Sleuths Read Free Page B

windshield he could see the moonlit waters of the San Joaquin. He could also see, as a result of the pilothouse lamps and the darkness without, his own dim reflection in the glass. He thought his stern expression was rather like the one Allan Pinkerton himself possessed.
    Bridgeman suggested that crewmen be posted on the lower decks throughout the night, as a precaution in the event the culprit had a confederate with a boat somewhere along the route and intended to leave the packet in the wee hours. The captain thought this was a good idea; so did O'Hara.
    He was ready to leave, but the captain had a few more words for him. "I am grateful for your professional assistance, Mr. O'Hara, but as master of the Delta Star the primary investigative responsibility is mine. Please inform me immediately if you learn anything of significance."
    O'Hara said he would.
    "Also, I intend my inquiries to be discreet, so as not to alarm the passengers. I'll expect yours to be the same."
    "Discretion is me middle name," O'Hara assured him.
    A few moments later, he and Hattie were on their way back along the larboard rail to the texas. Hattie, who had been silent during their time in the pilothouse, started to speak, but O'Hara overrode her. "I know what ye're going to say, me lady, and it'll do no good. Me mind's made up. The opportunity to sniff out forty thousand in missing gold is one I'll not pass up."
    He left Hattie at the door to their stateroom and hurried to the deckhouse, where he entered the Gentlemen's Saloon. It was a long room, with a liquor buffet at one end and private tables and card layouts spread throughout. A pall of tobacco smoke as thick as Tule fog hung in the crowded enclosure.
    O'Hara located the shrewd, handsome features of John A. Colfax at a table aft. Two other men were with him: a portly individual with sideburns like miniature tumbleweeds, and the mustached Nevada reporter. They were playing draw poker. O'Hara was not surprised to see that most of the stakes—gold specie and greenbacks—were in front of Colfax.
    Casually, O'Hara approached the table and stopped behind an empty chair next to the portly man, just as Colfax claimed a pot with four treys. He said, "Good evening, gentlemen."
    Colfax greeted him unctuously, asked if he were enjoying the voyage thus far. O'Hara said he was, and observed that the gambler seemed to be enjoying it too, judging from the stack of legal tender before him. Colfax just smiled. But the portly man said in grumbling tones, "I should damned well say so. He has been taking my money for three solid hours."
    "Aye? That long?"
    "Since just after dinner."
    "Ye've been playing without pause since then?"
    "Nearly so," the newspaperman said. Through the tendrils of smoke from his cigar, he studied O'Hara with mild blue eyes. "Why do you ask, sir?"
    "Oh, I was thinking I saw Mr. Colfax up on the weather deck about an hour ago. Near the pilothouse."
    "You must have mistaken someone else for me," Colfax said. Now that the draw game had been momentarily suspended, he had produced a handful of war-issue coins and begun to toy with them as he had done at Long Wharf. "I did leave the table for a few minutes about an hour ago, but only to use the lavatory. I haven't been on the weather deck at all this trip."
    O'Hara saw no advantage in pressing the matter. He pretended to notice for the first time the one-cent pieces Colfax was shuffling. "Lucky coins, Mr. Colfax?"
    "These? Why, yes. I won a sackful of them on a wager once and my luck has been good ever since." Disarming smile. "Gamblers are superstitious about such things, you know."
    "Ye don't see many coins like that in California."
    "True. They are practically worthless out here."
    "So worthless," the reporter said, "that I have seen them used to decorate various leather goods."
    The portly man said irritably, "To hell with lucky coins and such nonsense. Are we going to play poker or have a gabfest?"
    "Poker, by all means," Colfax said.