The Luminous Face

“Penny, I’m so excited. Yes, I’ll tell you, after I prove my case to myself. I’ve got to go to the hotel – to Pollard’s hotel – and see about something.”

And in a moment she was gone, and in the shortest possible time she was at the hotel.

“Again?” groaned the telephone girl, as Zizi earnestly began to whisper her questions.

“Yes, again – and yet.” Zizi said: “Now, listen, and tell me this. What did Mr Pollard say when he called his cab that night?”

“Why, that’s a funny thing. Why do you ask that? He said ‘Will you call me a cab, please.’”

“Why was that funny?”

“Because he always says, ‘Call me a taxi.’ I remember, because I’m afraid some time I’ll say, ‘You’re a taxi!’”

“Funny girl! Well, I’m trying to prove that Mr Pollard was not himself that night!”

“Oh – Mr Pollard never drinks anything.”

“How do you know?”

“I just happen to know. You’re wrong, he was perfectly sober.”

“Then why did he telephone to the cleaner’s when he knew it was past their closing time?”

“I suppose he didn’t think of that.”

“Not like Manning Pollard’s way. One more thing. Isn’t Mr Pollard a careful dresser?”

“Is he! The finest ever. He’s so particular, he’s an old fuss.”

“You know a lot about him, don’t you?”

“I can’t help it. A telephone operator gets side-lights on people who are continually discussing their affairs over her lines. I don’t have to listen in, but I can’t help knowing how often Mr Pollard telephones to cleaners and tailors and haberdashers and all that. Can I?”

“No, honey, of course you can’t. Good-by.”

And as Zizi left the hotel she met Manning Pollard coming in. He looked at her curiously, for though they had never met, Phyllis had told him of the queer girl, and he felt sure this was she.

To confirm it he went directly to the telephone girl and inquired of her, and the obliging young woman repeated to him the whole of her conversation with Zizi.

“H’m,” Pollard observed to himself, “h’m – exactly so.”

And he turned on his heel and went out again.

Absorbed in his thoughts, he paid no attention to a slim little figure that slipped out from a protecting doorway and followed him. Nor did he notice that the determined little person kept on following him as he boarded a Fifth Avenue Bus and went southward.

Zizi, who could make herself as inconspicuous as a schoolgirl when she chose, sat in the rear seat, looking out of the window.

Pollard got out at the Washington Square terminus, and walked briskly westward. This was away from the Gleason apartments, though Zizi had not expected him to go there.

She followed, unnoticed, until Pollard entered what seemed to be a second-rate boarding house.

Nodding her head contentedly, Zizi waited until her quarry again made an appearance.

Then as the man went over and took a North-bound Bus, Zizi found a taxicab and gave the order to fly back to Penny Wise.

It was after fifteen or twenty minutes of the excited girl’s conversation and explanations that Wise was in possession of all the facts.

“Can we get him?” he asked, and then the telephone rang.

“Hello,” said Wise, and received this astonishing response.

“Manning Pollard speaking. You have been too many for me, Mr Wise. I give myself up. I don’t know how you discovered so much, but I see there’s no use in further effort to hide my crime. I confess, and you may come and take me. I am in my rooms at the hotel.”

“You are a bit astonishing, Mr Pollard,” Wise said. “But I accept your invitation and I will go at once to you. Will you stay there till I come.”

“Certainly. When I perceive the game is up, what else is there for me to do? Moreover, would I call you up and surrender, if I were not sincere about it?”

“I can’t see why you should. At your hotel, then? All right.”

“Heavens, Zizi, what a man! I’ll start right off. You call Prescott, and tell him just what Pollard said, and tell him to go to the hotel with two policemen – or enough to take the prisoner.”

Wise went and Zizi did as he had bade her.

“What?” Prescott cried, over the wire, “you don’t say so! Well, wonders will never cease! I don’t altogether believe in it, but I’ll hurry to the hotel.”

Then Zizi herself hurried to the hotel, more excited than ever.

She calmed herself a little on the way, for she knew she must be cool and collected to take her part in the scene.

She reached the hotel a moment or two before Prescott got there.

But he came, as she waited, and, seeing her, exclaimed, “Are you sure? Where’s Mr Wise?”

“He isn’t here,” she said, a little unnecessarily. “I’ll go up with you.”

“Come if you like,” said Prescott, carelessly, and with his two husky companions he entered the elevator.

At Pollard’s door the group paused, and Prescott knocked.

“Come in,” they heard, and went in.

The man sitting in an easy chair sprang up.

“What the devil!” he cried.

“Easy now, Mr Pollard,” Prescott said, “you told us to come and get you, and we’re here.”

“Told you – come and get me – Get out, I say!”