The Four Signets

CHAPTER XIII. MILLIONS REGAINED

“HELLO, Perry. Did you get it?”

Zane Dolger spoke the words. He was standing in the center of the library when his cousin entered.

Perry’s response was a nod. From his pocket, he produced an object that shone in the light. It was Elwood Phraytag’s signet ring.

Perry placed the ring upon the table. He spoke, half breathlessly, as he began an examination. Zane listened, fully as tense as the speaker.

“You did your part, Zane,” assured Perry. “Sliding into Phraytag’s house early in the afternoon. When you called me over in New Jersey, I was on pins and needles until the hearse showed up.”

“Why? I told you the ring was on Phraytag’s finger.”

“Sure; and I knew it would stay there. But I wanted to be positive that I’d get it; and the longer I waited, the more nervous I became.”

“Did you have to wait long after the hearse arrived?”

“No. It didn’t get there until dusk.”

“Then you had a chance to work quickly.”

“Yes. But it took a while.”

Perry was working at the ring, trying to unscrew the signet. He remembered what Lyken had said — that the ring would turn to the left, not to the right. But he was experiencing difficulty, nevertheless.

“How did you get into the mausoleum?” questioned Zane, still interested in Perry’s story.

There was no reply. Perry was twisting at the ring. Zane repeated the question; Perry stopped work to look up.

“How did I get in?” he repeated.

“Yes,” said Zane. “The door was locked, wasn’t it?”

“Of course. That’s were I might have had a lot of trouble. But I watched the fellow who locked up. He went along a driveway and I followed him. Into a caretaker’s house. Then he went away again. I entered and was lucky enough to find the key lying on a table. So I took it.”

“And simply opened the mausoleum?”

“Yes.”

“How about afterward? What did you do with the key?”

“Sneaked over and put it back on the table. The caretaker must have gone out to dinner. He won’t know I ever had the key.”

ZANE smiled. When Perry, that morning, had proposed his daring scheme of getting Phraytag’s ring, Zane had finally consented to aid. The job was a grave robbery; that had gone against Zane’s grain. But he had been ready to admit that their position, as sole heirs of their grandfather’s estate, gave himself and his cousin a certain right to reclaim their secret.

Zane had reasoned it out. Philip Lyken had been murdered because of this ring. It was probable that Elwood Phraytag also, had been killed because of the secret which he knew. Certain persons — unknown — had sought to thwart the heirs. By gaining the ring, Perry and Zane were working against those ambushed foes.

Perry had settled everything by taking the cemetery job as his own. He had been confident that he would be able to enter the mausoleum. He had gained the success that he had anticipated. Here was the ring, with its hidden secret—

The signet had begun to twist under Perry’s persistent pressure. Zane was agog. He was thinking only of what might be beneath that surface of turning gold.

The signet came free. In the bright light of the table lamp, Perry and Zane were staring at the inner surface. It was scored with tiny marks.

“Nothing!” exclaimed Perry. “Lyken was right about the ring; but there’s no secret here—”

“Wait!” interjected Zane. “Those look like microscopic marks — a special engraving job. There’ve been fifty or more words put on the head of a pin by some of those engraving fellows.”

“That’s it! There’s a microscope somewhere around here. Look in the desk.”

Zane hurried across the room. He found a high-powered reading glass. He handed it to Perry. The two stared through the lens. Tiny words appeared as if by magic. Zane, helping steady the glass, read them aloud:

“Hold the glass,” ordered Perry. “I’ll write this down, Zane. We can figure it out afterward.”

Perry wrote down the required copy. Zane laid the magnifier and the ring aside. Then the cousins prepared to study the information that they had gained.

“The apartment building,” growled Perry. “That’s not much of a help. What apartment building? Where?”

“I think I know!” exclaimed Zane. “Don’t you remember that statement of assets that we received from Jackling? There was a mention in it of an apartment house.”

“That’s right,” recalled Perry. “The place was mortgaged up to the hilt, wasn’t it? With a special fund — money we couldn’t get — to handle the carrying charges for the next five years.”

“That’s the one.” Zane was on his way to the desk. He picked up a sheaf of papers when he reached there. “Here is the name of the place. Ajax Apartments—”

“Let’s see the address.” Perry took the paper from Zane’s hand. “Say — the place is only about a dozen blocks away. Zane, this is a two-man job. Get your hat and coat; we’re starting.”

“What about Rowland?”

“Where is he?”

“I told him to turn in; I guess he’s gone up to bed. I saw him start upstairs before you came back.”

“He’s in bed then. That chap likes to sleep. Come along; out by the side door. I’ve got a key to it.”

“Why the side door?”

“Because we may be bringing something back with us.”

TWENTY minutes later, the cousins stepped from a taxicab upon a secluded street. They walked along together until they reached a narrow, four-story building that bore a title over the doorway:

The place had a gloomy lobby. The inner door yielded when Perry opened it. The heirs stepped into a deserted hallway and found the elevator. It was one of an automatic type. Perry pressed the button.

Machinery began to buzz as a car descended.

“Look!” whispered Zane. “See the shaft. Perry? It’s double — as if there should be two cars—”

“But there’s only one door,” interposed Perry.

“Yes.” Zane supplied the added comment. “The other shaft is the dummy one.”

The car had arrived on the ground floor. Perry opened the door. The cousins entered. As Perry closed the door, Zane placed his finger on a button marked “B.” He pressed.

“Going down,” remarked Zane, with a grin.

The car stopped at the basement level. The two stepped out into an unlighted passage; Zane held the door open while Perry found a hanging light and pulled the cord. The elevator door went shut as Zane joined Perry. The cousins stared at the second shaft.

Like the first, it had a sliding door; this was held closed by a heavy metal bar. Apparently the house had been designed with two shafts; this one had not been extended for service.

Perry pulled the bar loose; it swung beside the door and hung there. He pushed back the sliding barrier.

The space inside looked like a storeroom. The shaft went high up; a flashlight, turned on by Perry, showed the walls above. This shaft was separate from the other. As they clambered into the unused shaft, the cousins discovered that it had a solid floor of wood, fitted into the bottom space.

At Perry’s suggestion, they moved back into the passage. Leaning downward while Zane played the light, Perry found two small holes in the flooring. As he lifted, the wooden surface came upward in hinged fashion.

“Look there!” exclaimed Perry, in a whisper. “See it? A stone slab fitted in the floor! It has an iron ring in it!”

Springing into the shaft, Perry raised the slab and set it aside. He motioned Zane to turn out the light in the passage; then to close the door of the shaft.

Zane obeyed; he entered with the flashlight. The rays revealed a short iron ladder going down to a floor beneath the basement.

The young men descended. They found a narrow, stone-walled passage. At the end was a wooden door, which Perry opened. This revealed an iron barrier; a heavy blocking door that seemed to have no opening, save for a place where a doorknob should have been. There, revealed by the light, were five turning tumblers, evidently part of an unique lock, each bearing the letters of the alphabet. The tumblers were set so that they read:

“Jetty,” said Zane, in a low voice that was hollow in the cramped confines. “Turn the tumblers so they read ‘Jetty,’ Perry.”

Perry complied. Each tumbler revolved as he worked it with his finger. The required word came into place. Nothing happened, however, until Perry thought to press the barrier. Then the huge door groaned inward on its heavy hinges.

The next space that they entered was two feet deeper than the width of the door. They could have closed the barrier behind them, but they decided not to do so. The further wall was furnished with a cut-out space. Set in that cranny was a steel safe.

“The combination!” exclaimed Zane, his voice hollow in the tiny room. “Try it, Perry. Begin with the left.

Three — seven — two — one—”

Perry complied. His hand dropped to the safe handle as Zane repeated the final instruction from the signet:

“Turn!”

The door came open. The flashlight showed an arrangement of compartments at the back of the safe-all empty. But there was one object, squarely in the center, that gained the instant attention of the cousins.

This was an iron coffer, bound with heavy bands of metal clamped in place.

THE box was nearly three feet in width; its height and depth were each about two feet. Perry gripped a handle at one end. The box came up, heavily. Perry told Zane to take the other handle. Together, they lugged the box back into the passage.

While Zane waited beside the coffer, Perry closed the safe and turned the combination. Then he pulled the big door and hurriedly replaced the letters so they formed a series of five A’s. He went to the ladder, ascended it, and hissed to Zane to start the box upward.

This was no small task. Zane got the coffer on end and by shifting it from rung to rung, managed to move it part way up the ladder. Then Perry, leaning into the shaft, caught the end above. The heavy box came to the floor of the dummy elevator shaft.

“There’s plenty in it,” whispered Perry, as Zane joined him. “But we’re not going to open the coffer here. We’ll get it back into our house.”

“We can put it in the secret room,” added Zane. “Open it there, get a look at the contents. This may mean millions, Perry!”

“You bet. In gilt-edged securities or bank notes, too, if our grandfather knew his business. It’s ours, by possession, when we get it in the house. That’s where we’ll keep it. Under cover — until we find the right time to unload whatever we’ve got.”

“That’s the idea. But what about right now? Can we chance it, Perry, lugging this box out of the apartment house?”

“Why not? It looks enough like a trunk not to excite suspicion. Up the elevator into the hallway. There’s a back door that I saw when I came in. Let’s go.”

The cousins moved the box into the passage. Perry clamped the door of the dummy shaft. The elevator was still at the basement level. They took the coffer up to the ground floor. The hall was empty. The back door revealed an open space to the rear street.

Perry and Zane carried the box and set it down by the steps of a house. Perry walked quickly to the corner and found a cab. He came up in the taxi, alighted, and helped Zane lift the box into the rear of the car.

The cabby made no comment. To him, the coffer looked like a trunk; these young claps appeared to be respectable fellows who were probably moving from the house at which he had stopped.

The cab rolled off on its trip to the Dolger mansion. The heirs had recovered the fortune that they sought; soon they would be in the secret room that they had chosen for the hiding place. There they would learn the contents of the coffer. They had left no trace of their visit to the hidden strong room beneath the old apartment house.

YET the removal of the coffer was not to pass undetected. One hour after the visit of the cousins, another arrival moved from the elevator into the basement level of the Ajax Apartments.

This visitor had extinguished the light in the car. He was using a flashlight to blink his way to the door of the dummy shaft.

With methodical precision, the man in the dark raised the wooden flooring; then the iron slab. He descended the ladder. His light shone upon the letters on the metal door as his long fingers turned the tumblers to spell the word Jetty.

The heavy door swung inward. The light blinked on the safe. The same hand manipulated the combination. The door of the safe came open; the light swung to the floor. It stopped there. The new visitor stared; and his breath came in short, fierce gasps.

The removal of the coffer had been discovered by some one who knew the secret that the Dolgers had learned. The newcomer saw proof that the message in the signets had been gained. His hissed breathing ended. His voice fumed imprecations. The incoherent words that came from this visitor’s lips were proof of his identity.

For the utterances were phrased in the harsh crackle that belonged to Lucius Zurick. He — the chief of the three living philanthropists — had come here to make sure that the hidden wealth was safe.

The crackles died. The light blinked out. Lucius Zurick worked in total darkness as he closed the rifled safe and the metal door. His footsteps clicked in the underground passage. Again, low epithets were muttered by his parchment lips.

Hollow tones; fierce, crackled words. Those were foreboding. They stood as unheard proof that Lucius Zurick was planning drastic measures to regain the wealth that the three philanthropists had lost.