Tish Marches On by Mary Roberts Rinehart Read Free Book Online Page B

message I have ever heard. It said:
BE SURE NO MISTAKE ABOUT LOCATIONS. ESPECIALLY WANT JEWELS AND DECORATIONS. BETTER NOT SHOOT UNTIL YOU CAN SEE THE WHITES OF THEIR EYES.
    We were too horrified for speech. Tish finished her tea and put down her cup.
    “There is but one thing to do,” she said, “dangerous as it may be I feel that we have no alternative. We must go to Scotland Yard at once.”
    Aggie immediately protested, but Tish was firm. And I think it should be said in our defense that we did so that same morning. Nothing was printed in the London press to this effect. Indeed, nothing in our defense was ever printed at all, and as it turned out the risk was entirely useless. The Commissioner who saw us—I think that was his title—seemed to be very busy, and on Tish stating her errand, he merely raised his eyebrows and addressed a large man who was standing by.
    “You might get me the plot file, Jewkes,” he said.
    And when Jewkes had gone he turned to Tish.
    “We have a number of plots just now,” he said. “The natural anxiety of a loyal people to protect—er—the royal jewels and so on. About two thousand, I fancy.” He then took a large file from Mr. Jewkes, and examined it. “Yes,” he went on, “one thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight. Good guess, that; eh, Jewkes?”
    “Very good, sir,” said Mr. Jewkes.
    I could see that Tish was annoyed.
    “These people have machine guns and ammunition,” she said rather sharply. “If that interests you.”
    “It does indeed. Excellent weapons; eh, Jewkes? First time we’ve had machine guns reported, I believe. Let’s see. Yes. Bombs, grenades, rifles, and I believe a brick or two. But—”
    Here Tish rose with dignity.
    “Would you be interested—even faintly—in knowing the headquarters of this gang?” she demanded.
    “Oh, rather,” he said. “We haven’t much to do just now; have we, Jewkes? There are only about fifteen million people in town, but we’ll take the address. Naturally. Put it down, Jewkes.”
    And it was after this had been done that we had a very narrow escape. A man opened the door and said:
    “The American about the dirigible, sir.”
    “Show him into the other room,” said the Commissioner resignedly, “and get the dirigible file. What does he expect me to do about his blooming balloon anyhow? Blow it up for him?”
    It was Mr. Smith!

III
    F ORTUNATELY HE DID NOT see us, although I must say that I was nervous when we reached the street. Tish, however, was calm. As is usual when she is revolving some course in her mind, outside and petty irritations meant nothing to her.
    “It is evident,” she said at last, “that we can expect no help from the police. Whatever is done we must do ourselves.”
    “Do what?” I inquired. “This gang has done nothing as yet.”
    “We must prevent their doing anything, Lizzie,” she said quietly.
    And this, I think, should be borne in mind as I record the events that followed. Scotland Yard had failed us and, except for the subsequent involvement of Inspector Jewkes, did nothing whatever; and Tish’s idea all along was that an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.
    Curiously enough, the Carlisle man was at the porter’s desk when we went back, and he did not resemble a gangster at all. He was tall and quite good-looking, and he was asking if anybody had found a young lady in the elevator the night before.
    “What young lady was that, sir?”
    “Did you see her?” the Carlisle man demanded, looking angry.
    “No, sir. There was a young lady went out, I don’t know just when. Seemed kind of upset about something. Slammed the door like to break the glass out of it.”
    “What time was that?” he inquired.
    “About three hours after you left, sir.”
    Well, I thought he was going to leap over the desk at the porter, and Aggie gasped beside me. But he controlled himself.
    “And where were you, all that time?” he said, in a cold rage. And added: “Did it ever