The Mystery of Murray Davenport Part 29

"Better than any other man in New York," said the other, simply, without any boastfulness.

"And you know what these facial surgeons do?"

"Certainly. A friend of mine has written the only really scientific monograph yet published on the art they profess."

"And yet you say that what my friend has done is impossible?"

"What you say he has done is quite impossible. Mr. Tompkins, for example, whom you cite as having once met your friend and then failed to recognize him, would recognize him in ten seconds after any transformation within possibility. If he failed to recognize the man you take to be your friend transformed, make up your mind the man is somebody else."

Bagley drew a deep sigh, curtly thanked the criminologist, and rose, saying to Larcher: "Well, you better turn over the stakes to your friend, I guess."

"You're not going yet, are you?" said Larcher.

"Yes, sir. I lose this bet; but I'll try my story on the police just the same. Truth is mighty and will prevail."

Before Bagley could make his way out, however, Turl, who had been watching him, managed to get to his side. Larcher, waving a good-night to Barry Tompkins, followed the two from the room. In the hall, he handed the stakes to Turl.

"Oh, yes, you win all right enough," admitted Bagley. "My fun will come later."

"I trust you'll see the funny side of it," replied Turl, accompanying him forth to the snowy street. "You haven't laughed much at the little foretaste of the incredulity that awaits you."

"Never you mind. I'll make them believe me, before I'm through." He had turned toward Sixth Avenue. Turl and Larcher stuck close to him.

"You'll have them suggesting rest-cures for the mind, and that sort of thing," said Turl, pleasantly.

"And the newspapers will be calling you the Great American Identifier,"

put in Larcher.

"There'll be somebody else as the chief identifier," said Bagley, glaring at Turl. "Somebody that knows it's you. I heard her say that much."

"Stop a moment, Mr. Bagley." Turl enforced obedience by stepping in front of the man and facing him. The three stood still, at the corner, while an elevated train rumbled along overhead. "I don't think you really mean that. I don't think that, as an American, you would really subject a woman--such a woman--to such an ordeal, to gain so little.

Would you now?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Despite his defiant look, Bagley had weakened a bit.

"I can't imagine your doing it. But if you did, my lawyer would have to make you tell how you had heard this wonderful tale."

"Through the door. That's easy enough."

"We could show that the tale couldn't possibly be heard through so thick a door, except by the most careful attention--at the keyhole. You would have to tell my lawyer why you were listening at the keyhole--at the keyhole of that lady's parlor. I can see you now, in my mind's eye, attempting to answer that question--with the reporters eagerly awaiting your reply to publish it to the town."

Bagley, still glaring hard, did some silent imagining on his own part. At last he growled:

"If I do agree to settle this matter on the quiet, how much of that money have you got left?"

"If you mean the money you placed in Murray Davenport's hands before he disappeared, I've never heard that any of it has been spent. But isn't it the case that Davenport considered himself morally ent.i.tled to that amount from you?"

Bagley gave a contemptuous grunt; then, suddenly brightening up, he said: "S'pose Davenport _was_ ent.i.tled to it. As you ain't Davenport, why, of course, you ain't ent.i.tled to it. Now what have you got to say?"

"Merely, that, as you're not Davenport, neither are you ent.i.tled to it."

"But I was only supposin'. I don't admit that Davenport was ent.i.tled to it. Ordinary law's good enough for me. I just wanted to show you where you stand, you not bein' Davenport, even if he had a right to that money."

"Suppose Davenport had given me the money?"

"Then you'd have to restore it, as it wasn't lawfully his."

"But you can't prove that I have it, to restore."

"If I can establish any sort of connection between you and Davenport, I can cause your affairs to be thoroughly looked into," retorted Bagley.

"But you can't establish that connection, any more than you can convince anybody that I'm Murray Davenport."

Bagley was fiercely silent, taking in a deep breath for the cooling of his rage. He was a man who saw whole vistas of probability in a moment, and who was correspondingly quick in making decisions.

"We're at a deadlock," said he. "You're a clever boy, Dav,--or Turl, I might as well call you. I know the game's against me, and Turl you shall be from now on, for all I've ever got to say. I did swear this evening to make it hot for you, but I'm not as hot myself now as I was at that moment. I'll give up the idea of causing trouble for you over that money; but the money itself I must have."

"Do you need it badly?" asked Turl.

"_Need_ it!" cried Bagley, scorning the imputation. "Not me! The loss of it would never touch me. But no man can ever say he's done me out of that much money, no matter how smart he is. So I'll have that back, if I've got to spend all the rest of my pile to get it. One way or another, I'll manage to produce evidence connecting you with Murray Davenport at the time he disappeared with my cash."

Turl pondered. Presently he said: "If it were restored to you, Davenport's moral right to it would still be insisted on. The restoration would be merely on grounds of expediency."

"All right," said Bagley.

"Of course," Turl went on, "Davenport no longer needs it; and certainly _I_ don't need it."

"Oh, don't you, on the level?" inquired Bagley, surprised.

"Certainly not. I can earn a very good income. Fortune smiles on me."

"I shouldn't mind your holding out a thousand or two of that money when you pay it over,--say two thousand, as a sort of testimonial of my regard," said Bagley, good-naturedly.

"Thank you very much. You mean to be generous; but I couldn't accept a dollar as a gift, from the man who wouldn't pay Murray Davenport as a right."

"Would you accept the two thousand, then, as Murray Davenport's right,--you being a kind of an heir of his?"

"I would accept the whole amount in dispute; but under that, not a cent."

Bagley looked at Turl long and hard; then said, quietly: "I tell you what I'll do with you. I'll toss up for that money,--the whole amount. If you win, keep it, and I'll shut up. But if I win, you turn it over and never let me hear another word about Davenport's right."

"As I told you before, I'm not a gambling man. And I can't admit that Davenport's right is open to settlement."

"Well, at least you'll admit that you and I don't agree about it. You can't deny there's a difference of opinion between us. If you want to settle that difference once and for ever, inside of a minute, here's your chance. It's just cases like this that the dice are good for. There's a saloon over on that corner. Will you come?"

"All right," said Turl. And the three strode diagonally across Sixth Avenue.

"Gimme a box of dice," said Bagley to the man behind the bar, when they had entered the brightly lighted place.