The Case of the Buried Clock

Chapter 2

Harley Raymand showered, stretched out on the bed, and almost instantly sank into exhausted lethargy. The speech at the luncheon club, his trip to the cabin, had used up energy, and he was being forced to a realization that his available store of energy was limited. Those bullets had sapped more of his strength than he had thought possible.

The telephone rang sharply, and the convulsive start with which he regained wakefulness made him realize just how nervous he was. He switched on the lights, answered the phone.

The voice of the switchboard operator advised him that a Mr. Vincent P. Blane was waiting in the lobby.

“Blane!” Harley repeated, in surprise. “Tell him — Tell him I’m dressing. It’ll be ten minutes before I can join him in the lobby. If he’s in a hurry, he can come on up here.”

Harley dropped the receiver into place, put on his shirt and trousers, and was just putting on his shoes when he heard Blane’s knock at the door.

It had been but little more than a year since Harley had last seen Adele’s father, yet he was shocked at the change in the man. Definitely, he was older, more worried. There was still the same charm of manner — that courteous interest in others which was neither effusive on the one hand, nor patronizing on the other, but had the graciousness of dignity about it.

Harley knew that Blane’s errand was important, could see that he was under a great strain, yet the man wouldn’t think of mentioning his problem until after he had done those things which were demanded by courtesy: an apology for his intrusion, a solicitous inquiry after Harley’s health.

“I’m sorry,” Blane began, “if I wakened—”

“It’s all right,” Harley interposed, trying to make things easier. “I’m just a little lazy these days. Was there something I could do for you, Mr. Blane?”

Under the bushy eyebrows, Blane’s keen gray eyes showed gratitude. “Mighty nice of you to make such a suggestion, Harley... As a matter of fact I’m a little worried about Adele.”

“What about her?”

“You were with her this afternoon?”

“Yes. We went up to the cabin.”

“What time did you come back?”

Harley looked at his watch. “Why, I’ve been here in the hotel for about an hour and a half, I guess, perhaps two hours.”

“She hasn’t been home. I was rather expecting her.”

“She said she had an appointment she’d forgotten about,” Harley explained reassuringly. “She was speeding up a bit to get me here... Won’t you sit down, Mr. Blane?”

“I feel that I’ve put you to a lot of trouble,” Blane apologized. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you. I—”

Harley laughed. “I was just digesting some of the health I absorbed up at your cabin this afternoon. I think it’s the first time I’ve really relaxed.”

Blane nodded in mechanical acquiescence, his mind apparently occupied with something else. Then suddenly he shot a quick glance at Harley. “How’d you like to stay up there for a few days?”

“At the cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Why — wouldn’t that inconvenience you?”

“Not at all.”

“I understood you had a meeting—”

“I’d prefer to hold it at my house. I’d like to have you up there, Harley. Of course, you’d have to do your own cooking, but—”

Harley smiled as Blane hesitated. “If you’re really serious, there’s nothing I’d like better.”

“See anyone up at the cabin this afternoon?” Blane asked, trying to make his voice sound casual.

“Why, yes. Jack Hardisty came up there.”

Blane gnawed at his close-clipped, gray moustache. “Notice anything strange about him?” he asked abruptly.

Harley said, “His manner seemed to be much the same as usual.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Blane said. “Reminds you of a firecracker trying to pretend it’s a cannon. I want you to do something for me. You’ll be well paid, and a little later on, we can talk about something permanent. I want you to go up to that cabin now, tonight. Keep an eye on anything that goes on up there.”

Harley hesitated.

Blane, noticing that hesitancy, said, “You can rest assured that whatever compensation—”

“It isn’t that,” Harley interpolated. “I’m wondering exactly what I’m supposed to do.”

Blane said, “I’ll tell you a secret. Adele doesn’t know it. Milicent doesn’t know... Jack Hardisty is short ten thousand dollars over at the Roxbury bank. Adele probably told you that. Here’s what she doesn’t know. Jack expected, of course, I’d make his shortage good in case he was discovered, and hush the whole thing up. I fooled him. I told him I was damned if I was going to... Damned little pipsqueak! I don’t consider him one of the family. I know how it would hurt Milicent to have a scandal like that, but it’s better to have it happen now and get it over with. He’s just a cunning little adventurer who insinuated himself into the family by sweeping Milicent off her feet. Milicent hadn’t had much attention paid to her by the local boys. She’d never had any experience with what we call fortune hunters... I didn’t have the heart to tell her. No one did... You couldn’t tell her. There was just a chance Jack really was all wrapped up in her. He said he was. She thought he was. She wanted him — oh, well, you’re not interested in all this.”

Harley started to say something, but Blane held up his hand. “Here’s the low-down. I told Hardisty I wasn’t going to make good. He could face the music... Know what he did?”

Harley shook his head.

“That’s what comes of not having him thrown in jail like a common criminal. He cleaned out everything in the bank — about ninety thousand dollars in cash. Then he telephoned me and told me what he’d done; said that if I wanted to make good the ten thousand, I’d get the rest of the assets back; that if he was going to jail he’d as soon be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and he was going to make it worth his while. He’d have a stake when he came out... That’s the kind of a cur he is.

“If he went up to the cabin, he quite probably went up there to find a hiding place for the stuff. If he’s buried it there, we’ll have to find it. How about going up and—”

Harley Raymand opened the closet door, pulled out his coat.

“I’m ready to start any time, Mr. Blane.”

Blane said, “You haven’t had dinner. You go to the dining room and get yourself some dinner. Don’t hurry. It will be at least an hour or an hour and a half before I’m ready to leave. I’ll drive you up there myself. Just take your time... I’d appreciate it if you’d be waiting in the lobby so you can hop right in when I come back... And I’m deeply grateful, my boy. Having you up there will take a load off my mind.”