The Penguin Book of Gaslight Crime - Michael Sims [85]
At the end of five minutes they sent for the engineer, and that grimy individual appeared, loaded down with tools; he expressed it as his reverend opinion a damned fine door was about to be turned into scrap. There was one chance—that a gasoline torch might blow the lead from the keyslot. But, no—the molten metal only completed the upsetting of the fine mechanism. There was nothing to do but to cut round the lock with a compass saw.
“Cheer up, Malvino!” said Welton through the door. “We will be with you in another minute.”
Just then Godahl ran in from the street. He threw his hat and coat to an attendant.
“Ha! The devil to pay—eh?” he cried excitedly. “I just this minute heard of it; and I rushed here.”
“What?” said a number of voices at once.
The usually exquisite Godahl was somewhat disheveled and his eyes were red.
“Malvino!” cried he, staring at them as though perplexed at their blandness. “Do you mean to say you don’t know why he didn’t show up this evening?”
“Didn’t show up! What do you mean?”
“You really don’t know?” cried Godahl, his eyes blazing.
“No! What? Tell us the answer!” said some one with a laugh.
“The police found him bound and gagged in a deserted cab in Central Park. They’ve got him in Bellevue Hospital now, raving. By Gad! if I——”
The room laughed. Even the grimy engineer boring a hole to start his compass saw looked over his shoulder and grinned at Godahl.
“Don’t excite yourself, Godahl,” said Welton, of Tonopah Magnet. “Somebody’s been stringing you. We’ve got Malvino here now. Gad, I wish we didn’t have him! You’re just in time to help us out of a devil of a mess. That humorist Colwell has plugged the locks with lead; and we can’t get the blind beggar out without sawing the door down. He’s sweating blood in there now.”
“In there?” cried Godahl, pushing his way through the ring round the engineer.
“In there!” repeated Welton. “The kleptomaniac has got a cool ten thousand of mine.”
“No!”
“Yes!” said Welton, mimicking Godahl’s tone. “You didn’t know there was that much money in the world, eh?”
“Let me get this straight,” said Godahl, laying a hand on the engineer’s arm to stop his work. “You think you have Malvino locked in there with your wallets? I tell you Malvino hasn’t been within a mile of this place tonight!”
“I lay you a thousand on it!” cried Welton.
“Tut! tut! Believe me, you are betting on the wrong card.” Godahl’s eyes danced.
“I lay you a thousand on it!” reiterated the Tonopah magnate. “We’ll have to let Malvino hold my stake until we get him out. Gad, he went through me so clean I couldn’t swear at this minute that I’ve got on socks!”
“You are betting on a sure thing?”
“I’m taking candy from a child,” retorted Welton.
“I take you!” cried Godahl, his eyes twinkling. “Anybody else want any candy? I warn you!”
There were several. It wasn’t every day in the week that they could get Godahl on the hip.
“I warn you again,” said Godahl as he accepted the markers, “that Malvino is not in that room. If anybody is there, it is an imposter. You can prove it in a minute by telephoning Bellevue.”
The biting saw completed its half circle about the lock; the door swung open. The room was empty!
Several volunteers ran to the rear door. Their sharp chorus of amazement started the crowd tumbling after them. The rear door was off its hinges! It stood propped against the jamb. A child could see what had happened. The prisoner, laden with the cash of the fifty little millionaires, had simply drawn the bolts of the two hinges and lifted the door out of its frame. On the floor was a wad of handbills like those the rogue had left in his dupes’ pockets in place of their wallets. They read: “Malvino! He Has No Eyes! Watch His Fingers!”
The fifty little millionaires gazed at each other dumfounded, feeling their