Vincent Starrett: The Blue Door

Around the turn of the stairway charged the two policemen who guarded the premises, and at their heels ran Robert Coolbrith. The policemen’s clubs were drawn, and the eyes of all three were bright with excitement. They clattered to the top with infinite noise. In the corner of the landing, we three were tightly jammed, with Lavender on the outmost rim.

“What is it?” asked the foremost runner breathlessly.

“Bracelets!” snapped Jimmie Lavender, twisting his head with an effort. “In my side pocket. And get them on the right man—Connor, not Gilruth!”

Then the handcuffs snapped, and we fell apart prepared to resume the performance; but the fight had gone out of Thomas Connor.

“All right,” he growled sullenly. “You’ve got me. I ain’t a fool. What do you want of me?”

“Where is Marian Coolbrith?” asked Lavender.

“How the hell should I know?” snarled the prisoner. “I ain’t her guardian, am I?”

I flung an arm across Coolbrith’s shoulders to restrain him, and Lavender stepped hastily between the two men.

“Kinner,” said the detective, in a voice of doom, “or Connor, or whatever your name is, there is enough evidence on this island, and in this house, to hang you as high as the Capitol spire. I’m not sure that even the truth will save you, but the only chance you have to remain on earth is to tell it. Do you want to see the evidence?” And laying hold of the trunk, with a sudden movement he swung it about so that it lay across the doorsill and touched the feet of the prisoner. Stooping quickly, he laid a hand on the upper edge, as if to throw back the cover.

Connor collapsed. He went to pieces in an instant.

“No!” he shrieked. “Don’t open it, Mr. Lavender! I’ll tell you!”

“Where is Marian Coolbrith?” repeated the detective.

The prisoner turned to the stairway. He was suddenly eager, pathetically eager, to help us; happy to get away from the sinister threat of that closed trunk.

“I’ll show you,” he said quickly. “I’ll show you, Mr. Lavender!” He stumbled on the stairs, and the detective’s arm prevented him from falling. The chains of his handcuffs jangled between his wrists. The policemen and Robert Coolbrith clattered in his wake.

For an instant I loitered behind, and when they had passed around the turn of the stair I flung open the lid of the trunk and looked inside. Then with a grim smile I hurried after the procession. The trunk was half filled with old hats and shoes, beneath which lay a clutter of gardener’s tools and similar weight-making apparatus. It was a catch-all for the household’s discarded and unused articles.

Across the living room and out over the veranda, Connor led us, then down the path to the rocks, until the water lay before us and a view of the neighboring islands was possible from the summit of the stony bulwark. There, raising his manacled wrists, he pointed away to the north to where another island, small and heavily verdured, thrust up out of the Sound.

“She’s there!” he said briefly.

“Good God!” cried Robert Coolbrith. “It is the first place I went to, that day you took me to the islands!”

“Yes, sir,” said the boatman, quite respectfully. “That’s the place. They said to bring you there. She was there all the time.”

“And Howard?” asked Lavender quickly.

“He’s there, too,” said Connor, “and another fellow with him. They’re all there, Mr. Lavender. But they won’t be when you get there!”

They had powerful glasses on that other island. The police motorboat, containing Lavender and me, and Hovey and the prisoner, had covered barely half the distance to its shores when another boat, larger and heavier, was seen to leave the anchorage and head northward in frantic haste. That it had been ready and waiting our approach, until such time as it was possible to identify the occupants of our craft, was very evident. Connor’s presence, with the uniformed policeman and two strangers, had told the story of what had occurred.

Two men occupied the fleeing boat, and in an instant Lavender’s glasses were on them. The detective was raging.

“Damn them!” he swore furiously, “they’re going to escape, Hovey! Let her out! Give her everything she’s got!”

I unshipped a pistol, and sat ready. Our speed perceptibly increased, and the little boat rushed through the water like a living thing. Hovey, acting as operator, was crowding on all speed. Our bow cut the waves like a plowshare, and the water hissed and boiled and sang at our sides. The spray leaped back at us from the knifelike prow and occasional waves splashed over us, chilling and wetting us to the skin. For a time we seemed to gain.

“Shall I try a shot, Jimmie?” I asked uneasily.

In spite of our dancing speed, Lavender’s glasses were still focused on the fugitives. At length he spoke.

“The girl isn’t with them,” he said with deep relief, and removed his eyes from the binoculars. “I had a glimpse of the boat’s bottom, just then, as she rose. The men are alone. Apparently they are saving their skins. No, don’t fire, Gilly.”

The other boat, too, was picking up speed, and soon it became apparent that we were going to be left behind. The handicap was too great for us, even if our speeds had been equal, but our highest speed was not the equal of our enemy’s best. Little by little we were being left behind, and at length Lavender gave up the chase.

“It’s hopeless,” he asserted. “Bring your bow around, Hovey, and make for the island. Miss Coolbrith may need us. After all, she is our first consideration.” His angry eyes still followed the course of the fleeing abductors, however, and for some time he watched the successful escape with thoughts that I did not envy him.

“As soon as we have landed, Hovey,” he said after a time, “make for Grantford as hard as you can go, and get Connor behind the bars. Report to your superiors what has occurred and have wires sent in every direction to intercept the fugitives. They are probably making for Long Island, but where they may actually land, nobody can say.” He turned to the prisoner. “Who are they, Connor?”

But Connor shook his head with fresh obstinacy.

“I’ve told you all I’m going to, Mr. Lavender,” he replied. “It’s enough. The girl’s all right, and you’re going to get her back. I’m not going to betray my friends.”

“Your friends!” sneered the detective. “When they are caught they will be the first to betray you . Your rôle has been obvious for some time, Connor, and you have been picked to be the goat. All right, Hovey; easy now! We’re getting into shallow water.”

We swept alongside the small dock and Lavender bounded ashore. I followed quickly, and for an instant we watched the sergeant as he turned and sped away for the mainland. Then we hurried toward the house, hidden in the shrubbery, a house as old and picturesque as that we had left behind on Robert Coolbrith’s island.

In a bedroom on the second floor we found the missing girl, tied hand and foot and lying on the bed. She was a pathetic figure, frightened and suspicious, but she was apparently uninjured and in good physical health. She was moaning as we entered the room, and she huddled quickly away from us and looked at us out of terrified eyes, but Lavender spoke quickly and kindly.

“It’s all right, Miss Coolbrith,” he said. “We are friends, and we have just come from your uncle. He is waiting for you at your own place.”

She burst into tears.

“Have you been hurt in any way?” continued the detective gently.

She shook her head and tried to speak, but the tears again stopped her. At length she managed to articulate.