The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by NerveMacLaren, Gordon
General
The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve
MacLaren, Gordon
Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; Dime novels; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
The fellow grinned. "It sure is!" he chuckled. "Mighty nice of you to
trot down here and save me the trouble of hunting you up."
Lawrence stared at him blankly. "What the mischief do you mean?" he
demanded. "You don’t mean to say you wanted me here?"
Brennen nodded blithely. "Of course. Aren’t you on yet? That’s what
we’ve been after right along. That’s why we had to put the lady here to
a little inconvenience. Hated to do it, of course, but were afraid
you——"
His companion, the tall, dark, urbane person Barry had passed in the
hall below, plucked Brennen by the arm and whispered a few words in his
ear.
"What’s the odds?" the detective returned briskly. "The big fellow’s
due any minute, and then it’ll all come out. You see," he went on,
turning again to Lawrence, "it looked to us like you’d get wise and
might make a sneak any minute. We couldn’t allow that, of course, so we
took the only way which was left us, and, by a polite little fiction,
induced your wife——"
"That’ll do!" cried Barry, his eyes flashing. "I don’t understand a word
you’re saying; but I know this much: if you can’t keep this lady out of
the conversation, I’ll take great pleasure in silencing you. She is not
my wife, and your behavior in dragging her into this affair has been
simply despicable."
The detective shrugged his shoulders incredulously. "Suit yourself," he
returned blandly. He hesitated a moment, and then went on, with
twinkling eyes: "Hope your friend don’t get tired hunting a cop."
Barry gasped, but recovered himself swiftly. "What do you know about my
friends?" he demanded.
"Know!" Brennen repeated amusedly. "Say, that’s good! Do I look like a
boob? You don’t suppose for a minute, do you, that I wasn’t wise to
that little pewee who trailed me down here from Forty-fourth Street?
Ha, ha! Why, I wanted him to follow me, and made things so easy that he
couldn’t fall down. What’s more, I turned about and went after him the
minute he started back. Followed him to the club, and got after the
three of you when you came this way again. I couldn’t take any chances,
you see, with his nibs due to-night and expecting to see you here."
If Lawrence had never felt chagrin before, he felt it now. The
realization that they all simply had been playing into this fellow’s
hands was maddening, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he
refrained from showing his feelings. To gain time, he slipped out of
his overcoat, which had been decidedly too warm, and flung it over a
chair. Then he turned back to the irritating detective.
"Since you’re so clever," he remarked sarcastically, "I suppose you
haven’t lost sight of the fact that there’s a station house within five
minutes’ walk, and that when I came in here my friend was headed
straight in that direction."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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