The Flaming Jewel, Robert W. Chambers [summer beach reads .txt] 📗

TO
MY FRIEND

R. T. HAINES-HALSEY

WHO
UNRESERVEDLY BELIEVES
EVERYTHING I WRITE


To R. T.

I

Three Guests at dinner! That's the life!--
Wedgewood, Revere, and Duncan Phyfe!

II

You sit on Duncan--when you dare,--
And out of Wedgewood, using care,
With Paul Revere you eat your fare.

III

From Paul you borrow fork and knife
To wage a gastronomic strife
In porringers; and platters rare
Of blue Historic Willow-ware.

IV

Banquets with cymbal, drum and fife,
Or rose-wreathed feasts with riot rife
To your chaste suppers can't compare.

V

Let those deny the truth who dare!--
Paul, Duncan, Wedgewood! That's the life!
All else is bunk and empty air.

ENVOI

The Cordon-bleu has set the pace
With Goulash, Haggis, Bouillabaisse,
Curry, Chop-suey, Kous-Kous Stew--
I can not offer these to you,--
Being a plain, old-fashioned cook,--
So pray accept this scrambled book.

R. W. C.


CONTENTS


EPISODE ONE EVE

EPISODE TWO THE RULING PASSION

EPISODE THREE ON STAR PEAK

EPISODE FOUR A PRIVATE WAR

EPISODE FIVE DROWNED VALLEY

EPISODE SIX THE JEWEL AFLAME

EPISODE SEVEN CLINCH'S DUMP

EPISODE EIGHT CUP AND LIP

EPISODE NINE THE FOREST AND MR SARD

EPISODE TEN THE TWILIGHT OF MIKE

EPISODE ELEVEN THE PLACE OF PINES

EPISODE TWELVE HER HIGHNESS INTERVENES


THE FLAMING JEWEL

EPISODE ONE

EVE

I

During the last two years Fate, Chance, and Destiny had been too busy to attend to Mike Clinch.

But now his turn was coming in the Eternal Sequence of things. The stars in their courses indicated the beginning of the undoing of Mike Clinch.

From Esthonia a refugee Countess wrote to James Darragh in New York:

"--After two years we have discovered that it was Jose
Quintana's band of international thieves that robbed Ricca.
Quintana has disappeared.

"A Levantine diamond broker in New York, named Emanuel Sard, may
be in communication with him.

"Ricca and I are going to America as soon as possible.

"VALENTINE."

The day Darragh received the letter he started to look up Sard.

But that very morning Sard had received a curious letter from Rotterdam. This was the letter:

"Sardius--Tourmaline--Aragonite--Rhodonite *
Porphyry--Obsidian--Nugget Gold--Diaspore *
Novaculite * Yu * Nugget Silver--Amber--Matrix
Turquoise--Elaeolite * Ivory--Sardonyx * Moonstone--
Iceland Spar--Kalpa Zircon--Eye Agate * Celonite--
Lapis--Iolite--Nephrite--Chalcedony--Hydrolite *
Hegolite--Amethyst--Selenite * Fire Opal--Labradorite--
Aquamarine--Malachite--Iris Stone--Natrolite--
Garnet * Jade--Emerald--Wood Opal--Essonite--
Lazuli * Epidote--Ruby--Onyx--Sapphire
--Indicolite--Topaz--Euclase * Indian Diamond *
Star Sapphire--African Diamond--Iceland Spar--
Lapis Crucifer * Abalone--Turkish Turquoise * Old
Mine Stone--Natrolite--Cats Eye--Electrum * * *
1/5 [=a] [=a]."

That afternoon young Darragh located Sard's office and presented himself as a customer. The weasel-faced clerk behind the wicket laid a pistol handy and informed Darragh that Sard was away on a business trip.

Darragh looked cautiously around the small office:

"Can anybody hear us?"

"Nobody. Why?"

"I have important news concerning Jose Quintana," whispered Darragh; "Where is Sard?"

"Why, he had a letter from Quintana this very morning," replied the clerk in a low, uneasy voice. "Mr. Sard left for Albany on the one o'clock train. Is there any trouble?"

"Plenty," replied Darragh coolly; "do you know Quintana?"

"No. But Mr. Sard expects him here any day now."

Darragh leaned closer against the grille: "Listen very carefully; if a man comes here who calls himself Jose Quintana, turn him over to the police until Mr. Sard returns. No matter what he tells you, turn him over to the police. Do you understand?"

"Who are you?" demanded the worried clerk. "Are you one of Quintana's people?"

"Young man," said Darragh, "I'm close enough to Quintana to give _you_ orders. And give Sard orders.... And Quintana, too!"

A great light dawned on the scared clerk:

"_You_ are Jose Quintana!" he said hoarsely.

Darragh bored him through with his dark stare:

"Mind your business," he said.

* * * * *


That night in Albany Darragh picked up Sard's trail. It led to a dealer in automobiles. Sard had bought a Comet Six, paying cash, and had started north.

Through Schenectady, Fonda, and Mayfield, the following day, Darragh traced a brand new Comet Six containing one short, dark Levantine with a parrot nose. In Northville Darragh hired a Ford.

At Lake Pleasant Sard's car went wrong. Darragh missed him by ten minutes; but he learned that Sard had inquired the way to Ghost Lake Inn.

That was sufficient. Darragh bought an axe, drove as far as Harrod's Corners, dismissed the Ford, and walked into a forest entirely familiar to him.

He emerged in half an hour on a wood road two miles farther on. Here he felled a tree across the road and sat down in the bushes to await events.

Toward sunset, hearing a car coming, he tied his handkerchief over his face below the eyes, and took an automatic from his pocket.

Sard's car stopped and Sard got out to inspect the obstruction. Darragh sauntered out of the bushes, poked his pistol against Mr. Sard's fat abdomen, and leisurely and thoroughly robbed him.

In an agreeable spot near a brook Darragh lighted his pipe and sat him down to examine the booty in detail. Two pistols, a stiletto, and a blackjack composed the arsenal of Mr. Sard. A large wallet disclosed more than four thousand dollars in Treasury notes--something to reimburse Ricca when she arrived, he thought.

Among Sard's papers he discovered a cipher letter from Rotterdam--probably from Quintana. Cipher was rather in Darragh's line. All ciphers are solved by similar methods, unless the key is contained in a code book known only to sender and receiver.

But Quintana's cipher proved to be only an easy acrostic--the very simplest of secret messages. Within an hour Darragh had it pencilled out:

_Cipher_

"Take notice:

"Star Pond, N. Y.... Name is Mike Clinch.... Has Flaming
Jewel.... Erosite.... I sail at once.

"QUINTANA."

Having served in Russia as an officer in the Military Intelligence Department attached to the American Expeditionary Forces, Darragh had little trouble with Quintana's letter. Even the signature was not difficult, the fraction 1/5 was easily translated _Quint_; and the familiar prescription symbol [=a] [=a] spelled _ana_; which gave Quintana's name in full.

He had heard of Erosite as the rarest and most magnificent of all gems. Only three were known. The young Duchess Theodorica of Esthonia had possessed one.

* * * * *


Darragh was immensely amused to find that the chase after Emanuel Sard should have led him to the very borders of the great Harrod estate in the Adirondacks.

He gathered up his loot and walked on through the splendid forest which once had belonged to Henry Harrod of Boston, and which now was the property of Harrod's nephew, James Darragh.

When he came to the first trespass notice he stood a moment to read it. Then, slowly, he turned and looked toward Clinch's. An autumn sunset flared like a conflagration through the pines. There was a glimmer of water, too, where Star Pond lay.

* * * * *


Fate, Chance, and Destiny were becoming very busy with Mike Clinch. They had started Quintana, Sard, and Darragh on his trail. Now they stirred up the sovereign State of New York.

That lank wolf, Justice, was afoot and sniffing uncomfortably close to the heels of Mike Clinch.


II

Two State Troopers drew bridles in the yellowing October forest. Their smart drab uniforms touched with purple blended harmoniously with the autumn woods. They were as inconspicuous as two deer in the dappled shadow. There was a sunny clearing just ahead. The wood road they had been travelling entered it. Beyond lay Star Pond.

Trooper Lannis said to Trooper Stormont: "That's Mike Clinch's clearing. Our man may be there. Now we'll see if anybody tips him off this time."

Forest and clearing were very still in the sunshine. Nothing stirred save gold leaves drifting down, and a hawk high in the deep blue sky turning in narrow circles.

Lannis was instructing Stormont, who had been transferred from the Long Island Troop, and who was unacquainted with local matters.

Lannis said: "Clinch's dump stands on the other edge of the clearing. Clinch owns five hundred acres in here. He's a rat."

"Bad?"

"Well, he's mean. I don't know how bad he is. But he runs a rotten dump. The forest has its slums as well as the city. This is the Hell's Kitchen of the North Woods."

Stormont nodded.

"All the scum of the wilderness gathers here," went on Lannis. "Here's where half the trouble in the North Woods hatches. We'll eat dinner at Clinch's. His stepdaughter is a peach."

The sturdy, sun-browned trooper glanced at his wrist watch, stretched his legs in his stirrups.

"Jack," he said, "I want you to get Clinch right, and I'm going to tell you about his outfit while we watch this road. It's like a movie. Clinch plays the lead. I'll dope out the scenario for you----"

He turned sideways in his saddle, freeing both spurred heels and lolled so, constructing a cigarette while he talked:

"Way back around 1900 Mike Clinch was a guide--a decent young fellow they say. He guided fishing parties in summer, hunters in fall and winter. He made money and built the house. The people he guided were wealthy. He made a lot of money and bought land. I understand he was