startled, "Why--?" he demanded.
"The risk," she replied. "We have been frightfully careless and
thoughtless."
Helplessly Maitland twirled the combination dial; without the
light he was wholly at a loss. But a breath later her skirts
rustled near him; the slide of the bull's-eye was jerked back, and
a circle of illumination thrown upon the lock. He bent his head
again, pretending to listen to the fall of the tumblers as the
dial was turned, but in point of fact covertly watching the
letters and figures upon it.
The room grew very silent, save for the faintly regular
respiration of the girl who bent near his shoulder. Her breath was
fragrant upon his cheek. The consciousness of her propinquity
almost stifled him.... One fears that Maitland prolonged the
counterfeit study of the combination unnecessarily.
Notwithstanding this, she seemed amazed by the ease with which he
solved it. "Wonderful!" she applauded, whispering, as the heavy
door swung outward without a jar.
"Hush!" he cautioned her.
In his veins that night madness was running riot, swaying him to
its will. With never a doubt, never a thought of hesitancy, he
forged ahead, wilfully blind to consequences. On the face of it he
was playing a fool's part; he knew it; the truth is simply that he
could not have done other than as he did. Consciously he believed
himself to be merely testing the girl; subconsciously he was
plastic in the grip of an emotion stronger than he,--moist clay
upon the potter's whirling wheel.
The interior of the safe was revealed in a shape little different
from that of the ordinary household strong-box. There were several
account-books, ledgers, and the like, together with some packages
of docketed bills, in the pigeon-holes. The cash-box, itself a
safe within a safe, showed a blank face broken by a small
combination dial. Behind this, in a secreted compartment, the
Maitland heirlooms languished, half-forgotten of their heedless
owner.
The cash-box combination offered less difficulty than had the
outer dial. Maitland had it open in a twinkling. Then, brazenly
lifting out the inner framework, bodily, he thrust a fumbling hand
into the aperture thus disclosed and pressed the spring, releasing
the panel at the back. It disappeared as though by witchcraft, and
the splash of light from the bull's-eye discovered a canvas bag
squatting humbly in the secret compartment: a fat little canvas
bag, considerably soiled from much handling, such as is used by
banks for coin, a sturdy, matter-of-fact, every-day sort of canvas
bag, with nothing about it of hauteur, no air of self-importance
or ostentation, to betray the fact that it was the receptacle of a
small fortune.
At Maitland's ear, incredulous, "How did you guess?" she breathed.
He took thought and breath, both briefly, and prevaricated
shamelessly: "Bribed the head-clerk of the safe-manufacturer who
built this."
Rising, he passed over to the center-table, the girl following.
"Steady with the light," he whispered; and loosed the string
around the mouth of the bag, pouring its contents, a glistening,
priceless, flaming, iridiscent treasure horde, upon the table.
"Oh!" said a small voice at his side. And again and again: "Oh!
Oh! Oh!"
Maitland himself was moved by the wonder of it. The jewels seemed
to fill the room with a flashing, amazing, coruscant glamour,
rainbow-like. His breath came hot and fast as he gazed upon the
trove; a queen's ransom, a fortune incalculable even to its owner.
As for the girl, he thought that the wonder of it must have struck
her dumb. Not a sound came from the spot where she stood.
Then, abruptly, the sun went out: at least, such was the effect;
the light of the hand-lamp vanished utterly, leaving a party-colored
blur swimming against the impenetrable blackness, before his eyes.
His lips opened; but a small hand fell firmly upon his own, and a
tiny, tremulous whisper shrilled in his ear.
"Hush--ah, hush!"
"What--?
"Steady ... some one coming ... the jewels...."
He heard the dull musical clash of them as her hands swept them
back into the bag, and a cold, sickening fear rendered him almost
faint with the sense of trust misplaced, illusions resolved into
brutal realities. His fingers closed convulsively about her
wrists; but she held passive.
"Ah, but I might have expected that!" came her reproachful
whisper. "Take them, then, my--my partner that was." Her tone cut
like a knife, and the touch of the canvas bag, as she forced it
into his hands, was hateful to him.
"Forgive me--" he began.
"But listen!"
For a space he obeyed, the silence at first seeming tremendous;
then, faint but distinct, he heard the tinkle and slide of the
brazen rings supporting the smoking-room portiere.
His hand sought the girl's; she had not moved, and the cool, firm
pressure of her fingers steadied him. He thought quickly.
"Quick!" he told her in the least of whispers. "Leave by the
window you opened and wait for me by the motor-car."
"No!"
There was no time to remonstrate with her. Already he had slipped
away, shaping a course for the entrance to the passage. But the
dominant thought in his mind was that at all costs the girl must
be spared the exposure. She was to be saved, whatever the hazard.
Afterwards....
The tapestry rustled, but he was yet too far distant to spring. He
crept on with the crouching, vicious attitude, mental and
physical, of a panther stalking its prey....
Like a thunderclap from a clear sky the glare of the light broke
out from the ceiling. Maitland paused, transfixed, on tiptoe, eyes
incredulous, brain striving to grapple with the astounding
discovery that had come to him.
The third factor stood in the doorway, slender and tall, in
evening dress,--as was Maitland,--a light, full overcoat hanging
open from his shoulders; one hand holding back the curtain, the
other arrested on the light switch. His lips dropped open and his
eyes, too, were protruding with amazement. Feature for feature he
was the counterpart of the man before him; in a word, here was the
real Anisty.
The wonder of it all saved the day for Maitland; Anisty's
astonishment was sincere and the more complete in that, unlike
Maitland, he had been unprepared to find any one in the library.
For a mere second his gaze left Maitland and traveled on to the
girl, then to the rifled safe--taking in the whole significance of
the scene. When he spoke, it was as if dazed.
"By God!" he cried--or, rather, the syllables seemed to jump from
his lips like bullets from a gun.
The words shattered the tableau. On their echo Maitland sprang and
fastened his fingers around the other's throat. Carried off his
feet by the sheer ferocity of the assault, Anisty gave ground a
little. For an instant they were swaying back and forth, with
advantage to neither. Then the burglar's collar slipped and
somehow tore from its stud, giving Maitland's hands freer play.
His grasp tightened about the man's gullet; he shook him
mercilessly. Anisty staggered, gasping, reeled, struck Maitland
once or twice upon the chest,--feeble, weightless elbow-jabs that
went for nothing, then concentrated his energies in a vain attempt
to wrench the hands from his throat. Reeling, tearing at
Maitland's wrists, face empurpling, eyes staring in agony, he
stumbled. Mercilessly Maitland forced him to his knees and bullied
him across the floor toward the nearest lounge--with premeditated
design; finally succeeding in throwing him flat; and knelt upon
his chest, retaining his grip but refraining from throttling him.
As it was, all strength and thought of resistance had been choked
out of Anisty. He lay at length, gasping painfully.
Maitland glanced over his shoulders and saw the girl moving
forward, apparently making for the switch.
"No!" he cried, peremptory. "Don't turn off the light--please!"
"But--" she doubted.
"Let me have those curtain cords, if you please," he requested
shortly.
She followed his gaze to the windows, interpreted his wishes, and
was very quick to carry them out. In a trice she was offering him
half a dozen of the heavy, twisted silk cords that had been used
to loop back the curtains.
Soft yet strong, they were excellently well adapted to Maitland's
needs. Unceremoniously he swung his captive over on his side,
bringing his neck and ankles in juxtaposition to the legs of that
substantial piece of furniture, the lounge.
His hands the first to be secured, and tightly, behind his back,
Anisty lay helpless, glaring vindictively the while gradually he
recovered consciousness and strength. Maitland cared little for
his evil glances; he was busy. The burglar's ankles were next
bound together and to the lounge leg; and, an instant later, a
brace of half-hitches about the man's neck and the nearest support
entirely eliminated him as a possible factor in subsequent events.
"Those loops around your throat," Maitland warned him curtly, "are
loose enough now, but if you struggle they'll tighten and strangle
you. Understand?"
Anisty nodded, making an incoherent sound with his swollen tongue.
At which Maitland frowned, smitten thoughtful with a new
consideration.
"You mustn't talk, you know," he mused half aloud; and, whipping
forth a handkerchief, gagged Mr. Anisty.
After which, breathing hard and in a maze of perplexity, he got to
his feet. Already his hearing, quickened by the emergency, had
apprised him of the situation's imminent hazards. It needed not
the girl's hurried whisper, "_The servants_!" to warn him of
their danger. From the rear wing of the mansion the sounds of
hurrying feet were distinctly audible, as, presently, were the
heavy, excited voices of men and the more shrill and frightened
cries of women.
Heedless of her displeasure, Maitland seized the girl by the arm
and urged her over to the open Window. "Don't hang back!" he told
her nervously. "You must get out of this before they see you. Do
as I tell you, please, and we'll save ourselves yet! If we both
make a run for it, we're lost. Don't you understand?"
"No. Why?" she demanded, reluctant, spirited, obstinate--and
lovely in his eyes.
"If he were anybody else," Maitland indicated, with a jerk of his
head toward the burglar. "But didn't you see? He must be
Maitland--and he's my double. I'll stay, brazen it out, then, as
soon as possible, make my escape and join you by the gate. Your
motor's there--what? Be ready for me...."
But she had grasped his intention and was suddenly become pliant
to his will. "You're wonderful!" she told him with a little low
laugh; and was gone, silently as a spirit.
The curtains fell behind her in long, straight folds; Maitland
stilled their swaying with a touch, and stepped back into the
room. For a moment he caught the eye of the fellow on the floor;
and it was upturned to his, sardonically intelligent. But the lord
of the manor had little time to debate consequences.
Abruptly the door was flung wide and a short stout man, clutching
up his trousers with a frantic hand, burst into the library,
brandishing overhead a rampant revolver.
"'Ands hup!" he cried, leveling at Maitland. And then, with a
fallen countenance; "G-r-r-reat 'eavins, sir! _You_, Mister
Maitland, sir!"
"Ah, Higgins," his employer greeted the butler blandly.
Higgins pulled up, thunderstruck, panting and perspiring with
agitation. His fat cheeks quivered like the wattles of a gobbler,
and his eyes bulged as, by degrees, he became alive to the
situation.
Maitland began to explain, forestalling the embarrassments of
cross-examination.
"By the merest accident, Higgins, I was passing in my car with a
party of friends. Just for a joke I thought I'd steal up to the
house and see how you were behaving yourselves. By chance--again--
I happened to see this light through the library windows." And
Maitland, putting an incautious hand upon the bull's-eye on the
desk, withdrew it instantly, with an exclamation of annoyance and
four scorched fingers.
"He's been at the safe," he added quickly, diverting attention
from himself. "I was just in time."
"My wor-r-rd!" said Higgins, with emotion. Then quickly: "Did 'e
get anythin', do you think, sir?"
Maitland shook his head, scowling over the butler's burly
shoulders at the rapidly augmenting concourse of servants in the
hallway--lackeys, grooms, maids, cooks, and what-not; a background
of pale, scared faces to the tableau in the library. "This won't
do," considered Maitland. "Get back, all of you!" he ordered
sternly, indicating the group with a dominant and inflexible
forefinger. "Those who are wanted will be sent for. Now go!
Higgins, you may stay."
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