The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3) - Arthur B. Reeve (best detective novels of all time TXT) 📗

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White-Capped Uniformed Inspectors And Plain-Clothes Appraisers.

The Comedy And Tragedy Of The Customs Inspection Had Begun.

 

We Were Among The First To Land. Herndon Took Up A Position From

Which He Could See Without Being Seen. In The Semi-Light Of The

Little Windows In The Enclosed Sides Of The Pier,  Under The Steel

Girders Of The Arched Roof Like A Vast Hall,  There Was A Panorama

Of A Huge Mass Of Open Luggage.

 

At Last Number 140 Came Down,  Alone,  To The Roped-Off Dock. He

Walked Nonchalantly Over To The Little Deputy Surveyor's Desk,  And

An Inspector Was Quickly Assigned To Him. It Was All Done Neatly

In The Regular Course Of Business Apparently. He Did Not Know That

In The Orderly Rush The Sharpest Of Herndon's Men Had Been Picked

Out,  Much As A Trick Card Player Will Force A Card On His Victim.

 

Already The Customs Inspection Was Well Along. One Inspector Had

Been Assigned To About Each Five Passengers,  And Big Piles Of

Finery Were Being Remorselessly Tumbled Out In Shapeless Heaps And

Exposed To The Gaze Of That Part Of The Public Which Was Not Too

Much Concerned Over The Same Thing As To Its Own Goods And

Chattels. Reticules And Purses Were Being Inspected. Every Trunk

Was Presumed To Have A False Bottom,  And Things Wrapped Up In

Paper Were Viewed Suspiciously And Unrolled. Clothes Were Being

Shaken And Pawed. There Did Not Seem To Be Much Opportunity For

Concealment.

 

Herndon Now Had Donned The Regulation Straw Hat Of The Appraiser,

And Accompanied By Us,  Posing As Visitors,  Was Sauntering About.

At Last We Came Within Earshot Of The Spot Where The Inspector Was

Going Through The Effects Of 140.

 

Out Of The Corner Of My Eyes I Could See That A Dispute Was In

Progress Over Some Trifling Matter. The Man Was Cool And Calm.

"Call The Appraiser," He Said At Last,  With The Air Of A Man

Standing On His Rights. "I Object To This Frisking Of Passengers.

Uncle Sam Is Little Better Than A Pickpocket. Besides,  I Can't

Wait Here All Day. My Partner Is Waiting For Me Uptown."

 

Herndon Immediately Took Notice. But It Was Quite Evidently,  After

All,  Only An Altercation For The Benefit Of Those Who Were

Watching. I Am Sure He Knew He Was Being Watched,  But As The

Dispute Proceeded He Assumed The Look Of A Man Keenly Amused. The

Matter,  Involving Only A Few Dollars,  Was Finally Adjusted By His

Yielding Gracefully And With An Air Of Resignation. Still Herndon

Did Not Go And I Am Sure It Annoyed Him.

 

Suddenly He Turned And Faced Herndon. I Could Not Help Thinking,

In Spite Of All That He Must Be So Expert,  That,  If He Really Were

A Smuggler,  He Had All The Poise And Skill At Evasion That Would

Entitle Him To Be Called A Cast Master Of The Art.

 

"You See That Woman Over There?" He Whispered. "She Says She Is

Just Coming Home After Studying Music In Paris."

 

We Looked. It Was The Guileless Ingenue,  Mademoiselle Gabrielle.

 

"She Has Dutiable Goods,  All Right. I Saw Her Declaration. She Is

Trying To Bring In As Personal Effects Of A Foreign Resident Gowns

Which,  I Believe,  She Intends To Wear On The Stage. She's An

Actress."

 

There Was Nothing For Herndon To Do But To Act On The Tip. The Man

Had Got Rid Of Us Temporarily,  But We Knew The Inspector Would Be,

If Anything,  More Vigilant. I Think He Took Even Longer Than

Usual.

 

Mademoiselle Gabrielle And Her Maid Pouted And Fussed Over The

Renewed Examination Which Herndon Ordered. According To The

Part 3 Chapter 10 (The Smuggler) Pg 119

Inspector Everything Was New And Expensive; According To Her,  Old,

Shabby,  And Cheap. She Denied Everything,  Raged And Threatened.

But When,  Instead Of Ordering The Stamp "Passed" To Be Placed On

Her Half Dozen Trunks And Bags Which Contained In Reality Only A

Few Dutiable Articles,  Herndon Threatened To Order Them To The

Appraiser's Stores And Herself To Go To The Law Division If She

Did Not Admit The Points In Dispute,  There Was A Real Scene.

 

"Generally,  Madame," He Remonstrated,  Though I Could See He Was

Baffled At Finding Nothing Of The Goods He Had Really Expected To

Find,  "Generally Even For A First Offence The Goods Are

Confiscated And The Court Or District Attorney Is Content To Let

The Person Off With A Fine. If This Happens Again We'll Be More

Severe. So You Had Better Pay The Duty On These Few Little

Matters,  Without That."

 

If He Had Been Expecting To "Throw A Scare" Into Her,  It Did Not

Succeed. "Well,  I Suppose If I Must,  I Must," She Said,  And The

Only Result Of The Diversion Was That She Paid A Few Dollars More

Than Had Been Expected And Went Off In A High State Of Mind.

 

Herndon Had Disappeared For A Moment,  After A Whisper From

Kennedy,  To Instruct Two Of His Men To Shadow Mademoiselle

Gabrielle And,  Later,  Pierre. He Soon Rejoined Us And We Casually

Returned To The Vicinity Of Our Tall Friend,  Number 140,  For Whom

I Felt Even Less Respect Than Ever After His Apparently Ungallant

Action Toward The Lady He Had Been Talking With. He Seemed To

Notice My Attitude And He Remarked Defensively For My Benefit,

"Only A Patriotic Act."

 

His Inspector By This Time Had Finished A Most Minute Examination.

There Was Nothing That Could Be Discovered,  Not A False Book With

A Secret Spring That Might Disclose Instead Of Reading Matter A

Heap Of Almost Priceless Jewels,  Not A Suspicious Bulging Of Any

Garment Or Of The Lining Of A Trunk Or Grip. Some Of The Goods

Might Have Been On His Person,  But Not Much,  And Certainly There

Was No Excuse For Ordering A Personal Examination,  For He Could

Not Have Hidden A Tenth Part Of What We Knew He Had,  Even Under

The Proverbial Porous Plaster. He Was Impeccable. Accordingly

There Was Nothing For The Inspector To Do But To Declare A Polite

Armistice.

 

"So You Didn't Find 'Mona Lisa' In A False Bottom,  And My Trunks

Were Not Lined With Smuggled Cigars After All," He Rasped Savagely

As The Stamp "Passed" Was At Last Affixed And He Paid In Cash At

The Little Window With Its Sign,  "Pay Duty Here: U. S. Custom

House," Some Hundred Dollars Instead Of The Thousands Herndon Had

Been Hoping To Collect,  If Not To Seize.

 

All Through The Inspection,  An Extra Close Scrutiny Had Been Kept

On The Other Passengers As Well,  To Prevent Any Of Them From Being

In League With The Smugglers,  Though There Was No Direct Or

Indirect Evidence To Show That Any Of The Others Were.

 

We Were About To Leave The Wharf,  Also,  When Craig's Attention Was

Called To A Stack Of Trunks Still Remaining.

 

"Whose Are Those?" He Asked As He Lifted One. It Felt Suspiciously

Light.

 

"Some Of Them Belong To A Mr. Pierre And The Rest To A Miss

Gabrielle," Answered An Inspector. "Bonded For Troy And Waiting To

Be Transferred By The Express Company."

 

Here,  Perhaps,  At Last Was An Explanation,  And Craig Took

Advantage Of It. Could It Be That The Real Seat Of Trouble Was Not

Here But At Some Other Place,  That Some Exchange Was To Be Made En

Route Or Perhaps An Attempt At Bribery?

 

Herndon,  Too,  Was Willing To Run A Risk. He Ordered The Trunks

Opened Immediately. But To Our Disappointment They Were Almost

Part 3 Chapter 10 (The Smuggler) Pg 120

Empty. There Was Scarcely A Thing Of Value In Them. Most Of The

Contents Consisted Of Clothes That Had Plainly Been Made In

America And Were Being Brought Back Here. It Was Another False

Scent. We Had Been Played With And Baffled At Every Turn. Perhaps

This Had Been The Method Originally Agreed On. At Any Rate It Had

Been Changed.

 

"Could They Have Left The Goods In Paris,  After All?" I Queried.

 

"With The Fall And Winter Trade Just Coming On?" Kennedy Replied,

With An Air Of Finality That Set At Rest Any Doubts About His

Opinion On That Score. "I Thought Perhaps We Had A Case Of--What

Do You Call It,  Herndon,  When They Leave Trunks That Are To Be

Secretly Removed By Dishonest Expressmen From The Wharf At Night?"

 

"'Sleepers.' Oh,  We've Broken That Up,  Too. No Expressman Would

Dare Try It Now. I Must Confess This Thing Is Beyond Me,  Craig."

 

Kennedy Made No Answer. Evidently There Was Nothing To Do But To

Await Developments And See What Herndon's Men Reported. We Had

Been Beaten At Every Turn In The Game. Herndon Seemed To Feel That

There Was A Bitter Sting In The Defeat,  Particularly Because The

Smuggler Or Smugglers Had Actually Been In Our Grasp So Long To Do

With As We Pleased,  And Had So Cleverly Slipped Out Again,  Leaving

Us Holding The Bag.

 

Kennedy Was Especially Thoughtful As He Told Over The Facts Of The

Case In His Mind. "Of Course," He Remarked,  "Mademoiselle

Gabrielle Wasn't An Actress. But We Can't Deny That She Had Very

Little That Would Justify Herndon In Holding Her,  Unless He Simply

Wants A Newspaper Row."

 

"But I Thought Pierre Was Quite Intimate With Her At First," I

Ventured. "That Was A Dirty Trick Of His."

 

Craig Laughed. "You Mean An Old One. That Was Simply A Blind,  To

Divert Attention From Himself. I Suspect They Talked That Over

Between Themselves For Days Before."

 

It Was Plainly More Perplexing Than Ever. What Had Happened? Had

Pierre Been A Prestidigitator And Had He Merely Said Presto! When

Our Backs Were Turned And Whisked The Goods Invisibly Into The

Country? I Could Find No Explanation For The Little Drama On The

Pier. If Herndon's Men Had Any Genius In Detecting Smuggling,

Their Professional Opponent Certainly Had Greater Genius In

Perpetrating It.

 

We Did Not See Herndon Again Until After A Hasty Luncheon. He Was

In His Office And Inclined To Take A Pessimistic View Of The Whole

Affair. He Brightened Up When A Telephone Message Came In From One

Of His Shadows. The Men Trailing Pierre And Mademoiselle Gabrielle

Had Crossed Trails And Run Together At A Little French Restaurant

On The Lower West Side,  Where Pierre,  Lang,  And Mademoiselle

Gabrielle Had Met And Were Dining In A Most Friendly Spirit.

Kennedy Was Right. She Had Been Merely A Cog In The Machinery Of

The Plot.

 

The Man Reported That Even When A Newsboy Had Been Sent In By Him

With The Afternoon Papers Displaying In Big Headlines The Mystery

Of The Death Of Mademoiselle Violette,  They Had Paid No Attention.

It Seemed Evident That Whatever The Fate Of The Modiste,

Mademoiselle Gabrielle Had Quite Replaced Her In The Affections Of

Pierre. There Was Nothing For Us To Do But To Separate And Await

Developments.

 

It Was Late In The Afternoon When Craig And I Received A Hurried

Message From Herndon. One Of His Men Had Just Called Him Up Over

Long Distance From Riverledge. The Party Had Left The Restaurant

Hurriedly,  And Though They Had Taken The Only Taxicab In Sight He

Had Been Able To Follow Them In Time To Find Out That They Were

Going Up To Riverledge. They Were Now Preparing To Go Out For A