Bells of Doom

CHAPTER II TWO TALK TERMS

TEN minutes had elapsed since Lamont Cranston had strolled from the smoking room. A man was coming along one of the narrow passages of the Laurentic. He stopped before the door of a cabin and unlocked it. He turned on a light switch as he entered the room. The glare showed the features of Milton Claverly.

The young man closed the door behind him, but did not lock it. He smiled in a somewhat leering fashion as he drew a stack of bills from his pocket and deposited the money upon a table.

Forgetting his winnings for the moment, Claverly doffed coat and vest and walked to a wardrobe in the corner of the cabin.

The door of the wardrobe was open. Claverly hung the garments on a coat hanger and slammed the door as he turned away to remove his necktie and collar. The door of the wardrobe bounced open: the roll of the ship swung it toward the wall. As Claverly turned, he saw the door hanging there as if glued in position.

The ship lurched; the door wavered. It still remained open. Claverly shrugged his shoulders. He wondered why the door did not swing shut again, but he had no time for such trifles. He gathered up the winnings that lay on the table and stuffed the bills in his pocket. Hardly had he done so before a cautious knock sounded at the door of the cabin. Claverly strode over and opened the door.

Rosling entered. The sharp-faced man glowered as he closed the door behind him. He shot the bolt; then looked at Claverly, who was smiling in sophisticated fashion.

“Well?” growled Rosling, by way of query, “what did you find out?”

“Not much,” responded Claverly, as he lighted a cigarette. “Messler left shortly after you did.”

“Yeah?” Rosling’s voice was gruff. “Then how about that dough I was hooked for.”

“Hooked?” quizzed Claverly. “I don’t like the word, Rosling. It’s a poor way for a fellow to talk. The fault was your own. You don’t know how to play cards.”

“Maybe I don’t,” retorted Rosling, “but a guy that can slide the pasteboards the way you do — well, a guy like you don’t need luck. You’re a card sharp; there’s no use arguing that point. Come on. Divvy.”

“That’s not in our arrangements.”

“No? Well, it wasn’t arranged for you to fool around and get nowhere with Messler.”

CLAVERLY smiled. He blew a cloud of smoke and eyed Rosling narrowly. The door of the wardrobe was still open and wavering with each pitch of the ship. Claverly did not notice it; nor did Rosling.

“Let’s get things straight, Rosling,” suggested Claverly, in a tone that had a smooth purr. “You and I met aboard this steam ship — strangers until we had left Liverpool — and we made an acquaintanceship. Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“Last night” — Claverly seemed reminiscent — “you paid me an unexpected visit in this cabin. On that occasion, you were equipped with a businesslike revolver. You said you had come to demand a showdown. I did you the honor of thinking you were a detective.”

“Well — maybe I look like one.”

“You didn’t appear dumb enough.”

“Lay off the hokum. Listen here, Claverly; we came to an agreement about—”

“I am about to mention that point, Rosling. I merely want to make the details plain before we continue. Last night, after I withdrew my theory that you were a detective, you insisted that I was a crook. You stated that I was after Augustus Messler’s jewels.”

“That’s what I said, and I meant it.”

Claverly smiled. He eyed Rosling carefully. There was a smoothness to Claverly’s countenance that the hatchet-faced visitor could not match. Claverly proceeded.

“You jump to conclusions, Rosling,” he said. “First, you decided that my luck at cards proved me to be a sharper. That meant that I must be a crook. Next, I was friendly with Messler. That proved that I was out to trim him. Finally, you knew that I had come to England on the P & O liner that Messler had planned to board at Calcutta.”

“That’s right,” added Rosling. “The ship that had a bunch of crooks aboard.”

“Exactly,” agreed Claverly, “and those suspects are now held by Scotland Yard. I am not among them. I am traveling freely on the high seas. Which proves—”

“That you’re wiser than those guys they grabbed in England. Too wise for Scotland Yard; but not wise enough to fool Hatch Rosling. Get that, Claverly?”

“Your nickname is a good one, Hatch,” observed Claverly. “It makes you appear to be exactly what you claim to be — a New York crook. I admire your frankness, Hatch. After you accused me of being a crook you admitted that you were one yourself.”

“Sure I did. Why shouldn’t I? We’re birds of the same feather, Claverly.”

THE young man smiled. His suave expression indicated an agreement with Rosling’s statement; but Claverly did not commit himself with words. Rosling caught the implication.

“Quit the hokum,” ordered the hatchet-faced man. “All that counts is one thing: we’d both like to grab those jewels of Messler’s. That’s agreed, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” admitted Claverly, “I must confess that the rajah’s gems intrigue me. However, I had not formed any plans for obtaining them. Messler is welcome to them.”

“Sour grapes,” growled “Hatch. “You ran into the same trouble I did. Couldn’t figure a way to snatch the swag. The jewels are safe aboard this tub. But after we get to New York, it’ll be different.”

“Yes, you will be in your own territory. You will have the opportunity that you need. But my position will be quite different. Assuming that I did want Messler’s jewels, New York would be the last place that I could get them.”

“But I said we could team up—”

“And that is what surprised me. Here, aboard ship, our positions are equal. We could be of use to each other. But in New York, all is in your favor. I am useless.”

“So that’s it, eh?” Understanding showed on Rosling’s sharp countenance. “You’ve been thinking things over since last night?”

“I have,” answered Claverly, in a dry tone.

“Well, do some new thinking,” ordered Hatch. “Look at it this way. You’ve made friends with Messler. You can work from the inside. All you need is the mob to come in and grab the jewels when you give the signal. It’s a set-up.”

“Yes,” agreed Claverly, “I admit that my position would be a good one. I could work from the inside; you from the outside. Nevertheless, the proposition has one fault.”

“What’s that?”

“It sounds too good.”

“How do you mean?”

“The terms. A fifty-fifty split. Rather a generous concession on your part, Rosling. You could hire another inside man for a lot less.”

Rosling had begun to scowl; his expression changed as Claverly’s statement ended. Rosling had an answer. He gave it, frankly.

“Listen, Claverly,” he asserted, “there’s two reasons why we ought to go fifty-fifty. First, because you’re the best person I could get for the inside job. Second, because either one of us could queer the other.

“Suppose you worked from the inside and snagged those jewels by yourself. I’d know what you were doing. I could take the swag away from you afterward. See? And suppose I came busting in with a job of my own. You could gum it, couldn’t you?

“Well — there’s the lay. There’s only one answer. Teamwork. A divvy. There’s no catch to it. We talked things over last night. What we decided on — well, it goes. That’s all.”

CLAVERLY considered it. Rosling watched him light a second cigarette from the stump of the first. Then came a half minute of thought on Claverly’s part. Finally, the young man spoke.

“All right, Hatch,” he said. “You’ll go after those jewels anyway. So we might as well talk turkey. You figure that I can be around when Messler shows the gems to his friends.”

“Yeah. You’re going to be there. That’s your part of the job. Get it?”

“Very well. I suppose you will be watching to see that I take the opportunity.”

“Yeah. You’ll have to grab the first chance you get, or tell me the reason why.”

“I’ve found that chance.”

“You have? When?”

“Thursday night.”

“You mean—”

“Messler talked after you left the smoking room,” explained Claverly. “He spoke to Cranston and myself. He invited us to visit his home on Thursday night. We are to view the rajah’s jewels.”

“Say!” exclaimed Hatch. “That makes it all jake!”

“Under the circumstances,” added Claverly, “I shall remain in New York. I shall probably meet Messler off and on before Thursday. Of course, I shall express anxiety about getting back to Torburg.”

“That’s a good stall,” agreed Hatch. “But don’t overplay that talk about your father’s estate.”

“Why not?”

“Because some smart dick might look into it.”

“What if he does?”

“Well, he might find out that it was hokum.”

“But it isn’t.” Claverly delivered a broad smile. “You made a bad guess, Hatch, when you thought that I was passing out a phony line.”

“You mean you really are coming into a pile of dough when you get to Torburg?”

“Precisely. The estate will not be large; but it actually exists. That’s why I’m coming in from Australia.”

“And you heard about Messler jewels when you were aboard the P & O ship?”

“Yes.”

“Say” — Hatch paused to chuckle in commending fashlon — “there ain’t any guy but you for the inside work. You’ve got a straight story. You can back it up. Messler’s invited you to his place. It’s sweet.”

The chuckle continued as Hatch turned toward the door. His hand on the knob, Hatch delivered a parting statement.

“Don’t worry about the dough I lost tonight,” he said. “Keep your winnings. It was worth it. We know how to get in touch with each other after we reach New York. We talked over the job last night.

“We’ll pull it just as we planned. The guys outside, waiting for the signal. You give the tip and act like you were surprised like everybody else in the joint. Thursday night — that’s set. Unless something goes sour.”

HATCH unbolted the door and departed. Claverly puffed his cigarette alone. Turning, he strolled to the wardrobe and took out his coat and vest. Donning the garments, he folded the coat collar around his neck. It was plain that he intended to take a short stroll on an upper deck, as a relief from the stuffiness of smoking room and cabin.

Claverly strolled out. He closed the cabin door behind him, but did not lock it. This was proof that he would return within a few minutes.

Silence reigned in the room where the light still burned. The door of the wardrobe wavered.

Timed to a slight roll of the ship, the door swung shut. This was the first time that it had acted in such fashion. The explanation came a moment later when blackness moved from between the wardrobe and the wall.

Blackness became a living shape. Materializing from the darkened area, the figure of The Shadow grew into being. Tall and sinister, the cloaked form moved silently across the cabin and paused by the outer door. Then came a soft whisper.

A sibilant laugh, confined to the limits of the creaking cabin. That was The Shadow’s aftermath to the conversation that he had overheard. The Shadow had reached this cabin ahead of Milton Claverly. From a place of concealment, he had heard all.

The door of the cabin opened. The tall shape glided into the corridor. The door closed.

A few minutes later, Claverly returned. The door of the wardrobe was swinging free. The young man pushed it open so that he could hang up his coat and vest. Then he closed the door. This time it remained shut.

Two had talked terms within this cabin. Those terms had concerned Augustus Messler’s jewels. The gems, though safe aboard the Laurentic, would be in jeopardy on Thursday night. Crime lay in the offing. When it came, The Shadow would be ready.