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

“Yes,” he resumed, “the blackmailers scented me. Plenty of chance, too, you’ll allow, seeing how much advertising I got through the papers here and elsewhere. I have been, in the past, something of a public character, Norton, as you may have heard. Letters came to me from parties who hungered to have a share of my presumed wealth, and not one of the writers seemed to care anything about the ethics of the thing.

“Naturally, being something of a student of the processes of the criminal mind myself, as you may have heard, I destroyed these letters in the order of their arrival. They weren’t worth bothering about.

“But one came to me last week, mailed at St. Louis, which differs somewhat from the others. This fellow means business. You see, Norton, I happen to know him. One of the undesirable acquaintances, you understand.

“Of course his signature isn’t affixed, but there is sketched upon the page at the bottom a sort of design that is enlightening. This chap is shy a thumb and a little finger, both off the left hand. A neat sketch of a man’s hand, so mutilated, identifies the letter with the man. Do you follow me?”

A case of dog eating dog, eh? For the life of me, I couldn’t help feeling a sneaking liking for the polished, friendly chap, even though I knew that his pretense of honest respectability — thinly laid on before me, by the way — was a pretense only. What the devil was he up to?

I merely nodded, my face giving no hint of my thoughts.

“Glad you do,” he commented. “Well, Norton, this chap demands a cool fifty thousand dollars, else he will carry out certain designs upon my person which will result in totally unfitting me for further activities in this life. That is the gist of the letter.

“Understand me, Norton,” he went on, his face serious, “I am not one to tremble at shadows — nor at anything else, for that matter. The truth is, I need help only because during the coming week I shall be pretty well occupied with other things than watching for the three-fingered assassin to try his stuff. Otherwise, I assure you, I’d give him plenty of rope — and then jerk the rope at the proper moment. Unfortunately I must forego the pleasure I’d get out of playing a hand against him, and for that reason I’m asking you to sit in the game.”

That surely gave me a laugh — a quiet laugh, ’way down deep!

Chapter V A Pair of Forty-Fives

Flash Santelle grinned broadly. The thing was serious, of course, but there was a certain humor in it that could not fail to appeal to him.

“The situation, as you outline it, seems to offer possibilities for excitement, as well as amusement,” I commented. “Suppose you spill it all, explaining just how the Kaw Valley can aid you in the emergency.”

“I want you to assign two thoroughly reliable, intelligent men to the case,” he replied promptly. “They are to be near me night and day. Put me to bed at night, as it were, and take me up in the morning. The day man must be one who can mingle with my guests as one of them, of course.”

“There is to be guests, then?” I commented. “How many?”

“About a dozen. Anderson Bailey and daughter, Marthe, Roscoe Patterson, wife, son, and daughter, and several out-of-town friends of both families, to mention a few. It is to be a house party extending over a week. Judge, then, how necessary it is to guard closely against anything unfortunate, such as my three-fingered correspondent threatens, happening during the week. Can you supply such men as I need?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I’ve got a fine assortment, Santelle. One in particular, a near-graduate of a correspondence school of prominence, the name of which slips me just now, who could loaf all evening in the lobby of the Ritz and never attract attention. His middle name is Etiquette.

“He’ll do you proud in the role of mingler, and Jim Steel, my right-hand man, will absolutely guarantee to take care of any one attempting to violate the privacy of your bedchamber, and do it without even disturbing your slumber. When do they report?”

“You’re not spoofing me?” Flash queried, evidently shying off on account of my clumsy attempt at light comedy. “This thing is serious, old chap.”

“Flash,” I said soberly, and in absolute sincerity, “you are about the last man on earth I’d undertake to kid. My manner of speech does not always indicate my real sentiments. If I take your money I’ll earn it in a manner absolutely satisfactory to you, or I’ll give it back.”

His face cleared immediately, and he laughed. “It seems like old times, that ‘Flash,’ ” he was good enough to say. “All that is behind me, though thanks to the kindness of Uncle Cato.”

“And we report when?” I repeated the question.

“Monday morning. The guests will begin arriving in the afternoon. You will want your men to have a chance to look over the ground, of course. Send them along as early as you can. Now, as to the fee?”