Cyro

CHAPTER V IN NEW ORLEANS

THE brilliant waters of Lake Pontchartrain lay blue beneath the midday sun. Viewed from the shore, the lake seemed a limitless expanse, stretching clear to the horizon. But to the three people who stood beside an antiquated limousine, the sight was commonplace. Their eyes were turned skyward, watching a squatty seaplane as it glided downward toward the water.

“That’s Mr. Marr’s plane, father.” The speaker was an attractive girl of twenty, attired in white sport costume. “My! It’s making a marvelous landing.”

“You are right, Alicia,” said the elderly man who stood by the girl’s side. “There is Marr at the door of the cabin. Come, let us meet him when he steps ashore.”

Father and daughter walked away from the car. With them came the third member of the party.

This individual was a man of about thirty. Knickers and sweater gave him an appearance of stockiness. His face was a handsome one, bronzed and rugged. He was hatless; as he strolled toward the lake, he ran his left hand through his heavy, rumpled hair.

Dunwood Marr had reached the shore when the group arrived. The man from the seaplane had come as a passenger. Wearing white flannels and blue coat, he was a sportsman rather than an aviator. A man in his early forties, Dunwood Marr possessed a vigor that matched his tall, limber build. His long, keen-featured face was smiling as he sprang forward to shake hands with the elderly man who came to greet him.

“Danforth Gaudrin!” exclaimed Marr. “It’s great to see you. I missed you when I flew over from St. Petersburg last Sunday.”

“That was why I wired you,” replied Gaudrin. “We had gone on a trip to Grand Isle. If you had only told us that you were coming—”

“It was just an afternoon flight, Danforth. Due back in Florida that evening. But this time I have come to stay for a few days.” He paused and turned to the girl. “Hello, Alicia. You’re looking as great as ever.”

“And you are as complimentary as usual,” laughed the girl. “You’ve met Reginald Exeter, Mr. Marr.”

“I have.” Dunwood Marr shook hands with the stocky young man. “Glad to see you again, Exeter. You appear to be enjoying New Orleans.”

“I am,” replied Exeter.

“And for the present,” added Alicia, “Reggie is acting as the Gaudrin chauffeur. He has shown great skill at maneuvering our antique hack. Reggie will demonstrate for your approval.”

They walked to the car, where a man had arrived with Marr’s bags. The fellow placed suitcases aboard. Marr handed him two one-dollar bills as a tip. Then Marr and Gaudrin climbed in the back seat with the bags. Exeter took the wheel, with Alicia in the front seat beside him.

AS the car rolled westward along Gentilly Road, Danforth Gaudrin began to speak. His tone was confidential; but it brought a head-shake from Dunwood Marr. Gaudrin understood and nodded.

“How is your son Luke?” questioned Marr, seeking a change of form of conversation.

“As usual,” replied Gaudrin, with a shake of his head. “Ready to squander what little money he can lay his hands on. Since I cut off his allowance, he has been moping about the house.”

“Too bad,” mused Marr. “Luke is a likable young chap.”

“He was,” returned Gaudrin, abruptly. “But he has wasted his talents, Marr. Let us not discuss him.”

Marr nodded. He could understand the disappointment that Gaudrin had experienced because of his wayward son. Marr produced a cigar case and tendered a panetela to Gaudrin; then took one for himself. They smoked in silence.

The limousine was approaching the center of the city. A big clock chimed as the car paused before a stop light. Danforth Gaudrin checked his watch and noted that it was twelve o’clock.

“High noon,” he remarked. “I’m glad that we are not driving down Canal Street. The thoroughfares are clogged with pedestrians at this hour.”

“We turn here?” questioned Marr.

“Yes,” replied Gaudrin. “This avenue skirts the congested area and forms a short route to my home.”

“New Orleans streets always puzzle me,” remarked Marr. “Moreover, I have usually come to your house at night.”

Ten minutes later, the lumbering limousine rolled into the driveway of a huge, pillared mansion that stood on a secluded street. The place had an air of calmness amid the huge oaks on the lawn.

Hanging clusters of Spanish moss gave the big trees a sedate and venerable appearance; palm trees formed a contrast to the great oaks.

Marr alighted and was reaching for his bags when Exeter, coming from the front seat, stopped him.

“I’m chief handy man as well as chauffeur,” informed Exeter. “Walk right in, Mr. Marr. I’ll see that the luggage gets to your room.”

“Thanks, Exeter.”

AS Danforth Gaudrin and Dunwood Marr walked through the gloomy silence of the great hall, a young man raised his head from a couch in a side room. Luke Gaudrin, sallow and peak-faced, watched the two men go past. He recognized Dunwood Marr as the guest who had come with his father.

The two were bound for Gaudrin’s study. That room was located just in back of the parlor where Luke was lounging. A thick wall intervened between parlor and study; but an unused passage formed a connection, with locked doors at each end.

With a wary glance toward the hall, Luke drew a key from his pocket and stole to the corner of the parlor. He unlocked the door and entered the passage. He closed the door behind him just as Reginald Exeter entered the hallway with Alicia.

Safe in the passage, Luke Gaudrin sneaked to the further door. Stooping, he pressed his ear to the keyhole and listened. He could catch the sound of voices from within; the words were not plain, for the two men were walking about.

Then came the grating sound of chairs being moved. Clink of glasses and gurgle of liquid indicated that Danforth Gaudrin was preparing liquid refreshment for his guest. The voices began again. Luke could hear every word.

Secretly, Danforth Gaudrin’s ne’er-do-well son was listening in on an important conference. From his hiding place, Luke Gaudrin was seeking facts from this private discussion. From high up in the passage, a tiny window admitted feeble daylight. That glimmer showed Luke Gaudrin’s face.

The sallow countenance wore an eagerness, mingled with desperation. Whatever the subject that lay between Danforth Gaudrin and Dunwood Marr, it was apparent that Luke Gaudrin was staking much upon whatever he might learn.