Chapter V: The Brown Robin Dines

As the hour of five approached, an elderly gentleman who would have been recognized by any of the directors of the Zetler Bank as Mr. Alpheus Cary, its president, could be seen on the corner of Twenty-eighth Street and Fourth Avenue.

He was looking in every direction, and peering into the face of every man who approached him, exhibiting a nervousness and an anxiety which showed that he regarded his mission at that place as everything but pleasant.

Frequently he took out his handkerchief and mopped his face; altogether, he made himself rather conspicuous on the corner.

Finally, as five o’clock was reached, a young man Patsy would have recognized as the one who went to sleep in the hotel after writing two letters, came up from some unknown place, for Mr. Alpheus Cary thought he sprang from the earth.

“Mr. Cary, I believe,” said this young man, addressing the elderly gentleman.

“That is my name,” replied Mr. Cary, nervously.

“I thought that I recognized you,” said the young man.

“Are you the one——”

But he was interrupted.

“How is the market to-day, Mr. Cary?” asked the young man. “My eye has been off the tape to-day, and I am carrying a lot of U. P.”

Could any one have been close enough, they would have seen that while the young man was asking this question, and others, and receiving nervous and embarrassed answers to them, he was closely watching the elderly man.

If Mr. Cary had been a sharp detective, he would have thought that these sharp looks meant something, but as he was not, of course, he apparently did not observe them.

Finally the young man said:

“Are you prepared to follow me?”

“Why, yes; that is why I am here, I suppose. Are you the one who was to meet me here?”

“Mr. Cary, are you acting in good faith?”

“Why, yes, what do you mean?”

“Did you come here alone?”

“Entirely so.”

“Did any one know of your coming here besides yourself?”

“Not a single person.”

“Will you give your word that Nick Carter is not in concealment here to see us go off together and to follow us?”

“I will swear that I am here alone; that neither Nick Carter nor any one else is in concealment here to follow us.”

“Very good; I’ll take your word for it. But let me tell you that if you have deceived me in any way, that you will be punished in a way that you will not like.”

“I have not deceived you. No one is with me, and no one could suspect that I was to be here.”

“Come along, then.”

The young man led Mr. Cary down Twenty-eighth Street to Lexington Avenue, and, turning the corner, hurried him into a nearby doorway.

“I do not disbelieve you, Mr. Cary, but I am going to be satisfied.”

They stood there a while. Evidently satisfied that they were not followed, he motioned for Mr. Cary to follow him.

Their way now was to a rather plain house at the other end of the block.

Reaching it, they mounted the steps, the young man tapping at the door. It was opened immediately, and the young man motioned for Mr. Cary to enter.

Then he followed, closing the door after him.

“Enter the parlor, Mr. Cary,” he said, “and I will call the one you came to see.”

He disappeared, running up the stairs.

Mr. Cary had a long time to think over the wisdom or unwisdom of his step in again putting himself in the power of the woman who had, the night previous, played him such a scurvy trick.

For one who wanted to see him so badly as she had written, the Brown Robin was slow in making her appearance.

By and by, however, there was a movement on the stairs, in the hall, and Mr. Cary anxiously waiting, heard the Brown Robin’s voice saying, rather commandingly:

“You will be here promptly at nine in the morning?”

The voice of the young man who had brought him to the house was heard in reply.

“Yes, my sister; but you will not see me until that time.”

The other door opened and closed with a bang.

Mr. Cary grinned on hearing this. But whether in satisfaction of the departure of the young man, or in pleased anticipation of a _tête-à-tête_ with the Brown Robin, did not appear.

His face, however, was perfectly composed when the Brown Robin, very cool and elegant in appearance, entered the parlor.

“How good of you, Papa Cary, to come and see me again,” she cried. “You may kiss me.”

She offered her cheek to Mr. Cary, who hesitated a moment and then, as if he could not resist the temptation, awkwardly kissed her, to her great amusement.

She sat down opposite him, saying:

“I was afraid that you would be angry with me for playing that trick on you.”

“Then you mean to give me back that money?” said Mr. Cary.

“Oh, dear no,” she cried. “I couldn’t do that. You see, I have spent all that money. We had to move this morning, and then my brother, Harold, had some debts that I had to pay. New York is an awfully expensive place, and I want money. You have brought me some, haven’t you?”

“I should suppose your husband would supply your needs?” said Mr. Cary. “When does he reach here from Chicago?”

“I hope not soon, Papa Cary, for then I would have to stop seeing you. And I mean to see a good deal of you. Do you know what I am going to do this afternoon? I am going to give you a nice dinner. You gave me a nice one yesterday. Only you’ll pay for this one, just as you did for the one yesterday. That is, if you have brought me some money. Have you?”

“Have I?” asked Mr. Cary. “Well, yes, I have brought you some. Here is a hundred dollars.”

He handed the roll to her.

“Only a hundred,” she said, as she took it. “That is not handsome, Papa Cary. I thought it would be five times as much. But I’ll take this, and you will have to give me more money five times as often, if you only give it in such little bits.”

“I’ll give you a good deal more if you will do something for me I want you to.”

“What is that?”

“Give me that photograph plate and the pictures you have had printed.”

The Brown Robin laid her shapely head back on the cushions of her chair and laughed long and heartily. Then she said:

“Oh, that poor little trick! You want to bargain with me, Papa Cary. Now, what will you give for them?”

“What would you have the heart to demand?”

“Well, Papa Cary, I have such a soft heart that I am afraid I must let you put the figure on them.”

“I will give you a thousand dollars for them.”

“Have you the money here?”

“No. I have no more than I gave you. But I would give it on delivery of the plate and pictures.”

“And do you think I would give up the pleasure of seeing you for a thousand dollars?”

“That isn’t the question.”

“Oh, yes it is. Don’t you see that it is owing to my having those pictures that you are here to-day? If I hadn’t them, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

“Yes, I think I should, if you had sent for me to come.”

The Brown Robin threw her head to one side and eyed the elderly gentleman shrewdly for a while.

“I am afraid you are fibbing, Papa Cary,” she said. “And I am getting afraid of you, too. I fear instead of being a respectable, elderly gentleman, ready to give aid and protection to unprotected females, you are a gay old dog.

“No, I can’t sell that pretty picture for a thousand dollars. It’s too cheap. It cost me too much pains to get it. And then, how do I know but that you will take it to your club, show it around to other gay old dogs, as your last conquest?”

Mr. Cary grinned delightedly over being called a gay old dog, but shook his head and protested with his hands.

“But come,” said the Brown Robin, as a servant entered from the rear. “Come to dinner all by our two selves.”

She led the way, and Mr. Cary followed into a rear room, where a dinner table was laid.

The dinner was a good one, and Mr. Cary evidently enjoyed it, for he ate heartily, getting quite gay over it.

Of wine, however, he was sparing in use, though urged often to drink.

When the dinner was over Mr. Cary renewed his efforts to get the photographic plate, but the Brown Robin was not to be cajoled into a bargain.

She evaded in every way coming to close quarters, laughing and joking.

Finally she put an end to it all by saying that she must go out, and that Papa Cary could accompany her a part of the way.

She went to the upper part of the house, and while she was gone Mr. Cary seemed to show a most inexcusable curiosity as to the room he was left in and what it contained, for he examined everything in it, picking up a few things which he put in his pocket.

When the Brown Robin returned she was dressed for the street.

“Am I pretty enough to walk with you?” she asked.

“I don’t know in which costume you are the prettiest,” replied Mr. Cary, “but there is a strange thing,” he continued. “I do not yet know your name.”

“You shall call me Mrs. Clymer,” she said, as she led him out of the door.

She walked with him up Lexington Avenue as far as Thirtieth Street, into which street she turned, going toward Fourth Avenue. She stopped before a certain house and looked at its front carefully.

“Let us go in here,” she said.

“What for?”

“To look at it. It is empty. One of those furnished houses to rent. I like to look at them.”

Mr. Cary followed her up the stoop. The door was opened by a caretaker who had seen them ascend the steps. Mrs. Clymer, if that was her name, was contented with looking at the parlors.

She went out, and, walking up to Fourth Avenue, turned to the south, Mr. Cary obediently following her.

At Twenty-third Street she turned the corner, going to a real estate office, where she entered into conversation with the broker. Mr. Cary, meantime, looked out of the window into the street.

If he had known them, he would have recognized in the two men standing on the pavement near the door, Chick and Patsy.

But the Brown Robin called him to her, saying:

“I must have twenty-five dollars. I want to pay it to this man.”

“I haven’t that amount with me,” replied Mr. Cary.

“Give me your check, then.”

“Oh, I can’t do that. But wait a minute. I can get the money.”

He hurried out, going quickly to the corner. Here he stopped, sounding a signal. Chick and Patsy, hearing it, went quickly to the corner.

As they came up, Mr. Cary said:

“Follow when I come out of the real estate office.”

He went back, handing to the Brown Robin twenty-five dollars.

Finishing her business, she went out, followed by Mr. Cary. On the sidewalk she said:

“Now, Papa Cary, you must leave me. But you must come promptly when I send for you. Perhaps it will be to-morrow. Our fun is only beginning.”

She asked Mr. Cary to stop a Lexington Avenue car for her and got aboard it when it came, bidding the elderly gentleman good-by at the car, very sweetly.

Mr. Cary, regaining the sidewalk, turned the corner, walking down Fourth Avenue to Twenty-second Street.

There he stopped, waiting for Chick and Patsy to come apace, and, when they did, he said:

“I want to get this makeup off as soon as I can.”

“It’s a pity to take it off,” said Patsy. “It’s great.”

“Boys,” said the elderly gentleman, “that woman is the Brown Robin.”

“The devil!” exclaimed Patsy.

“I am the only detective, or police officer, that has ever spoken to the Brown Robin, knowing it to be her. I have her measure.”

“Why didn’t you nab her, then, chief?” asked Chick.

“Because she has worked the Cary matter so skillfully that I could not convict her. I want to get her foul on the Mountain case. But the Brown Robin is a woman.”

“Then who the devil is Harold Stanton?” asked Patsy.

“I’ll tell you that later. There are others, and we must capture them. But come with me.”

They hurried to a neighboring hotel, where the Alpheus Cary who had dined with the Brown Robin quickly came out as Nick Carter, the famous detective.