CHAPTER X.
THE COUNT IS WELCOMED ROYALLY.
Atherton dismissed the servants with a peremptory wave of his hand.
“I shan’t need you now,” he said.
Then he turned to his visitor.
“Why on earth didn’t you tell me this at first?” he demanded. “There was no need for you to try to gain admission to our society by threats. Surely, you might have known that you had only to mention your name to be welcomed with open arms.
“And your wife, too,” he added. “In fact, if you won’t be offended at my saying so, your wife will be almost more welcome than yourself. Only last week I was saying to Frost that I’d give five thousand dollars if I could lay my hands on Elaine Wilhelm. We know what you’ve both done and can do, how you defied the police again and again in a dozen cities, over here, and most of the capitals of Europe. We’ll give you a royal welcome, both of you, but it just happens that your wife will come in particularly handy at the present time.”
“She’s a handy person at any time,” remarked the Count, with a laugh, “and the police would give more than five thousand to get their hands on her. I don’t suppose that you want her in the same sense that the police do.”
“Hardly,” returned Atherton. “We want the Countess because we have a scheme in view which can only be carried out by a woman of exceptional ability and courage. Unfortunately, we have no such woman in our society, and that’s why I’ve been longing to get in touch with your remarkable side partner. She’s the very one I want.”
“May I ask what the scheme is?”
“Of course. Briefly, it’s a plan for kidnaping old Enoch Pyle’s grandson, and holding him for ransom.”
“Who is Enoch Pyle?”
“You have heard of ‘Pyle’s Pink Pellets’?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“Well, Enoch Pyle is the originator and proprietor. He’s a millionaire two or three times over, but he’s uncouth and uneducated. He and his wife, who is as impossible as himself, live at a place called Pyle’s Park, which is a few miles on this side of Freehold. You passed the place on your motor cycle this morning.”
“And who is his grandson?”
“The boy’s name is Tommy Pyle. He’s the son of Enoch’s only boy, who died years ago. His mother is gone, too, and Mr. and Mrs. Pyle have taken him in, of course. Some day he’ll inherit Pyle’s pile, so to speak.”
“How old is he?”
“About five. He’s the apple of the old man’s eye, and if we could kidnap him, I haven’t a doubt that old Enoch would not hesitate to give a quarter of a million—or even a half—to get him back.”
The Count nodded.
“It oughtn’t to be a difficult matter to kidnap a child of five,” he said.
“But it is in this case. Some gypsies tried it a couple of years ago, and ever since then old Pyle has been haunted by the fear of another attempt. The boy’s bedroom is provided with steel-lined shutters and electric alarms. Whenever he goes outside the grounds—and most of the time in them, for that matter—he’s accompanied by two burly guards armed with revolvers. In fact, he could not be more carefully guarded if he were a royal prince.”
“Then how do you propose to get hold of him?”
“It was Jackson Frost who suggested the scheme. Now that I’ve told you what sort of people the Pyles are, you won’t be surprised to hear that none of the best people call on them or invite them to their house. That’s a very sore spot with Mr. and Mrs. Pyle, who long for social recognition. There’s Mrs. Brook-White, for instance. She lives quite near to the Pyles, and is the acknowledged leader of society in that neighborhood. You’ve heard of her, in all probability? If she were to drop in at the Park some afternoon and take tea with them, their cup of joy would be filled to overflowing.”
“But what has this to do with kidnaping old Pyle’s grandson?”
“Everything. Frost’s idea is this: He suggests that we select some capable woman who can look and act the part, disguise her as Mrs. Brook-White, and send her to the Park in a swagger motor car. The Pyles have only seen the lady at a distance, so they would be taken in. The supposed Mrs. Brook-White would chat with them, take tea with them, and ask to see the boy. In some clever way she would get him to ride with her as far as the Park gates. The old people would be delighted with such condescension; the boy would be lifted into the car, the car would dash off, the coveted Tommy would be smuggled aboard our yacht—and there you are!”
“Very neat,” commented Wilhelm, whose surname had suggested his sobriquet of the Count. “I didn’t think Frost had brains enough to concoct such a clever scheme, but why haven’t you carried it out before?”
“Because, as I’ve already told you, we couldn’t find a woman with the requisite daring and ability to impersonate the aristocratic Mrs. Brook-White. But your wife—— Ah, your wife! She’s the very woman! Do you think she would be willing to play the part?”
“I’m sure she would,” replied the German, without a moment’s hesitation. “And she would play it to perfection.”
Alfred Atherton glanced at his watch.
“There’s no doubt about it,” he said, with conviction. “I must be going now, though. I promised to lunch with Tufts at two. Frost and Kinsley will be there, and one or two others. Will you join us? I’ll take you there in my car, which is outside, and I’ll introduce you to your fellow members. We can then discuss the scheme in greater detail, and afterward, if you’ll be so good, you might take me home with you and present me to your charming wife.”
The Count approved of this suggestion, and a few minutes later he and Alfred Atherton were on their way to Professor Tufts’ house.