Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 36, No. 4, October 20, 1928

“He may be in love,” Jim suggested. “That would make him act queer. This Marthe is something most anybody could fall for without much exertion, and without ever having had any previous experience in falling. Had you stopped to consider that Marthe may have succeeded in casting a spell over him, whether he was willing or not, and that she might thereby have heaved a monkey wrench into some machinery that was theretofore running smoothly?”

I stopped where I was. Steel had started something going, and going with a hum. Maybe the blow on the head had had a good effect.

“Jim,” I told him with conviction, “you have hit something plumb meaty — and without the aid of a blackjack. I’m thinking you’re right as far as you have gone, and that is only halfway.”

“Halfway?” Steel queried. “What do you mean, halfway?”

“This,” I answered. “There has been two monkey wrenches heaved into the machinery — and by two separate and independent persons! Two large, drop-forged, steel monkey wrenches, Jim — make no mistake about it!”

“You and me. We’re the wrenches, eh?”

“Not by a damn sight!” I contradicted. “We’re the monkeys, Jim! That is to say, we’ve been assigned the role of monkeys! Hung up by our tails, so to speak—”

“And now the tails are slipping — thanks to the blackjack,” Jim broke in, but I didn’t pay any attention to him. I was busy listening.

Somebody was in the shrubbery on our left, speaking in low but earnest tones. A man’s voice. Beckoning to Jim, I slipped off in that direction.

Chapter XIII Shadows

It didn’t take me long to locate the speaker. The voice came from a summerhouse about fifty feet off the path. I crept up and listened.

The male voice ceased, and a woman began speaking.

“You have no right to follow me around! I told you once to-night that I would be engaged for the evening, but you are very dense! You haven’t any right—”

“Oh, I haven’t, eh? You were glad to give me certain rights, let me remind you—”

“And let me remind you that I took those rights away—”

“And transferred them to that dam—”

“Don’t you dare!”

Just Tommy and Marthe giving each other the devil. And I had thought I’d struck something worthwhile!

Steel, who also had heard, was plucking at my arm. “He found her again,” he whispered. “Let’s get away from here, and leave ’em fight it out in true loverly fashion. They’re going good, now. That’s a case of real love.”

I was about to follow Jim’s suggestion, when Tommy’s voice came again — harsh and hate-laden.

“Remember what I told you!” he snarled. “If he goes too far I’ll explode some powder under his nose — and he don’t have to go very much farther than he has right now! Where is he, anyhow?”

I wanted to get the answer to that. Twice since supper, to my knowledge, Flash had planted the girl somewhere and left her. Why?

“It isn’t any of your business, Tommy Patterson!” Marthe informed him, and not sweetly. “But if you must know, he had to go to the house to answer a telephone call. Now go away and stay away!”

Tommy stumbled off into the shrubbery, swearing under his breath. I know, because Jim and I had to dodge aside or be caught spying.

“Follow him, Jim,” I ordered.

“Don’t lose sight of him again tonight, if you can help it.”

“That’s a hell of a job!” Steel grumbled nastily. “Playing tag with a bird gone rumdum with love! Monkey is right! You said it!”

But he went off after Tommy — which is Jim Steel’s way. He’d walk straight into hell on orders, and he’d cuss about the heat before he got there — but not after. He’d start in to put out the fire. There’s not many like old Jim Steel.

I changed sides on the summerhouse. Wanted to observe Flash and the girl together — hear ’em, rather. Not a very nice thing to do, perhaps, but a sleuth can’t always observe the niceties of life.

Flash had hired me to watch him, and I meant to earn the money. Perhaps this love affair, if it was one, between him and Marthe wasn’t any of my business, and Flash hadn’t counted on me watching him while he was at it. But he hadn’t counted on there being a love affair at all, for that matter. That love affair was monkey wrench number one.

I waited, and while I did so I couldn’t help thinking that Flash had been rather thoughtless to leave the girl alone so far from the house. Then I had another thought. Maybe Flash was well aware that no harm would be likely to befall her. That last thought stuck.

About that time Flash came back. He entered the summerhouse and I heard a low murmur of voices. Then both came out into the moonlight, and strolled off toward the lower end of the garden. I let them get a fair start, then followed.

There were two of us following them. I became aware of that almost at once. Somebody was moving along slowly on the opposite side of a rose hedge, stooping low and barely discernible.