Part 31

"Yes, he is at times. But don't be cross with him, for he has a beautiful nature, except when the ravages of the disease are upon him. You know, he doesn't even like me when he has a spell like this. But he's not at all dangerous. It is just necessary to humor him--he's not to blame--it's the way he was raised."

"Then you're looking out for him?" and the detective looked furtively toward the door, as he reassured himself by fumbling with the revolver in his own hip-pocket.

"Yes, that's my job."

The big sleuth shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry I had to be rough with him, like that, miss. But you seen as well as I did that he was gumming the game. Why, with some boob detectives that I know, a feller like that might queer the crowd of you--making it look as though you was implicated." He looked into the ubiquitous notebook. "One question more. How do you account for the blood on the knob of the door--from the inside, too?"

The girl was honestly surprised this time.

"Blood on my door? Why--I----?

"I can explain that, Inspector."

"Go ahead, then, Doctor."

"Do you mind?" and the Kentuckian turned politely toward the girl. She shook her head, wondering what could be in his mind.

"You see, that colored man--the one you were talking about--brought the bundle there. He tied it up and, cutting the string carelessly, broke the blade of the knife and cut his hand. That was it, wasn't it? You see the long blade snapped off near the handle."

The detective nodded--not completely convinced.

"Where is this colored man now?" was his question.

It seemed to Maria Theresa that they were getting hopelessly into the toils. She was discouraged, as she glanced at the imperturbable Jarvis. He nodded ever so slightly, and she caught her cue.

"He is in stateroom 729," she said.

"All right. I'll look at him. 729? Thanks, miss. You know, this ain't personal at all. I'm just taking the chief's orders. I'm sorry to bother you."

He walked toward the door with the dignified flat-footed gait which distinguishes the Manhattan sleuth and all others in the world.

"Good-by, miss. Watch that maniac, do! He looks like a bad actor to me."

They were gone, and Maria Theresa sank into a chair weakly. Jarvis energetically sprang to the telephone.

"Hello! Give me room 729."

After a pause he continued: "Hello, hello, hello, Rusty! Yes, Rusty. Damn it all, answer me, do you hear me?"

There was another pause, and the girl began to lose her control again.

"Yes, I know I told you to keep mum, but I'm telling you to talk now." Jarvis knew that every second was precious. "Do just what I tell you and do it quick. Take your knife and cut your left hand.... What?... No, don't cut it off, you damn fool. Just enough to make it bleed a little, and then tie it up with a handkerchief.... Never mind ... That's none of your business! Remember don't answer questions! You're deaf and dumb again."

He hung up the receiver and turned toward the Princess with a newborn laugh.

"By George, blood will tell! You're game. You certainly handled the detective with European statecraft. Then your cousin Carlos broke in at the psychological moment to scatter their gum-shoe wits. It was beautiful comedy."

"Now they believe him crazy!" she answered. "How will that turn out?"

"Nothing could be better. They won't believe a word he says. He'll be crazy before he gets through with it. Could you handle him all right now?"

She nodded abstractedly. She was looking at his hand, which had gone without attention all this time, and which had been adroitly snuggled inside his pocket during the visit of the New York detectives.