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The Drums Of Jeopardy
by Harold MacGrath
CHAPTER I
A fast train drew into Albany； on the New York Central； from the
West。 It was three…thirty of a chill March morning in the first
year of peace。 A pall of fog lay over the world so heavy that
it beaded the face and hands and deposited a fairy diamond dust
upon wool。 The station lights had the visibility of stars； and
like the stars were without refulgence … a pale golden aureola；
perhaps three feet in diameter； and beyond； nothing。 The few
passengers who alighted and the train itself had the same nebulosity
of drab fish in a dim aquarium。
Among the passengers to detrain was a man in a long black coat。
The high collar was up。 The man wore a derby hat； well down upon
his head； after the English mode。 An English kitbag； battered and
scarred； swung heavily from his hand。 He immediately strode for
the station wall and stood with his back to it。 He was almost
invisible。 He remained motionless until the other detrained
passengers swam past； until the red tail lights of the last coach
vanished into the deeps； then he rushed for the exit to the street。
Away toward the far end of the platform there appeared a shadowy
patch in the fog。 It grew and presently took upon itself the shape
of a man。 For one so short and squat and thick his legs possessed
remarkable agility； for he reached the street just as the other man
stopped at the side of a taxicab。
The fool！ As if such a movement had not been anticipated。 Sixteen
thousand miles； always eastward； on horses； camels； donkeys； trains；
and ships； down China to the sea； over that to San Francisco； thence
across this bewildering stretch of cities and plains called the
United States； always and ever toward New York … and the fool thought
he could escape！ Thought he was flying； when in truth he was being
driven toward a wall in which there would be no breach！ Behind and
in front the net was closing。 Up to this hour he had been extremely
clever in avoiding contact。 This was his first stupid act … thought
the fog would serve as an impenetrable cloak。
Meantime； the other man reached into the taxicab and awoke the
sleeping chauffeur。
〃A hotel；〃 he said。
〃Which one？〃
〃Any one will do。〃
〃Yes； sir。 Two dollars。〃
〃When we arrive。 No； I'll take the bag inside with me。〃 Inside
the cab the fare chuckled。 For those who fished there would be no
fish in the net。 This fog … like a kindly hand reaching down from
heaven！
Five minutes later the taxicab drew up in front of a hotel。 The
unknown stepped out； took a leather purse from his pocket and
carefully counted out in silver two dollars and twenty cents； which
he poured into the chauffeur's palm。
〃Thank you； sir。〃
〃You are an American？〃
〃Sure！ I was born in this burg。〃
〃Like the idea？〃
〃Huh？〃
〃The idea of being an American？〃
〃I should say yes！ This is one grand little gob o' mud； believe me！
It's going to be dry in a little while； and then it will be some
grand little old brick。 Say； let me give you a tip！ The gas in
this joint is extra if you blow it out！〃
Grinning； the chauffeur threw on the power and wheeled away into
the fog。
His late fare followed the vehicle with his gaze until it reached
the vanishing point； then he laughed。 An American cockney！ He
turned and entered the hotel。 He marched resolutely up to the
desk and roused the sleeping clerk； who swung round the register。
The unknown without hesitance inscribed his name； which was John
Hawksley。 But he hesitated the fraction of a second before adding
his place of residence … London。
〃A room with a bath； if you please； second flight。 Have the man
call me at seven。〃
〃Yes； sir。 Here； boy！〃
Sleepily the bellboy lifted the battered kitbag and led the way to
the elevator。
〃Bawth！〃 said the night clerk； as the elevator door slithered to
the latch。 〃Bawth！ The old dear！〃
He returned to his chair； hoping that he would not be disturbed
again until he was relieved。
What do we care； so long as we don't know？ What's the stranger to
us but a fleeting shadow？ The Odysseys that pass us every day； and
we none the wiser！
The clerk had not properly floated away into dreams when he was
again roused。 Resentfully he opened his eyes。 A huge fist covered
with a fell of black hair rose and fell。 Attached to this fist was
an arm； and joined to that were enormous shoulders。 The clerk's
trailing； sleep…befogged glance paused when it reached the newcomer's
face。 The jaws and cheeks and upper lip were blue…black with a
beard that required extra…tempered razors once a day。 Black eyes
that burned like opals； a bullet…shaped head well cropped； and a
pudgy nose broad in the nostrils。 Because this second arrival wore
his hat well forward the clerk was not able to discern the pinched
forehead of the fanatic。 Not wholly unpleasant； not particularly
agreeable； the sort of individual one preferred to walk round rather
than bump into。 The clerk offered the register； and the squat man
scratched his name impatiently； grabbed the extended key； and trotted
to the elevator。
〃Ah；〃 mused the clerk； 〃we have with us Mr。 Poppy … Popo … 〃 He
stared at the signature close up。 〃Hanged if I can make it out！ It
looks like some new brand of soft drink we'll be having after July
first。 Greek or Bulgarian。 Anyhow； he didn't awsk for a bawth。
Looks as if he needed one； too。 Here； boy！〃
〃Ye…ah！〃
〃Take a peek at this John Hancock。〃
〃Gee！ That must be the guy who makes that drugstore drink … Boolzac。〃
The clerk swung out； but missed the boy's head by a hair。 The boy
stood off； grinning。
〃Well； you ast me！〃
〃All right。 If anybody else comes in tell 'em we're full up。 I'll
be a wreck to…morrow without my usual beauty sleep。〃 The clerk
dropped into his chair again and elevated his feet to the radiator。
〃Want me t' git a pillow for yuh？〃
〃No back talk！〃 … drowsily。
〃Oh！ boy； but I got one on you！〃
〃What？〃
〃This Boolzac guy didn't have no baggage； and yuh give 'im the key
without little ol' three…per in advance。〃
〃No grip？〃
〃Nix。 Not a toot'brush in sight。〃
〃Well； the damage is done。 I might as well go to sleep。〃
It was not premeditated on the part of the clerk to give the squat
man the room adjoining that of Hawksley's。 The key had been nearest
his hand。 But the squat man trembled with excitement when he noted
that it was stamped 214。 He had taken particular pains to search
the register for Hawksley's number before rousing the clerk。 He
hadn't counted on any such luck as this。 His idea had been merely
to watch the door of Room 212。
He had the feline foot； as they say。 He moved about lightly and
without sound in the dark。 Almost at once he approached one of the
two doors and put his ear to the panel。 Running water。 The fool
had time to take a bath！
A plan flashed into his head。 Why not end the affair here and now；
and reap the glory for himself？ What mattered the net if the fish
swam into your hand？ Wasn't this particularly his affair？ It was
the end； not the means。 A close touch in Hong…Kong； but the fool
ha