“Indeed you will,” Jake said with a grin.
While Jake stuffed everything back into the wallet, Thornton rose and pulled out her chair for her. She thanked him with a coy little smile that promised things she would never in this world deliver. Jake went on ahead to the front desk to see if Mr. Coleman was registered at the hotel. Which he was, of course, and he also happened to be in his suite at that very moment, the clerk reported after telephoning to find out.
Elizabeth should have been pleased. Everything was going perfectly. Jake was doing his part and she was doing hers. So why did she have that hollow feeling in her stomach every time she pictured how it would end?
The two men allowed her to go before them to the elevator, and Elizabeth felt Thornton’s gaze on her like a slimy hand. She and Jake were pretending to be members of an “old money” family, but she was sure Thornton knew they weren’t. She’d gathered that his late wife had come from one of the old New York families, so he’d know the difference. That didn’t matter, though. Actually, it was better if he thought they weren’t rich. He only needed to believe she was interested in him, and a young woman of limited means would certainly be interested in a single man of apparently unlimited means, no matter if he wasn’t particularly handsome or very young.
And Jake had determined that Thornton had the means while they chatted in the smoking car on the train down from New York. If he was green in other areas, Jake was a master at getting marks to talk.
The elevator operator deposited them on the top floor.
“The rooms up here are pretty nice,” Jake remarked as they walked down the hall. “I wanted to get a suite, but Betty wouldn’t hear of it.”
“It’s a waste of money,” she said, reinforcing Thornton’s suspicions that they weren’t actually rich.
“This is it,” Thornton said when he found the room.
“Betty, you stand out of sight,” Jake said, “in case this fellow doesn’t take the news in a friendly way or something.”
Elizabeth gave him a surprised look, but Thornton said, “Stand behind me and slip away if things get ugly.”
“All right,” she said, stepping back to allow Thornton to protect her. He was probably hoping they would have to slip away. Left to his own devices, he most likely would have just pocketed Coleman’s cash and left the wallet for the hotel staff to find, so they’d get blamed for stealing the money.
Jake knocked.
After a few moments, the door opened a little and a suspicious man peered out at them. “Yes?”
“Mr. Coleman?” Jake said.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Jake Perkins and this is Oscar Thornton. We—”
“Stop bothering me. I already told you, I’m not giving any more interviews.”
He started to close the door but Jake threw up a hand to stop him. “We found your wallet downstairs in the dining room, and we’re returning it.”
The man frowned at the wallet Jake held up. “I haven’t lost my wallet.”
“Are you sure?”
He patted his jacket impatiently, just the way Thornton had downstairs, but he didn’t find the telltale bulge he was expecting. He patted some more and felt around in all his pockets. “You’re right, I do seem to have lost my wallet. I’m sorry to be so rude, but I thought you were newspaper reporters. They hound me all the time, which is one reason I came to Washington City. I thought I could get away from them here. Please, come in, gentlemen.” He held the door open. “Oh, and young lady,” he added when Thornton stepped aside to allow Elizabeth to precede him.
“My sister, Miss Perkins,” Jake said.
“Pleased to meet you,” Coleman said with a nod. “Come in, all of you.”
The suite was even nicer than Elizabeth had expected, with a view of the White House grounds across the way.
“I guess you can identify this,” Jake said, holding up the wallet again.
“Of course. Let’s see, I had a few hundred dollars, five or six, I think. Some telegrams, and a list of ciphers. Oh, and a newspaper clipping. Is that close enough?”
“Yes, it is,” Jake assured him. He handed over the wallet with a little flourish he probably thought was cute. Elizabeth managed not to roll her eyes.
She watched Thornton’s surprise when Coleman didn’t count the money to make sure it was all there the way Thornton probably would have. Instead, Coleman pulled out the piece of paper with the rows of letters and numbers and tossed the wallet with its wad of cash carelessly onto the table. “I can’t thank you enough for returning this. I wouldn’t have missed the money at all, but without this paper, I’d be out of business.”
“We were wondering what that was,” Thornton said. “What did you call it? A cipher?”
“That’s right. Say, can I offer you fellows a drink? And some sherry for you, miss? I know it’s early, but I feel like celebrating. Please, sit down and join me.”
Jake gave Thornton a questioning look, and Thornton shrugged. She was sure he never turned down a free drink.
Coleman poured a generous amount of whiskey into three glasses and a small amount of sherry into a stemmed glass for her and handed them around.
“You have good taste in whiskey, Coleman,” Thornton said after a taste.
“What kind of business are you in that you need a cipher?” Jake asked. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Oh, it’s all very hush-hush, but I think you folks have proved you’re trustworthy. I work for a combine of Wall Street brokers who are trying to break up the branch stock exchanges and the bucket shops. They control the rise and fall of large blocks of stock, and they send me around the country and tip me off when to buy and sell. You probably saw those telegrams in my wallet. They’re written in code, telling me what stocks to buy and sell. Without this cipher, I wouldn’t know what they were saying, and I’d probably lose my job.”
“And they pay you to do that?” Jake asked in amazement.
“No, they don’t,” Coleman said with a wink. “But they do let me keep the money I make when I sell the stocks. Say, I feel like I should give you some kind of reward for returning my wallet since you saved my bacon. I know you don’t need the money, but how about if I give each of you fellows a hundred to cover your expenses while you’re in town at least?”
“That’s awfully sporting of you, Coleman—” Thornton started to say, probably thinking a hundred sounded good, but someone knocked on the door and called, “Telegram!”
“Excuse me,” Coleman said and went to answer.
“Say, Thornton, did you ever hear of a scheme like this?” Jake whispered while Coleman was busy with the bellhop.