"They were watching me," he said."But I knew they were, and besides, no matter how close they watched I could have done what they said I did and they'd never have seen it.But I didn't."My scepticism must have been obvious, for he shook his head.
"I didn't!" he repeated stubbornly."I didn't have to! I was playing in luck--wonderful luck--sheer, dumb luck.I couldn't HELP winning.But because I was winning and because they were watching, I was careful not to win on my own deal.I laid down, or played to lose.It was the cards they GAVE me I won with.And when they jumped me I told 'em that.I could have proved it if they'd listened.But they were all up in the air, shouting and spitting at me.They believed what they wanted to believe; they didn't want the facts."It may have been credulous of me, but I felt the boy was telling the truth, and I was deeply sorry he had not stuck to it.So, rather harshly, I said:
"They didn't want you to tell them you were a brother to Adolph Meyer, either.Why did you think you could get away with anything like that?"Talbot did not answer.
"Why?" I insisted.
The boy laughed impudently.
"How the devil was I to know he hadn't a brother?" he protested.
"It was a good name, and he's a Jew, and two of the six who were in the game are Jews.You know how they stick together.I thought they might stick by me.""But you," I retorted impatiently, "are not a Jew!""I am not," said Talbot, "but I've often SAID I was.It's helped--lots of times.If I'd told you my name was Cohen, or Selinsky, or Meyer, instead of Craig Talbot, YOU'D have thought I was a Jew." He smiled and turned his face toward me.As though furnishing a description for the police, he began to enumerate:
"Hair, dark and curly; eyes, poppy; lips, full; nose, Roman or Hebraic, according to taste.Do you see?"He shrugged his shoulders.
"But it didn't work," he concluded."I picked the wrong Jew."His face grew serious."Do you suppose that Smedburg person has wirelessed that banker?"I told him I was afraid he had already sent the message.
"And what will Meyer do?" he asked."Will he drop it or make a fuss? What sort is he?"Briefly I described Adolph Meyer.I explained him as the richest Hebrew in New York; given to charity, to philanthropy, to the betterment of his own race.
"Then maybe," cried Talbot hopefully, "he won't make a row, and my family won't hear of it!"He drew a quick breath of relief.As though a burden had been lifted, his shoulders straightened.
And then suddenly, harshly, in open panic, he exclaimed aloud:
"Look!" he whispered."There, at the end of the wharf--the little Jew in furs!"I followed the direction of his eyes.Below us on the dock, protected by two obvious members of the strong-arm squad, the great banker, philanthropist, and Hebrew, Adolph Meyer, was waiting.
We were so close that I could read his face.It was stern, set;the face of a man intent upon his duty, unrelenting.Without question, of a bad business Mr.Smedburg had made the worst.Iturned to speak to Talbot and found him gone.
His silent slipping away filled me with alarm.I fought against a growing fear.How many minutes I searched for him I do not know.
It seemed many hours.His cabin, where first I sought him, was empty and dismantled, and by that I was reminded that if for any desperate purpose Talbot were seeking to conceal himself there now were hundreds of other empty, dismantled cabins in which he might hide.To my inquiries no one gave heed.In the confusion of departure no one had observed him; no one was in a humor to seek him out; the passengers were pressing to the gangway, the stewards concerned only in counting their tips.From deck to deck, down lane after lane of the great floating village, Iraced blindly, peering into half-opened doors, pushing through groups of men, pursuing some one in the distance who appeared to be the man I sought, only to find he was unknown to me.When Ireturned to the gangway the last of the passengers was leaving it.
I was about to follow to seek for Talbot in the customs shed when a white-faced steward touched my sleeve.Before he spoke his look told me why I was wanted.
"The ship's surgeon, sir," he stammered, "asks you please to hurry to the sick-bay.A passenger has shot himself!"On the bed, propped up by pillows, young Talbot, with glazed, shocked eyes, stared at me.His shirt had been cut away; his chest lay bare.Against his left shoulder the doctor pressed a tiny sponge which quickly darkened.
I must have exclaimed aloud, for the doctor turned his eyes.
"It was HE sent for you," he said, "but he doesn't need you.
Fortunately, he's a damned bad shot!"
The boy's eyes opened wearily; before we could prevent it he spoke.
"I was so tired," he whispered."Always moving me on.I was so tired!"Behind me came heavy footsteps, and though with my arm I tried to bar them out, the two detectives pushed into the doorway.They shoved me to one side and through the passage made for him came the Jew in the sable coat, Mr.Adolph Meyer.
For an instant the little great man stood with wide, owl-like eyes, staring at the face on the pillow.
Then he sank softly to his knees.In both his hands he caught the hand of the card-sharp.
"Heine!" he begged."Don't you know me? It is your brother Adolph; your little brother Adolph!"
End