THE EXPLOITS OF ELAINE (& Its Sequel The Romance of Elaine). Arthur B. Reeve

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Elaine took the package eagerly and examined it. Then she pulled open the heavy door of the safe.

      “It must be getting cold out, Michael,” she remarked. “This package is as cold as ice.”

      “It is, ma’am,” answered Michael, deferentially with a sidelong glance that did not prevent his watching her intently.

      She closed the safe and, with a glance at her watch, set the time lock and went upstairs to her room.

      No sooner had Elaine disappeared than Michael appeared again, cat-like, through the curtains from the drawing room, and, after a glance about the dimly lighted library, discovering that the coast was clear, motioned to a figure hiding behind the portieres.

      A moment, and Clutching Hand himself came out.

      He moved over to the safe and looked it over. Then he put out his hand and touched it.

      “Good, Michael,” he exclaimed with satisfaction.

      “Listen!” cautioned Michael.

      Someone was coming and they hastily slunk behind the protecting portieres. It was Marie, Elaine’s maid.

      She turned up the lights and went over to the desk for a book for which Elaine had evidently sent her. She paused and appeared to be listening. Then she went to the door.

      “Jennings!” she beckoned.

      “What is it, Marie?” he replied.

      She said nothing, but as he came up the hall led him to the center of the room.

      “Listen! I heard sighs and groans!”

      Jennings looked at her a moment, puzzled, then laughed. “You girls!” he exclaimed. “I suppose you’ll always think the library haunted, now.”

      “But, Jennings, listen,” she persisted.

      Jennings did listen. Sure enough, there were sounds, weird, uncanny. He gazed about the room. It was eerie. Then he took a few steps toward the safe. Marie put out her hand to it, and started back.

      “Why, that safe is all covered with cold sweat!” she cried with bated breath.

      Sure enough the face of the safe was beaded with dampness. Jennings put his hand on it and quickly drew it away, leaving a mark on the dampness.

      “Wh-what do you think of that?” he gasped.

      “I’m going to tell Miss Dodge,” cried Marie, genuinely frightened.

      A moment later she burst into Elaine’s room.

      “What is the matter, Marie?” asked Elaine, laying down her book. “You look as if you had seen a ghost.”

      “Ah, but, mademoiselle—it ees just like that. The safe—if mademoiselle will come downstairs, I will show it you.”

      Puzzled but interested, Elaine followed her. In the library Jennings pointed mutely at the new safe. Elaine approached it. As they stood about new beads of perspiration, as it were, formed on it. Elaine touched it, and also quickly withdrew her hand.

      “I can’t imagine what’s the matter,” she said. “But—well— Jennings, you may go—and Marie, also.”

      When the servants had gone she still regarded the safe with the same wondering look, then turning out the light, she followed.

      She had scarcely disappeared when, from the portiered doorway nearby, the Clutching Hand appeared, and, after gazing out at them, took a quick look at the safe.

      “Good!” he muttered.

      Noiselessly Michael of the sinister face moved in and took a position in the center of the room, as if on guard, while Clutching Hand sat before the safe watching it intently.

      “Someone at the door—Jennings is answering the bell,” Michael whispered hoarsely.

      “Confound it!” muttered Clutching Hand, as both moved again behind the heavy velour curtains.

      “I’m so glad to see you, Mr. Kennedy,” greeted Elaine unaffectedly as Jennings admitted us.

      She had heard the bell and was coming downstairs as we entered. We three moved toward the library and someone switched on the lights.

      Craig strode over to the safe. The cold sweat on it had now turned to icicles. Craig’s face clouded with thought as he examined it more closely. There was actually a groaning sound from within.

      “It can’t be opened,” he said to himself. “The time lock is set for tomorrow morning.”

      Outside, if we had not been so absorbed in the present mystery, we might have seen Michael and the Clutching Hand listening to us. Clutching Hand looked hastily at his watch.

      “The deuce!” he muttered under his breath, stifling his suppressed fury.

      We stood looking at the safe. Kennedy was deeply interested, Elaine standing close beside him. Suddenly he seemed to make up his mind.

      “Quick—Elaine!” he cried, taking her arm. “Stand back!”

      We all retreated. The safe door, powerful as it was, had actually begun to warp and bend. The plates were bulging. A moment later, with a loud report and concussion the door blew off.

      A blast of cold air and flakes like snow flew out. Papers were scattered on every side.

      We stood gazing, aghast, a second, then ran forward. Kennedy quickly examined the safe. He bent down and from the wreck took up a package, now covered with white.

      As quickly he dropped it.

      “That is the package that was sent,” cried Elaine.

      Taking it in a table cover, he laid it on the table and opened it. Inside was a peculiar shaped flask, open at the top, but like a vacuum bottle.

      “A Dewar flask!” ejaculated Craig.

      “What is it?” asked Elaine, appealing to him.

      “Liquid air!” he answered. “As it evaporated, the terrific pressure of expanding air in the safe increased until it blew out the door. That is what caused the cold sweating and the groans.”

      We watched him, startled.

      On the other side of the portieres Michael and Clutching Hand waited. Then, in the general confusion, Clutching Hand slowly disappeared, foiled.

      “Where did this package come from?” asked Kennedy of Jennings suspiciously.

      Jennings looked blank.

      “Why,” put in Elaine, “Michael brought it to me.”

      “Get Michael,” ordered Kennedy.

      “Yes, sir,” nodded Jennings.

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